#this series had so much potential and it was thrown away just like that

[bandzboy]

nothing more insane than tiff and i rewatching yoi days ago for only days later they announce ice adolescence is gonna be cancelled 😭

[rainylana]

“It’s just a cut.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: too many times had eddie tended to your wounds and broken heart. he’s had enough.

a potential series if you guys want it! let me know!

warnings: extremely angsty and not for everyone! i tried to make this as real as possible for both sides and it’s not an easy read. please tread with caution. therefore warnings are: physical and emotional abuse by readers mother, wounds and blood, mentions of weighed and irregular eating habits, low confidence and self esteem mentions, language, very angsty fight between reader and eddie, broken nose, lots of tears, reader still loves her mother very much despite her actions. eddie isn’t a jerk, i didn’t try to convey him that way, but this is a heavy subject and it needed to feel real. i dated a jerk and know what some of this can be like. requested by @h-ness1944 i hope you like this dear! i hope i did it justice to what you wanted!

Was he mad? You couldn’t tell. He hadn’t said anything in almost twenty minutes. Your heart was racing. The last thing you wanted was to loose him. You knew it was getting to him, seeing you all cut up and beaten on, but what else was there to do?

Your shirt was off, sitting on the couch in your bra and jeans as you sniffled, tears that had long since dried and left a sticky residue on your cheeks, mascara dark and streaked. Your mom had thrown a beer bottle at you again, a normal occurrence, they just didn’t usually hit you. It had sliced the skin on your back open. Luckily, it wasn’t bad enough to need stitches, but that didn’t matter to Eddie.

You regretted coming over. You shouldn’t have bothered him with it. You could feel the anger and hurt radiating off of him. You had sworn him to secrecy, and you could see the toll it took on him.

Your mom had increasingly got more creative when it came to dealing out punishments. She had ever since she started heavily drinking, when your dad had left her. You loved your dad and missed him dearly, but you didn’t blame him for leaving her. He had to take care of himself too. If he knew what your mom did, he’d surely come back to stop her. You couldn’t do that to him. At the end of the day, you could endure it, you just weren’t sure if Eddie could anymore.

“Please say something.” Your voice was hoarse.

You had your back to him, wincing slightly as he dapped a pad of alcohol on your cut, trying to make sure it didn’t get caught with an infection.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice barely conveyed any emotion.

When you had showed up, blood seeping through your shirt, he’d done what he did every time, debated taking you to the hospital, but your panicked state always talked him out of it. He’d sunk into protective mode, guiding you to the couch and pulling your shirt off, shushing you gently and telling you he’d get you fixed up. That was twenty five minutes ago. He was too quiet now.

His voice brought fresh tears to your eyes. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He sighed heavily, cursing himself. There was no need to be cold toward you. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He squeezed your shoulder. “I’m almost finished.”

He wiped your wound dry, covering it with a gauze and bandage. He’d stocked up on medical supplies a few months ago. One night he had cried when he realized just how quickly it was going. He was terrified for you, afraid one day, you wouldn’t walk through the door needing aid from your wounds. One day it would be Hopper, hat in his hands and offering his condolences. He had thought about going to the police so many times behind your back, but he’d loose you then. Was he being selfish?

“Please don’t hate me.” You cried emotionally, looking down to your shoes.

“Y/n,” He turned you gently, grabbing your chin. “I do not hate you.” His thumb traced your bottom lip, watching as you sniffled and cried, his other hand swiping away some tears that fell down your cheek. “Just calm down, honey.” He raised his chin to you, instructing softly. He didn’t want you to get yourself worked up like you usually did.

You breathed in the hands that held you upright, face beat red and blotchy. You body ached with pain and guilt. You wanted nothing more to curl up in his chest, but you fought the urge. He might not have wanted you too.

“What happened this time?” He said, reaching to the floor to hand you your shirt. “Was she drinking?”

You told him what happened, or lack of what happened. It was never really much of anything. She’d scream at you, call you names that you couldn’t repeat. Throw things and hit you. You said, nothing really, shrugging your shoulders. There was a time where Eddie would have demanded more of an answer, but he grew to realize that sometimes it never really was anything. That’s just how your mother was.

Eddie bit down hard on his lip, looking away from you to the kitchen. “Spend the weekend here with me. I don’t want you going back tonight.” He’d wanted you to move in with him for so long, but you never could leave your mother. He didn’t understand that, and your fought about it several times.

“Eddie?” You grabbed at his knee, eyes fearful and wide. “I really am sorry.”

He grabbed your hand and kissed it, but said nothing as he got up and disappeared into the bathroom. He couldn’t help it. With each time you came barging in during the night, day, whatever, it chipped away at his heart. He’d watched you change over the last year as your mother’s words became more harsh. You accepted the beatings more easily, but the way she spoke to you had taken it’s toll. He could see that clear as a bell.

Your self confidence had plummeted. You didn’t like to reveal any of your skin that you didn’t have to. You were much quieter than you used to be, only really speaking to him or some of the members of hellfire. Wayne, too, of course.

He was washing his hands, trying his best to not smash the mirror in front of him. He was being distant and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. How much longer until you’d have to undergo surgery? How much longer until the words hurt so bad you’d kill yourself just to get away from it? How much longer until he’d be standing by your grave?

He looked up to find tour reflection, tearful and afraid. He knew what you were thinking. You knew what he was thinking. Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your lips to his back to hold him. He relaxed into your touch, hands still slightly wet from the sink.

“Don’t worry about me, Ed’.” You whispered. “I’ll be okay.”

His hands held yours above his stomach, staring at your sad reflection. “No, you won’t.” He answers honestly, a small shake of his head that you barely miss. “Don’t lie to yourself.”

You were always crying. You were always sad. You were always so heartbroken, a shell of what you once used to be.

“It’s just a cut.” You defended, causing him to shrivel under your touch and pull away, quickly drying his hands with a towel and leaving the bathroom.

“Don’t start that shit.” He said lowly, entering your bedroom. “It’s not a cut. It’s never just a cut. It’s so much more than that.”

“Okay, okay, well-” You started to rant, mouth opening but falling closed at a loss of words.

He waited for you to speak.

“I don’t know what to say.” You cross your arms defensively. “I just- I don’t want you to worry. I’m sorry I came here. I shouldn’t have.”

No. That’s the last thing he wanted you to think. You were always welcome and he would always look after you. He cursed under his breath, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “Baby, no, that’s not what I’m saying.” He comes to you, grabbing your shoulders.

He pulls you into his chest, you’re a blubbering, whimpering mess. He’s careful to not touch your bandage. “I can’t not worry about you, angel.” His voice is full and close to breaking.

“You don’t understand how hard it is for me to watch you suffer like this. I can’t stand to see you wither away.” His eyes tear up, holding the back of your head. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to keep quiet, sweetheart.”

You’re sobs increase and you’re grasping on to him for dear life.

“I know you love her, baby, but she’s not good for you.” His voice shakes and so does his bottom lip. “God, I wish I could just take you away.”

You’re too distraught to say anything. You hold him and he holds you.

•

“I’m done, y/n.” Eddie’s got angry tears falling down his face, voice filled with a rage full venom he was dying to take out on something, anything. “I’m done with this shit. Either you go to the police or I will.”

“Eddie, please!” You’re begging him, practically on your knees as you sob hysterically. “Please, don’t! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, I swear it!”

“You say that every time!” He says incredulously, flaying his arms about like you’d gone mad. “And every time nothing changes!”

It had been bad this time. Your mom had said absolutely disgusting things to you, taking about your weight, making remarks about the way you talked and how Eddie was crazy for being with you. You’d made the mistake of trying to stand up to her. Your nose was most likely broken from being shoved into the wall, the crunch still loud in your ears that made you cringe from the memory. The blood had dried, but it hurt to breath. Your tears caused you immense pain from the weight of your cries, the heaves from your chest making your face ache.

Eddie stepped back and sobbed softly, holding his head with a hand and cursed. “Fuck.” He couldn’t hold back his emotions this time.

You brought up your hand to your mouth, trying your best to calm down, but it wasn’t doing much good. “Eddie, please!” You whimpered. “You can’t say anything. You swore!”

“I know I did!” He snapped, throwing down his arm. “You swore me to something that you shouldn’t have! Now I’m stuck watching you get beat on every day! Do you know what the hell that does to me?” He was shouting now, tears boiling down your face. You turned away from him and bawled.

In the moment, he wondered if he was any better than your mother, yelling at you and making you cry. Maybe later, he’d hate himself for it, but he couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“Look at this picture.” He tore out his wallet and flipped it open, taking out the polaroid of you that he kept in the first sleeve. “Look at how happy you were there.” It was only a few years ago, back when the antics of your mother began. You were smiling with full teeth, wearing a pretty pink dress and face decorated with happiness and joy.

“You see how different you look?” He held the picture to your face. “You’re too thin. You don’t eat. You’ve got bruises all over you. I haven’t seen you smile like that in years.”

Your nose started bleeding again, you could feel the cool, metallic taste of blood on your upper lip. Eddie watched it drop down, his tear falling in sync with your blood.

“You can’t make me keep doing this, y/n.” He said your, shaking his head and grasping at the picture. “I love you too much to watch you get hurt. I’m giving you a choice, darlin’. It’s either you or me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “She won’t survive in jail, Eddie! She needs me to take care of her!” Your chest heaves through tears, a panicked anxiety making you hysterical. “Please, Eddie, please!” You fall to the floor at his feet, grasping at his knees, begging him to forget it all. You had snot and blood, hot tears falling down your face, making your skin red and blotchy.

You pulled at him and sobbed, and Eddie just didn’t know what to do. Both of your hearts were breaking. He held his hands at your head, and he slowly looked up at the ceiling and cried with you. “I can’t do it anymore, baby.” He whimpered. “I need you safe. I can’t wait until it’s too late. I won’t have you dying on me.”

“Eddie, please!” You’re hysterical, squeezing his legs.

“If you hate me it’s okay.” He sniffles, wiping a hand over his face. “I just need you safe. That’s all I need.”

You grow angry at his defiance, pushing yourself off the ground. “I said no, Eddie! She’s my mother, not yours!” You spat, a sudden change of emotion that had him reeling back.

“Y/n, please.” He begged, closing his eyes. “I- I can’t. I just..I just can’t anymore. You’re asking me to do the impossible. Do I have to watch you be killed!” He shouts at the end, eyes burning red with angry, hurt tears.

“I’ll break up with you!” You scream, the ache in your nose making you groan. “I swear to god, Eddie, if you tell anyone we’re done!”

It all went silent. Eddie cried. You cried. Hearts were racing and limbs were trembling. He took a slow, deep breath. “I have to.” It was all he said, keeping his eye on you, but it was enough.

With a cold glare, you were slamming the door on the way out.

[gloomwitchwrites]

hi!!! i literally started reading your blog and FR YOU HAVE TALENT. Got me giggling and kicking my feet cus of that girl dad!tf141 fics.

I was reading one of the links you put in for prompt ideas and I read that one six words sentence from link five: "I can't risk losing you again." hello?? potential angst to fluff?? I couldn't get it off my head and i was wondering if you could write something from it :>

Thank you so much! That's so sweet of you! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading the Just Like Dad stories. I had a lot of fun writing them.

"I can't risk losing you again" is such an open-ended prompt. There is a lot you can do with that. I hope my humble offering is enough. I certainly went more angst than fluff on this one, but I really do love sad things with twinges of hope thrown in.

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, mild blood, non-graphic mentions of violence, angst, fluff, pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications

Simon "Ghost" Riley: An enemy of Simon's harms you, forcing Simon to make a tough decision. (wc: 315) Kyle "Gaz" Garrick: Kyle decides there is only one way to keep you close. (wc: 323) John Price: Price worries after you tell him you're pregnant when the first pregnancy had complications. (wc: 329) John "Soap" MacTavish: Johnny learns that falling in love with a teammate can only lead to sorrow. (wc: 542)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Busted door. Shattered glass. Overturned table.

The lights aren’t working and rain enters through the open patio door. You are safe and whole and far from this. But is it enough? Will Simon be able to keep you safe?

What was once doubt is now cold truth.

It’s not your trashed home but the state Simon found you in. It was your heavy-lidded eyes and bruised face. It was the pools of red that Simon didn’t know belonged to you, the dead man facedown in the carpet, or both. It was your smile of relief when you realized it was Simon drawing you into his arms.

Simon knows the man who did this—no. He knows who fucking ordered it.

And when he finds Makarov, he’ll show that fucker just how trigger-hungry he can be. The lead will burst and fuse to his lungs, and Simon will bathe in the aftermath.

All that’s left is your safety. If Simon knew that his career would lead to this, he would have taken steps to protect you years ago. You are always his one bright spot, that candle in the dark that is his life.

With you, he became more than his trauma. More than his guilt. More than his past. With you, he found peace. He found happiness. You are the sugary candy that sticks in the teeth but is too addictive to give up.

Departing is agony. The return is his reward and his longing.

You are everything.

And that is why he let you go.

Why he said, “I can’t risk losing you again.”

He put his head in your lap, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs and failed to push down the tears.

Laswell will take you far away. She will keep you somewhere safe.

Makarov won’t find you.

And maybe—perhaps in the future—Simon can return to you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is a nervous wreck.

The tiny box sits heavy in his pocket, burning an invisible hole. His plan is not the most romantic, but the two of you aren’t the type to go big. It’s all subtle, and Kyle only wants this moment to include the two of you.

This is his last chance.

Kyle’s final opportunity.

In this relationship, Kyle has kept you second. Not on purpose but out of habit. Work is his lifeblood. It drives him, and every successful mission is a point of pride. But in keeping up with that, Kyle left you behind.

His absences lengthened, and over time, he noticed you were pulling away, closing off. But that isn’t your fault. Kyle created the perfect brew for you to drink. These are the consequences of his actions, and he needs to make it right.

There was a time when Kyle nearly did lose you. When he came home and thought you had packed up and left without saying a word. That broke him. Made him realize just how distant he’d become.

Change is difficult.

But Kyle did it. Slowly.

Your smile returned, and when he comes home, your greetings are full of passion.

I can’t risk losing you again.

Kyle takes a deep breath as the deadbolt on the front door disengages. There is a slight tremble in his hands. Kyle is never nervous. Never. But fuck—taking this next step is driving him up the goddamn wall.

He pushes off from the couch, turning just as the front door swings open.

You step inside, face turned away as you go to shut the door. When you finally glance into the room, all the nervousness inside Kyle’s chest evaporates.

Your smile is so sweet, and you don’t hesitate. Dropping your bag, you rush toward him, and Kyle cannot help but meet you halfway.

He’s making the right choice in asking you to stay with him forever.

John Price

“You’re not happy.”

John is happy. He is. But old worries bubble up, seeping into the joy. It’s tainting everything, and that is clear by how your smile starts to fade.

“I am happy,” he says, but his mouth is a hard line. John knows he’s frowning.

You shake your head, one hand resting over your stomach. “Don’t lie, John.”

This is supposed to be a happy moment. He should sweep you up in his arms. He should kiss you until you’re begging for air. But all John can think about are all the doctor appointments he attended with you, and the grimness of what might not happen.

From that came a daughter. John loves her. Adores her. But bringing her into the world nearly killed you. He grappled with that stress while being as present as possible with you. Growing your family has always been a dream, and John doesn’t fault you for a second. There is no family without you.

John grasps the sides of your face and moves into your space. Your own hands close over his, keeping him from retreat.

“I am happy,” he reiterates. “But we both know what it took to bring our daughter into the world.” John shakes his head absently and breathes deep. “Don’t do this for me.”

“John—”

“I can’t risk losing you again.”

This time, your smile returns. There is a hint of sadness lingering behind it, as if you too are reflecting on all that happened.

“Everything will be fine.” You release his hand and gently cup his cheek.

John kisses your forehead, his thumb absently tracing your jaw. “Are you sure?”

The decision is ultimately yours, and John will respect whatever you decide.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he nods.

John pulls you in, lips finding yours. When you melt into him, accepting all that he’s giving, a wave of peace settles over him.

This is right.

And whatever happens, the two of you will face it together.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny drips water all over the floor. He is soaked through. Shivering. But he could give a fuck.

“Where is she?”

“Soap—”

“Where the fuck is she, Price?”

Captain Price sighs heavily and crosses his arms. “She needs rest.”

Johnny swallows down his retort. He’s not upset with Price, and shit like this happens all the time, but he needs to know if you’re okay.

You took a fucking bad fall, and Johnny couldn’t stop to run after you. The mission comes first, and it wasn’t his job. Other people stepped in and whisked you away. But from the height you plummeted from, Johnny feared the worst.

Still does to an extent.

If you were dead, Price wouldn’t hide that from him. But he might hide how bad you’re injured as a way to protect him. Price has always been fatherly in that regard. Right now, it’s driving Johnny fucking nuts.

“Captain. Please,” Johnny clenches his fists and then releases them. “Let me see her.”

Price’s frown smooths a bit and the middle of his brow wrinkles with concern. “For a few minutes. All I can spare.”

Johnny has to keep from rushing to the hospital room doorway when the words leave Price’s mouth. He has Johnny walk with him to your door. Thunder rumbles in the distance and rain steadily hits the large window at the far end of the hospital room.

Just as Johnny takes a step inside, Price’s hand is on his shoulder.

“She’ll make it,” is all he says before he shuts the door.

Johnny lingers right inside. All the lights are off except a small lamp in the corner. Your eyes are closed, and your face is peaceful. There is bruising. A few bandages. The machines next to the bed beep softly.

He was so eager—so determined to get to you. Now, Johnny deflates.

On quiet feet, he grabs a chair and brings it over to your bedside. You don’t stir. Simply sleep. Johnny eases down into the chair and leans forward, his forearms crossed as he rests them on the side of the hospital bed.

Still, you don’t move. And Johnny doesn’t dare wake you.

Rest is important, and all he wants is for you to recover.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “That I didn’t come sooner.” The rain picks up and Johnny smooths back his wet hair. “But I can’t keep doing this. Every time you’re hurt I—” He sighs heavily and rests his forehead on his crossed arms.

“I can’t risk losing you again,” he murmurs into the bedding.

It’s become too much. You’re not supposed to fuck your coworkers and you shouldn’t fall in love with them either. But Johnny did both. With you. And he cannot take that back.

He’d give anything if you’d set this all aside.

Your fingers brushing against his scalp startle him. Johnny lifts his head, only to find you watching him. There is a soft smile on your lips, and his instinct is to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips, kissing each knuckle and then your palm.

The moment your mouth opens to speak, there is knock at the door. Johnny frowns and looks up, finding Price in the doorway.

“Time’s up.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @pearljamislife

@miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff

@berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf

@lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien

@sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria

@lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic

@suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior

[hisunshiine]

—i’ll be loving you right, seven days a week

Part 7 of 7 of the Seven Days Series ↣ series masterlist

🗓️ pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader 🗓️ au/genre: non-idol au, brother’s friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut 🗓️ rating: M 🗓️ wc: 8,837 🗓️ warnings: several angsty conversations, cursing, rude age comments made, a punch is thrown, trip to the ER ; explicit sexual content: light fingering, cock-stroking, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, wall sex, marking, dirty talk  🗓️ an: and this is it, guys, we have made it to the final day of the week! thank you all so much for reading, and i hope that you have found this couple interesting and fun and love them like i do! 🗓️ summary: “i’ll be loving you right, seven days a week.” Yoongi's wedding has brought up a lot of feelings, but with so many things left unsaid, it's hard to know where you and Jungkook stand. Can the two of you wrap around each other and bring life to a relationship?

Taglist: @sizzlingfestpeach @mochminnie @jungkooksmytype @kookslastbutton @taebangtanbabe @bbtsficrecs @src-9 @notofyoubusiness @dr-paintbrush @skydoolove @jk97bam it’s not letting me tag you if you are crossed out (if joining the taglist, please think about reblogging with tags/leaving feedback!)

Your alarm goes off sooner than you expect; to be fair, you were dead to the world as you slumbered so when you jolt awake from the screeching alert, it takes you a few moments to remember what’s going on. You sit up, legs swinging off the edge of your bed to plant on the carpet, and you sigh deeply.

Yawning, you set your phone aside and stretch. Your body is a bit sore, both from sex with Jungkook and sleeping on the couch for part of the night. Your phone reads 7:36 AM, and you vaguely remember moving to your bed while it was still dark outside, but not before you had slept for at least three hours on the couch. Enough time for your neck to be a bit sore. 

Massaging the crick in your neck as you stand and stretch, you think over the events of last night and the text message you received this morning. Jungkook left you feeling unbalanced—delicate. The best way to describe it would be to equate it to fine china. You know now that what you and Jungkook have is beautiful, and has the potential to last for ages, but at this moment it feels perilous. One small misstep could send you shattering to the ground. 

Your pent-up emotions feel like the jagged edges of kiln-burned ceramic as you shuffle into the bathroom and turn on the shower. As the water heats up, you brush your teeth and then lay out your outfit for the trip to the wedding venue, folding your dress gently into a bag to take with you to change into once there. 

The steam-covered mirror alerts you that the temperature is just as you desire, and you step into the shower and rinse away the feel of last night’s dalliance in time with the rising of the sun. 

The taxi ride to the venue is relatively quick and you find your brother in what you deem a hilarious state of undress when you venture into the suite intended for your side of the family to use for ceremony preparation.

“Do you need help?”

Yoongi’s perplexed eyebrows shift downwards as he gives you a stale look via his reflection in the mirror. You only laugh as you cross the entryway and shut the door behind you.

“Are you here to help or to laugh?” he deadpans, and you can’t help laughing harder at his apparent distress. His sage green tie is held in his hands loosely, and from the waist up he is dressed, ​​the white dress shirt buttoned up to his chin. But, from the waist down, he is all pale legs, with blushed knobbly knees protruding from the bottom of his boxers, ankles disappearing into dark, ribbed socks. 

“My bad, you just look…here, let me tie that for you.” You take the tie ends from him and unwrap them until you can start over, pulling the big tail over and wrapping it tightly around each side until the final knot is made. “There. Perfect. Now, put on your pants, and let’s finish your hair and makeup.”

He grumbles under his breath as he reaches for his slacks, and you grab your small makeup bag, pulling out a color corrector and a nude palette of powders. Yoongi sits down in the chair nearby as soon as he is fully dressed, turning to face you. 

“Remember when I used to practice makeup on you when we were younger?” The memories flit through your mind, a soft smile on both of your faces as you reminisce. 

“Yeah, I hated it,” Yoongi jokes.

“Well, it was all practice for today. Your photos are going to be blown up and framed in Mom’s house forever, so it’s very important that you look good.”

He hums, closing his eyes as you dust a light brown powder just barely at the corners of his eyes, then lining lightly underneath. It brings a depth to his eyes that will look nice reflected on your mom’s mantle.

“Anything happen after we dropped you off last night? Did Kookie finally message you more than a stupid emoji?” Yoongi questions as you tilt his chin to check for blemishes.

“Mmm, kind of. Yeah. We ran into each other last night and he came over. I wanted to talk to him about everything, but he was—I think work really took a toll on him and he just didn’t have the capacity to talk about everything. He ended up leaving early this morning to get ready for today, and he said he would see me here, so I guess we will see what happens,” you answer lamely.

“That sounds like some progress though, he stayed the night and everything, so why do you sound so…unconvinced that it could be a good thing?”

“Just some things he said.”

“Like what?” Yoongi doesn’t give up, pushing for details he can see you are reluctant to share, knowing he will tell you something that you don’t want to hear.

“Like, that he wasn’t sure it’s worth it to be with someone you love. And then, before he fell asleep, he apologized to me. And I don’t know what he was apologizing for, but I’m sure it’s nothing good…” Letting go of Yoongi’s chin, you almost flinch when he opens his eyes to hit you with a piercing look as he reads your body language.

“Hey, listen. Things always work out how they’re meant to, right? Look at me and Leah. Sometimes it takes time for shit to work itself out, but it always works itself out. You and Jungkook are just a little tangled right now, from so much time pulling away from each other, tightening that knot between you guys. But now it’s untangling, because you’ve stopped tugging the knot. You’re working together to figure out how to unravel, and it’s a little uncomfortable, but I wasn’t joking when I said he’s highkey in love with you, sis.”

You hate how his words are making your throat feel tight, choked up as if you’re going to cry. He turns away from you, facing the mirror so he can begin working on his hair. You silently thank him, knowing his other motive was so that he could give you privacy to answer him.

“I think I just realized how much I love him, and I—I know that everything got kind of fucked up with the SoHee texts and I just…I think I need to be prepared that his apology could’ve been a goodbye, you know? Like maybe he decided he couldn’t be with me?”

“You think he would choose her instead? Because…you think he loves you more than her and he couldn’t stand to lose you? So it would be easier to be with SoHee because he could lose her and it wouldn’t hurt as much?” Yoongi tries to piece together how you came to this conclusion. “I mean, I won’t act like people don’t make foolish decisions like that everyday, you know? I just…I don’t know, I’m Team Jungkook and You.”

This time you can’t respond; a single tear falling as the emotions of last night and your younger brother’s wedding day makes your throat feel dry. You take a few deep breaths as you add your hands to his hair, positioning strands until the feeling in your throat goes away. 

You hope that your brother is right, but that cynical part of you can’t help but to second guess it the entire time you excuse yourself to finish getting dressed in the suite’s bathroom.

The conversation with Yoongi gets set aside once you step out of the en suite, your parents now in the room and dressed, ready to take family photos. The distraction from your own love woes is nice, but you have a bit of trouble feeling the happiness of the day all the way to your core.

After you escape your mother and her earlier-than-normal nitpicking, pointing to the clock (11:27 AM) and saying it’s time for Yoongi to greet people at the venue entrance, you cross to the other wing off the main hallway where Leah is in the receiving room for bridal greetings and photos. Of the many Korean traditions at their disposal, the couple wanted to keep a small few that fit their wedding wants, and you love that they’ve made it their own. 

Taking in the decorations along the way, you realize how much effort the wedding planner and her crew have put into today, especially after seeing the transformation from yesterday afternoon to now. When you turn to walk through the archway into the bridal receiving room, you gasp as you take in the glowing bride. 

Her family surrounds her taking photos, so you wait patiently for a turn. When Leah notices you, she waves you over, a bright smile on her face.

“Welcome to the family,” you greet her, and her smile grows wider, something you didn’t think possible.

“Yes, the marriage has been registered so technically, even without the ceremony, there are no take backs!” Leah laughs from the soft chaise lounge she is seated on, and your heart squeezes as you take in the fact that they’re so sure about each other they registered early. No cold feet or regret, no risk of someone not making it to the altar. 

The room is softly lit, minimal flowers placed tastefully within the background, and it’s all so romantic, you fear you might ruin your makeup ahead of time.

“As if you could get rid of us! I, for one, am happy to have you on my side when we take on my parents.” 

You pose for a few photos, but there isn’t much time to chat as guests begin to arrive and you take your leave, letting the bride enjoy her magical day. Feeling antsy, you walk back towards the main room to choose your seat for the ceremony. There is a little less than 30 minutes until it starts, and you refuse to have someone block your view.

The crowd grows quite fast, and you watch as your mutual friends enter and sit in your row or right behind it. Taehyung and Jimin distract you from the fact that the seat right next to you, on the edge of the aisle, remains empty as the minutes tick down. It’s hard not to laugh at them sharing funny memes and TikToks of their plans for dances at the reception. When the emcee announces that there are five minutes left and for everyone to take their seats, your leg bounces nervously, skin peeking through the slit in the sage green dress Jungkook demanded you wear.

Checking your phone, the lack of notifications has you worrying your fingers, drumming the tips against your thigh. Movement catches your eye as you glance around the room, and your worry melts away as you take in the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. Jungkook’s hair is pulled back from his face to highlight his chiseled bone structure, an errant curl falling into his doe eyes that you could drown in. 

You watch as his eyes lift as he speaks, looking a little tense as he responds to someone next to him, and your eyes follow the way his arm rises to adjust a wayward strand of hair of the woman beside him. You can’t look away as Han SoHee leans into the touch, minor as it is, a smile growing as she puts her hand on Jungkook’s arm. 

Jungkook looks contemplative before he looks around, his eyes finding yours quickly. He steps away from SoHee as if he were a child caught reaching into a cookie jar before dinner, and you’re glad no one can hear the freefall your heart takes as he says something else to SoHee before walking towards you. 

You fix your face to prepare a smile, inner thoughts running wild at what you’ve just witnessed. On the one hand, your heart is broken with the realization that the person he’s choosing isn’t you, but on the other, you know it’s of your own doing. You and Jungkook have just been tangled for too long, pulling against each other, and the knots are too big and difficult to undo, despite what Yoongi said. Jungkook ducks his head as he sits, ears a blazing red, a stark contrast with the heather grey of his suit and the honey glow of his skin.

“Sorry, I was here on time, but—” his whispered excuse is lost as the emcee quiets everyone down to announce the start of the ceremony. His fingers fidget with his suit jacket until you reach over and grab his hand, stilling his movements. He squeezes your hand a few times in thanks, and you know the only thing holding you from falling apart is his large hand laced with yours in his lap.

The ceremony is just as beautiful as the glowing couple, and you all are ushered into the reception hall for a meal directly after the ceremony ends. You lead your group of friends towards the table reserved for Yoongi’s college friends (and you).       

Music softly plays as the crowd follows to any available seats, and your eyes watch SoHee as she tracks Jungkook’s movements as he sits next to you once again. SoHee sees you and gives you a small wave, seemingly unaware of where her new beau had been last night, since she greets you so friendly from across the room.

A small part of you feels vindictive, as if last night with Jungkook is your revenge for SoHee winning the proverbial ‘war’. Namjoon pulls Jungkook into conversation as soon as he sits, and the waiters begin to appear with plates of food for the seated tables almost instantly, so you busy yourself with eating to avoid the conversation you aren’t ready for with your neighbor. Not on your little brother’s wedding day. 

It’s unlike you to shovel down your food at lightning speed, but you do, excusing yourself to the bathroom for a little reprieve. When you file back into the hall, the music is a bit louder and groups of people are on the dance floor with the bride and groom, taking pictures and laughing in celebration. 

“Hey, I call dibs!” Taehyung’s baritone cuts through the room as you arrive back to the table, and following the scraping of his chair on the floor in his rush to stand, you find yourself on the dance floor as well, Taehyung’s hands on your waist as he guides you around the floor.

“You’re going to make me throw up!” you giggle as he spins you with flair, and he finally slows down to sway side to side in place after having twirled you around the room. 

“I had to show off your dress, it’s exquisite!” he explains, eyes raking your body down the length of the gown.

“Thank you, Jungkook picked it out,” you feel the need to clarify, and Taehyung hums.

“Man does have good taste, right? In women and in dresses?” 

The joke is like a stab to your chest, and you know Taehyung probably did not mean it to be; you’re sure no one knows the turn of events that transpired in the past couple of days. Thanks to your heels, you can see Jungkook in the distance, approaching over Taehyung’s shoulder, with SoHee trailing several paces behind him.

Jungkook reaches you first, asking to cut in, and Taehyung graciously hands you over to him. He pulls you into a traditional dance hold, hand to hand and arm wrapped around your back, and begins to dance you around the room, in a circuit not dissimilar to Taehyung’s. 

“I want to apologize—”

“Look, I just want to tell you—”

Both of you start speaking at the same time, an awkward laugh bubbling from your chests at such a fumbling of conversation. 

“Is it okay if I speak first?” you ask Jungkook, and you’re sure your face looks as vulnerable as you feel. He nods, as if sensing the profound nature of your words to come.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you the other night when I saw the text messages. I totally get why you sent me home—I would have too, and probably not paid for my taxi. It was my fault for overreacting. You and I were single at the time, and you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve been an idiot thinking we could sustain this ‘relationship’, but I know now that I was just scared.” Jungkook’s face is frozen as he lets you speak, and you continue on in earnest after taking a breath. “Yoongi getting married scared me even more, because I realized life doesn’t just stop and wait, you know? And it’s not fair to think you would just wait for me to get my shit together either.”

“I’m not sure I follow?” His face is cutely quirked in confusion, but you know you have to tuck those feelings down if you’re going to make it through all of your thoughts. You stop your movements, coming to a standstill and reaching to take both of Jungkook’s hands into yours as you look him in the eyes. You don’t have long to speak—knowing SoHee is watching the two of you and is beginning to walk over towards Jungkook now that you’ve stopped dancing—so you just spill out the contents of your bleeding heart

“I love you, and I think I have for a while. I’ve always wanted you, Jungkook. In my head, you’re mine—always have been. But I think that I’ve fucked this all up because I got in my own way. I know it might seem like I’m only confessing because you’re with someone else now, but I promise it isn’t that. I really just want you to know that I get it, I’m okay with you choosing her over me, and even if it hurts like hell, I’ll support you because even after all this, you’re still my best friend.” 

You drop his hands, smiling up at him as he blinks blankly at you, processing everything that you’ve said.

“I—uh, I’m gonna freshen up and get some air, okay?” Without waiting for a response, you let your heels carry you away from Jungkook. You can’t watch him be with her just yet. It’s too much, too fast. You barely hear him call out your name as SoHee’s voice calls out to him, and you disappear into the hallway just before the tears begin to fall. 

———Jungkook’s POV——— 5:08 AM Sunday

Jungkook can’t believe he overslept his alarm, but then again, he can. Waking up with you in his arms was too much for his heart, and he needed to clear his head. Checking his phone, he sees it’s a little past 5 AM, so the gym should be opening soon. It’s hard to let you go and leave your warm bed, but if he’s going to process everything properly, he knows he can’t do it while in your presence.  

The gym helped provide him clarity, but also tired him out. So much so that when he saw the banner notification text from SoHee apologizing for the drama yesterday, he ignored it to focus on showering and fell onto his bed once clean with the hopes of waking up after a two-hour nap, leaving him with two hours to get dressed and make it downtown, he actually ended up with one hour, oversleeping until 11 AM. 

Jungkook’s shock at the time woke him up completely as he rushed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash water on his face. His hair was also pushed awkwardly to one side, so he wet that too, grabbing his blow dryer to speed up the process and add some volume to his hair. 

Cursing at himself under his breath, he throws on deodorant before shrugging on his clothes from the suit bag, sage green tie going over his head last. The feel of the fabric under his rough palms reminds him of earlier this week, when he let you tie him to your bed frame and ride him. He can’t stop the thoughts of the way that you can ride, dick slightly tenting as the memory takes over him.

He knew then what you seemed to realize too late. The devotion he showed you was deeper than the ocean, because he’s in love with you. But Jungkook knows now that love means pain. His phone still shows an unread message, but he doesn’t have the energy or the time to answer it.

Shaking the mix of thoughts out of his head, a glance at the clock lights a fire under his ass as he grabs his watch and wallet. His car keys sit in the bowl next to the door, and he prays that parking downtown won’t be too bad near the venue—if he can get there in time. 

The stress of navigating traffic in the city distracts Jungkook the entire drive, and when he sees an open spot he can parallel park into one block from the wedding hall, he makes an illegal U-turn to get to the spot before anyone else. He has mere minutes to get inside—can see Yoongi disappearing back inside as the crowd is nonexistent to greet so close to the start of his wedding—so Jungkook’s defenses are down when he ascends the few steps into the hall. 

“Jungkook?” The light tug on his jacket sleeve pulls his attention and he stops, facing SoHee as she drops her hold on his suit.

“Hey, uh…you didn’t respond to my text. I’m surprised to see you alone, I figured you would be here with the girl you mentioned.”

Jungkook wants to avoid talking about you; at this moment he isn’t so sure where the two of you stand. Also, he’s pretty sure he mentioned to SoHee that her antics fucked up his relationship, but with the wedding starting in less than ten minutes and not having read her full message, he plays nice. “SoHee, I just want to say I’m sorry again. I should have just been up front with you, tell you that I wasn’t really emotionally available when Jin mentioned me taking you to the wedding.”

“It’s okay, I’ve thought about it, and I forgive you? I mean, I still like you, but I respect your relationship and would love to still be friends.”

Before he can answer, an echoing voice announces there are five minutes until the ceremony starts and asks for people to take their seats. Jungkook leads SoHee into the hall but she stops him again.

“Kookie? Does my hair look okay?”

Jungkook chokes down his irritation as he continues to play nice, hand rising to adjust SoHee’s messy waves. He tenses when she leans into his touch, and drops his hand when she smiles at him. He’s about to step away when she places a hand on his arm.

“Shall we sit?”

“Actually—” Jungkook looks across the room and spots you already watching him, and he steps out of SoHee’s reach, relief flooding his chest as he sees the seat next to you, “All of Yoongi’s college friends are sitting in the front, his sister saved my seat.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for her response as he all but sprints to your row, collapsing into the seat as his ears burn in embarrassment for being so late.  

“Sorry, I was here on time, but—” Jungkook swears he has the worst luck today as the emcee cuts him off and he can’t finish speaking to you. He feels disappointment settle into his chest as you turn away from him, a nervous energy filling him despite all of his efforts at the gym to work it all out of his system. He fiddles with a non-existent string at the edge of his coat, a nervous tick he’s had since childhood, until the warmth of your soft hand envelops his. 

He tightens his fingers around yours three times, your calm nature spreading to him as he settles into his seat, keeping your hand in his lap for the entirety of the ceremony.

Jungkook can’t help but feel like you’re avoiding him. Which is absurd, because you saved him a seat at the wedding, held his hand throughout, and now you’re in the chair next to him at the table for the reception meal. Not to mention the fact that he felt like last night meant something more to both of you. But despite all of these examples of you still interacting with him since he arrived, he feels like you’re farther away from him than ever.

He hopes to strike up an actual conversation for the first time since he’s seen you, but Namjoon grabs his attention, asking questions about a weird ingrown toenail patient he’s been dealing with at the hospital, and he gets lost in work conversation instead. 

By the time Namjoon decides to eat and stop all of the medical talk, Jungkook turns to you, but you’re about to finish your food. Jungkook glances at his plate; he’s barely taken a few bites. Just like that, you disappear to the bathroom, and he decides two can play at this game. Jungkook shovels his food into his mouth, a little uncouth for a wedding reception, but he can just tell something is off between the two of you, and he’s going to put a stop to it tonight.

When you walk back into the room, Jungkook can’t look away. You’re absolutely ethereal in your green dress, the fabric swaying softly behind you as you walk so confidently towards the dance floor. In the time Jungkook spent staring, Taehyung makes a move, yelling out that he has dibs before taking you by the hand and spinning you around the dancefloor—literally.

Jungkook thinks if he watches you twirl any more, he might start to turn green, and he’s not easily queasy, but Taehyung is more than a little buzzed at this point. He notices you two settle into a more palatable movement, but from the corner of his eye, he sees SoHee making her way towards him. 

Jungkook is not a mean guy, to be fair, he’s been a lot nicer to SoHee than she probably deserves after the incident at work, but he just hates confrontation and embarrassing others. So he makes the decision to turn and head your way, pretending he didn’t notice SoHee hot on his heels.

“May I cut in?” Jungkook asks respectfully, hand proffered as his waist bends into a slight bow. Your partner easily passes you over to him, and Jungkook wastes no time pulling you into a common dance position so that he can hold you. Stepping a little faster to the music, he creates space between your bodies and a pouting SoHee, gliding around the dance floor.

Jungkook debates internally for a few moments and decides to just go for it. He feels he owes you an apology for just bailing this morning, for the drama the night before, for a lot of things. But mostly for being a coward and not speaking up. 

“I want to apologize—”

“Look, I just want to tell you—”

Jungkook grimaces at the bumbling way you two are acting around each other as what sounds like a forced laugh falls from your lips.  

“Is it okay if I speak first?” you ask, and Jungkook nods, relinquishing the honor because the way you’re looking at him makes him feel like he should hear you out, despite wanting to speak first. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you the other night when I saw the text messages. I totally get why you sent me home—I would have too, and probably not paid for my taxi. It was my fault for overreacting. You and I were single at the time, and you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve been an idiot thinking we could sustain this ‘relationship’, but I know now that I was just scared.” 

He stands still, partially because he can’t believe you’re actually apologizing and he agrees with your points but also because you’ve touched on feelings. Feeling scared—in particular—is something Jungkook is very familiar with. When he remains quiet, letting you finish your thoughts, you take a deep breath and continue. 

“Yoongi getting married scared me even more, because I realized life doesn’t just stop and wait, you know? And it’s not fair to think you would just wait for me to get my shit together either.”

Now Jungkook’s confused. He doesn’t think it’s fair of you to blame yourself for all of this. Jungkook isn’t so dense that he can’t see how he contributed to the mess that’s been the weight of the world on your shoulders this week—mainly since Yoongi became engaged and knee-deep in wedding plans.

“I’m not sure I follow?” You stop the swaying movements that barely passed as dancing, and Jungkook follows suit, allowing you to take both of his hands into your own. Your gaze is piercing as if searching his soul and for the first time since you started talking, he regrets letting you speak first, sensing a change in the air surrounding you and him.  

“I love you, and I think I have for a while. I’ve always wanted you, Jungkook. In my head, you’re mine—always have been.”

Jungkook’s heart swells in his chest. He’s ecstatic for just a moment until your next words come crashing down around him.

“But I think that I’ve fucked this all up because I got in my own way. I know it might seem like I’m only confessing because you’re with someone else now, but I promise it isn’t that. I really just want you to know that I get it, I’m okay with you choosing her over me, and even if it hurts like hell, I’ll support you because even after all this, you’re still my best friend.” 

He knows he must look stupid, his brain attempting to do whatever girl-math you’ve done to get to this conclusion as you drop his hands and give him a small smile that he hates seeing on your face; it’s full of pain and so fake, it makes his insides cold.

“I—uh, I’m gonna freshen up and get some air, okay?”

Your eyes glance over his shoulder before turning away from him, but Jungkook doesn’t register that it was a warning that he’d be slowed down in following you out. It takes him much too long to remember he was supposed to get a turn to speak, his voice late in calling out to you. It doesn’t matter, though—as he speaks and takes a step, he’s halted by a hand closing around his wrist firmly, his name spoken louder by SoHee that it almost drowns out him calling out for you.

“Jungkook,” SoHee repeats, still holding Jungkook in place, and he turns to her sharply, features furrowed in distress.

“What, SoHee?” He knows his voice is harsh, but at this moment, he’s not doing a good job of regulating his emotions, and he’s a bit overwhelmed by the circumstances.

“I just, um, wanted to know if we could dance?” She gestures at the dance floor with her free hand, attempting to tug Jungkook towards the other bodies gyrating to the music. “I was just waiting for you to finish your dance with Yoongi’s sister, and thought you could save one for me? Maybe talk about everything that happened and see if there’s still chemistry between us, you know?”

Jungkook is not known to be a cruel or mean person. He is, perhaps, often too nice and avoids confrontation if possible. He really hated his outburst at work the previous day, and played nice with SoHee earlier to try and make up for it, but he thinks it’s time to be a little more blunt.

“Chemistry between us? A few hours ago you said you respected my relationship yet now you want to see if there is chemistry between us? SoHee, I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear before, but I’m not interested in dancing with you now or for the rest of the day. I don’t think there’s a future for us, and I am sorry if my being nice earlier led you on, but I really need to get some air.” Jungkook finishes by repeating your line, then pulling his wrist from her grasp. He turns to the crowd, searching in the sea of sage greens for your goddess dress, but he’s lost you. 

He ignores the way SoHee’s face morphs from grief to hatred, barely noticing her as he walks away from the edge of the dance floor in search of you. Jungkook has to step to the side to allow a group of people into the reception hall, and he tries to shake his frustration away so he can focus on finding you. Once the doorway is clear, he speed walks into the mostly empty hallway, heading towards the restrooms.

Leaning his head into the open labyrinth-style entrance of the women’s side, he calls your name hesitantly, but is met with no response. He waits a few moments, but doesn’t hear any movement inside, so he gives up, deciding to search in the Groom’s suite. 

He’s unsuccessful, the suite only holding a familiar bag that he knows is yours, but that you weren’t carrying around the ceremony or reception—you haven’t been in here since before he arrived. On a whim, he decides to head to the opposite side of the hallway towards the Bridal suite, and the sound of sniffling lets him know he’s on the right track.

Peeking into the archway of the receiving room, you’re sitting on a chaise lounge in the middle of the room towards the back wall, dabbing at your eyes with tissue paper. Jungkook had been unable to see Leah in the receiving room before the wedding due to his unintended late arrival, and he pauses a moment to take in the view.

Breathtaking. You look absolutely breathtaking to him, and he hates that he is the reason behind you looking utterly distraught and crying. Not when there’s no reason to be. He knows now, thinks he’s always had an inkling, but he’s sure at this moment that his heart is yours. 

Every hour, every minute, every second, he’s in love with you. He can’t handle hearing your tiny sniffles for another moment, wanting to soothe the ache he knows you shouldn’t be feeling right now.   

The sound of his dress shoes across the tiled-floor must’ve alerted you to his presence, because you turn to him with a scandalized look, eyes locking with his as your lips frown into a grimace and you dab at the apples of your cheeks with the back of your hand, forgetting the tissue.

“What—” you clear your throat, “what are you doing in here? Why aren’t you dancing with your girlfriend?”

Jungkook’s heart squeezes. He wants to flick you on the forehead and wrap you up in his arms.

“Kind of hard when the person who I want to be my girlfriend is busy crying in a room by herself,” he can’t help the hints of mirth that weave through his words; you just look so sad and he knows you needn’t be…it’s a little funny. Especially when he gets to watch your mouth open and shut like a fish gasping for water.

He approaches you, and he’s aware he’s using techniques from his job in his approach. Hands open and palms facing you to show he’s not a threat so he can gently enter your space. He assumes it works, since you just watch with wide eyes as he sits next to you on the chaise.

“Please stop crying, baby.” Jungkook doesn’t know what to do when you cry, and he feels a little helpless after you took care of him so well last night when the situations were reversed. “You know you walked away before giving me my turn to talk. It could’ve cleared a lot of things up.” He can’t help but reach to smooth your hair down, bringing his palm to your cheek afterwards. You lean into his touch, and he softens even more, voice soothing as he scoots closer.

“Explain.” You utter just that one word, but your eyes glimmer with hope and he knows everything will be okay.

“I love you. I can admit it to you, to everyone, now. I don’t know why you think SoHee is my girlfriend, but I can assure you that I would not lose myself in you just last night to turn around and date someone else less than 24 hours later.” Jungkook fixes a playful glare at you for thinking he could do such a thing, and you have the wherewithal to look properly chastised.

“I know you said you were scared, and I think—I know—that I was scared too. I worried that I was too young for you, that you wanted things different from what I wanted, but I was stupid. And you were stupid, too. I think that’s what happens when feelings are involved, you know?”

He notices your eyes water again when he calls you stupid, so he reaches for you, but you slide across the couch out of his range with arms crossed.

“But what about SoHee? You arrived with her, and she’s been following you around like a bitch in heat practically the whole time.”

“SoHee isn’t—” Jungkook sighs. “Look. Several months ago, SoHee expressed an interest in me, and at the time, I thought she was hot and we kissed. We texted for a bit, but that fell off because…well, I didn’t want anyone else. I only want you.”

When you still haven’t stopped the tears, he groans impishly.

“Stop crying, will you? I’m here confessing that I want to be with you, that I want the wedding and the kids and the white picket fence, and you’re like a leaky faucet.”

His jokes work and make you giggle wetly, before you lightly punch his shoulder.

“I don’t even know if I actually want those things, though! Society and my mom just made me feel like I needed to have them…I’m still a child,” you laugh, but Jungkook knows all too well how age feels like a fake concept and that neither of you feels like a real adult, but he notices you lumped everything he mentioned together. Jungkook holds your shoulders so you look at him seriously.

“But do you want to be with me?” he asks the only question that truly matters to him; it seems being blunt is the best thing for handling all of the miscommunication lately.  

“Yes.” 

“Then, the rest we can figure out later. We have the rest of our lives to figure it out. I just need you.”

The words remind Jungkook of last night, when you asked him what he needed, and he can’t help but remember how willingly you gave yourself to him, and he feels his slacks grow a bit tighter as he stares at you. Your eyes appear to dilate as you process his words, and Jungkook has a feeling you remember it, too.

———READER POV ———present

Hearing Jungkook tell you that he needs you calls to a baser desire within you. Flashbacks of his neediness flit through your mind. You know he remembers, too; one glance at his lap shows you that this feeling is mutual. 

When Jungkook smirks at you, his hand reaching for your waist, you stand abruptly and back up towards the wall. He stands and follows you like prey.

“Don’t you get any ideas, mister! People are right down the hall!”

“So? I seem to remember you doing a lot of things with me while our friends were right outside your apartment door just this week. Not to mention the time we got caught by Seokjin—”  

You slap your hand over his mouth.

“Exactly, don’t mention it,” you remind him with a glare. He flicks his tongue out and licks your palm. You drop your hand, feigning disgust, but it's all the distraction Jungkook needs. He’s on you in seconds, mouth seeking yours as he kisses your neck and moves in quick succession up your chin until he swallows your protests. 

He pulls away from the kiss, and you chase his lips, eyes still closed from the ambush, but you open them when he doesn’t return his mouth to you.

“Why’d you stop?” you ask with a pout.

Jungkook chuckles cutely. “Because you were telling me no! Consent is very important to me.”

You fist his tie, pulling him back to you, though it doesn’t take much strength. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“If you’re ready, and if you’ll let me,” he teases, then he’s kissing you softly, hands resting at your hips as he presses himself into you. You can feel how hard he is, straining against his pants, and you mewl with want. 

His kiss muffles the sound, but he can feel your anticipation in the way your hands wrap around him to pull him even closer. Jungkook’s hand slips from your waist towards the slit in your dress, and his fingers waste no time trailing the edges of your thong, waiting for you to grant him permission by widening your stance for him. 

When you do, he smiles into the kiss, tongue clashing with yours as he takes two fingers and rubs them along your clothed slit, his fingers dampening as he begins languid circles. Your breath hitches as he pulls away from the kiss, his lips dropping to your neck with a chuckle.

“You like that?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod fervently with a throaty moan as you try to keep quiet. Jungkook nips at your skin in warning.

“Uh-uh, baby, use your words.”

“Yes,” you gasp out as he delivers a particularly keen and well-placed pressure to your clit.

The pleasure sears through your body, a heightening that has your toes curling as your hands grasping at his strands to pull his lips back to yours.

“Want you inside me, can’t wait,” you plead as your lips graze his before diving back into a sloppy kiss. Not wanting Jungkook to stop touching you, you reach for his slacks, fingers making quick work to unbutton and then unzip them. Pressing your palms into his skin, you slide your fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs and adjust them until the band sits under his hardened member and heavy sack. 

You stroke the satin skin of his shaft, but he doesn’t need much to reach his full potential now that he’s been unsheathed. He begins a frantic movement to pull up the skirt of your dress; luckily, the slit aids in allowing a wider range of motion and ease to pull your panties to the side. It doesn’t take more than a bend of the knees and your guiding hand for him to sheathe himself inside of you, and he lifts you up against the wall as he reaches full height once again. 

You’re wet, dripping from your entrance from the way he teased your clit, but it did nothing to prepare you for the stretch and burn of his cock as it splits you open. Thankfully, the bass from a popular early 2000’s club song covers the heaving gasp you release as he buries his groan into your skin.

He feels good—too good, as the head of his cock presses against your g-spot, but he isn’t moving yet. As he adjusts and rests his forehead on yours, you clench around him involuntarily and he lets out a whine from his throat. 

“So tight, you can’t do that…” 

“You’re close already? Me too,” you pant, and you feel your walls flutter again.

“Princess, please,” Jungkook begs you to stop squeezing him, but you can’t. It’s out of your control, and hearing the pet name doesn’t help much as you feel Jungkook slide in deeper the tiniest bit as your natural lubricant allows him to slip further.

“Jungkook, please, just fuck me.” You can see it in his eyes that he wants to, but the noise of the wedding reception causes him to freeze.

“I will, baby, but I gotta hear you say it.”

“Say what?” you sound irritated even to your own ears—you know that you’re being a needy little brat, but you just want to feel him move. 

“How you feel about me,” he grunts out as he adjusts your bodies against the wall, and you realize what he’s searching for. What he actually needs.

“I love you, Jungkook, and you’re mine. Only mine. Now fuck me like only my boyfriend can, or so help me g—!”

Jungkook cants his hips back and thrusts up into you, moving at a sinful pace, his mouth mashed against yours as if you’re the very life force he needs to survive. Each thrust rubs his mushroom tip against the sensitive patch inside of you and you feel the tingling starting in your outer extremities. You place a hand on the back of his neck as the other delves into his hair and tugs as you reach your peak, clinging to him as he pounds you into the wall, searching for his own release buried deep within you.

“C’mon baby, cum for me, Jungkook, wanna feel you fill me up,” you encourage him, legs shaking as he fucks you through your comedown. “Right here, where anyone can see, show them who this pussy belongs to,” your lips graze his ear as you whisper naughty-nothings, and he cums with a melodic groan, spurts of cum filling you as he holds you tightly against him. 

Due to your legs feeling weak and tingly, Jungkook helps move you from the wall to the chaise lounge as he helps to adjust your thong and dress back in place. He makes quick work of tucking himself back into his slacks, followed by tucking in his shirt, before joining you on the wide seat. 

You don’t want to be too far away from him, though. A neediness to feel his skin on yours has you scooting closer, throwing your legs atop his thighs. Jungkook, so attuned to your wants, wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He shares a bit more about SoHee after you ask, wanting to know the full picture of what to expect when you finally go public with your relationship.

His tattooed hand cups your cheek, brushing loose tendrils of hair from the apple of your cheek.

“Would it be rude to barge into Yoongi’s reception and announce that we’re together finally?”

You feign deep thought, tapping your finger to your chin with a contemplative expression on your face. “Yes, I think that would be rude, but maybe if we don’t barge in, just simply walk in holding hands, kiss a little, you know, the subtle things that show people we’re taken.”

His hand drifts lower to where he’s left a mark on your skin.

“I think this speaks volumes. Not to mention us disappearing for nearly a half hour…” 

You hum an agreement, hands gently guiding his face to yours for another kiss.

“Jungkook? Are you here? Yoongi and Leah are about to leave—” The feminine voice sounds slightly concerned, and irritation blossoms in your chest as you instantly recognize it. Jungkook tenses under your hands, a grimace appearing as he pulls back from your lips apologetically. 

Over Jungkook’s shoulder, you see SoHee standing in the archway, face blank, as she stares at the two of you. You can see the moment she realizes what’s going on, and you feel a little fire growing from the irritation. Sitting up straight, you place your feet on the ground and stand, extending a hand to Jungkook so he can get up as well.

“My brother is getting ready to leave? We should get back then for the send-off.” You hope that SoHee will stand down and allow you and Jungkook to head back to the reception hall without any drama, but you realize quickly that it’s just a pipe dream as you approach the archway.

“Wait, you and Jungkook are together?” SoHee blinks rapidly before turning to Jungkook. “This is who you turned me down for? Isn’t she old enough to be your mom?” The sneer in her tone is apparent.

Jungkook begins to speak, standing up for you and his relationship, and while you appreciate it, and later will reward him for being so sweet, you think that the best way to deal with a bully is to bully them back. Because, let’s be real. She isn’t stupid; SoHee knows you’re only a few years older than she is, which is also older than Jungkook.  

After hearing how she’s behaved the past couple of days, you’re sure she’s hurt. The problem is, you don’t care. Your own insecurity rears its head, and your arm is pulled back with a fist ready to punch the mocking hatred from SoHee’s insolent face. But Jungkook, trained in handling situations like this with patients at the hospital, wraps an arm around your waist as the other arm catches your punching hand.

“Whoa there, princess, I don’t want an ER trip to get a cast for your hand.”

“Please, like this old hag could hurt me.”

“What’s your fucking problem? Jungkook, let me go!”

SoHee’s smirking as you struggle in Jungkook’s hold, but you triumph when he acquiesces and lets you go. The smirk on her face is knocked sideways when your fist connects with her cheek, the resounding skin-on-skin strike sends her stepping sideways, off-kilter as she stumbles into the wall. 

Gobsmacked, literally and figuratively, SoHee clutches at her face as you stomp past her in your heels, Jungkook following after you.

“Dammit, I think I broke my hand,” you whisper-whine loudly to him as you approach the reception hall. You cradle your hand gingerly, but Jungkook pulls your arm so he can inspect it. 

“Aish, we’ll go to the ER after the send-off, I can see your pinky and ring fingers starting to swell.” 

Jungkook guides you into the line of friends and family, embracing you from behind with a kiss to the top of your hair, and as Yoongi and Leah dance their way down the line to exit, your brother catches your eye, and his smile grows infinitesimally. 

‘Told you!’ he mouths, and you just smile and nod before turning to kiss Jungkook’s cheek. Jungkook looks down at you, eyes sparkling with the stars in the universe as he kisses you softly, and even the pain from your hand fades. 

In the ER, Jungkook stands next to you, holding your uninjured hand while your mom sits in the chair completing the last of the paperwork for you, your dad standing next to her.

“I know this isn’t how I wanted to meet you as your daughter's boyfriend, but I guess it’s as good a time as any?”

You hold back a laugh, but your mom catches your smile. She sighs out your name, ignoring Jungkook’s attempt at humor.

“How is it that we go from celebrating your brother’s marriage to sitting in the hospital for you to get a cast for a broken hand?”

You make eye contact with Jungkook, and this time, you do laugh, unable to hold it in. He helps you off the patient table, a small purple cast wrapped around your palm and wrist.

“Honey, it’s fine. I’m just glad to finally meet Jungkook.” Your dad manages your mom well, and you are grateful for that fact as she settles down, frown falling from her face. Jungkook steps forward and shakes your dad’s hand before smiling at your mom, and you grumble a little as she melts under his gaze.

“Yes, Jungkook, thank you for taking such good care of our daughter.” 

If your brother had been there, you know he, too, would have his jaw on the floor. 

“Of course! I don’t think I can live without her, to be honest. It would be fighting a losing battle.”

“Just make sure you treat her right,” your dad says gruffly, before lowering his voice in jest, “and teach her how to properly throw a punch, please.”

Jungkook turns to look at you as you trail your mom and her clipboard towards the nurses’ desk for discharge.

“I promise to love your daughter right, seven days a week.”

thank you all so much if you made it this far!! please let me know your thoughts on the series!

↣all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[xxx-silhouette-xxx]

Am I the only one disappointed with season 3 of The Mandalorian?

Contains SPOILERS - so skip if you don’t wanna know

Tonight was, painful.

I’ve REALLY been trying to hang on with an open mind but after tonight, there’s no going back.

And I’ve got some things to get off my chest.

Din Djarin has had NO character development from the sacrifice he made for Grogu’s life. This has been inarguably, the biggest disappointment for me. I was hoping for a season of exploration of a man’s moral compass and worldview being hauled upside down, a young boy who’d been orphaned, traumatised and taken in by a cult that raised him with titanium religious beliefs. Who grew into a hardened bounty hunter but gave up everything he knew for the sake of a lost child. Became shunned for protecting said child and despite doing what he felt was right, strived to seek redemption and forgiveness. There was so much potential for Din as a character in terms of growth and development, all of which was swept under a rug within the first two episodes. He has instead become apart of Disney’s formula of “the boss ladies side bitch” with nothing to add to the scene but his catchphrase “this is the way”. That and the sudden revival of his hate for droids even though he had been working on that issue in past seasons.

Grogu is more or less the commodity Disney grew cash dollar signs in their eyes over for the sake of product marketing and just have him doing cutesy shit for the sake of being cutesy.

And then there’s Bo Katan.

Now disclaimer - I’m not the type that hates an actual person for a character they play. Yes, I’ve never liked Bo Katan (that much I’ve made clear in recent posts) but I also think that Katee Sackhoff does a brilliant job playing a character as such. And to see her come to life in season 2 was incredible and to me, Bo Katan from season two is the REAL Bo Katan.

Because I’m sure as hell disappointed with what they’ve done to her character in season 3. Bo Katan was a terrorist who broke away from Mandalore unable to accept a new direction in leadership from her own sister. She massacred and terrorised innocent people, she plotted towards the death of her sister, splintered off from her terrorist group after the throne of Mandalore was taken by Maul and continued to fight against his loyalists and later the empire itself.

And we all saw the look of death on her face when Gideon pointed out that the dark Sabre belonged to Din

This isn’t someone I was rooting for but this was someone who didn’t know when to give up and would go to any means possible to get what they wanted. This is the same woman who made an oath in the throne room of Mandalore, saying that an outsider would never rule the people. The odds were against her in many ways yet she still fought like hell…. Where is that woman? And who replaced her with Disney’s first emo teen princess whose suddenly forgotten her xenophobic upbringing?

And as for Lizzo and Jack Black’s appearances in episode six?

My partner said it best when he commented that they turn the whole show into a parody of itself.

Personally, I found Christopher Loyd’s character as flat as cardboard and an absolutely pointless goose chase used to build up momentum all to throw away the opportunity for a twist ending.

It really breaks my heart to see the series diminish into what it has. The whole reason people fell in love with the show was due to Din and Grogu’s father son dynamic and that’s all been thrown to the side in favour of other characters, setting up for the future of other shows and tying off the ends to the sequels.

Season three completely lacks the drive and purpose of the previous seasons.

It should and could have been so much more than what it is.

And Din Djarin deserved more depth in his story then to be abandoned to the side lines.

[fancyfeathers]

The Tsaritsa’s darling (Normalized Yandere AU)

part two to this post about the yandere harbingers and their darlings (link)

(A/N- the main character in this mini fic is not a reader character like the other darlings in this series, but he will appear as a side character in other stories in this series)

Hidden away in the forests of Teyvat, hidden away from any particular nation. The woods were beautiful, lovely, green leaves and a rainbow of flowers, but as you got deeper the woods changed as it with the season, fading into a winter wonderland, snow, ice, and winter critters of all sorts. There in the woods is a mansion, and sitting in an the, run down mansion were two figures, sitting at a table, a chess set in between them that they played. The man was beautiful, long, silver, braided hair, he was dressed in finery of silvers, blacks, whites and blues that paired well with his light blue eyes. He was an extremely beautiful figure, but extremely week, a cane leaned against the table and he kept a handkerchief in hand because every so often he was sent into a coughing fit. This sickness didn’t worry the woman he was playing with though, except the occasional blood that came with it.

“My Lord, shouldn’t you be getting your rest? It is getting late after all.” The woman asked, moving her knight on the board. She folder her hands and waited for his response both in the game and in words. The man chuckled and moved one of his bishops.

“I should, I really should, but with recent abduction of the Actress I do not think my body will let me no matter how much it may need to.” The man stood, grabbing his cane as he did so. He had a heavy limo in his right leg, and his breathing was incredibly labored, so ill despite looking so young. He stood at the frosted over window, looking out at it before glancing back at the woman with a smile. “Also please, there is no need for titles when it’s just us, call me Andrei.”

“Very well, Andrei.” The woman replied, her gaze following the man.

“Now any updates from my favorite Historian?” Andrei question, his gaze going back onto the snowy landscape behind the glassy surface. The woman chuckled at the nickname before standing up as well, her heels clicking against the wooden floor as she came to stand beside the man. Unlike her sickly friend her eyes remained fixed on him, not on the snow outside.

“My other contact in Fontaine has left as well, she had to run in order to avoid the Knave.” She answered, looking at Andrei’s face for any reaction but none came. “Along with that out contacts from Mondstadt are with her, along with two more potential contacts from Snezhnaya.”

“Any ties to the Fatui?”

“Yes, I believe the both of them were being pursued by harbingers, nine and eleven respectively.” The woman pressed her lips thinly together in thought, slightly bothered that she was unable to get a read on the white haired man. “They both have visions, Cryo and Anemo.”

“You needn’t worry so much. If they have already been accepted by the others, they are accepted by me.” A smile came across the woman’s face at Andrei’s words. “But if I may ask where are they now?”

“They are making their way to Sumeru, presumably to meet with the Medic and Hunter...” The woman pauses on her words, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment. “Andrei, if I may give my observation, we’re unknowingly being trapped in a corner. They don’t know about our alliance but they are trapped us like a changed animal, if they find out we’ll loose, you’ll loose… I… I don’t want to go back to how things were.”

“They say cornered animals fight the fiercest, so let’s show them how we play.” Andrei finally smiled, which only gave the woman a look of shock.

“Andrei…”

“Let them know that they haven’t won yet.” Andrei walks over back to his chair and sits down, reaching over to pick up one of his chest pieces. “What Gnoses do they have yet to obtain?”

“Just that of the Pryo Archon, but I believe Capitano has thrown his hat into the arena of Natlan.” The woman watched Andrei fiddle with the chess piece in his hand before he suddenly slammed it down on the board, startling the Historian.”

”Then let us get it before them.” These words shocked his friend, and while she stumbled, looking for the right words to say, but he just smiles at her. “And perhaps we can finally beat them in this game.”

“My Lord-”

“Andrei.” He corrected. There was a muttered apology as Andrei’s eyes scanned the chess board. “After all I would like my gnosis back.”

—————————

The last piece in this game, the former Cryo Archon, who lost his throne in the Archon War. His power was stripped from his as he crushed under the heel of other gods, he was too gentle for his own good. That’s when the Tsaritsa gave him false kindness, wanting him nothing more to keep him as a plaything. He lived as her toy for many a century while he watched the Fatui be formed, the rest of Teyvat thinking he was dead while he was only being hidden within the cold halls of the Zapolyarny Palace.

When he lost all hope that’s when he met the innocent eyes of the Historian, Pierro’s darling. The two became the others only friend, then the Actress, Colombina’s darling, came along and their trapped duo became a trio. But in their captivity he had to watch the innocence of the Historian’s eyes leave her after being exposed to the secrets that the Fatui keeps locked away, his friend was breaking and he couldn’t handle it. So with an idea of a plan he used the last of his power from his archon days he was able to freeze the palace, temporarily at least. The three of them escaped, not daring to look back, the Actress went back to Fontaine but the former archon was severely weakened by the use of his power and was sent into a sickly state. So while their friend went off to see Teyvat again the Historian found a place to stay hidden, looking after the weak god and becoming his eyes and ears to Teyvat. Over time they found others like them and the knew if they didn’t do something these others would share the same fate, the soldier, the medic, the mother, the knight, the ballerina, and so on. So they began this secret game against the Fatui, stopping their plans, by cutting the threads one by one.

[citrus-simp]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1

Warnings: language, Katsuki is basically cold and mean here. Katsuki is 23 here and reader is 22

note: just be aware this series will end up being 18+ this chapter won’t be so much because it’s simply the first chapter! Your have been warned!!

2

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

“Alright that patches things up! Now stay off of your foot this time!” You scold the knight as you stand from your seat. You had once again tended and patched up more than 20 soldiers from their last battle. Your kingdom had unfortunately been in the most of a battle between a neighboring kingdom to the south. Once their ruler had found the richness of the land and it’s properties he wanted it for his own. Now he would send invasions to weaken your kingdom until it was his for the taking.

Not only did you have strong warriors but you also had an amazing medical team. Your kingdom made sure to prioritize the education of medical procedures and techniques. You happened to be one of the top performing healers in the castle. In fact you were also the princess and heir to the thrown. You had shown much promise to your father and advisors. Typically wanting a male heir you showed much more potential and promise than any that came before you.

“You get it from your mother” you father would always comment whenever you were praised for strategic action. In fact you were sometimes called the perfect princess. Intelligent, kind, strong and ever so beautiful. However, you were very stubborn and set on not fixing a suitor. You felt It was simply a waste of time and a position where you would end up only being a trophy wife. You felt much better in the most of the action rather than the sidelines.

“Your highness, the king has requested your presence” a young lady in waiting had informed you

“Hm, it must be about the last invasion. Please tend to these men and make sure they’re given the herbs that are needed” you order before taking your leave. Walking up the steps into the main hall and taking a left into the throne room, you find your father.

“Ah Y/N, come sit my princess, we have something important to discuss” he said patting your own throne seat next to his. You walk over and take your seat but still face him. Usually you’d sit properly in front of your subjects and anyone else in the room but it was just you both this time! Your favorite! You just felt like father and daughter. No titles, no burdens or responsibilities.

"Now, because of this war some things have surfaced between us and our neighboring kingdom to the north. I won’t stretch out the truth and tell you straight away” he says with a pause “….You will marry within a month. For the remaining time you will spend with Katsuki in the Bakugou kingdom"

"WHAT? FATHER YOU CANT-“

"The decision has been made, and finalize the two of the truth, and will be married after two weeks of kingdoms will join into one. This will not only bring peace between our kingdoms, but it is in the war with Neighboring kingdom." He cut you off.

You guess there was no fighting this. You, an independent and intelligent princess betrothed to the infamous prince Katsuki Bakugou, the dragon prince. Now known as your soon to be husband and king.

Sure you knew that as a princess, you would be betrothed at some point in your life but him of all royalty? He was known for being ruthless mean and cold some would even say barbaric. However, with the war, a hand any possible, step ahead should be taken once it appears. If it meant that your kingdom and your father would be saved, then you were willing to marry and join the kingdoms.

“father...please don't make me.." you tried to plead in a last attempt. Maybe, just maybe there was a second option. Your father loves you more than anything. But this war was taking a toll on recourses, soldiers and the last thing he needed was to also loose you. The Bakugou kingdom was strong no doubt and uniting may be the only way to keep you safe. Combining your kingdoms talent with medical and health skills with their strategic fighting may finally put things to rest.

"Y/N, you will be fine. I'll make you a deal. If at any moment you feel your life is truly threatened and you are facing life or death, I will call this off completely." He said, trying to alleviate some of the stress of the situation.

And it was enough for you.

“Deal. But I still will not enjoy this. If you expect me to fall in love with him, then you're wrong."

~~~

"Katsuki. This is not up for discussion. They are not only our neighboring kingdom they are also a valuable Ally not to mention the princess is very beautiful, patient and intelligent." His mother, the queen inquired

"Like I give a damn about all that bullshit. I do just fine on my own" said prince crossing his arms “I don't need a damn bride to make anything better”

" complain all you want, but in two days time she will be here in our kingdom. Spend the next week with you before the wedding" she spat back. Funny enough whoever met the queen was convinced that she ran the kingdom and not her husband.

"Whatever you old hag" Bakugou brushed her off as he left the throne room

“Prepare yourself Katsuki! You have to grow out of that mentality to run this kingdom...and clean your damn room! No woman wants to see that!" She sighs as she watches her son walk out of the throne room. His signature scowl and fiery eyes making anyone in the halls move aside.

Opening the door to his bedroom he slams it shut and flips on to his bed. He crossed his arms behind his head as he stared into the ceiling.

“Tch. Damn war and contracts.” He muttered to himself. Just then there was a knock at the door. Without waiting for an answer it opens and in comes a young man around the same age with bright red hair.

“Hey Bakugou! Heard about the engagement, you must be excited” he said closing the door

“If you call wanting to give up my title so I don’t have to marry excited. sure I am excited” he answers sitting up “don’t know why I had to get wrapped up in this shit. They can just crown me, give me the kingdom and I’ll end this war in one blow.” He said standing from his bed “let’s go spar i gotta blow off steam”

Kirishima was his play mate in the castle as a child who eventually became part of the guard. They now spar, hunt, or just plainly hang out together. he will never admit it, Kirishima was more of a friend than castle staff to him.

As the two young males spar together they exchange conversation and comments among each other. Their swords clashing in clinging every now and then followed by grunts or curses. Both were very skilled fighters and were known for their strength.

“Come on man *clang* it can’t be- woah! That bad” he comments as he doges a swing of his sword and a punch “I mean I think everyone at some point thinks about finding someone to spend your life with”

“ yeah, that’s everyone else, Shity Hair, not me! AH!” He shouts as swings his sword to have Kirishima duck and and knock him off his feet

“You gotta stop call me that man, we both basically have the same hair” he said from the ground lookin up at the prince.

“Yeah whatever, get your ass up” he said reaching his hand out for him to take. Bakugou has always had things done on his own without help. If his parents would allow him he’d go into battle and show everyone just how capable he was without a title, wife or anything.

“Hopefully she’ll hate this idea as much as I do” he said dusting himself off “then I can just send her off to where she came from. Heh or maybe even just keep her around to entertain me”

“Well yeah i guess, but doesn’t that seem a bit cruel?” Kirishima commented

“And? I just need her out of the way.”

“And what if she goes through all of that and ends up staying? What are you gonna do then?” He questioned his plan making the young man think

“I doubt she’ll get there but if she does, I could really care less if she stays or leaves. Let’s go eat I’m starving”

Kirishima simply shook his head and followed the young man inside to the dining hall.

~~~ the next day~~~

You gaze out of the carriage as you were on your way to the Bakugou kingdom. You honestly didn’t feel like it was happening. Like an out of body experience. Maybe your body was on autopilot because of the huge shift. You just stared out into the sky thinking of what you could have been doing instead.

Instead of packing all your clothes, and books. Instead of reading the garden under the large oak tree. Instead of helping people in the medical area of the castle. Instead you were here on your way to be married off.

The ride to their kingdom would take about one day and one night. You had left the night before so you’ll probably be there by nightfall of the day. Your father would actually spend those few days with you so he’s able to attend to wedding. You were happy for that part at least. As you stared blankly at the sky you hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep. The motion of the carriage and the sound of hooves dancing on the ground had put you right to sleep.

Once you had gotten there you peeked from the vehicle and saw the king, Queen and prince standing in front of the castle entrance. The prince seemed at have said something that earned him a smack tot he head from his mother. Your father helped you out of the carriage as you were both announced.

“Please welcome the arrival of Y/L/N kingdom!” You and your father walked arm in arm up the steps and were welcomed by the king and queen.

“Welcome to our kingdom King (name) and of course princess Y/N” the queen said taking a quick bow. You and your father reciprocate the same action and thank her for her welcome. “Come inside, nightfall is near and usually the cold settles in more” she said moving out of the way to welcome you both into the large and impressive castle.”

As he walked by and take a quick glance at the prince and see his cold scowl. Aside from his attitude portrayed on his face, you could see that he was indeed, very attractive. He had a strong build in a very handsome face with wild and explosive looking hair. He also had deep, bright red eyes. They almost look like rubies. 

However all that beauty goes to waste when he scans you up and down and gives you a scoff. His father pushed him towards you urging him to play his role as the crowned prince of the kingdom. Rolling his eyes he takes your hand and raises it to kiss the back of your hand with a groan. Contrast of his cold demeanor, and his warm, soft kiss honestly confused you. Maybe other princesses with you by his actions, but you felt the hypocrisy behind it.

You follow behind the royals as they lead you into the dinning hall to enjoy a dinner together. You say next to your father and across the table we’re the royal family. His parents seemed delighted and almost relived you were there. Bakugou looked like he’s rather be doing anything else.

“Y/N, I’ve heard a lot about your studies you do for you kingdom” the queen complimented trying to break the awkward silence

“Oh you better believe every word,” you father answered “if I had ti admit she’s the backbone of our kingdom and why we keep fighting back” he said ruffling your hair

“Yeah right” Katsuki mumbled under his breath

“Well your majesty, i knew our soldiers not needed not only the best medical attention but also medical attention in numbers. Giving that we have a sizable amount of young men I had taken women from our village, gave them education and had them work beside me.” You explain as a fire back to the princes remark

“Fascinating,” she said leaning on her hand

“Not only do we benefit from it, those in the village do as well. Mortality rate has dropped, those in poor areas can now afford food and shelter due to their jobs with us, and of course we help one another to survive” you elaborate more

“She’s quit nice son, why don’t you give it a shot” his father whispered nudging his son only making the prince roll his eyes

“Gorgeous, intelligent, and talented! You really are a rare treasure princess.” She complimented you once again “anyway! You must both be exhausted from the long journey. Please show them to their rooms” the queen called for the staff to assist you to your rooms for the time being.

As tradition is, you all now to one another and they all wished you a good nights rest. After settling in to your room, you change into something comfortable and look out of the window. It was late summer and you could feel the chill of Autumn coming through the glass. You had a beautiful view of their village and all the little lights on. Looking upwards you see a candle in the window of none other than the prince. He had gone to turn out the candle when he spotted you.

You both just stared at one another for a moment. As if trying to communicate some kind of message from the distance. He simply raised the candle near his face and blew out the flame. Instead you took your candle and placed it on the bed side. You watch as the flame danced freely on the wick of the candle. Freely flickering and dancing and waving as she pleased.

I’m ways your wishes to be that same candle. Dancing within your own world, to your path…and no one else’s…you feel your eyes flutter shut as the hypnotic flame pulls you into sleep for the night.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Taglist 🐉: @aikugo @outcast-thingz @sad0ni0n @sageyrage @cathwritestragediesnotsins @scarsofbeauty

[psychedelic-ink]

We Fall Like Snow ║ Part VII

After the events that took place at the Cliff Beasts set, needless to say as his bodyguard (and friend) you became overprotective of Dieter. You have all your worries under control until you accidentally flip over a young fan by grabbing her wrist, causing the media to stir with speculations as to why. Luckily Dieter's family arrives in the nick of time, scooping you both from New York to their cozy cabin; however, winter wonderland can't last forever and you need to face the consequences of your actions sooner or later.

pairing: Dieter Bravo x bodyguard!ofc; Amina Addams, written in reader format

chapter summary: you were a fool to think everything would return to normal.

word count: 2.2k

chapter warnings: arguing, angst

**dividers by the amazing @saradika

You hate being back. 

To make it clear, you love your job but absolutely hate cons. You have to stand around all day, prying the crowds to see if any fan was crazy enough to try and rip away from the lines to get to their favorite celebrity. It’s madness at its finest. And after spending time in winter wonderland everything just feels a bit. . . bla. 

But of course, Dieter has to do this con. He’s a hero in a big franchise now. With that comes an even larger fanbase and more potential threats. 

With the corner of your eye, you gaze upon the stage. He’s in the middle, a bottle of water untouched in front of him and a small plate clarifying who he is. He looks good with his white suit and thick-framed glasses. You recognize all of the other actors as well. They’re talking amongst themselves, Dieter included. He hasn’t talked much with you since you arrived back at the hotel. 

A small puff of air escapes your lips and you resume your position. Shoulders squared and chest puffed up. You notice the wary glances thrown your way. Must be about the video, you think. Your stomach still knots up whenever you think about it. That poor fan. You had apologized but still, it wasn’t the best look. 

You notice a line of fans starting to form, a sole microphone standing tall. Some of them stare at you, some looking curious and some anxious. You don’t know what to make of it all. The moderator starts to introduce the actors, a short trailer plays. There’s a faint hum in your ears, the sounds reminding you of bells. 

That can't be good, the last time you heard bells you ended up fainting. 

You somewhat block out the conversations, the series of questions that are stuttered out from the fans' lips. You keep skimming the crowd, waiting for something to go wrong. 

The moderator addresses one of the girls to come forward, and she excitedly grabs the microphone.

"Hi, Dieter! First of all, I love you so much! My question is for you and your bodyguard—” You freeze. Blood rushing to your ears. “Why haven't you fired the bodyguard who assaulted that poor fan? I mean, isn't it your responsibility to keep your fans safe?"

The room falls silent, all eyes shifting between you and Dieter. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to maintain your composure. Everyone here has seen the pictures, the video. The atmosphere tightens as the question hangs in the air. Dieter shifts uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding direct eye contact with you.

"Well, you know," he says, forcing some humor into his tone, "having me to look after can't be easy considering my track record, but we have apologized to Rose, and we're working to ensure it doesn't happen again."

A ripple of discomfort passes through the audience. The fan who asked the question seems doubtful of his answer.

Another fan jeers, their tone more accusatory. "And what about the rumors that you and your bodyguard are more than just friends? The ski resort pictures were pretty convincing," 

Dieter fidgets with the hem of his jacket, a small little thing only you can notice. "Oh, those pictures? Nah, it was just a family trip, you know. My bodyguard and I are strictly professional. No workplace romance here."

You feel a knot tightening in your stomach, and the jingle bells in your ears amplify. The questions sting but for some reason, Dieter dismissing the entire trip stings even more—which is ridiculous. He’s doing the best for both of you right now. A con isn’t a place for the truth to be blurted out, you’re also grateful that he’s composed. Calm. The room seems to spin, and you struggle to maintain a neutral expression. The fans are growing more hostile, their questions pointed and relentless.

"Why should we believe that? I mean, she practically assaulted a fan, and you're keeping her around?" a voice from the crowd shouts, and the tension escalates. “If it was anyone else they would’ve been fired!”

Dieter attempts to diffuse the situation with a weak smile but before he can say anything else the moderator steps in, “Alright, folks, let's keep things respectful here. We're here to discuss the movie and hear from our talented cast. Any more questions about the movie?"

Dieter takes a grateful breath, and you feel a slight relief as the attention veers away from the uncomfortable questions. The moderator continues steering the conversation back to safer ground, skillfully guiding the panel away from the personal inquiries that threatened to overshadow the event.

Internally, you're on the verge of a panic attack. Your hands tremble, and you can't shake the feeling of eyes boring into you. The jingle bells in your ears become an incessant ringing, drowning out the words around you. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself and maintain a facade of composure, but the weight of the accusations bears down on you.

All you can do is bare the looks and the hushed whispers. You can’t run. 

So you stand tall instead. 

The car glides through the city, the post-con atmosphere palpable in the air. You, Dieter, and the other actress, Emma, sit in the backseat, each lost in your thoughts. The tension from the panel still lingers, casting a shadow over the celebratory mood.

Emma breaks the silence, her voice a hushed whisper, "That was tense back there. I can't believe some of those questions. Are you guys okay?"

You and Dieter exchange a brief glance, avoiding direct eye contact. Dieter takes a moment before responding, "Yeah, it was a bit much, but we'll get through it. These things happen."

"Is it true, though? Did you really attack a fan?" her gaze lingers on you. You’re surprised she hasn’t seen the viral video of you by now, but you guess that’s normal. She has other things to worry about. 

Before either of you can answer, the car pulls up to The Skylark, a chic rooftop lounge with panoramic views of the city. You all step out of the car, the sounds of the city blending with the distant hum of the afterparty.

The Skylark's entrance is marked by a stylish marquee, and a doorman ushers you into the elevator that ascends to the rooftop. The doors open to reveal a glamorous space, with a sleek bar, comfortable seating areas, and an outdoor terrace with a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

The party is in full swing as the cast mingles with fellow actors, producers, and industry insiders. A subtle buzz of conversation fills the air, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and laughter. 

As soon as you arrive at the party, you grab a glass of champagne and discreetly slip away, leaving Dieter and Emma engaged in conversation. The rooftop's expanse opens up before you, and you find a secluded spot away from the crowd.

The New York skyline sprawls beneath, a mesmerizing tapestry of lights that twinkle like stars on the canvas of the night. Skyscrapers stand tall, their silhouettes etched against the darkening sky.

The horizon, painted in hues of indigo and amber, casts a dreamlike glow over the city. The buildings, illuminated in a myriad of colors, create a breathtaking panorama that stretches to the edges of your vision. A cool breeze carries the scent of the night, and the distant sounds of laughter and clinking glasses mingle with the soft melodies playing in the background.

You desperately wish you could be enjoying yourself right now. But all you feel his disappointment towards yourself. 

You feel a shudder behind you, and when you turn, Dieter is there. He leans over the railing, mirroring your gaze at the horizon, and hesitates before finally speaking, "Can we talk?"

You take a big gulp of the champagne, then eat the strawberry thoughtfully. The sweetness of the fruit does little to evaporate the sourness on your tongue, "Oh, now you want to talk to me," you say barely above a whisper, keeping your eyes fixed on the cityscape. “How thoughtful of you.” 

Dieter takes a deep breath, his gaze still locked on the distant lights. 

"I’m trying to do my best Amina. You know I am." You nod and he continues. “I just want to see if you’re doing alright.” 

“I’m fine really,” you finally turn, gesturing towards the crowd behind you. “Go linger. Have fun. Don’t think about me—You. . . Just do what you want to do.” 

“I am doing what I want to do,” he rasps. Warmth gathers at the base of your spine as he cups your cheek. “What I want to do is be with you.” 

The night air feels cool against your skin. Despite the comfort he provides, you pull back, regret flooding your system as his warmth fades away. “Stop it,” you blurt out. “Stop. I told you we can’t. If before wasn’t enough proof, today surely has to be.” 

“Fans have always been nosey. If I let them decide what I should do then I wouldn’t be living. I’d be in a gilded prison.” 

When you press your lips tightly together instead of answering, Dieter takes the flute glass out of your hand and places it on the rail. Before you can get a word out he’s pulling you towards one of the private rooms, away from the vibrant crowd. The door closes behind you, muffling the distant sounds of the party. The room is dimly lit, adorned with plush furniture and a low, ambient hum that adds an air of intimacy.

Dieter releases your hand, and you both stand in the subdued lighting, facing each other. He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze searching yours for a response. 

All you can think is how good he looks with those glasses.

"I can't just ignore everything, Amina," he begins, his voice full of gravel. "I know the panel was rough, but I need you to understand that I'm not letting go. Not of you."

You exhale slowly, "Dieter, we can't keep doing this. It's not just about nosy fans; it's about us, about how this affects everything. Our friendship. We can't pretend like there aren't consequences."

He steps closer, a pained expression on his face. "I can't pretend I don't care about you, Amina. I can't just push you away. We’re more than friends. We’ve been like that for a while now."

You look away, the conflict evident in your eyes. He brings your hands to his chest, forcing you to spread your fingers over the smooth fabric. You feel the harsh pulse of his heart beat. He stares directly into your eyes, eating you up. 

“When I have a shit day who do I want to call?” You don’t answer. You can’t. He continues. “Who do you call when you’re cramping and can’t get up? Who do you send endless animal reels to thinking I’ll enjoy them? Who do I text when I find a random fucking bookstore in the middle of nowhere? When I’m overwhelmed Amina, who do I call? Fucking answer me.” 

You don’t. Your lips are parted as if you might but nothing comes out. You feel the sting of tears in the corner of your eyes. 

Dieter lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair again. "I hate this. I hate that look you’re giving me as if this is all news to you."

The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as the weight of the unspoken hangs between you. A knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a mix of frustration and sadness.

"You know I can't stop being your bodyguard. I just can't," you say, your voice firm, though a tremor of vulnerability seeps through.

"Fine,” he lets go of your hands and your arms limply drops to your sides. “You're fired." 

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your mouth goes dry, your stomach churning as your pulse races.

"Excuse me?" 

"You're fired. I can't have you around me, especially if I can't do anything about it," he explains, his tone strained. “All I can think about is you. And since you’re so cutthroat about protecting my career you’ll understand why.” 

"Dieter," you plead, hoping for a different resolution, knowing deep down that it might not come. But he doesn’t allow you to say anything else. He doesn’t let you say the words that might convince him to do otherwise. 

"It's not healthy, Amina. I'm a grown-ass man. I don't need someone to protect me all the time," he says, and you can't help but scoff at his statement. It’s an involuntary reaction. One that you regret immediately. Crimson rises to his cheeks, his brows knitting tightly together. "Is that how you see me? Really? And here I am trying to talk about love. Just leave. Go home. Think stuff through. I can live on my own," he continues, his words cutting through the air. You want to protest, to make him understand, but the weight of the situation holds your words hostage.

"You can't just kick me out; there's a premiere tomorrow," you argue, though the fear of losing him is already settling in. “Dieter please.” 

"You're not the only bodyguard out there. As you can see, I can take care of my own. I can live without my bodyguard," he states, a challenging look in his eyes. It feels like the ground beneath you is shifting, and you desperately seek something to cling to.  

He pauses briefly, and the intensity of his gaze shifts. Softens. His voice cracks as he asks; 

"But can you live without being one?"

[transmasckrauser]

Yandere!Leon x gn!Reader (Pt.1)

cw: implied stalker leon, general implied creepiness, extreme lack of leon being in this until the end, kissing.

disclaimer: there's no porn, mostly just set up for a potential series/AU i'm brewing.

You started dating Leon a couple weeks ago–met him at your favorite cafe right by your work maybe a month before that.

He asked you out, obviously, approaching you all sweet and flustered. He was a complete gentleman, asking politely for your number with the request for dinner together the following day.

Leon was a major cutie–tall, gentle, and courteous. There was no way you would say no.

Ever since that dinner together, it's been pure bliss.

You've never had anyone connect with you so well or understand your needs without having to ask. It was like you were destined for each other the way he could practically read your mind.

Today, he had invited you over to his apartment. It was a big step, as your dates until now had ended at your place exclusively. He explained he had a risky profession, one that made him put some walls up.

And now he was ready to lower one of those barriers between you. And you were ready to be there for him, to show you can protect that trust he's given you.

You were so excited–dressed extra nice, a bit of skin showing–that you arrived maybe fifteen minutes early. You always got ahead of yourself like that, and Leon knew you well enough to have predicted it.

He had given you a spare key to his place, so you wouldn't have to wait for him to let you in. Leon could get lost in his projects and routines, he'd warned you, and might've ignored the doorbell when you arrived.

So, given ample permission, you let yourself into his apartment.

It's nothing out of the ordinary, if anything it was plainer than you expected. Nice enough, but clearly furnished with the bare minimum. Not very welcoming which was a surprise, considering how warm and inviting Leon himself was.

It was also clearly empty. Lights off. No sound.

You check your phone to see Leon had texted you just a minute before you arrived. Sorry, baby, I got called into work. Should be home in an hour.

You try to fight your disappointment. An hour wasn't too long, but still.

You text back with reassurances. I understand! <3 I can keep myself busy!

You pocket your phone and kick off your shoes by the door. Guess you have time to snoop around, right? Nothing too invasive, obviously.

There's a collection of movies and CDs in the living room, which you immediately walk over to and admire. A lot of action, which you should've expected. A lot of 'dad rock' too, which you definitely expected.

Giggling to yourself, you journey away from the living room into the small kitchen. It's cute and plain like the rest of his place.

There's a couple magnets and notes stuck to the fridge–various pictures of Leon sandwiched between his friends or coworkers, too.

You're studying a picture of him with his arms thrown over the shoulders of a much burlier man when you notice there's a second picture pinned beneath it. Too lazy to just swap them out, huh?

You remove the magnet keeping the photos in place and take both into your hands. You flip the top picture behind the other and find yourself looking back at your own face.

It's an older photo of you, one you likely posted to instagram ages ago. The edges were soft like it had been worn from frequent handling.

You weren't friends with Leon on social media. In fact, he specifically told you he avoided it all together due to his work.

The pictures go right back on the fridge. Your hands feel clammy now as you try to reason out this odd discovery. Was it weird for him to have that photo? Yes. But this was Leon. Maybe he didn't realize it was creepy. He said he hadn't dated in years, after all.

You wander back out into the living room, on edge. Now the barren apartment felt even more unwelcoming and odd.

Just to the left of you is a short hallway, two doors clearly visible. When before you had just wanted a surface level investigation of your boyfriend's things, now you felt the need to continue searching.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you stalk down the hall to the closed door at its end. You twist the knob and find yourself stepping into Leon's bedroom. Just as plain as everything else.

The bed is made and there's a nightstand and dresser. Nothing else. On the wall are faded outlines of what must have been posters at one point.

Standing in his room like this, you feel insane.

Why were you doing this? Because of one innocent picture? Because your inexperienced loner boyfriend didn't know the rules of modern dating?

You laugh at yourself and fall tiredly onto the bed, resting your elbows on your knees as you cradle your head. You must be so nervous about today going well your were inventing problems.

As you sit there a moment longer, finally starting to feel at ease again, you shift to glance around the room once more. As you adjust your weight though, something crinkles beneath the covers.

For some reason, a chill goes up your spine. You look down at the bed, at the plain blue blankets and sheets. A shaky hand grabs the top of the comforter and goes to pull it back.

"–I'm home!"

You jump at Leon's voice and scramble to your feet and out of his room as fast as possible. You have the mind to shut the bedroom door behind you, quietly.

You step into the living room as Leon is hanging up his jacket by the door, a gorgeous bouquet of your favorite flowers in his free hand. He raises his head to meet your eyes and flashes you a warm, loving smile.

That familiar blush is high on his cheeks, and he approaches you with the same adoration and happiness he always does. "I couldn't stand the thought of you waiting for me." He leans in to fake-whisper. "I ditched my paperwork."

And just like that, you're at ease and being pulled into his arms. "You're such a rebel."

He drags you into a kiss, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other still holds the flowers against your back. Your free arms loops around his neck to reciprocate the gesture.

You two kiss for a moment longer before he pulls away, though your grip on him doesn't leave much room between you. He smiles, warm and so full of admiration. It has your whole body buzzing with heat. No one had ever looked at you like that until Leon.

"What do you think?" He asked, nervousness creeping into his tone.

"Of what? The flowers?"

He rolls his eyes at that and untangles his arms from you. Reluctantly, you let him do so. "No, my place. It's not too...empty?" He looks shy now, unsure as he stands in front of you with the bouquet held at his side.

Now would be the perfect time to confront him about the photo, but how could you? He was already so nervous inviting you over.

So instead of saying anything, you smile. "It just means I'll have to help you liven this place up."

That answer seems to please him as he returns the smile with his own. You pull him in for another kiss, uncaring of the flowers crushed between you. Any questions you might've asked him fell to the back of your mind.

You'd ask him another day. Not like it really mattered.

[rshoumon]

Akutagawa x gn! ada! reader

TW: description of blood, violence but nothing explicit

a/n: i LOVE the trope of potential lovers starting on opposite sides yet slowly growing accustomed to one another. i may make this a series?? or just keep it a one-shot lol.

The lingering feeling of bloodlust lay thick in the air, though from where you stood, you were incapable of pointing out its origin.

The scenery around you was obscured by shadows, the view sending chills down your spine, shaking you to your very core. As a new member of the Armed Detective Agency, you should have expected to be thrown into situations such as this, however it was only now, with the impending feeling of doom hovering over you, that you understood how much you overestimated your abilities.

Your first mission was to search an abandoned warehouse for leads that would help lead to the capture of illegal trades between small-scale gangs. The warehouse was supposed to be empty by the time you’d gotten there, however there was something in the air that begged to say otherwise.

You continued your survey of the area, silently noting the broken crates around you. There was undoubtedly some sort of conflict that broke out between the individuals that made the deal. There wasn’t a body to see in sight, but patches of blood decorated the floor in an ungracious work of abstract art.

The stench in the warehouse was enough to urge your insides to churn. You did what you could to hold yourself together and not make a break for it while you still had the chance. You refused to walk out on your first solo mission. It wouldn’t leave a good taste in your mouth no matter the case.

You continued forward, searching for any form of identification of these dealers that you could bring back to the agency. Anything.

It was as you approached the back entrance of the warehouse that you finally realized the true danger you’d walked into.

From around the final crate which so happened to be intact, you caught sight of a face that Kunikida, Atsushi, and the remainder of the Armed Detective Agency warned you against encountering under any circumstances.

Raven black locks that faded into a dreary white framed the pale features of a young man who stared at the pile of bodies that were laid out before him. All of them were dead.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to try and silence the whimper that threatened to make itself known, however the action only seemed to notify the man of your presence.

“Who’s there?” He called out, his voice raspy before being followed by a harsh cough. “If you do not show yourself, I ensure you I’ll find you myself. Whether it be alive or dead … is your choice.”

You couldn’t help the impulsive gulp of air you’d taken, the beating of your heart now painfully obvious in its efforts to leap out of your chest. Deciding that you’d rather not get skewered the moment you were found, you made your way out from your hiding spot with your hands raised over your head.

“I’m not here to fight.“ You whispered, any attempt to keep your voice stern now lost in the wind.

He raised a thin brow at your statement, carefully observing your person to ensure that you came unarmed. You could feel the way his eyes ran over you, like a predator gazing at its prey, the act alone froze you from taking any other steps.

“I was here to investigate the dealings made between the two gangs that were scheduled to meet here.“

A scoff was all that you were met with.

“Well as you can see, you’re too late.” Akutagawa motioned his head towards the pile of dead bodies a few yards away from you. “I’d rid the streets of Yokohama of yet another pack of rats. What reason do I have of not adding you to the list?”

His words were sharp, rolling off the tongue with ease yet not without a sense of malice.

“I — I’m not here to fight, like I said.” You began, barely capable of keeping yourself standing as your legs shook with fear. The sight seemed to only further anger the man before you. “I’m here under the orders of the Agency, nothing more.”

“The Agency? What a joke. Getting rid of you would benefit the Port Mafia from yet another pest from snooping into our business. Are you certain you want those to be your last words?”

A red beam of light formed from behind Akutagawa’s figure, outlining a black beast-like creature that lay behind him. It’s voice was nothing more than a low growl, yet it sounded like nothing that was of this world. A demon.

As you prepared to make a break for it, you caught the sight of a sniper from the corner of your eye from the rooftop, with their gun pointed straight towards Akutagawa.

Despite the fact that the black-clad male tried to kill you moments before … you remembered a conversation between Atsushi and yourself moments after you were warned of the danger Akutagawa posed to the agency.

“I know we told you about Akutagawa earlier … and I won’t retract my statement in the slightest.” Atsushi stood strong concerning his stance on the horrible acts Akutagawa committed in the past, yet there was something in his eye that shone with something … you couldn’t quite put into words.

“However, I’m not going to say he’s some irredeemable guy either. He helped me safe Yokohama from the Guild, albeit unwillingly. I think there’s potential in him. To … become something more.”

You haven’t been able to get his words out of your head since you’d first laid eyes upon the man, however you were able to come to one conclusion and the underlying meaning of Atsushi’s words.

Though you weren’t capable of dealing any damage to him, Atsushi didn’t wish for his rival to meet his end.

That sentiment must have been why you activated your ability when you did, a sense of determination washing over you all at once.

“You Reap What You Sow!” You cried out.

Particles of light formed around the bullet shot towards Akutagawa, stopping it in its tracks completely before being flung back towards the sniper who made the initial shot. You’d reflected the bullet at an angle where it wouldn’t hit them in any vital spot, however it was enough to incapacitate their ability to shoot.

Of course, despite your act being in defense of the mafioso, he seemed none too happy with the display.

“I didn’t need your help.” He hissed.

With the blood rushing through you from the most recent events and your assumed success, you couldn’t find it in yourself to lie over and take his ungrateful behavior. You’d just saved him after all.

“I never needed your permission.” You snapped back haughtily, your gaze returning to meet his in a silent clash of wits.

Both of you continued your silent stare down until Akutagawa clicked his tongue. The sound of a gunshot rang through the air, however unlike before, this bullet was aimed towards you.

In a manner mirroring the events before, Rashoumon had extended out in front of you, stopping the bullet in its tracks before falling aimlessly onto the floor. You were able to catch a glimpse of the sniper positioned back on the rooftop, though his posture seemed much sloppier than before.

“You should have killed him.” Akutagawa stated simply, before carefully making his way towards the sniper’s position, not sparing a single glance in your direction.

“You should leave, before this little grace period finally comes to an end.”

Your first encounter with the mafioso was unprecedented … however at the very least, you could understand Atsushi’s sentiment towards the man, even if only just a little.

a/n: one small note concerning y/n’s ability, “You Reap What You Sow” is purely defensive, reflecting any attack back towards the one who initiated the attack in the first place.

[shigarakisslutbag]

how we feeling bruh

I'm feeling at my limit, anon. MY. LIMIT.

Regarding the manga leaks;

I know I sound delusional (I am but idc), but genuinely I can't wrap my head around this being tomuras end?? Like? Just like that ? I will say, I am not very caught up with the manga, so I'm just going to comment on what I do know.

Let's say it is the end for him, and tomura is really gone;

I don't say this often, bc usually I know the writer knows best, but if that is tomuras end it just feels,,, not impactful. I know horikoshi has said the manga is going to end soon. But he's said that,,, sooo many times lol. But back to what I said about the ending, it feels rushed, and tbh it's felt rushed for a while. I think, from my understanding, it seems he's just burnt out on writing it. Which tbh I don't blame him because the series has been going on for 8 years.

Personally, I wouldn't be upset if he just took a break and came back. Even if it's a very long break. But of course, that's up to him entirely. Im not gonna be *that* fan lol.

That being said, I'm going to take the ending with a grain of salt (if it's truly tomuras end). I think someone also mentioned there was a small mention of a "reconstruction" part of of his quirk?? So it's possible horikoshi is going to revisit that in the scene where tomura may die.

It would really feel odd to see tomura die, after all this time. Like so much was put into his character. In my *personal* opinion, he has more character depth than izuku at this point. Izuku had great potential, but to my knowledge there's no back story other than him being quirkless and fatherless(?). The only thing that I liked about his character in the beginning, was his drive and genuine determination to be a real hero.

At this point though, it feels like I don't even know his character. Having so many characters, and trying to fit so many stories in them, will eventually lead into some sort of conundrum with the plot. It got to a point where I felt more connected to the villains than our supposed main character?? I almost thought that that was the direction horikoshi was going in. To be like "oops you thought izuku was the main character, but really this is tomuras story" which would've been really cool. It's so hard to relate to izuku as a character because there's no depth. I don't see many flaws in his character. His flaws as a character are his flaws, if that makes sense. He had nothing to improve on besides his quirk. I didn't see any growth in him as a person because there was nothing to grow from.

That being SAID, it feels like an absolute waste of tomuras character if he's thrown away, and would feel so unnecessary. Tomura had so much growth, and development, it's so hard not to love him. So many of us can legit relate to the villains on a personal level. I think I'm going to be more sad at the fact that the characters are being wasted. I grew up with these characters. I started watching when I was 16 and I'm 21 almost 22 now.

If this is tomuras end, I'm just gonna write a self indulgent fanfic about how I want the ending lol. Even if tomura is meant to be the villain, he deserves a better ending. They all do. I'm still in denial about twice's/Jin's death 😭.

Sorry for the seemingly long rant LOL. But ugh, I'm gonna be so disappointed to make a long story short. Again, I am not caught up with the manga, so if there's something I don't know just let me know lol. I tried to make this as broad as I could because I don't wanna seem like I know everything. So I apologize if I came off that way:').

[f0point5]

pretty sure you’ve talked about this already so many times so if you don’t want to keep talking about it no worries!!

but this Logan/Kimi swap thing BAFFLES me. Yes, Logan should have improved more by now. I really feel for him because it’s clear that he’s trying to improve and just can’t figure it out for some reason. Plus the team’s bizarre switch from “we resigned Logan because we believe in him” to what appears from the outside to be a lack of support. But i agree he won’t be on the grid next year.

But at the same time it’s idiotic for the FIA to approve the dispensation because then the rules are essentially meaningless. It’s idiotic for Williams to take on an underprepared driver (because as talented as Kimi might be, there’s no way he’s adequately prepared for F1 right now) when part of Logan’s issues were due to being underprepared. If this kid gets eaten alive then merc will have thrown away so much potential. Genuinely I think there’s an incredibly high chance no one wins here. Maybe it all works out, but it seems like a hell of a risk just because you’re worried that he might sign elsewhere.

anyway excuse the rant lol just read the new chapter and so intrigued 👀 hoping lando comes thru for you this weekend <3

No I could go for DAYS.

I wouldn’t blame the team for replacing Logan mid season. It’s incredibly difficult to score points at the bottom and you need to be running two cars. Williams have been fighting one handed. Logan is just not cut out for this, that to me is clear. I am so curious why they resigned him, I guess because they didn’t have any other options from their academy, but the way they seem to have absolutely had enough of him is sad. To hear him on the radio calling himself a “dumb fuck” is horrible. It’s all hard to watch. It’s giving Red Bull.

I don’t understand the Kimi thing. They made this rule because they didn’t want any more children in F1. How would they just throw that out the window because someone asks? And not even for a kid who has a wealth of experience. He’s driven what? 18 months in actual cars? The FIA will out themselves as a complete joke if they say yes. I guess Williams will be saying “we will put him in the day he turns 18 if you say no so you may as well say yes it’s 4 months early”, but I think they have to stick to their guns and say not a day before the 18th birthday.

I don’t have an issue with him being in the car. Maybe he’s another Max, maybe he’s not. Regardless, I think if he is good enough, he will show something. And if he doesn’t, then he doesn’t, there will be others who come up through the feeder series who do. I don’t put a lot of stock in preparedness beyond physical fitness. Another few months of driving F2 where the cars are very slow, very different set up wise, and honestly where the racing is kinda just a free for all is probably not going to prepare him any better than he is now (considering how few F2 races there actually are as well). I think talent shines through. Logan might have done better with more prep but he probably never would have been Oscar. And yes Kimi is underprepared, but the best prep you can get is just to drive, so if Toto really is planning to put Kimi in the Merc seat, this is the smartest way to get around the rules about testing. Because that’s all it’ll be, is testing. He can sit in the Williams for half a season and get his bearings, go to Merc and get his bearings again in 2025, and by 2026 he would be an incredibly well prepared driver. IF that is how Toto decides to approach it, and not expect results from Kimi. I actually do see the merit in it. But only if it’s approached properly by everyone involved which with Toto you can’t guarantee. BUT the FIA throwing out the rule book would be insane.

I’m SO interested what on earth Toto has promised Vowles to get a Merc junior who will essentially be wasting a seat for Williams in the middle of a season. Granted he probably can’t be worse than Sargent but again, James will effectively just have Alex all year. Are Williams getting free engines?

Fundamentally I think the person who comes away with egg on their face here is James Vowles. Mr “you need to give a rookie three years and an arm around the shoulder” has absolutely exposed himself as TotoLite™️. As for Kimi, I can only hope he has a good team around him and that he has people who will come to the paddock and look out for him and not just let Toto run his career. Because I don’t think him being in F1 early is a guaranteed failure, but I think he will need a strong support network and someone looking out for his best interests.

I’m just shocked by this turn of events in all honesty

[kdj-225]

um um short royalty isekai joongdok???? kdj transmigrating into a world where he is the emperor and yjh is his trustworthy knight 🤭🤭🤭 (its ok if you cant write this or if it's not exact, i love your writing so much!!!!!!)

[!!! I'm so glad you enjoy my written works, thank you so much!! I had fun writing this prompt, I hope you like it as well!! 💕💖💕💜]

note: this is first person POV, from KDJ's perspective!

cw for: passing jokes on death / dying

----

※DO NOT REPOST / HOST MY WORK ON OTHER APPS OR SITES

A year has already passed since my transmigration into this web novel.

A year of struggling not to fall into anxiety at my current reality as the emperor of a fictional kingdom, a year of fooling my own people that I was perfectly hale and healthy and not going insane at my own transmigration, and a year of me having to figure out just what I could do so I wouldn't accidentally set myself up with a death flag with the smallest of actions.

One damn year, and the heroine could finally take my dangerous knight commander away so I didn't have to keep being under his watchful eye, and they could have their happy ending.

For all that I'd read what felt like a million webnovels in my original life, and for all that I loved certain tropes enough to read them over and over in different stories, I could still remember the plot for this novel I'd been thrown into.

It was typical, for a romance fantasy fiction.

The heroine was a saintess born into the life of a commoner, with a heart of gold intent on serving the people. Her male lead was the cold and unfaltering Knight Commander, the youngest person to have ever received such a title in the empire, and her childhood friend. Both people skilled on opposing sides—one in saving lives, with the other in taking them—yet with loyalty similarly sworn to the kingdom.

And between them was the emperor, who sought to have the saintess to himself. For power? For love? For sheer greed?

I had no idea. I wasn't able to finish the webnovel, considering how it had been ongoing the last time I read it.

"Your Majesty. Stop shaking your leg."

I stopped shaking my leg, realizing a little too late that I'd been doing it at all. "I admire your gall to tell your emperor what to do," I said, frowning when I gave Joonghyuk a look. "Can't you guard me from the outside?"

"You have a window behind you."

"If I die, I die."

Joonghyuk scowled at me. Somehow, he could still look handsome while making such an ugly expression. "Your Majesty. I don't appreciate such jokes."

Oh, but were they really jokes? Maybe I could go back to my original world if I die. It wasn't like I was brave enough to test it out myself, so if someone else could do me a favor...

I smiled. Well, there was no point to thinking such things when my Knight Commander was so scarily efficient with his work.

"My apologies. I'll try to be more tasteful with my jokes next time."

"Please don't joke at all."

"Ah, but where's the fun in that," I sighed, finishing signing off on a document about opening an investigation for a potentially corrupt baron. "You are boring enough as is, Joonghyuk-ah. I can't let you get any more boring when you're with me."

He raised a brow. "Is that why you've set up a ball for me."

It wasn't even a question. This guy really was a weirdo, regardless of his status as the male lead.

"You're my favorite knight," I teased, putting my pen down so I could rest my cheek into my upright palm. "Isn't it only fair to celebrate you and your achievements?"

"You wish to marry me off."

"I wish to see you happy."

I received a mysterious look in response. If this series were a webtoon, then perhaps I'd have a better chance at deciphering his expressions, but it had yet to be adapted into comic form when I read it.

Ah, really. This guy was the one who made things so much more difficult for me than they needed to be. At least Lee Seolhwa was easier to deal with, given her prioritization of healing as a practice.

"How about Your Majesty?"

I cocked my head to one side in question. "What about me?"

"If marriage equates to happiness, I don't understand why you haven't chosen your own spouse yet."

I wanted to tell him that I had no right to such happiness in a world that isn't mine. That I didn't deserve to create a family here, when there was still a chance of me going back. That I wasn't meant for marriage at all.

But I couldn't.

So I said, "Your happiness is enough for me, Joonghyuk-ah."

"Is that so."

"Yes."

He gave me a long look. Again, it was difficult for me to decipher.

"Then you will not question my choice later," he said.

I blinked at him, then smiled widely. Of course, it was like that. Yoo Joonghyuk has known Lee Seolhwa for long enough even before my transmigration that he must have built up such feelings for her even without my meddling. He must be wary that his emperor would feel envious of his choice, right?

But I wasn't that emperor from the original novel. I wouldn't interfere with their happiness.

"I won't, Joonghyuk-ah."

He nodded.

Was it just me, or was he smiling a little?

"Good to know, Your Majesty."

---

I should have taken his words for the warning that they were. I should have realized that something was wrong from the start.

If I had prepared myself better, I would've known what to say now that my Knight Commander was kneeling in front of me.

I couldn't even swear.

"Joonghyuk-ah, what is the meaning of this..?"

My voice was shaky, for all my efforts to remain calm.

Joonghyuk didn't mind it, as he did just take my trembling hand. I had just announced what the ball's purpose was with him at my side, I had told everyone of his achievements—

Then he'd abruptly kneeled upon one knee in front of me, and told me that he wanted me.

This couldn't have been in the novel at all. The ball itself might not have been prepared by the emperor in the original novel, but surely, such a change couldn't have led to something this insane?

"I told you," he said, taking my hand closer to press a kiss upon my gloved knuckles. He didn't seem to mind the increase in volume from everyone else's gossiping and murmuring. "You are the person I want as my spouse. Did you not say?"

His eyes, dark and deep as they were, glinted brightly under the chandelier lights.

"You won't question my choice, Your Majesty."

Fuck.

[demonslayedher]

Well, briefly recalling the question where nezuko and mitsuri kick Muzan's crotch and how that would be useless...what if nezuko sets him on fire?

Ah yes, this Ask, in which we examined the crotch weakness question and I arrived at the conclusion that he wouldn't be particularly weak there. We do know he is weak enough against regular fire to have it slow his regeneration, however slightly--hence, the explosion in Chapter 138 and Sanemi's surprised oil and match technique in Chapter 185. We also know that Nezuko's fire works specifically against demons, and she hates Muzan so much that just being around more of his cells empowers her to develop newer and more powerful skills more rapidly, like when she faced Daki (and for that matter, Rui).

Yes, I think we're on to something here. Ufufu.

I was just pondering the other day how much shorter of a series this would be if Nezuko went running after Tanjiro in Asakusa that night, for she'd have gotten pissed off at Muzan right away and probably developed some anger-driven power, but seeing as she's still not that powerful of a demon when facing the Swamp Demon--quick to get thrown off by a single injury, slow to recovery, very quickly in need of sleep--she'd be killed immediately if she tried to attack Muzan as she was. Ultimately, Nezuko's power started off from the cells of Muzan inside of her, and although she developed it through her own will, it would take a lot for her to be strong enough to take him on and hold her own.

However! As you said, the secret here is fire, something rare among demons who already have an innate desire not to get burned--one of the few things Muzan fears! I think we can say that part of her abilities is being a Kamado, with generations and generations of fire workers before her. Even if she didn't inherit the red eyes which all her siblings did, or the extra red tints that Kakushaku-no-Ko Tanjiro did, she still has that background in her blood.

However... Kakushaku-no-Ko Tanjiro sure showed her up with how much faster he mastered the sun than she did. I suspect this is both due to his extra-looking inheritance of whatever fire-related blessings their family inherited through careful generations of work (life's not fair if you're not an eldest son, I guess), as well as the effect that practicing Hinokami Kagura may have had on his body, which primed it for quick mastery of the sun. Tanjiro was believably more powerful than Muzan, and had a whole lot more of Muzan's blood in the first place. Nezuko's got the family background too, but she had to rely so much more on her own willpower. (Nezuko, girl, you're amazing.)

So! Let's take Nezuko at her potential strongest. Nezuko's had a really good nap! Nezuko's mastered the sun! Nezuko's got humans to protect! Nezuko's got the love and support of her brother! Nezuko's got rage in the presence of her family's killer! Nezuko's got... a butt-chin!!

If we take Nezuko at her very strongest, spilling just about all the blood she's got, I think she could do very, very serious damage. Would it be enough, though, to demolish him quickly enough that he doesn't kill her first? Even if the curse doesn't affect her, that's not his only way of squashing demons. Tamayo showed us that she could battle Muzan will willpower and retain some form for a very long time before ultimately being reabsorbed into him, and Nezuko's will is strong enough that she might stand a chance, but...

I think the safer bet would be Tanjiro using Hinokami Kagura's 13th floor first--using it to the very best of his potential abilities, though that would probably still put him no where close to Yoriichi, and Tanjiro was still no where near this when he had no choice but to use his imperfect Hinokami Kagura against Muzan. But, if he could do even partially what Yoriichi accomplished, then Nezuko would probably have a safe bet of burning the last of that flesh away forever.

Here's an AU--maybe if the timeline were a little different...

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Worf

By Ames

It’s an honorable week here on A Star to Steer Her By because we’re shining our character spotlight on the show’s first Klingon main character, Worf, Son of Mogh! He’s also the first specifically main cast member to span two different series (sorry, O’Brien), so we’ve got glimpses from both The Next Generation and its films and also Deep Space Nine to cover. Worf might get the most time of any character to truly develop, growing from the guy who gets thrown across the room by the baddie of the week into the complex warrior who, for just a moment, wears the robes of the Chancellor of the Klingon High Council. Go Worf!

So put on your baldric, grab your bat’leth, and top off your mug of bloodwine as we give Worf all the honor he deserves (which every so often, isn’t very much, but other times is a lot!). Read on for the commendable battles below and listen to our death yells over on this week’s podcast (fight your way to 55:39). Today is a good day to die.

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

Bloodwine is red / Andorians are blue… While we gave Dr. Pulaski lots of props for whipping up an antidote so she could participate in Worf’s version of a tea party, it’s also just lovely that Worf honors her by performing the ceremony in the first place in “Up the Long Ladder.” Deep down under the head ridges and scowl, Worf is just a poetry-reading, tea-sipping teddy bear and we love it.

Klingon paper dolls Star Trek characters jump at any opportunity to play dress up, and we get a good instance of that in “The Emissary” when Worf and K’Ehleyr put on their warrior garb to trick a crew of Klingons in cryostasis into thinking they represent the Klingon Empire. As always, this episode gets some extra points for featuring K’Ehleyr, and it turns out Worf’s pretty good at improvisation too.

We have bonded and our families are stronger While we’re certainly going to give Worf some shit for how badly he parents his biological son, his connection with Jeremy Aster in “The Bonding” is actually quite beautiful for the both of them. Each an orphan, they are able to form a familial-type relationship together, and it’s really touching when Worf invites Jeremy to join him in the R'uustai that will bond them as brothers.

He has claimed the right of vengeance A trend emerged in our Best Worf Moments when they tended to fall into the “killing the fuck out of some jerk who deserves it” category, and the first to really deserve it is Duras in “Reunion.” Duras has been begging to get murdered since we first heard his contemptible name, but when he killed Worf’s mate in cold blood, Worf knew exactly what he had to do with his bat'leth.

You may now give birth Despite the fact that it resulted in adding a baby to the cast (blech), we have to give some credit to Worf for delivering the O’Brien baby in “Disaster” in a way that only he could. We’d need a whole additional blogpost for all the great Worf one-liners throughout the two series, as Michael Dorn’s delivery is always gold, but “Push, Keiko, push” has got to be pretty high up there.

Doesn’t gik’tal mean to the death? Worf sees so much potential in Sito Jaxa in “Lower Decks” and spends most of the episode arguing on her behalf for a promotion. So when we see Worf testing her with the made-up gik’tal martial arts to teach her to stick up for herself, we can’t help but see in her just what Worf sees. Ya know, until Picard totally gets her killed.

Assimilate this! Sure, it’s a soundbite-y line designed to be marketable in the trailer, but when Worf survives getting his EV suit punctured by tying it off with some Borg bits and then blows up the interplexing beacon in First Contact, it just feels right. Maybe it’s that Michael Dorn can get away with cheesy lines like “Assimilate this!” or maybe we just love watching Borg explode.

If you were any other man, I would kill you where you stand While the movies are mostly showcases for Picard and Data, First Contact gives some great moments to the other castmembers. Worf’s standoff with Picard is nothing short of chilling. Borg are overrunning the ship and Picard orders Worf and his security team to what is almost certain to be their deaths. Lucky for us, Worf doesn’t actually mutiny, just threatens to a little bit.

And in this corner… While we spent most of The Next Generation watching Worf getting knocked around as shorthand for “the alien threat is strong,” by Deep Space Nine, we don’t really get that anymore and instead he actually gets to kick some ass! In “By Inferno's Light,” Worf is forced to battle Jem’Hadar after Jem’Hadar in the fighting ring, and he refuses to quit even when he has every right to.

Help me fight again, Worf You’ll see in a second that sometimes when Worf tries to help another Klingon die with honor, things can get complicated, but when Kor asks for help going out in the warrior fashion, Worf is totally a good guy about it. He gets the old legend a place on Martok’s ship in “Once More Unto the Breach” even though it’s not Martok’s favorite thing, but in the end, Sto’Vo’kor gains a new warrior.

Seven down, one to go We still have more “killing the fuck out of some jerk who deserves it” mentions to bring up! What list would be complete without the murder of at least one Weyoun on it? In this case, Worf straight up snaps the neck of Weyoun 7 in “Strange Bedfellows” when he has the opportunity and it is a thing of such beauty that it gains Damar’s respect.

What I have done was for the Empire Finally, our last jerk who needed to get killed the fuck out of is that bastard Gowron in “Tacking into the Wind.” Gowron was going around making terrible decisions, rewriting the history books, and trying to get Martok killed in various ways, and Worf finally has enough and kills him in honorable combat. He gets the cloak of the Chancellor for it but selflessly passes it to Martok, like an absolute boss.

—

Worst moments

I would rather die than pollute my body with Klingon filth While Geordi is putting racism aside to be able to coexist with his new BFF Bochra in “The Enemy,” Worf takes the opposite path. By refusing to let Crusher give his blood to Patahk, Worf condemns the injured Romulan to death just because of his race. And then the show takes some of the guilt off Worf by having Patahk refuse treatment anyway, leaving Worf’s hands clean, I guess.

This is not unlike a drumhead trial Worf is also quick to fall in line with Admiral Satie’s Red Scare of a trial against crewman Tarses in “The Drumhead.” He gets so infatuated with dispensing justice that he jumps past “innocent until proven guilty” and determines that Tarses is guilty of treason because he’d lied about his alien heritage, when the two things aren’t even related.

Would you further dishonor our family with your disobedience? It’s a running joke in the Star Trek community that Worf is a terrible father and… well, he is. To his defense, he did have Alexander sprung on him when K’Ehleyr died in “Reunion,” and he did try to pawn the little brat off on the Rozhenkos, but that was a terrible move too. So when we watch how clueless he is trying to parent in “New Ground,” we cringe hard at how Worf just doesn’t get it.

Donkey Kong: 1. Worf: 0. A lot of Worf’s decisions about how to deal with his paraplegia in “Ethics” are complicated and problematic, but the way he ended up in such a state is what we’re really here to roast him on. My dude got bitched by a big blue plastic barrel in the cargo bay, and that is downright dishonorable for a Klingon warrior. Battle, sure. Explosion, fine. Spat with Spot, of course. But not blue barrel!

How could your mother mate with a Romulan? Worf’s prejudice against Romulans comes out again in “Birthright” when he learns that Ba’el is half Romulan and he starts spouting racist accusations at her when he’s already seen what kind of a person she is, and even what kind of person her father is. Since his father’s death at Khitomer, it’s a long road for Worf to accept that all Romulans are not that same, and it’s unclear if he ever gets there.

Tell him he is a pretty cat and a good cat All your hosts here at A Star to Steer Her By are ride-or-die cat people, so when Worf refuses to tell Spot he’s a good cat and a pretty cat in “Phantasms” when Data asks him to look after the feline, we take it super personally. Frankly, Data should have looked elsewhere for someone to catsit because what’s supposed to be a humorous moment in the show just makes us angry at Worf. Hiss!

I believe the Ferengi bartender is plotting something By the time Worf joins Deep Space Nine, his racism against Romulans doesn’t come up, but his racism against the Ferengi sure does. Ever since “Hippocratic Oath,” Worf refuses to call Quark by name, instead calling him “The Ferengi bartender.” We joke sometimes on the podcast that the only race it’s okay to be racist against is the Ferengi, but you know what? It’s really not okay.

My life is in your hands Sure, we can argue that Kurn coming to Worf for the Klingon rite of Mauk-to’Vor in “Sons of Mogh” is messed up and puts Worf in a tough position, but Worf manages to pick an even worse outcome for his brother. Instead of killing him and sending Kurn to Sto’Vo’kor with his honor intact, Worf does the least honorable thing and has Bashir wipe Kurn’s memory. Without Kurn’s consent! Eeesh.

Everything you do reflects on me There were a bunch of times during DS9 that we really thought Jadzia could do better than having Worf as her mate, and “Let He Who Is Without Sin” is the chief offender. Worf starts the episode arguing about Jadzia consorting with other men even though she’s with him now, gets jealous of the Dax’s previous relationships, and generally poopoo’s Jadzia’s streak of individuality like a toxic boyfriend.

Have you accepted Kahless as your lord and savior? And that’s not even the worst thing Worf does in the abysmal episode “Let He Who Is Without Sin.” He spends the rest of their vacation on Risa palling around with the New Essentialists who’ve decided that people enjoying things is bad form, which is just Worf being petty. So when he goes out of his way to help them literally rain on everyone’s parade, it’s super damaging to his character.

I do not know you, nor do I wish to know you After Jadzia’s death, Worf utterly fails as grieving in a healthy, productive way and instead opts to take it out on Ezri during “Afterimage.” Just because she’s not Jadzia, Worf treats the poor Trill with disdain, ignoring the fact that she too is living through the trauma of being joined to the symbiont. None of this is her fault! Don’t yell at the innocent cupcake!

If it looks like a Dax and it quacks like a Dax… Worf and Jadzia had chemistry like whoa and we were here for it. Worf and Ezri… just don’t. So when they bump uglies in “Penumbra,” we just find it kinda gross and distasteful. My dude, that is not your wife anymore, and she’s in a very vulnerable state having had the Dax symbiont thrust upon her, so it strikes us as kind of problematic that they go to the bone zone (and I don’t mean Worf’s calisthenics program).

—

Qapla’! Now that we’ve got our honor back, take the R'uustai with us and subscribe so that you can see our next batch of character spotlights as we segue smoothly into our crewmates from Deep Space Nine! On the flip side, you can listen along to our dishonorable rewatch of Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast, challenge us to a bat’leth fight on Facebook and Twitter, and join us for some good tea in a nice house.

[angelicyouth]

Parallel ; Chapter 4

⇢ pairing: stan marsh x mccormick!reader

⇢ genre: fake dating ; hogwarts AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝Transferring to Hogwarts during your fifth year, you were excited at the prospect of all the new potential eye candy to choose from. That dream gets crushed, however, when your childhood enemy impulsively claims you as his girlfriend.❞

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

An elbow roughly digs into your ribs as your feet shuffles along the stoned floor of the castle’s dimly lit hallways, your leg shooting out to trip the person walking close to your side in reparation. You stifle a laugh when you’re successful in your action, your teeth painfully digging into your lips so as to not make too much sound.

“Will you shut the fuck up! This is a mission of stealth—we’re not supposed to be alerting the goddam student body with your loud fucking stomping! And I know that you’re a witch but you don’t need to annoyingly cackle like the muggles depict them to do, either!” A large hand shoots out to shove at your shoulder, Stan angrily whispering by your side as you walk in time with one another.

Boldly entering the Ravenclaw tower from the entrance of their common room during the early evening did not bode well with the students when they saw the green robe adorning your rushing frame, to the boy’s side of the dorms no less. It alarmed those that witnessed your haste, a prefect sent to find out where you were going and to admonish whoever allowed you entry.

Honestly regaling the incidents that occurred at detention with Professor Umbridge would’ve been fine to excuse the intrusion, especially when they caught sight of your sickly form looking dazed and unfocused. But that was ruined when the wooden door of the dorm accidentally opened wider, revealing the multitude of your other friends crowded in Kyle’s room. 

As a result, one of the Ravenclaws ratted your red-headed friend to administration (it was the same student who had a one-sided rivalry with Kyle for his higher ranking results during exams—go figure). This is how you ended up with your boyfriend in this situation, the soft material of a Cloak of Invisibility thrown over your bodies in an attempt to bust your prefect friend out of punishment.

The two of you were sent as everyone waited in Kyle’s dorm (getting in trouble wouldn’t have deterred you guys from hanging out in there). This was under the reasoning that if the both of you got caught, you guys could excuse your actions by saying that you were just two lovers sneaking away for privacy.

But standing this close with one another, you couldn’t help but to notice the familiar notes of scents that mingle beautifully together to make up Stan—the same ones that you belatedly realized that the Amortentia that you brewed emitted. It hurt when you took note of how a whiff coming from the concoction was of your smells intertwined with one another because of how much time you’ve been spending together.

The way that the fragrances complimented the other in a way that only amplified the best parts of the other’s mixture, seamlessly blending together and accompanying the both of you wherever you went. You wonder if this is what love smells like because this recent development was like carrying your affection around, constantly reminding you of the other.

The feelings you’ve been experiencing hurt just as much as it was confusing because growing up, the two of you have always fought over the littlest things. There was always an unspoken rivalry between the two of you, born from the beginning of time wherein you tried to best the other no matter what it was.

You weren’t so juvenile to have been unconciously keeping up that charade all your life because you liked him… Right? Like a little child picking on their crush just to get their attention..?

Disrupting your internal conflict, Stan pushes you against the brick wall that adorns the hallway, throwing a hand over your mouth. You send him a questioning look, his body pressed against yours and his unoccupied arm wrapping itself around your waist.

His face is close to yours as he wordlessly stares into your eyes, the sound of footsteps explaining his actions as you roll your eyes. Fucking idiot, we’re wearing a Cloak of Invisibility is what you nonverbally communicate when you send him a condescending look back.

He lazily quirks an eyebrow in response and you just know that he’s keeping the both of you in this position to be annoying now that there was no threat to be identified, the footsteps belonging to a group of Gryffindor girls chatting with one another. You smirk to yourself as you slowly lick the inside of his palm to encourage him to drop his hold over you in disgust, your eyes challenging the other as you hold eye contact.

The arm wrapped around your waist slightly tightens at the provocative gesture before he calmly removes his larger hand from your face, never breaking eye contact as he makes a show of taking his time in dragging his tongue over the area you just licked. There’s a smug smirk curving against his attractive face as your breath stutters in the space between the two of you, his fingers beginning to lightly skim themselves against your clothed side.

"You've been avoiding me." He deeply mutters in the space between the two of you, his hand lightly trailing against a stray lock of hair and teasingly tugging on it.

"What the fuck are you talking about? I see you everyday, all the damn time because you've somehow convinced our friends and my brothers to pity you enough to keep you around. If I had known this would have happened, I would have told 8-year-old Kenny to drop your ass as a kid." You softly scoff, your intimate position making every puff of air that exits your mouth to lightly hit his pretty pink lips.

"You know it's not that, dumbass. You've been avoiding making eye contact with me." A large hand gently caresses your chin, firmly guiding your face forward when your eyes start to shift to the side.

You scoff, defiantly wrenching your head away from his hold. "That doesn't mean shit, Marsh. Maybe I've just decided to save my eyesight from going bad too early by not looking at your ugly mug all the time.

You're rewarded with an unamused look, the hand not wrapped around your waist lightly trailing its fingers down the length of your arm until it can interwine your hands together. You can feel the eager goosebumps that arise at his soft touch as you continue, "Why the hell do you even care? This isn't real, Marsh. Or did I hurt your ego?"

He doesn't answer as he takes his time in bringing his face closer to yours, your unoccupied hand reaching out to grasp at the uniformed button-up along his taut stomach in anticipation. Your heated breaths begin to mingle with one another as the space between the two of you steadily diminishes.

The air is almost electric as you wait, daring the other to crumble and to make the first move. Ever since your spontaneous first kiss at Madam Puddifoot's, the both of you will often pull the other in for more with the reasoning that Wendy or the boys were watching.

You know that it's an excuse because one too many times, Stan will drag you behind the banners hanging over the walls or underneath empty stairwells just to drown in your eager lips. Its gotten to the point that you felt disturbingly empty when one of his arms weren't wrapped around your shoulders or your fingers weren't interlocked with his.

If the both of you were sitting, he'll either throw your legs sideways over his thighs or place you on his own lap as Cartman mimes fake vomiting in the background. Tweek has even had to pull you aside to talk, a messenger for both Butters and Clyde who felt that they missed having your time and undivided attention recently.

Just as his plump lips lightly skims against yours so softly that it almost feels nonexistent, he sends you another teasing smirk before he pulls his body completely away. He grabs one of your hands to intertwine your fingers together as a frown begins to form on your face from the loss of heat and the disappointment that you feel, the ravenette tugging you along to follow his taller form so that you can resume your task at hand.

You don’t look at him for the rest of the trip to find Kyle, not wanting him to see the warmth of your blush decorating your cheeks.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Remember: the happier the memory, the better the charm will work.” Professor Snape leisurely drawls as the rest of the class and you watch the next student ready their wand in the air to perform the spell that you were learning about in Defence Against the Dark Arts today.

The vast majority of witches and wizards were unable to produce any form of Patronus as it was considered an indication of superior magical ability. Even those qualified had a difficult time performing the charm as it was infamous for how advanced and complex it was.

This meant that no one was surprised when after the student on the raised platform in the middle of the classroom recited the appropriate incantation, only a feeble burst of smoke trailed after the end of his wand. Snape had everyone coming up to attempt to at least conjure up an incorporeal spirit guardian but only two were successful so far, able to produce vapor without a clearly defined form.

“HA! Fucking lame!” Cartman hollers out loud from his seat behind you, the volume of his headache-inducing voice making you wince.

“10 points from Slytherin.” The head of your own House monotonously announces, the boys snickering into their hands while some fake cough to hide their amusement.

”What the fu—heck for?!” The larger teen protests, the whole class collectively rolling their eyes at the daily occurrence.

”Make that 20 points for embarrassing your classmate, for sneaking food into class, and for talking back.” Cartman’s grubby paw automatically shoots out towards his mouth to wipe any possible crumbs that gave him away before going to the pocket of his robe, the distinctive sound of a wrapper crinkling in the fabric.

“Dumbass.” Kyle discreetly mumbles, his chin resting on the palm of his hand as he lazily doodles on the margins of his scroll. His quill runs off of the parchment and onto his desk when Cartman kicks at the legs of his chair, the Ravenclaw automatically reaching out to grab his wand before Butters stops him with a gentle hand on his wrist.

”Tucker, detention. See me after class.”

”Wha—!” Craig immediately ceases his snickering, his head whipping around to look at his still laughing friends.

When he’s only offered a pointed look from Snape, the ravenette slumps down in his seat with his arms petulantly crossed over his chest and mumbles spilling out of his mouth. “You’re fucking kidding me. Why the hell do I always get caught..?”

“Y/N McCormick, you’re up next.” At your professor’s words, the guys all either reach out to give you an encouraging pat or send you a motivational smile as you stand up to walk towards the middle of the room.

You take your time as anxiety steadily begins to thrum along your body at the volume of attention on your form, a shaky breath of air escaping from your slightly parted lips to help relieve some of that tension. Once you’re in position, you lift your wand up and softly close your eyes as you begin to think of pleasant memories.

The grinning faces of your brothers immediately comes to mind, their hands stretched towards yours as they tightly intertwine your fingers with their own. Your mother stands behind them as her gentle expression washes your body in comforting warmth, her proud smile shining at the group of siblings from the time that your family found out that the four of you have an affinity for magic.

It’s still not enough, you bemoan.

The space in between your eyebrows begins to furrow together as you urge yourself to dig even deeper, to reach out for that feeling that you know is there. You can just feel it calling out for you, patient and gentle as it caresses your body, providing a feeling of peace and a solace of safety.

The other boys were there, too, you belatedly think to yourself. The memory was fuzzy around the edges from how long ago it took place but you knew that they had come over to pick up you and your siblings from your house to play outside as you did everyday.

But...

It was Stan that had been the one to spot the owl that personally delivered your acceptance letters from your wizarding schools, his high-pitched hollering echoing out in your thoughts from before puberty hit him like a freight train. It was clear in your mind, the way he excitedly hovered over your shoulders as you opened up the envelope and read the words within it that changed the trajectory of your life.

You feel the corner of your lips quirk up at the full feeling in your chest as you confidently call out, “Expecto Patronum!”

The sharp multitude of gasps prompts you to open your eyes, your vision adjusting to the sight of the lingering smoke trailing out of your still-lifted wand. Confusion overtakes your features when you don’t see anything appear in front of your standing position, an embarrassed grin forming on your face at your failure.

Just as you were about to take a step forward to exit the raised platform of the walkway, goosebumps begin to run along your body when you feel something unexpectedly wrapping around your waist. Lowering your eyes, you squint to see the blinding, dazzling silver of a scaled tail.

Following the appendage to identify the owner, your body slowly turns in place until you’re greeted to the sight of a silver misted dragon. Its towering frame protectively stands over your smaller one, extreme shock filling you to the core to see that you actually succeeded.

And the only one at that.

All too soon, your spirit guardian slowly dissolves into the air in a sea of sparkling glitter and thin wisps of vapor. It’s quiet in the room, everyone staring at you in muted surprise as they await their professor’s words.

“That is very advanced magic, McCormick.” Snape brings his hands together, slowly clapping at the previous display. It would have been seen as sarcastic and demeaning from anyone else, especially with the unamused expression resting on his face, but you know that its high praise coming from the head of your House as you begin to blush in bashfulness.

“Your Patronus was fully-formed. Not an incorporeal one that would be expected from a few of you but a corporeal one. Most Patronuses take the form of an ordinary animal—like a mouse, a horse, or perhaps a rabbit.” He lifts his form off of the edge of his desk at the front of the room, leisurely walking closer to where you were still standing as he continues to address the rest of his students.

“But yours—it's extremely rare. It’s very uncommon to have an extinct animal as your Patronus, to have a magical creature like Dumbledore and his phoenix. Good work, you may sit down now.”

At that, you couldn’t deny what you felt for Stan Marsh any longer. 

As you perch yourself back at the seat of your desk, you shyly smile at all the praise and compliments of the boys. You spot your boyfriend over the shoulders of Clyde when he gives you a hug and you can’t help but to laugh bitterly when you see that foreign look on his face again.

From your peripherals, you can see the proud expression that Wendy Testaburger is sending you and can only hide your face in the crook of the brunette’s neck in avoidance. Your arms tighten around his waist as you let out a shaky breath, feeling suddenly drained of energy.

Fuck, this is going to hurt.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

A cacophony of loud cheering could be heard, the sheer volume of the noise being made reverberating the stadium of students. Today was the last game of the season and the most important as it granted the winning team an Inter-House Quidditch Cup, tensions high in between classes.

Almost all of Hogwarts had shown up in a sea of red and gold in support of Gryffindor—small sparks of red fireworks periodically going off in the shape of lions that were charmed to roar out loud everytime the animals would open up their mouths. One stand was filled only with the entire student body of Slytherins that were shooting out green and silver sparklers and ribbons from the end of their wands, devotedly yelling out.

At the front of the rails, a large poster was thrown over with a large snake that moved around the blank canvas to spell out the words Slytherin. Your group of friends and brothers stood out within the stadium, easily identifiable even from a thousand feet away as they were donned in a combination of red and green regalia.

When you followed your team out onto the field, you couldn’t help but to snicker as they obnoxiously hollered and called for your attention like a bunch of raging fangirls until you waved back at them, their appearances making them look as if Christmas threw up on them. You giggle when you play along with their theatrics, blowing a flying kiss as Kenny pretends to catch it and dramatically faint as he drapes his upper body along the rails of the stand that they’re seated behind.

As Madam Hooch routinely goes over the rules, you take the time to leisurely scan your surroundings. There’s a light drizzle of rain that you know that you’ll appreciate once you’ve become sweaty during the game, the dreary grey of the sky looming over your form as every puff of air that escapes your mouth forms opaque clouds. 

The two team captains shake their hands after she frees the Bludgers and the Golden Snitch, an anxious thrum overtaking your body as she counts down from three. 

Three—you make eye contact with your boyfriend from across the expanse of green, an excited glint in his eyes and a cocky smile on his face.

Two—a muscular arm wraps around your waist as your surrounding teammates raise their voices when one of their own fraternizes with the enemy, your boyfriend raising a vulgar middle finger up as he plants a quick good luck kiss on your smiling lips. 

One—you feel as if you’re already off the ground, your body feeling light as an overwhelming sense of euphoria causes your heart to soar from the ravenette’s touch.

At the verbal signal of go, brooms quickly shoot up into the sky as Hooch throws the Quaffle up into the air. You evoke a wave of hollering and cheers as you get ahold of the Quaffle, nimbly dashing past your House on the stands as you make the first goal of the game.

Putting your team ahead at 10-0 within the first five minutes of the game, your eyes unconsciously find cerulean blue as Stan sends you a bright smile in triumph. The proud expression on his face fuels your motivation, the school watching in wonder at your agile movements as you easily wrack up 60 points within only thirty minutes into the game.

Your fellow chaser, Bebe Stevens, trails closely behind you with intense focus as she shoves at anybody who tries to get near you and yanks people by the back of their uniform if they get too close. This landed Slytherin with a couple of fouls throughout the game, your team not afraid to play a little dirty with the shared determination to win.

You didn’t like to play this way, prefering to let your skills talk in your place. But when Rebecca “Red” McArthur roughly rams into your side either on purpose or accidentally, the Quaffle gets knocked out of your hands and into Dovahkiin's awaiting ones. With Red still trying to cut you off after the act, you harshly swerve as you dig your shoulder into her body in an attempt to deter her.

“ILLEGAL PUSHING FROM MCCORMICK! FOUL AGAINST SLYTHERIN!”

“BULLSHIT!” You frustratingly yell along with the disagreements that your House hollers in your defense, your eyes rolling at the boo’s coming from the other students.

Just as Red lifts her arm up to score, you maneuver your way above her position to sweep your hand underneath your broom. The leathery material of the Quaffle against the palm of your hand makes you smirk as you rip it out of her grasp, throwing the item at Gryffindor’s goal post and gaining your team additional points.

The game becomes increasingly intense as the other House quickly catches up, the opposing team steadily racking up points from the amount of penalties that your team was awarded from the illegal moves that they performed. This made the pressure to widen the gap on you increase and unbeknownst to you, Stan was closely watching you in concern at the amount of people trying to get to you.

Your concentration didn’t allow you to see the way that you escaped by mere inches on multiple occasions when people tried to yank your uniform back or how the beaters were deliberately directing Bludgers in your vicinity due to their captain's imposed strategy. You didn’t see the way Red became increasingly frustrated with your constant scoring and the multitude of times that you cut her off from a play.

But Stan did, and luckily Craig did too as he purposefully flew past chasers to throw them off of their focal point so that you could have a clearer path to score. Your brother’s boyfriend got heavily reprimanded by your team captain for being out of place before the chaser took off mid-conversation, having spotted the blur of fluttering gold.

Taking advantage of the assist, you quickly bring your arm backwards to throw the Quaffle into the goal post which finally brings your team back to a tie. “MCCORMICK MAKES THE GOAL, BOTH TEAMS ARE NOW AT—“

But it’s too late.

It’s as if everything plays in slow motion as the entire study body watches in horror as a blur of red painfully crashes into your side, a sickening crack echoing throughout the now eerily quiet stadium. Screams pick up as everyone watches your body gets nastily thrown off of your broom, your body limp as it quickly hurtles down onto the field.

The last thing you see is both Stan and Craig abandoning the Golden Snitch to dive down towards your falling form, pushing their brooms to reach almost unattainable speeds as their outstretched arms try to grab onto you.