#this sounds specific but it’s literally true of every job i’ve had

[lokiiied]

one thing about working in food service, you WILL see your coworkers ass cracks and you just gotta respect that

[wonderjanga]

Little Billy the Assistant

Zatanna was looking for the Champion. She’d wanted to ask for his help procuring an ingredient for a potion. All she expected was a short trip and maybe adventure. What she didn’t expect was running into a magically gifted orphan homeless looking kid.

Zatanna: *takes a detour a cramped street with a bunch of stalls selling stuff*

Billy: *ahead of her, heads to a gate leading to an alley, looks around for a bit before literally melting the lock off*

Zatanna: *sees this and stares*

Billy: *casts one more glance back before nearly feeling his soul leave his body at the sight of her looking at him*

He looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Zatanna thought he was scared because he got caught by someone using magic in public. Billy was actually scared because she saw his civilian form do magic. Because what if she connected it back to Cap or something?!

Anyways, they made an uncomfortable amount of eye contact from across the street before Billy bolted into the alley. She tried to follow, but the crowd of the cramped street kept getting in her way, and by the time she got to the alley he was gone. Having lost him, she decided to ask Cap about the little boy about a week later when they were both at the Watchtower after he’d helped her find the ingredient she’d wanted. As for why it took a week for her to find him and ask for help? Billy had been avoiding her. Anyways…

Zatanna: “Cap, have you seen this little kid running around?”

Marvel: *immediately knew she was probably talking about him* “You’re going to have to be more specific than that Zatanna.”

Zatanna: “Okay… this little blue eyed black haired short little thing, maybe nine or 10-”

Marvel: *a little offended because he’s 12*

Zatanna: “-I saw him do magic the other day so he’s magical too. You know anything about him?”

Marvel: “Maybe? Why do you care about him?”

Zatanna: “Because recently I’ve had this idea of maybe having a little stage assistant.”

Marvel: “I thought you said you never wanted to share the spotlight or something?”

Zatanna: “That is true, but he was adorable! And I’m pretty sure he was also homeless.”

Marvel: *doesn’t know how to feel about being called adorable* “So…?”

Zatanna: “So he’d become my assistant and learn how to do his magic better since I doubt he has a teacher if I’m right about him being homeless. There’s also the added bonus of earning money which will benefit whether or not he actually is homeless.”

Marvel: *was prepared to say yes as soon as he heard money* “I’ll talk to him about it.”

Zatanna: “Oh? So you do know him.”

Marvel: “Maybe.”

Zatanna: “Maybe?”

Marvel: “Maybe. By the way, I’m pretty sure that kid you’re talking about has a job as a radio show host so he might not accept your offer if it conflicts with his schedule.”

Zatanna: “Radio show host? That’s a little retro, no? Buuuuuut… if he’s a show host, that at least means he has some pizzazz, so he could probably be good on stage too! As for the schedule thing, I mostly do night shows so he should be good.”

Billy mulled over this decision for many(two) days before deciding he’d accept her offer. As Cap, he told her to meet Billy at a popular street.

Billy: *waiting near a fountain and contemplating every decision he made up until his*

Zatanna: “Ah, it’s you! I assume Cap told you about my offer?”

Billy: “Yes? Could we uh… talk more about what the job would be like?”

Zatanna: “Of course! But first, let’s get some food in you.”

Billy: “What? Why?”

Zatanna: “Bud, you’re practically skin and bones.”

Billy: “Oh.” *sounds upset*

Zatanna: “Hey, hey, hey! No need to get upset! Try to think of the positives! I’m getting you food!”

They went to a little diner and ate while discussing all the things. What his job as an assistant would be, his pay, and so on.

Zatanna: “You sure know how to talk business, little guy.”

Billy: “Thank you…?” *sounds confused*

Zatanna: “I meant that in a good way.”

Billy: “Oh. Thanks then.” *smiles*

Zatanna: *just barely resists the urge to pinch his cheeks*

Zatanna stand by the fact that this kid was, in fact, incredibly adorable. Such a cutie honestly. And he’s such a sweetheart, too. After this meeting, they met up a couple more times, so Billy could rehearse being her assistant before he actually went on stage. Then the day came that he finally had to do his job…

Billy and Zatanna: *standing behind a curtain on stage*

Billy: “Uhm… Ms. Zatanna?”

Zatanna: “Yes?”

Billy: “What happens if I’m not good at being an assistant?”

Zatanna: *pauses to think* “Well, you’d stop, but I’d still continue trying to help you with your magic.”

Billy: “You mean that?” *just happy she wouldn’t immediately kick him to the curb*

Zatanna: “Of course.” *again has to resist pinching his cheeks*

The curtains soon opened after that conversation. The show must go on!

I’ll leave it up to you guys on whether he did good or not.

[psychauxnaut]

What you don’t know -

You don’t know that I feel like I’m always on a time crunch, wherever I am. The reason is because my mind body and soul always feel like they’re rushing, to get home to you.

You don’t know that even if it makes no difference, I like it better when you wash my clothes. Wearing them feels like I’m being loved more by you.

You don’t know that to me your cooking is the best food I’ve ever tasted.

You don’t know that whenever you’re out not at home and I’m at work, I check your location literally about every 3 minutes. For hours and hours until I know you’re safe. Yes I’m serious.

You don’t know that when you’re brought up at work, I get to talking so much about you that I have to realize that people don’t know you and I’m probably bugging them with your whole story and all this praise.

You don’t know that I feel immense guilt every time you have to do anything that I believe I could’ve done myself. Including things like you working overtime or making yourself a meal. I want to do everything for you.

You don’t know that I haven’t had a dream that didn’t have you in it (even for a couple seconds) in about 10 years.

You don’t know that I would actually give Jax away and leave my job for you.

You don’t know that the only time I feel completely out of control of my emotions is when I feel like you’re sad or scared.

You don’t know that I’ve thought about deceiving you and making money on onlyfans by myself just to surprise you with a wedding ring that you didn’t know I was saving for.

You don’t know that I like to listen to you on the phone at work because to me you sound so cool and impressive.

You don’t know that when I feel your specific text vibration in my phone, I will always find some way to check and make sure that you’re alright.

You don’t know that my plan is to get to the point in life that you have to tell me to stop spoiling you and getting you everything that you want because those days in the past of struggling are over.

You don’t know that I sometimes try to hide my excitement when you come to the door to welcome me home after work because that’s my favorite thing in the world and I don’t wanna cry in front of our neighbors.

You don’t know that I see all these girls online and instagram and wherever… and in my true heart always whisper to myself “they’d be jealous if they met her”.

You don’t know how many times I’ve been so happy, with you in some new place, with the sun setting on your face, that I’ve wished that I had the ring in my pocket to propose to you right in that moment.

You don’t know how much I hate when you don’t like how you look, or change your outfit. The clothes are wearing you, not the other way around. Your beauty is the outfit.

You don’t know how uncomfortable I feel when you ask me “do I look like her body type”. No you don’t. Not to me. Not ever.

You don’t know how gorgeous you are when I look at you.

You don’t know that our secret language together is something that I don’t want to go away even when we’re 100.

You don’t know that I would give my life for you.

I know how much I love you. I know how beautiful you are. It’s my life goal for you to understand and believe both.

These are just some of the many little things you might not be aware of ♥️

You are perfect, and I am blessed.

[lazymatsu]

hi! sorry if this is weird or anything but I’ve just read ur cheating Kuroo krkn fic you wrote back in 2017. I found it a while ago and it literally lives in my head so I was wondering if you ever thought of an ending for it? Like if Kenma forgives kuroo or if they stay together. I know open ended is obviously up for the reader’s interpretation but I just can’t see what would happen after. I don’t know if you’re still active but I’d love to hear back from u!

oh hello! yeah i'm still active, though i mainly lurk on this blog in particular. i hope this provides some insight for you and thanks for asking! if you have any more questions i'd be happy to answer to the best of my ability! this got fairly long so apologies, i put everything underneath a read more to help.

i'll be honest and say that it was hard for me to envision a true ending for the story in the sense of a continuation. and i did ponder the idea of writing a sequel and prequel to it (that still lingers from time to time and you can always ask about those too if you'd like). there were so many different avenues i could have taken that picking just one left me feeling like there was more it. you can ask about those too, there was a lot of ways this fic could've gone and i'll be sounding a bit vague since details come easier to me as i actually write the fic. but one ending that i often came back to was the idea of kenma trying to find meaning in his life again, while still staying with kuroo. kuroo having some sense of closure and understanding would still look out for kenma, but ultimately gave kenma room to grow to find new experiences to build new memories. kenma would've done... nothing essentially out of character, but may be a bit more adventurous in trying to figure himself out. maybe travel a bit farther and realizing wow he hates packing. or getting another job bc god knows he isn't sure what's rly going on with his current one. especially considering that i envisioned that Nekoma would've been a big hit and many people were asking for interviews that he rly could not participate in for good reason. oikawa might have had to step in and offer some statements of things he did have answers to, but ultimately there would've been a lot of balance regarding press and privacy that had to be handled delicately. i think kenma would've had to grapple with the ghost of who he was, who kuroo hurt, and who he is. and that's a lot of ppl to take into consideration. bc there is a lot of things left over by those people that he has to carry. there would've been a sense of dissociation from those other identities, while still maintaining that it all kinda leads to the current him which also isn't all that different from before.

there would've been a lot of interference from every single party i've mentioned. both in attempts to get the two to move on, but to also help kenma feel better about things. the topic of gaining memories back would've been tossed back and forth, but i never thought too hard on the specifics there. i think everyone would've stayed rooted in their respective sides lol, but there would be no real winner.

i think there's also kuroo learning who kenma actually was bc kuroo had a v specific image of kenma in his head in their time together. that obv changed once kenma learned what he was up to and how he had to cope and navigate that. kuroo would've learned a lot of the ways kenma had to force himself to stay strong and all the sacrifices he made. while learning of kenma's secret life, bc wow you kept this whole side of yourself a secret from me and look at all this ppl in your life now. there'd be a lot of moments of kuroo having to face who he pushed kenma to become, especially in ways he wanted to protect him. kuroo and kenma would build a new dynamic i imagined. something more cautious, but still rather intimate regarding eachother (not physically, but moreso emotionally and mentally). i maintain that it is hard to cut someone out who you've known your entire life, and i imagine that kuroo and kenma have that kind of bond/soul connection that will just always naturally happen. some people may not be happy with that, but i think there's a lot that has built up over time and a lot of time to find something new. i can't ever say if it ever went romantic, bc i never rly thought it'd be on either of their minds as they try and find a new normal for both themselves individually and eachother.

tldr ; kenma and kuroo try to find a new normal and try to figure themselves out in the process. what that means for them as individuals and as two people involved in eachother's lives. this was an ending that i felt could've been the most transitional feeling that i felt was necessary for take me home. the means to fill the gaps the original fic ended on, that eventually leads to whatever else i would choose to make of it.

[twopoppies]

hi! it’s music anon. for reference, I went to MSG III (oct. 18) and harryween II. and this is very long but HARRY AND EVERYONE WHO WORKED ON THIS TOUR DESERVE IT AND IM NOT SORRY.

1. I stand by EVERYTHING I said in my first message. the dynamic contrast. the pitch accuracy. the vocal control. talented brilliant incredible amazing show stopping—

2. the band. INCREDIBLE live. if not for a few changed arrangements or improvised solos, you would think it was a high quality recording. specifically remember sarah doing this cool double-time drum pattern towards the end of woman, and niji having a KILLER keyboard solo after mitch’s guitar solo for She. and elin holds every song DOWN on bass! everyone though, I mean EVERYONE, is incredible. not to mention, they have SO much fun! I have the biggest crush on elin, but I hear she’s taken :(

3. harry’s musical ability is seriously impressive. idk what the problem was at MSG, but for harryween night 2 he couldn’t hear a thing through his in-ears. even after they “fixed” it— i saw him run to the side of the stage a couple songs in and yell to a tech, “I still can’t hear!” but performance-wise, you wouldn’t be able to tell. he was basically relying on muscle memory and what he could pick up from the band. and that’s harder than it sounds! everything they play is wired directly to the arena speakers, but the instruments irl are all different volumes. the band can only hear the music as WE hear it (balanced and level-adjusted) through in-ears. and harry’s wasn’t working! if he was lucky, he could hear the drums and whatever bounced off the walls of the arena (and almost definitely couldn’t hear himself.) and yet, he pulled it off almost flawlessly! he only really got tripped up with toxic, but it was so much fun no one cared. would’ve been an impressive show regardless, but ESPECIALLY with that context. a true professional!

4. harry’s lower range is so, so gorgeous. i love a good baritone. usually tenors rule pop, so a lot of his songs tend to favor his higher range (particularly in recordings) and he does it well! but his chest voice…. I can only try to describe the quality. so warm and resonant, a touch husky (in a natural, healthy way). makes me think of a wood burning fireplace. i’d knit a blanket out of it if I could.

5. bonus because I wasn’t technically there for harryween 1: that stunning, stunning cover of somewhere over the rainbow. a very different vocal style for him. he sang it “straight” (lol— just means not a lot of riffing, many long held out notes). and god, his voice was so pure and supported. he perfected the pushes and pulls of his softer notes and soaring vocals. i cried (for multiple reasons) when i saw my friend’s video. he’s got a beautiful instrument, and his improvement over his career insane.

in summary: i’ve probably overused the word impressive, but there’s really no other word to use. an incredibly fun, beautiful, breathtaking show (literally— those 15 minutes of dancing could be an aerobics workout.) wish I could mail this to harry. I hope somebody is telling him, the band, and his creative team they’re really doing a phenomenal job! 💗

I fell asleep before you sent this last night, but ugh... THANK YOU!! I love hearing such effusive praise for his voice because I don't have to words to do it myself. That's crazy that his in-ears weren't working at Harryween 2 but he still sounded so great. I noticed he had trouble with Toxic, but I just assumed it was because he hadn't had time to practice enough. I should have known it was something else!

I hope someone out there is praising him and the band, as well! They're all just phenomenal. I love everything about the mix of people he's got on stage and I hope they stay with him!

If you want to read music anon's first message, you can find it here.

[oftenderweapons]

hello 👀 first of all i love your writing. second of all idk if you saw joon’s make up artist reaching up to him to fix his makeup on set but i could think about vixen bc we all know how volatile and jealous she may get.... so may i suggest a joon x vixen jealous sex drabble??? thank u!!!

Hello, dear reader. Thank you soooo much for the compliments. I couldn’t help but deliver, it literally wrote itself. There you go 💜✨

title: yours, truly

pairing: namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

wordcount: 2.7k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship

rating: 18+, minors do not interact

synopsis: Vixen doesn't appreciate the imbalance between her belonging to Namjoon and his belonging to her, and although she understands the limits due to his job, at the same time she's uncomfortable about the way she feels. However, Namjoon is eager to reassure her.

trigger warnings: argument on jealousy and double standards. There is one very specific passage where Namjoon imposes himself physically on Vixen, grabbing her and pinning her while she's trying to get away from him. If this triggers you, please do not read further. On to sexual topics: mention of cunnilingus, masturbation (male and female receiving), unprotected sex (BE SMART!!!!!!), marking, power struggle, several occurrences of pinning and top-bottom shifts.

a/n: Hello people, here's the first of several drabbles I've been working on. Please, stay tuned cause HOPEFULLY Jimin and Princess should be next 💖

Here's my masterlist enjoy 💜✨

⁂ ⁕ ⁂ ⁕ ⁂ ⁕ ⁂ ⁕ ⁂ ⁕ ⁂ ⁕ ⁂

You stormed into the apartment, Namjoon hot on your heels.

“Vixen,” he called, watching you take off your shoes with a frown on your face. “Babylove.”

You lifted a finger, inviting him to keep quiet before you stood and headed to your room.

“Vixen?” he called, once more. He knew what had happened, and he knew you didn't mean to act like that. He knew you didn't like feeling jealous or possessive, but the footage of him wrapping an arm around his makeup artist — even if it was just to keep her from falling — had unsettled you more than you wanted to admit.

There were women who dried his sweat and helped him change his clothes and saw him half naked regularly, and they were out there doing so publicly, while you didn't even own a picture of him kissing you. After being together for six months. After him asking you to be his wife.

To anyone except his friends and family, you were nothing but a stranger to him.

“Vixen?”

You were his. Always. All the time. You wore his clothes and had his marks on you from Monday to Sunday, twenty-four seven, uninterruptedly ever since he'd first told you he loves you — with an unintended pause because of the tour.

But what about him? Did he even belong to you?

He called your name shyly, fearsomely. “Look at me, please.”

“I'm going to take a bath,” you announced dryly.

“I'm coming with you,” he replied, already taking off his clothes.

“I want to be alone.”

He inhaled and did the crudest, most animalistic thing he could think of. He grabbed your waist and made you face him. “Vixen. Look at me.”

You shook your head and tutted.

“Say 'no' and I'll let you go,” he said, his voice booming like thunder.

You stayed silent.

“Look at me,” he repeated, an arm around your waist, his free one coming up so he could grip your chin and force your eyes to meet his. “Like this.”

“I hate this!” you spat, looking away right before he forced you to meet his eyes again. “It's not fair!” You snarled before angrily pushing the heel of your foot against his toes.

He hissed and let you go, only to catch you once more half a second later, pinning you against the wall. “Talk to me.”

Your brow furrowed, your eyes like a dark storm, you looked at the floor as you admitted, “I have no right to feel jealous. And I hate it. It’s not fair.”

Namjoon hugged you to him, kissing your head as you pressed your forehead to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, I just… hate that you make me feel like this. It’s not you, it’s how I feel about what you do. That is, the position you’re in.” You bit your lip nervously, gripping his shirt in your fists.

Namjoon didn’t quite understand what you meant by that, but reversing the situation gave him a quite poignant point of view. The idea of you being chaperoned by other men at all time, of you being in his shoes, with people drooling over you at all times, being backstage and having no privacy with or without your clothes on, people imagining you as their partner, as their hot one night stand, as their one true love.

The thought of having to share you the same way you had to share him all the time made a shiver run down his spine. He knew he would never be able to tolerate all the things you went through for him without batting an eye. “I’m so sorry, love.” He ran his hands to the back of your thighs lowering himself to pick you up, your arms latching behind his neck as he did so. “I’m so, so sorry, little fox,” he repeated, his voice so deep and soothing.

“I’m okay, it’s just that…”

He kissed your cheek as he sat on the bed, placing you on top of him, straddling his hips. “You’re not okay, and that’s alright.” He waited for you to oppose as he let his lips linger one millimeter from yours.

Shyly, almost as if reluctantly, you pressed your mouth to his, feeling his hand on your nape, tangling in your hair, the other one pressed to the small of your back. “Take off your clothes, please,” you whispered in between kisses. Unquestioningly, he took off his undershirt, your body still on top of his while you undid the buttons of your blouse — actually, only a couple of them before you slipped it off from over your head. Namjoon’s hands went around your waist, lifting the lace and satin top you were wearing underneath, pressing his nose to your sternum once your torso was so enticingly naked, your body rising to your knees so he could reach your breastbone more comfortably, your arms hugging his head.

“You’re so precious, my babylove. So strong,” he murmured, “You’re so understanding and I’m so glad when you open up to me.” He inhaled you as he confessed some more of his worries, “I always fear that someday it will feel too much and you’ll leave.”

You shook your head, squishing his face in your palms before standing before him, taking off your jeans lightning-fast, watching him quickly remove his slacks and underwear in one go.

“Come claim it, babe,” he growled, extending his hands to you, making a come-hither motion.

You wiggled out of your panties and smiled sweetly, joining him, sitting on his lap and batting your eyelashes with a cute pout, Namjoon shaking his head at you with a knowing grin. And at that, you placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him down. “You really thought?”

He licked his lips and rolled his eyes. “I, at least, hoped.” His hands landed on your ass before you could grab his wrists and pin them above his head while you made your way up, your naked fold glistening with wetness already in the unforgivingly bright light of your bedroom.

You knew he had a thing for keeping the lights on anyways.

“Come on, sit,” he said, his arms fighting you only playfully as he ached to grab your ass and make you ride his face.

“No.” Your reply was lapidary as your free hand began to tease the skin around your sex — not yet your folds, nor your clit,

“Vixen.” Your name sounded like a warning.

“Maybe you’ll learn I can do without you.”

“Enough,” he growled before his arms escaped your weak excuse of a grip, his jaw locked and his eyes stern in what would be nothing but his hard dom look. “You think you’re funny?”

The way he pushed you with your back to the mattress, your arms trying to save you from losing your balance, made your heartbeat flutter.

“You think I don’t know that already? You think that doesn’t scare me to the bone?” He hissed as he laid on top of you, holding back his weight only slightly. “We know who can do without who here,” he said, his eyes so tormented you wanted to comfort him. “I’m half a soul without you.”

You wrapped your legs around him, rubbing your pelvis against his hardening cock. “Stay with me, then. Remind me.” You placed your lips against his neck, licking up the curve of his throat before bringing your lips to his ear. “Are you mine, Joonie?”

His eyes rolled shut, his head moving in a nodding motion. “I only want to be yours. All the time. I wish we could be naked and alone every single second.”

You giggled and moved your hand between your bodies. “Can I stretch a little? I need you inside.”

“Do you want me to do that?” He asked, right before you shook your head. “Fuck, ____, you're fucking perfect,” he murmured, kissing down your body, licking your nipple, sucking it briefly. “I'm so in love.”

“Do you remember what I told you that night?” you asked him, purring as you pushed two fingers inside you.

“That you're gonna be my wife, someday?”

You chuckled and nodded. Sometimes it felt unreal that he had proposed to you. Already.

And that the ring around your right fourth finger was not your family ring.

“I told you I'm dedicating my life to you. That I want to live by your side for as long as we can. That I believe in you.”

He found solace in the crook of your neck, his lips searching for your collarbone before his teeth nibbled at it gently. “Don't stop. Ever.”

A third finger entered your hole, stretching your inner walls until you were comfortable. Still, you were too impatient to wait any longer, grabbing his cock and placing its tip against your folds. “I won't,” you promised, a loud gasp leaving your mouth as he sank in. “Fuck, too big.”

Namjoon backtracked as quickly as possible, but your hands stopped him just in time. “No, no, stay inside, please. I can get used to it.” Your nails sunk into his ass. “Don't go. Please.”

Namjoon inhaled, trying to keep his cool as much as possible. “I should have prepped you.” He groaned and pressed your face into his neck. “Hold tight, love. I need to shift just a little.”

You loved when he pampered you like that, when he treated you like his delicate porcelain doll. With a loud exhale, he fixed his position until he could rest more easily and resist your tight squeezes as you adjusted to him filling you to the brim. In maybe a minute, you shifted your hips, whispering, “Okay, move, please.”

“That's my good girl,” he replied, smiling at you before giving one slow, smooth stroke that made you purr and throw your head back, his tongue drawing the arch of your throat. “My jealous little thing, mh? You're so adorable.” He gave another deep, slow thrust, watching you writhe below him, legs shaking as they tensed up in pleasure. And then again, pulling out and pushing in making your toes curl, your entire mind malfunctioning into bliss.

“I love it when you're jealous,” he taunted you. “Makes me feel so wanted.” He drew the shell of your ear with his lips, your body drowning in sensations, too small to handle all he had to offer. “Almost as sexy and as desirable as you are. My little fox.”

“Joonie…” you almost sobbed, clawing at his shoulders before remembering you must absolutely not, throwing your hands off him and tugging at the sheets.

Namjoon nuzzled his nose against the side of your face. “Scratch, mark, bite. I don't care. I'm yours, Vixen.”

You whimpered and forced yourself not to. Maybe you just wanted to see who would cave first, maybe you were still feeling too petty about all the times you had been denied.

“Do it. I know you want it,” he tempted you. “Take what you want, little fox.”

You shook your head and brought yourself not only to pin your hands in place, but also turn your face away.

Namjoon rammed into you aggressively at your act of defiance, causing you to gasp and flinch. “Claim me. Do it, ____. I belong to you. Won't you acknowledge that?”

Lips sealed, eyes closed, you fought him, knowing you were absolutely hopeless the moment he pulled you on top of him. “See. This is what you do to me. Look at me. Look at the mess I become for you. For you, alone. No one else in the whole world, Vixen. Only you.” He led his hand on your belly, rubbing at your clit with his thumb, letting you grind on him with your own pace. He only wanted to make you feel good. “Vixen, please, baby. Look at me.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, your hands on his pectorals, your hips moving on him so naturally, so comfortably. He looked beautiful. Grandiose. Magnificent.

He looked like the only man you would ever look at. You knew there was no way you would look at anyone else if he was in the room.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked fondly, placing his hand atop of yours, lacing your fingers together.

“That you're the only one for me. That I need something of you that belongs to me alone.”

He shifted your hands slightly, his engulfing your own on top of his beating heart. “Here. Yours. All yours. Take it.”

You started going faster, needing for the messy ordeal to come to an end so you could sleep the afternoon away wrapped up in his arms.

With quick swivels of your hips, you changed your angle, making sure that he rubbed against your sweet spot, deep inside you.

“Guess what else is yours?” he teased, looking down, keeping his finger steady against your sensitive nub.

“Your exceedingly large dick?” you suggested with a gleam in your voice, sending the both of you into a tumble of laughs.

“Exactly,” he replied playfully. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” you replied quickly, feeling your high spiral out of control. “Cumming.”

“Let go,” he reassured you, catching you with his arm once your body collapsed, his thumb still teasing you while he started thrusting from below, making sure that your orgasm peaked and extinguished in pleasure before he finally climaxed, knowing all too well that your final squeezes would trigger his own ecstasy.

“Doesn't it feel good to cum on your favourite dick, mh?”

“My one and only,” you stated openly, watching him get increasingly worked up. “Show me who you belong to, Joon. You say you're mine? Then cum inside me.”

He shut his eyes tight. “Come on. Gimme all you've got,” you taunted him.

He grit his teeth and shook his head. He needed better leverage to go harder.

You understood that immediately. “Wanna get on top?”

He was conflicted, but in the end you found yourself with your back once more to the mattress, his cock pushing inside you so hard and fast that you were ready to start all over again if it weren't for the numbing sleepiness pulling at your mind.

“I'm yours,” he gritted out, in between strokes, like a mantra. “Get it into your pretty head that I'm yours. That I only want you. For the rest of my life,” he breathed out the final part. “I'm gonna—” and with a wildly erotic growl you felt him swell inside you before his release flowed into you, his body too sensitive to handle the high for too long.

Once he was done, there was nothing but spent, panting bodies, your hand in his hair as you helped him calm down.

“Are you feeling better, little fox?” he asked, taking your joined hands and bringing your knuckles to his lips. “If we swapped roles for a day, you the idol and I the normal person, I don't think I would be able to face it like you do.”

With your eyes closed, you waited for him to pull the two of you on your sides, your head on his chest, legs tangled together as he rubbed his feet against yours lazily and lasciviously.

“I know you don't like feeling jealous and I'm sorry that I made you feel that. You always say it's part of my job and you're understanding, but we both know it's hard to stop these emotions from happening.”

You nodded, inhaling his scent, so deeply mixed with yours. “It's worth it though. Because of the man you are, and what you mean to me.”

He kissed your head.

“I need to clean up. I want to sleep with you.”

He nodded. You were both more than happy to cancel the date and just sleep in, wrapped up in light sheets on the late September day.

Once washed and ready for sleep, Namjoon found your perfect position, your right hand in his left one as he toyed with your ring, pushing it around. Even though he had proposed, he knew the wait would be long. Still, he tried. “How much time left?” he asked, the question a cliché between the two of you by now. You always knew what it meant to him.

“A while,” you replied — your usual answer.

He nodded and pulled you closer. “Sleep tight, baby fox.”

“Sleep tight, big bear.”

[burnedbyshoto]

a nurses job

— Bakugou breaks his arms and as a nurse, you have the responsibility to make sure that he is comfortable, even when he needs to use the bathroom.

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pairing: pro hero!bakugou katsuki x nurse fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, prohero!bakugou, golden showers/water sports/piss kink, degradation (giving), dirty talk, lusting/pining, handjobs

word count: 5,050

a/n: so, I was going to make this a piss in ur mouth and pussy type of fic, but I kept seeing all those beautiful bakugou piss arts where he’s with a nurse.... so this is inspired and brought upon by all the water sports bakugou x nurse art ive seen for three months.

kinktober day 21 main kink: piss | kinktober masterlist

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You’re not quite sure what persuaded you into wanting to become a nurse as a child.

Maybe it was because your quirk (when you hum at an A flat, everyone within 5 meters experiences accelerated healing properties) was useless for Pro Hero work, so you realized early on that being a Pro Hero was a distant dream. Maybe it was because medical staff were still hailed as everyday heroes despite being in a world with people who could perform extraordinary achievements. It started as a small obsession to prove to the soon to be jobless, dream broken, and graduated failures of the hero course high schools that you had done more than them. That you, unlike them, were recognized as a hero. 

You were decent with math and science, so you strove for medical school. But with the horrendous costs of schooling, your then living situation, and your dislike of unneeded and unwanted competitive stress, you deterred toward the nursing pathway. It was a pathway where you really found yourself, or at least, you thought so.

Empathy, emotion, and the need to see people come out of a hospital better than when they entered was something that grew on you quickly and obviously. Your earliest clinical rounds often left you with swollen, tired feet from walking around for restless hours, but with a smile on your face that was irreplicable. With every semester in school, you got better, connected better with your patients. Your feet still ache after long shifts, and sometimes your smile is hollow and broken, and if you look closely, you could see dried tears and puffy eyelids, but you wouldn’t ever regret this decision to become a nurse.

At twenty-five, newly graduated from nursing school, already working full time at the best hospital in Japan, while studying for your degree to eventually become a nurse practitioner. You loved your job quite a lot. They had placed you immediately within their Post-OP, ICU, and recovery wings, and even though you were somewhat new, you were celebrating a year of working in a few weeks, you already had some… more than familiar faces.

“Well, Ground Zero-san, I guess you owe me a drink because unless my eyes are deceiving me, it looks like both your arms are broken, no?” you hum, your grin bright and wide, not even attempting to hide it’s glee as your high profile patient sat seething on the hospital bed. “It’s been, what? Two weeks since you last showed up here? You getting old?”

“Oh, would you shut the fuck up, you shitty ass nurse?!” Bakugou snarled, his arms obviously trying to tense and move against the large casts that envelope him. “The fuck would you expect to happen when facing off with a quirk that’s specifically meant to break people’s arms?!”

“Deku didn’t break any arms,” you point out with a soft laugh, eyes still scanning and reading through his charts to check his medical needs and medicine prescribed by the attending and when he should be taking them. “A bit weird that only half of the Wonder Duo was indescribably injured, no?”

A loud snarl ripped from Bakugou’s throat, and you stifled your own laughter as you raised your eyesight to look him straight in his raging eyes.

“I took that damn nerds hits because he’s broken his arms so many fucking times he’ll be forced to amputate them if he breaks them again!” Bakugou’s eyes were near white in his anger, but the intensity of his emotions was heavily diminished by the fact that his arms were strapped to his chest in thick, round bandages.

“You can admit you care for him,” you chide, ignoring his ‘like hell I do!’ Placing the chart down and walking to his IV drip, you checked to see if anything he was hooked to required any changes or whatnot. “Besides, this is not the first time I’ve seen you in here! It was quite surprising to see Ground Zero on bedrest on my first ever shift here.”

That much was true.

You had been working at Tokyo Hospital for nearly nine months now. Within the nine months, you saw a lot of heroes; that much was true. Your quirk was versatile as a nurse, and you were bright, young, very good at your job, and definitely a beautiful individual. So, when you were assigned to be working most of your days healing heroes because they were the backbone of the country, it didn’t quite catch you by surprise. It was a common assignment you had as a nursing student too.

You just didn’t expect the head nurse of the floor to assign one of your five rooms to be holding none other than Ground Zero, a.k.a Bakugou Katsuki.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot. You had known about the explosion hero since high school! You had sat in front of your TV in high school, attempting to do your homework while watching the rather intensive first-year battles. He had done well in every stage, placing within the top three each time and even winning the game! You had cringed at the awards ceremony but had been horrified at the news of his kidnapping. 

But after that, with the rising tensions of the villain world upon the dying world left behind by All Might, you had forgotten him for a moment. As time went on, and finally, a new support system was brought forth, Ground Zero, much like his quirk entailed, exploded onto the scene alongside Deku and a few other young heroes.

So, sure, you expected to maybe one day run into the ash-blond hero, but you didn’t expect it to happen on day one.

All things considered, the two of you got along rather well.

His... strong personality did make you wary of him at first, taking his near verbal barrage until you, very flusteredly he will argue, told him to ‘shut up, you butthole!’

You were horrified at your lack of professionalism, and Bakugou had gone silent as he stared at you in silence.

“Did you just call me a butthole?” he echoed, his face full of emotions you could not read. You felt on the verge of panicking, unsure if he was going to potentially tell on you! The sounds of a barking laughter rang in your ear, and you looked up to see his grinning, much more relaxed form. “Are you some shitty preschooler?!”

Thus began a working relationship of sorts between you and Bakugou.

He was an asshole, and you tried your best to not let him talk you off a cliff. It didn’t take very long for you to find out what made him tick surprisingly enough, and you used that to your advantage. The best way to tease him right now was by reminding him that he had been hospitalized more times than Deku, who apparently had held the record for the number of hospitalizations between him and his friends.

“Are you going to mention that shit first meeting every time we talk?!” Bakugou barked, his eyes narrowed as he turned his head away from you.

“After you admit you care deeply for all your friends!” you chirp back, stepping away from his IV drip, satisfied by what you saw. “Well, you look good for now. I’ll be checking up on you every ten to fifteen minutes since you can’t press the button until we can get those casts off! Did ya need anything before I go check on my other patients?”

“Open the damn window; it’s stuffy in here,” Bakugou grumbled, his face finally facing you again. 

“Of course,” you smile cheekily, your eyes squinting with your broad grin. “It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy!”

Standing at the side of the bed, you stretched over Bakugou to grab the edge of the window and slide it open. Through your stance, you were entirely aware of how this looked, how this felt. Your breasts centimeters from Bakugou’s face, your eyes never once breaking from the window to feign your innocence as you finally pull away. Even with scrubs on, you could feel his hot, sharp breathes expelling through your clothes, his ears tinging just the smallest bit red as you smile.

“Anything else?” you asked sweetly, failing to hide your impish grin.

“Put the water cup close by,” he grunted, eyes staring at the liter of water at his side table. Well, he wouldn’t be able to use his arms until just before he was set to be discharged, so moving the water closer was a good idea.

Nodding, you grabbed a nearby cup, filling it three-quarters of a way full before placing it onto the feeding table and dragging it near his mouth, a bendy straw already secured into the cup. You watched as he shot forward, putting the plastic straw into his mouth and beginning to drink the cold water. His eyes were back on yours, deceivingly cold had you already not been an expert on his personality.

With one final soft chuckle, you waved at Bakugou as you headed out, a cheerful smile on your face as he continued to drink his water.

“See ya in a few!”

Well, you guess there was one more important detail about your relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. For the past five months, you have been doing everything in your power to seduce him — to get him to admit that he wanted you too.

You knew the ethics and the morals behind falling for a patient of yours, much less a high profile patient at that. You knew that if your little crush was ever found out, you would most definitely be moved from his room. You were also damningly aware that you should have brought up your initial feelings for the explosion hero to your admin the moment it arose. But the thought and the way you were always so happy to be around him eventually overruled your logic. Five months ago, you had stayed at the hospital until nearly three am, talking with a severely concussed Bakugou. You were stationed for an overnight round with the task of making sure that he didn’t fall asleep. And for the first time in your time knowing Bakugou, the two of you somehow clicked into place, and when he was discharged the next morning — the nurse who had a quirk to rid of concussions finally arriving — he had thanked you.

It was so benign, so incredibly simple, yet the way the golden sunshine illuminated his blond hair and made his red eyes shine like a ruby, you found your own tired body feeling heated and warm. He wasn’t such a lousy conversationalist, and you had already enjoyed all your interactions together, yet it still caught you off guard to feel your heart pounding in your throat as he pulled on his jacket and left.

So after coming to terms with your sudden infatuation for the stubborn hero, you began to express your desires and feelings for him without having to say it. For all that he was worth and all that he expressed himself to be extremely observant, Bakugou Katsuki still had no idea that you liked him.

Unfortunately, your scrub nurse uniform wasn’t precisely seductive. The light blue of the breathable, sterile uniform was about as unsexy as uniforms got. But that never stopped you from leaning in too close when doing what Bakugou demanded of you. It didn’t prevent you from accidentally dropping papers in front of him and bending over to show off the curves of your ass.

There had never been a time such as this one where you hated that the old, ‘sexy’ nurse outfits were no longer up to standard and banned from use. How you would have loved to be wearing gartered held stockings just to accidentally flash to Bakugou. But, you suppose that it’s alright. Even though your feelings and ambitions to get the Pro Hero to like you as much as you did him, you never tried to push it.

For now, you were just an asshole tease.

You carried out the rest of your rounds in peace, your pager sitting comfortably in your pocket, unused, unneeded for now. The rest of your four patients were doing well for now.

One was asleep, most likely due to the medicine coursing through his veins, but his vitals remained unchanged.

Another was in the process of getting ready to be discharged, her family there to help her in leaving.

The third was eating his dinner, eyes concentrated on a poker game on the TV as he asked you to help fluff his pillow.

The last was busy with a physical therapist, her forehead slick with sweat as she attempted to sit up from her chair.

All in all, they were all doing fine, and you were back to the beginning, back to Bakugou’s room.

You entered his closed room door to be greeted by an empty bed. Your eyes widened immediately, the initial wave of pure horror flashing through you that by some freak accident, some murderous villain had kidnapped the injured hero straight from the hospital bed. 

“Ground Zero-san?!” you called out, a pitched voice of concern frilling your voice as you stumbled through the room. Your eyes were frantically searching the room, fingers feeling the lingering warmth of his body on the bed and your eyes noticing the empty water cup on his table still. The sheets of his bed haphazardly thrown off as if in a struggle.

Your fingers wound around the panic button, your ears straining to hear any sort of sign of Bakugou still being here.

A gritted teeth snarl was muffled from the attached bathroom, and you froze, unable to move as you felt the untouched button in your hands turn as light as a feather. You approached the bathroom door with soft footsteps, the smile on your face, unable to be stopped as you pulled the door open.

The sight you happened upon was something that made your lips curl into a wider smirk as the hospital clothed-clad hero absolutely struggled with his lack of functioning hands and arms to pull down his pants. Something he couldn’t do himself because the socks and slippers on his feet kept him from even attempting to tug his pants off with his toes.

In his struggle, undoubtedly miserable attempt to get his pants and underwear off his waist, Bakugou seemed ignorant to your arrival. His back still towards you, his head tilted down in his struggle as he twisted and pulled at practically nothing.

And as you watched him struggle, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drink in his form that stood tall before you. Most occurrences where you found yourself face to face with Bakugou, he was always tucked in a bed (except that time you realized your feeling for him), whether it was because he needed to be or because he was forced to be. So seeing him in his full height, seeing how despite your size, you were still only at his shoulder, made your eyelashes flutter.

He was tall, so deliciously tall, you wanted to climb onto a chair to see if he would be taller even with that added height. And oh how the flimsy material of his hospital outfit was stretched then against the taut muscles of his back. They flexed and shifted with his aggravation, and the only thought on your mind was to rake your fingers against the tempting muscle and skin.

“Shitty. fucking. villain!” he hissed angrily, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he still struggled to do what nature called him for. 

But you couldn’t help it; the flexing muscles of his back, the lower tenor of his voice, and the way he seemed ridiculously larger than life at the moment tipped your restraint over. Your ability to hold back crashing through you like a tsunami wave, drowning you until you found your hand tethered to the tight spot at the center of his spine, your hushed words drifting to his ear like sweet, warm honey.

“You need any help here, Ground Zero-san?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to have your hot breath fanning against his sweaty exposed neck. You could feel him twitch in your hold, his body stiffening as he whipped his head around to look at you, red eyes wild, wide, and dark.

“Don’t ya know how to fucking knock?!” he snapped, his body flushed at being caught in the bathroom, unable to shed his clothes. He doesn’t move from your touch, and that small detail makes you warm, knowing that he wasn’t entirely repulsed by your touch. 

“You were missing from your bed, and I called your name,” you smile despite his angry glare. “I know you are susceptible to hear loss, but I thought you were still in the clear.”

“I ain’t fucking deaf,” Bakugou growled, his face twisted with a frown. “And that still doesn’t explain why the hell you’re here!”

“Oh, were you not just completely struggling earlier?” you feign shock, the grin on your face unstoppable at the embarrassed scowl that sets on his face. You step even closer to him so that your torso is perpendicular to his side. Your hand still gently touching his muscled back, and your free hand gently pressing to his own abdomen, the feeling of his flexed muscles, making you dizzy as you peer down at the white toilet. “Is there a villain in the toilet? I didn’t think that was possible!”

“Of fucking course not, there’s not a shitty villain in the toilet.” Bakugou flushed, his body entirely trapped by you, but he made no play to escape.

“Oh, so did you need help?”

Bakugou stares at you, his mind whirling a kilometer a second as he contemplates his next course of action. The both of you know he needs help, and still, the both of you are aware that his ability to ask of that from you is slim to none given he couldn’t even wait for you to return to his room.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue angrily, annoyed, completely fed up. His eyes rolling to the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge you as his head nods once. “Help me, shitass nurse.”

“Of course!” you chirp, your eyes finding his hooded ones.

You give him one last warm, sweet smile before the hand on his torso lightly drags down his stomach, soft in its unashamed way of feeling him up. Your head tilted as your fingers hooked into the tight waistband of his pants and pulled it down, the heat of your palm accidentally dragging itself over the imprint of his cock behind his boxers.

The slight, flustered choking noise at the back of his throat didn’t go ignored by you, but rather but aside for later. Your eyes flashing up to see his red eyes wide, his cheeks so lightly dusted with pink as you managed to pull down his boxers too. 

“There!” you exclaim, your eyes closing in your grin before you turn your attention back down to his exposed dick. 

Immediately, you had to hold back a noise of pure want and lust at the sight of him. He was long, undoubtedly eight inches, definitely more. Although you couldn’t tell how thick, you knew his dick would fill your palm without a struggle. The trimmed, dark blond pubes and the protruding veins are what did it for you, your tongue poking out for a millisecond to wet your lips as you stared at his dark pink head.

“Stop staring at it!” Bakugou hissed, clearly embarrassed if the slight voice crack said anything about it. 

You looked back up at him, fake confusion swimming in your eyes as you tilted your head. “It’s only a penis. I see millions of these all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s fucking weird!”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling softly as you sighed in retreat, “Fine, fine, let's pee big boy and get you in bed.”

With your dominant hand, you grabbed his dick with a soft grip, pleasure simmering through you at the confirmation of the thick dick in your palm. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who thought that for the moment you tried to steer his dick toward the toilet to assist in aim, Bakugou hissed loudly. His flesh twitching to life in your warm, soft hand as it began to grow upward.

You didn’t say anything; your jaw remained as tight and closed as your vocal box despite the egging need to tease him and celebrate his apparent approval of your touch. So, eventually, in a voice that defied the nervous energy coursing through your veins, you asked: “Didn’t you need to pee?”

Bakugou let out a throaty, guttural groan, his anger hissing between his teeth as his dick twitched again in your hold, growing longer and harder still.

“I can’t take a damn piss with a hard-on, you idiot!” he roared despite the strawberry red blush on his cheeks. You admired the way he was still fighting for control of an upper hand here despite — clearly — not having any.

“Oh, haha! Silly me!” you laugh, your hand shifting against his length, your warm palm getting closer to the base of his cock.

“W-What are you doing?!” Bakugou spluttered, your soft butterfly touches sending him through a loop he clearly wasn’t expecting. “You could just wait for it to die!” 

“It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy,” you repeat your words, your hold on his dick growing firmer and harder just as his cock continued to do. “You clearly need to pee, and there’s no telling when your cock will go down.”

“I’LL MAKE IT GO DOWN!” Bakugou yells, but the usual sharpness to his tone has deflated, diminished to nothing but whining embarrassed yell. You look up at his clenched jaw and how a pretty pink glows on his cheeks, and you’re mesmerized.

Looking back down at his growing cock that warms your hand immensely, you hum, slightly twisting your hand around his length. Bakugou shudders, a whine hidden in his throat as you open your own mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” you question, your eyes fluttering up to look at his clouded red ones. “Do you not need or want me?”

That was a double-headed question if Bakugou ever heard one. He looked at your glossy lips, the way they were pouted, so ready to be kissed, to be claimed, and that delirious look of want and need in your eyes. And he knows better; he knows that this is not the place, not the time to act on emotions like this. The need to pee sits heavily on his lower belly, just like the need to cum makes him twitch and pace uncomfortably. God fucking damn his broken to smithereens arms.

But you already know this, of course, you do. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how anal he can be about the littlest thing. So with no answer, you weaken your grip, making him think that you’re ready to leave, and he falls right into the trap.

“Make it fucking q-quick,” his voice cracks, the embarrassment nearly tangible as you nod your head firmly, your fist tightening around his cock.

Your warm fingers pressed onto his length, beginning at a slow leisurely pace, your eyes glued onto his face, detailing how he reacts to every small flick of your wrist, every little difference of grip in his hands. Your strokes began to grow larger, your fingertips tracing the bulging veins on his cock, your eyes hypnotized by the way his face pinches in his pleasure, the blush on his cheeks, the way the hot pants expelling from his mouth curl warmly in your lower belly.

“Y-You do this with all your shitty patients?” Bakugou growls, but it sounds weak, too blurred and slurred with his increasing pleasure.

Your fingernails drag against the underneath of his cock, tracing the incredibly sensitive skin until he’s slowly thrusting his hips into your fist. “Only the hot ones,” you tease, your thumb pressing against the tip of his beading tip, the warm pre-cum slick and spreading quickly against his flushed tip.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Bakugou continues, his head tipping backward, exposing the slenderness of his neck that begs for your teeth to sink into. “Just needed to take a fucking piss.”

“Nervous, you’ll pee all over me, and I won’t want to suck your dick?” you ask, your fingers brushing near his scrotum, eyes blazing dangerously at the sight of his gasping, jaw-dropping face. His hips rut forward, leaking cock dripping with his pre-cum, and you giggle softly, fisting him faster, spreading the pre-cum against his heated sex.

Your fingers run against his throbbing length, your palm tight and hot against his cock, the veins you drag across searing against your flesh, ingraining itself onto your skin and memory forever. Despite it all, the obvious near tangible horror Bakugou has on the thought of pissing on you, he continues to fuck into your fist. 

“Damn bitch like you would probably l-like it if I pissed on you,” Bakugou pants, his casted arms twitching at his chest. His head tilted away from you, but his eyes burning into you, the red eyes hot as fire against your skin. “You want me to piss on you? Make you my bitch.”

The words burn against your skin, your teeth biting onto your lower lip as you meet his gaze. You’ve never considered it before, never thought you’d be into it. As a nurse, you’ve been around piss, shit, and vomit, and while you had grown unfazed by it, you never considered the prospect of a man pissing on you. But you thought of it, of Bakugou standing above you, free from his casts, hands on his cock as he smirks down at you with golden liquid spraying from his cock, soaking you where you lay. 

You shudder, pleasant chills running down your spine as you stare into his eyes yet again. 

“And if I do?” you ask, fingers rolling the head of his cock between your forefinger and thumb, relishing in the way that he snarls low in his throat. “What’re you gonna do about that, Ground Zero-san? You gonna piss all over your bitch after you get out of here.”

“You want me to piss on you here?” he asks, his voice snappish, strained, his hips drilling harder into your hand that was quickly speeding up. A battle of power and speed between the both of you as he looms over you, face flushed, pink, and lips demanding to be kissed. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you do.”

“Why’s that?” you breathe, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a breath away as your hand grips and tightens even more around the base of his cock, causing a pained-pleasured hiss to rip from behind his teeth as he looks at you.

“Don’t act like your shitty ass hasn’t been trying to seduce me every time I show up,” Bakugou gruffs, his hips continuing a drilling rhythm into your fist, his body no longer shy or embarrassed.

“So you noticed but never said anything?” you counter, your fingers shifting over to his swollen, hot balls. You fondle them, tugging at their weight gently, taking in the way his eyes roll to the back of his head and the way his teeth tear into his lip. “Coward.”

“Hah?! Who the fuck—”

You can’t help yourself anymore, your mouth coming to slam against his in a piercing, searing kiss. He moans into the kiss, and you gasp back, tongues clashing together, teeth knocking into each other as awkward, nearing uncomfortable kisses are exchanged. His sweet scent of caramel wafts into your nose, and his grunts and groans are addicting, entirely enthusiastic noises that send your own thighs clenching shut to quiet the heated need in between your thighs.

Your hand increases in its speed, his whines and groans so pretty and piercing into you. 

“How fucking gross,” you laugh into his mouth, the slicked heat of his precum lathering your palm until soft noises of your fisting hand begin to fill the sterile bathroom. “You’re a child, wanting to piss on things that you shouldn’t. You came to the bathroom and got a hard-on instead of pissing, Bakugou, aren’t you embarrassed.”

“Y-Y/l/n,” he hissed, his jaw falling slack against your mouth. His hips are drilling into you faster and faster, the throbbing of his cock, the growing, thick scent of his caramel sweat filling the room and your senses. “F-Fuck!”

“Such a dirty, childish pro hero,” you smile your tongue curling into his mouth and dragging against the roof of his mouth as he shudders helplessly against you. “Cum already, Bakugou, cum and piss over yourself like some small brat.”

He shudders, and you find your mouth leaving his own as you stare down, spurting white ropes of cum pour from his tip, completely covering the toilet seat with his sticky white cum. And you watch as soon as his body collapses onto you, entirely spent from the orgasm, yellow piss streaming from his tip.

The toilet fills with his cum and piss, and you grin once his balls and bladder are completely drained. His cock limp and weak in your hand as you hum, your quirk activating and causing the exhausted Pro Hero to recompose himself so that he wasn’t entirely weak against you. 

“Such a good patient,” you coo, pulling up Bakugou’s boxers and hospital pants without a second's thought. Patting his butt gently, you watched as his still exhausted red eyes stared at you. You walked over to the sink, washing your hands so that you could continue to finish the rest of your shift.

“Don’t think this is over, shitty nurse.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your fingers curling under the warm water as you grin.

“I expect to be fucked and pissed on next time,” you counter, your smirk devastating and sending a fire right back to Bakugou’s groin. “No freebies anymore.”

[hopelesshunny]

the love languages part ii: physical touch (f.w.)

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred has always felt the need to touch y/n and after a drunken night he realizes he can't sleep without her.

warnings: very, very light profanity, drinking/underage drinking, kissing, bed sharing.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: my second instalment is here - i did in fact say i would wait until monday but i was really excited to write this one!! i am so grateful for all the love i have received on this series so far, i cannot thank you guys enough. i still feel like i have a ways to go in improving my writing - but as always my ask is open if you have comments, questions, concerns, luv or just wanna chat:)

*all photos are from pinterest*

series masterlist // part i // part iii // part iv

For as long as Y/N had known Fred he had always been touchy. Fred’s need to constantly touch her was never unwelcomed, she relished in the way he’d wrap an arm around her shoulders when he’d walk her to class or how he’d lean into her when he laughed uncontrollably. However, she had always assumed that he was like this with everyone he was friends with, that he just needed to touch people in some way in order to feel close to them. This was very true but Y/N never knew that it was her touch that he craved the most, that as soon as he saw her, he longed to feel the soft skin of her cheek, the way her shoulders shook when she laughed or the rise and fall of her chest while he laid on her stomach in the common room, gentle sighs leaving her mouth every so often.

Fred couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times he almost told Y/N his feelings for her, the words sat on his tongue so often that he was starting to believe that they felt more comfortable in his mouth which is why they never launched themselves into the air. He didn’t know why he couldn’t force the confession out, there was always just a cloud of doubt and fear that swarmed his mind whenever the thought presented itself. But alas, here he was sitting across from her watching her flip her hair over her shoulder and let out a light laugh as she found whatever George was saying quite amusing.

“Y/N! You have to come, you literally can’t miss a party like this!” George practically shouted, a shocked look on his face.

“I’m so behind on my studies.” Y/N started, resting her chin on her hands. “I’ll be practically chained to the library all weekend as is, I can’t go to a party.”

“Y-You’re not coming tonight?” Fred questioned, his eyes hopeful as if he had heard the conversation wrong.

“Sorry Freddie.” She pouted. “You can tell me all about it at breakfast tomorrow.” At that Fred reached across the table to run his finger across her knuckles, relishing in the way her skin felt under his calloused fingertip, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how they would feel against his lips. However, he was pulled out of his daydream by the sound of George making gagging noises to the side of him as Y/N giggled.

“In that case I’ll have to drink a little extra.” He threw a wink her way. “To make sure I don’t bore you back to sleep tomorrow morning.”

“You never bore me, Trouble.” She smiled before saying her goodbyes to the rest of the table and making her way to the library. The nickname brought a gentle smile to his face, it was the first thing she’d ever called him. During her first year Y/N had been studying in the common room when the twins busteled in, laughing and hollering about another successful prank. When she asked what they were so excited about, the two boys were more than happy to explain, Fred wildly acting out the look on Snape’s face before George asked her name and introduced himself in response. Before Fred even had the chance to open his mouth to follow suit she stopped him.

“You sound like trouble, that’s what I’ll call you.”

George laughed at his twins new-found nickname but it made Fred’s heart swell - the fact that she had specifically given him a special name, the smile on her face when she said it and the way she never left their side since that day, produced a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Now, here he was, years later, with the same girl, same nickname, same smile and the same butterflies.

Fred kept his promise to Y/N, he was drunk, very, very drunk. He stumbled through the Gryffindor common room, his feet feeling like they were trying to carry him off in different directions until he finally found an armchair to ground himself with. Plopping himself down into the chair he looked out into the crowd of people, some laughing others whispering, couples hanging off each other, it made him miss Y/N. If she was here she’d be sitting next to him, his arm slung around her shoulder as she giggled over the way he slurred his words and she’d always made sure he got to bed safely before finding her way to her own room. Fred groaned as George sat in the chair across from him, pushing a glass of water towards him, causing his twin to chuckle at his annoyed state.

“At least you’ll have something funny to tell Y/N in the morning.” He laughed. “Tell her all about how your drunk ass could barely walk straight.” Fred leaned his head back on his neck.

“I should go see her.” He spoke quietly, just loud enough to convince himself of the idea but hopefully not loud enough for George to hear. He knew that his drunken state failed him however, when his brother quirked an eyebrow at him.

“And do what? Spill your guts?” George chuckled. “Either by finally telling her you’re bloody in love with her or literally?” This earned another groan from Fred as he shot daggers at him.

“That’s it.” Fred started, chugging the glass of water that was placed in front of him. “I’m going.”

“Best of luck mate.” George spoke as he watched Fred stumble his way through the crowd.

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked, suddenly appearing by his brother's side.

“On a death mission.” George responded.

Fred let out a sigh of relief when he finally made his way out of the common room and began the trek towards her dorm room. But his mind was running rampant, what if George was right? What if he was just better off going to bed? Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him, she was probably tired from studying all night and the last thing she wanted was him keeping her up. But despite his doubts his feet still carried him towards her, the walk was sobering, which he would need if he planned on getting a coherent sentence out when he finally made his way to her.

“Y/N?” He called softly when he opened her room door, trying his very best to keep quiet to not wake her roommates. He recognized her frame immediately, bundled under bed sheets, her hair messy and lips slightly parted. He stood over her, watching the way her chest rose and fell as soft breathes left her mouth. “Y/N.” He spoke again, shoving his hands in his pockets, fearing her reaction to his sudden visit. Her eyes shot open but when they found his, her face softened, a small smile forming.

“You scared me, Trouble.” She laughed lightly. “Are you okay?” She asked, the concern that laced her voice made him have to restrain from kissing every square inch of her face.

“I’m okay, just a little drunk.” He hiccuped, his response earning a bright smile from her as she scooted to the side and patted the bed, signially for him to sit next to her. He graciously accepted her offer, his hand immediately finding her knee, needing to touch her. She leaned into his touch as he slurred on about how Ron tried to flirt with Hermione but failed miserably and how red Harry turned when George dared him to kiss Ginny. Neither of them could remember falling asleep, they were too caught up in each other's whispered stories and soft giggles.

When Fred woke the next morning, his head pounding, his legs feeling as if they had carried him across the entire country, he looked down to find his best friend fast asleep on his chest. Y/N’s arms were wrapped tightly around his middle with his hand tangled in her hair as she shifted slightly on top of him. He felt like he should panic and apologize for last night’s antics but she looked so peaceful and he was so close to her that he couldn’t bring himself to worry about barging into her room at who knows what time.

“Mornin’ Trouble.” She spoke, her voice groggy and flooded with sleep. “How are you feeling?” She asked genuinely, pulling herself from his embrace to stretch her arms above her head, making him curse himself for ever moving and waking her.

“I’ve been much better.” He groaned, sliding his hands down his face. “Guess I don’t have to fill you in on last night's events at breakfast anymore.”

“No, you did a sufficient job of that last night.” She giggled. “But we can still go to breakfast, you need to eat something.” Y/N pulled him out of her bed, still fully clothed in what he was wearing the night before.

He grumbled his way through breakfast as George and Ron cracked jokes about how drunk and lovesick he was, Fred throwing warning looks their way as Y/N laughed seeming unbothered by the way they were pulling her into they’re jokes, taking it all as a way to poke fun at Fred. But his head was still swimming, the feeling of her weight on top of him and her hands pressed against his chest, all he wanted was to be back in that position again. He couldn’t get it out of his head for the rest of the day and no matter how many times he attempted to distract himself from her that night as he lied in bed his mind kept travelling back to Y/N. He lay awake staring at the ceiling thinking about how empty his arms felt without her in them - she was addicting, he had always known that, since the moment he met her he had not been able to pull himself away from her. But now he was in too deep, he needed to be there with her.

So, here he was, in his pyjamas, on his way to her dorm room once again, all shame and guilt left long behind, just needing to be near her. Fred padded into her room, his hands rooted in his pockets once again, fully expecting to have to wake her just as he did the night before. But she was wide awake, sitting on her bed, a novel clasped in her fingers, a smile forming on her face when he came into her line of vision.

“Did you miss me?” She teased, as he ran a hand through his hair, rocking on his heels.

“Can’t sleep.” He mumbled. “Was wondering if you were still up.” He said, offering her a grin.

“Well then Trouble, you’re in luck.” She smirked, moving to allow space for him to lie next to her. Fred laid his head in her lap as she turned her attention back to the book in her hand while the other snaked its way into his hair. All the trouble sleeping that had been previously plaguing him melted away with her nails lightly scratching his scalp.

Over the course of the next week Fred and Y/N fell into this routine, he would lay away in his bed before eventually giving into the knowledge that he could not sleep without her any longer before he would make his way to her room, crawl into bed beside her and fall into the soundest sleep that has ever graced him. In the beginning, he was apprehensive, worried that she would reject him at some point and tell him that she wanted to sleep alone. But she never did, every night she shot him a warm smile and opened her arms to him. As the week went on his worries morphed themselves into something new however, he was no longer concerned about her rejecting his company but that she would instead reject his feelings for her. That she would eventually realize that he was in love with her and tell him that she never felt that way about him and was just trying to be a good friend.

“I don’t think I can sleep without you anymore.” Fred spoke into the darkness of the room, his voice audibly shaking, the silence that filled the space causing his stomach to turn.

“Mhmm.” Y/N started, tightening her grasp on him. “I can’t complain, you’re a great pillow.” He let out a light laugh, rubbing small circles in her back.

“It’s true.” He spoke, more seriously. “I haven’t been able to sleep at all lately, but as soon as I get into your bed, I’m out.” She sighed. “They must have better beds in the girls dorms.” He added, which earned a giggle from her.

“I don’t know about the quality of the beds, maybe it’s who's in it.” She spoke, her voice quiet as she bit her lip now regretting her sudden burst of confidence. Fred was silent for a moment before he spoke, a deep breath filling his lungs before he had the nerve to confess to her.

“I always thought that the reason I always had to touch you was because I liked to feel close to people. But it’s different with you.” He shifted to look at her. “I need to touch you, need to feel your skin. Fuck Y/N, I just want to hold your hand in front of everybody and kiss you in between classes and fall asleep next to you every night.” He searched her face looking for any sense of emotion but all he could find was her typical soft smile. “It’s just that I-I-” He started.

“I love you too Fred.” She cut him off, placing her palm against his cheek, he turned into her touch despite the shock that was lacing his features.

“You what?” He said, a giggle falling from her mouth as she clasped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to save him some pride.

“The first night you came to my room, after you left the party, you kept saying you loved me in your sleep.” He groaned at her confession. “I was worried it was just drunk babbles but-”

“But I do love you.” He finished. “I’ve loved you for years.”

“I love you too, Trouble.” She giggled, placing a long awaited kiss to his lips.

taglist (join here!!)

@onlyfreds @fandomhideout @lilypad-55449 @youngblood199456 @thanxxskz

[yanderecandystore]

Hello, this is the first time I’ve come here and I’d like, if possible, you could place my order, I don’t remember if I already placed that ask or something, so if yes, sorry to bother you...

I can order something with Yandere! Vampire with a Vampire Slayer! Reader, please...

Welcome in!

Well yes boo, you did make a very similar request, and I'm sorry if it took me like a long time to answer you (at least to me it feels like a whole month has passed, time has been so slow and so fast somehow-) it's just that I'm dealing with a lot of stuff outside of Tumblr and although I try to not think about it, it does affect my performance in writing. Also you're not bothering me at all boo!

Also I just realized something, normally when I write I put really mean remarks about the reader but it's not supposed to be taken seriously by you guys, as it's mostly either an look into the perspective of the ocs (normally the bullies who are very mean and cruel-) or even an exaggeration on the reader's current mind state (if the reader feels dumb about a certain action they have chosen, I try to make them sound very exaggerated since I don't want any of you to take it personally, y'all are beautiful okay? Don't worry about the snarky comments and rude remarks that I may write).

I'll try to make it more obvious that it's mostly a character's exaggerated perspective next time, or maybe put trigger warnings about degrading language/mean comments.

TW/Tags: mentions of addiction (to blood) // male x male // male reader // vampy vamp // monster(vampire) x (human)reader // mentions of death // unofficial OC/just a random character I decided to create for this specific piece // captivity/kidnaping // mentions of torture/infliction of pain // mind control/gaslighting/manipulation and stockholm syndrome // being drugged/poisoned // kinda sadistic but not so much so cause I like giving y'all some softness.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

True love is found in small bites [Yandere!M!Vampire x M!Vampire Hunter!Reader - Headcanon]:

Who doesn't like a little one on one with an immortal creature in a fight filled with sexual tension? Who wouldn't want to prove their worth to their dad who is a lonely vampire hunter?

Your dad had hunted vampires all by himself for years now and he won't stop until the day he drops dead, or at least that's what he told you.

He taught you everything that you needed to know, and honestly- You probably know a lot more than some of the guys who are paid to do this every month, Hell, your dad hunts them basically every week! That's kinda the reason why he won't accompany you this time, too busy dealing with vampires in a neighboring village, some rumours of some high profiled vampires coming into your hometown… He was very concerned for your safety before deciding that whenever these rumours were true or not, he needed to check them for himself regardless.

You decided to go on a hunt on your own, hunt one down and prove to your man that you'll do just fine all by yourself.

However, you have the knowledge from the books you read and from what your father taught you, but you don't have personal experiences in fighting vampires. So that's why you're finally going to take down a vampire all by yourself.

It took you some time to find the right target, but after hearing complaints about some odd things happening in the less wealthy part of town, you thought you had a pretty clear picture of what happened. You thought that maybe some vampires have been attacking the poorest people in town to not cause a bigger panic in the population, and sadly enough, you were right.

Apparently the vampirism started to spread uncontrollably as the newly transformed vampires weren't accustomed with the new malevolent power. Some would get addicted to blood and to the power they hold against humans, and start to bite more than what they can chew on.

You found someone who was acting suspiciously, a commoner who was acting more aggressively towards his neighbors and family, he had created a lot of enemies in only a couple of days after being transformed, as he was now acting like "royalty" surrounded by peasants. The poor bastard was out of his mind, and sadly you needed to take care of him before he would hurt more people.

The work of a vampire slayer (or at least, one who works on their own accord) isn't as glamorous or "pleasant" as most may think, it involves you constantly questioning yourself and your morals, the guy you're hunting has a family but from what you heard and from what you have seen as you observed him from afar- He is clearly gone, consumed by the addiction of human blood, he would end up hurting his own family if you didn't intervene.

You had to stalk him for basically the whole day, collecting information and waiting for a good opportunity to strike him- Sadly enough, you didn't know that someone else was also interested in killing him.

It was pretty quick now that you think about it- You were about to tackle him when someone else got to do it before you. You didn't know about vampire society's inner relationships but you are aware that there is some form of hierarchy, and that those who were transformed into vampires were considered to be closer to the bottom than those who were born into it. The bottom of their social structure being those who they could all feed on, so in other words humans.

As you have already prepared yourself to attack the blood addictic, this guy who seemed to have come out of nowhere has already noticed that he wasn't alone, you wouldn't be able to hide yourself at this point and running wouldn't be an option considering how fast he moved.

The only option was left was to fight this vampire who was clearly way too powerful for your newbie ass. It was a pretty tough fight, and even if you have lost- You did manage to prove that you weren't just a random human who found themselves in the wrong place, in the wrong time.

You were very well prepared- Idris was pretty impressed by your resistance, but from his eyes, you were lacking a lot in the intelligence department. You were a good brawler, but not a decent vampire slayer by far- He would question you about your level of skill constantly, even mocking the idea of you being an "newbie" at this job.

Idris had won in the end, making you his prisoner who he would bring back to his clan to be used as an easy food source while also giving them info about other vampire slayers. Of course you wouldn't give them anything, no matter how bad your situation was you would still fight to the very end.

Idris had used one of his abilities to bring you two to his clan's hideout in a blink of an eye, you weren't expecting it to be so quick. You were tied up and inside an "abandoned" mansion filled with vampires, you were sure you wouldn't survive this at all- Yet you had promised yourself to not give them any information about other vampires slayers, especially your father.

You have met them, all of them- All of the Nox clan of pure vampires (or at least the last of them), in one single place. They were all so eager to jump in and start the "fun" with you. To torture you, drink from you, control your mind so you would spill all that you know, they tried to but you wouldn't stop squirming and fighting their touch- However, your attitude has only helped to aggravate them.

Idris was in charge of taking care of you- And by that they meant he was the one who would be screwing with you the most. He would keep you alive with your bare necessities but would also be the one to punish and torture you to speak up.

Interestingly enough, Idris wasn't interested in violently taking the truth out of you- Oh no, boo- He was much more sadistic than that.

He saw you as a plaything, like a cat he would see you as something he should toy with before devouring- He would try to push you to your limits verbally, trying to trigger some sort of wound you may have. You were stronger than he assumed, he should have known you weren't so dumb to give in to his insults and threats.

He would still bite you though, hey, a man needs some blood before continuing his private interrogation, right? It's not his fault you're both his snack and the one being interrogated.

You were strong minded, you weren't feeling too awful about being taken as a prisoner, since you felt as if deep down you could still escape this- So the effects of the poison that he would inject on you weren't showing up at first, but after sometime of being under this terrible living condition with only him to talk with, you started to feel some type of weird way around him.

It could be the poison finally taking over, but you have started to notice some… Particular choices that Idris took when interacting with you. Again- It could be all some magic shit in your mind, but you could swear that the lingering touches from him weren't rough or painful as his threats.

Idris was never physically harmful towards you, even to his peers dismay as they would constantly scold him for being too soft. He was indeed very off putting and sadistic- But could he be hiding something deep inside his literally cold exterior? You started to think so… Well, you started to hope so.

See, although the poison is already making your mind dizzy and making you feel some kind of weird attraction towards Iris- It wasn't completely just your mind playing tricks on you, Idris has been trying a new tactic with you and it was working.

Maybe you haven't noticed yet, but for the last few weeks he has started to flirt with you more, touch you more and whisper less concerning things into your ears, and you were eating it all up due to your isolation and his poisonous bite.

The more he sucked your blood, the more enamoured you were with his softer "side", the poison becoming stronger with each bite. But everyday you two spend time together, Idris can't help but feel just as interested in you as you are to him. He may play it off as a sadistic manipulative (which he kinda is-) vampire who is above you and his own feelings- But whenever it's just you and him, he just feels like there is a bigger connection being formed.

The more you two get to know each other the more he'll start falling for you, to the point he doesn't know if he is faking empathy and care or if he actually likes you in a weird way. He has started to feel very satisfied whenever you start acting clingy, desperate even for his attention (again- He is the only one willing to even talk with you before biting you and sucking your blood), the sensation of power he feels is a little bit overwhelming- But very much appreciated.

You have started to feel some side effects from losing so much blood everyday, which has made Idris concerned and incapable of drinking from you for at least some time while you recover from it. But since you need some time to rest without being injected with more venom from fangs, which will cause you to start waking up from your brainwashed state and remember that A: It has been months since you were gone, your dad is out there looking for you and it's possibly thinking you're dead; B: You're trapped in a mansion filled with the last vampires of a powerful clan which has been massacred by vampire slayers like you; and C: You were starting to catch feelings for the one who brought you here- Regardless of manipulation and freaky vampire shit- You were indeed falling for his charm.

Whenever that happens, it will be obvious that you'll start trying to fight them and escape again, even if you're very, very weak from all these months without proper training and healthy eating habits.

You may try your hardest dear, but you'll need a better plan than just going feral on Idris. He is a lot stronger than you, especially since you can't even stand up on your own, and even hurting him makes you feel oddly awful- You had relied on him for so long, that it feels like you would be betraying him if you actually do hurt him, it seems like some of the effects of so much time under his manipulation are still present.

You can't hurt him, but you can still try to sneak out. You should still try to escape!

You would eventually come up with a plan to run away while it was still morning, even if it was a very flawed plan considering that the only place you knew in this entire mansion was Idris's room and bathroom. For some miracle reason, you would find a way to sneak out, it was pretty hard considering you have no strength in your legs, yet luckily no one seemed to be aware of your sudden movement around the corridors- Apparently the whole clan is composed of heavy sleepers.

Your escape was successful, but you wouldn't be able to reach safety anytime soon in your condition- And you knew that eventually they would wake up again and Idris would find you soon. Yet as you had promised yourself and your father, you weren't going down without a fight.

Idris is responsible for you, so whenever he notices that you were gone- He would first assume one of his kind has took you, but considering how everyone else in the clan considers him to be a nuisance and incompetent, he couldn't possibly ask around where were you. If he did, they would end up yelling at him and take you as their personal blood bag- He couldn't let them know that you have escaped.

He would search for you and be honest to god thankful that you weren't dead yet- He would be pissed but more concerned about your current state, after all you were supposed to be resting from losing so much blood and yet here you are: Trying to survive the wild nature around the mansion in a stupid attempt of escaping the vampires.

Idris would have to bite you more often while also giving some days off so you could rest, but doing in a way that you never lose the effects of the poison- He can't stand to see you fighting him so much.

I mean- He thinks that it's pretty attractive how fiesty you are, but he needs you to stay still in his bedroom and to start giving him those confused yet passionate eyes again- Idris doesn't know whether or not you're in love with him or is just acting in instinct considering your current position, and he soon will find himself begging for you to truly give in to this weird fantasy he has built around you two- But for now, all that he wants is the smallest affection that may come from you, even if it's not as true and morally correct as true love is supposed to be.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[dameronology]

one hell of a mandalorian {din djarin}

summary: actions speak louder than words - which is good for din djarin, because he's not very good at words. (this was a commission for an anon! i hope you enjoy).

warnings: language

enjoy!! if you're interested in commissions, you can find out more here :)

- jazz xx

Din Djarin was a man of few words.

That had become clear not long after you'd met.

It wasn't that he didn't like talking, or that he was rude - he'd just never had the need for it. The Mandalorian could spend days and days in hyperspace, on his own with nothing but a frozen bounty to keep him company. And they were hardly chatty, even before they were thrown away into the trawling depths of carbonite animation. There were a few select geniuses who tried to make conversation with him in a last-ditch attempt to appeal to his humanity and beg for mercy, but so far, they'd had a zero-for-zero success rate. It wasn't that he didn't have any humanity to appeal to it - because he did, and his weird, green surrogate kid was an absolute testament to that - but it just took a little bit for it to come out.

The beskar made him seem a little...robotic. Like a droid, which was ironic, because he wouldn't have gone near the things with a ten-foot-barge pole. Din had just become so used to people seeing his mask and his intimidating posture before him that having human traits, like feelings and thoughts and opinions, had never been any use. Having defining traits and a personality was all well and good, but nothing helped you through the galaxy quite like the ability to put the fear of God in people.

The Mandalorian was something, but Din Djarin was somebody. He was good; not necessarily pure and golden-hearted like a typical comic book hero, but he had a strong moral compass. Sometimes, it pointed in opposite directions, but he helped those who needed it and he paid his dues. That was probably a lot more than anyone in the galaxy could have said for themselves. In the fight of good and bad, in a world that existed entirely and black and white, there was nothing more grey than an honest man. Somebody who refused to pick a side held the power of both. For that, Din could have either been extremely smart, or extremely dumb.

Sometimes, he was extremely dumb. Made the wrong moves in combat, or got too cocky, however out of character it was for him. It was the losing fights that truly brought out the human side of Din, and it took a very, very specific eye to see it, sometimes to the point where even he missed it. It never went over your head, though.

You'd joined the crew on the Razor Crest as a mechanic - then you became a baby sitter, and his partner-in-crime, and the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend. His non-verbal nature meant that most of his emotional cues came in the physical form. It went over the heads of everybody else, but between your intuition, and the time spent in such a cramped space, it quickly became like a second language to you. Helmet tilts when he was confused, and little nods when he was pleased; tensed shoulders when the Mandalorian was nervous and balled fists when he was about to absolutely lose his shit.

Today was one of those days. Even though you were both in one piece and the baby was - by some absolute fucking miracle - asleep, it almost hadn't been that way. Nevarro had been quieter than usual, and Din had let his guard down; finally convinced himself to relax a tiny bit and ever-so-slightly loosen the stick that was firmly up his backside. His sudden lack of awareness for your surroundings had meant that someone managed to track the Crest, however briefly. The kid had barely noticed, and you weren't phased by what had been a simple, human mistake. Din, true to nature, was already beating himself up for it.

That was evidenced by his heavy footsteps, and the way he'd immediately retreated to the cockpit and slammed the door. Common sense would have entailed that he wanted to be left alone, but you'd long surpassed the point of any of that. Common sense didn't exist in a galaxy like this one. Doing the obvious thing was, nine times out of ten, usually the wrong way. Expecting the unexpected was the right way to go.

You'd paced outside the door for the better part of fifteen minutes - to go in, or to not go in, that was the question. You were torn between wanting to give Din space and wanting to be there for him; a cranky Din was often an unbearable one, but you cared deeply for him. Maybe a little too much, but that was a can of worms to open later.

"Din?" You gently called. Nothing. "I know you're brooding, or whatever it is you do under that helmet, but talking is good."

"I'm fine."

You sighed. "The scale goes great, good, bad, awful, world-ending and then fine."

"I've never heard that before in my life."

"Yeah, I just made it up on the spot." You murmured.

Resting your hand against the doorknob, you pondered for a moment. Did you want to risk it by going in? Making him mad when he was literally shutting you out? It was hard to know what to do with Din - it wasn't like he came with an answer key, or even a vague manual that could point you in the right direction. It was all just guess work.

"Is the helmet on?" You softly asked.

"Yeah."

You took that as a sign - with a deep breath, you gently opened the door and stepped inside the cockpit, shutting it quietly behind you. The tense atmosphere inside was almost enough to swallow you whole. The man practically radiated angst.

"Talk to me." You took a seat beside him.

"There's nothing to say."

"Bullshit." You murmured. "You might have a thousand inches of beskar hiding your face but your body language is a dead giveaway."

"I'm meant to protect you and the kid." He replied. It wasn't much, but it was better than silence. "It's my job to catch bad people and outrun them when I need."

"You did outrun them." You reminded him. "I'm safe. You're safe. The kid is safe. Does anything else matter?"

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place." Din said. "I was relaxed-"

"- you allowed to relax." You cut him off. "Despite your best efforts, you're a human being."

Reaching out, you gently placed your hand over Din's ungloved palm. He didn't resist or try to brush you away. His hands were soft and callous in equal measures, which felt like a fitting metaphor for him on the whole. You tangled your fingers in his and held on tightly, perhaps in a sad attempt to remind him that you were there.

But Din knew you were there - he could feel it constantly, and he thought about it just as much. Every day of his life prior to you had been filled with rigidity and angst, then you'd come waltzing in and for the first time in years, he'd untensed his muscles and stopped looking over his shoulder. Learnt to take a breath and enjoy the simple things in life, like Grogu laughing or you accidentally tripping over a tree branch. You'd become so important to him that the prospect of losing you was too much for him to even fathom. He'd come close today - too close - and it had been an eye-opener. The irony was that telling you why he was so fucking scared was more frightening than the entire thing itself.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." The gentle pull of your voice lulled him back to reality. "Please?"

His grip on your hand tightened. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." You breathily smiled. "You don't have to apologise."

"I never thought I'd have someone like you." Din admitted. "Coming so close to losing you was terrifying, even if it wasn't that close at all."

He'd never been so open about his feeling towards you before. Obviously, you knew that he viewed you in a way he didn't see anybody else, but that knowledge had been based entirely on physical cues and mere guesswork. You'd never expected him to vocalise the way he felt, or even acknowledge them. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, or even something you considered to be detrimental. The words came as a nice surprise.

"You mean a lot to me, Din." You said. He'd always loved the way his name sounded when you said it; nobody had used it for years, not since he'd lost his parents. It was something to vulnerable and personal. You were the only one he trusted with it.

"I do?"

You didn't mean to laugh at that - you really didn't, but it just came out. A low snort of disbelief; shock at his absolute inability to read the fucking room. Din was as intuitive as they came, with the ability to read criminals like a bedtime story he'd been rehearsing since he was a kid. Then it came to you, and he knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. To call him clueless would be the understatement of the century.

"Maker." You murmured. "Of course you do - more than anyone or anything."

"You're special to me." Din replied. "It scares me sometimes."

Din was straight forward with everything he said - it was just finding the courage to say it. He'd gone into battle with Imps and Republic Rangers alike; fought krayt dragons and droids and fellow Mandalorians and yet this entire thing shook him to his very core more than anything else.

You didn't know it, but you were perfectly holding his gaze. Staring right through it and looking right into his soul. He forgot he had one sometimes. It was probably a little dusty and covered in cobwebs, but it was there, and you were bringing it right out of him and back to reality.

Din used his grip on your hands to pull you a little closer - a moment later, he gently pressed the cold metal of his helmet to his forehead. It was the closest you'd ever been to him, even if it wasn't that close at all. You could hear his soft breathing through the modulator, the sensation acting as a stunning reminder that there was a person underneath there. There were times when you forgot, or felt a little disconnected from the idea entirely. You'd never felt the need to see his face, though - you hadn't a clue what he might look like, but at the same time, you had an image of him in your head. It was as clear as day; as bright as the suns on Tatooine and as persevering as the kid's insistence that he receive all your attention, all the time.

You knew what the action was; a Keldabe kiss. The Mandalorian had recounted its meaning to you not long after you'd met - he'd finally let his barriers down and let you plague him with questions about his culture and the creed, and you'd stumbled on the subject. Initially, you'd been entertained by the fact that it two such vastly different meanings. On one hand, it could be a headbutt. A beskar punch to knock the daylights out of anyone who particularly annoyed you. On the other hand, it was almost a romantic gesture; a way that Mandalorians could show their affection to one another without having to remove their armour.

Din had the latter meaning in mind, but also so much more. He was giving you a piece of his culture - including you in the very thing that defined him as a person.

"It won't happen again." The Mandalorian gently said. "I'll never let you get hurt again. I promise."

"I know." You softly smiled. Your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the cool metal against your forehead. "For what it's worth, I have your back too."

He softly chuckled. "Thank you."

You gently pulled back, eyes meeting again (not that you could tell).

"Seriously!" You said. "I can be a bad-ass."

"You can be a lot of things." Din replied. "You're one hell of a girl."

"And you're one hell of a Mandalorian."

[terubakudan]

This may be an old article from 3 years ago, but these cultural aspects/observations still apply even today. And though this is strictly a Chinese perspective, a lot of these everyday life bits are observed in Overseas Chinese communities in countries such as The Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, etc. as well as countries heavily influenced by Chinese culture like Taiwan, Japan, and Korea.

I've always liked learning about other cultures and making comparisons between how things are done East vs West. Which probably stems from growing up with two cultures and Mom raising me on American movies xD

So the irony is if you asked me how many Chinese, Taiwanese, or Hong Kong actors I know, chances are I know as much as you do xD Like Jackie Chan, Andy Lau, and that's about it. But if you asked me about Western (specifically American and British) actors, then I have a useless brain dump of movie trivia and who was with who in what movie xD

Hmmm, both Taiwan and the Philippines are two distinct cultures but both look up to a certain country and are fascinated by that. In Taiwan's case, Japan and the US for the Philippines. In both cases, this is due to being under the rule of those countries in their history. Taiwan being under Japan for 50 years, and the Philippines being under Spain for 300+ years, followed by periods of American and Japanese rule. To put it simply though:

Taiwan is "mini-Japan with a very Chinese culture".

The Philippines is "former colony of Spain with lots of American influences".

But unlike the author, I've never set foot in any Western country, so my understandings are strictly what I've observed in media, which while it can be accurate, doesn't compare to actually experiencing the culture.

Some further elaboration on most points:

#1 We quite literally use chopsticks for everything. We use it to pick rice, viands, vegetables, fruit, smaller desserts, almost all the food you can think of.

But where do you put your chopsticks when you're not using them? Just put them on top of your bowl or flat on your plate. But do not ever stick them vertically. It's taboo, since it looks like incense sticks, which we use to pray for those who have passed, like our ancestors or during funerary services.

#3 The majority of Asia is obsessed with fair/white skin. In my time at the Philippines, I grew up watching all these Dove Whitening commercials and my classmates often commented on how fair my skin was, how they envied it etc. In Taiwan, girls often say they don't want to 變黑 (biàn hēi) 'become dark'. Japan and Korea too are not innocent of this either (if their beauty/skin products weren't a dead giveaway).

People here at Taiwan often mistake me for being from Hong Kong or Japan (as long as I don't speak Mandarin with my heavy accent xD). A Taiwanese classmate of mine joked that she often gets mistaken for being from Southeast Asia due to having a darker complexion. And while I laughed it off with her at that time, looking back, I now realize she was lowkey being racist. xD

And believe me Filipinas have mentioned literally being told 'your skin is so dark' here in Taiwan, or being given backhanded compliments like 'you're pretty despite having dark skin' and...*facepalms*

My point is, beauty is not exclusive to skin color. People who still think that are assholes.

#5 Not to say we don't have salt and pepper, but yes soy sauce and vinegar are the classic condiments you see on the table, be it at home or at a restaurant.

And if I may add, Taiwanese love their pepper. xD If you ever get to eat at a night market or a smaller "Mom n' Pop-style" restaurant here, some dishes/soups tend to add quite an excessive amount of pepper. Not like anthills, but quite liberally and way more than average. Enough that you see traces of pepper at the bottom of the food paper bag or swirling in your soup. xD

#6 I know this all too well from personal experience. In my years of studying at Taiwan, I always had roommates. 3 in my first school (I graduated high school in the Philippines pre K-12 so I had to make up 2 years of Senior High), followed by 2 in college, with the exception of 1 in freshman year.

My college did offer single person dorms but at around 9000 NTD ($324) per month compared to around 6000 NTD ($216) per semester. Because I wanted to save, the choice was obvious for me xD. But ah, this doesn't mean I don't value personal space, in fact I love having the room to myself, and since both my roomies would go home to their families every weekend, weekends were bliss for me xD

And you don't have to be friends with your roommates (that's an added bonus however), you just have to get along with them. I was quite lucky to have really great roommates all throughout my schooling years.

#9 In the Philippines, we do. Owing mostly to American influences and maybe being predominantly Catholic? xD

#10 *sigh* Chinese parents and parents from similar Asian cultures tend to put too much emphasis on grades, so much that kids could get sent to cram school as early as elementary. This is because what school you get into could literally affect your future job opportunities, and while that's not exclusive to any particular country/culture, I feel it's especially pronounced here in Asia. I'm really lucky my own parents weren't that strict about it. However, if your parents don't point the mistakes out to you, chances are you'll do it yourself, if you're an Asian kid like me anyway. xD It just becomes a habit.

#11 My family is an exception to this. xD We do say 'I love you' directly, but complete with the 'ah eat well ok?', 'don't scrimp on food', 'sleep well' and similar indirect words/actions of affection. We were doing 'Conceal, Don't Feel' before it became popular. xD

#13 I'm kind of confused about this but this has sort have changed over the years in which eye-contact is now more encouraged. But don't stare, especially at elders and authority figures. Sometimes it's just shyness though. xD And I've observed this with my own Taiwanese friend, especially when I'm complaining or ranting to her about something. xD I'm a person who likes to express my opinions strongly, which tends to scare/alienate some of the locals here, as doing so is kind of frowned upon. Thankfully, she does listen and offers her take on things.

#14 Ah this. xD In the Philippines, this is a common greeting known as beso-beso, and I freaked out too when an auntie did that to me. xD Needless to say, Mom lectured me later on what that was. ^^"

#16 Along with #3 another crazy beauty standard. In my view, people always look better with a little meat on them and when they're not horribly thin. Asia still has a loonng way to go with accepting different types of bodies if you ask me. This combined with modern beauty standards has made the pressure for women especially to 'look beautiful' higher than ever.

I know many people love them but please, starving yourself or glorifying eating disorders is never OK just to get this kind of 'ideal' body. I'm not part of the Kpop fandom, but even I think when idols get bullied just for gaining the least bit of weight among other insensitive comments, that's really going too far.

#17 'If you want to make friends, go eat.' <- I couldn't agree more. In the Philippines we have a greeting: 'Kumain ka na ba?' (Have you eaten?) . Similarly in Taiwan, we have 吃飯了沒? (chī fàn le méi), both of these can mean that in the literal sense but are often used as greetings instead. By then which invitation to having lunch/dinner together may or may not follow. Food really is a way for us to socialize and to catch up with what's going on in each other's lives. Not to say we don't have regular outings like going out to the mall, going shopping, etc. but eating together is a huge part of our culture, be it with family or friends.

And while I'm at it, some memes that are way too accurate good to pass up xD

Parents, uncles, aunties alike will fight over the bill xD

Alternatively:

You just space out until your name is called xD

My parents are guilty of the last one. Logic how? xD

#18 True. xD I like giving compliments out to people but I have a hard time accepting them myself, though I've learnt how to accept them much more now than before. We're kind of raised to constantly downplay ourselves so we often say things like 'ah no no' or 'I'm really not that good'. The downside of this of course is that it can come off as somewhat fake. xD

Again from personal experience, that same classmate who made the lowkey racist remark, she was good, she was on the debate team, was a honor student, knew how to mingle with people, but she downplayed herself way too much, while praising me but I honestly thought that she never really meant it from how she treated me. She wanted to keep me around her yet make backhanded compliments at me and she didn't want me socializing with my other classmate who is now my friend. *sigh* It was only after discussing this with one of my roomies did I realize how this 'excessive downplaying' might come off to people like me who more or less grew up with a more 'Westernized' mindset. I'm not saying brag about your achievements but don't be overly humble about them either, which can also be a turn off.

#20 We do tend to be a lot more realistic on how we view things, neither entirely optimistic nor pessimistic. We try to think of things practically and often analyze things on pure logic. A downside of this however, is that Chinese people can be overly practical. Taiwanese for instance don't like to 'find inconveniences' and generally keep to themselves, meaning, they won't help you in your hour of need even when they do have the capabilities. Sounds really harsh I know, but in my 6 years of living in Taiwan, while this doesn't apply to all the people, a lot of them really do only find/talk to you when they need something.

So for some people saying Taiwanese are 'friendly', that's BS xD If you ask me, Filipinos are infinitely more friendly, and again while not all, generally make more of an effort to help you when you need it. I really felt more of a real sense of community during my years growing up in the Philippines compared to Taiwan.

#21 Children do tend to stay with their parents well into college and adulthood, since Chinese families are indeed very family-oriented, in a lot of cases, grandparents often live under the same roof as us as well! And it really does save a lot of money. I see there's a real stigma in the US when it comes to "living with your parents", but that's starting to change especially because of Covid and having more and more people move back in with their parents.

Housing unfortunately is pretty much hella expensive no matter where you go, and Taiwan is no exception. Steep housing prices and the very high cost of raising a child (schooling + buxiban fees, etc.) contribute to a very low birth rate and thus an aging population like Japan. It's not uncommon to see both parents working in Taiwan.

#23 I'm an overthinker myself, but I totally agree with the author that the best is to strike a good balance between these two. Which I guess is why I love drawing or any other related creative attempts, it helps me be more spontaneous or well, creative! I like to remain intellectually or artistically inspired.

#24 Is French high school really like that? xD My friend did watch SKAM France and more or less got a culture shock from what was depicted on the show. I can confirm however that most high schools both in the Philippines and Taiwan require students to wear a uniform, only in college is everybody free to wear casual/civilian clothes.

#26 Ah this is part of our Asian gift-giving etiquette xD We always open gifts later after the event/meeting and in private. Never open them in front of the person who gave it to you or in front of others. This is to prevent any 'shame/embarrassment' that may result both to yourself and to the gift giver. I know this may come off as something weird since some people may want a more honest response or immediate feedback when it comes to gift-giving, but that's just how it is in our culture. You're always free to ask us though (in private) if we liked the gift or not ^^"

#28 I want to say the same goes to drinking, partying, and drugs however xD Those are things which are still frowned upon in our culture. And to be honest, whenever I see those in movies, it does kind of turn me off xD It doesn't mean that we're "uncool" or "boring", we just think that there are much better or healthier ways of "having fun".

#31 Is this true in France?! Man I would kind of prefer that instead of people being on their phones all the time xD This kind of goes with #20 in that Chinese are overly practical or logical, and don't read fiction as much as nonfiction. My Taiwanese friend is an exception though, she's a bibliophile who loves the feel of paper books compared to e-books, and it's a trait of her that I like a lot. Both the Philippines and Taiwan however have a huge fanbase when it comes to manga and anime though.

I'm all for reading outside of "designated reading" at schools especially. Reading fiction improves your vocabulary too, and can be quite fun! It helps you imagine and really invest in a world/story, and if you ask me something that I feel Westerners are better at, they're more in touch with their emotions and creativity, and are thus much more able to write compelling or original stories. Believe me, I've seen a fair amount of Chinese movies that rip off Western movie plotlines xD

#33 Nothing much to add on here..except that since I'm a "weird" person, Mom often jokes that she got the wrong baby from the hospital. xD

#35 True. While I agree with the care and concern that your fellow community can give you, the downside of this is we tend to only hang out with our own people, e.g Chinese with Chinese, Taiwanese with Taiwanese, etc. I've seen too that it's especially hard to make friends in Japan and Korea as a foreigner. Not only is there the language barrier, but the differences in culture too. In a way, Asians can be pretty close-minded on getting to know other cultures or actually making friends with people from other countries. I know this all too well being half-Taiwanese/half-Filipino, being neither "Filipino" enough nor "Taiwanese" enough. xD It's more of people here being too used to what they're comfortable with.

#36 Oh this is something I feel that Chinese students and other students from similar cultures should really improve on. xD How will people respect you if you don't speak your mind?

I felt bad especially for my Spanish teacher in college, granted it was an introductory course (Spanish I and II) but the amount of times that our teacher had to prompt a student to recite/speak even with clear hints already made her (and me too) extremely frustrated. The thing is, these are college students, I personally feel they don't have any reason to be so shy of speaking and technically by not doing so they're slowing the pace of the class too much and a lot of time is wasted.

Unfortunately you can't always be very vocal with your thoughts and opinions in most Asian cultures. I would say strive for that, but at the same time, play your cards well, especially if you're in a workplace setting.

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading and here's a cookie! 🍪 I'm not perfect and there's bound to be something I missed so please let me know if you spotted anything wrong. Feedback/questions are very much welcome and please feel free to share about your country/culture's differences or similarities!

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

(pt 1) i really enjoy all your atla analyses & you've done a great job breaking down the usual arguments re how eip shows that kataang shouldn't have happened. i'm curious about your take on one specific argument that i just saw today, in an analysis of the show by a zker that was otherwise quite good and respectful (i know you've already talked about eip a lot, so no problem if you don't feel like rehashing). the premise: aang didn't just pressure katara in eip, he threatened her.

(pt 2) they point to when katara joins aang & asks if he’s alright: “aang: no, i’m not! i hate this play! katara: i know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting. aang: overreacting? if i hadn’t blocked my chakra, i’d probably be in the avatar state right now!” the suggestion is he’s threatening her when he says ‘i’d probably be in the avatar state right now’ to describe his anger. i think this take exaggerates and oversimplifies it, but interested in your thoughts on it.

Hello my friend!! It is true I am Old inside and don’t like rehashing dhdlksjslks BUT your comments on my posts are always incredibly kind and insightful so I am more than willing to do a bit of rehashing for you 🥰 Besides! I’ve seen this general take before a few times and it’s always irked me for the exact reason you point out - it simultaneously exaggerates and oversimplifies the situation (and honestly that’s an impressive duality since it’s seemingly contradictory, so hats off to them lmaooo) - and now is as good a time as any to address it. So, for starters, let’s go ahead and get the excerpt they love to focus on so much:

Cut to Aang standing alone on a balcony. Katara enters and walks up to him.

Katara: Are you all right?

Aang: [Angered.] No, I’m not! I hate this play! [Yanks his hat off and throws it on the ground.]

Katara: I know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting.

Aang: Overreacting? If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!

Here’s the thing about so-called analyses of this excerpt: in a manner extremely convenient to the poster, they never seek to contextualize this moment. (I mean, to do so would deplatform their entire “argument” - perhaps that’s why they avoid performing a full analysis?) So let’s avoid that pitfall from the start.

Firstly, below are some links to related posts; I’m going to do my best to summarize the most relevant parts, but for anyone who desires greater detail, I gotchu 😤

This post explains why EIP (the play, lol) is imperialist propaganda and is intended to belittle the entire Gaang.

This post explains how Aang never acted “entitled” to Katara’s affections, particularly in regard to EIP.

This post breaks down the infamous EIP kiss like Snopes Fact Checker, covering common misconceptions, important perspectives to consider, etc.

Alright. With that out the way, it’s time for some context.

Aang and Katara have this conversation on the balcony after watching 95% of “The Boy in the Iceberg,” a play chock-full of Fire Nation propaganda that demeans the entire Gaang in order to prop up the Fire Nation as superior (hence why the play ends with Ozai’s victory). Here is my general breakdown of Aang and Katara’s treatment in particular from a previous post:

- katara, an indigenous woman, is highly sexualized and portrayed as overly dramatic and tearful, because the fire nation objectifies women not of their own people and views them as less intelligent and less emotionally stable

- aang, the avatar, the sole survivor of the fire nation’s genocide of the air nomads who is incredibly in-touch with his spirituality and femininity, is portrayed as an overly-airy and immature woman. the fire nation portrays him with a female actor to demean him (like, that’s classic imperialistic propagandist tactics) and furthermore writing his character as a childish airhead reinforces the fire nation sentiment that the air nomads were weak, foolish people who did not deserve to exist in their world

In other words, these kids have just watched almost an entire play that preys upon their insecurities and depicts them using racist and sexist stereotypes about their respective nations. It is completely understandable that tensions might run a little high and that their interactions would not be as balanced as usual (Katara and Aang have a great track record of communicating well with each other, as it happens!).

So we have to keep that in mind when examining the aforementioned excerpt. But there are other factors to consider, too! Namely: they are kids. Children. Teens. Aang is 12, Katara is 14.

If we want to be scientific, a person’s brain doesn’t finish developing until they are 25, lmao, and the preteen/teen years are when the prefrontal cortex that controls “rationality,” “judgement,” “forethought,” etc. is still developing. This doesn’t mean Aang and Katara are irrational and make poor decisions 24/7 (obviously not), but it does mean that in an intense, highly emotional situation, like after watching a play that intentionally demeans them and depicts them as inferior, they are more likely to overreact, more likely to be emotional, and more likely to make mistakes. Like, I’m serious, lol. “Teens process information with the amygdala.” That’s part of the brain that helps control emotions! It’s why teens sometimes struggle to articulate what we’re thinking, especially in situations that require instinct/impulse and quick decisions, because we’re really feeling whenever we make those choices. Acting more on emotion. Our brains simply haven’t finished developing the decision-making parts, lmao.

In sum: Aang and Katara are both kids, not adults, and should be interpreted as such. This doesn’t negate their intelligence, because they are both incredibly smart and Aang is arguably the wisest of the Gaang, but they are human. Young humans. They have emotions, and we should not be so cruel as to assume they’d never act on them.

So taking that all together, we can now acknowledge the high stress Aang and Katara are under, understand why they might be upset (*cough* imperialist propaganda is hurtful *cough*), and examine how their youth might play into their emotional reactions. And funny thing - all analyses that come to the conclusion of Aang “threatening” Katara here do not usually bother with this context. I can’t imagine why!

And you know what, let’s add one more piece of context: Sokka states that Aang left the theater “like, ten minutes ago,” which is what cues Katara to go look for him on the balcony. The reason I mention this line is because to me, it suggests Aang knew he was more worked up than usual! He chose to separate himself from his friends so he could process his frustration! He did not take his anger at the play out on them; instead, he purposefully took time and space to be alone.

With that in mind, I don’t understand at all how Aang’s Avatar state quote could be interpreted as a threat? Canonly, Aang is someone who was aware enough of his frustration to separate himself from the others - yet the logical next step is him threatening Katara as a result? He knew his intense emotions were because of the play (which he says himself), so the logical conclusion is that he then pinned the fault on Katara? What?? Sorry, that interpretation has no textual basis, lmao. But I digress!

Aang tells Katara, “If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!” As you said, this is the line people point to in an attempt to justify their (baseless) conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. So let’s bring in the two key pieces of context: imperialist propaganda and age. Given that Aang is 12, and given that Aang has just watched almost a full play that demeans him and everything his people stood for (and let’s not forget it also mocks his and Katara’s love for each other)…

His reaction is understandable. An exaggeration and needlessly dramatic, but understandable. He feels vulnerable and insecure and Aang is human. He is human and flawed and he overreacts here and I love that A:TLA shows how even our heroes, even people who are truly good at heart and in soul, can get overly upset (especially given the aforementioned circumstances!). Would Aang actually be in the Avatar state at that moment, had it been possible? Of course not! He’s young and he’s hurt and as such he says something dramatic to convey his anxieties and frustrations. The line is not meant to be taken literally, and seeing people do so despite all the factors that should be taken into consideration when analyzing it… Cue a long, tired sigh from me and so many other A:TLA fans.

And to be honest? I cannot fathom how people watch this episode and come to the conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. To me, this episode - besides being a recap episode - is one that humanizes our cast even further. Aang snaps at Katara, kisses her when he shouldn’t (which the story appropriately treats as wrong). Katara pushes down her true feelings and retreats into herself, afraid to start a relationship with the boy she loves because she’s already lost him once before and can’t bear to do so again. Zuko further confronts the hurt he’s enacted upon others, especially upon Iroh. Toph practices being vulnerable and accepting vulnerability from others by conversing with Zuko. Sokka witnesses how others have erased his contributions and labelled him as nothing more than the token nonbender in the group. Even Suki learns that she is not the only person who holds a place in Sokka’s heart and that she can never replace what he has lost.

To watch this episode where our heroes must come to terms with how the Fire Nation deems them inherently inferior, with how they have more fights to overcome in the future with the Fire Nation than a single war, and to come to the conclusion that… that what, Aang is abusive? A monster? Irredeemable? That he would threaten his best friend, someone he loves in every way?

Wow. That says more than enough about the viewer, doesn’t it?

[pascalpanic]

"You made these cupcakes for me?" With Marcus Pike. Because giving people baked goods is a perk of knowing me 😃

Cupcake (Marcus Pike x Reader)

summary: you’re having a bad day. your boyfriend, Marcus Pike, will not allow his cupcake to feel so shitty.

warnings: like, a single use of fuck. reader’s just having a bad day. some tears, mentions of food. tooth-decaying fluff. 

w/c: 1.1k

a/n: this shit hurts my heart bc it’s so soft. I just want Marcus Pike to call me cupcake is that too much to ask?? Mandy this prompt was so cute I’m so glad u requested it ✨🥰🧁

Marcus Pike is the perfect boyfriend, you have to admit. Not a day goes by without some kind gesture from the man you love, whether that’s a phone call just to hear your voice or a bouquet of flowers waiting for you in your apartment when you came home from work.

Not only is the man wonderful at gestures, but he’s nearly sickeningly affectionate. Marcus loves to hug you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck and murmuring affirmations of his love. He’s got lots of nicknames for you: babe, baby, lover, cutie, and his personal favorite- cupcake.

It’s been a few months that you’ve been dating Marcus now, and every moment around him is nearly perfect. The issue arises, then, when you’re apart. Marcus is a busy man, especially with his job as head of the Art Crimes Department of the literal FBI. You’re busy too, with a full-time job and an apartment completely on the opposite side of DC. 

Work today was a total pain in the ass. Marcus may be busy, but he always finds time to answer your calls. It’s a pact the two of you had made- if the other calls, you pick up. Both of you are often in need of reassurance and a little love from the other. That’s what prompts you to step into the bathroom with your cell phone halfway through a godawful day. You call him at his desk line, knowing the caller ID will display your name.

The phone rings twice before Marcus picks up. “Hey Cupcake,” he hums happily. “How’s your day going?”

“Bad,” you sniffle as you lock yourself in a stall. 

His heart breaks at the tone in your voice. “Oh, honey.” You can hear the frown on his face. “What’s wrong? Tell me all about it.”

He’s so kind. So perfect. “I don’t deserve you,” you whimper before the tears start running down your face, a broken sob choking out from your throat.

“No, no, baby,” he assures. “Just tell me about your day. Talk to me, love.”

You nod and swallow hard, trying to compose your voice. “My alarm didn’t go off this morning, so I woke up late and rushed to work. My boss was already pissed so she chewed me out. There’s an important document she needed me to sign and I spilled my coffee on it,” you mumble, pulling yourself tight against the corner of the stall. “Now I’ve been working and it feels like all my coworkers know that I’m the reason Marcy is mad,” you admit, “even though they probably don’t and I’m probably just overreacting.”

“It’s all okay, baby,” he assures you, his mellow voice like music through the tinny speaker of your phone. “It’s all gonna be alright. Marcy can’t be that mad.”

“I don’t even know. I haven’t seen her since I asked her for another copy of the document, since it was covered in a fucking mocha.”

He gives a soft chuckle. “Aw, I’m sorry babe. What’s the rest of the day look like?” He asks.

“Nothing interesting or good. Just more work, and then we have a quick meeting before we leave. Are you working late tonight?” 

A plan formulates in Marcus’s mind. He knows right now you won’t like it, but it’ll bring you lots of happiness later. “Yeah, I am,” he bluffs convincingly. 

You believe it, pouting a little. “Damn.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, honey. Listen, I promise I’ll make it up to you soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you craving anything?” He asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “Something sweet sounds nice, but not now.”

“Are you sure? I’ll Doordash something to your office for you.”

You finally give a smile. “No, that’s okay, babe. Head back to work. I love you.”

“I love you too, Cupcake. Keep your head up.” He hangs up.

You sigh and lean your head back against the wall of the stall. Today is only going to get better, even if you don’t know it yet.

-

The rest of the work day passes by in a grueling and slow manner. Every little task seems to take hours, even if it’s only two minutes. It’s tiring.

All you really want is Marcus. For him to wrap you in his arms and kiss your head and tell you everything is going to be alright, because for some reason it’s always true when he says it. But he’s working, you know that. You sigh as you take the subway home from work, nearly falling asleep on the surprisingly quiet train. 

When you get home, you sigh and unlock the door to your apartment. You kick off your shoes only to notice another pair, a pair that’s most definitely not yours. They’re bigger than your feet are- “Marcus?” You call out into the apartment.

“Yeah, baby,” he shouts back, and your tired expression turns into a grin. 

“I thought you were supposed to be working late tonight!” You say, your entire body perking up. 

“Lisbon covered for me,” he says as he walks out of your kitchen, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. “Go get into some cozy clothes and meet me in here, alright?” He orders gently as he looks at how tired your eyes are.

You nod and obey, trudging off to your room and changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt as well. The weight of the day seems lifted from your shoulders, or at least considerably lightened. You walk back to the kitchen and gasp as you see what’s waiting for you.

The table is set for dinner, but in the middle is a lit candle (your favorite scent), and a tray of messy-looking cupcakes. “You said you wanted something sweet,” he says with a shy grin, pulling out a chair for you.

“You made these cupcakes for me?” You ask, eyes watering and lower lip sticking out in a pout. 

Marcus nods. “They’re really ugly, I know. I didn’t have anything good to put the frosting on there with, and honestly the sprinkles might be expired, but-”

You cut Marcus off by cupping his face and kissing him gently, the corners of your lips tugged up in a smile. You break away and throw your arms around him. He’s beautifully built, clearly muscular but slightly soft and the best for hugs. “Thank you, Marcus,” you murmur as the tears spill from your eyes and into his t-shirt.

“Anything for you, Cupcake.” -

Hope you enjoyed!

pls note my requests are open at any time!! you can always just send me a line you like and a character, doesn’t have to be from a specific prompt list or anything!!

[blackradandmad]

i want to tell y’all a little story. it is traumatic and there is no happy ending, but i’m sharing here on radblr to ultimately find connection and hopefully resources for grief and trauma caused by the fatal effects of homophobia.

so let’s go back in time to lilith’s freshman year of high school... i was a masculine, openly bisexual black teenage girl living in a sundown town. life wasn’t looking too peachy. until i found solace in band, specifically a group of juniors that were majority lgb, people of color, or whatever flavor of the week the popular kids deemed as “social outcasts.” we carpooled to school early to fuck around in the band hall, we navigated our large and intimidating school in our group, we ate lunch in the band hall, and of course had a myriad of group practices or private lessons or marching competitions that led to us getting incredibly close. the person i was closest with in this group was named eric [changed for privacy].

eric was a junior, he was openly gay at school, militantly atheist, did band, debate, and show choir, was always being annoyingly contrarian, made me cackle laugh, and was the big brother i never had. quickly he began to spend every day at my house, and my parents treated him like a son. he confided in me that his parents are homophobic and he plans on coming out to them when he moves out, but that it was getting so difficult leading a double life.

fast forward six months, and im on the phone with payne at night. the clock strikes midnight, and i sing him happy birthday. “sweet 17! a year closer to authenticity!” i hear his smile through the phone. “i’m already so nervous to tell my parents--”

the phone sounds like it was dropped, and i hear a muffled voice of a woman yell, “tell us that you’re a devilish homosexual?” i heard a scuffle start before someone grabs the phone and hangs up. i spend the next two hours pacing my kitchen floor, crying, wondering, and then i get a text. a long winded, over apologetic text from eric, informing me that his parents disowned him and kicked him out because they found out he was gay. i talked to my parents and of course they don’t want their practically adopted son to be a highschooler living out of his car, and we moved him into our guest bedroom at about 0300 that night. 

we were both sobbing wrecks, and he slept in my bed for a week straight. every night before i went to bed, i would squeeze his cheeks, kiss his forehead, and say, “yr so good.”

and life went on. i gained a brother. we did everything together, he helped me with my homework, he taught me debate skills, i showed him horror movies at midnight when we had to be up for school the next day at 0530. my parents showed him nothing but love. he lived with me until he graduated.

after graduation, he moved states, but we kept in touch frequently. he was doing well at a job he genuinely liked and had an amazing support system. but... true, real shunning from every member of yr family for a part of who you inherently are takes a toll on you.

so one day, a couple years later, he decided that his only option was jumping off a building to his death. his last text to me, sent hours before it happened, reads, “I’m sorry. I love you. But I know you know how hard this has always been.” i knew, then, what was going to happen. i didn’t get a call from a mutual friend until the morning after.

his parents? silence. they either privately buried him with an unmarked grave or cremated him. no one knows; i’ve called so many funeral homes and cemeteries in the area. not even his own brother was allowed to come to the “funeral.” my best friend. just... gone. no remembrance. 

so i organized a memorial. we got together, ate food, wore rainbow everything, laughed at how amazing eric was, and sobbed over the homophobia that is literally killing people. i posted the photos on facebook, and wrote some things, including condolences to his brother and friends, but specifically stated that i do not extend them to his family and consider them to have blood on their hands.

they contacting me demanding to have all photos of the memorial and any photos of me and eric taken down. i had a few choice words for them.

every year on his birthday and death anniversary, i check their facebook profiles. it’s like eric never even existed to them. they disowned him in life and eternally in death.

i don’t know how to profoundly end this tragedy. the grief is still a festering wound. i am still so angry. i hate that this happened. and i miss him. i miss him so, so much.

[mars-writes-1999]

Penumbra Podcast fan Theory

I have a theory about how this season is going to end and where the Junoverse is headed. None of this is certain, it’s all just theory. This isn’t about Nureyev’s debts though, I have genuinely no idea what’s going on with that boi but he worries me lots. I love him, and can’t figure him out. This is about the other class X radical. 

SPOILERS FOR JUNO STEEL AND WHAT LIES BEYOND PART 2

tl;dr  Jet saw Nureyev/Ransom fly away with the Ruby 7. The Ruby 7 sent the distress signal. The Ruby 7 is a sentient ai. The Ruby 7 is the other class X radical.

1. Jet saw Nureyev/Ransom fly away with the Ruby 7.

There was a line from Jet that stuck out to me right away in What Lies Beyond part 2. At the very beginning of his interrogation jet says "I do not think. I know. There is nothing on this ship that they want." He also later says "There is nothing on this ship that they want. That is final". I do put more stock in the first than the second quote because by the second one he is playing along with Juno's plan and intentionally being angry. I have looked through the scripts and I don't think we're ever told where Jet is being held (lmk if I'm wrong) but for my theory to work he is somewhere with a window and/or he saw things before being put in a "cell" at all.

Jet is a straightforward guy and went into that interrogation with a plan. He had time to think about what he wanted to say to Juno and what he said was "I do not think. I know." I take this to mean she really does know. He knows that Ransom, who dark matters is looking for, is not on the ship. He knows that the Ruby 7, who he believes dark matters is looking for (I'll get to this later), is not on the ship. 

While my Ruby 7 theory is a bit more of a long shot, I REALLY think Jet saw Ransom escape. He says in no uncertain terms that he KNOWS that there isn’t anything that Dark Matters is looking for. Even if we make an assumption that Jet thinks they’re only looking for one 

2. The Ruby 7 sent the distress signal

So I’ve thought this might be true since my second listen through the episode. It was a bit of a wild guess at first, but the more I think about it the more I buckle down on it. It lines up in a lot of ways where nothing else I can think of does. This whole argument does assume that Sasha and Dark Matters didn’t just fabricate the distress signal, but given her distaste for agent G (god rest her soul), I think the signal was real. 

When trying to decide who could have sent the signal we can immediately rule out literally every person in the carte blanche family. Buddy and Juno do a good job of explaining to us why each one of them couldn’t be it. 

Buddy was dying (plus we have the added bonus of her monologue and knowing what she was doing)

Juno, Vespa, and Ransom were in sight of each other and in the way of EMP waves

Rita’s comms were knocked out by the EMP waves

Jet was fixing the Ruby 7 and was right next to the EMP waves. He was also pretty busy trying to keep buddy from allowing herself to be killed

All of these things considered, we can also just assume that no one on this ship would rat them out. The only possible defection is Ransom, but despite not knowing what his motives are, I don’t think he ratted them out to Dark Matters. 

The only thing with the sentience to call out would be the Ruby (I’ll provide evidence for its sentience in a moment). I don’t know why it would reach out to Dark Matters specifically, but maybe it was just reaching out to anyone with a distress call. I don’t know how space distress calls work, but Sasha did need to specify that the call didn’t come from the Carte Blanche which means vehicles may have the power to send out a distress call. 

We know from Sasha and Juno’s conversation that the distress call was sent out 4 times in 2 hours. In the episode we see 3 major EMP blasts: The one between episodes, the one when Vespa and Ransom start arguing and Buddy can’t communicate, and the one Buddy barely avoids by getting into the safe room. It isn’t unreasonable to presume there was a 4th EMP wave that occurred after Buddy was safe and sound but before the entire team made it back safely. 4 distress signals for 4 emp waves. If the Ruby 7 is the one sending these, then this math makes sense.

In The Heart of it all Part 2 Jet says to Buddy “Even an EMP so direct couldn’t deactivate its computer mind for a moment - though it is still bitter about its engines.” This means the Ruby may have been scared about its engines dying and therefore it sent out a distress signal. 

None of this is provable at this point, but I also haven’t found any evidence to the contrary. If nothing following this is true, I still think this may be true. 

3. The Ruby 7 is a sentient AI

It is at this point that I would like to acknowledge that I am using it/its as pronouns for the Ruby 7. This is how the car has been referred to in the show up until this point and so it is how I will be referring to it from here on out. If any of this pans out and the Ruby 7 uses different pronouns or signifiers in future episodes I will refer to it differently. 

Before I give the reasons I think the Ruby 7 itself is sentient, I want to talk about why I think it’s plausible that Kevin and Sophie would take the story in this direction. The reason is pretty simple, they’ve told us they’d be willing to. Here is a clip of Kevin and Sophie in the Season 1 Q&A. 

 [audio file]

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1cOXj3ybVkszLdt8U8BiRrVW3Cy7O_oGl/view?usp=sharing

[google doc transcript of audio file]

https://docs.google.com/document/d/16EP7CP6Wxic3q7-QhPce1dinan5A0ACNDdxZ4DfaEtA/edit?usp=sharing 

So not only does this clip make it clear that Kevin has wanted robots in some form from the start, it shows that Sophie is open to the idea. We also hear them talk about how big of a deal it would be to introduce elements like this into the story. I would consider all of this setup as treating the concept of AI with the respect and time it deserves. We also know how much Kevin loves the Ruby 7 so making the car a main character would absolutely be within the realm of possibilities. The Ruby 7 is arguably the 7th member of their crew with or without sentience. 

Now to discuss the proof of the sentience of the Ruby 7. There’s a lot of evidence for this. The car has always been sassy and had a personality, but there are several moments that point to more than this. 

In the very beginning of part 1 of Tools of Rust, we see Jet directly mull over the sentience of the Ruby 7. 

The Ruby 7’s many background calculations make it more like a horse. It can be controlled, but only insofar as it wants to be controlled. (HE SHAKES HIS HEAD AND SNORTS, DISMISSING HIMSELF) “Wants to.” This car can make you believe in ghosts, too — a spirit in the machine. But the Ruby 7, whatever the force of its calculations, cannot want and cannot think; it can only behave like it does. ~from Tools of Rust Script released to 10$ Patreon supporters

This gives some of the base backgrounds into how Jet thinks about the car he is closest to. In this episode he refers to the ruby as “a wild horse, I must break it in.” The catalyst for this episode occurs while Jet is breaking down the tractor shield generator because when driving the Ruby 7 “Manuevers have not responded as they should.” There are of course reasons for these things that are not sentience. Jet himself does not think the car is sentient at the beginning of this episode. We also know that his view of the car is changing throughout his arc of this season. In its most recent appearance, we see the Ruby at its most sentient. Two distinct moments come to mind in regards to this. 

First, in part one as they are discussing their plan after Rita deploys the Book: 

JET:  We will be on our own — even the Ruby 7 will temporarily shut down. RUBY 7: (PETTY/ANNOYED BEEPS) BUDDY: … Come again? JET: The Ruby insists that it will not shut down. It is incorrect. RUBY 7: (REALLY ANNOYED BEEPS) JET: The Ruby says that I should not tell it what it can and cannot do. VESPA: Really built some sass into that thing, huh? NUREYEV: Is it just me, or… have responses like this become more common from our mysterious vehicle? VESPA: I swear its voice changed, too. BUDDY: Then we’ll allow the car its moody teenage years, I think; after all this is over I’ll buy it an industrial supply of eyeliner and posters of sad young men. ~ From The Heart of it All part 1 script released to 10$ Patreon supporters

Here several characters are remarking upon the increasing sentience of the Ruby 7. In part 2 of this episode, we see further evidence that the crew, especially Jet, has noticed changes in the Ruby which make it seem more and more sentient. 

BUDDY: Singing and theoretical mathematics? Is there anything that car can't do? JET: Increasingly I worry that there is not. Even an EMP so direct couldn’t deactivate its computer mind for a moment — though it is still bitter about its engines. (HE ACTUALLY IS WORRIED ABOUT WHAT THE HELL THE RUBY 7 IS, BUT NOW ISN’T THE TIME FOR THAT) But in this moment I am far more worried by.... ~ From Heart of it All part 2 script for 10$ Patreon Supporters

Here it is clear that not only does Jet sound concerned about the Ruby 7, but Kevin’s direction shows that Jet is genuinely unsure of the Ruby. Not just that he doesn’t know what the Ruby 7 is doing, but that he doesn’t know what the Ruby 7 is. 

Now that I’ve shown all of the evidence I have I’m going to extrapolate some of this to draw a line from this evidence to my theory in part 1. 

Jet knows something is up with the Ruby 7. He has seen Nureyev leave the carte blanche in the Ruby 7 and therefore knows the car is not on the ship. As the delivery notes say “now isn’t the time for that”. What does Jet have while in his “cell” but time? He spends part of his imprisonment sitting and thinking about the Ruby 7. He knows that Dark Matters could have easily found the cure mother prime so he assumes there is something else they are looking for. He realizes that his car is sentient. He realizes that they are looking for 2 main things, Ransom and the Ruby 7. He saw both of these leave. He says "I do not think. I know. There is nothing on this ship that they want."

For this to work, the Ruby 7 needs to be classified as a Class X radical, this is a tall order, but I think the Ruby 7 meets the criteria. 

 4. The Ruby 7 is the other class X radical

1st of all, look at that green car? That car is SO rad. 

Jokes aside, there are 2 main criteria I’m using to determine that the Ruby 7 could be the class X radical Dark Matters is looking for. First, is it literally possible that this is what Dark Matters is looking for? Does it fit any descriptors Director Wire gives us during her interview with Juno? Second, does it fit the definition of a class X radical? 

In answer to the first question, we consider what Dark Matters is searching for. We know that they know it’s class X, but not much else. In fact, Sasha suggests that Juno may know more than her about the radical because he’s been living with it. This gives the impression that they might not really know what they’re looking for. My theory here is they know that they are looking for a sentient robot, but they don’t know it’s a car. This explains why they know what they need to about its threats but not much else. It may also explain why some of the agents were looking in drawers. If they were not looking for Nureyev (cause like Buddy said, they should know he’s not inches tall) then perhaps they were looking for a sentient robot. Unless I’m misremembering something, I think this is all we really get in terms of information on what the second radical is. Sasha doesn’t give Juno much information despite giving him everything she can about the cure mother prime.

In answer to the second question, we look toward the definition Sasha gives Juno for a radical: “any person or object with the potential to cause significant change to civilized human life as we know it”. AI with sentience fits this definition. Even if you don’t think it does, the piece from the season 1 Q&A shows that Sophie thinks it does. They talk about the care that would need to be in place in order to introduce robots, ai, or aliens. Care is needed because any one of these three things would drastically change the galaxy as they know it. 

 I don’t really have any clever way to end this other than saying all of this could be wrong. I could be completely off and there are probably other explanations for everything I’ve described, but I actually feel pretty confident on this. It started off as a random thought and the more I’ve sat on it the more evidence I’ve collected. Whether this comes to fruition or not I hope you enjoyed reading my theory! 

CC: 

@thepenumbrapodcast 

[hyucks-archive]

blooming.

word count: 6,721

genre: fluff, angst if you squint, and a dash of badboy!jaehyun

member(s): jaehyun, featuring johnny

warning(s): fictional depiction of achromatopsia

author’s note: i just really wanted to write a flower shop au, but somehow it turned into this

Blue.

The deliveryman checks through the delivery invoice once more, ensuring that all that is on the list has been successfully handed over to you. “All good,” he says, handing you the delivery acknowledgement slip. You sign in the designated area, passed the slip back to him, and gave a slight bow, “Thanks, Mr Kang,” you say, wrapping your fingers loosely around the last bunch of flowers. Daffodils, to be exact.

“Don’t forget, those are yellow,” he says, pointing at the daffodils in your hands.

You smile, “Thank you. See you next week!”

Slowly, and carefully, you place the daffodils into the one remaining empty vase that sat beside the purple delphiniums. Taking a step back, you smile in satisfaction, imagining and loving how the bright yellow daffodils probably perfectly complemented the deep purple delphiniums. You dust off your gloved hands, making your way back to the counter, where there were some stray craft and wrapping paper laying around, which you needed to clean up. Just as you slid the scissors back into the stationery holder, the wind chimes sound, indicating a new customer.

“Welcome,” you greet, plastering on your best smile. The male bows, “Hi there,” he says, waving.

“May I know what you’re looking for?”

He purses his lips, eyes browsing through the very many flowers that decorated the place. He hums in thought, “Different flowers have different meanings, right?” he asks, eyeing the vases of fresh roses that were neatly displayed in a row.

“Yes, they do. May I know who you’re getting the flowers for? Or if there is any specific message you’d like to deliver through the flowers?”

As he ponders, the wind chimes sound again, your attention averting to the second customer. To no surprise, it was Jung Jaehyun, with a baseball cap atop his head, his face barely visible. He looks at you, so you flash him a smile and a slight nod of the head, as a sign of acknowledgement. You inform the male in front of you, “I’ll be a minute,” before walking over to Jaehyun.

“Do you mind waiting?” you ask. He shakes his head. You gesture for him to follow as you lead the way to the mini waiting area located in the corner of the store. He takes a seat while you turn to grab a fine china tea cup and saucer, the prettiest florals decorating its surfaces. Lifting the teapot, the fragrance of its contents immediately diffuses into the atmosphere, your lips forming a pleased smile.

“Here,” you say, placing the cup of tea on the table, in front of Jaehyun. “Fresh chamomile tea.” He leans forward and breathes in the fragrance of the tea, dimples appearing on the lower right half of his face, the only area that was visible. “Thank you,” his voice deep and rich. Jaehyun watches as you return to the customer, whom was finally able to make a decision.

“What flowers should I get if I want to profess my love? You know, something that isn’t as cliché as a rose?” he says. You nod your head in acknowledgement of his sentiments, clarifying, “Is she a long-term partner of yours?”

“Actually, no. Not yet, at least. I was going to confess to her tonight, with some flowers.”

Jaehyun notices how your smile changes into one of confidence as you gesture the customer’s attention towards the vase of purple lilacs. “I’d suggest gifting her a bouquet of purple lilacs. Purple lilacs are associated with the beginning of new love, symbolising the first emotions of love,” you share, pulling out a purple lilac for the customer to get a closer look. He nods in understanding, taking a good look at the lilac, “It’s really pretty,” he commends. “Can you wrap it up for me?”

“Would you like to write her a message as well?” you asked as you lead the way to the counter.

“Yes, please. That would be nice.”

“You can pick a card from here,” you say, gesturing towards the variety of cards. While the customer looks through the different designs, you walk over to the waiting area. Jaehyun isn’t bothered, he simply continues to give you his full attention. Meanwhile, you retrieve another set of fine china, pouring a second cup of chamomile tea. Placing it on the table, opposite from where Jaehyun is seated, you called over to the customer, “Here’s a cup of chamomile tea. You may sit here while you craft the message.”

Jaehyun continues to watch as you begin to wrap the purple lilacs.

Pulling out the wrapping paper drawer, you scanned through the labels, taking out a piece from the ‘light purple’ pile. Grabbing a pair of scissors, you bunched the stems of the flower together, delicately trimming them to ensure that they are the same length. Jaehyun continues to stare, noticing how serious your expression is when you are focusing on doing the best possible job you could with producing the perfect confession bouquet.

Completing the finishing touches with a shiny purple ribbon, you held the bouquet of purple lilacs up, admiring and imagining how pretty it looks. Satisfied with your work, you looked towards the waiting area, where the customer was still seated, intently writing out what you assumed to be a heartfelt message for his soon-to-be significant other. You couldn’t help the smile that naturally forms at the thought of how a simple flower holds so much meaning, that it could bring two people together. Meanwhile, Jaehyun wonders the meaning behind your expression.

“Done,” the customer says, placing the card into the translucent lilac-coloured envelope. He finishes the chamomile tea, gets up, and heads towards the counter, handing you the card while he reaches into his pocket for his credit card.

“I hope your wish comes true,” you say, completing the transaction. He doesn’t forget to express his gratitude, “Thank you. I hope your business flourishes,” before taking his leave.

Jaehyun gets up from his seat, walking over to you. You were busy clearing the remains of the scrap pieces of ribbon and the stems which you cut off earlier. He leans his body against the counter, persistent in making it known that he is, and has been, watching you. You weren’t in the least bit fazed by this. Something about Jaehyun’s presence was calming to you.

Whenever you were with him, you are tranquil. Blue – represents peace and tranquillity. Maybe Jaehyun is your blue.

“Why? Don’t act as if you’ve never seen me wrap bouquets before.”

Jung Jaehyun – that’s literally all you knew about him. Other than his face, of course. You knew nothing of his background, nothing of how he even came to know about your shop, not even his hair colour. All you knew was that he’d stop by once every week. There isn’t even a day of expectance. He just comes when he wants to, and goes when he feels like it. You’ve never questioned him before, and you didn’t intend to, not anywhere in the near future.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen someone come in without a flower in mind,” he says, tilting his head to the side so that he could see you better. You didn’t even bother to look up at him; you already knew the smirk he had on his face, for no good reason whatsoever. “I didn’t know you knew the meaning behind flowers,” he continues. “Or were you just lucky you know about purple lilacs?”

With your back turned towards him, you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’m a florist, Jaehyun. Of course I know the meaning behind each flower.”

Jaehyun doesn’t reply. A moment of silence later, you turned around, only to meet eyes with Jaehyun, who hadn’t moved an inch from his position. He was still slouched over the counter, staring at you. That’s when you noticed the cut on his cheek, the dressing on the wound on his forehead, and what you assumed to be a slight bruise by the side of his lip. You were stunned for a moment, but you were quick to recollect yourself, maintaining your calm and relaxed demeanour.

“No wonder you’re in a cap today,” you comment, looking away. You focused your attention to recording the sale in your sales log book, “I assume you’ve already applied ointment?”

“I came here so you could do it for me,” he replies.

“I can see the bandage on your forehead, Jaehyun.”

“Johnny took care of it for me yesterday. It needs to be changed,” he says. “Can’t you see the scar right here is already all dried up?” He points at the cut on his cheek, purposefully brushing his finger against it, feigning a dramatic ‘ouch’ as he slouches further, eyes glancing towards you for some form of a reaction.

You chuckled, reaching for the first aid kit that was kept in the cabinet below the printer. You gesture for Jaehyun to take a seat as you placed the kit on the table. “You’re always staring at me. What exactly are you looking for?” you asked, picking out the ointment, saline water, bandage, and cotton buds. “Nothing. I just like people watching, and you’re the only person here that I can watch,” he states, eyes still fixed on you.

Gently, you peeled the bandage off of Jaehyun’s forehead. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

With your vision focused on his wound as you cleansed it with saline water, you reply, “Is there a need for me to?”

“I thought you’d be curious.”

You contemplated for a moment. Were you?

“I guess I thought wrong,” Jaehyun says, interrupting your thought process. He looks away for the first time, looking past the variety of flowers you had on display. He shifts his head to the right a little, trying to get a better look at the flowers, but is forced to reposition his head with the gentle yet rough push on the cheek from you. “Stay still.”

Jaehyun’s eyes finds its way to your face once more, “Are there flowers with negative meanings too?”

You placed the bandage over his forehead wound, reaching for another capsule of saline water, “What kind of negative meanings?”

“Maybe a flower that represents your hatred towards someone?”

“Aconite represents hatred. Orange lilies represent hatred and disdain,” you say, finally finished with applying ointment on the cut on his cheek. “All done,” you say, throwing the used cotton buds and bandage wrappers into the bin. You placed the medicine back into the box, reorganising it a little, before closing the first aid kit and putting it back in its place.

“Maybe one day I should send bouquets of hatred to my enemies,” Jaehyun says, suddenly all smiley.

“Finally, you’re going to buy something other than a red rose?” you gasp, feigning astonishment. Another thing about Jaehyun’s weekly visits; he always finishes the night off by purchasing a single red rose. He never talked about who they were for, but you’ve never questioned him about it either. You were simply happy to be able to have a guaranteed sale even in the slower months.

“Who said I’d buy them from you? Can’t get your hands dirty by asking you to prepare all those nasty bouquets for me.” Jaehyun lets out a chuckle when he sees the smile that forms on your face along with the subtle shaking of your head upon hearing that. He watches as you pull out a drawer, his eyes darting down in curiosity. He notices how the entire drawer was so organised; everything had a specific spot, each of which, were labelled clearly. Although he has been here many times, it was his first time getting a look at what was in the drawers behind the counter.

“Wow, why did you label everything so specifically?” he questions, pointing to the label that read ‘light blue ribbons’, “Even down to the exact colours?”

“Huh? Oh, I just like to be specific,” you reply, quickly closing the drawer. Jaehyun picked up on the slight awkwardness in your voice, and he definitely took note of how quickly you averted the topic, “Shall I get you the red rose now?”

Jaehyun nods his head, so you walk to where the roses were placed. Counting from the left, the third vase housed the red roses. You pick one out, heading back to the counter to wrap it up with some silver plastic. You hand it over to Jaehyun once you were done, and he takes it from you with a smile. As usual, he places the cash on the table. As you collect the cash, Jaehyun takes the opportunity to take a good look at the henna on the underside of your wrist. Chrysanthemums, he notes.

“I guess I’ll see you next week?”

He meets eyes with you, nodding his head, “Thanks.” He waves the rose in the air, turns, and takes his leave. Pulling out his phone, he searches for the meaning behind chrysanthemums.

“Red chrysanthemums symbolise love, white chrysanthemums symbolise loyalty and honesty, violet chrysanthemums symbolise a wish to get well,” Jaehyun pauses, looking up at the mostly empty street. “Yellow chrysanthemums symbolise neglected love or sorrow,” he finishes. The image of the copper-orange chrysanthemum henna on the underside of your wrist flashes in his mind once more. The problem is, henna comes in only one colour.

“Which one is it?” Jaehyun murmurs.

Yellow.

Today was a slow business day. Initially, you were debating whether or not to just close the shop early, since it was already past four in the afternoon, a timing where it is extremely safe to say that no one will be purchasing flowers for the rest of the day. Instead, you find yourself seated opposite Jung Jaehyun at six in the afternoon, a pot of Osmanthus tea between the two of you.

“Don’t you like slow days like this?” he asks, watching people briskly walk by. You had your eyes on his cheek, half-focused on analysing how perfectly placed his dimple is, half-focused on whatever conversation you were having.

“Sometimes. Other times, I just really want to find an owner for all the pretty flowers here,” you reply, shifting your eyes to look around the shop. You can only imagine how beautiful the scene before you must be, but that’s all there is to it. Your imagination. You couldn’t help but lower your head, shifting your eyes to focus on your shoes.

“It’s boring, though,” he says, with a hint of what may have, or may not have been, a pout. You chuckle in response, “It’s because of slow days that you managed to learn and recognise all the different flowers here.”

“Maybe next time we should do something fun together. You know, something other than just sitting here, talking the night away?” Jaehyun turns to look at you, his smile soft and genuine. You often ponder upon the fact that Jaehyun is, what they term a ‘mafia’, yet there was the clear possibility that Jaehyun is a representation of what they term as ‘pleasant’. The two are obvious juxtapositions.

Whichever it is, Jaehyun’s smile had an effect on you. It makes you warm; almost hopeful. Yellow – signifies optimism and idealism. Is Jaehyun your yellow?

Jaehyun tilts his head to the side, waving a hand to get your attention. You looked at him, nodding your head, “Sure, why not?” You’ve never stepped out of your apartment, the florist’s, and the supermarket since forever anyway. Maybe this would be good for you. Maybe this is an actual opportunity for you. After all, the smile plastered on Jaehyun’s face as he stares at you, eyes gleaming with excitement at the sound of your reply, makes you feel yellow.

“Great,” he says, getting up. “I’ll take one red rose, please.”

Jaehyun takes note of the hyacinths on the underside of your wrist as you hold out the red rose, neatly wrapped. He looks up, flashes a smile, nods his head in acknowledgement, before turning to leave. “I’m looking forward to next week,” he says, waving as he leaves.

Once out, he pulls out his phone, searching up ‘hyacinths’.

“Yellow hyacinths symbolise jealousy, white hyacinths symbolise loveliness or prayers for someone, red hyacinths symbolise recreation, purple hyacinths symbolise asking for forgiveness, or deep regret,” Jaehyun reads aloud, brows knitting together. Again, it was inked with henna. There was no telling what colour you intended for the hyacinths to be.

Jaehyun knows well that you weren’t the type of person to simply choose a flower that you think is pretty. All of your actions and words always have a meaning behind them. There was just no possible way for Jaehyun to decipher these meanings without some form of a clue. It was beginning to frustrate him a little. He was beginning to doubt, if he really even knows you well enough.

He thinks about the hyacinths you had drawn on the underside of your wrist once more; why was there a compulsion to believe that they are meant to be purple?

Purple.

You’ve been anticipating. Every time the wind chimes would sound, you’d snap to attention, with only one person that you’d very much like to see walk through the glass doors of the florist’s. As each day dwindled by, you began to wonder if everything was just an empty promise. Now that it was Sunday, the last day of the week, you can only be affirmed that it was indeed, nothing but an empty promise.

Jaehyun hasn’t showed up. There is only thirteen minutes left before you’d close up.

And at that moment, the wind chimes whistles as the sudden rush of air tickles them. You whip your head in the direction of the chimes, the last 1 percent of hopefulness your motivating factor, only for the overwhelming rush of disappointment to wash over you. Nevertheless, he smiles sweetly, making his way towards you.

“I know that look,” Johnny says, facial expression filled with tease, “Are you disheartened that it’s me?”

“A little,” you admit. Johnny lets out a low chuckle, “Honest as always. It’s no wonder Jaehyun loves frequenting here so much.”

“Nah, he just comes for his red rose. I sell the freshest ones in this neighbourhood, you see.”

Johnny’s eyes widens, before he breaks out into a hearty chuckle. He shakes his head, “Honest, but lacking in terms of wit,” he comments. You glare at him, replying with, “Rude.” You knew what Johnny was referring to. You weren’t dumb. You just acted oblivious. No harm in that, right?

“Hey, as Jaehyun always says, and I quote, “Lost time is never found again.” You really never know what’s going to happen,” Johnny says, resting his hands on the counter. He leans forward a little, in a half-whispering voice, he adds on, “I know something’s going on here.”

You looked down, fixating on the counter surface. Johnny’s right. Something is going on here.

You didn’t need to be a genius to know that a guy doesn’t just frequent a shop weekly for no good reason. A guy doesn’t just sit and stare at you all the time for no reason. A guy doesn’t ask you so many expository questions for no reason. A guy doesn’t show interest in the things you do, and the things you like, for no reason. Still, Jaehyun’s thoughts, Jaehyun’s feelings, they are all pretty much a mystery to you. You’ve never felt like you had the right to question him, to know about him. You didn’t want to fall.

There’s something about you that nobody’s going to accept at all. Not even Jaehyun.

“Um, hello? I’m still here?” Johnny says, catching your attention. You had drifted off into so much thought you hadn’t noticed that Johnny had made a round around the shop. He steps back into the spot before the counter, in front of you. Only now, he had a single flower in each hand. They were both irises.

He holds them out, showing them to you. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were slightly stunned. You could feel the nerves building up inside of you, almost towards a mode of panic. What were you going to do? What is Johnny trying to do? What’s he going to say? How are you going to answer him?

And then it hits you; Jaehyun’s voice plays in your head, “You don’t have to control your thoughts. You just have to stop letting them control you.” You allow his words to replay in your head, again and again, like a recorder playing on repeat. Somehow, it was effective. You could feel the tension release a little, your heartbeat regulating once more. You couldn’t help the small smile that forms on your lips.

Purple – represents wisdom and spirituality. For who he is, and what he does, there were genuine pockets of time where Jaehyun didn’t seem like someone from the underworld. He seemed to always know what to say, no matter the situation. Maybe that is his magic touch? Maybe, he didn’t only teach you wisdom, he also taught you purple.

“Excuse me?” Johnny calls out. Once again, your eyes snap up to meet his. His features were slightly scrunched together, his lips forming a frown. An expression of slight… disgust? He raises a brow, “You need to stop zoning out on me like that.”

You shrug, apologising. Johnny quickly gets back on track with his queries, re-spotlighting the irises he held in either hand. “So, Jaehyun told me you know all the meanings behind every flower. Tell me about these two. They’re the same flower, but the colours make a difference, right?” He looks at you expectantly. You gulp, biting the inside of your lips on reflex. Do you take a chance? Gosh, heck it.

“Well, white irises are a symbolism of purity,” you begin, cautiously. As you spoke every word, you tried to gauge how on track or off track you were based on Johnny’s expression. He raises both brows; a bad sign.

“I meant these two irises,” he says. “Oh,” you reply, “I thought you wanted to know all of them,” you lie. But that’s good. One colour down, only three to go. You have a two-third chance of getting it right. Take the leap.

“Yellow irises symbolise passion.” Johnny nods in understanding. It’s fifty-fifty now. “And blue irises symbolise faith and hope.” Johnny deadpans. Shoot.

“I thought we understood I was asking about the meaning behind these two colours,” he says, turning to return the irises to their respective vases. “Right, purple irises symbolise royalty and wisdom,” you finish off. Luckily, it didn’t seem like Johnny had picked up on anything. He seemed to be riding on the idea that you were just overtly passionate in sharing your knowledge.

“Anyway, I’m here to get Jaehyun’s red rose,” he says, coming back to the counter. “And to let you know he hasn’t broken his promise, he just couldn’t make it today.” At that, you smiled, a burst of yellow. Is it possible? To go from disappointment to anticipation, in the span of the time it took for Johnny to say that one sentence?

Johnny is patient as you wrap the red rose. When you are done, he hands you the cash.

“Can’t wait to see you again,” he says, remembering to add, “Concealment makes the soul a swamp!” before rushing out the door, ridding you of the opportunity to say anything. Was that a jab at the avoidance of feelings, or something more? You let the curiosity go to rest, because you knew you wouldn’t be able to get any answers.

Johnny arrives back at the hideout. Jaehyun was already there, expecting his return. He greets his comrade with a smile and a shoulder bump, retrieving the red rose from Johnny’s hand.

“Did you get it?” Jaehyun questions, holding out his hand. Johnny smirks, “You’re lucky I am experienced with this kind of thing.” He pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and clicks into his gallery. He enlarges the latest photo he had taken, handing the phone over to Jaehyun. Jaehyun takes a good look at it – “Silver brunia balls,” Jaehyun identifies.

“What the heck is that?” Johnny questions, while Jaehyun had already keyed in his search.

“It’s a grey flower. It means chivalry.” Jaehyun couldn’t understand. Why chivalry, out of nowhere? Could it be that there was an encounter with someone chivalrous?

“Hey, but, do you know something?” Johnny says, tapping Jaehyun on the shoulder. The younger boy looks at him questioningly, to which Johnny continues, “As a distraction, I was just talking to y/n. Then I picked up two random flowers that were the same flower, just different colours. Held it out, and asked for the meaning behind the two flowers. I don’t know what it was, but y/n gave me the meaning of a colour of the flower that wasn’t even in my hand.”

Jaehyun raises a brow, “Maybe y/n thought you were asking for the meanings of all the colours.”

“Well, yeah, that’s what y/n said. Then I clarified myself, and y/n made the same mistake again. Like, is y/n just messing with me? That’s so weird.” Johnny dismisses the conversation, now that he was done with whatever he had to say. “Anyway, I’m going to shower.”

Jaehyun sits back down, staring at the red rose he was still holding in his hand. The more aware he became, the faster the inkling he had begins to realise.

Grey.

Jaehyun pops his head through the glass doors, the sunlight shining from behind him giving him the most ethereal look possible, but you could barely see him. When he shifts away from the light, you aren’t able to pinpoint it accurately, but you could tell he has on much lighter colours than he usually wore. His smile was bright, almost excited, his skin fully healed back to its flawless state.

“Are you ready?” he asks. You looked at him, expression blank. “There’s still two hours until closing time.”

Jaehyun enters the florist, speaking as he walks, “Come on. The sun is supposed to set early today.” He arrives next to you, tilting his body forward, his head aligned in your direct vision. His smile grows wider, eyes twinkling in cooperation, “Let’s go, hm?”

Within an hour, through your very dark, tinted sunglasses, you find yourself in awe of the gorgeous view Jaehyun has made known to you. The soothing sound produced by the gentle waves make you feel calm and at peace; blue. This is one of the rare moments where you can feel nature, where you can connect to it, where you can draw your own picture of it, imprinting it in the deep depths of your imagination. You smile, looking far out. You kind of love this feeling.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Jaehyun says, eyeing your expression.

“Very.” Your simple yet straightforward reply causes a spark to light in Jaehyun’s heart. Granted, you always have a smile on your face. But for the first time, you smiled because of him.

“Let’s go sit over there.” Jaehyun gestures towards a picnic mat that was all set up and ready. “You prepared that?” You take a step forward, towards the mat. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a piece of cloth. I don’t want to get my butt dirty.”

You roll your eyes, removing your sneakers, setting them neatly by the side. You take a seat, hugging your knees to your chest. You really enjoy the feeling of the ocean breeze tickling at your skin. Jaehyun sits himself beside you, internally amused at how amazed you seem to be at everything. “Have you never been to the beach?” he asks, attention on you.

You contemplate for a moment. Did you want to be honest? Jaehyun probably deserves a little honesty, right?

“Yeah,” you admit. Jaehyun listens intently, as you continue, “I’ve read about it in books though. The glistening waters, usually in a light, beautiful hue of blue, the golden sand, the white rays of sunlight, the sunkissed skin of those who frequent the beach,” you look towards Jaehyun, “I’ve read all about it,” you finished, flashing a proud smile. Jaehyun doesn’t return the smile. He could only guess the reason why you’ve never been to a beach.

But you knew the reason best yourself. You’ve never felt that you had the right, nor the ability to be able to be in the presence of sights that are so beautiful, that can only be appreciated in its full, blooming form. You’ve never had the confidence to come to face a scenery that you would never be able to take in as it is. All your life, everything was pure imagination. But Jaehyun… he gave you the confidence, the minute hope that you were capable of painting the perfect picture.

Ridding the many reasons he’d listed in his head, Jaehyun reaches into his pocket, pulling out the bracelet he had gotten custom-made, as what he would like to believe as a gift for you. But a part of him knew, that it wasn’t a mere gift. It doubled as a test, a test which would dawn on him all the answers he’s been looking for. He takes in a breath, bracing himself.

“Give me your wrist,” Jaehyun says, holding a hand out. You look at him, raising both brows. “Why?”

“Just give it to me,” he says, gesturing for you to hurry up. You place your wrist in his hand, waiting patiently as he brings out his other hand from behind his back. Gently, he hooks the silver bracelet around your wrist, the fit just right, with enough room for breathability. Your mouth parts slightly, truly surprised. You weren’t expecting anything.

Holding one of the precious charms between your fingers, you looked closely, “Are these alstroemerias?”

Jaehyun smiles, nodding his head, “It’s so well done, right?”

You nod your head, inspecting all six alstroemerias that dangled from the bracelet. Alstroemerias comes in six colours – pink, red, orange, yellow, white, and blue. Did Jaehyun select six different coloured alstroemerias? Or were they all of a single colour?

Jaehyun anticipates, pursing his lips as he watches you look at every single alstroemeria charm. Your next sentence is probably going to give him the answer he needs. He waits, he sees you in thought, and he couldn’t help but feel that the answer was already clear. Which is why he isn’t even surprised when you say, “Why alstroemerias?”

You are a florist. Jaehyun knows that. Jaehyun also knows that because you are a florist, you’d know exactly what his gift meant, without having to ask any questions.

“Pink and red alstroemerias represents warmth and affection towards a friend, right?” Jaehyun spells it out for you. He doesn’t want to put you under any form of pressure of having to guess what colours the six charms were. He sees you nod your head, your grin widening, “That’s really sweet of you. Thanks.”

Jaehyun recalls all of the moments that had happened before, where the red herring was dangling in his face, yet he wasn’t sensitive enough to pick up on them.

Jaehyun remembers standing across the street, watching as you mapped out the exact placement of every type and colour of flower. Initially, he had thought you were simply overtly obsessed with writing everything down. Now, he realises you were memorising the placements. Jaehyun remembers the time he had visited in the morning, which coincided with the time the delivery truck would come. He recalls overhearing how the deliveryman repeated three or four times, that the last box of flowers, were white carnations. He had thought the deliveryman just didn’t want you to forget that you had one more type of flower that you’ve yet to put away. Now, he realises you needed someone to tell you, to know which vase the flower goes into.

Even the extremely detailed labels in the drawers; you didn’t put them there for organisation. You needed them there. And the incident with Johnny, the forever dimly-lit florist’s, the tinted sunglasses, they were all screaming at him. Even right at this moment, it is already night time. But, could you tell? Why hadn’t he realised it sooner? He’s so good at being observant, at predicting the moves of the other gangs, yet he was so bad at paying attention to the one person that means something to him.

Jaehyun sighs, running a hand through his hair, as though frustrated. You rest a hand on his shoulder, voice soft, “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

“Yeah,” he says, forcing a tired smile. Touching your chin with his thumb and pointer, he turns your head in the direction of the ocean, “Enjoy the view.” You don’t think much of it. As you continue to get lost in the comfort of the atmosphere, Jaehyun calls, “Hey.” Without turning to look, you hum in response.

“I’ll take care of you,” Jaehyun says, his eyes taking in the entirety of your side profile. No matter the angle, he couldn’t help but love the way your skin illuminated under the moonlight, the way your eyes twinkled from the reflection of the lights, the way the side of your lips were almost always tugged upwards. He watches as your lips formed the words, “Is that a promise?”

“No. It’s a fact.”

Your body stiffens. You could tell from his tone. Jaehyun meant what he said, it is sincere, it is genuine.

Grey – security and reliability. The blanket of security Jaehyun had just cast; it was grey. Your eyes shift to focus on Jaehyun, who was looking straight at you. His expression was comforting. His presence was assuring. And even though you have always and will always only be able to see him in greyscale, his entire being has never felt greyer than it does right now. He makes you feel secure, his presence reliable.

You return the smile.

On his way home, Jaehyun searches up the meaning behind tulips, the flower that you had on the underside of your wrist this time round.

“Pink tulips symbolise happiness and confidence, purple tulips symbolise royalty, yellow tulips symbolise cheerful thoughts, white tulips symbolise forgiveness, red tulips symbolise true, everlasting love,” Jaehyun reads aloud. He locks his phone, sliding it back into his pocket.

“At least they’re all positive meanings this time,” he says with a small smile.

He couldn’t help but wish for the tulips to be red.

Red.

Henna was a part of your every Sunday routine. This week, however, you had allowed the tulips to fade, and you hadn’t replaced the henna with any other flower. The pink and red alstroemerias that hung off the silver chain on your wrist is decorative enough.

“Warmth and affection towards a friend,” you recite with a soft smile.

Your attention is attracted to the entrance of the florist, Jaehyun making an entrance with his usual sweet, comforting smile. Jaehyun had a bag slung over his shoulder today. He sets it down on the countertop, greeting, “Hello.” He pulls a stool over, taking a seat opposite you.

“I’m here to prove a fact,” he says.

“What fact?”

Jaehyun holds a finger up, a sign to wait. You nod your head, patient as he reaches into his bag, pulling out a device. It was a rectangular device. There were two buttons on the side. Jaehyun pulls the top quarter off, revealing a right-angled triangle jutting out of the device. On its body, there is also a circular pop up with lines, seemingly to be where sound would come out from.

“Judging by your facial expression, I’m assuming you have no idea what this is?” he says, holding it up. You shake your head, “What is it?”

A glint of excitement twinkles in Jaehyun’s eyes. He reaches into the side pocket of his bag, pulling out a rectangular strip of paper. You could see that the paper was divided into six equal boxes. You weren’t sure what to expect.

“Do you know what colour this is?” Jaehyun asks, referring to the strip in hand. You blinked a few times, about to answer, but Jaehyun doesn’t let you. “Watch this,” he says, almost giggling from all the excitement. He presses the ‘on’ button on the device. You watch as he places the slant of the triangular top of the device directly against a box on the paper.

“Very light blue,” the device reads. Jaehyun giggles, amused by your shocked expression. Jaehyun moves the device downwards, onto the next box. ‘Dark purple,” the device reads. You couldn’t contain the shock and interest the device has piqued. You’ve never seen nor heard of such a device your whole entire life. But, more importantly, if Jaehyun brought such a device for you, then…

“It’s so cool, isn’t it? Now you try.” Jaehyun places the device in your hand, “It’s black, by the way.”

You look at Jaehyun. From your gaze, he knew what you were thinking.

“I figured it out on my own,” he says. You nod your head, shifting your vision towards the device in your hand. “Go on, try it out,” he urges.

You place the detector against the counter top. “White,” it reads. You smile.

“It’s a talking colour detector,” Jaehyun explains, “Now you don’t have to always memorise everything. You can just use it to know what colour something is.”

“So this is why you suddenly said you’d protect me,” you say, resting the device back down on the counter.

“Of course not,” Jaehyun says, looking at you with a serious expression. “Just because you have achromatopsia doesn’t make you any less able than me. You’re still an independent human being.”

It was as though time had stopped for a few seconds. The eye contact you shared with Jaehyun. For the first time, red – the feeling of love.

Abruptly, you press the colour detector against Jaehyun’s left cheek. “Light pink,” it reads. Jaehyun pushes your hand away, scrambling up onto his feet, taking a few steps away from you. You laugh, thoroughly enjoying how flustered Jaehyun is.

“Pink symbolises love and romance,” you tease.

“Really? That must explain why you’re always pink in the cheeks around me,” he says, almost nonchalantly. He watches for your reaction. You scrunch your nose, hitting Jaehyun in the arm. He laughs, genuinely loving the reactions he’s able to elicit from you.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Jaehyun starts, refocusing. “I’m here to prove that fact.” He reaches into his bag once more, this time, pulling out an entire bouquet of roses. You scoff, brows knitting together in absolute confusion. Jaehyun holds it out in front of you, “This is for you.”

You scoff again, rolling your eyes. You weren’t sure if you should be laughing or offended.

“Jaehyun, more than half of these roses are dead,” you say, looking at the bouquet made up of three-quarters of dead roses, a handful of dying roses, and two relatively fresh roses. “Is this supposed to be romantic?” you question, in slight disbelief. Jaehyun seems unaffected, simply gesturing towards the talking colour detector, “Go on, find out what colour they are.”

You picked up the detector, pressing it against the petal of one of the fresh roses. “Red,” it reads. You immediately looked at Jaehyun. He had a shy, adorable smile on his face.

“Red roses are the traditional symbol for love and romance. Most of all,” he pauses, taking a step towards you. He isn’t extremely close, but he is definitely closer than he’s ever been before. Swiftly, he pulls you in by the waist, your bodies pressing against each other. You leaned your head back as much as possible, almost straining your neck, staring up at him with the widest eyes, and possibly, the pinkest face.

“The red rose will always be the best way to say ‘I love you’,” he finishes.

You are almost 100 percent sure he could feel your rapid heartbeat.

You didn’t know what to say. At least, you’ve uncovered the mystery receiver behind the single red rose Jaehyun would purchase every visit over the months. And you are definitely 100 percent sure that Jung Jaehyun isn’t aware that he is the only colour you needed in your world.

“Rose too,” you reply.