#I’d apologize for not posting but I feel like that’s all I do lol

[fle4floves]

Sometimes u just gotta draw some dang birds can I get an amen 🔥🔥🔥

[artdcnaldson]

ugh "leverage" to ensure she won't go tattling to patrick. especially as he starts getting meaner and meaner, he tells her it's to make sure she doesn't back out and tell on him. because patrick would genuinely kill art if he knew what he's been doing to his baby sister.

i know it doesn't really fit in the canon of the other parts to this au, but hear me out anyway... what if he agreed to fuck her, properly this time, in her sweet little pussy. BUT he needs said leverage to make sure she keeps quiet about it (truly he just needs to immortalize taking her virginity so he can watch it back for the rest of his life). so he "agrees", he's the one to bring it up lol, on the condition that he can record it. y'know like really shitty, amateur, pov style, on her creaky dorm bed and pink, frilly sheets. shaky and grainy, but it's good enough for him. it's not like he would ever actually post it anywhere or show people, but she doesn't know that.

he gets off on how nervous she is when he points the camera at her, she's blushing and trying to hide her face. but he just slaps her cheek and manhandles her to look right down the lens of his shitty phone camera. tells her to moan louder around his big cock, tell the camera how good he feels, really just stroking his own ego. makes her tell the camera exactly how he's making her feel, can't cum unless she asks into the camera. he nearly cums right inside her when she tells him he's too big and it hurts :(((((

yummy yummy yummy

-🐞

OHHHHHHH <3 I had to let this simmer. This had to ruminate. Had to really let it sit and grow legs or whatever wine people say idk

RATING: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v, degradation, making a sex tape, loss of virginity, world’s worst aftercare), mean!art as always, uncomfortable power dynamics, DUBCON due to coercion

He catches you leaving one of your classes, chatting happily with a few girls as you walk. Their eyes widen as he approaches, smacking his gum, looming tall over them. You murmur a quick apology and bound over like an obedient little pet, falling into stride beside him as he walks.

“What class is that?” He asks, nodding back towards the building. Most of the time he forgot you even attended the school beyond cheering at his games and floating around his dormitory like a ghost.

“Peoples and cultures,” you reply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s an anthropology course I’m taking. It’s actually really interesting, like, these past few lectures have been—“

“What are you doing tonight?” He interrupts, not really caring beyond the simple answer to his question. He has a one track mind, and for the moment he’s just thinking about getting in your pants.

He watches you think, then shrug. “Um… nothing, I guess? Why?”

Art stops by a tree suddenly, tugs you by your wrist to stop with him. “Do you promise if we fuck you won’t tell Patrick?” He watches as your eyes widen, as sheer need and excitement makes you practically vibrate out of your skin.

Frantically you nod. “I’d never tell Patrick, I’d take it to my grave, I swear,” you say, totally earnest, bouncing on the balls of your feet as he looks at you.

“God, I want you so bad,” he hums, brushing your hair back behind your ear. You melt beneath his touch, gaze all half-lidded and soft. “I just… I think I’d have to have some leverage, just to make sure no one ever finds out.”

You tilt your face, resting it on his hand, your eyes half-lidded and dazed with need. You hum a soft, “Mhmm,” without even knowing what he’s implying, what he’s asking of you. But he hears what you’re thinking, all dumbed down and needy— yes, Art, whatever you say Art, anything you want, Art.

He wants to do it in your room, that night. He walks you back to your dorm and tells you to get your roommate out, make sure she’s busy for however long you need. He’d text you when he’s on his way.

So you’re just… fucking vibrating with excitement, cleaning up your dorm, changing your sheets, fluffing your pillows. You light three warm vanilla sugar candles so the dorm smells nice and sweet, put on your roommate’s SEXXXMIXXX <3 CD that she had burned in High School (and kept your fingers crossed it was still relevant). You took the longest fucking shower of all time, scrubbed your skin until it stung, shaved you’re entire body, wondered if maybe he wouldn’t like bald pussy, then worried that he’d hate if you kept the hair even more. Moisturized, then put on pretty, light makeup— lipgloss, mascara. All in the span of time it took for him to text you.

Art :) <3

omw

You feel a little dizzy by the time he’s at your door, already wet just anticipating what you were about to do. He grins down at you, at your silky little pajama set, pink and lacy around the edges. Smacks his gum, trails his hand along the sides of your waist.

“Pretty.” He looks smug as he rubs the lace between his fingers. “You got all dressed up for me, huh?”

It’s amazing how timid and shy you can look as you stand in front of him, biting onto your lip as you nod. He shuts the door behind him and guides you backwards until you knock against your bed and laugh nervously. Jesus, he’d already fucked your ass, your throat, he’d done things to you that even the dirtiest fucking sluts on campus wouldn’t dream of allowing. But you’re all shy because he’s finally going to fuck you properly?

You gasp as he tugs down the neckline of your top, exposing your tits to the cool air of the dorm. So cute, soft. Your nipples already hard and sensitive, so just the lightest pinch makes you let out a pretty moan.

“Remember what I said about leverage?” Art says, and you nod slowly, dreamily. “I want to film it.”

Your eyes widen slightly, as you think back to the pictures he’d taken of you just a few weeks prior. “And you’d… what? Like post it if Pat finds out?”

“No, no, only if you tell,” he corrects. Even then… he doubted he’d actually ever post it anywhere. He had a tennis career to consider, after all. But the important thing was that you believe he will. “It’s just to make sure this stays our secret.”

You swallow, consider it. You didn’t plan on telling Patrick, so it was fine, right? He’d hate Art, and you didn’t want that. You would never want that, no matter what.

So you nod softly. “Okay,” you say finally. “I’d… yeah, I understand. Okay.”

God, you’re easy. So fucking easy it makes him a little sick to think about. What if he wasn’t Patrick’s friend, if he was some frat house asshole who would take advantage of how bad you wanted him? You’re so lucky he’s a good person.

He uses your own fucking digital camera— pink and decorated with little heart stickers. Turns it on and records you as you slip off your sweet silky pajamas, revealing soft, smooth skin beneath. You’re so shaky, so nervous. You can’t even look into the lens.

“No panties?” He asks, lips quirked into a grin. He steps forward to slip his hand between your thighs, to cup your pussy in one big hand. God, you’re so fucking wet, just like you usually are. He could just slide right in without any resistance, just bury himself right inside that tight little pussy. “Jesus, you’re a fucking mess, just dripping for it, aren’t you?”

You moan, relishing in the feeling of his hands on you. Art never touched you, not to get you off, at least. So the feeling of his thick calloused fingers against your cunt makes you whine. He breaches your entrance with just a fingertip and grins at the feeling of you clenching around the intrusion, desperate for anything he’ll give you.

But the relief is gone as soon as you’ve gotten it. He pats your thigh, nods to the bed. “Go lay down. Let me film you stretching yourself out for me.”

“Art,” you whine once you’ve laid down, embarrassed as he trains the lens on you. “Do you have to film this part?”

It just makes him double down, grinning smugly as he settles at the foot of the bed. “C’mon, just fucking do it. Show the camera how fucking wet you get for me.” You hear the whir of him zooming in as your hand slips between your thighs, as lithe fingers slide through your soaking wet folds and you tease your clit. He groans softly, grinning at the sight on the camera. “Alright, spread yourself out now. Show me how small and tight you are.”

You whimper pathetically, but obey. Your fingers form a V as you spread your lips, revealing the pretty, drippy hole of your cunt. He doesn’t even have to tell you to start fucking yourself, you just do. Pretty, manicured fingers disappearing inside the tight channel of your pussy, slow and easy as you pant and gasp sweetly.

“Can you do three?” He asks. He zooms the camera out, makes sure he gets all of you— your tits heaving with each breath, the slow grind of your hips to meet your fingers. You nod softly, press a third finger alongside the other two. He grins at the sight of the stretch of your cunt around them, how your body works to accommodate them. “God, it’s a tight stretch, huh?”

“Mhmm.” You moan as you pump your fingers slow, in and out. Wet to the point of it sounding obscene. Slick dripping out with each thrust, making your fingers glisten.

He can hardly take sitting there and watching, but god, he’d love it later on when he was alone with only the video to keep him company. But who knows? Maybe he’d fuck you once and never want anyone else. He already felt that way… kind of. You were so eager, so obsessed with him. You touched him like it was an act of worship. He couldn’t get that from easy pussy.

He sets the camera down on the foot of the bed while he undresses, tugging off his sweats and tee shirt, mussing up his hair in the process. It’s not lost on him, the way your fingers speed up at the sight of his cock, how needy and desperate you are.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks as he picks up the camera.

God, he’s mean. You whine when he grabs your wrist and makes you slip your fingers from inside of your cunt. Empty, needy, desperate. “Please, fuck me, Art.” You’re embarrassed, of course you are. He has a camera focused on your needy little expression, one hand on your thigh all warm and possessive. “Please, I’ve been so good for you. I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I just need you, I need you inside of me. Want you to be my first. Please, Art.”

He’s not sure where he wants the camera as he notches the head of his cock at your wet little hole. Part of him wants to film the second he buries his cock inside of that tight fucking cunt, but the other wants to film your face, watch how pretty you look as you take your very first cock.

And god, you’re trembling beneath him. Visibly shaking with anticipation, or nerves, or need. He runs a hand along your torso, cups one of your tits in his hands and thumbs over your sensitive nipple. “What, are you cold?” He teases.

“N-no,” you stammer, meeting his gaze. “Just— I just want it so bad.”

He films your face, which was the right call, he decides. He has to think about it technically, or he’ll risk blowing his load one pump in, like a total fucking loser. You’re so tight around him, clamping down on his cock as he sheaths himself within you, inch after inch. And god, that angelic face of yours— mouth agape, wet and pink and pretty, the tiniest furrow between your brows, lashes splayed against your cheeks as you moan, soft and sweet. “Hurts,” you practically whimper. “God, Art, fuck, it feels—“

He films where your cunt swallows him, stretched to the point of obscenity around his thick cock. It shouldn’t even be able to take him, not when you’re so small, so fucking tight. It’s a fucking miracle you’d even taken a toy before. He’d make you film that next. All desperate, fucking yourself on silicon while you drooled over a picture of him. It was sweet that you’d been trying to prepare yourself to take him and you were still a shaking, needy mess.

Tears well in your eyes as he thumbs at your swollen little clit, he feels your pussy clench around him, already so fucking keyed up. He should be good. He should make love to you, nice and slow, like a good boy. He’s starting to think he’s not a good boy, not at all. “Just lay there and take it, yeah? Just look nice and pretty for the camera.”

You cry out when he pulls back only to drive back in, hard and deep. His pace is relentless as he fucks into your cunt— warm and wet and tight and fucking perfect. He honestly shouldn’t have waited, he should’ve fucked you the first night you offered yourself up to him— sweet and needy and clinging off his shoulder like you were his girlfriend.

“A-Art, fuck—“ You cry out, fisting your pretty hands into the frilly duvet, as he bullies himself into you. “Oh, god, fuck, A-Art, it’s too much— I-I can’t—“ A strangled moan seems to rip itself from your throat as your head falls back against the pillows.

He grins. “Yeah? Don’t tell me, honey, tell the camera.”

You whine, turning your head away as embarrassment rips through you. It’s mean, keeping it trained on you while you’re so fucking vulnerable. He grabs your chin, holds it in place as he fucks into you, deeper, rougher. It punches out gasps from your pretty open mouth— Ah! Ah! Ah! Over and over and over.

He pops your cheek, not too hard, but enough to draw your attention back from him and away from your dizzying thoughts. “Tell the camera how good it feels to have my big cock in that little pussy of yours, yeah?

“It feels— ngh— I love it,” you have pretty fat tears slipping down your cheeks as he drills into you. “You’re so big, I— God, fuck— I feel you in my stomach. Here—“ You grab his hand, move it to press against the bottom of your stomach. He can’t feel anything, not except warm skin beneath his, but he groans at your words, at the implication that he’s so deep he’s in your fucking guts.

He has to bite his tongue so hard he tastes blood. He knows he’s going to cum, knows that he’s not going to last or show off epic, manly stamina and impress you. Not that you give a shit, but he wants to set a standard for whatever fucking loser you fuck next. He’d have next time, and as many other times as he wanted. You’d keep coming back for it, for him.

He struggles to manhandle you the way he needs while holding onto the camera. He tosses it into the sheets so he can press your knees up to your chest. “Hold them— yeah, that’s it, fuck— feels good.” You’re so obedient, holding your legs up for him so he can get deeper. Your eyes roll back, flutter shut. He fumbles to grab the camera, to immortalize you like this.

Your cunt squeezes around him, makes his rhythm falter as he struggles to fend off his orgasm. God, he just wants to bury himself deep and rut into you, to cum deep and hard, leave you dripping with him. It’s about him… but it’s about you too. He’d be good, he’d make you cum.

“Tell me how bad you need to cum. Fucking beg me for it,” He groans, rubbing at your clit with a calloused thumb.

You whine, squeezing around his cock as he draws you closer and closer. “Need it, Art. It feels so good— you’re so fucking perfect, feel so perfect inside of me. Wanna cum for you, around your cock, wanna show you how good you feel. Please, please, god, I want it, I want to feel it, Art. Want you to cum inside of me, need it so bad— I fucking dream about it, about you. You’re so much better, you’re everything I want, Art, fucking claim me. I want you to.”

Art wanted to pull out. He did. He was going to glaze your pussy with his cum, get it on video, swipe his fingers through it and make you taste it. But Jesus Christ, you fucking ruined that idea. He cums suddenly, practically collapses on top of you as he fucks into your cunt, spilling himself deep inside of you. And like the perfect fucking toy you are, you cum too, milking him for all he’s worth, walls clenching down around his cock as he lazily ruts into you.

He pants, stays buried inside of you as he tries to catch his breath. He’d never cum inside someone before— he was too afraid of knocking someone up. He’d always had the self control to pull out, but he lost himself in fucking you, in the tight grip of your pussy around him. Christ, that was bad.

When he pulls out, a thick gush of his cum follows, pearly white, dripping down your ass and to the bed. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, you’ve tugged a blanket over yourself shyly. Looking so demure, so sweet, batting your lashes up at him expectantly.

The camera lays dropped and forgotten on the bed, he goes and presses the stop button on the camera and you grab at his arm. “Do you want to stay the night?” You ask with a shy bite of your lip. “I told Izzy to fuck off, so she’s with her girlfriend. We’ve got the dorm for the night, so you can stay.”

Art makes a face akin to annoyance as he redresses, tugging on his boxers and sweats. His shirt is somewhere… he can’t focus. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen, you swallow as heat floods your cheeks. “Yeah, I mean, I know,” you stammer. “I just thought…”

His jaw ticks. “Don’t do that, then. This is just about fucking.

Art watches the sad little nod, the tiniest twitch of your nose as you fight the rush of tears to your eyes. “I know that, Art,” you say sadly, and you’re trembling again. “I just wish you’d stay for a bit. I’m… I feel a lot right now. I’ve never… I’ve never felt this before I just want—“

“What do you want? A hug, a kiss?” He watches you sniffle sadly, nod and mutter a watery, yeah. He sighs, stops searching for his shirt, and pulls you against his chest. You feel so warm, so vulnerable as you shake and cry hot tears against his chest. He frowns, pulls back, and presses his lips to yours, quick and chaste. “I’m not doing this again if you keep acting like this.”

You sniffle and nod. “Okay, I know, I won’t do it again.” He kisses the crown of your head. Grabs a random shirt from the top of your laundry basket, grabs the camera, and heads for the door. You watch him leave with a pouty, wobbly little frown and get up to redress. You find his Stanford Tennis shirt partly beneath your bed and pull it on. It’s big, fits you like a hug, smells so boyish and warm. You lay back down on the bed he just fucked you on and breathe deep, let his smell flood your senses. It feels a little like being wanted.

AURRRRR this was so much longer than I thot <3

Anyways. Love pat’s sister au, feel free to send me any asks you want about these messy bitches <3

🐞 anon i love u

[noemilivv]

Hello! how is it going? I’m so happy to see your requests are back open and that you also write for Helluva Boss now, so I wanted to request something for that! One of my favorite works of yours are the Hazbin Hotel things of reader finding the characters crying and comforting them, so I was thinking I’d love to request the same thing but for Helluva Boss characters. Maybe Blitzø, Stolas, Fizz and Moxxie x gn reader (either platonic or romantic is fine) where reader find them crying and comforts them? ❤️

also sorry if I messed up my english, it’s not my first language :)

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭��𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳ø, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐳𝐳 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: MY FIRST HELLUVA REQUEST LETS GOOO. my first few requests for helluva might be a bit ooc due to the fact that i’m much more of a hazbin girly lol. i literally almost started crying writing blitzø’s part so PLSPLSPLSPLS enjoy that one esp 😋 i think this is one of the longest things i’ve ever wrote tbh LOL but okay enough of my yapping, enjoy

warnings: possible angst(?), platonic!moxxie, profanity, mentions of sex in blitzø and fizzarolli’s part, use of yn in moxxie’s part, ooc writing in all 4 parts😭

proofread: yessir 😎

tags: helluva boss, stolas, fanfic, blitzø, moxxie, fizzarolli, hb, x reader

𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳ø

…always felt so trapped, despite the fact that maybe, just maybe, it was because of his own doing. and deep down, he knew that, whether he said it aloud or not.

he never thought the voices in his head could sound so real, he never thought his closest loved ones could seem so far, he never thought that his spirits could be so low, especially when those around him thought that they were so high.

when his daughter, his precious, his world, slammed her bedroom door in his face before screaming, “i fucking hate you!” against the clash of things being thrown from the other side of the door, he couldn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears.

blitzø didn’t know what in all of hell was up with him today, something mentally, that’s for sure.

he couldn’t help but feel a curl in his stomach watching millie and moxxie be all lovey throughout their shared shift, and not a good kind of ‘curl’, he couldn’t scroll through sinsta for three minutes without seeing a verosika-related post, either by her, or one of her sex deprived fans, and he had just gotten home from a meeting with stolas for their…monthly activities — and he couldn’t help but feeling like a shit boyfriend to the one he loved most, and fuck, even his loonie is mad at him now too??

the imp sluggishly moved across to the other side of his apartment and slumped onto the couch, his face being taken in by the warmth of the rough pillow, with his phone in his hands, he felt it vibrate.

if he got lucky, it might be an apology call from loona, as she was probably already out bitching with her friends at those stupid hound parties, thanks to vortex.

but no, it was a call, from you, normally he loved your late night conversations you both had with one another, but tonight? eh… it really wasn’t the time.

he stared at his screen for a moment, his eyes fixating on your contact info, the name displaying ‘babe’ with a red heart emoji, and the picture was a selfie you guys took together.

in the miniature version of the photo, it showed blitzø in a band t-shirt, sticking his tongue out with a ‘v’ to his lips, as you grinned at the camera, as you cuddled into his horns, it was the morning after your first time together, your bed head looked adorable, it could kill him.

he sighed softly, before pressing the ‘call’ button, putting the phone to his ear. “hey, babe!” you spoke from the other side, your voice slightly muffled from the quality of the mic in your phone.

that alone caused him to start sobbing all over again, ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck fuck.’ he thought to himself, but that wasn’t what mattered now. you just sounded so happy, when he felt so shit, that’s one of the many things he loved about you, you were so strong, always saw the light.

“hey hey, shhh, blitzø, what happened??” you cooed through the phone, your heart ached for him, you rolled over onto your side while you laid in bed, curling up to the blankets, as you would to your boyfriend, if he were there with you.

all you got as a response were whimpers from the other line, a few hiccups here and there. “i need words, love.” you said, softly.

blitzø sniffled, “bad day..” his voice cracked as he spoke, although he did so, so softly, well obviously you’d seen him upset before, but never like this.

“wanna talk about it?” you asked, more than hesitant to do so, you knew blitzø was by no means good with his feelings, and you were lucky you got this far with him, considering some failed attempts from the past of you trying to ease him into opening up, but you had to try, it just felt right.

on the other hand, blitzø was just as nervous as you were, if not more, he had been through it all before, and for him, it had never ended pretty, but he loved you more than anything, and he knew he had to do this.

“yeah..”

you listened to every word he said, for hours, 9pm turned to 11pm, 11pm turned to 2am, and 2am turned to kicking down his apartment door at 3:19am to cuddle him to sleep on the couch.

and as tired as she was, as well as annoyed, loona couldn’t stay mad at her father after seeing him snuggled up next to you on the couch asleep.

especially when she snapped a picture and posted it all over sinsta…

guess who’s mad now, bitch?

𝐟𝐢𝐳𝐳

…never felt like he had gotten home so exhausted before. he didn’t even have the energy to sling himself across the palace to get to his bed quicker

he wanted to see you, he wanted to be with you, he wanted to be against you and your nice warm body, with your beautiful smile…

after walking up a few flights of stairs, taking an elevator here and there, walking down a hallway that was way too long to be one to begin with, he reached your shared room. he was home.

“hi, baby!” you exclaimed, happy to see your partner at last, pausing your show that was displayed on the big screen T.V in your room, hoping out of bed to peck your boyfriend on his cheek. “i missed you!”

he managed a tired smile, “i missed you too, sweetie.” fizz paused for a moment, looking away from your gaze before asking, “can i hug you?”

fizz had a lazy, but goofy grin on his face, extending his arms out to you, doing grabby hands. you give a pouty smile, your partner was so cute you couldn’t deal with it, “of courseee, froggyyy.” you said, babying your tone, pulling him in by the waist.

“you don’t gotta ask, y’know, we’ve been together too long to do that.” you joke with a chuckle, fizz laughs along with you, softer than yours, but still, he sinks into your arms before replying, “mammon’s business, despite its stressors, has taught me the importance of consent, and not just when it comes to sex”

fizz chuckled, his tired but soft tone still remained, as he pulled away from you just slightly to peck your nose, “i’d never wanna hurt you, honey, it’s better to ask, then to be sorry, y’know?”

you blink momentarily, you were not expecting that response out of him, you recover quickly, however, smiling at him, “you are just the sweetest.” you say, pulling him in for another hug, placing a peck to his neck, snuggling your face in it as you do so.

before you can even get another word out, fizz starts crying, attempting to sniffle back the tears.

you pull away instantly, “froggy? are you okay?” scanning him for any signs of harm or discomfort.

your boyfriend nods, makeup dripping down his face, “y-yes…” his lips trembling softly as he spoke. “did something happen at work today?”

fizz shook his head, “not really” he sniffled again, “just missed you.”

“awww fizzie, cmon!” you take his hand, pulling him the bathroom,

“let’s take a nice, warm bath, and then we can do skincare and watch that one show you like, and then we can go to bed, does that sound nice?”

“that sounds really nice… thank you…”

𝐦𝐨𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐞

…was your good friend since your early childhood years, his father had a business connection with your parents, which led to you both being babysat together a lot.

both of you were grown adults now, he was married to your gal-pal from your high school days, and you were engaged to one of the kids from your friend group back when you were in college, well, before dropping out.

other than your separate significant others, you were eachothers ride-or-dies, your for-lifers. you both went to eachother for practically everything.

so when moxxie knocks on your door while your spouse is out with friends, asking for help, you don’t hesitate to let him in.

you sit him down asking him what was the matter, and he gets fidgety immediately, stuttering out an attempted response before the tears start flowing, he starts crying about how he got into an argument with millie, and how scared he was that this might ruin their marriage.

instantly, as it was second nature to you, you scoot closer to him the couch, rubbing his back as he sobbed, still venting to you about the argument and how much he misses millie.

“look, mox, here’s what ya gotta do. just call her, and tell her everything you’ve told me, i’ve known millie since we were just freshies, she’s bound to understand!”

“i guess so.. thanks, yn.”

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

...was distraught, and even that was an understatement. his beloved octavia was lost, in los angeles, in the human realm.

you, stolas, and blitzø searched around what felt like all of fucking earth to find her, while millie and moxxie were off doing eachother who knows what.

stolas sighed, running a hand through his now human hair, his breath beginning to get noticeably more shaky, with blitzø walking ahead of the two of you.

“hey.” you say, putting a hand on his arm, “it’s gonna be okay.”

“but what if it’s not though? what she’s not okay? what if she’s in danger? or worse, what if someone took her?” his voice trembled more and more at the thought.

“no.” you start, turning stolas around to face you. “she’ll be okay.” you say, putting a hand onto his chest, “she’s smarter than you may think, she’s seventeen now! she’ll know what to do.”

“but what if something happens? and i’m not there to protect her?” stolas says, his movements going to a halt, blitzø looked at the two of you, before mouthing that he’ll meet up with the both of you later.

before you know it, tears well up in his eyes, without even thinking, he pulls you into a tight hug. “i just need to know my girl is okay…”

“she’ll be okay, sweetie.” you say, pecking his cheek, you pull back slightly, lovingly looking into his eyes, “and so will you..”

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

[crowsoundsonly]

beautiful.

pair: matt murdock x neighbor!fem!reader

word count: ~4.1k

summary: your hot neighbor comes by to check on you when he hears some unusual sounds coming from your apartment.

warnings: a bit of an awkward reader for the first part but she gets it together :D; smut (at the end and i marked when it starts !) fingering (f rec); one use of y/n; guys i've never actually done any ceramics or pottery so i apologize for my ignorance to anyone who actually knows what they are doing. i tried. :) i also recognize that this isn't very realistic and that you probably wouldn't be doing this with your neighbor u barely know, no matter how hot he is, but you know. fantasy and fanfic and all.

a/n: hey guys!! it has been FOREVER since i posted a fic !! i wrote this today and am kind of impulse posting it lol. i've fallen deep into the matt murdock rabbit hole and i don't think i'll be emerging anytime soon. i hope you enjoy the fic !!

The feeling of wet clay in your fingers has always grounded you. Having converted a corner of your small New York apartment into a space for your hobby, you enjoy going to your pottery wheel and creating to the melodies of your favorite songs. Tonight, you needed the outlet more than ever.

Your mind spins as you shuck off your jacket at the door. You stride to your closet to pull out the t-shirt you always wear when you sit behind the wheel, trying to focus on hurriedly changing your clothes, begging your mind to leave alone the horrifyingly embarrassing interaction you just had.

Minutes before, you had approached your building with your headphones shoved in your ears, so you had failed to hear your neighbor, your hot blind neighbor, calling out to you to hold the door. You only noticed him when the door didn’t close properly due to his body being wedged between it and the frame. Ripping your headphones out of your ears, you apologized profusely, yanking the door open for him to awkwardly shuffle through, holding his cane out in front of him before retracting it to his body. 

“I am so sorry! I am so sorry I didn’t hear you,” you exclaimed, stuttering out an explanation that you hope is sufficient enough to permit his forgiveness. “I didn’t hear you. I had my headphones in. I am so sorry.”

You clutched your headphones in your hand as you let the door close behind him. If you were not so rattled, you would have taken the time to really look at him. You have never had the pleasure of actually talking to your neighbor. You have only ever caught glimpses of him on the stairwell dressed in suits, very much like the one he was sporting today.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured, “I run into more doors than I’d like to admit.”

At his words, you noticed the easy smile that adorned his features, leading you to believe that he was not really hurt, physically or otherwise. Still unsure as to what to do and still stunned that you were talking to him at all, you just nodded your head.

“Being blind and all,” he supplied when you didn’t respond or laugh at his joke, making you realize that you had nodded to a blind man.

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could get out, not specifying what you were apologizing for.

“You closing the door on me didn’t make me blind,” he joked, trying to help the awkwardness.

“No, I’m sorry. I know. I just realized that I had nodded at you and you couldn’t see it. I’m sorry,” you said, the headphones in your hand digging into your palm, sure to leave an imprint because of how tightly you were clenching your fist. 

Your ears burned with embarrassment as heat flashed over your skin. You watched him laugh a little, his shoulders shaking slightly. 

“I think you have said sorry more times in the last minute than I have heard in the last month. Don’t feel bad. I’m fine,” the man said as he began to step forward. “I’m Matt, by the way.” 

He stretched a hand out for you to shake, but you had forgotten the headphones in your hand, so as you reached out, they clattered to the floor. 

You cursed quietly, embarrassing yourself even more, apologizing yet again. You shook his hand quickly, supplying your name before bending down to gather your things at his feet.

“I’m beginning to think that you have some sort of complex,” Matt teased as you stood up, much closer to him than you should be upon first meeting. You were close enough to actually see yourself in the reflection of his glasses and smell the cologne he had on.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered for being so close, taking a step back, wanting nothing in the world other than to dart away and hide in your apartment and hope to forget this whole interaction.

All Matt did was laugh at your apology, set his cane back down on the ground, and begin tapping in front of him. 

“It was nice meeting you,” he said politely as he found his way to the elevator. “Have a good evening, Y/N.”

“You, too, Matt. Sorry again.”

Your feet were stuck in place as you watched him get on the elevator, chuckling to himself. When you finally came to your senses, you began running up the stairwell, your stomach in your throat as you replayed the entire interaction with your hot neighbor in your head on an extremely embarrassing loop.

…

When Matt made it to his apartment, he stripped himself of his jacket, pulled a beer out of the fridge and sat down. He knows that he shouldn’t invade your privacy, but he was curious about what you were doing. It has been a few weeks since your first encounter at the door, and Matt’s curiosity about you has only grown. You have run into each other a handful of times since, but you tend to skirt away before the conversations can get beyond anything simply cordial.

On occasion, he will find your apartment with his ears and listen to the sound of you singing along to your music. There is often an unfamiliar sound coming from your apartment as well, one that he can’t pick out, especially when you have music playing over it. The sound is always a bit wet, so his mind initially thought of something a little more lewd than he should allow himself to think about you.

Matt listens for a moment longer, enjoying the sound of you humming and singing quietly. He was about to let his mind drift away from you until he heard a distinct clatter and a string of curses flow from your lips. He doesn’t hear anything for the next few seconds as he waits to see if you are okay. It feels like hours have passed before he hears you shuffling around your apartment, picking things up off the floor, sighing and muttering as you go. His curiosity gets the better of him, and before he can reconsider, he grabs his cane and walks out the door, intent on knocking on yours.

…

Groaning quietly, you scoop the clay off the floor. You had lost focus and control, leading you to make a mess at your wheel. With your rescued clay in hand, you begin preparing it to be molded again when you hear a knock on the door.

You are not expecting anyone, so you jump a little at the sound. Glancing down at your hands still holding the wet clay in them, you are at a loss at what to do. You shuffle to the door, peaking through the peephole.

At the sight of your neighbor, Matt, you step back and curse to yourself, embarrassed that you look a mess at the moment. He is blind, but you still don’t feel particularly presentable. Another knock at the door snaps you out of your thoughts, and in a bit of a panic, you call out, “Come in!” 

The door slowly clicks open and your neighbor peeks his head through before opening it up all the way. He’s wearing slacks and a white dress shirt, tinted glasses covering his eyes, obviously having recently come home from work. You wonder how he could look so good in such a simple outfit, admiring the way his torso tapers down into his hips.

“Hi, Matt,” you breathe, clutching the clay in your hands, realizing that you are dripping a bit in your doorway. “Is everything okay?” you ask, still confused as to why he is at your door.

“I guess I was coming to ask you that. I was walking by and heard some thuds and wanted to make sure you were okay,” he smiles, leaning slightly on his cane.

“Oh! Yes,” you rush out. “I’m fine. I was just doing some pottery and I, um, my clay kind of flew off the wheel a bit. Would you like to come in for a minute?” 

You had asked the question before really considering what that could mean. Without hesitation, Matt agrees and steps through the door with a few taps of his cane.

“You make pottery,” he states, a smirk on his face making you feel like there is some joke you aren’t understanding behind his words. 

“Yeah, I converted a bit of my apartment into a studio for it,” you say as you start to walk further into your apartment. The clay in your hands starts to weigh heavy as you realize that it is keeping you from leading Matt around. “Sorry, let me put my clay down and I can help you to the couch.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt says, followed by your name. Your heart stutters at the sound of your name on his lips. “I can get around fine. Am I facing the right way at least?”

Your mind is racing, trying to catch up with what is happening. You thought that your embarrassing first encounter would have turned him off of ever wanting to get to know you, but it doesn’t seem to be deterring him.

“Yes, just about four steps in front of you is the back of the couch.”

You watch him begin to maneuver around the room before coming to your senses and swiftly setting your clay back down on the wheel. When you turn back around, he has settled into the couch and is folding up his cane.

“Let me wash my hands,” you mumble, striding to the kitchen to scrub the clay off your fingers.

Matt begins making conversation, asking, “How long have you been making pottery?”

He is kind to ask, seemingly genuine in his interest. Over the sounds of the faucet you answer, “I took a class in college. Picked it up as a hobby and have been doing it ever since.”

You can hear him hum as you turn off the sink, drying your hands. Tentatively, you join Matt on the couch, sure to leave a cushion of space between you.

“Do you want something to drink? Beer? Water?” you offer, standing before he even has time to answer.

“Water would be great, thanks,” he replies. You notice the way his lips turn up in a smile and his head cocks to the side as he talks, finding it quirky, if not charming.

You take a few deep breaths at the sink, calming your nerves that have your mind in a jumbled mess. Your hot, well-dressed neighbor is sitting on your couch, happily engaging in small talk as you sit in a ratty t-shirt and shorts. “What am I doing?” you quietly ask yourself as you pick up the glasses off the counter and bring them to Matt, waiting patiently on the couch.

When you offer him the glass, he thanks you softly, bringing the rim to his lips. You can’t help but watch intently, your heart picking up its pace at the thought of doing more with those lips than watching them.

“What do you do for work, Matt?” you ask quickly, trying to distract your own mind from your wandering thoughts.

“I’m a defense attorney. My friend and I have a firm we started together,” he says as he puts his glass down on the coffee table. You are impressed that he even knew it was there, but before you can think too long about it, he has asked you the same question.

“I’m an English teacher,” you say between sips. “At the high school on 76th. Twelfth grade.”

“Admirable,” he laughs. “I hated my English teacher.”

“Everyone who doesn’t end up studying English hated their high school English teachers,” you joke. “What did they make you read? Grapes of Wrath?” 

This only causes Matt to laugh more as he nods, “Worst book I’ve read in my life.”

“Yeah, that one is a tough read,” you concede. “But at least it’s better than The Odyssey.”

“Well, you’ve got me there,” he smiles.

You are not exactly sure what Matt had hoped would happen when he knocked on your door, but you are sure it wasn’t to discuss literature.

“I’m sorry. I can somehow always bring books into the conversation. Is there something I can do for you, Matt?”

He shakes his head slightly, smile only growing wider. “No, I love reading so don’t apologize for talking about it,” he assures you. “And like I said, I was just coming by to make sure you were okay.”

“Right,” you breathe, nodding and smiling. “I’m fine. Just the clay.”

The two of you fall into easy conversation for the next hour, getting to know each other. You discovered that you both frequent Josie’s, the bar around the corner, surprised that you have never run into each other there. He teases you about your first meeting, calling you out for the plethora of sorries you said. 

You enjoy talking to Matt. You find that it is almost effortless to do so. The conversation is seamless and you eventually make your way back to the topic of ceramics where you had started.

“Can I listen while you work?” he asks you. “I have always wanted to try pottery but never got around to taking a class.”

Shocked that he is asking to stay longer, and that he is asking with such surety, you agree. 

“Yes, of course. You’re welcome to. Would you, um, would you like to try it?” 

You glance again at his clothes which are far too nice to be doing pottery in, but you asked the question before you ever considered that.

“Could I? I would love to, if that’s okay,” he says, looking adorably eager.

“Of course. It is a little bit messy,” you say, getting up to find some clothes for him to change into. “Let me grab you some sweats or something.”

Shifting through your drawers, you find a pair of sweatpants big enough for him to wear. You bring them out and find that he has already unbuttoned his shirt, giving you a clear vision of his incredibly toned torso. Your breath catches at the sight, eyes unmoving as he removes the article entirely. 

“I found some sweats,” you mumble, your throat suddenly dry. “I can find a shirt, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses, grabbing the sweats from your hands. “I don’t want to get all your clothes dirty.”

You breathe out a quiet, “Okay,” before leading him gently to the bathroom to change his pants.

When the door has closed behind him, you let yourself catch your breath, mind going into panic-mode as you comprehend what is about to happen. You are about to teach your hot, blind shirtless neighbor, Matt, how to work with wet clay. How in the world did you get here?

Suddenly, the door is open and Matt is shuffling to the middle of the room, glasses and dress pants removed. You grab his elbow and guide him to the stool in front of the pottery wheel. He sits down, and you let out a quiet breath.

“You ready?” you ask, pulling up another stool behind him.

“I’m ready,” he answers as he stretches his hands out to find the clay. 

You start the wheel up and guide his hands with your own, reaching around him, one arm going over his bare, sculpted shoulder, the other weaving under it. Your skin tingles as your arm presses into his side, hyper aware of every centimeter of contact. Wet hands push and mold the clay, helping it take shape.

You can hear his breath falling short as you help him cup his hands over the clay. You talk softly, whispering directions and guidance.

“You’re doing great, Matt. You’re a natural,” you praise, causing his breath to hitch.

“I have a good teacher,” he whispers as his head leans back slightly to direct his comment to your mouth.

When you have a good round shape going, you press his thumb into the center gently, your chest pressing into his back in order to angle his hand correctly. Your heart pounds in your ears, hips shifting on the stool.

“Beautiful,” you breathe as the clay begins taking the form of a small cup. “You were perfect.”

“Thank you for teaching me.”

When your project is complete, you take your hands away from the clay and slow the wheel down until it comes to a stop. You do not move from your position around Matt yet, instead electing to guide his hands to the bowl of water you have beside the wheel. You submerge Matt’s large, calloused hands in the water, gliding your fingers over his palms in an effort to loosen the shell of clay forming around them. Your fingers weave through his as you clean them, the feeling of his knuckles catching on yours has a subtle heat surging to your core. You feel the raised scars that litter his hands and wonder who he fought to get them. 

Matt’s eyes are closed as you work with his hands, your chest still pressed to his back. You hear him whisper your name, drawing your eyes to his. You know he can’t see you, but you feel his attention on you, making your skin flush with heat. He leans in slowly, his nose nudging yours before finding your lips with his own. 

The kiss is slow, soft, unsure. Your breath flutters out of your nose as his lips begin to move. The feeling of his beard scratching at your chin causes your stomach to tighten and hands to grip his in the water. His tongue comes to press against your top lip, silently asking for entrance. You grant it as you tilt your head, finding the angle where your lips perfectly slot with his.

“Matt,” you mumble against his lips, causing him to pull away slightly, “come with me.”

You stand up slowly and wrap your hands in a towel, drying Matt’s with it as well. He stands up quietly and links his hands in yours, shuffling behind you. You guide him to the bathroom and turn on the spray of water from the shower head. 

“I’m just going to wash your arms,” you explain. You know he could wash them himself, but you want to have an excuse to keep touching him. Your heart hasn’t stopped its steady thumping since you sat behind Matt at the wheel, and the pace only quickens when you help him put his beautifully toned forearms under the water. 

For being so confident on the surface, Matt is exceptionally quiet. You expected maybe a few more suggestive comments or pick up lines, but instead, Matt has kept silent, only mumbling small thank you’s and hums. His eyebrows knit together in what looks to be contentment, almost bliss. 

You run your fingers over his arms, fingernails scratching at his skin, rinsing away any remaining clay. When you have finished, you begin washing yourself, and having sensed this, Matt stops your movement and replaces your hands with his own. He quietly glides his palms over your forearms, scratching over your wrists. The tender actions have your breath coming in shallow pants as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling.

“Beautiful,” Matt whispers, parroting your comment from earlier.

You pull your hands out of the water, turning it off. Matt’s hands never leave your body. They slide up your arms and cascade down your waist. His lips find yours again as your wet hands weave their way through his hair. You gently press your hips to his which causes his breath to catch and hitch in a way that has you pressing yourself even further into him.

After a few more kisses, Matt pulls away for a second and removes his hands from your waist to loop them around your wrists.

“No one has ever been as gentle with me as you have been,” he says in a voice that is barely audible. 

“You deserve it, Matt,” you say before leaning in to kiss him again.

(Smut begins here)

The two of you make your way out of the bathroom and back to the couch where your glasses of water were left unfinished. You lay down and guide Matt to the space between your knees. His hips press into yours, your core clenching and burning at the friction. Lips find each other as one of  his hands comes to rest above his head while the other nudges its way beneath your shirt at your hip.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, eyes open and gazing unfocused at your collarbones.

“Yes,” you breathe, “more than okay.”

At your words of consent, his hips start moving against your core, igniting a fire below your navel. His hands, still damp from the shower, slide up your bare waist, skimming below your breast. You had rid yourself of your bra when you had come home from work, completely unaware that you would be in this position a few hours later. Because of this, Matt has unadulterated access which you are more than happy to grant him.

Your hips roll into his, back arching when his thumb grazes your nipple. He hushes the quiet sigh that escapes you with a kiss, sliding his hand down your back. His lips move behind your ear, down your throat, and over the exposed skin of your collarbone. His hips have not stopped their slow circles, and your own meet him in rhythm. 

You can feel your panties becoming soaked by the second, and as if he can read your mind, he pulls you up to straddle his lap, his hand coming to press gently to your core. You gasp at the pressure which elicits a smile and a hum from Matt.

“Can I touch you here?” he asks quietly. 

You nod and whisper, “Please.”

“Can I take these off?” 

Before he can help you, you stand up and slide your shorts down your legs and climb back in his lap.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, the words shooting straight to your core. You clench around nothing, your hips rolling in search of friction. Shaky breaths flutter from your lips, and the sound drives Matt crazy.

In one motion, Matt kisses you hard and open mouthed as his fingers push your panties to the side, pressing into your wet core. You suck in a breath at the feeling of his fingers swiping up and down, finding place inside of you. They move in and out, nudging the spot that has you arching and keening in his lap.

“I like listening to you,” he murmurs into your lips, capturing them in a kiss that has you moaning into his mouth. “Your breaths. Your moans. Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

His words draw a sigh from your lips, your hands clutching his bare shoulders as his fingers drive in and out of you. Covered in you, they find your pearl, pressing and stroking. It doesn’t take long for the coil in your core to tighten, your eyes to clench, and your hips to roll against his fingers.

“I’m so close,” you mumble, sighing and moaning as you chase your release.

“That’s it,” Matt says softly. “Let go.”

At that moment, the pressure in your hips releases and you let yourself come on his fingers, clenching around them as his thumb rubs over your clit. He guides you through it, kissing you as his other hand cradles your head. 

“You were perfect, sweetheart,” he says, his praise soothing as you come down from your high. Your heart starts slowing its pace as you melt into Matt. He pulls his fingers out and wraps his arms around you, taking you in as you collapse into his form. You sit silently together for a minute while you catch your breath. You listen to his breathing, your face pressed into the crook of his neck.

“Matt,” you say, at which he hums in acknowledgment. “Thanks for coming to check on me.”

He lets out a laugh that comes out more like a huff. “Of course. I’m glad you were okay.”

“Do you want to come over again? I could show you how to make a bowl next time.”

He laughs but does not give an immediate response. For a second you thought that he was going to say no, your body panicking, your heart rate spiking, but before you started overthinking everything, he answers, “I would love to. And I’ll bring dinner next time.”

a/n: thank you so so much for reading !! check out my masterlist with a few other fics if you want more !!

[yourdaddyfigure]

Plz Read Before Interacting!

This is an (18+ only) blog. Please if you’re under the age of 18 kindly show some respect and don’t follow this blog or blogs I interact with. If you enjoy my post please follow my backup @yourdaddyfigur3.

First, please I can't say this enough, DO NOT address me as Daddy. EVER. May it be in comments, messages, or even ask. Yes, I am a Daddy, but I am not YOUR Daddy.

I very much love interacting with my mutuals and following. Feel free to come chat! The best way to reach me is through an ask which is open to all.🫶🏼 I am more likely to reply to asks & anons, all I ask is you be respectful and I promise to do the same. Note I’m not interested in any sexting, so if that’s your endgame here you will be sadly disappointed. I’d rather have genuine conversations and hear about your interests instead.

If I reblog something of yours you want deleted, please message me to let me know.🫶🏼

If you’re interested in joining the “Emoji Army” you’re more than welcome to do so. There’s no obligation to do so, but the Emoji Army helps me know who’s who when answering anonymous ask. Please don’t use someone else’s emoji. Emojis already taken will be listed below.

Emoji Army:

🍄|✨|🌙|🤡|🦋|🥺|🍓🍒|🙈|🐑|🌸|🎀|🌻|❄️|🐰|🔪|🌨️🐰|🥀|🧛🏻‍♀️🐾|🐶|🖤|🫧|🧸|💜|🧚🏻‍♀️|🍒|🥺👉👈|🩸|🐉|🧁|🕷️|🧋🦇|🍑|🐭|🌪️|🦈|💫|❤️‍🩹|🍭|🐝|🦊|🐅|🦄|🐇|🌹|🫀|🐣|🩶✨|👻|🪷|♡|🤍|🌼|🐥|🐺|🧚|💌|🐙|🫦|૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა|‼️|🫰🏻|🦖|🪩|💛|💐|🤙|❤️‍🔥|🍼|🐍|🐢|🍍|🌿|🍯|🎠|🥟|🪻|🪴|🦦|🧿|💦|😽|🪽|🛀|🗝️|🐯|😈|☀️|🦉🪶|🦥|🦗|⚜|🧋|🐄|❣️|💩|🐞|🪼|👑|💕|🌷|🌞|🐁|🔮|🌅|🪬|🎃|🩷🐱|:3|🐈‍⬛|🖤😘|<3|^w^|😇|🥯|💄|🩰|\lol/|🧸🍼|👣👣|👾|💓|🌦️|🫶🏻|🎶|🌺|🔐|🎼|⭐️|🕊️|🌊|😋|👸🏻|uwu|🥀🩸|🕯️|🦔|🐖|🐹|😎👍|🧶|💚🖤🐍|🖋️|🎧|🧌|☕️|🧩|💖|🐧|🩷🧌|🐻|🎈|👀|🌝|🐰🤍|🌔|🌟☠️💜|🍓|🦇🔪|🌌|🥸|🐌|🧇|💗|🌸🫧|🪐|🍇|🫐|🩰🧸|💋|💙|🐇🌙|👋|🪦|💎|☺️|💔|🦁|🎩|🌊🐚|🩷🧡💛|🔆|🖤🕷️|👠|🍪|👓|💸|(*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)|🦩|🍜|◡̈|🐰🩹|🌹🌸|🌬️🌃|😻|(●•×•●)|🥂|🍙|🦌|🥺💞|🧞‍♀️|🫀💊|🏹|🦢|🪘|🐇💜|🌵|🧨|🧺|💃|🤎|🍣|☘️|🧚🏾‍♀️|🐾|🧠|🍁|(:|🍫|🦭🩵|🐻‍❄️|🔪💀|🦔💛🖤|🐅🖤🖤|🧜🏽‍♀️|🐸🍄|⋉|😊🤭|☁️|🩴🩴🧌|🪸🫧|🌻✨|🐶🐱|🙄|🍯🐇|🦅|🐇👑|🪢🦄|🏠|🐠💙|😸|:D|🎸|👩‍⚕️|☀️🌑|🦋🤍|🥮|🐆|🥦|🫀❣️|🪢🧜🏻‍♀️|🫧☁️|👅💦|🌊💙|💜💚🥀|🕸️|🐜|🦙|🐰💖|🥜|❤️‍🩹🥀|♈️|🍡|🌑🖤|🐼|👹|🩵🖤|💉|🐡|( ￣▽￣)|🌻🦋|🎱|♉️|🦮|💟💜💙|🧍‍♀️🐦|🍉|(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)|♑️|🍃🍄🔥|🧡💚|🧸👑|🌙🖤|🦝|🧸✨|🗺️🍫|🦁🌟|🐾🩷|💪|🃏|♒|✨️💕🍑|🖤🦋|🦋🙈🌙|🐠|444|🫨|🍒🧨|🔥🌊|🍑🪐|🥺✨|🪈🎼|🍒🫦|⚰️|🤎🫶🏼| ☆☆☆|👰🏻‍♀️|U^x^U🤘|=^.^=|🌥️|🧝🏼‍♀️|🪞|🧛‍♀️|🍑👅|🌘💜|🥀♡|🍌📞|❤️‍🔥🗡️|🐾♠️|🖤🐼|🖤💜|🖖|🦆|🥹|🖤🐈‍⬛|🟣|♐️|🧚🏻‍♀️🌷|🖤✨|⚠️💖|😶‍🌫️👍|🥵|🥰😊|♎|🫧🩷|🎮|👷🏻‍♀️|👁|🏩|🧚🏻‍♀️✨|🫶🩷|🎀🩷|IN|🌙🌸|♡♡|🩵🩷|💜🪻|🐰🕯️❄️|🐞|🦈🩵|🩻|🍀🎶|🌲|🩵🐶💛|🎀🧸|🕳️☠️🔥|🥭|🌄|💜👾💜|😇💋|🎭|🧊|🩶🐰|🦚|n.n|🧛🏻‍♀️|🦈💦|🌙🪬|📿|👹🧍🏻‍♀️|💛🖤💛|❤️‍🔥🧸|🩷✨|🦭|🌻👑|🦈💛|🐚|💠|🦋💙|💖✨|🚬💫|🛼|🥀🎀|🧝🏾‍♀️🧜🏿‍♀️|🌻🧸|🍒🍃|🧁|🍋🐝|👽|🖤🦇🖤|🥐|🌠|🌊🐳🌊|🌻🐴👠|ʕ•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ|👁️|⚛️|>^~^<|❄️💚|🩵|🦂|🏤|m2|🐦‍⬛|🌱|🌸🥀⛓️|🌺|🐀|🩰🦭|🍃💨🐈|🦝🖤💐|✨🍃|🎰|🎀🫧| ᕱ⑅ᕱ|🧫🔬|🩷🎀✨|😾|🐹🦄|🌵💛🌵|♀️|👩🏻🎤|💫|🎀🪻|🐺🖤|🩷|♊️🧸|♍👧🏼💚|🦴🍎🦷|🌞🪭|🪲|🦇|🗣️‼️|🍍🐸|🎒|🌸✨|🍂|🍼🐶✨️|🇨🇦|🫧🐙🫧|

This blog will not tolerate any type of negative behavior. Be kind or leave. If you're going to be negative on my blog in any way, may it be comments, ask or messages you’ll be immediately blocked with no questions asked.

If I see any of my mutuals/following interact with any underage/minors in any capacity I’ll report and block you without a second thought.

If there’s no sign of your age in your bio or pinned post you’ll be immediately blocked. Same goes for blank blogs.

Please don’t get angry at me if I don’t respond to your messages immediately. We all have things to worry about outside of tumblr and sometimes mental breaks are very much needed. So I apologize and hope you understand, but will do my best to get to you as soon as I can.

Please respect yourself and my mutuals always!

Any post that contains sexual content or pics is in NO way an invitation to send pics or videos to my inbox. All original and reblogged content is assumed to be consensual activities among adults.

I am straight however, please note that I heavily support LGBT+🏳️‍🌈 and if you don’t, well, there’s the door.

[kawkawsrii]

Post War Obikaka ramble / idea:

thinking about post war obkk where kakashi secures a deal w the council so obito don’t gotta stay in a dingy cell all the time (and to ward off the threat of obito’s execution) by essentially being like “nah we getting married, so- u can’t execute the Hokage’s husband.” Bc war criminal sure, but the Hokage’s spouse?! He goes to Obito, tells him the plan, and practically proposes in the most unromantic, unsexy way ever (“this is a last resort but pls marry me so the council stops yelling to execute u and so u can finally go out in public again”, way to go Kakashi). Obito is kinda having none of it bc he wants Kakashi to marry someone he’s actually in love w and not out of a sense of guilt or self sacrificial bs, so he’s like “no.” (note that Kakashi does love Obito and sees the good in him despite how much Obito has changed over the years, and for him, marriage was a last resort bc he thinks Obito isn’t in love w him / doesn’t wanna trap him in an unhappy marriage for “freedom” / feels guilty for robbing Obito of his choice but he wants to save him so badly he goes through w it anyways / lots of other reasons) (another note that Obito also loves Kakashi, but he thinks Kakashi’s care comes from years of idolization, pity, and a guilt complex or something and is scared of whether or not Kakashi could love him for the very flawed person he is today)

So some other bs happens and Kakashi is able to bring Obito out to see Konoha and how it’s evolving, how times r changing but how some things remain the same yadayada- he spends time w Obito whether that’s sitting next to his cell door and chatting or going out w him under the guise of “rehabilitation” (bro fr using this as an excuse to go on dates w his war criminal bf he’s so unserious). It’s through those moments that they start to repair and strengthen their bond, and to also see how much the other has changed more closely (day to day stuff yknow, domestic fluff when Obito is allowed more time outside even). With the threat of execution still looming over obito’s head, Kakashi tries to propose multiple times but is either unable to bc he doesn’t want to ruin the moment or bc Obito shuts him down bc he doesn’t feel deserving of Kakashi’s love.

Cue more moments between them, w/ team 7 in the background, more fluff, some more angsty stuff, hurt comfort, and mutual pining.

I think in the end, I’d have Obito propose bc 1) I think it gives him a bit more agency than if he were to just accept kakashi’s proposal 2) it shows Kakashi his feelings are requited, bc Obito is taking the initiative and directly telling kakashi he wants to spend the rest of his life w him 3) even w/o a ring bro got a yes and I think that’s funny asf 4) I think it’d be funny for Kakashi to have tried to propose in a bunch of elaborate ways in the fic, and Obito just does it in like a field of wheat w NO RING and that’s how they got engaged

apologies for the grammar mistakes, it will happen again bc this ain’t a fic (yet, but i hope to write a long fic w this idea), if anyone wants to add on please do. No joke, I’ll look at reblogs / chat purely to see the #lols! Or # dawg look at my Hokage I’m going to hell 😭😭😭😭

much love! (I’ve got a jonin obkk art piece that’ll be finished soon) 💕💕💕

[ryuichirou]

I apologize if it is too personal but how do you deal with "antishipper" and the way they make callout posts and harassment campaigns against you ? It’s legitimately so scary and it makes me hesitant of posting my own art

Anon! I am very sorry you are going through this horrible feeling of hesitation and anxiety; knowing that people get targeted like that could not only stop you from posting, but stop you from creating altogether, and this is the worst part about this whole thing.

It’s not too personal, and I don’t mind talking about it at all. I’ve talked about our position and our relationship with fandom policing a bunch of times already, so I’m sorry if I’m repeating myself.

I used to be worried about posting certain stuff too. Well, when I was a teen/in my early 20s I wasn’t worried about anything: we had so much juicy stuff posted here lol But then the nsfw ban happened, and the social climate of this app and internet in general started shifting, the first stories about people driven to end their lives because of the hate they received started to come out, and we stopped posting completely. It wasn’t a huge loss to us back then, and this situation wasn’t the only reason why we stopped, but still, it clearly became much more difficult to just appear out of nowhere, throw problematic stuff in your blog and run away again.

I vividly remember us wanting to post my Shingeki no Kyojin drawings and comics based on our AUs and stuff, but not knowing what to do with Ereri – there was no way for us to be “unproblematic” (which was never a concern to us, we just didn’t want to get tons of hate lol) and still post Eren with a man twice his age. So we started posting them without a tag, starting with a drawing that wasn’t too shippy, and then miraculously the world didn’t end. That made us bolder, and we started to post them openly, and posted them for almost two years pretty regularly, alongside some of our other problematic ships + problematic themes. Of course we did get hate, we got a lot of hate while we were posting SnK stuff from all kinds of people, but what we also got a lot of people who found our content refreshing and interesting, even if it was weird and uncomfortable at times.

We weren’t the only people who shipped Ereri (let’s ignore my petty thoughts about the difference between Ereri and Rivaere for now), and we weren’t the only people in Twst fandom who liked Shroudcest, which is another ship that we were super hesitant about posting or even mentioning at first. But with all the hate around I was so certain the world was going to end the moment we post them, and that didn’t happen. The end of the world never happens, but what does happen is that people either get introduced to a fun new dynamic and get invested, or get happy that someone finally posts for the ship they were too afraid to post for. Somehow, when you see some other person being ballsy, you don’t feel as scared anymore – it happened to us with other people’s posts too. Yes, I still say this even though it spawns a bunch of callout posts and harassment, as it did with us. Were we cancelled? Yeah, somewhat. There’s so much you can say about an acc that states “problematic stuff, 18+”, right? I was super relieved and happy, actually, that a lot of people left/blocked us just because they’re the people I’d never want to interact with my art.

I’ve been yapping for a long time already lol so I’ll give you some pieces of advice instead… These are things that legitimately help us.

Surround yourself with people who support you – if not you personally, then at least your ideas (i.e. other proshippers). Luckily, nowadays it’s easier to find them… But also, having a friend who you can vent about these things to helps a lot! It’s cheesy but it’s a fact: when you’re not alone, it’s not as scary.

Always ignore comments/asks from antis and block them on sight, block anonymous asks too. Even if you really want to sass them, it’s much more effective to ignore them: when you give them attention, it invites more engagement from them.

Block people you get bad vibes from. Block those who like or comment bad takes or support harassment of others, block all of their alt accounts. It’s tedious and takes time, but it really helps to keep you hidden from them, at least to some degree. I look up Shroudcest sometimes just to block new people. They try to make fun of me for that, but who cares if it works? You can’t block everyone, but these people usually flock together and it’s usually just a bunch of friends, so taking several posts on these topics from people from the fandom and blocking everyone involved will obliterate the majority of harassers.

In terms of your safety, having multiple accounts in case you main one gets mass-reported helps + I would advice to keep irl stuff away from your fandom stuff just in case.

This is going to sound stupid, but please keep in mind that this isn’t about you. These people are very miserable and not very smart. Even if they try to paint you like a bad person, they don’t know anything about you, so don’t let their judgment affect how you feel about yourself. This is exactly what they want – to have power over you.

Stay strong and take care of yourself, i.e. lock your acc and/or take a break if you feel overwhelmed. Don’t worry, it will pass: it’s very rare for these clowns to keep focus on one person for a long period of time; they have like 5 different dramas per day. There are some absolutely batshit crazy rapid assholes who won’t leave an artist alone for years, but those are super rare and special cases altogether, I don’t think you need to be worried about those.

Keep in mind which fandom you want to do this with, btw. It’s usually okay for the most part, but if the fandom is just a bunch of kids, it’s more likely not worth it or deserves an empty account, at least. Twst is surprisingly good despite anything it might look like! Thanks to Yana being a shotacon and a creator of Kuroshitsuji, I guess. There are many great and supportive people in the twst fandom, it’s been a pleasure to be here, even though, once again, it’s the first fandom where I got a bunch of callout posts and nasty stuff in my ask (SnK fandom usually harassed me for other things).

TL;DR: it is scary, and you could easily get callout posts about yourself, but guess what, you also get to be yourself. Because realistically, callout posts can’t stop you from creating art. They want you to believe that they have power over you, but this isn’t true. Your life online won’t end after some random callout post – mine didn’t. They also don’t understand that each consequent callout post affects the person being called out even less. We do have a minor panic attack for the first hour or so, and it does involve more extra blocking, but mostly it just sours our mood for the day and drops our morale. I still draw, though, out of spite a little lol Oh, and do try to report these types of posts if you get them, there’s nothing wrong with that.

People had been persecuted for their art and ideas for centuries, so what happens now is really nothing new. Without diving into specifics, there are way worse things they could do than writing callouts, but they aren’t super likely to do those. Luckily.

Take care of yourself, but also please don’t doubt yourself; when it comes to your art being way too fun for lovers of censorship to handle, you’re in a very good company. I’m referring to all the artist and writers of this world btw and not just me and Katsu lol but us as well!

[dailyhatsune]

hi! not exactly a request but i do wanna ask, whats your process when you're rendering more paint like art? (if that makes sense, English isnt my first language so apologies hdskhsjdbd) i really love how you use the colors and im curious how you do it :0

i’ve been meaning to answer this one for a while so here’s how i painted miku in today’s post (put under the read more because yeah prepare for a long post

i’d also like to preface this by saying that i never follow a set way of doing things, so in terms of what my personal process is like, these are only broad strokes of what i do! sometimes i’ll combine or skip parts entirely, depending on how i feel. also, this is not a tutorial, just how i do things, so please don’t treat it like one :’D this will read like the ‘how to draw an owl’ picture if you do

first, like every artist, i sketch. more specifically, i’m getting an idea of what i want to paint later on. this could be how a scene is set up or in this case, how a character is posed. here i’m not concerned about details or getting everything perfectly, i’m only planning how the thing will be composed. maybe a lot of canvas size changing, or adjusting what miku’s doing (note how busted miku’s right hand looks from all the transforming!) however, i still have to be concerned with how clear the sketch will be to future me, because the sketch won’t be any good if i can’t read what miku’s doing

after that, i lay down a flat gray under the sketch, mainly focusing on giving miku a clear silhouette. this is also a good time to make adjustments to the composition on the fly if i suddenly feel like something can be improved upon, like shortening miku’s left arm from the sketch!

after painting a flat silhouette, i start shading in grayscale, focusing only on lighting. i usually do it in two passes, one for the lightest and darkest tones i’ll use (not black and white) and then a second for midtones to blend them better with the base gray but i forgot to screenshot the result of the first pass 🗿 nevertheless, here is where i can start adding some amount of details. i’m not including any extra accessories yet, just focusing on the base design of the outfit and the character herself (for anyone wanting to draw characters from That Gacha Game, this is how i personally make the process more bearable for myself.) i still use the dark gray to separate where certain details (like the facial features and fingers) begin and end, mainly to make colouring more bearable later.

now here’s where i get the Good Colours. it’s a cheat lol. i put a gradient map layer over the grayscale painting so that there’s a little bit of color to start. some gradient maps can be applied as is, some need the layer settings adjusted to make it look good. this one, for example, is a (free) gradient map set from the csp assets store that needs you to set the layer opacity to 20% and to set the blending mode to color to achieve this result. in general, i tend to pick which gradient map i want to use based on vibes, or basically whether i want the work to be warmer or cooler, colour-wise. but this does do quite a bit of lifting for the colors in my stuff.

and then, finally, i add the colours. i add flat base colours in an overlay layer. at this stage, i’ve made the character silhouette clear enough that i don’t need to refer to the sketch anymore for what miku looks like. also, the gradient map layer does its magic by making the shading a bit more vibrant than it would’ve been without it. after that i paint over with a new layer to add details like the lace.

and then i put some extra shading on top. basically this is where the ‘better lighting’ happens. again, this isn’t a tutorial, so i’m not here to say what each part of the lighting is, but i’ve labeled which layers do which job. in other works where the lighting within a scene is more defined (from a window, from a small crack in the walls, etc) the glow dodge layer may be more opaque and sharper, but since this isn’t a work with that, the lighting was applied using an airbrush. the linear burn layer is also there to make the whole thing darker so the glow dodge doesn’t end up oversaturating miku. i also usually match the lights to the vibe i want, and use a complementary color for the shadows. so here you can see i have warm colors on the glow dodge layer, but light purple on both the linear burn and multiply layer.

and that’s it for the character—here’s a gif showing how each layer adds to miku! (sorry it’s so toasty)

as for the background, depending on the complexity, it may go through a similar process, or if i can settle with flat image backgrounds, i just go for that. it’s ok to use external image materials. i didn’t have a background in mind for this miku in specific, so i got some default csp materials and threw together something

and that’s about a rough overview of what my process for more finished works looks like! again, art is a fluid process so i never specifically stick to certain steps all the time, and you shouldn’t either. i can probably answer why i’d pick this colour over another in one particular work, but it’s something that kinda has to be learned on a grander scale. i think everyone can already feel what colors work with what atmosphere or what setting, even if they can’t immediately explain why. colors and composition do take some level of experimentation to find what works best!

[vendetta-if]

Please don’t take this the wrong way, because I still think you’re writing is incredible and I look forward to every update, but am I the only one who finds Takeshi incredibly weird? Like he’s got a wife and 3 kids and yet he’s still pining over my dad who’s been dead for years now. It’s time to move on dude, come on.

If he was younger and single then I’d understand, but the way it comes off, to me at least, is pretty emotionally unfaithful. It reads like Takeshi views Viktor as “the one who got away” which is kind of a shitty attitude to have when you’re married with kids. We haven’t even met Rins mom yet and I already feel bad for her lol, this whole situation is uncomfortable.

Anyways, sorry for my rambling and if you got offended I really do apologize, I wasn’t trying to be mean. Good luck on your future writing!

I appreciate you being polite when writing this and don’t worry, I’m not offended 😁 I have talked a little bit more about him and his feelings for Viktor and about his marriage with Azami in other asks, but I realize that some of them, I answered like in the early days of this blog being up (boy, time sure does fly because it feels like yesterday to me 😭) and not everyone will have read all of the related asks.

So, everything is a lil bit more complicated for Takashi than what it might seem like on the surface, and of course, I can’t really put all of this history and backstory in the main story because it’s not focused on Takashi, or Rin, or the Aikawa, and thus, I understand why some people end up seeing Takashi in a worse light. This is, of course, not to say that he is perfect. I feel like no one in my story is perfect, even Viktor himself, and I like to keep it that way. But I hope my long-winded explanation in this post will help you get a clearer picture on Takashi and his complicated love life 😭.

And right now in the story, I’ll say that he has actually moved on from Viktor. Sure he still remembers and mourns him around the anniversary of his death, and talking about Viktor (and Yvette) is still a sore spot for him, but as they say, you don’t really forget your first love. Also, he has fixed his relationship with Azami (thus their decision to have the twins) by the time of the main story and they’re at their best right now and I’ll explain more in details below the cut.

I’ll put it under the cut because it’s going to be a long one as I try to summarize Takashi’s and Azami’s history together and some additional lore stuff for those who are interested.

For starter, his marriage to Azami was an arranged one that both of them didn’t really have any say in it and it doesn’t help that both of them didn’t even have time to properly get to know each other by the time they got married. They were also pretty young (around early to mid 20s perhaps? I don’t have my notes open right now).

It was a… politically strategic wedding that Takashi’s father and Azami’s maternal grandfather arranged.

And additional info since I don’t think I have mentioned this anywhere actually, but Azami’s maternal side of family is a Yakuza clan/family back in Japan and by establishing some kind of family relationship with the Aikawas—who focuses their businesses in the US—they hope to keep the door open for possibilities of expanding their own business abroad in the US through the Aikawas. They haven’t really done that, but it’s nice to already have and secure the connection. And vice versa for the Aikawas if they wanna do some business in Japan.

It doesn’t help that Viktor was literally Takashi’s first love and that they’ve known each other since they were kids. So, by the time of his marriage, Takashi didn’t really have enough time to kind of, let go or grow out of his feelings for his first love and he was basically getting married to a stranger.

But to think that this means that he automatically becomes an emotionally distant husband and father is wrong. He spent time talking and hanging out with Azami (mostly initiating them first because Azami is the more introverted and reserved one in their relationship), trying to build a relationship—that should’ve been built naturally in normal marriages—with his wife. It did end up being more like a platonic relationship at first than a romantic one, but still, Azami appreciated that.

He’s also a good, caring, and warm dad for Rin and he did take care of Rin as much as Azami did. I’ve said this before in another ask, but when she got married to what is basically a stranger, Azami expected the worse and Takashi was a very pleasant surprise for her.

I think along the way, Azami fell in love with him for real first, but the fact that Takashi still saw her more of a platonic partner and still had romantic feelings for Viktor at the time… It did put a strain on their marriage.

But both of them didn’t really give up on their marriage and even though it took years, they slowly work on their relationship. It was not an instant progress but over time, Takashi ends up falling in love with Azami as well and that’s also the reason why they had the twins like more than a decade after they had Rin (The twins are still very young in the story right now).

Rin was born because of both of their families’ pressure and expectation, but having the twins is the decision that Takashi and Azami made themselves out of love.

While his feelings for Viktor is still there somewhere in the background, it’s waay weaker and fainter than when he was younger. Right now in the story, I would say he has moved on, although he still remembers his first love occasionally, especially around the time of his death. After all, they say that you can’t really forget your first love.

But yeah, in the story currently, his relationship with his wife is at its best and he’s living happily with his family.

And while a part of his motivation to get Rin to marry MC is in part to kind of fulfilling an impossible dream of his, it is also just for… practical reasons. The fact is that the Aikawas have a little bit more to gain by tying the Morozovs in an alliance based on blood ties than the Morozovs do. The Morozovs have the stronger manpower and raw force/strength and nowadays, they have decent connections too.

I mentioned this before in the past ask about the two families’ history, but their alliance started out because the Aikawas were having a pretty rough time protecting their turf from the other criminal groups and families back in New York. They mostly have power by accumulating and brokering information and connections, but they’re a bit lacking in like raw force and power, and that’s where Grandpa Morozov saw the opportunity for alliance and went to talk with Takashi’s father. And the rest we know how it plays out.

So, yeah… I think that’s all I have to say in this post and I’ll definitely be referring to this post again if I ever get similar asks. I don’t know whether it helps you understand Takashi a little bit more or not, but I do hope it’s not as black and white as it once was 😅

[anemonelovesfiction]

Kinktober 5- Daddy Kink

Rotxo x Human! Fem Reader (Eating Out)

Ao’nung x Human! Fem Reader (Fingering)

Spider x Human! Fem Reader (Penetration)

Warnings ⚠️: Eating out, Fingering, P in V, cussing, obviously a daddy kink

I’M BACK BABIES!! After taking my small mental break I feel better! I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to post all of these kinktobers before the end of the month (lol thats crazy) but I will be able to post them into November.

I do ask if possible, please be patient with me, I did end up buying concert tickets for my husband (Bad Bunny) and am planning a trip to see my wifey! So I am picking up extra shifts at work to help pay these off as soon as possible because I like to enjoy my vacations but I also like to be responsible :)

I wanted to challenge myself into writing this as multiple characters because I knew it would be hard for me to write an entire chapter, and I wanted to definitely choose characters that wouldn’t often get written about. I did want to write a Jake x reader story but my previous kinktober day was a jake x reader and I started to feel burnt out. This was my solution.

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Word Count: 2K (for the entirety of the works, will insert individual word counts beside the characters name)

Rotxo (663 words)

I hadn’t purposely planned to have taken the sweetest of metkayina men away from his duties, I’d actually told him that I hadn’t minded waiting until later on in the night when we could come together into a secluded area to do our extra curricular activities, but he’d insisted he had the time to do so now. Laying me down in the sand gently and settling himself between my legs, having them spread widely and settling on his shoulders while fitting himself in, his arms spread to gently caress my nipples and nuzzling his lips in my pussy, feasting like a man who’d been left starving.

“Please, please, please!” I begged as he lazily licked stripes on my pussy, not bothering to do anything else, but the instances where he’s catch my clit with his tongue felt electrifying, I just needed more. I had been desperate to come the moment he’d nuzzled his face into my most intimate place but I figured he knew that, one of his hands sliding from my nipples and down toward my stomach, lightly pushing me back down and preventing my hips from moving against his face.

“Stop squirming, syulang. Did I not say I would take care of you?” He asks in the sweetest of voices and I feel myself start to melt at his tenderness, but frustration starting to boil over.

“You promised it but you are failing.” I realize just how harsh my voice sounded and felt like an idiot for saying that, he always found a way to take care of me, and even if he -willingly- walked away from his duties I knew I was being a bit harsh. I could see the skin of his brows furrow disapprovingly, a small hum filled with a lot of attitude, an ‘oh,really?’ tone coming out from that sound alone. I knew I had to apologize for my behavior.

“Rotxo, I-“

I can’t even finish what I had started saying as I feel his tongue delve inside of me, making me curl my toes immediately, the flat part of the tip of his nose rubbing alongside my clit, letting the slick covered bud move in any direction it chose, every movement making me buck my hips against his face for more, my own hands coming to clutch his forearms at the sudden pleasure ripping through me and a growl coming from hip.

“Daddy!” I call out blindly, no time to think about any of the other names I could have called him and focusing on that one, feeling the coil in my belly start to tighten after being teased earlier.

“Daddy please!” I take one of my hands and tightly wrap it around his hair, using it as leverage as my head tilts, back arching off the sand, craving his nose to push against my bud harsher.

He grabs onto my hips and pulls me closer toward his mouth, another loud moan given to him as a reward as my other hand goes over to grasp his hair harshly, hearing him groan at the feeling as I buck my hips against him.

“I’m coming, I’m fuckin’ coming!” I yell as my hips buck against his tongue, feeling full off it the wet muscle alone, his nose continuing to rub against my clit as he continues eating me out.

“Thank you daddy,” I mumble as I come down from my high and start to catch my breath, starting to feel slightly embarrassed for the nick-name I’d unintentionally given him. Feeling his tongue slide out and moaning at the loss of contact as he licks one final stripe alongside my already sensitive nub.

“You think you can take care of daddy now?” He asks with a smirk but I don’t let that bother me, getting a feeling he enjoyed the new name, sliding my legs off his shoulders as he sits up on his knees, an erection present in his tewng, he definitely enjoyed the nick name.

Ao’nung ( 738 words)

“I am not your enemy, I’m trying to help you.” He stated angrily and by the look of his facial expression I could tell he was about ready to hiss, but I wasn’t in the mood to want to be helped.

“All you’ve done is yell at me and thats you being helpful?” I snap back at him and am tempted to tie this net around his neck at the moment, wanting to stop hearing his annoying voice, hands squeezing harder on it, knuckles turning white in anger. I knew I’d have to get away from him soon, knowing that the moment I’d get too focused on my emotion’s the tears would start, and it was never really because I was sad, I still have no idea why I cry when I’m angry.

“Because you refuse to listen!” He argues back and I could feel the first of the tears sliding down my cheeks, seeing his eyes follow its trail, and his face no longer as angered as he was before.

“I’m leaving.” I huff, not bothering to discard the net I had in my hands and struggling to grasp all of it while stomping off like a child, attempting to prevent myself from having to wipe my eyes at this moment but my vision was starting to get blurry, bringing the fist with the least amount of net closer to my face to wipe it off and seeing the teal boy appearing in front of me again.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying.” I stated quickly, feeling his hand placed on my chest to stop me from walking further, I groan in frustration and finally look up to make eye contact with him, brows nearly kissing at my rage.

“I am sorry.” He stated and my brows lift in shock, Ao’nung wasn’t really one to apologize until after being told by his parents to do it, Tsireya and Rotxo could influence him part of the time, but I don’t think I’d ever witnessed him apologize on his own volition.

_________

“Do you accept my apology?” He asks quickly before he’s attaching his lips back onto my neck, suckling the skin here and there, knuckles deep in my cunt, the obscene squelching sound would have given us away if we were in any of the populated areas, and I’m thankful he’d dragged me away for this.

“Ungh-“ I grunt as his speed picks up again, my back toward a rock, and my legs spread and shaking as he continues to finger me, forcing me to stand as he thrusts his thick fingers in my cunt. My hands that had been attempting to grasp any piece of the rock to steady myself were now on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin in my palms and fighting another roll of my hips as he nips at my pulse point, making my eyes roll back into my head.

“Look at you~” He coo’s and speeds up in the slightest, I could hear the smirk in his voice, had my eyes not been shut at this moment I’m certain I would have seen it. “Am I making you feel good?” He asks as his thumb finally comes into contact with my hardened clit.

“Yes daddy!” I whine and feel as if the air had been sucked out of my lungs, hips with a mind of their own as I continue grinding on his fingers, wishing it were his cock instead. His fingers don’t stop as I feel him leaning back down toward my neck again.

“Say that again, syulang.” His voice had been deep, how it usually gets when he’s aroused, I gasp at the change of pace as he goes incredibly fast. “Say it and you can come.” He mutters just as his thumb wildly rubs against my clit.

“Please let me come, daddy,” I mutter loud enough to feel his hand wrap around my neck and squeeze lightly.

“Come for daddy.” He mutters the foreign word well as I clench around his fingers, allowing my orgasm to ripple through my cunt as he continues his brutal pace, feeling the tension having left my body.

“I take it you forgive me?” He mutters as I lazily open my eyes and I want to punch the smug look off his face.

“Just because of that, you’re dealing with your own little problem-“ I pointed toward his obvious boner “-by yourself.”

Spider (692 words)

“You sure?” He asks kindly as he looks for any kind of uncertainty in my eyes, always one to check-in with me even when I’d been unable to keep my hands off of him, coming up to cup his face calmly.

“Yes I am sure,” I stated firmly, letting my hand fall off to the side and lay back down comfortably, watching him line himself up and slowly push himself in, moaning at the feeling and greedily inching my hips toward his own pelvis and hearing him groan.

“I missed you~” I gasp as I feel him stretch me in the ways he had before his capture, feeling how well his cock is fitting snug in my cunt and just about coming from the sensation alone, my legs coming to wrap around his waist, heels digging on the plush skin of his bum to feel him deeper than I ever had.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good-“ He manages to grunt out, hands settling onto the blankets on my side, feeling his knuckles lightly poking my sides, knowing he was gripping them harshly.

“Ruin me, please.” I pant out, feeling feral for having to wait so long to have him inside me again, wrapping my arms around his broad back, digging my heels further into his ass and finally feeling the tufts of his pubic hair kissing my clit, jumping lightly at the feel and moaning at the surge of electricity.

“I don’t wanna hurt you-“

“Please daddy, I want you to ruin what belongs to you.” I knew I sounded desperate but at this moment I didn’t care, feeling him sit himself up from the position he’d been in, letting my arms fall toward my sides, a look of disappointment sent his way.

“You’ll be a good girl and hold your thighs for daddy, right?” He asks deeply, feeling my walls flutter around his cock and he nods appreciatively.

“I was hoping you could.” He smirks as he pushes my thighs back toward my stomach, pushing my knee’s together, I take his lead and grasp my own thighs to hold them steady. I watch as he pushes my thighs down for support and flexes his abs to move his hips back, my mouth watering at the sight, all for him to slam himself back in, feeling my walls hug him tight in an effort to keep him in.

“Fuck, did you miss me that much?” He asks right as he slides back out and all I can do is nod, feeling a slap on my thigh and whimpering at the action.

“Yes daddy, I missed you, wasn’t the same without you-“ I admitted and feel him slide back in harsher.

“You touched yourself without my permission?” He questions, grip going from my thighs toward my legs as he rocks himself easily, I couldn’t help but throw my head back at the pleasure he was providing me accompanied by a loud cry.

“M’sorry daddy, but I couldn’t come without you, been so frustrated, haven’t come since the last time we- oh fuck!” I struggle to continue speaking as he changes his angle, hitting my sweet spot perfectly.

“You’ve been long overdue then.” He places his thumb on my clit, maintaining his balance by placing his large hand on my calf, and starting to pump himself incredibly fast, I don’t even bother holding in my moans, pretty sure I’d been squeezing my thighs harshly and not giving a damn anymore.

“Is my good girl getting close?” He asks through grunts of his own, feeling how hard his cock is inside me, his head rubbing alongside my spongey spot, his thumb rubbing tight circles on my hardened nub, I was bound to come soon.

“Y-y-y-yes!” I could barely form that word and I was hoping he didn’t ask me anymore questions.

“Come my love,” He states sweetly and it catches me off guard, but my walls fluttered rhythmically around his cock, feeling my body tensing and finally allowing myself the pleasure of coming for the first time in over a year, my excitement now draining from my body and feeling tired after our activity.

[venture-through-the-mist]

Thoughts on The Lotus Eaters

As I’m sure is obvious, this will be discussing the Lotus Eaters quest in detail, so if you haven’t played it yet, I’d suggest skipping this post! I don’t want to spoil it for anyone (because even though it’s a short quest, I still think it benefits from being played with no prior knowledge of what it entails), so the full post will be below the cut.

Alright, I have SO many thoughts, so I’m going to try and keep this somewhat concise…ish. This is mostly just a bunch of rambles, so I apologize for any grammatical errors or if it’s hard to understand. I just kinda…wrote what came to my mind.

First off,

The Music: I briefly mentioned this in another post, but holy shit the music for this update is amazing. I mean, we all knew it would be, Warframe has a tendency to put out absolutely awesome songs, but oh my god. We get two more versions of what is one of my favorite songs in the game. The loading screen version of ‘This is What You Are’ has to be, by far, one of my favorite things I’ve heard from this game. I love the feel to it, like a combination of ‘old’ Warframe with ‘new’, 1999-era Warframe. I’ve had it playing on repeat almost all day because it’s so good.

Now, for the version of ‘This is What You Are’ that we actually get during the quest, the one that Lotus is singing to herself. I, admittedly, didn’t pay too much attention to it when I was actually playing the quest, at least not beyond “omg Lotus is singing, that’s awesome” (I was just too excited about the actual quest lol). However, when I listened to it again, I was fascinated by the subtle differences in how this version sounds compared to the ‘normal’ version of the song, or even to the new version in the loading screen. The singing is a lot more staccato, and the notes don’t flow into each other in the ways they normally would. It’s almost as if Lotus is having to concentrate more on what comes next (at least, that’s my interpretation), which makes sense given that we know that she’s singing in order to drown out the Indifference’s voice. Her singing also sounds a little sad, or maybe just lonely, to me. Her mind is filled with the Indifference trying to influence her, and she’s taken it upon herself to be a barrier (or as she says it, a “distraction”) between It and the Tenno. She’s secluded herself (again), and her tone of voice seems to reflect that.

Also, after the quest, if you go and talk to Daughter/Kaelli in the Necralisk, ‘Party of Your Lifetime’ plays now, instead of whatever song was playing before. I just think that’s neat (and also brings in some interesting ideas for 1999…what did our Drifter do?).

Moving on…

The Story: I had absolutely zero idea where the story was going to go from this update, but I was a bit worried about how they’d go about locking us into playing as the Drifter for 1999, since — although I 1000% agree with why the Drifter is definitely going to be the one going back in time — I’m definitely someone who would rather play as my Operator for my own lore reasons (and I can’t think of a reason that my Operator would let the Drifter do this instead of her). I was actually wondering if they’d actually lock us into the Drifter without giving us a choice, or if they just wouldn’t give us the option to do the romance stuff if we chose Operator (for obvious reasons…bc yk, they’re a child). But, I really enjoy the route they went down, how Lotus knows that the Drifter has to be the one this time, because if the Operator does, that might just be giving the Indifference exactly what it wants. She’s, once again, protecting her kids in the way she knows how, by taking them out of the conflict in any way she can.

But, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, so let’s backtrack a bit and talk about how cool it is that we see the Operator and the Drifter interacting with Lotus at the same time. I may have missed something in the quests leading up to that, or this might just be something attributed to the Man in the Wall’s hijinks, or…something, but I thought that they couldn’t be in the same place at the same time/in the same ‘reality’. So, I was quite surprised (pleasantly, ofc) to see both of them. I really love the difference in the dialogue options when we initially talk to Lotus. The Operator is torn between wondering if Lotus is alright, and also being super worried about what the hell the noise is, in a way that makes me think they definitely suspect that the Indifference is meddling with things again (which makes sense, given that they’re actively in the Sanctum). Honestly, the Operator was probably waiting for something like this to happen. They know, or at least suspect, that Lotus saw the Man in the Wall after the battle with Ballas, it was only a matter of time before that became important. The Drifter, on the other hand, is more concerned with Lotus herself, warning her to be careful, reassuring her, but also wondering what she means by “It’s you”. Maybe the Drifter doesn’t really know the extent of the effects that the Indifference has on the System, maybe the Operator is just trying to protect Lotus in the only way they know how…get the perceived danger away from her first, ask questions later (I’ve noticed from their dialogue throughout the game that the Operator tends to have a bit of a sharper temper than the Drifter does…perhaps bc they’re younger). Either way, it’s nice that they have different responses to seeing Lotus and hearing the noise.

I chose the “Are you okay” and “What do you mean, ‘it’s you’?” dialogue options, and I absolutely loved that my Operator’s line was “This isn’t just a bad memory, it is? This is new”. This acknowledges, at least in my interpretation, that Lotus does have lingering emotions from everything that’s happened in the past (Ballas/The New War, Hunhow, etc). Once again, Warframe surprises me by remembering to make the trauma that a character has gone through actually relevant to the story even after we’ve dealt with the source of the problem. I probably shouldn’t be surprised at this, but most video games I’ve seen don’t tend to do that. Usually characters are…somewhat fine after experiencing something horrific, so it’s refreshing to see a different (more realistic, imo) take on it. This isn’t even the only time we see this in this quest/afterwards. Lotus outright confirms it herself (“I will not let it devour one instant of my pain. Not even Ballas. Not even the Jade Light.”), and in doing so, is also showing us how she’s dealt with the events of the prior storylines. She’s gone through a series of extremely traumatic events, and she still has those painful memories, but she’s not going to succumb to the Indifference, even if It promises to take that away. She’s been hurt, yes, but she is healing, and she’s finally in a place where she can actually do so as herself. That doesn’t mean it’s easy for her to ignore the voice that’s calling to her —the voice that only she can hear— but she’s determined to. I’m curious if the voice-lines after the quest are different if a player had chosen Margulis or Natah instead of Lotus after the New War, though.

I find it very interesting that Lotus calls the Drifter ‘my champion’. I just really enjoy the fact that she definitively sees the Operator and the Drifter as two separate people, as opposed to ‘her child’, and ‘her child but older’, because I feel like that fact could have certainly been a cause of a bit of discomfort and a learning curve for both her and the Drifter after the New War.

Now, onto the 1999 portion of the quest, which, even as short as it was, was quite interesting. It was really weird to be in the Mall again and not hear ‘Party of Your Lifetime’ playing or see other Tenno dancing around the stage (like how it was during TennoCon). It was quite eery, and I love it. Also, we got to see Kalymos again, so that’s a plus.

All in all, this quest answered a lot of my questions about how the game is going to transition to 1999 (and even answered questions that I didn’t know I had). However, I am slightly (read: very) concerned at the same time, mainly because of the line with Lotus saying “If I become something you do not recognize, do not mourn”. I feel like that’s potentially foreshadowing something…They don’t usually put lines like that in without reason. Maybe I’m just reading too far into that…but I suppose we’ll see when 1999 comes out.

Anywho, another thing that I wasn’t expecting but am really glad that we got was the continued acknowledgement of Lotus/Natah/Margulis being a system. This happened not once, but twice (to my knowledge), and I think it’s really great that they didn’t just disregard the whole “I am not one” thing from The New War after we made our choice between the three of them. It’s really nice to see that that wasn’t just a one-off line, especially as we continue to get more and more moments where the game references them.

This is already way longer than it probably should be, but what can I say? I like well-written characters, and this game has so many of them. I’ve definitely forgotten some things that I’d wanted to put in this post, but ah well.

[blindbeta]

Ok i don’t know if you’re doing asks right now but I’d honestly like to ask about a character in a murder mystery/fantasy story I have and I’m not sure if they align with any negative blind stereotypes or if it’s something I should avoid altogether even if it’s not a stereotype.

To start, my character (let’s call him B) has JOAG (juvenile open angle glaucoma) and has tunnel vision. He also relies on a cane and braille. He also takes medication for his condition ( I was thinking carbonic anhydrase inhibitors or beta blockers but I still need to dig deeper into that.)

I was thinking of having a blind main character (and blind side characters too). He has a tsundere/ojo-sama personality (rude on the outside, sweet on the inside type of guy) and water powers. I know that there is a bit of a pattern with rude or defensive blind characters and I feel unsure about whether or not I should add that into my story. I thought of him being apprehensive of one of the other main characters because he doesn’t know them personally and isn’t a huge fan of change. He slowly warms up to the other character but he struggles to do so. He helps the rest of the other characters in solving the mysteries and tries to think as logically as he can but sometimes his bias slips in every now and then.

Onto his powers, I was thinking of him having the ability to control water. I was also think about having him have an interest in potion-making and his spell books being written in mostly braille because he relays on braille the most.

He has a few hobbies and interests such as going on picnics, siren singing/just singing in general, drinking tea and organizing his stuff. (Apologies if this is a lot, I love rambling about my characters lol).

That’s all I have for this character at the moment. I hope nothing in this ask was offensive or anything. You don’t have to answer this if something in this post came off as rude or offensive. Thank you for your time!!!

Avoiding Rude or Defensive Blind Characters— Explore It and Add More Blind Characters to Show Different Personalities

It sounds like everything is in order right now. The only concern I have is addressing the rude/defensive thing you brought up.

I’ll admit, I actually enjoy this type of blind character. It falls a bit into Disabled Snarker trope, which I love. I feel these characters tend to be viewed as having more agency than blind people are typically believed to possess.

It also allows us a bit of fantasy escapism.

Typically, blind people aren’t allowed to express the level of snark that these characters are. This is because we are expected to lack desires of our own, be excessively passive, and to not complain even when we are wronged. An example of this would be blind people being told they did something incorrectly when they are denied services, or were ungrateful when refuse help they don’t need.

Here is a video where Sadi on Tiktok laments her rideshare troubles caused by bigoted drivers. Link here.

Here is one where she discusses being grabbed by a stranger. Link here. And another where she expresses her frustration with the dismissal she faces when she speaks about being treated inappropriately. Link here.

Here is one by Tobes, who describes accidentally running into cars that are parked on the sidewalk and being scolded for it despite that fact he had no reason to believe a car would be parked that way. Link here.

We are often considered rude because of ableism. Additionally, we often have to be stern and stubborn just to get through the day and this can be perceived as rude by others.

You could have him use this attitude in areas other than blindness or only when provoked in an obvious way. Having a cool attitude that others find intimidating or unapproachable might be a way to go about this.

Or he could still put someone in their place for being ableist and this actually might be a refreshing fantasy for a lot us who can’t always call out ableism the way we want to. To me, people are going to think blind people are rude no matter what we do. This means most of us, especially those of us marginalized in multiple ways, are forced to police our tone or reactions in frustrating ways, even when someone is being harmful toward us or openly oppressive.

Sometimes it’s fun to see a blind character who responds in a way that is proportional to the ableism being directed at them.

I am not sure if you can go against this stereotype one your own, because again, some people will see blind people as rude no matter what. This is in direct opposition to the idea that blind people are all innocent beings without agency. These two opposing stereotypes of blind people are very strong and I know from experience that it is difficult not to be put into one of these boxes. He may deliberately display an aggressive attitude in an attempt to gain some agency over how he is perceived. Conversely, he might be defensive or rude about everything, while being chill about blindness stuff or even ableist attitudes. Instead, he could become colder, distant, or emotionally cut the ableist person off. He could also be like Toph and react to personal or structural ableism with jokes.

Basically, it’s good to be concerned about this, but I think commenting on/exploring it would be a better option. Subverting the trope is also challenging because it might accidentally cause him to be put into another box. Therefore, it might be more helpful to explore it for him personally, giving him more depth and challenging the idea that all blind people are naturally rude for “no reason. [Quotes around “no reason” to indicate sarcasm.]

Personally, I want to see blind characters having agency, depth, a community, and using mobility aids and blindness techniques. So I’m okay with this. The story might still benefit from a sensitivity reader or two though, and I’d love to read it myself. You can also try @sensitivityreaders

Lastly, having other blind characters would help challenge any stereotypes readers might have. In addition to showing his sweet side mentioned in the ask. Sorry I couldn’t give you a yes or no answer on this topic, but my personal go-to fix for stereotypes is always to show more blind characters. This allows you to show off more personality types of experiences around blindness.

Also JOAG can be painful if not caught early or managed properly. You seem to have done a good job of showing treatment options and different conditions. There will be a lot of medical stuff in his future/present, which means he has experience advocating for himself. This could also help explain why his attitude might seem rude or defensive to abled characters, in addition to the Rude Blind Person stereotype.

If any other blind or disabled folks have thoughts or suggestions, please share.

In closing, I don’t have any concerns with his powers. Also points for cane use!

Some parts of this ask might be relevant as well. Link here.

Hope this helps.

-BlindBeta

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer (05) | jjk

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn't as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, drinking, swearing, crying, Sad Boy JK Hours ??, valentino!yoongi bc that should be a whole warning 🥵 even though he's there and not really there for literally 2 seconds lol

rating: PG-15

word count: 9.5k

note: this is the most stressed out i've ever been while trying to post a fic 💀 argh anyway, 2 obs updates in one month ?? is this even real life !! consider this a (lunar) new year's present from me to everyone who celebrates it and also to everyone who doesn't !! idk i'm bad at notes and i'm delirious so that's it 😗

series masterpost / main playlist ; interactive playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Hey, I feel like if we gave it one night You'd hate me less and make it alright Just wish that we could fight now I'd hold you on the comedown

Rockland - Gracie Abrams

One thing about you, is that you don’t do well with change.

After you moved out of the first apartment you got as an adult, you constantly went back to your old neighborhood even though it wasn’t close to your new place. You kept walking those familiar streets, kept shopping at the stores where the workers knew your name. At night, you still pictured yourself living there, with all of your furniture and clothes and decorations that you’ve already emptied from those old bones. Then, you imagined what the new tenant was like, if they could feel the lingering love you had for that apartment. You wondered if they were putting the coffee table you left behind to good use, or if they thought that it looked out of place among all of their belongings and had already thrown it away.

Jimin called you weird for that, but he didn’t know that you always leave a piece of yourself everywhere you go. The biggest pieces, you think, are hidden somewhere in a closet in your childhood bedroom where your mother still lives, and in the tiny space of your dorm room where you spent most of your college years.

It took you more than half a year to finally start considering your new apartment home. 

Because you hate change. Change is scary. Change is walking into a pitch-black tunnel with no flashlight, not knowing what awaits you in the darkness and not knowing if you’ll make it to the other side.

That isn’t to say that change is inherently bad. You’ve experienced good changes before. Arguably, Jungkook was a good change when he went from someone you couldn’t tolerate, to the love of your life back then. You were happy with him, so blissfully happy that for a while, you forgot what it was like to experience any other emotion.

Yoongi has always been your friend. It didn’t take you two very long to become well acquainted with one another and from there, develop a good friendship. You have never thought of him as anything other than a friend. Even when he was your boss, he still felt more like a friend.

As you sit next to him in a bar too empty for your liking – but seems right for a Tuesday night – you feel a palpable shift between the two of you.

When your phone vibrates with a notification, you glance at it only to exhale annoyedly – unclear whether this frustration is directed toward yourself, or the person blowing up your mobile; maybe it’s both. That’s the nth message that Jungkook has sent you in the last couple of hours, and you don’t need to read it to know that it’s probably another iteration of the same apology. How many different ways are there to say “Hey, I’m sorry for fucking the receptionist and then having the balls to tell you that you’re the unprofessional one when you didn’t even do anything.” Apparently a lot, because the texts just keep coming.  

“Jungkook again?” Yoongi asks from beside you. Fuck. You’ve mostly been silently moping since he brought you here, too enmeshed in your own web of muddled thoughts that you forgot he’s someone you need to make amends with too. 

You give him a nod but still continue to stare at the drink in front of you, trying to disentangle your Yoongi thoughts from your Jungkook ones. 

Taking a sip of your drink, your face manages to keep a grimace at bay as the liquid ambushes your tastebuds. You don’t like whiskey, but you need something to hate more than yourself tonight. When you set the glass down, the alcohol sloshes around like a compact sea of your own amber-colored miseries.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “This is unfair to you. I don’t know what came over me. I just want you to know that this isn’t me responding to…” To your confession.

“If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, then I have to stop you right now.”

“Yoongi…”

“I’m not saying that you can’t turn me down, although I hope you don’t do that,” he chuckles. “I’m just saying that whatever you do, whether you give me a chance or reject me, I want you to decide after you’ve really thought about it, about me.”

You can’t say no to that; it’s only fair. Yoongi knows what he deserves. You haven’t looked at him in any other way, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t. Didn’t you say it yourself, that maybe you should start putting yourself out there? Well, here is someone coming to you before you even have to look anywhere. You may not have expected Yoongi, but then, you didn’t expect Jungkook either.

Yoongi could be the good change you need.

Nevertheless, you want to tell him you’re sorry for the other night. It should be fairly simple, but the words have a hard time dislodging themselves from your throat.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night at dinner… and what I did…”

Yoongi props an elbow on the bar top and leans forward to rest his chin in the palm of his hand, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “Remind me what it is that you did again?”

“Come on, I’m serious.” You are grateful that he’s trying to keep it light, though.

“I’m serious too. I seem to have forgotten.”

“Yoongi…”

“Yes, Y/N?”

You sigh, shutting your eyes momentarily. Recalling the moment makes you flush with embarrassment, bringing a splash of color to your cheeks which Yoongi always seems to enjoy.

In a quiet voice, you say, “I’m sorry for throwing salt at you…”

“You threw salt at me!” He tips his head back, laughing freely. The bartender spares you two a glance at the sudden disruption. “You shouldn’t go around throwing salt at people!”

“Stop laughing! I’m trying to apologize.” You punch his arm out of habit and for a second there, you forget that your relationship with Yoongi isn’t the same anymore. Changed forever.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Jeez, why are you so violent?” He rubs the spot where you hit him, muttering under his breath something about him bruising like a peach. “Apology accepted. No hard feelings.”

“Okay, good. But I still want you to know that if you were expecting anything from tonight…”

Yoongi ruffles your hair with a scoff. “I’m not that dense. Of course I’m not expecting anything.” When you peer at him with curious and unsure eyes, he continues, “Y/N, earlier you looked like you wanted to set the place on fire and Jungkook looked like he was about to shit himself. Tonight, I’m just a friend who’s here for you if you want to vent. We’re just two buddies having a drink, that’s all.”

He makes it sound so simple, while your brain is already going haywire.

Despite yourself, you chuckle at his words. You tell him how much you appreciate it, though you don’t really tell him anything about what happened this afternoon, just that Jungkook said some stuff that pissed you off. You can’t tell him exactly what Jungkook did to anger you without alluding to the confession for which Yoongi is letting you off the hook for now.

“Do you wanna come with me tomorrow?” Yoongi asks.

“Come with you where?”

“I have a shoot with Valentino in the morning.”

“You have a photoshoot not even 12 hours from now and you’re here drinking? Aren’t you gonna wake up puffy or something?”

“Yeah, my manager would kill me if she knows what I’m doing,” he replies casually, like his manager has a telepathic connection with him and she can sense him mocking her over a drink. When people see Agust D, they tend to only see the icy exterior that he dons. That tough, maybe even callous, image has sustained him in the entertainment industry for years. For many, Agust D seems intimidating and unapproachable. That’s how you felt when you first met him too. But after a while, you got to see Min Yoongi, and Min Yoongi is nothing if not warm and tender-hearted, even if he’s a little shit sometimes. At least, that’s what he has always been like to you. “She thinks I’m getting my beauty sleep right now.”

You lightly snort at that, telling him, “Yeah, you need it.”

When you start to yawn, Yoongi calls a driver to drop you off at your place. The ride is mostly silent, because you’re tired and because you’re not sure what to say to Yoongi in the presence of a stranger taking you home. The car pulls up to your building soon enough, and before you can step out and tell him goodnight, he offers to walk you up. He takes the elevator with you to your floor, how gallant but unnecessary. When you reach your door, you wonder whether you should invite him in for a glass of water or something. If this was a week – or even just a couple of days – earlier, you would’ve had no reason to hesitate.  He doesn’t ask if he can come in but instead takes one of your hands.

“I see you’ve been giving yourself some TLC. They’re a lot better now,” he comments, smoothing his thumb over your skin. You’ve been diligent with your hand care routine since he gave you that lotion. It feels nice, and it smells amazing. Besides, your hands were starting to hurt anyway.

Silence descends upon the two of you as you become aware of Yoongi touching you, and the weight of the answer you’ve yet to give him. He must feel you stiffen, because he lets you go and smiles.

“Relax, princess. Get some sleep, you’re the one who needs it. I said I’ll let you think about it, didn’t I? Stop stressing so much.” His index finger taps your cheek playfully, so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The wink that he tacks on makes you roll your eyes. You watch Yoongi make his way to the elevator, step in and press the button for the ground floor. He maintains eye contact with you as he waits for the doors to shut, and you don’t think you’ve really noticed before how Yoongi carries himself with such confidence and poise even when he’s off-camera. That’s just the kind of person he is and it’s… kind of attractive.

You can’t even fish around in your bag for your keys, you just stand there because he keeps your gaze trained on him. His eyes are alluring even under the shitty lighting of your building’s elevator. Before the lift closes, his voice carries over from the metal box to your door, and you don’t know if it’s the echo of his low timbre in the empty hallway that makes you shiver, or if it’s just Yoongi.

“I’ve waited this long, what’s a little more time?”

One week. This is a record for you and Taehyung.

You’re still baffled by his attitude that night, and no one has cleared anything up for you. He was right, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong. You stand by your initial reaction. Could anyone really blame you for that? In your defense, who the fuck could believe that a worldclass megastar has romantic feelings for them? Not to mention that the person whom the megastar in question has feelings for is you! You, the pathetic girl who can’t seem to get over her ex. Yoongi had to sit through a whole hour of you drunkenly crying over Jungkook, for fuck’s sake!

That really wasn’t your best moment, but it’s not like you even remember it anyway.

Your phone buzzes to life with Jimin’s face taking over the whole screen – a photo of your hand squishing his full cheeks until his lips jut out. “Hey Minnie,” you greet him once you’ve swiped to accept the call.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding out of breath. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home. Where are you? Are you doing pull-ups again? You know you practically hyperventilate when you do more than 3.”

“Shut up, I’m at dance practice. But listen, have you talked to Tae yet?”

You purse your lips at the mention of his name. “No. We’re supposed to go grocery shopping tomorrow like we always do, but I guess that won’t be happening.”

Jimin hums, like he’s in thought. He doesn’t speak again until his breathing has calmed. “Well, can you go to his place right now?”

“Why?”

“He’s sick and I’m kind of worried about him. He hasn’t answered my messages.”

You frown. “Tae’s sick?”

“Yeah, he must’ve caught a cold the other day. Could you go over there and check on him? I would go but I can’t leave for another few hours.”

You agree to go, because of course you would. Even if you’re stubborn and hot-headed, no amount of pettiness could make you ignore your friends especially when they’re unwell and need somebody. Especially when it’s Taehyung who’s been there for you so many times.

You stay on the call with Jimin for another ten whole minutes even after you have said you would go, because he keeps droning on and on about how shitty Taehyung looked yesterday.

Before you go to your best friend’s apartment, you stop by your regular diner to pick up some comfort food for him, and the pharmacy for some medicine. During the rest of the drive there, you start getting a little worried. When Taehyung takes care of a sick you or Jimin, he practically goes into full mama bear mode, making sure that you’re as comfortable as humanly possible and not leaving your side until you’re a functional human being again. But when it comes to his own wellbeing, Taehyung doesn’t seem to be that concerned. It’s not that he neglects his health, but you wish that he would show himself the same kindness that he shows you.

It feels weird to use the spare key that you have to his place, considering that you aren’t really on speaking terms. In hindsight, it feels so childish. How old are you to still be pulling the silent treatment on each other? 

You ring the doorbell and wait a couple minutes until you hear Taehyung shuffling to get the door from the other side. When it swings open, he tenses up a bit, not expecting to see you at all. His hair is damp; he must’ve just gotten out of the shower. Taehyung doesn’t look as bad as Jimin described though. Just some dark circles under his eyes.

You raise a hand and wave. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he parrots somewhat awkwardly. It’s understandable; neither of you thought you’d be the one to break the ice. “What are you doing here?”

Bringing your other hand up, you show him the bag you’re holding. “Brought you soup and cold meds. Jimin said you’re sick.”

His brows knit together in confusion. “Thanks…” he says slowly, “but I’m not sick?”

“But Jimin said you caught a cold and you’ve been wheezing like a dying fisherman and–” You purse your lips, catching onto what’s really happening here. “He tricked me, didn’t he?”

Park Jimin…

Taehyung tuts under his breath, shaking his head at the ground. “Mhmm.”

“He could go into acting. He sounded really worried on the phone, like you were on the verge of death.”

“No, yeah, he really could,” Taehyung agrees. “Jimin is bizarrely good at lying sometimes. We should be worried about that.”

You laugh, and that makes him feel like the air is relaxed enough for him to laugh too. It only lasts a few seconds before you’re left staring at each other again. You hate it. You really, really hate it.

You thought that the universe sent you a sign, gave you a reason to come over and make nice with your best friend. Turns out that “the universe” is really just Park Jimin and his scheming tongue. But you’re already here, and you have to talk to him eventually. Jimin might have lied, but you would’ve just waited for Taehyung to reach out first to offer an olive branch anyway.

“Well, can I come in?” you ask. It’s weird that you even have to ask.

“Of course,” he says absentmindedly, stepping to one side to let you in. He takes the bag from your hand and brings it to the kitchen while you kick off your shoes and change into the pair of fuzzy bear slippers that he keeps for you here.

You want to tell him what happened as much as you hate admitting that you were wrong.

“Have you eaten?” you ask, a sad attempt at delaying what will inevitably come.

“No,” comes his simple reply.

“Should we eat? I bought enough for two people.”

“But I’m not sick.”

“You don’t have to be sick to eat chicken noodle soup.”

Taehyung looks at you like the thought has genuinely never crossed his mind. “Interesting… Okay, then.”

You put on an episode of your favorite show while he heats up the food. When you both sit down to eat, it’s mostly silent while the TV continues to play. The most you and Taehyung thing that you exchange in these 30 minutes is him saying soup tastes like shit when you’re not actually sick, and you telling him to stop being such a hater. When you both finish, Taehyung rinses the bowls and puts them in his dishwasher. 

Before you came over, you thought you would only be making him eat, take his meds, and sit there for a bit while he sleeps. If you had known this would happen, you would’ve prepared yourself for it.

But then again, you were tricked into coming.

Ugh. Just do it. You are so freaking dramatic.

“Well,” you start, keeping your voice light and trying not to stand around like you’re out of place in his apartment, “you were right.”

“About what?” Taehyung asks, wiping his hands on a towel. 

“About Yoongi and… all that.”

“Oh.” His expression is one you aren’t too familiar with. There’s surprise – yes, that you’re making peace with him – in the way his brows slightly lift, but there’s something else too. Something odd that you can’t quite put a finger on, and it makes you slightly uneasy because you don’t like it when you can’t read Taehyung. 

He’s pretty quick to mask it, and it makes you even more conscious that there’s something he isn’t telling you. Of course, this feeling is miniscule, practically a seed compared to the blooming garden of nerves that the events of these past few days have dumped upon you, so you can’t categorize it as a high-level priority to nitpick. You need to deal with your main concerns first, aka what to do about Yoongi and Jungkook, both individually and together, and then you can begin to inspect what’s going on with Taehyung.

It all sounds so easy in theory.

Taehyung goes to the couch and you wordlessly follow. You sit down when he pats the spot next to him – your spot. “How did you come to that conclusion?” he asks. “You know I don’t get to hear you tell me I’m right very often.”

Because you aren’t right very often, is what you almost say. It’s light and playful, and you both know it would diffuse the leftover tension, but you chuck the words aside in favor of something more serious. There isn’t that much to catch him up on, but there is a lot to unpack from the few things that did transpire over the last few days.

You give him a recap of what happened with Yoongi and subsequently what happened with Jungkook. Those are the two things weighing the most on your mind. You haven’t really processed anything; blame it on Yoongi for telling you that you have time to think things through.

One thing you love about Taehyung is that he doesn’t tell you what to do, but rather helps you sort things out on your own. Come to think of it, these conversations often take place on his couch. He’s like your own personal therapist at this point.

“Can you give me a hug?” You probably can’t ask a licensed therapist to do this, though.

He softens even more with a smile. Opening his arms, he says, “C’mere.”

You shuffle over to sink into his embrace. You sigh as you practically melt in his hold. Taehyung is a little bony, but hugging him feels exactly like hugging a giant teddy bear. He’s soft, and always knows how to hold you just tight enough, how to stroke your hair the way you like, how to be just the comforting presence you need amidst a whirlwind of anxious thoughts. And he smells like jasmine, though that might be because you keep deliberately gifting him colognes with scents that you like.

With your chin perched on his shoulder, you feel yourself start to relax, walls coming down if only briefly.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks after a moment.

You’re suddenly aware that you’re crying. You don’t know how it started, but now that the waterworks have begun, it seems like there’s no stopping. “No,” you sniffle. “Can I just…”

You feel him exhale. “Of course.”

Taehyung is one of the few people – oh who are you kidding? He might be the only one – whom you feel comfortable enough around to let yourself cry to your heart’s content. 

You’ve been feeling it for days now, even before all that shit happened. Every cell in your body is constantly vibrating, with anxiety, with guilt, with a heaviness that sinks into your bones. You’re shaking even when your hands are perfectly still. People, memories, thoughts you keep only to yourself – they all phase through you, not giving you a single moment to catch your breath.

When it rains, it pours.

Everything is weighing you down like someone has tied you to an anchor and pushed you into the unrelenting, unforgiving water. Grief is an ocean and you don’t know how to swim. Your job, your friends, the unbridled mess that you call a love life… Everything is changing and you’re the same. You’re different, but somehow still the same. Deep down, you’re still that scared little girl who doesn’t know what to make of the world. Your knees are bleeding but your mother is telling you not to cry. Why can’t you cry when you’re hurting? Every minute feels like a lifetime but every day feels like it’s going by in two seconds. Things are moving so fast. Things are moving too slow. You can’t remember the last time you actually cried. Really cried. Bawled. Sobbed. Let out all the dirt until you can see your roots again. Until you originate back to being a blank canvas. Sometimes it feels like that’s the only way that can help you see things more clearly. Your vision might blur for a while but afterward, it’ll have washed everything away. At least a little bit. So you can get your footing again.

You miss clarity, or the illusion that you have any control over your life. You miss looking out the window and have something to look forward to, even on overcast days where the sun can’t be bothered to bring you light. You miss hearing your heart beat a melody that doesn’t ache, doesn’t rattle you to the core. Pieces of you have been held together by nothing but tape and glue for the longest time. Eventually, they’ll deteriorate, and you’ll go back to being skin and bones always on the verge of falling apart.

Some of your best writing was never meant for anybody to hear. The best lines that you’ve scribbled down are diary entries disguised as music, as poetry. They’re results of your lowest and weakest moments, it just happens that there was a journal lying around and you thought that if you had to keep all that sadness inside for a second longer, you would burst. Those immortalized lines represent your heartbreak, your self-hatred, your sorrow and your grief. They come from a lifetime of unshed tears, from the burden of having a heart that feels too much but is always silenced. Words are your escape when time rushes through you like a child skipping stones. Everything hurts all the time but no one knows and you don’t bother explaining to anyone how you wish you could be a different person living a different life because it seems like the universe has made a mistake with this one. How it feels like a divine power has miscalculated and misread your false stoicism as resilience. Just because a person carries it well doesn’t mean they have to carry it at all. 

Sometimes you like to muse that if anyone could catch a glimpse of what it’s like inside, they’d think, Wow. How are you holding all of that weight? How are you so silent through it all? How do you live with an ache so allconsuming that I can hardly see you underneath it?

It’s the only way you know how to express yourself. But even then, when you’re screaming and burning, you’re still quiet. Those words are your heart on paper, raw and bleeding all over the place, covered in a million cracks that no one can see or even pay enough attention to notice. They’re there whether anybody likes it or not. They’re right there, red ink staining white pages, begging in a voice small like a child asking for love. Please see me. I’m here. Nobody taught me how to swim. Please see me.

But nobody does. They walk past you every day. They sit with you, smile at you and laugh with you. They leave you. They stay. They break your heart. Even when they love you, nobody sees you.

You love Taehyung, but you don’t think he understands. He knows you better than almost everyone in this world and he tries to help you in any way he can, but at the end of the day, maybe this isn’t something that a person can understand even if they want to. It’s worse, to realize that perhaps it isn’t because people don’t care enough to see it, but that no matter how hard they try, they can’t.

The only person who has ever come the closest is Jungkook, with his big doe eyes that always see through you and see into you. Sometimes, you think there might be parts of you that he could see but you still don’t. He knew things about yourself that you never want anybody to find out, and he loved you anyway. He went the lengths that nobody ever did because they all gave up after a while. Someone once told you that you felt like a fortress wall impossible to climb, that nobody had the time, the patience to wait for you. In other words, you weren’t worth it. Not worthless, just not worth the effort it would take to break down your walls.

But Jungkook showed up and tried, every day. The one person that you never saw coming. You might have resisted at first, but then you became his biggest supporter. You were rooting for him to know you, how fucked up is that? You were right there. He was so close.

And then he stopped.

You suppose that’s what makes everything awful now – to know that you should let go of him when he’s the only person who ever came that close.

You don’t know how long Taehyung has had to sit here, comforting you like this, but at one point, your stomach starts growling and you feel your best friend trying to hold back a giggle. Jungkook might have mastered the art of loving you, but Taehyung is an expert at comforting you.

“Shut up.” You wipe away the dampness on your cheeks with the back of your hand and push Taehyung off. “Crying makes me hungry.”

“Should I order us fried chicken then?”

“And soju. Get some soju too.”

Jimin is a strategic trickster. There was no dance practice. He just ran around his apartment ten times until his breathing turned ragged, which if you ask anyone, was completely unnecessary. He’s very extra, but at least it was effective.

After he got off the phone with you, Jimin immediately went to your shared phone tracker app – today was one of those times where it proves to be the most useful. He stared at the little circle with a silly photo of you as it moved from your address to Taehyung’s with a couple pit stops along the way. Jimin giggled to himself when he saw your circle meet Taehyung’s, because at that point you two must have realized already that you’d been swindled. Of course, there was always a chance of you leaving the moment you figured out you had come all that way for no reason at all, but when Jimin saw after a couple of hours that the two circles are still next to each other, he knew that you and Taehyung made up already.

Jimin sends a message to your group chat, a simple hello but Taehyung knows what he’s trying to get at. The text thread shared by the three of you lights up with a selfie of you and Taehyung each holding a chicken drumstick and wearing a content smile. In the background, there are some soju bottles, a box of chicken and some fries.

Jimin doesn’t question why your eyes look a little puffier than usual. He just replies with a smiley emoji and a thumbs up. The triumph of his mini victory almost makes him forget that there’s someone else in his home.

Jungkook peeks over Jimin’s shoulder to peek at his phone, curious to see what’s making his friend so delighted. When he sees you and Taehyung on Jimin’s screen, he sinks again, heart sitting in the pit of his stomach. The words you told him just the day before ring loud in his ears, as if they haven’t been stuck on his mind, playing on a loop. 

You’re such a fucking hypocrite.

You weren’t wrong, but man, did that feel like a punch in the gut.

He goes to sit across from Jimin, taking note of every single sound that notifies his friend of a new message. For the first time, he feels like an outsider, like he’s intruding on a private moment.

“I fucked up,” Jungkook admits quietly, cracking open a can of beer and taking a long sip. It makes Jimin look up and put away his phone. “With Y/N,” Jungkook clarifies.

“Yeah, I’ve been informed. That was the stupidest thing you’ve done in a while.”

“In a while? When was the last time I did something stupid?”

Jimin doesn’t even have to think about it. He answers right away, “When you left her.”

Jungkook hums, unclear whether the noise is meant in agreement or just in acknowledgment. His tongue darts out to swipe across his dry lips before he breathes out. “I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t replied to any of my texts. I feel like a fucking asshole.”

“From what I’ve been told, you were a fucking asshole,” Jimin says lightly, his words emphasized with a chuckle like he finds Jungkook’s predicament so funny. “I can’t believe you would say that shit about Yoongi to her right after he confessed.”

Cue a pregnant pause, and a pair of doe eyes staring right into Jimin’s skull, unable to decipher if what he’s hearing is a joke or not.

“Yoongi– what?”

Jimin slaps himself internally. Shit. It slipped, he swears. “Nothing,” he sighs, but he knows it wouldn’t be dropped so easily.

“No. Not nothing,” Jungkook sits up straight and puts his chilled beer down on the table, missing the coaster entirely just to piss off his friend. “The fuck do you mean Yoongi confessed? Confessed what?”

Jimin sighs with pursed lips. “What else? What do you think he confessed to?”

Jungkook gulps, and blinks a few times. When? Why? Was that the reason you looked so distraught yesterday before all that shit went down between you and him? Who confesses to someone in a freaking break room?

Then Jungkook remembers that you and Yoongi went out for drinks last night. What did he say? What did you say? His stomach churns at the thought of something… happening between the two of you.

Jimin takes in his friend’s dumbfounded expression. “Why are you shocked?” he asks. “I thought you expected something like this. Isn’t it why you spewed all that crap about Yoongi flirting with her?”

“Fuck, I don’t know! It feels like the guy is out to get me for some goddamn reason. I thought he was just playing with Y/N to piss me off!”

Jimin shakes his head, looking thoughtful. “Yoongi wouldn’t do that to her.”

“How would you know?”

“Because when they first worked together, from the things that she told us, the stuff that Yoongi would do for her, Taehyung and I thought he liked her back then too,” Jimin says. “This has nothing to do with you.”

It sucks. It fucking sucks.

“Should I go over there?” Jungkook asks, a newfound sense of urgency in his voice that borderlines panic. He’s acting like this fact that Jimin just dumped upon him is unraveling just as this conversation is taking place, but in reality, he’s one of the last people to know. 

“And tell her what? If you’ve said sorry a million times and she hasn’t responded, then saying it one more time won’t change anything.”

“What am I supposed to do when I see her tomorrow?”

“Nothing? Are you incapable of leaving things alone? If she wants to ignore you, let her ignore you. If she wants to yell at you, let her yell at you. If she wants nothing to do with you, let her do that too. Why do you keep making things worse for yourself?”

Jungkook runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “So your solution is for me to just let her hate me?”

Jimin levels him with a look, which just annoys him even more. “You had no problem with that before.”

“If you’re not gonna help me, should I ask Taehyung then?”

“Don’t go to Tae about this.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t,” Jimin snaps, and it makes Jungkook falter for a few seconds before the petulance in him clouds his better judgment.

“Why? He’s her best friend. They’re practically joined at the hip. He’s gotta be able to help me with this.”

“You really want to go to Taehyung for advice on how to suck up to your ex-girlfriend? He’s the most protective of her. What makes you think he would be willing to help you?”

“He’s my friend too, isn’t he? Shouldn’t he want to help all of us be civil with each other?”

“Yeah, he’s your friend. I’m your friend and Y/N’s too. And you’re right, all of us should get along, but we shouldn’t be put in a situation where we’d have to try. You did that to us and nothing is going to be the same again. I don’t even know why you did it. You kept your mouth shut for years no matter how hard me and Taehyung tried to get it out of you. Now you suddenly can’t make peace with the consequences of your actions? Now you want us to help you win over the person you fucked over, who is also our closest friend? I don’t get you, JK. I’m starting to regret not letting Taehyung punch you back then.”

Jungkook stares at his friend. Is this shock that he’s feeling? He still remembers that night, because he doesn’t forget a lot of things. He can’t forget it. He had never seen Taehyung – who is usually so calm and cordial – get that angry before. His friend, who is a saint of a man, felt so much rage toward Jungkook that Jimin had to physically hold him back.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Jimin asks. “You’re not used to me not being on your side all the time?”

He knows that. The only person who seems to be on Jungkook’s side is himself, and sometimes he isn’t sure if this is even true at all. What you told him at the dance studio’s opening party, what Jimin is telling him now, and even the things that Taehyung shouted at him a couple of years back – it’s all true. He knows these things already, but it feels different to hear them from other people. You’re all right; nobody is overreacting. To an outsider, it might come across as harsh, but to anyone who knows anything, it’s rightfully deserved.

Nevertheless, Jungkook admits quietly, “Actually, yeah.”

Jimin sighs, because he knows that his friend has no malicious intent toward you or toward anyone. Jimin knows that Jungkook doesn’t mean to hurt you, any more than he already has. Jungkook is even more crazed now that Yoongi is somehow a factor in all of this. It’s the insecurities bubbling at the surface. He’s panicking and he can’t even see straight. This is just his own stupid take on fight or flight. It was flight for a while, and now apparently it’s not. Jimin doesn’t really understand it, but he gets that this is his friend’s way of dealing with shit. “I tried, man. I did. But it’s really, really hard to have your back on this.”

Jungkook is well aware of it too – that to leave you alone is probably the best thing he can do at this point. Everything he says or does seems to backfire; instead of pulling you closer, all he manages to do is push you further away and make you hate him more than you already do. 

But in a way, isn’t that a good thing? Better to have you hate him than be indifferent toward him. After all, there’s a thin line between love and hate. You yourself blurred this line long ago. You can do it again, can’t you?

Jungkook sits there for a while longer to finish his beer, even though he doesn’t have anything else to say. It’s clear what Jimin’s stance on this is, and no matter what he says, it’s unlikely that anyone will help him try and get back in your good graces. 

Before he leaves, Jimin says something that makes him nauseous. Makes him want to fucking cry and kick something and speed over to your apartment just so you could reassure Jungkook that he’s still the one you hate the most. That all of your feelings, whether they’re good or bad, are still reserved for him and only him.

It isn’t what his best friend should tell him, but it’s what a good friend would say. It's not about Jungkook, it's not about Jimin or Taehyung or anyone else. It's about you, who has been hurt the most here.

“If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too.”

[10:48] Yoongi: Attachment: 2 Images.

[10:49] Yoongi: got yelled at for showing up puffy yesterday

You tap on the notifications and the photos pop up within seconds. It’s Yoongi at his Valentino shoot probably. He never used to send you stuff like this, nor asked you to come watch him at his photoshoots. Why would he? 

You zoom in on his face to inspect if he really was puffy, but you can’t really tell. Maybe if you were a makeup artist with a sharper eye, you would see it. But under your regular-person gaze, everything seemed fine. Yoongi looked handsome in the pictures.

[10:55] You: you don’t look puffy to me

[10:57] Yoongi: so how do i look to you? ;)

[10:58] You: the fits look good

[11:01] Yoongi: i wasn’t asking about the fits

[11:05] You: and i’m telling you the fits look good anyway

[11:07] Yoongi: what about the model?

[11:10] You: are you fishing for compliments?

[11:11] Yoongi: what if i am?

[11:14] You: the model looks Not Puffy

[11:16] Yoongi: you’re no fun ;(

You consider your next reply for a moment. It doesn’t seem like that big a deal. You want to send it. It seems innocent enough, and it’s the truth. A simple praise can’t hurt, right?

Your fingertips tingle just typing the words out. You’re suddenly so jittery for some reason as your thumb hovers over the arrow symbol that would whoosh away your message. It's a good kind of jittery. You might even say that you’re excited.

[11:22] You: the model looks good too

You put your phone face-down on the table, not even checking when it vibrates with Yoongi’s response to your latest text. It’s so weird that you’re feeling like this, maybe because it’s been so long since someone has shown an actual interest in you? Or is it because it’s Yoongi? If it were anyone else, would you still react the same?

It’s weird, but not necessarily weird in a bad way. You just aren’t used to it, or it’s been such a long time that you forgot what it feels like to be… wanted? You don’t think about it often but it’s true, you’ve missed the thrill of being chased.

“So… word on the street is you have a secret song.”

Seokjin’s voice makes you glance up, wondering who he could be talking to when the only people in the room beside him are you and Jungkook – whom you haven’t spoken a word to all morning despite him glancing not-so-subtly at you every two seconds. When you got here this morning, there was already a chai latte on the table with your name on it. The order was too specific for it to be Seokjin, but you didn’t say anything.

“The street?” you ponder for a moment, knowing exactly who the culprit is. “Is that what Yoongi calls himself these days? He’s been here for what? A couple weeks? And he’s already blabbed to you.”

“So it’s true?” Seokjin leans back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yoongi said it’s real good. Top shelf kinda stuff. And you know he never says things like that.”

It’s not a song, or at least that isn’t what you would call it. Maybe more like an essay composed of sentences that go together like misfit puzzle pieces. You don’t think you would ever rework it and pitch it to anyone because it’s yours and it’s personal. You would never tell anyone about it, and Yoongi wouldn’t have come to know about its existence if he hadn’t stumbled across it in your journal by accident.

“Don’t listen to Yoongi,” you say. “At this point, I feel like you should know that Yoongi tends to exaggerate sometimes.”

“He never seems to be exaggerating when it comes to you,” Seokjin muses. You almost blush, thinking about what else Yoongi could’ve told Seokjin. He doesn’t notice the split second in which your cheeks redden just the slightest, or he doesn’t mind it enough to comment. “What’s the title?”

You shrug, saying nothing.

“You can’t even tell me the title? Damn, Y/N. Are you the CIA?”

“I’m not telling you because there is no title. There’s not even a song, just something I go back to sometimes. It’s mostly just word vomit. I promise you, it’s nothing.”

“Tell that to Yoongi. He told me whoever’s gonna get that song is one hell of a lucky bastard.”

Again, what is it with the praise? You know working with Yoongi and being associated with his last album gave your career a boost, but you weren’t aware that he was talking about you with other people. Maybe he only does it with Seokjin because they’re close, but still, it makes you itch with curiosity.

“By any chance are you gonna give it to… me?” Seokjin asks, and seems to immediately hear how flawed it sounds. You stare at him blankly, trying to bite back an amused smile, and even Jungkook turns his head to look too. Seokjin’s ears turn red in an instant. “Okay, that came out kinda wrong. I’m really, really sorry. But you know what I mean.”

You continue to stare at him until his face is so flushed, you swear he’s like a tomato that’s about to burst. You can see why Yoongi likes to tease people this way. “Okay, boss,” you acquiesce with a laugh, relieving Seokjin of the fear that he genuinely offended you. “If the song ever gets to see the light of day, I’ll make sure to ask you to lend your voice.”

“Ah, so you admit it’s a song.” He grins brightly at your empty promise, making you roll your eyes half-heartedly. He goes back to his normal shade in a minute, no longer ridiculously red like a cartoon character. “What’s it about?”

You ponder his question silently, missing the way Jungkook takes this moment to glance at you. When you look up again, he’s already averting his gaze.

What is it about? That’s a question that you yourself have never really considered. It’s about everything and it’s about nothing. It’s love, it’s loss, it’s the infinite in-between. You give Seokjin an answer that won’t satisfy him, but it’s the truth.

“I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

He tuts at you, like he was expecting the obscurity from you anyway. “You’re really not beating the CIA allegations,” he says.

You flip him the bird, which only compels him to stick out his tongue and make a face at you. Then, he diverts his attention to the person who hasn’t contributed anything this whole time.

“JK, why are you so quiet today? We’re not gonna eat you.”

Jungkook mutters something to Seokjin that you don’t quite catch because the words come out of his mouth like an inarticulate mess, which is so unlike him. He sounds jumpy, like he’s too nervous to speak in front of you. Seokjin’s eyes land on you again as he mouths a confused What?

You just shrug, and Seokjin has to take Jungkook’s weird response as him having an off day. The man checks his phone, lets out a quiet whine, then addresses the both of you. “I have a shoot this afternoon so you two will have to hold down the fort, by the way.”

You come back from your solo lunch date to an empty studio.

Well, almost empty. There’s something new that wasn’t there before.

Another chai latte waiting for you equates to another apology hoping to be acknowledged. The paper cup is still hot when your hand reaches out to touch it. You sink into your chair with a sigh. You could laugh at yourself for feeling so nostalgic at the sight of a beverage in the middle of a workday.

Jungkook walks in about 15 minutes later, and the air turns suffocating at his arrival. He feels it too, you know he does. 

You chew on your bottom lip until it starts to hurt, bite down on it until it almost bleeds.

“Jungkook,” you say, catching his attention. It looks like he didn’t expect you to initiate any conversation. It’s not like you want to, but you have to. You keep having to do this, because he just wouldn’t listen. “Stop buying me drinks.”

It translates to: Stop saying sorry. Stop trying to make things right. Stop doing things you think would make me happy. Stop making me have the same argument with you over and over again.

“Because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says, and proceeds to repeat the one thing that you’re sick of hearing from him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you verbalize it. “If it’s not about work, I don’t think it’s necessary for me to hear it, Jungkook. I don’t want to hear it.”

“You do need to hear it. Because I can’t function properly until you know how sorry I am.”

“Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Hear me out,” he says, sounding a little firmer now but you still catch the crack in his voice. “Please.”

Jungkook must take the way you hesitate to shut down him as reluctant permission for him to keep going, because he stands up and moves to a spot closer to you. Not close enough that he could reach out and touch you, but enough for you to see the tiny mole under his bottom lip and how it quivers when he looks at you.

Fuck. You’re letting him win again.

“Okay, fine. Talk then. I’m listening. You’re sorry, right? You keep saying you’re sorry for everything, but what exactly is everything? What are you even sorry about? Are you sorry about annoying me right now, or are you sorry about being a prick the other day, or are you sorry about leaving me five years ago? When did you become this pathetic, Jungkook?”

“W–what?”

“When did you become so pathetic?” you repeat. “If you had to come back, couldn’t you come back as someone better? Someone who’s sure of himself and has a good life, not this… person who has to grovel at my feet for forgiveness. Even when you were at your lowest, you weren’t like this. I don’t even know who this Jungkook is. What happened to you?”

If you think that you saw him at his lowest, then you’re wrong. He didn’t hit rock bottom until he’d left you and had to live with what he chose to do. 

“You’re right. I am pathetic,” Jungkook agrees, dropping his gaze to the floor like he’s ashamed. “But fuck, I’m trying to be worthy of you.”

It’s a truth that he doesn’t want to face, doesn’t want to admit how very real it is until you’ve just said it and it fucking guts him. He knows his friends pity him sometimes, even if they don’t want to view him as someone to be pitied. No matter how much of a front he puts up, he knows that Jimin and Taehyung see right through him. They won’t say it to his face, and for that Jungkook has gotten away with avoiding this fact for so long. But to hear it from you, to watch you spell it out for him, it hurts.

He wants to mention Yoongi, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t immediately aggravate you. After all, bringing up Yoongi is what got him into this mess, isn’t it?

Regardless, he wants to ask you a question that he already knows the answer to. What does Yoongi have that he doesn’t? The answer is: A lot of things. Yoongi has a lot of things that Jungkook doesn’t, one of them being the self-assurance to not run away when it comes to you and what you deserve.

He wants to ask, but he doesn’t, because he’s scared it might drive you right into Yoongi’s arms and Jungkook can’t compete with a man like that.

He can barely keep up even with just himself in the running.

There’s a big question mark that pops up in your head, along with a slight sting in your eyes that you blink away. You’ve never seen Jungkook like this before. This whole time, was it not only you who was miserable?

He looks so small that it breaks your heart. For once, you aren’t sad for yourself but you’re sad for him. It never occurred to you that he could’ve been lonely too, having to keep all of this inside because you know he didn’t share it with anyone else. You catch a glimpse of him again, like you did when you were making ramen together in your kitchen while a storm was raging outside. In a lot of ways, Jungkook is still that kid stuck in an adult’s body, lost and scared and loved you. It feels like you could’ve seen him in the same ocean while you were just trying to keep your head above water.

The sight of him, so vulnerable and astray, placates you. Your resolve crumbles, but not like it was ever that strong to begin with. You suppose you could see why he was being a jerk to you. Even though it doesn’t justify what he said, you understand just a little bit where he was coming from. You find yourself forgiving him for some of it. It’s part of letting things go, right?

But no matter how much you want to reach out and comfort him, you know you shouldn’t. What are you supposed to do in a situation like this? You’re confused and it feels like you two have been going around in a circle, looking for a solution that doesn’t seem to exist.

Coexisting doesn’t work. Telling him to leave things alone doesn’t work. What else can you do?

Why do you have to resolve a problem that isn’t even yours? Jungkook says he’s trying, but his efforts keep making your life harder and harder. You practically blew up in his face, then apologized for being harsh even though you were fully aware that you had nothing to be sorry for. You called him a hypocrite and now you’re ready to cave just because he’s on the verge of shedding a few tears. This constant back and forth between your anger and your reluctance to see that anger through is possibly the thing that’s hindering you.

You can’t – and shouldn’t – accommodate him anymore. You have to put your foot down, no matter how difficult it is with the lingering ghost of your past love.

Because you’re always weak when it comes to Jungkook.

Because you’re still holding onto something.

Because Jungkook will always be the first person that you have ever loved, and those four years meant a lot to you even if they didn’t to him. Maybe it’s even fair to say that you might never truly get over it, and that doesn’t have to be such a terrible thing. Maybe he was never the person you thought he was, or maybe you never meant as much to him as he did to you. Somehow, that’s okay. It’s manageable because it’s routine at this point. You’ve internalized it. The years have taught you that sometimes, things get shitty just because they can and you just have to deal with it.

The intrinsic pain of the human experience. C’est la vie.

What a world this is.

Is it bad that you’re thinking about Yoongi in a moment like this?

Yoongi could be your future, if you’d let him.

You should let him. Maybe this is your answer right here. 

“Jungkook, let’s stop.” He looks at you with crestfallen eyes, but you have to keep going. The only way out is through. “Let’s stop. You want me to listen to you, but you haven’t been listening to me. I don’t have the strength to keep this up anymore, and I have told you that repeatedly but you wouldn’t listen. Jungkook, move on.”

You pretend not to notice how his lip trembles even more. “What if I don’t want to move on?”

This feels like a conversation that should’ve happened ages ago. Five years ago, you should’ve screamed at him, cried with him, held each other as you both fell apart. He stripped you of that right and gave you no say at all.

“You’re being awfully selfish,” you tell him, but in your head, you’re already thinking about what his words actually mean. 

“Have you completely written me off then? Is there nothing at all that I can do? Because I would do anything if you asked. You know that.”

Your throat is so dry that it feels like you’re swallowing sand. You dig everything back up again until you find the memory of that day hidden at the very bottom.

It’s terrible. He’s making you relive it again.

“I remember calling for you and you didn’t even look back,” you say, but your voice breaks toward the end. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

Jungkook just stares at you then, and for the longest time, neither of you say anything. This is the first time that you two have addressed the problem, properly addressed it instead of half-heartedly sweeping it under the rug like you tried to do. 

You breathe in, he breathes out. You hate the way you feel, and you resent the way he looks like he’s breaking down just as badly. There are tears in those eyes, tears that Jungkook doesn’t let spill because he defiantly wipes them away with the back of his hand after a moment. 

When he speaks next, you want the world to end.

“Then I’ll earn your trust back. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will.”

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted january 21, 2023]

[i-eat-worlds]

Starcross Chapter 7

Almost forgot to post this lol

content: medical whump, conditioned whumpee, fear of punishment, bandage changes, angst, injured ankle

Free Space, AFS Starcross, 5/5/4763

Together, Oka and Ziar were able to get Kim back on the bed. They apologized profusely the whole time, but they were otherwise calm. No biting or scratching, only some tears. She decided that was a win.

Their ankle didn’t look worse than it had before, still swollen and dark purple. Kim was unnervingly quiet as they took off the splint and poked at it. Even though she tried to handle it gently, it still had to hurt.

After making sure that their ankle wasn’t any worse off than it had been, she re-splinted it and set it back down on the bed. When she reached to pull the blanket back down over their feet, they suddenly jolted, gasping for breath while their eyes went wide. Ziar’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you alright, Kim?”

They seemed to shy away from her. “Unit KM-4682 is experiencing electrical discharges from its myelolumbar cybernetic implant.”

The damn implants were malfunctioning. That would be fun to bring up to another doctor. “Alright. How often does this happen?”

She could see the concentration on Kim’s face while they formulated an answer. “It doesn’t know, ma’am.”

“That’s okay.” She keeps her face relaxed and friendly. “How many times has it happened since you’ve been here.”

“Five? Maybe eight?” Their voice was shaky. “Unit KM-4682 was not instructed to keep track.”

“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. There's no wrong answers,” she said.

Kim looked at her, unbelieving. They seemed uncertain. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ziar smiled a little bit. She hadn’t been called ma’am in ages, but especially not in Yeran. For a brief moment, she thought about telling them they didn’t have to use it, but that would probably only make them more distressed. “Besides the shocks, does anything else hurt? Do you have any numbness or tingling anywhere?”

They shook their head. “No, ma’am.”

She could tell that they were simply trying to guess what she wanted to hear, instead of saying what they were actually feeling. “It’s okay if you’re in pain. If you are, I want to know.”

Kim swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. “Unit KM-4682 is experiencing discomfort in its ankle, lower back, and neck.”

“Alright.” Their eyes flickered down as Ziar spoke. “I’d like to look at your back, if that’s okay.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kim started to roll off their back, wincing as the movement agitated their broken ribs.

Ziar grabbed a pillow. “Here, this’ll make it more comfortable.” Hesitantly, they took the pillow, wiggling it between their body and the bed for extra padding.

While they got comfortable, Ziar pulled open the drawers at the bottom of the bed, pulling out two packages of sterile gloves and two extra DF packs. The ones in the packs were always too small for her. “I’m going to start with your neck, alright?” The sanitizing gel burned at a hangnail as she rubbed it over her hands.

“Yes, ma’am.” Kim’s voice was quiet, resigned. Ziar unfastened the first couple closures on the back of the gown, revealing the entirety of the implant.

She started to open the pack, setting the bag aside as a trash can and placing the pack on the bedside table. She pulled the flap on the far side open before doing the others. Using two fingers, she pulled a drape off the top of the pack, grasping its outer edges so she didn’t contaminate it.

Kim was perfectly, worryingly still as she peeled open the package of gloves and carefully pulled them on. The process of preparing the pack was familiar, peeling open the dermafibran and setting the sample cup to the side. She took the forceps in her hand. “I’m going to peel the old DF off. Sorry if the tools are cold.”

Kim didn’t react at all, with the exception of a quietly mumbled. “Yes, ma’am.” Ziar wondered if they said anything else.

Carefully, she slid one side of the forceps under the dermafibran, then slowly began to peel it back, revealing the implants. It didn’t look much better than it had the night before, still red and puffy. The dermafibran had turned a different color, indicating that it had been doing its job.

She dropped the old covering into the trash, then looked closer. A rivulet of pus was coming from the wound, and Ziar sighed internally. If only Yera’s surgeons could actually do their fucking jobs when they were experimenting on people’s fucking spinal cords.

Kim inched as she collected a sample of the discharge for culture. They had gone distant, and the contact had brought them back. “How’re you doing Kim? I’m nearly done with this one.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Kim spoke. “It is functional, ma’am.” Their voice was wobbly.

“Okay.” She started to recover the wound, pressing the fresh, hazy blue sheet of dermabran over the implant. “Does your neck hurt?”

“A little bit, ma’am.”

Ziar set the sample to the side, collected her trash, and peeled her gloves off. “Alright. I still need to change the DF on your back, but I know it isn’t very comfortable for you. Do you want to wait for a little while before I do that, or do it right now?”

Kim didn’t say anything, seemingly frozen still. Finally, they spoke. “Unit KM-4682 finds that either would be permissible.” A carefully neutral statement.

She wasn’t going to get anywhere with them like this. It was going to be a tough conversation, but it probably needed to happen sooner rather than later.

“Kim,” she started, tone gentle. “Can you turn around to face me?” They complied, slowly rolling back onto their back. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m not mad at you, but I think it would be good for us to talk, okay?” Kim stayed quiet, eyes downcast. “I know this is scary, and that’s okay. You don’t know me, and I don’t know what’s happened to you.”

They nodded silently, breaths quickening.

“I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m not going to,” she continued, reaching over to move the table out of the way. They started to pick at their fingernails, pointer finger ramming into their thumb. “That is not going to happen to you here, alright. Ever.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She could hear the shake in their voice. Tears were welling up in their eyes, just about to fall.

“I want to help you, alright. To do that, I need to know what you honestly think and feel, even if you think I won’t like it.” Kim blinked their eyes, trying to prevent the tears from falling. “It’s important, because you deserve to be safe, and I can’t help you with that if I don’t know what's wrong.” It grated at her, having to speak like this, making them afraid like this, but it needed to happen. “It’s okay if this feels weird, or if you have questions. Do you understand what I’m saying, Kim?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The tears were owing freely as they pushed the blanket away and pulled the gown up, revealing their electrowhip scar flecked upper thighs. Kim looked up at them, ghting to keep their expression blank. “Unit KM-4682 understands and is ready for correction, ma’am.”

Oh. Oh-no.

Taglist: @whump-snob @whump-kia @itsoundslikeafury @blackberry-bloody @snakebites-and-ink

@whumpacabra @cepheusgalaxy @softvampirewhump @my-little-versaille @pigeonwhumps

@whumped-by-glitter @snaillamp @rainydaywhump @platysaurus @whumpy-daydreams

@whiskygoldwings @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @rainbowsandwhumperflies @risk606 @starfields08000

@loonybun @paingoes

[basiltonpitch]

Devi vs. David: aka a comprehensive list of every single time ben gross has referred to devi as one or the other (season four edition)

HERE IT IS!!! the final edition of devi vs. david!!! if you're new here and haven't checked out any of my other devi vs. david deep dives, please feel free to check them out here: season 1, season 2, season 3. you can also find all of my devi vs. david ramblings here. and as i've said again and again and again, this is a list of every single time ben refers to her as either devi or david, this time in season 4, with context + insight + my own lil insane thoughts, because i'm 100% totally normal when it comes to this topic (they said, like a liar).

heads up, not all of the netflix captions are accurate, or the whole quote wasn't all in one frame, so if the font looks different in any of the following screencaps, it's because i captioned them myself.

i already noted in previous analyses, as well as in this post, that ben tends to go for “david” during their rivalry and their friensdhip, as opposed to when they’re estranged/fighting etc and when they're in more...well, romantic situations, he defaults to “devi.” i’ll go a little more into this towards the end, but it’s just something i’d like to bring to your attention before i get started.

anyways, here we go!

hmm remember when i predicted we would get a “devi” first this season because of the months of distance and miscommunication? and when i thought it would happen immediately after devi sees margot kiss ben? i may not have had all the details right, but i saw this coming from a mile away. and this also fits into the pattern i thought was going to be established: season 1 we get “david” first, season 2 we get “devi,” season 3 “david” and now in season 4 they’re finishing the pattern with another “devi.” they’re in wildly different places in their relationship in each of these instances, which i go more in detail about in this post where i predicted that we would get a “devi” first this season.

anyways. this use of “devi” has me hurting for both of them. they’ve got this - this chasm of months of distance, of zero contact, of miscommunication and misread feelings and misrepresented actions (“he was clearly embarrassed for me.” vs “it was so clear she that thought it sucked. she got up and sprinted out.” i love my two unreliable narrators devi vishwakumar and ben gross!!). i’m having a lot of thoughts about devi’s intentions here that i…probably won’t go into further detail about, lol, because this post is about ben. so. of course he reverts to “devi” here - they aren’t friends, right now. they aren’t really rivals right now, either - i mean, they always will be, of course, but that’s not the focal point of their relationship here. they’re talking for the first time after three months of radio silence, of ben creating this rift between them because of some bullshit advice after misrepresenting what happened (okay like. i’m not here to hate on ben - i just. it’s his fault. it’s literally his fault). he can’t call her “david” because, as i’ve said before, “david” has turned fond. they aren’t friends, they aren’t rivals, they aren’t lovers. so, “devi.”

(didn't include the first "devi" he says to get her attention in this scene, sorry.)

okay this is. basically bouncing off the last one - he can’t call her “david.” they aren’t close enough for that, not right now - they won’t be for some time this season. but he’s also trying to set the tone of the conversation, a more mature version of the one they had in the beginning of the episode. and i do applaud him for this, for owning up to all of this being his fault, too (which. i don’t think all of it was, honestly - there is blame to be placed on devi and on margot over what happened this episode, but the 3 months of no contact? ben’s fault, 100%). big props to him for apologizing. however still a little salty about him internalizing those words from mr. basketball player all those months ago, because dude did not have all the info when he gave ben that advice. but to be fair - ben is a seventeen year old with low social skills (not faulting him for that because like. same) so i sympathize with him a bit there. overall, based on where they are in their relationship in 4x01, i was really pleased with how this convo turned out especially since the spoilers we were given from the premiere made it look so much worse than it really is.

hm. remember how that last convo of theirs was pretty mature and low-conflict. yeah then they give us this. ben’s…exasperated. within reason, i think - and to be clear i don’t think devi’s really in the wrong here, it’s just…he chose to be with margot because he thought it was the easier route. he distanced himself from devi because he thought it would be easier. but it’s not. of course it’s not - he and devi both still have all these messy feelings for each other that they’ve been pushing down and suppressing and denying. and it’s tiring. being around devi while he’s “““moving on””” is tiring. being sucked into drama over and over is tiring. he wants - or thinks he wants- something calm, and easy. -and like. it would be fuckign easy if y’all just got your shit together and admitted your feelings but that comes later so we’re moving on for now-

okay so. as i’ve said in my previous posts, it doesn’t make sense for him to refer to her as “david” to other people when she’s not around, so we’re not going to explain why he said “devi” here - that’s a given. but this whole scene…he kinda let devi get into his head before talking to margot. like, from the characters’ point of view, not ours, it definitely seems like margot had the most motive to deface her car. i mean ben straight up says, “you did have a good reason, so i could understand why you might.” and this isn’t me digging at devi for thinking margot did it, or ben for second-guessing margot, or anything like that - it’s just like. objectively. it does seem like margot could have done it. so i get where ben’s coming from.

okay so…we know that that is. false. a lie. an untruth. et cetera. bouncing back to the first instance of “devi” in 4x02, this, once again, makes me think that ben is just…trying to make things easier, calmer. he doesn’t want to deal with devi’s drama right now (again, not dissing devi, just explaining his pov). interrupting her with, “listen, devi,'' to get her attention, to shut her up because he just…can’t do this right now. he’s conflicted - he cares about devi so deeply that it’s detrimental to him at times, and after the events of 4x01 and 4x02, he thinks the best thing to help him keep “““moving on””” (bc like. i’ve touched on this before but there is no moving on for him when it comes to devi) is to go back to silence and estrangement. back to how they were over the summer. back to how they were in those few episodes of season 2, even, just with less vitriol. so, “devi” to further that distance - earlier in the episode, he says, “we are friends,” but here, he’s all but saying, we can’t be friends, not anymore. not now. maybe not ever again.

following this up with:

the thing is…he does look sorry. he doesn’t want to lose her again. it hurts her, yes, but it also hurts him. but like i said - this is easier for him, for right now at least.

oooh this brings me back to 2x08, “devi, you’re daisy.” ben, currently dating a girl that’s not devi, while still having all these complicated feelings for her, relating her to the material they’re currently studying, after she almost became the reason said girlfriend had to leave sherman oaks (temporarily for margot, of course, but still) - it’s not an exact copy/paste, obv, but i’m loving the parallel. also brings me back to 1x02, “it’s okay, devi. i know how hard it is to memorize seven facts,” the same tone being used then as it is now - although with different intentions, of course. ben is - bitter, i would say. of course he is. this whole situation is just…really reminiscent of that 2x05 to 2x07 arc, although with a bit less anger - they’ve got not just their rivalry and (currently, failed) romance behind them, but also those months of real friendship they had during season 3. there’s even more history between them to contend with now, which makes it harder for him to be angry with her. he still is - just not to the same extent as the s2 aneesa situation. 

remember when i said ben stopped talking to her to make it easier? yeah. i honestly totally forgot he says exactly that until i got to this scene while writing this out. “it’s just easier this way. she just always complicates things.” just - ouch, ouch, ouch. this is just me reiterating everything i’ve already said, i guess. does he want to push devi away right now? no, i don’t think so. but it makes things less complicated for him. devi is messy, yes, they’ve established that well over all four seasons - but this isn’t really about how messy devi is, is it? he tells margot that it’s because of devi, and it is, partially, but it’s also because of him. because he and devi clash. because he and devi mesh. because, at least right now, it is so hard for him to separate all these things he feels - angry and disappointed, yes, but there’s this - wistful, i want to say, feeling there under all of that, this pull he’s always going to feel with her. and he’s not in a place where he can let that go unless he cuts her off.

god i do feel for ben here. i wish they had brought back some of the stuff from last season with him…chilling out more when it comes to academics and all that, but like, this is ben gross we’re talking about here - one intestinal blockage and heartfelt convo with his dad isn’t going to erase over a decade of self-set high expectations. dude is stressed, literally sweating through his clothes and now he looks like someone squirted a bottle of french’s on him.

and amongst all this, comes the last person he wants to talk to right now - he smells like sweat and acrylic paint and he just had his girlfriend judge the spiel he’s probably recited in the mirror a hundred times (which like, in all fairness to margot, it did feel like a bowflex commercial). and now here’s devi, all calm and collected with her power blazer and bouncy high pony - looking like the opposite of what ben’s feeling. he’s already frustrated, and her showing up makes it that much worse - until approximately two seconds later when she saves his women’s medium sized ass.

episode 5’s you never disappoint do you. i love, love, love this conversation between ben and devi - this vulnerability here, the way they tell each other that they’ll be okay, that yes, this is scary. our lives are about to change forever - but you’ll make it through. you’ll survive. you’ll thrive. 

and this line…this so much. ben knows who devi is, has been in proximity to her for twelve years at this point, as a rival, as a friend, even as a lover for a short stint - and he knows her, and he knows that she knows herself. maybe - no, definitely - she didn’t know who she was before, drowning in fresh grief, but she’s grown, she’s healed (not completely, but she has healed nonetheless), and ben has had a front row seat to that. he has watched from up close as she became the person she is now. he believes in her, and he knows she can believe in herself, too.

i promise i’m feeling so totally normal about this…remember when i said i thought the first “david” would be at the end of 4x05 during reconciliation? i do, and, surprise surprise - i was right, because ben gross is nothing if not consistent (most of the time, at least). this “david” is driving me insane. they just had this heartfelt discussion about their fears with going to college, reassuring each other that they’ll be okay, fucking…pep talking each other, because they know each other better than they know anyone else, and ben drops a “david” like it’s nothing. like it’s easy. like he means it!!! i’ve said so many times that “david” has turned into this term of endearment almost exclusively used during their friendship, with ben avoiding using it when they’re not friends, and after last episode, where it had been verbally established (by devi, at least), that they still aren’t friends…now he slips a “david” in. this is the closest, the most vulnerable, they’ve been with each other in months. this is ben taking that step to pull them even closer - ben feeling safe enough to do so. this is ben saying, “i can be your friend,” thirty seconds before he actually utters those words.

okay full disclosure, “david” isn’t in the official captions on this one, so like, idk if jaren decided to add this day of filming or what - but whatever. that doesn’t matter here. what does matter is this absolute effortless slide back into their friendship. ben going out of his way to approach her, to tell her the good news (well. it’s not really good news for devi but like. he doesn’t know that, so). he’s excited for her!!! he gives her this boost of confidence (and yes i know it doesn’t last long, what with the deferral email coming in that day but. still.)

ooooh the way i love this scene!!! the fact that we get to see this interaction through paxton’s eyes is just delightful to me. like, okay, i’m not a “he’s mean to you so he likes you!!” kind of person, but banter like this coming about while they’re actively friends and post-bargot (bengot? ragross? ykwim) breakup…it’s thinly veiled flirting, and idk if we would have been given that perspective if this scene had been shot from devi’s pov, or ben’s. while this isn’t the first taste of mutual banter we’ve got all season (looking at you, 4x04 bathroom scene), this is the first friendly mutual banter, and god we were starving for it - at least i know i was. there’s bite behind their words, but it’s playful for both of them!! but like - then there’s the shot of them both immediately fixing their appearance after they’re no longer in each other’s line of sight (ben tucking in his necklace, devi taking off her cardigan) and i just. ooooh my god i love it. i’ve said it before, and i’ll say it again - peak crush behavior. and ben isn’t even posturing for paxton here like he would have before, thanks to the literal shitstorm of 3x06 - ben’s only…well, acting up, i guess i would say, for devi. not anyone else. 

(and like this is totally unrelated but god do i wish we got more bexton interactions this season, but oh well.)

hi yeah no i’m still not over this scene. it’s. so unapologetically horny and it’s a side of ben i’m honestly so glad we got to see. like, okay, we already know he messed around a little with shira, had (bad) sex with devi, and is canonically a boob guy, but this more in-depth peek at his desires (cough cough degradation kink cough cough) is just…chef’s kiss. yes this is devi’s show first and foremost but god do i love the looks into ben’s brain we get. and this - this desire for devi, this want for her, something he can’t run from in his subconscious no matter how hard he runs from it in his waking hours - yes, it’s a wet dream, but it’s more than that. trent says it: “...you really love her.”  ben loves her. he can’t get her out of his head. he wants her - physically and emotionally.

let’s, for now, ignore that this is moments before disaster. god, the look on his face, this eager, hopeful smile, the fucking bouquet he brought for her. he’s riding the high (ha, get it) of trent’s earnest pep talk, ready, for the first out of multiple times this season, to tell her he wants her. he’s done denying it, to himself and now to her, too (which. the latter obviously doesn’t really happen for another few months - but that’s beside the point).

this instance is pretty self-explanatory from ben’s pov (i mean, that’s what y’all are here for). checking in that she’s okay after seeing her throw up, congratulating her, etc. not spending too much time on this one - just noting the, once again, effortless slip back into “david” after the events of last episode. not saying there’s not some inner turmoil going on for him regarding his feelings for her; even though we can’t see it, it’s still there - but birthdaygate (as nalini called it) was…a disaster, to put it lightly, so. back to “david” it is…for now, at least.

god this followed immediately by the “is she okay?” and then ben rushing off to go check in on her…i’ll touch on this more in the next instance, but like. he’s truly the only one who gets how much this would hurt. not saying that no one else understands how devi feels, but he’s the only one who would really, truly get it if the same happened to him. just - the wondering how she didn’t get in anywhere, because she’s just as smart as (and, technically as 4x10 proves with that valedictorian sash, smarter than) him.  the immediate concern for her, the need to check in...god, he cares for her so much.

“But you’re not a quitter.” bringing back the “no one knows them better than they know each other” thing - because it’s true. no one knows devi better than ben knows her. he knows what she’s capable of - has been on the opposing side of it for over a decade. he has won against her, lost against her, won with her, lost with her…he’s seen her rise and fall and pick herself back up to rise again. he understands her, and he understands why this is so painful for her - if it were him, it would feel like twelve years of hard work, of early mornings following sleepless nights, of flash cards and meticulous notes and extra credit projects, all being flushed down the drain. he gets it, gets her. this being the first use of “devi” (to her, and not in a dream sequence) since 4x05 - he uses it to set the tone, to get her attention, to get her to listen to him. because he knows she doesn’t really want to give up. and he as much as says that: “but if you don’t try everything that you can, you’re gonna regret it.” she already knows this - there’s no doubt in my mind about that, and there’s no doubt that ben knows that she knows this. she just needed to hear it from the one person who understands - and it worked. she does try - and, as we see in 4x10, she succeeds.

this…this is the biggest break in his pattern when it comes to “devi” vs “david.” he never refers to her as “david” with a - romantic isn’t the exact word i’m looking for, but it’s the one we’re gonna use - romantic intention. i think he’s using “david” here to sort of…ease the tension, so to say? to lighten the mood a bit. he wants to tell her - has wanted to since trent told him to speak his truth, likely longer than that. but after birthdaygate - he doesn’t want to show too much of his hand. “maybe i was wrong, david.” not “i was wrong, devi.” 

feeling especially attached to this use of “david” tbh. the excitement he feels for her, immediately rushing to pull her into a hug, how proud he is of her, especially after the events of the last episode. again, he knows how hard she’s worked for this, and he knows what it’s like to feel all of that hard work pay off. she’s not alone in feeling this satisfaction - he’s feeling it with her.

 i loved, loved all the callbacks to the previous seasons, and this is no exception. the addition of “david” here brings me back to this post by @catty-words that i’m still thinking about almost two years later (and have referenced in 2 out of 3 of these analyses): “it’s a relic from their rivalry.” obviously cori goes into it a bit differently in that post because it’s about their season 2 arc, but to re-work that line here: the equatorial guinea nametag (i would say plaque but like. it’s a piece of paper) is a memento of their first time teaming up, but it is also a relic of their rivalry in a way - the initial anger of devi infiltrating his club, the temporary alliance that was struck down just hours later, the nuclear attack. and so, yes, “david” here is used as that mark of friendship, as i’ve referred to it before, and so is the nametag, but they’re also both a representation of their enmity - albeit in a much more playful way than the "david" from 2x05.

i’m going to refer you to the genius of rae @ice-sculptures real quick, who had this to say in regards to ben’s patterns when it comes to what he calls her: “it could be that he “hides” behind david when the lines of their relationship are blurred and uses it as a way to convey the affection that he doesn’t think he can openly express. but when they actually get together he doesn’t need to hide anymore bc he knows that she’s aware of how much he loves her…so devi is enough.”

y’all. devi is enough. he doesn’t need to use a term of endearment, a pet name, with her here. he doesn’t need to hide behind “david.” and like. just in case you aren’t aware - “david” means “beloved” in hebrew. i’m sure ben’s aware of that - he’s a giant nerd, and he’s jewish - it never gets established in canon, so it may just be something we’re all collectively reading into, but like. i’m obviously going to continue reading into it - he doesn’t have to hide behind “beloved” anymore, he doesn’t have to use this roundabout way to tell her how he feels - he can just say it. and he says it without even knowing if she feels the same way. he’s following trent’s advice from 4x08: “you must go to her. [...] you must tell her how you feel. there's no time to waste. [...] you must speak your truth. she needs to know." he flies to her on a whim to tell her he likes her. actually, he thinks he loves her, “devi.” he loves her. this is the bravest thing he’s done - he doesn’t know how she feels, doesn’t know if she loves him back - but he tells her anyways. he can’t wait. it doesn’t matter that she’s flying to the east coast the next day, where she’ll be a two hour and six minute train ride away. he has to tell her now. there’s no time to waste. she needs to know.

god. i just - i love that they already had this - this whole soft, sweet love confession, full of shy, gentle smiles and giggles, followed by The Big Damn Kiss of All Time (and like. the big damn bang of all time) and he still feels the need to tell her that he wants to be with her. that he wants to start this next chapter of life with her. and there’s just…something so important to me about them not being high school sweethearts. about them not really giving this an actual shot until they’re headed to college. he doesn’t want “let’s kiss at our lockers in between periods and sit next to each other in the cafeteria while we eat gloopy square-shaped pizza.” he wants “let’s fall asleep on facetime during exam season. let’s spend one weekend in new york and the next in new jersey. let’s meet in the middle. let’s cram ourselves onto a twin-sized dorm room bed that’s definitely not made for two people. let’s learn how to be adults together. let’s give this a real try. let’s give us a real try.”

and so they do.

and with that...we're done. if you've reached the end, thank you for reading! i'm so sad that this series of posts has come to an end, but i've had an absolute delight doing these, and i'm so pleased with the ending of this show - because it didn't feel like an ending. it felt like a new beginning. i'm going to miss never have i ever (i already do), but i'm so happy to have spent the past few years yelling about it with all of you - and i'll likely continue yelling about it in the near future.

[gigi-the-writer]

HELLO GIGI! How are you?? Hope you're having a great night.🙃

May you do the crew (Demencia, Dr Flug and Black Hat) reacting to them accidentally making their s/o cry? (Feel free to delete if the request make your uncomfortable!)

Have fun writing!

Well this’ll be interesting!

FLUG:

Accidentally making his s/o cry breaks his heart, kind of. Flug, in the beginning of your relationship, may be emotionally unavailable. Again, this is only in the beginning of the relationship or it may last a little longer, depending on your personality as well. Another scenario, if it’s in front of blackhat (assuming you’re hiding your relationship which canonically, you most likely are because blackhat won’t tolerate that shit lol) he’ll brush it off, but behind closed doors he’ll apologize profusely.

If you’re the type to hold a grudge it’ll only put your relationship at risk even more (including other problems but I’ll get into that in a separate post) Flug is already pretty insecure, and having you not respond to and even ignore him stresses him out.

DEMENCIA:

Demencia is interesting to say the least. I’d say she’s the most in tune with your emotions, as she is obsessed with whatever special someone she finds. So she pays attention to everything.

She’s awkward about it though, I headcanon that she ignores her bad feelings and uses her fists to cope if ‘needed’. She focuses on the bright side, despite the fact that her version of ‘bright side’ is pretty twisted.

She won’t apologize outright, but she’ll provide you with distractions or other gifts as an indirect apology.

BLACKHAT:

I think we all know where this is going. BlackHat is an unapologetic creature, I doubt he’d even be able to feel sympathy if he’d want to. He doesn’t apologize, doesn’t accommodate, in fact he may even mock you or make fun of your emotions. A relationship with BlackHat is unhealthy in so many ways, he refuses to admit he’s in the wrong, and invalidates your feelings. That’s really all there is to say on this subject.