#it doesn’t matter what the world thinks if either of them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deadsetobsessions · 8 months

Text

Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

4K notes · View notes

lilislegacy · 7 months

Text

look. either you agree with me or you don’t - either way it doesn’t matter - but i truly think that at some point - after time, a lot of heavy conversations, some yelling, and crying, and a whole lot of honesty and apologies from her parents - annabeth and her family would work things out and become semi-close. which means eventually percy would be on good terms with them too.

that said, you cannot convince me otherwise that at some point, probably soon after moving to new rome, percy gets into a screaming match with mr. and mrs. chase about how they treated annabeth. and he absolutely blows out the pipes of every house within a mile radius.

not because annabeth needs him to fight her battles. not because percy thinks he has to fight annabeth’s battles. but because he can’t even begin to grasp how someone could treat a child - their own child - like they treated annabeth. the man who was raised by sally jackson cannot even begin to fathom how they blamed their child for the danger that followed her, and then gaslit her when she went to them for help. he can’t even begin to understand how they put her brothers before her, because now that he has his own little sister, his mom has never been more clear about how much she loves him.

he’s gonna lose his shit.

(“what kind of father doesn’t do everything in his power to protect this child?” “it doesn’t matter that you didn’t sign up for it. it’s your fucking job.” “what kind of monster encourages her husband to turn his back on his 5 year old daughter?” “yeah you didn’t choose to have a child, but she didn’t choose to be born!” “what? did you hear that demigods don’t have long lifespans and were just waiting for her funeral so you could get on with your lives?” “what kind of parents make it clear to their daughter that their new babies are the priority? that she’s a danger to them? that they are more important?” “would you fall into hell to save her?… if your immediate answer isn’t yes, then making you a father was the dumbest thing athena ever did.” “she was a scared little kid. you were supposed to protect her.”)

the minute they try to defend themselves, the chases are getting soaked. and part of that is from peeing their pants with fear becasue we all know how terrifying percy is when he’s angry. and nothing makes him angrier than someone who’s hurt the girl, the woman, who is his entire world.

you cannot convince me otherwise. don’t even try.

#percy is gonna lose his shit #someone has to say it #and annabeth won’t #it’s canon to me #i want to sob for annabeth #but i really do think they would all make up eventually and get along well #annabeth chase #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #percabeth #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians

4K notes · View notes

saetoru · 1 year

Note

imagine rich boy gojo finding out your name for him in his phone is just “satoru” or something 💀 and then from the side geto is like “mine’s got an emoji!”

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。NO HEART — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

rich boy! gojo, college au, fluff, established relationships, dramatic gojo which is consistent in every version of him no matter the au

studying with gojo satoru is the worst idea you could ever allow to happen—and yet, every time he asks, you let it happen.

“baby, aren’t you getting my texts?” gojo pouts. it earns him an unimpressed glare from you as you look up from your textbook, a glare that makes him wilt while geto snickers from the corner.

“satoru, if you don’t stop bothering me while we’re supposed to be studying, so help me—”

“but it’s funny, look,” he whines. and before you can stop him, he picks up the untouched phone beside you, tapping the screen to unlock it. except, he doesn’t make it that far.

suddenly the world stills. it stops spinning on its axis. and suddenly, gojo satoru’s face is the dictionary definition of devastation.

“satoru, what’s wrong,” you furrow your brows.

“satoru. satoru? satoru?” he repeats, each time in more disbelief than the last.

“that’s….your name, yes?” you raise a brow. and then realization strikes your features—or so he thinks. he’s soon to find out he’s mistaken. “oh, sorry,” you snort, “toru, is that better? toru, get to studying—”

“my name in your phone is just satoru?” he asks, cutting you off like you’ve genuinely wounded him—the betrayal on his face and the shock in his voice are all too real.

you blink for a moment before you realize the source of his tantrum seems to be the contact name you have for him in your phone. only gojo satoru would find a way to make a big deal out of his own name, you think.

“well, yeah,” you shrug, “it’s your name. plus i had it set when i first got your number from that project. i hated you back then.”

“you called me gojo back then,” he squints accusingly.

“yeah that’s because it was gojo satoru at first,” you nod. from the side, you hear geto snicker again about the full government name to himself—which earns him a pillow thrown at his direction by gojo. “i deleted the gojo part when we started dating,” you add.

“oh so you can delete my surname once we started dating but you couldn’t even add a heart?” he asks, jaw dropped and eyebrows furrowed in that dramatic way he does. it’s a bit cute, the way he’s worked up over something so small—but it’s also entirely theatric, making you roll your eyes.

“would a heart make you feel better, satoru?” you purse your lips.

“no! not if you don’t add it because you want to,” he huffs, “you might as well just say you don’t love me!”

“satoru,” you sigh in exasperation. maybe if you didn’t have physics 1302 problems to work through—a whole six of them due before midnight, in fact—you would humor him in his elaborately dramatized attempt at getting your attention. but you have classes to pass and gpa’s to maintain, so you purse your lips instead. “it’s just a contact name. what’s mine?”

“it’s baby <3. with a heart. see?” sure enough, when his phone is turned to face you, it’s baby <3. with a heart.

“i have an emoji in my contact,” geto adds from the side, ever the instigator, “maybe it’s because i’m cuter—”

“you gave suguru’s an emoji?” he asks in distress, staring at you like you’ve told him you’ve cheated. you think you might hurt his feelings less if you did, with the way his lips are curled in a genuine frown.

“suguru set his own contact,” you defend, shooting the nuisance in the corner a sharp glare. geto only offers you a sly wink in return. “i didn’t realize you cared that much about contact names,” you shrug, “i can change it—”

“no need,” gojo huffs, holding up a hand to silence you as he turns away and sticks his nose in the air in defiance. “i’ll just change yours to your full government name. see how you like it.”

“satoru—”

“and you’re not getting a heart either,” he glares, deleting the <3 slowly just for show, making eye contact with you so you know the severity of your actions.

you roll your eyes, snatching your phone back as you shake your head. “if i make your contact baby <3 with a heart because you’re my baby, will that cheer you up,” you sigh.

he ponders it for a moment, as if debating the offer. and then his arms cross in defiance once more. “no. make it baby boy 💋 with a kiss emoji.”

“gross,” geto twists his face in disgust.

gojo turns to him, face blank and serious as he shoots, “single people should not speak when it’s not their turn,” before turning back to you. “i’ll consider forgiving you if you make it baby boy 💋 with a kiss.”

“okay,” you sigh, “baby boy it is.”

“with a kiss!” he glares.

“with a kiss,” you assure, rolling your eyes.

“can i also get a kiss?” he asks hopefully, eyes wide and bright and earnest enough to warm your heart.

you smile, chuckling at the way he looks so cute, at the way he melts your heart and makes you forget you have physics homework for a moment—but only for a moment because then you mumble, “no. now do your homework.”

PLS THIS PROMPT KILLED ME

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

13K notes · View notes

entitled-fangirl · 2 months

Text

Peculiar.

Cregan Stark x seer!reader

Summary: the reader whispers away, but Cregan doesn’t mind.

Masterlist

…………………………

"My love? What are you doing?"

Y/n sat in the middle of the garden in the dark, something in her hand.

"It's cold, my dear wife. What has caught your attention?" Cregan tried again.

A frog sat in her hand and she didn't let her gaze leave it. "The lead-footed toad will try to grow a hand," she whispered softly to herself.

He let out a soft sigh, knowing she was stuck in her head. He knelt down next to her, looking at the frog. "Are you cold?"

"The lead-footed toad."

"I know," he whispered back. "I know. But are you cold, my love?"

No answer came from her.

He reached up and gently touched her shoulder, and when she flinched instinctively, he was ready to calm her, "Shh. It's just me."

She relaxed at that, as if finally returning to the world. The frog had jumped from her hand when she had flinched and she looked back to her hand and began to frantically search the dirt around her for it.

Cregan reached out and grabbed her hands, "Hey. Hey. C'mere."

She looked back up at him, "It will try to grow a hand, Cregan."

He nodded, "I understand." He never quite did, but he knew better than to try to make it make sense to him. If it made sense to her, that's all that mattered. "You're freezing. Let us return to the warm walls, yes?"

"What if it succeeds?"

He frowned, "The toad?"

She nodded.

He shrugged, "Then he'll be the first of his kind, I suppose. But that's quite unlikely, don't you think?"

She considers his words and eventually nods, "Yes. Yes. I think so."

He smiles and brushes hair from her face, "C'mon. Up."

The two returned to the castle, but not without a last look at the dirt her frog had once been in.

…

The next spell happened in the dead of night.

It was actually quite unusual for it to surprise her in sleep.

She sat up, wide eyed, and in a dead sweat. Her breathing was erratic.

She looked to Cregan who slept like the dead.

The dead.

Her dream. "The fire will drown all but the two deserving of dying and they will claim it for themselves," she whispered to remember.

She pulled the blankets from herself and got up from the bed and moved to the fireplace.

She stared at the flames.

The fire will drown them.

Even she couldn't understand who.

Cregan rubbed his eyes and looked to her side of the bed, immediately frowning when she was not there.

He sat up, scanning the room and relaxing when he saw her, "Sweet girl?" His voice echoed in the quiet room.

She looked over her shoulder to him and wiped her face, "Sorry. Couldn't sleep."

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said awkwardly. He wasn't sure what to do. "Want to talk about it?”

"Hmm?"

"The dream I know you had." He stated. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She hummed, "No. I don't think so."

"Come back to bed then."

"In a minute."

Cregan fell back onto the bed dramatically, "I shall catch hypothermia if my dear wife does not come warm me!"

She giggled, much more eager to join him.

His methods worked, and she was soon asleep on his chest.

…

The third one was sudden.

Cregan was busy sparring in the courtyard with a fellow swordsman, perfecting his skills.

She sat not too far with a book she was engrossed in.

But she suddenly dropped it and held her hands on either side of her head and her face scrunched in pain.

Cregan heard her whimper and he quickly abandoned his sword to move to her, "What's going on?"

She shook her head.

He knew the best method in this instance was to give her space, no matter how much he didn't want to.

She had a very sharp intake of breath and her eyes shot open. "Poison will stain the mouth of the ruler of the sun."

He tilted his head, "Hmm?"

"The… the poison. The sun…" Her voice faded as if uncertainty took over. "The ruler of the sun…"

He knelt in front of her, "You alright?"

She looked to him with a furrowed brow but she eventually nodded.

He let out a soft breath, leaning forward to capture her lips for just a moment.

He pulled away, "Let me clean up, and we'll discuss this 'ruler of the sun'. Yes?"

She let out a radiant smile, "Please."

He couldn't stop a small smile from running across his face as well.

She was such a peculiar thing, but he adored it.

……………………………..

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor

#fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark #cregan stark x female reader #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark fanfic #cregan x reader #cregan stark imagine #cregan fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

4dbeingguide · 3 months

Text

there is only one sentence you need to know as a manifestor:

the 3D/physical world isn’t real. only the mind is.

disclaimers:

this is slightly rant-y though i don’t attack you, i uplift you

excuse any grammar errors!

credit to all the artists whose art was used!

let’s get into it.

you do not exist/live in the 3D, you simply perceive your own mind and assumptions in three dimensions. the 3D is an illusion. it isn’t real. the phone you’re reading this on, your surroundings, me writing this post, “other” people, they’re not real.

this will literally answer all the questions you have about LOA. examples include:

“what if what i’m doing won’t make anything manifest in the 3D?” then boo-fucking-hoo? it wouldn’t even matter because that’s not where you live. you’re 4-dimensional. if it’s happened in the 4D, it’s fucking happened! put it in your success story list. rejoice now that it’s happened. because it has! the 3D is NOT real, the 4D is so you should be checking the 4D! think about this question: “what if it doesn’t manifest in the 2D (a world of only length and width)?” i bet you’re like “womp womp? the fuck would that have to do with me? i don’t live there!” give that SAME energy to the 3D. you live in the 4D.

“where is it in the 3D?” why do you care? it’s not where you live. CONSCIOUSNESS is the only reality. you heard me. you shouldn’t give a fuck about whether it will manifest in the 3D or not because the 3D doesn’t determine reality, YOU do. why do you want confirmation from an illusion when you can have confirmation from what’s actually real (the mind)?

“but if i stop caring about whether it’ll manifest or not, it might not manifest!” first of all, womp womp then? you don’t live in the 3D. second of all, that’s literally impossible unless you directly/intentionally assume that it’s the case. the 3D literally EXISTS as a reflection/limited perception of the mind. it’s LAW that it will come. and the last time i checked, “i don’t care whether it comes or not” and “it won’t come” are different statements. but what i just find so hilarious about this one specific doubt is that you’ve literally just PROVEN your THOUGHTS create the 3D.

“i can’t manifest abc! it goes against the laws of physics/circumstances etc” lemme just get this straight. the MIND is the only reality yet you are lying and saying it has limits based off of 3D “law”? and the 3D is not real meaning the “laws” of the 3D aren’t either? the 3D doesn’t and will never be able to tell the mind what to do. that being said, you can manifest pissing a million bucks, teleporting into a villa in italy or becoming wanda fucking maximoff and developing superpowers. you can manifest hulk hogan flying across the pacific to your door and proposing to you, hell, you can even manifest BECOMING hulk hogan. you can manifest your SPs buying you three million bentleys then making out with you in each of them. you can manifest going back in time. you. can. manifest. ANYTHING. you. can. manifest. anything. you. can. imagine. you’re OMNIPOTENT.

this one is very interesting cause it’s a response to doubts! “if i keep doubting, it won’t show up in the 3D!” the reason your doubts persist is because your mind thinks they actually mean shit and are an issue worth addressing. so what if it doesn’t show up in the 3D? it’s already happened.

“but what if im one of the odd ones out? what if i can’t manifest?” despite the fact that it’s scientific law, the rebuttal for this doubt is very simple. you wouldn’t be alive lmao. being alive is a constant act of the 3D reflecting your mind, that’s literally its only purpose. it’s an inanimate, mindless, limited perception of your mind that instantly conforms to your beliefs. you are CONSTANTLY manifesting. what you’re doing is just learning how to control WHAT you manifest. (just to set the record straight. this doesn’t mean you are to blame for your problems since you didn’t consciously choose them).

“the 3D isn’t showing me what i want!” well it isn’t real lmao? why the fuck would that matter?

one of the WORST beliefs you can have as a manifestor is that the goal of manifesting is changing the 3D. i know you (probably) came in thinking that but i want you to shed that belief. the 3D is not real. the goal is to get it in the 4D, where you live. when you accomplish that goal, rejoice and move on.

this is why i very, VERY heavily dislike the statement that “an assumption persisted in will harden into fact”. no, an assumption IS a fact. only regarding something as real when it manifests in the 3D (which isn’t real) is fallacious.

“thoughts create reality” i bet you’ve heard this before in this community but i don’t like this either for this simple reason: thoughts (that you accept) ARE reality.

my biggest piece of advice to you as a manifestor is this: realize that the 3D doesn’t mean shit.

when you DO get your manifestation in the 3D, it’s perfectly fine to be happy but don’t jump up and down saying “it’s finally happened (in reality)!”. NO. it happened in reality ages ago, the 3D just caught up.

i’m gonna link some really sexy posts that will help you understand this better. most of these are scientific.

https://www.reddit.com/r/NevilleGoddard/s/AmlHe5oipA (the post is up, i don’t understand why tumblr won’t embed it)

if you liked this post, leave a like, reblog, engage, follow, let me know if this helped 🫶😭

#law of assumption #manifestation #loassumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #neville goddard #dream life #manifesting

2K notes · View notes

after-witch · 3 months

Text

Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Bait [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You're taken as bait, but will Geto even bother? Companion piece to Fever Pitch and Bus Stop.

Word count: 3100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader (er, twice?); violence against reader; some non-graphic blood and violence

There is a thin line separating your world at all times. It might be white or gold or every color under the sun, but it doesn’t matter, because you are the only one who can see it. The only one who knows what categories fall on either side of this decisive line.

On one side, there is something like comfort to be found. Something like acceptance. It is the world where you sit quietly when Geto tells you to be with him; the world where your heart flutters when he asks you to comb through his hair, or undress him for the day, or bring him his meal. A world where you are his good pet, and that is enough.

But on the other side, there is only one singular certainty:

He will get bored of you.

He will no longer find your compliance endearing. He will kill you, or discard you on the streets, and you’re not sure which is worse.

You’ve never been able to decide how much of his behavior towards you is actually endearment, and how much is a vague interest in the novelty of your compliance. Maybe it’s pointless to decide, because that thought always comes in cold and creeping: you’ll be gone, in a flash, like a wayward candle left on in the night. Dead or alive but without him, and isn’t that just about the same thing?

That thought slithers its way around you even in some of your best moments. When he pats the cushion behind him--a cushion, instead of the bare floor--and instructs you to comb out his hair for the evening. When the water is warm and your bodies are wet and close, and afterwards, you smell almost the same. At least for the night.

He’ll get bored of you, that reality hisses, and that will be that. Not even the twins could save you, if they were so inclined. You’re not sure if they would be, if it came down to Geto wanting to be rid of you. Sometimes, they are warm--sitting with you, reading with you, tending to you. Asking for your opinion like you are, perhaps, a person after all. At other times, they keep to themselves; watch you with something that might be wariness.

Nanako and Mimiko are the reason you are here, under his thumb, at his feet. They saw you and wanted you--like a mother, you think, when you’re feeling sentimental--and they got what they wanted. Geto told you this, once, your knees banging against the floor from where he dropped you like a bad dog.

And you don’t think he’s lying. Even here, now, in the sitting room with the girls, they seem to still like you overall.

Still.

If Geto wanted you to go away, you would.

And it’s this sole thought that pushes past the primal surge of adrenaline that comes when a rough bag is suddenly, crudely shoved down over your head.

He’s getting rid of me.

Over your heartbeat, though, you hear sounds that don’t match up with those bitter thoughts that whispered at your back for ages.

It’s not Geto in the room; not Geto who put a bag over your head.

The girls are shouting something--a yelp of surprise?--and there are too many strange voices, too many conflicting sounds. Someone’s fumbling with your arms, and you can feel the scratch of rope, but something about that awful yelp from one of the girls gives you the strength to shove them aside, to rip the bag off your head.

Strangers. There are strangers in the room. Strange men wearing black face masks, with their arms on the girls, rough and cruel. They’re carrying rope, too--to tie them up? To take them? To hurt them?

No. No.

You don’t have a plan. You don’t have the time or ability to think of one. Your body simply launches itself at the men, who aren’t expecting it, who trip and stumble when you throw your entire body weight against them to get them away from the girls.

“Run!” Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

And the girls--oh, it makes your heart feel fuzzy--hesitate to leave you. But then they grip each other’s hands and run away. The sight makes your heart soar, for a moment.

They’re safe. They’ll get to Geto, and be safe.

And you--

You grunt against a stinking cloth shoved over your mouth and nose, and inhale a sharp, pungent scent that makes you gag. You blink against the coming grayness as you fall to your knees. Unconsciousness doesn’t come swiftly, and there’s an uncomfortable dizziness as your hands are tied behind your back, and someone hoists you roughly over their shoulder.

You can just make out what one of them says before you pass out--

“Fuck, I don’t know. Just--just grab her instead. He must like her, to let her around those kids.”

The sensation when the world gradually returns to you is a familiar one: you’ve been tied up. But instead of soft silks tightly pinning you to the bed, or winding around your body only to be hidden by your layers of clothing, it’s rough rope that keeps you bound to a cold metal chair.

The room that you’re in, when your eyesight returns with a blurry fog, is not Geto’s comfortable apartments but a bare room with concrete walls. The only decorations are--the realization comes with a dull acceptance--bloodstains against the wall, on the floor.

Ah.

This is where you die.

A sound--muffled, still, but a jarring screen all the same--makes you jerk your head. It’s another metal chair. But the person sitting in this one isn’t tied up--it’s a man, wearing a gray suit and puffing a cigarette that glows in the dimly lit space.

“Wakey, wakey.”

He blows a puff of gray cigarette smoke into your face, and you cough, throat acidic and burning.

It takes you some time to realize that it’s certainly one of the men who took you, who wanted to take--and maybe there is some justice in the world, because it seems they got away--the girls. There’s a bandage on his face and a vague memory comes back to you; your own hand reaching across his face, clawing at him with your carefully trimmed nails.

There are other men behind him, quiet, watching the two of you with their hands folded. There are probably countless of these men, waiting for orders, in the rest of the building.

“You hear me yet? Or are you still all fucked up?” His eyes narrow; his voice is gruff, no-nonsense. There’s some grit behind it. You wonder how much of his gruffness is because their plans were thwarted, and how much is because you managed to get a good dig into his flesh. Maybe both.

Your lips part, and you feel a film of stickiness keeping your mouth together peeling as you lick the inside to give yourself some sort of moisture. Your voice comes out hoarse and dry, despite your efforts.

“I… can hear you.”

Your hands flex from their bound position behind your back, pressed harshly against the chair. There’s no way to get out of this, not on your own. And you are on your own, because Geto would not bother getting you from here.

You can imagine what happened as clearly as anything, despite the lingering effects of whatever drug they used on you.

The girls would run immediately to Geto, and tell him what happened. He would look them over to make sure they weren’t hurt. He would ask who attacked them, how many, what they looked like, and if they could remember any other identifiers. Then he would probably think back to who might have done this… someone with a grudge? Some enemy he’s made?

It would only be then that he would realize the girls said you had been taken, and he would sigh. Perhaps he'd be annoyed that he lost his pet, but that would be the end of that. It would be too much of a hassle to get you, too much of a bother. He’d need a plan and perhaps men to back him up and heaven knows you weren’t worth…

Your head snaps to the side, pain blossoming on your cheek, as the gruff voice huffs out from above you.

He slapped you.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?”

You’re not trying to be distracted. Really. It would be better to stay focused, since you’re going to die here. Maybe you can think about your life from before all this, that would surely be a more pleasant ending than spending your last moments dwelling on Geto leaving you here.

“Sorry,” you say, out of reflex, more than anything.

The man sighs and runs a scarred hand over his hair. He takes another puff of his cigarette.

“I said, you’re our bait for that greedy sorcerer. Once he shows up, we’ll do this on our terms, and our boss’ll get his curse removed in exchange for keeping your pretty little head intact.”

You don’t mean to do it, you swear you don’t. The reaction comes from deep inside you, from that part of you that’s been stepping over the line where you know that you’ll eventually be discarded by the man who took over your life.

Your lips quirk. And then, from your stomach, into your chest, it happens: you laugh. A harsh, almost braying sound that bounces off the bloodied concrete walls.

The man’s face contorts, and perhaps he might hit you again, but there’s something freeing in this moment that makes you not care. What’s another slap to the face, when your blood will spray the flat end of those walls before the night is over? Whenever they realize that Geto won’t be coming for you, that you’re the worst bait they could have possibly chosen.

That you’re simply a pet that’s more trouble than you’re worth.

The feeble jerk your body makes when he screeches his chair back and gets in your face, hot cigarette dangling from his lips, is reflexive. You’re not scared of him, or what he might do--you’ve faced far worse.

Spittle hits your sore cheek when he growls out--

“What the fuck is so funny?”

You don’t tell him--

What’s so fucking funny is that they think Geto will actually come for you. That he’ll deign to respond to their blackmail, the heavy presumption of it all, just to rescue you.

A trinket. A pet. A toy.

You smile, and wait to die.

Surprises are not something Geto particularly enjoys, unless they end up working to his advantage. And there is a keen sense, as he picks up the sudden sounds of scuffles and running feet and shouts, that this is not going to be a surprise he welcomes.

Something in him turns dull and heavy when he sees the girls running down the hall, hair askew, missing the smiles they often sport around him--instead, their faces are etched in worry, fear, and a terrible sort of uncertainty that he hasn’t seen in them in years.

Everything connects together like an unwanted puzzle. The sounds of a scuffle. The girls with their gasping breaths, their flailing limbs, words that tumble out together like spilled marbles--

“They took her.”

Her.

You.

You, whom he expected to find sitting quietly, sweetly, with Nanako and Mimiko when he returned to you in an hour or two. Yet everything was wrong. Topsy-turvy. There would be no quiet evening where you looked up at him with ridiculous doe eyes, hoping to please him, eager to do whatever he told you.

There would be no warm satisfaction in his gut at the sight, no pleasant tingling in his skin as he bade you to do as he pleased.

Instead, he would be spending his time retrieving you, and what if–the thought comes, and it’s disturbing how much the thought seems to weigh him down. What if you’re already dead? Disposed of, a corpse?

No. He shakes his head. They wanted you as bait, clearly; or rather, wanted the girls. Pride puffs in him that you protected them, at least. A small lightness in a sea of grey.

Still–you were gone, and uncertainty weighed heavy in the air as he weighed the best options for retrieving you.

It was an unpleasant surprise, after all.

They--whoever they were, it did not matter. Perhaps the girls already told him, but their identity wasn’t important. Not only because Geto didn’t have the slightest care over who they were, but because they would be dead in a matter of hours, if not sooner.

No one disrespects him like this and lives.

The thought of their filthy monkey hands dirtying you, a pet he had risen up from the lowest of the low into something more palatable and pleasant, made acrid bile climb into his throat.

Oh, you were beneath him, of course. There was no doubting that. But the stench of these stranger’s mediocrity and ape-like helplessness would coat you like dust, undoing so much of his hard work.

Geto collects only the finest things and oh, it had taken time, but you now counted among them.

He doesn’t need a plan. Why would he, to counteract a foolish kidnapping perpetuated by some half-baked mafia gang? They stood no chance against him. Even without his curses. He’s not sure he’d even release curses against these monkeys; it would be a waste of time and talent.

All he does is nod to the girls, who have curled up on his sofa, holding each other tight.

“I’ll be back.”

At this, they smile, and he can see their breaths coming easier, their shoulders relaxing down.

He doesn’t even need to tell them that he won’t be coming back alone.

It is, as with so many things, a certainty.

The lingering pain after they left you alone was not too awful. Yes, your lip was bleeding--the man wore metal rings--and your neck was sure to bruise, if you were left alive long enough for the skin to get all mottled.

But you had expected the pain, and that made it easier to manage while you waited for them to return. They would probably kill you now. A gun to the head, you think. They wouldn’t want to waste time with messier and slower implements, unless they were that angry about their “bait” plan failing.

You had expected the pain, and now you expect the door to open, for those no-nonsense guards to come through and simply pull out a gun and that would be that. Would there be pain? For a moment, maybe, but hopefully not more.

You don’t expect what actually happens.

Shouts--that quickly turn to screams.

Clanging of metal, the sound of something being struck and sliced.

Thumping, an awful, dull sound; like a carcass at the butchershop being let off its chain.

And then that door in front of you creaking open to reveal the last person in the world you ever expected to see in the doorway.

Geto.

Geto, with blood sprayed on his face, gore clotting on his clothes.

It’s so unexpected that you don’t believe it until he’s behind you, the familiar warmth of his body turned upside down with the new stench of metallic blood, mingled the scent of your own sweat, the lingering puffs of cigarette smoke.

It’s not until he’s made you stand up, that he’s right in front of you, tilting your chin up to look at him that the realization comes.

He came for you.

He killed for you.

It’s too much--it’s too much to realize the reality beyond that line was bullshit the entire time. It’s too much to realize that you were, perhaps, worth something after all. Too much to see Geto covered in blood and wonder, briefly, if he had been hurt in the process of your rescue.

It’s too much, all of it, and you black out.

From adrenaline, from injuries, or perhaps from sheer disbelief.

When you wake up, you are sitting on the floor of Geto’s spacious bathroom. Disorientation keeps you on the floor for too long, because then there are hands--Geto’s--on you, pulling you to unsteady feet.

Despite the swaying of your body, there is something grounding about all this. You, and Geto, in this familiar space.

Geto stands in front of you, face impassive, still covered in specks of blood. The reek of his blood covered clothing is stronger in this space, an invasion of stinking metal.

“Strip,” he tells you. Your body obeys before your mind registers the command fully, hands trembling as you peel off clothing stuck to you by sweat and a bit of blood. Most of it wasn’t yours.

He tsks at your naked form, and shame creeps down your collarbone--stopping cold when he opens his mouth again.

“Remove my clothing.” Another order, obeyed just as quickly, but perhaps with more brightness than you thought possible. If he still wants you to do this, it means he doesn’t find you too disgusting, does he? He can’t, if he’s allowing you to touch him like this.

He doesn’t give the clothing a second glance--he’ll probably burn it, and yours too--as he steps toward the tub.

The bath has already been prepared, though without the usual luxuries Geto asks you to slip in for him; lotions and salts, dried flowers and oils.

Still, it is a comfort when Geto steps into the tub. It is all familiar to you, expected--welcomed, even. The way the water sloshes as Geto steps inside, the warm heat of the water rising to greet you as he beckons you closer. The firm, damp grip of his hand as he steadies you, lest you slip and annoy him.

"Wash this filthy monkey blood off me," he says, when you’ve settled in, his voice soft and clipped.

Is he angry with you, you wonder, or the people he’s killed? Would he think on this later, and decide that it was far too troublesome to go after you in the end? Maybe the next time you were a target, he wouldn’t save you after all. He’d leave you to die and mutter that once was quite enough. He--

“Well?”

“Sorry,” you murmur, not a reflex this time but a genuine apology. You were making him wait. That wouldn’t do.

So you take up the cloth and gently wipe at his face and body, where those flecks of blood have sprayed onto him like troublesome paint. You go slow, soft, just like he’s taught you to do.

It’s the softness of the moment that pushes the words from your mouth. If he had not brought you here, if you two were not together in the warm, naked intimacy of the water, you might never have dared to ask.

“Why did you save me?”

You don’t even stop wiping at his skin, dipping the cloth into the water and watching it run red. Not until he grips your wrists with his wet fingers, making you drop the cloth.

He pulls your hands closer to his mouth and presses a kiss to your damp skin. Soft. Gentle. A streak of blood near his mouth catches on your skin.

“I merely took back what is mine.” His eyes roam over you; you, the pet he owns, the pet he’s created. How cold his words are. Strict, no-nonsense. What you’ve come to expect from him.

And yet, and yet--

He presses his lips to your knuckles again, and inhales the scent of you, all traces of cigarette smoke on your hands washed away with the bathwater.

#yandere jjk #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere #afterwitch writes

1K notes · View notes

miupow · 3 months

Text

⋮ ♯; ⤷ SILENT TREATMENT W/ TXT .ᐟ

how tubatu reacts to you using the silent treatment on them after an argument!

★ ── ot5 x gn!reader ⸝⸝ fluff, slight angst, suggestive in soobin’s, arguing and making up, pouty yeonjun lol, petty gyu, serious bf tyun, kais is genuinely kind of sad

੭ ⭑ 𓂃⠀⠀⠀ [ m. list ] ⭑ [ reblogs and feedback appreciated! ]

. . . SOOBIN !

originally acts like he doesn’t care

thinks the silent treatment is childish and gets kind of spiteful about ignoring you back

but he hates you being mad at him more than anything in the world and he breaks pretty fast

being without your love is unbearable for him :’( he can’t stand staying away from you

and the more he’s left to stew about your fight the more guilty he feels about hurting your feelings

gives you a big, heartfelt apology with gifts and cuddles and sweet kisses and hot rough makeup sex

. . . YEONJUN !

gets so pouty omg

he will actually die and wither away from lack of attention you don’t understand this is the end for him

follows you around like a lost puppy begging for attention and kisses </3

literally whining like a big baby

genuinely doesn’t know what he did wrong

but would do absolutely anything you wanted to fix it

and you just won’t tell him what he did!! and it’s driving him insane!! just tell him what he did wrong so he can fix it and make everything right again??

will just pester you until you break

. . . BEOMGYU !

oh you wanna play games now?? beomgyu won’t talk to you either.

will make it a big competition on who can keep it up for longer or who will get sick of it first

he’s so petty it’s not even funny the silent treatment is like a warzone with him

you’re the one to break first lmao

he’s lowk even better at it than you are and it drives you insane like you’re not even the one that’s mad???

so after a while you’re just like fine ugh lol

will stop when you stop tho, ready to talk it out and apologize and make amends ^^ never holds any grudges or hard feelings about silly fights

. . . TAEHYUN !

honestly kind of pisses him off

he’s very big about open communication in your relationship so he would be irritated that you wanted to be petty about the fight instead of talking it out with him

tyun hates arguments more than anything and he will not let any dumb silent treatment last longer than an afternoon

he will get you to talk to him dammit!

but tyuns just so gentle with you, he doesn’t want to upset you any more than you already were by getting angry

gives you your space for a bit and then will sit next to you and get you to talk with him regardless of if you like it or not

and you will make up. he will make sure of it.

he will talk to the back of your head for hours he doesn’t care try him

. . . HUENING KAI !

literally devastated

like genuinely it hurts his feelings really bad pls don’t do that to him :’(

literally pleading for you to talk to him

you being upset with him makes him physically ill actually like nauseous with distress because you got into a fight

will say he’s sorry a thousand times even if he’s not sure what he’s sorry for

you can’t keep it up with kai so vulnerable

no matter the fight you always forgive hyuka quickly because you just can’t stay mad at him

clings to you and won’t let go for the rest of the night

#txt x reader #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #txt fluff #soobin fluff #yeonjun fluff #beomgyu fluff #taehyun fluff #hueningkai fluff #txt angst #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #[ 💌 ] — requests!#[ 💌 ] — anon!

1K notes · View notes

where-does-the-heart-lie · 1 year

Text

Is it so hard to ask that sabo follow his dream he had when he was a kid? IS IT??????

Also, his boat was commissioned from Franky! And he did a great job :)

Design talk:

Im gonna start with just sharing his canon designs

Colors:

Something i want to call attention to is the blue and black in his design.

When he was young, Sabo wore his heart on his sleeve. He had a dream for himself and was taking steps to complete it. Likewise, that blue on his coat is on full display its bright and vibrant and saturated. But also theres that dark blue, almost black, thats underneath it thats being hidden by that coat, the pants, and his tattered cravat. Likewise again, Sabo is hiding his darker side. He has secrets he doesn’t want his brothers to know of and he lets his aspirations and relationships he has with them outshine his past.

In his present design, that blue that was representative of his dreams, is now the one being hidden. Its covered by a complete black coat, a representative of the darkness in his life that now is drives him. This color switch up is symbolic for how he’s put off his dreams and kept it locked up (belt), while choosing instead to pursue a life of darkness for the greater good.

Also, these pictures of young sabo and young adult sabo, you can visually see how less saturated it is. The blue is duller of the coat/undershirt and even more-so with the pants. You can see how he’s much less vibrant than how he was.

In my Post-Story idea, what happens leading up to it is that Sabo succeeds in taking down the world government and after he’s sure the world can move on without him, he goes sailing alone as a pirate to write a book about the world, like he’s always wanted to do. Also, Luffy returns his straw hat to shanks.

So in my design, sabo wears a vibrant blue coat again. He’s living his dream and has nothing holding him back from doing it. The black is still used, and its not being covered, but its on his pants and his gloves. He still has that darkness, but he doesn’t use it as protection or as something to hide, rather as something he moves forwards and progresses with. He will never forget what pain and hardship he went through and he’s not trying to. However, whats underneath all the layers is not darkness or dreams, and its not necessarily being hidden either, its light. Not BRIGHT, but light. Mellow and calm. The settled true nature of a healed man.

I took more colors from his child design than i did with his young adult (YA) one, too. I wanted to show how he’s reconnecting with his younger self by bringing them through to his Post-Story look!

Also, since his journal is his dream, it is blue, as well.

———

Items of Clothing:

In both of his canon designs, there is a sense of properness. A top hat, cravat, tailcoat, etc etc.. Its all properness. But more than that, its the idea of responsibility.

Whether he acts responsible or not isn’t what matters in his case, instead its that he wants to look responsible. He wants this because a) he was a little kid who wanted to grow up too fast and be taken seriously, and b) because he has an incredible amount of responsibility being the second in command of the revolutionary army.

To further prove that, I would like to point out his silly little cravat. I love his cravat. But how the hell is that practical for his line of work? Sabo is concerned with being practical, hence his baggy/movable pants and leather gloves. Additionally, just the waist/trench coat, belt, top hat combo would suffice for a proper looking person, but it’s taken excessively with the cravat. The cravat is purely for appearances.

Further symbolism with his cravat, i think, is that this appearance is visually choking him. Its wrapped tightly around his neck when he was a child and when he was most under control of a much higher power. However, when he’s a YA, it’s a lot looser. He’s got some agency, but he’s still being suffocated by responsibilities.

On with my design.

I took away his cravat. Im sorry but it is SYMBOLIC!!!!!!! He is not worried anymore with appearances, he is Free.

I took away his top hat but not his goggles, too. I think that after Luffy gives back the straw hat, Sabo forgoes his hat as well. In solidarity, maybe. If you think about it, the top hat isnt what makes his hat so special, its the goggles. So i got rid of the hat and kept The Goggs. Although it is sad that they are no longer Hatted, as that is one of the beautiful appeals of ASL, they are no longer ASL.

I wanted to keep aspects of his YA design, since even though it is very perforative, its still a style that he’s stuck with since childhood, so he’s gotta like it in some capacity. I just tried to make everything look a lot looser/open on him.

Lastly, i gave him a bit of a beard cuz i think he deserves it.

———

Alright! If you got this far, thanks so much for reading my insane ramblings!!!! I fr feel like this rn 👇

Visually, sabo’s design is not too complex, at least not when you look at him next to Ace, but theres a lot of depth to it. I didnt even think of half of these notes before i started typing this up, its just the more time i look at it, the more i noticed!

#my art #one piece #monkey d. luffy #sabo #asl brothers #one piece fan art #sabo the revolutionary #post story au

3K notes · View notes

thelov3lybookworm · 6 months

Note

As a slut for angst today “tolerate it” has been stuck on a loop and now I am imaging an angsty fic where Az just slowly begins to forget about reader and she threatens to leave but he doesn’t take her seriously and is so utterly destroyed when he comes back home and she’s gone…

Like I feel like it’s on brand with him and his duty to his job and whatnot. Plus the lyrics are so him coded “while you were out building worlds where was I” / “took this dagger in me and removed it” LIKE HELLO???

(But I also love a good happy ending so I feel like if azzy groveled hard enough… 👀)

Tolerate it.

Summary: She is fed up.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: ehehehehehe angsttttt yummy yummyyyy

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n laughed at Feyre's pathetic attempts at skipping the large puddle on the ground accumulated due to the rains that had Velaris freezing overnight.

Feyre failed miserably, her boots and leggings getting wet from the splash that signalled her downfall against the watery enemy of hers. But Feyre was not fazed. She simply laughed alongside Y/n, her eyes crinkling as the two of them made their way back to the river house.

It was visible already now, Y/n could even make out the grains in the wood of the door as it opened, and her brother in laws, along with her mate, spilled out.

Y/n could see from the corner of her eyes as her sister lit up at seeing her mate, her husband and the father of her child. The moment his eyes met her, she took off, her arms spread as she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Rhysand did not hold back either, clutching Feyre to her chest with as much enthusiasm as she held him.

It made Y/n smile.

Y/n then glanced behind the embracing couple to her mate, the overwhelming urge to hug him too and to claim him in front of anyone watching making her start walking towards him without even realising.

Which was reckless, as the moment he realised she was walking towards him to hug him? He took a step back.

Y/n knew that he hated being affectionate in front of others, but this was cruel.

So to not get embarrassed by his rejection, Y/n turned swiftly towards Cassian, her other brother in law, who stood not too far from where Azriel did, and hugged him instead.

Cassian, Mother bless his heart, did not even question it.

He wrapped his arms around Y/n and literally lifted her off the ground, cackling when Y/n's fist made contact with his shoulder over and over again as she demanded to be put down.

Y/n had to stop herself from thinking back to that day. She did not want to relive the pain she had felt, the sadness and anger.

Y/n watched his eyes fluttering, wondering if he was dreaming. Wondering who he was dreaming about.

It definitely was not her, that was for sure.

Y/n, feeing a little sadness taking root in her heart, returned to the portrait in her hands, questioning if it would even be worth it finishing it up when he sure as hell wouldn't even acknowledge it. Or her.

Y/n glanced at the paint supplies she had placed on the coffee table next to her, having wanted to capture a moment of him letting his guard down, of him being vulnerable using her best paints, knowing he would not care.

She guessed living for as long as he had, life and the small things didn't matter as much anymore. Maybe that was why he loved to go on the missions Rhysand, Y/n's brother in law, gave him.

It probably gave him the thrill nothing else did anymore.

With Y/n's sister just having given birth to the starlight of the court, Rhys had become more and more protective, sending his brothers and anyone and everyone at his disposal to check and report about every trivial thing that made his primal mate and father side get protective.

Slowly, Y/n reached for the brush that rested in the cup half filled with coloured water, deciding to finish the half done portrait. If he did not care... she did not now what she would do then, but she did know she was tired of being tolerated by him.

But what could she even do? It was not like she could just up and leave.

Y/n blinked.

Or... could she?

Y/n shook her head, as if to dislodge the though, and with a sigh, she let herself get lost in the soft skill of painting her sister had taught her long ago, when staying up and huddling under worn blankets was the only thing bringing any warmth.

Trying not to think about the fact that the last time she remembered him caring for her, genuinely caring for her, was only when the two had been in their early stages of relation ship and the mating bond was a very new experience to a newly made fae Y/n, she continued using the soft and strong, long and short strokes to finish up her latest masterpiece.

Of course, Y/n never would call herself a creator of masterpieces, but any and all art that included her perfect mate was destined to be a masterpiece.

Time lost its meaning, and all that mattered was capturing the perfect angle for his eyes, nose, lips, shoulder.

Nothing existed but Y/n, her art, and her muse.

Nothing existed but the soft rise and fall of his back as he lay sprawled on his stomach, the effortless way his wings draped across the whole bed, taking up space three wingless fae could have slept in.

Where Y/n would have slept in, on days when everything had been filled with stars and dreams, wrapped under his warm wing like it were a living blanket.

When he pretended he was nothing, absolutely nothing but her mate. Her husband. Not a spymaster, not a shadowsinger, not a brother. Just her mate, her lover.

Those days were far gone now.

•○🌑○•

Despite the fact that she knew he would most definitely not care, Y/n was excited.

And that was downplaying what she felt.

The wait was killing her, the amount of adrenaline in her bloodstream making her want to jump around to get rid of the energy that made her shiver, her limbs going cold and warm at the same time. She had to push her fists together and shove them between her thighs to keep them from shaking, which did not help at all.

So Y/n waited, her body clenched in anticipation as she stared at the doorway that led into the living room, a big grin on her face.

She glanced once at the sketchpad in front of her on the table, admiring her artwork for a moment.

She never liked whatever she made, always feeling like it lacked something. So for her to be excited to show off her art to her mate was a huge indication to how much she loved the portrait.

The familiar scuff of worn boots drew Y/n's attention, and she shot to her feet, pressing her fists to the back of her thighs.

It had become a habit of Azriel's, to purposefully make some noise before he stepped in view so as not to startle her with his appearance.

The action melted Y/n's heart every single time.

He stepped into view, as ethereal as the day Y/n had first seen him as a human, just as beautiful as he had looked that day as he tried to get comfortable on the small chair in the manor on the other side of the wall, just as loveable as that day when she had ended up losing her heart to the low born fae that should have intimated her.

He was fumbling with his armor, making sure it was all secured properly before he left for whatever mission Rhys assigned him for that day.

He glanced up just as he walked past Y/n to the kitchen counter, a small smile gracing his face before his attention was again diverted.

Y/n tried not to deflate at his lack of enthusiasm.

"Good morning love. Look-"

"Good morning Y/n." He cut her off, his voice void of emotions, as if he was tired of saying the same thing every morning and wanted to get it over with. He didn't even glance at Y/n as he said it, and Y/n pretended not to notice that he used her name instead of whatever endearing name he would have picked before.

"I will be on a scouting trip to Illyria, and after I have a meeting and dinner scheduled with Rhys and Cass, so I will be late coming home. Don't wait up."

Y/n's smile faded. "Don't wait up or stay out of my way?"

Azriel froze. "What?"

Y/n released a humourless laugh. "Nothing. Go have fun."

Azriel turned, giving her a hard look. "You know I would rather stay at home with you."

Doubtful.

Y/n so badly wanted to say it to his face, but she did not want to fight with him so early in the morning, so she sighed, smiled and nodded.

He started walking towards the door, and despite her anger, Y/n walked forward to kiss his cheek.

She did not miss how he recoiled.

Y/n masked the hurt before he could see it, and he gave her an awkward smile before he maneuvered to walk around her, careful not to brush against her.

Y/n watched him walk away, staring hard at the door even long after he'd left.

She then glanced at the portrait she had abandoned on the table, and, her heart hardening, turned away.

She was tired of having her love be tolerated, and she would not have it be that way anymore.

Either he accept her love the way it was, loud and clear, or he go find someone else.

And so, she turned, walked up the stairs to the bedchambers she shared with Azriel, and began to turn it back into just his bedchambers.

She would no longer be tolerated only because some godly entity thought she and him would make great, powerful kids and tied them together with a string.

She deserved to be cherished.

•○🌑○•

Part 2

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fic #acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #mating bond #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel x you

2K notes · View notes

crxss01 · 1 year

Note

request ! 😌

i saw something about Mrs. Morales having a picture of Miles’ girlfriend in her wallet and i think it’s literally the cutest thing ever 😭😭😭 could you write some headcannons about Mrs. Morales absolutely loving Miles’ girlfriend? for both E-1610 Miles and E-42 Miles? thank you !!!

— Mama Love

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42!miles morales x fem!reader, 1610!miles morales x fem!reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ tía morales really enjoys having you as her son’s girlfriend.

warnings ✧˖ ° fluff, cursing, tía morales offering to whoop miles’s ass for you.

m. list, main m. list.

translations ✧࿓☾ mi niña preciosa: my precious little girl, si la vuelves a lastimar te juro que—: if you hurt her again i swear that i’ll—, no la vuelvas a dejar plantada!: don’t you ever stand her up again, niño no hagas que te golpé: boy don’t make me whoop you.

a/n . . ◟੭ hey, sweet anon! i think i know what fic you’re talking about, but i don’t remember the author. i love tía morales, hope you enjoy!

42!miles morales

this boy does not play with his girl and mom so you better believe that he was so happy that his mom loved you so much.

at first he was worried that his mom wouldn’t accept you or get along with you because in that case he would’ve no choice but to break up with you in order to not make his mom uncomfortable.

she matters too much to him for him to just go and date someone she doesn’t approve of.

but his worries vanished the moment he saw the two of you in the kitchen after he had come from some prowler business and heard his mom talking about how beautiful you were and how you and miles complemented each other.

that was the first time you two had met and since then you were inseparable.

you were the it mom and future daughter-in-law duo.

many times you and tía morales were talking about him and she found absolutely adorable the way your eyes lid up when talking about her son

“mi niña preciosa,” she would sigh. “you and miles are made for each other.”

other times you would talk about the world of fashion and gossip about the women and men in the neighborhood.

one time tía morales argued with a woman after she had cursed at you, telling her about how she was too grown to be acting like that.

you two laughed about it later and she let you know that if you ever needed help from ladies who acted like children to just call her.

one time miles even complained about the amount of time his mother spent with his girlfriend and he got called selfish.

never complained to either of you again.

his uncle aaron once got to hear this complain and laughed at him telling him he’s a simp

miles got you and his mom matching neckless and you two absolutely loved them.

now, neither of you takes it off.

then he got jealous of that so he got you and him matching bracelets.

you have a picture of him and his mom as your homescreen and he got jealous because it used to be only him.

tía morales has you as her homescreen and everytime someone sees it she would tell them that you were her son’s girlfriend who was her niña preciosa.

you would come over even when miles was not there just to spend time with her.

she taught you how to cook many dishes puertorriqueños.

and if you didn’t speak spanish already, she would teach you many words.

would feel guilty when she said a bad word around you and you would repeat it.

“no, mi niña. don’t say that!”

miles always got an earful from his mom whenever he did something to you that she found out of line, like one time he yelled at you.

“si la vuelves a lastimar te juro que—”

yeah, he never yelled at you after that.

or like ever did anything that would hurt you.

miles might act like he didn’t like how close you and his mom were but he secretly loved that.

you and tía morales couldn’t care less if he liked your closeness or not.

1610!miles morales

now this one does love his mom but wouldn’t break up with you if you two didn’t get along.

but since day one you and tía morales got along right away.

it was like you were destined to be her daughter-in-law, like she would often say.

miles absolutely loved that and would often join both of you in your conversations and cooking lessons.

one time you were learning how to make patacón and miles was absolutely freaking out because he felt like you would get burned.

tía morales took him out of the kitchen, telling him that if he kept being in there with all that bad energy then you will end up burning yourself.

she taught you a lot of different recipes from her culture and if you are boricua then you would just make them together, since people use different seasonings for everything.

tía morales and you would walk around the neighborhood, talking about some lady from there who cheated on her husband and how he publicly humiliated her right in front of everyone.

one time miles stood you up for the fifth time and since you didn’t know he was spiderman, you just felt neglected by him for no reason.

his mom made sure to make things clear for him.

“no la vuelvas a dejar plantada!” the look she gave him was enough for him not to make his patrols around the same time as your dates.

he had to apologize with flowers and chocolates that his mom helped pick out for you, she also told him to give you some money.

after that you felt better and forgave miles, but not before thanking tía morales for talking to him.

tía morales and you went out a lot.

like going shopping,

buying ice cream,

going to restaurants where miles tagged along.

miles never felt jealousy of you spending time with his mom but he felt a little mad when he found out that he was no longer your homescreen wallpaper.

he was, but his mom was in the picture too so he got pouty.

he complained right there in front of his mom, acting like a damn child.

“niño, no hagas que te golpé.” tía morales had said, giving him a blank stare.

yeah, never complained again.

but you had to make him your perfile picture in every socia media or he will ignore you.

you made his mom your whatsapp perfile pic though, since she made you download it. (if you had it before then you just put it because you wanted to show off your bfs mother).

she had you as her homescreen and would feel so proud whenever someone called the girl in the picture gorgeous and would immediately say that it was her son’s gf.

in the end you and tía morales are besties.

taglist: @anikaluv @janaeby @queerponcho

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

8K notes · View notes

verstappen-cult · 9 months

Note

gonna take up on the request opening bc i love these lil blurbs you do with your moodboards! maybe "how they defend you online" esp charles and lando but if you feel like adding others its up to you !!

THE BOYS DEFENDING YOU FROM ONLINE HATE | F1 GRID

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

lando was streaming when you came home one day. once he heard the front door being closed and then your footsteps, he excused himself with his friends and viewers and went to greet you. when he came back, there were several texts from his friends letting him know of some not-so-friendly comments about you. suddenly, lando had something else to do and ended the whole thing. he did not tell you anything, lando simply waited until his next stream for what he wanted to do. it was very simple and definitely something lando would do; and staring right into the camera lando let the world know that if they don’t support his relationship, then he just doesn’t want their support at all. from then on, lando just blocked everyone who didn’t have anything good to say. you’re the most important person in his life, how can anyone hate you? and so, lando made a promise to himself: show the world the amazing girl you are.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

even way before you started dating charles, receiving hateful comments and messages was a common occurrence. of course your boyfriend knew about it, everyone could see what was happening just by choosing a random picture on your instagram and reading the replies. it was sad, awful. but you didn’t want charles to do anything, you stopped him a lot of times because you didn’t want to bring too much attention into the whole thing. charles loves you and that is all that matters to you. it was, well, okay… until things became a little to real, a little too much, and charles couldn’t sit back and do nothing. so with a little bit of help from his team, he managed to write a very good and long statement about the whole thing. there were mixed opinions but things quiet down a little. and you weren’t happy at first, but something as simple as seeing your comment section hate-free made you forgive him sooner.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

oscar is a man of very few words and never engages in online drama or gossip. if and when he’s online, oscar just wants to see cute and funny videos. he’s a formula one driver and people should only be interested in that part of his life, but he knows that will never be the case. however, he’s still surprised to see various comments around twitter about you. they are not about how beautiful or intelligent you are or how happy you seem to make oscar with your pretty smile and sense of humor – not that they would know that. not that they deserve to know that, either. some part of him wants to reply to those people who definitely don’t know you, he’s angry, disgusted. and the rational part of him tells him to simply don’t say anything because they don’t deserve it. so, oscar just clicks to make a new tweet and begins with a simple phrase “you don’t know anything about me or my life…” and so on. maybe he sounded a little harsh, maybe things will get worse; he couldn’t care less, as long as you’re not mad with him, he can live with being the center of the drama. oscar will never let anyone disrespect you.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

max doesn’t care what people think and have to say about him, that ship has sailed a long time ago. but he can’t ignore when people say mean things about you, he just can’t, so, he doesn’t. max replies to every single tweet and comment on both his and your instagram that he sees, he goes directly to the point and if he’s mean then, who cares? maybe it’s a little bit childish but he doesn’t care, max will not allow anyone to talk shit about his girl. and if he needs to make a video or do an interview or whatever he needs to do to make people understand that you are part of his life and forever will be, then he will be more than happy to do them. max is almost never online, so when all of this happens he makes sure to make time to be online, to post a picture of you on his instagram story, to post a photo of your vacation together on his feed, to say how much he loves you via twitter, to mention you when he has the chance during an interview. he loves making you blush and seeing you trying to hide your smile when you see all those things. max also loves pissing people off.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

alex tries to be friendly. when he sees someone say something not good about his girlfriend, he doesn’t hesitate to prove them wrong and defend you. he knows you’re more than capable of doing it and has seen you doing it before; he loves it. but there’s this something inside of him trying to break free and just let everyone know the funny, pretty, amazing, kind girl he’s lucky to call his girlfriend. so, alex lets it free and goes liking, retweeting and replying to every single comment about you and how shiny and nice your hair is, how you seem to make alex so happy and how he’s always smiling around you (he makes sure to let them know why is that), how lucky alex is to have you by his side, and so on and on and on until there’s nothing more for him, until he can’t think about the mean things people said, until you are laughing next to him and calling him obsessed and kissing him like your life depends on it.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

daniel chooses a catchy song and changes some of the lyrics, then sets his phone down and sits with a big smile and his guitar. when the video starts, he simply says “this is dedicated to all of the assholes thinking that is okay to hate on someone’s girlfriend just because.” and then he starts singing. there are a lot of bad words and cursing and long pauses looking directly into the camera without losing that big and pretty smile he has. daniel then uploads the video to all his platforms with a little paragraph about why bullying is bad and why you should mind your own business because he’s not that interesting anyway and it won’t make him break up with you because some trolls are practically begging him to. he ends up getting in trouble for not consulting with his team before doing what he did, something that has him going viral, so viral that people outside of formula one and people who don’t even who he is talk about it. exactly what he wanted.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

the moment mick has to hold you in his arms as you cry because you’d read something mean about you, it’s the exact moment he decides to do something about it. he doesn’t want to cause drama or make things worse, so, it takes him a little while and some long calls with his sister to know what to do. mick puts the poetry classes you two take a few months ago to good use and writes the most beautiful and romantic poem you and everyone would ever read. it is about you, about his love for you, about what you mean to him and everything he likes about you. he posts a little phrase to his instagram stories and sets a time and day for when it will be posted it. when the day cames and you get to read it, you end up crying again but for a whole different reason. it’s not that you didn’t know mick loved you but it’s the gesture, the time he spent doing it, the fact that he wanted to do it and wanted the whole world to read his love letter to you, something that will forever be there.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 grid x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #max verstappen fluff #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo blurb #alex albon x reader #mick schumacher x you #alex albon imagine #oscar piastri fanfic

2K notes · View notes

luna-azzurra · 8 days

Note

Do you have any posts with advice on how to write a kiss? I'm super unsure how to do this! 😅

Writing a kiss scene can be a little nerve-wracking, but the thing is to focus on the feelings between the characters and how the moment unfolds. It’s less about the actual mechanics of the kiss and more about the emotions leading up to it and what it means afterward. Here’s how you can write it in a more detailed and natural way.

First, set the mood. A kiss doesn’t just come out of nowhere, right? Think about what’s happening in the scene before they kiss. Are they standing close, but there’s this charged silence between them? Maybe their eyes meet, and there’s this unspoken thing, like both of them know what’s coming, but neither of them is sure if they should make the first move. Or maybe it’s more spontaneous, like they’re caught up in an argument or laughing together, and suddenly, it just happens. The atmosphere matters because it builds the tension.

Then, when the kiss happens, focus on their emotions and physical sensations. You don’t need to describe every single action in detail (like "their lips touched for exactly two seconds"). Instead, think about what each character feels in the moment. Maybe one of them feels a rush of warmth as their lips touch, or maybe their hands find each other’s without even thinking about it. Are their hearts pounding? Is one of them surprised, while the other has been wanting this for a long time? Adding in these little details can make the scene feel alive.

For example, instead of just saying "they kissed," you could write something like, "Her heart raced as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. For a second, everything seemed to stop, just the two of them, standing there. And then, finally, their lips met, soft and unsure at first, but full of something electric, something real." You see how it’s not just about their lips, it’s about how their bodies react, how time seems to shift, how the moment feels like more than just a physical action.

You also want to make sure you keep it natural. Don’t overcomplicate it with too many flowery words or try to describe every little thing. Kisses in real life aren’t perfect, so your writing doesn’t need to be either. What matters is how the characters are feeling in that moment, whether it’s soft and sweet, hesitant and nervous, or urgent and full of passion. Focus on what the kiss means to the characters.

And don’t forget about what happens afterward. A kiss can change things, especially if it’s their first one. Maybe one of them pulls away, smiling, not quite believing what just happened, or maybe they’re both breathless, unsure of what to say next. How does it affect their relationship? Does it leave them wanting more, or does it leave them confused? Showing how the kiss affects them makes it feel important to the story. In the end, it’s not about writing the "perfect" kiss scene. It’s about making it feel real and meaningful to the characters. Think of it as a mix of anticipation, emotion, and how their world shifts in that one small moment. That’s what will make it stick with the reader. :)

#writing #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #character development #writing advice #oc character #writing help #writer tumblr #writblr #kissing prompts #kiss scene

498 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 1 month

Text

Chasing Cars | ch 15 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: cursing, mentions of taehyung getting slapped, alcohol, a haunted house (and a clown), fear of someone possibly committing the irreparable, confessions <3, explicit content: implied penetrative sex

☆word count: 7.4k

☆a/n: finally the end of the angst :') hope you guys enjoy <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, October 11th

You don’t think you’ve slept. You’ve lied in bed all night, chasing the smell of Jungkook from last night on your sheets. You hoped he’d reappear, materialize here in this room where you and him always made sense, but he stays gone, and you stay alone.��

Lonely, like the moon in the sky up above.

The morning is grey, colourless. The sun rises like it didn’t care about you and Jungkook, like its heart perhaps never imploded on itself. But yours has, the second you had to watch Jungkook walking out of the door.

He’d closed the door softly behind him, and you’d turned towards Taehyung. You’d seethed, “I fucking hate you”, through your teeth, and Taehyung had offered you a sad, apologetic stare.

“You’ll understand that this is the best for you,” he’d said, and you’d walked up to him and slapped him, hard enough for your hand to sting.

He’d taken it, barely even flinching, and as his cheek had reddened, you’d said, “You should have fucking stayed in Paris.”

And then you’d fled to your room, and he’d let you do it.

It was the first time you’ve ever slapped him - or anyone, for that matter - and you really hope it’ll be the last. Perhaps because it came from such ugly feelings, from heartbreak and betrayal and everything in between, and it raged through you only to leave a pathetic shrivelled shape behind.

You’d meant it last night - you miss Jungkook. And you miss him more than ever now, as you’re faced with the irreversibility of your falling out.

Ariane came back home after you’ve gone to bed last night. You heard her walking in, heard her speaking to Taehyung in the living room before the sounds faded as they moved to their room. And as you lied there, you’d wondered, why did Taehyung even come back home so early?

Why couldn’t he stay at the movie theatre long enough for you and Jungkook to fix your relationship? Long enough to have that much needed conversation, long enough so you’d never said that last night was a lapse of judgment?

You regretted the words the moment they were out. You don’t think you truly meant them - yesterday night was heaven on Earth, a step out of time to a past you were trying to move on from.

This morning, you know you’ll never be able to move on from Jungkook. Not when your feelings for him were strong enough to make you hate the one person who always cared for you, who always was there for you growing up.

Because with the grey light of dawn you realize that you do truly hate Taehyung. You don’t think you’ll be able to see him again without blowing up in his face, so you remain hidden in your room as he and Ariane get up. He doesn’t text you if you want breakfast, doesn’t say anything at all.

You think it’s a relief - you don’t have it in you to fight anymore.

Jungkook hasn’t texted you either. You’ve debated sending him a message for most of the night, but you haven’t figured out what. You reckon he might need space after last night, after the roller coaster of emotions that everything was, and so you think it might be okay if you haven’t texted him yet.

You rub the tiredness out of your eyes, sighing deeply as the sounds in the apartment fade when Taehyung and Ariane leave for their morning classes. You get out of bed then, putting on clothes before you head to the kitchen.

Taehyung left you a plate of eggs and bacon on the table, with a scribbled note next to it. I’m sorry is all that’s written, and you wonder if Ariane forced him to write it.

It’s unlike Taehyung to ever apologize for anything after all. You crumple the piece of paper, throw it out in the recycling bin, and then eat the food even though it’s gone cold since Taehyung left it there. It’s still food, and though your appetite doesn’t show up, you still manage to eat half of it.

You text Nabi that you won’t make it to class before heading back to your room, the heaviness of everything that happened in the last twelve hours catching up to you. You feel bone-deep exhausted, and you hide underneath the covers of your bed, tears pricking at your eyes.

It’s nothing new - you’ve been crying on and off since Jungkook left last night, and that, most of all, must have been the reason why sleep evaded you all night long.

You grab your phone, quickly moving to your text message app. You find Jungkook’s conversation, rereading his text from September.

[09/08/24] JK: hey.. do you want to talk?

You’d ignored it then, but today, you find yourself in his position. Find yourself writing a message similar to the one he’d sent, and you reread it a thousand times before you find the courage to press send.

[9:37 am] You: i’m sorry about what i said last night. can we talk?

Anxiety flushes through you as the message delivers. It’s adrenaline in your blood, and you remain on the conversation for five minutes, hoping Jungkook might reply right away.

He doesn’t. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t reply all morning, and you busy yourself by going back to the dorms, not wanting to stay at the apartment knowing that Taehyung is going to come back eventually.

You find the dorm room to be empty, which you reckon is a relief. You don’t think you’d have the strength to see anyone right now, not when the exhaustion is almost enough to make you crumple on yourself.

You end up taking a nap for most of the afternoon, waking up drenched in sweat from a nightmare you forget the second your eyes open.

Perhaps the presence of Nabi and Ria, sitting on Ria’s bed next to you, contributes to your forgetfulness after all.

“Morning,” Ria teases.

You frown, shutting your eyes again as you hide your face in Nabi’s pillow. “Morning,” you mumble in reply.

“Why’d you miss class this morning?” Nabi asks.

You let out a noncommittal sound.

The mattress dips next to you as someone sits there. “What’s wrong?” Ria asks.

The tears are spilling over a second later, and you tell them everything. You tell them how your conversation with Ria yesterday inspired you to do the same thing with Jungkook, but that you never got the chance to tell him how you feel. You tell them about Taehyung, about Jungkook leaving without a single look back. You tell them about the text that sits unanswered on your phone, and you tell them you’re tired, oh so tired.

Ria runs a soothing hand on your back through it all, while Nabi says she’ll go buy ice cream. You sit with Ria in silence for a while, before glancing at her.

“I hope things went better between you and Seokjin,” you say, voice rough from all the crying you’ve done.

She offers you an apologetic smile. “It did. But we don’t have to speak about it right now.”

You take a deep breath, wiping your cheeks dry even though you haven’t shed a tear in a few minutes. “No,” you say after. “Tell me everything. I just need to stop thinking about Jungkook for a while.”

There’s a knock on the door, startling the two of you. Ria throws you a quizzical look and then gets up to open the door.

Yoongi’s on the other side, a six-pack of beer in hands. “Nabi said to meet you guys here,” he says to Ria, then looks behind her to see you sitting on the bed. You must look like hell, because he lets out, “Shit.”

It makes you laugh, and then you pat the bed next to you. “No clue if beer mixes well with ice cream, but come here.”

Yoongi grins, and then he walks in, kicking off his shoes. Turns out beer does not mix well with ice cream, as you find out half an hour later when Nabi’s returned with a one-liter tub of vanilla ice cream with fudge ripples in it. The two tastes clash in your mouth, but you shrug it off.

It’s Friday evening, and though Jungkook still hasn’t replied, you want to have fun with your friends. And you really try to - Ria drags you all to a board game bar near campus, and you play as you drink and eat your fill.

You’re walking home, arms hooked with the girls while Yoongi leads the way, when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You can’t see who’s texted you, but your heart picks up its pace, like it knows.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say to no one in particular.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder. “You suck at board games.”

He bursts out laughing as you let out an offended sound, and Ria and Nabi pull you back as you try to jump on Yoongi.

“You’re a dick!”

He just laughs harder, until everyone joins in.

Until joy pierces the clouds in your mind, and weight seems to be lifted from your shoulders. You feel lighter - who needs a man when you have your friends?

“For real though,” you say once the laughter subsides. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Nabi rests her head on your shoulder. “Good thing that you don’t have to live without us.”

“You’re such a sentimental drunk,” Ria teases, yet she pecks your cheek all the same. “Love you, bitch.”

“Love you too.”

Later, when you’re about to hop in the shower at the dorms, you finally look at your phone. You’d all but forgotten the earlier buzzing, but the message that waits for you is a bomb awaiting explosion, and you think it explodes right in your chest.

[11:26 pm] JK: i honestly don’t think we should talk rn. sorry

You swallow the rumbles of your beating organ, but they cut on the way down until you’re bleeding out standing there, naked save for the flip flops on your feet.

The clouds come back to your head, thickening until all light seems gone.

[11:58 pm] You: okay… i really am sorry

Jungkook never replies to that, and you cry yourself to sleep that night.

Sunday, October 13th

Each year like clockwork a fair comes into town around Halloween. It’s a fair of light and music, games and plush toys to be won, with a haunted house and a corn maze. It’s not exactly in town - it’s a fifteen-minute drive from the outskirts of town, but Namjoon has a car, and so does Seokjin.

You technically do too, but you left it to Taehyung when you moved to the dorms.

You get there with Nabi and Namjoon, Yoongi riding in the backseat with you. Ria and Seokjin are going to get there later, which you think is a good thing.

They have months of catching up to do, and you can’t blame them for wanting to be alone. Especially not when you see just how much Ria has been glowing the last few days.

You have to park the car in a field, and you’re glad you chose to wear your frat party shoes - the field is muddy from yesterday night’s rain. Nabi complains about it, and Namjoon immediately offers her a piggyback ride to cross a large puddle of mud.

You turn to Yoongi.

“Can I piggyback you too?” you ask, lips jutting out in a small pout.

He snorts. “No.”

You roll your eyes, though you chuckle as he walks around the puddle as best as he can. It’s useless - there’s mud everywhere, and your shoes are entirely dirty by the time you make it to the fair grounds. You head to the ticket booth, though you have to wait in line for a while before you manage to finally get in.

“I want a plushie,” you say the second you see the first game a little while later.

It’s a game where you have to throw rings on the necks of glass bottles. Your friends follow you to it, and you’re quick to make a competition of who’s going to succeed the most. To your surprise, it ends up being Nabi, and she wins a small dragon plushie that she gives to you immediately.

You cradle it to your chest as you make your way to the next game, though your heart drops to your ass when your gaze connects with Taehyung’s as he stands next to the stand.

“Nope,” you let out, turning around to head in the other direction.

“What?” Yoongi asks, but he soon falls into step with you. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“Just saw my asshole of a brother, and I have no interest in talking to him tonight,” you explain as your heart races in your chest from newfound adrenaline. “Or ever, to be honest.”

Yoongi winces. “Can’t blame you.” He looks behind you, nudging you with an elbow. “We’re clear though. He didn’t follow.”

You nod, stopping to glance behind yourself too. Nabi and Namjoon are nowhere to be seen, but you think it’s okay - at least you’ve got Yoongi. And Yoongi is a fun partner, though he beats you in most of the games you end up playing with him. He makes you laugh, and you think that’s what’s most important right now.

To have fun with your friends, lest your heart runs back to a doe-eyed boy who’s decided to leave you in the past.

“Want to do the haunted house?” you suggest to Yoongi.

He seems unconvinced, yet he still says, “Sure.”

Seokjin and Ria find you in line for the haunted house, joining you in the middle while apologizing to the people behind you, though they barely even pay attention to you. You hold a smile in at the sight of their entwined hands, and you nudge Yoongi to point towards it.

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The smile freezes on his face a second later, and you glance in the direction he’s looking.

It’s the guy from the reception at the gym. He recognizes you, and you wave hello as Yoongi turns beet red next to you.

“Want to go talk to him?” you say, wiggling your brows.

“You say a single other word, and I’m going to murder you,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth.

“Damn,” Ria lets out. “Someone’s angry.”

Yoongi scoffs, though his cheeks remain fully flushed up until you make it to the front of the line. It fades when you walk into the haunted house, though you think it might be because a clown jumps in his face the second you walk in.

Yoongi raises his fists in a defensive stance, and you burst out laughing as the clown moves to Ria, who shrieks so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if she ripped your eardrums.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to punch them,” you tease Yoongi.

He glares at you in the dim light. “Maybe I should punch you.”

“Try me bitch.”

At that he laughs, and then tension finally goes out of his shoulders. You spend the rest of the haunted house startling whenever someone jumps in front of you, letting out small shrieks that are entirely shadowed by Ria’s screams. Seokjin doesn’t fare any better, and you and Yoongi make fun of them, so much so you find yourself wiping happy tears from your eyes when you finally walk outside again.

“Never doing one of these again,” Seokjin deadpans, which only makes you and Yoongi laugh again.

Ria punches his shoulder. “You were supposed to protect me.”

“I was scared too!” Seokjin lets out, massaging the spot she hit. “I don’t ever do haunted houses!”

The two of them start bickering, though the teasing twinkle in their eyes tells you that it’s all in good fun. And it’s beautiful to see, though you can tell Seokjin is not all the way in yet.

You can’t blame him - Ria did lead him on for a while. But you can only hope that they’ll make it despite everything. When he throws an arm around her shoulder to pull her in, kissing the top of her head, you reckon they will.

If anyone makes it through the college experience without breaking up, it’ll be them, and Nabi and Namjoon. At least you hope so.

You meet up with Nabi and Namjoon when you go to the area where multiple food stands have been erected. You and Yoongi get corn dogs, only because you haven’t eaten them in forever and you feel like indulging tonight.

Like forgetting that, three days ago, you broke your heart and Jungkook’s heart with words you didn’t mean, all because your brother took you by surprise while you were with Jungkook.

Speaking of Taehyung, you notice him on the other side of the food court-like area, surrounded by his group of friends. He sees you, waving halfheartedly at you like he expects you might have forgiven him already.

You haven’t. As a matter of fact, the sight of him out and about enjoying himself after he caused Thursday’s heartbreak makes you hate him even more, and you turn away from him to focus on your friends’ conversation. But you can’t join in - your thoughts have run back to Thursday, to the feeling of Jungkook’s gentle hands all over you as you’d had sex, and then as you’d taken a shower together.

Your thoughts run back to your love confessions, that you both didn’t register because you were too angry, too caught up in the moment. But you know he said he fell in love with you, just like you did with him.

And that, most of all, is the reason why you hate Taehyung. Because no amount of loving Jeon Jungkook could save the relationship when your brother was so keen on destroying it.

You take a deep breath as heaviness settles on you, and Nabi sidles closer to you, nudging you gently.

“Don’t think about it right now,” she whispers for just you to hear.

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s hard.”

“I know,” she gently says. “I know it’s hard, and I know you probably wish you weren’t here right now. But this is a good distraction, no? You loved it last year.”

You did. You’d ended up coming here four times before the fair closed shop for the year, and each time you had had the time of your life, messing around with your friends with not a single care for the world around you.

Needless to say, you’ve lost that unbothered attitude now, the frivolity of it completely forgotten.

You sigh, meeting Nabi’s gaze for a few seconds. “I’m trying. It doesn’t help that Taehyung is here, though.”

“You want me to go kick his ass?” Nabi asks. You chuckle, and a smile tickles at the corner of your lips. Nabi grins at the sight of it. “You’re going to be okay,” she promises. “We’ll make sure of it.”

You can only hope that she’s right.

After eating, you all head to the maze. You team up with the girls, racing the boys to the end. Evidently you get lost, and you manage to laugh around with your friends even through the heaviness on your shoulders. You’re lost somewhere in the middle of the maze when your phone rings in your purse with three incoming text messages.

You reckon you know who texted you. Considering that all of your friends are here with you tonight, there’s only one person you think could have texted you.

So you stop walking, Ria and Nabi stopping a step ahead of you, and you pull your phone out of your purse, heart dropping to your ass.

[7:27 pm] JK: hey so i’ve been thinking and there’s some stuff i need to get off my chest [7:27 pm] JK: sorry for the long message [7:28 pm] JK: I want to apologize for everything. I’m sorry, so sorry that I couldn’t make it work. I’m sorry Paris happened, I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you right away. I wish I’d been, maybe we’d be together now. But I had to fuck it up, multiple times honestly and I think it’s proof that I definitely am not ready to be in a relationship. I wanted to try tho, I really did. I think you and I could have been something great. And lately I’ve been wondering if, maybe we made it in another universe. Like… I can’t accept that there’s no universes out there where we make it, you know? Because I really love you. I’ve loved you since the day I met you and you ran into me. I fell for you the second I saw you, and then I found out you were Tae’s sister, and the rest is history. But I wanted you to know it, to know that I love you and that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I fucked it up. I’d take everything back if I could, I’d save you the heartbreak, but life doesn’t work that way. so yeah… i’m really sorry peach… I hope we can make it in the next life

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe for a whole minute as you reread again and again, and Ria and Nabi stand next to you, asking what’s wrong. You can’t say anything - you think your heart has stopped beating altogether.

You hand your phone to Ria, and she and Nabi read the messages while tears prick at your eyes, adrenaline flushing through you.

“Holy fuck,” Ria curses under her breath, and she meets your gaze. “Y/n, do you know where he is?”

You don’t. You have no clue where he’s gone to hide after he left Thursday, and you think you might be sick. “I don’t know,” you answer. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

Tears fall from your eyes, and you grab your phone, immediately pressing on the call button. It goes to voicemail right away, and you choke on a sob as Nabi grabs your arm, pulling you behind her.

You were almost at the end of the maze, luckily, and the second you’re out you take off, your friends yelling your name behind you. Apparently, the boys made it out first, because there’s a chorus of ‘What is going on?’ as you run back towards the last place where you saw Taehyung.

Your brother is not there, and though you’re out of breath, you sprint down another alley, where a bunch of artists sell paintings and bracelets and everything in between. You try calling Jungkook again, but it once again goes to voicemail.

You’re about to throw up. You’ll fucking throw up your corn dog, you’ll fucking lose him, irreparably. The fear takes hold of you, sweeps through you until you’re shaking, tears falling freely like they have a mind of their own. You can barely think around the loud beats of your heart, around the sound of the blood gushing into your ears.

You can’t think around the thought that Jungkook is about to hurt himself.

“Y/n!” Namjoon says behind you, and you spin around to see he’s the only one who managed to follow you. Your other friends are just now turning into the alley, and they rush towards you.

“Where’s my brother?” you ask, and you choke on another sob.

Taehyung is likely the only person here who might know where Jungkook is.

Namjoon looks over his shoulder as Ria skids to a halt next to you. “I don’t know,” he answers, and you almost want to punch him.

How is he so intelligent and doesn’t fucking know that?

“Have you guys seen Taehyung?” you ask your other friends as they all stop next to you. “I need to find him.”

They all nod, and you disperse throughout the fair, searching for your brother.

“Why don’t you call him?” Yoongi asks, and you startle - you didn’t notice he’d followed you.

And you find yourself stupid for not thinking about it before. Instead of trying to call Jungkook again - you’ve been trying constantly since you received his messages - you go to Taehyung’s contact, calling him.

He picks up on the third ring. “Finally talking to me?” he drawls.

“Where are you?” you ask.

He must hear the panic in your voice, because he answers, “In line for the haunted house. Is something wrong?”

You hang up, not replying, instead sprinting towards the haunted house. You indeed find Taehyung next to it, though he’s not in line anymore, like he knew you’d come see him.

“Where’s Jungkook?” you ask, the panic in your voice so stark you see the colours fading from his features.

“Why?”

“Where the fuck is Jungkook?” you repeat, and tears once again roll on your cheeks.

Ariane steps closer to you, resting a hand on your arm. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

You break down. You fully break down, hiding your face in your hands. Yoongi explains the situation while Ariane pulls you into a hug, and you cry on her shoulder, clutching the fabric of her sweater - Taehyung’s sweater - as if that'll stop you from breaking.

“He’s at home,” Taehyung says, pulling you from Ariane’s arms. “He’s at home, Y/n. Let’s go.”

You nod, and you both take off, leaving Ariane and Yoongi behind. They don’t try to follow, clearly sensing that this is something you and Taehyung need to do alone.

You’re frantic on the ride home, one leg bouncing up and down as Taehyung drives, and you urge him to go faster.

“It won’t do us any good if we get in an accident before getting home,” Taehyung answers, but you notice he does accelerate.

“Should we call the police?” you ask when you stop at a red light.

It only then occurs to you that you might walk in to find Jungkook hurt.

“We’re almost there,” Taehyung says gently.

You are. You’d likely get there before the police would.

You’re crying again, the panic and terror swimming through your blood so loud you can’t think anymore.

You don’t know what you’ll do if Jungkook hurt himself. If you get home to find him…

You don’t dare finish the thought.

It feels like an eternity before Taehyung finally parks the car near the apartment, and you’re flying out of it before it’s gone to a full stop. Taehyung doesn’t comment, and you’re sprinting faster than ever, climbing up the stairs to your apartment in a record time. You try the door, but it’s locked, and you curse as you search through your purse, but you don’t have the keys.

You don’t have the keys.

“I got you,” Taehyung says as he reaches the top of the stairs, keys already in hand.

He unlocks the door in no time, and the second it’s open you crash in, skidding to a halt as you scan the apartment with your gaze. The door to the bathroom is open, revealing that it’s empty. So is the kitchen, but light filters from underneath Jungkook’s bedroom door.

You run to the door, push it open as your heart beats so fast you’ll likely go into cardiac arrest.

Jungkook is sitting in front of his gaming PC, and he turns his head towards you, gaze going wide at the sight of your distressed state.

“You came?” he lets out.

You just stand there, watching him. Taking in the sight of him, alive and unharmed, playing computer games like he always does. It’s enough to make you break down again, and you fold on yourself, tears streaming down your face.

“I uh…” Taehyung trails off from behind you. “I’ll let you guys talk.”

Soft footsteps move towards you, and gentle hands pull you up and inside the room. You don’t see anything through the blinding waterfall in your eyes, and all you can do is sob harder when you’re pulled into someone’s arms.

Jungkook’s arms. They wrap around you, strong and steady, holding you close to him. Your fists clench on the fabric of his oversized white t-shirt, and you cry as you rest your forehead on his chest.

He holds you as all the anxiety rushes out of you in the form of endless tears, and you just cry and cry, the relief that he’s safe and sound so intense you feel whiplash.

Eventually, Jungkook makes you sit down on his bed, and he gently takes off your shoes. He then lies next to you, pulling you down, and you rest your head on his chest, the flow of tears finally slowing down.

It comes to a full stop when Jungkook kisses the top of your head, his arms around you momentarily tightening.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, voice raucous from all the crying.

“I assume this is about the message I sent you?”

You frown, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are red-rimmed, and you only then realize that he’s been crying with you all along. “Gosh, Kook,” you let out, fresh tears welling up in your eyes, but you manage to blink them away. “I thought you were going to hurt yourself.”

“Oh.” He worries at his piercings for a few seconds, then adds, “I wasn’t.”

“You sounded like you were.”

His eyebrows almost touch over his eyes. “Oh?”

“‘I hope we can make it in the next life’” you narrate. “Doesn’t that sound like what someone would say before…” you trail off, unable to say the words, the fear still impacting you despite the fact that you’re realizing he was never in any danger.

He winces. “Now that you say it like that, I guess it does sound bad.” He scrunches up his nose. “Sorry?”

“Fuck,” you curse. “Jungkook.”

“I really am sorry, I didn’t want to worry you,” he insists. He pulls you down, forcing you to rest your head back on his chest. “I just wanted to tell you how I feel. And I knew I’d say it wrong if we were talking face to face, so I just put everything down in that message.” He chuckles, though you hear him gulp. “I wrote it all in my notes app before sending it to you.” He pauses, and his lips ghost the top of your head. “My therapist said I should write down how I feel, and reading it after, I realized I wanted you to know too.”

Your hand is resting on his abdomen, and you shift it until it’s wrapped around him, pulling his body closer.

“I love you too, Jungkook,” you whisper. “Maybe not for as long as you… but I love you too.”

“I know,” he murmurs in the same tone. “I know, peach.”

You blink away the new onslaught of tears that threatens to spill on your cheeks, and coincidentally on his shirt. “We do need to talk, though.”

“I know.”

You take a deep breath, trying to find courage. As if speaking to Jungkook is scary, dangerous.

But then again, this is just Jungkook. This is the man who took care of you when you were upset on Valentine’s Day, who took care of you at every party you attended last semester.

This is the man who was ready to lose his friendship with his best friend if that meant having you. And you realize then that there’s nothing to be scared about. It’s just you and Jungkook.

It was always going to be you and Jungkook, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry too,” you admit. “For being so afraid of Taehyung’s reaction. And I wasn’t wrong to be.” You lift your head to eye the purple-turning-to-yellow mark on his cheek. It’s streaked with a linear scab, where the punch cut his skin. “I can’t believe he punched you.”

“I was expecting it.”

You look a little higher, meeting his gaze. “Why didn’t you try to stop him?”

His Adam’s apple bobs and he takes a deep breath. “I thought I deserved it.”

“Jungkook…”

“I did,” he affirms. “Did you know he told me not to touch you, ever, before I even met you?”

You frown. “That sounds like Taehyung.”

“Yeah…” Jungkook takes another deep breath, and you move your hand to hold his shoulder, thumb ghosting on the side of his neck. “And yet I did.”

“I’m happy that you did,” you whisper. “All the time we spent together last semester… I loved it, you know? I really fell for you.”

“I’m lucky you did,” he replies, and he pecks the top of your head. “But then again I treated you like shit. I should have pushed Gabrielle away before she even kissed me. But I just thought I was helping her.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I stopped being upset with you about it the second she told me everything.” You hold him a little tighter for a few seconds. “She was rooting for us, you know?”

Jungkook nods. “I know. She told me.” He sighs, and his lips brush the top of your head again, as if he’s trying to anchor you here.

To anchor himself here, with you, just lying in his bed, slowly forgetting the world.

“I’m sorry about Lisa,” he adds after a few beats of silence. “I really didn’t expect you to ever show up like that.”

“I should have texted you first,” you say as your heart clenches in your chest at the memory of Lisa in his shirt, of every scene of them together you imagined during your countless sleepless nights. “You had every right to try to move on with someone, you know?”

“But you didn’t,” he points out. “I should have held out for longer.”

“Jungkook,” you say sternly, lifting your head to meet his gaze again. “You couldn’t have known that I’d come back. You had the right to move on.”

His gaze is lined with silver, big doe eyes shining softly in the dim light from his PC monitor, and from the LED lights strung all around his room. They shine a gentle yellow tonight, so unlike the red you’re used to.

“I’m still sorry about it,” he murmurs, lower lip quivering.

“Stop,” you whisper, cupping his cheek. “Stop, Kook. I can’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt, but I was never mad at you for it. Not even for a single second.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says, and tears spill from his eyes.

You’re quick to dry them with your thumb. “It’s not a question about who deserves who or what,” you say, and you move until you can pull his face into your chest. “It’s never been about that.”

“But I don’t deserve you.” He chokes on the words, and you run a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp soothingly.

“You do,” you say. “You really do, Jungkook. You were here for me all those months. You treated me well despite Taehyung being a concern, despite the fact that I never really fully gave myself to you because of him.” You blink away the wetness in your gaze. “You deserve me because you love me,” you add, and your heart warms in your chest.

It only occurs to you then how real the feelings are. They’ve always been there, always been strong, but now they have a name, and you think it’s the most beautiful name in the universe.

You were right to chase cars around his head, after all.

“You deserve me because you love me,” you repeat, “and because I love you.”

“I do love you,” he says softly. “I really do.”

You can’t help yourself - every single second of your life has led to this moment. You pull away, and he looks up at you as you lean forward. As you softly press your lips on his, and as you swallow the soft sigh he lets out. You kiss him gently, your heart syncing with his, the cars now chasing themselves around both of your heads.

And you do forget the world, as you kiss him. It’s just you and him, like it’s always been meant to be. Just you and Jeon Jungkook, and your souls fusing into one. And maybe the three words aren’t enough, maybe ‘I love you’ can’t convey everything that you feel for Jungkook, but you reckon you have an eternity in front of you to demonstrate the feelings, in all of their glory.

And you kiss for your own little eternity, not ever falling into desire and passion territory. You ride the wave of the love between you and Jungkook - a gentle wave, like those a soft breeze summons on the surface of a lake in the summer. No, you just kiss with all of the love you share, and it burns brighter than the moon ever could, rivalling the Sun.

You wonder, do the stars see you shining in the sky outside? Do they know of the love that was born between you and Jungkook all those months ago?

The kiss ends gently, much like it started. Your eyelids flutter open to meet Jungkook’s soft gaze, and you take in the emotions swirling in the depths of his eyes, reflecting those in yours.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He frowns slightly. “For what?”

“For telling me how you felt,” you reply. “For sending that message, even though I misinterpreted the end.”

He offers you a small smile, his lips barely curving upwards yet his eyes shining bright. “You deserved to know.”

“And you deserved to know that it’s all reciprocated,” you say. “I’m in love with you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The sparkles in his eyes explode into the most beautiful fireworks. “You’re getting cheesy on me,” he teases.

“And what about it?”

He pulls you down in another kiss, though this time it’s much shorter, more a quick peck than a deep love confession.

“I like it,” he admits. “Be as cheesy as you want.”

“I will be,” you promise, eyes twinkling with mischief.

His answering laugh is oh so healing, and you use it to cure the wounds on your heart.

To cure those on his heart, too.

“I do need to say,” you say a few minutes later, after you’ve laid your head back on his chest, “that I’m sorry about what I said to Taehyung Thursday. It was never a lapse of judgment, and I really don’t know why I said that.”

“It really hurt,” Jungkook admits, and you hold him tighter, trying to erase the past. “But at the same time, I do get why you said it. You were just trying to get Taehyung off our backs.”

“I was, but it wasn’t the right way to do it,” you say. “It was stupid, and hurtful, and I really didn’t mean it at all.”

“It’s okay.” Jungkook’s mouth brushes the top of your head, and he adds in a whisper, “It’s okay.”

You don’t think it is, but then again, there’s a lot of things you need to leave in the past if you want to be able to move forward with him.

You both made mistakes, a lot of them, but holding onto them won’t bring you anywhere positive.

“You know,” Jungkook says. “I suck at relationships.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze. “You don’t.”

“No, but I do,” he insists. “I’ve never had a real girlfriend. As you know, Gabrielle was just… a cover?”

“Yeah…” you trail off, resting your head on his chest again. “Did you guys ever…”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Once, when we were seventeen. She said she couldn’t really know if she was gay if she didn’t try having sex with a guy once.”

“How did that go?”

You hear the wince in Jungkook’s tone as he says, “Poorly. It was my first time, and hers too obviously, and it was entirely shit.”

You laugh, patting his chest. “Don’t worry, you’ve gotten a lot better.”

“Oh did I now?” Jungkook teases and he pushes you off his chest, forcing you to lie on your back so that he can climb over you.

Your laugh turns into a giggle as he hides his face in your neck, his breath tickling you, and you retaliate by tickling his sides.

He bursts out laughing, falling on the side next to you. “How dare you!”

You rest your hand on his stomach, stopping him before he can climb on top of you again. “I want to know more,” you say, falling serious.

He cocks an eyebrow, his grin slowly fading. “Know more?”

“About you,” you say. “I feel like I don’t know a lot about you, despite all the time we spent together.”

Maybe because there always were too many secrets between you and Jeon Jungkook.

But not anymore, not ever again.

“What do you want to know?” he asks.

“Everything.”

He widens his gaze, laughing softly. “It’s going to take the whole night.”

“I don’t care,” you insist. “I want to know everything that makes you, you.”

He wets his lips, toying with his piercings. “And do I get to know more about you, too?”

You nod forcefully. “I’ll answer every question.”

There’s a silence as you just share a look, until Jungkook turns on his back, looking up at the ceiling. You just stare at his profile, wondering what question he’ll ask first.

“We should go on a date,” he says, taking you by surprise. He looks at you again, before adding, “On a real, proper date. Like in the movies. And then you could ask me all your questions.”

You snort. “You want to go on a date with me?”

“Of course,” he says. “Friday night at eight pm. Wear your best clothes.”

“You’re deadass?”

He narrows his gaze at you. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, cheeks dusting with pink. “Does that mean that we’re…”

“That we’re?” Jungkook presses when you never finish the sentence.

“That we’re dating?”

Your heart beats out of your chest at the question - it holds the weight of the universe. Two hours ago, you would have never believed you’d get to ask Jungkook that, ever.

Yet here you are, and when his gaze fills with all the warmth of love and summer days and everything in between, you know the answer.

“Well…” he trails off. “If you want to. We can also take it slow if you prefer?”

“What about a little bit of both?”

Jungkook chuckles. “How would that work?”

“I mean…” You lie on your back, looking up at the ceiling as you search for the right words to say. “As you said, you suck at relationships, and so do I. So maybe we can learn along the way? Do things the right way this time around?”

He’s smiling when you turn your head to look at him again. “Yes,” he agrees. “One day at a time.”

The kiss that follows starts slowly, softly, gently, but it escalates quickly, led by the lingering fear that you could have lost him tonight. It burns with passion, Jungkook’s tongue pushing into your mouth, and you let out a breathy sound as he climbs back on top of you, his knee parting your legs.

You wrap them around his waist to hold him closer, your arms snaking around his neck.

It’s all kisses and soft moans and whispered confessions until you’re naked, entwined, your bodies joined in the most intimate of ways. Jungkook muffles your moans with his lips on yours, and you pour all of your love into the kisses, in the way your hips lift to meet his.

When Jungkook climaxes, you hold him even closer - you’d be dumb to let him go. Not when it was always meant to be him. Not when your love for him is growing, flourishing inside of your heart, of your soul, to form the most beautiful garden.

A garden of you and him, of feelings shared and confessed, of yearning and longing that only led to this beauty. To this moment of you and him together - to this first moment of you and him together of the long list that will follow.

And later, before you fall asleep in his embrace, you whisper against his skin, “I love you.”

He whispers it back, and the reciprocity of the feelings shines on you through the night, like it will shine on you from this day on until you dwindle into stardust, to be carried on a wind of eternity.

Prev | Chapter 15.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

I told you the angst was almost over :') which is good, bc there's only two chapters left. I hope this one managed to heal you guys a little, tho it started off sad. The last two chapters are for healing but first, what did you guys think of this one?

#chasing cars ch 15 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk angst #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

551 notes · View notes