#they were kids and stupid and made bad decisions and hit where it hurt

[constellation-of-disasters]

Fr like I'm pretty much good with any ships possible. Obviously I have my favorites/some icks but if I see a good whiskeydex fic? Sure! Lardo and Farmer? ooh intersting I'm down. PB+J? Always. Bitty and Rans and Holster? Well written and interesting dynamic, absolutely. Literally all of them work?!

part of the beauty of check please is that it takes very little to sway me into vibing with a ship of any two characters

[eris-snow]

9. 𝐏𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐧: 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐭

Tags: bakugoux fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst,fluff

Revelations uncovered and questions unanswered. Sometimes, when you move two steps forward, you move 3 steps back.

Country to popular belief, Katsuki has done many stupid things before.

He once created an entire backstory to back up one of his egotistical lies. What’s stupider is that everyone believed him. Another time, he’d played the knife finger game and gotten his first scar on his index finger. And then, there was Deku, which was just a huge bombshell of bad decisions all ending with a ‘you fucked up’ at the end.

But sitting in a hero dropout’s house in a crusty living room was not what he expected character growth would do to him.

Just saying.

“How did you find the log?” Saito asks, shifting the packet of Doritos out of the way to make space on the beanbag. Katsuki and you sit stiffly on the couch, as if held at gunpoint.

The apartment was poorly decorated, and not exactly the cleanest, but Saito’s down-to-earth character and overall demeanour was enough to smooth the edge Katsuki was on.

“I found a yellow thread. Led me to the back of the library.”

You frown at him. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“You didn’t ask.”

Not rising to the bait, you reply. “Found it on my first day. I tried to show it to people, but they’d just forget. I placed it back where I found it and gave up after a month.”

Saito glances between the both of you, before nodding in understanding. He turns to Katsuki, “So you’re the Savior,” and then turns to you. “And you’re the Target.”

“Yeah, thanks Captain Obvious.” Katsuki mumbles. You nudge him, and he gives you a scalding glare, but he bites back the rest of his statement.

“Can you help us? Tell us about you and…your friend?” Your tone is neutral, but there’s hope behind it. You’re so close.

Saito looks directly at you both, and Katsuki can almost see a hint of Aizawa in him. Tired, worn out by life, and beaten down.

For as tall as the man is, he sure likes to make himself look small.

“I can tell you what happened. But speaking from experience, the phenomenon must be broken by you two alone. I can’t help you with that.” Inhaling deeply, Saito closes his eyes. “The cause of your invisibility is not based solely on a Quirk; this is far greater than that. It’s a phenomenon. The science experiment on Quirks those decades ago was like wood to the flame, and when it went wrong, everything did.”

Saito shrugs. “Kenji and I dubbed the phenomenon Reset, ‘cause of how far back it put our friendship. Hurts to think that I didn’t…” He trails off, before starting again. “We spent a year picking for clues, and that log has all our research in it.”

“Were there more pairs?” you ask. “Like us?”

“Allegedly,” Saito replies. “But Reset doesn’t happen just for the sake of it, kid. It chooses; it’s specific. I tried tracking down most of the pairs—wasn’t helpful. Most were dead.”

He let that statement hang there for a while; just to let it soak up the silence it left behind.

“We talked about what would happen after we got out of this mess. Kenji told me he wanted to start an agency together, and I agreed. We hit off the moment we stepped foot into that class.” Saito’s expression is fond. “We were like brothers. Sure, we didn’t go through a war, but we were close. That smart alec was always smarter than me, faster than me—he would have made a fine hero.”

Katsuki and you suck in a breath in unison.

Time to rip off the band-aid. Katsuki closes his eyes.

“So he’s dead.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“He faded away.”

Well, he might as well have compressed the room with a piston, because now the tension is really thick.

“I was on track to debut right after graduation. There was an internship and heroes—they still wanted me. But after that? After watching my friend fade in front of me like that?” The man shakes his head and pulls his hair. His voice fights to keep steady. “If I couldn’t even save my best friend, what kind of hero would I make?”

Katsuki has heard those words before. It’s the same words he repeats to himself every day, 24/7, like a broken recorder.

No wonder this guy dropped out.

Your face is fighting to keep expressionless, so when your eyes start to water, you wipe them away.

Katsuki had to be strong on the battlefield. He has to be strong now, even if it’s on a couch in a pigsty.

Strong not for himself, but for you.

With slowed breaths, Saito looks up at the both of you and swallows. His eyes are rimmed red. “ There was an article I found about the experiment the day Kenji faded away, but it looks like he got to it sooner.” the man’s eyes are hollow.

“It was on the guy’s Quirk used for the experiment: Undetected. The person who wielded the Quirk was able to make people invisible, but at the price of taking away his senses, bit by bit. It starts with your eyesight, and when you’re fully blind, it starts to take away your hearing, and so on. Can you imagine being cut off from the world like that? It’s horrifying.”

What a curse of a Quirk.

Bile rises to his throat, and Katsuki forces himself to stay on task. “So can we fix this? Or are we fucked?”

Saito smiles sadly. It looks as if he went through the entire cycle of grief and he was at the last stage: acceptance. “Even though it might seem random, Reset happens for a reason. You must see the unseen and find what has been lost. Do that, and you will break the phenomenon.”

You look close to tears. “Please don’t play word games with us now—”

“The breaking of the phenomenon is different for every pair. Tailored by the strings of Fate herself, customised and thoughtfully crafted. What I was going to do with Kenji isn’t going to work for the both of you.” With a shake of his head, he continues. “The faster you do it, the better. How long have you known each other?”

You’re wrecking yourself inside out, so Katsuki scoots a little closer and answers for you (even if he was dreading the reply). “3 and a half months.”

Saito’s lengthy frame curls into itself even more as the man lets out a depressing sigh. “The day of the science experiment was November 16th. I met Kenji again on the same day, 15 years back. Guess what day he faded.”

Saito doesn’t wait for an answer that doesn’t come.

Fate has a cruel way of tying her strings.

“It was exactly one year later.”

Katsuki sucks in a breath, and beside him, you completely broke.

The day he pulled that curtain and locked eyes with you…

Katsuki funnels through his thoughts and grasps for the date.

November 16th.

The world must have stopped turning.

With a crooked, shattered look, Saito cracks his last statement. “Your days are numbered. Use them wisely, kid.”

—

Katsuki finds the last unwashed mug in Saito’s cabinet and digs out the coffee powder from behind capaciously placed condiments. If he’s going to get through this rationally, then coffee is a much-needed requirement.

There’s a creak in the floorboards, which makes Katsuki’s eyes snap to the doorway to meet cobalt blue.

Saito lets himself into his own kitchen. “You look like a startled cat.”

There’s no reply.

Flicking the tap on, running water gushes out of the tap as the lean man grabs a sponge. Katsuki pours boiling water into his cup, and watches it simmer.

“Where’s L/n?”

“On the balcony.”

Katsuki whips his head to Saito, teeth bared, eyes flashing.

“I told you to watch her—!”

“And I told you she needs to be alone.”

Annoyance creeps up his spine at that remark.

“You don’t know L/n,” Katsuki says, and there’s venom infused into it.

Saito doesn’t respond immediately, choosing his words wisely. “I’m not here to argue with you.”

Katsuki’s glare is sharp as he tears a hand through his hair. Irritated with himself, he rips his eyes away from the hero dropout.

You’re going to die.

The thought repeats, and his blood is cold.

You’re going to die.

“How do I save her?” Katsuki says, voice low, dumping the coffee powder into his boiling water. “See the unseen? Find what has been lost? There are two parts of this wannabe Shakespeare, and we have nowhere to start.”

Blue eyes flicker to red, and all the sounds left is the sound of the fan in the living room.

“I don’t know,” Saito admits.

Katsuki’s fingers curl into fists as a wave of helplessness, uncertainty, and anger courses through his veins. He’s frustrated and so, so tired of running around in circles.

When one solution presents itself, another problem lands right on his lap with vague words strung out by a toddler who thought he was smart. You’re not a means of passing time anymore.

You’re important to him.

And he doesn't want to see that horrified, let-down expression on your face ever again.

“Kenji was my first friend, ever.” Saito’s voice is thick, like he’s trying to push back a wave of tears. “And when he finally told me about his situation, all my memories came back to me. I felt horrible for forgetting somebody like him,” Saito shrugs. “We may not be related by blood, but we were brothers. And I failed him by being too late.”

Katsuki’s coffee sits untouched, as heavy silence hangs between the both of them.

“We had to go back to the tree we used to sleep under in the nearby forest. I’m sure you know it. The one the government cornered off.”

Katsuki brushes aside the memory of Deku’s outstretched hand and the sound of running water.

Focus. He needs to focus.

”There was something we lost there.” Saito continues. “To break the phenomenon, we had to find Kenji’s watch.”

The words pluck the air as Katsuki blinks.

“To break the phenomenon,” he repeats slowly. “You had to find a watch.”

Saito looks at him dead in the eye. He’s not joking. “Yes.”

See the unseen, find what has been lost.

With a scoff, he utters frustratedly. “What kind of significance can a watch hold—”

He stops short when he sees the sorrow deepen in the man’s eyes.

“You have no idea.”

Whatever importance that watch held, it was evident even after more than a decade’s worth of grieving, it was still tearing him up inside. And by the looks of it, it was a story that Katsuki did not want to be told.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Saito turns off the tap and returns the last plate to the dish rack. “That yellow thread you mentioned? It’s a guide, so follow it.” Katsuki gets a bitter smile, and a pat on the shoulder.

“Mine was blue, but that isn’t the point. It led me too.”

—

Your fingers are numb on the cold railing of the balcony.

The temperature is rising, albeit still being cold, but you don’t exactly care for your body’s shivering or the sting in your chest.

You wish you could numb your brain, too.

Light footsteps shuffle against the concrete, and in the next second, you find Katsuki standing next to you, red eyes focused on an invisible point off in the distance.

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t either.

He does, however, lean in closer to you, warmth radiating from his body.

Wordlessly, you do the same.

You were going to die in less than a year.

If Katsuki could move boulders, defy the odds and save the world, Katsuki could break a stupid phenomenon.

You know he can, and you know he will because as much as he likes to deny it, he has a good heart.

Suddenly, you really want a hug right now.

A glance at Katsuki is all it takes, and with a slight nod, he lets you in.

It feels almost too sinful to be in the embrace of the one you used to love, that it rekindles your feelings with a spark. You extinguish it and squash your hope.

Priorities.

Survival first, feelings later.

[omniblades-and-stars]

Blossoms on the Water?

This one's a bit of an odd one for me. So this is me exploring one of my Shepard's characterization and backstory via her journey through the drell afterlife. She is being guided to unburden herself so she can float freely on the waters.

I dunno if I'll ever finish it, it's more for me than anyone else. It's both a way for me to work on character stuff and also confront my personal and deeply held fear of death.

So here's a huge chunk, one of Eden's memories. It's not a happy one.

Mena’s music blares too loud from her car as her tires squeal against the gravel driveway. She recklessly peels down the drive and swings around in the cul-de-sac before she is gone.

The girl, a teenager now, softly closes the door, hopeful her father didn’t hear all the noise. She darts up the stairs to her bedroom where she frantically grabs a sweater to pull over her shirt, which is little better than a bra.

“Eden,” her father says angrily from the threshold of her bedroom. He’s alway angry with her. She never does anything right, gave up on doing anything right a long time ago. She is failing her classes, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. “Where were you tonight? You missed dinner.”

His tone makes her skin bristle. Like the air before a thunderstorm, his anger is palpable. His rage is a physical presence, a bystander to the storm that’s about to start. She knows if she just tells him the truth, he’ll just shake his head and call her a disappointment, maybe ask what’s wrong with her.

She doesn’t know the answer to that.

“Studying for my biology test with Ximena. We got distracted by extranet vids and lost track of the time,” she lies. She doesn’t know why she lies.

Her lie is the match, and his temper is the kindling. “I know goddamn well you weren’t fucking studying, Eden!” He steps inside her room, his arms are crossed, but his fists are balled. “Sheriff Denton called, are you stupid, or do you just not care if you go to jail anymore?”

“I don’t fucking care, dad!” She shouts and lies. She’s terrified that Denton is finally going to come and take her away. Stealing from a convenience store isn’t even the worst crime she’s committed, just the most recent one. It was a stupid thing to do, she knows. It seems like all she does is make bad decisions, like a compulsion she can’t ignore.

“Eden, I didn’t raise you to be a thief and a whore!” He shouts at her.

She hates him.

“You didn’t fucking raise me! Mom died and what, I just have to fend for myself? Putting fucking food down on the table and staring at the TV isn’t raising a kid! You won’t even talk to me unless I do something wrong!” He only ever talks to her to yell.

He’s looking down at his feet, and she realizes that he hasn’t looked her in the eyes in months. “Why won’t you fucking look at me?” She screams her question. She just wants him to love her. She’s so alone. She’s been alone for years.

His next words come so quietly, but they hurt so bad, she wishes he’d just hit her. “You look too much like her.”

The breath is pulled from her lungs, and the tears she’s only barely been holding back fall.

“More and more every year,” he continues. For just a second, Eden tries to reach out. He’s her father, they can repair this, right? She’s so desperate for his love that she is about to offer to dye her hair, or even get fucking surgery to change her face. Just for a chance.

He looks at her and all she sees is hatred. “You look like her, Eden. But you’re nothing like her. She would hate what you’ve become,” he says with such conviction, she knows he means it.

Eden reaches behind her and grabs the first thing on her desk that she can throw. It’s sailing through the air and she can't take it back. She regrets it as soon as it slips free from her fingers. A ceramic deer, purple with green antlers, shatters against the wall. Her mother made it, and she painted it. Her last tether to her mother.

“I wish it was you who died, instead of her,” she sobs. She wants to crawl into her closet and hide. She likes the small dark places, they are safe for her to think in.

She wants her mother.

“Get out,” he says so quietly, she can barely hear it.

“Dad, please, I didn’t mean it,” she tries to beg. She panics. She’s only fifteen, where can she go? She doesn’t have any other family.

He points at the door, “Get the fuck out of my house and don’t come back!”

She’s scared. She starts cramming as much of her clothes that she can into her book bag. She forgets clean socks.

Her father doesn’t try to stop her. Doesn’t say goodbye. Doesn’t say anything at all. Those are the last words they ever say to each other.

She stays the night under the pavilion at the park she used to play at with her mom when she was young. She eats an old leftover protein bar that was left in her bag from days before. It is dry, and it is disgusting.

She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She doesn’t know how to be an adult.

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

hello hello hope u are having a good timezone! as u might have noticed re: my tags on that shl gifset lmao i'm interested on yr thoughts on this as a wenzhou poem.. cannot stop thinking about the come hope too much. come with all your ghosts. come clown around when the timing's bad. come promise me the world. come trust me to do my best even when i don't. come ask me to give you everything i have. anyway. !!! <3

honestly, i dont know how to present my thoughts without wanting to cry. there is something so raw about this poem that hits me where it hurts. i think this visceral need, of hope, is so essential to tyk, and at the same time, the novel is making a study of hopelessness.

i mean. the main character starts out killing himself; and it is hard not to understand this wish if the very world he lives in is so bleak and devoid of warmth. and after that very important decision, zhou zishu rejoices in every single mundane thing life has to offer; and he can do that, like, he has given himself the allowance to it because he paid for it with his death.

Death was not frightening. It had not been easy for him to survive over the past twenty years; all of the methods he used to pressure Zhang Chengling were ones he had endured in his childhood, but even harsher, and despite him not having the kid's innate talent for withstanding that harshness completely unharmed. (Ch. 45, tl. chichilations) "Why wouldn't i? My junior used to be taught by my hand." .. "Then what did you do if our junior couldn't recite the mantras, or couldn't practice some move?" .. "I made him copy the introductory breath-regulation mantra three hundred times. If he couldn't even practice slowly, then he wouldn't need to eat, nor… need to sleep. In the middle of the night, I would get someone to lock his bedroom up so that he would go into the snowdrifts and come to a comprehension on his own." (Ch. 33, tl. chichilations) He had experienced enough to fear no one and nothing in the world. If he lived in no fear, what was so scary about death? (Ch. 45, tl. chichilations)

and i feel like... like!! he has spent his entire life trying to carve out a place for himself: he perfected four seasons manor’s martial arts into an, uh, art, he dabbled a little in game of thrones politics entirely uncalled for, he discovered he has basically no bottom line, he sold his sect to the empire and built a new organization by himself, he became the most powerful person of the nation second only to the son of heaven. he has, like, done lots of things, and made mostly only bad choices.

but this struggle has always been about living his own life, and it has always been in a transactional way, and now that he has all but killed himself, he is doing it all over again.

However, what was making him uncomfortable was that he had to count the days down until his death. / Having endured so much, his heart's will was stalwart, and never had he had a will for death. Wasn't it ironic that his most free, most unworried, and most cheerful days would be the ones where he was waiting to die? / This was most likely yet another stupid thing that was his own doing. (Ch. 45, tl. chichilations)

and wen kexing is kind of the opposite. wen kexing has never really lived a life for himself, and over his time in the valley, he must have become accustomed to the thought of never having a life of his own ever. he is entirely unashamed of being seen as well, at least regarding the things that are socially unacceptable, like homosexuality and murder, or his general unhinged self; unashamed in a way that speaks of a trial by fire. but he once says that,

"For all my life, whenever I want to happily play around, I can't be happy. When I grew up a little, I wanted to learn arts both martial and literary with my parents, but no one was around to teach me. Tell me… isn't that some very poor timing?" (Ch. 29, tl. chichilations)

in short, he is always slightly out of tune. when he meets zhou zishu, he is slightly out of tune as well. zhou zishu is going to die (at this point, it is all but set in stone), and wen kexing has this plan that ends with a bang, with him going up in flames while he burns all of his past grievances and the devils and demons of jianghu, and that includes himself, away.

"This is the human world," he continued, "and the human world should not have ghosts and demons. The … prestigious Hero Ghao Chong is ridding the world of calamities for the common folk. If we don't lend a hand, would your many years of reading sagely texts not be in vain? I heard that only many years of cultivation can then give you a fulfilled life, but if you don't do anything notable, wouldn't those decades have been for nothing?" / Zhou Zishu didn't answer, but Wen Kexing still turned to ask after him. "Wouldn't you agree, Ah-Xu?" (Ch. 16, tl. chichilations) When cold rain falls, autumn makes itself known; the wutong tree ages and dies. Thin robes offer no protection from a night of bitter winter, years and lives wasting, whiling away... nothing more than this: resentment, that we met so late. (Ch. 29, tl. hunxi-after-hours)

but oh. while they meet, in that space between them, they carve out a place for them that fits just right; a space where they can explore and discover, play and fuck around, and be human. something neither really knows how to. ("and I started feeling myself open, / started feeling my yes coming back / and it was the sweetest thing I had ever known / the reverse of being haunted, / like taking a deep breath / and pulling the fog of the glass.")

and it also reminds me of this:

(excerpt from 'baked goods' by aimee nezhukumatathil, found here)

seriously, the lines youre quoting in your ask, like (grabs wenzhou and shakes them around) thats them!!! its them!!! but the poem has no single line that isnt a banger, almost no line that doesnt fit them. how it starts is absolutely devastating, it reminds me of wen kexing and the valley and his general attitude re: his lack of autonomy. ("I wanted the yes to last forever so badly later on I told myself: / We’re built like drums. We couldn't make songs / if we had never been hit. It was a desperate theory.") it reminds me of zhou zishu's journey (gestures at qi ye at large) and his unceasing downwards spiral, that ends with him (figuratively but also not) in his own grave. ("And that’s how I lived. I mean, that’s how I’d been living. / Decades of no no no no no no / And that’s okay, an accordion could not make a song / if it never closed.") like, zhou zishu is a survivor. the fact that he decides to kill himself has been a long way coming emotionally, but only really comes to pass in the physical world when liang jiuxiao's death kicks him off over edge, and half a decade later, he still remembers him with that misunderstanding in mind; otherwise, im fairly sure, he would have never done so, despite being unhappy and miserable.

"Who?" Zhou Zishu laughed dourly. "You mean the girl at the restaurant? I'll handle her. Liang Jiuxiao … he… he said murderers pay with their lives. Told me to pay with my life." (Qi Ye, Ch. 62, tl. chichilations) Murdering someone should be paid with one's life? Why should it be? In this world, there was a way to make living worse than dying. (TYK, Ch. 20, tl. chichilations)

but wen kexing, even despite being highly aware that he has never really lived, tries to find light in the darkness even in his last days on earth. ruth @specialability said the other day when i was rambling about wen kexing's general attitude re: his own impending death in my tags, "I do think that Wen Kexing is sort of removed from his reality in a dissociative way but he doesn't want to be. He is trying to have life experiences that are not so shitty and I do think there are times when he is very 'present', especially with Chengling," and i agree. they are both in their last days on this earth, and they are desperately making the most of it, because in all honesty, neither really wants to die. this shift from "not wanting to die" to "living", in tyk, happens incredibly slow and not all at once, i think. its a gradual process, a lot must be chosen and decided upon, and before all, wenzhou must allow themselves to believe in hope again.

thats what rattles me so about 'good light', its about how there hasnt always been hopelessness, but now, it is hard to remember how it used to be; having faith. believing in the good. this ardous, sometimes agonizing process of starting to believe in it again, of opening yourself to possibilities again. in the chapter when wu xi and jing qi return to examine zhou zishu again, after they already pronounced him incurable once before, and savable only if he paid a price that turns out to be his bottom line, zhou zishu says, in his pov:

Even though the time he had spent alive could not be considered ‘long’, Zhou Zishu felt that it was sufficient for him to understand this lesson--that there was no such thing as a free lunch. Even if these two people before him could be considered ‘friends’ if he were hard-pressed to, even if he was familiar with how the Great Shaman operated, he still dared not believe it so easily. / Because… it could hurt, this thing called hope. (Ch. 64, tl. wenbuxing)

but oh, it can be so sweet as well, cant it? when youve opened yourself to it, when youve begun to discover life, the world, yourself and who you might be; a second chance, at life, at being a person. like, wenzhou are so weird, but they are also trying out this thing called courtship, called friendship, called mundane life. and its so funny because they dont know how, and the novel absolutely drags them for it and they drag each other constantly and themselves too, no thing is left untouched. but also it is funny, it is hilarious, in this tragic sort of way that makes me want to cry, and also in the funny way because these two guys are just so perfect at being clowns.

but it is also sweet and lovely and raw, and thats who they are, and thats what they allow themselves to be, allow each other to be when they are together. they have, somehow, carved out this safe space with each other, where they can be fragile and human.

(quote above from 'i will' by mistki, found here)

[sketching-shark]

People get mad at me whenever I point out how kinda suckish Wukong is as a person. Saying that I don't understand his trauma or his pain and that he's trying. But like, I understand Wukong might be going through some shit, but his pain doesn't excuse him causing pain to others.

And it's not like those who criticize Wukong are pulling stuff from their ass. It's repeatedly illustrated in the show by the writers that everyone in Wukong's past who is still alive hates him because of the pain he caused them. Because of his mistakes. His decisions. His recklessness. They touch on this A LOT. They have Mei outright say it in S3.

"Don't you realize you're hurting the people who care about you the most?!" Story of Wukong's life, apparently. Macaque, the Brotherhood, MK, Mei. All suffered through extreme trauma because of Wukong. Azure Lion and Macaque get literal PTSD just from seeing MK act/look like Wukong.

Not to say Wukong is a bad person morally, but he's like a ticking time bomb. You can chuck it at the enemy, but it can just as easily blow up in your face as well.

Monkie Kid spoilers + me grumbling and being mean to a monkey on main below

SSSSSSIIIIIIIGGGGGGHHHHHH yea anon you've definitely hit the nail on their being frankly enormous amounts of whiplash in Monkie Kid canon and fanon at this point in terms of the plot going out of its way to repeatedly write Sun Wukong as a reckless idiot who ruins the lives of everyone around him & literally everyone who knew him from his past hates his guts because of dumb destructive stuff he did AND YET the hope is routinely dangled that maybe they'll be some good explanation for why he acts the way he acts and maybe they'll all get to be best friends at some point. But given this unrelenting insistence on more angst & more trauma, which frequently is written as partially or completely the consequence of what Sun Wukong did or what he failed to do, my doubt that they'll be able to write that in a satisfying way given everything that happened beforehand grows stronger. Because if we're being honest at this point the Monkey King has been portrayed as so careless, so destructive, so incapable of making a genuinely good decision that there isn't a single person who's life was made better from their interactions with Sun Wukong, and many whose lives were made much worse. So we're left in this weird state where on one hand lots of people recognize that and thus either hate the Monkey King wholesale and/or frequently depict SWK getting yelled at and rejected by everyone in their fan creations, while simultaneously depicting him in other ways as a beloved member of team good guy & having a strong relationship with Macaque, never mind that the shadow monkey's generally see as the main victim of SWK's badness. In addition, even the audience has barely gotten a glimpse at what the root of SWK's trauma may be, but I worry that at this point any painful past he might be given will be too little and too late to explain his actions. And I HATE that trope of "sad past=automatic redemption" so I really hope that's not what they're aiming for.

Either way & as I've said before, at this point it's kind of baffling why any of the other characters--who it must be remembered have no knowledge about the headband torture times--would even consider legoshow Sun Wukong getting trapped in ink hell world a bad thing. As far as they know he's done nothing but hurt and betray literally everyone for 0 reason except being stupid and selfish. And him getting trapped in the memory scroll means he'll be punished forever for his monkey crimes as he apparently so richly deserves all while the ticking time bomb that is Sun Wukong won't ever get the chance to hurt anyone ever again. So, win-win!

Truly, this was the best way to introduce the Monkey King & Journey to the West to the west & Chinese kids, huh.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

(TW) Sadness Masterlist

Amnesia (ao3) - kat_badwi G, 433

Summary: short lashton sadness

A Year Isn't Long Enough (ao3) - mikeyNluke michael/luke M, 14k

Summary: Everything was now going good until one of the boys get diagnosed with cancer and only have a year to live. The others try to do everything they can to make sure his last year is the best of his life.

cracks (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton N/R, 490

Summary: Luke's a bit sad sometimes, and he blames the atmosphere

Disappear (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke N/R, 2k

Summary: Michael and Luke were never the perfect couple. They fought, not often but when they did, it was massive. Things happen and decisions are made. Now all Michael wants to do is disappear.

Domestic Cuddles (ao3) - antisocialhood luke/ashton N/R, 10k

Summary: Luke's cold and he wants Ashton to cuddle.

(or, Luke wants Ashton in more than one way, and what Luke wants, Luke gets)

dont waste your time on me (ao3) - sweaterpawlyssa michael/luke T, 994

Summary: Luke has a bad day and Michael adds onto it.

or where Michael is really oblivious to Luke being upset, ends up being a complete douchebag and when he finally figures it out, he cuddles him and sings him ATL

Give Your Tears To The Tide (ao3) - smokeynights michael/luke N/R, 406

Summary: Michael has been gone a year and Luke doesn't know how to cope.

I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight (ao3) - WildestWoods luke/calum N/R, 1k

Summary: “They know that tragedy is not glamorous. They know it doesn't play out in life as it does on a stage or between the pages of a book. It is neither a punishment meted out nor a lesson conferred. Its horrors are not attributable to one single person. Tragedy is ugly and tangled, stupid and confusing.” ― E. Lockhart, We Were Liars

Title from I Miss You by Blink-182

It’s Heaven In Your Arms (ao3) - babylrh OT4 T, 1k

Summary: A band cuddle never failed to fix everything.

Let Me (ao3) - fffearless luke/ashton T, 3k

Summary: Ashton's had a feeling about this weird spindly kid for a while now and he's determined to find out what it is

(Ashton becomes Luke's friend and tries to stop him hurting himself)

lonely (ao3) - EmotionalNutella luke/ashton N/R, 487

Summary: Ashton is feeling lonely

Love Hurts (ao3) - orphan_account michael/luke N/R, 981

Summary: Michael hits Luke while he's drunk. He comes back more nights drunk and keeps harming Luke. Will Michael realize he's been hurting his boyfriend before it's too late?

nightlight (ao3) - The_Lady T, 1k

Summary: Ghosts from conversations past swarm through Ashton’s brain, dropping to swipe at his tender organ in groups of twos and threes. It’s too much. He can barely breathe, tucked between his bed and the wall as if his mattress could provide some protection from the onslaught – as if the torturers were using the door on the other side of the room. They aren’t. Everything causing the churning within his stomach is happening internally. Still, he wraps his arms around his knees, trying to make himself smaller.

Not Here Alone (ao3) - Lashtonisall luke/ashton T, 692

Summary: When Ashton feels the waves crashing in on him, he goes to the one person he knows he can trust with anything; his best friend.

when it rains (ao3) - ObsessedWithBands michael/luke T, 1k

Summary: where Luke writes a poem about Michael, and Michael comes home after a long business trip.

[anartistwhowrites]

I’m someone who had to leave a bad job right away. But before I explain why, let me give you some context leading up to this.

I was born with Tourette Syndrome, a nervous system disorder that causes unwanted movements and sounds. Tourettes is often accompanied by a variety of mental health disorders such as ADHD, OCD, Anxiety, Depression, Learning Disabilities, and so much more. I’ve had Tourette’s since I was three and they were a lot worse in school, especially Middle/High School. My mental health was absolutely awful and it was at its lowest after I graduated.

It got to the point where, in 2018, I almost took my own life.

With the help from God and my family, I spent the next three years going to therapy and counseling and getting out of that horrible depression. All while my siblings already had jobs and drivers license’s and cars, and my older sister even had her own apartment. This made me feel behind in “becoming an adult” and I almost relapsed back into my depressive thoughts. But In 2021 I got my first job at a daycare one of my estranged family members used to work at. The job was’t great and after two years of being there, I had to quit. But it wasn’t because “it was too hard, whaaaaaaah” or anything like that.

I was a Daycare Aide, so I had to help assist teachers whose classrooms weren’t in ratio. I was the only aide they had and was constantly being bounced back and forth from every classroom. Now the problem wasn’t the work itself. I don’t mind a bit of hard work. And I loved the kids tremendously. The problem was the work load.

My bosses were overworking me, giving me six hours worth of work to complete in half an hour. And they were getting upset when I wasn’t getting it done. When I wasn’t assisting teachers in the classroom I was basically the janitor: mopping floors, sweeping, vacuuming, cleaning toys, cleaning the bathrooms, and so much more.

I threw out my back and my sciatica constantly. I felt stupid for not being able to complete my tasks on time. And because of my disabilities, some of the co workers I worked with constantly talked down to me like I was also one of the children in the daycare.

Now, while I was considering quitting, I didn’t just “hit the bricks”. I talked to my family first about quitting and they were one hundred percent behind my decision. They knew that I wasn’t being lazy or not trying to power though (they knew I was powering through as best as I could) but every time I got home, they could see how tired and in pain I was. They understood why I had to quit and weren’t going to make me feel bad for quitting the job. But with the money I did earn from there, I was able to finally purchase my first car, so it wasn’t all bad.

So in 2023 I quit. And I have not been able to find another job since. It’s been one year and every job I’ve applied for, from fast food, to dog shelters, to grocery stores, have all ignored me, ghosted me, or rejected me. I live in a rural area and places where I could find better work are an hour or more away. On top of that, the job economy sucks right now and has not been helping anyone.

Let me make it clear, I’m not just sitting on my butt all day, watching TV, and mooching off of my parents. I’ve opened a print store online, I’ve been working on my webcomics, and I’m currently working on a children’s book as a means of forming an income, all while actively job hunting. And I’ve been helping out around the house and taking care of stuff like the laundry and dishes and other stuff like that while my family is busy with their work.

So that’s my life so far. If you are somebody who’s reading this and believes that you’re in a job like mine, please don’t just quit. Really think about if the reasons you have for quitting are legitimate or are just you complaining. It’s tough but a little self reflection doesn’t hurt. And who knows, maybe you were the reason your job isn’t great the whole time. Also, talk to a trusted family member or an elder about quitting. I’m not gonna say to talk to a friend your age because their judgement isn’t going to be trustworthy because they lack the experience and wisdom of someone who’s had more jobs and life experience.

Also please don’t quit without having a few jobs you already applied for. I made that mistake and I’m struggling because of it.

I don’t really know how to end this, so I hope this was able to help someone. Thanks for reading.

if it sucks generally hit da bricks yes. but there are also going to be times in life where you have to stay in uncomfortable or sucky situations because the only way out is through. and that is how life works. sometimes you have to keep that terrible job or that shitty apartment. this site's policy of "don't sink years of your life into something that's not going to be worthwhile" can kind of turn into "immediately stop doing anything you don't like" sometimes and that bothers me

[pinguindae]

I have so many things to say about this "adaptation" that Netflix made of Eskel that I don't know where to start, so I warn you that this post will be long.

Ok, let's start with its appearance.

Since the first official image of Eskel was released, something smelled bad. And if there is something that characterizes Eskel, it is his facial scars; something small but fundamental in a certain way. When Ciri sees Eskel for the first time she is horrified and almost cries out in shock. Many in the fandom, and more when they write about him, relate to Eskel and his scars as a source of insecurities regarding his physical appearance. And although this is only a fan thing, it would have been interesting to see how Eskel feels insecure about himself in regards to them, or how he scratches himself when he feels uncomfortable or people look at him for a long time. When you see Eskel and the scars of him we like to think that people immediately believe that Eskel is a monster and that is why he is rejected (which in itself being a Witcher does not help). So what happened? The first image came out and the discontent arrived and we are going ...

And it is that we go ... they seem like the scratches that my cat makes me when he is angry more than real scars. I've seen low-budget cosplay with a better representation of this and I'm not kidding. And as a fan of the character it pissed me off, of course I got angry because I felt that they were minimizing something characteristic and crucial of the character but I said to myself ok, it looks ugly and maybe Netflix has made a mistake in the characterization but at least it will be true to the personality of the character truth? truth??...

Well no ... Instead of being that chivalrous, educated and gentle Eskel we have ... I don't even know what to call this thing that is anything but Eskel. And do not come with that "It's an adaptation, it will not be the same as the game, it is not even important for the plot and blah blah blah ... Shut up because Lauren herself said she would be faithful to the books and look what we gave (and I don't just mean what he did with Eskel). I don't know about you but at no time did Eskel from the series feel like Eskel. In fact the few times he appeared I wanted to hit him in the face because it really was so disgusting and still I don't understand why this path was chosen for the character. Because the change so abrupt, without reason or justification. It really hurt what they did with him, I felt like they were spitting the character in the face and laughing at the Eskel fans.

And not to mention the little aesthetic performance they gave the character (although the other witches are not far behind)

I mean that he is not a prince but to dress him as a tramp? and worse yet, give him the most hideous warlock medallion design. It's like everything was done on purpose so that non-fans hate the character, and fans do too.

And let's not even talk about its stupid end. What is the use of presenting a character if then you are going to discard him within seconds of having presented him? If they were going to use Eskel just for this, they better not have included him. It is that they did everything wrong, really everything wrong and I just want to cry from the helplessness of seeing how they ruined my favorite character.

They had a great opportunity to present a character who looks like a "monster" but who really is a kind and good soul, who against all prejudice was even a better person than many other men but no, they had to screw it up just because. I don't know why this abrupt decision and if it had something to do with the change of actor, I only know that if Lauren thought that she could screw Eskel and that she was not going to do anything, she is very wrong. I've been complaining all damn day about this, and it comforts me to know that I wasn't the only one who hated this and added to my discontent.

The only thing I wish is that they do not hate Basil because it is obvious that he is not to blame for anything; he just did the best he could with the material they gave him and go to hate him for decisions that he did not even make alone I'd make those people look like shit . And for those who say I'm exaggerating, I hope they don't do with their favorite character what they did with mine, and if they do, let's see if they would sit idly by.

Now if I say goodbye, not before only confirming and reaffirming that the Eskel of the games is the only canon representation for me outside of the books, and if you'll excuse me, I'll go read Jaskel fics where Eskel is patient and loving and treats Jaskier like a king (yes, I'm also upset that they haven't even had 5 seconds of interaction. I hate you Lauren and Netflix😒).

[asirensrage]

there’s a heaven above you (don’t you cry) - Part 12

Rating: M Pairing: Lost Boys/OC Fandom: The Lost Boys Warnings: violence, threats, swearing, referencing family trauma, mention of murder, death... Summary: The thing no one ever tells you about time travel is that you don’t have any control over where you end up or when you leave. It just happens. It also hurts like a bitch. Notes: This will be a poly pairing, so if you’re not into that, don’t read. previous/masterlist also on ao3 and ffn

Chapter 12: Burning Down The House

He left her alone after that. He went to take care of the body and probably find his brothers but Darcy was glad for the space to actually think. Sampson had told her to find her people. Camila would likely tell her to enjoy life while she had it, which was part of the problem in Darcy’s mind. How long would she have it? What if she pissed one of them off? Would they kill her? She was pretty capable of pushing buttons, even when she didn’t try and she liked living. She wasn’t doing much with her life right now, sure, but there were things she wanted to see, wanted to experience. She couldn’t do that if she was dead on account of her runaway mouth. 

Dwayne though…made an excellent and unfortunate point, whether or not he intended to. They could have hurt her ages ago. She spends enough time fending them off but they always let her set the bar. They pushed but they backed off when she demanded. Dwayne gave her a front-row seat at just how dangerous they could be. That was only one of them. The group was likely exponentially more so and yet…before the other night, she had never really felt threatened. Yes, every instinct told her to run, that she was prey in front of a predator, but instead, they had teased and encouraged her and kissed her. Hell, if they wanted to kill her, David could have done it when she hit him across the head with a bat. Which, now knowing what he was, probably wasn’t her best idea. Whatever. She didn’t regret it. From what she’s seen, they all needed to have some sense knocked into them. 

She sighed. She thought she dealt with this crisis after the pregnancy scare which, ha ha, joke’s on her. She could have been saved a lot of fucking grief if they told her from the start. Then again, the hunter did. So maybe this was on her a bit. Barely. Damn it.

It wasn’t like she was going to miss much. Darcy had decided ages ago she didn’t want   children, not with the genes she carries. She wouldn’t subject any kid to her family trauma, intentional or not. So dating a vampire, or four, would effectively solve that problem. 

She snorts to herself. Her mother would be scandalized. Not even about the vampire thing, but the fact that Darcy was dating four men. They’d claim she was doing it for attention. To spite them, and tarnish the family more than she already did just by existing. They wouldn’t even consider the fact that the men actually wanted Darcy, just as she is.

And that was the actual terrifying part if she’s honest. They want her. They have from the beginning and there have been no attempts to curtail her viciousness. The boys encourage it. They like seeing the damage Darcy can do and while she knows, she knows , she shouldn’t act out or want to seek retribution for stupid shit, she can’t help but feel justified at the way they offer to help. Warmth blooms in her chest at the way they grin and suggest she could do more. God, the things she could get away with if she had them on her side. 

Maybe that’s enough. Maybe, if she is going to die at the hands of a vampire of all things, she’ll at least get the chance to feel wanted for once. That could be enough, right?

She was left alone for the rest of the night. 

Darcy went through the motions, setting up the store in the morning. When Camila showed up, it took her about ten minutes before she asked Darcy. 

“What’s wrong, mija?” Camila asked.

“I think I might be making a bad decision but I’m not sure I want to stop.” 

“What kind of bad decision?” 

“One with serious consequences.” 

Camila looked concerned at that. “What do you mean?”

“You remember the boys you met the other night?” 

“Si.”

“I’m not sure I can trust that…they have my best interests at heart.” 

Camila sighed and turned towards her. She grabbed one of Darcy’s hands and held it. “Darcy, mija. Do you enjoy spending your time with them?”

“Yeah.”

“Have they given you any sign they’re gonna hurt you?”

Darcy was slow to admit it. “No.” 

“Then this fear, the one you have? Is it truly from here,” she tapped Darcy’s chest. “Or here?” She tapped her forehead this time. “Whose voice is it that tells you this, hm? Does it sound like you or somebody who doesn’t want you to have nice things?” 

Darcy frowned at that. That was…insightful. Darcy hasn’t considered the fact that her fear could be laced with whatever remnants of trauma her parents had subjected her to. Of course the only people who wanted her were monsters. Wasn’t she told often enough that she was one? Dwayne had been right that they could have hurt her if they wanted to but they didn’t. They just kept trying to ply her with affection. Affection that Darcy had learned from supposedly good and decent people came at a price. It always did. 

The question was, what was this going to cost her?

Darcy left in the afternoon. Camila promised her that she would take care of the store and Darcy found herself a ride to the bluffs. Well, she stole a bike but she’d return it. Or not. If it was important to them they’d have locked it up.

It was easier to go down the stairs during the day when she could actually see where she was stepping and what to avoid. They creaked a little ominously but she still grit her teeth and went, carefully carting her cargo. The cave was surprisingly well lit considering it was a literal hole in the wall. It was eerily empty, or maybe that was because she knew they were hiding somewhere in here. Was it safe to wake up a sleeping vampire or was it like sleepwalkers where you just had to wait them out naturally? 

Playing it safe, she made herself comfortable and waited. Well, she planned as she waited and if she doused a trail of gasoline around the cave, that was her secret. Not that it was that much of a secret and she moved the couch closer to the entrance so she could actually breathe. 

David is the first one out. He pauses as he sees her, lounging back and smoking. She knows she looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world, even if her heart is beating overtime. She’s careful where she flicks the ashes though. No use starting something if she doesn’t need to. 

“Darcy.” 

“David.” 

“How long you been here?”

“Long enough.”

He glanced around the place but only smirked in response. “I can see that.” He moved closer, slowly, considering what she knew they were capable of. “You came back.”

“I came to talk.” 

“So talk.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes, already irritated. She was beginning to regret this already. “Don’t fucking rush me,” she said, pointing her fingers holding the cigarette at him. 

He grinned in response. “Missed that.”

“You’ll miss more than that if you keep pissing me off,” she took another drag of her cigarette. “How does this work?”

“What work?” 

“This…club you have. There a leader or it’s an ‘all for one, one for all’ mess?” 

He looked at her carefully before he pulled out a pack of smokes of his own. She watched as he pulled one out and lit it. Man liked to live dangerously, she guessed. Or he was overconfident. She wished she didn’t find it stupidly attractive but nobody ever accused her of being particularly stable and healthy.

He was still wearing the same outfit she had seen him in days ago. Her nose scrunched up. How often did they wash? Oh god. She slept with him. She’d be lucky if she made it out of this without a UTI at this rate. If she survived at all. She didn’t remember him smelling bad though.  

“Remember my father?”

Darcy scowled in response. “The asshole who burnt your hands.”

“Not a father in the traditional sense,” he said after taking a drag. “He’s the leader. Just likes to hide and play human, pulling strings from the shadows.” He looked at her carefully, suddenly far more serious than she ever remembers seeing him. “Don’t fuck with him, Darcy. He will kill you.” 

“Okay,” she said. The warning does more to reassure her of their intentions than the continuous promises that she was safe with them. 

There was laughter echoing from where David had appeared from. It was only seconds before the other three came crashing into the main foyer where Darcy and David were. 

“Darcy!”

“Babe!”

They come racing forward. Paul plopped down on the couch next to her while Marko and Dwayne moved to stand next to David.

“You feel better?” Paul asked. 

“Not entirely,” she said. “I came to talk.” 

“You planning another murder, sweet thing?” Paul threw his arm over the back of the couch. “Can I come this time?” 

She could hear the others sigh. 

“Not the time,” Dwayne said. 

“Read the room,” Marko added. “Her next murder might have been us. But hey, good news is you definitely would have been there for that one.” He sounds highly amused and she barely realizes Paul moved before she sees them play fighting around the cave. 

“Boys.” They’re instantly standing next to David as soon as he says that. Interesting. That answered her question about the hierarchy in the cave. Or part of it, at least. “What do you want to talk about, Darcy?” She watched as he ground out the butt of his cigarette on his thigh. Not really an ideal place, in her opinion, but it made sense. They knew she laced the space with gasoline but the smell might have been too strong for them to guess where exactly it was. Not like the cave was completely dry in the first place. It was a fire hazard all on its own. Still, good to know. 

“How do I know you won’t kill me?” Her cigarette should be put out, but right now it’s the perfect size to flick in their direction if she wanted to. 

“We won’t,” she heard from them. It echoed around her, like multiple promises she can’t be assured they’ll keep.

“‘Sides,” Paul grinned at her. “You’re the one who’s been violent with us, babe. You’ve had just as many chances to murder one of us.” 

She blinked before slowly smiling. He was right. She wasn’t some helpless victim. Darcy wouldn’t hesitate to stab someone if she had to. Or set them on fire. Proven by her setup this evening. She glanced at the butt of her cigarette before flicking it toward them. Darcy grinned widely as they scrambled away from it. The remains of the cigarette had burnt out though and it was an empty threat. “I guess I can work with that.” 

The men seemed to perk up with those words. 

“On my terms,” she stated. 

“Of course,” David said with a smirk. They looked as if they’d gotten exactly what they wanted and maybe they did. That doesn’t mean that Darcy hasn’t either. Everyone can be a winner as long as she’s running the show. 

“Can we…” Marko spoke up. “Take this elsewhere? Clean out the gasoline so that we don’t end up on fire next time Paul knocks over one of the barrels?”

“Hey!”

“I could eat,” Darcy added. She hadn’t eaten for most of the day. The weight of the decision to actually let them in ate at her instead. 

“Paul,” David calls out. “Take Darcy to eat.”

He laughed as he got up. “Come on, sweetness. I get you all to myself.” 

“And what will the rest of you do?” she asked, looking them over. 

“Clean,” Marko admits. “You keep him out and we might actually get the gasoline out without the whole place going up.”

She grinned at them. “Good luck.”

Paul doesn’t lead her toward the boardwalk. Instead, he drives them to the same taco truck she had walked to with David. It wasn’t far from her motel.

“Here babe,” he handed her money. “Order what you want. I’ll hang back. I think I still smell like gas.”

“Impressive considering I didn’t pour any into your sleeping area.”

He grinned at her. “You couldn’t find it, could you?”

“Didn’t look.” She walked away and went to order. At least she didn’t have to worry about what he wanted. 

Darcy looked back as she waited for her order. Paul was sitting on his bike, tapping out a beat that only he seemed to hear. He likely wasn’t lighting up because he thought he was covered in gasoline. Maybe she should have looked. It could have been hilarious. But then with the amount they smoke, she could have killed them…and she wasn’t ashamed to admit that she didn’t actually want them dead. She just wanted to stay alive herself. 

When she walked back over to him, box of tacos in her hand, he leaned forward and kissed her. She closed her eyes, leaning into it slightly. 

“Well?” Paul asked once they broke apart. “Do I smell?”

“Like death.”

“Come on, Darce…let me shower at your place.”

She stared at him, unimpressed. “Are you just trying to get into my pants?”

“Always. You think they’ll fit?”

She laughed, not expecting that answer. “We’ll have to see. Come on. You can shower while I eat.” She climbed on the back. “Don’t make me drop my food.

He winked. “I’ll go slow.”

taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse @delicateblackrose @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

lost boys tag: @phantomenby @avengers-fixation @artaxerxesthegreat @henhouse-horrors @charlizekkelly @makepastanotwar13

[beann-e]

Bnha Characters reacting to when you quit your job

bakugou

your steps were quiet as you tried to work up the energy to unlock your front door. Your hands sweating and cold when you finally got the energy to put the key in the lock a deep exhale leaving your lips when you finally walked in.

Your Body only carrying you to your kitchen counter before you dropped your keys and bag on the same counter your body now rested against.

The room heating up and shifting from the ice quiet atmosphere youd created when you felt strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you back to meet a hard chest

Small kisses being planted on the side of your neck as you let out another sigh of relief as you spoke trying not to drown in the comfort being given to you “ baby “

Your body shook as you heard a deep grunt of acknowledgment “ we — we need to talk “

you felt as another set of kisses were placed to your neck before his head snuggled into the spot between your neck and shoulder “ I— I think I made a mistake“

You bit at your lip as you kept going “ I— I was trying my best to stick up for myself y’know like you told me”

“ mm—and did you“

“ I did —I mean I did stick up for myself and I had to I needed to bu—”

“ slowly losing interest y/n “

you let out a shallow cough “ but I think I did it at the wrong time “

his body stood up a bit straighter head still remaining in the same place somehow “ baby I —i lost my job “

You felt as your boyfriends body went hard almost as if he was trying not to slam your own body into the floor in anger his grip around your waist only getting tighter “ like I said I — I wrong time“

“ wrong time? — y/n wrong place “ he screamed as he jolted your soul out of your already shaken figure. His head flying back to look at you conveying all the anger and annoyance he held, “ what the fuck do we do now “

you let out a small laugh to try to ease the tension “ we — we rely on your hero check ? “

You watched as he sucked his teeth and moved out of the kitchen “ I can barely feed a fucking roach with my salary y/n “ his voice getting louder as he walked into the living room you following closely behind “ i — i can barely feed you — us — y/n this is why we don’t have little crumb snatchers running around now “

his voice deep and heavy “ cause we’re broke do you get that babe ? huh no — fuck — you— fuck fuck fuck you gotta go back — you can’t just be chilling around the fucking house while i’m working my ass off that’s not how starting a family works y/n “

“ baby it’s just until I can get a new job “

“ tch— and how long will that take y/n “

“ well I— “

“ huh months ? “

“ well n— “

“ couple weeks “

“ I mean hopefull— “

“ babe you don’t even fucking know “ he sighed as he griped the skin on the bridge of his nose “ so fucking stupid — so so so fucking stupid “

the room went quiet as your eyes dropped to the ground. “ wel— no — I — I don’t know kats” you shook your head “ I— I really don’t“

“ and that’s the problem y/n “ he screamed eyes finally opening to look at you.

God, he loved you but seriously you just didn’t think sometimes

It’s not that he was calling you stupid it’s just that he really really loved you

He loved that you listened to him. That whenever he gave advice you heard it and went with it.

The night he told you to speak up he was honestly just fucking with you. He always forgets that he has someone who loves him now meaning he’s taken seriously. He always forgets he’s not in high school anymore.

He can’t say something crazy and asshole—ish and expect to just be ignored. He has someone that loves him and will truly listen.

Your not the stupid one

nor the one in the wrong he is

and he knows he is because he heard everything you said about your situation. Yet, he knew you were different from him whereas he had been speaking his mind for years regardless of ranks.

You couldn’t.

You had a job where everything relied on ranks and status. You couldn’t just say whatever the fuck you wanted to like he could and yet he convinced you that night to speak up whenever your boss gave you extra work you didn’t wanna do.

His eyes felt heavy and so did his body his brain automatically beating himself up as he stared at you imagining the rough day youd had. If he was pissed off with the current situation he could only imagine how you felt.

Someone who hated to rely on others yet, now having to rely on their boyfriend.

“ come here “ your eyes lit up at the statement as your tired body wobbled over and into bakugous arms. Head hitting his chest as he crushed you “ I love you and i’m proud of you “

your heart sank.

“ fuck those idiots you only have room for one anyways and hes— fuck trust me I know i’m enough “

Shoto

“ so “

“ so “

You sat on the couch legs splayed out in front of you and hands playing with the tassels of the pillows placed next to you.

God you loved these pillows. You actually remember the day you bought them.

Y’know back when you had money

“ y/n “ you watched as shoto shifted uncomfortably on the couch next to you “ my love what are you doing home “

He shook his head confused at the body placed comfortably next to his own “ your not supposed to be home for “ he looked down at his watch moving his suit jacket up his arm to create space and to make sure he was seeing the time correctly “ for 7 more hours “

you let out a short laugh “ you sound like you just got caught cheating sho “

his eyebrows crinkled together as he stared at you in disgust “ y/n I would never “

His hand moved to be placed on your thigh “my love is that what you think ? — if that’s why your here then I can assure you tha—I mean honestly if so I would never be stupid enough to disrespect you in our home— you could’ve went to my office at least I mea— “

“ I lost my job shoto “

The air shifted as the hand on your thigh suddenly felt colder than before “ I— I lost my job “

you took a deep breath shaking your head “ it’s a long story on why but i’ve been leaving the house — pretending really— to go to work “

You chuckled “ god i’m sucha bad person “ your small chuckle turned into a hearty laugh as you felt your body go slack “ A fucking horrible timekeeper too if I managed to forget my husband gets off before me on weekends “

“ do not say these things about yourself “

“ it’s not like it’s a lie “ your tear filled eyes coming up to look at his. ” right “

“ I will not stand for this y/n “

“ for what — having an unemployed s/o—i mean you already have one so not much to do about that “

you scoffed “ why don’t you want a housewife ? huh“ you smiled “ I can wear the skirts for you y’know with the aprons cook you dinner and maybe we can have kids y’know we can even get —“

“ enough “

your body shook your eyes widened facing the 6 ft male now towering over you “ your always joking about serious things and I — I don’t understand “ his eyebrows creasing in desperate need to understand you. Eyes darting around your face “ how “

his voice going deeper as he got angrier “ y/n you lost your job“ his eyes grew wide “ do you realize how serious this is “

“ wh— “ you shook your head letting out a short scoff “ of course I do —I mean sho i’m the one who qui—lost it “

“ no you clearly don’t “ he scoffed “ not if your sitting here making jokes in my face “

His mouth quirked up in disgust “ it’s almost insulting — disgusting really “

“ wh— sho—“ you felt as a tear fell from your eye “ baby what could be so disgusting huh ? so ‘ insulting ‘ about me choosing to leave huh “

his eyes softened “ because of your reason to leave “

“ my reason ? ��

“ my love I know you — I know you didn’t get fired and I know you wouldn’t just leave you loved it there “

your head dropped as your fiddled with your fingers “ so that means something led you to make that life changing decision and it hurts me that you were forced to make it “

Your heart broke, he was right he was always right, for days at work youd been dealing with an overbearing co worker who would tell you to do everything they didn’t feel like doing and when you finally decided to say no to them

They went and told your boss. Who even though you’d been working there longer than your so called coworker still believed everything they were told.

That was the day that you sadly found out your job favored years over hard work.

Due to the other person being there longer you were trumped in telling your story. It was seen as not necessary because , someone who was there for so long would have no reason to lie on someone like you.

A newbie

“ someone made you quit this job “

“ sho no they— I decided “

You felt as the couch shifted from him kicking it. You thinking he was moving to grab his shoes except walking past them and unlocking the door instead.

“ baby where are you going — we need to talk about how we’re going to split the bills now that i— “

“ i’ll handle it “

“ shoto you can’t put everything on your dads card we’re not “ you let out a soft exhale “ we’re not children anymore “

“ i’ll pay for it all myself — and you can be my little housewife “ he scoffed as your expression grew sour “ it was so funny a moment ago right “

“ shoto i’m not gonna ask again where are you going “

“ where else “

your eyebrows came together in a furrow “ wh— “

“ my love you work for my company ? obviously who ever I put in charge “ he shrugged walking barefoot to his car unlocking the door “ isn’t doing a very good job if they fire their bosses s/o ? “

He got into the drivers seat as he turned the car on and reversed the car “ needs to learn respect no ? so i’ll just have them switch places with you“ he smiled softly “ i’ll see you when I get home “

His once furious eyes turning soft at your body hidden in pajamas “ go inside baby —it’s cold —go order us some takeout i’ll be back in a little ok “

“ sho “

“ just let me handle this —i love you and i’ll be right back my love—go “

You shook your head softly “ go y/n “

[freakishfandomfiend]

911 Fandom Meltdown and Racism **RANT**

As a member of the 911 fandom since day one, I would like to put my two cents in where fanfic writers are concerned.  It has come to my attention that there is a list going around of fanfic writers being “racists” around different servers and the fandom. It’s a list made by WHITE PEOPLE (WP), calling others racists; including People of Color(PoC). As someone who loves some of the authors on the list, I’d like to point out that most of the writing is not racist, but different characterization of a canon character and people are getting butt hurt. 

Just because you don’t like something, because you don’t like someone’s writing of a character, does not make them racist. All of this started when people were bashing Maddie and saying that she shouldn’t have done the things she did in the way of getting into Buck’s apartment and the way she left Buck. When those things didn’t get enough traction, they pulled in Chimney. 

Apparently we can’t talk about Chimney being a liar and being a bully before season 5 (because this disregards character development.. *Rolls eyes*), but I’m going to talk about it. Chimney wasn’t my favorite character in the beginning, I did like him, I wasn’t a huge fan of his lying to his girlfriend and the way he was verbally abusive to his team members. Not just Buck, and we’ll get to why I specified Buck in this. 

Chimney was abusive; he was verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive. When we skip to season 5 where Chim punches Buck, we see the physical part of it. It’s also brought to my attention that he was under emotional duress at the time. That’s not a reason, that’s an excuse. He was still the aggressor and he was still the one who threw the punch. Notice that Buck never hit back. 

Chimney used the fact that Buck kept it from him, that his daughter went to the hospital, that Maddie left, but Chim kept important things from Buck too. 

BUT! According to the WP that made the list, if we defend Buck, if people are held accountable for their own actions, we’re babying Buck. When we do that to PoC, it’s okay because they are PoC. I’m probably going to get put on the list after all of this too, but I couldn’t care less.

Eddie, who is also a PoC, has done some stupid shit and deserved to have the consequences of his own actions. He punched the handicap male, (Who was a douche bag, but I digress), and he went to jail for it. He had to be bailed out. 

Why didn’t Chim go to jail? or get charged? and honestly? as an Abuse survivor myself, I don’t see how Maddie could have forgiven Chim as easily as she did. Especially over the person that she was a mother to for most of his life. How she could let him near their child without him going to therapy. EVEN how Bobby could let him come back as easily and quickly as he did without him being cleared through therapy and anger management. As much as we talk about Buck being Bobby’s kid, he’s also his coworker, his responsibility, and when someone wouldn’t feel safe or feel like they can’t trust someone anymore.. that’s an issue, especially in their field of work. 

I would also like to point out that anyone who is writing stories where Chim is being held responsible for his actions, or any of the 118 being held responsible, I’m so proud of you for writing things that go against the flow of what everyone wants to be brainwashed into your head. I do apologize for the backlash you may get from any of this, but for what it’s worth, as a stranger on the internet, I’m proud of you.   

I personally don’t care if you’re white, black, green, red, yellow, or purple, if you fuck up and make a bad decision, you should be held responsible for your own actions. 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 16) - Drowning

Summary: The reader’s night goes from bad to awful fast but thankfully Jensen shows up at the last second to stop things from getting any worse. But the guilt the reader feels over trying to end things with Jensen to protect him starts to become too much...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,600ish

Warnings: language, being drunk, minor violence, scary situations, angst, fighting, fluff, offscreen death of minor character, anxiety, panic attack, minor injury

A/N: This chapter is a whirlwind! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

It was a close to an hour later and you were halfway through a bottle of bourbon, laying on the back porch of your mom’s house, staring at the rafters and debating finishing off the whole thing.

“Y/N?” you heard. Your skin crawled as you sat up, spotting your father at the other end of the wrap around. “Are you drunk?”

“This would be an appropriate time to tell you that yes, I am and I also have this,” you said, reaching behind your and picking up a hunting rifle. “I might be plastered but I think that’ll only improve my aim. I’ll be nice and shoot for your balls first.”

“You got so much wrong about me kid.”

You fired a shot near his feet and he held up his hands.

“Why don’t you go jump off a bridge or some shit,” you said.

“Y/N.”

You pulled the trigger as he took a step forward and he jumped when it hit the window nearby. You pulled again but it just clicked as he walked closer. 

“Your new momma never taught you that kind of rifle only has two shots, did she,” he said. You tried to stand but got way too dizzy and fell down. 

“Well I can still tear you apart with my teeth,” you said. 

“You’re drunk and judging by your face, very upset. What happened to that boy you were with? I didn’t see him when I looked around.”

“Touch me and that boy will rip your head off.”

“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he said, stepping far too close for your liking. You swung the rifle at him but he caught it and kicked the bottle away before you could get at it. “All grown up. Probably enjoy it now.”

You crawled back as far as you could, eyes darting behind him when you saw movement. You barely caught the brown hair and green eyes before your father was face first on the porch. You tried to stand but he yanked on your ankle and pulled you down hard. It took a long time to peel open your eyes again, your father now at Jensen’s feet. Jensen pushed down on his back while he talked on the phone to someone and it didn’t take long to hear sirens in the distance.

“For the record,” said Jensen as he walked over to you and crouched down, his belt around your father’s wrists, “I didn’t believe you for a second. Oh and you’re a dumbass but you’re my dumbass. Forever. Got it?”

“I couldn’t…” you trailed off. He nodded and took off his flannel, wrapping it over your shoulders. “I knew he would do something and I couldn’t have him near the kids or know they exist. I couldn’t-”

“I know, honey,” he said. “But don’t you dare ever do anything like that again.”

You put your head down sniffled, dizzy still as he rubbed your back before going back to watching your dad.

It took an hour or so before you could go home and you were sober enough to stand on your own. 

“Can I ask why you made the executive decision that you did?” asked Jensen, holding your arm loosely as you got into his car to head back.

“Because I’m stupid,” you said dryly from the passenger seat as he turned on his SUV.

“I mean more so why didn’t you come to me if you were scared? Why make up a lie?”

“You did let me go. You must have believed me at least for a few seconds,” you said.

“No, I actually didn’t.”

“You let me go.”

He was quiet until you got close to the brewery, Jensen pulling off onto the plot of land he owned next to it. You leaned your head against the cold window and he turned off the engine.

“This whole, tired, don’t talk to me attitude right now? Been there. Lived it. I know it’s bullshit.”

“You let me leave so you did believe me so-” you said, Jensen pressing a finger to your lips. 

“I am certain of very few things and you are one of them. I let you go so I could figure out what scared you so badly you’d lie, to me. There’s only one thing I can think of so before you even had a foot out of that house, I was calling people and I got put on with Detective Finn who worked your case as a kid and I find out that dick for brains sack of shit just moved practically down the street from us. It does not take a genius to put the pieces together.”

“Fine! I did it in some stupid attempt to protect you,” you said. You glared at him and he shook his head. “What?”

“I’m not gonna get mad at you.” You put your head back on the window and stared out to the dark trees, sniffling some. “Why do you want me to be angry with you?”

“Uh because I didn’t forget to turn on the washing machine or leave on a light. I lied. I lied so big that-”

“You lied to protect your family from a monster. Do I wish you had told me? Yes. But I fuck up so much and you’ve never once been angry with me for making a mistake and I’ll never be angry with you for making one either. I know you want me to be angry with you, feel like you should be punished for what you imagine is hurting me. But you didn’t hurt me, Y/N. You didn’t and I know you get that because so many times you’ve been on the other side of this and I know you’ve never once thought, oh yeah Jensen’s a piece of shit, let him really have it. No. Just no. So I’m not getting mad at you and I don’t know what to fucking say to make you feel better like you always do me and I’m so sorry he got so close to hurting you again. But I’m really good at fighting monsters in this family. So please next time, I don’t care if you’re scared of the bug on the wall or you think someone’s outside the house or what it is. If you’re scared, tell me and I’ll do my best to make it go away, I promise.”

“What do you do when you want to hate yourself for being an idiot?” you asked quietly. You heard him shift in his seat and you shut your eyes, the sound of a door opening and then another. Strong arms wrapped around you and you buried your face in his chest.

“I try to treat myself as kindly as she does. She would never hate me and she hates when I’m in pain. I see it all over her face. So I try to cut myself some slack and ask myself if she would hate me and when I realize no, I’m forced to forgive myself and it normally takes a few hours but it works pretty good. A lot of hugs and cuddling don’t hurt either.”

“Thank you for stopping him.”

“Don’t.”

“Thank you. I owe you so, so much.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing. We got each other’s backs and that’s all there is to it. I’m just sad I missed you trying to shoot his dick off.”

“How did you know where to find me?”

“Find my iPhone. Also I figured that was a good place to check,” he said. “I would have been here sooner if Jared didn’t drive like a tortoise over to the house to watch the kids.”

“I’m sorry I scared you...and you had to do that tonight.”

“Oh punching your father was a personal highlight for me. Trust me,” he said. He stroked your cheek and you turned into the touch, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re safe.”

“He’s going to get out on bail and-”

“And we have a very good lawyer. Oh, and I know the mayor so fuck his ass, he’s not getting bail.”

You buried your face once again and he put a finger under your chin, lifting it up.

“You’re still scared.”

“He’s gonna get arrested for what, trespassing? Attempted assault? I was drunk and shot at him. He can spin it. He can spin it and be out on the street like that.”

“I’m going to ask the lawyer to do something else, something that maybe can take care of that problem.”

“What?” 

“Once a piece of shit, always a piece of shit. He’s been gone for fifteen years. I have this bad feeling you weren’t the only one. Or even before that.”

“Or maybe he just hates me.”

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m gonna take care of it.”

“Jensen, I know you don’t have to worry about the money but it might still not be enough.”

“It’s enough,” he said. “Or else next time I’ll be the one with the rifle.”

“You would kill him?”

“Honestly? Yeah if it came to it. I wish people like him died in car crashes, not innocent ones. We have every right to protect ourselves and our family and I’m not letting him touch the kids or you ever.”

“I should probably say that’s bad but I don’t disagree.”

“Money works a lot. A real lot. Maybe he did something super bad and he can rot in prison forever.”

“Maybe,” you said, spotting a cruiser pull up nearby. 

“Stay here, sweetie,” he said. He walked over while the officer got out. He spoke to Jensen for a moment, Jensen’s face a bit blank when he turned around. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Your dad had a heart attack in the backseat,” said Jensen quietly. You cocked your head and he shook his. “Your father. In the police cruiser that was taking him for booking. He was just pronounced.”

“He died?”

“He was really overweight and didn’t look to be in the best health. He probably got his heart rate up too high and...the officer said he’d escort us home, stay outside the house for the night, calm our nerves.”

“He’s really dead?” you asked. You looked over at the officer and he came over, giving you a quick smile. “He really died?”

“Yes mam.”

“What...happens now?” you asked.

“We’ll file the report but you don’t necessarily need to press charges anymore. You’re next of kin as far as we’re aware so the body…” he trailed off when he looked at you. “We can talk about this with your lawyer.”

“Thanks,” said Jensen. “We’ll be on the road in a minute.” 

The officer climbed back in his cruiser, Jensen leaning against the doorframe. He tucked your hair behind your ear, letting out a deep breath.

“Y/N,” he said. He stroked your cheek, your head turning up. “What is it, honey?”

“I don’t feel bad at all. I’m actually happy. That kinda is freaking me out a little. You shouldn’t be happy someone died.”

“Most people you’re right, you shouldn’t. But there are exceptions. He tormented you. He harassed you. He came after our family. I’m gonna sleep just fine tonight knowing he’s never coming back in our lives.”

“Were you scared of him?” He ducked his head down and you took hold of his hand. “Jensen.”

“Put it this way, I’d protect my family by any means necessary. What scares me was what if I was five minutes later tonight. Ten minutes. My job is to protect you and especially from monsters like that.”

“I’m a big girl Jensen. You don’t have to protect me from anything.”

“Yes I do, just like if it were me in your shoes I know you’d have done the same exact thing. We protect each other. It’s not because I’m the guy or I’m stronger. You’re my family and that’s what we do.”

“Thank you for protecting me and forgiving me for being stupid earlier,” you said. He smiled and nodded.

“You’re my dumbass and I’m yours,” he said. “Want to go home now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

“He’s really gonna spend the night?” you asked half an hour later in bed, Jensen shutting the door after himself. “He knows there’s a cop outside, right?”

“What can I say, Jared...he thinks of you like a little sister,” he said. “I can’t blame him for being protective.”

“I’ll be right back,” you said. You climbed out of bed and went downstairs, the light dim aside from where Jared was reading on the couch, a blanket over his legs. He looked over the top of the book and set it down, sitting up.

“Everything alright?” he asked. You smiled and took a seat on the edge of the couch, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thanks for staying,” you said, a pair of large arms wrapped around your back. 

“Of course.”

“You do know there’s nobody to bother us now, right?”

“I know. Some peace of mind never hurt anybody though,” he said. “Go on back to your fiance. You guys had a rough night.”

“Yeah,” you said, closing your eyes. “Thanks.”

He kissed your temple and you returned to your room, Jensen pulling you under the covers. You let out a deep breath, turning into his side. 

“Here,” he said. He started to take off his bracelet but you shook your head.

“It’s yours, Jensen. I feel safe, I promise.”

“You’re tense still, honey.”

“Still working on that not being so angry at myself thing,” you said. He smiled and kissed you quickly, laying an arm over your waist. “I know what you said but I still want you to be pissed at me for lying.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But-”

“You didn’t hurt me, Y/N and you know what? Sometimes, you’re gonna hurt me and I’m gonna hurt you. We’ll have bad days and get annoyed with one another. I’ll leave dishes in the sink and make a mess of the closet. You’ll chew with your mouth open and never fill up your car with gas until it’s too low. We’re not perfect. But even if we do hurt each other, we forgive each other because that’s what you do. We’re not always gonna like each other and what we do but we’ll always love each other. I don’t want to be mad at you. I want you to feel safe and know that I understand why you did what you did. I do. Please try to let it go, for me.”

“I am trying,” you said quietly. You shut your eyes and turned away, his arm over you pulling you back against his chest. “You’re normal. I can’t just stop hating myself like that.”

“You think I’m normal?” he chuckled. “Me?”

“Did you ever have to punch Dee’s psycho father? Did you ever have to talk about protecting her? Did she ever put your family in danger? Did she ever-”

“Y/N.”

“Go away,” you said, pushing his arm off of you. You moved over farther on your side of the bed, tucking your covers under your chin. The bed shifted and you tried to move again but his arm pulled you straight back to his chest, fingers dipping under your ribcage and holding you in place. 

“I might not have had to have done those things for her but I would have. For the record, you didn’t put anyone in danger. That fucking asshole did. It is not your fault he was an evil and vile person. All you did was try to protect us because you were scared and I know, I know you didn’t tell me because you’re so scared of that man and I don’t blame you. He made my skin crawl and I interacted with him for all of five minutes. Get it out of your system however you need to but you are stuck with me forever. There is nothing you could do to make me want you gone so get used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” you breathed out. You pulled your sheets over your head, taking deep heaving breaths. “You have so much to worry about already. You shouldn’t have to…”

“Did you think I couldn’t handle the news?” he asked. “That your father was so close by?”

“I thought you’d hate me,” you whispered. He tugged down your sheets and you squeezed your eyes shut as he turned you around.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Now you’re angry.”

“Look at me.” You forced them open, meeting a soft face and sad eyes. “Why would I ever hate you?”

“My shit’s supposed to stay in the past. You don’t…” you said, Jensen furrowing his brow. “See, you’re mad.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Your shit stays in the past.”

“It means you’ve had the world’s worst fucking year and you’re in such a good place now and you need to focus on you and not have my shit come in and fuck that up.”

“Do you think I can’t take care of you?” he asked.

“No of course not.”

“It sounds like you’re saying that you think you can’t have problems cause I can’t handle it.”

“Well at least I got what I wanted with you pissed,” you said, glaring up at him, tears welling in your eyes. You tried to push away but he held his arm around you. “Jensen, let me up.” You pushed again and he glared right back. “Stop it. Let me out of bed.” He only glared and you tore your eyes away from his face. 

“Do you think I’m weak?”

“No,” you said, keeping your head low.

“Then why-”

“Because you need a fucking break. I dealt with this shit years and years ago. I understand needing a fucking break and people need to take care of you, help you. You’re a different man than the one I met way back in January. You’re so happy and healthy and you have a different outlook on life again and that’s incredible. I’m so proud of you for that. But you’re just, just out of the woods and I’m not gonna be the one that sends you back in because of my fucking problems.”

“They’re our fucking problems,” he said. “Our problems. There’s no your problems or my problems anymore. It’s us together. Why do you think I’d hate you?”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing on his chest. “Stop.”

“Why?”

“I said stop!”

“Tell me.”

“Because I’m scared,” you said. He let his hold go lax and you sat up, getting out of bed. You walked over to the balcony door and rested your forehead against the cool glass. The bed creaked and you felt his presence behind you. 

“You’re scared of me.” You scrunched up your face and nodded. “Why?”

“Because if you realized how fucked up I am, you wouldn’t come near me with a ten foot pole. I’m not supposed to cause you problems. I’m supposed to fix them, be there for you.”

“But I can’t be there for you. You assume I’m just a dick where it’s only me and my shit that we can work on right?” he said.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Relationships go both ways, Y/N. I don’t expect you to take care of me for the rest of my life. You are allowed to need help too.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand,” he said, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. He was frowning, his voice an octave higher if you didn’t know any better. “Do you honestly think I would have been angry at you if you told me about your father being in town? Do you?”

“I put the kids-”

“For the last time, you didn’t put anyone in danger,” he growled. “What is going on with you?”

“How many times do I have to say it, I’m not supposed to cause any problems!” you said.

“Yes you are! You, me, the kids. We’re all gonna have fucking problems sooner or later. Why do you think I’d hate you for telling me you had a problem, sweetheart?”

You fidgeted with the bottom of your shirt, looking past him.

“Something with your dad, isn’t it. Something got triggered in you after that phone call with the detective, didn’t it.”

“Call Ray. Tell him to come over,” you said quietly. He nodded and grabbed his phone, sending off a quick message before he was guiding you to sit on the bed.

“Honey,” he said when you pulled away from him. “Okay, no touching. Can I get you anything while we wait for Ray?”

“Probably should tell that cop that we’re expecting someone,” you said, rubbing your hands against your thighs. “Fuck, tell Ray it’s the help thing. He’ll understand.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod. You rubbed your legs harder and he stared at you. “Y/N.”

“I’m trying not to have a panic attack,” you grit out. “I haven’t had one since I was eight.”

Your head was turned and you felt his hands on your cheeks, Jensen forcing a smile. You stared for a long beat before you took a breath, his head nodding. 

“That feels better,” you said, your hands not rubbing so hard. You heard feet and the door open, glancing behind Jensen to catch Jared in the doorway. You could feel your heart rate pick up, Jared nodding.

“I get panic attacks too,” he said. You nodded and Jensen glanced over his shoulder. “I heard arguing.”

“Can you tell that cop outside Ray is coming by and to let him in?” said Jensen.

“Sure. Who’s Ray?” asked Jared.

“Her mom’s old boyfriend and foster dad. He was her therapist when she was little. Something’s not right,” said Jensen.

“I’ll send him up as soon as he gets here.”

You felt calmer by the time Ray was walking in fifteen minutes later in sweats and not much more. 

“Hey kiddo,” said Ray, giving you a quick hug before he squatted down in front of you. “Doing okay?”

You shook your head and shut your eyes, Jensen holding an arm around you. He explained what happened, Ray staying quiet. You eventually opened your eyes to stare at the floor, Ray standing and pulling over the bench from the end of the bed to sit on. 

“Y/N do you want Jensen to stay?” he asked. You nodded and he hummed. “Y/N.”

“Yes,” you said dryly. “Can I have some water?”

Jensen got up and retrieved a glass from the bathroom, the pair of them watching you chug half of it down before you sat it on the nightstand.

“Y/N, does Jensen know what triggered you?” he asked.

“Not specifically. Asking for help he figured out but not the reason,” you said, looking away. 

“Well on the bright side, you didn’t have a panic attack, you worked through it, you trusted Jensen to help you through it even if he didn’t know why and some of your coping skills helped you out quite a bit. But this is something Jensen needs to know. You’ll need help in a relationship and I know this is the big one but he needs to know so this never happens again,” said Ray. 

“What if he thinks I overreacted?” you said.

“I won’t, trust me,” said Jensen. “Secret’s safe with me.”

“Go on, Y/N,” said Ray. You took a deep breath and Jensen held your hand, stroking his thumb over the back.

“So you kinda figured out that me having a problem was the trigger and that I didn’t ask for your help earlier and kinda assumed a bad reaction if I did.”

“Yup and that’s all okay,” he said softly. 

“It wasn’t because of you that I assumed you’d have a bad reaction. It was something that happened to me that sort of...default my head to react and anticipate things in a certain way in that particular situation.”

“So if you have a problem and ask for help, you assume the person you’re asking for help from will not take it in a good way?” he asked.

“Yeah, basically. If it’s a really big problem and if I anticipate that the problem would upset the person I’m asking then my head assumes this bad thing will happen. In that case, it assumes the much better option is to not reveal the problem at all and handle it myself because then the bad thing won’t happen,” you said.

“The bad thing. It’s bad isn’t it,” he said. “Really bad.”

“Y/N, remember you can share without the graphics involved,” said Ray. You nodded and leaned your head back.

“When I was six I broke something of my dad’s. A mug. His favorite mug. I picked up the pieces but I knew it was his favorite so I didn’t throw it out. I asked him for help putting it back together,” you said. “The amount of rage he had over a broken mug...I never experienced such a horrible day in all eight years as that one.”

He didn’t say anything and you tucked your feet up, holding one up to him and showing the bottom. He stared at it and cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. It took him a moment but you saw when he noticed the small little scars. His eyes flickered back to yours and you nodded.

“He hurt me badly,” you said. “All day long.” He stared at you and you told him exactly the way the scars came to be, Jensen shuddering and closing his eyes. “It wasn’t a good day.”

“Fuck,” he said, standing up and rubbing his arm. “You were six?”

He shook his head and went to the balcony door, taking a deep breath.

“Jensen. You alright?” asked Ray.

“No,” he said, turning around, looking to you. “That many times?”

“One for every broken piece,” you said. He ran his hands over his face and shut his eyes. “The worst thing was just that it went on all day. It was long enough for me to interpret it as conditioning for a result of an event rather than just a bad memory from everything me and Ray worked out back in the day. It hasn’t been a trigger for me ever really but we knew it could be someday for a big life problem potentially. I’m guessing with it involving my dad, it kinda sent me into overdrive earlier.”

“Jensen,” said Ray, shooting you a quick glance. “Y/N’s okay. I’m actually quite impressed with her behavior. There was no hesitancy or waiver in her voice. I don’t feel as though this will likely be an issue ever again now that it’s out in the open and her father is gone.”

“You’re the closest thing to a father she’s ever had,” said Jensen, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know every horrible thing that’s happened to her and, and you just...all you did was throw him out of the country for fifteen years?”

“First off, the law was different back then and it was a lifetime ban. Second of all, buddy, violence isn’t always the answer to violence,” said Ray, getting to his feet.

“You should have adopted her.”

“She didn’t want me to.”

“You were the damn adult. She was the kid. Act like one,” said Jensen. “I mean fuck, you adopted two other kids only a few years later.”

“If I had adopted her you wouldn’t even know she fucking exists,” shot back Ray. “Her father still would have come back and this would have happened regardless.”

“You should have done what you needed to the second he popped up again when she was a teenager.”

“I did not strike you as a violent man but I do not like it.”

“She was almost assaulted by that man again tonight,” growled Jensen. “He tortured her and tormented her and he got barely any time at all for that. I would have-”

“Why’d you call the police then?” he asked. Jensen swallowed and Ray shrugged. “Why back at the farmhouse did you call the police? You could have killed him, called it self-defense and been done with it. Why?”

Jensen looked down and Ray sighed.

“The price for being a good person is making hard decisions, Jensen. Would I have loved to have rid the world of that son of a bitch the second I learned all about him? Oh you don’t know the half of it. I’m a trauma therapist, Jensen. Mostly for kids and teenagers. Do you know how much fucked up shit I’ve heard in my life? The world has so much ugliness in it. But it’s got good too and that’s why you called the police like you were supposed to and that’s why she loves you. She needs a good man, not a violent one. I’m not saying don’t think about protecting your family. But don’t act on it unless you don’t have a fucking choice, kid. Understand me?”

Jensen nodded and Ray cleared his throat.

“Say it.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jensen quietly.

“Ray, don’t get mad at him. He’s not used to this stuff,” you said. You stood and pulled Jensen back to the bed, Ray crossing his arms and nodding. “If I ever feel this happening again, what should I do?”

“You could work on reconditioning instead,” said Ray. “Work on saying I have a problem to Jensen and ask for help, even if there isn’t a problem. If Jensen responds positively or even neutrally and you two work at it maybe an hour or so a day for the next week or two, I don’t think you’ll ever have to be afraid of that trigger coming back. All of your triggers Y/N have involved your father. I know similarities can set you off but they’re small, manageable. You never have to worry about anyone hurting you ever again.”

“I know. I should have trusted my partner to have my back,” you said.

“I don’t blame you. I didn’t before and I definitely don’t now,” said Jensen. Ray smiled and pulled the bench back over to the bed. 

“Get some rest you two,” he said. 

“Ray?” you said after he gave you a hug. “Why didn’t you adopt me?”

“Honestly?” he asked. You nodded, Jensen preening his ears. “You reminded me so much of your mother and I was devastated when we lost her. I should have been the adult and done what was right but after seeing her in pain for years...I didn’t have it in me to take on a grieving teenager that would have been just as angry back at me. She already was so angry then, I would have put fuel on the flames. I didn’t have it in me to be strong anymore and that’s my mistake for not trying.”

“You can adopt adults,” said Jensen. You both looked at him and he smiled. “Adults can be adopted.”

“Not sure if…” trailed off Ray as you smiled at him. “Y/N, we’ve only just started talking again.”

“Maybe if that keeps going well...maybe things could...work out…” you said. “If you wanted.”

“Yeah, maybe we can do that,” he said with a smile. “It’s getting late. Put her to bed. Don’t be surprised if there’s a nightmare or two tonight.”

“Okay. Thank you,” said Jensen as Ray started to leave.

“Take care of her kid,” he said. Jensen nodded and you lay back in bed, the house growing quiet. 

“I’m so sorry,” said Jensen, his head lowering after a few moments. “I should have realized…”

“You did realize,” you said, sitting up. “Even when my head couldn’t come out and say I trust you and I know I’m acting a certain way because of what my dad put me through, you stayed calm and figured it out. You got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m sorry he hurt you. I got to pretend to be a cowboy and my dad read me stories when I was six. The worst thing I ever got was a few smacks but I know he regrets doing that,” he said. “Even then it was because I was acting out not…I just don’t understand why he would ever hurt you.”

“I stopped trying to understand him a long time ago,” you said, the door opening. You both turned, Arrow walking in with a pair of wet eyes. “You have a nightmare, sweetie?”

“I went…to the bathroom…” she said when you noticed her holding her wrist. Jensen hopped up and walked over, picking her up gently and setting her beside you. “I fell down off the step stool. It was wet.”

“Tell me what hurts,” he said.

“My hand,” she said. 

“Let daddy see,” you said. She moved her hand back and you both saw her wrist was swollen and bruised. Jensen swore under his breath and guided her hand back on it. “Okay, you hold it if it feels better that way, honey. Daddy, I think Arrow should go to urgent care.”

“Arrow, why don’t you go get your dolly and we’ll bring her with us. We might have to wait a minute,” he said. “Be careful okay? I’ll come get you in just a minute.”

“Mommy?” she asked, staring up at you. 

“Mommy’s really tired-” said Jensen when you stood up.

“Uncle Jared is staying over though, daddy. Go get your dolly and mommy and daddy will get dressed,” you said. She sniffled but climbed down okay, Jensen sighing when she left the room. “She wants me there and I want to be there. I’m going.”

“Alright but you’re going to try and get some sleep in the waiting room at least, please.”

“No promises.”

________

A/N: Read Part 17 here!

[miraeluc]

you have an eating disorder

prompt: “you never had issues with food - that is until your boyfriend makes a remark about your weight.”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female! reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: MAJOR TW!! anorexia, there’s swearing

genre: fluff, angst 

NOTE: this is not proofread at all and it’s kinda short, i was struggling to finish it a lot, sorry :(

you were never one to pay special attention to your diet or anything

life is short, why spend it worrying about how your body looks?

food is food man, and you need it to live 

there was no fun in dieting either, it’s not like you were ever fat anyway - with daily training you were in shape!

sure there were thinner girls, but like i mentioned, you just liked enjoying food without having to worry about losing weight all the time 

your boyfriend, bakugo, just does not know how to express himself 

he’s not the type to really pay any mind to your figure, he finds you pretty anyway 

and its a plus anyway - whenever he feels full he can just push his plate towards you and you’ll gladly finish it for him 

that is until one day

you were sitting with the baku squad at lunch

mina was telling you about a new tiktok trend she had stumbled upon and found hilarious 

denki was currently fighting for his life against bakugo after saying his hair looked like he was just hit by an electricity quirk before he proceeded to zap him lightly 

kirishima was regretting all of his life decisions when he decided to try and help denki 

sero was just sat there,, recording it so he could show them just how stupid they looked afterwards

kirishima finally managed to pull said angry-boy away from kaminari 

you always said he’s like a little angry pomeranian when angry lol 

back to the plot omg i got carried away

after bakugo was calm enough to take his initial seat beside you, he was already too full and just overall not hungry

so he pushed his plate towards you 

“eat up, fatass.” he grumbled out

you just looked up at him with wide doe-eyes, not expecting an insult to slip off his tongue

it was bakugo, what’d you expect lmao 

you looked down at the plate, suddenly feeling very not hungry anymore, instead pushing the plate away as you grabbed your bag to stand up

“actually, i’ll head up to my room, i feel a bit sick”

you immediately left after that, not seeing the confused glances the table exchanged, mina smacking bakugo’s head

you went to your room and laid down, not knowing why bakugo’s comment had made you feel upset

you never get upset when he makes dumb remarks!!

so why now!!

oh 

you realised it when you were stood in front of the mirror, shirt lifted, staring at your own body

you did gain some weight.

you were upset at yourself because you usually didn’t mind!!

you know weight fluctuates, you know the small amount of chub you have will eventually pack it’s little bags and leave again 

but it hurt because you wanted to be pretty for your boyfriend.

how could you be when he says you’re a fatass?

eventually, you ended up scrolling through your phone, looking at thin girls all day

you also looked up a few diets that worked very fast 

by the time bakugo was aggressively knocking at your door you had closed all of the pages you were previously looking at 

as soon as you swung the door open he strutted in, seating himself on your bed

“what was with you running off at lunch today?” he looked at you 

you were still stood at your door like.... mm ok i guess make yourself at home 

“huh? i told you, i felt a little sick.” you mumbled, closing the door again, it was getting late and you were not looking to be beheaded by aizawa

he scoffed “if you say so.” he laid down, kicking your blanket to the side

“i brought you some snacks - incase you got hungry..” he said, his face looking like >:( 

he didn’t get them because he knew you liked them and wanted to make you happy! not at all!!

he just didn’t want to put up with you being whiny

that’s for sure the reason 

you giggled, throwing yourself ontop of him - sounds of protest coming from him but he did wrap his arms around you 

“since when are you so nice, katsuki?!” you teased

lol wrong move 

in 0.01 seconds you were flipped over and held down as he started tickling you 

“i’m not nice!”

the next morning you left extra early to avoid getting breakfast with bakugo

he didn’t seem to be bothered by it, he also has days where he just doesn’t feel like eating early in the morning so 

it does start to bother him when that one day of skipping breakfast turned into every day

his google search bar is like 

‘why does my gf not eat’

‘do girls not eat breakfast’

but this bitch is also too scared to approach you at first because he doesnt want you to know he truly cares 

his ego is still too high for that 

but you know better

you know he cares but sometimes you don’t feel good enough for him

you can’t help but compare yourself to other girls at your school

you distance yourself unknowingly, lost in the counting calories and exercising every day

everyone but you notices that you’re literally spiraling 

you don’t notice that you look sick, skin paling and cheekbones getting more prominent every passing day 

you don’t notice the growing eyebags under your eyes 

all you notice is other pretty girls and how you want to look like them.

at first, your friends decide to give you some space, thinking that maybe you have to fix this within yourself and need space

and you do, but someone needs to snap you out of your little bubble 

that someone is bakugo 

so it goes like this 

during training, he noticed your legs being a little more wobbly than usual 

and he noticed that you were unfocused, not being able to dodge all of the enemies attacks 

but something inside of him snaps when aizawa has to stop the fight because you were not even fighting back anymore

before aizawa even arrived in front of you, your world went black and you collapsed

bakugo was so angry at your training enemy 

didn’t they fucking see your struggle?? 

did they really have to be stopped by their teacher??

would they even have stopped if it werent for aizawa?? 

probably not

but he didnt have time to go and yell at them because he was running towards you 

aizawa let him pick you up

“bring her to recovery girl.”

of course he did 

everyone watching was so shocked 

because bakugo didn’t let out a sound the entire time 

his face was pulled into a frown, as usual, but he wasn’t speaking- no, yelling

he showed past his classmates, walking towards recovery girl’s office

“ribbit, why was he so quiet?”

recovery girl was like ?!?!?! what the fuck happened when was the last time she ate

she had to give you a total parenteral nutrition

(that means nutrition/fluids are delivered into your body via a catheter placed in a vein of your body, usually lower arm)

when you woke up bakugo was sat next to the bed, reading the back of some medicine bottle he found there

when he noticed you awake he perked up a little, shoulders visibly relaxing

“what happened?” 

he narrowed his eyes, wondering for a second if you were serious 

“you’re starving yourself to near death, that’s what happened.”

you immediately grimaced

“did i pass out in front of everyone?”

“is that seriously what you’re worried about?!”

you remained quiet, looking away

“y/n, look at me.” he gently guided your head to face him

“i don’t know what drove you to do this to yourself, but i need you to stop. you’re going to die if you don’t stop. what idiot made you think you need to do this to yourself?! i’ll kill them!”

..

“you told me i was a fatass”

his jaw dropped

fuck

“you know i don’t mean when i insult you! i hide the fucking fact that i WANT you to eat by using insults! i’m so sorry..”

his voice went soft at the end

he truly felt so bad :(

he was the one that was supposed to protect you from others hurting you yet here he was, being the one that caused you to hink you weren’t worthy enough

“i know, but there’s so many much more prettier girls than me, i was afraid you’d lose feelings if i wasn’t thin enough.”

“are you kidding?! you’re the only one i have eyes for! all those other extra’s can fuck off, i don’t give a single shit about them!”

you were kinda tearing up

“do you promise?”

god, he felt so bad.

he sat on the edge of the bed, reluctantly pulling you in a hug 

“i promise”

from that day on he made sure to remind you to eat meals, even if it was just something small

he ripped everyone’s heads off if they made a comment about your eating habits and/or weight

and he made sure you were the only one he loved

the day he saw you collapse something broke inside of him

it opened his eyes that hiding his emotions from you wouldn’t help you in your relationship

so while he supported you to build your feelings of self-worth and eating habits, you helped him start to open up, teaching him that showing emotions wasn’t embarassing

no one else knew how soft he could get with you and it should stay that way

you had a long way to go but it was all worth it in the end

he was your little angry pomeranian <33

requests: open

read rules before requesting.

[yandere-sins]

Hello friend!❤️ I absolutely adore your Miya Twins works. Every time you post something for one of them or both of them I’m so elated and excited to read what you’ve come up with! If your requests are open (your bio says they are) I was wondering if you could write something where the reader almost successfully escapes or calls for help? What are the twins reactions? What would they do? I love how you write their dynamic and would love to see this idea explored! If you don’t want to write for both of them, maybe Atsumu’s perspective? Personally he is my favorite twin! I hope you are well thank you❤️

Hey friendo! ♥ We actually talked about escaping them before, so this might be interesting for you! Thanks for requesting, I hope this is close to what you wanted! I needed a reason to just make it ‘almost’ ^^’

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Keep it down, 'Tsumu."

His brother's warning only frustrated Atsumu more, but he grit his teeth in response, the last remnants of his voice fading through the hallway of the apartment complex. Maybe he had been a little loud as he tried to voice his anger, frustration, and fear, but how else was he supposed to come to terms with this situation? Not only had their darling found a way to crack the lock on the front door open, no, they also successfully slipped out of his grasp and outran him in the moment of surprise - HIM, a professional athlete.

It was almost too bad that they missed a step on the second to last staircase, making them fall right into the opposing wall. The twins' screams as they heard the maddening crack when their head hit the cement must have echoed throughout the whole house. Luckily, the twins weren't the only shady people renting an apartment here, and most were empty anyway. No one came to see what the ruckus was all about.

Their darling was anything but weightless as they were slumped against his back, Atsumu giving them a piggyback ride back to their home. Luckily, his muscles were good enough to easily carry them around, but taking three staircases with an extra person on his back wasn't the most comfortable task even for him.

"It's your responsibility. You let them get away," had been Osamu's reasoning as to why they wouldn't alternate carrying them. "Asshole," Atsumu grumbled, Osamu giving him a glare back over his shoulder. He knew just as well that Atsumu wasn't lashing out at him, both of them going through the same state of shock and frustration. But now, with the blood of their darling's head wound dripping onto Atsumu's shirt, they also had their hands full with worrying.

"Stop making a scene. It could be worse," Osamu reminded him, but despite the harsh words, Atsumu felt the same kind of relief. At least they didn't make it out. But at what price?

"Ya think they'll recover from that?" Atsumu asked quietly as Osamu opened the door for him, both of them frowning at the busted door lock. It was crazy to think that their sweet, docile darling was able to do such a thing. However, when their darling realized that their plan failed to pick the lock, they must have panicked so much they ended up opening it this way. "From their failed escape? Probably. That wound is a different thing."

Both of them were tense as Osamu spoke out what they wished didn't have to be voiced. They were no doctors. They could patch up a cut or put ointment on a bruise, but if anything was wrong inside of their brain, they'd be screwed. Bringing them to a hospital was out of the question. Less their darling might be taken away from them. Atsumu didn't even want to start thinking about all the people that would be all over his sweetheart, touching and caring for them while he couldn't. A stupid moment to get jealous, but who could blame him?

"Put them down in their room; it's the safest spot at the moment. Close the door just in case," Osamu instructed, opening the door for Atsumu before disappearing into his own bedroom. "Bring tissues!" Atsumu called after him as he carried their darling inside, trying to slide them off his back as gently as possible and laying them on their bed. His t-shirt was already ruined as he pulled it off, gently dabbing the fabric against the wound on their forehead, waiting for his brother to bring some bandages and ointment. "Shit," he mumbled, biting his own lip in frustration.

The person he was most frustrated with was himself. Yes, he knew about what kind of power balance reigned in their house. Yes, he knew that not all he did to his darling was in their best interest. But he didn't want it to end... like this. That's not what he wanted. Pressing the shirt to their wound, he lifted their hand with his free one, bringing it to his lips. They had done something bad. Something really, really bad. But at the same time, they were so vulnerable, so dependant, and they didn't even know it. They shouldn’t have run from them, it was their darling’s fault in the first place. But how could he be mad at them when they were in this heartbreaking state? Punishment was nothing he could even think about in that moment. What if they didn’t wake up again? Even with the blood dripping from their face, they were the most wonderful person he knew, and Atsumu feared to have told them that less than he should have when he had the chance.

"Move." Giving him an ungentle kick in the waist, Osamu made Atsumu free up the space directly next to their darling's head. He wished he could have his brother's place, but Osamu was just a bit better when it came to fixing stuff. So maybe, he could fix this too?

Pushing away Atsumu and his shirt, Osamu leaned over their darling, checking again if they were still breathing before taking a closer look at the wound. "Ya know how to do stitches?" Osamu mumbled as he looked at it from every side possible. "Are you crazy?" Atsumu hissed back. "Neither of us can do that!"

"And your better idea is...?"

Fuck. His stomach twisted and churned as Atsumu thought about this.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"You do it," Atsumu spoke monotonously. Trying to hide his fear and the shaking hands in his lap.

"Your hands are more steady," Osamu hissed back at him, not noticing that they currently were out of control, only trusting logic in this situation.

"Are you kidding?" Atsumu barked, ready to hit his brother if not for both of Osamu's hands being around their darling's face to steady it.

"One of us has to, and it ain't me! I just cook! You have finger coordination!"

"But..." Atsumu's voice cracked, his eyes falling onto their darling's almost peaceful face if not for the bloody mess at the side of their forehead. Osamu sighed. He pulled his hands away, fingers covered in red smears as he brushed back his hair. "They're bleeding, 'Tsumu," he whispered, and Atsumu heard the same damn fear in his brother's voice that he was fighting with. The struggle, the uncertainty. Fear of losing their darling and guilt of letting it come so far. Osamu had been farther away from their darling than Atsumu, but he was blaming himself just as much. "What do we do?" Osamu's voice was strained with the burden of a person's life on his shoulders as well.

That's right. Atsumu wasn't the only one hurting.

"Then the hospital--" Osamu sighed, catching his composure as quickly as possible, or he might have started to cry. Instead, he pulled out his phone. He hesitated before his lock screen flashed up, ready to call the emergency hotline. By now, time was of the essence.

"No," Atsumu decided right as his eyes caught the light coming from the display. "I'll do it," he stated, determined with an unknown strength.

"I will," he emphasized again, this time, trying to hide the slight shake of uncertainty in his voice. All their work, all this time they put into keeping their darling with them - it couldn't be in vain. Their love was not so shallow. "But..." Osamu mumbled, unsure if this was the right decision.

"I'm the older twin. Trust me."

"Debatable..." Osamu mumbled, glancing back at their hurting darling. "But I trust you."

It all felt unreal. Their first aid kit wasn't just a normal, store-bought one as Atsumu always thought. Somehow, Osamu seemed to have predicted there could have been worse wounds to befall them, owning everything they could need. Chaos reigned in Atsumu's head as he watched one video after another of how to stitch wounds on Osamu's phone while washing his hands maniacally as if to wash off the sins crawling over his skin. The time was pressuring him. There was so much to note, he was barely able to remember the first step once he was done watching it. Avoiding blood poisoning seemed to be the slightest problem when he couldn't even remember how to close a stitch.

Both of them suited up for the occasion, Osamu silently bringing a new shirt into the bath before washing his hands next to his brother. "We said we'd do it together when we brought them here," he reminded Atsumu as he helped him into the gloves. "You're not alone in this."

"I know," Atsumu sighed. "We always did it together, but I have to do this alone. For them. For us."

"I'm always right behind you," Osamu encouraged Atsumu as they stepped up to their darling. A moment of silent prayers passed as they looked down at the biggest mistake of their life. Their darling.

"Let's get it over with," Atsumu mumbled. There was something in his brother's eyes that Osamu had never seen before. He could only recognize it as a point of no return. A breaking point. And yet, Osamu handed the needle to his brother, who immediately pointed it to where he wanted it to go. However, before he could stick it in, he hesitated, his will faltering instantly. What if he'd mess it up? What if he couldn't do it? They'd die. Either way, they'd die.

"On three," Osamu caught his brother, who was falling into despair. Atsumu had to do it. There was no turning back, they had long ignored the right things, and now they were too deep in to go back. He'd prove his love once and for all. Atsumu breathed in.

"Deep breath. One. Two..."

Atsumu breathed out.

"Three."

[thebiggestfan1]

Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 1)

part two here

part three here

word count: 1860 words

TW: language, angst (?)

let me know if you want part two, I’m somehow still not sure

...

It was so hot that day. The movers were already gone, the place feeling empty without all the furniture. In a few hours, you'd be long gone, flying far away from Chesterfield.

Some small part of you felt sorry for selling your parents' house - the house you spent your whole childhood living in. But they moved out a few years ago and told you many times they didn't mind at all selling it.

Wiping the sweat off of your eyebrows you made your way through the blooming garden, trying to memorize every little detail. You remembered climbing this tree, you remembered the hole in the fence you made so the neighbour's dog could come play with you, you remembered the time capsule you and Matt buried here when you were fifteen.

Until now, you completely forgot about that. Even though you two didn't talk after he got drafted, it'd be a good idea to meet again since you might never see him again. You might be moving to Calgary but that city was so big it'd be a miracle to meet Matthew somewhere.

So you scrolled through your phone, praying he didn't change his number after all those years as you dialed it.

The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.

"Yes?"

Matthew's voice was so different since the last time you talked.

"Hey Matt, this is Y/N, I'm moving out today and I thought we could dig up the time capsule we buried at my place as kids before I leave. Are you in town?" It was off-season so you might get lucky.

"You are moving out already? But yeah, I can meet you in an hour if you have the time."

"Yes, I'll still be here, don't worry."

"Okay..." There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of you knew how to break it. Was it a bad idea? Of course you wouldn't be as good friends as you once were. But you didn't know it would be this... weird. He didn't say goodbye back when he left to Calgary and didn't answer to any of your calls or messages. What were you thinking? That he wanted to see you?

"So, where are you moving to?" Matt finally continued, making the conversation more bareable.

"Calgary, they offered me an amazing job there."

"Really? I've been there for a few years."

"I heard." Not from you, was what you didn't say. It seemed like he'd heard it nonetheless.

Silence. You hated how distant you've grown - once, a long time ago, you were best friends. You went together to kindergarden and since then you've been the best of best friends. But even after all you went through, you didn't know what to say.

"Nevermind, I have to get going. I'll be at your place at three, okay?"

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

As you hung up, sadness enveloped you. Maybe you shouldn't have called. Maybe it'd be better to never meet Matt again, to remember only the good old times.

But he might be already on his way and you wanted to say a proper goodbye before going far, far away.

You loved him once, you recalled. It broke your heart when he left without looking back.

It irritated you that you couldn't do the same as easily.

...

"Y/N?" a now familiar voice called, the sound of closing car doors echoing through the silent street.

Matt looked same as he did four years ago and still totally different. It was like staring at a stranger you could swear you've already seen before. The curly, those pretty grey-blue eyes and the crooked smile you remembered and thought about too often. He got taller and more mascular over the time he played hockey professionally.

"Hey," you said nervously, tucking your slightly trembling hands into the pockets of your shorts.

Again, that uncomfortable silence took place.

"How long is it?" Since you've last seen each other. Since he'd ignored your calls and messages. Since he'd left you crying as he left this town - as he left you.

"Five years," you said.

Regret flashed in those pretty eyes as he took you in. Did you look to him the same as you did the last time he saw you?

"I'm sorry I didn't call." That was it? After five fucking years of silence, this was his apology for everything. This was a mistake. You didn't think it through when you called him today. Just now you started remembering all the things he's done to you.

"That doesn't make it hurt less, does it?" You whipped around, going to the line of fruit trees where you left the two shovels you borrowed from the neighbour.

Matt's hand slightly gripped your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

"I know that I made a bunch of wrong decisions before I left."

"I've been trying for 6 months to reach you before giving up completely. And you? You've been living the best version of your life anyone could ever imagine."

"That's not true and you know it." Matthew said and you wanted to leave right then, forget this stupid meeting.

"I do not." you hissed, trying to calm down your rising temper.

Matt sighed, not wanting to argue over this. So he made his way to the tree line, picked one shovel from the ground and started digging where he remembered the time capsule was.

You didn't help him dig it up. You were too lost in memories, clinging to the past as you thought of younger version of Matt.

The clang of metal on metal attracted your attention back to him. He grunted as he pulled up the metal box and laid it on the grass.

You ducked low next to him, dusting off the dirt of the box. It was an old, weirdly dented thing.  Your eyes laid on the lock and you nearly sighed in annoyance just when Matt grabbed at his necklace, the key dangling from it. When you two buried the capsule, each of you got a key made for it. You had yours somewhere in the boxes that had already been shipped to your new apartment and Matt's... he didn't forget. He kept it through the years, guarding it and not losing it as you expected.

You didn't say anything, just patiently waited for him to open the box.

There was a letter inside, along with a bunch of things you thought of as long forgotten. Your bracelets of friendship, the colors faded already; a puck with which you and Matthew played your first hockey game together when you were six; so many polaroid photos with your faces on them; USB with a playlist you two always danced to.

Your eyes watered - how were you supposed to say goodbye to all of this?

Silently, you looked over all of the photos - you and Matt in the rink with small hockey sticks and skates, you and Matt sticking out your tongues colored blue with slushies, you and Matt, you and Matt, you and Matt...

Then Matthew's hand found yours, your fingers automatically intertwining with his. You started crying, first silently but then the sobs shook with your whole body.

"Come here," he murmured, hugging you. His body was so soft and warm, as if begging you to lean into his touch.

"How- how could you leave this all behind?" you mumbled between the sobs.

"It's not leaving if you don't say goodbye." Matt said, his fingers playing with yours.

"Then you are a fucking coward, Matthew."

Silence. He didn't argue with you on that, so you must have been right.

You stopped crying after a while, checking your watch while wiping your nose.

Shit. It was so late already - you had to call an uber to get you to the airport in the next hour or you'd be super late.

"I'll have to go," you said quietly, but Matt interrupted you.

"You are right," he tucked on the edge of his shirt, clearly nervous. He was nervous. "I was a coward. I thought that if I didn't say goodbye to you as I left, it'd hurt less. I was wrong and I was a fucking coward for not picking up your calls or replying to your messages because it would make it so real - that I was leaving and probably never coming back. But I want to make it all right again, I want to be a part of your life - if you will let me."

You thought about his offer and still, you couldn't answer. You weren't sure about letting him into your heart just for him to storm out again without a goodbye, leaving you behind, broken.

"Can I at least take you to the airport?" To that, you nodded, picking up the time capsule, putting all the items back in. Then you gave back the lent shovels to your neighbour and with a last glance at your house, you got into Matt's car.

...

On the way to the airport Matt played the playlist from the USB that was in the time capsule and the nostalgy hit you hard.

You remembered the lyrics, the melody; you remembered everything.

The drive was too short and you started panicking as the engine stopped.

Matthew helped you with your suitcase and went inside with you. The two of you stopped at the first gate.

"Here," he said, giving you a piece of paper. "It's my adress. Hopefully, you won't live so far away, so we could meet there if you wanted to."

You tucked it in your pocket without a word.

"Also, take this. I wrote it in ninth grade so don't think much of it. But I want you to read it, Y/N."

It was the letter from the time capsule, with your name on the blank envelope.

"I will." you promised.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward this time.

"I'll let you know my decision about what you said earlier. I just... I need some time."

Matt noded, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

"So, until we meet again - goodbye, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Matt."

...

The plane took off and you finally had the time to read the letter he gave you.

You immediately recognised his scrambled handwriting and you smiled at how messy it was before you started reading.

Dear Y/N,

I'm writing this in case I leave. Dad has been telling me for some time already that if I'll get drafted, I'll have to leave. He also said that if I'll be smart, I will never look back at my past.

I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future.

He said I'll meet a lot of girls but I know that none of them is going to be like you.

So, I promise you, I will never say goodbye to you.

I love you,

Matt

With trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone, the tears already staining the screen.

That's why he never said goodbye. Because of this stupid letter and his stupid promise.

The phone rang once before he picked it up.

"Y/N? What is it?"

A ragged breath escaped you and you laughed and cried at the same time.

"I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future."

"Oh, that was cheesy, wasn't it-"

"No, you dumbass. That's my answer."

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)