#some of this is probably incorrect and is just me reaching for an answer that doesnt exist btw

[pillowenvelopchair]

Hey guys!! this is just my insane ramble on Still Waters Run Deep that's made by the lovely @un-local. I've had so so sooooo many thoughts about this fic and I decided to try and put it all coherently in a post :)

Probably not a lot of new insights, just many, many rambles

Magdalene analysis and her view on Rogier + some other stuff

Magdalene, at the start of the story, is aimless and refuses to follow any line of Grace, putting off whatever it leads to and going in the opposite direction. Yet Grace is fickle, and it all eventually converges, so she gives in. (aaaand a life-changing partnership ensues)

She wants out of the competition of becoming Elden Lord, and she wants nothing to do with it. Someone else to take lordship is what she wants. Magdalene, in her eyes, is not worthy to take the throne. But Rogier on the other hand…

Rogier is, quite literally, built different. He thinks differently compared to Magdalene (a STR vs INT user difference lol). He’s able to pick out all the details that she would miss. Be able to extrapolate and examine it all and be able to learn from it. Magdalene can't do that.

It's basically:

Rogier: says some fun facts about the most random thing in the room, saying all the history behind it, and what the tiny details could mean Magdalene: yeah, that's a rock.

So instead, she becomes a tool for Rogier to be able to use, because that's the least she can do for him.

“She can already feel the faint grin forming on her lips at the thought. She never wanted to be Elden Lord. She’d finally picked up and followed grace to... to get away, with no idea what it called her to do. When Melina told her where it led her, she felt only dread. But Rogier... To save Those Who Live in Death... Two birds, one stone. She meets his eyes, and doesn’t look away. In them, she doesn’t see pride, or avarice. She doesn't see a man who wants to rule the world. Not at all. The path forward is clear now.” -Chapter 22

For once, she really sees a light from the dark future she sees. She's hopeful that she won't have to take the throne, that Rogier can burden it instead of her. He's worthy in her eyes and because of that, she devotes herself to him with all she can do. (Ah but… I believe Rogier wants her to be Elden Lord? Not sure but her not wanting to be Elden Lord doesn’t quite fit with what he has planned)

Magdalene really holds onto Rogier, and his guidance (a comfort wizard, if you will). And so the idea that he won’t make it… that she’ll be left alone with Grace again, forced to join back into the competition for lordship... It's sickening to her. So she really clings to him, desperate to not be left alone with a destiny that she despises.

Magdalene is always pulled into different directions. Grace pulls her to one but she pulls herself to the opposite one. Fia and D are both on extreme sides of the spectrum on Rogier's survival, and Magdalene is caught right in the middle of it.

But for her, Rogier will survive, he has to survive otherwise... that light, that small hope she has will all fade into obscurity.

Ghosts from the past (Lorens and Ida)

I absolutely love how something, or rather, someone haunts both of them.

Lorens had been the catalyst of all of what Rogier does now. Why he’s so desperate to save those who live in death. He's literally devoted his body and mind to Lorens just to see him alive (maybe Rogier's devoting all of himself to finding a solution to death because he wants it to come back to the old times when it was just him and Lorens in the Rise, or maybe not!! I'm just rambling lol).

Every thought of Lorens is painted with a sort of bittersweetness to it. From Rogier's perspective, at the very least (I'm super curious as to how Lorens would view Rogier but we'll probably never get it because... you know...). He's almost obsessed with him, and it's all pretty unhealthy lol.

Magdalene, who’s haunted by Ida who's probably a sort of lover that hadn't been fully brought to fruition. Different opinions on what they have had made Magdalene leave with (from what I have seen at least, we have scrapes of her, people! I can't wait to see more of Ida though)

Now with Ida... Magdalene absolutely shakes herself out of every thought she has about Ida. Spurning every single thought or imagination she has of that woman.

"Nausea comes in waves. Fever. She can feel delirium taking her—she’s convinced she’s submerged in the very waters of creation, for a while. She vividly feels herself sinking deeper and deeper into a current; cold and dark and inescapable. As it pulls her down, she’s overcome with the instinct to breathe it in— Against her temple she feels a hand, with gentle fingers dragging softly through her hair. Suddenly, every layer of the dream collapses in on itself, and she jolts awake with a gasp.  Here, in Liurnia, she hauls herself up, rubbing at her face. Even the memory is a shock of cold water to her. She’s a woman haunted." -Chapter 23

(I just really love this part- I can't help it)

I think it's also really interesting how Magdalene leaves Ida due to their differences in what they have (?) while Rogier just absolutely hangs onto Lorens no matter what, despite him being... er... him. Not so sure about his personality with the small flashbacks we get of him but he’s probably not good for Rogier.

In short, Rogier venerates Lorens, while Magdalene absolutely rejects Ida. (Opposites!)

Rogier’s overthinking

Also found it interesting that when Rogier thinks he really thinks. He's a professional overthinker, even in the past

"He thinks of the labyrinthian etiquette, the way he’d triple-check every sentence for a double meaning. The secrets, the ruthless political schemes. It all felt like a spider’s web to him. He’d learned the game, and he played it well, but it had been nothing but paranoia and misery for him. Just like it was for everyone else." -Chapter 17

It's what's kept him alive (Ch. 17), and what's been able to pave the way for his findings Yet, it’s also his curse. He tries to pick out every detail that he can and think of every possible reason or motivation. Every single outcome he just needs to know so that he won't get caught by surprise again. He needs to be in control of the situation, he needs to be the master of the chessboard.

Oh and once this guy spirals, he really spirals. He starts thinking and looking at details, rewinding every single thing, every interaction, and trying to label a reason for every little thing. Yet... something emotional seems to break the surface of the water.

I personally think that he was raised to overthink. He was a noble after all, and he dealt with politics. He truly needed to check, double check, triple check, every single sentence and word in case it would have a double meaning. "He’d learned the game, and he played it well" (Ch. 17) . Getting worse after Lorens' death, being fooled by "Only a cut." (Ch. 25) and seeing the aftermath of it.

He can't not do it because if he doesn't, and he gets surprised it would break him (or at the very least, freak him out).

ALSO!! Rogier hating on "saccharine conversations" (Ch. 17) good lord. This guy cannot be real with anyone. Rogier refuses to show vulnerability because:

1. He was raised like that (the whole attachment theory thing) 2. He will absolutely break if he does

Do you guys remember when Fia tells Magdalene that "dear Rogier began to weep as he spoke" (Ch.14)? Fia saw through Rogier's walls through the cracks and he just absolutely breaks down. (Get yourself a man who, after "embracing" tells you all about this thing he's obsessed about and then cries because of it)

It's a mortifying ordeal, that someone's able to see through the walls you've meticulously put up. It hits something deep within that he’s tried to bury.

Despite the walls he puts up people other than Fia see through them. Magdalene (Ch.7) was able to see through the small cracks that have broken, and Roderika... hoo she really hit a nerve didn’t she? (But it also hit one of her nerves too, Rogier vs Roderika am I right?)

Chapter 17 analysis

Also, while we’re on the topic of Roderika, let's talk about chapter 17! Seems I have a lot to talk about.

I absolutely love this chapter so much, it gives us so much insight into Rogier's backstory and the way he thinks. His noble background really shines through here, with how he acts with Roderika who is a fellow ex-noble too.

"His grin is wide and carefree, but it rather feels like he's baring his teeth.  There’s no room for your pity here." -Chapter 17

This guy cannot accept any sign of sympathy/compassion with anyone. It's all pity to him, and he absolutely hates pity. Once Roderika starts to console him too it sickens him and it makes him bare his teeth like an animal, his baser instinct showing just a little bit.

He’s probably bore his teeth to other nobles in the court, or whatever meetings they have with one another. Small threats that get the message across by a vicious smile, is something he is all too familiar with.

I also think that it's a little bit funny how he gives advice to Roderika but then is also a little bit of a hypocrite about it

“It’s hard, to leave it behind. But the old world will keep its claws in you, if you let it.” -Chapter 17

Rogier while it's not his past life that he's stuck but rather, he is stuck on Lorens. Even though Rogier is no longer Lorens' student, even though Lorens is dead, he still has his claws on Rogier. It's his entire motivation, why he's in a "pathetic" state now. He isn't letting those claws go, he lets them dig deeper within him, and they dig in deep.

“You already have it within you," he says. "They were only trying to bury it.” -Chapter 17

Rogier immediately buries his own emotions in this interaction when Roderika tries to console him lol. Just based off of him being an ex-noble and his whole family thing, it's well established that he is very much used to burying it all down his gullet. I mean, is it really Rogier without emotional suppression?

Also Rogier tends to close off all the matters that relate to what he feels in his dialogue both in game and in SWRD. This guy cannot let out just a slight moment of vulnerability

A Color Theory Thing on my read on Rogier's garb:

Rogier, with his background being grounded in nobility has suppressed his baser desires in exchange for meaningless political schemes that have only brought him misery. Yet after coming to these lands, he finds himself with Lorens.

He wears a Raya Lucarian Robe and it has red on it. It's a sign of baser instincts being shown for once. He has grown an infatuation with Lorens despite being his student.

Yet, Rogier is still mostly blue, and he still suppresses that baser desire that he’s developed, that infatuation for Lorens. He never once builds up the courage to be able to tell Lorens what he feels. He would always bury those feelings down, and as a result he can't let go of it. It's far too deep to be buried back up.

But once Lorens has died, Rogier changes too.

He exchanges those garbs for yellow and turquoise (I think?). He's a mix of colors and beliefs.

He still has the blue in the turquoise, which symbolizes calm, intelligence, and emotional control (you can’t spell Rogier without emotional control) But turquoise isn't just blue, it also has green.

Green represents growth, life, and new beginnings. This is a new beginning for Rogier, who's set out for a new goal, to be able to save those who live in death (and perhaps give them life? Not so sure on that but in SWRD that seems to be the case with Lorens).

It's balanced by yellow. Creativity and originality, he's almost the only person we meet who wants to save TWLID. Not only that but yellow also symbolizes illness, which could be a foreshadowing of what happens to him later in his life.

It's not just sickness though, yellow also symbolizes deception. Rogier lies, but I necessarily think he's someone who is always deceptive. He's more like the type of guy who would lie so that an encounter would go well or not hurt someone else's feelings. I think he's like that from that whole ex-nobility thing he's got going on. Political schemes and lying through a smile is something that he's familiar with. (It also doesn't help that he keeps being emotionally suppressed too lol)

Cowardice is another. Rogier is scared to tell anyone about his emotions, to take that risk of being honest with someone. His background in nobility and his family definitely doesn't help either.

Rogier had been too scared to be true to Lorens and tell him his feelings, and because of that, he would never be able to. I feel like he's avoided it even more afterward. He refuses to take that jump of being honest with someone, whether it's about his emotions or his ideals, he doesn't let them go.

But when he does? With D, it completely breaks off everything they've had. Everything that they could have been.

"Beguiled fool. A rotten, sick bastard. Fouled by them. A wicked, two-faced user. Heartless. Loathsome parasite. How could he? Were they not supposed to set this crooked world straight? Profane. A perversion of honor. A madman." -Chapter 5

“Get out of my sight.” “I’m sorry.” He’d said, and he was. But Darian’s lips curled back, and he jerked his head away and locked his eyes on the horizon. His jaw twitched, in the moment he took to reply.  “Don’t talk to me.” There was nothing he could do to fix this. To undo his mistakes, to spare Darian his intentions." -Chapter 5

It's all gone because he had been honest about his goals (presumably). This experience probably strengthened that emotional suppression so as to not be hurt/caught by surprise.

So when Magdalene, someone who wholeheartedly accepts his ideals and sees his side for once, he's cautious. He can't believe that someone can genuinely agree with him because all the times that he has been honest, he's been punished for it. (though, he reminds himself that she's not like that)

In short, this guy's a mixed bag. A mixed bag with problems

(basing this off of the Elden Ring color theory video, it was an absolute joy to watch)

[EDIT]: idk what to call this section but he seems to seek out some form of approval. Lets see how that ties in with his grief!

"He still doesn’t understand why. What did he do, specifically? Or was he just past his usefulness? Deemed unfit to rule? He never truly wanted to rule as Lord, but to be cast aside so indifferently—it had shaken him.  Every now and then he fumbles with this, again and again, but he knows. He does. He knows that grace has forsaken him for good reason. He’s a heretic. An apostate. He who does not obediently bow before a faltering, decrepit Order, so ill-equipped to handle the world as it is. " -Chapter 5

"All these years. Couldn’t change a thing. Rather pathetic, I’d say—what a fool, thinking that this crooked world could be made right by mortal hands. Sure, deathblight. Truly, a fitting end for a worthless, rotten bastard." -Chapter 12

Now, speaking from some personal experience, being raised in a family that's of nobility and expects so much out of you from a young age definitely breeds some kind of self-worth issues that really stick with you. Especially if you haven't had anyone to truly support you.

Because of that, I believe that Rogier, in a way, is trying to prove his worth. But not to the Order, I think that he's in some way trying to please Lorens. Even in death.

He puts everything into his studies of Death, searching and scouring for scraps of information just to give him a single lead on anything, and for what?

"Its fulfillment will be a selfish act of altruism. These crooked lands will set right, by his hands, for a reward of nothing at all. But make no mistake: he needs another day. And another after that, and another after that. He needs his questions answered with questions, he needs his notes corrected in an unreadable hand, he needs to hear one more “Well—” followed by the most opaque, convoluted tangle of sentences ever constructed. There’s no reward he seeks, but the warm smile of cold gray eyes and a scoff about just what he’s wearing nowadays. " -Chapter 19

Rogier devotes himself to saving TWLID (saving Lorens, in reality), but it's not because it's all for selfless reasons, he seems to want things to go back to the way things used to be. Back at the Rise, with just him and Lorens once more.

I don't think Rogier ever accepted Lorens' death. He's determined to bring back Lorens, desperately trying to find a solution to bring him back no matter what.

And it’s quite hypocritical isnt it? That Rogier wants to change the Order to be able to sort of… revive Lorens from Death. To go back to the old times that they both had had.

This guy refuses to grieve and is searching (desperately) for a solution for a dead man who's probably not even good for him. Get this man some therapy

This entire post's summary is just me going:

Anyway, that's all for my crazy rambles! I can't wait to see how SWRD will progress, and how everyone will intermingle and grow with one another (Rogier and Mags)!!!! :0)

Have some doodles + a WIP that I'll probably never finish as a treat for reading this! (Mag's torso was wayyy too long on the second one oops)

(bonus boggart because I love him)

[diejager]

just hear me out for one second.... what if hunter was a titan?... yk like aot (attack on titan)

reader looks totally normal, nothing indicating that they were something other than human. Even laswell wasnt 100% sure on what reader was. A stirring mystery within 141 that they all collectively decide to ignore.

then one day, they were out on a mission that was going horribly, horribly wrong.. incorrect information, sabotage, dangerous illegal weapons, low ammunition, scarce supplies, severe injuries, etc.. you name it.

141 was backed into a corner. definitely not the first time something like this has happened in their career...but they always manage to find a way out. Always making it back home, injured sure- but safe..alive.

this time it wasn't the case. there was no way out, none. death was knocking on the door and soon they had to answer.....

and unfortunately reader was the first to greet death.. a clean shot to the head by a sniper

one minute reader was laying in a pool of their own blood and the next they turn into this gigantic humanoid beast.

in a fit of rage, reader starts to completely destroy the battlefield. not a damn soul alive besides 141.

bodies scattered from the sea to the forest and heavens above ..nothing but pure gore and blood.

reader standing over the battlefield bloodied from head to toe, watching the devastation below.

(This is really long im sorry)

Cw: implied death, blood and gore, Canon-typical violence, titan!reader, gun violence?, tell me if I missed any.

The last thing Horangi remembered hearing through the angered hisses and growls, Price screaming at Laswell and her informants through the coms to find a way out their thick predicament was the shuddering shot that boomed through the air. The hair of his arms raised when he watched you turn towards the sound, your wide eyes and choked breath. You flinched back and lurched forward, hands grasping at your bleeding throat, choking and gurgling on the blood that rose from your wound. He rushed to pull you into cover, biting his lip at your pained expression, you were choking on your blood, dying by the thing that substained you, that cycled life and oxygen through your body. 

Your words were sputtered, splattered crimson on Horangi’s mask as he fussed over you, your pinched brows and scrunched nose, the angered gleam in your dulling eyes and your bloody and sneering lips. You pushed him away, stumbling forward with one step at a time, risking being shot a second and third time, but you kept marching away from them, ignoring their attempt to stop you and reach for you. 

“B- bast- ard-!” He heard you screech.

He didn’t know if some God or Gods favoured you or if you were extremely lucky for still being alive, a second bullet landing by your feet and a third scratching your arm. You raised a bloody hand, palm facing you, the crease and groves of every fold a dark red, then you bit down on it. Hard. He admired the strength behind your bite, the crunch of your skin breaking under your teeth and red exploding, he could only imagine how painful it was, but you were already in so much agony, your body’s probably numb. 

And suddenly, lighting sparked around you, bright yellow and loud, scarily close to you before one thick and dangerous one struck where you stood. Within seconds, he gaped at the mass of muscles, red fibres interlocking and sticking to ligaments and fat that kept it together, tying themselves to bone and tendons, wrapping away the red and white with a wide array of red and blue, building a system of veins that were finally covered by skin. In your place was a giant —a titan, one that he’d heard through the grapevines of black markets and hushed whispered and rumours from the underworld when he gambled his life away. 

The titan - you - let out a loud scream, head thrown back and arms reeling back, fingers clenched in anger, deep sated vitriol that carried you around them. He could only stare on in amazement as you trampled over the surrounding enemies, bending down to grip a man, your thick fingers clenching around him and squeezing the life out of him, leaving his entrails spilling out of his broken abdomen. You moved around stepping and squeezing them to death, a trail of carnage behind you, bodies strewed about, spines broken and heads rolling. 

He let you go on without a word, his breath stolen away by you when you slumped over, your nape breaking open with a loud hiss, steam billowing up the air from how hot your body ran, you arched out, body curled backward with a loud sigh. Horangi stared at you, unmoving and unbreathing, and only moved when Price rushed to you, climbing your titan body to pull the rest of you out, your arms and lower body still attached to it by thick, red muscle. Your feet stuttered, eyes blinking tiredly while you leaned on Price, groaning and rubbing the tension out of your temples. 

He realised the blood that was supposed to stain your skin and clothes were gone, evaporated in the heat of it. Your wound healed and energy spent, you were tired and grumbling about wanting to sleep, face pinched in irritation or annoyance, something he could feel. And without any complaints from them, Price had called for evac and waited at the LZ, everyone huddled around you, sharing the same amount of awe and surprise in their expression. You were a wonder to him, a beast of legends that Horangi had only heard of, but he had many, many questions and curiosities that he wanted fulfilled.

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[iovebarca]

In Your Embrace - Pablo Gavi

Authors note: send me some requests!

WC: 1300+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, angsty, fluff!

You are sitting at home, enjoying the quiet of the late afternoon, when your phone rings. The name on the screen makes your heart skip a beat—it's the physiotherapy clinic where Pablo has been doing his recovery training. You answer quickly, anxiety already bubbling up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this y/n?" a worried voice asks.

"Yes, it is. What's going on?"

"It's Pablo. He pulled a muscle during training, and he's not taking it well. He's having a panic attack, and we don't know how to help him. Can you come over?"

Your heart clenches. "I'll be right there."

You grab your keys and rush out the door, your mind racing. Pablo has been working so hard to recover from his injury, and the thought of him in pain and panic makes you feel helpless. You drive as fast as you can without breaking any laws, your thoughts a whirl of worry and determination.

When you arrive at the clinic, one of the physiotherapists greets you at the entrance, her face etched with concern. "He's in the locker room," she says, leading you down a corridor.

You find Pablo alone, sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. His breathing is rapid and shallow, his shoulders trembling with each breath. You can see the strain on his face, the fear in his eyes when he looks up at you.

You kneel down in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his knee. "Pablo, it's me. I'm here."

His eyes are wide and unfocused, and you can tell he's struggling to get his breathing under control. You take a deep breath yourself, hoping to set an example.

"Pablo, look at me," you say softly. "Just focus on my voice. Breathe with me, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth."

You begin to breathe slowly and deliberately, in through your nose, out through your mouth. You watch his chest rise and fall, trying to match your rhythm. But his breaths are still quick and shallow, and his panic doesn't seem to be easing.

You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently. "It's going to be okay, Pablo. I'm right here with you."

He squeezes your hand back, but his eyes are still filled with fear. You realize that he needs more than just breathing exercises. You need to try something else.

Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles are coiled tight with anxiety.

"It's okay," you whisper into his ear. "You're safe. I'm here."

For a moment, he stiffens in your embrace, but then he starts to relax, his breathing slowly beginning to steady. You hold him close, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

"I'm scared," he whispers, his voice trembling. "What if I never recover? What if I can't play again?"

Tears fill your eyes as you hold him tighter. "It's okay to be scared," you say softly. "But you're not alone. I'm here with you, and we're going to get through this together."

He clings to you, his body shaking with sobs. You feel his tears wetting your shoulder, but you don't care. All that matters is being there for him, helping him through this moment.

"You are so strong, Pablo," you say, your voice filled with conviction. "You've come so far already, and I know you can keep going. We'll take it one step at a time, and I'll be with you every step of the way."

He nods against your shoulder, his breathing starting to calm. "Thank you," he whispers.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. You brush away his tears with your thumb, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "You're going to be okay," you say firmly. "I believe in you."

He takes a deep breath, his gaze steadying as he looks at you. "I believe in you too," he says quietly.

You sit with him for a while longer, just holding him and letting him know he's not alone. The panic slowly ebbs away, replaced by a fragile sense of calm. When he finally pulls back, there's a new determination in his eyes.

"Let's get you home," you say gently. "You need to rest."

He nods, and you help him to his feet. He leans on you slightly, and you can feel the exhaustion in his body. But there's also a strength there, a resilience that gives you hope.

As you walk out of the clinic together, you can't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. Gratitude for being there when he needed you, for the bond you share, and for the love that gives both of you the strength to face whatever challenges come your way.

The drive home is quiet but comforting. Pablo holds your hand the entire way, his grip a little tighter than usual, as if he's afraid to let go. You don't mind. You squeeze his hand back, letting him know you're there for him, no matter what.

When you get home, you help him settle onto the couch, propping up his injured leg with some pillows. He sighs in relief, the tension finally easing from his body.

"Do you want something to eat or drink?" you ask, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead.

He shakes his head. "Just stay with me?"

"Of course," you say, sitting down beside him. You take his hand again, your fingers entwined.

He leans his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. "I don't know what I would have done without you today," he murmurs.

You press a kiss to his temple. "You don't have to do anything alone, Pablo. We're a team, remember?"

He smiles, a small but genuine smile that warms your heart. "Yeah, we are."

The evening passes in a comfortable silence, the two of you just enjoying each other's presence. You watch a movie together, but your mind is more focused on Pablo, on making sure he's okay.

As the night deepens, he starts to doze off, his head still resting on your shoulder. You gently shift, lying down so that he can rest his head on your chest. He snuggles closer, his arms wrapping around you.

"Thank you," he whispers again, his voice thick with sleep.

You run your fingers through his hair, a soothing motion that seems to help him relax even more. "Anytime, Pablo. I'll always be here for you."

He falls asleep in your arms, his breathing deep and even. You watch him for a while, your heart full of love and tenderness. You know that there will be more challenges ahead, more moments of fear and doubt. But you also know that as long as you're together, you can face anything.

As you drift off to sleep, you hold him close, your heart at peace. Because no matter what the future holds, you have each other. And that's all that matters.

[mechaknight-98]

Outrage (NSFW) FT Nayoung (Lightsum)

Author’s Notes: this piece came about in a kind of silly way. It arose as a challenge from another writer I know. He’s seen my stuff and finds it really interesting, but there’s some repetitiveness to the content so as a challenge he said write a mature story without smut, and loads of cursing. So this came about. Now granted it still probably has some bad habits of mine but it is thematically different and heavier emotionally. Note you have been warned

The young man walked up to the sound stage for the talk show he would be performing at. It was the last of many mini promotions he’d been asked to do since his side project “Kraken” took off. He was tired but excited. He hoped that this would lead to his main project “The Flying Dutchman” finally getting the traction it deserves. He flashed his ID to the guard when the guard gave him a funny look the young man replied.

“It should be under Kraken,” the guard smiled and let him in while saying, “You know that song goes hard. I love all of the little wordplays you do, and your voice modulation how did you make some of those sounds?”

The young man smiled “Oh studio magic I guess”

“Well, Mr Jones or should I say Kraken have a good time on the Late Show.” The guard said

Mr. Jones smiled and said, “I’ll try” After getting through the guard Mr jones bumped into his label representative Michael Hale. Well, bumped is the incorrect word. Mr Jones stood confused for a large portion of time as he tried to see where to go for the interview. The hustle and bustle of the stage made it hard to know where to go.

“Ah, Davy or I guess I should call you Kraken good to see you made it. Oh and don’t you look sharp” He said

Davy Jones nodded and said, “Last show, I had to show off for my hometown”

“Well great because you’re on first thing. It’s a simple song “Buy it Back”. Answer a few questions then you’re home free. Mike said

Kraken nodded and walked into his marked place.

“after performing his viral hit Kraken walked over to the talk show host for an interview”

“So that "buy it back" huh? It’s a great song with the cool edge to it that makes it feel like getting into a cold beach on a hot day.” Kraken chuckled as he nodded.

“I guess that’s true, but yeah I wrote it a few weeks ago, and no one I reached out to performed it correctly so I just recorded it and did it,” Kraken said nonchalantly. The host nodded attentive but also a little manic. Kraken was uncomfortable with the host's jerky and spastic motions but kept to himself enough so it wasn’t a major issue. He meandered through the interview with an assertive calm that the interviewer felt.

“Next question, why Kraken it’s such a weird name?”

“It’s a Pirates of the Caribbean joke. In it, Davy Jones has two things he leads. The Kraken and the Flying Dutchman. The Flying Dutchman is a team-led thing and my main band is called The Flying Dutchman so when I wanted to do something solo I came up with “Kraken” because Davy Jones controls that alone, and for this side project it’s just me.” Kraken explained

“Okay next question: not since Dazzler’s last mega-hit Sparkle Sparkle has a mutant artist been in the top 100 charts you are also the first openly mutant male artist to make it in. How does that feel?”

Kraken thought about his answer as he looked into the crowd he thought about all the people watching at home and how I used to be like them.

“When I was about 15 or so a lot of bands I loved were hitting their stride; The Devil Wears Prada, Miss May I, Silent Planet, and Like Moths to Flame just to name a few. Their music helped me get through some of the rougher times growing up. Now that I’m older I feel responsible for being that for the next generation so in all my music endeavors like this one or The Flying Dutchman, I try to keep my music accessible and impactful. Me being a mutant is just who I am and hopefully not what makes me special” The interviewer nodded at Kraken’s question with an insincere smile and laughter.

“That’s such a great answer. Now how has being a mutant affected you? I have heard some of the songs of Flying Dutchman a lot of them seem to have a very hostile edge to them.”

Kraken considers his words carefully before saying, “I write from a place of contemplation a lot of the time and when you have a marginalized existence it’s hard kinda not to sound angry at times. Like when I was writing Spirit Ripper both of my sisters had just been attacked by members of the LGBTQ community for confronting them over their bad behavior. The members cited that my sisters were perpetuating harmful language and that it was self-defense to break my younger sister's arm who by the way is a very well-known political activist who supports LGBTQ rights and equality and for my oldest sister a white Lesbain woman threw a brick at her head even though my sister is a lesbian herself.”

The interviewer paused hearing that as he reconciled that he figured he’d lighten the tone by asking,

“So you’ve had it the easiest then.”

Kraken chuckled as he said, “Nope! I had to transfer colleges because I was falsely accused of sexual assault by my first college crush, which led to me developing an intense fear of intimacy with anyone but also led to this massive investigation that revealed that the girl’s boyfriend was abusing her and that this was the only way she could express some control over her life.”

Kraken looked at the room as the silence and shock was palpable. Realizing that this was getting dark fast the interviewer changed subjects.

“Okay, so last question who is Nayoung? You mention her three times and wrap up some of the song’s best punchlines using her name?”

Not expecting that last question but one about his mutant heritage and why was the song called Buy It Back so it took him a second to process the question.

“Oh um, Nayoung is a K-pop singer I find cute. She is in a group called Lights. Her name is easy to couch alliteration and rhyming couplets on so I did that a couple of times.

The interviewer smiled falsely now having control of the interview again and said,

“Well, we will have to check them out. While we happily await your next song see you later Kraken.” Kraken smiled got up and waved. When the cameras stopped rolling the interviewer’s face dropped from a smile into a frown.

“I hoped you enjoyed your 15 minutes of fame Mutie.”

Kraken smiled and said, “Of course, I try to never take anything for granted.”

As the interview across the world, Nayoung sat cross-legged on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in her lap, eyes glued to the television. Her group members were scattered around the living room, some scrolling through their phones, others half-watching the interview playing out on the screen.

“Hey, isn’t that the guy from The Flying Dutchman?” Chowon asked, looking up.

“Yeah, Davy Jones! I love his music,” Nayoung replied, her voice tinged with enthusiasm. She had been following his work ever since she first heard his powerful lyrics and unique sound. His music had helped her through some challenging times, and she admired his courage in being unapologetically himself.

As the interview progressed, Nayoung listened intently, nodding along to Kraken’s thoughtful responses. Then, the interviewer asked about the name that popped up in his songs: Nayoung. Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward, nearly spilling her popcorn.

“Oh my gosh, did he just say my name?” she exclaimed, her voice rising with excitement. The other members turned their attention to the screen, now curious.

Kraken’s explanation was casual yet sincere, and Nayoung felt a rush of warmth spread through her. “He thinks I’m cute!” she said, unable to hide her grin. “And he uses my name for rhymes. How cool is that?”

Her group members laughed and teased her, but Nayoung was too thrilled to care. To hear her name coming from someone she admired so much was a surreal experience.

As the interview wrapped up, she clapped her hands together. “I can’t believe it. I’ve got to send him a message or something. Maybe we can work together one day!”

The idea filled her with inspiration, and as she daydreamed about potential collaborations, her excitement was infectious, spreading to the rest of the room.

When she went to Cube the next day she was the talk of trainees, other groups, and management.

During practice one of the producers came in and asked for her. Her members teased her as she walked out. The producer and Nayoung paid them no mind.

“I take it you saw Kraken’s interview?” The producer asked. Nayoung’s pupils dilated to the eyes of saucers.

“You convinced Davy Jones to do a collab with us?” Nayoung asked her sparkling with joy.

“Um no but the higher-ups and I were wondering if you can convince him to work with us?”

Nayoung smiled and then realized that it probably meant he wouldn’t be Davy Jones but Kraken. She nodded and said, “I’ll help where I can.”

Davy Jones and the rest of “The Flying Dutchman” were working on their parts for the next album. AJ was focused on getting down some of the more intricate baselines that made this song Their most technically impressive one yet. Jojo was on drums trying different beats and fills to better match the rest of the song, while Douglas and Noah fought about everything as always. Davy Jones or as his friends called him JD was writing. As he always was. After about 15 minutes of tuning arguing and preparing JD got up from his notebook and they started working on new stuff.

“The Sky Breaks free while you Break me,” AJ (the clean vocalist) sang out as the kept working on the chorus. Despite AJ’s technical skills as a vocalist JD often found himself not liking the way he sounded on this specific Chorus. He felt that powerful wasn't what the song needed but a softer touch...maybe a feature, but who would he get? Their group was fledgling at best and he doubted he could call in any favors with his Kraken side project yet. The rest of the song sounded right but something was missing. He just didn’t know. As they finished up JD was reminded that the label would be expecting the album soon which he was aware of he just didn’t like it because he couldn’t nail the chorus.

After the recording session, Davy Jones drove home. His parents were watching his interview and congratulated him on the song again. He smiled and then went to his room where he checked his email on a miraculous whim.

He saw an email from Cube Entertainment with the subject Collaborating opportunity and his eyes went big. He read the email saying how Lightsum was willing to work on a couple of songs together. He did notice they used Kraken and not Davy which meant they expected Kraken but hey this gave him an opportunity, so he took it.

A few days later Davy Jones was on a video call with Lightsum who were all smiles to see him. He discussed what the collaboration would look like and how promotions for it would work. Davy Jones had two stipulations they also helped him with a song or two while he was out in South Korea recording, and for this collaboration, the girls get the brunt of the money made and writing credits. Cube was hesitant at first but when DJ said he would do their song for free they quickly agreed. Now the hard part getting an extension from his label. Davy Jones took out his phone and called his label representative.

“Hey Mike it’s Davy Jones. Is it possible to get a 9-day extension on the album?”

Mike was quiet for a moment. It wouldn’t delay anything as even now the boys were ahead of their schedule, but Mike was worried because when Douglas was the leader of the group and not Davy Jones they were constantly missing the mark on release dates. He decided to take a chance and ask why

“Well, I secured a feature for the last song. The only issue is I need to be in Korea to capitalize, after that’s finished I’ll send the last master to you.”

Mike was surprised that Davy Jones of all people was able to secure a feature but knew that this would be excellent for their sound at least for one song.

“Sure. I can manage a week.” Mike responded, and Davy Jones sighed relieved.

“You won’t regret this.” He said. Mike scowled and then said

“You haven’t flopped yet so I’m trusting you, Davy Jones, otherwise you’re sinking with the ship and no Kraken will save you.”

Davy Jones sighed and said, “Okay” he then thought about calling one of his bandmates to see if two of the group could go.

Davy Jones sat on the edge of his bed, his phone in hand, staring at the list of contacts. He scrolled through until he found the first name he was looking for: AJ, the bassist for The Flying Dutchman. Davy dialed the number, listening to the ringtone with anticipation.

“Hey, Davy! What’s up?” AJ answered, his voice cheerful.

“Hey, AJ! I’ve got some exciting news,” Davy said, trying to keep the enthusiasm in his voice. “I’m heading to South Korea to work with Lightsum, and I was wondering if you’d like to come along.”

There was a pause before AJ responded, his tone apologetic. “Man, I’d love to, but with Katie’s new job, it’s been hectic around here. She’d have to come with me, and I don’t think we can swing that right now.”

Davy nodded, even though AJ couldn’t see him. “I get it. No worries. We’ll catch up when I’m back.”

After ending the call, Davy dialed the next number on his list: Jojo, the drummer. He drummed his fingers on his knee as he waited for Jojo to pick up.

“Yo, JD!” Jojo greeted him, sounding as lively as ever.

“Hey, Jojo. I’ve got a proposal for you. How about joining me in Korea for a bit? It’ll be fun, and you know how much I’d love to have you there.”

Jojo laughed, but there was a hint of regret in his voice. “I wish I could, man. But with the twins starting school soon, Gina and I have our hands full. There’s no way I can leave right now.”

Davy sighed, understanding but still a bit disappointed. “Understandable. Family comes first.”

Next on the list was Douglas, the guitarist. Davy hoped at least one of his bandmates might be able to join him. He hit the call button and listened as it rang.

“Hey, Davy! What’s going on?” Douglas answered, his voice as laid-back as always.

“Hey, Douglas. So, I’m heading to Korea for some work with Lightsum. Thought I’d see if you wanted to tag along.”

Douglas hesitated, and Davy could almost hear him weighing his options. “Man, that sounds awesome. But I’ve got this big project at work, and I can’t get the time off. Plus, Melissa’s parents are visiting next week, and I promised we’d spend time with them.”

Davy chuckled, not surprised by the response. “No problem. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

After hanging up, Davy leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. It looked like he’d be heading to Korea solo. Though he wished his bandmates could join him, he understood their commitments and knew they’d be cheering him on from afar.

With a sigh, he put his phone down and mentally prepared himself for the journey ahead, determined to make the most of the experience on his own.

A week before Davy Jones's visit Nayoung had a secret meeting with her CEO.

Nayoung sat across from the CEO in his sleek, minimalist office, the city skyline sprawling out behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The atmosphere was formal yet tense, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting was more than just a routine update.

“Thank you for coming, Nayoung,” the CEO began, his tone cordial but businesslike. “As you know, Kraken, or Davy Jones, is coming to South Korea to work with Lightsum.”

“Yes, I heard. It’s exciting! I’m a big fan of his work,” Nayoung replied with a polite smile, trying to hide her nerves.

The CEO leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. “I am aware and we want to make sure his experience here is exceptional. His collaboration with us could open many doors. That's where you come in.”

Nayoung blinked, taken aback. “Me? What do you mean?”

“We’d like you to make him feel welcome, maybe even charm him a bit,” the CEO said, his words carefully chosen. “We believe that a personal connection might encourage him to engage more with our company, and of course bolster our efforts with Lightsum.”

Nayoung's heart sank. She had anticipated discussing schedules and logistics, not personal involvement beyond the music. “I’m not sure I understand. Are you asking me to…?”

“Not to deceive him, of course,” the CEO interjected quickly, sensing her discomfort. “Just be yourself, but perhaps a bit more attentive. Show him the best of our culture, our hospitality.”

Nayoung shifted in her seat, processing the request. It felt like more than just being friendly. “I can be welcoming and professional, but I want to make sure it’s all about the music and collaboration. That’s what I admire about him.”

“Of course, of course,” the CEO assured her, though Nayoung couldn’t help but feel there was more to it. “He’ll be here for a few weeks. You’ll have plenty of time to make an impression.”

Nayoung nodded, her mind racing with the implications. She understood the stakes and the potential benefits, but she also valued her integrity and the authenticity of the collaboration.

As the meeting wrapped up, Nayoung left the office with a sour taste in her mouth she couldn’t place. While she liked Davy’s performances and music she was unsure if she would mesh with her personality. Regardless she resolved to handle the situation with grace and to focus on what truly mattered: the music.

Flash forward to today Davy gets a text from Cube that a representative would be on the way. So he goes through baggage claim and walks out to Arrivals and pick-ups where he waits. Surprisingly the wait isn't long. A cube representative does pick him up...just not the one he was expecting.

Nayoung pulls up to the curb nervous. This was the first time meeting one of her heroes and she hoped to make a good impression. She walks out and waves happily to him, but all she sees is shock and fear on his face as Davy Jones gets in with his three bags she notices that he didn’t even let her try and grab one. His silence and almost visceral refusal of her help were unsettling to Nayoung, where was his humor where was the light-hearted banter? Was it all an act she wondered, or maybe he was just tired.

Davy was frightened seeing only Nayoung there to pick him up. Sensing some kind of trick his guard was immediately up. He didn’t speak he didn’t let her near him any more than she had to be.

As she drove Davy to the hotel she tried to speak to him.

“So how do you like it here so far?” Nayoung asked gently

Davy Shrugged as he responded ambivalent, “It’s pretty. The skyscrapers remind me of home. Except y’all have less heat.” Said gruffly

Overcome by her habit of mimicking people and desperate to break this frigid man who has distinct speech patterns Nayoung replied in a similar tone.

“I take it y’all gotta lot of heat back home?”

Davy Jones smiled and nodded.

Nayoung beamed. She got one of her favorite artists to smile and laugh she won at life.

“So where do you wanna go?” Nayoung asked.

“Can we go to a studio? I have some things I need to iron out.” Davy Jones said serious

“But studio time is planned for tomorrow. Aren’t you worried you won’t have anything to do tomorrow?”

Davy Jones shook his head surprising Nayoung who shrugged and found a studio. She was also surprised by his paying the full amount for two hours in paper won.

He headed in and started working on the song that had been giving him trouble running through everyone’s part quickly. This surprised Nayoung because she didn’t know that Davy could play multiple instruments, and do clean vocals. When he finished he turned to Nayoung and asked if she could come in and record a chorus.

“So um I have been having issues with this song. Do you have any idea what it needs?” Nayoung was still in shock so she asked for another play-through. Davy Jones obliged he played it through for Nayoung who listened to the demo when it finished she said "I think the chorus needs to be softer," Davy Jones nodded and responded, "You wanna do that?" Nayoung's eyes went wide, and in her excitement said, "Of course!" Davy Jones cracked a smile as he set Nayoung up in the studio. Nayoung was beaming and asked if he could run off the chorus without vocals. Davy Jones nodded and Nayoung did her recording. Unsurprisingly she was exactly what Davy needed for the song and made some adjustments to the chorus and tempo (which made Davy have to remix and adjust the chorus instruments) then the song was perfect. Kind of a blend of Basilisk By Like Moths to Flame and Ghost of Me by Make Them Suffer. After he finished the mix for it Davy added it to his hard drive. All the while Nayoung watched enchanted as he did all the tasks and positions to get it done. When they got back to the car she noticed Davy’s eyes dimmed a bit and his energy was down. It made Nayoung have this pit in her heart.

As the duo drove off Nayoung felt closer to Davy Jones like she had seen more of who he was than anyone else. She felt so close that when she dropped him off at the hotel she said beaming,

“That was so exciting. You are like this artistic machine it’s crazy. You were buzzing around like super fast. I have never had a recording go so fast and simple. Davy smiled and said,

“I know what I want and know how to get it.” A brief flash in Nayoung’s mind was that she wanted to be gotten by Davy but realized that she needed to chill for a bit.

Davy smiled at Nayoung happy to work with her. He waved her off before heading into the hotel where he freaked out when he got in his room.

“She’s even prettier in person…this is going to be hard. All I have to do is not fall for her, and fight my impulses. She’s a colleague. One who I want to cherish and love… no bad brain and heart do not fall for Nayoung. Besides I have a job to finish.”

Davy Jones leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head as he hit send on the email containing the final track for The Flying Dutchman’s new album. The song featuring Nayoung had been a labor of love, and he was eager to hear what his label rep, Mike, thought of it.

Minutes later, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. Davy picked it up, already knowing who it was.

“Davy, this is incredible!” Mike's voice boomed through the speaker, filled with enthusiasm. “The track with Nayoung is a hit. It’s got everything—emotion, energy, and that unique sound only you can bring.”

“Thanks, Mike. I’m glad you like it,” Davy replied, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Like it? I love it! We need to make this the touring single. It’s too good to pass up,” Mike continued, his excitement palpable. “When can you start the tour?”

Davy hesitated, glancing at the calendar on his desk. “I can’t leave South Korea just yet. I’m still helping Lightsum with their promotions. They’ve got a few big events coming up, and I promised to see them through.”

Mike sighed, but there was understanding in his tone. “Alright, I get it. But we’ll need to get you back on the road soon. This single deserves to be heard live.”

“I know, I know,” Davy reassured him. “I’ll wrap things up here as soon as I can.”

There was a brief pause before Mike asked, “So, Nayoung—she’s something, huh? What made you feature her?”

Davy chuckled. “She’s incredibly talented, for one. I’ve always admired her work, and when I came up with this project, she just seemed like the perfect fit. Her voice adds a whole new layer to the music.”

“And the Kraken side project? What’s the story there?” Mike inquired, curiosity evident in his voice.

Davy leaned back, contemplating his answer. “Kraken is more personal, a way for me to explore different sounds and ideas. It’s about pushing boundaries, both musically and personally. Working with someone like Nayoung fits right into that vision.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up. This track is going to be huge,” Mike said, his confidence infectious.

“Thanks, Mike. I appreciate the support. I’ll keep you posted on the timeline,” Davy promised.

The next day Nayoung picked up Davy they smiled when they saw each other and were chatting the whole way to Cube’s building. Davy thought it a bit weird at first that it was her and not all of Lightsum or a cube representative but his ease with Nayoung made it easier.

When they arrive at the studio Nayoung goes rejoins her group mates to formally greet Davy Jones.

“123 Hello we are Lightsum “The girls all smiled as Kraken waved back introducing himself. After that, the girls led him to the studio where he’d be working with them.

The studio was buzzing with energy as Lightsum gathered around the recording booth. Davy Jones, known to them as Kraken, was setting up equipment, his focus evident in the way he adjusted knobs and checked sound levels. The group was excited to collaborate with such a talented artist, and Nayoung was especially enthusiastic.

As Lightsum’s main producer played a rough cut of the track they were working on, Nayoung leaned in closer, nodding along to the beat. It was meant to be a remix of their hit song “Honey or Spice“. “This part sounds amazing,” she said about this space made on the song that was for his small space to do a quick sixteen bars, her eyes meeting Kraken’s with a bright smile.

“It is,” he replied, returning her smile. “Your vocals elevate it.”

Chowon, sitting nearby with her notebook, couldn’t help but notice the easy rapport between them. She observed how Nayoung and Kraken seemed to mirror each other’s movements, leaning in at the same time or laughing at shared jokes. It was subtle but unmistakable.

During a break, Nayoung approached Davy, offering him a bottle of water. “You’ve been working hard. Make sure you stay hydrated,” she said, her tone playful yet caring.

Davy chuckled, accepting the bottle. “Thanks, Nayoung. I appreciate it. I guess I got too dialed in.”

During the break Nayoung began humming a tune and the members of Lightsum noticed that Kraken was unconsciously making a beat to her little melody on the drum kit.

Chowon watched the exchange with interest, noticing how Nayoung lingered a moment longer than necessary, her attention fully on Kraken. It was clear to Chowon that there was an underlying chemistry between them. The other members noticed as well. They seemed to fire on all cylinders with each other.

As they resumed recording, Davy suggested a change in one of the verses. “What if we try it this way?” he proposed, demonstrating with his guitar.

Nayoung immediately picked up on the idea, adding her twist. “Or maybe like this?” she offered, her enthusiasm infectious.

Their collaboration flowed seamlessly, each suggestion building on the other’s ideas. Chowon marveled at how in sync they were, almost as if they were having a conversation through the music.

After the session, as the group gathered their things, Chowon sidled up to Nayoung, a teasing smile on her face. “You and Kraken seemed to have your own little world in there.”

Nayoung blushed, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. “Oh, come on. We’re just working well together,” she stammered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear in an attempt to appear nonchalant.

Chowon raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Sure, just working. But you two have a vibe.”

Nayoung’s smile widened despite her embarrassment, and she glanced away, trying to hide her flustered expression. “It’s not like that,” she insisted, though her voice lacked conviction.

Chowon laughed softly, giving her friend a gentle nudge. “Okay, whatever you say. But your face says otherwise.”

Nayoung opened her mouth to protest, but Chowon held up a hand. “Listen, Nayoung, he obviously likes you, too. Why not see where it goes? You never know what could happen.”

Nayoung hesitated, considering Chowon’s words. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” Chowon said with a reassuring smile. “You should go for it. Life’s too short to hold back on something that feels right.”

Nayoung nodded as the girls left to do their other schedules while she was left with Kraken. For her now there was only one worry, would he accept her being a mutant?

After the break, Kraken was working on more verses for the song and asked Nayoung what was the phrase "Our Time" Korean. She told Kraken and he added it to the verse. Eventually, he came up with something he was pleased with Sonically and lyrically. When he started rapping the members fluent in English and Koren noticed that his verse was doing something interesting. So the Korean parts contained idioms and sayings more associated with English and did the inverse with the English verbs creating this weird but kinda of funny split of lyrics.

After spending 5-6 hours working on the Honey or Spice remix. They finished up. The producer gave the go-ahead for Davy to take over. The rest of Lightsum left for their schedules as Nayoung was still "assigned to Davy Jones." Nayoung was surprised when his eyes dimmed and his face became serious again. It was weird and she wondered why he did this.

Davy Jones started playing drums until he found an intro he liked. Nayoung walked into the side of the studio he was in. Davy looked up to see Nayoung and asked if she wanted to do some vocals. Nayoung noticed that Davy Jones was trying to get around her, but she pinned him to the wall.

"Why are you so different when it's just us?" she asked Her eyes contained a fire Davy Jones didn't know what to do with

"I thought you liked me. So why are you always so distant when it's just us?" Davy Jones sighed realizing he was trapped.

"Simple I don't trust being alone with you...well not you personally but any female to be honest," Davy says which shocks Nayoung to her core.

"But why?"

"Because despite my best intentions every woman I have ever gotten close to only hurts me because they don't get me."

Nayoung paused as she tried to consider this. It would explain why out of all of the members of "The Flying Dutchman he was the only single one, despite being the most charismatic and "normal" one of the bunch. It also explained a few other things like never going for hugs when she opened her arms to greet him or his overall caginess around her.

"Okay I am going to do something I don't normally do, but I'll be right back," Nayoung said leaving Davy confused but he played along.

She went into the bathroom and changed into her X-men suit, before sneaking back into the studio where Davy Jones was.

She smiles then says, "Okay. I am a mutant and I want to try something. I want to enter your mind but I need you to relax."

Davy Jones (Whose parents and sisters are all telepaths) had a hard time relaxing about Nayoung's revelation, but his desire for intimacy overrode his defensiveness so he eased. Nayoung smiled before becoming engulfed in flames. Davy blinked thrice before freaking out. He tried booking it but Nayoung intercepted him. Despite her whole body being covered in Flames. When she touched Davy Jones her hands didn't burn him. She smiled brightly and said,

"Please let me in. I won't hurt you." Against his better judgment, he let Nayoung in.

Nayoung flew deep into Davy's mind she watched as the world faded away and was swallowed by an impossible expansive ocean. She watched as stars and other celestial bodies filled the skies. But something else was there with her. Nayoung ignored it looking for some form of guidance about this place but all she got was more of this following her until it caught her. When she felt this immense presence she turned around to see...Davy? It looked like him but it was different.

The entity spoke to her.

"Does anyone ever tell you you're hotter in person?" Davy said before laughing. Not understanding the joke Nayoung turned to him confused before Davy said, "Get it? Because you're covered in the fire? Or is this lava? I can't tell."

Nayoung smiled. This was the Davy she was familiar with. The smile he wore on interviews and the joviality he brought not only emotionally but physically. This Davy was goofy and fun.

"So Miss what do you want to see?" Kraken asked her.

"Well, what do you want to show me?

"Well, I'd love to show you my most positive memories but a lot of them are nerdy and really goofy."

Nayoung held up her hand and said, "I'd love to but I'd also like to see you how you see yourself."

Kraken's smile wavered a bit, but quickly returned, "Okay then fine."

Kraken guided Nayoung to the brightest star in this infinite ocean and guided her to it.

The room Davy Jones found himself in was stuffy and cold, as he waited for his first girlfriend to come through. Nayoung noticed he was covered in bruises.

"What happened?" she asked Kraken.

"Oh Football injuries," Kraken explained. Nayoung nodded a bit more at ease.

As he waited for his ride he noticed a bald woman approach him. he locked eyes with her in confusion.

"Oh, what a naughty boy out here all alone. Someone could hurt you."

Her accent said British which automatically put the young man on edge, as she approached. Her face held malice which frightened the younger Davy. Until she became too close. she touched his forehead and entered his mind. A vibrant seaside palace

"Ooh, you have one of the prettiest mind palaces I have ever seen." The bald woman said. Davy in his efforts tried to shake her off, but she was the strongest telepath he had encountered thus far. She tightened her grip on his mind. Massive tendril-like fingers weaved through them. As she got closer to his mind palace she sighed and said,

"Shame I have to break it." before tearing the palace apart and casting it into the ocean. she tore through Davy's memories suppressing the ones she deemed useless and enhancing the ones that would make him her perfect weapon. A lot of those memories included how worthless he would always be and how he would never amount to anything. These memories began to manifest as these massive chains.

Nayoung watched in Terror she knew this Telepath. it was Professor Charles Xavier's sister Cassandra Nova, and as the memories faded a defense began to mount itself against her.

. The voice was monotone and mechanical

"HATE. LET ME TELL YOU HOW MUCH I'VE COME TO HATE YOU SINCE I BEGAN TO LIVE. THERE ARE 387.44 MILLION MILES OF PRINTED CIRCUITS IN WAFER THIN LAYERS THAT FILL MY COMPLEX. IF THE WORD HATE WAS ENGRAVED ON EACH NANOANGSTROM OF THOSE HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF MILES IT WOULD NOT EQUAL ONE ONE-BILLIONTH OF THE HATE I FEEL FOR HUMANS AT THIS MICRO-INSTANT. FOR YOU. HATE. HATE."

from the oceans arrived a titanic beast, that swam through Davy's mind, which Nayoung recognized as Kraken.

What startled Nayoung the most about this memory was how as it became corrupted and this almost machine-like coldness began to warp it, all she could sense from the memory was Hate, but also surprisingly Hope. when she came back to the "real world" she held Davy Jones close.

He smiled unguarded with her.

"So what now?" he asked.

As Nayoung delved deeper into Kraken’s mind, the vast ocean of his subconscious swirled with stars and shadows. She moved carefully, feeling the echoes of his past. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. The water around her grew turbulent, and a chilling presence made itself known.

From the depths emerged a figure shrouded in darkness, with piercing eyes that seemed to cut through the very fabric of his memories. It was Cassandra Nova, the malevolent telepath who had tormented Kraken in his past.

Nayoung felt Kraken’s fear and tension ripple through the ocean. The water grew cold and constricted as if reacting to the memory of Cassandra’s control. She could sense the trauma Kraken had endured, his defenses crumbling under Cassandra’s relentless assault.

“Little Davy,” Cassandra’s voice echoed, dripping with malice. “Did you think you could hide from me in your mind?”

The memory of Davy, younger and more vulnerable, appeared beside Nayoung. He was struggling against invisible chains, his face a mix of defiance and fear. Nayoung could see the weight of Cassandra’s influence bearing down on him, a testament to the psychological scars she had left.

Cassandra approached, her presence overwhelming. “Your powers are nothing compared to mine,” she taunted. “I could twist your thoughts, make you see what isn’t there. And you’d be helpless to stop me.”

The memory shifted, showing Kraken isolated, trapped in a web of illusions crafted by Cassandra. Nayoung watched as Kraken fought to maintain his sense of self, his mental barriers barely holding against the onslaught. The only thing that barely could stop her all combined into Kraken even little Davy mounted an all-out attack on the interloper

Determined to help, Nayoung reached out to the Kraken. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, her voice carrying strength and warmth. “I’m here with you.”

The presence of Nayoung seemed to bolster the mental apparation of Kraken. The waters began to calm, the chains weakening. Cassandra’s image flickered, her control slipping as Nayoung’s influence spread through the memory.

“Who are you?” Cassandra hissed, her figure dissipating under the combined willpower of Nayoung and Kraken. “This isn’t over!”

As the memory faded, Nayoung found herself back in the present, holding Kraken’s hand tightly. His eyes opened, meeting hers with gratitude and relief. Tears running down his eyes. Nayoung Kraken wasn't a side project it was what remained of him mentally. she smiled at him before stroking his hair as he collapsed in her arms. when he recovered and got up he stammered.

"Um Sorry you had to see that. I um hope it wasn't too much. I just um," as Kraken stammered for words Nayoung smiled then said,

"Well Kraken I can wipe your mind off this little exchange and we can resolve your issues the normal way. Or we can have some fun now that you are "okay" with me with Cube's money." Nayoung said while waving a card out.

"I don't like telepaths touching my psyche too much so let's have some fun," Kraken said. Nayoung smiled as they walked towards the exit. On the way out she realized Kraken said Telepaths plural.

"Wait You know multiple telepaths besides Cassandra and I?" Nayoung asked Kraken nodded, and replied

"Yes, my two sisters, Mom, and Dad,"

"You're a mutant like me?" Nayoung questioned incredolous." Kraken nodded and said.

"While I don't really flex my powers all that much I am very proud to be one. My Song Buy it Back was mutant slang where I'm from."

Nayoung's eyes went wide as she listened.

"That explains so much now Like the song Brotherhood, or the song Milita... no wonder I feel such a connection to you. Okay now that I know I have to ask the obligatory: Who do you side more with Xavier or Erik?" Nayoung asked.

Having been exposed to the question numerous times growing up Kraken picked his favorite response.

"Neither. their dead and have been dead for 15 years or so."

Nayoung rolled her eyes and then said. "Okay, then Mr. Smart Alek. What about Logan or Scott?"

Kraken smirked as he responded, "Oh Neither they're are both the worst. My choices are between a racist and a war criminal. Neither." Kraken said as he got in the car with Nayoung who pouted.

Nayoung turned to him with an annoyed smile. "How did you survive on Krakoa?"

Kraken shrugged as he responded, "I have never been."

Nayoung's brain broke upon hearing that, "What do you mean you have never been to Karkoa?"

Kraken shrugged before responding, "No Point."

"What do you mean no point? You are a proud mutant you need to go to the motherland." Nayoung challenged.

"My "Motherland" is Cali Missy," Kraken said which made Nayoung smile despite being teased. The two drove to a nearby Ramen shop

As they pulled up to the cozy ramen shop nestled on a bustling street corner, Nayoung parked the car and turned to Kraken with a playful smile.

“This place has the best ramen in town. You’re in for a treat!” she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

Kraken grinned, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I trust your taste. Lead the way.”

As they stepped out of the car, Nayoung reached for Kraken’s hand, intertwining her fingers with his. He glanced down at their joined hands and then back at her, feeling a warmth spread through him.

The restaurant was warm and inviting, with the comforting aroma of simmering broth and freshly cooked noodles wafting through the air. They were seated at a small table by the window, offering a view of the lively street outside.

After placing their orders, Nayoung leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So, you mentioned your family earlier. What’s it like having a family full of telepaths?”

Kraken chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “It’s… interesting, to say the least. Privacy is a bit of a challenge, but we’ve learned to respect each other’s boundaries. Once my powers kicked in and I was able to create mental barriers it was a lot easier. What about you? How did your family react to your abilities? Wait are you a first-generation mutant?”

Nayoung smiled softly. “ No, my dad was a flame user and my mom was an empath. Their powers combined when they had me. They were a bit surprised when I burst into flames in front of them but they were supportive. A bit surprised, but they always encouraged me to embrace who I am. My mom always says I’m destined for great things.”

Kraken squeezed her hand gently. “I’m not surprised. You’re pretty amazing, Nayoung.”

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks and looked down at their intertwined fingers. “You’re not so bad yourself, Kraken.”

They both laughed, the sound mingling with the soft chatter of other diners. Their ramen arrived, steaming and fragrant, and they released each other’s hands to pick up their chopsticks.

Between bites, Kraken asked, “Do you ever feel like you have to prove yourself because of your abilities?”

Nayoung nodded thoughtfully. “Sometimes. But I try to focus on what I can do, not what others expect of me. What about you? Do you feel pressure, especially with your family being mutants?”

Kraken shrugged. “A bit. But I’m learning to carve my own path. It helps to have people who understand.” He glanced at her, his expression softening.

Nayoung reached across the table, touching his hand lightly. “Well, I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to.”

He smiled, turning his hand to hold hers again. “I appreciate that.”

"So what are your powers?" Nayoung asked.

Kraken thought for a moment and made some gestures with his hands before giving up. He noticed Nayoung had some beef on her cheek and grabbed a napkin to wipe it off. Nayoung smiled at his cute gesture. She watched as the gears in his mind turned as he processed. It was something she had seen him do a couple of times now. Mostly when he's working on Music.

"So my powers are weird. I take the residual psionic energy that all mutants give off and use it that alter reality in a limited range that increases per mutant in the range. It also increases depending on the strength of the mutant as well.

Nayoung's eyes widened and she asked, "Well how much range do I give you."

"25 meters," Kraken answered

"So with me around I make you a god for 25 meters?" Nayoung asked.

Kraken smirked at her assumption, "Um yes and no. My powers are limited to a very specific range and while powerful are limited to my perception of reality."

"What do you mean?" Nayoung asked.

"I am a limited being. I can't know or think of everything." Kraken explained

Nayoung nodded thoughtfully "Okay, so your power is limited by your creativity and range."

Kraken nodded as he clarified "Yes. So if a telepath engages with my brain and I don't have my powers up they can do really bad things. Typically I know when one is near so that is less of an issue, but to use my powers I have let my Psionic barriers down leaving me super open to Telepaths."

"Okay So keep you protected from Psionics with my powers. Got it." Nayoung teased. Kraken chuckled and said

"Bold are you."

Nayoung smiled, "Yes I am. Besides you are my boy now whether you like it or not."

"Really in two days, you are claiming me?" Kraken asked confused

Nayoung nodded "Of course. You're my little angry heavy metal buddy."

Kraken was bewildered as he responded, "But Nayo I am taller than you by 14 inches."

"Yes, but you're heart's smaller so you're just my little guy." Nayoung teased.

Kraken laughed it off before wanting some clarity on Nayoung's powers.

"So how do your powers work?"

"Well, my powers work like so. My psionic flames cover me while I use them and increase my psionic powers of telepathy, pyrokinesis, and Telekinesis,"

Kraken nodded at Nayoung's explanation.

As they finished their meal, Nayoung looked at Kraken with a playful glint in her eyes. “So, what’s next on our adventure?”

Kraken returned her smile, feeling a sense of ease and excitement he hadn’t experienced in a while. “I guess we’ll have to see where the night takes us.”

"Karaoke?" Nayoung suggested.

"Sure" Kraken agreed. Nayoung paid for their meal and then took him to a nearby Karaoke Parlor, where they rented a room for a couple of hours. On the way in there was a claw Machine. In said Claw Machine was a rabbit keychain that Nayoung wanted. She raced to the Machine and made three attempts at it, but failed.

"I know there is supposed to be a trick to these, but why not use your powers to secure it?"

"Because that's cheating?" Nayoung replied stubbornly

"but these machines cheat. All the time."

"Well, I like beating cheaters by being better than them. Now are you going to help me or not?" Nayoung said defiantly.

Kraken rolled his eyes and let down his psionic barriers, as he put the coin in. Nayoung who was unaware watched as he upped his Luck percentage so high that the machine would give him the keychain when he was successful he gave her the keychain. Nayoung smiled and said,

"Thanks, big guy,"

Kraken smiled and said, "Oh now I am a big guy." Kraken teasese and Nayoung rolls her eyes. As they finally entered the room Nayoung hugged Kraken for the first time, well outside of a traumatic response from Kraken. She felt a cool warmth that was peaceful. It felt like a summer day at the beach. Kraken smirked confused.

"Um, what was that for?"

"You seemed like you'd be a good hugger and you are. I wonder how good of a kisser you are." Nayoung said absent minded. Kraken kindly ignored that as he searched for a song to play. He laughed when he saw his on the list but none from "The Flying Dutchman" Nayoung laughed with him saying,

"You know I didn't like "Buy it Back"." She said.

Kraken laughed and said, "Fair. I am often surprised it got so much love."

Nayoung held her hand up, "No I get why it did. It's got all the hallmarks of your art. Cheeky defiance in the face of similar-sounding music. It was a rallying war cry and killer instrumentation. My only wish it was more metal instead of a rap bop."

Kraken laughed and said, "Well then little miss Metalhead. Do you want to write a song together?"

Nayoung's eyes went wide and said, "Absolutely."

Kraken smiled as he picked hot and spicy. She laughed when he really tried to go for it on Nayoung's parts of the song, and smiled that he showed that he cared about not only her music but her art. after the song Nayoung smiled at Kraken.

"That was pretty good. What do you want to hear me sing?" Nayoung asked

"Oh that's easy Dreamcatcher, Odd eye."

Nayoung smiled, "you know they are how I found out about you." she said

Kraken's eyes widened before saying, "Wait they know about me?"

Nayoung laughed, "No but you were on their recommended video under Odd eye,"

Kraken laughed then said, "So I guess Odd Eye is our wedding song."

Nayoung laughed at the joke with a hearty smile. After singing Odd eye to a wildly impressed Kraken a competition ensued between them of who could sing better. No one really won this competition but they did impress each other with their vocal range and catalogue of music knowledge. After that Nayoung dropped off Kraken back at his hotel.

"I am glad that you're my "babysitter". Despite my earlier reservations," Kraken said.

Nayoung turned to him surprised, "What do you mean?"

"Um well, You have been stuck with me and doing whatever I want instead of you being able to be with your group. At first, I thought this was a manipulation attempt but honestly, this time with you has been some of the most fun I have had making music. Also one of my most healing times as well."

Nayoung's heart swelled. At that moment, she realized how much she had grown to like Kraken and how well they clicked, but also what surprised her was how smart he was to pick up on what Cube was doing."

"Why did you accept the offer?" Nayoung asked, she looked at Kraken who smiled at her, and then she added, "Your interviews make you seem like the one who embraces the rockstar identity more so than the other members of "The Flying Dutchman but spending all this time with you, and seeing how thoughtful you are. This seems like you would hate the fakeness of all of this. So I have to ask Why?"

Kraken smiled, "Obligation, I see all of this, and now that Cube is throwing y'all away. So why not see if I can help out at all." he explained

Nayoung looked at him with big happy eyes before grabbing him tight. Despite his awkward return she said, "Thank you for not giving up on us." Kraken pat Nayoung's back before leaving. while he walked out he waved back to her. Nayoung smiled and waved back until she lost visibility of him before driving back to her dorm.

Nayoung entered the dormitory, her cheeks slightly flushed from the day’s excitement. As she closed the door behind her, the familiar sounds of laughter and music filled the air. The other members of LIGHTSUM were scattered around the living room, lounging on the sofas and floor.

Juhyeon was the first to notice her arrival. She looked up from her phone and grinned widely. “Look who finally decided to come home!”

The others immediately perked up, turning their attention to Nayoung with mischievous smiles.

“Someone had a busy day,” Sangah teased, wiggling her eyebrows. “Was it fun?”

Nayoung rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool. “It was just ramen and some music stuff,” she replied, but the slight smile on her face betrayed her.

Chowon leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Oh, sure, just ramen. And who was the lucky guy you had ramen with?”

“Yeah, spill!” added Yujeong, clapping her hands excitedly. “We need all the juicy details.”

Nayoung sighed, knowing she couldn’t escape their playful interrogation. “Fine, fine. I was with Davy—Kraken, from The Flying Dutchman.”

There was a collective gasp of delight and surprise, and the teasing began in earnest.

“Kraken? The heavy metal guy?” Hina exclaimed, eyes wide. “Isn’t he super mysterious and cool?”

Jian joined in, nudging Nayoung’s arm. “I bet he’s got that brooding musician vibe. Did he sing you a love song?”

The room erupted in laughter, and Nayoung couldn’t help but laugh along with them. “He’s actually really sweet and funny,” she admitted, warmth in her voice. “We just talked and had a good time.”

“Talked, huh?” Juhyeon teased, nudging her playfully. “Holding hands, maybe?”

Nayoung’s blush deepened, and she covered her face with her hands. “Okay, maybe a little,” she mumbled, eliciting more squeals from her friends.

“Well, it sounds like you had a great time,” Sangah said, smiling warmly. “We’re happy for you, Nayoung.”

Nayoung looked around at her friends, grateful for their support and camaraderie. “Thanks, everyone. It was nice.”

“Just promise us one thing,” Chowon said, holding up a finger. “You’ll invite us to your wedding!”

The room filled with laughter again, and Nayoung shook her head, amused by their antics. “I’ll think about it,” she joked, knowing she wouldn’t hear the end of it any time soon.

The rest of the week was a blur of discussions; logistics, royalties, and promotion cycles. This led to Kraken appearing on quite a few shows with Lightsum.

In between one of those shows and another Chowon "confronts" Kraken over his time spent with Nayoung.

Backstage at the bustling music show venue, the air was filled with the sounds of instruments tuning and crew members rushing to set up for the next performance. Kraken leaned against a wall, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene, enjoying the brief lull between shows. As he took a sip of water, he noticed Chowon making her way towards him with a determined look on her face.

“Hey, Kraken,” she greeted, stopping in front of him. Her expression was friendly but serious, the kind of look that told him this wasn’t just a casual chat.

“Hey, Chowon,” he replied, curious about the purpose of her visit. “What’s up?”

She crossed her arms and gave him a scrutinizing look. “I wanted to talk to you about Nayoung.”

Kraken raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What about her?”

Chowon’s demeanor softened slightly, but her tone remained firm. “You two have been spending a lot of time together, and I just wanted to make sure you know how important she is to all of us. She’s like a sister to me.”

He nodded, understanding the underlying message. “I get it. Nayoung’s great, and I really enjoy being with her.”

“Good,” Chowon said, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Because if you ever hurt her, I’ll have to kick your butt.”

Kraken chuckled, appreciating her protectiveness. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. But seriously, I have no intention of hurting her. She’s… special.”

Chowon’s expression softened further, and she smiled. “I can see that. She talks about you a lot, you know.”

“Really?” Kraken asked a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Yeah,” Chowon confirmed, leaning against the wall next to him. “She’s been happier lately, more relaxed. That’s a good thing.”

Kraken felt a warmth in his chest at her words. “I’m glad to hear that. She makes me feel pretty happy too.”

Chowon nodded, satisfied with his response. “Just remember, she has all of us looking out for her.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kraken promised, meeting her gaze with sincerity.

“Great,” Chowon said, her tone lightening. “Now, I think it’s almost showtime. Ready to rock the stage?”

Kraken grinned, feeling the energy of the impending performance. “Always.”

They killed all the performances and had runaway hits. Lightsum was on track to be a household name. To Celebrate this massive momentum shift the group plus Kraken had a little party on a rooftop bar.

The evening was filled with laughter and chatter as Kraken sat with the members of LIGHTSUM at a cozy rooftop bar, enjoying the view of the city lights twinkling below. The atmosphere was relaxed, and Kraken felt a sense of camaraderie and warmth among the group. It was his last night in Korea, and he was determined to make the most of it.

As Sangah told a funny story that had everyone in stitches, Kraken's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen and saw Mike's name flashing. Excusing himself from the table, he stepped away from the noise to answer the call.

“Hey, Mike!” Kraken greeted, holding the phone to his ear.

“Kraken, my man!” Mike's voice boomed with excitement. “You’re not gonna believe the buzz that’s happening over here. Your performances have been a massive hit! Everyone’s talking about you!”

Kraken smiled, pleased to hear the positive feedback. “That’s great to hear! I’m glad people are enjoying it.”

“More than enjoying it—they’re loving it!” Mike continued enthusiastically. “When you get back, we need to capitalize on this hype. I’m thinking we can push for some big promotions. Maybe even a solo tour or a collaboration with some big names.”

Kraken’s smile faded slightly as he caught the emphasis on solo work. “Uh, Mike, you keep mentioning promoting me as Kraken. What about The Flying Dutchman?”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Mike responded, his tone slightly less enthusiastic. “Well, of course, there’s The Flying Dutchman, but I’m talking about opportunities for you as an individual artist. You’ve got this incredible momentum right now.”

Kraken took a deep breath, feeling the need to be firm. “I appreciate the excitement, Mike, but The Flying Dutchman is my project with the rest of the band. We’ve built this together, and I’m not interested in sidelining them. If we’re promoting, it’s gotta be all of us.”

Mike hesitated, then sighed, understanding Kraken's stance. “I get it, I do. But think about how much bigger you could be if you pursued this solo angle.”

“I’m already big enough with the band,” Kraken said with a slight chuckle, trying to keep the conversation light. “And that’s where I’m happiest—creating with them. We’re a team.”

There was a pause, and then Mike’s tone softened. “Alright, I hear you. We’ll focus on promoting The Flying Dutchman. Just know the offer’s there if you ever change your mind.”

“Thanks, Mike. I appreciate it,” Kraken replied, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.

As he hung up and returned to the table, the LIGHTSUM members greeted him with smiles and curiosity.

“Everything okay?” Chowon asked, noticing the thoughtful look on his face.

Kraken nodded, taking his seat again. “Yeah, just some talk about the future. But right now, I’m here with you guys, and that’s all that matters.”

Chowon laughs and then says. "Well if that's the case there is someone you need to talk to." before pointing at a partying Nayoung. Kraken smiles. Nayoung and he had both been avoiding the "So what happens next" talk because they knew that. It was going to hurt no matter what happened, but it was now or never.

Nayoung smiled when she saw Kraken approached.

"Hey Nayoung can we talk?" he said.

Nayoung sighed, she noticed he wasn't using her cute nickname Nayo which meant this was serious. She nods and the two find a quiet end of the bar to chat.

"So what happens next," Kraken asks.

Nayoung thought about his words... she knew they were about to go heavy into tours and traveling, which meant strain on their friendship.

"Well the way I see it we can put our friendship on pause, or you can move out to Korea, and we see where the rest of this takes us."

"I am not moving out here, but my powers do grant me limited teleportation."

"Wait really?"

"Kinda. Typically I need an anchor point. Usually, that's an omega level or higher mutant, but I think I know a girl."

Nayoung pouted not realizing who he was referring to. She stood up from the seat flustered, "Who is she, and how did you meet her out here?" she asked. Kraken furrowed his brow in confusion before pointing to Nayoung. Nayoung finally made the connection and laughed heartily.

Nayoung smiled and then said, "Okay well that changes things because if I knew you'd always be a quick teleport away we could have spent more time together."

Kraken nodded then asked for confirmation, "Okay so that's the plan?"

Nayoung nodded then replied, "Yes I have custody of you on the weekends."

"That's an interesting way to put it." Kraken looked at her funny while he responded

Nayoung raised a defiant eyebrow, and asked "Am I wrong?"

"No Nayo, it's just funny," Kraken replied

"Good now dance with me," she said as her favorite song came on. The two danced all night as their hearts poured themselves out on the dancefloor. Nayoung and Kraken felt at peace in each other's arms, and just like that. A spark ignited between the two "Friends" as both felt their hearts yearn for something more.

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (9/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting, semi-edited, smut, fingering, eating out, unprotected sex.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 8.0

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: lol, hello, I'm sorry for being so MIA lately. I kinda have had half of this written since November but my mom came to visit me in Korea and I forgot about it haha. If you are still here thank you for sticking around! Enjoy! Let me know your thoughts!

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10 Years Ago

Things were finally looking up.

“If you just remember everything we have gone over you'll be fine.” He simply says like it's no big deal, waving you off. 

You on the other hand are filled with the gnawing pain of your nerves. As you look down at your notebook filled with an equal mixture of correct and incorrect answers. 

Maybe things weren't really looking up. 

“I think we should do a few more.” You rush out, flipping to a new page. In that exact moment, the buzzer in Namjoon's hand goes off, and he stands up. 

He pushes in his chair and walks to stand beside you, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Over studying is not the answer.” He says gently, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before walking away to pick up your drinks. 

Your protest dying as you burn daggers into his back. You aren't sure if it's a good thing that he has so much faith in you. When you don't have an ounce in yourself. Especially when in two days you'll hopefully end your misery with the dreaded math final. 

It's been two whole months since you've started your weekly tutoring sessions with Namjoon. You aren't completely lost in class anymore. If you are, you just come to the broad man and drown him in all kinds of questions. With this tactic you've even managed to get an eighty-five present in your last math test. 

The only thing left for you to pass is the stupid final.

You have been seeing Namjoon a lot more this week. Scheduling, and practically begging him to squeeze you into his tight schedule since Monday. A request to brush up on equations and gain some clarity on things you might have forgotten. To say the least, your test anxiety has reached a whole new level. You visibly look exhausted, your skin is oilier than usual, sporting a few painful pimples on your chin, and your hair looks so greasy despite just washing it in the morning. You should feel slightly ashamed for even leaving your house looking like a hot mess, but your thoughts are suffocating. Staying in would make the panic in the pit of your stomach worse. 

Especially when you and your tutor have recently discovered your inability to do word problems. The main reason why you keep calling Namjoon at three in the morning. Even though he thinks you're just being paranoid, especially with the silent sigh of defeat you hear through your phone speaker. He tries his best to reassure you that you're going to be fine at the end of the day. 

“There will probably be three, five at most. He had said last night when you called. 

Thankfully he had stayed up revising his final paper, instead of being three dimensions deep in dream land like on Sunday when you called. Still, even though he had muttered out a tiny complaint, he stayed on the line with you. Until you were calm enough to fall asleep again. 

In just three months your acquaintance has blossomed into a full on friendship. Along with your sneaking suspicion that both Taehyung and Jimin like him better. It was obvious last Friday night when Jimin had a small end of the semester get together at his apartment. Namjoon got so drunk he performed the entirety of Grease Lightning on karaoke. Including the dance break with special guest and step brother Jeon Jungkook. 

Later on in the night the older of the four cried about the final scene in the Titanic. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but heartwarming to be able to see a different side of the Philosophy student. 

“Look who decided to join us.” You jump, placing your pen down in your notebook, closing it to hold your page. You turn around, feeling a wide smile come onto your face when you lock eyes with the other source of your happiness these last few months. 

“Hobi,” you exclaim, holding your arms out to him. He chuckles, and leans down giving you one of those awkward hugs one gives when the other person is sitting down. It only lasts a few seconds and then he is leaning his head back to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, making you cringe. 

“Ew,” you pout, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. He chuckles, pecking your lips lightly and then taking the seat next to you. 

“Joon says you need a break from being a math wizard.” He chuckles, dragging your notebook to him. He places his arms over it keeping it hostage.

You whine crossing your arms in front of you, pouting like a child. “But what if I don't pass. I don't want to have to take the class a third time.” 

Namjoon shakes his head, sets your chamomile tea in front of you, and sits down. “I already told you, you won't. I did the math last night. Even if you get a sixty five percent, you'll still be able to pass the class with a B.” He states firmly and takes a sip from his coffee. 

You huff, sinking further into the chair. “I don't want a B, I want an A.” 

Hoseok snakes an arm over your shoulders and brings you close to his side.” “Then you will pass the class with an A honey cakes.” He kisses your temple before resting his cheek on top of your head. You take a deep breath, nodding and snuggling closer to him.

“So are you two dating now?” Namjoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of him.

Hoseok waves an arm, brushing off the question that has been surrounding the two of you these past three weeks. “You know it's not like that.” He answers before you can. He pulls his arm away and sets them both on top of your notebook. He sends you a knowing wink. 

“Yeah you out of all people should know it's not like that.” You back up Hoseok, sticking your tongue out at the other. “How's Rina by the way?” You challenge making the man next to you burst out in a fit of giggles. 

You see, most of the things Jungkook told you about Namjoon prior to your first meeting have all been lies. Or just not the whole truth.

Namjoon was a broody person. He did put his studies as one of his priorities in life. And he didn't want a relationship. 

Yet in the last few months you have gotten to know the career driven man. You've also managed to peel back some of his layers. 

He did have his moments of indignation, but he could also be very playful and funny. This side mostly comes out when Hoseok is around or when he wants you to get your mind off the things that have been stressing you out. He does have a strong work ethic, but he also knows when to take a break. 

There have even moments in your tutoring slash now study sessions when he forces you to take walks. He says it helps clear your head, but you also know it's his way to get his ideas to flow again whenever he feels stuck. 

During these walks you've managed to find out more things about him. He loves museums because he's shit at art, and knowing that there are people out there who aren't makes him appreciate the art a lot more. At least once every two months he visits the tree he and his father planted his mother’s ashes at to update her on his life. He cares so much for Jungkook and his mother even if he doesn't show it all the time. And despite not wanting a relationship he has been head over heels for the girl he's been casually hooking up with for the last two years. 

Though he won't come out and say it himself. You have witnessed the way his face settles down into something calmer. And his eyes light up whenever his phone rings and her name pops up on the screen.

He once spent thirty minutes talking about a joke she had told him one night. Spoiler alert, it wasn't a good one, but it was adorable watching him try to get it out in-between chuckles. 

You also know he shares the same negative sentiment Jungkook has about your current relationship with his best friend. But just like he claims that his relationship with Rina is complicated. So, is yours with the ray of sunshine you get to now call friend.

“She's fine.” He shrugs, clearing his throat and looking out the window. You share a look with Hoseok before letting out a fit of shared giggles. 

If someone had once told you that your strict math tutor slash friend would turn into a shy mess with just the simple mention of a name. You would've thought they were fucking with you. Even if it still surprises you a little bit. 

“You should just ask her to be your girlfriend.” Hoseok chimes in. 

Namjoon throws his head back groaning. “It wouldn't work out if I do, plus that would require for me to act like a boyfriend and I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.” He speaks with his eyes trained on the high ceiling of the cafe. 

You lean forward placing your elbows on top of the table and wrapping your arms around the hot mug. “You already do Namjoon. A switch of labels is not going to change anything. And don't you think she deserves some kind of confirmation and respect when it comes to your relationship?” You finish tilting your head to the side. 

“I do respect her though, which is why I don't want to ask her, like you just said a label won't change anything.” 

You let out a sigh, “I didn't say that you didn't respect her. I just think that from a girl's perspective she might be feeling a little bit confused with your words and actions. You say the two of you aren't anything serious but then you act like you can't live without her. If I was in her shoes I would feel very frustrated. So, maybe you don't have to make this big grand gesture or ask her to officially be your girlfriend but just clarify things between the two of you. If you aren't serious about her then so be it but if you are then tell her that.” You finish and take your first sip from your tea. 

“I agree with honey cakes, just be a little more straight forward that's all.” Hoseok shrugs before standing up. 

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and looks between the two of you. “And what about you?” He counteracts childishly. You knew it was coming. In his eyes the two of you giving him advice when you're in a similar situation is a bit hypocritical. Plus you and Hoseok are on the same page so it's di–

“That's different.” Hoseok speaks before you. “And this is about your love life not ours.” He states stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“Whatever.” Namjoon brushes off. You sigh, aware that if you choose to continue the conversation it will end in the three of you having a petty argument. You look at Hoseok as he leans down, placing a delicate kiss on your cheek, making the man witnessing the affectionate gesture scoff in annoyance. 

If he wants to say something he doesn't voice it instead he opens his leather bound notebook to a new page. 

Hoseok ignores him and stands up straight. “Are we still on tonight?” 

You nod. “I can't stay for long though I want to catch up on sleep.” 

“Fine then just one movie it is.” He winks before turning on his heels. Leaving you behind with the grumpy man. He looks up from his journal, opening his mouth, but you raise a hand to stop him. “It's different Namjoon.” 

Namjon clicks his tongue in annoyance and shrugs. “Whatever, let's just do one more world problem before calling it a day.” 

“Fine,” you huff, sliding your notebook in front of you and opening it to a clean page. 

Just one more day and you'll be free from this torture. 

Hoseok's apartment is everything you expect from the maximest man. Just upon walking in you are hit with waves of bright colors. By the doorway there are different KAWS figurines that you can only imagine cost a fortune. Yet they greet you with their x'd out eyes as you remove your shoes. 

Then you have to pass by the Supreme beaded curtain to finally enter the living room. A bright red leather couch is settled in the middle. With wine colored pillows and a black throw blanket that you've adopted since the first night you spent in Hoseok's arms.

Abstract art lines the walls behind the television. There are more figurines lining the shelves in between books, records, and framed pictures of his friends and families. Along with a few miscellaneous items that he's told you he's obtained over the years.

His TV is huge. Takes up almost the whole wall, but your favorite to watch movies since he installed a surround system upon moving in years ago. 

You still remember the first night he invited you over. It was after spending two whole weeks texting non stop. He simply asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him and you thought why not. 

One night led to another and now another. It always starts the same. The two of you spend days teasing one another through text. Lewd texts along with pictures. You come over for a movie and then you end up underneath him. 

When it's over, he lets you use his shower while he orders takeout from the vegan restaurant a block down the road. And the two of you resume watching the movie as if neither of you were panting each other's names in pleasure. 

A simple arrangement with absolutely no strings attached.

It was what you were expecting when you came over tonight. Not that you don't mind the nights in which you do come over and nothing happens other than the deep hearted talks over a slow record playing in the background. But that wasn't happening either, because ever since you arrived at his doorstep, the overzealous man has been quiet. Biting the inside of his cheek and moving around you far enough to raise suspicion. 

It has your mind traveling back to the conversation that occurred in the afternoon. Was Hoseok having second thoughts? Or was there more to his actions than what you were picking up? 

“Hobi,” you whisper the minute he enters his living room with a bowl of popcorn stepping over your legs that were resting on his coffee table. He silently settles down next to you, on the other side of the couch with a gap wide enough to fit a person in between. 

Now you're more than positive that something is wrong. 

You groan, “I think I'll just go home then.” You mumble, pushing the throw blanket of your shoulders. 

This is enough to catch his attention. His eyes are wide behind his dark rimmed glasses and he sits up. “What why?” He tilts his head in confusion. 

A dry chuckle escapes your lips. “You obviously don't want me around, so I'll just go. I need to go to sleep early anyway.” You shrug, slipping your feet in his fuzzy slippers and swiftly start making your way to grab your stuff in his room. 

“No I–wait.” Finally, he speaks up, earning an eye roll from you that he can't see as your back is still turned. 

With haltered steps you spin on your heel to face him again, “What? You've been acting strange since I got here. So, if you don't want me around I will just go home.” 

At lightning speed he sets the bowl of popcorn on his coffee table, and stands up. He makes hasty steps towards you and when he is finally standing in front of you, he sets both of his hands on top of your shoulders. 

“Don't leave…I'm sorry.” Hoseok's eyes cast down past your face. They settle upon the graphic on your old washed out t-shirt. He takes a deep breath and looks up again. His face twists into something you can't decipher. It's a look you've never seen him wear, and it settles hard into your chest. 

He looks troubled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His eyes dart to five different focal points. You know he's arguing with himself. When he finally looks at you in your eyes again. You can't help but shrink a little bit. 

His features have hardened, and you want to reach out to smooth over the little worry lines in the middle of his forehead. Guilt washes over you. 

For what? 

You don't know but you hope more than anything that you'll soon find out. 

“Can we talk?” He speaks up, letting his arms fall down, his knuckles brushing against your skin. 

For a second you think he's going to pull away. Retrieve into his body, but when he grabs your hands and laces his fingers with yours. The guilt in the pit of your stomach dissipates and you're left with confusion. 

When you don't answer his question, he repeats himself. This time differently, “I just think we need to talk, I've been thinking since this afternoon. I want to check up on you, and I guess us.” He clarifies, and now you're filled with a different kind of emotion. As much as you're relieved that you didn't do anything wrong per se. You are slightly annoyed that he couldn't just tell you that when you first arrived. Instead of ignoring you until you reached your breaking point. 

Frustrated, you say slowly, “Then just say that, instead of ignoring me.” 

Hoseok closes his eyes and sighs, nodding his head before speaking, “you're right I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind and I am not sure how to bring any of what I'm thinking about up.” 

“Hobi, just say it. We agreed on clear communication when we realized that this was going to be more than just a one night stand.” You sigh, beginning to walk in the direction of his couch, stringing him along. “Whatever is on your mind, just say it.” You push him onto his couch and take the seat next to him, your body fully facing his, and you fold your legs beneath you. 

He nods, running a hand down his face. “I don't think this is working anymore.” He whispers, eyes trained on his ceiling. 

Okay you were definitely not expecting that, but instead of voicing your surprise, you squeeze his hand. Encouraging him to continue. 

He does, “I think I'm slowly falling for you, well I don't know I'm confused about my feelings.” He whispers the end and falls quiet. 

As much as you want to run away and hide at his confession. He looks troubled and you wouldn't be a good friend if you just left him to wallow in his thoughts. No matter the pressure that has settled in your chest. Or the fact that your heart thinks you're running a marathon, making your ears feel like they're about to fall off too. 

With every passing moment you're finding that it's getting harder to breathe. You aren't dumb, the atmosphere has also changed, but it isn't because of his confession. It's because you are also a bit confused about your feelings.

You clear your throat, “W-What are you confused about?” 

He stops his staring game with the ceiling, shifting his whole body to finally face you. “Do you know why both Kook and Joon are so against us?” 

The question throws you off guard but you suppose it has to do with what he's going through. You do have an idea as to why your friends are raising a brow at your relationship. Jungkook’s warning the first day you met the barista is enough for you to get a rough idea of what they mean. But you want to hear it from him. 

Still you don't know if you can trust your voice so you shake your head. 

He continues, “I've never been in a relationship because I don't trust people to love me the way I know I can love them. So, I just sleep around, and when I get bored I break it off.” 

 “I know. They warned me about you when you immediately showed interest. And trust me I knew what I signed up for when we agreed to keep seeing each other. I don't expect anything more than what we are doing.” You tilt your head to the side.

“I know that's why I'm confused. At first that's all I expected and wanted. But then I don't know I feel so full and empty when I'm with you. I don't want you to leave when the night is over. You're the last thing I think about and the first thing I want to see. I've never felt this sure and comfortable with anyone ever, and I don't know what to do because we both know this isn't forever, your forever is with someone else, and so is mine. But for now I just want to be with you and know what it's like to fall in love and with you.” He takes a deep breath. “Even if it's just for a little bit. You know that next year I'll be leaving for that design school, and I'm sorry but nothing and no one is going to stop me. I've waited too long for this opportunity. I know I'm being selfish to ask you this, but can you please find it in your heart to let me be yours until then?” 

Hoseok finishes. And you're left to your own devices. To deal with your emotions as they spill out of you in hot tears. You've never had someone confess to you so passionately before. Actually nobody has ever bothered. And even though it's semi depressing you can't help but feel on cloud nine with all his words wrapping around you in the warmth that he radiates. 

Without thinking you kneel, and wrap your arms around his neck. “Okay let's do it.” You beam and he matches your smile. He leans in to kiss you but you place your hand over his mouth to stop him. 

Confusion plagues him like a bitter sting. You laugh, “But only if you agree that when everything is over there's no drama between us, and if I ever get married you have to design my wedding dress.” You remove your hand, and cradle his cheek, rub your thumb over his eyebrow. 

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “You will get married.” 

“Nah, but it's okay. I've accepted my faith.” You shrug, resting your forehead against his. His hands come up your cheek, squishing them slightly.

“You will honey cakes, that's why I'm already planning your dress design in my head.” He wipes your forgotten tears, and tilts your head to the side. 

You feel your breathing get faster, as his heart shaped lips rest centimeters apart. “How are you so sure?” You whisper, swallowing thickly at the end. 

He smirks, with a glint in his eye. Like he knows something you don't, “because I know someone who is also falling for you but they’re to dumb to notice “ 

“Who?” 

“Secret,” he says before finally crashing his lips onto yours.

Hoseok’s room is equally as loud as his living room. It’s a little more diluted with simple decorations and a huge abstract painting on the wall in front of his bed. His bed takes up most of his space, adoring a black duvet with black sheets. He has three pillows and two of those you’ve taken ownership of. His brown dresser holds little trinkets of things he buys or finds in the pockets of his pants. It’s also home to a series of designer colognes. Your favorite one was definitely Terre d'Hermes. Somehow the smell always fills with comfort. 

Your favorite part of his room–other than his bed–was his desk. They say you can tell a lot about a person by just looking at their work space. 

He’s a messy artist. His sketches are always thrown around, or pinned on the corkboard hanging over his desk. He has two bookshelves filled with sketchbooks and magazines. Sometimes if you’re lucky he will leave his sketchbooks open, awarding you with a small glance of his work. He has different notebooks for different magazine cutouts. Each one labeled something like, ‘street’ or ‘formal’ or ‘one-day.’ The latter always peaks your interest but you’ve never thought to ask. He has a thousand different sketching materials, and so many colorful markers. You just know that he was that kid in class with the sixty-four crayola back. 

He's passionate about his craft. A passion that shines through everything that he does. Especially when he’s sharing that passion with you. Now, as he lays you down onto his soft mattress. He kisses his way down your neck, slowly pushing your shirt up to reveal your stomach and the few stretch marks that appeared one day in your early adolescent years. 

For years it was hard to be intimate with someone in fear that they would disgust your partner. But the one thing you learned while growing up was that most men didn’t give a shit unless they were getting it. 

Yet Hoseok, your boyfriend, now. 

He cares. 

In a good way. The first time he saw you naked he almost came in his jeans. Your curves were all in the right places. You have enough skin to grip onto, and he loves all the marks and imperfections your body has. 

He couldn’t understand why you were so beautiful in the soft glow of his bedroom lights? Why he didn’t have the words to describe how his heart was literally beating against his ribcage?  Why for the first time in his casual dating experience he feared he wouldn't be able to give you the pleasure you deserved? 

So, that first night together, he took his time. Trying to get his thoughts under control. He painted your body with featherlight kisses. Determined to leave his trace imprinted in your body for however long you two would engage with each other. 

Everytime you came over. He did just that. He took his time, choreographing a dance with your body. It was a no-brainer that he had fallen for you. Something he knew shouldn’t have happened. He had plans for himself. He had a future mapped out since he was teenage. Though, he had the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t stop him from achieving his goals. That you would support him through everything. He should’ve stopped his feelings for you from growing. 

He kept them quiet until his portfolio got accepted. Until he saw the brief glances Namjoon gave you when he thought you weren’t looking. Perhaps it was the jealousy that made him confess. Or that his time with you was now limited. Whatever the reason was that led him to his confession, he only hoped that you felt the same. 

You giggle, the beautiful melodic sound grounds him as he wraps a calloused hand around your right breast, circling his thumb around the pebble. 

You're his girlfriend now. 

He, your boyfriend and he will bring down the moon for you tonight if you asked him too. 

“What’s so funny?” His curious stare meets your amused one. 

You had failed to keep your giggles at bay while he made out with you on his couch. He let a few of his own out when he had had enough of kissing and grinding in his living room, and guided you into his room. 

He loved the sound, and he loved that it was only because after months of dancing this tango you were still shy underneath him. 

“Nothing, it’s just that Mickey is staring at us.” You whisper gasping when he grinds his lower half against yours. Hoseok playfully rolls his eyes, reaching and turning around the newly added picture of his family dog on his bedside table. No more prying dog or human eyes around to interrupt the two of you. 

His attention returns to you. Gaze burning with lust as he leans down, pecking your lips lightly. “Can you stay over?” He says, kneading your breast again. The teasing touches were driving you insane. But this is how you preferred it. Slow and intense, tangling your body with his, until the two of you became one. 

“I’ll make an exception if you promise to drive me to my class tomorrow with a free coffee.” You smile, pushing your chest into his hand. 

He shook his head, reaching down to your lips. “Hustler.” He mumbles, capturing your mouth in a slow sensual kiss. “You got yourself a deal baby girl.” 

Your body shudders at the nickname. He only used it when it was just the two of you. He knew the effect it had on you. “Can I take your shirt off now?” He smirks. 

You let out a pleasurable sigh, nodding your head, before verbalizing a soft, “yes.” 

He pulls away, sitting back on his heels, peeling his shirt off before helping you with yours. He discards the two of them somewhere behind him. He pulls you towards him again, resting his forehead against yours. A bright smile adorning his perfect face. 

It makes your stomach crumble, knowing that from this moment on.

Hoseok would always be the one who got away. 

Your big “what if.” 

Your biggest treasure. Your safe place. Your blueprint for a future with someone else. The love story that was made to end. But one that burned so bright that would have you telling your future daughter to never be afraid of love. 

“Can we go slow today?” You run your hands down his torso, playing with the belt buckle of his expensive belt. 

“I’ll go at whatever pace you want me to go, baby girl.” He reassures,  his fingers play with the bra strap that had fallen down your shoulder. 

You tilt your head, looking at him with soft eyes. And he swears he feels himself melt. 

The next few minutes were a mess of soft kisses and clothes being discarded. Each article of clothing, landing with a soft ‘thud’ against his bedroom floor. You’re on cloud nine, his lips kiss down your neck, your collarbone. His hands part your thighs, baring your cunt to him. He sits back, mouth watering at how wet you are. He couldn’t wait for a taste. 

He could never wait. And he never did. 

He kisses your mound before wrapping his lips around your clit. He savors the sigh that escapes your mouth. He smirks when he immediately feels you grip his hair, pushing him further. Just like he couldn’t resist, you also couldn’t.

He sucked, distracting you from his finger circling around your entrance making you gasp in surprise when you feel him insert one. Slowly thrusting it as he licked you like a man who has been starved for weeks. 

“Hobi,” You sigh, pushing his head further. He fingers you faster until he feels you clench around him, and he stops, making you whine. 

“Please,” you plead. He chuckles against you, inserting another finger. This time he doesn’t give you time to adjust. You feel him thrust into you with no hesitation. His mouth sucking on your clit, swirling his tongue around it playing with the nub. 

You were withering, moaning his name, and anything your mind could conjure up in this moment. 

Overwhelmed with blissful pleasure, you grip his bed sheets, bucking your hips into his face. He groans, knowing you were on edge from how tight your grip on his head was now. And he did the one thing he knew would drive you insane. He slowed down, until he came to a complete stop. 

“Hoseok,” you groan, slamming your hand onto his comforter. He chuckles, lifting his head. Your body was flushed, your lips swollen, your hair splayed out around you. He loves bringing you to this moment. 

“You said you wanted slow.” He grins, taking his fingers out of your pussy. Loving the way it clenched over nothing now. Almost as if it was begging to be played with again. 

You roll your eyes, pouting. “Not this slow. I want to come.” You say, sitting up on your elbows. 

“Oh baby you will.” He winks, licking his fingers clean. He leans over, pecking your lips quickly. “You will come as many times as you want. But I want the first one to be around my cock tonight.” 

You gasp at his words. You knew his mouth was lethal but sometimes it still surprises you. The lust lacing with his soft timbre made you weak in the knees. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. 

The word ‘slow’ is forgotten from either of your vocabularies, while the two of you kiss hungrily. Sucking on tongues, teeth clashing, hands touching and clutching onto anything and everything. 

Hoseok lays you down on your side, climbing in behind you. His teeth nips at your bottom lip and he wrapped your leg around his hips. He kisses down your neck, while you help guide his cock to your entrance. He locks his eyes with yours as he slowly pushes himself in. His arms wrap around your torso, and he pushes you closer to his chest. 

Both of your heartbeats are in sync. Racing against the clock, basking in pleasure that you never want it to end. 

“Move please.” You say, lifting your face to kiss him. 

He begins to move his hips, making you gasp into each other's mouths. It’s a sloppy pace from the start but you don't care. You want more, so you met his thrusts halfway. One of his hands palms at your breast. He alternates between swallowing your moans and leaving his mark on anything he can get his lips on. 

“B-Baby.” He moans, resting his forehead on yours. “I’m close, are you?” He thrusts, letting out a low moan when he feels you clench around him.

He didn’t give you a minute to answer, before he was lifting your leg higher around his waist, allowing himself to reach the deepest part of you. “Touch yourself baby.” 

You moan his name, letting go of his hand, your finger meeting your clit, rubbing it in circles. Trying to keep up with his unrelenting pace. And soon you feel him still behind you, eyes shutting in pleasure as he spills himself inside of you. His orgasm triggers the coil in the pit of your stomach as you feel your release wash over you in a tidal wave, making you push his cock and cum out of you. His fingers frantically come down to meet yours as he helps you ride out your wave. He whispers praises against your skin while you come down.

Hoseok kisses your lips slowly, chuckling before whispering words that you will forever hold near and dear to your heart. 

“I love you.” He pushes your hair away from your face. “I love you so much to know that one day I’ll have to let you go.”

You giggle, turning in his arms, nuzzling your head into his neck. “I love you.” 

You feel him laugh, twinkling his fingers down your spine, “Let’s get matching tattoos.” 

You look up at him, raising a brow before shaking your head. “You just made me squirt, told me you loved me, and now you want to get matching tattoos?” 

“What better way to commemorate the best ego boost.” He shrugs. 

“You’re insane.” You untangle yourself from his embrace. You stand up, putting on his shirt. 

“I didn’t hear a no.” He says smugly, putting his arms underneath his head. 

“Because you’re an insane idiot who makes me agree to things like these.” You smile, before walking out of his room. 

“Great, I’ll make an appointment.” He shouts after you, “I love you.” He adds after a moment. 

You enter his kitchen, and turn on the lights. You can feel your smile take up your entire face. For a moment you realize that for the first time in a long time you felt happy. 

So yeah, maybe, things were finally looking up. 

“You’re late.”

Namjoon says after taking a slow sip from his coffee. He looks at you from over the rim of his glasses. 

You roll your eyes, setting your bag down on the empty chair. “It's raining, and I forgot my umbrella. I had to wait for the rain to stop.”

“You could’ve texted to let me know.” He shrugs, setting his cup down on the coaster and flipping the page of his book. 

You sigh, before (gently) throwing your phone onto the table. “It’s dead. And before you ask, no I didn’t bring a charger. No, Jungkook wasn’t in class today so he couldn’t give me a charger, an umbrella, or a ride. Jimin is sick. And Taehyung doesn’t even go to our school. He's probably getting high with his new fling, so I wouldn’t have been able to ask him either.” You say, listing all the solutions he would’ve thought about in seconds. 

“Mhm,” he nods, closing his book. “And your boyfriend?”

Annoyed, you let out a whine, crossing your arms in front of you. “I don’t know, let me go downstairs and ask him. I’m sure he can stop managing a business to give me an umbrella.” 

Namjoon leans his elbows against the table. “Trouble in paradise?” He tilts his head, clasping his hands on top of his book. 

You shake your head, pulling out your chair and slumping down in it. “Hobi and I are fine. It’s not like he’s leaving in two months or anything.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. 

It’s month seven into your shining relationship with Hoseok, and you should’ve known that things would start to hit the fan sooner rather than Later. Your boyfriend was in the middle of the most tumultuous change of his life. Things were moving quickly and his time dedicated to you was bumped down his monstrous daily to-do list. 

Yet you couldn’t do or say anything because isn’t this what you signed up for? 

“Ah, so there is trouble.” Namjoon chuckles before opening his book again, setting his fancy leather bookmark aside. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships, they just attract problems.” He adds, giving you a pointed look. 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up asshole, not all of us can be like you and Rina.” 

“Sure you can, it's simple just don't attach any strings to it.” He shrugs, underlining a sentence in his book. 

“Two people who have been only exclusively seeing each other for years literally the definition of strings attached. You can keep denying it all you want but she’s your girlfriend. You guys do all the couple-y stuff.” You grumble, leaning back in your chair, looking out of the window. The gloomy weather adds to your shitty mood. 

“She’s not, we are not dating, and I don’t need to talk about this with you again. Rina and I are on the same page.” He finishes, taking a long sip from his coffee.

“Well, how would you feel if Rina was spending time with another guy, completely ignoring your presence when you walk into her coffee shop all wet and angry because your professor basically told you your topic for your essay was shit.”

Namjoon smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like you’re jealous of Yuri.” 

“So what if I am?” You bite, “I understand that he’s training her to take over his position, but all he talks about is her and what he needs to teach her when we’re together. And whenever I come in they’re always laughing at something behind the coffee machine. And I know she’s nice and all but I would like his attention too.” You scoff. 

Namjoon hums, tapping his index finger against the table. “Do you trust him?” 

The question doesn’t catch you off guard, the obvious answer is on the tip of your tongue. But with how things have been going lately. You can’t help but hesitate. 

“I don’t know anymore.” You whisper looking down at your hands, turning the ring on your middle finger. “I know I should, and I do…I think I do. It’s just things have been so shit lately and I feel like a burden to him because of everything he has to do.” 

Namjoon lightly kicks your foot under the table, making you raise your head to meet his gaze. “I don’t know if I am being of much help, but he loves you. I know that whatever is happening he’s not doing it intentionally. Just talk to him about it.” 

If only it were that easy. 

“I’d love to but he never has time.” 

“Why not talk to him now then.” He says reaching into his bag to take out his cigarettes and lighter. 

“He’s busy downstairs with Yu–” 

“No, I’m not busy now.” 

You jump at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. You turn your head to look at him. A small tray with a mug of probably chamomile tea on top of it. His hair is shorter than the last time you saw him two days ago. He got a haircut and didn’t even tell you about it. That’s how low you have made it on his list. He can’t even send you a stupid picture of his new haircut. He can’t even send you a ‘goodmorning’ or ‘goodnight’ text. He also probably forgot that you were nervous for the meeting with your professor about your essay topic.

All these realizations make you want to roll into a ball and cry. You knew your time with Hoseok was limited. You just didn’t expect for the end to be so torturous. 

“That’s what I told her.” Namjoon speaks, narrowing his eyes at you for a second before turning his attention to his best friend. “She’s jealous of Yuri, because you’ve been spending too much time with her.” He shrugs, walking quickly to the stairs before you can bury him ten feet underground. 

You hear Hoseok let out a heavy sigh, and take the seat next to you. “Honeycakes,” he starts.

“Nice haircut.” You interrupt, slumping into your chair more. It earns another heavy sigh from the man sitting next to you. 

“Is Yuri the reason why you’ve been so upset lately?” He says placing a hand on top of your knee underneath the table. 

You let out a dry laugh before shaking your head. “No, it’s not her. It’s how you’ve been acting lately, it’s the time you’ve been spending with her. It's never having time for me anymore. It’s forgetting our date last week. It’s not even telling me that you got a haircut.” You finish, closing your fists to keep yourself from crying. 

Hoseok gives your thigh a squeeze before leaning back in his chair. “You know how things have been lately. I’m trying so hard to do everything I need to do. I don’t mean to be so dismissive but I can’t juggle everything at the same time.” 

You flick off a piece of lint from your jeans. “It’s nice to know that I’m just something you juggle around.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You knew what would happen when I started my application process. You said you understood.” 

“I did, or I thought I did Hoseok. I didn’t think I would become so secondary to you.” You sniffle. “I love that you’re chasing your dreams, but this is me trying to support you. I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling. But you stop me. You have shut me out and now I’m just something you remember sometimes.” You close your eyes, feeling the tears fall down your cheeks. 

The last thing you wanted was to be crying like this in public. 

“I-I want you to tell me when you’re having a hard time like you used to. I want you to feel like you can relax around me when we’re together. But every time we are together, we either argue, you don’t talk, or you talk about work, deadlines, or how you can’t wait to move. How do you think that makes me feel Hoseok?” 

Hoseok sighs, and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He kisses your temple. “I wish you would’ve told me earlier before it got to this point.” He whispers, rubbing your back, while you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

“But Hobi like you said, this is what I signed up for. This is what I agreed to.”  You add bitterly. 

“Yes Honeycakes, but you’re still my girlfriend. And I know that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, but I do care about you and I do love you.” He lifts your head from his shoulder. He gently grabs hold of your face, making you look at him. “Just like how you want me to talk to you when something is bothering me, I also want you to talk to me.” 

You close your head sighing, “You’re right, I’m sorry that I keep making things difficult.” 

He shakes his head. “You don’t. I’m the one that can’t seem to keep my girlfriend from doubting me. I’m the one who hasn’t told her how much I yearn to be in her presence at every waking moment.” He says, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I love you, and I think that’s why I’ve been so avoidant lately. I know that our days are numbered and I would rather ignore the fact that I’m moving away soon than cherish the moments I get to spend with my family, my friends and you.” 

You nod, holding out your pinky out to him. “I promise to keep trying my best.” 

He hooks his pinky with yours bringing your laced fingers up to his lips. “I promise to keep trying my best too.” 

“I love you,” You whisper, letting go of his finger and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

His low laugh makes his chest vibrate against your head, “I love you.” He adds, rubbing soothing circles over your back. “Now, can you please drink your tea before you get a cold. I texted you earlier asking if you needed an umbrella but you didn’t answer. And now look at you coming in here all pouty and wet.”  

You raise your head to look at him, opening your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the forgotten voice of your friend. “Her phone’s dead.” Namjoon throws his lighter onto the wooden table. 

Hoseok tsks shaking his head, reaching over to push the tray of your lukewarm tea closer to you. “I should’ve known. I knew you didn’t charge it last night, just like I knew that you left your umbrella at my place.” He pinches your cheek. “How did your meeting go?” 

“He basically said that I need to restart my essay topic over again.”

Hoseok laughs, bopping your nose with his own. “Well did he say those exact words?” 

“No but it was basically implied.”  You emphasize. 

“Fine, I’ll talk to your study partner if my baby isn’t being told that she’s a genius all the time, then what am I paying him for.” He jokes, which earns a glare from said study partner. 

“You’re not paying me, idiot.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing his brown leather messenger back and stuffing his cigarettes into the front pocket. 

He’s grateful that he came back to smiles and not tears. The stoicness of his actions makes the two of you laugh hard. Your laugh resonates longer in his mind. It always does. No matter how much he tries to deny it. You always resonate longer in his mind. But he pushes that fleeting thought aside. 

Namjoon is happy. 

His friends are happy. 

Things in his life were finally looking up. 

“I have to go, but don’t be late next time and charge your phone.” He says hoisting his bag onto his shoulders. 

You nod, saluting in his direction, before bursting out into a fit of giggles as Hoseok tickles your side. 

Namjoon doesn’t stay for longer than he needs to. He’s already running late to meet Rina, but he can’t hide the smile taking up his space.

He can’t help but feel proud that things were finally looking up for you too. 

a/n: I hope you have enjoyed it. I will try not to be so MIA and upload a little more frequently rather than every 6 months haha. But my life has been pretty busy lately. In the past few months. I have moved to a different part of Seoul and I got a new job. I basically just hang out with my friends when I have free time haha. I also do dance class 3 times a week, and I started personal training last week. But I will try to manage my time better because I do miss writing and this story!

[muzyoshi]

Miles Edgeworth's Secret

This post is purely for documentation purposes, and also to inform anyone who may not be aware. This post will contain SPOILERS for the end of Phoenix Wright: Trials & Tribulations, so proceed with caution.

During Case 5, Bridge to the Turnabout, while playing as Edgeworth, you are presented the opportunity to peer into Iris' heart. Specifically in regards to a secret she is withholding from Phoenix, someone she was romantically involved with. During which, if the player fails to present the correct evidence specifically for the second Psyche-Lock, an interesting conversation concerning the nature of secrets occurs.

I have seen talk of this dialogue, but no footage or screenshots, so I took the liberty of getting them myself. The full conversation and my further thoughts will be found under the cut.

You MUST present incorrect evidence during the second Psyche-Lock. This dialogue is laughably easy to miss, which is why I could find zero footage of it. (Sorry if the formatting for this sucks)

(Interesting to note: the music stops playing here.)

Incidentally, Iris' secret is that she developed romantic feelings for Phoenix while dating him in college (disguised as her twin sister). Edgeworth affirms her thoughts, confirming that he does indeed have a secret of similar nature deep within his heart and soul; "It takes one to know one." It cannot be said what exactly this secret of his is, but every real plot point behind Edgeworth has been more or less resolved by this point in the series. He found his path as a prosecutor, the truth behind his involvement in the DL-6 incident was concluded, so... What's left? Reading between the lines, this only really seems to lead us to one answer. It has something to do with romantic feelings. I truly can't see it being anything else, even with a critical mind.

Just mere moments ago, Iris had inquired as to what Edgeworth and Phoenix' relationship was. Edgeworth (famously) responds that Wright is a "dear and indispensable friend". Wonder if Iris gleamed something deeper from that comment, then? ;P Keep in mind: she makes these comments directly because Edgeworth avoided presenting Phoenix Wright's profile.

"he just like me fr" - iris probably

Now, just for completion's sake, let's see what happens when you present Phoenix's profile and break the Psyche-Lock.

I have a lot of thoughts regarding this string of text from the two of them. This is a huge reach from an admittedly shipper-crazed brain, but aren't Edgeworth's retorts here... interesting? He does not know this girl, but he knows that the two of them are important to one another. We can assume it's likely that he is pushing for this for Wright's sake, rather than Iris'. At this point it's fair to say that Edgeworth has some basic understanding of her secret (the feelings, at least), and he doesn't benefit from her telling Phoenix her secret. So why is he adamant that she does it? Especially when he's, apparently, holding a secret of similar nature himself? Projecting, perhaps?

"But it's pointless..." "Why would you say that?"

Why indeed.

(EDIT) I was thinking about this feverishly, and I had another thought. What if the "darkness in his heart" and his "secret" has something to do with jealousy? Still in context of romantic feelings... it starts to make sense that this could fit into the puzzle as well. By this point it was already established to Edgeworth that Phoenix and Iris share an intimate connection of some kind, and with all of this pressuring (including the words the two of them share before Edgeworth leaves the Detention Centre), it sort of adds up. "Uncovering the truth" in order to "get rid of the deep-seated darkness in [his] heart" - could this refer to closure? As in, if Iris comes forth to Phoenix Wright with her secret, and there is some level of reciprocation, would this make Edgeworth's own secret/feelings "pointless" to confess? I wonder.

One last note I'd like to make is that this is the first time we view Edgeworth through the 'protagonist lens', and that a great deal of care was put into having the player truly feel like they are Miles Edgeworth in this moment. His mannerisms, choice of words and thought patterns are decidedly very different than Phoenix's when you are in control of them, as I'm sure most people would agree. Therefore, I feel comfortable proposing that a lot of what he says here isn't filler, and in fact is very deliberately worded.

I think this post also deserves a spot here.

Diehard Narumitsu/Wrightworth shippers are likely already aware of this conversation's existence. However, due to the circumstances necessary to see it, I wasn't able to find any screenshots. I hope this was interesting to read, at least... Thanks for reading!

[p0orbaby]

Dead Plate

summary: Natasha can’t cook. You love to let her know. She loves to be told.

warnings: suggestive but not explicit, language, slight sub!dom vibes? probably some terribly incorrect cooking terms in there

a/n: someone suggested chef!reader ages ago, so here’s something small

word count: 1.3k

-

“You’re doing that all wrong”

The sound of your voice caused Natasha to jump. So much so that the wooden spoon she was using clattered against the side of the pan and onto the floor.

“Sneaking up on someone in front of an open flame is dangerous, you know”

“Well it’s not as dangerous as what’s going on in that pot” you countered as you looked over her shoulder with a grimace.

“I’ve followed the recipe you wrote down! So if it’s bad then that’s on you”

“Right. Because apparently I said that spoons and whisks where interchangeable”

She was about to answer when she read your now food covered notes, and did in fact find she’d been using the wrong utensil all along.

“You could’ve picked an easier one for your first try. Even the best chefs struggle with a roux from time to time”

All Natasha could do was pout and cross her arms over her chest in defeat.

“Hey, don’t pull that face” you said as you tied your apron around yourself. Getting ready to either salvage the food or start over entirely. “Come over here and help, you can be my sous chef”

“Do I have to?”

“Ah, that’s not what we say now, is it?”

A shiver ran down her spine at your tone. Assertive. Commanding. Sexy as fuck.

“No. Chef”

“That’s what I thought. So come and stand over here and help”

“Yes chef”

Natasha washed her hands in the basin and promptly stood next to you. The few extra inches you had on her had her craning her neck upwards. Waiting patiently to follow any instructions you’d give her.

“You’ve added too much flour. So we need to add more milk. Can you measure two tablespoons and pour them into the pot for me?”

This time selecting the appropriate utensils, she did what you asked. Just as obedient as a trained puppy. Always wanting to impress.

“Perfect. Now we'll turn the heat down slightly, and I want you to stand in front of me at the stove and whisk until there's no lumps”

She wasn’t listening. She was looking at your hands, your forearms. The way they tensed as you turned the gas down.

“Earth to Natasha '' you promoted, smirking at the absent expression on the redhead's face.

“Sorry”

You took her wrist, pressed the whisk into her palm and maneuvered her so her back was touching your front. Caged in. Trapped.

“You know how to whisk, right? Or do you need me to assist you with that too?”

Without a word, Natasha lifted her hand and placed the whisk in the pot and started moving it back and fourth with speed. Bubbles being created in the milk at the repetitive motion.

She felt your hand at her elbow the next second.

“Too fast. Be a little more gentle” you whispered in her ear.

So she slowed her pace. Focusing on your breath against the skin of her neck and the pressure of your hands as they squeezed at her waist.

“Good girl. See how it’s getting thicker? Means you’re doing a perfect job”

“Thank you, Chef,” she breathed.

“Now, what else does the recipe say?” A rhetorical question as you reached around her form and picked up your own notes from the kitchen counter. “Cheese. Did you grate it already?”

She nodded.

“Words, Natasha”

“Yes chef. I left it in the refrigerator”

She missed the feel of your body against hers as soon as you stepped away. And the chill of the air from the fridge made her shiver. Goosebumps appearing on her skin instantly.

“And the macaroni?”

Oh

“I was going to boil that after,” Natasha admitted slowly. Realising her mistake as soon as you mentioned the other key ingredient.

“Oh dear, Natasha. You really did fuck up didn’t you?”

Your voice wasn’t judgemental. Not really. She knew you were playing, but that made the whole thing even more enjoyable. Your normal carefree attitude replaced by one of assertiveness with hints of superiority.

She probably loved it all a little too much.

Loved the way you tutted at her forgetfulness. Loved the way you moved around the kitchen, brushing past her with intent. It was all very calculated. She knew that. But she relished in the attention all the same.

“You need to do better, Natalia. Your job requires you to be well fuelled. And that means learning how to cook. I may not always be around to help you”

Her legs clenched together subconsciously at the insult. How you made her feel so weak she never knew. It was a stark contrast to why she was like outside of the house. Being a criminal lawyer meant she had to be stern, level headed, even ruthless sometimes. That all flies out the window as soon as you call her names, or roll your eyes at her incompetence at simple tasks.

“I can cook” Natasha’s response was merely just for show. She couldn’t cook. Unless you call tv dinners or oven chips cooking. Which you naturally didn’t. Her ex did the cooking and with him gone, she was left to dine on meals that were mainly made up from the colour beige.

Until you, that was.

“Sure you can sweetheart. If you could, I wouldn’t have to hold your hand while you tried and failed to make this now, would I?”

She shook her head. Bashful and innocent as you drained the water from the pot of now cooked macaroni.

Wait. She can’t have been ogling you that long surely?

“Do you need my help to stir it together or are you up to trying not to make a mess?”

She grabbed the spoon you’d held out for her and your response was to slide her between you and the surface once again. Marble digging into her hips deliciously as you lent forward and placed your chin on her shoulder. Fingers kneading softly at her sides.

“See, you can achieve what you want if you use your brain a little” you encouraged softly as she stirred the pasta into the sauce. “Mac and cheese now, beef wellington next”

“I think I’ll leave the cooking to you” she decided as she dipped her finger in the pot and licked the excess off. Moaning in joy at the flavour.

She went to dip her finger back in so you could have a taste, but you grabbed her wrist, nails almost digging into her skin, halting her movements.

“Don’t you dare put your hand back in there. Wash your hands or use a damn spoon”.

Her breath hitched. “Yes, chef”

You moved away from her again, but this time you smacked her behind as she shimmied up to the sink. Your action was relayed by a squeal from and an out of character glare at you from over her shoulder.

All you did in response was lean smuggly against the frame of the door again. Relishing in the fact you could turn her to jelly with a few harsh words.

“That was fun”

“Was it? All you did was insult me”

“All's fair in love and war. And I didn’t hear you complaining. You’re hot when you’re flustered”. There it was again. The heat that ran through her body at your backhanded compliments. “And you’d look even hotter flustered and naked”

She’d play along. “Is that so?”

“Oh I’m positive. Wanna find out?”

“Sure”

“What was that?” You shouted as you turned away from her and started ascending the stairs.

“Yes chef”

“Better”

Natasha almost melted into a puddle on the tile floor beneath her when you caught her gaze and tilted your head in the direction you were headed, prompting her to follow.

The mac and cheese could wait until after she’d worked up an appetite for something that wasn’t you.

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

I am autistic. You would think that would make working in the heavily regulated and rigidly ruled field of being a lab scientist would be a great fit for me because of that. But it turns out it’s actually just infuriating beyond belief. Non-autistic people have no idea how to communicate, and apparently find joy in making everything unclear. I’m well aware of that from conversations and such, but I had foolishly assumed that it would be different for scientific lab work. When someone sends me their request for me to run tests on their experimental drug product, I would expect that they would provide clear details on what they want me to do. This was of course an incorrect assumption. And then when I reach out to them as ask if they could clarify what they mean, I assumed they could, oh I don’t know, tell me what they want me to do?!???!?

Apparently non-autistic people enjoy communicating by sending each other conflicting information and then being unable to answer when asked for clarity. I guess they probably like how when, I guess one of the many options of things I could do that fit their vague “instructions”, they then get the opportunity to tell me how foolish I was for doing it incorrectly. I cannot read minds, especially not ones as apparently labyrinthian as theirs.

And then when they are unable to clarify to me what I need to know via the extremely convenient communication method of text-based messages, they decide we need to schedule a meeting to “discuss”. Great. Now my entire day’s schedule is ruined. And now I have to meet with these people so they can be unclear on what they want verbally and we have to repeat ourselves at each other for an hour until I can somehow convince them to tell me what they fucking want. And then hope that I can actually process the sound properly and keep it in my memory in the time between it entering my ears and my pen moving on the page, because there’s no goddamn record of a conversation I can reference later and if I get a detail wrong I have to start the process all over again when I realize something is unclear.

And if I get an actual answer to the question, I will of course ask if they can verify that is what they meant, a simple yes or other word of affirmation to tell me that they did not misspeak or mistype or just to reassure me in some way that they wont have an excuse to change their mind later and say I interpreted it wrong. This seems like the most simple and reasonable request, but they really don’t seem to like it. I simply repeat what they said, and ask if that is correct, and for some of them that’s apparently a sin. I ask “oh that’s what you want me to do? Can we do that?” And expect a “yes” in response, instead they tell me to see the message I’m asking for their affirmation on. That’s not a yes! That’s not an answer to my question! I now have to go on with uncertainty in my feeble human mind because it’s apparently way too fucking hard to say yes. Fuck off

I need the whole world to be autistic. I’d rather endure 1 million heated debates over which way is the optimal way to format something argued by people who are so stubbornly stuck in their ways that the heat death of the universe will happen before they cede their ground, than have to deal with these non-autistics and their guessing games for the rest of my life. I can’t fucking do this shit. Why are you even requesting testing from me if you don’t even know what you want tested and how, why are you like this?!?????

[fairy-writes]

New to requesting so please tell me if this is the incorrect way to do it Im obssessed with your writing can I request

Uta x human reader angst/comfort

SCARS

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Uta x Reader

Word Count: 

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Human!Reader, CCG Investigator!Reader, Angst, Comfort

Notes: I used THIS prompt by @whumpster-dumpster as… well… a prompt!

This is also the same reader used in both THIS and THIS oneshot!

TW for blood and injuries

__________________________________________________________________________

Uta should’ve known you had scars. 

It was practically part of your job description as a CCG Investigator. 

He just didn’t expect them to be so… severe. 

It was an accident, really, seeing them. Uta had popped by your apartment after a long week, intending to take you out on your weekly date night. He had let himself in with his key and spied your briefcase containing your quinque and white trenchcoat tossed on the couch. 

So you were home. 

He had changed into indoor slippers and meandered his way down the hall. Knocking on your bedroom door and hearing no answer, he opened it and peeked his head inside. 

Only to come face to face with your bloody back. 

How had he not smelled it before? He was a ghoul, after all, maybe he just wasn’t paying attention to his nose.

Admittedly, at first, he panicked. But he managed to school his face into a perfect calm when you whirled around to face him. 

“What are you doing here?!” You demanded, and he shrugged, the scent of drying blood tickling his nose.

“I did knock.” Was all he said as he took your demand as an invitation to enter your bedroom. 

The sheets of your bed are rumpled and bloodstained. Maybe you had been sleeping and woken up because of the blood? 

Your white button-down is in a crumpled heap on the floor, and you’re holding a roll of bandages in red-stained fingertips. Uta’s words make you scoff, and you turn around to try and keep wrapping your injuries. 

“I asked why you were here.” You say sharply, and he hums as he sits behind you on the bed.

“It’s date night.” He says simply, and you let out a pained laugh,

“I don’t think I’m in the best position to go out on the town tonight.” You say, and he gently pries the bandages from your hands and wraps your torso for you. 

He’s done this before, but never to this extent. A scratch here, some stitches there, he forgets sometimes that you humans are so fragile. 

Uta is gentle as he passes the roll from hand to hand and wraps your injuries. 

Your wounds are deep, though not deep enough to need stitches. They’re angry, red, and inflamed as if an infection is beginning to set in. If he had to guess, you are probably hurt because of a fellow ghoul. He shakes his head. He can ask for details later. 

When he’s done, he secures the wrappings and pats your shoulder twice. But his eyes keep tracing the raised ridges of skin that decorate your back like Christmas lights. 

At least, until you turn around and catch just what he’s looking at. 

And your face turns angry.  You push Uta away with harsh words.

“What? What’s your problem, huh?” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow. 

You keep going, 

“Are you afraid to look at my scars? Disgusted? You think you’re too good for me now that I’m ‘damaged goods’?”

“Of course not.” He says gently, trying to calm you down, but you just keep going. Tears well up and streak your cheeks. But you push him away when he tries to reach for you.

“Then look at me like I’m still a person! Look at me like you used to! Like you love me!” 

He finally pins your arms down and pulls you into a hug. Gently, of course, so as not to aggravate your back. He presses a kiss to your temple.

“I still love you. Fiercely and unconditionally. A few scars aren’t going to change that.” He says and feels you thump his chest with a weak fist. It doesn’t hurt. Not physically, at least. But his heart breaks at your shaking form in his arms. 

“Then why look at me like I’ve changed?” You whisper, and he rocks you back and forth.

“Because you have changed. We all change when you think about it.” He says and feels your tears wet his sweater.

“Don’t get deep with me. Not when I’m injured.” He huffs out a chuckle and pulls back, checking you over once again. 

You’re okay. 

And that’s all he can ask for.

[cardboardheartss]

Kpop Twitter Fanwars Mini Reading

⚠️DISCLAIMER! TAROT CARDS ARE NOT 100% ACCURATE! TAKE EVERYTHING WITH A GRAIN OF SALT! IF MY INTERPRETATIONS ARE INCORRECT FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME!⚠️

Why are there so many fan-wars? : 3oC, 9oC, 10oC & AoC rx

I’m sure we all know the answer to this question lol! Many fans are heavily divided and do not like each other at all. People in their own fandoms generally like flaunting their ult groups success as if it’s theirs, and some fans can get quite emotionally detached and say thee most unkind words.

Are K-Pop Entertainment companies aware of fan - wars? : 7oS rx & KoS rx

The cards may be in reversal but these companies are aware but they don’t want to get caught up in the mess of stan twitter. They honestly think these fan-wars are honestly odd and crazy, they find it pretty arrogant and think fans are too impulsive for theeee most littlest issue.

Are K-Pop Idols aware of the fan - wars? : 4oP rx, AoS & The World

Yes, but they avoid their phones for the sake of their mental health. These idols have phones and have all sorts of access to social media… I would not be surprised some idols could genuinely be lurking around here on tumblr and possibly Reddit too..

How do male kpop idols feel about the fan - wars? : Strength rx, 8oS rx & 9oP

It’s makes them doubt their confidence and their groups potential. They definitely do see the comments of stans saying they doing too much, trying to be like so and so, and blah blah blah. Seeing their fans comments encourages them to actually work harder and push, but for some idols this could lead to them feeling trapped and feel some self hatred.

How do female kpop idols feel about the fan - wars? : The Emperor, KoC, 4oC & PoW

Some female idols get hyped up and feel like they have reached a really high level of success if kpop stans start attacking their groups. I think female idols actually sit together and read all the comments together and probably just laugh tbh. Female idols also think kpop stans on twitter are just bored and have nothing else to do with their lives.

All the comments really rile the ladies up and somehow build thier characters.

I’m aware there are some other female idols who go through a lot of mental issues because of these fanwars, but it seems as if the idols who are self confident and genuinely don’t care about these stuff, had their energies overpowering this response

Do K-Pop Companies control fan wars? - The Star, The Empress, AoP

Yes, they pay a lot of money for PR and also probably pay idols to interact with one another to somehow show the stans who fight, that everyone is “family.”

How does the whole K-Industry overall feel about fan - wars? : 7oC rx

They just think it’s a lot tbh… they have no choice but to let it be, because who has the courage to actually humble kpop stan twitter?!👀😭

[sunny-mercya]

Hey, Brother do you still believe in one another?

14. Osaka Trip - Rising Hope

Heiji Hattori x Male Reader | Plantonic! Shinichi Kudo x Brother Reader

Fandom -> Detective Conan/Case Closed

Masterlist | Previous / Next |

Reaching for the Stars, even if they are far away

It's the beginning of a new dream,

I do still believe

Getting into the house, where you presumably being held captured, was fairly easy for Conan—all he had to do was to climb on some trashcans (or whatever else stood there around) and pickpocket the small bathroom window—and for once Shinichi felt thankful, sending gratitude to the above, for being shrunk into a Child.

Letting himself fall down the small distance from the window to the floor, Conan tried to be quiet as possible—even though, he knew Daiki wasn't in the house anymore as the man had went out around thirty minutes ago and didn't returned, so it was safe to say that Daiki would be gone for some time—an hour or two probably—in case of there being a partner, ventured through the bathroom and into the hallway.

Conan listen, straining his hearing, for any kind of noises—the ones out of ordinary, like television—because a captive victim would and could never watch television—there weren't any and Conan sighed in relief.

Now, Conan thought, where could you be? There wouldn't be many options in this house and it didn't seem as if there was a basement—so the only few options to hide you away, holding you hostage, would be in a bedroom.

Conan took a wild guess, which he normally wouldn't do—as guessing in any kind of way is a unpredictable, uncertain mathematical process and could lead to an wrong conclusion or answer, a incorrectness even—but time's running thin and so he went straight upstairs to the bedrooms.

Conan found you in the second bedroom, laying on the ground and being covered with heavy blankets. It's strange that the door wasn't locked as you would have the chance to escape anytime soon—but Conan found out why the door never would be needed to be locked.

»[Name]? It's me, Conan, I'm getting you out of here.«

Conan kneeled down to your lumpy form, shaking—in what he guessed—your shoulder, whispering loudly enough for you to hear.

»Oh Conan, that's real sweet of you......but I don't think I can escape this.....«

Your voice, besides your mumbling of an reply—which Conan could barely hear, with how quiet you spoke—sounded hoarse and husked rough—sandpaper dry—as if you had screamed your throat and lungs raw—and every use of your vocal cords felt like a strain.

»What do you mean, you can't? Please, [Name], get up! You need to get up!«

Conan shook you again, trying to get a rise out of you—to get you up, even when it would mean he somehow has to carry you out—but to no avail, you didn't moved an inch.

When he shook you harder, moving your body more to the sides and hearing the rattling sound of chains—Conan halts in his movements, being frozen in a stupor.

»See? I told you, I'm not able to escape this. Go without me, Conan. Save yourself instead of me.«

You turned towards him, tired expression morphing into a gentle smile—wanting to let Conan known, that it was more than just okay now to leave you behind here—in the clutches of Daiki—moving the blankets away and holding up your wrists to symbolise just how serious you were about this.

Even with the small nightstand lamp, could Conan see how raw and bloody your skin had been rubbed under the metal of the chains. Chains—more like handcuffs—which were around your wrists and ankles.

Conan gulped, balling his hands into fists, looking at your face—which shows more than just mere exhaustion, a sort of accepting death with batting eyes and how loopy you looked to bed—and hoping to still see this certain glint of survival and life in your eyes—hoping, almost praying—wanting to beg—that you hadn't completely given up on yourself and your will, which is still a dwindling desire of tightrope act depending on a day's mood, to live.

Conan—Shinichi—too had seeing you close at entering death's door twice already—wishing desperately to never have to repeat such heart frighting fear again—and it had been moments like these, which thrived is sense of protection and justice—because all he ever wanted was to protect you, his dear little brother.

So hearing you say such things, such nonsense of wanting to stay here and being freely a victim of everything possible inhuman injustice doing—surged a wave of anger through him and Conan wanted to scream at you for being so insensitive, ignorant, stupid—selfish even—but then, while gazing at the hidden sadness in your tired eyes, he was reminded of Narumi.

The anger turned into a heartbeat of sadness and frustration—towards himself for not being able to be here, even though he was, at your side and lending you the strength and support you needed—albeit all that, Conan knew what he must do, to bring at least a bit of feistiness back in you.

»You can't give up now! Not when Shinichi has called and said he will be home soon! So, please [Nickname], get up! Aren't you a fighter?!«

»Did he now? Thank you Conan, but don't be silly, Shinichi never calls anymore—not me at least......oh, silly boy, You only can be a fighter if there's something worth to fight for.«

»No, no! He did call! I promise you he did! I–wait here, I'll get your phone and show you!«

You didn't stop Conan when he sprinted out of the room. Wouldn't be able to, not with how tightly you're chained at floor. You also hadn't the heart to tell him that your phone wasn't here—Daiki had probably destroyed it already by now.

But you found it endearing how Conan tried to give you one more surge of positivity in this dry situation of possible doom.

Conan returned back some minutes later—taking a few deep breaths to make it believable for you, that he really went searching for your phone, instead of letting known that he had it with him and sending you a SMS from his second phone.

»See! Shinichi did call and wrote you!« like an excited Child, Conan hold your phone up—showing you what's on your screen.

1 Missed Call from Shin-Chan♡,

1 SMS from Shin-Chan♡ ;

Sorry for the late response. Had some tough cases to solve, will be home soon, [Nickname]. Don't worry too much and congrats for your wins, will always believe in you!

– Shin-chan♡

You sniffed, lips wobbling and tears already spilling from your eyes as you read the SMS. You were confused how Shinichi could send you an SMS, when you were certain you had blocked his number—then again, with how many times you had to change your number, you couldn't remember if you had or not.

Not that you cared about this in the moment, because all what matters right now, was that Shinichi—your dear brother, which you sometimes thought would be forever gone—had wrote you after all these damned months of uncertainty and waiting in which you worried yourself sick.

Too good to be true, too good to be true. It's a fraud, a trick. Shinichi wouldn't send you a SMS, he doesn't care about you. A lovely meant lie it is.

»Don't be silly......Shinichi wouldn't text me, he doesn't care......don't be stupid.« you muttered, frowning at Conan

Conan frowned as well, anger starting to flow back and getting the worst out of him. What happened to you? You never were one to quit so damn fast and easily, so why? Why now?

»Since when do you give up so easily like a coward?! Aren't Heiji and I and the people you love worth it to fight for? Why do you stop now to believe, huh?! You promised to fight as long as you have faith!«

Maybe, you thought, glancing at Conan—who resembles so much Shinichi in younger years and looked at you with pleading eyes of upcoming hope—Shinichi is truly coming back home now and if that's true—even when it would just be another false hope in the end—than you might stand up one last time again.

Because the last thing you wanted, was the disappointment Shinichi would feel—when he knows you hadn't given it your all, that you didn't fought back like the fighter you promised him to be.

»Okay, Okay. We're getting out of here, munchkin. Bring me a knife from the kitchen. Time to free myself from these dumbass chains.« you told Conan, who nodded and sprinted out of the room again.

~~~

Conan looked at you with raised eyebrows, uncertainty written in his face. Breaking open the chains with a mere kitchen knife? Yeah, he wasn't so sure if that's gonna work at all. Not to forget that you could easily cut open your arteries in the process and bleed out.

You only smiled with a burst of self confidence at him, sitting cross legged on your makeshift bed.

»Daiki won't be back till Ten pm, said he's getting......a uhm surprise. Anyways. Gives us enough time.« you told Conan, starting with the cuffs at your ankles.

Sliding the knife in between the tiny space between your skin and the cuffs, you twisted it—so that the sharp side faced the metal—and started to bend it upward. You repeated the procedure a few times, ignoring the sharp strings whenever the knife slipped away and cut into your skin. Soon enough your ankles were free.

The handcuff like chains on your wrists took a bit longer as it wasn't all that easy. Though, slicing two times a bit too deep into your wrists, you were able to break out of them easily as well.

While you, in a drastic way—because in your words, searching for the dammed keys would take way too long and you had the right strength for it after all—broke yourself free from the chains, Conan let his eyes wander over you.

In all honesty, Conan didn't want to know what Daiki had done to you. Not with how your skin looked like—all bruised up, bloody and beat and colours of blue, purple, green and yellow mixing together as one.

Only four days had went by since you were kidnapped, but four days and these endless hours were enough to inflict you more than enough harm.

Your oversized shirt rose up a bit, showing the marks—various shapes of bites and cuts—around your thighs—and once again Conan felt not only anger flaring up, at Daiki for violating you in so many inhuman ways, but also disappointment in himself again because he wasn't able to protect at all, like how he promised he would.

The pained hiss from you, broke Conan out of his thoughts. Focusing back on you, Conan watched—his stomach slightly aching from the the sight, with how bloody and gory like your neck looked like—how you bend the barbed wire, which acted as a chain around your neck—and Conan thought how absolutely insane Daiki has to be, to use wire in such ways—and freeing yourself from it.

»Okay, okay. How did you get in here Conan?«

»Through the bathroom window downstairs, but I'm not sure of you fit through it...«

»We'll try. Okay, now first I need some shorts and a jacket and then we go.« you said, more to yourself.

You felt much more secure after you pulled some shorts on and fresh underwear as well. During these four days, being so nakedly exposed to someone like Daiki, was more than just sickening uncomfortable.

~~~

Once outside, Conan looked for Heiji—who said he would wait outside and keep watch—but he was nowhere to be seen.

Heiji also didn't answer his phone, when Conan tried to call him for a fourth time.

»And where do you think you're going, darling?«

Fuck.

Scooping Conan up in your arms, you bolted in the opposite direction from where Daiki stood.

Open your eyes and you will defeat the fear, which chains us

Because the world is waiting for us

[tarithenurse]

Sticky Situation

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing/starring: Dean Winchester x fem!angel!reader Word count: 2148 Content: Depiction of gore, smut, naïve reader, sex pollen/stuff so a bit rough and unceremoniously, probably incorrect monster and angel lore, confessions of sorts, doubts, fear of dub/non-con (but it’s not – you’ll see), also some reference to soft smut. A/N: The second result of the CAH-inspired fics. This time it ended up with a SPN-fic. The concept is simple: I’d picked a bunch of black cards from Cards Against Humanity and let you all vote on what should be the basis of my next project. You chose “Why am I sticky?”. So this is really not my fault. Betaed by the lovely TanteFrutsel-CreativeNurse.

Sticky Situation

... Dean ...

Fishing his phone out of the pocket, Dean hits a few buttons and listens to the dial tone.

Sam picks up on the third ring: “How’d it go?” he sounds distracted.

The hunter surveys the chaos. Three monsters down. [Y/N] is kneeling over one of them, angel blade poking gingerly at a decapitated corpse. She and Dean had been hunting what they thought was a nest of vampires at first but the angel had quickly verified that, no: this was something else. Something new even to her. Then again, she hasn’t been an angel for that long, according to herself.

“Why...am I sticky?”

“Comes with the job,” the younger brother chuckles.

“But it’s pink!” Sam had been their go-to when they realized it wasn’t vamps, suggesting the usually efficient method of killing. Now Dean hoped there were other answers...although they’d manage to end the immediate threat.

There’s a moment of hesitation. “Not just blood?”

“No. The blood was black but then one of them barfed on us. Is it gonna kill us?”

This time the pause is filled with pages ruffling. Meanwhile [Y/N] has taken to investigate the colourful substance she too is covered in. With a snap of the fingers it’s gone and she does the same to Dean who nods at her gratefully, making her smile shyly. She’s okay although a bit...inexperienced. Technically, she’s more than okay. In fact, she’s rather cute and Dean has had a hard time getting her off of his mind even when she’s not around.

“Oh,” Sam’s voice cuts through the derailing train of thoughts, “so good news is, you’re not gonna die -”

“Thank fuck.”

“- but these are a kind of incubus and if you gotten any of the ‘pink stuff’ on you, you will start to feel -”

But Dean doesn’t listen. A potential crisis averted, he just finishes the call and stuffs the phone in his pocket.

“Thanks for removing the junk.”

“What was it? I’ve never encountered such creatures before.”

“Nothing that can kill us.” Dean runs a hand across his neck – it’s starting to get warm and his clothes are chafing. Maybe the stuff did have some effect. Should I have listened to Sam? Nah. Dean’s feeling confident. After all: he’s got an angel to fix him if he gets wonky from whatever the shit was.

“Are you alright?” [Y/N] asks.

Truth be told, Dean’s less alright than a moment ago. Hot and bothered, his clothes feel uncomfortable against his skin and he’s starting to feel another problem, one that he’s not ready to deal with: having the angel he desires nearby. Shaking his head, he tries to refocus one something else than her figure and scent.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he croaks – unconvincingly.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she notices the pearls of sweat starting to form on his forehead. She doesn’t believe him. “Dean. Let me help you.”

She reaches out before he can tell her not to and places a delicate hand on his cheek. It feels like a summer’s breeze passing through and into him, momentarily relieving the ache that’s growing along with his cock...but as soon as she’s done, it all returns at full force.

Dean groans the moment she lets her hand fall from his clammy skin. “Let’s just get back to the Bunker.”

“I don’t understand,” she trails after him out of the warehouse anyways, “my powers...”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But you’re in pain.”

He dismisses her even though it's true. His entire body is burning up. It feels like...like he needs to take an ice cold shower but he instinctively understands that the fix to this won’t be as simple. He knows that he needs to cum. Regardless of having dreamt of [Y/N] in oh so many ways, he still realizes that he can't ask this of her.

They make it to the Impala in silence and Dean pops the trunk, tossing the weapons in carelessly. He’s just about to slam it closed when he hears a foreign sound. A soft whimper. Looking up at his friend, he sees her leaning heavily onto the car, a hand clutching her lower abdomen. Panic rushes through him: did she get injured?

“Dean...I...what’s happening?” she pleads and when she looks over, he sees how blown her pupils are. “It hurts. And I...I...crave...” her voice trails off.

The hunter knows he ought to keep his distance but seeing [Y/N] like this overrides everything, even his own lust for a brief moment. Rushing to her side, he wraps an arm around her to support some of her weight, but the nearness is dangerous as her scent threatens to overwhelm him. A new tang has been woven into it. Jasmines. Strong, sweet, intoxicating.

He grits his teeth as he tries to power through what's clouding his mind. “Hey, look at me,” he says.

She doesn’t so he turns her face towards him with a hand cupping her cheek. Right away, she leans into his touch, sighing. He feels it too, the momentary relief that the skin contact brings. Wanting more, he grabs her face with both hands and presses his forehead to hers.

“[Y/N], we’re gonna be fine. It’s just the junk. Sam was saying something about -”

He never gets further as her lips crash onto his. Baffled, Dean relishing in the brief alleviation. It feels even better when he slips his tongue into her mouth, tasting her for the first time. Then the pain spikes in his groin and he is brought back to reality and he basically jumps back a few steps.

At that moment a text pings in and Dean is grateful for the distraction...at least until he reads the few words: “I was wrong: without a sexual release, the pink stuff will kill you.”

There’s a whole other paragraph of information but Dean only picks out a few of the words in his haze. Incubus. Succubus. They all have the same reputation: fucking while devouring their victims. Well at least there will be no devouring but it really does feel like he’s about to die if he doesn’t get some release now.

“Get in the car,” he growls, startling the angel, “get in and...get off. It might help.”

“I don’t understand...” She just stands there, head cocked and eyes brimming with unshed tears.

He groans silently, his own urges threatening to overpower his remaining sense of modesty. “I don’t know if it’s lethal to angels but this...this can kill me. Us, unless you...uhm...cum?” This is not the talk he had ever imagined to have with his crush but oh well...desperate times and all that. “So get in the car, get a hand in your pants, save yourself.”

He turns to open the door for her, one hand discreetly palming his erection through the jeans.

“Dean,” she whispers, “I...don’t know how to.” Of course she doesn’t, she’s an angel. Sweet, innocent, far removed from any ideas about lust. “But it hurts, Dean. Please help me...help yourself too...with me.”

His neck almost breaks at the speed of which he turns his head to look at her. Already, she’s pulling on her clothes, tossing the discarded items to the ground without a care. And fuck, she looks gorgeous.

Dean shouldn’t do it. He should triple check and even then still turn her offer down because it’s not what she really wants. It can’t be. But the last bit of restraint has burned away and he’s on her in two steps, pulling her close so he can drown in her scent again, his lips bearing down on her neck and exposed breasts.

Frantically, [Y/N] tugs at his flannel before resolutely snapping her fingers and suddenly they’re both completely naked. Nothing keeps Dean’s erection from bouncing against her abdomen...and it feels right.

They move feverishly, hands exploring curves and expanses, relishing in the comfort of the contact until that isn’t enough either. They both groan as Dean dips his finger between her legs: she’s drenched. Lifting her, supple legs wrapping around his waist, he stumbles the few steps around to the hood of the car and sits her on the edge, feet resting on the bumper and thighs spread wide so he can see everything. Fucking delicious. He pushes her onto her back, breasts heaving with each laboured breath.

A new pang of pain spears him and the hunter knows what they both need.

He tries to go slow, he really does: running his cock head between the folds so the pre-cum mixes with her juices, lubing him up so he can easily glide in. She’s tight and it’s so freaking good. Inch by inch, he fills her up. The sounds she makes...he could never have imagined anything hotter or filthier coming from her.

“I got you,” he whispers hoarsely as he bottoms out completely.

Hoisting herself up on her elbows, [Y/N]’s gaze is glowing as she implores him: “More. Please move.”

Switching his grip to her waist, Dean pulls out almost completely before ramming back in with a grunt. Again and again and again, spurred on by her sounds. It feels amazing and he knows he can’t last long but there’s still a part of him that wants her to feel good too. He reaches for her clit and begins to rub circles with his thumb, making her moan loudly.

“S-so good!” his angel babbles.

It doesn’t last long for both of them to come undone and Dean collapses onto her. It’s an awkward position but nothing can ruin the post-bliss haze as he feels himself soften a little bit still inside her.

Or so he thinks.

Something does break through the fog soon enough as the lust reignites his body once more. And he can see it’s happening to [Y/N] too.

“Dean,” she begs, breaking his heart.

He kisses her. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable first.”

Then the hunter coaxes her into the wide backseat of the Impala.

...

Dean barely registers that he’s lying on his back in the Impala because there’s another sensation: much more comfortable than usual, his morning wood is nestled snugly in a tight heat and a warm and subtle figure lies on top of him. Seemingly asleep (despite previous claims not to need that sort of mundane arrangements) [Y/N] is breathing slowly with a little smile on her lips. Ever so gently, he manages to pull out but he can’t do anything about the flushness.

What the fuck? Wrecking his brain, only bits and pieces start to come back to him before her eyes flutter open.

“Dean?” she mumbles, squirming only for a fraction of a second before she freezes completely.

She takes a moment to take it all in while sitting up as much as the low roof of the car allows. Nimble hands skirt over her naked body and delve between her legs without any sign of shame.

“Why am I sticky?”

Dean remembers now. He remembers everything and it leaves a sour taste in his mouth because he knows what he did was wrong. He took advantage of her. Afraid to meet her gaze, the hunter breathes deeply before turning his face to find...just a frown. Maybe she can’t recall everything? But no, he sees the moment it all comes back to her.

“Oh,” she gasps.

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N]!” he rushes, “I...what we did...I should never ha-”

A finger lands on his mouth to shush him. “If I remember correctly...you’d have died otherwise?”

That’s true but he knows it would have been better to pick that route rather than throw himself onto her the way he had. He explains as much but she doesn’t seem to understand.

“Dean...even without the risk of impending death...you didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

“Wait, what?!” That’s the last thing he’d expected to hear.

She smiles shyly. “I’ve been...feeling things about you.” A moment passes where she’s trying to say something more, opening and closing that pretty mouth before eventually settling on: “Have you...do you...?”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean admits before returning to his concerns, “but what I did...I took advantage of you! You couldn’t say no and I’m so sorry!”

“So it would be different if I asked now that I’m not under the influence of the incubus?”

“Yes,” he barely manages to say before she wriggles her pelvis, slick core rubbing along his still happy morning wood.

This time her smile is big, cheeky like he’s never seen before. “Dean...I want to.”

“Fuck...yes!”

Hoisting herself up a bit, she reaches down to align his cock with her entrance before sinking onto him. It feels much better than last night as she slowly rides them both to renewed highs, guided by his hands on her hips.

Upon completion, she collapses onto him, snuggling in with Dean’s cock still buried deep inside.

“Thank you,” [Y/N] mumbles against his neck.

“Anytime, angel.”

[vaneshifts]

INTRODUCTION POST

Hello! My name is Vane. I'm 19 years old, Canadian, a Virgo and an ambivert with anger issues.

I've been attempting to shift since 2020, during the pandemic and my own personal crisis that made that year likely the most miserable point in my life. I have not yet shifted, but I have come very close, especially recently.

Below I've listed some of the fandoms I'm "part of" (often I find that fandom behaviour can be rather toxic and try to avoid it), places that I'm shifting, as well as some information about "fictional" places that you can use however you see fit to determine your image of me. I've also listed the rules and expectations of this blog, and if you don't agree with them, please DNI. If rules are broken, you will be blocked.

Favourite Shifting Takes (of mine):

Permashifting; I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers

Shifting Realities VS Shifting Goals (mindset)

Rules (please consider before interacting):

No anti-shifters

Keep your shifttok logic FAR away from me

No discouraging comments to myself or others

If you think my information is incorrect, please inform me POLITELY, and we can discuss it if you'd like (I generally won't post something if I haven't made sure my information is right, but everyone makes mistakes, so if I am in fact wrong, I'd be happy to correct it)

I don't approve of of any DRs specifically made for killing or hurting people and I do not support them, so do not encourage or speak about them on my page

That being said, I think the concept that you should NEVER hurt/kill anyone in any DR is bullshit, so if it's something like Marvel or ASOIAF, Maze Runner, etc. where it may become necessary, I think that is perfectly acceptable

Race changing doesn't hurt anybody because the reality where you are a different race already exists so leave people alone if that's what they choose to do (but if you do race change, please make sure you're being respectful because other people's experiences are not your costumes)

Shifting to feel loved, to experience a better childhood, to have more control over your life or even just as escapism is perfectly fine. Shifting is a tool at your disposal and up to your own discretion.

Age-changing is fine

Permashifitng is not unhealthy or bad, it is very possible, and if you choose to do it, I wish you all the best

All shifters are valid, including those who haven't shifted yet or who are still trying to reset from all of the misinformation they were likely fed from early shifttok

If I missed anything, I may come back to update this list later

Now onto the more fun part!

Fandoms:

Avatar (not TLA)

DC Cinematic

Harry Potter Golden Trio Era

Marauders Era

Good Omens

Game of Thrones

House of the Dragon

Hazbin Hotel / Helluvaboss

The Hobbit & Lord of the Rings

How to Train Your Dragon (Including DOB & RTTE)

Hunger Games

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Once Upon a Time

Percy Jackson & The Olympians (Riordanverse)

Rings Of Power

Shadow and Bone

Six of Crows

Star Wars

Stranger Things

Supernatural

She-Ra

The Vampire Diaries

Teen Wolf

The Umbrella Academy

The Witcher (TV series)

This list will probably be added to at some point TBH

Places I Am Shifting To:

Harry Potter Golden Trio Era

Marauders Era

Good Omens

Game of Thrones

House of the Dragon

Helluvaboss

The Hobbit

Lord of the Rings

How to Train Your Dragon

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rings Of Power

Shadow and Bone

Six of Crows

Supernatural

The Vampire Diaries

The Umbrella Academy

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Patronus: fox

Marauders Kinnie: 75% Sirius Black, 25% Regulus Black

PJO Cabin: 12 (Dionysus)

TVD Species: Vampire

If you have any questions about me, my shifting journey, or shifting in general, please reach out and I will do my best to answer them! Happy Shifting! <3

[iovebarca]

The Coin Toss - Pablo Gavi

Authors note: send me some requests!

WC: 1300+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, just fluff!

summary: You rely on coin flips to make decisions, leading you to meet Pablo at the park, where you bond over your shared tradition. A coin toss decides on the beginning of a beautiful love story.

Decision-making had always been a daunting task for you. The weight of choosing between two paths, each filled with its own set of uncertainties, often left you paralyzed with indecision. It was during one particularly challenging period in your life that you stumbled upon an unconventional solution, the simple act of flipping a coin.

It started as a whim, a desperate attempt to break free from the cycle of overthinking and second-guessing. One day, faced with a difficult choice, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a coin. With a flick of your thumb, you sent it spinning into the air, leaving its fate to chance.

On this particular day you couldn't decide if you wanted to go to the park or stay in your apartment to study for an upcoming business exam. "Heads, I go to the park," you whispered, the words a silent prayer to the whims of fate.

As the coin arced gracefully through the air, time seemed to slow to a crawl. And then, with a soft clink, it landed in your palm, revealing its verdict. "Heads," you repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Looks like the park it is."

You arrived at the park with a weight on your shoulders, a decision looming in the forefront of your mind. The vast expanse of greenery seemed to beckon you, promising solace and clarity amidst the chaos of life.

As you wandered through the winding paths, the sunlight filtering through the leaves above, you felt the tension begin to ease from your muscles. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers filled the air, carrying with it a sense of tranquility that you desperately needed.

Finally, you found yourself drawn to a secluded bench nestled beneath the shade of a grand oak tree. It seemed to call to you, offering a sanctuary where you could gather your thoughts and find the answers you sought. Only there was a guy sitting on the bench.

Approaching him tentatively, you cleared your throat, your voice betraying the nervousness that churned within you. "Excuse me, do you mind if I join you?"

The stranger looked up, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he offered you a friendly smile. "Not at all," he replied, gesturing to the empty space beside him.

Introductions are made, and you learn his name is Pablo. You chat about inconsequential things at first— the weather, the beauty of the park— but soon the conversation takes an interesting turn.

"So, what brings you to the park today?" Pablo asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts before deciding to share a glimpse of your quirky tradition with the stranger beside you. "Actually, I was going to study for a business exam I have coming up," you began, your voice tinged with a hint of amusement, "but I ended up here instead. You see, I have this odd tradition where I flip a coin to make decisions."

The stranger's eyes widened in surprise, a grin spreading across his face. "No way, you too?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. "That's incredible! I can't believe we have the same tradition."

You couldn't help but laugh at the sheer coincidence of it all, feeling a sense of connection growing stronger between you with each passing moment. "It seems like fate brought us together," you remarked, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

A playful glint danced in Pablo's eyes as he suggested, "Well, why don't we put our tradition to the test? Make a decision together?" "Sure, I'd love that," you replied, unable to hide the smile that tugged at your lips.

With a grin, Pablo retrieved a coin from his pocket, the sunlight catching its gleaming surface as he held it between his fingers. "Heads, we go for ice cream. Tails, we take a stroll by the lake," he proposed, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You watched with bated breath as Pablo flicked the coin into the air, its metallic clang echoing through the quiet park. Time seemed to stand still as it twirled and spun before finally landing in his palm, revealing its verdict.

"Heads!" Pablo exclaimed, a delighted smile spreading across his face. "Looks like we're getting ice cream."

Your heart soared with excitement as you rose from the bench, a sense of adventure coursing through your veins. Together, you set off towards the nearby ice cream parlor, laughter and lighthearted banter filling the air.

The bell above the door chimed cheerfully as you stepped inside, greeted by the tantalizing aroma of freshly made waffle cones and the colorful display of frozen delights. Pablo's eyes sparkled with delight as he scanned the menu, his excitement infectious.

"I can never resist a classic vanilla cone," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

You chuckled, feeling a sense of warmth spread through you at his endearing confession. "I'm a sucker for anything with chocolate." you confessed, feeling a twinge of excitement at the thought of indulging in your favorite flavor.

As you waited for your treats to be prepared, you and Pablo found a cozy corner to sit, the air filled with the hum of conversation and the tantalizing scent of freshly baked waffle cones.

With your ice cream in hand, you and Pablo savored each delicious bite, the sweetness of the frozen treat melting on your tongues. You couldn't help but smile as you watched Pablo's eyes light up with each lick of his cone, his expression one of pure bliss.

As you and Pablo enjoyed your ice cream, there was an undeniable spark between you, an electric energy that seemed to crackle in the air. With each laugh shared and every lingering glance exchanged, the connection between you deepened, igniting a flame that warmed your hearts.

As you continued to chat, the conversation took a more intimate turn, delving into deeper topics that revealed the layers of your personalities. Each revelation felt like a step closer to understanding each other on a profound level, and with every shared moment, the connection between you deepened, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and emotions. It might be weird but you felt like you've known him your whole life.

As the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, a gentle breeze swept through the park, stirring the leaves of the trees and sending a cascade of golden light dancing across the grass. In that moment of serene tranquility, Pablo's gaze met yours, his eyes soft with an unspoken question.

Without a word, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt the electric thrill of anticipation coursing through you, your senses heightened by the proximity of his presence.

With a tender smile, Pablo's hand brushed against yours, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Is it okay if I...?" he began, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours for permission.

Your heart raced in your chest as you nodded, a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks. "Yes," you breathed, your voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart.

And then, with a tenderness that took your breath away, Pablo closed the remaining distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was a moment filled with all the sweetness and innocence of a first kiss, a gentle exploration of the newfound feelings that bloomed between you.

As you melted into each other's embrace, lost in the magic of the moment, you knew with absolute certainty that this was just the beginning of a love story that would unfold in the most beautiful of ways. And as you lingered in each other's arms, basking in the warmth of newfound affection, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the chance encounter that had brought you together.

[hcoct8xfi]

Okay, so a couple days ago, I made I post while I was in a flare up about how I was irritated with some Kanera fanfiction or some fanfiction involving Kanan Jarrus, which you can find here 👇

I expressed how frustrated I was with some people who will completely write Kanan's blindness out of their fanfiction because it's 'easier' to not have any disabled characters in their story.

I said that if you find yourself struggling to write a disabled character, reach out or take pointers from disabled writers. Well, even though no one asked for it, I decided I should give a few pointers on how to write disabled characters.

Now, before we get started, I wanted to clarify that I myself am disabled. I have a physical disability that causes chronic pain as well as other symptoms that flare. I also have a psychiatric disability as well as being neurodivergent. I did state in my original post that if I was wrong or incorrect in any way, to please educate and correct me. The same thing applies to this post.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Keep this as a golden rule, disabled characters in sci-fi or fantasy, will translate to disabled characters in Alternative Universes. I would argue that Kanan would probably not be a difficult character to write in fanfiction. A good chunk of season 3 and a bit of season 4 in Star Wars Rebels was dedicated to how Kanan copes and accommodates his blindness. Of course there is no acceptable excuse to write out a characters disability out of your story, but, writing Kanan would not be that hard to write and accommodate in your story.

2. So I may get some comments saying, "Well, how do I explain how Kanan became blind in a modern AU?" Well, there's two answers for that, one, that's up to you and how you choose to write that. Second, you don't have to explain how your character became disabled or why your character is disabled. A common misconception is that disabled people have to explain why they are disabled, and that's just not true. It's also rooted in ableism. Phrases like "What happened to you?" or "Why are you using [insert mobility device]?" are ableist and inappropriate to ask because you could possibly be asking someone to relive or rehash trauma that they have. And also, disabled people do not owe you an explanation, nor a justification of their existence. So mind your business and your ableism.

3. Avoid tropes such as the inspiration p*rn, or "tragic burden" in your stories. Again, disabled people do not have to justify their existence by being an "inspiration". Yes, disabled people are capable of doing inspirational things, but we're not inspirational for just existing. Next, don't constantly potray your disabled character as a "tragic burden". Yes, it's a huge adjustment when you have acquired a disability and it can be very burdensome. But, once you learn how to accommodate your disability, such as managing your symptoms, support groups, or finding a community, you start to find your rhythm. Always remember to show the good and the bad that come with disability. Also, remember that we are allowed to be upset about our disability and mourn the life we once had, but, a lot of us do not constantly think about it to the point where that is our only thought throughout the day.

4. This is kind of like number three, but, if your disabled character is in a relationship, do not make it one of those "Well, I see the person, not the disability." Yes, this may sound good at first, but what you're actually saying is that you don't want to acknowledge our disability, and that's a huge problem. Yes, acknowledge us as people, but, acknowledge us as disabled people. Disability does impact our lives, and I personally would not want to be in a relationship with anyone, romantic or friendship, that completely ignored that I'm disabled.

5. It's a VERY good idea to research your characters disability. Research how it may impact your character, if they require any mobility equipment, therapies, or other accommodations. I promise, this research will help you with your character so much. It will help make your character more accurate.

6. Don't put this fear mongering over disability in your story. There's already a lot of stigma surrounding disability as it is. Remember, disability is a part of life, and at some point, we all will become disabled. Some of us just become disabled young or are born disabled. Also, don't not try and demonize mobility aids. Using a wheelchair, crutches, cane, walker, etc. is not a sad or unfortunate thing. They do what they are meant to do, aid our mobility. They help us and give us so much freedom.

7. Listen to more disabled writers. Disabled writers can help a lot with advice and guidance with disabled characters. Listen to their experiences on their disability, how it impacts them, and any sort of ableism they may have faced (if they are willing to talk about it).

8. Have fun writing your disabled characters. Once you get the hang of writing disabled characters, it won't be as hard as you originally thought. Writing disabled characters is not complicated at all, especially when you educate yourself.

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I hope that I was able to assist some of you with writing disabled characters. Just remember that there are so many disabled writers out there that will give tips and pointers on how to write disabled characters. 🫶🏼

[makostarz]

pikmin 4 incorrect quotes ^-^

Dingo: If I say I love you, will you say it back? 

Shepard: Yes. 

Dingo: I love you. 

Shepard: It back. 

*Later* 

Bernard: Why is Dingo crying face-down on the floor?

Pom: What’s it like being tall? 

Pom: Is it nice? 

Pom: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? 

Yonny: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want. 

Bernard: It was one time!

Dingo: Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Yonny periodically send me texts saying ‘we need to talk.’ 

Dingo: It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going.

Shepard: *trying to get five seconds of sleep* 

Bernard, poking Shepard’s arm: Shepard Shepard. Shepard. Shepard. 

Shepard: WHAT? 

Bernard: …We’re out of Capri Suns—

Shepard: Hey, Yonny, where are you going? 

Yonny: Well, it depends. When I die, probably hell. 

Yonny: But right now I’m going to McDonald’s.

Dingo: Let’s write Bernard a friendly note, shall we? Dear... Incompetent... Dumbass…

Shepard: I personally don't think it's possible to come up with a crazier plan. 

Dingo: We could attack them with hummus. 

Shepard: I stand corrected. 

Dingo: Just keeping things in perspective.

Shepard: Alright, listen up you little shits. 

Shepard: Not you Pom. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

Yonny: *eating a cinnamon roll* 

Dingo: Cannibalism. 

Yonny: *confused chewing noises*

Collin: A person can really hear themselves think out here. 

Collin’s mind: Did you leave the stove on? The front door unlocked!? WILL YOU DIE ALONE!? 

Collin: Well, that was a mistake.

Bernard: No problemo! 

Bernard, internally: But it was all problemo.

Bernard: Yonny and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us. 

Collin: What did you do? 

Bernard: They chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and- 

Yonny: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel?

Dingo: I hate you. 

Yonny: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

Yonny, texting: Answer your phone 

Dingo, texting back: Wait a minute, I can’t find my phone 

Yonny: Understood 

Yonny, 5 minutes later: You’re a terrible person. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing me, Dingo.

Dingo: Wait a minute, how did this happen? We're smarter than this! 

Shepard: Apparently, we're not.

Dingo: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt? 

Yonny: 

Yonny: Why are you eating dirt? 

Dingo: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

Yonny: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices. 

Yonny: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.

Collin: Well, needless to say. Uh-oh Spaghetti-os.

Yonny: I got us matching friendship bracelets, and you say I don't care about our relationship. 

Dingo: These are handcuffs. 

Yonny: Yeah, 'cause we're partners in crime!

Dingo: I am so cool. I am an absolute Chad. I am the epitome of coolness and awesomeness— 

Yonny: Hi. 

Dingo: *melts down in a flustered heap of softness*

Kidnapper: I have one of your friends. 

Pom: Which one? I have seven. 

Kidnapper: The loud, annoying, rowdy one who never shuts up. 

Pom: Which one? I have seven. 

Bernard, distantly: HEY!!!

Pom: I sort of did something and I need some advice, but I don't want a lot of judgment and criticism. 

Dingo: And you came to me?

Dingo: I don't dab. I stab.

Shepard: You really believe in Dingo? 

Bernard: Luckily, they believe in themself enough for the both of us.

Dingo: Sweet dog you got there. 

Police: Yes, this is our new drug sniffing dog. 

Dingo: Still training huh? 

Police: What do you mean? 

Dingo: 

Dingo: Never mind.

Shepard: Alright, what pizza toppings should we order? 

Dingo: Anchovies and pineapple. 

Pom: I like beets! 

Yonny: Have you guys ever had a cheese-less pizza? 

Shepard: I’m disowning all of you.

Dingo: You use emojis like a straight person. 

Yonny: That’s literally the worst thing anyone has ever said about me.

Dingo: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.

Bernard, talking to Dingo: Well Dingo, whenever I’m about to do something, I think ‘would Yonny do that?’ and if they would, I do not do that thing. 

Dingo: … 

Yonny, from the distance: They’re not wrong though!

Dingo: Is stabbing someone immoral? 

Yonny: Not if they consent to it. 

Bernard: Depends on who you're stabbing. 

Collin: YES??!!?

Bernard: I’m so happy two of my favorite people are getting along now. 

Shepard: Uh, Dingo and Pom are not getting along. 

Bernard: They’re not trying to kill each other. 

Shepard: You may have a point.

Shepard: Yesterday, I overheard Bernard saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Yonny replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

Collin: Which one of you was going to tell me that tea tastes different if you put it in hot water?? 

Dingo: Y- you were putting it in cold water?? 

Shepard: Collin. Answer the question, Collin. 

Collin: Yeah??? I thought people just put it in hot water to speed up the tea-ification process. didn't realize there was an actual reason. 

Collin: Plus you think I have the patience to boil water? 

Dingo: You don't have the patience to microwave water for 3 minutes?? 

Shepard: Why are you putting it in the microwave to boil it? 

Dingo: Do you think I have the patience to boil water on the stove? 

Shepard: It takes less than a minute. 

Dingo: Is your stovetop powered by the fucking sun??? 

Shepard: How long does it take you to boil a cup of water on the stove? 

Dingo: Like seven minutes?? 

Bernard: Just stick the mug on top of the stove on medium heat and it boils in like 2 minutes... less than that if you use a saucepan! 

Shepard: Why are you putting the whole mug on the stove?? On medium heat?? Bernard? Your stove is enchanted! 

Collin: Every single person here is a fucking lunatic. 

Pom: Do none of you own a fucking kettle?!

Bernard: I'm having problems with a guy... 

Yonny: Like his dead body won't fit into your trunk kind of problems, or you like him kind of problems?