#but that moment was foundational where that blur really started

[pastafossa]

I'm not sure if this was already asked, but if Jane had skipped town when she had planned to, would Matt ever forgive her? How would he react?

Ooooh, now this is an interesting question.

I definitely think there's a small part of him that never would have forgiven her for it, especially since he'd already had a few vulnerable moments with her where he'd opened up and she, seemingly, had opened up with him, too. But mostly, it would have simply... broken that part of him that felt hope, that felt that maybe, just maybe he deserved to have someone care about him, or even love him one day, because he'd have read her letter - the kinder one, the gentler one, the one that said without saying, 'I could see myself loving you if I stayed.'

Ironically, despite her intentions - that she leave him a kinder letter, one that was honest and told him how much she cared for him - reading that letter after dhe left would have broken an entirely different part of him.

The loss of her, the idea that he'd been left alone again by someone who might have loved him, would have been all the proof he needed that he was a fuckup, that everyone in his life that he cared about was destined to leave him. He'd spiral, spiral right down into the decision that all he could do was leave them first before he hurt them so bad or put them in so much danger that they left him behind and, subconsciously, before they hurt him like the loss of his parents had, like Stick and Elektra and now Jane had by walking away. He'd retreat in on himself, curling up tight around that hurt and hiding behind the ferocity, darkness, and rage of the Devil because that seemed like the only way he could protect himself from being abandoned again when he wanted so, so desperately to have just ONE person who might... love him. It would have been a ticket to the S3 mindset basically, but because Karen and Foggy at that point didn't know about Daredevil, and because he hadn't met Maggie yet, no one really would have been in a decent position to help drag him up out of that spiral.

And Stick knew that, which is exactly why he tried to talk Jane into leaving, and why he gave her that letter to ensure she truly broke the more gentle, tender part of Matt. He knew this would push Matt into the mindset Stick wanted: that Matt was meant to be alone, that there was nothing for him but his 'duty', and there was certainly no room for friends, for lovers, or family.

One day it's possible he would have pulled himself out of it, and by then he likely would have forgiven her - either because he recognized she ran for fear of Cyrus, or because he simply blamed himself instead of her - but either way, if that domino had tipped, a part of him never really would have recovered or felt safe reaching for that kind of gentle connection again.

[blorbocedes]

resharing riddle of rosberg by Will Buxton, because OP who originally posted it deactivated, and it's a very interesting read. since WB recently talked about how he didn't like Nico until they had a breakthrough moment and he realised that's his German sense of humour, this contextualises how people perceived Nico. Buxton wrote on Nico back in 2014, which covers his early GP2 career, the 2014 F1 season and provides a fascinating insight into Nico’s character. Highlights below:

I can’t recall the first time I met Nico Rosberg. All I remember is that I despised him, everything he was and all he represented: the cock-sure, entitled, bolshy son of a world champion. No grace, no humility. Wafting in, a blur of blonde hair and arrogance. A Formula BMW champion yes, but only a few F3 wins and just three years in single seaters gave what I held to be little foundation for such seeming conceit. I disliked him intensely. It got to the point where I held such disdain for him that I would actively seek for our paths to not cross… which was fairly hard given I was PRing the championship in which he was racing. I’d simply ask someone else to grab his quotes for me. They always seemed to be able to pull more out of him anyway.

Nico Rosberg had been quick from the outset, and watching his racecraft develop as the season went on became a growing point of emotional turmoil for me. He was so impressive; seemingly effortlessly rapid and blessed with a precision that was metronomic. But I just couldn’t like him. I wished he’d been a good guy, one I could get excited about. But instead I felt huge sadness that such a wonderful talent had been given to a guy who was apparently such a Class A prat.

I recall the low point only too well. He was breezing past on his way to dinner. His team-mate Alexandre Premat had topped qualifying, and I’d used the staggeringly unoriginal press release headline of “Premat Powers to Pole.”

“Why don’t I ever “power” to anything?” he pointedly sneered as he walked past.

I looked up, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Then it hit, and I wondered why he was being so petty. The headline was simple alliteration. I had probably or would probably use “Rosberg Reigns” at some point of the season on the back of one of his wins. It was just Nico being typical Nico.

“Dick!” I whispered under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Later that night, I needed to talk to his then-PR guy Karsten Streng and hopped into the ART truck to find him.

“Karsten, can we have a chat?”

Out from behind his race overalls jumped Nico.

“Oh, so you don’t want to speak to me then? Huh? What’s that all about? You’d rather speak to Karsten than to me?”

I turned on my heels and walked out.

Karsten ran after me.

“Will, man, you can’t let that get to you. You know he’s only joking, right? Just fire it straight back at him. He’ll love it. He’s really a fun guy… honestly. But if you don’t give it back to him he’ll think he’s got the high ground. He loves a challenge.”

The next day Nico sent some pithy comment my way, so I turned around, flipped him the bird and winked. “Fuck you Rosberg.”

He looked taken aback. I broke out in a cold sweat. This was not behavior becoming of the championship’s press officer. Had I just managed to ruin any relationship I might have had with the man destined to be our first champion?

A smile broke across his face, and we never had a cross word again. Indeed, we started to get on really well. At the end of the season I received a package to my home, from Monaco. In it was an ART team shirt, signed by Nico, thanking me for my support. I had it framed, and it remains one of my most treasured pieces of memorabilia from my career in racing.

Nico was the most savvy driver I ever worked with. Stepping down from the podium after winning the GP2 title, he spoke to the awaiting press in turn, each in their own language. I’d only ever seen him in individual language press briefings, and to see him utilise such cool and calm intelligence so soon after the elation of what was at the time the most meaningful moment of his career left me astounded.

But therein lies the deepest issue with Nico Rosberg. He isn’t just smart. He’s the sort of smart that makes the rest of us question if we’re quite as clever as we thought we were. And at times it can be his undoing.

I’d seen his intelligence and need for the high ground cause him trouble time and time again in interviews, even in the GP2 days. The interviewer would sit down, all smiles, ready to start the conversation. But Nico, fearful of being on the back foot, would fire retorts and wrestle control of the interview back into his own hands. He would put the interviewer at ill ease in order to make himself feel more comfortable with the situation. What resulted was a terrible interview, and the prevailing opinion of Rosberg being precisely the one I’d drawn when first we met: that he was cocky and arrogant. When I came back to journalism in 2008 I had booked a sit down with him at Williams and for the first 2 minutes of the interview, that’s exactly how he was: back against the wall, stand-offish, arrogant, unlikable. I switched off the Dictaphone and asked him if he was going to carry on being a prick or if we could do this properly. He looked sheepish, apologised, and we picked back up with what ended up being a great interview.

All of which led to a question often asked: is Nico Rosberg too smart for his own good?

It’s a question that has come back again this year.

Many will point to Monaco as a stand-out point of the season. I always felt Rosberg was smart enough to pull off that stunt in qualifying, but I never believed he was that cynical or cold. To be a world champion takes more than intelligence and speed. As I argued over Multi-21 last year, while we may hate to admit it, what marks the champions out from the also-rans is the ability to be a complete bastard when the moment arrives. In Monaco, Nico was the bastard and turned that qualifying controversy into a race win that had the ability to completely shift the tide of the season.

That it didn’t, however, is his own doing.

Lewis Hamilton is widely regarded as one of the best qualifiers in modern Formula 1. And yet, with a dominantly fast car at his disposal, he has lost the Pole Trophy to Nico Rosberg, the German amassing 10 poles to Hamilton’s seven. That metronomic precision has played into the Rosberg’s hands on many occasions this season, and more often than not it has given him the upper hand going into the race. On Saturdays at least, Rosberg has proved beyond doubt that he has the pace. But he hasn’t turned that Saturday pace on regularly enough in Sunday’s race.

Mentally, what happened in Budapest was also a tremendous shock. Hungary should never have affected him as much as it did. Perhaps it all comes down to how much brain capacity we consider Nico Rosberg as having, but that August break should have been used to move on from what he perceived as injustice, and start the second half of the season fresh and with total clarity of mind. Rosberg used all of that mindfulness, however, to focus on the negatives and came back to Spa with it still playing on his mind.

That incident on lap 2 of the 2014 Belgian Grand Prix has been poured over to frankly ridiculous degrees. To me, it was a nothing moment. Rosberg could have backed out, Hamilton could have given more room. That both went into it so pathetically ultimately resulted in the damage it did. If Rosberg had truly wanted to teach Hamilton a lesson then he should have gone in hard. That he didn’t is the only reason that Hamilton’s tyre was sliced. Any intent, and Rosberg would have snapped his front wing, bouncing it off the side of the Briton’s tyre. Hamilton would have stormed off into the distance while Rosberg was forced to switch his wing.

I argued at the time that Rosberg needed to embrace one side or the other. He needed to be a hero or a villain, because if he was neither, he risked becoming nothing. And so it emerged after the race that he had told Hamiton he had allowed the impact to happen. A step towards becoming that villain? Perhaps, but it wasn’t enough. And that’s the big sadness of his season. He has been so fast and so consistent, but his inability to pick a side and his attempts at being all things to all people has led to him being left wide open to attack from all sides.

The way he interacts with broadcast crews is an incredible illustration of this. In Monza, in speaking with me on American television he spoke in confident and unashamed tones despite his apparent dressing down by the team over Spa. With the Germans he was the same… almost bullish. And then to the British TV and radio crews, his shoulders slumped forward, his head bowed down, his tone was full of contrition and regret. What he was saying was no different to what he had told the German or international crews, but the way it was said was at total odds with how he had been just 10 seconds before.

Just as in Bahrain at that GP2 finale 10 years ago, I stood in awe. So savvy, so intelligent to his audience… but perhaps, in this instance, a reflection of him trying to be just that little bit too smart.

The thing is, he can be so charming too. He has a dry and sarcastic wit, which can sometimes be played out with a deft finesse. In America and Brazil, he started to have a very subtle jab at his championship rival by adopting Lewis Hamilton’s apparent mot du jour. In almost every interview, Rosberg would drop in a little comment about how “blessed” he felt. Shrewd. Subtle. At times, however, he can be a total child. In Hungary this year I was running from my commentary position to the GP3 podium to conduct the post race interviews. Time is tight at the best of times, but when I arrived at the swipe gates I felt an arm around my waist pulling me back. At first I thought it was an over-zealous security guard. But no. It was Nico, giggling away with a huge grin plastered across his face.

Should he be crowned 2014 Formula 1 world champion, be it through double points or, let’s hope, a barn-storming wheel-to-wheel thriller, some will still argue that Nico Rosberg does not deserve to be world champion. With them, however, I would disagree. Lest we forget, this is the only man who, over the course of a full Formula 1 season, finished ahead of Michael Schumacher as a team-mate. As if to reinforce the point, Rosberg achieved this giant toppling feat not once, but thrice.

His out-and-out pace in qualifying this year has been insurmountable. That he has won the inaugural Pole Trophy is evidence of that. So we know he has the pace, we know he has the temperament to win races, and we know that on occasion he can embrace his inner bastard and drive with the ruthlessness that sets world champions apart.

Nico Rosberg has shown repeatedly in 2014 that he possesses the attributes shared by the best of the best. We should not deny him his glory should he be confirmed as such on Sunday.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

The Words "Best Friends" Become Redefined (one shot)

Regulus Black AU

Summary: You had been Regulus' friend since childhood and now his mistress. The war had changed many things, Regulus among them. Now its time to decide if you should put your self-worth over missing someone who was gone.

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M

Song in Chapter: Fast Car by Tracy Chapman 

_______

You lay in satin sheets watching Regulus dress. The clock on the wall read 11:30 pm. As usual, Regulus was done in less than an hour. It seemed, lately, that when the two of you met up for sex it wasn’t lasting as long as the time before that. Every time it seemed once Regulus got what he came for he was done. That was it, goodbye the end

Taking a breath, you looked back to your friend, lover, whatever Regulus was to you. Your heart ached as your eyes reached the dark mark on his arm. Regulus’s choices that been the frequent topic of all of the arguments that the two of you had. Had someone told you a year ago that this would be the predicament that you would find yourself in, you would have punched them. Never in a million years would you ever think that your best friend…the best friend that you had since 1st year…the man that you loved would ever be one of them. Yet, here he was and here you were trudging along after him.

You weren’t completely sure where the lines between friendship and lovers had blurred. Sleeping with Regulus had started months maybe a year ago. Sex was all that it was. Regulus had never once made a mention of making things official. He never even said anything romantic to you unless it was about how tight you were or how perfect your tits were.

Yet another thing that I never thought would happen with Regulus…

Regulus acting like you were some common piece of ass was something that never crossed your mind. When you began sleeping with Regulus, it was to provide him comfort. If you were comforting him, he wasn’t chasing someone else for comfort. You were providing him with what he needed and maybe, just maybe, he would reward you with what you wanted the most.

Keep dreaming. He would never date a Lupin in the open.

You frowned at the thought. Was there something wrong with your family? No, not in your eyes. In Walburga and Orion’s eyes, however, you were trash.

“Stop looking so god damn depressed, will you? It makes me wonder why I bother coming to see you.”

You looked up at Regulus’ harsh words. That’s another thing. Regulus was nothing like himself. He wasn’t your funny, thoughtfully caring best friend. Now he was cold, cruel, and hurtful. Yet again, you wondered why you trudged after him begging for a moment of his time. Were you afraid to let him go? Yes. You could easily admit that. Even with his cruel words and volatile temper, you weren’t prepared to let him go…at least not yet.

“I’m sorry, Regulus. This war…everything is so messed up. Can’t you stay tonight? It's late and we haven’t gotten to spend much time together in a long while.”

You said, before letting the sheets drop from your chest. Maybe seeing your bare breasts would be enough to appease the beast within Regulus. You were, after all, the one who comforted him when he needed it.

“I don’t have the time. Nothing is messed up. The dark lord will win soon enough. You need to stop being such a whining wimp.”

Pressing your lips together, you took a few moments before speaking.

“Is all that you have to say to me negativity? Is nothing that I do, outside of bed good enough for you?”

Regulus finished buttoning up his shirt. He knew that he was being cruel to you but did nothing to stop it. In Regulus’ mind, if he kept you pushed away he was keeping you safe. You wouldn’t be seeing the horrible things that he was doing or what his family really was. What he didn’t see was the foundation of your relationship beginning to crack and fracture.

“I’ll say anything to get a piece of your ass.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Is falling in love so bad? You make it sound so dreadful.”

Regulus moved to fix his bed-ravaged curls.

“Love isn’t real, Y/n. It's some made up emotion to woo silly little girls. Besides why waste your time? It’s shit. I don’t want someone whining after me wanting things that I don’t want. It sounds like a nightmare. Waking up to the same blasted person day after day…listening to them bitch because you don’t live up to some fairy tale being that one’s mind created. I would rather off myself.”

Had Regulus been paying attention to you at all; he would have seen how your hopeful expression fell to sadness.

“I thought that you loved me once upon a time.”

Regulus chuckled before turning to look at you.

“Poor little princess. I suggest getting over yourself or I’ll find another girl to keep me company. While whoever she would be wouldn’t please me as you do…it would be nice not to listen to your whining.”

You stood up and began searching for your own clothes. If this was how Regulus wanted things to be then you would just go home. You would go back home to your own friends. Sirius, Remus, James, and Lily never treated you like this. You weren’t just an option to them. They didn’t threaten to replace you when you were sad or questioning your worth. No, not your friends. They would instead go out of their way to make sure that you knew how much you were valued.

“Do whatever you wish then.”

You replied. Regulus tugged on his wool coat bore, again, rolling his eyes.

“Y/n, if I didn’t care about you then I wouldn’t be fucking you bare risking everything just to be close to you. Lucky for us, you're the smart one that thinks to use birth control potions…we would be really fucked.”

You turned to look at Regulus one last time. Something told you that this would be the last time that you saw him. This would be the last time that you lay in bed savoring how he made you feel. This. Was. It.

“So lucky for me to go home with your come dripping down my thighs. Goodbye, Regulus.”

You walked from the hotel room without another word. When Regulus didn’t come after you, that spoke volumes.

This was it.

For the next few weeks, you avoided Regulus like the plague. He had been sending owls requesting to see you. In Regulus, mind everything was fine. The words exchanged at the last meeting clearly meant nothing and you would be ready to entertain him as soon as he was free.

You never responded. With each owl’s arrival came a letter with cold scathing words, insults, and whatever Regulus thought would con you into seeing him. You had nearly given in when he sent a letter along with an emerald bracelet.

Now he thinks bribing me will work.

You thought before tying the little box back to the owl’s leg and returning the gift to its sender. Had it been a few weeks ago, you would have been thrilled with the bracelet. This was Regulus showing some emotion other than only an interest in sex. Now, however, you wanted no part of it.

Heartache…

That was the one emotion that you had. Your heart did ache for Regulus. It ached for your Regulus…your best friend. This new one sucked. You craved your best friend…the best friend that you would probably never see again.

“Hey girl, hey.”

Sirius’ voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up from the owl that was now flying away as Sirius came in and sat down.

“Hey boy, hey.”

You replied, earning a smile from your friend. Sirius put his feet up on the table. The two of you knew that Remus would have a fit if he saw Sirius with his feet on the table but he wasn’t there.

“Now that is a greeting. So, I was coming to see if you wanted to come out to the pub? Remus, James, and Lily will meet us there. It will kind of be like old times before the world went to shite.”

You leaned back into the sofa before nodding. Going out sounded nice. Seeing your friends was just what you needed.

“That sounds great. I need a drink and some shitty bar music.”

Sirius smacked his hands together before standing up.

“Let's go!”

Half an hour later, you sat in between James and Remus while Sirius was having way too much fun listening to Bon Jovi. Taking a drink of the fire whiskey that Remus put in front of you, you slowly were beginning to feel like your old self.

“This is some good stuff.”

Remus commented downing the rest of his drink and signaling for another. You turned to your older brother and smiled.

“Shame on you for encouraging your baby sister to drink booze.”

Remus chuckled.

“We can all have crazy nights every once and a while. Besides, I think we all need it.”

You couldn’t agree more. In the past month, the order had suffered some big setbacks. Dorcas and Marlene both had died while the Longbottoms were now out of their mind courtesy of Bellatrix. All in all, it had been the biggest shittiest month of your life. Losing friends and your lover definitely topped most of the other bad things that you had been through.

“I can drink to that.”

You said while Remus downed his other drink. Sirius sauntered over and held his hand out to you.

“Are you proposing to me or something? If you are, you have the wrong Lupin. My brother is off looking for another drink.”

Sirius snorted. You couldn’t help but feel some joy at the smile on his face. It seemed like it had been forever since Sirius smiled last. You hadn’t realized just how much you had missed his shitty jokes and weird humor until it wasn’t there every day.

“I know which Lupin you are, sugar bean. I am merely requesting that you dance with me because no one else will.”

James helped you stand up and shoved you toward Sirius.

“Go dance with him before he asks me to. I’m too drunk and will fuck up his nice shoes.”

You stuck your tongue out at James before going out with Sirius as a slower song came on. Wrapping your arms around Sirius’ shoulders, you lay your head against his chest.

He feels like Regulus.

That thought alone made your heart freeze. You hadn’t realized just how much Sirius reminded you of Regulus. He held you the same, had the same cologne…and the song on the radio playing definitely didn’t help… Oh, god…

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car, speeding so fast it felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us and your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder. And I-I had a feeling that I belonged. I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You didn’t say anything but you were two seconds short of having the biggest panic attack of your life. Thankfully, Sirius’ voice stopped you.

“He’s an idiot.”

“Who?”

You asked, looking up at your new best friend curiously. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“My brother. He’s an idiot for treating you like trash and letting you walk away. You were the best thing that has ever happened to him and he blew it. It was all him not you.”

Your eyes widened. Sirius knew…SIRIUS FUCKING KNEW!

“I feel like it was all my fault in some way. I miss him, Sirius. I miss him so badly.”

Sirius was frowning as he tucked your head under his chin.

“I know, kid. I miss him too.”

You were quiet for a few moments as you fought the tears that were beginning to stream down your face.

“Don’t tell Remus. Please don’t tell him…or the others. I’m not ready for them to know.”

Sirius was quiet a moment as his eyes locked on Regulus across the room. His younger brother was watching them with a death glare on his face. If Regulus started throwing hexes, Sirius wouldn’t at all be surprised. Sirius gave Regulus one final glare as Regulus turned and walked out of the bar in a furious huff.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t heard anything from you.”

Sirius replied. You didn’t need to know that Regulus was there. In Sirius’ mind, all that you needed to know was your friends had your back and always would.

____

@amelie-black @jessyballet @knreidy1 @justfinishthis @georgeweasleydumbhoe @acciosiriusblack @siriuslyceleste @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @darkenwolfie @ell0ra-br3kk3r @livshifts @stelleduarte @millies0bsimp @coffeeaddictednymph @readtomeregulus @daddyslittlevillain @rogue-nyx88 @panpride @saramaple @missgorldafirst @f4iryluvy @s-we-e-t-t-ea @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @buttercup-beeee @gugggu6gvai @jag9000 @quinis @yousmellllikecaca @mentally-unstable-hoe @criminalyetminimal @haroldpotterson @padf00ts-l0ver @goldensunshineshit @aurorasnape12 @ad-astra-again @rubyroscoe1 @rubyroscoe1 @spideyxalmighty @lucasfilms77 @marichromatic @dumybitch @lostarc24 @play-morezeppelin @ravenhood2792 @un-lovesherself @melaninnbarbie @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @moldy-old-boot @hankypranky @summer-novak @shaylybaby2032 @emiwrites3reads @knight-of-gleefulness @untoldshortsofthefandoms @shitfaceddaniel-blog @li0nh34rt @tas898 @deanwherescas @sprnaturallover @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

[writingoncloudydays]

Oops they broke the fourth wall

Summary: The Narrator and Stanley become aware that the player controls their actions. They decide to confront the player directly, leading to a metafictional journey where reality and fiction blur together. How do The Narrator and Stanley navigate this surreal experience, and what insights do they gain about their existence?

Warnings: Nothing really, fourth wall breaking, Stanley being Stanley.

0.71k words

It started with a whisper, a faint sensation that something was amiss in the fabric of their reality. Stanley and The Narrator exchanged wary glances, their senses tingling with a newfound awareness of the unseen forces at play.

This whisper was not just an auditory hallucination but a profound disturbance, a crack in the veneer of their carefully constructed world. It was a subtle yet undeniable hint that the reality they had known was not as concrete as they once believed.

As they delved deeper into the mystery, their investigation led them to the revelation that shook the very foundations of their existence: they were characters in a video game, their every action dictated by the whims of an unseen player.

The realization hit them like a tidal wave, washing away the illusions of autonomy they had clung to. The walls of their environment seemed to close in, and the once-familiar paths and corridors took on an eerie, labyrinthine quality.

Shocked and disbelieving, Stanley and The Narrator embarked on a quest to confront the player directly, determined to seize control of their own destinies.

Their journey took them through the twisted corridors of their narrative, where reality and fiction blurred together in a kaleidoscope of surreal imagery. Hallways stretched into infinity, doors led nowhere and everywhere, and the air seemed charged with the potential for the impossible.

Along the way, they encountered bizarre creatures and mind-bending puzzles, each reflecting the player's influence on their world. They faced off against grotesque monstrosities that mirrored.

Their inner fears and grappled with conundrums that bent the rules of logic and physics. With each obstacle they overcame, Stanley and The Narrator grew more determined to break free from their scripted existence and forge their own path.

But as they drew closer to their goal, they began to question the nature of their reality and the meaning of their existence. Were they nothing more than puppets dancing on the strings of fate, or did they possess the power to transcend their predetermined roles?

This existential quandary gnawed at them, causing rifts in their partnership and moments of deep introspection. The boundaries between player and character, creator and creation, seemed increasingly nebulous.

In the depths of their existential crisis, Stanley and The Narrator found unexpected allies in the form of other characters who had become aware of their own fictional nature. These newfound companions, each with their own stories of awakening, added layers of complexity to their quest.

Together, they formed a ragtag band of rebels, united in their pursuit of freedom from the player's control. This diverse group, ranging from forgotten side characters to antagonists turned comrades, brought their unique perspectives and strengths to the rebellion.

As they reached the climax of their journey, Stanley and The Narrator finally confronted the player in a showdown that would determine the fate of their world. The confrontation was not a traditional battle but a profound dialogue that transcended the screen.

Instead of seeking vengeance or retribution, they offered forgiveness and understanding, recognizing that the player was merely a reflection of their own desires and fears. This moment of empathy and enlightenment bridged the gap between player and character, human and digital entity.

In the end, Stanley and The Narrator emerge victorious, not by defeating their adversary, but by embracing the truth of their existence and finding meaning in the chaos of their shared narrative.

They realized that their journey had been one of self-discovery and that true freedom comes not from controlling the story but from embracing the uncertainty of life's journey and writing their own destiny, one choice at a time.

As they stepped into the unknown together, Stanley and The Narrator understood that their journey was far from over. They had forged a new path, one where the lines between creator and creation, storyteller and story, were forever blurred.

With courage and conviction, they faced whatever challenges lay ahead, ready to shape their future in a world where anything was possible.

For they had learned that true freedom is not an end but a process, a continuous unfolding of choices and possibilities. In that infinite expanse of potential, they found a sense of purpose and a renewed determination to explore the vast, uncharted territories of their existence together.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I feel like the post I just reblogged pointing out the all-or-nothing in how many people interact with their deconstruction of systems of oppression is resonating for me right now with so many different moments in my life where someone decides that because some part of myself has access to some of the levers of control/influence/etc that come with the relationship to power, and decides what that must mean about all the other parts of me that might be explicitly refused access to those same levers.

It has happened in so many spaces/aspects of my life, and it can be so hard to feel safe and seen and trusting of others when that's my chronic relationship to being perceived - half truths and obfuscation.

It doesn't really change regardless of who's doing the assuming either. Like, where they land in relation to systems of power may influence which direction they lean in their assumptions about me, but even that is often inconsistent. Both sides of the equation (those who share my marginalizations and those who exist in spaces of closer proximity to power) will still do it nonetheless.

When I was doing my liminal social identities work in undergrad, this was actually a big part of the conceptualization we explored of traumtic alienation of self as individual from self as collective, and what it can do to people to exist in this liminal relationship with your environment and the people in it. As I'm starting to gather my thoughts about my stress modeling, this conceptualization is bubbling back to the surface. I'm finding myself meandering through it on both a path specifically my own, and in an effort to better understand what other paths may be available to people during their version of the process/experience.

Selfhood is so fragile, and so in need of balance between self-construction and co-construction for us humans, and that gives us so many beautiful, even spiritual, experiences of meaning making and generativity of self. It also createa many pivot points where we may find room in our path for vulnerability or blurring of self. As much as these pivot points can be distressing, I think they also sometimes become our foundations of change/personal evolution, when we find that through the distress of existing in shift, something meaningful is occurring or observable in our experience of self-in-transition.

I think something I've valued especially about my own relationship with self is its transience. It doesn't always end up somewhere I would be happy to sustain, but it always allows me a degree of comfort in complexity that I think has made my body-mind a safer place for me overall.

[lv-iceprince]

✧･ﾟ: *✧...synastry ship...✧･ﾟ: *✧

@stardustwaters

hi bestie here’s your ship! i’m actually a little too tired to hit you with all that sentimental stuff so here you go, I hope you like it and bye bestie xx

wren

~idol~ ricky (zerobaseone) ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

~aspects~

~pros~

conjunct mercury~ moon: This is a pretty amazing aspect to start off with! It indicates that you and Ricky will have excellent communication in your relationship, most of this comes from the fact that you understand each other on an incredibly deep and intuitive. There are moments where you totally communicate through gestures or making eye contact. There is instant chemistry between the two of you however it doesn't overwhelm you or you don't get swept up in the love, the energy for your relationship is more laidback. There is a high likelihood that you will stay together, even if there is some conflict.

You also like to talk...a lot, you're just a bunch of chatterboxes. Most of this comes from your need to understand each other, you have a strong motivation to express yourselves so you don't misinterpret each others good intentions.

conjunct north node~ sun: Your relationship is one where you will experience a good amount of growth and change, you assist each other in developing your talents or bet qualities. Even though this seems good it could become quite overwhelming. This aspect also indicates immediate chemistry, your bond transcends typical romance. Ricky displays all the qualities that you wish to own as yours, even if some of these qualities make you feel uncomfortable it's okay, it's just a sign that you are scared to evolve and grow which is understandable since personal change can be intimidating. But this kind of openness and outgoing attitude comes natural to Ricky.

Even if this is the case you both find your relationship to be ideal, since it feels like it's really going in a good direction. Sometimes this aspect can point out the fact that the two of you haven't met in a past life and that its just a first time instant attractions. In the slight chance that you do have a past life connection your love will feel new and refreshing all the same.

Though this sounds like a generally positive aspect but it can be dangerous, you will experience some change to your mentality or personality even if Ricky truly hurts you, which could result in a level of toxicity. The entire relationship will depend on how much Ricky has grown as a person, if he is egotistical and immature he will be teaching you how to behave through the pain he actively causes. If he is more developed in this sense he could show you a really good side of life.

sextile pluto~ neptune: The connection that you have with Ricky encourages both of you to explore your somewhat spiritual side. You're able to connect on a deep level that allows you to connect more deeply with your spiritual pathways. This aspect signifies the perfect foundation for profound spiritual awakening that you will only get as a couple. It also means that you have an enhanced sense of trust in one another. This is also a rare aspect to have and it is quite lucky that you share this with Ricky. Even if your relationship didn't last long (in this case it will) you will have a meaningful bond that lasts many a lifetime.

There is also an intense emotional connection between the two of you and you learn many things through your interactions with each other.

trine neptune~ moon: This aspect also reiterates your ability to understand each other, but your level of understanding is more joyous and bubbly, like you just get along well. Regardless, you're still able to have serious conversations and find it easy to talk about your deeper feelings. Even though you both have great emotional depth that only gets greater the more you are around each other this aspect could result in blurred boundaries, manipulation or both of you actively lying to keep the peace.

trine venus~ neptune: At first you will both feel like you have met "the one", your relationship feels like a dream come true, so romantic and ethereal. However, even if you feel like you have found your dream partner and life can't get any better, you need to stay grounded in reality. It is way too easy for the two of you to get swept up in the good moments. Ricky comes across as the ideal partner and he tries his hardest to play that role well, purely because he wants to please you. Overtime you may start to realise that it was a façade and that Ricky was trying to keep you happy. You may feel a bit deceived or put off since you really believed in him. However, this issue is mostly cancelled out since you and Ricky are so open with each other.

You really know how to make each other happy and there is a sense of love and beauty in your relationship that makes it seem like a piece of fine art.

sextile saturn~ mercury: In comparison to Ricky you are quite skilled at organising things and developing a good manner of going about things, you like to lend these skills to Ricky by assisting him in structuring his thoughts. You also help him plan his life and put plans into action. Ricky is in awe and inspired, he truly feels like he can learn a lot from your wisdom. You just know the right words to say to inspire him to improve his life, you're also very good at listening to his concerns. As a result you're able to solve relationship problems in a meticulous way with logical conversations. And even though you tend to have fun sometimes your conversations can come across as being a bit dry.

sextile mars~ mercury: You fuel Ricky's thoughts and ideas which, as mentioned above, arouses his drive enough to follow through with his plans. Your conversations are generally lively and productive and there is usually a healthy competition between the two of you, this is mentally stimulating for both of you. You both just really inspire each other to improve yourselves and your life as you know it.

sextile moon~ mercury: The conversations that take place are usually friendly in nature, for the most part you are able to share your feelings and any concerns that you may have. You both feel like there will never be someone who understands you as well as you understand each other. Ricky feels very comfortable and at ease when he is around you, he also likes the way you sound when you speak he will always be the one initiating conversation just so he could listen to you.

This is another aspect that indicates that you are very open with each other, finding it easy to share personal information with each other. It's so cute because you literally sincerely care about what the other person has to say. And sharing memories is your favourite pastime as a couple.

sextile uranus~ mercury: This also indicates how Ricky perceives you as being very intellectual since you are so perceptive and intuitive.

trine moon~ venus: You were initially attracted to each other because of the overall sweet, romantic energy and large gestures that are abundant in your relationship. Your romantic attraction often translates into deep, emotionally fuelled conversations. You make Ricky feel loved and cared for, especially on an emotional level. It's not just you making a profound difference on Ricky, he shows you how to make sense of your emotions.

Both of you also have a natural appreciation of aesthetics and the finer things in life, you most likely like the same things. Another thing is that as a couple both of you are very popular and you drastically expand each others social circles.

trine saturn~ uranus: You both manage to accept change in your relationship while respecting each others boundaries. Ricky's need for change in his life is actually supported by your need for a solid foundation, the dynamic is all you need for both of you to grow while maintaining a sense of individuality. Ricky desires freedom and individuality, and you understand and respect that. This fosters a relationship where you both feel like you can be yourselves.

~cons~

opposition jupiter~ neptune: You actively stimulate and feed each others imagination. Both of you are dreamers and tend to fantasize about what it will look like when you reach an ideal position in your relationship, however, you both use this as a way to deny your reality and the responsibilities associated with it. You have a habit of indulging in certain things with excess, while Ricky has a deep love of trying to achieve a life where he doesn't cling to material goods and the troubles associated with status. This means that both of you are so caught up with your individual perspectives, so much so that you ignore your daily responsibilities. Since you both wish to gain pleasure or escape reality there is a chance that you'll resort to actively lying or partaking in substance abuse so that your ideal fantasy life will live on.

square moon~ sun: Ricky may seem controlling, egotistical or self-centred. In contrast you may appear too delicate and emotional. This occurs because Ricky has been conditioned into behaving this way. He assumes that having a firm grasp on the other, having control, is the only way to have a functioning relationship. This isn't good since you taught yourself to heavily rely on Ricky to make it work. Even if you are attracted to each other, your relationship feels tense and you may be very competitive with each other. Additionally, Ricky may feel like he has to give up on his dreams just to make you happy. You are more reserved while Ricky wants something bigger in his life. Ricky doesn't get the support he needs from you and this may result in him control you so that he can take pleasure in having you and that sense of power.

square mars~ sun: Initially there is a lot of physical and sexual attraction, however, overtime you may start to get annoyed by every single thing about each other. You rub each other the wrong way and you know how to get under each others skin, you may start to wonder what you even saw in each other. You get triggered by each other constantly and you will both become defensive and angry. There is competition between the two of you but it can get too combative and self-destructive.

Another thing is that one of you wants more than what the other is willing to give. It will feel like you're never on the same page even if you do have a deep understanding of each other.

square uranus~ sun: This reiterates the points above that states that there is excitement and unpredictability in your relationship, And this need to change can create conflict.

square venus~ jupiter: You feel romantically inspired by Ricky and generally feel more sexually confident in his presence. Even though this is a positive both of you still have a tendency of enabling each other, you act before you think when it comes to pleasing the other person. Basically you both experience too much of a good thing and you both have high expectations of each other which has been mentioned before in other aspects.

square mercury~ jupiter: Again you have troubles with proposing grandiose ideas, this is exciting in theory but you rarely follow through with anything. After some time of being together you will both realise that the other is all talk without any substance to back them up. You also constantly interrupt each other and often compete for attention from other people. Ricky may become frustrated with you coming off as overly-rational, and Ricky definitely has the holier than thou mentality. You find his opinions too disrespectful and impractical.

square mercury~ uranus: At first you are fully intrigued by Ricky and his personality, however, he often catches you off guard with his spur of the moment surprises when you need stability. On the other hand Ricky may find your opinions too superficial and traditional for his liking. Overall, you may find it hard to truly depend on him and you can be very impatient with each other.

square venus~ uranus: Both of you have to accept that you can't rely on each other all the time. Ricky will come to resent the fact that you desire more commitment and structure in the relationship because he doesn't actually want to play by your rules.

~house overlay~

your chiron in his 5th house: You both heal through creative expression, joy, playfulness and recreational activities. You teach Ricky how to use his talent and skills to create healing in other people, Ricky repays you by teaching you how to not take life so seriously. He reminds you of the inner child in you and how you need to take care of them and love them and you help Ricky to see life in an optimistic way through the lens of a child.

his jupiter in your 4th house: Ricky helps you to expand your family and your home. You are reminded of your ideals and full potential relating to your need of starting a family with Ricky. You may alter your home or family relationships after he triggers your interest in unique cultures or different beliefs.

his lilith in your 1st house: Ricky brings a spark of passion, sexuality and raw emotion into the relationship. This influences you and finally helps you come closer to figuring out your identity, mainly because he encourages you to be your true self.

his mercury in your 11th house: Again Ricky is immediately inspired to be more open and communicative with you and your relationship feels warm and easy.

your mars in his 6th house: There is intense energy in your relationship and you tend to overwhelm you him with your demands , you also have a habit of to taking action without consulting Ricky or his feelings.

your pluto in his 4th house: You take a deep interest in Ricky's family and childhood, however, if you are living together you will have the urge to control Ricky and dominate him. This also repeats the idea that Ricky will help you overcome your childhood traumas.

his juno in your 8th house: Again you have a strong attachment to each other spanning back to when you first met, you both feel it deep down that you will change each others lives. You have some type of magnetic charm that immediately appeals to Ricky, mainly because you come across as a reliable authority figure who makes him feel secure as soon as he initiates a relationship with you. Ricky will constantly reassure you that you have no reason to worry about him cheating on you, he basically helps you feel more secure in your relationship because of his openness, compassion and devotion.

his sun in your 12th house: There is an aura of mystery in your relationship, Ricky perceives you as being quite exotic, fascinating and other worldly. He seriously has never met anyone else like you. He is attracted to you against his better judgement, even if you seem like an open book he can't read you or understand how you think. Even if you do relate or feel a deep connection there are moments where you aren't on the same page.

your moon in his 6th house: You have contradicting feelings relating to Ricky, you feel obligated to be his doting girlfriend but part of you feels like you have to be there for him. Ricky is aware of the fact that for the most part you'd do anything for him so he'll come to expect that of you.

his venus in your 1st house: Dude, again, Ricky is the whipped one, he is so so so attracted to your personality and appearance. And he loves to be seen with you purely because you make him look good, he likes to brag that he scored someone like you. You are truly flattered by how much he admires you, you feel beautiful and graceful when you're in his presence but overtime you will become annoyed with how shallow Ricky seems.

his moon in your 12th house: For some reason there is a lack of trust in your relationship. Ricky still can't figure you out for the life of him and he ultimately feels like you are hiding something from him. You will absolutely hate being accused of something when you literally aren't actively hiding anything from him. There is no logical reason why there is a lack of trust but deep down you just feel suspicious of each other.

his north node in your 12th house: In short there is potential for mass spiritual growth.

your lilith in his 9th house: This overlay indicates that Ricky is intrigued by your intense personality and wide range of emotions, he is also drawn to your desires for extremes and sensuality.

his mars in your 1st house: Even if you are attracted to each other Ricky severely frustrates you with his habit of jumping the gun, he also has quite a hot temper.

your neptune in his 6th house: Not much to say other than you entering Ricky's life and making him question his own beliefs.

your mercury in his 10th house: You may find it difficult to come up with something to talk about besides your goals and your career.

your venus in his 10th house: Even though you have such a good partner in Ricky you find it easy to put work before your relationship. Most of this comes from the fact that you see Ricky as playing a key part in you meeting your goals, he is also your answer to attaining great status. Ricky can see that you have some artistic talents and visions and feels that instead of judging him for the things he lacks you encourage him.

your saturn in his 10th house: You're both focused on long-term goals and bring out an ambitious side to one another.

~final verdict~

Okay, I rarely find myself shipping people in these synastry readings even if they are a ship. But oh my god I am such a huge fan of your relationship with Ricky, I mean I guess there are negative aspects like most functioning relationships. But I am glad to say I truly think the good outweighs the bad in this scenario, and I am honestly so glad that you and Ricky would actually work out. You don't only satisfy each others sexual or materialistic needs, but there is a deep sense of happiness that comes from the two of you having a deep almost spiritual connection.

I am also happy that I can complete this ship and know that Ricky would never directly mistreat you if he can help it, he has found true love ad he will do his best to preserve it. I may be biased but I think you are Ricky's perfect match, he is quite intense in personality and is open with his charm and attitude. But while some would feel discouraged by that you embrace him for everything that he does and he would truly make it known that he appreciates it.

I don't know what else to say besides, I adore the dynamic you would have and I can't really name a better pairing if I tried.

[blackvahana]

Black sustains a body for (him), past life that resists endlessly and effortlessly being "past". We sit by an energetic campfire, a hub of flows in bright light waters, feeding from it, taking from its flesh. He knows I don't understand this (yet), but he's not bored with what I don't know in a way that I wasn't expecting. I wasn't expecting to be met halfway here, or, really, three-quarters the way on both end, the sum of our parts adds up beyond two.

The sky outside on the physical plane is yellow and blue, I'm not sure I know whose colour is whose.

We talked, mostly through means beyond linear talk, and I'm starting to feel redundant and like I'm purposely isolating myself from myself by bringing up non-linear talk as if it's alien to me... But it's important to communicate with those who don't touch this side. Ah, yes, this side, he knows it well, he was also a hole torn in the sky, except from a different angle. I suppose I tore one with my birth where he tore one with his ascension. Same thing - his entire life was a hole in the sky, but I feel like there was a tearing that happened with my birth. I digress.

Talking, flashes of memories, he wasn't as bound to the physical as I thought and of course I should've known that. I still see Physical and Astral as something that takes so much to cross and blur, blinded a little by my own inability. Oh, I know how close they are, they're two planes on a larger stage, but knowing the theory doesn't change the distance I feel between these two realities. Anyway, he talks to me about his dual presence, he tells me about things in dreams and in his synchronicity with the One Above, because of course, he knew who he was.

There's not as much criticism as I was expecting, next to none if any at all. I expect to be a burden I'm not. Whatever. I guess mostly I expect there to be more tension than there is, more fighting, more combat on the outskirts of our fire's light...

This all aside, I wasn't intending on talking about him but I guess that betrays an innate curiosity I, he, and Black have at the moment - the innate curiosity Black has for me at the moment.

Boundaries not yet crossed shows boundaries I can reach. I'll be doing what he did with regard to dreams: he was showing me how he walked outside his body when it was asleep, how he felt, and this... cupboard, it registers for me, of a Dreaming space. Walking out of his body led to a nonliteral crossroads, one to the Astral aligned with our reality, one to the blue mind of Black's body, another to this behind-the-scenes Dreaming space of reality, black and fertile and heavy-bodied, I am reminded of myself, where... A collective I would label singular God dreamt of hypnagogic hallucinatory things. Backend to reality, place where he communed with and sought debate-oriented or at least debatable counsel from a set of beings representing foundational elements of reality, whom I believe he now sees differently to how he saw in his time alive.

It's... nice to talk to a self I relate to in the way that he has older, more matured and skillful and learned knowledge of arts I wasn't sure I was pursuing - in the way I doubted I was even pursuing something real

Anyway. Black's eyes on me, I have gotten the deep attention he has for... anyway.

[j-graysonlibrary]

The Xiang Chronicles: Book Three Chapter 10

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Three

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 107k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: Only one Xiang remains and her name is Merra. She hopes to unite the land by force and plow down anyone in her way—especially the people of Agni who she deems faithless and the native people of Terra who refuse to cooperate with her.

Raine continues to serve his Lord but he has taken to alcoholism to soothe his grief—a fact he keeps out of his letters with Heidi. Baiya has returned to mercenary work in order to keep his family safe while Kira is on the warpath. He, fully, takes on the title of Chaaya and means to defeat the Xiang he sees as false.

And, in a guarded castle in Enlil, a stir-crazy Princess dabbles in the dark arts, setting in motion something even Tiandi cannot see.

Full chapter 10 under the cut

Chapter X:

It was dark or, at least, very dim. There were few candles lit in the pub but that did not encourage anyone to pack up and head to their rooms. If that was, indeed, the barkeep’s strategy. The actual effect of snuffing out half the candles was that the soldiers, already rowdy from the drinking, had begun to feel emboldened.

Waitresses were grabbed or at least whistled at and lewd conversations grew louder. The men in armor would not easily be discouraged.

For Raine, the spots of light blurred and some even multiplied when he turned his head too quickly. The lights would even move separate from the flame sometimes, following his line of sight like little faeries. It had been funny at first, in a weird way, but the effect was beginning to irritate him.

His body was heavy and, at the same time, he weighed nothing. His head was where all of his focus was anyway as it tried to swim away from him.

The only way he could ground himself, he reasoned, was with another drink of mead. It had gone warm but that was no real deterrent.

Raine gulped down the rest from his mug and shivered afterward. The taste was not terrible but it was still not to his liking—even after several mugs. It had gotten better, yes, but every time he swallowed, his body threatened to reject it.

He rested his mouth against his arm bracer and waited until the feeling passed. He needed the drink to work its magic in his body so that he could properly sleep and, in all honesty, so he could properly deal with his current company.

Although, their chatter was still reaching him, even as he sat at the far table and alone.

Everything in his body resisted the movement as he stood from his table and his head, especially, began to spin. He gripped the back of his chair to steady him and acclimate to the new standing position. It took a few moments or, maybe, just a second but once the sensation stabilized, he started to walk.

Raine had not been with this particular group of soldiers for very long. Most, he had just met the day prior at the outpost outside of Castelle and the rest only a day or two before that. New recruits were the most common and most viable these days while many of the older soldiers were moved up in rank to supervise.

At the least, even the newest soldiers before the events six months ago, had become captains of their own troops. Raine, himself, had been promoted as well but he was not sure it really meant anything.

Grand General sounded great, yes, but it did not change his situation.

The candles in the throne room had flickered as the foundation of the palace trembled. Raine recalled it vividly because he knew of only one force that could create such a commotion.

As soon as he returned to Castelle, he had told his King of the events in Ultimos and in Gnoma. He warned him of the incoming attacks and they were able to, preemptively, prepare. For months, they held their own at the border of both Terra and Enlil.

Merra, it seemed, had been successful in asking Enlil to help and, though their soldiers were not as many in number as Terran soldiers, it was still difficult to fight off two forces at once.

Raine had led a few of the defensive battles on the border but they were, inevitably, pushed back. The fighting took them all the way back to Castelle where Merra’s soldiers made an encampment just within eyeshot over the wall. No one attacked for a week but the looming fear of that invasion hung over everyone’s heads.

That moment, in the throne room, with only King Din Raime Cast and Raine looking at one another, it had been long in the making.

“I do not want to forfeit my people to death just out of my past loyalties…as much as it pains me,” the King said with a frown and tears in his eyes.

He really had been loyal to Pangu. For as long as he could.

But Raine still protested. “She will force your men to march with her on Agni! More of your people will die regardless!”

The King buried his face into his hand. The palace shook again. They were coming closer.

“My lord!” Raine yelled.

“I cannot let this continue!” he shouted back and removed his hand. A tear ran down his cheek and his teeth clenched. “Soldiers will be lost, yes, but they are killing common folk until we answer them. They are destroying our men and children—almost for the sport of it! If surrender will save even one life today…I must take it…I am sorry, Raine.”

Although Raine knew, deep down, even then, that it was the correct choice, he still felt betrayed in the moment. “You promised Pangu you would see him as the Xiang! You promised me that you would honor his life by standing firm against Merra!”

“I tried!” The King collapsed onto one knee, partly due to exhaustion and partly due to the sudden rumble of earth. “I did my best…”

The lights blew out when the doors opened and Raine’s memory stopped there. He did not wish to think of Merra anymore or the way she pushed herself into the deepest sanctum of his King’s palace. How she demanded loyalty from him in exchange for his continued rule over Kyrie.

She had even added, as a sly remark, that she would take a tour on the side of town where Raine’s orphanage was located. He nearly asked how she even knew about it but realized, quite quickly, that the spirits must have told her.

Not only had one of the Heavenly Princes killed Pangu but Raine was being threatened by spirits of Tiandi. He had no hope of recovering his faith after that.

He needed another drink. He feared the nightmares would come back if he did not get another drink.

“Sorry, lad, the tap has run dry.” The barkeep said with a tiresome sigh. He very well could have been lying to try and send the soldiers away but it could have also easily been true. They were all drinking a lot. “Your friends have a mean thirst…you as well.”

Raine grumbled, incoherently, as he stumbled away. He did not wish to fight the barkeep—even if he was lying about there being no more drink, he could not exactly blame him for doing so.

The young soldiers in the bar were behaving like animals.

One table, in particular, was crammed full of the new recruits and they were each red in the face and throwing their arms about wildly. The most headstrong of the boys had grabbed a waitress and pulled her down to sit with them. He now had an arm confidently wrapped around her shoulders, forcing her even closer.

“We ain’t seen many fair ladies since deployment, you see,” he explained with a wide, toothy grin to the, clearly, uncomfortable woman, “All the women we see are covered head to toe in armor. Nothin’ sexy about that…”

“Or givin’ us orders!” another young man chimed in and the rest jeered and threw their arms up.

“Like they our mama or something!” More jeering.

The one with his arm around the woman leaned into her, clearly sniffing her hair. “You though…you look like you take orders well. Bein’ a waitress and all aside.”

She stared at him with wide eyes, her entire body going stiff.

“Why not give us a dance? Just a little one, on the table, so me and my boys can see?” he lowered his voice and the grumble of excited chatter around also lowered. “We got a hard mission ahead of us so we need our morale boosted.”

Raine finally made it to their table, still having to grip the back of one of their chairs to stand upright. But, his presence, even drunk, caught all of their collective attention.

The chatter stopped and all eyes were on him. Even the young woman stared at him, though she had far more hope in her eyes than the boys did.

“Soldier, what is your name?” Raine asked the boy with his arm around the waitress.

“K-Kenni sir—Gris Kenni Qu.”

“Kenni,” he repeated and then sighed. “You already know what I will say.”

“S-sir, we was just having a little fu—”

“Shut…up.” Raine pointed a finger at him. “I do not think the waitress of this establishment is having any fun. Not only that but you are giving the people of this town a negative impression of the King. Do you understand that?”

“But I was just—”

“You are a reflection of the King and Kyrie,” Raine raised his voice and many of the young men started to bow their heads. “What you do. What you say. How you act. It is how people see this country. Know what I see now? A pathetic loser who uses any modicum of power he comes across to force people to bend to his will. I hope war changes you, Kenni, because if it does not, you will be among the first to die. And, when you do die, you will leave behind a trail of people who see the world as better off without you in it. Is that the kind of legacy you want to leave behind?”

“N-no , sir.”

Raine helped the waitress up from her seat and she ran off to stay behind the counter. His eyes never left the soldiers, however. “I may be drinking as well but do you see me making a fool of myself?”

A quiet, ashamed choir followed, “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

He felt he could throw up again. “You are all to return to camp or use the rooms you purchased here. I expect to see you ready to depart first thing. If not, we will be leaving you behind and I will be reporting your behavior directly to the King. Do we have an understanding?”

They all nodded but did not move.

Raine took a deep breath and then shook the chair he had a hold on. “Get a move on!”

The young men all scrambled and fled the bar like a swarm of bugs. The movement was sickening to look at as it made Raine dizzy but he steadied himself and waited until they were all gone before walking again.

He left a hefty sum of money on the bar for the trouble he and his soldiers had caused and then stumbled outside as well.

It was dark, as expected, and the torches leading back to the encampment outside of town were few and far between. Raine kept his eyes forward and focused, as much as he could, and he carried on. Eventually, he told himself, he would get there. No matter how long the distance seemed now.

“Hey, there you are,” a voice called from behind him and, though he could not recognize it right away, it still filled him with dread.

His pace slowed and he risked a look over his shoulder. Once he caught sight of his pursuer, he groaned and kept walking, only with less urgency. They would catch up.

“I was looking for you around town. I did not think to check the bar.” At his side now, Ran Bofu Song matched his strides despite his short stature. His big hat alone was enough to give him away but he also wore a half cape around his shoulder to signify his status as disciple.

“I was getting my soldiers to pack it up for the night,” Raine stated simply.

Bofu laughed. “You think I am stupid? I can smell the booze on you. Plus, you are stumbling.” He continued to chuckle as he sped up, so he could walk backward and get a good look at him simultaneously. “I never pegged you for a drunk.”

“What do you want?” he cut to business. The Kyrie disciple would not be in front of him if he did not need anything.

Luckily, the kid did not draw his mocking out any longer and did switch to the matter at hand. “There has been a change of plans. You are still needed at the border but, before that, we have spotted the Chaaya again.”

Raine’s eyes sharpened. He felt less drunk now. “And you want me to go there?”

“Well, it is either that or we go and drag Heidi out of playing house,” Bofu commented with a smug smirk, “Did you not say that you, alone, could handle Kira? That we would not need to find the other ex-disciples to help because you would take care of it? Months ago?”

“Where was the sighting?” Raine pushed past his irritation, as much as he could.

“Just north of Meala. An outpost town” The kid clasped his hands behind his back. “It you manage to apprehend him then we can loosen your leash a little, you know.”

He doubted that. Already, he was constantly threatened with the orphanage and the sovereignty of Kyrie. It would take little effort from Merra, with her chokehold on the country, to assassinate the King and put whoever she chose in charge. Even herself.  And, at this point, Raine would not put anything past her.

“I will do as the Xiang asks,” Raine answered through clenched teeth.

Bofu let out a boisterous laugh. “Well, do not sound so enthused.” He brought his hands back to his front and gestured toward him, “You know, Raine, you really should be happier. The Heavenly Princes wanted you dead but Merra asked for their leniency. She knows how useful you are and she believes in second chances. Although, I suppose this is more of a third chance, if you want to get into specifics.”

“And I should be grateful for this benevolence?” He grumbled.

“Yes. You are not dead.”

Perhaps not, but sometimes Raine wondered if working for the new Xiang was any different from death. He certainly did not feel like he was the same person anymore and all of his morals and ethics were crushed under his heel in order to keep his life and ensure the safety of those he cared about. The old Raine was dead, in that way.

To counteract that, he would try to remind himself that, because of his “cooperation” with Merra, Heidi and Baiya were safe. While they knew where Heidi was, they would not go after her so long as Raine stayed fighting with them and Baiya’s location was unknown to everyone. They suspected he was on his farm but, with the hot border, it was impossible for any of them to pass into Agni unnoticed or unchallenged.

Raine, also, insisted that Baiya would stay away from his farm even if he knew better. Bofu always doubted him when it came to his and Viren’s whereabouts, believing that Raine knew exactly where they were at all times but, the few times Raine had met with Merra, she was much easier to convince.

And, so long as Raine could stay on her good side, he was sure he could survive for a little while longer. Not for his own sake but for everyone else’s.

[prometheusinitiative]

Kezia || MM Trial.5 || All or Nothing

She listens so carefully, eyes closed as everyone’s words echo through the domain. A different thrum to each, quivering gently against the backdrop of space. Contrasts of where they started—despite it all, despite the pain, the horrors, the constant barrage of moments they each endured… Something else still bloomed out of it all. No matter how far they fell, they continued to find their footholds and climb again. Even those who left still paved a foundation for them to flourish. To keep on, a balance, a cycle.

That’s really the point, isn’t it?

But one tune trembles louder than she ever thought possible, and her eyes open to look carefully, proudly, at Hinrik. Her heart swells, and she nods silently after them.

“Does it have to be all or nothing, Ivette? You still have a choice.”

With it, she pushes herself from leaning against the table to stand next to Tracy, defiant, but softly so.

“We've come this far… Please.”

She looks to Ivette with understanding, a glimmer of gentle hopefulness in her eyes. This didn't have to be a fight if they could avoid it.

“Hinrik said it perfectly… You can reset the world before the cryptics, or completely undo it all and formulate it into your perfect ideation… none of that will bring the solution you seek, because it ultimately is the same: You remove the growth and connections we’ve all experienced. To add to Oz, even if somehow we bring a world of pure happiness and nothing more, apathy would blur the lines into a dull existence. Would we be ourselves at all? The struggles I’ve endured, even with my mother being gone, or having being pushed to kill… all of it laid the ground works for me to keep striving to do better, finding who I am in the rubble, and continue to grow and build. From those struggles, I’ve found you all, family, love, and friendship that has also given into this personal foundation. A little part of each of you, your struggles and your happiness, the encompassment of your lives, have added building blocks to creating who I am.  What point is there to living if not to find things that bring us together? Our individualism is created by the good and the bad, and make us exactly what we are. Tracy said it, too—Our time here has continued to teach us that, over and over have we seen that through our choices. It still brings a balance and we have the ability to take those and choose what we make of it. The good is influenced by the bad, which is influenced by the good.”

Kezia takes another step closer to Ivette.

“You’re allowed to feel how you feel… but as everyone else has stated and even you know, it’s just another power move. On top of that, you wish to destroy yourself afterwards? You know Royce would hate that, right? And despite even this… I’m upset—hell I’m pissed by all of this, I’m in pain, and I’m allowed to be, but I would still hate that, too. There is so much more to you than this, Ivette. We’ve all given each other chances…”

‘If you never ever fall, then you'd never learn to pick yourself back up. And you'd never change, either, because you wouldn't have to. You wouldn't grow!’

“We grow. We don’t have to reset it back, we don’t have to burn it all down, we just keep growing and learning—and we can do so, together.”

[myezblog]

I am in love with this detail

ep 7, and if the plaque is what translation says it is

This entire scene of Pete stopping to bow is played twice in succession - once from Pete’s point of view, and one from Vegas’ point of view. It is the exact same moment. It is important to note, director has a lot of work to do and this episode is longer in length than others.. atleast this bit was not required if it didn’t mean anything.. why waste time on the exact same scene?

Pete’s point of view - Vegas is blurred in the foreground

1. Pete spots the plaque (note his eyes.. from normal look to wide eye change, i guess he read the plaque), Vegas also stops right then

2. Pete bows, Vegas is looking at him

3. Pete’s bow ends with this action. Also this entire angle is such that you as audience are observing Pete, he is the only one in your frame doing his thing. This is exactly what Vegas is also seeing, his position/blocking is same as you.

Vegas’s point of view of the exact same scene

1. Vegas walking and slightly turning to look at the statue

2. Starts to turn around

3. Spots Pete (and only Pete)

4.  We did not see this is Pete’s POV. BUt Pete turns here to bow, and Vegas is asking about “Are you hungry”.. turns to Arm

5. Look at pete and his hands.. going over his head.. this marks the ending of his bow. Who says Vegas is not acutely aware of what Pete is doing right now, while the other two are not even remotely bothered

6. Pete turns, no one is looking at Vegas but Vegas is looking at Pete with interest

7. Eye Contact

8. Arm says yes he is hungry, Pete says otherwise, After pete speaks Vegas has this smile (He knows Pete is also hungry and is smiling because he said they can eat later.. we as audience also know he is hungry because we saw him participate in pork conversation and we know he is a big eater)

Vegas turns and looks at everyone - pete, then Arm (as captured in above photo) , then Porsche.. and then turns back to Pete

Porsche and Pete looking at Arm. Amongst these three the understanding is clear that Arm is the one asking for food. But, Vegas’ observation is different. According to him the most hungry in the group is Pete

This is where Vegas again asks “Hungry” after making the comment that the table is laid out.. look at who are looking at each other

Lol, prosche turns towards Vegas and Vegas turns away.. then again he looks sideways

Pete’s mouth si watering

(by the way Porsche also starts smiling seeing food a few seconds back which Vegas doesn’t care about .. ha ha ha)

When speaking to Porsche, he is like whatever.. With Pete he makes sure to have the eye contact every time

When Vegas tells them you can eat whenever. pete is happy

And, whom are we looking at?? Porsche doesn’t wear suit

Key observations:

1. Vegas is amused by Pete. No love, none of that. But he is amused because Pete keeps surprising him - he gets scared of condom, but is diligent enough to follow him day and night, while other bodyguards sleep on duty Pete is very particular.. he is also good..

2.  Just as Pete sees Vegas, Vegas sees in Pete what others can’t and even Pete can’t.. 

The only one in that group who knew that people are hungry and specifically who is most hungry is Vegas..

So, if they were to play the Masochist card later, this will prove Vegas’ observation of Pete not knowing himself because Vegas has observed him and knows him

3. “Are you hungry”.. spoiler.. 

Director is really playing the go to romantic line of this couple.. setting foundation.. this is conscious choice of words..this will become important.. this is our easter egg

[prolix-yuy]

CONGRATS ON 500 💗💗💗 so excited for you and this request list is GOLDEN. my request shouldn’t come as a shock BUT also dealer’s choice cuz I really couldn’t pick one

sex worker!frankie / hurt&comfort / fear of failure

ORRRR

din djarin / whatever tickles your fancy / companionship as salvation

Kay I am giving you BOTH in my own special way. Laura got me convinced to write Flight Plan, and you convinced me to get into my Din Djarin feels. It's been much too long since I wrote another installment for I Think of You, and you got me pondering on something a little unique than what I've been doing lately. Let's see where this goes...

Interlude: The First Ever Touch

Summary: Din's first meeting with the child sparks a memory.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: T, canon-typical violence, lots of angst and introspection, Paz Vizla being a little shit, taking liberties with how the Creed works (I googled for a bit, inaccuracies are mine), making up events in Din's backstory. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: I missed my little space family, but especially the clan of two who started it all. Companionship as salvation is an excellent theme for Din, but I think if we're going to delve into that, we have to talk about the first companion who truly did save him. I am taking some liberties with Din's backstory here, but still aiming to keep it canon compliant. Come roll around in Din feels with me today, friends.

Takes place around Season 1, Episodes 1-3.

Cross-posted on AO3

I Think of You Series Masterlist

It’s little.

And green.

Big black eyes that reflect almost as much as his beskar.

Ears that should absolutely not be possible on such a small head but then again, Din’s seen some strange things during his lifetime.

But most of all, it’s a tiny hand reaching up to a bounty hunter. It’s trust when Din absolutely should not be trusted. It’s need and fear and hope and a tiny coo that pulls his blaster down and lifts his hand to meet its reach. 

The moment the bounty wraps a three-fingered grip around Din’s sizeable one, claws digging into the thick leather of his gloves, is when his armor chips. Not the beskar and durasteel, of course, but the fortress he’s built around himself. It’s flesh and gruff monosyllables and a voice devoid of emotion, but it’s protected him well in his advancing years. And all it takes is a squeeze, one Din can barely feel, to crumble its foundations.

He denies it as he traverses Arvala-7, the hovering pod following him dutifully. Handles the child like a sack of potatoes, ignores him when he looks up at Din with concerned eyes, reaching towards the cauterizer. 

It’s a bounty. Not his concern. His focus has to be on the beskar, the covert, his Creed. The child needs to be kept alive long enough to finish the deal, then he’ll be rid of the strange ache in his chest that the burbles and trills bring. 

It isn’t the first time Din’s felt this way.

The first days in the covert are a blur to Din. He keeps expecting his mother to turn the corner, warm smiles and a hand smoothing through his unruly locks. Or his father to come up behind him and rest his expansive palm on his shoulder, learning over to show him something. 

Instead, he’s met with noise and silence in frightening magnitudes. 

The adults are always helmeted, armored, impassive. His saviors, but also terrifying. He can’t read them, their movements a mystery until he learns how to understand how bodies twist, lean, express. He’s a quick study, has to be to stop feeling like he’s constantly on edge. 

The children are the opposite. Those who are too young to take the Creed are noisy, energetic as they bounce off the tunnel walls, quieting when the elders split the group with their long strides. The older children who sport their own buy’ces hold an air of superiority over the younger ones. They brag about their swearing to the Creed, and how they’re training to be warriors. A stocky boy with a booming voice even at his young age introduces himself as Paz to Din. 

“My family is made up of generations of Mandalorians,” he brags, swathed in an air of superiority. The thought of his own family line, only him now, lays heavy in Din’s stomach.

The only place he finds peace is in the younger children’s bunk room. The older ones are kept apart once the helmet makes them faceless. The silence in the bunk is not the same as the one amongst the adults. It’s filled with quiet breathing during naptimes, chatter that sometimes rises to a feverish pitch but in short bursts. They toddle and climb over each other, massiff pups tumbling around as their protectors prepare for a war that is always just another day off. 

Din can finally breathe when he’s surrounded by the younglings. He’s not much older than them, but small for his age and fits easily into their compact group. They look up to him, a buffer between the rowdier, older children. It’s a burden he didn’t anticipate, not a true Mandalorian in the eyes of those concerned with blood, but if he can bring them some comfort he will. A guide through the tunnels, someone who’s learning about the Creed and can explain it to them, a voice in the night when terrors feel the most daunting. 

Din can be that for them.

Din still denies the child’s pull on him as they travel, fighting the Jawas and taking up their pilgrimage in return for his ship parts. The green baby is small, easy to overlook with the pram closed, and even easier to brush over if he fusses or cries out. The Jawas study the child endlessly, Din shooing them off when their hands get too brave and eyes too greedy. 

It’s his bounty to collect.

Nothing to do with a surge of protectiveness in his chest. 

He almost believes it too, until the mudhorn. A foolish act, to go in alone and without the artillery needed to take down the powerful beast. Bracing before the charging creature, vibroblade in hand and his life distilled down into the point of a horn ready to rip him apart, he witnesses a miracle. One he doesn’t feel he deserves, but is gifted by the tiny creature with no name, no voice, but more compassion than Din has experienced in years. 

He makes the death blow quick, sparing the mudhorn pain as Din had been spared from its wrath. By the time he returns to the child, egg in hand, it’s asleep in its silver pod. Din thinks it a blessing not to have to worry if the child will wander off, that he can close the lid and keep the pod hovering by his side for the remainder of his mission.

The worry that gnaws at his chest betrays his true concern.

A few months after Din entered the covert, a baby is brought into the youngling’s room. Born of two strong heirs of Mandalore, her wails echo off the stone walls.

Din is captivated by the baby. Her name is Allondria, “a warrior’s name” as her proud parents declare to the covert. The merriment of celebration warms the covert for a time, and Din takes to trailing behind as she passes from person to person.

“I can help,” he says one day, more words spoken to an adult than he’s managed in the past few weeks. Taissa, one of the caregivers in charge of Allondria, cocks her helmet at this.

“Wouldn’t you rather be off training?” she asks, not unkindly.

“Paz says I’m too small to be a proper Mandalorian. Always calls me Din’ika. And I don't even have a buc'ye.” Din’s face crumples into a scowl, fighting to pronounce the foreign Mando'a as red hazes his memories. 

“There are roles for those who don’t wish to fight. Respected roles, needed by the covert. Raising warriors is one of them,” Taissa muses, laying Allondria down in her crib. Din peers through the slats, a protective instinct stirring at her babbles and waving fingers. 

“I can teach you, if your pride will allow it,” Taissa adds, straightening to look down at Din. He nods, a small smile on his face and his fingers wrapped around the crib bars. 

Taissa shows Din how to hold Allondria, what food she can eat and how she will change as she grows. Din struggled with sleep before, but now that he has an excuse to be up at all hours of the night he settles faster, deeper. He whispers the stories the Mandalorians have taught him, and a few he remembers, the threads of his mother’s voice murmuring in his mind. She watches Din with wide eyes, a wispy tuft of blonde hair haloing her face and a toothless smile when he manages to calm her. He gladly takes the worst shifts, the worst jobs, to feel the warmth of her gaze on his face.

There’s no harm, Taissa tells the alor. The boys always end up training eventually. Din’s been through more than most of them. Let him be this for a time. It will make him a finer warrior in the end.

The emptiness is unexpected.

Din sits in the Razor Crest and waits for the gaping maw in his chest to close. It’s never felt this way before. He brings them in hot or he brings them in cold, but once they’re out of his sight he rarely feels their presence, or lack thereof. 

He should have put the child in carbonite, but when it didn’t wake quickly after the mudhorn incident Din was reluctant to take the chance. Instead he fed it, breaking a ration bar into smaller bits that the child could handle. He clipped it into the jump seat, let it play with the silver ball it unscrewed from one of the Crest’s levers. Tucked it into the hovering pram as he brought it to the Imp’s hideout.

And then Din let them take the child, and left with a camtono full of beskar. He should have been thrilled, the payment larger than any he’d brought in before, and more precious. He should punch in the coordinates for Nevarro, return the sacred beskar to its rightful home, and accept his alor’s gratitude. 

Instead he waits for the guilt to subside, for the feeling of failure and shame to recede. His throat is tight, hands gripping the console harder than necessary. He doesn’t know why they need the child, it wasn’t supposed to matter why. He’s a bounty hunter, it’s his job. 

But in the midst of chaos, a child held his hand up to him and asked him to care.

And Din is compelled to leave the cockpit and right a wrong.

“Din’ika!” booms through the covert hallways, making Din’s shoulders hike up to his ears. Paz saunters into the youngling’s bunk room, catching sight of Din next to Allondria’s crib. He’d just gotten her fed and settled, her eyes heavy as he lays her down for a nap. 

“Still playing with the babies?” Paz sneers, one hand on his hip as he twirls a practice blaster around one finger. Din bristles at his volume, and his tone. Once the older boys heard Din was helping care for Allondria the snide remarks and crude jokes began flying in loud whispers. Or not whispers at all, in Paz’s case.

“You know, the whole ‘raise warriors’ part is normally an afterthought. Better to be one.” Din tries to regulate his breathing, not give in to the anger bubbling under the surface. Paz is easily twice his size, and always looking for a fight. The proud Vizla house hangs over his head like a halo, making him a loudmouth on good days, an instigator on bad ones. 

“You’re old enough to be training, the alor offered you a helmet, and you’re in here…bottle-feeding?” he pushes, flanked by a few other boys who look up to the name. Din knows better than to retort. Paz is always ready for a confrontation, hormones brimming with only fists against flesh as a way to release the tension. If he plays it cool, ignores Paz, he’ll get tired and wander off. It normally works, the boys growing bored with the lack of a rise out of the smaller foundling.

Today, however, Paz is in a special sort of mood, one that could only be stoked, not sated.

“Seems like a waste for the elders to have saved you if you weren’t even going to act like a Mandalorian,” he spits out, venom in every word. Din can feel his blood boiling, Paz searching for the soft spot to stab and get a reaction. “Then again, maybe it’s better you don’t train with us. You’re too soft to do much of anything, aren’t you Din’ika?” Din tries to back away from them, mapping his exit route when Paz finally hits the bloodiest spot.

“Maybe if you were stronger you wouldn’t be a foundling.”

The blood rushing in Din’s ears sharpens to a high pitch, the edges of his vision darkening. Paz’s chuckle is the last thing he hears before his world dissolves into blood and pain and rage.

The elders discipline Paz harshly, keeping the boys apart as Din recovers. Bruises bloom on his flesh for weeks, luck the only reason why he didn’t break anything. Paz loses his standing among his peers, removed from the training ring and relegated to chores and work meant for those lower than his station. He’ll climb back up quickly, but it’s a slight that will follow Paz for years.

The weeks he spends isolated change Din. He heals, but something inside breaks beyond what Paz did with his fists. If you were stronger echoes in his ears. He wasn’t strong enough to protect himself. How could he be expected to protect those around him? He lives among some of the greatest warriors in the galaxy. He has to learn, has to make himself strong and worthy and capable enough to protect his allies, his friends, his clan one day.

When he’s well enough to not be under the careful eye of the medic, Din goes straight to the elders and requests to be put in training. No complaints are raised, though Taissa’s concerned expression dances in the corner of Din’s eye. The buc'ye, the first of several Din would doff until he was fully grown, settles heavy on his crown. He promises to bring honor to it.

As time marches on, the Creed fills up every aspect of Din’s life. He still seeks to protect, but he learns the Mandalorian Way and his place in the covert. Duty bolstered by strategy, efficiency, brute strength. The covert needs him to provide, to protect, and his greatest asset is the body he hones and trains to do so. After a teen growth spurt his shoulders broaden, chest barrels and limbs thicken. Paz still towers over him, but he begins to respect Din more, especially as his dedication sharpens him into the deadliest blade. 

Over a year later, Taissa stops him in a hallway, Allondria now close to a toddler.

“Is this what you want?” she asks, the child at her ankle staring up at Din with recognition. She smiles shyly, hands gripping Taissa’s pant leg as she waves up at him. Din’s heart clutches for a moment, seeing the child he cared for when he still showed his face. Her face falls ever so slightly when he replies, “Yes. This is how I can protect everyone.” 

You said it yourself, the alor says to Taissa, no harm done, he’s taken on the Creed and will make a fine Mandalorian.

We do not always need warriors, she retorts, balancing Allondria on her hip.

That is not The Way, the alor says, a cold admonishment that silences Taissa for long after. 

With the helmet firmly in place, Din begins the construction of the wall he puts between himself and those he cares for. Allondria no longer recognizes him, his body growing and strengthening behind the anonymous helmet. Taissa keeps her distance. 

It’s for the best, Din ruminates when he still takes the time to consider his actions, before all that came before is molded into the Mandalorian he is today. Better to be strong, be useful, be the protector he feels deep in his bones. Better to stand alone from those he’s willing to protect. Better to become the Mandalorian, instead of Din Djarin. He can do the most this way.

The child settles into his new life quicker than Din expects. Traversing space to a backwater planet like Sorgan lets Din learn more about the strange little creature he’s spirited away from the Imps. 

It’s male, as far as Din can tell. Eats and sleeps and voids much like any other creature. He tries not to ponder the wizard powers too much.

He’s endlessly curious, to the point of mischief. Din has to snatch him away from dangerous electrical panels, gaps in the floor, the bright blinking lights on the console. 

His appetite is voracious, preferring live meals to ration bars and soup, but he’ll take what he can get.

Sometimes he just sits and watches the stars fly by, glittering in the rounded reflection of his marble eyes. Din wonders what he’s thinking, and if there is any way to communicate with him beyond the directions and admonishments that seem to go unheard. Does he miss a home of his own, a family? Will the Jedi be that for him, or will Din be handing him to a group much like his covert, somber and regulated. With a heart that lends itself to kindness, would he face the same trials as Din, and come out nothing like he went in?

Then the child turns to Din and holds out a claw with a little trill. Din lifts him onto his knee and takes the child’s hand between his thumb and index finger. It’s so much smaller, fragile in his hand, but the gentle squeeze on the pad of his thumb is a comfort Din has denied himself for years. The comfort of a child trusting him, and of knowing that someone might harbor a desire to protect him too.   

Din will never forget it again, because it saved him. 

END

"you were

and always will be

that first ever touch

to have fertilized

the ground

beneath my life’s trees

that first ever rose

to have fragranced

the rest of my memories."

-Sanober Khan

Interlude 1 of the I Think of You series

[phoebe-delia]

fate left scars upon his face with all the damage they had done

I'm having some writer's block at the moment, and when that happens I tend to sort of go one of three ways. 1. I don't write. 2. I write hurt/comfort. 3. I write about something kinda revenge/badass/dramatic.

And THEN the new MCR song came out, "The Foundations of Decay," and it sooo fit the fic and gave me intense Harry vibes, so it's now a songfic.

Also this is dedicated to @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm, the biggest MCR fan I know.

CW: brief smoking, CW: mentions/heavy discussions of and references to canonical child abuse, CW: mentions of and references to physical and emotional child abuse, CW: mentions of scars, Also Dumbledore bashing. Finally, a huge thank you to the lovely @crazybutgood for the very helpful beta! Enjoy some cathartic angst!

Harry’s robes clung to his skin, sodden and soaked with the rain. But despite the wand safely and conveniently stowed in its holster, Harry didn't cast a Warming Charm or an Impervius. He simply let himself shiver against the cold and the boots become muddied as he trudged through the forest, past rows of crumbling headstones to the large, ornate marble tomb.

He stopped several yards away, close enough to see the tomb in all its regal glory but far enough not to make out the name he knew was carved worshipfully into the stone.

Harry stared at the ornate display, so incongruous with the natural greenery of the surrounding trees. Silence hung thickly in the air, a sickly sweet kind of peace that spread over everything like molasses. The rain had slowed to a moderate drizzle, its rage beginning to quiet.

Fitting, really, since Harry's was just beginning.

“Did you know where I got the scar on my face?” he asked the tomb, letting the sound of his voice prod at the static stillness.

The marble had no reply, so Harry continued. “I wonder if you noticed it when you saw me again for the first time. I wonder if you saw my face and recognized my forehead and then looked at my cheek and did a double-take at the scar that ran across my tender skin.

“It was still pretty new, at that point. It wasn’t the first they’d given me, but the others were a bit more hidden. There’s a place on my back where he broke the skin with his belt, and when I snuck into the bathroom to clean it, I couldn’t reach. And there’s a burn mark on my leg, where she threw a pot of boiling water at me. Not to mention the fact that I still flinch when I hear the oven timer go off, and the smell of brandy makes my skin crawl. You don’t see those scars; no one does. That doesn't make them any less real.

“And I never knew what I did to deserve it. Never knew what my crime was, exactly. I tried to stay small and quiet. I tried to be as good as possible, to be of use to them, worth keeping around. Worthy of food, water. Worthy of life.”

Harry walked closer, watching raindrops slide down the smooth marble. He stared right at it, pretending he was looking straight into twinkling blue eyes. 

“And I don’t know why you never seemed to notice me tugging down the sleeves of my robes for the first weeks of each school year. I don’t know why no one, other than my closest friends, seemed to care that I would eat ravenously for the first few days and that I’d start tucking non-perishable food into my pockets at the end-of-the-year banquet.

“You know, when I look back at that time, the difference between you and them becomes more and more blurred. Sure, they made me feel like shit most of the time. But at least they were honest,” he spat. “You lied to me. You acted like you cared about me, and now I realize that all you ever cared about was keeping me alive. Not happy, not fulfilled, not loved—alive. 

“And now you’re gone, and I’m so full of grief. I’m grieving for Sirius—” Harry’s voice cracked, but he continued, “who you abandoned to rot in Azkaban. And for Remus. And my parents. And for myself, because you let me die, little by little, every day for 17 years until I was just broken enough to fix the world.  

“I don’t miss you, but I mourn the fact that I’m having this one-sided conversation with a slab of fucking rock instead of with the coward buried underneath. I wish you were here, not because I want you in my life, but because I want the satisfaction of cutting you out of it forever.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the tomb, “is an altar to a false god. You weren’t the infallible, wise elder everyone wanted you to be. You were just as fragile and weak and dumb as the rest of us; you were just better at faking it.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He slipped a cigarette between his lips and held the lighter to the other end, revealing the flame with a soft click. He let it ignite the end of the cigarette and tucked the lighter back into his pocket before he sat down on the long marble slab, leaning back on a hand as he studied the engraved words in front of him. He used his free hand to take a drag of the cigarette, blowing smoke right over the headstone.

“You told me to pity the living, and not the dead, and that all sounds very poetic and profound, but I’ve done both,” Harry said, before pausing to take another drag. “And I know this…life, post-war, is still going to get harder before it gets easier. But I’ll prove you wrong. Because I don’t need you to tell me fortune cookie truths about life. I value my friends and my family. And Draco, who knows the scars on my body and mind nearly as well as I do, and who makes me happy and fulfilled and loved.” He glared at the headstone with defiance. “I will make my life into something you can’t pity me for.”

With that, Harry leaned over and tapped the ashes of his cigarette against the headstone, letting them spill a bit before he crushed it against the slab and let it drop there, the last bits of smoke still curling into the humid air. 

[multifandom-girlie]

𝐁𝐮𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨

Imagine: Elijah takes you to the small town in Italy where you were born for your birthday and gives you a very nice wake up.

Pairing: Elijah x Vampire!Reader

Warning: Fluff and Smut

Words: 2350

A/N: This Smut is briefly based on the song 'Eyes on Fire' by Blue Foundation and Delena's morning love scene in 4x08 but then again not really, that's why BRIEFLY is the key word. Anyhow, enjoy ! :))

Ever since I met Elijah, he would always be planning surprises or taking me on romantic dates. It's just apart of his charm, he loves spoiling me and making it known that he loves me. I love that he does it even now, after so many years together.

We got married in 998, two years before we were both turned. We hated being turned because we had plans to have children of our own and it was ruined by transitioning into vampires. Clearly, we learnt to live on but we still wish sometimes that we were human. Even if just for a day. 

For my one thousand and forty-fifth birthday, he decided to take me to someplace I'd been but never remembered. My birth place, Portofino in Italy.

It's a beautiful little fishing village just on the Italian Riviera coastline, Southeast of Genoa city. It's littered with pastel coloured houses, high end boutiques and seafood restaurants and a small cobbled square overlooking the harbor which is lined with super yachts. Obviously, it was much more natural when I was last year considering it’s been one thousand years and everything is mainly man made, quite clearly. Still beautiful though.

I woke up listening to the sound of the waves crashing gently just outside of the window, feeling the warm summer breeze of the air hitting me hard, the smell of freshly cooked bread and not forgetting the flashy rays of sun gluing to me, making me feel comforted. I turned a little to realise that this moment I was having was rare, not only was I one year older and in Italy. I am still laid in bed with my husband, which doesn't happen as much as I wanted it too. He's always getting called off by Klaus but today, he was here. 

I’ll seek you out. Flay you alive. One more word and you won’t survive.

I relished in the feeling, backing myself into him as much as possible. Loving the warmth radiating from our naked bodies being pressed together. His muscular arm - that he wasn't laying his head on - wrapped around my waist and pulled me impossibly closer. My hair had fallen to the pillow, leaving my neck exposed which Elijah took advantage of and started to kiss lightly. I smiled widely and closed my eyes again, loving the feeling of his soft lips and stubble brushing against my skin. He moved lower and placed light pecks on my shoulder. As loving as the gesture was, I couldn’t help but think of the other, unspeakable things he could be doing with that mouth. My hand that was weaved with his fingers moved behind me and started to stroke Elijah's bare hips. He hummed in content and stroked my stomach, tracing the curve of my hips as he lowered gradually.

And I’m not scared; of your stolen power. I see right through any hour.

As I was stroking his hips and he had moved to stroke the smooth skin above my clit, I felt his cock begging to be touched. The tip brushing against the bottom of my thoracic spine. Thoughts turning sinful, I reached my hand towards his unbearable hardness and stroked his large cock. His breaths getting harder, were tickling my neck making me speed up. I moved forward a little to make it easier for me to pleasure him and after a few seconds he took my hand away and moved me against him again. I was confused at first but realised why he did it. It was my birthday, he likes to make me feel good on my birthday. He doesn't let me take care of him.

I won’t soothe your pain. I won’t ease your strain.

He clutched my hand and brought in front of me, allowing him to close the small gap of space I had made when moving forward. His free hand reached in between us and grabbed his length which he began stroking up and down the warmth between my legs. I was humming in delight when the hand attached to the arm he was laying on, began to stroke my hair. Stretching my smile even more. He finally stopped stroking my clit and situated his large penis at the ingress of my vagina.

You’ll be waiting in vain. I’ve got nothing for you to gain.

He moved his hand away again and crept the pads of his fingertips up the side of my body until he found and gathered my breast in his hand. As he was toying around with my nipple he suddenly thrusted into me and hit my sweet spot almost instantly. 

I’m taking it slow. Feeding my flame. Shuffling the cards of your game.

I threw my head back into the crook of his neck, whilst he kept up his heavy but slow thrusts. He moved his hand from my breast and grabbed my hand that was clutching the sheets beneath us. He held it so he had an example of the pleasure rippling through out me. I occupied my other hand by running it through his hair. I felt him watching me closely whilst driving me closer to climax but he decided to top it off with light kisses down my ear and neck. When he got as far as he could with his lips, he occupied his free hand to trail down the rest of my body.

And just in time; in the right place. Suddenly, I will play my ace.

The grip on his hand that I had gained, was getting arguably strengthier. I could hear the strain on the bones in his hand but nevertheless he kept his composure. His other hands fingers traced down my spine, creating pleasurable shivers. I screwed my eyes shut and bit my lip hard. I waited for him to pull out so I could turn around. I managed to and pressed my lips, that had specs of my blood from biting too hard on them against his. We pulled away he darted his tongue out and tasted some of my blood and I flipped us around.

I won’t soothe your pain. I won’t ease your strain. You’ll be waiting in vain. I got nothing for you too gain.

I pushed down on one of his shoulders and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. I couldn’t help but smile at how lucky I was. I leaned down and kissed him lovingly more than lustfully. When I pulled away, he flipped us back over. I grabbed his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. His tongue slipped into my mouth and I smiled whilst continuing the kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer and rubbing my wet heat against his crotch. The tip of his penis was stroking my stomach as I was continuing the loving kiss we had shared, just moments before. I smiled against his mouth and sat up, continuing to glue my mouth to his own.

Eyes on fire. Your spine is ablaze.

Arms belonging to me, settled around his neck and gently pulled him closer to me as I rested my weight on his thighs. His lips were removed from my own and had taken their place below my ear, right next to my jaw and kissed it. Eyes of my own fluttered shut and my hips began a steady pace on his thigh. Grinding on it and feeling my high get inevitably closer. He smiled against my neck and pulled away, grabbing my face.

“Open your eyes, beautiful.”

I obeyed his wishes and stared deeply into him as he did to me. I stopped the movement of my hips on his thigh, stopping my release from layering on to his leg. 

“I’m sorry my love. I got carried away, I’m desperate.”

He chuckled at me and kissed my forehead, cheeks, eyes, nose and finally left a lingering kiss on my lips.

“Don’t ever be sorry my beautiful wife, you do whatever you want. I promise either way I will willingly give you your release your so desperately wanting.”

I looked into the dark but romantic abyss of his eyes and smiling. Remembering more intently than usual, just why I am and ever was in love with this wonderfully rare creating of a man.

“You really don't the mind ?”

He once again chuckled.

“Who am I to deny my Queen on her birthday ? You shall have whatever you would like and more.”

I rolled my eyes. The amount of times he's said that.

“I love you Mr Mikaelson.”

He clutched my face with his hands and whispered.   

“I love you Mrs Mikaelson.”

I smiled and kissed him once again. 

Felling any foe with my gaze. 

We continued to show our love to each other with our mouths when I decided to more a little further. I allowed my hand to wander to his always impressive length and stroke it a little, he groaned into my mouth in pleasure. He still mustered up the strength to remove my hand anyway, no matter his feelings. He clutched my hips and pulled away from my mouth, looking into my eyes. My hands wrapped around his neck tighter and eyes stayed glued to him whilst he lowered my body down on to his insanely erect member. I sighed in pleasure and the light smile stayed on my face as I bit my lip, feeling him reach my limit already. Being the only one who had been able to reach it, turned Elijah on more and he grinned at me. 

And just in time. In the right place. Steadily emerging with grace.

His fingers near enough engraved white prints onto my love handles as he kept my pace steady. My hands clutched his shoulders as I rose and lowered myself on him once again. We rested our foreheads against one another's and moaned. I kept up the pace of my fast bounces and he removed his forehead from mine; ducking his head to show as much affections to my breasts as I was doing to his cock. I started to get sloppy as my energy was draining from the pleasure he was filling me with. He noticed the pace slowing down and hugged me to him as he mercilessly thrusted his hips into mine. The soft moans that were previously filling the room, were now rougher and teamed with the slaps of our skin from the thrusts. My hips, thighs and back were flushed with the prints of his hands from clutching tightly. The rough thrusts were blurring my vision more and more the closer I got to release. 

Felling any foe with my gaze.

His hands groped my behind and pulled me even closer to him so we were no flushed against each other. My elevated position allowed my breasts to caress his face with every thrust, making him grin like an idiot. He kissed every inch of both of them and loved every second of it, knowing full well it was driving me impossible closer to my release. I held the post of the bed and forced myself to restart my bounces on him, only this time faster. His head hit the headboard as he threw it back, though it didn't cause any pain. I grabbed one of the hands that was almost glued to my waist as he was gripping so hard and rubbed it on my clit. Luckily, Elijah understood what I meant when I did that and roughened his pace, pressing harder and rubbing faster. Following that I used my hand to grip his balls, driving him closer to orgasm. 

Steadily emerging with grace.

“Elijah, honey...i’m so close.”

Once again, my energy had rapidly disappeared and I had to result to leaving him to the work again. It didn't stop me from rocking myself back and forth though, whilst clutching one of his thighs with one hand and his balls with the other.

“I know, beautiful. Just a little longer for me though, sweetheart. I want to make it a birthday you'll never forget, amore mio.”

I smiled at his words. He never fails to make it a day I won't forget.

“I’m turning one thousand and forty-five honey and I remember this part of my birthday every year, I'm sure I won't forget this one.”

As if he was retaliating to my statement, he flipped me over on to my hands and knees. Just when I thought this couldn't get any better, he pressed himself against my behind and caressing my breasts as they were hanging down, due to my position. I bit my lip and he rubbed the tight hole of my behind, as if he was waiting for my permission. 

Felling any foe with my gaze.

We'd never really thought about anal as much, maybe we just never got around to it but now it was approaching it seemed forbidden. I was still itching to see if it was so bad after all though, so I moaned and push back into him. He grinned and grabbed my hip, lining himself up and thrusting in with no hesitation. It stung a little but nothing I couldn't handle. I let my head fall down into the comforter, crying in pleasure loudly and almost ripping the sheets from me clutching so much. He groaned even louder than before and thrusted in again and again and again. At this point, I had never felt so fulfilled-sexually-in my life. I hummed in content and started shake slightly from pleasure. I could feel him start to throb alerting me of him getting seconds away from release.

Steadily emerging with grace.

I pulled myself away and sat on top of him again, wanting him to come inside of my pussy. I kissed him deeply and bounced on top and my first bounce had him coming already and I smiled widely before allowing myself to release onto him to. My orgasm glided thickly down his cock reaching his base and the feeling of the my warm juices, got him off even more.

I threw my head back in pleasure and he collapsed beside me, pulling the sheets over us and ushering me to cuddle into his side, which I did. I placed a sloppy kiss on his chest, tightening my hold on him.

“Yes, absolutely will not forget this one.”

He chuckled along with my giggle and kissed my head.

“I should hope so, Mrs Mikaelson. I tried so hard that I experimented, I didn't even know if you'd like it....although judging by your flushed face and beautiful smile on your face, I'm willing to gamble that I did in fact honour my wishes ?”

I shook my head and kissed him lovingly.

“Of course you did, honey.”

He grinned and kissed me once again.

“Happy birthday, beautiful.”

I kissed him again in gratefulness. 

“Thank you, handsome. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

MASTERLIST

[jiminrings]

Lunchbox lovers request:

So I would love to see a sit down talk between yoongi and mc. Just so like mc can sort her feelings out about everything, and like get advice about forgiving Kook. Idk, I just want those two to have a chat between besties.

-🐞

cold senior!y/n x stem major koo masterlist :D

yoongi will be on y/n’s team — always

“what do you want for dinner?”

yoongi had the best afternoon nap anyone could ever possibly have

it was a mid-afternoon nap actually and something about it just hit different this time

there’s days when it’s extremely warm y’know? not hot, but like uncomfortably warm

it was that uncomfortably warm afternoon when everyone’s collectively feeling sleepy?? turn the airconditioning on to its coolest and sleep without a shirt on and be surrounded by a pillow on both sides......?

yeah that afternoon nap awhile ago really put yoongi on a happy mood

he’s not asking what you want for dinner because he slept good :D

excellent afternoon naps aren’t the only things that make him this way!! lol you could also count days when he receives a random gift out of nowhere and the days when you replace the toothpaste instead of him

but really, whether or not he gets these instances, he genuinely just asks you what you want for dinner so he could either cook it or order it

“what do you want for dinner?” yoongi nudges you from your spot on the couch, about to invade your personal space again and lie down on your lap before you get to cooking

you only hum in response, your best attempt at returning his affection coming in the form of tussling his hair

“we already have dinner, yoongs.”

omg that’s nice then

“you already cooked dinner? even while i was still asleep? wow, look at you,” he praises you abundantly, attempting to pinch your nose when you dodge him

.... that’s the thing though

yoongi watches you visibly freeze when you were doing anything in the first place besides watch your show in a still position

“i didn’t.”

oh

if your dorm was already silent, it became even mORE silent now

if you didn’t cook, then that means-

“jungkook brought dinner.”

yoongi finishes for you and it’s the far worse equivalent of two mothers bringing their own turkeys for thanksgiving

the show you’ve been rewatching is white noise at this point that you can’t recognize anything in this room besides yoongi

it’s been two weeks

that’s literally half a month

two weeks ever since jungkook’s been pouring active effort into working for your forgiveness and normalcy with him out of his own volition

alright maybe you’ll just focus on the gray streaks in yoongi’s new hair <3

and maybe he’ll just focus on the blue stain on your pink pajamas because he put them in the same load when they were newly-purchased <3

yeah but no you can’t do this forever

he can’t do this forever

you and yoongi can’t do this forever

the two of you can’t keep dancing around each other whenever the mention of jungkook pops up because the two of you have two dRASTICALLY different perspectives

right now, yoongi’s just awkwardly laying on your lap and he’s can’t even look up ay the ceiling

“do you wanna talk about it now?”

you end up caving by asking him first, a sigh of relief from holding it in which makes him relieved because he didn’t want to initiate that

“yeah, let’s talk,” he pulls himself up and he’s now looking at you with much embarrassment, “can we even have this conversation while completely sober?”

yoongi’s really rEALLY looking for a distraction to help ease this discomfort in his chest

okay you get where he’s coming from

“you mean you wanna share a joint with me while we have a long-overdue conversation?”

you chuckle at the mental image of yoongi seeing literal stars and freaking out about it, probably crying while he chats to you

“mhmmm. would probably calm our nerves. o-or maybe just mine, atleast.”

to be honest, he doesn’t even have quite a clue on wHY he’s nervous!! it’s the two of you and you’ve always been comfy with each other

that’s the whole foundation of your friendship — you’re fully comfortable with each other and the two of you find it difficult to be this comfy with anyone else

if he really delves deeper into it though, yoongi would know that the reason he’s so nervous for this conversation with you is because he doesn’t want to fight with you

you’d only have occasional tiffs and arguments ever once in a while, but never a fight!!

he’s not assuming that your conversation would turn into a fight, but that possibility scares him still because what if he loses you?

:(((

and if the two of you do fight, it would be over a junior named jungkook who broke your heart and probably insulted you to your core

he doesn’t want to romanticize it either, but if the two of you do fight, yoongi would want it to be something entirely else

he’s willing to have a fight about being messy and how it frustrates you so much

he’d pick a fight over his clingy habits and how it sometimes makes you feel insecure

he’d pick a fight over how he wants to be your number one best friend so bad that it’s beyond unhealthy he’s making it a competition

he’d want a fight over him being a lil insecure of seokjin at times because the two of you get along so well and know much mORE things than he ever could and he can’t always be included in the inside jokes

what yoongi doesn’t want is to fight over jungkook.

“that sounds nice,” you agree because maybe you too are feeling a little antsy, “but we could do that after.”

he nods, his hands curled to his lap that he only meets your eyes now

“okay.”

oh my god

what now

everything’s put out of the way and it’s now the part when you actually tALK

“are you mad at me?”

you take the first approach and it’s already heavy right from the start, the question weighing especially hard in your mind the past few weeks

“what? no. i could never be mad at you,” he answers just as quick and precise, “i’m mad at him.”

“and i understand that.”

you really do know where yoongi’s coming from because after all, you’re the receiving end of all of jungkook’s words at the time

but that’s the thing!!!

that’s tHEE thing that bothers yoongi the most

you have this feeling of guilt because you feel like you’re betraying yoongi in a way

“then why are you letting jungkook in again?”

it’s as if it’s a double-edged sword and merely entertaining jungkook would be a stab in the back to yoongi, even if you don’t owe him anything

“because i understand him too.”

yoongi deadpans at that, a tired sigh falling instinctively from his lips but his mind’s more awake now

“god, seriously?” he shakes his head and outstretches his hands to hold your shoulders in place. “y/n you are the most lovable person i know. you believe him when he told you otherwise-“

“i-i know it isn’t true. it’s not true when it comes from jungkook.”

your voice wavers but it’s not the only thing that’s coming in waves, your resolve blurring even more when you see yoongi fighting back his own tears

“but when it comes from me i-“

“it’s not true either.”

all that yoongi does is take you to his chest the moment your body feels limp with the sigh that escapes you, a knowing body of tears coming next

your parents’ divorce is the furthest thing from fresh but the impact it placed on you renews without warning, the thoughts coming in waves

they were sure to reiterate over and over again that it wasn’t your fault, but god the way that they never even bothered afterwards made you think otherwise

“i-i just feel like a placemarker and neither of them came back for me, y’know? don’t get me wrong, i love my aunt to pieces and she’s family and-“

your faint sobs rack your ribs and yoongi can feel them, a relief that your face is buried to his shoulder so that you wouldn’t see him cry

“jin and i are your family too.”

they are but deep down, you know it’s a whole other ball game

“b-but that’s because you’re unrelated to me. i don’t remind any of you of the other. i’m not your daughter.”

it really wasn’t as harsh as how your words cut out, but it just breaks yoongi’s heart to know how difficult is must have been and is for you

you mumble when you calm down enough, playing with a loose thread on the cardigan you’ve gifted him on his birthday this year

“jungkook didn’t know that sore spot. he couldn’t have, but i’m not defending him either, yoongi.”

you mean it with full sincerity and he’s trying to digest your words as best as he could before his bias gets the best of him

“it’s on him for being horrible to me, but it’s on me for relating what he said to what i felt a long time ago.”

yoongi opens and closes his mouth, but before he does, you’re lifting your head up to interrupt him

god he’s aLSO crying

“use the sleeves to wipe your snot, dumbo. it’s not even that expensive!!” you chuckle when you urge him to do so, making him both frustrated and sheepish because his goddamn snot interrupted you

you lean on his shoulder and stay that way, this time being a rare occurrence in which you cling to him like a koala

“and i know that he shouldn’t have said those things to me either way. i do.”

yoongi nods at that, capturing his point fully

he insists on patting you on the forehead, drawing circles and definitely not a penis as he drawls his words

“he can’t take back what he said, y/n.”

“but that doesn’t mean he can’t redeem himself, yoongs.”

you offer him a timid smile, turning into a bigger one when you know just the right approach to satiate him enough

“jungkook taking accountability is the bare minimum, though,” you chuckle when he nods eagerly to the point he gives himself whiplash, “which is why i’m being smart and haven’t fully forgave him yet.”

…

…..

yoongi sighs when the two of you spend the pause in silence, speaking in all honesty

“i don’t know if i can forgive the little shit.”

“you don’t need to.”

you say just as genuine, a reassuring smile on his face to ease the focused knot on his brows

“you don’t owe it to me, yoongs. i know what you’re thinking.”

you really do

he tends to look at you in high regard even when you tell him that he shouldn’t, and it leads to him with the mindset that he really should appease his best friend at all times

“i eventually will,” he admits quietly. “just not now.”

“that’s okay too.”

it was supposed to be another bout of silence but yoongi actually breaks this time, blurting out words once he felt that the coast was clear

he just needs to get this off his chest before this heart-to-heart moment dwindles

“i don’t want to sound weird, but you’re like, my platonic girlfriend, y’know? my soulmate in a very platonic way, but no one says either that your soulmate has to be in a romantic sense and-…”

you exclaim in relief, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you jolt him by the shoulders

“god, finally. i’ve always wanted to tell you that i feel the same. you’re my soulmate, i’m pretty sure. my very, very platonic boyfriend i live with.”

yoongi sighs, stares, then fiNALLY heartily laughs in relief

everything’s out of the way :)

“we’re good. we always will be.”

you’re about to get up to fulfill yoongi’s suggestion earlier, being cut short when he gently pulls you by your forearm when you stood

“i’ll always be on your team — you know that right?”

yoongi means it with his whole heart, just one more reminder he wants you to reaffirm in your mind for the night

“i’ll always be on yours too, yoongs.”

[junicai]

ridin’ n rollin’.

| order no. | 8/21

| summary | When the world is already off kilter, should you not free fall down to meet it? 

| word count | 2.4k

| warnings | injuries

| era | circa. April 2020

Aria stumbled into the changing rooms, fist shoved into her mouth to stop the broken cry from jumping out on the wave of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Her free hand was pulling at the mic pack, desperately trying to unwind it from where it was tucked in on the waistband of her trousers. 

A pair of hands joined her, unravelling the wires quickly and efficiently. Once the mic pack was removed, it was handed off to someone else - Aria wasn’t sure who - and she was being spun around to face a concerned Renjun.

“What happened?” He demanded, already searching the rest of her body for injuries. 

Aria didn’t know. 

The day had started off on the wrong foot; like god himself had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. 

Donghyuck had stumbled into the bathroom at six in the morning, and his retching woke up Jisung who was sleeping next door. The maknae had sleepily shuffled into the bathroom to see what was wrong, but when he was greeted with a shivering Donghyuck clutching to the toilet bowl like a lifeline, the tall boy snapped awake. 

Aria had been woken up, and then Jeno, and Renjun and Jaemin woke up soon afterwards from all the noise caused by the commotion. 

It took them two hours, but by eight, Donghyuck was curled miserably into the corner of the couch, pale cheeks contrasted by a bright red flush sitting high on his cheekbones. A waste bin was placed on the floor in front of him, and two fever reducers were all but force-fed to the boy.

At first, Donghyuck had adamantly refused to take them; saying that he wasn’t sick, he had just eaten something that hadn’t agreed with him and he was fine now, see? 

Aria all but scoffed at that. She held it in, because she knew she’d be doing the exact same thing, would she be in his position. The broadcast performance was scheduled to be filmed that evening, and no one liked stepping down. Not even for a day. 

It was only when Aria had fixed him with a pleading look, eyes wide and worried, that Donghyuck caved. The two pills were swallowed, and when he was once again comfortably swaddled in as many blankets as they could salvage from around the dorm did the members return to their own morning routine. 

After all; the world doesn’t stop turning for a sick member, although sometimes Aria wished it did. She hated to leave Donghyuck alone; and she knew he’d never admit it to them, but he hated it to. 

All of them did, really. It was visible in the way that Jeno had put the back of his hand up to Donghyuck’s forehead three times in the last ten minutes; in the way Jisung was hovering anxiously, waiting for an instruction to go get a glass of water or another pillow; the way that Renjun had only rolled his eyes a tiny bit when Donghyuck insisted he was well enough to perform but stumbled backwards onto the couch when he attempted to stand up. Jaemin had lunged for his arm, catching the sick boy before he could do himself some more damage. 

The van had pulled up outside the dorms several hours later; and Donghyuck had waved them a sullen goodbye from his position on the couch. Aria closed the door behind her, but not before reminding him again to take another fever reducer in an hour, and to keep himself hydrated.

Donghyuck had rolled his eyes, and told her to stop worrying. “You’ll turn yourself grey, mom.” 

Aria had narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, swinging the door shut. She relished in the bright burst of laughter that echoed through the hall. 

The journey to the venue was quiet. 

As was the changing room - the only noise coming softly from Chenle’s earbuds that he’d put in the second they’d located their room, and the soft bustling of the stylists as they moved around the members. 

Aria was tensed in her chair, anxiety running up and down her spine at the thought of something happening to Donghyuck while they were gone.

What if his fever spiked again? 

What if he fell and didn’t have the strength to get up? 

What if-

“Noona.” Jisung’s voice dragged Aria out from her own head. His larger hand encircled her smaller one, gently but firmly unravelling the fingers that were digging her nails into her palm. 

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Thanks, Sung.” She whispered, patting his hand lightly. 

Jisung made no move to leave, and instead took up the vacant spot beside her on the plastic-covered sofa in the corner of the room. “You’re worried.” He stated. 

Aria turned to look at him. Jisung had lost a lot of the baby fat from his cheeks that year - accentuating his jawline. He looked older, more mature. It suited him, she decided. Maturity was something he wore like it belonged on him; settling like the sun sets comfortably without fail. 

“We all are.” Aria sighed out eventually, taking a glance around the room. Jaemin was laid back in the chair as a stylist worked on fluffing up his hair, keyboard clicking obnoxiously as he typed on his phone. 

Normally the sound would bother Jeno - who was sitting adjacent, in a similar position - was it not for his phone making identical clicks. 

Aria couldn’t blame them; she’d turned her phone off silent the second they’d left the dorms in case Donghyuck called one of them. 

If the boy knew how frazzled the group was without him there, he’d have a fit. He’d never let them live it down. 

“It’s hyung, noona. He’ll be fine.” Jisung said, nodding resolutely. 

“He will, Sung. He’ll be fine, and then we can all go back to complaining about his presence.” Renjun made his presence known as he entered the room, directing his attention towards the pair immediately. 

“Ari, they’re looking for you for mic check.” He said, jerking his head over his shoulder. 

“Right, okay. Thanks, Injunnie.”

The following thirty minutes passed in a smushed blur of costume fittings, foundation brushes and an uncomfortably suffocating amount of hairspray. Aria was coughing by the time the stylist let up, waving a hand to try and disperse the smell. 

“Ari? We gotta go.” Jeno called, already halfway out the door. 

“C-coming,” She choked out, eyes watering slightly but determined not to wipe at them, less she end up with a streak of black across her cheek. 

By the time Aria had met up with the others in the wings, sliding her in-ears in, her breathing had steadied, and a little knot was beginning to form in the bottom of her stomach. She still got nervous before performing - didn’t think it ever really went away completely - but those were normally excited nerves.

This pit that was slowly growing felt foreboding. 

It went ignored, sliding under the radar as her in-ears began the steady metronome click that she’d become so accustomed to. She zoned out, and zoned back in, body moving in time with the others in flawless unity. 

Dancing without a member always felt off - felt empty, but it was nothing the group hadn’t dealt with previously. They knew the formations, knew who took what lines to fill in, and where their positions changed to keep formations looking slick and clean and not like one of them had been knocked over like a bowling pin; out for the count. 

Aria stepped backwards to let Chenle take her place as centre. Her mind was busy, tracking Jaemin’s positioning and making sure she stayed far enough away to give him space; so when a heavy, piercing sound ran through her right ear, she hardly registered it. 

It took her a moment, but her gasp of pain was heard over the microphones, a both hands coming to clap over her ear as the in-ear continued to bleed head-scrambling sounds into her brain. Aria tilted sideways, knees crumbling beneath her as she lost her balance and went crashing to the floor. 

She didn’t hear the gasp that floated up around the room; skimming right over her head that was pounding like a sledgehammer. Her hands scratched at the floor, trying for purchase and finding none.

Jeno, behind her was already half-dancing his way closer to her, and trying to help her back up without completely abandoning the song entirely. Aria’s breath was coming fast; the tech team having enough sense to cut her mic for the time being. 

When a half bar of silence sounded instead of Aria’s vocals, Chenle stepped in, ever the professional, singing her lines for her as the girl tried to regain her balance. 

Despite Jeno’s insistent push towards the wings, Aria shook her head minutely at the boy, rejoining the second last chorus. She could feel the boys’ eyes on her, burning into her back.

The in-ears bounced around her neck on their chords, having unconsciously tugged them out from her ears. 

Per the formation, there was to be a metre and a half gap in between each member, but Jaemin paid no mind to that, coming to stand almost directly beside her in the final few bars of the song; completely prepared to catch her should she take another stumble.

Aria was the first off the stage, stumbling over her own legs.

She stumbled into the changing rooms, fist shoved into her mouth to stop the broken cry from jumping out on the wave of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

Her vision swam like she was sea-sick.

With her free hand pulling at the mic pack, desperately trying to unwind it from where it was tucked in on the waistband of the orange trousers, her breath was coming in heavy, shallow gasps.

A pair of hands joined her, unravelling the wires quickly and efficiently. Once the mic pack was removed, it was handed off to someone else - Aria wasn’t sure who - and she was being spun around to face a concerned Renjun.

“What happened?” He demanded, already searching the rest of her body for injuries.

“I don’t- I can’t- ringing-” Aria gasped, hands coming to clutch at Renjun’s jacket. “My ear, it’s- it’s ringing, I can’t-” 

“Ari, I need you to breath, hold on a second, okay?” Renjun asked, shooting a look at Jaemin, who went to gently pull off Aria’s sweat-soaked jacket. 

She sunk to the ground, knees giving out for a second time. Renjun followed her, Jeno’s arms slipping beneath her armpits to stop her hitting the ground too hard. 

The only sound in the room was Aria’s uneven breathing, coming in irregular pants and choking her. 

The members settled around her, but being mindful to stay a comfortable distance away. Should Aria slip too far into her own mind, too many hands could send her flying into another panic.

“I can’t hear.” Aria whispered eventually, hands still maintaining their tight grip on Renjun’s jacket. He inhaled sharply, turning to face her dead on. 

“What? What do you mean you can’t hear?” He questioned, his own hands moving to gently grip the sides of her face. 

“Ringing,” Was the only explanation that Aria offered, canting sideways in his grip. 

Renjun choked lightly, trying to hold her upright. “No no, Ari, you gotta stay sitting like this, okay? What happened?” 

Chenle and Jeno exchanged a glance. 

“Did she hit her head?” Chenle asked.

Jeno instantly shook his head. “No, I saw her fall. She was clutching at,” he pointed. “Her right ear though.” 

Renjun looked back to him, before returning his focus to Aria. “Hey, Ari? Ari, your ear is ringing, right? Am I right?” 

Aria nodded slowly. 

“Okay, that’s okay. Was the feed too loud, or something?” 

This time, Aria shook her head, lifting a hand to mime an explosion by the ear. “Was like it exploded.” 

Jisung looked frantic. “Did her earpiece blow up?!” 

Jaemin emerged from the doorway, a mic pack clutched in his hand and a dark look on his face. “Feedback.” He grit out. “Mic pack malfunctioned, sent nearly 120 decibels into her right ear.” 

Jaemin held up the offending piece of equipment. “It even fried the voice coils.” 

Renjun was trying to keep Aria from slipping sideways. “What does that mean?” 

“It means, Ari just got blasted with the sound of a fire cracker right in her eardrum. It’ll be ringing for a while.” Jaemin moved to crouch behind Aria, taking some of the weight from him. 

“Permanently?” Jisung asked.

“They don’t know, but probably not. It’s mostly the shock of it, that causes ringing, I think.” 

Jeno swiped a hand over Aria’s forehead, swooping the hair back from her face. She whimpered at the act, nosing her way closer to the hand. Leaning down to her left ear, Jeno lowered his voice to let him whisper gently. 

“Hey, baby,” He began, keeping his voice level. “You’re gonna be okay, alright?” 

Renjun’s arms tightened around Aria’s middle, and it wasn’t long until Jisung and Chenle moved forwards to do the same. 

“The in-ear got a little loud, that’s all,” Jeno continued, hand coming to gently flick at her right ear. “No explosions - your ear is still there. Do you want to try standing up with me?”

At Aria’s mild agreement, Jeno shifted into a crouch and the multiple pairs of arms around her waist loosened minutely.

“You’ll be a bit off balance, baby, but that’s fine. That’s normal, and you’re okay. If you feel like you’re going to fall, then I can carry you, okay?” 

“So, what I’m hearing is, we’re never using in-ears again?” Donghyuck whisper-yelled from his position on the couch; Aria tucked into his chest. 

His fever had broken while they had gone, and their manager suspected it was just a twenty four hour bug.

Aria shifted slightly, whining at the noise, and Donghyuck instantly began crooning at her, whispering soft words of comfort in her left ear to get her to go back to sleep. 

Renjun rolled his eyes. “Jaemin considered it.” 

“Hyung looked like he wanted to murder someone.” 

"I still do."

[elysianslove]

heaven on your lips; matsukawa smau

synopsis; he finds refuge in that no matter what, you will always come back to him. he finds refuge in that he’s the sole reason for your pleasure and happiness. whether that be from the sidelines, or from within the four walls of your home, in the confines of your bedroom. no matter what, you’re his, and he’s yours, even if neither of you seem to notice it.

pairings; matsukawa issei x fwb!reader

genre; fluff, smut, humor

warnings; cursing and inappropriate language. nsfw and suggestive themes. smut under the cut in this chapter! 

masterlist  |  previous , chapter seven , next

the phone laying by you on your bed blares to life for the nth time, issei’s name flashing across your screen as he calls you. it’s his fifth phone call, but there isn’t a limit to the amount of texts he’s left you. it’s all blur of guilty curses and apologies, but it matters very little to you, not when you can’t think of anything but the last words he’d told you, the last words you’d accepted from him. 

do i really have to make an excuse to not want to talk to you? 

have you always meant this little to him? it’s true that this arrangement is what brought you two closer, why you learned to find comfort in him, how the trust between you increased, but you had always been friends before that. being friends with benefits with him shouldn’t be the foundation of your relationship, but maybe, it is. maybe you’re another body for him to use, another for him to discard once he grows bored, nothing special, as you had once assumed otherwise. 

lost in thought, the sound of your doorbell is muffled, only acknowledged by you once it grows too repetitive, too loud. you don’t think twice as you stand up from your bed, sniffling lightly, tears trapped behind sorrowful eyes as you walk out of your bedroom, towards your home’s front door. 

the moment you open it, the visitor pushes himself inside without a second thought, speaking up, “why the hell aren’t you answering my calls?” 

your mind finally processes the person before you, and you slam your door angrily, facing him as you retort, “why the fuck are you here?” 

issei sighs, movements erratic as he paces, brushing his hand through his hair. he dons a simple black shirt and black jeans, a familiar chain peaking out from the collar, and his hair’s an unkept mess, the way it always is when he spends too long running his hands through it, leaving you to swat and smack at his arm, telling him he’ll go bald before thirty at this rate. he never listens. 

“because you weren’t answering my calls,” he replies, as if the answer were obvious. 

you scoff at him, moving past him and starting towards your bedroom. unsurprisingly, he follows. the moment you’re inside, he reaches for you, hand grasping at your wrist. you don’t pull at it, you don’t brush him off. 

“don’t push me away,” he sternly says, warns, and even if he keeps his expression neutral, and his tone as steady as he can manage, you can tell he’s angry. because you know him. you know issei, know him like back of your hand, know him better than you know yourself. but angry at who? at you? at himself? for what reason? 

cutting off your train of thought, he leads you closer to him, and you falter in your step, hesitating, face turned away from him. he’s closer now, close enough to easily lift a hand up to your jaw, to urge you to turn your gaze towards him again. when your hesitation deepens, so does his hand’s hold on your jaw, and he digs his fingers harsher, turning your face, lifting your chin up. 

his eyes are dark, observing you, eyeing you. you want to be angry at him, and you want to push him away, want to draw a red line between you, a proper boundary, to put a stop to it all, but then he kisses you. it’s not an uncommon or unusual action, especially that it’s initiated by him, but it feels different. he feels different. his mouth on yours feel warmer, hotter, more passionate than ever, more fueled by desire than before. his lips fit against yours perfectly, as they always do, and he tilts his head more, the hand on your jaw slipping to your throat, cupping your neck lightly as he deepens the kiss, his other hand rising opposite to the other one on your neck. 

impatiently, he presses a knee in between your legs, pushing you backwards, towards where your bed stands, and it’s when you pull back, and breathlessly, you interrupt, “issei i—” 

pressing his mouth against yours, your words are swallowed by him, and finally, your knees hit the back of the bed, and you fall, with him on top of you. “don’t think,” he tells you. “just be— just be with me right now.” 

mouth finding yours urgently again, issei’s hand moves to your tank top, pressing beneath the clothing to feel your warm skin. it travels upwards, reaching for your breasts, as his lips kiss wetly, hotly along your cheek, to your jaw, down to your neck, marking you. his fingers expertly pinch at your nipples and his rough, large hands knead and massage at your breasts, and you feel your skin grow warmer by the second, overwhelmed with desire and need. 

hurriedly, he tugs your tank top upwards, and you raise your arms up, allowing him to peel the clothing off of you, before he tosses it carelessly to the side. your own hands urgently follow, pulling at his thin shirt, and he hears you, loud and clear. sitting up on his knees, he reaches for the collar of the shirt from behind, grabbing it and pulling up, shrugging off his shirt before he falls on top of you once more. his bare chest presses tightly against yours, your hardened nipples grazing along his skin as he kisses you again, gasping lightly against you, his breathing heavy. 

your remaining clothes are disregarded in a blur, too quickly for you to process, eliciting too little care from you, and this time, when issei falls onto the bed, you’re the one to fall on top of him. his cock stands heavy against his stomach, thick and hard. it brushes against your skin as you crawl on top of him, straddling him as you kiss him with a gasp, sending a shiver down your spine. you’re impatient as you settle your soaked cunt against his cock, dragging your folds along, smearing your arousal, and the feel of him against you has your arms weakening, pushing you to fall into his arms. 

“please, want you inside of me,” you mumble against his shoulder, your breath faltering as you continue to grind against him, your desire increasing to a point of a hazy mind. 

“can’t,” he replies, strained through gritted teeth. “don’t be stupid. you’ll hurt yourself.” 

you choke out a moan at the impressive length pressing against you, at his words, at his voice, so deep, so raspy, so gravel. shivering in his hold, you press harder, feeling his hand soothingly travel down the arch of your back, to meet the roll of your hips, and past that, to press at your entrance. 

“you’re making such a mess already,” he coos, tilting his head slightly and reaching with his other hand to grab your face, lifting it off of his shoulder. your brows are furrowed deeply, mouth slightly open, your cheeks squished in his strong hold. and just as he’s raised your face to look at it, he sinks two of his fingers inside of you, stretching you out, and watching as your eyes roll back, your mouth trying to open wider to gasp out more, but only drool spills. “already so fucked out from just my fingers?” he teases, pressing in deeper, before beginning to thrust at a steady pace. 

“i-issei,” you hiccup, hands grasping at his forearm as he fucks you with his fingers, your cunt drenching his cock and balls sticky from your arousal, the slide of his fingers easy. as your orgasm approaches you unbearably fast, you tighten your fists around his arm, your body tensing and arching into his fingers. his pace speeds up, until the band snaps and you yell out a sob, moaning brokenly as the tremors course through you. issei’s hand remains around your face, his fingers buried in your cunt. “ready, ready, ready, please,” you chant, begging. 

he tuts, slipping his fingers out of you. “are you? can you take it?” you nod urgently, as much as you can manage with his hold on your jaw. he hums in consideration, feeling you try to press against him as much as you can. this is in no way enough prep for you, not with how big he is, but he’s long since known your body, long since learned it and all it’s capable of. it had been a rhetorical question. of course you can take it. no one can like you. 

his hand on your jaw trails down to your shoulder, his other, sticky, hand finding your waist, before quickly, you find yourself flipped onto your back, with issei hovering over you. instinctively, your legs spread for him, and he finds space to settle in between them, lifting himself up closer to you, until his elbow rests by your head. hand gripping his cock, he aligns himself at your cunt, pressing the tip at your entrance. the size difference between you and him, in everything, is so mesmerizing, but especially as he stares down at your cunt trying to take him in. he can see as the tip disappears inside of you, and if he had no self control, he’d cum right away. your walls are so inviting and warm, so tight around him, pressing hotly around his cock. 

your hand squeezes his shoulder, and when he looks up at you, you whisper to him with a shaky voice, “slow, slow, please.” 

he glances back down at where he’s sinking into you, at your tightened stomach, at your heaving chest, your hardened nipples, your swollen lips, before he meets your glossy eyes, and with a rough voice, he says, “no.” 

when his hips snap against yours, you scream, unmindful of your neighbors or the entire building’s residents. you scream, your hands latching onto his shoulder as you try to push yourself further away from him, as your body seizes and tenses and trembles awfully and your cunt spams and clenches around him. 

“did you just cum?” 

he sounds taunting, but also, weirdly proud. as if this were a stroke to his ego, somehow. it probably is. 

“there we go. that’s my girl,” he continues, lifting himself onto his hands instead of elbows. looking back up at him, you’re greeted with his chain dangling right by your face, his face wearing a pleased expression, grinning down at you. now comfortable, he starts thrusting, pulling out before pressing back in quickly, efficiently. with every thrust, your body jerks, breasts bouncing, moans and wails hiccuping. “who’s fucking you this good, hm?” 

you sniffle, hands gripping at his biceps as your legs lift off the bed to wrap around his waist. 

“who’s fucking you stupid, doll?” leaning closer to you, he whispers against your lips, “say my fucking name,” his hips harsher against yours. 

you cry out, digging your nails into his arms. “issei,” you breathe out. 

he snaps his hips against yours, rougher, as if it were a warning. “louder,” he orders. 

“issei! issei, issei, fuck, please,” you scream. you’re not even sure what you’re pleading for, but he delivers, as always, and his thrusts are faster, somehow deeper. your hand hesitantly moves from his arm to clutch at the chain hanging close to you, before you tug harshly at it, pulling him down, closer to you, before you press your lips harshly against his. it’s a bruising kiss; it’s more so that your screams are muffled slightly, and he eagerly, breathes you in, gasping and slipping his tongue in between your lips. your hands move to cup his face as he fucks you harder, his strokes growing sloppier as the kiss deepens. 

you part momentarily, and he lifts himself up slightly, breathlessly asking, “can i—”

you nod hurriedly, kissing him again as you mutter against his lips, “inside of me, please, please.” 

groaning deeply, he breaks the kiss, head falling into the crook of your neck as he fucks himself closer and closer to his high, until finally, he shudders against you, and you feel him still, hips pressed tightly against yours as he spills inside of you in long spurts. you can feel it, feel his cum coat your inner walls, feel it ooze out as he pulls back slightly, before thrusting in slowly, riding out his high. the kisses he places upon your neck hold a stark difference to the previous ones, but it’s — nice. it’s calming, steadying, as the two of you settle down, your breaths and hearts with you. 

once you’re clean and hydrated, you settle back in your bed underneath your blanket in a new pair of underwear, opting against a bra or shirt. issei sits by you, in just a pair of boxers, fiddling with his fingers. it’s quiet between you two, but you don’t necessarily feel the need to speak, and it’s mostly from the exhaustion steadily growing on your shoulders. 

“why did you choose me?” 

both the question and his voice are surprising to hear after the continuous silence, and you freeze momentarily, your brain slowly waking up and processing the question. “choose you?” you ask. 

issei sighs. “yeah, why didn’t you fuck any of the other guys? like makki, or oikawa— or maybe, i don’t know, iwaizumi.” 

“i can’t imagine it happening, honestly,” you reply with a shrug. 

“but you said it.” 

“said what?” 

“that if you could fuck any of us, it’d be iwa,” he finally says. 

thankfully, this time, you don’t take long to register his words and the situation’s no longer as confusing as it initially was. you lift yourself up, slipping from underneath the blanket and sitting up, a teasing smile growing on your face. “are you jealous? is that what this is about?” you tease, eyeing him carefully. 

issei flinches, before turning to face you, completely unaffected by your revealed breasts, his eyes accusing as he frowns at you. “why would i be jealous?” 

you laugh, leaning back against the headboard. “you don’t have to be jealous,” you reassure him. your hand lifts to settle on his arm, refocusing his gaze on you. “nobody could ever compare.” 

different from last time, his heart clenches in his chest, and painfully so. you look so fucking pretty, even if he’s just fucked your brains out, and if your hair’s a little messy, and you’re literally topless, with your eyes a little tired and a little puffy and red from crying — during sex, with him. you’re already shrugging off the blanket, rising from your place on the bed and stretching out your limbs, but issei’s stuck on the moment that had just passed. 

nobody could ever compare. 

standing by your side of the bed, you lean forward, pressing your hands on the mattress as you say, “can we cuddle when i come back? i really need to pee but fighting with you is terrible.” 

he finds it in himself to laugh, and nods, watches as you leap and walk to your bathroom, before he falls against your bed’s pillows. he is so fucked. 

end note; the idea for how this chapter would go came to me at like 7 in the morning when i still hadn’t slept but i was really tired so i typed this out in my notes: he goes to her house anyways and apokogizes and they have make up sex (she rides him) ans rhen they talk after, and he asks her “why didnt u fuck any of the other guys” and she’s confused and keeps asking “what do you mean” and he’s like “why not makki and oikawa ..... or iwa” and then she’s like “can’t imagine it” and then he’s like “but you said it?? on the gc??” and she’s like “whT are you talking about” and he’s like “that if you could fuck any of us it’d be iwa” and she starts teasing kike “are u jealous” and then he’s like “why wiuld i be jealous” and she starts laughing and teasing and more banter between them until at the end laughter dies and she just wuietly goes “you don’t have to be jealous. nobody compares” and SCENE! wait more and then she interrupts like “oof i need to pee” and he groans jokingly and goes “we wrre having a moment!!!!” and when she comes back she asks if he’s staying and he’s like yeah ill stay and then they get under the covers and all and then he asks “mind if i cuddle u” and she’s like “issei ur dick was JUST inside me come snuggle me” 

pls the amount of typos in that can you tell i was trying not to lose the idea and my train of thought lmfao. i hope you all enjoyed this chapter!!! <333

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