#and then he just fully comes out with “they’re all fucking crazy it’s a mental illness”

[numberonestuckyshipper]

I love the Howling Commandos so much, they’re so underrated if you ask me, especially the awesome dynamic they 100% had. I imagine all of them in very specific ways, some things are based off of fics I’ve read, some of it is just me.

Steve Rogers: Steve is the youngest of them all, he’s also the least experienced one and he hasn’t been part of the group nearly as long as the others considering he came into the picture after Kreischberg. He’s really fun to talk to and he’s as much of a little shit as the others are, being the leader of their group he’s in charge of tacking care of talking to superiors and shit, and he often ignores direct orders to do what he thinks is a better option, he also lets his team get away with things regular soldiers wouldn’t be allowed to do and they love him for it. He often gets yelled at by Bucky after doing stupid shit, the other Howlies often jokingly refer to him as “Dad” when it’s just them.

Bucky Barnes: Bucky has the others’ immense respect from the start, because he’s protective and caring as much as he hates to admit it. He is the only one who has negative amount of problems yelling at Steve after he did some stupid shit, he was the most scarred by Kreischberg but never lets it show. He loves music and always has a song stuck in his head and has fun pissing the others off by butchering the songs when it’s safe to be loud. He trusts Steve more than he probably should and goes with his plans, though he often forces him to modify them and cut down the crap. His protectiveness and strictness when Steve’s being a dumbass gets the others to nickname him “Mom” when they’re in private. He ‘hates’ it.

Dum Dum Dugan: Dum Dum was Bucky’s closest friend after Steve, he has a stupid sense of humor and says way too many dad jokes than is good for his teammates’ mental health. He’s always the first to jump at the opportunity to get his hands on some alcohol (no one complains about that) and he and Jim are the primary clowns of the group. He loves to tease the others, especially “Mom” and “Dad”.

Jim Morita: Jim is the one in charge of their immediate medical problems and small tech involved stuff, like Dugan, he has a shit sense of humor and they often get into battles of who can out dad-joke the other.

Gabe Jones: like Dum Dum, Gabe has known Bucky since before Azzano, and is the one in charge of languages, he speaks French and German more fluently than the others do and in the beginning he was usually in charge of dealing with Jacques’ bullshit.

Monty Falsworth: Monty is the only official member of the Howlies who isn’t broke (he is often teased about it). He could be considered the most sane of the Howlies (though not by far) he is the most experienced of the group to talk about strategy and often helps Steve and helps Bucky knock some reason into the little shit. They like to tease him for living up to every British stereotype and is often asked to ‘translate’ what Peggy says. He has a sister named Jaqueline who is a spy for the SOE.

Jacques Dernier: Jacques was a member of the French resistance, he’s from Marseille and is fully fluent in English but refuses to speak it. He understands everything the others tell him but speaks to them in French and lets them deal with it, after over a year of dealing with him all of the Howlies are more or less fluent in French. They call him a fucking pyromaniac because of his love of explosives and his talent with them. He also has a shit sense of humor that rivals with Dum Dum and Jim and is probably the most batshit crazy member of the team (though the others are pretty close behind him).

Howard Stark is considered an honorary member of the Howlies idc about any contradiction: rule n°1 when it comes to Howard Stark; don’t leave him alone with Jacques Dernier. They will set something on fire or worse. He and Monty are often laughed at for having money and they tease back by talking about rich people problems in front of the others. He is called a lot of names by the Howlies such as things like “Gadget”, “Engineer”, “Civilian”, “Civy” and things among those lines making fun of him not technically being a part of the military. He is involved in a lot of the Howlies’ inside jokes including the “Mom” and “Dad” thing.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Eighteen (Crazy) Ch. 7

The first thing they do when they get back to the Castle is plop their asses down to the kitchen and fucking devour some food goo. (Seriously, it’s borderline animalistic – they haven’t eaten in several hours, and it has been such a busy day – even the nasty food goo suddenly became the most delicious thing in the universe.)

After everyone has had a couple bowls, conversation starts to pick up, now that no one’s main focus is sustenance above all else. 

“Are there any more locations on the list?” Pidge asks. 

“One more!” Lance answers. “We’re gonna need to wormhole, I think. But it’s the last location, and so long as the galaxy is pretty quiet and calm we should be able to station there for a bit. I’m sure we’ll want to do some training tomorrow.”

Allura nods, grabbing her dishes and heading over to the sink. “Sounds like a plan. Is everyone ready to take off?” 

Various murmurs of agreement and one fully loaded dishwasher later, everyone sits safely buckled up in their stations on the bridge. Allura takes no time in wormholing (Keith has always wished the process would take a little longer, though. Not because he wants it to be more taxing on the Alteans, or anything, obviously, but the whole thing is just so cool and Keith would love to watch it for a little longer. Oh, well. Maybe he’ll get more information if he remembers to ask Coran, later – he always makes a mental note of it and forgets immediately), dropping them off in front of a new planet very quickly. 

“This is another really specific set of coordinates,” Lance explains. “We’ll need to take Blue again to get all the way there.”

On the walk back to Blue, Keith jogs ahead to catch up to Lance. Lance grins over at him immediately, setting off a flurry of butterflies in Keith’s stomach. (He hopes he never gets used to how Lance’s smile makes him feel.)

“You excited?” Keith asks, because there’s nothing he wants to talk about with Lance specifically, but he likes being near him. He itches to link their hands together, but he’s not yet sure that’s allowed. 

“Yeah! I’ve been having fun all day, but it got better when all of you guys joined in.” Lance does what Keith was too anxious to do – he reaches over, grabbing Keith’s left hand in his right, interlocking their fingers. He does it smoothly, in one motion. Practiced.

His hands are sweaty, though. And his ears are red.

Keith smiles.

“I’m glad,” Keith says softly, and they don’t say anything more. 

Lance squeezes their hands together once before letting go as he settles into the pilot’s chair in Blue’s cockpit, and the laser focus Keith had on their joined hands fades a little, and he can hear the rest of the team behind him for the first time since he left their bridge. They’re giggling, because of course they are. Keith rolls his eyes, but he can’t deny that their obvious support loosens some of the nervousness tangled in his chest. 

The giggles taper out as they arrive at the final location, right in front of the mouth of the most massive caves Keith has ever seen. No one says anything for a few moments, just kind of taking it in – it’s several times the size of the Castle, at least, and it’s so dark that Blue’s powerful headlights don’t even make a dent. 

“Well, it’s a good thing our helmets have those light thingies,” Lance says, and he’s off before anyone can stop him. Keith doesn’t hesitate to scramble after him, much to Shiro’s exasperation. 

Lance waits for them at the mouth of the cave, tapping his foot impatiently. “It’s like you guys don’t even want to come,” he complains. 

A foam dart hits him in the nose before he even has the chance to finish his sentence. 

“Stop complaining about dumb things,” Pidge orders, holding a dinky little plastic gun at Lance. Lance looks so comically offended that Keith can’t help it and snorts heavily. 

“You just – shot! Me! On my birthday! Where did you even get – a fucking nerf gun! A goddamned real fucking dookie nerf gun! Why!” 

Keith wheezes, doubling over. He’s not the only one. 

“Oh, fuck you guys.” Keith doesn’t need to look up to know Lance is scowling. 

“Your – your face –” Pidge gasps. 

“I’m uninviting you to my birthday party. Y’all can go home. I’ll explore this cool cave by myself. Goodbye.”

Lance stomps off into the deep emptiness of the cave, thin frame quickly swallowed up by the darkness. 

“Aw, Lance, c’mon,” someone coos, but there’s no answer. 

“Lance?” Allura calls, a bit of an edge to her voice. 

Still no answer. 

“Lance?” Shiro yells, louder, and transparently anxious. 

Silence. 

Keith is the next to call out, jogging quickly into the cave. “Lance!”

He’s the first of the rest of the team to enter the cave, not that it matters – once he’s about three metres in, there’s a bend in the massive corridor, and he can’t see a damn thing. 

“Lance! Can you hear me? La –”

“Boo!”

Keith shrieks at the top of his lungs, desperately batting away the thing gripping his arms. He scrambled away a couple feet, hands flailing, heart pounding, before he registers the absolutely howling laughter ringing through the cavern. His face drops. 

“Oh, fuck you.”

“You – you screamed –”

He can’t see him, but Keith is certain the asshole Blue Paladin is just as hunched over as he was earlier. 

“Double fuck you,” he scowls, quickly messaging the rest of the team to inform them that Lance is fine, and simply a dick-for-brains. 

“Do – do you think –” Lance catches Keith eyes and starts wheezing all over again. This time, Keith really has to fight back his smile. “Do you think you could walk back out so I can scare you again?”

“I think you and I better get going before Shiro’s space Xanax wears off and he wraps your dumb ass in bubble wrap.”

“You’re right,” Lance whispers, teasing and conspiratory. His brown eyes shine darker than they’ve ever looked, in the dim light of their helmet lights. He grabs Keith’s hand again, fingers curling around Keith’s, and all of the pining and the nerves and the oh-my-God-does-he-like-me-back and realises – hey. This is Lance. Lance who is his friend, Lance who is funny and dramatic and playful and ridiculous.

Lance who is yanking him forward, yelling “Run!” at the top of his lungs, just as the rest of the team comes stumbling in somewhere behind them. 

Keith runs. How could he not? 

He and Lance sprint down the dark hallways of the cave, laughing and leaning into each other, barely missing running straight into walls every time there’s a bend. They lose the rest of the team easily, both of them easily ignoring the messages popping up every two seconds on their comms (it’s just Pidge texting ‘losers’ again and again). After what must be ten minutes of straight sprinting, Keith has to call it. 

“Hey, hey – hey. Longlegs. Cool it a minute, will you? I feel like my lungs are trying claw out of my chest.”

“Fine,” Lance sighs dramatically, flopping onto Keith. “I guess if you can’t keep up…”

Keith rolls his eyes. He is so not taking the bait for that one. He and Lance are pretty evenly matched in most places, and Keith can kick his ass in others, but Lance has got them all beat in the speed department. 

“How about those coordinates, huh?” he says instead. “You said they were specific?”

“Yes!” Lance says brightly. “I wonder what Future Me has kickin’ in a cave. I mean, caves are cool, but I wouldn’t usually seek them out, y’know? Well, I did when I was a kid, but time is spooky in caves and I was in there for nineteen hours once without realising so my family reported me missing –”

Lance swings their hands between them as they walk, chattering from story to story, fast as a whip. Keith soaks in every word, asking all the right questions at the right times. 

God, Keith loves him so much. 

“Hey, I think it’s starting to get a little brighter in here,” Keith comments. 

Lance hums. “Kinda like Blue’s cave. Remember that?”

“Yep. I specifically remember you driving me insane.”

“I’m very good at that. You’re easy to rile up.”

“Butthead.”

“Goober.”

“Boogerbrain.”

“Gooseface – woah.”

The slow brightening of the cave corridors suddenly makes sense – Lance’s coordinates have led them to a wide open space, sunlight somehow pouring in from everywhere, waterfall gently cascading down into a beautifully blue lake. 

Lance gasps loudly, taking in the scene with a dropped jaw, and then he whoops, quickly pulling up Allura’s contact on the comm. 

“Everyone! Get in here! There’s a waterfall!”

Before anyone on the team even has half a second to respond, he’s hanging up and laughing maniacally as he drags Keith to the lake. Keith pulls his hand free, stopping him.

“Last one in is on dish duty for a week,” he says, and before Lance can process he sprints off. 

“Hey! Not fair!”

But Lance is laughing again, too surprised to run properly, jumping in the lake right after Keith, armour and all. 

“You’re crazy,” he tells Keith. He grabs Keith’s face gently, looking into his eyes, pretending at seriousness. “It’s a condition. You will never be cured. Thoughts?”

“One,” Keith says. He carefully plucks off his helmet, then Lance’s, tossing them onto the dry ground. Then he mirrors Lance's position, hands on his cheek, pulling him close. He leans close, tilting his head slightly, hearing the faintest uptick of Lance’s breath as their lips get closer and closer –

Lance’s hand clamps over his mouth. 

“Wait,” he whispers. 

“Why,” Keith whispers back. Lance’s face is rosy, and he keeps smiling and glancing away. It’s so cute that Keith considers imploding. 

“It’s my birthday.”

“I’m aware, yes.”

“I take birthdays very seriously.”

“Yep. Fondly remembering the twelve layer cake you stressed baked for Hunk. You should get stressed more often when party planning.”

“Shut up. I’m making a point.”

Keith leans forward and tips their foreheads together, grinning openly now. “Then make it, Bluebell.”

“I’m just saying,” Lance huffs, “that if you kiss me, it will be very special.”

“That’s the idea.”

“And if you kiss me on my birthday, one of those things will be overshadowed. Both of those things are groundbreaking. They need their own days, you understand.”

“Alright,” Keith whispers. And because he can’t help himself, not when they’re so close, he presses a lingering kiss to Lance’s cheek. It makes him giggle. “I’ll kiss you tomorrow, then. Okay?”

“Okay. It’s a date.”

“Good.”

“Woah, Lance, you weren’t kidding!” 

At the sound of the rest of the team’s arrival – finally – Keith and Lance hold eye contact for the barest second, coming to a final agreement, and then immediately start their attack, trying their best to drown each other. The rest of the team joins in immediately, yelling and laughing and choking when someone forgets their strength and drowning nearly occurs. At one point, they decide to play chicken, Lance, Pidge, and Keith sitting on Hunk, Allura, and Shiro’s shoulder and trying to shove each other off, Coran refereeing. 

“Future Me nails it again,” Lance says, when they’re all drying off on the lake-bed. 

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. He reaches over and grabs Lance’s hand, squeezing three times in quick succession. “You did. 

[jack-xoxo]

Jake

Also I've posted this in Ao3, I don't use tumblr but best things assured, I always update: The Devil's Knight

6:54 am

When will there ever be a time that Steven wasn’t so selfish these days and Marc being stiff as a straight line. Steven leaves the house often dirty and trashed like a teenager with a room, it was figured to be impossible and no matter the lectures and no matter the convincing, it will not leave the house clean. Marc is still never fully communicating with Marlene, despite being married, how can 2 of your personalities treat your wife better than you can and one of them has a kid with her, how does that work? Frenchie… never heard from him, although he seemed to be close with Marc, a bit too close for Marc to not notice… I kinda miss him, me and Steven think he has been helpful with everything, from the moment Jean-Paul greeted himself during the marines was everything… Hell Frenchie, where the hell are you?

Marc says he still hears the voices from the shouting the military and often hits his head and shouts whenever he gets an episode. He still has PTSD of that nazi grandfather of his who torturing people in the basement and Marc was almost one of those unfortunate souls, when marc was able to escape and tell what happened, no one believed the boy, looking at him confused and questioned him like he was going mad which was a hard slap to the face for someone so young. And from what happened in north america, the execution with spider-man in mexico, scarlet witch, bushman… all that, no man had to go through

As Jake was doing his regular job of a taxi driver, Steven and Marc fought again and it’s bad enough he can hear it, the passenger can possibly pick up that the driver is crazy. Jake looks through the rear-view and thankfully they’re on the phone… not shocking since everybody now is looking down instead of up but god-bless for what jake was going to say “Look, if you both can’t yourselves together, i'm pulling over and beating the hell out of you both, not even the bird-man himself will stop me” as if he had ever stopped them before. Somehow marc and steven both dragged him into their dilemma, soon a police siren with flashing lights, Jake groaned and as much he wanted to speed up and run away, risking a passengers life over a ticket wasn’t going to be worth it. License and registration…5 minutes…followed till he had dropped off the guy at a bookstore…20 minutes… then followed to the police station… fucking 10 minutes.

Seems like it wasn’t just for a speeding ticket but for a whole felony(?) charge for murder, kidnapping, assault, manslaughter and possibly more listed out than making up some big word for making a big ‘oopsie’ 

7:25 am

The room had a dense tone or setting to it, purposefully making it small so the tension can suffocate you if the detectives catches you in a lie. Black, white, gray with yellow tinted lights since what was so colorful about kidnapping and mentally torturing someone who was a known rat? Cuffed to the bar because why… why the hell not… Both men in a suit and slacks comes in with a folder and a buddy, the old and experienced who’s getting gray’s or balding from all that stress the workforce put these people through, could be both since the fatty had that going and the new and nervous, takes his job too seriously despite not giving it a month or so he has a heart for almost everyone, the stick has hair before the job takes it from him, he has some time before he possibly witness a scene too gruesome for the mind to wash clean from. “Hello Mr. Lockley, Murdock, I’m detective Saturnino and this is my partner Mr. Whiskton?” the bigger gentlemen presented, as the thinner one waved slightly and Jake waved back “do you know you’re pulled here for questioning?” 

“For the love of Christ and his Father…” He groaned in his head. Jake had to relax, his brow jumped and played dumb into the question “no sir, why am I here?” He asks.

“Well you have quite the history on your tail” Saturnino said, there we go, the big man sits in front of Jake and for the other one leans on the wall while trying to both intimidate the single fellow “You were charged and served for a hit and run in March of ‘24, 10 months later you are in conspiracy of first degree manslaughter in Egypt, fake passports, different aliases”

Jake listens, he panics but it doesn’t show while the list goes on and on, Jake is not there, he is dead, Jake is calm and configured, says something crazy, something… some- stupid… Jake’s eyes looking directly through the Saturnino’s pupils, uncanny and uncomfortable for the two “Officer… I was hit a lot as a kid, I don’t remember a lot but I do know, I was there for a good time… I heard the views were good, the food was even better… the ladies even…” Jake smirked, chalking up a laugh from two parties, that's a brownie point although he needs hundreds more for the pigs to be fed.

[fullmetalwindbreaker]

oh yeah i finally watched johnny mnemonic last night. my god is this one of the movies of all time. list of thoughts

- why he got the forest gump haircut

- i understand why people say the acting in this movie is “bad” but i think it’s mostly apt (especially in keanu reeves case) for characters living in an information-saturated state of society. like effectively most of them are on near mentally disabling amounts of stimulants at all times (just like celebrities in the 90s). ice t and henry rollins are the only ones who sound anything like normal human beings to me if i’m being honest. actually now i’m thinking about the scene where he flips out at the end and i think keanu reeves is a very good actor and he doesn’t get enough credit for shit like this

- they really did molly dirty, i guess i can’t be surprised she’s just reduced to a typical 90s action movie female lead exposition sidekick forced romantic interest, but it’s still a bummer. this was a decade after neuromancer was written, there’s so much more of her character to draw on, even if only to foreshadow, than was shown in the original short story. and instead they changed her character so much she doesn’t even have the same name

- i’m glad they included the bionic lesbian bodyguards in some capacity even though they’re not dog girls and there’s several predictably transphobic stereotypical moments

- everything overall seems much more low tech than the sprawl as originally described by my main man willy gibby, i understand how this is mostly a constraint of budget and the actual technology that could exist at the time, but it’s fascinating how it intersects with more broadly popular 90s grunge aesthetic, for example the lack of visible cybernetic augmentation on the previously mentioned lesbians. and switching the lo-tek hideout to a bridge instead of the underside of a city dome is less cool, but i can’t think of second choice that better fits the near-post-apocalyptic-wasteland shabby vibe going on. even the yakuza don’t look very rich or clean or put together

- very fascinating to look back at 30 year old ideas of what cyber society would be like, untethered from the contemporary ubiquity of banal surveillance. i feel like it would be relatively trivial now to find his brain code by looking up some semi-public record or archive of the tv broadcast they used to generate those key frames, but no one in the 90s saw that coming. i’m also thinking about how in watch dogs (video game) in fucking 2014 “corporate interests are gathering seemingly trivial data about your life, especially habits of consumption, especially media consumption” is portrayed as a thing that normal people often think is crazy or outlandish

- i’m also thinking about this quaint outdated view of information saturation contrasted with my real life avoidance of watching movies due to reliance on a different style of video entertainment that prioritizes breadth and volume, drop-in drop-out pause and switch between a dozen tabs at once style, compared to the often much more focused and intentionally continuous format of A Film, which is much harder to fully understand unless you watch it straight through in one sitting, which i rarely feel like i have time or mental dedication for

- do you have parents and stuff!?

-overall i’m not upset by the massive changes to the plot, i think for a movie it’s much better paced than a 1:1 of the original story would have been. i think they did a pretty good job expanding the original premise into a story with some actual stakes, even if cyber seizure disease and mommy ghost in the machine is a little on the nose. 8/10 movie but i might have to try watching it sober too

[minhosbitterriver]

ah okay, um, this is gonna be a long one😅

the thing about me is that i’ve always been a casual listener of music in any genre (with the exception of one direction when i was 11), so a lot of these groups i don’t really know a lot about or follow, i just like some songs from them.

i grew up with mamamoo. they were my first introduction to k-pop. i’ve been listening to their songs since debut, and fell in love their vocals. so sad that they aren’t really together anymore😞

actually, the first k-rock band i ever heard music for was rolling quartz, surprisingly since they’re not that famous. but just a casual listener for them.

because of rq i went digging to find other rock bands and found xdinary heroes. my ult group. love these boys so so much.

through xdh i discovered day 6. didn’t know much about k-rock until recently. still a casual listener though.

p1harmony. my friend and i actually started out watching their content first and then started listening to their music after. absolutely hilarious and so fucking talented.

i’m starting to get into stray kids. i haven’t listened to all their music, but i’ve really liked what i heard so far.

i like some songs from stayc, g-idle, aespa, nmixx, and blackpink.

sorry if this wasn’t quite what you were hoping for😭😭

- 🍀

That’s very fair! Most people I know are also casual listeners of music, but I physically cannot be like that if I like more than two or three songs from the same artist or group. I blame my autism and ADHD for that, I’m very obsessive when it comes to K-Pop (it’s my hyperfixation or special interest, whatever you call it). One Direction was my entire life when I was around that age, too! 😭 And then during Covid I fell back into their rabbit hole for their 10-Year Anniversary back when everyone was convinced they were gonna get back together 💀 but I’m out now, thank goodness!

You grew up with Mamamoo?! I’m so jealous! I came to find out about them after they’d stopped being so active as a group 😔 But I still wanna write for them so bad, my gay little heart needs it. Anyway, their vocals are no joke — they’re so incredibly talented and I feel like more people need to know about them. Who’s your bias? I’m OT4, but Solar and Moonbyul…👀

Rolling Quartz? Hmm, I think the name sounds vaguely familiar but I don’t think I’ve listened to their music. I’ll check it out!

Xdinary Heroes, my beloved 🥺 They’re so underrated it’s actually so insane!

Hello? I also write for P1Harmony? I actually have one piece published for them and I have like five different WIPs for them 💀 They’re so funny and talented, exactly! Also, the fact that they debuted with a whole ass movie? Insanity, but perfection. Who’s your bias? Mine is Jongseob (mostly because he gives me insane gender envy). My bias wreckers are Theo and Soul!

Ooh baby, Stray Kids is my ULT! I have almost 20 published works for them, I adore them so much like there’s genuinely no possible way to fully describe how much they mean to me. I could talk about them all day and night, so if you have any questions on them please hit me up! Do you have any biases yet? I’m 100% an OT8 so picking one member is not even an option 😫

Finally, the rest of the groups you mentioned are all I’ve heard of before but haven’t really sat down to get into them yet. Except for (G)I-DLE! I also write for them, and I have one WIP that’ll hopefully be posted soon!

Nah babe, this was so great! It’s crazy how much we have in common!

SIDE NOTE: Your newest requests have been added to the list 🫡 and I might do the OT6 one first because of the fluffiness and because it’s clearly a priority for both of our mental healths LMAO

[the1975attheirverybest]

Hi I asked you earlier about if I talk to you about something, so, I've been a fan of the 1975 and Matty himself since november last year, immediately I got obsessed haha, started a having page, and bought the ticket for their show, like half year ago, this was something that let me go through a lot of bad times,i was thinking about it everytime I was feeling done with life, I thought it's going to be the best day of my life, I was waiting for it, imaging how will it go, like I thought it's going to be crazy for me, but right before the show I had conflict with my mom about how will I get there, I went with her but she wasn't feeling good, It was super rushed because I didn't know how and if I'll get there, I wasn't really mentally prepared, I didn't have time to be happy and excited about it before, all I was feeling was stress, while I was there I met some people that were distracting me, Was trying to record but all the footage is useless because my camera was broken, I wasn't fully present in that concert, I wasn't fully there, I didn't fully enjoy it, I feel like I ruined it for myself, could be the only time that I was able to see them ever, and I ruined it, I don't feel good, excited like it was fun like I just seen fucking Matty Healy on stage and WTF is wrong me what kinda fan and person I am, i am being really sad and depressed today , feels like a whole half of year was pointless and went to waste idk im sorry for this being so long but I wanted to talk to someone about it, how am I fan and have all these feelings but feeling nothing about the concert that I was sorry if it's too much Hope it makes sense

Awwww, honeyyy I’m so sorry to hear this. Sending you lots of hugs 💗💗

It sounds to me like your feelings aren’t necessarily about the show or the band or the moment, but about the rough day that you had that night. Which makes total sense to me. I’m almost scared to go with people to my show in August just cuz I don’t know how my brain will handle trying to socialize AND be absorbed in the show. And, I don’t know about your mother, I hope you have a better relationship with her than I do with my mom, but if mine was there we would just end up stressing each other out and it would 100% ruin the moment.

You’re a fan of the boys, yeah, but you’re also a human being and you can’t control how you feel so why judge yourself for it, you know? By all accounts, you had a crappy day. And it’s hard to be mindful and present when all that has happened and was happening around you at the same time as the show. But you still got the ticket and went even though you had a difficult day, and that means something! And, hey, I’m almost certain you’ll get a chance to see them again. They don’t seem like they’re ending the tour any time soon. And now you know what to expect/prepare for and you know to prioritize your peace of mind over anything else when the opportunity comes again.

So, what kind of fan are you? The human kind. The kind that has a full complex being and life. All of which can get in the way sometimes. That’s totally normal. I bet even Matty has those days. Where he’s excited to preform cuz he loves us and loves his job but has whatever else going on in his life as well. And George was looking “angry” the other day or whatever it is that people were saying. Everyone has moments like that and it doesn’t make you any less of a fan. I bet Matty Fuckin Healy would 100% understand. We all definitely do. Don’t be so hard on yourself, love 💗

[chicken2potato]

4/13/23 pt 2

I’m fully convinced that I can’t be loved. That I am the problem. My own fucking mother doesn’t want anything to do with me. Why would anyone else want to? 

I remember the day when I finally realized that you were crazy. You pinned me down on the floor and the entire time were screaming into the phone of one of your friends that I needed to take my hands off of you and to stop fighting. I wasn’t doing anything. I was just trying to get out of the bathroom that you had trapped me in. Somehow I ended up on the floor with you on top of me. I remember telling you I couldn’t breathe, and you said, “You can still talk so you can breathe just fine.”

I should just use that day as a mental note, that it’s not me, it’s you. But what if it is me? My dad? Rowan? Ryan? Jacob? John? Even Luc can’t commit. What is it that I’m doing wrong? I’m trying so hard to be the person that people need. I’ll stay up and talk to you if you need. I’ll drive a fucking hour just to give someone ramen noodles because they’re sick. Then I just get replaced. I just get tossed aside as if I were nothing to begin with.

It’s like high school all over again. It’s like my childhood all over again. I’m just always getting tossed aside. He told me that he wanted to work on himself and couldn’t have a relationship... then a month and a half later he was back together with his ex? I was there for him. I held him when he came to me to talk about her. I held his hand through it all. I combed my fingers through his hair while he slept peacefully on my lap. I ignored my problems and focused on him because that was what he needed. Then I’m treated like I don’t exist. Why am I never good enough? What is it that I’m doing wrong? I’m trying so hard to be what people need and then I still get thrown away.

Maybe I need to come to that realization; that I will never be good enough. I won’t be good enough for Luc. I won’t be good enough for John. I won’t be good enough for Rowan. I won’t be good enough for my own mother. I should just stop trying altogether. What’s the point anymore? To give away more pieces of my heart? What happens when there are no more pieces left to give? 

I want nothing more than to be enough for someone. I want someone to genuinely love me and care about me. Is that possible? I want to be held close. I want to be wanted. I want someone to crave me as much as I crave them. I want to be thought about and cherished. I want someone to look at me and be so enthralled with me that all else passes away. But I don’t think that I will ever get that. How can one be consumed with someone so inconsumable? I’m not worth holding. I’m not worth wanting. I’m not worth craving. I’m not worth thinking about or cherishing. I’m not worth it. I’m just a girl who’s too broken to be loved. 

I don’t want to be broken. I want to be whole and fixed. It seems as though every time I feel like I have made headway and gotten better, something happens to show me how wrong I am. 

I told Rowan today that his divorce wouldn’t affect him as much in thirty years as it does now. That eventually he will move on and he’ll do better. Which I fully believe is true. He’s been through so much and he’s such an amazingly strong individual, I know he can take whatever this life throws at him. But it got me thinking about my relationship with my mother. Will it matter to me in thirty years as it does to me right at this moment? If you would have asked me eight hours ago, I would have said no. But now... I can’t stop thinking about all the things I will not get. 

I won’t have someone who helped me move into my first apartment. I won’t have a mother at my wedding. I won’t have family Christmases anymore. I won’t have family Easters, or birthdays, or Thanksgivings. I won’t have nights at the camp playing cards with my Aunt and Uncle. I won’t have those afternoons at my grandparents anymore. I won’t get to see how Emma and Thea grow up. I won’t get to be apart of their lives. My children won’t have a grandmother. They won’t know what it’s like to be spoiled rotten by Grammie. I don’t have a mom there for me when I go through heart break. It’s just me. 

It’s getting so hard. To bear it all alone. To be just me. I need someone to lean on and it spill this all out to. Not just using Tumblr as an outlet. But who? No one wants to hear from me. Mk just had back surgery. And she won’t understand. Rowan is becoming my friend again, which I am so incredibly beyond grateful... But he is dealing with so much right now. I can’t burden him with everything. And it’s not like he would really care. I’m just an ex. Just an old friend from high school. Nothing else. And why would I be? After all that I did to him? Hannah and Dyanna are good friends, but they’re so busy. And I don’t think that they would understand. Dy more than Hannah. But still... I can’t go to them.

After John, it became even more evident that it was just me. Losing him crushed me. He was the first person since Rowan that I thought I may marry. I loved him. I saw a future with him. I told myself after Jacob that I wouldn’t be serious with anyone unless I really thought that they might be the one. I had a few people that I was interested in or had a crush on. But I didn’t let it get further than that because I wasn’t going to give away part of my heart to someone who was going to not take it. And then I did just that. 

It hurt so much when he left. And brought back all my insecurities stemmed from my mother and father and Rowan; that I can’t be loved, that I’m not worth it, that I’m not good enough. My own father couldn’t stick around. My mother hasn’t spoken to me in years. And Rowan chose another over me, more than once. And John added to that fire. When he said that he couldn’t have a relationship, but wanted one, but had to take time to heal himself, and then went and got back together with his ex-girlfriend... That hurt so much. I thought that he was it. I thought I had finally been able to move on from Rowan and all the hope that still laid there. But I was wrong. I was just being used for attention, for comfort, for security while he was going through all that he was going through.

And what the fuck is this shit that I have with Rowan? Why is a part of me still so hung up on him? We’ve been talking over the past week or so and it’s made me so happy to hear from him and to have him as a friend again. I’ve literally cried at the thought of being able to see him again, at the thought of perhaps hugging him one more time. I miss his hugs. I miss his laugh. I miss his smile. I miss his humor. I miss his kindness. I miss his compassion. I miss his strength. I miss him. And I shouldn’t. I can’t. It’s been fucking years. Am I really in love with him still, or still hung up on the fantasy of us living “happily ever after”? And it’s not like it is mutual. He’s literally talking to someone. Also, I’m kind of talking to Luc? But I have no idea what’s going on with that. I do know that I still care so deeply for Rowan, and talking to him these past couple of weeks has made it abundantly clear that he still means so much to me. He was the first person that I could ever truly be myself around. The first person that I think I ever truly loved. I genuinely thought that I would be spending the rest of my life with him. And now, for whatever reason, I am thrown back into that way of thinking.

But then there’s Luc. But he has been so confusing. Does he want commitment or not? Does he actually like me or not? Considering my track record, I’m pretty sure he’ll just use me to get the emotional connection he needs at the moment until he finds someone better and who can do better than I. That’s how it has always been. I’ve always been the... “in-between girl”... I suppose you can call it. The girl that is “the girl” until they find someone that they actually want to be with. Like with Rowan, and John, and Jacob, and Ryan. I’m never “the one”. Probably never will be. So why does it matter what I feel anyway? Nobody cares. Nobody ever did and nobody ever will. So... again I ask, what’s the point?

What’s the point in me being here? To hand out McChicken’s? To scan groceries? It’s not like my friends need me. It’s not like I have anyone that would miss me. My mom probably wouldn’t even bat an eye. Maybe she’d think “good riddance”. Maybe she’d finally be free from all of the stress that I caused her. All of my friends would be. They wouldn’t have to worry about me ever asking for help again or for money again or eating their food or taking up their time. I would be gone, and they would have better lives. They wouldn’t have to listen to me complain about my stupid situations. They wouldn’t have to hear about my middle school boy drama. They wouldn’t have to wonder where I am or what I’m doing. They would be free from me and my stress and my burdens. 

Am I suicidal? No. Well. What’s it called? Passive suicidal tendencies? I don’t think I would have the guts to kill myself but if something were to happen to me, I’m not sure how hard I would fight. It’s not like it’s worth it. The world would be a better place without me dragging everything down. 

I hate feeling this way. I don’t want to. But I don’t want to go on meds. I want to just be normal. Also, not like I could anyway, even if I wanted to. My mom won’t even tell me what my freaking health insurance shit is. Oh! And I found out that she has been keeping money from me. I’ve literally had less than a dollar in my bank account for almost three weeks now. I have gone entire days without eating because I simply couldn’t afford it. I could have seriously used that fucking money.

Like what is even the point?

What the actual fuck is life?

This is so fucking stupid and I’m so over it.

[onyourhyuck]

2 Baddies. | Jaewoo (M)

prologue- “I don’t mind an audience.” + “You can take it. all of it.”

tw- threesome, soft Dom jaehyun, switch(a little bit of a sub here) Jungwoo, switch fem!, praising, degrading, exhibitionist… they’re fucking in a car idk bro. Jae has a bit of a breeding kink… Edging and overstim, Jungwoo loves y/n’s chest—. Fingering, oral male receiving and oral female receiving, cum play(?). Jungwoo mommy kink arc. Pet names “darling, princess,”squirting if you squint your eyes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You weren’t sure how you ended up in this sort of situation, honestly blame it on the alcohol or the fact that you pulled 2 baddies in their Porsche after a party.

Now you are in their backseat, lower bottom clothes stripped away like it was dependent on their life. Jaehyun practically hardening in his crotch and palming it right away as he watches Jungwoo’s fingers driving in and out of your wet cunt, made you cum so much just by how well he found your pulsing g spot multiple times.

Your moans were enough to get jaehyun feral. He pulls his face down to your clit as he starts to mouth on it, chewing and mauling on your pussy as if he was starved for decades. He swears you taste like heaven and it was even better when you will come. You choke out broken moans because this was absolutely divine pleasure sent in your body. With Jungwoo fingering you in the right spots with three digits added, filling your nice hole but not enough.

Adding onto jaehyung’s tongue lapping you like it was a marathon race to whoever makes you cum faster. Jungwoo was as equally competitive when he flickers his wrist in, now fully fisting you.

“God darling you taste so much better than the alcohol at that party.” Jaehyun moans muffling on your clit as he watches your dazed expression with your teeth grinding on the bottom lip. Jungwoo smirks as he starts to grip on your trembling inner thighs from the overstim, kissing it like the angelic boy he was.

“S’too muchhh.” You softly gasp out. But even so no one listened to you continuing to push you through to your orgasm that burns on your abdomen like a thin thread. Jungwoo coos right on your dry stomach lining, smooching those wet lips. He was right above that warm sensation where your orgasm resides. “You can take it. All of it.”

Jungwoo sweetly tells, pushing your strands of hair covering the face as your shaking legs finally give out and so has your limit. Jaehyun’s tongue bursts into a waterfall of bodily fluids coming out, rather than stopping like a normal person would…

Jaehyun went back in to eat the remaining of your come. Jungwoo retracts his fingers back, spreading them into his mouth licking it clean. He hums with the sweet taste of you lingering on his tongue. You watch jaehyun despite it being filthy, you felt turned on even more.

With small pants leaving your lips there would not be enough time for you to recover as a very animalistic jaehyun was turning you around on your all fours in which you obliged. He lovingly kisses down your back as his hands massage your hips, almost preparing you mentally. Jungwoo in front of you sitting, would take his hard but pretty pink cock out, In his hand it springs free.

“You’ll take care of me won’t you, y/n?” Jungwoo sang as you nod lowering your face down. You kitten lick his tip before slowly taking him all in your mouth which Jungwoo responds with a shiver running down his spine with a soft sigh left his quivering lips. His harden cock freely moves in and out, coating it with your share warmth vibrating in his skin with your moans once you felt jaehyun fully stretching you from his immense tip right to the end. You almost forgot about jaehyun who was waiting to strike you by surprise.

He ruts like crazy in your inner clenching walls, unable to keep with his forceful actions your hips fallen down but jaehyun did not stop, he fell with you where he was pushing in and out. Sometimes your lips pulled away as you couldn’t keep your moans in, and Jungwoo would watch in awe at you.

“You’re sucking me in so well princess, fuck.” You hear jaehyun growl from behind as his hands knead down your hips pushing you higher where his hips thrust with all his mighty power. The feeling of his tip slowly punching it ways in your womb left you craving for more and more. It was clear you were drunk on his cock.

“What if people hear us?” You stutter out with your lips trying to seal themselves, as his thrusts became tougher to handle when urging to release.

Jaehyun grins out lazily as he becomes addicted to your body itself. “I don’t mind an audience.”

Jungwoo slowly kneads your bouncing breasts against Jaehyun’s massive long ruts with his cock retracing your walls making it his home inside you. As he kneads them he squeezes causing you to hum softly round his free pulsing dick.

He lets out soft moans when your deepthroat gags round the corners of his tip, you felt him twitch slowly. “Mommy I’m close, please let me come.” Jungwoo closes eyes, tightly playing with your hair rounding it up in a soft ponytail, so he could see the beautiful sinful image of you downing his cock in your mouth.

He sees the drool from your saliva fall down his manhood as well as the corner of your lips, you were stuffing your mouth full like you’ were on a mission to make him come a rainfall. He watches with anticipating eyes. You fasten your pace with your tongue and saliva building up round his cock last time, with one final push, you pause feeling the way a newly found warm liquid spurts out in the back of your throat.

His lips left stutters of high pitch sweet groans and moans, he tightly holds the ponytail he made with your hair, shaking in the backseat with you as Jaehyun grunts at the sight of you and Jungwoo. “You did so well baby,” y/n tells the limping boy with sweat round his bangs.

Jaehyun brought y/n’s face with his hand suddenly pulling her into a full blown tongue kiss, Jungwoo watching with a daze; you kiss back passionately with jungwoo’s flavour sharing with Jaehyun who pounds in your hole like it was a match.

Pushing you away softly leaving a saliva connecting you, he roughly pulls your face down to the backseat with a fast inhumane pace where his dick begins to shiver. If anything right now you feel like a pillow princess, but instead of pillow, it would be backseat princess. You were at Jaehyun’s mercy.

The man behind you on top growling like a beast, whispering sweet nothings and how much he will breed the shit out of you, that you love being stuffed and how much you’re awaiting for his come to fill your warm used cunt. The more he spoke those unholy words to you, your insides suck and clench proving that it’s true to him.

And then leaving you begging for it, satisfying Jaehyun’s thirst to make you his cumdump.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating, copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you! <3 follow for more hehe and reblog, it helps a girl out 😫.

Ugh stream 2 baddies bc that’s the most kinky song evah 🎧

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Brahms Heelshire (2/5)

Word count ; 4.0k

Songs : Cries in Vain 

*Edited:3

Bring… Bring…

From beside me, the phone suddenly started up. Who’s calling this late in the evening? It was already eight p.m. I sighed, setting my bookmark in the almost completed sci-fi novel.

I rolled to the other side of the bed, accidentally squishing Brahms into me, and lifted up the old-fashioned device. “Hullo?” I greeted in annoyance.

“Oh my god, bitch.”

“Ryleigh? Oh my god! Thank god you called, there’s no signal or WIFI or anything out here so my cell phone doesn’t work!” I exclaimed, fully scrambling to the phone.

“Girl, I’ve been spamming you like crazy! And who the hell wouldn’t have WIFI these days, are you good?” she complained.

“I know right? Dude, this place is crazy, but in the tamest way possible - god, I really need to catch you up. Also, I love you and miss you dearly, you should definitely come the hell over here for vacay.”

“Woah, woah, unlike you, I’m a sane person who doesn’t bunk in a stranger’s house in a completely new country. But… I could be swayed. Anyways, tell me the tea.”

“Well, I’m doing a job for potential crazy people. I’m… babysitting a doll. I think they’re still grieving the death of their kid, because Brahms definitely existed at some point. But these people are super old.”

“Seriously? Makes sense they don’t have WIFI if they’re crazy old people.”

“Yep. Checks out. On the plus side, I’m babysitting a doll and I’m living in a house that’s the size of a castle. I’ve been in at least ten rooms, but there’s four floors, and if there’s about six rooms down each hallway… Hell, there could be up to fifty rooms. It’s insane, one of these days I gotta go exploring.”

“Fucking definitely. Maybe it’s one of those old houses that has secret passage ways in the closets,” she agreed.

“Mhm, exactly. And besides this, I’m really able to just… relax and work on myself. I’ve gotten back into jogging and eating healthy. I have so much time to do self-care. I used to describe myself as a people person, but it’s so great to be by myself t.b.h.”

“I get that. I know I usually don’t talk seriously, but I was worried. Especially with all the problems Jason caused. That guy’s psycho and your mental health was destroyed from that. I’m proud of you for making the right decision.”

“Thanks, babe. So, what’s been going on back home?”

“T.b.h., I should definitely take the same path you did. There’s still no work available in this town, and my part-time job won’t take me back,” Ryleigh fussed. “Oh, b.t.w, people are missing you. I keep telling friends you went abroad and they congratulated you. And were you serious about vacay-ing to England? ‘Cause I’m totally down for that.”

“You’re always welcome. I don’t know when they’re coming back, but in a mansion, it’ll be easy for you to sneak around once they come back.”

“If they’re so rich, there’s gotta be some hella good wine, right?” she inquired. “All rich snobs have that.”

“No, sorry, I tossed it all out. You know I’m trying to sober up. No beer, no wine, no coke - nothing,” I replied, sitting up and pulling Brahms to my chest.

“Aw, man. Oh - I forgot to tell you the most important part of the day, although I’m not sure you want to hear it,” she chuckled nervously.

“Oh, god. Spill.”

“Well, uh, the other day I had to call the police because a certain dickwad broke into my apartment,” she started.

“Oh my god. Oh, my god. I’m so, so sorry —“

“Girl! No! Shut the fuck up, no. Anyways, let me continue. After a thorough investigation of my house, I don’t think he found what he was looking for. And he definitely had at least a few days in prison - that is, if his rich bitch parents don’t bail him out again.”

“Holy shit. Ryleigh, I’m sorry he’s harassing you again,” I apologized, trying to hold in the tears.

“No way are you apologizing. This isn’t your fault. At all. Jason’s insane. He’s a bad person. You don’t deserve this and neither do I, but eventually he’ll let up. And besides, he can’t find you and I’m definitely gonna kick his ass the next time he shows his face.”

“That town ain’t big enough for the both of you, huh?” I giggled, already sufficiently comforted by my best friend.

“Exactly! See, you get it. Hey, do you have a pen?”

“Yeah,” I said, reaching over and tearing a piece of a page out. Sorry, book.

“My number is - ***-****-****.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow night, aight? You called me right as I was winding down for the night.”

“You’re kidding! Isn’t it only eight or something?”

“Yeah, I know, but I’ve really managed my sleep schedule the past few days.”

“I applaud you for your efforts. Call me in the morning for you because no way in hell am I waking up this early again. Like, I love you, but mornings are ew.”

“Got it. But won’t you already be drunk by five?”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. Love you, bye bitch.”

“Bye bitch, love you too.”

I hung up and set the phone down. If there was anything I missed currently other than the occasional urge was my best friend. But it was worrisome. Hopefully… No, Jason wasn’t going to find me. Things were fine.

“And, on this note, Brahms, I’m hella tired, my tiny porcelain dude. Time to hit the hay while my stalker is potentially on the way.”

~~~

Make the bed, check. Brush my teeth, check. Kiss the cute doll good morning, check. So, having completed my morning rituals, I picked up Brahms and opened my bedroom door. Why I felt the need to close it in the first place, I had no clue.

I opened the door, but I was surprised when a paper fluttered across the floor. “Huh?” I crouched down, picking up the yellow sheet. My heart raced as I recognized the cursive writing —

Brahms’ rule sheet.

I gulped and decided to observe my surroundings. Brahms’ room was across from mine. The door was wide open. There must’ve been a consistent draft last night… Yes, that made sense.

I grabbed the paper and balled it up in my fists. That paper seriously pissed me off for giving me such a fright. I tossed it into the room and shut the door.

“Man, Brahms, that scared the hell out of me. For a second, I lived in a world where you were haunted,” I tittered. “Anyways - time to fix the trauma with some toast.”

I evacuated the hallway and raced to the kitchen. I was in my yoga pants and crop top, as I was probably going to go for a run soon. Nothing was more refreshing than being covered head to toe in sweat and barely being able to walk, you know?

So, I spent my morning productively. I finished showering just around lunch time and went to the kitchen, where I’d left Brahms sitting in one of the high seats. I should make a tuna Sala sandwich for lunch —

“Ah, Miss Y/n, I was wondering where you were!”

I screamed when, upon entering the kitchen, Malcolm made an appearance. The kitchen was probably stocked up, but for the second time, the man had scared the hell out of me - and it was unwelcome after the incident that morning.

“Malcolm! We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” I exclaimed, glaring playfully when he keeled over laughing.

“And you’ve got to be more on guard, Miss Y/n,” he managed out. “I do make my rounds every weekend, after all.”

I huffed. “Touche.” I leaned against the counter. “Sticking around for lunch? I do make a mean sandwich.”

“Well, not to be a free-loader, but I figured you could use some company. Plus, I’m sure you have a lot of questions, since I know the… doll situation is odd,” he accepted.

I got to work, taking out a bowl and the necessary ingredients. “Well, it’s not really any of my business. All I needed to know is that Brahms is a great teddy bear.”

“Really now?” he snickered. “The doll tends to creep me out, but to each their own.”

“I like dolls. I know people usually think that because they’re human-like they’re creepy, but I find comfort in a mini-human friend,” I giggled. I dumped tuna, cheese, and mayonnaise into the bowl, stirring. “How’s your week been?”

“As good as any. If you couldn’t tell, except for this part of my job, working at a store’s pretty boring. This is the most interesting part of my week - not to mention, I’m talking to a pretty girl.”

“Smooth,” I tutted, poking his chest teasingly. Malcolm was a fairly attractive man, I acknowledged that. But I wasn’t planning to make any moves until I thoroughly got to know him. I felt too hollow from all the friends with benefits I had, and not to mention my experience with Jason. So this time, I wanted to enter a real, good, serious relationship. “Can you get out some bread and plates? We can boil some vegetables, if you’d like.”

“Only sandwiches for now.” He did as asked, so I spread the mixture on some bread and formed the sandwiches. I finished my work with a satisfied sigh, quick to take a bite. “My my, manners, we should sit down first.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “God, that’s such a British thing to say. ‘My my! Manners!’” I imitated.

He shook his head with a grin. “You’re in a country full of us, so watch it, lady.”

“How intimidating. Anyways, aren’t my sandwiches incredible? I’d make a great housewife,” I bragged, digging into the food as I sat at the dining table.

“Don’t quite be so full of yourself, I have yet to see evidence that you can take care of Brahms, a doll,” he teased. “But yes, it’s delectable.”

“Hey now, I said ‘wife,’ not mom,” I defended with a pout. “Besides, that’s a little sexist. Maybe I don’t want kids.”

“O - Oh, I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention —“

“Calm your tits lover boy, I was just joshing you,” I reassured. “How can I not when you’ve got such a ‘delectable’ accent?”

We finished our sandwiches, and I noted that the house probably needed some general repairs, as I heard distant creeks all over the house. I collected his plates after a polite back-and-forth about doing the dishes.

“Are you planning to stick around or do you have work?” I asked, stacking the plates.

“Well, aside from the delivering groceries and eating your lunch, I was planning to ask you out. I figured you’ve been cooped up in the house enough that maybe you’d be interested in watching a movie?”

I bit my lip. A movie. Not the pub, not a club, and not a bar. What could go wrong? Malcolm was nice and I could use the excursion. “Sure, yeah. No pressure, but it’s solely depending on you for me to have a good time,” I said with a wink while heading into the kitchen.

“Well, m’lady, I’ll try not to disappoint. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

~~~

I stared at my suitcase, comparing my options. It was technically a date, so wouldn’t it be good to wear a dress? But we were still just going to see a movie, and it’s not like it was formal… I bit my lip and stared at the doll. Smiling mockingly, I held up an outfit of jeans and a t-shirt and the dress.

“Well, Brahmsy? What do ya think?” I took a second, eyes switching between the two outfits. “You’re right, jeans and shirt makes me look hot.” I laughed jovially, tossing the dress onto the bed and disappearing into the bathroom.

Long story short, I had a shower. A nice, comfortable shower. Once I hopped out, I almost had a heart attack when I saw the bathroom door cracked open. Ever since the paper accident, I’d been paranoid like an idiot. I was about to get dressed she I heard a loud thud from the hallway.

“Malcolm?” I called, but there was no reply.

I wasted no time pulling on my clothes before investigating, because if I’d learned anything from horror movies, it was that dying in a towel was embarrassing.

I wrapped my hair up in the towel and sighed when another knock sounded in the hallway. “Malcolm, just give me a moment!” I shouted. I paused when I saw the bedroom door slightly cracked.

I didn’t leave the door open.

No, no, Malcolm must’ve arrived. I sighed and tossed the towel on the bed instead. I didn’t want to keep him waiting. Out of habit, I waved to the doll as I exited, having grabbed my purse.

Wait, where was my dress? God, I was such a klutz, did I take it into the bathroom? Whatever.

A creak came from the hallway. Oh. I bet Malcolm was trying to scare me. To keep the joke running, right? I clutched my purse to my side, rolling my eyes as I entered into the dimly lit hallway.

“Ha-ha, very funny, Malcolm —"

I wildly investigated my surroundings. There was no Malcolm. Was I just hearing things? I knew he had a sense of humor, but the man would never dedicate to the bit this thoroughly.

No, I knew what I heard —

Why was the room door open? Okay, I was scared. I let out a squeak and went to retrieve my little inanimate buddy. Cradling the doll in my arms, I was able to gather enough confidence to investigate further.

“Well, Brahms, looks like we’ve got a potential home invader,” I whispered. Other than being my emotional support, Brahms was a weapon; and no way in hell was I hallucinating what I heard. Someone was in the house with me.

I entered Brahms’ bedroom. I steeled myself. My eyes surveyed two potential hiding spots. Under the bed and in the closet. I stepped into the room, taking one glance around. Anxiety took over. Nope, nope, nope, I wasn’t equipped with a proper weapon. Time to escape this house.

But then something caught my eye. I couldn’t help it as my feet automatically trudged over to the bedside table. Brahms’ rules. I reached out, lifting the paper. Was that heart always scribbled on the paper? Was I simply overreacting, and it was a copy that’d always been there?

I squinted my eyes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

The paper was crumpled. No, not crumpled, un-crumpled.

This was the paper I’d thrown.

As if on cue, the bedroom door slammed shut. A scream tore at my throat, ready to dart into the corner, but I had been locked in. My brain went on autopilot and, tossing Brahms onto the bed, I rushed over to the door. I jiggled the knob in vain.

“Help! Please! Take what you want and leave!” I screamed desperately. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. I couldn’t see. The world was spinning around me.

I was trapped. There was someone in the house. I was in danger. Malcolm. I needed to get out, Malcolm would save me. Don’t lose your head, Y/n.

I stumbled back and fell onto the bed. Focus. Focus, Y/n. “Ceiling,” I choked out. “Ceiling, lightbulb. Lightbulb.” I felt around the bed, grasping and pulling the sheets until I felt the doll’s hands. “Doll. Brahms. Brahms. Doll. Ceiling. Lightbulb. Bed. Brahms. Brahms.” I held the porcelain child in my arms, rocking it. “It’s okay, Brahms. You’re okay. I’m… okay… Breathe, Y/n…”

I forced my eyes shut. I focused. Come on, Y/n, nothing would be solved by panicking. You were strong. You had to be. Whoever was in the house clearly wasn’t trying to hurt you. They were just trying to rob the house. That’s why they locked you in. Yes, that’s why I was locked in.

I opened my eyes and pushed Brahms off. I could do it. I sat up, getting right to work. I could try to break the window. “Brahms, keep watch,” I announced, determination in my tone. I went over to the dresser, grabbing the old toys and hurling the against the window. Every single one bounced right off, clattering on the ground. But, cracks were beginning to form, and that motivated me.

The window was small. And I was on the second story. I knew the glass would cut me, and the fall would hurt. But I had to get out. I would get out. And that’s when the miracle worker ended up right in my hands. A paper weight made of stone. I stood right in front of the window and hurled the rock at top speed.

The glass shattered. But the wood barricade was still intact. So, I raised my foot kicked clean through. Pain shot through my body as the glass cut through my jeans and stabbed into my leg.

I began pushing it out further, and every time I lost balance, it cut deeper. However, I kept pushing. Even with blood pooling at my feet. I kept pushing.

I let out a gasp of relief when it shot through. I stabilized myself. I thought things were going swimmingly, but I suddenly heard footsteps racing towards the door. Oh no. I had to move fast.

The knob was being turned. Come on, Y/n, move. I pushed the other half of my body through the window. The glass tore at my chest, my waist, everywhere. Blood and sweat was mixing together.

The door suddenly slammed open. The footsteps were approaching. With one last push, I sent myself hurling out the window, not without the twist of my foot on the way down.

I screamed.

My vocal cords were fried the whole way down. I didn’t have enough strength to coordinate my limbs, to protect my head, as I fell. All I could do was flip my body over mid-air.

“Malcolm!” I screeched.

The final thing I saw was a looming figure with short, dark hair from the second floor. And then things went black.

~~~

Laughter. Laughter was coming from the living room. My feet automatically moved towards the sound. One of the laughs, I knew like the back of my hand. But the other was unfamiliar, a high-pitched, bell-toned giggling from a woman.

Before my eyes could behold the scene, I could already smell the smoke. I entered the living room to confirm, that indeed, Jason was on the couch with a woman, smoking. They had been engrossed in a conversation, but paused when I entered the room.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” the woman grinned, winking. She was leaning on the couch, facing my boyfriend.

“Hi, who are you?” I inquired carefully. Jason had already scolded me for losing my shit last time I found strangers in the apartment. He said I was emotionally out of control. That I didn’t know how to think straight because I was jealous and insecure. So, I bit back a bitchy tone. I didn’t make assumptions.

Jason waved his hand, the smoke trailing. “Vanessa. My coworker.” He was staring intently at me. He was waiting for me to ask questions. To get upset. To make assumptions.

I wasn’t going to. Not now. I wasn’t going to… be that way. The way he said I acted. I should just focus on fixing my hangover. I could trust him. He was just trying to get a reaction. Vanessa was just a coworker.

I walked past them. Suddenly, the lights flickered. I paused. The lights flickered again, but this time, they flashed read. They kept flashing. My vision was getting blurry. I stumbled back.

The scene around me changed. I was in an empty hallway. The walls were metal. I was walking backwards, even though I was supposed to fall. I felt like I was falling.

A figure. His figure approached. With each flash, he was closer. In the cascade of red light, I saw his expression. The same expression he had when he was angry. Furrowed brows, a ferocious glare. But he always had a smirk. Not a grimace, a smirk. As if he enjoyed it when he was angry at me.

And then he was in front of me. And I fell. Back onto the metal, even if it felt like a fluffy cushion. I couldn’t feel anything. I was petrified as he loomed over me. He was a predator stalking his prey. The shadows swallowed his face, but I saw his eyes. His eyes filled to the brim with sexual intent.

I couldn’t breathe. My face was forced to the side by a slap. The slap echoed the hall. My ears were ringing. I couldn’t breathe. There was beeping in my head. I couldn’t breathe. The beeping was so loud, I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe.

I gasped and shot up, being met with an instant surge of pain through my body. Tears immediately sprung to my eyes when I felt restraints on my arms. My vision blurred and I struggled against the restraints.

Hands grabbed my body. They grabbed my arms, pushing me onto the bed. The light was dim and a person towered over me. It was him. It was him. It was him —

“Y/n, calm down, you’re safe!”

I froze upon recognizing the British accent. Malcolm. Malcolm…

I clasped his hands and intertwined my fingers with his desperately. Malcolm was here, so things were safe now. I blinked and breathed. In and out. In and out. In and out.

“Malcolm,” I whispered tediously.

I became ruefully aware that I was shaking. I took in my surroundings. The pale-tiled ceiling. The beeping from a heart rate machine, of which had spiked. The rails of a hospital bed. My leg in a cast. And best of all, Malcolm, peering down at me with nothing evil in his eyes, only concern and care.

My lips trembled and I tried not to cry again. I already embarrassed myself enough. I let go of one of his hands, clutching his other closer.

“Y/n, what happened? I drove up to the house and heard you screaming, next thing you know I found a shattered window and you. I was scared to death,” he started shakily.

“I love your accent,” I rambled. “Your accent - the best. That accent is phenomenal. I - I… There was an intruder. I was taking a shower, and then, and then, I heard something in the other room, so I checked, then I was locked in, and then, I - I needed to escape, so I tried to leave through the window, but I had to be quick because the person came in, and then I… I fell. But! But I saw him, her, whoever. They watched me as I fell. I swear it, Malcolm, someone was trying to hurt me.”

He clasped my shoulder and massaged it slightly. It calmed my nerved. “I believe you. I’ll send the police right over to investigate, okay? But you’re okay now, you just need to rest.”

I shut my eyes. “…But what if that person goes back?”

“The police will deal with it. Just rest. I’ll be right here.”

“Wh… what happened to me?”

“You have an almost broken leg and the glass cut you pretty hard. The doctors said you lucked out, since there’s no head trauma and no permanent damage,” Malcolm explained slowly.

“Oh… I’m sorry you have to deal with this, Malc —“

“Don’t apologize. Although this isn’t exactly how I thought the first date would go, the hospital is a little romantic, don’t you agree?”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Didn’t think you were a sadist.”

“Only when it suits me, my dear.”

[no-droids]

Kar’taylir

gif credit @sersi​

Part Thirteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.8K

Warnings: language, angst and fluff, descriptions of a dead body, no real smut in this one but there is some nudity and touching, uhhh i think thats it tbh

A/N: Omg hi hi hello this was written in a week and a half so please be gentle, also I’m back on my linguistics bullshit and I can absolutely guarantee a vast majority of it is inaccurate

***

Everybody is asleep and you’re just a complete mess.

Truly.  And it fucking sucks, because this should be enjoyable.  This is home.  You’re in hyperspace, the hull is pitch black, the baby is asleep, and Din’s breathing is slow and quiet through the darkness.  Your cheek presses to his chest as it rises and falls hypnotically, you’re comfortable and safe and this would normally be a dream.  But your eyes are wide open right now and you are just going through it.  Spiraling in the midst of the most stable surroundings you could possibly conceive.

You suppose that this is partially your fault.  You don’t know why literally any part of you expected Din would explain himself without prompting from you, but you still couldn’t work up nearly the nerve necessary to ask.  Every potential question you came up with contradicted your intent, every way you tried to mentally phrase it gave off the wrong impression.  How do you ask somebody if they were being serious about something without revealing anything about your own intentions?  You can’t—that’s a downside of staying silent.

Din hasn’t said a single word since he urged you to leave the shooting range earlier, and he didn’t really seem like the quiet didn’t suit him, if that makes sense.  Yours was awkward, it fit you wrong.  You struggled for words while he easily ignored their existence altogether, able to navigate the Crest into hyperspace and exist comfortably around you without ever addressing the giant bantha in the room.  Maybe that’s part of the reason you floundered so hard—he didn’t avoid you, he held the kid while you took a shower in the small fresher, and even though he was quieter around you than he’d been in awhile, he gave no indication that anything was wrong at all.

You spent that time getting clean but also formulating some sort of plan.  As you bathed in actual water for the first time in a week and scrubbed your body clean, you tried to figure out at least why you were having so much trouble coming up with something to say, but even then, words evaded you.  You spent the entire time staring blankly at the metal wall, at a complete fucking loss.

When you came out of the fresher with wet hair and comfortable clothing to sleep in, Din was armorless and resting in your makeshift bed on the floor, the baby tucked soundly in his crib next to him.  You turned off the lights and carefully found your way under the blankets next to him in the pitch blackness, feeling him lazily reach around you and pull you to rest against his chest.  His fingers gently drew circles along your arm for maybe the first few minutes while you worked up the nerve to speak.  You needed to say something, this was your chance—

But then his hand soon fell to rest in one place on your shoulder and he passed out.  Helmet on, not even a few minutes of your quiet breathing next to him.

So now, you’re here, just… a little ball of stress in the middle of paradise.  Hours have passed, you need sleep after such a physically exhausting week but it’s like you haven’t even processed the fucking proposition he presented to you yet.  You’re having trouble even thinking the words, that’s how much he’s got you fucked up.

He said… hit the target and I’ll ma…. hit the target and I’ll marrrrr…

Fuck.  You stay on that loop for ages until your eyes begin to grow heavy, until you just settle on thinking about it with them closed.  Slow breaths from Din under one ear, the silence of hyperspace all around you—how are you supposed to contemplate when his body is so warm?  No, you can ask tomorrow, you’ll ask him tomorrow.

Eventually, you’re able to drift off into a troubled slumber, dreaming of bells made of beskar that deafen anyone who rings them.

***

You wake up what feels like two minutes later.

It’s not, but you don’t know that.  You’re so warm and the second your eyes open, they start stinging and burning and tearing up like your body just wants to cry for even being awake right now.  You finally got to sleep—you moan pitifully and start to turn your head further into the warm blankets, but then a gloved hand smooths your hair back and a voice whispers quiet through the darkness.

“I have to go.”

And oh, his touch is just the gentlest thing, but what he says makes your already fragile mental state want to shatter.  The first words he gives you in hours and they’re the ones you loathe to hear the most.

“W-Wha?  No,” you whimper and automatically reach for him, your throat starting to close up.  Maker, you’re so tired, you’re so tired, you feel so fucking emotional and vulnerable right now and you’re not even awake enough to realize it.  “Why?”

Din just catches your hands and brings both of them together in front of him, slowly pressing your knuckles to the cold beskar on the face of his helmet.

“I meet with Karga in three days,” he murmurs back, voice pillow-soft and barely loud enough to come through the steel under your fingers.  It’s gentle and lulling and it makes you want to sleep again, but you can’t and you feel like you could burst into tears for that reason alone.  “He gave me four pucks, I need four bodies.”

You can’t argue with it, the logic is perfectly sound.  But you still want to, and everything inside you revolts at the thought of allowing him leave like this without fighting for more.  Which means you have absolutely nothing reasonable or compelling to say to appeal to him; all you’re left with the glaring truth.

“But I don’t want you to leave,” you whisper, tightening your fingers.

And, perhaps if you were even half-conscious, you’d wince.  You’d cringe at the shake in your voice, you’d remind yourself that he has to make a living, he’s said it over and over again.  If you were completely awake, you’d scold yourself for being such a needy mess, but right now, all you can think about is how much you want him to stay, just this once.

After a moment, you feel the gloves carefully collect both of your hands into just one of his, and then he slowly reaches out with his free hand to cradle your jaw.

“I won’t be gone long,” Din murmurs.  “I can’t be.”

Your head turns slowly in his palm, and you’re just so, so sleepy.  Your voice is small and your words slur.  “Stay with me.”

Quiet, and though you can’t see him, the leather continues to press so warm to your cheek.  Your eyes slowly drift shut, needing him to stay exactly like this, stay right here just like this.  Karga can wait, the quarry can wait, the galaxy can wait—everything else can wait when things are like this, when he’s looking down at you breathing slow into his palm.

You’re almost asleep again when you hear him say something.

But… you have no idea what he says.  You hear it.  You hear his voice come through the pitch black, quiet enough to sit just on top of the silence and let the mysterious words simply become a part of it, but it’s strange.  Like his cadence lilts in a different way, the vowels are longer than what you’re used to, and your comprehension abruptly falters like it would if he was speaking another language altogether.

Maybe it’s just because it’s the first thing to pull you back from the edges of sleep, that has to be right.  It doesn’t sound like Basic because your mind is stupid and slow right now.  You need to ask him to repeat himself, but all that you can muster is the soft sound of confusion, not even able to open your eyes anymore.

His hands pull away from you and once again, you suddenly can’t decide between sleep and crying, quickly lifting and trying to reach out for him in the darkness.  You can’t feel anything, it’s like he’s completely disappeared from where you assumed he’d be, except then something tiny is placed into your hands instead and it makes an unhappy little sound at being disturbed.  You automatically hold the baby close to your chest and strong hands touch your shoulders, urging you to lay back down again.

“Leave the engine running, you’ll freeze if you don’t,” he mutters, quickly tucking the blankets up under your body while you close your eyes and feel the tears wet your lashes.  Fuck, you’re so exhausted, you just need to sleep.  “If I’m not back in sixteen hours, I’ll use my e-comm and you’ll have to fly out to me.”

He steps away from you, walks quickly and with purpose to the side of the hull, and a blast of frigid air fills the room before the door is slammed shut behind him.

***

Your head hurts.

Sparks and wires give your fingers mean, zapping reminders to pay attention every time your focus slips, but you still feel like you’re in a daze.

“Come on,” you drone, trying to use your voice to snap yourself back into the present, but the sound of it isn’t even interesting enough to pull you away.  “Come on.”

Maker, you’re going fucking crazy.  Is this just all an elaborate scheme to make you experience the same kind of insanity he told you he struggles with in your absence?  Because you don’t like this—you hate feeling like this, you can’t concentrate on anything and even if he hadn’t instructed you to do so, you’d likely still be counting the hours of his absence.

Fourteen have passed so far, not the sixteen you’re waiting for but getting close.  It’s one thing you’ve been able to accomplish.  Counting.  You can still count right now, so at least there’s that.

Oh, and another hoop you’ve jumped through.  Understanding words.  You can listen and repeat, even if you still can’t fully comprehend, but you’re getting there.

Din said… hit the target and I’ll marry you.

He said that.  Yep.  You’ve accepted it, you’ve accepted the words that were said.  Indeed.

Okay, but now… like…

What did he mean by that?  Why did he say that?

No matter how much you tell yourself he was just messing around—no matter how many times you offer up that perfectly logical answer to the burning question you’ve been sitting on, you still aren’t satisfied with it.  Something keeps tugging your mind back to it, a tether constantly pulling you away from the work that’s designed to be your distraction.

You frown down at the box of machinery.  Whelp, if he was serious, he’d probably immediately take the offer back after witnessing your behavior this morning.  You embarrassed yourself terribly, you acted like a clingy baby in the looming shadow of unconsciousness and what’s worse, you can’t even remember what he said after you begged him to stay.  It could’ve been a quiet, “Stars, pull yourself together,” for all you know.

And honestly, just… fuck these electronics.  You’re at the point where you’d probably cheer on whatever brutal impact damaged them so atrociously if you weren’t also well aware that this box was very likely attached to Din’s chest when it was crushed.  The magnetics are a complete mess, and you’re mostly just attempting to see how the individual components of each piece are supposed to communicate.  Turning the switch on doesn’t do much at all besides make the capacitors put out heat.  Not enough to shut it down or be a hazard to the housing when you close it, but enough to know that it’s going to present a problem for you at some point.

What’s more, you’re so lost in your own thoughts and busywork that you don’t see two green ears poking out over the top of the pile of armor on your temporary workstation (literally just the floor) until one of the thigh braces comes clattering down and the whole thing collapses with a ruckus.

You suddenly shove the metal box away from you in frustration and you reach for the little troublemaker with a sigh, scooping him up and getting to your feet.

“This isn’t going to work,” you grunt to him, hearing your words better for some reason when you direct them at the baby instead of talking to yourself, and his eh? allows the thoughts to come clearer and easier.  No, you can’t be distracted when your distraction is just another part of your status quo, you can’t use fixing mechanics to occupy yourself because it’s what you’ve done to occupy yourself your entire life, it’s worn off at this point.  You need something newer.  Something that takes your entire focus to do.

Eventually, your eyes drift over to the one metal panel on the wall that you’ve rarely ever opened.  One that takes up a comparatively enormous amount of space in the hull considering what you know it holds.  You eye the kid in your arm, who suddenly has sneaky painted all over his expression.  “You thinking what I’m thinking, demon?”

He squeaks his affirmative and you move over to the armory, pressing a few buttons before the doors slide open by themselves.  Because of course Mando invested in hydraulics for the gun closet but not for the hidden cot he used to sleep on, of course.

“Maker above,” you groan as the metal slides open, needing to lift your chin to eye the enormous collection.  How many fucking…?  All this for just one person?  What does that big one in the middle do that the others stacked strategically around it don’t?  They all kill whatever you point and shoot at, you’re assuming?  Are you missing something?

The baby makes a tiny sound of awe as you carefully look over your choices, not expecting nearly this many to be offered, before settling on one that looks the simplest.  A sleek silver one that’s still too big for your hand but smaller than anything else on the rack.

Grabby fingers reach out for the shiny metal as soon as you remove it from the shelf and you very purposefully set it down out of his pitiful wingspan.  “Nope.  Now come on, gotta bundle up.”

You make your way back over to the bed and pull one of the thickest blankets up, settling it over the open shield and then situating your partner in crime in his usual spot inside.  You strategically stuff and stack the fabric around him to make sure he’ll be warm enough in what you know has to be far below freezing temperatures, lifting it up over his ears and wrapping it around his neck in a loose hood.  He blinks up at you with gigantic eyes and an open mouth, clearly thrilled about your willingness to go on an adventure with him this time instead of being the tall nuisance that consistently holds him back from one, and you scoff down at him as you partially close the lid on his levitating nest of blankets for extra protection.  He should be warm enough, you’re not going to be outside long.

And then you pull out nearly half the amount of clothes you own and suit up in what feels like ten layers before grabbing the blaster.  The swirling wind nearly shoves the heavy hull door into you as soon as you open it and—Maker.

You look back at the kid behind you for a second, wondering if it’s too late to change your mind.  His expression narrows and he makes a triumphant ha! while pointing three fingers at the grey blizzard through the small open space in his crib.  Try as you might, you can’t ignore a call to arms when delivered with such ferocity.

Both of you step outside and take in the view after you wrestle with the door to haul it shut.  You don’t know the name of this planet but from what you can see, it’s one giant ice ball, mountainous and cold as fuck.  Though, to be honest, your only indication that it’s truly cold as fuck is the continuously accumulating snow blanketing the landscape and the flurries dancing in the whipping wind.  You’re too warm-blooded for climates like these—anything below room temperature and you’re freezing, you have absolutely no tolerance for cold whatsoever.

Keeping that in mind, you don’t travel far at all.  Just a few steps beyond the entrance to your shelter before eyeing what appears to be a large white boulder in the distance.  There’s a solid target, you figure—you’ll be able to see chunks splintering off when you hit it and the ice isn’t strong enough to bounce plasma back, you won’t have any ricochets.

Okay.  Okay—safety, where’s the safety on this one?  Ah, yes, okay—safety, off.  Stance, find your stance.  There it is.  Alright, now lift.  Lift, get that stupid frozen ball right in your sights, line it up.  Hold.  Hold.  Hold.

Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale—

Fire.

You watch with bated breath as the bright red bolt launches from the end of the barrel and travels across the distance before melting a hole in the snow just to the right of your target.

“Mother fucker!”  You yell into the frigid landscape without warning, suddenly infuriated.  What’s the point of even having a sight if every gun is just gonna say fuck you no matter what?  Could there be some sort of mathematical reason why you seem to be fucking atrocious at this, you wonder?  Are you fucking up the angle somehow while trying to read the scope?  Should you just ignore it and try to aim without thinking too hard?

Admittedly, you spend the next five minutes shooting at that stupid fucking thing, not making a single shot.  It’s not been long at all, but your entire body is already trembling uncontrollably and it is just too fucking cold out here.  Freezing your fucking ass off isn’t going to help your aim of course, but it’s almost just tragic at this point.  Either you’ve got to accept that you’re just absolutely hopeless at this, or you’ve got to… blame the little womprat behind you for messing up your shots, yeah.  It wouldn't surprise you.

As a last ditch effort, you consider trying something a bit ridiculous to see if he really is fucking with you.

“I’m firing one last shot,” you call out loudly over the sound of the bristling wind and flurries, making sure he can hear your narration from his little blanket cave behind you.  “If I hit the target… I will present our demon overlord with a chunk of raw meat later for dinner.”

You give the offer a moment to sink in before raising the blaster, and then you jerk it up at the very last second while pulling the trigger.  The arc of plasma quickly disappears into the gloomy skies over the top of the ice boulder, completely straight.

You switch the safety on and turn around to say something smart to him, but… well.  Uh.  That’s an empty crib.

Sudden panic rips through you at the sight of the wide open shield, the blanket left abandoned inside.  Your head whips around in horror, wondering where the fuck he could’ve gone—but then you’re able to spot tiny footprints in the snow.  Your eyes quickly follow them up and see the baby wading his way up a large hill, slow against the terrain and trying in vain to get to something at the very top.

You drop the blaster and bolt through the blizzard to get to him while calling out through the freezing air and wishing, not for the first time, that you had a name to roar and strike fear into his tiny little heart.  In this case, you prefer a middle name as well.

Finally reaching him and yanking him up from the snow, you tuck him under the warmest part of your arm and open your mouth to start venting the terror from your body, but he makes a distressed noise and starts climbing.  You fumble with him on your way back down, not expecting that response, but he’s so distraught and preoccupied that he’s unable to stay still, trying to find different ways of escaping your grasp and making more and more sounds to indicate something is wrong.

“What the fuck are you—” you stuff him into the shield and at least get the blankets wrapped around him before looking back and trying to spot whatever he’s still wiggling and attempting to get to.  Frustrated cries start filling the icy air and… okay.  “Okay,” you tell him, your breath puffing like smoke in front of you, “okay okay, we can go look, but you need to stay warm.”

You clutch the edge of his metal shield and urge it to follow you back up the snowy hill, feeling the crunch of your feet disappear further and further into it as you climb.  Your outer two layers are probably soaked by now—stars, it’s so fucking cold.  You know you’re not exactly the best judge, but you’ve been outside less than five minutes and you’re already worried about getting sick or frostbite, already jumpy and wanting to go back to the warmth of the hull.

But as you reach the top and look out in the distance, you can just barely make out a familiar metallic glint on the horizon.  

Your heart picks up, but the baby makes another distressed sound.  Not… happy, not thrilled that his dad is coming back.  Some strange sort of dread begins to fill you, carefully holding the kid in his shield with one hand and looking at the bright reflection of light a little ways away just to make sure it’s…

No, it’s not moving.  Not disappearing and reappearing, not catching the sunlight differently.  Completely stationary in this absolutely horrendous weather.

You immediately make your way in that direction, your body deciding to outright abandon its trembling in the wake of this newfound worry.  You’re suddenly sweating, way too warm.  That’s Din, you recognize the glint of his armor anywhere, but why isn’t he moving?

The closer you get, the faster you move and the more you’re able to see.  He’s laying facedown in the snow.  There’s quite a bit of it covering the back of his cape, maybe a few inches, and… there’s also someone laying equally as lifeless behind him.  Your heart is slamming now, you’re doing your best to run in the unforgiving terrain, and you finally see that it’s… a corpse, a frozen corpse is behind him with a rope tied around its ankles, clutched tight in Din’s unmoving fist as it lays against the pure white backdrop.

“Mando?”  You call out, dropping to your knees as soon as you reach him.  “Hey—hey, can you hear me?”

The beskar strapped to him is frozen over and feels colder than ice when you try to shake him.  He doesn’t respond.  He’s dead weight; you do your best to turn him over on his back, but you still get nothing from him.  You shove your trembling fingers up under the helmet, and the only reassurance you have that he’s even alive comes from the petrifyingly slow pulse beating underneath.  His skin is ice cold.

Shit, he’s still breathing but he’s hypothermic, you have to get him back to the Crest right fucking now.

You fumble to get in position above his head while hooking both your arms under his, before leaning everything you have into it—but fuck, he’s so heavy.  You can barely lift him even just a few inches off the ground—the snow is deep, his armor makes him weigh a ton and the fabric wrapped around him is sopping wet.  You try again, making a tight sound in your throat while you haul, but it’s no use.

“Fuck,” you curse, starting to panic even fucking harder.  You’re gasping and breathless and getting dizzy and scared, continuing to try and find different angles to heave—

—until suddenly the burden is lifted.

You nearly fall backwards on your ass at the abrupt removal of tension, playing tug-of-war with a team that decided to give up with no warning.  But it’s like it almost doesn’t even phase you; you don’t even look behind you to see the baby’s eyes closed tight in concentration, you just recover and pull with both arms, feeling Din’s body gliding easily along the snow now and leading him all the way back down the hill.

Once you get inside the Crest and shut the door to the raging blizzard behind the three of you, there’s an extended moment where you just… you don’t know what to do.  You know all about how to deal with heatstroke, but this is the opposite—he either spent too long in the cold, or he exhausted himself trying to get back too quickly and then spent too long in the cold.  He said he’d use his e-comm if he wasn’t back in sixteen hours—was that the cutoff?  The point where the temperature outside would shut his body down and he’d need you to come get him?

Regardless, you need to warm him up.  Yes, that’s your priority, and you figure the quickest and safest way to accomplish it has to be the shower in slow increments.  The kid helps you move Din into the tiny fresher in the hull and then you sit on the floor with him, holding his limp body to your chest while reaching up to turn the faucet on.

Cold water sprays down and then suddenly—oof, he’s heavier than fuck again.  Air leaves your lungs and your neck cranes back under the unexpected increase in pressure on top of you to see the kid climbing down from his shield, no longer focused on mentally bearing most of his father’s weight or directing his own hovering form of transportation along behind you.  The baby disappears out of sight and you huff, completely trapped under Din as freezing water rains down on you.

Fuck, it’s so cold.  It’s way too fucking cold for you, but your core body temperature is also mostly normal right now.  Din’s isn’t, you’ll probably shock his system if you try to warm him up too quickly.  So you reach up and twist the knob, keeping it at a temperature he’d probably find just the slightest bit warm while inspiring violent shudders from you.

“H-Hey, I’m gonna t-t-take this off, o-okay—” you stutter down at him, knowing damn well he isn’t conscious to hear you but giving him that reassurance on the small chance he is, and then reach with trembling fingers to work at his armor.  You worry that the beskar is keeping the cold trapped the same way his clothes are, like having solid pieces of ice strapped to his body and nothing to protect him besides a few layers of soaking wet fabric.

The chestpiece comes off and you throw it blindly over your shoulder into the hull with a clang—admittedly, without thinking about where the baby is at all anymore.  The pauldrons come off next, but not before you reach up and turn the heat up just the slightest bit.  Your jerky limbs just want to blast it and remove the rest of his clothes in steamy hot water, but you can’t.  Even though your mind is hurtling at a thousand lightyears an hour, whatever reason you have left reminds you that you have to be patient or risk losing him entirely.

Eventually you’re able to get all the armor off but you hate the way he’s breathing right now.  Slow and shallow, like he just doesn’t really need the air at all but his body is still fighting for it on instinct.  His chest barely moves with it even when it’s got nothing weighing it down.

“You’ll b-be okay,” you say aloud, talking to the both of you even though only one is capable of responding.  “Y-Y-You’ll be o-okay—”

You reach up to inch the temperature a little higher, shivering terribly now.  His body feels slightly warmer under the shower than it did with the beskar, but you know you need to keep going and take the fabric off now.  Maker, it’s nearly impossible—the black clothing clings to his skin and its such a small space to maneuver, but it gives your mind and hands a clear goal to focus on while the water incrementally heats up.

Strangely, your adrenaline has been rocketing for so long that you almost lose track of time.  You just keep deadly focused on your task of undressing him and slowly heating the shower, trying not to think, trying not to get in your head and bring about disaster in such a crucial set of moments.

At some point, the water is warm.  Comfortably warm, and Din’s body isn’t ice cold anymore.  It’s warm, too, laying back into your chest and naked besides the helmet, but he’s still not moving.  No response, no matter how much mindless drabble you supply, no matter how steamy and hot the shower has become, no matter how much your own body has heated up.  Your fingers have found their home under his jaw, pressed right to his pulse point and feeling it continue to beat slow and faint, but you’re starting to feel the terror set in.  Real terror, the kind that makes you stupid and emotional, the kind that turns you back into a child again.

“I don’t know if it’s working,” you suddenly choke out, close to tears.  He’s warm, what else can you do for him?  Why is he not waking up?  “I-I don’t know what to do, Din, I…”

No—no, you cannot lose your shit, not yet.  You will exhaust every fucking option before you let that fear set in.  He’s not waking up because he needs to recover, his body needs time to work things out in a warm, comfortable environment.  He’s breathing, his heart is beating, he’s warm, and he’s still with you, so… you need to still be with him.

You turn the water off and clumsily get up, grabbing him under the arms and hauling him back into the hull.  He’s still heavy but it’s so much easier than before to move him; there’s no armor weighing him down anymore besides the helmet, no cape or snow or friction to catch him, no cold to lock your muscles up.  It’s slow going but you’re finally able to settle him in the warmth of your shared bed and then cover his body in the collection of blankets you’ve amassed.  You stand up and peel off all your wet layers of clothing, letting them plop to the metal floor while glancing around for the kid—

—who is currently swinging from the ladder to the cockpit with one hand.

It startles you for just a moment, just long enough for you to wonder what the fuck he thinks he’s doing up there, but then you figure that if he found some way to get up there then he can surely find his way back down again.

As you quickly drop to the bed and scoot up next to Din’s limp body under the blankets, the Crest’s engine suddenly gives a low rumble below the floor and heat starts blowing through the hull vents.  Again, you’re too preoccupied to even notice the gift much.  You’re tugging and tucking blankets around him and up under the metallic edge of his helmet when...

Maker, you need to take this off.  If the inside is wet, it’s probably keeping his head cold while the rest of him is warm from the shower.  You know it’s not a light thing—you know… you know at least a fraction of what this means.  You won’t look, you won’t look unless something absolutely drastic happens and it’s completely unavoidable, but you need to take his helmet off.

You catch the shoulder furthest from you and tug at his heavy body until he’s on his side, facing you on the bed.

“Din, I have to take your helmet off,” you warn him, saying it slowly and clearly.  Again, just in case.  “I’m not gonna look.  Nobody is gonna look—” your gaze flicks behind him to eye the baby, who is now somehow on the metal ground and waddling up to you both.  He blinks enormous black eyes at you, looking between you and his father huddled together under the blankets.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him very seriously, no room for negotiating.  “I know you understand me.”

It takes just a few seconds before he lifts his hands up and does exactly what you say, placing his fingers over his closed eyelids and then even so much as toddling around to face the wall.  You gasp in relief, clenching your eyes firmly shut and then pulling the helmet up, making sure you catch his head before it falls with one hand while tossing the beskar somewhere in the hull with the other.

Cold.  His hair is soaking wet and so cold, and his head rolls slightly as you guide it to rest in the warmest part of your neck.  Your hand stays attached to the back of it, wanting to transfer every single bit of warmth from your palm to him, and your eyes open to the kid’s back as your other arm wraps around Din’s bare spine.

And then all at once, you just feel… helpless.  He’s in your arms but Maker, you don’t know what else you can do.  The heat is blasting, you’re warm and pressed against him under multiple blankets, the engine is slowly heating the metal floor, but his breathing.  Slow.  Shallow.  Barely able to be felt against your neck.  He’s here but he’s not.  And you have no way of knowing if he’s getting closer or further away from you.

Tears start coming before you even realize.  But you have nothing to say.  After spending the entire time talking out loud, providing reassurances, narrating, distracting yourself—you don’t have anything anymore.  The silence twists you tighter, the nothing becomes inescapable, and the sudden sob that leaves you echoes hauntingly throughout the hull.  You pull his limp body as close to you as possible for comfort.  Wake up.  Wake up.

Your vision is watery—you don’t see it.  You don’t see the kid slowly turn around and take a few steps forward.  You only notice he’s there when green catches in the abstract blur, but you sniff and blink quickly to clear it.  It only takes a second to see the baby’s hand, extending and pressing against the blanket covering Din’s back, and you watch with wide eyes as he closes his.

And then there’s a second.  A second where you dare to hope.  Where you wonder if it’s even something that can be done.

The kid lowers his hand just a moment later and stumbles back a few steps, before plopping down on the ground and slowly falling backwards.  You have just enough time to see his little body inhale and exhale a few times as he sleeps, and then—

—and then Din suddenly jolts in your arms, bursting with too much life after spending too many heart wrenching moments without it.

“Shhh,” you breathe, instantly tightening your grip on the back of his head so he doesn’t pull away from you in a panic and keeping it tucked into the warmest part of your neck, right where your pulse thrums fast and present.  Your eyes clench tightly shut just in case and your heart bursts with pure, blinding, heavenly relief.  “Shhh sh sh, stay right here, just stay right here…”

As soon as he seems to recognize your voice and figure out that he’s not dead, his body immediately starts wreaking with shivers.  You squeeze him tight to you, feeling his large, quaking frame curl inwards into you for warmth, burying his own face into your neck even further and breathing shallow but quickly now, like his body actually wants the air again.  You do your best to will your blood to pump faster and provide him that relief, stretching and opening your body as much as possible to give him warmth.

And then you spend the next few hours like that.  Holding him, murmuring gently to him, providing him with your body heat and stars, he fucking clings to you.  He presses tight to you and trembles, and you don’t even know if he’s listening, but you keep talking.  Finding words for hours, and while some of them are just different ways of saying the same thing, you say them anyway.

He’s okay.  The kid is okay.  Everyone is okay.

Eventually, the shivering dies down until it stops altogether.  Din stays in one place and goes completely limp again, but this time he continues to breathe you in, slow and deep into the crook of your neck.  Fast asleep in your arms, and you thank the good fucking Maker above for the little angel passed out on the floor behind him.

***

He has to meet with Karga in two days.

After a few more hours of holding him and making absolutely sure he’s going to be alright, that’s all you can stupidly think about.

A deadline.  A very quickly approaching one.

You don’t know why.  But it might have something to do with the fact that you want nothing more than to climb up into the cockpit and navigate the ship off this horrid planet, and you can’t.  You’re confident that the hull and blankets are warm enough by themselves to keep Din comfortable as he recovers, and you’ve also had quite a while to regroup and get your mind thinking logically again, so you’re not worried about getting up and leaving him right now, no.  That’s not the problem.

The problem is that there’s a corpse outside.  You know this.  You know it’s there, and you know he needs it.  Nobody’s gonna take his word for just saying they’re dead, much less pay him for his services; no body, no bounty.  You also know it’s probably being covered with fresh snow right now, or maybe some sort of wild animal has already gotten their teeth into it, if anything can even survive out there.  And you’re the only one awake.  The only one capable of going to get it.

You’ve been arguing with yourself.  For about an hour, you’ve been struggling with the thought.  Din is soft and warm and every breath makes you focus less on the terrifying moments that occurred and more on the need to step up once again.

In the end, it’s the kid who gives you the final push.  You’re not going to leave him laying on the floor like that for any longer.  Not after what he did.

You take a second, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up all the way over Din’s head as it rests warm and comfortable in your neck.  You’re incredibly careful to cover his face, and even while climbing out of the warm cocoon of the bed, you keep your eyes firmly shut and continue to pull the fabric even higher, making absolutely sure you’re not going to see his face on accident.  You shouldn’t, you don’t think, as long as he doesn’t jerk awake and pull it down himself, but you want to take extra precaution regardless.

After quickly yanking on some clothes, you immediately make your way over to the kid and pick him up, seeing his little mouth open as he snores—and oh, you just have to.  You pull him to your chest and give him the most heartfelt, thankful embrace you can while not squishing him, before setting him down in his much more comfortable hovering blanket palace and closing the lid on it.

You know you have a very clear task now, but for just a few moments longer, you do your best to stall despite the ticking clock.  You start to pick up the mess in the hull—you close the fresher door, pick up Din’s discarded armor and set it in a neat pile close to the bed, place the helmet under the vent to encourage the padding inside to dry faster, and then you collect his old armor and stuff it back into one of the storage cubbies with your toolbox.

Only, an idea suddenly occurs to you as you’re putting away the chestpiece.  When you open the door to the hull, you know that a blast of cold air is going to flood the ship.  The engine is still heating everything inside and making sure you don’t get trapped in the snow by continuously melting it on the outside, but you don’t want Din to start shivering again.

So you grab the dented piece of electronics you were working on and flip the power switch, feeling the capacitors slowly start to heat up inside the housing.  You go back over and lift the blanket near his feet just enough to tuck the metal under it, close enough to Din that he’ll feel the same amount of warmth your body was providing him but not enough to overheat.

And then you make your way over to your bag and pull on the rest of your clothes, now exhausting almost every single clean thing you own just to make another trek through the snow.  You’re in the middle of pulling on your fifth pair of pants when the thought truly sinks in.

A corpse.  A dead body.  That you’re actually considering going out into the worst fucking weather in the galaxy to search for, haul back to the ship, and put into carbonite.  Because of a fucking deadline for an occupation very much not your own, very much not chosen by you.

You quickly walk over and leave through the door on the side of the hull before you can change your mind, slamming it shut behind you.

***

Well, it’s…  It’s not too terrible, you guess.

It’s been frozen out here for hours, that’s why.  It’s not bloody, not gory, not demented or malformed in any way.  Tranquil almost, like the creature died in its sleep in this nightmarish landscape, perfectly at peace.

You still don’t want to get anywhere close to it, but you have to.  You pull a face and slowly reach out, absolutely not thinking about the literal impossibility of it playing dead and just waiting for the moment to strike, but even still…  Even if there was nothing more sinister hiding underneath the surface of this scene, it’s still… existentially fucked up.  The last time you were confronted with a dead body, Din had to be the one to dispose of it—you couldn’t even think about it without threatening another wave of shock to your system.

And now you’re voluntarily grabbing the rope around one’s ankles and dragging it back down the pure white slope to the Razor Crest.

It doesn’t weigh that much and its icy exterior seems to work in your favor; it slides easily along the snow as soon as you get it moving.  As the ship comes back into view, you hurry to the door and you’re just about to open it when you suddenly get the feeling that you’re forgetting something…

Oh—

It takes a few moments of searching around in the freshly fallen snow, but eventually your fingers brush metal underneath and you stand, reaching behind you to tuck the blaster into your waistband.  When you’re positive you’re not going to accidentally shoot a chunk of your ass off on accident, you shove open the door and pull the body inside, before locking it tight behind you and keeping the frigid winter from touching this warm, quiet safe-haven.

There.  Halfway done.  You almost don’t want to look in case he wakes up unexpectedly, but then you find yourself peeking over your shoulder at the silhouette of Din’s body still passed out under the blankets and you’re thankful the squeaks and slams didn’t disturb him.

And then you take just a second to wonder if this is what it must be like for him.  Minus your obvious discomfort and ickiness at beginning to haul the corpse over to the carbonite chamber, it seems like it’d be reminiscent of any other time he’s brought back a dead quarry while you and the baby slept soundly.  Trying to be quiet, wanting it done and over with just to get back in bed that much faster, doing everything you can to prevent anything out there from so much as breathing on anything in here.

You do your best to hold on to the loveliness of the thought, because this part is the part you’re most anxious about.

The body needs to go into this slanted upright space so you can freeze it in carbonite.  And in order to do that, you have to grab it and put it there.  With your hands, you have to grab it.  With your hands.

You look down at its face, calm and at peace, frozen and forever etched into that expression, and something twists in your heart.  If it weren’t for the kid, that could’ve been Din.  If it weren’t for the kid walking barefoot through snow, fighting an uphill battle to make sure you get to him, helping you drag him back here and then overexerting himself to make sure he’d be okay, that could’ve been Din.  He drives you crazy on a consistent basis, but he came through today.

Know what?  If that little squirt can save a grown man’s life twice in a few hours, then the least you can do is finish this job for all three of you and fly your asses out of here.

Weirdly enough, being frozen solid allows for way better handling than the alternative.  It means you don’t actually have to touch it too much; you don’t have to deal with the limpness of death, it doesn’t seem as much like a person as it does a rigid board you’re simply moving from one place to another.  You can just grab the shoulders and yank and the entire fucking thing goes with it, solid and upright, naturally wanting to lean back into the chamber so you don’t even have to hold it in place.  The perfect quarry for you basically, day one stuff, as easy as it could get.

Almost done, almost done—you study the key panel on the upper-right frame before eventually pressing a few buttons, and then you step back as gas freezes and solidifies the corpse in its carbonite prison.

Yes.  You’re done.  You already want to take another shower just from touching it for a few seconds, but that can wait.  Quickly making your way up the ladder and into the cockpit, you fire up the thrusters and then navigate the ship through and beyond the swirling white atmosphere of this dreadful fucking planet, before punching in familiar coordinates to Nevarro.

***

“Din,” you murmur, making sure you have your eyes completely covered with one hand before gently easing the blanket down from his face with the other.  “Din, I want you to drink some wat—”

He jerks awake so suddenly that you hear the metal canteen fall over on the floor next to you, thank the Maker its lid is on tight.  You automatically reach out to steady him, pressing your free hand to his bare chest and continuing to speak calmly and gently to reassure him, but he still scrambles to take in his surroundings after sleeping longer than he probably has in weeks.  

You know what he’s seeing, even though you’re blind right now.  You took time to make sure everything was settled before waking him.  The hull is clean with only a single light to illuminate it, the baby is still snoozing in his closed crib, his armor is stacked in a neat pile, the blaster is put away, and you retired your makeshift blanket heater box so the only thing left is you.  Freshly showered, hair dripping, offering him water, and dressed in just a thin shirt with nothing else (you ran out of things to wear).

“Wh-Where’s my h-h-helmet—” is the first thing he asks, voice broken and raspy.  Stars, he needs water.

“The padding inside is wet,” you quickly supply, keeping your hand tight over the bridge of your eyes to make sure his freshly conscious mind immediately understands that you have no bad intentions.  “I swear I didn’t look, and I made sure the kid didn’t either.  He’s sleeping now, it’s just me—I swear nobody looked, I swear.”

You might just be saying the exact same thing over and over again and admittedly, that might be putting some weird kind of suspicion on you, but you just want to make sure he knows.  Beyond a shadow of a doubt.  It’s important that he knows he’s safe and that everything is okay now, even if he collapsed and spent an unknown amount of time in a purgatory where nothing was.

His body trembles under your palm, waves of shudders attacking him even after hours of keeping him as warm as possible.  “Are—Are we st-still on H-Ho—H-Hoth—”

“No,” you answer.  “We’re in hyperspace.  Everything’s okay now, I took care of it.  We’ll get to Nevarro on time.”

It’s like he takes just a few extra moments, as if he’s trying extra hard to remember before responding.  “But—I d-didn’t—”

“You have four bodies for Karga,” you tell him, not letting him get too lost trying to recall something that no longer poses an issue.  “I took care of it.  You need rest, I only woke you up to make sure you drink some water, so please—” you blindly reach your hand out for the canteen you know has to be around here somewhere, but all you feel is…

His.  Catching yours.

“Y-You took c-c-care of…”  His hands are trembling harder than his voice.  “Sh-shit, I’m freezing, I—”

“Drink some water,” you tell him, squeezing his fingers.  “I’ll go turn off the light so you can sleep more, but you need water.”

His hand feels like it doesn’t quite want to let go of yours yet, but eventually it does and you hear the sloshing of water as the metal flask is picked up with an unsteady grip.  Purposefully turning your back to him and making sure he’s not in your line of sight whatsoever, you finally let your hand drop and blink your eyes open at the wall across the hull.  You hear Din shakily unscrew the lid while you stand up and find the light switch, before turning around in the pitch blackness and using his loud gulps as your guide back.

Your hands and knees are barely on the blanket when you hear him toss the empty canteen to the side and grab you, pulling you down to him.  

Fuck, you’re not expecting it.  You fumble in the dark but he doesn’t really give your clumsiness much of a choice—Din pulls you under the blankets like he needs you, his body craving that warmth even though his skin doesn’t feel cold at all.  He hooks a strong forearm around your tummy, keeping your back pressed tight to his chest while the rest of him curls to fit every part of you, and you have to adjust the blankets yourself.

It’s not even a few seconds after you settle into position when his trembling hands jerk down to grab your shirt and yank it up.  You quickly scramble to help him get you as naked as he is, feeling his palms drag greedily across the heat of your tummy and breasts before you’ve even finished wiggling the fabric over your head.  The shirt lands somewhere in the darkness and you’re squeezed back against him, your hands landing on his forearms as they wrap around your waist and he clings shamelessly to you.

“You…”  Din’s body still shivers every once in a while but the heat and closeness allows his voice to even out just a bit.  He clears his throat and swallows, tucking his head and burying his face in your hair before trying again.  “You brought back the qu-quarry?”

“Yes,” you confirm, confident in your reassurance but gentle at the same time.  “It’s in carbonite.”

All you can feel or hear in response is his breathing.  His heart beating steady and strong against your back.

And then Din’s arms suddenly squeeze you tight—tight.  He lets out a low shaky exhale against the back of your shoulder and presses his lips to your skin.  “Sweet girl.”

And he says just… so much with those two words.  Slow and purposeful, the steadiest thing you’ve heard from him in hours.  But the two biggest competing emotions you hear tugging at his vocal cords are gratitude and apprehension.  Like he already knows that it couldn’t have been easy for you.  Like he’s not taking it lightly.

You don’t want to talk about it.  You don’t want to talk about anything that happened in the past few hours, not right now.  “It’s okay.  Please.”

This time his silence seems to be on the brink, as if he wants to say more but the extra plea you put on the end makes him hold onto his words, at least for now.  

“How d-did you find me?”  He asks instead, scooting his legs up enough that yours actually go with him.  Cradled in his naked body, radiating heat so he can recover, pressed so close to him that you feel like gravity itself would be pushing you into his lap if the world weren’t sideways.

“The kid,” you tell him.  “We were goofing around outside and he dragged me ov—”

It’s like he’s still so cold that even just the surprise of hearing you say that makes his whole body lock down and convulse a few times against your back.  “You were wh-what?”

“I was practicing,” you openly admit to him, feeling like the earlier events already occurred a lifetime ago and you have no reason for being shy about it anymore.  In fact, you’re glad you were there, being terrible at shooting.  The alternative is unthinkable.  Though, something tells you also improbable, having a little supernatural sidekick who cares so deeply for him.  “I raided your armory.  We weren’t outside for more than five minutes before I wanted to go back in, but then he found you.”

And you think he’s going to get after you, for some reason.  Seems about on par, you figure—going outside for even just a few minutes on a planet whose name you now remember is colloquial slang for hell, even if it’s the only reason he’s not an icicle right now.

But he’s just quiet.  Breathing.  So you just relax into him, thinking that’s the end of it.  You take a few deep breaths in through your nose and just… rest.  In the near perfect silence of hyperspace you used to find haunting, but now only find comfort in.  It reminds you of him.

“Did you hit the target?”  He asks you quietly, and at first you scoff, about to ask if he’s kidding.  No, of course you didn’t hit the…

Only, after a remarkable delay, hearing him phrase it that way suddenly makes your stomach decide to drop and do a fucking somersault on the ground out of absolutely nowhere.

Everything comes flooding back.  The conflict you used to think was the most pressing thing, the one that kept you awake and your thoughts scrambled for hours.  It feels like it was ages ago.  An entire lifetime has passed since that happened, you might’ve forgotten it altogether if he didn’t decide to ask that very simple question in a very specific way.

“I…” you mumble in response, your heart suddenly pounding.  “Not… not yet.”

Okay, that’s a good answer.  It’s the truth and you’re giving nothing away by saying that.  So now what is he going to say?  What is he going to say?  You spoke your piece, it’s his turn now, that’s how conversations work.  Well typically, that’s how conversations work—but with Din… you probably should’ve known.

He falls back into silence almost immediately, appearing to accept your answer just the way it is without anything else to add.  You feel his heart continue to beat strong against your back, but there’s something too tense about his stillness that doesn’t imply he’s relaxing anymore.  His body goes slightly taut, but not from the lingering chill in his bones.

He’s going to make you ask him, you realize.  He’s waiting until you confront him about his choice in words at the shooting range.  Which means he wasn’t just joking around.  He wasn’t just messing with you.

“Din…” you whisper uncertainly, and his face suddenly finds its way into the crook of your neck as soon as the word leaves your mouth, arms tightening up around you.  You spent forever trying to find the words to even bring this up, and here he is, already knowing exactly what you’re asking just by the tone of your voice.  Still, you ask anyway, sounding small and so unsure of yourself in the darkness.  “Why did you say that?  On Tatooine, why did you…”

Din’s chest expands against your back with a long, slow breath, and then he lets it out against your neck, hot enough to raise goosebumps all over your body.

“I… don’t know,” he admits, voice muffled and quiet, but it’s not… casual.  Not like he’s brushing you off or indicating he doesn’t want to talk about it, but like it’s actually a complete fucking mystery to him, just as much as it is to you.  “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know…” you repeat slowly.

“You had said something,” he mutters, shifting just a bit behind you.  His palm slides up your bare tummy, stopping in the warm spot just under the swell of your breast.  “Earlier that day.  I thought about it, and then I just… s-said it.”

You?  Said something that made him ask that?

“What?”  You blurt out, genuinely startled and having no fucking clue.  “What did I say?”

“Something about…”  He gives the smallest shudder from behind you, and you don’t actually know if this one is from the cold.  “Not wanting anyone else to know me the way you do.”

Your heart rapidly kicks up and you flush, hating how unbelievably possessive your own words sound coming out of his mouth.  “Oh shit, I… I didn’t mean for that to be… that sounds so bad, Din, I swear I didn’t mean for it to—”

He cuts you off by clutching you tighter, burying his face deeper into your neck and breathing out shakily.  “Tell me you meant every word.”

You blink a couple of times in the pitch black before sighing, letting go of any charade or front you think about putting up for him to save some dignity.  “I meant it.”

Because it’s the truth.  You said it when you were caught off guard, throwing it out to him along with other mindless drabble that came from a place that was very real.  You don’t like the way you phrased it, but you meant it.  You do mean it.  Every word.

If there weren't so many things still left unsaid right now, you might actually worry he fell asleep on you.  Din loosens up considerably after you admit it, letting go of more tightness you didn’t even know was inside him.  His head slowly drops from the crook of your neck to the back of it and he breathes hot air on your nape, quiet for a long time.

And, you suppose you’d actually be okay with it if that was the end of the conversation.  There are, of course, millions of things left to ask.  But he doesn’t know the answers, just as much as you’re left clueless about the questions.  You’re not expecting him to elaborate anymore, and if he’s waiting for you to ask, he’ll be waiting a long time.  Soon your eyes close and you almost feel yourself beginning to drift.  It’s been such a rough day today and to just be here in his arms, it’s more than enough for you.  

But then his low baritone comes through the darkness.

“In Mando’a,” Din’s voice suddenly whispers against your skin, “the verb, kar’taylir… it means to know.  Su kar’tayli, you know, kaysh kar’tayli, they know.  Ni ke kar’tayl nu… I don’t know.”

Your eyes pop open and you immediately forget all about sleep, wide awake and suddenly hanging onto every word as it rolls so gently off his tongue.  You’ve never heard the language spoken aloud, you’ve never heard anything about the Mandalorians directly from one before.  All of the stories seem sensationalized, passed down by word of mouth and chipping away at the kernel of truth until it disappears completely.

“The language is dying,” Din continues, murmuring soft and gentle along your nape.  “By the time I learned it, too many words had been lost.  The ones left were the ones that were needed.”

“What do you mean?”  You whisper, almost afraid of breaking the quiet.  Not wanting him to feel distracted or pressed, but needing to express your curiosity lest you somehow overflow with it.

“There are only three pronouns,” he answers slowly, and you’re already fucking fascinated.  “Ni, for I or we.  Su is you or you all, and kaysh is third person.  Subjective, objective, possessive, singular, plural—doesn’t matter.  Three words, for every individual or collective in the entire galaxy.”

You blink in the darkness, your logic telling you that it sounds so simple it’d become confusing and then your logic also telling you that doesn’t actually make any fucking sense at all.  If that’s true, it’s unbelievable.  How do they differentiate?  Just context?

“How do you distinguish?”  You ask him.  Admittedly, you don’t know much about linguistics—not anywhere near the extent he does, but it seems so counterintuitive.  I can’t be the same word for we, the amount of misunderstandings would be a nightmare.

“We… don’t need to,” he explains to you, slowly, like nobody has ever asked him these things before and so he’s unsure how to phrase it.  “Individuality isn’t valued, it’s not a concept.”

And… you almost can’t wrap your head around it.  “What do you mean?”  You ask again, knowing you’re sounding like a broken record without specifying more, but trying with your whole heart to understand.

“I mean… we swear oaths to never reveal our faces,” Din tells you, something you shouldn’t need to be reminded of.  “We abandon our names.  We become… whispers, of the same voice.  There’s not many words in Mando’a with a unique meaning, almost all of them are homonyms.  Interchangeable.  Transient.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, suddenly blown away by the implication.  Almost all of them are homonyms?  How in Maker’s name are you even supposed to communicate at that point?  That’s… unthinkable.

“Most words have two meanings?”  You clarify, wanting to be absolutely sure you’re getting it right.

“Most have five or six,” he returns, and you’re downright shocked now.  “Everything just depends.”

“Stars…”  You breathe, moving a palm up the length of his forearm and holding the back of his hand with it.  Fuck, you hope this is the direction he’s intending instead of veering him off course, but you’re incredibly invested.  “What else does, uh… kay—er, kar… kar’taylir mean?”

Din lets out a slow breath from behind you, and you can… you can feel his own heart beating faster when it presses up against your spine at the apex of his inhale.  “It’s… a rare word, it only has two meanings.”

You bite your lip and start to feel butterflies in your stomach for some reason.  Slowly, his hand begins to travel up your breast and then to your sternum before heading just the slightest bit left, and your own hand moves with him.

“To know,” Din says quietly, “but also… to care very deeply for.”  He doesn’t stop until his palm presses right above the rapidly pounding organ in your chest.  “To hold in the heart.”

“To know,” you swallow thickly, curling your fingers around his hand and praying he’s saying what you think he is, “or… to love?”

“When Mandalorian’s take vows, there’s no ceremony,” he whispers into the back of your neck.  “No witnesses, no celebrations.  We just take our helmets off in front of the other and look.  It doesn’t sound like much, but… our secrecy is our survival.  Letting someone see our face and swearing lifelong devotion to them, it’s the same thing.  To know is to love.”

Your eyes close tight and your lungs empty themselves, too full of emotion to even fit oxygen inside you anymore.  Din’s lips press feather soft behind your neck, and now you’re the one shivering uncontrollably.  The move up and trail along your neck in the darkness.

“Ni kar'tayl su,” he murmurs, shifting back just slightly and pulling at your shoulder.  “I know you.”

You go with him, facing the ceiling as he fits his head under your throat and places slow, open mouth kisses down the curve of it.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he goes on quietly, his voice starting to sound raspy again, dragging his hand down your torso while his lips brush your collarbone.  “For an eternity, I’ll know you.”

Water wets the corners of your lashes and you inhale three or four times before exhaling, shallow hiccups and desperate for air.

“Ni ke vaabi nu kaysh ke kar’taylir su te ni kar’tayl su.”  Din says, slowly moving his mouth back up when your fingers tangle in his hair and beg him to come that way.  The words dance along your skin as he whispers them, forever searing themselves into your memory.  You can’t see them, you’ll never have a visual to reminisce upon, but you’ll know how they felt.  Right under your ear, brimming with quiet devotion.  “I don’t want anyone else to know you… the way I know you.”

Your face goes blazing hot at the sound of him translating your own rushed and half-assed sentence into something gorgeous and flowing, something that sounds so much more beautiful than when you blurted it out earlier.  You told him you loved him in that hangar, right to his face.  Unashamed and stupid about it, but meaning it with every part of your body.

“I knew you’d say no,” he finally admits, staying in this one spot.  Unmoving.  Telling you the truth, allowing you to know it.  “I just wanted to… say it.”

That… that makes sense to you.  The last part does, at least, it makes so much sense to you.  The first time you said you loved him, you said it just to say it.  You wanted to feel the words, sound them out even if neither one of you could hear them.  It felt freeing, like coming to accept a universal truth.

The first part, though.  You’re still behind.  “You knew I’d say no?”  You ask him, feeling him ease back just slightly.  Staring down at you through the pitch black, even if he can’t see either.  Keeping his palm over your heart as the ship hurdles through nowhere and everywhere at once.

“You wouldn’t take my first name without convincing,” he reasons quietly, and then moves back to lay in the blankets once more, leaving the rest unspoken.

But he’s… oh stars, he’s so right.  If he’s going to take his helmet off and let you see his face—if he’s going to commit to you that way, it is not going to be because you shoot a blaster correctly.  Not after today, not after what he’s told you.

So you move up to your elbow and turn to face him, trying to let him know why even if he’s already guessed the what correctly.

“I want it to mean something,” you say after a moment.  “I want it to… have the meaning it’s supposed to have.”

Your palm finds its way to his chest in the silence following.  Right over the beating of his heart, feeling it thrum hard and rhythmic while he considers his response.

“This is The Way,” Din finally murmurs, settling his hand over yours, and you repeat the words back to him.  Respecting them.  Feeling like, for the very first time, they now apply to you in some way instead of belonging to some mysterious creed you’ll never know anything about.

But when a shudder subtly rockets up and down his body, you realize the blankets have been pulled down with the changing positions and his whole torso is bare and exposed to the hull.  So you pull them up until you’re both covered again, before you lean down and press a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Din shudders again when your mouth opens and the hot glide of your tongue catches his skin, but you know it’s not from the cold this time.  His breathing deepens while you slowly move over him.  You ease him further on his back and let him keep feeling the warmth of your mouth on his body, alleviate the lingering chill by sucking gentle hickeys into his skin and feeling the goosebumps raise under your tongue.  He moves with you; he stretches his neck when you want to nibble his collarbone, arches when you mouth down his chest, shifts his elbow to let you drag your tongue along his ribcage.

And… and it’s as if all the stars and systems hold even more still for you than the relative physics of faster-than-light travel can explain away by themselves.  You’ve always felt timeless in here, living from one fleeting eternity to the next, suspended in perpetuity while the rest of the galaxy ages without you.  But when you’re with him and it’s pitch black and there’s no light to streak across your vision, no evidence that time and space have all but disconnected from each other just to let your insignificant little bodies through… it’s like you’re meant to be here.  In some strange, unexplainable way, you feel like you could’ve died out there with him in the frozen wasteland today and this is exactly where you’d still end up, no matter what.

To know is to love.

“Do you have brown eyes?”  You hear yourself whisper under his jaw, and you feel Din’s fingers thread in your hair and ease you up enough to brush his lips against your chin.

“Yes,” he whispers back, and then his mouth is on yours.

[jimilter]

riptide (m) | k.sj. | (1/2)

one | two

pairing:  kim seokjin x reader

rating:  m (18+)

genre:  angst | smut | established relationship!au

summary:  It takes a foolishly trivial incident to unravel how astonishingly little you and Seokjin actually understand each other. It has you questioning your relationship, and him? Well, he’s questioning his whole life.

warnings:  swearing + implied alcohol consumption + realistic relationship problems + mentions of insecurities, jealousy, complicated mental dispositions + emotional distress + sexual situations (unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talking, a bit of manhandling, fingering) + mentions of masturbation + a ton of miscommunication (refer to the summary smh)

word count: 12.3 k

note:  it’s FINALLY done, y’all! came up to be a monster of 25k words, so i decided to split it into two. i’ll drop the other part next week. this took a lot more time, energy and re-writing than i’d thought it would. i began writing this in january - it’s been five excruciating months! 😩 i really hope y'all will like this one~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

riptide (n) – a dangerous area of strongly moving water in the sea, where two or more currents meet.

Lady, running down to the riptide - Taken away to the dark side - I wanna be your left hand man.

The turn of events has been so fucking hilariously impossible that Seokjin has literally been rendered speechless. Which doesn't happen often, mind you. What can he do, he is just extremely witty—he always has something to say about everything, usually and preferably with impeccable comic timing. Especially when it comes to you. 

This, though. This completely baffling scenario, right in front of him, has him gaping like a goldfish with no words to say.

"Final call, Jin. Gawk at me for five more seconds and I walk out of here," you threaten, an elegant arm poised at your waist and gorgeously plump lips pressed into a thin line. "Say something?"

And Seokjin still cannot formulate a single word, because what the actual fuck? How can you even think that he could ever— 

"Alright." You catwalk out of his bedroom, leaving him blinking into space.

He jumps the next second, leaping after you. "Honey! How would—what—I can never—why do I even have to say—will you wait? You’re being so ridiculous, right now, I hope you know that!"

If he wasn't in such a fix, Seokjin would physically cringe at his speech. It was better when he was just gaping.

“Honey! Stop being so overdramatic, you’ve known me and you’ve known Jimin! For years! Stop acting like you seriously don’t know what happened, here!”

You don't stop, though, gliding down the stairs and hopping over the haphazardly tossed items in the living room as you exit out of the house.

And then you're gone. You're really gone, over something so fucking ridiculous, that Seokjin still has no words to say.

All he knows is that his girlfriend of five years has finally gone crazy enough to jump to conclusions of such high magnitude of stupidity.

And, that Park Jimin is a dead man.

It all begins on an unsuspecting Sunday morning, when the entire house is smelling of weed, stale booze and some worse fluids. 

Last night, Seokjin vacated his own bedroom for the boys to smoke up in at Jimin's request, because that is the only well ventilated room of the house. He spent the night in Yoongi's room with earplugs in, dead to all the chaos in the house—as he often does on party nights—to catch up on his beauty sleep. He cannot afford any unbecoming dark circles or, God forbid, breakouts.

And no, that's not a comedic moment, he really does need his face looking perfect this week for reasons outside of personal gratification too, because he has a shoot on Tuesday. He especially took a leave from his part-time job at the Mexican restaurant downtown where his girlfriend, you, work full-time, on a Tuesday—saying goodbye to all the amazing tips always forwarded to the cooks on Taco Tuesday—for this. Nothing would mess up his face.

Not to mention that one very important audition for a very gigantic project he's been looking forward to. They're yet to announce the date, but it would be this very month. He hasn't really told you much about it, planning a huge surprise for later when—if, actually, but he prefers to be unrealistically optimistic in every situation possible—he bags the coveted position, at the end. He hasn't really decided upon much, other than a long drive and a picnic date to one of those grasslands on the city's outskirts that you love so much. Oh, and bringing up the prospect of moving in together in an apartment with just the two of you. 

He's pretty certain you must not remember him raving about the opportunity, because it has been months since he did that. He then proceeded to be covert about all the mini auditions and trainings he underwent to prepare for the final audition, and he is confident you have not connected the dots.

But that is all a discussion for later — he doesn't even know when he would be auditioning. 

The crux of the whole matter is that he needs to keep looking as flawless as he can until that audition happens.

So he has slept like a baby, last night, while the rest of his friends have partied, including two out of three of his housemates—Hoseok and Jimin—along with Taehyung and Taehyung's girl. Namjoon had foregone attendance in lieu of the Halloween party, next weekend, that he knows he would definitely be forced to attend because Hoseok is hosting. Yoongi, his third and final housemate, escaped the house altogether to spend a night of music-making with Jungkook in his dorm.

So, in the morning, when Seokjin is moving around his kitchen that seems to have been hit by a tornado, checking the fridge and mentally praying that his baggie of smoothie ingredients is still in good shape—a scream echoes around the house.

Seokjin freezes. That sounded a lot like…you.

Immediately alert, he runs out of the kitchen and into the drawing room. Hoseok is hanging upside down on one of the couches, something that looks a lot like undigested white sauce pasta puddles on the ground, inches from his new, fiery red hair. Seokjin grimaces.

"Kim Seokjin!" your screech tears the silence.

Seokjin twists on his heels, looking up in the direction of his bedroom. It really is you. And you're in his bedroom—the room he did not occupy last night.

God only knows what kind of a scene you have walked in on. He hopes these idiots didn’t have an orgy up there, although he really can’t put it past them.

Not waiting another second, Seokjin rushes up the stairs and pushes through the doors to his bedroom. His mouth falls open on an audible gasp.

You stand next to his bed, dressed up elegantly in a navy dress that ends above your knees—which makes him wonder if you are here for an impromptu breakfast date—with one hand clutching his duvet that has uncovered what looks like…

…a head of long, dirty blonde hair.

Who the fuck?

In his bed?

"Hey, Honey!" Seokjin's voice is a squeak. "You… you here for a date?" he manages out of a suddenly parched throat.

You roll your eyes. "Uh huh. A fact you would've known if you looked at the texts I sent you last night." Your eyes are narrow at him. "This explains why you didn't, though. Busy night, Jin?" 

He balks at your words, at a loss. How could you even think it was him, when you know all about Park Jimin and his escapades?! 

Seokjin's blood boils. Fucking Jimin. There is going to be blood on Seokjin’s hands. 

In the midst of it, the blonde head shifts. 

Soon after, as you two watch, a pair of brown eyes with smudged makeup emerge from inside Seokjin's bed—and the audacity?! There’s makeup all over his covers! Jimin will pay for the dry cleaning. The face is followed by a whole, tiny woman of five-something feet who is, thankfully, covered in a shirt.

Seokjin is almost not breathing when the blonde starts to give him a dreamy smile, his gaze switching between her and you. And it’s extremely stupid, because he hasn’t seen this woman before, ever, in his entire life. But he catches the way your arms fall to your sides and those elegant, dainty fingers of yours ball up into fists as you look at the blondie’s face.

Fortunately, the girl recognises him at last before her grin could turn fully dopey, and with a squeak, jumps out of the bed. “You’re not—um. Hi. Sorry, I, uh. I’ll get going.”

And surprisingly, she does exactly that in less than a minute, leaving you to stare down at Seokjin.

“You know, it’s really unbecoming for a girlfriend to keep finding girls in her boyfriend’s bed every other week and not be given an explanation, ever.” Your tone is teasing, but your eyes are taunting. “You shouldn’t always be so dismissive, you know? What if I start getting ideas? I don’t think you even remember how to make up with your girlfriend, at this point, because I never fight.”

That is when Seokjin starts gawking. And literally doesn’t stop until you’ve left the house.

“I don’t get it,” Jackson says, stuffing cold noodles into his mouth and chewing on them without closing it. “Do you think he cheated on you, or do you not think he cheated on you?”

You look at your best friend with your face twisted up in disgust. You swear to God you would never have agreed to make friends with this guy on your mother’s insistence when the Wang family moved in next doors to you, had you known he’d turn out to be such a barbarian a decade later. Twelve-year-old Jackson had been such a decent kid—studious, elegant, well-mannered. What went wrong, along the way?

You exhale, shifting on your chair, very wary of any dried up fluids that you might come in contact with. “I know he did not cheat on me, Jax, the very notion is completely ridiculous.”

Jackson stops chewing and looks away from the WWE match playing on the TV to squint at you. “I’m…confused? Wait. What is the problem, then? What are you mad at him for?”

To be completely honest, you aren’t quite certain yourself.

But you do know that you don’t feel good. And that this feeling has been building up over a couple months, but you have only really acknowledged it head-on, today, in all five-something years of your relationship. Five years, seven months and eight days, to be exact, but that’s kinda besides the point.

You’ve had at least a few months’ worth of buildup that has gotten you to this point, you would admit. Especially after Seokjin had to cancel that visit to your hometown at the end of June, for your parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration because he had an important audition for a big-brand ad film. The cancellation was acceptable, but his offhand comment that, “thirty-five isn’t even that special, we’ll get them a huge gift for their fiftieth,” stayed with you longer than it should’ve. Things got okay-ish when you reminded yourself how Seokjin never really thought too hard about things he said, always being a humorous, unattached clown in every situation. But this morning's dismissal has pushed you over that edge. You straightaway goaded him, claiming he doesn’t remember how to make it up to you, and all you got in response was his shock and being called “ridiculous” and “overdramatic.” Fun.

You were most certainly joking, if a bit caustically, when you said what you did. He could have taken it as a joke and laughed it off. He could have taken it as a threat and comforted you, said it was Jimin that used his room, and maybe kissed you. You already knew what had happened when you saw the girl, anyway. But this was probably the third time this situation had happened, this month. 

Sure, you are understanding and really do know Jimin and what all he gets up to, but is that really supposed to be such a given? Asking your boyfriend to hug you close and kiss your forehead when you discover a girl in his bed just as you were about to cuddle the lump of sheets thinking it was him, is not too much to expect, is it?

Granted, Seokjin has never been extremely expressive, but still. It feels like he’s consciously trying to keep you at a distance, these past few months.

You don’t have the complete grasp of the storm of thoughts in your head yet, but you want to try and explain it to Jackson the best you can. 

“It was about respect, in a way, I guess,” you quietly mumble, and Jackson turns the TV off, now sitting cross legged on the couch to face your chair. He puts away his takeout container to frown at you, probably gleaning how serious this is for you. “He stood there, without saying a single word, expecting me to stop being mad. Almost willing me to stop being mad by making these big, incredulous eyes at me. Like it was that horrible of his girlfriend to demand for an explanation when she found a girl in his bedroom. It was just the two of us, I wasn’t making a scene in front of anybody. He just—ugh! He could’ve simply asked me to not be mad, said it was Jimin who spent the night in the room and maybe even laughed about it, or plotted Jimin’s murder—I would’ve joined in—but no. He acted like I was being stupid, told me not be ridiculous and dramatic. And that made me feel really stupid.”

Jackson winces. “And why do you think you were not being stupid?”

You exhale. “I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t actually accusing him of anything, and five years down the lane, he should know that now. I just wanted him to say it and not scold me when I tease-taunted him. He always expects me to know everything. And even though I always do, it gets tiring sometimes. These weird thoughts get to you — that maybe you’re being too understanding and he’s using that to his advantage, you know?” You look down at your lap, playing with your nails. “It’s just…um. I wanted him to coddle me, I guess. To treat this as something big because I was throwing a tantrum about it and, just, I don’t know—try to cajole me? Assuage me with his words, maybe? But he didn’t. Because he hasn’t done that in forever. Because I never need him to, because I always freaking understand everything!” A sob leaves you.

Jackson pats the place next to him. “C’mere, you dumdum, and stop hyperventilating,” he mumbles, hugging you to his side when you move to sit on the couch. “I don’t exactly understand how the relationship dynamics work, but from what you told me, I get that you wanted attention? Some loving? And instead you got disappointed looks because Jin expected you to be mature and rational about it — the way you always are — and that too with his fucking eyes and some low-key insult words? Is it something like that?”

Wow, Jackson really paraphrased all that amazingly. “Yes, actually. It’s exactly that.”

Jackson sighs. “Y’all have been together a long time, babe, so I guess it’s kind of a given that you’d get to a no-bullshit point. Which is why he hasn’t done that in forever, because y’all probably don’t need that kinda stuff between you anymore.”

“I get that, it’s how a relationship matures. But I’m pretty certain that it’s not supposed to make me feel like this,” you sound slightly muffled, having stuffed your face into Jackson’s hoodie-covered chest. “I feel—I feel like we got too comfortable and now he’s just started to take me for granted. And I also feel like I’m being too needy. Am I being needy and annoying? He’d hate me if I told him all this, won’t he? Half of the reason we’ve worked out so well is because we’re both career oriented and don’t waste time overthinking stupid shit.” You gasp. “Oh, no—would he leave me? He’s used to his girlfriend being mature, not needy—”

You are cut off when Jackson pulls you away by your shoulders, giving you a serious look. “Wait, wait, stop. What did you say? Not the needy part, you’re allowed to be needy once in all the damn three-sixty-five days y’all stay busy for. The…taking you for granted part. Pretty big of a thing to say, babe.”

You sigh. “We haven’t been on an actual date in months. Seokjin thinks there’s no need for that extra effort when we spend lunch breaks at work together, everyday. Outside of the restaurant, our meetings involve our entire flock of friends by default. It’s been three months since we slept together.” You sniff, hating having to impart such a private detail of your life. “So no, I don’t think it’s that big of a thing to say, at all.”

“Wow.” Jackson gives a slow whistle. “You’ve really been bottling up a lot in there, huh?”

You shrug. “I guess. It never made me feel underappreciated, though. Sure, I was irritated at some occasions and disappointed at others, but… Today I feel horrible, Jax.”

“Did you share anything with Byulyi?” he asks, referring to your flatmate and good friend since college.

You shake your head. “She already has a lot on her plate, right now. She got rejected by the photographer she wanted to intern with, so it’s back to freelancing for her.”

“Yeah, that must suck.” Jackson grimaces. Then he looks at you. “You need to take a break, hun. Sit back, today, and have tacos and beer with me. Reset your inner thoughts. Talk to Jin tomorrow. Although, I must say, it’s kinda depressing that you have to actually tell your boyfriend that he’s being a bad boyfriend. Isn’t that kind of shit supposed to be realized on your own?”

You purse your lips. “I guess, yeah. But…don’t say that he’s being a bad boyfriend, Jax. I don’t think he even realizes something is wrong.”

“And that…doesn’t make it worse?” At your raised eyebrows, he concedes with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, fine, in any case — maybe try to hint at it before you dive straight in with the kill? See if he reacts?”

“I don’t know, Jax. What if he doesn’t? He’s really not the best at taking hints and reading signs, or that kind of subtle stuff.”

“Then you can just say your shit. All I’m saying is, give him a chance to figure it out on his own. He’s probably really clueless why you reacted so big on something so small, this morning. If you drop hints, maybe he’ll feel it out.”

You nod, somewhat amazed at how sound Jackson’s advice seems. “How are you doing this, Jax? Being a love guru all of a sudden?”

Jackson scoffs. “I’m just tryna put myself in Seokjin’s shoes. If I was in the situation he’s in, this is what I’d like to happen — be given a window to figure out what’s wrong. You’ve been together a long time, hun. It really shouldn’t be that difficult for him.”

You shrug a shoulder. “I won’t be too sure about that. Why does it even matter if he can or cannot, though?”

Jackson seems to be mulling over something before he drops his chin to his chest. “Because you’re supposed to be partners, hun. If you can tell what’s up with him with a single glance, why can't he? Not being good at taking signs is not a good enough excuse. My gut says that he’d be able to, though. And that knowledge will make you feel infinitely better, trust me. It’ll be reassuring to learn that he really knows and understands you well, won’t it?”

You nod, slowly, but you still have your suspicions. Seokjin has just been the kind of guy whose emotional depth goes to a certain extent and then just — well, stops. There are things that he feels and realizes and sees, and there are things that he doesn’t. It isn’t even something he does, you believe. It’s just how he is. Certain feelings just don’t fall in his orbit. And you’ve never found there to be anything wrong with it when he’s been an immaculately amazing boyfriend and tended to every single one of your needs, always. Well, you have never actually needed emotional consoling, too, so you haven’t had the chance to audition him for that. You keep yourself too busy for all that unnecessary mental pressure. It comes as a surprise, but you have never cried on Seokjin’s shoulder in all these years of your togetherness. You’ve kept your head straight and chin up, even during your college exams. And so has Seokjin, because you’ve never seen him cry, either.

Lately, though, things have been kind of weird. The gradual transformation into your professional lives that began after college, has been drastic in the past few months. Seokjin has been constantly prioritizing his career over you, and you have been understanding about it because you agree with it — to an extent. Seokjin believes it all the way through, though, and you have known for a while that you would hit your limit at some point, and would try to bring him back to yourself. Today morning, it seems, you hit that limit. 

You felt dispensable. 

You hate this feeling.

To be very honest, you know you can get over this. You can give it some time, remind yourself of how much your Jin loves you, believe that he is eventually going to come back to you once he settles, and be understanding about the entire thing. 

You can — but you really don’t want to.

Something tells you that this feeling of getting too comfortable will only fester and take a worse form as time goes by. You can wait it out, sure, and hope you aren’t being a pushover as he works on building his career. You are building your career, too, after all, and at least some of it has been for each other. 

The thing is, your plans with Seokjin are long-term—marriage, kids, white-picket fence, and all that. And you believe that if you are sensing a problem now, you better deal with it now before it has the chance to change its form and affect you both when you are at a more responsible point in your life.

Mind made up, you look up at Jackson, immediately grimacing when he forwards a greasy hand to pick up a taco for you. “I don’t…I don’t like tacos. And may I exchange the beer for scotch?”

“You work at a Mexican restaurant, and you don’t like tacos,” Jackson deadpans.

“They mess up my skincare.”

“Oh, fuck off! Have a spinach smoothie with a drink, why don’t you?”

You purse your lips to hold back your laughter at his ire, your own worries forgotten in the moment as Jackson gets up to get you a glass of scotch and some healthier snacking alternative.

“You're a dead man.”

Jimin stops dead in his tracks, arms frozen in the act of putting a t-shirt on. He blinks at Seokjin with big round eyes. “Hyung?” he mumbles, a picture of unblemished innocence, especially when he covers his toned torso with the oversized t-shirt he was in the process of getting into. “What—what’d I do?”

Someone who doesn’t know better would never believe that this young, innocent, frazzled haired fairy-boy could ever do any wrong. But Seokjin knows better. “You chaotic womanizer,” Seokjin nearly hisses, "you've gotta learn to clean after yourself. Honey found a girl in my bed. A girl—in my bed.”

Jimin had the decency to drop the innocent act. “Oh. Oh.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “Oh? That’s it?”

"Yeah, well, I clarified to her that it was a one time thing when we got to it. She was obviously expecting something more if she didn't leave when I told her to. Disappointed but not surprised." Jimin is frowning when he comes to sit down on the couch next to Seokjin. “Sorry you two had to see that. You clarified to Honey noona that I’d been the occupant of the room, though, right?” 

“I—what?” Seokjin scoffs. “Why would I even need to do that? She knows that already, obviously. She’s been seeing you for over five years, or have you forgotten?”

Jimin squints. “I mean…okay, fair point, I guess. Why’re you so worked up, then? Did something else happen, too? Where’s she, now?” Jimin looks around the living room as if looking for you.

Seokjin sighs. “Well, I couldn't really get much out before she was storming out of the damn house, altogether.”

Jimin blinks. “Storming out? Why? She… um, was she mad?"

Seokjin opens his mouth – and then shuts it. Was she mad, indeed. "I don't know. She looked kinda mad, yes. But maybe she was in a hurry?" 

"Why would she be mad? Did you try to call her? Text her? It's unlike her to react so big on something so small." Jimin bites down on his lip, looking lost in thought. 

Seokjin shakes his head. "She didn't pick up or text back."

“There’s definitely got to be an underlying reason for her being like this. Are you sure you guys haven’t been fighting, hyung?” 

Seokjin sighs. “Yes, Jimin, I’m absolutely certain that there hasn’t been any fighting of any sorts between the two of us before today.” He pauses. “Well, she was slightly irritated that I didn’t check her texts last night, but she knows I go to bed at eleven on days leading up to a shoot, so that one’s on her.”

Jimin looks genuinely concerned, which, in turn, makes Seokjin concerned. Jimin isn't the type to stress over stuff if he can help it. Sure, he cares about the boys and would always be down to do whatever he can for them, but his throwing-caution-to-the-wind way of life causes him to not take most of the things in life seriously.

You’ve been like an older sister to the boys ever since Seokjin started dating you and introduced you to them. They all have their ways of showing their respect and affection to you. Well, maybe not Jungkook because he can’t get over getting unnecessarily intimidated by Seokjin enough to relax around you. 

Jimin, especially, always seems to be affected by any tension in Seokjin’s relationship. Everyone can see how it upsets his entire life when you two are fighting, although he’d never admit to it. He doesn’t need to, because it’s pretty obvious when he becomes a cranky six-year-old who hates the world. 

Right now, he has a guilty frown on his face. "I should've seen to it that Suzette left before I went to shower," he mumbles as if talking to himself. “Shouldn’t have trusted her to leave just because I told her to.” He looks up at Seokjin with troubled eyes. "I'm sorry, hyung."

Seokjin can not believe himself when he shakes his head at Jimin's apology—this little demon causes so much chaos in all their lives that any apology coming from him should be justified and welcome. But this one isn't really on him. "It's not entirely your fault."

Jimin's demeanor changes a bit and the attitude Seokjin is used to witnessing makes an appearance. "Right? That's what I was thinking, too!" Jimin exclaims, some of the concern on his face lifting. "You have to talk to Honey noona and make things right, though, hyung. She’s the only womanly touch in our man cave. We’d all be barbarians without her.” Jimin looks very wary and kind of nervous.

“It’s funny you would crave her ‘womanly’ presence when she’s rushed off because of a woman that you brought home.” Seokjin scrunches his nose. "And I said it isn't entirely on you, because it is partially on you, Park Jimin. You borrowed my room to smoke up in. Why couldn't you take your Suzy back to your own room?"

"Suzette," Jimin corrects under his breath while shaking his head. "Yeah, I should've, but… your room just felt like a better choice during the high," he finishes in a mumble, dragging a hand down his face. “Hyung,” Jimin says with a pout on his lips, “the last time you two fought was two years ago, remember? On your birthday? When Hobi hyung dumped cake in noona’s hair and she had her first shoot for that bigshot magazine, the next day?”

Seokjin nods with a sigh. “She yelled at me for having stupid friends, and I yelled at her for caring more about the shoot that having a good time on my birthday. Yes, I remember.”

“And then she didn’t visit us for a whole week. Please don’t let that happen, again.” Jimin looks up at Seokjin with big, round eyes. “I can’t take that kind of unrest in my life."

Seokjin briefly wonders, if Jimin’s nightly conquests were to see this side of him, would they run in the opposite direction or be more attracted to him? Jimin definitely needs someone in his life that would bring out this side in him and stay to provide him the emotional comfort he requires when he gets like this. 

“I will try not to, Jiminie, but…” Seokjin shuts his eyes. “I seriously do not understand her actions from the morning,” he finishes in a mumble.

“Maybe she’s—maybe she’s worried about something else? Some other aspect of her life?” Jimin suggests with wide eyes. “And she’s just projecting onto you.”

“As sound as the explanation is, I am literally involved in ninety percent of the aspects in her life,” Seokjin says with a twist to his lips. “I would know if something was wrong anywhere.”

“That’s cocky of you to say,” Jimin snarkily comments with narrowed eyes. At Seokjin’s raised eyebrows, he amends, “That’s cocky of you to say, hyung-nim.”

Seokjin scoffs, but then he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s true. We work at the same restaurant, we’re scouted by the same agency. Even her agent is best friends with mine—she gossips a ton about how Honey passes up so many opportunities and pisses her agent off. Her friends are, well—” Seokjin stops short when it hits him. “Wang. Wang could know something!”

Jimin is looking at him skeptically when Seokjin meets the younger’s eyes. “I just think you should have a simple talk with noona first before digging around.”

That is sensible advice. Seokjin nods as he pulls his phone out.

“Just find out what’s been troubling her, hyung. You two are rational people, I’m sure you’ll work it out.” Jimin pauses to scratch the back of his head. “Just please don’t let this be another fight like that one?”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin finally says with a pat on Jimin’s shoulder as he finishes sending off another text to you, “this one is nothing like that fight.”

Turns out, this fight really is not like that one. Or any other fights Seokjin has ever had with you, in fact, because you’re giving him the silent treatment. 

You’ve never given him the silent treatment. 

Not even when you were students and didn’t have a load of time on your hands and used to waste precious sleep hours arguing over stupid shit that would probably resolve itself if you just slept on it and looked back at it with a fresh state of mind. Not even then did you forego talking.

Needless to say, Seokjin is distressed.

You drive to the house to pick him up at your usual time, the next morning, after not having responded to any of his calls or texts for the entire day. Seokjin is aghast as he gets into the car.

“Honey! What is going on? Why didn’t you—where have you been?”

You simply start the engine and take off. “Busy,” you murmur after a while.

Soekjin’s head is close to exploding. “Busy? Doing what?”

Your face remains stoic as you weave through the morning traffic. Seokjin looks at you. You’re dressed up in your waitressing outfit that consists of a shirt, skirt and tights, and being who you are, Seokjin can proudly say that you would stand out to be the most well dressed server in the field. You’re always pristine and tidy — no accidents happen to you at the job ever. No spillage of drinks or ketchups, no soiled hands being wiped down on your skirt. Nothing even ruins your manicure. 

It is something that Seokjin has always tried to keep up with, this cleanliness streak of yours. Because he has always assumed you would expect it out of him, too. You were attracted to the cover model version of him, after all. It is quite natural that you would have those kinds of expectations. And Seokjin has always been more than happy to deliver. It has become a part of him, in fact. He doesn't even chew with his mouth open even when he's among the boys, anymore.

It has, somewhat, made him practical and less emotional in life, too, but he doesn't really think of it as a bad thing. You have always been practical in life – the most ambitious girl he has ever met, someone that has always prioritized her career and goals over everything else. Seokjin has admired that since college, and has tried to show you that he has similar priorities even if he has had to work on thinking from his mind more than his heart.

But when you are already by his side, what does he even need his heart for, anymore, when it's already yours?

Now, looking at you sitting with a morose expression on your face as you give him the cold shoulder, Seokjin is just as much in love with you as he was when he first met you.

“Stuff,” you say with a shrug, after some extended silence. “You should know about that, right? Your schedule’s always busier than mine and I never complain.”

Your sharp words have him reeling. Whatever do you even mean by that? “Uhm, okay. Fair enough. But… did you really not have the time to respond to a single text?”

“It gets impossible sometimes, Jin, you know how it is.”

Seokjin frowns. He does know that, but he doesn’t feel okay. Something is very off with you. It is as if you’re saying something else and expecting him to discern a different meaning out of it. 

He doesn’t understand why, though. You, of all people, should know how terrible he is at decoding signs.

He sighs.

Seokjin, after his conversation with Jimin yesterday, had decided to ask you about the morning’s incident, head on, whenever you called him back. But you didn’t, and this is the first opportunity he’s had to talk to you, so he decides to bring it up, now. “What—what happened yesterday morning, babe? You got really mad and stormed off, and… I mean, you’ve got to know the girl had been Jimin’s companion for the night, right? You know him, how he is!”

You say nothing, hands tightening a bit on the steering wheel. Seokjin looks down at his own hands.

“You know I was only surprised at your words because we really do not have the time to be discussing silly things." He shuts his heart down when it tries to tell him to go soft. He knows it isn't something you would appreciate. "After five years, you know what I’m capable of right? You can never start getting ideas, because that would be insane and stupid. I’m already so supremely occupied as it is between two jobs, when would I even have the time to cheat, right?” he jokes, snorting to himself.

You’re still quiet, but your tongue comes out to moisten your lips. It is a nervous tick of yours which Seokjin recognizes very well, because with your skincare and scheduled regular application of lip balms, your lips never need the extra moisture.

He frowns. Was he too straightforward? But this is exactly how you communicate with him! “Hey, is everything okay, babe?”

You exhale, noisily. “Everything’s fine, Jin,” you finally say with a roll of your eyes. “And you’re right. I know you wouldn’t cheat. You don’t have the time to chat me up, how are you gonna pick someone new to impress, huh?” 

Your snort sounds lacking in humor, but Seokjin still gives a couple of stilted chuckles. Even so, he's still somewhat relieved. “Right. Just so we’re certain, that was a joke, right? I mean, it would be really ridiculous of you to think that I would—”

“Yes, Jin!” you cut him off with a deep frown. “If I wanted to talk to you about something, or accuse you, or confront you — I’d do that without you having to prompt me. Stop obsessing over yesterday and stop trying to explain yourself. I know it was Jimin’s doing.”

Seokjin feels immensely relaxed at the conviction with which you say the last sentence, certainly, but something is still off. “Why were you ignoring me, then?”

“I just didn’t have anything to say to you.” You stop at a red light, the last one before you reach the restaurant, and turn to look at Seokjin with really vacant eyes. He doesn’t like your stare one bit. “We’ve been together five years, babe. If neither of us have got anything of significance to say, I’d rather not text too much, if that’s okay with you? I’ve got a busy schedule to work around, too, you know?”

Seokjin wants to remind you that both of you had something of significance to say after you left his place in anger, but chooses to just roll with whatever you’re playing at. Maybe he's thinking too much. He nods. “Sounds alright to me.”

“Great,” you breathe out, somehow looking disappointed along with the preexisting sorrowful expression you had on your face.

You really do not have a concrete explanation for why you acted the way you did with Seokjin, this morning. 

You were supposed to hint at being mad, not blatantly try to give him a taste of his own medicine. It could turn out to be a good thing if he eventually starts to miss you and reaches out, sure, but playing mind games never feels right to you. But when he started to joke about not having time to cheat, and something just turned off in you. He really could’ve seriously reassured you of his love. That would’ve been actually comforting. But no. He chose to joke about that, too. You didn’t feel like putting in all that energy anymore, after that.

Now, you sit down in the break room to check your phone during your ten minutes’ rest break. A text message floats at the top of your notifications.

Jax 🚽 Hey How’d it go?

With an exhale, you decide to call him back. Your fingers are too tired to type, and Jackson is sure to launch off into a rampage of texts the moment you tell him you’ve tried to turn the tables on Seokjin.

Seokjin is in the kitchen, his usual rest break not being for another hour, so you don’t have to worry about him walking in.

“Hey!” Jackson jovially greets you as soon as he picks the phone. “Did you get my text?”

“I did, yes,” you respond in a calm voice. “I’ve been looping milkshake mugs through my fingers since eight am, they needed some rest, so I decided to call.”

“Yeah, no, it’s cool. I was in a really boring class, anyway. So. How'd it go?"

You pull in your lip between your teeth. "I… I kinda ended up telling him I am a busy person too and that we shouldn’t text that much."

You hear silence instead of the outburst you'd expected. 

"Jax?"

"Are you actually gonna try to play a mind game with the dumbest human being you know on earth?" Jackson so very eloquently asks, his interpretation making you pinch the bridge of your nose. “He’s never even gonna figure it out!”

“I know how it sounds, okay?” You exhale. “I honestly don’t know what came over me.”

“Okay, alright, one thing at a time. So, no coddling?"

"Not a single soft word. Just more expectations of me understanding, and claiming that anything but that would be stupid of me. He acts like I'm supposed to know everything about him and everyone in his group of friends," you mutter in irritation. “As if those dumbasses know the first thing about themselves.”

You realize you're being a bit harsh, because his friends – basically your younger brothers, at this point – are a bunch of clueless idiots that love, adore and respect you. You shouldn't be badmouthing them, Seokjin’s growing callousness towards you isn't their doing. It's his own. 

You sigh. You really miss how things used to be when you were in college.

“Uh, I think we need to rewind a bit. What happened? What triggered this?”

It makes you smile a little when Jackson asks that. At least your best knows you’re not wholly clinically insane. “Well… I drove him to work. He…" your brows lower at the recollection, "he was the first to bring up yesterday morning. And yet again, he gave me the same you've got to know this and that crap, and then he tried to assure me in the dumbest possible way. Do you know what he said, Jax, do you?”

“Um, do I wanna know?”

“He said, and I quote, he doesn’t have the time to cheat. Jackson Wang, are you hearing this? He really straight up said he was too busy to cheat on me and so I should rest assured! Who says that?!”

“He must’ve meant it as a joke—”

“Yeah, he said that, too, and then very immaculately added that it’d be ridiculous of me to think otherwise. I have lost count of how many times the words ridiculous and stupid came up.”

“Goddammit.”

“Goddammit is right,” you mumble, morosely resting your head on your palm.

“What did he say, by the way? When you told him to text less?”

You give a wry chuckle. "Well, he said it sounded alright to him."

"Son of a bitch. You – you two are messed up, man. Messed up bad. Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't? You don't wanna text less because you're busy, you want him to dote on you because you miss him!" Jackson sounds beyond frustrated. "And it doesn't fucking sound alright to him! It sounds scary, it sounds confusing, it sounds like something you would never say to him!" He groans. "But none of you would say that shit to each other! You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess."

You reel from the onslaught of his harsh words, eyes widened and breath stuttering. Jackson isn't usually the type to pay so much attention to your relationship problems. But this time, you guess, he has garnered the depth of your unhappiness and thus has gotten so involved.

You realize he is right. Nothing good can come out of any turned tables, because Seokjin is, anyways, not even going to be able to work out the problem by himself. He may even go around talking to his friends about how you were being cold with him and not giving him any time, and still not realize he has been doing the same to you. He is thick like that. 

When his friends tell you tales of his compassion, you're unable to relate. You've never seen that side of him. He has probably grown up from that emotionally overwhelmed high school graduate who had made friends on a whim, the night of his graduation.

You certainly don't appreciate the emotional abstinence, though, and would very much rather prefer if he would open up a bit more. It would help you be more open with him, without fearing him calling you "stupid" in response.

But it’s still alright, you accept him with that thick brain of his, because he’s still only ever going to be the only one for you.

"How are you two gonna get around to having a proper chat if you just keep building more walls between you both?" Jackson asks after the long pause from your end, this time softer. “I’m sorry, babe, I was wrong. Giving him signs and making him realize shit won’t work. It was stupid of me to suggest that. It’s probably why you ended up being so caustic with him.

“No, no, it was all me, Jax. I could’ve chosen to not listen to you, but my ego got in the way, I guess. It’s not exactly easy, telling your boyfriend you’re feeling neglected. I mean, what if he laughs in my face and tells me I’m being paranoid? What if he thinks I have no regard for his career — or mine — because my priorities don’t align with his?” You bite your lip, shutting your eyes as your insecurities attack you.

“Hey, no. None of that is gonna happen if you really share with him what you’ve been feeling. No hints, no sarcasm, you’re gonna have to tell him point blank. Allow yourself to be raw. He’s the love of your life. You don’t have to protect yourself from him, right?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know. You’re absolutely right, Jax. But I really have no idea how to even approach him, at this point. He’s either too busy with shoots, or with the guys, or some meeting. I cannot do this on call, because that always leads to misunderstandings.” You bite down on your lower lip, contemplating. “But I’ll figure something out.”

"Yes, you will. You always do. So, that’s good then. In the meanwhile, can you at least clean up this latest pile of poop? The talking less thingy is gonna make you two more distant, hun."

You scrunch your nose at his metaphor, but then your shoulders slump. "I don't know, Jackson. The way he so impassively agreed to it would make me sound really stupid if I take it back. And given what he keeps saying, he really doesn’t want me to sound stupid."

Jackson gives a snort at that. “Hah, funny. But listen. At the end of the day, he’s your boyfriend. You're gonna have to really decide if you're trying to get your boyfriend to give you more love, or if you're fighting a battle of egos and would like to bend him to you."

You bite your lip. “You make me sound manipulative.”

“You yourself confessed you let your ego come into this, one time. Don’t let that happen again. I’m trying to make you realize that complicated problems can have simple solutions, too. If only you’d communicate. Just talk to him soon, please, and make him understand why you’re hurt. Don’t carry on with this stupid cold war, okay? You gotta figure out exactly what you want, first.”

“You know what I want, Jax. You’re literally the only person that does, actually,” you remind him with a sigh.

“Oh, he is, isn’t he?”

You freeze, eyes bulging at the familiar voice. “I’ll… I’ll call you back,” you mumble before you disconnect the call and turn to look over your shoulder at Seokjin’s unreadable face. He stands with his arms crossed, still in his uniform but without the apron. “Jin… what—uh…”

“What am I doing here?” he scoffs, lips curling in distaste as he stares you down. “Well, I was going to the loo when I saw you sitting here. You looked upset, so I thought I’d check in on you on my way back.” He clicks his tongue, a dry chuckle tumbling out. “But apparently, you’ve got other people doing it for you, already.”

You wince, shutting your eyes. The one time he was finally going to give you some much needed attention — you sent a bad message his way. 

“So. Good to know there actually is someone who knows what you want. Would’ve been easier if it were me, though, given how I stand to be the one that is to deliver.” Seokjin sounds pissed off, and despite your irritation, you really want to make him understand.

You rub at your forehead. “Stop talking like that, Jin, it was just Jackson.”

“Wang?” He seems to seethe more, for some reason. “Of course, it’s fucking Wang!”

You frown, standing up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seokjin looks at you incredulously. “You—do you not see how this looks? You have problems with me, Honey, but you choose to discuss them with him? Who’s he, your therapist?”

“He’s my best friend, Jin, someone I trust,” you grit out.

Seokjin seems to take it the wrong way, his agitated expressions slowly fading into a blank stare. “Oh. You trust him, as opposed to…” He trails off with a shrug, but the implication is as obvious as it can be.

“Jin—”

He raises a hand up, palm facing you as he looks away. “If you need some time apart, you should tell me in plain words. You know I’m not good at reading signs.”

Seokjin gives you a blank stare before turning around to leave the area. You stand rooted to your place, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Some time apart? Has he lost his mind? 

He really is a huge freaking idiot who cannot pause to think what implications his words have. He seriously doesn’t recognize what all his “don’t be ridiculous/overdramatic/stupid” speeches do to you. You realize you should really make him understand. This has gone on for way too long.

But maybe you should take some time to yourself to cool off before that. You don’t want to say the wrong thing in your rage and complicate things further.

You sigh to yourself as you slump back into the bench you were sat on before.

You’d set out to tell your boyfriend you were feeling neglected, but you ended up making him think you want to be apart. How the heck did you get here?

You belatedly recall Jackson's words.

Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't?

You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess.

Your usually dumbheaded best friend was right on this one, you realize. You should’ve just talked like a normal human being instead of letting Seokjin’s words get to you and get pissy in retaliation.

You give a weary sigh. 

Seokjin is grateful for the sudden busyness he’s got on his schedule, or he would explode from all the pent up frustration you have been causing him. 

He realized he wasn’t as upset with you as he was irritated, right after he walked away from you on Monday. He dropped you a text with some excuse of needing to stay back so that he wasn’t forced to ride with you in the car again, and later took the bus home. 

You had told Jackson Wang about what was troubling you, but not him. It made Seokjin feel upset, incompetent and more than a little insecure. Seokjin absolutely hates feeling insecure. Especially about you. You’re the singular most precious entity in his life — not that you are an entity, per se — and anything that seeks to threaten your position in his life or his position in yours, makes him lose his shit.

So it was understandable that he jumped to unfairly disproportionate magnitudes of conclusions that day. When he thought about it, later, he could easily tell that you are just mad at him and not actually contemplating leaving him, not even for a little while. Not that he’d just sit back and have you do that so easily.

Seokjin also hates overthinking, but that is all he did for the entirety of his Monday. 

Monday, though, was the last time he had time to overthink. Life got exponentially busier after that.

Immediately after his shoot on Tuesday, he received his agent’s call and was informed of his jam packed schedule for the remainder of the week. He was pulled into two separate magazine ad shoots on Wednesday, a perfume ad film drank up all of his Thursday, and today, a hair product ad film needed him to report to a sunrise point in the city at the ass-crack of dawn. The sky was still dark when he rode across the city with his agent at nearly four in the morning. 

And now, the afternoon sun beats down on his car as he drives back alone, his agent staying back to tend to some business. Stopping at a red light, he reaches for his spinach smoothie with one hand and his phone with the other. Ugh, he feels beyond tired.

Blearily, he looks down at the device around a yawn, fingers habitually reaching for your chat.

He took a week off from the restaurant and dropped you a text, late Tuesday evening, informing you of the same.

Honey✨❤👸 Hm, kay. Good luck x

Unsurprisingly, that stands to be your last message in his inbox. It’s been four days.

Sighing, he swipes a hand down his tired face and exits out of the message app. He went to bed at nine o’clock, last night, and owing to the way he has trained his body to sleep on command, he did manage to get a sleep of nearly six hours, too. But it was fitful and plagued with nightmares featuring you. 

Knowing he doesn't have to be at the restaurant until Monday and that his next gig isn’t until Wednesday, he cannot wait to get back home and drink his weight in alcohol before he sleeps his way through the weekend.

Just as he has moved past the intersection, his phone rings. 

Honey✨❤👸 calling...

He nearly spits the smoothie he just sipped at.

Coughing, he roughly jostles the plastic cup back in the holder and pulls up to a side of the road to pick up the call. “Hey,” he breathes into the phone, embarrassed at his desperation.

“Jin. Um, hi.” You sound awkward, as if you…have been compelled to call him due to some reason.

He is immediately worried. “Honey? Is everything okay, do you need something?”

He hates himself for being so concerned when you have been neglecting him for so many days – yet again, despite your spat at the restaurant – instead of finally talking to him about what’s bothering you, but he can’t help it. At the end of the day, you are the love of his life. 

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. It’s just, um. Can you pick me up from the restaurant?” you sound nervous.

But, Seokjin realizes, I was right. You do need something. He clears his throat. “Uh, okay, I guess,” he agrees before stopping short when he realizes the time. “Wait, it’s barely even two. Why are you leaving?” he asks, confused and a little concerned. You work your shift till five every day and till eight on weekends.

“Tomorrow is Halloween, Jin. We’re closing for the weekend, remember?”

Seokjin’s mouth falls open on a gasp. He really had forgotten. “Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there in five, wait up.”

He swerves the car into the lane and takes off in the direction of the restaurant. 

He laughs at himself. He has been so caught up in work that he literally forgot Halloween. He wonders if this is what actual adulting is.

He is stopping before the restaurant within three minutes of your phone call, eyes immediately spotting your delicate figure standing on the sidewalk with your hands crossed against your chest.

You step down from the curb when you spot his car, and walk towards him. He watches your elegant legs as they beautifully fall in a straight line. Even when exiting your job as a waitress, you’re every bit the elegant model he met in college. Your hips sway tantalizingly, and something akin to longing swirls in his chest.

He composes himself quickly when you cross the car to get into the passenger’s seat. You awkwardly clear your throat as Seokjin busies himself with starting the vehicle, unsure if he should initiate conversation.

“Um, sorry about this. You were probably getting ready for shoot,” you finally say. “Byulyi dropped me off today. She wasn’t picking her phone up. I was trying to get a cab for half an hour. And the bus stop’s really far—”

“Hey, stop. It’s okay. You should’ve called me sooner.” Seokjin catches your apprehensive gaze on his oversized hoodie when he chances a glance at you. He sighs. “I was returning home from shoot, actually.”

He feels you stiffen, and he feels even more mentally drained at this. You used to be updated with his schedule to the tee — just short of having an actual copy of the calendar his agent carries on him. And the same goes for him with your schedule. This feels so wrong.

You are quiet for a while, your hands fidgeting in his peripheral vision.

“How—how was it?” you finally say, voice coming out like a croak.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “The usual. Blinding, tiring, exhaustive. I did okay, I guess.”

He feels your gaze snap up to drill holes into his skull. Your eyes are wide when he checks. “Okay? Since when do you do anything less than amazing at shoots, babe?”

He feels endeared at your casual use of a pet name. “I had to get up at three in the morning and go through a skincare routine. Then drive across the entire city to get to the location, because they wanted to capture actual sunrise. I was more tired than excited by the time they rolled cameras, so.” He shrugs. “Can’t really say I gave my best today.”

You nod at his admission. 

Seokjin almost jumps when his phone rings, again.

Jiminie calling...

He feels you shift in your seat. His mouth sours at the reminder of that Sue girl that started off this entire tussle between you and him. Fucking Jimin and his conquests. What happened to the shy and more than a little glum looking freshman he let into his living space, three years ago?

Your hand suddenly reaches forth to accept the call, putting it on loudspeaker, immediately. Seokjin gapes at you, momentarily looking away from the road. 

“Uh…hyung?” Jimin’s confused voice echoes in the car. 

Seokjin snaps out of his daze when you gesture towards the device. “Wh—Jimin, hi, what’s — what’s up?” he stumbles his way through a haphazard greeting.

“Hyung, I needed a favor. Are you on your way back from the shoot, right now?” Jimin asks, and Seokjin sees you freeze in your seat.

He feels a perverse sense of satisfaction. Yes, take that! Park Jmin knows of my schedule better than you do! This is what you get for ghosting me! “I was, yeah. What is it?”

“Oh, great! I kinda need your help, hyung. My tire gave out. Could you pick me up from the Kappa hall?”

Seokjin scowls. “Yah! Who am I, your butler? Hop on a damn bus!”

He notices you pursing your lips, no doubt finding his agitation humorous — you always do. 

“Hyu~ng,” Jimin whines. “I would take the bus, but the next one leaves in forty-five minutes and I need to be back within an hour!”

“What? Why?”

“I started on my sem project really late, hyung, and now I gotta spend any time I can spare at the rehearsal hall. I’m meeting a choreographer here in an hour. Please help me out!” Jimin is still whining, and maybe his reasoning is kind of alright, but—

Seokjin is tired to his bones. He literally cannot drive all the way down to your apartment and then drive back to the university campus to pick Jimin up.

He sighs, wearily. “Jimin… I’m really tired.” 

“And I’m really desperate, hyung! Dancing is tough! And the subject I've chosen, tougher. I haven't done ballet since first semester, Freshman year! I have to work my butt off and be done in under two months."

Seokjin exhales, feeling beyond exhausted. But then your finger is tapping on the screen and the call has been muted. Seokjin’s surprised eyes fly up to meet yours. You look conflicted, biting down on your lower lip as you shake your head with a frown.

“You should go home and rest, Jin. Leave the car with me, I’ll pick him up.”

“Hyung? Say something?”

Seokjin blinks. “You…”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll pick him up, yeah. He’ll drop me off and drive back to your place.”

“Hyung?! Did you put me on mute, or what? I can't hear a thing!”

“Tell him you’ll be there in ten!” you say, unmuting the call.

“I’m in the car, the network must have glitched. I’ll, uh… be there in ten?” Seokjin nervously finishes off, looking at you in question. You give him a nod, blinking slowly. “Wait up, okay?”

“Oh my God, thank you so much, hyung!” Jimin practically squeals through the phone. “I’ll be in the ice cream shop across the building. I love you, hyung-nim!”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and disconnects the call. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes as he takes a right, now moving in the direction of his apartment instead of yours. “You sure about this? Jimin, um, knows. About our…” Seokjin doesn’t want to call it the f-word, because he would like to believe that you two aren’t actually fighting. “You being upset, I mean,” he settles for the easier alternative. “He might ask questions.”

You give a small huff of wry laugh. “I can handle it, Seokjin. I’ve known Jimin for almost three years now.”

Seokjin doesn’t like it when you address him by his full name. And so, his lips remain pursed for the remainder of the ride, only parting to tell you to “drive safe and text me when you finally get home,” and then he walks inside his apartment without looking back.

He hears his car come to life and then speed away. He shuts his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter. Gathering his emotional as well as physical bearings, he opens the refrigerator to rummage through some leftovers to munch on while he breaks out a six pack of Budweiser. 

Before his fried rice has even reheated, Seokjin groans at the sight of an all too jovial Hoseok entering the kitchen with a glint in his eyes. “No, Hobi. Not now.”

“What? I didn’t say a word, hyung!”

Seokjin winces, shutting his eyes just as the microwave beeps. “I don’t have enough energy to deal with your general aura, right now,” he mumbles, extracting the piping hot glass bowl. He leans down to open one of the compartments beneath the kitchen table to get to the beer that he’s been dreaming of for nearly an hour, now. “I’m dead on my feet and—woah!” Seokjin gasps, cutting himself off.

Hoseok hops into the kitchen, coming around to stand behind Seokjin. “So you found ’em,” he says around a chuckle.

“Found ’em? This is you?” Seokjin whips his head around to glare at Hoseok up from his crouch. “Why is my liquor closet resembling a liquor shop, Hobi? Why do we have all this—” he turns around to read the labels, cursing under his breath. “Why do we have,” he pauses to count, “five bottles of Tequila and eight bottles of Vodka?”

Hoseok frowns in concern. “Eight? There should be ten, hyung, check again.”

Seokjin actually gasps, this time. “What the hell, Jung Hoseok? Explain yourself before I start throwing hands!”

Hoseok smacks a palm against his forehead, taking Seokjin by surprise, yet again. “Tonight’s the Halloween party, hyung! Did you actually forget?”

Seokjin screws his eyes shut, letting his head roll back with a frustrated whine. “No~o, don’t tell me it's tonight. Halloween’s tomorrow, right? Why is the party tonight?”

“Yes, hyung, Halloween in tomorrow, which is why it would be stupid to hold the party when Halloween is ending.”

Seokjin finds the logic to be very severely flawed, but his energy is draining out fast and he cannot keep up with this quarrel. There’s no point, anyway. He’s known about this party for nearly a month. And Hoseok isn’t going to postpone a whole party just because Seokjin is tired.

“You look tired, hyung. You should rest. Recharge yourself before the party, okay? There’s plenty of time.” Hoseok pats Seokjin on the shoulder with a kind smile.

“I’m not even in the mood to party, Hobi,” Seokjin mutters, reaching behind all the glass bottles to extract his pack of cans. 

Hoseok scowls at Seokjin. “Because you’re upset about your fight, I realize that. All the more reason to party, hyung! Take your mind off it for some time, why don’t you? You don’t even have to dress up, come as yourself.”

“I’d rather just drink myself to sleep and not wake up for the next twenty four hours.”

Hoseok blocks his path as Seokjin moves to exit the kitchen. “Is Honey coming?”

Seokjin sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, Hobi. Did you invite her?”

“No, hyung, because you said you would.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue. He completely forgot. “Then she isn’t coming.”

Without listening to his protests, Seokjin trudges upstairs with his food and beer. He will be forced to come down for at least a couple shots, he is certain, so he better make as much of the time he has on his hands as he can.

These days, it seems to be becoming a pattern for you to do things without really understanding why you do them. 

You nibble at your bottom lip as you recall how gaunt and pale Seokjin had looked when you sat in the car. You had been really self-centered as it is, not really keeping in touch with him for four days, and then reaching out when you needed help. You couldn’t bear to think, on top of everything, that he had driven you home despite his extreme exhaustion while you sat back selfishly and let him drive around the city to pick Jimin up when he looked like a ghost.

You shake your head at yourself as Jimin jogs down the road to enter the car, ten seconds after you texted him. 

His gaze is slightly hesitant when he meets your eyes, even though his smile is nothing but genuine. “Hello, noona. How come you are…” he trails off, gesturing around the two of you.

You start the car, shrugging one shoulder. “Seokjin came to pick me up. Now you’re gonna drop me off.”

Jimin gives you a huge smile, before his eyebrows suddenly lower. You look away, veering onto the road. “Wait. Were you in the car with him when I called?”

You chuckle. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles around a small laugh.

You hum to yourself as you drive, distracting yourself from the thoughts that keep encircling your head. Seokjin is your boyfriend, no matter how mad you might be at him — you love him and care about him. Which is why you have tried to help him out. Not to mention, you felt slightly guilty, as it is, about calling him to pick you up. Why is your gesture of goodwill bothering you, then?

This is what you do for people you care about. Seokjin would do the same.

Your train of thoughts suddenly comes to a screeching halt.

Would he? Would he, really?

“You okay, noona?”

You jolt back from your thoughts, wide eyes turning to look at Jimin. “Wha—yes, yeah, I'm fine.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’re gripping the wheel really hard.”

You look at your tightly clenched fists, and immediately ease them. “Oh, uh. Sorry. A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Understandably,” Jimin mutters, looking out of the side window when you turn to look at him.

You purse your lips and press down on the accelerator. 

A few beats of silence pass between you two before Jimin clears his throat. “Can I say something?” he asks you in a soft voice, looking nothing like the seductive persona he puts forth to get ladies falling in his bed. 

You exhale. “Sure.”

“You, um. You are not just hyung’s girlfriend, you know?” he says slowly.

You scoff. “Of course, I do. I am also the very best server my restaurant has ever seen and the best struggling model you’ll ever meet, on the side.”

Jimin snorts, before giggling with his eyes closed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You do. But you do not want to face it. You want to be selfish, for once. You do absolutely know that you have been ignoring all the boys in your anger at Seokjin, but you absolutely do not wish to do anything about it. Not until you’ve resolved this tense air between you and Seokjin.

“You are also a part of our little family,” Jimin quietly finishes.

You suck your lips in at that. The word “family'' really gets to you. 

He’s right, isn’t he? 

All eight of you — well, nine, now, with the addition of Taehyung’s girlfriend — have been a family since the day you met these guys.

You smile as the memories start to filter in.

You had had a giant crush on Seokjin since the very first time you saw him in your Freshman year. Well, having a crush on the guy wasn’t that unheard of given how handsome he was. It also helped matters that he modelled for the cover page of your university’s journal within his first month in college. What surprised you was his reciprocated interest when you both finally got to know each other, thanks to Byulyi. Your current roommate was majoring in photography back then, and somehow roped the two of you into modelling for her portfolio. Seokjin asked you out during the sixth month of your Freshman year.

You recall being introduced to Yoongi in your Sophomore year, when he entered your college as a Music major. You found him laid back, calm but really sassy, and fun to be around. The three of you often hung out together, and you took immense pleasure in singling Seokjin out with the two of your sarcastic back and forths.

In your senior year, Hoseok transferred to your college as a Sophomore, and Taehyung and Jimin entered as Freshmen. 

Hoseok was literally the most lively person you’d ever met in your life. There wasn’t a single moment of boredom next to him. He was easily given the responsibility of planning all your outings and parties, henceforth — a position he still holds with full competence.

Taehyung was usually found to be lost in his head more often than not in his initial college days. He was confused about his major for two entire semesters. With inputs from the group, when he eventually picked Art, he eased into college life. After that, he came out to be one of the weirdest and unwittingly funny guys in the group. You still don’t get how he was the first amongst all the boys to find him a girl.

Jimin was a really quiet and reserved individual, at first. He very rarely interacted with you all, choosing to stay holed up in his dorm room, instead, that Taehyung had forced him to share with him. You suspected he was recovering from a recent heartbreak. It became evident when he started dating someone within a week of getting into college, only to confess it was a rebound when he got dumped. The whoring around that began after the whole debacle is yet to cease, though. Obviously. 

Hoseok comes from a really well-off family, and had brought along with him the four-bedroom apartment he currently resides in with Yoongi, Jimin and your boyfriend. His uncle gave it away to him, rent-free of course, and he proposed to share it with the rest of the guys. Seokjin and Yoongi were immediately on board, more than eager to leave the chaotic dorm life behind. Taehyung, contrarily, decided he wanted to get the whole college experience and refused to quit the dorms. Jimin, then, left the dorm he shared with Taehyung to move in with the elders.

You met Jungkook immediately after your graduation on the boy’s eighteenth birthday. He instantly struck you as a smart kid, really good at singing as well as art. Yoongi disclosed he wanted to be a music major in your college, and you tried to encourage Jungkook about it, but the guy could hardly even look at you. It was cute but also hilarious how much he was scared of Seokjin, and by principle, you.

You believe that is still true. Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you haven’t seen Jungkook ever actually relax around the two of you.

“Noona?”

You blink, coming back to the present as Jimin calls out to you. You take a deep breath, the memories hitting you with tender emotions. All these people are really precious to you, aren’t they? The bunch of you really are a family, aren’t you?

A sad smile swims up to your face. You miss the boys.

When he calls again, you turn to look at Jimin, questioningly. 

“Please don’t be mad at hyung,” he slowly says, looking down at his lap. In this moment, he looks quite unlike the Jimin you are used to and reminds you of, instead, the one you’d first met. “He might lack tact, sometimes, but he really loves you a lot. You’re his whole world. Whatever it is that you are angry about, you should tell him about it. I don’t think he would be able to figure it out by himself.”

This, you agree with. “I’ll try, Jiminie.”

“We all miss you. Especially Hobi hyung and I,” he says with a lopsided excuse of a smile. 

You resist the urge to fluff his hair. Jimin and Hoseok have been like the younger brothers you never had. You miss them, too. 

He suddenly chuckles. "And Yoongi hyung hides it well, but I think he's the one that misses you the most. No one helps him roast Jin hyung quite like you do."

You roll your eyes. "Of course not. It's a waste for Yoongi to even try to find a better partner at roasting Jin."

You spot your apartment building and pull up to it. 

“I’ll try to talk to Jin as soon as I can, Jimin, I promise. Don't worry so much about it,” you say as you step out, patting the boy once on his head. "I miss you all, too."

You give a small wave and faint smile to him as he drives away.

tagging: @shrimpmsg​

note: so! a lil bit of backstory and the infamous halloween party - how we feelin’ so far? the next part is ~12k words, too, and i’ll post it next wednesday, wait around~ 😘💕

SECOND PART OUT NOW: read here!

© jimilter | 2021

[bitches-who-write]

Can you do headcanons siblings of the gang ? Like, how they act with them and how they treat them and how they let the gang act with them ?

Somewhat important note below~

So we know we said we take requests on a first come, first serve basis; however for the sake of time today (and due to the fact that we did not post anything last week) we decided to take on this request early. PLEASE do not be offended or upset if you are still waiting for your request! We promise we will be getting to them ALL. After this post now, we will go back to our fist come, first serve rule.

We have a few requests which we'll be writing longer stories for vs casual headcannons. Stories typically take us several hours to complete since your 2 lovely bitches who write do not live close enough to one another. We write together via FaceTime and Google Doc. We appreciate all your support and patience with us as we write you guys the best content possible! Enough rambling now, Enjoy these headcannons!!!

Patrick With A Little Sister-

Oh boy… Patrick is crazy over protective of his little sister.

Maybe the word should be obsessive and controlling instead~

He watches her every move. He even comes into her room as she sleeps just to occasionally check on her.

Whenever she gets out of Belch’s car heading to school, Patrick keeps a close eye on her again. Mentally noting everyone she talks to.

He makes sure everyone is in line. It doesn’t matter if it’s an adult or a kid. If they do something Patrick doesn’t like, they’re getting fucked up.

Patrick refuses to let guys talk to her. Only Henry, Vic and Belch are allowed to.

When Patrick isn’t around, he puts the other Bower’s Gang members in charge of her. And she knows well enough to listen to them.

He sometimes makes inappropriate comments about her, resulting in a smack off the head by the other guys.

Patrick LOVES to mess with her.

Always holding things over her head so she can’t reach.

Laughs as she tries to jump up and grab it from him.

He’ll lean down and rest his arms on the top of her head since she’s so much smaller than him.

When she doesn’t listen to Patrick, he will literally just pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and laugh as she struggles to get down.

Even though she’s a girl and a few years younger than him, doesn’t mean she’s safe from how rough Patrick gets.

He still wrestles her to the ground and puts her in a damn headlock.

Definitely gets a few bruises from Patrick playfully hitting her. (Patrick doesn't realize his own strength.)

One word… tickled. Patrick is always tickling the shit out of her to tease her.

It’s even worse when the entire Bower’s Gang joins in on torturing her.

Look… this is Patrick. So he still has a mean, sadistic side.

He gets off on fear so he loves to scare her anyway he can.

Whether that is by jumping out at her, or doing something dangerous and reckless like picking her up and dangling her over the cliff edge to the quarry. (she hates heights and doesn’t know how to swim.)

“Uh no! You’re slipping! Better hold on, sweetheart. I know you don’t know how to swim.” He chuckles darkly, smirking down at her as she grips onto his forearm tightly and cries.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate on the low- blows, either. Making comments that he knows will make her cry.

If she threatens to tell their parents on him, Patrick will grab her from behind agressively, making her gasp as he covers her mouth tightly and whisper tauntingly in her ear:

“Now, Now.. Just why would you say that? You know that only gets you in trouble, little one..” He chuckles darkly and tightens his grip in a painful manner.

Patrick With A Little Brother-

…… I think we all know how this ended…. Patrick disliked his little brother, Avery… a lot. You see, Patrick likes being the only male sibling. It’s less competition and less hassle for him. Only Patrick is allowed to make (more like break) the reputation of his family’s name in the small town of Derry, Maine. Bottom line, if Patrick had another little brother, it would result in the same outcome as Avery. Sorry.

Belch With A Little Sister-

Very protective. Does not let her out of his sight for a second.

Hovers over her when they walk in the woods so she doesn’t trip or fall down.

He brings her along when he goes out with the guys sometimes, unless he knows they will be partaking in illegal activities.

Keeps snacks in his car for whenever she rides with him and always makes sure she eats 3 proper meals during the day.

Not only does he have extra snacks but he has a first aid kit, too.

He’s always prepared knowing she’s small, so there’s a good chance she’ll accidentally get hurt hanging around the guys.

And yes, it has happened on more than one occeasion.

He checks on her during school and makes sure no one is messing with her.

After school, Belch makes sure she does her homework but never really helps her with it. Why would he? He doesn’t even do his own assignments.

For the most part, he’s pretty sweet but sometimes the big brother power goes to his head.

He makes her do her chores and his around the house.

If she ever did something wrong, Belch goes right to blackmail.

“I won’t let mom know about that F on your report card… only IF you wash my car everyday the rest of this week.

Henry purposely spills his drink on the hood of the car right after she just got down cleaning it.

“Opps.. looks like you missed a spot. Better get to it, kid.” Henry says mockingly as he ruffles her hair walking by.

Belch always makes sure she’s safe in bed by the end of the night though.

He even kisses the side of her head when the guys aren’t around.

Belch With A Little Brother-

He takes him under his wing.

Loves to talk about cars- the makes and models, horsepower, you name it.

Even though his little brother isn’t old enough to drive yet, that doesn’t stop Belch from giving him driving lessons.

But bet your life he threatens him before taking off. “I swear to fuck though man, if you crash my car, I will end you. Okay, now put it in reverse. Let’s go”

Belch watches sports with him and even plays in the backyard, as well.

Belch acts as if he’s his coach to prepare him for the school’s team.

He also teaches him how to properly lift weights and spots him, too.

Belch told him “the ladies love a man with muscles, so to keep lifting bro.”

Speaking of girls, Belch was the one who gave him ‘the talk’... in very elaborate and explicit detail leaving his brother shocked, disgusted, and intrigued all at once.

Although he does hang out with his brother from time to time, sometimes Belch chooses friends over family and takes off for long periods of time.

Belch for the most part tries to be patient with him, but still gives his brother tough love as a form of preparing him for the real world.

Overall, Belch is a pretty decent big brother.

He means well but sometimes misses the mark.

Henry With A Little Sister-

Their father works long shifts, often resulting in an absence in their home life.

Henry’s dad basically tells him he’s fully in charge of his little sister.

Henry acts pissed off about that like she’s a bother and interrupts his life but deep down, it makes him feel important for once in his life.

Henry is both very strict and protective over her.

He’s also very controlling such as who she’s allowed to talk to or what she’s allowed to wear.

Nothing short or low cut is allowed. She better not even think about talking back, either,

Henry doesn't have much patience for anything and his temper is even worse.

For example- Her short legs means she walks slower than the rest of them.

Henry rolls his eyes and ends up dragging her by her wrist or sometimes just throwing her over his shoulder because he can’t stand waiting for her.

When it comes time for school, Henry makes sure everyone knows she’s a Bowers. If anyone (child or adult) even just so much as looked at her funny, Henry is throwing hands.

Speaking of school, Henry doesn’t help her with any bit of projects or homework. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me! You do it, or don’t, I don't really give a shit.”

When it comes time for dinner, Henry makes simple stuff like peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, mac n’ cheese, or sometimes just fixes a bowl of cereal. But he always makes her clean up the mess / dishes after.

If she talks back, Henry has no problems getting in her face and yelling loudly.

Sometimes when his anger gets the best of him, he’ll smack her across the face.

He stiffens up when he sees the tears form in her eyes. Sometimes he just walks away and doesn’t want to deal with it, and other times he stands there stiffly and gives her an awkward hug.

“Sorry kid. I didn’t mean to hit you. You just pissed me the fuck off.”

Henry would never let anyone ever see this but occasionally he gives her a quick kiss to the side of her cheek when he’s feeling extra guilty. 

Similar to Patrick, Henry loves to get on her nerves.

Tripping her as she walks by.

Embarrassing her in front of the other guys just to see her blush.

Smacking her off the head as he walks by- her angry face makes Henry laugh.

Tickling her to make her admit something or as a form of punishment because he knows she hates that.

Barges in her room without knocking first.

Warns her she's never, ever allowed to have a boyfriend. And if she has a crush on either Vic, Belch, or Patrick...she’s dead meat.

Won’t allow her to drink alcohol or smoke. If she sneaks and does it, Henry teaches her a ‘lesson’.

“Find you wanna drink? Then here, take it. But now you have to drink the entire thing.”

He smirks and watches her get sick from the alcohol thinking that actually taught her a lesson and will deter her from it in the future.

Speaking of drinking-

When their dad comes home drunk, Henry is the one to take all his shit just to protect her because deep down he does care about her even though he calls her a “little fucking shit” daily.

Henry With A Little Brother-

In Henry's warped mind, his brother is a guy too, so he doesn’t need to be coddled like his little sister does.

If Henry has to withstand hits and verbal abuse, then his little brother should too. “Why should he get a pass?” Henry scoffs.

Henry gives him a lot of tough love.

He tries to make him ‘stronger’ by saying some really rotten shit to him. “Builds character, get used to it, kid.”

Henry does teach his brother how to fight though. “Put those stupid fuckin’ books down pussy. Books can’t teach you how to be a fucking man, but throwing punches will.”

Henry gave his little brother his own knife for his birthday.

He told him since he’s a Bowers, he's a target so it will come in handy~

Gives his brother “advice” on girls and sex; telling him which girls around town ‘put out’ the most.

One day when his brother asked Henry about a particular girl Henry responded with: “Ooh yeah, (random girl’s name), the only thing good about her is her pussy. Face is busted.”

Overall, Henry isn’t too bad towards his brother but once again, when his temper is raging, no one is safe from him.

Vic With A Little Sister-

Overly cautious and protective of her. He’s basically like a helicopter parent.

When the guys are swearing around her, he covers her ears and tells the guys to cut it out.

“Guys! Language!”

“I’m only a few years younger than you guys, I’m not a child!” she retorts.

Patrick, being classic creepy Patrick circles around her. “Just give it a few more years babe. Based on how your mom looks...” Patrick licks his lips envisioning Vic’s mother until Vic smacks him in the balls making Patrick hunch over in pain.

Vic likes to keep her in sight so right after school, he goes straight to her locker and makes sure she rides home with them, too.

When they get out of the car to bully some kids, Vic tells her to stay put. He doesn’t want her involved in anything.

When walking through the woods to the quarry, He always has a hand around her upper arm for support when climbing down the embankment.

He watches her like a hawk when swimming, so paranoid something will happen. Again, think helicopter parent

While he’s sweet for the most part, there’s times he just loses his temper.

He’ll explode and begin yelling at her, only inches from her face.

Sometimes when she does something really, really out of line, Vic will shove her into Henry and Patrick.

“Here guys, teach this little bitch a lesson for me. And don’t go easy on her.” Vic says walking off to calm down.

A part of him feels a little guilty when he sees her cry but other times he feels it’s justified.

He isn’t overly affectionate with her around the guys, the most he does is put an arm around her shoulder.

Sometimes sneaks behind her and tasers her sides and laughs when she jumps and collapses to the ground.

But when no one is around, he 100% gives the best hugs.

When she’s going to a sleepover at a girl-friend's house, Vic tells her to be safe and mumbles, “love you.��

Back at home before bed, Vic will tease her for being paranoid as she makes her way around the house, triple checking to make sure all the windows and doors are locked.

“What? Afraid the boogeyman is gonna getcha?” Vic mocks.

If she’s having a nightmare and calls for Vic, he’ll come and sit on the bedroom floor next to her bed until she falls asleep again.

Vic With A Little Brother-

Vic isn’t as protective over his little brother as he is with their little sister; but he still cares for him.

He just feels that his brother is able to hold his own while his sister needs more protection/ guidance.

He let’s his brother tag along with the guys. They all don’t mind. If anything, they refer to his little brother as Vic number 2.

He genuinely listens to his brother’s interests. Okay.. sometimes he zones out when he drones on and on but he always acts interested.

Vic is pretty book smart so he helps his brother with school work, especially in math.

Tries to make his brother more confident when it comes to talking / picking up girls.

Basically acts as his wing man.

The guys try to give his brother tips on how to pick up girls...Vic usually tells him to ignore everything they say because all that's gonna earn him is a slap in the face.

Tells him not to listen to Henry or Patrick for girl advice.. EVER.

He does teach his brother how to fight though.

Just because Vic is one of the sweeter ones in the gang; that doesn’t change the fact that he’s in a gang to begin with…

When his brother told him he was being picked on, Vic taught him how to fight, but also got involved himself.

Nothing like sending an intimidating message to a few assholes.

When Vic and his brother fight with each other, he doesn’t hold back just because that’s his little brother.

Overall, they get along for the most part and Vic is a pretty decent older brother to his siblings.

[weaknwanting]

heyy, i’ve just read joey’s interview on digital spy, i’ve come to share my grief AHAHAH help

basically he says “its important that their relationship is fully platonic & when you lose a friend it can feel like a break up” joey why you do this to us😭 at this point im just confused cause the way he acts around geralt esp in that reunion scene is not straight sjsjsjsjs

i’ve never seen that interview!! i totally agree with you that the reunion scene is very non platonic; i can’t imagine ever saying ‘fuck it’ before throwing all my mental stability and independence out the window and bear hugging my (thick asf) best friend with tears in my eyes because i can’t ever bear to say no to him and stay away even if it will hurt me and break my heart. like, friends don’t do that, or feel that. i don’t think. and they definitely don’t scream a song that they wrote about their ‘friend breakup’ with tears in their eyes and a hoarse voice and sink to the ground and stare into the distance thinking about what they lost. they don’t.

listen…. burn butcher burn’s a break up song. straight up. okay maybe they intended for it to be platonic but you don’t sing ‘what for do you yearn’ to someone who you AREN’T yearning for. but we know that these writers think that they are creating one thing when when they’re actually writing another - the producer lauren hissen said that she really thought that geralt comes off as appearing though he really loves jaskier - but that doesn’t come across on screen nearly as much as she thought.

of course, i don’t actually think any of the writers or actors think that they are writing geralt and jaskier, or literally any of the non-canon relationships, in the way we see them. BUT the show is so weirdly put together that there are so many bits sticking out that create lines and scenarios and comparisons that do make it seem as though jaskier is at least kind of in love with geralt. to add to that the fact that joey (and henry, and anya) is such an expressive actor and has crazy chemistry with everyone, and you’ve got a recipe for accidentally creating a homoerotic, pining character in jaskier and with a generally suspicious looking relationship that is a bit too romantic to slide (it’s the same thing that happened with bbc sherlock, and with spn. sorry to bring them into it but it’s true).

BUT. i am a firm believer that like - it doesn’t completely matter what the writers want or intend or anything. the whole thing with fandom, the whole point basically, is to make it what you want. they make the characters and you take them and they’re yours and they are different. and i for one love that we can do that. so! even if they think it is platonic, it’s really down to us to take material we like and use it and look at it how we like (and this goes for other things other than just geraskier - i accept the ‘jaskier is immortal headcanon’! cause the writers aren’t explaining it, and that is how it sounds, so we’re accepting it!). obvi there are limits (if i saw a single jaskier/ciri thing that was based even roughly in canon i might die and explode) but generally it’s like - thanks for the characters guys! you aren’t taking care of them, so i will! i know them better than u. :)

tl;dr show writers of the witcher accidentally created a homoerotic character and relationship because they don’t know how to write the characters or the show and it’s fine that fans interpret it how they want (within bounds)

[ohayopoko]

Eren w BabyMama Headcanons

Note: This was a request and it was supposed to be light hearted but Yk me, gotta try out some angst but I ain’t know what I was doin???? So indulge me!!!

-First of all, on S/o’s behalf that baby was supposed to be sent back to Heaven

-Y’all know baby boy is toxic, this isn’t new

-S/o doesn’t find out until she’s 3 months and Eren’s not letting her kill it cause it’s his baby too

“So you’re a murderer?”

“No I’m-“

“You wanna kill our baby, you’re a murderer!”

-S/o genuinely despises him when he gets Mikasa involved cause you’re really not about to kill his baby🙄

-Things were kinda bad and Eren breaks up with S/o when she’s 6 months pregnant and she’s so hurt cause he convinced her to keep the baby and now he wants to break up

-Eren doesn’t leave her home alone though cause he doesn’t want S/o to do anything crazy to hurt herself or the baby

-S/o can’t even look at him, they don’t speak for weeks living in the same house and Eren hears her crying at night so he waits until she stops to go to sleep

-It’s like a stab to the heart when she tells him she doesn’t wanna be pregnant anymore and she really wants to get a abortion

-Eren’s hurt and he relishes in telling her it’s too late anyways.

-It’s depressing when S/o waits for Eren to come back to her since she was having his baby but he doesn’t make a move towards her and it hurts when she finds out he’s already with somebody else

-Of course Eren treats her good and takes care of her during her pregnancy, she can’t really complain but the way he mentally and emotionally fucked with her had her stuck in bed most days

-The rest of her pregnancy was depressing and s/o knows she’s gonna just give Eren his baby and run far away.

-When s/o has the baby she’s so in love. She forgets all about Eren when she looks at her baby and she remembers it’s her baby too

-Eren’s a great father, S/o wonders where all this love and care went when it came to her but would never dream of her baby growing up without a father so she lets Eren be a father

-Time flies and their baby is one year old and S/o finally builds up the courage to ask Eren about everything, about the way he acted, treated her, left her when she was pregnant

-Eren admits the truth, he left cause he was scared they’re so fuckin young but he swears he loves his family

-S/o tells him she wished he never treated her that way but she doesn’t regret it and they’re interrupted by their screaming toddler

-Eren doesn’t live with S/o and the baby but he’s there so much he doesn’t even live at his own place and S/o knows he won’t actually move in cause he has other women in his life

-Eren doesn’t let other women around his child, most of them don’t even know he has a child and S/o appreciates that

-They’re a family, not really but her baby has both of their parents so she’s happy

-Eren doesn’t touch you again and S/o doesn’t know how she feels about that but she knows if he was to ever touch her again she wouldn’t stop him

-Eren doesn’t miss important shit like appointments or holidays or birthdays and he gets distant as your child up grows cause of course he has his own life but he never fully disappears because he still never misses important shit

-S/o looks up and it’s her baby’s 9th Christmas and Eren’s there with his wife and his other kids opening presents and She feels a little sad cause that could of been her

-But they were so young and it was so long ago so S/o goes and joins everyone opening gifts

-It happens when her baby’s 11 years old after they see their child off to the first day of 6th grade. They grab a drink and all of sudden their back at S/o’s place

-11 years later Eren kisses you like the first time, touches you like the first time and S/o doesn’t stop him.

-Their older now, things have changed but he stills know which parts to touch and it makes her light up and tingle just like before

-When it’s over Eren goes back to his life and S/o goes back to her own with no regrets

-it’s like a time loop, S/o finds out when she’s 3 months and she’s terrified

-The next time he sees her she’s glowing and carrying low and Eren knows it’s all him

-S/o’s panicking about his wife, about his marriage, about his other kids and Eren doesn’t care about any of that when she suggests an abortion

“So you’re a murderer?”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier​, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

[katsumiiii]

When they’re mad at you

Katsuki Bakugou x gn! poc reader

Eijirou Kirishima x gn! poc reader

Denki Kaminari x gn! poc reader

Katsuki Bakugou

katsuki and mad go hand in hand

whenever you see his ass he’s always mad about something

and if he’s not...

well either you’re dreaming or he’s sleep

either way he’d probably still be mad tbh

but let’s say you got him actually upset

like ACTUALLY pissed

whew chile I pray for everyone in that room

so you and katsuki were in the common room arguing

both of y’all are throwing jabs below the belt bc you guys are petty af

“you think you can be a hero with that shitty attitude?”

“at least I have a strong fucking quirk, I don’t even know how your ass got in this school. fucking extra.”

anyways, you’re not showing it but katsuki is low key hurting your feelings

ofc you aren’t gonna let him know that

soooo you say something slightly outta pocket

“right so my quirk is ass, but aren’t you the one who got kidnapped....twice? oh alright.”

the look in his eyes is heartbreaking

and although he tries to hide it, it’s pretty obvious that you hurt him

“you know what, fuck off. if you come anywhere near me ill fucking kill you.”

and he stomps off

now everyone’s looking at you like you fucked up

“oh so he can be an asshole to me, but when im one back it’s an issue?? you know what mind y’all fucking business.”

now you’re even more upset bc everyone was taking his side

you hide out in your room for a while, thinking about everything

you then realize that what you said was triffling

“damnit!”

you try everything to get him to talk to you again

but he won’t even acknowledge your  existence

everytime you try to go up and talk to him he acts like you’re not even there

“katsuki listen, can I-”

“shitty hair, come one let’s go fucking work out or some shit.”

okaayyyy guess you have to try again

“babe I know you’re pissed but-”

“DEKU!! BRING YOUR ASS OVER HERE!”

oh, so he’d rather talk to Izuku

the disrespect

but you know you fucked up so you don’t stop trying

and eventually get him to talk to you again

“katsuki please, just fucking talk to me.”

“the fuck do you want?”

you’re elated, I mean he’s never fully ignored you before

plus you miss the cuddles, and food

especially the food

“im sorry babe, I was pissed at the stuff you were saying and I wanted to hit you where it hurt. I made you some hot ramen to let you know I’m really sorry.”

he looked you up and down, his face in that same goofy ass sneer

“tch, fine I forgive you or whatever. but im not eating this shit. it doesn’t even look edible.”

“are you crazy?! the packets are good as fuck babe.”

“YOU BOUGHT ME THE SHITTY PACKET?!”

Eijirou Kirishima

what the fuck did you do to possibly make this boy mad?

I mean seriously

you really had to fuck up in order for him to even be remotely pissed

I don’t wanna talk about it

but we gon talk about it OKAY

so you was in the kitchen searching for something to drink

at the top of the fridge, you see a bottle of cranberry juice right next to kirishima’s premium crimson riot protein powder

so being the smart bitch you are, you decide to climb up on top of the counter top to get your cranberry juice

“fuck why is it up so high?”

you stick your tongue out in concentration trying to get your juice

and finally you grab it

while also knocking over kirishima’s premium crimson riot protein powder

“oh shit.”

“Y/N?! ARE YOU OKAY? WHAT WAS THAT NOISE?!”

your baby walking in with his hair down looking all confused

he then looks down at the floor, noticing the powder pooling into the cracks of the tile

he looks at you

you look at him

he looks back down at the floor

then right back at you

“heyyyyy babyyyy.”

“what the fuck?”

he bites his lip in agitation, trying not to yell

“I spent hours in line for that babe.”

“I know....sorry?”

he literally could not look at you, so he turned around and left

“fuck! great job Y/N.....least I got my cranberry juice.”

the next couple of days he was visibly different

unresponsive, not as smiley

“he’s really mad at me over some stupid protein powder....”

bakugou would not stop staring you down

mentally telling you to fix this shit or he would skin you alive

yeah not gonna happen

so you trot your ass to the store

sighing at the long ass line in front of you

“fucking god.”

eventually you manage to get the powder, placing it in his room for when he gets back from training

the next day kirishima runs over to you, kissing you repeatedly on the face

“THANK YOU BABE!! IT WAS MANLY OF YOU TO FIX YOUR MISTAKE!”

“you’re welcome baby.”

“but how’d you manage to get 6 bottles?”

“I had to fight a couple bitches.”

Denki Kaminari

yeah he literally cannot stay mad at you

like at all

and there’s no POSSIBLE way you could even REMOTELY make him angry at you for a long period of time

he’s not petty like bakugou

he’d be mad for like 1 hour and then come back asking for cuddles

what he’s mad over is probably dumb af anyways

okay so you and denki were hanging out in his room

watching reality tv

bc that’s how y’all bond

and during the show the two main girls were arguing over some dumb shit that ppl on reality tv always do

and denki ofc wants to say his little two cents

“no way, she’s totally wrong for that. don’t you think babe?”

“no, I would’ve done the same shit.”

he’s very much betrayed

looks at you like you’re crazy

slowly gets up from the bed

inching closer and closer towards the door

“are you actually upset? you asked for my opinion.”

“yeah but you were supposed to agree with me!”

you roll your eyes bc atp you’re not even taking him seriously

“Y/NNN, im really mad at youuu.”

“yeah ok.”

“FINE THEN! DON’T TALK TO ME!”

“okay.”

he stomps away, his lips curled into a pout

meanwhile you continue to watch your show

he looks back every once in a while to see if you were coming after him

“IM LEAVING FOR REAL NOW!”

“okay.”

“GOING INTO THE ELEVATOR!!”

“yep.”

“NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN!!”

“cool.”

he’s definitely like 10 feet away from your door

you gave him about 30 minutes, deciding that you were sick of reality tv, switching over to a scary movie instead

you see denki’s head peep over the doorframe

“is that the conjuring?”

“yes.”

“mhm I guess I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“what an honor.”

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