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oleanderscorner · 1 month

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Thick-skulled, thick-skinned.

Yan!Dr.Ratio x reader x Yan!Acheron

TW: Yandere content and all that comes with that (gore, violence, obsession, ect), biting, fighting and bickering between yans—viewer discretion is advised.

So these two seem like unlikely pairs right? But honestly I think they have the same time—the emotionally intelligent type!

Veritas gets to you first actually—he clocks you as a member of The Express and becomes intrigued as you’re calming down PomPom. It’s something that just barely catches his attention—honestly it would be but a footnote in his thousands of thoughts if it wasn’t for seeing you do so again with other people around this place…

All whilst making a fool of yourself.

See you may not know what you’re talking about in calming down say…a student of his from a bad exam grade that they aren’t used to—it’s clear from your approach that you don’t know the material but somehow you’re able to calm them down anyway so they can see where they went wrong themselves—at least partially so…

That’s when he realizes he has been watching your approach to people and finds it utterly fascinating and yet idiotic how you are.

Just as he does—you’re off to Penacony!

That’s where Acheron catches you…

See Acheron does not know how to open up their heart ever or again…and yet, in the same breath she cannot help but stare at your visage as if the warmth and gentle feel you have radiates off of you.

When she first catches why such a thing can come from your very image, she sees you navigating a conversation with a very upset looking girl—eventually leading to her calming down for a moment and becoming excited over something—likely a new toy or some sort of treat.

She can’t comprehend both how and why you did that—so she watches over you, then it becomes justifying continuing watching over you even when you think you’re alone or not interacting with others—after all she has to keep you safe and in case you do gain an interaction, and then she just never wants you to leave her sight just in case danger happens when she just isn’t there so she continues watching…until not even she realizes she is obsessed.

Too bad Ratio is just on her tail

—

You were making coffee in the little room you had confined yourself in for the day—of course you loved going out and enjoying the day within Golden Hour…but you needed a mental health day—your energy was getting the best of you.

See—it was getting harder to rest when it wasn’t entering this dream. Always feeling like eyes were upon you…even as you kept your eyes glued shut you just couldn’t seem to really sleep for very long. Sure you got an hour or two as finally your eyes being shut for so long forced your brain to let you sleep but it was hardly enough…

Perhaps that was simply what it was like here—honestly you were just surprised that you needed sleep in the first place with being in a dream most of your days. But at least the confines or a room in here were far better than that other room where your body decided to rest.

You had just taken a sip of this dreamy coffee when it felt like a jolt of your mind and soul had brought you out of water—and not just a pool either, like you were dragged from an ocean in but a split second.

You expected to see March or Himeko—maybe Welt even…but golden eyes stared back at you—you recognized this man, Dr.Ratio. He had once been but a figure of intimidation in your life as it seemed he found you as nothing more than a nuisance and perhaps even less—but slowly as he saw you more as a person and not as just a being in the situation, circumstance, and general vicinity he was in he had become somewhat your friend. He clearly needed someone to talk and rang to himself and you provided that—always such a good friend to help…even if sometimes he called you an idiot or an imbecile. He seemed hard-pressed about something and held your arm tight in his hand.

You would freak out, but your immediate reaction to do so had long been suppressed as you quickly assessed the situation. Something was wrong, and he was going to explain it whether or not you asked—so it was better to start making things calm now by getting the situation in order.

“Is anyone hurt? Is everything alright?”

His brow was furrowed as he made a “tsk” sound and quickly pulled you up as he walked you down the hall to explain. You were always too good at keeping calm even when someone was taking your body and dragging it off like it was nothing more than a pebble on a string.

“You haven’t been getting my messages, so I went to check up on you only to see a woman with a weapon exit your room before I could get down the hall. So, obviously for your safety, I’m seeing to it you are located elsewhere until the threat is found and neutralized.”

Panick set in as you listened to his words—he was straight forward and left no room for you to argue. But even still you tried.

“What about the others—“

A quick cut off like chalk hitting a blackboard—he was prepared for this question.

“They are being informed by others, worry not. I wouldn’t be so idiotic to leave them behind.”

You believed him as he continued to drag you out of the vicinity. All seemed well for a moment until a shade of purple whip close to you and you felt the driving force of someone else tug you back out of the man’s grip—the edge of a sword just barely in your view as most of your vision was blocked by a hand.

A familiar and yet unknown voice rang in your ear in an instant as arms held you tight…and yet so gently, like the chains of slumber as you barely wake up on a soft pillowy bed.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

—

Actually living with the two of them is quite a challenge.

After their initial fight, which you were carefully taken care of to be unconscious for, they came to an agreement to share you. So, they both had to move themselves and you to a secure living location.

You being so emotionally intelligent can be damaging as both can easily be turned against the other in this situation, so, to keep that from happening they have to convene once a week on what you told them, even if it was meant to be a secret.

Acheron is with you most of the day, honestly she’s silent but she will teach you self defense if you beg nicely enough. She will accompany you to perform daily tasks and be the one you confide in the most just as she latches to you for her own sanity. She’s far easier to talk to and handle as she will be less willing to tell Ratio everything so long as it doesn’t pose a danger to you or herself—and so long as you don’t ask to leave.

If you do she’s willing to let things slip to teach you a lesson.

However she could never herself physically harm you…

Until it’s late at night, when she’s holding your back to her chest and she’s having night terrors again. She needs something to remind her you’re there and you won’t leave her…

So she bites—hard enough to leave a mark for the morning and to leave a mark to trace her fingers over as a reminder that you’re there.

Just hopefully you don’t wake up screaming and wake Veritas.

Other than that she helps however she can—really, she’s a good cook so she tries to prepare dinner so Veritas isn’t the only one cooking and lunch is always prepared by her—although she does appreciate it if you do make a snack for the two of you to share during the day.

She also does most of the cleaning as she makes sure to guard and watch over you while doing so, really, she can’t have you being hurt by something accidentally breaking or getting sick from the abundance of cleaning chemicals to keep the place spotless, while surely making your bed and such is fine—why lift a finger when she can do it and make sure you aren’t hurt?

She will also take the really hard tests with you—just to make sure you don’t get a headache from everything…

Because goodness knows what would happen if you got hurt even a little…

Veritas on the other hand spends the most time with you in the morning and afternoon. Once he gets up you’re to get up with him and perform a light brain exercise of a standard Calculus I test while you have a nutritionally well-balanced breakfast that he has prepared. In fact, aside from lunch he prepares every meal—even if he doesn’t cook it himself.

He makes sure you read at least 2 books a day and write a summary on each and answer a series of vague questions that allow you to pick the books you read while also making sure you’re using your brain—after all, you can’t be stupid intellectually. He grades these in the afternoons over dinner, which has you doing some light Chemistry or Biology work.

Veritas may not be so easily softened, however he is desperate in his own way as he clings. He rambles on topics and if you get something wrong and come to him and let him explain it, even if he ends up calling you some amount of names you can see the glimmer in his eyes as he gets to talk about the subject. Although if you get too many wrong sometimes there is just a slight bit of extra annoyance.

He starts nearly every bickering fight with Archeron—especially if he doesn’t like her methods. Of course you should be cleaning those chemicals are safe—he can make an assignment about it and you should know how to work an oven and a stove without burning yourself, if not then that’s on you and not them.

He knows Acheron does the biting thing—and everytime he wakes up to it he dresses your wound and once you’re asleep he’ll bicker with her day and night over it. He doesn’t see it as good or ideal…but in the end he knows the arrangement is best. Afterall, he only was able to keep a stalemate due to his statues—and Archeron is a good guard when he’s away.

While they bicker often—it’s really not all that bad.

The times (other than some meals) you all do get together is bath time. You all take a bath together as Veritas insists on it—and honestly them taking care of you during this time of cleaning is just so relaxing…it’s probably the best time of the day. You let them ramble and rant while doing so as you whisper and encourage them and talk with them through the vents and tribulations of their day and such.

Although you’re starting to suspect they may also like eachother in this arrangement…and part of you is worried that if they work together more than this arrangement, they’ll be less inclined to consider your decisions on things when you already get so little…

Afterall darling, what’s two against one?

AN: A little OOC but I hope you all enjoyed!!! Truly an idea I’ve had for a bit now that I just needed to get into text. Lmk any requests!!

#yandere #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere Acheron #yandere dr ratio #yandere x reader

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sugar-grigri · 3 months

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What is a family?

Hello everyone, I'm in exam period so we're going to start with a very short analysis

We saw in the previous analysis, in chapter 152, that Denji wanted to be a CSM and that suffering, mental and physical pain, was inherent to being a CSM. Suffering was a claim for the protagonist, that of accepting his suffering to the point of finding pleasure in it, that of accepting that experiences can be painful, of not being protected

Especially by Nayuta, the control devil who can only conceive of happiness with one person, and that's enough for her.

But above all, I think that since Denji had accepted the fact of committing himself to the path of suffering, he didn't want Nayuta to join him, hence his desire to keep her away from him.

But what this chapter shows is that a family can't be chosen, it's simply there.

People do what they do, always projecting all their frustrations onto CSM, this faceless chimera. CSM is as much a good-luck charm as a match to be burned for bad luck.

Denji's dream of being seen was full of meaning, because what people see in CSM is precisely their suffering and despair.

Yes, CSM represents suffering - yes, you have to suffer to be him, just as he will only evoke suffering for others.

The contract with the fire demon was simple: become what you want. As he had suggested to Yuko, the thought-hearing monster was suitable for a socially eccentric girl who had trouble understanding others.

So when people try to burn CSM, they're burning what they want CSM to be: their suffering.

The lighter was an image that had already been introduced by Barem, who ironically presented himself as a CSM fan, foreshadowing the fact that many CSM fans had pacted with the demon of fire, fire capable of destroying them in return.

Burning CSM to make the wannabe CSM disappear always comes down to the same logic: CSM is there to save, whether this is done by reigniting him or by killing him.

So the fire is there to atone for the suffering, Denji simply tries to tell them that the fire is already there, burning down his apartment and his Meowy family and the dogs.

Why burn Denji? When he's already burning. He has already lost a part of himself.

Denji proclaims that he seeks suffering because he wants it to be his alone. He realised that even if he stopped being a CSM, those close to him would continue to be attacked as if the cycle had never been completed.

Denji has never had any confidence in himself, obediently following the rules laid down for him every time. Nayuta's rules, which symbolise this apartment, didn't work, and neither did those of the public hunters, because even if you respect the contract, suffering will always be the end result.

So Denji tries to free himself from all these rules, because they don't allow him to escape suffering.

He also tries to free himself from his loved ones, because it doesn't allow them to escape either, but humanity won't let Denji be free.

Denji had made it clear that he didn't want to hurt mankind because he wanted to preserve the last link that bound him to them: the kiss he had with Asa (Yoru). He doesn't want to belong fully to the demons, as Nayuta had recommended, but why not become one after all?

Denji loves violence, even against humans. He likes it because he is still CSM after all, a monster whose raison d'être is suffering. Yet the link that allows him to consider himself still on the other side is a simple kiss that didn't cause him any pain.

Because this kiss is exactly Denji's life, a touch of pleasure in an existence that is always painful. A boy who can't even say he can't betray humanity because he has friends because he has none.

Nayuta has never thought of her existence as separate from Denji's, the reason for her happiness, her beloved big brother. So she is now facing her worst fear: being cut off from this dearest of beings, being rejected by him.

But as they try to keep her away from her ailing brother, telling her he's no longer her family, she realises that this thing that rejects her, that hurts himself horribly, is still her family.

More to the point, it's the person behind this faceless monster who's reaching out to him, because CSM isn't a being capable of embracing with his chainsaws. Denji's arms are outstretched to him, as if he's standing between CSM behaving like a monster and his own anxieties: there's an obvious love there. She shouldn't see her fear in the foreground, what she should see is Denji.

This thing that dares to cut ties with her, to put itself in danger to the point of suffering so much, has never ceased to be her family.

The only way to see anything apart from CSM, apart from this figure of suffering, is to love Denji.

is to see the boy behind it.

A boy who can't stop laughing despite suffering, in a way that may be terrifying, but which gradually gives the impression of a brother forcing himself to smile to avoid putting his sister in danger. Look, I'm crazy, so stay away from me! And I don't want you anyway!

His laughter is as uncontrolled as his gestures, all acting as reflexes to keep Nayuta away from danger.

CSM is a being who belongs to neither world, hero of humanity when it suits them, hero of the underworld terrified by his fellow creatures, he is held responsible for both worlds, the suffering of demons and that of men.

But Denji may not belong to either world, but he does belong to a family.

Denji may not be seen by people, but he has been seen by a demon who loves him deeply.

The hero has always been hunted because he has never been accepted by humanity, suffering while swallowing that of others, he has always had to be rekindled, to serve someone once again.

And finally he's given permission to run away.

No CSM, don't swallow the suffering of others

It's hard enough to swallow your own.

Denji, you are loved by the demon of control who now agrees to do something unnatural for her, to allow you to escape her control, her vigilance, her protection. Because she knows she doesn't have to lock you up in a gilded cage to be able to find you.

A family always waits with open arms, don't they?

#chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #csm spoilers #csm 153 #csm 152 #csm 150 #csm 149 #csm 146 #csm 142 #denji hayakawa #nayuta hayakawa

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gaysindistress · 11 months

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When Night Comes - one

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mob!Bucky because he is his own warning, probs only cursing this chapter

word count: 2.1K

masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

“Hey I need your help out front,” Jessica wearily asks as she pops her head into the classroom door. The other woman who’s sitting on the jungle carpet with the kids nods her head and stands up, kids clinging to her arm as she does so.

“What’s up?” she asks, shaking off the monkey children, “I need you guys to go sit on the carpet. I need to talk to Ms. Jessica.”

The kids run back to the group before Jessica explains, “There’s a man here to pick up Wyatt but I don’t recognize him and he’s not showing any ID. I figured with who his parents are, you might want to check it out.”

“Bruh you’ve got to be kidding me. Get a picture of him and his car and don’t let any of the kids out of the room until I come back. I’m getting real sick of this shit,” the mental exhaustion of running a daycare, let alone one with high-profile clients, rips her apart most days.

Another kid comes running up to the two women, complaining about how annoying her brother is being, “Ms. Jessica, Ms. Sunny, Mason won’t leave me alone. He keeps pinching me.”

Jessica takes over the situation and leads the little girl back towards the carpet, asking her what she did to try and stop him while the other woman, Ms. Sunny, leaves to handle the rather broody-looking man at the school’s front doors. His jaw is locked in a permanently clenched state, no doubt causing tension but also creating a killer resting bitch face. He’s looking down at his phone and doesn’t notice that she’s in the lobby with him until she clears her throat.

“I’m here for Wyatt,” he fumbles to put his phone away when he looks up at her.

“Can I see your ID please?” she asks, coming to stand in between him and the hallway leading toward the classroom.

“No.”

She flashes a very fake smile and crosses her arms over her chest, “Unfortunately it’s our policy; I can’t release a child into someone’s care unless I know who they are or I see their ID to confirm they’re on the approved adult list. So if I can’t see your ID then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Just call Steve,” his jaw twitches as his frustration grows.

“I can once I see your ID.”

“You don’t need to see my ID. Just call Steve and bring out Wyatt.”

She scratches at the corner of her eye in annoyance, “I’m about 30 seconds from calling the police on you for attempted kidnapping. You may either leave or show me your ID, it’s really not that hard.”

When he puts his hands on his hips, metal flashes from under his coat in an attempt to scare her into submission but all she does is let out a breathy laugh at the lame attempt. This only frustrates him even more and he digs into his pocket to retrieve his phone to make a call while giving her the staredown. Being an unbothered queen, she flashes him another sarcastic smile when he gives her a particularly nasty look. The kids are going wild in the classroom, screams and laughter echoing through the hallway and into the lobby. Another man gets out of the SUV the first man no doubt arrived in and raps harshly on the school’s glass door. A black hoodie peaks out from under the leather jacket he’s wearing, giving him a softer look than the other man who’s in a full suit. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve assumed that he was the lackey and the first man is the boss but she does and resists rolling her eyes when she pushes open the door for him.

“Thank you, Doll,” his honey voice coats her ears as he slides past her, “What seems to be the problem?”

“This asshole here wouldn’t let me see his ID and was being rude, demanding that I just bring out Wyatt,” she’s dropped the kind daycare teacher act at this point and falls back into her normal personality and word bank.

“Is that true, Scott?” the honey-voiced man asks Scott, turning his head to look at him.

“Maybe if she wasn’t being such a bit…”

He cut him off with a stern look, “I’m going to stop you right there. We don’t call women names even if they are true. Now apologize to her and go to the car.”

Scott mumbles a very curt and snarky apology to her and shoves the door open, storming off like a child. She lets out a deep sigh, watching him leave before looking at the other man whose eyes haven’t left her, “I still need to see your ID.”

“Of course,” he pulls his wallet from his back pocket and flips it open to hand her the card.

She glances over it and hands it back, “Thank you, Mr. Barnes. Wyatt will be right out and next time you come to pick him up, please come in yourself or have the Rogers add the asshat to the list. I really don’t enjoy arguing with a man-child when I have a classroom full of better-behaved kids.”

Mr. Barnes chuckles and nods to show he’s in agreement, “Scott could use a lesson or two in manners. I’ll make sure he won’t bother you again.”

Wyatt comes bounding out of the classroom, backpack hanging off one shoulder and half-finished coloring pages fisted in his hands. He breaks into a sprint when he spots his uncle crouching down with arms wide open and nearly tackles him to the ground.

“Uncle Bucky!” he shouts when he jumps into Bucky’s arms.

“Hey buddy, how was your day?”

“Look at what I made,” Wyatt shoves the coloring pages into Bucky’s face with excitement, “Ms. Sunny helped me.”

Bucky’s eyes rake up her form before making intense eye contact with her, a small smirk on his plump lips, “Is that so? Why don’t you say goodbye to Ms. Sunny?”

Wyatt launches himself at her legs, rapidly saying his goodbyes. She smiles down at him, “Have a good night, home slice. We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

He runs back to his uncle and takes his hand as Bucky pushes the door open to leave. He pauses and sends Wyatt to the car so he can get one last word in with the daycare teacher.

“I really am sorry for the confusion earlier. Let me make it up to you.”

“Yeah come in yourself next time,” she scoffs, spinning to go back to the classroom.

“How about dinner?” he calls after her, freezing her just before she gets to the room.

“Are you seriously asking me out?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smirk growing even wider, “Are you saying yes?”

She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of answering and disappears into the classroom, leaving him chuckling to himself. It’s not the first time they’ve met, having seen each other in passing when he picks up Wyatt but this is certainly the first time he’s actually talked to her. She’s not surprised that he decided to flirt with her; he is, after all, the king of New York and known as the Flirt of Brooklyn. Even though the kids call her Ms. Sunny, she’s a far cry from her nickname and is unamused by his behavior. He’s going to have to try harder than that to get under her skin or take her out.

Jessica quickly gets up from the teacher’s desk when Sunny comes back in, “Everything go okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves Jessica off, “It ended up being Wyatt’s uncle who sent in his bodyguard. I told him that he needed to come in himself like he had been doing so hopefully I won’t have to call Mom and Dad. You know how Mr. Rogers gets when we call him.”

“Oh yeah, I wouldn’t get them involved unless it again,” Jessica agrees but her face lights up at the mention of the uncle, “Oh my god it was Bucky Barnes?”

This time she can’t stop her eyes from rolling on their own, “Yes it was. Jesus, what is it with you and every other woman who works here?”

“Um did you even look at him? He’s like super hot and rich, who wouldn't want a piece of that ass?”

“Ok language, we have little ears,” Sunny whispers to her over-excited coworker, “Also he’s a criminal so there’s that.”

“Which makes him even hotter. You’re telling me that you didn’t feel something down there?”

“Jessica!” The woman smiles devilishly at her, awaiting her answer.

“No, and the whole bad boy thing is the worst trope I’ve ever heard of.”

“I’ll bet you anything that after one more interaction with him and you’ll be gossiping right along with us,” Jessica winks at her as she waltzes away to go help one of the kids with their project.

“Oh Sunny,” Jessica’s sing-song voice calls out as she walks down the hallway to the classroom. From her spot at the teacher’s desk, she can hear just how excited Jessica is by how she’s practically running down the hallway. She bursts into the room, two drinks in hand and various bags hanging off her arms.

“I come bearing gifts,” she puts the drinks on the desk whilst dropping her bags to the ground, “A chai with almond milk and cinnamon. Also, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Sunny takes the boiling chai into her cold hands and sighs at the warmth it brings as she listens to the favor, “Thank you, my dear. I’m all ears.”

“So,” she begins, shoving off her leather jacket, “my friend is having a kickback this weekend and I need you to come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to be there.”

Leaning back in the creaky chair, Sunny gives her a disapproving look, “Hm you said need.”

“Can’t it both?” Jessica’s black hair falls forward over her shoulders as she moves to rest her arms on the desk, “Either way I would really really appreciate it if you came with me.”

“You still haven’t told me why.”

“The guy I've been talking to on and off for like months now is going to be there and I could really use a wing woman.”

“Girl, what do you need a wing woman for?”

Jessica scoffs, dramatically spinning away, “He’s so fucking dry over text but in person, he’s like a totally different person. I need someone to flirt with him a little and see if he’s really just that way or if he’s just not interested in me.”

Sunny mulls over the thought, sipping away at the devilishly hot coffee in her hands. Going to a kickback would be fun but flirting with people, let alone talking to people isn’t something that she enjoys or wants to do on her time off.

“What do I get out of it?”

Flashing the best smile she can, Jessica pleads with her, “A lifelong friendship. Please please please come with me.”

“How big is this kickback going to be?”

“Like 50 people tops.”

Her jaw drops in shock, “50? As in five zero?”

“Yes,” Jessica says sheepishly, dropping herself onto a tiny table meant for their kids.

“That’s not a kickback. That’s a whole ass house party. Kickbacks are maybe 10 people, not five times that.”

“I promise it’ll be so low-key that you won’t even notice. I’ll pay for the Uber, drinks, whatever, just come with me please.”

“ You do realize how inappropriate it is for a director to hang out with a teacher let alone go to a house party, right?” Sunny asks, setting her coffee down and checking the time to make sure they have enough time to hash out the details before the kids arrive.

“No one will find out. Your bosses don’t even check on us that often. I highly doubt they’re going to find out you went to a friend’s house for some drinks.”

“You underestimate their ability to royally fuck me over,” her alarm goes off to let her know that it’s 7 am and parents are about to start showing up, “I’ll go BUT you’re paying for everything and I reserve the right to leave whenever I want and you have to come with me.”

“Oh my god! Yes yes yes thank you so much, Sunny you’re a lifesaver,” Jessica jumps up in glee and throws her arms around Sunny who had gotten up to open the school doors, “We’re going to have so much fun!

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #mob au #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #when night comes - bucky barnes #vampire!bucky #vampire bucky barnes #vampire!bucky x reader #vampire au

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thefallennightmare · 5 months

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Just Pretend-thirteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Okay, it's all fixed now! Sorry about the confusion. ENJOY!

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart

READER

The sun’s warms rays blasted through the large window and warmed my back as I snuggled deeper into the bed, holding the sheet closer to my bare chest. A familiar scent filled my senses while a familiar heartbeat pounded against my cheek as I slowly woke, realizing I was lying on a chest. A tattoo of flowers and a portrait of a skeleton and women were the first thing I saw once the sleep haze faded. The chest rose and fell with each deep breath it took. Arms wrapped around me, keeping me locked in place; those arms were lanky but building muscle, slowly but surely.

I looked up at his sleeping face, feeling calm and settled for the first time in a very long time.

Opening one eye, he grinned then pulled me in closer to leave soft, pepper like kisses across my forehead, cheeks, nose, and lastly lips; my giggles echoing throughout my bedroom. The thin sheet laid loosely around our naked, tangled forms, and he hooked my leg over his waist.

“This was the only thing I wanted to wake up to.” He said, his voice deep and husky with sleep.

“I’m glad you stayed till morning, Noah.” I breathed across his lips as I propped myself up to kiss him. I

He brushed away my sleep tousled hair to hook his fingers behind my neck, closing the distance.

My eyes snapped open as my phone rang loudly, my seven a.m alarm shocking me to my bones, and I rolled over in the empty side of the bed to silence it. I groaned into the pillow, wanting so desperately to slip back into the dream. It felt so real to have Noah in bed with me, his bare skin against mine. It brought back memories of our night together in that hotel room and my pussy clenched with the need to feel that same release.

Ignoring it, I checked my phone, like I did every morning, and sucked in a breath when I saw a new text from Noah; mind immediately going back to the dream. After our workout, we went our separate ways, and I was busy last night with my art class and writing that I never realized he texted me around eleven in the evening last night.

“Oh, shit,” I sat up straight in bed when the new selfie stared back at me.

It was nice seeing you again, angel. I had fun tonight.

I analyzed the fuck out of that picture. His hair was messy, pouty lips, and his dark hooded eyes gazed down at me. His cheeks were flushed with a red hue and it could have been my already aroused state, but I knew what he did before sending this picture. It was clear.

“Fuck it,” I sighed while tossing my phone on the other end of the bed to lean over the side of it, pulling out the small box underneath my bed.

I rummaged through a variety of different toys until eventually deciding on my favorite. Double checking to make sure the door was closed, I shimmed out of my shorts and panties to lay straight back on the bed. My breathing was labored as my heart raced with the image of Noah’s selfie and my dream. All of my senses were heightened as I pressed the pink vibrator against my clit, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout my entire body.

I shut my eyes and worked; I saw Noah so clearly as I continued to let my mind wander. I kept shifting back to that night we shared, but also to something new. I fantasized Noah was in bed with me again.

“Turn over” he commands, moving out the way to give me space.

I do, quickly, and Noah reached down to pull the sheet completely off me, watching me with starving eyes the whole time. He hovered over me as he pushed my legs apart to lean down and kiss between my breasts, and slowly makes his way down. As I continued to fantasize, all I could see was him, and my vibrator was going off in different speeds; I imagined I might just die then and there.

I see him smile, it almost feels so real-too real-into my thigh, and he looks up to me through lashes.

“Say it.” he demanded.

“Say what?” My voice was wrecked, breathless, as my orgasm built low in my belly.

Noah’s teeth grazed the inside of my thigh. “Say it angel, say what you want from me.”

“I want you to make me cum. Please, I need it.”

A soft kiss to the inside of my thigh, across the tattoo of the Greek Gods. “Always, angel.”

Noah grinned, his eyes locking with mine as he kept contact, tilting his head down and licking my clit softly.

Some ungodly noise came out of me as continued to see him. My brain was so fuzzy, the vibrator must have been going off for atleast 10 minutes, I couldn’t stop. I saw his inches of hair, I could almost feel it tickle my thighs and could feel the warm heat of his mouth licking, sucking, biting.

“Oh, fuck Noah!” I puffed out. I didn’t mean to say it so vocally.

Fuck, Malcolm and Chase; if they were awake, they probably heard. But I didn’t care, I was so close. My knees shook and back arched up off the bed as my mouth fell open.

I took my free hand and scrunched it into a fist, almost like I was grasping his imaginary hair. I imagined him looking up at me, mouth over my clit with dark brown eyes gazing up at me. Rings over his fingers as his hand pressed down on my stomach to keep me in place. That sight did it for me just at the right time my vibrator send me tipping over the edge.

“Noah. Noah. NOAH!” I yelled while running a hand over my face, to bit into my palm.

Realizing how overstimulated I was, I noticed I came all over my sheets.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Whatever this is, it has to be chemicals that make me cling to you.”

Twenty minutes later, I cleaned myself up and dressed in another pair of lounge day clothes before stalking down the long hallway towards the living room where Chase and Malcolm were nursing their coffees.

“Do you guys want to hear this song I’ve been working on?” I asked while walking over to the attached kitchen to pour myself some coffee.

Malcolm smirked. “I think we already did.”

I raised a brow. “How? I just came up with it.”

“Noah, Noah, Noah,” Chase mocked with a high-pitched voice.

The blood drained from my face as I stared at them, mouth agape. I didn’t think I was that loud.

Right?

“Fuck you,” I pushed his shoulder as I stood behind the couch.

Chase ignored me and continued to mock Noah’s name in my voice.

“Right there, yes Noah!” Malcolm teased now.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” I grabbed a pillow off the couch and smacked both of them behind their heads.

READER

Sitting on my bed with my laptop perched on my lap, my fingers worked hastily as they typed away the new song that kept replaying in my mind.

I know it's chemicals that make me cling to you And I need a miracle to get away from you I know it's chemicals and I need a miracle And I'm not spiritual But please stay 'Cause I think you're a saint and I think you're an angel.

I was so engrossed in the writing aspect that I almost didn’t realize the buzzing from my phone right next to me.

2:30.

“Shit,” I cursed while setting my laptop aside so I could answer my phone, my heart hammering hard in my chest.

It happened every day knowing what I was about to see.

Noah’s bright smile came through the screen before the richness of his voice danced on my ears.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“Hey yourself,” I smirked when I realized he was shirtless. “Noah, you realize it’s on 45 degrees outside, right? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

He taped a thumb over his chest while raising a brow at me. “My body runs hot so I’m more comfortable without a shirt. Does it bother you?”

Quite the opposite, actually.

The suggestive tone in his voice told me everything I needed to know about his motives. With the selfie he sent me last night and now this? Noah wanted to tease me, well two can play at that game.

“I understand that. Malcolm has the heat set to 72 and I’m dying,” I sighed while unzipping my sweater, tossing it onto the floor.

The strap of my tank top slid down my shoulder, exposing the skin of my collarbone, and I saw the way Noah’s eyes darkened, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Even through the phone, the tension was thick and when I thought back to what happened this morning, my skin set ablaze.

I cleared my throat. “So, uh. How’s your day been?”

“Good,” Noah shifted on his bed, most likely to get comfortable. “I just got back from the studio a bit ago. Might take a nap or stream. I haven’t decided yet.”

I pulled a pillow from behind me to lie down on my stomach, propping myself up on it. “How’s it going? The writing?”

The corner of his lips curled up. “Really good. How about you?”

I turned my phone towards my laptop briefly before setting it back to my face. “My mind is all over the place. I think I’m writing three different songs at once.”

Noah chuckled before a serious expression crossed his features. “How have you been, really? I know the last few months haven’t been easy for either of us, and I just-I just want to make sure you’re good, that, we’re good.”

“Can I be honest?” I bit my lip.

“With me, angel? Always.”

I let out a deep, steady breath, ready to fill Noah in on a part of me; one that I was worried for him to find out.

“I didn’t do well for a little. I was in a really dark place that Chase and Malcolm were afraid they wouldn’t be able to pull me out of. I kept playing Eiley on repeat.”

Noah stiffened. “I had Sympathy on repeat.”

“You did?” I asked with scrunched brows.

“Yeah. I even talked with Keaton. He-uh-gave me a great sign.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting to tell him that Keaton gave me a sign as well.

“Being able to talk to you, to see you, has lifted a huge weight off My shoulders, I didn’t realize how hard it would be to not even send you a dumb meme. I’m-.” I stammered over my next few words. “I’m glad we’ve been able to start over. That means so much.”

I could have gone on and on, but was too afraid. I didn’t want him to jump to conclusions and didn’t want him to know why I was holding back; not yet atleast. I needed his hand on my shoulder atleast for now, until from what the dark side of my mind believed, Noah would pull away. I couldn’t risk losing him.

Not again.

“Well, I’m happy to agree with you. Things haven’t been easy for me, typically I would turn heel. But having you in my life makes me at ease. So I’m glad too. It means a lot to me, as well.”

We gazed at each other with our own dopey smiles for what felt like hours but in reality, was less than a minute until Noah cleared his throat while scratching his face.

“Do you want to meet up for brunch Tuesday? Bottomless mimosas?”

My heart fluttered at the excitement in his voice.

“Sounds great,” I smiled but then cursed. “Shit. Tuesday? Ah, I can’t, I have an appointment that day. Rain check? Cause we need to get mimosas. The orange juice Malcom’s been buying lately isn’t my standard.”

“Of course, anytime.”

Noah wanted to ask about the appointment, I saw it all over his face. He didn’t-he respected my boundaries.

“I like our little 2:30 pm routine,” I admitted.

“Me too, angel, me too,” his eyes sparkled.

READER

“Thank you for telling me your story, Y/N. I imagine it’s a lot to process within a short amount of time. Now that it’s laid out in front of us today, how does it make you feel? Are you sad?”

I stared at the women sitting across from me, my knee bouncing with anticipation? Nerves? I wasn’t sure. I had been rambling on the last ten minutes and wanted her to give me an inclination about how she was feeling.

“I’m not sad. Not like I was mere weeks ago.” I explained to her, “But, somehow I can’t help crying. Although things happened quickly, I can’t help but continue to feel guilt yet also ambivalent.”

The therapist, Dr. Poulos, sat straighter in her chair. “Okay. Let’s dig a little deeper. You chose the word ambivalence. That suggests strong feelings-in opposition.”

I played with the rings on my fingers, keeping my gaze on anything but her face. “I’m not good enough for him or anyone else and there’s a lot of weight I carry for that. Trey explained that to me enough, not to mention the other traumas I probably have hidden within me. I have guilt.”

“Why do you feel guilty? Why would it warrant guilt? You said yourself he forgave you, quickly at that. Does that concern you? Do you still feel as if you can’t be honest with him or honest with yourself?”

Fuck, she kept pounding out those questions.

I paused and stared at the plant she had on the left side of her dresser. A bit fuzzy because of the connection between phone lines.

“Y/N,” her voice snapped me out of my deep thoughts.

I sighed and began. “When I first got my diagnosis, it didn’t sound serious, but after a while it became more ominous than other people’s. I imagined my character as desolate as a shirt that had been manufactured incorrectly and was therefore useless.”

She tilted her head and smiled at me, gently. “You’re valid for feeling those things, it’s easy to look at your flaws and say, alright, this isn’t worth the trouble. It’s easy to believe you’re incapable of getting the love you deserve. However, I think deep down you don’t trust yourself, as much as you don’t trust anyone else. I think you’ve been running with nowhere to go.”

She got me there.

I didn’t appreciate the call out effect although I suppose I needed to hear it. But that didn’t stop me from getting defensive.

“Running from what?” I wondered while crossing one leg over the other.

“Running from a love you believe you don’t deserve, seems like Noah hasn’t done anything to misplace your trust in him.”

“Thanks, I already know that- just make me feel worse, I guess.” I shrugged.

“Y/n it’s not about feeling worse, it’s about the fact you’re a runner. You sabotaged the things you love the most. Camouflaging being self composed.”

I was numb in the chest; I wanted to close the blinds. I felt like it split me into so many parts. It was never my intention to run from him, I just couldn’t drag him down. Due to my continuation of silence Dr. Poulos kept talking.

“I’m going to be completely honest with the way I perceive everything.”

I snorted. “You haven’t already?”

“You go on the road one more time and leave your flaws at home. If you go into this relationship, you don’t leave the trauma from the other behind. You don’t communicate properly due to fear. It seems like Noah stopped you dead in your tracks, he’s a mirror almost, he sees you from the inside and that scares the hell out of you doesn’t it?”

I stopped her right then. “I wouldn’t say that, I just don’t want to hurt him more than I have or myself.”

I was stubborn as a mule. I wasn’t admitting shit. However, it seemed like Dr. Poulos already knew.

“That’s understandable, Y/N. However, I would say that just your mannerisms alone tell me you’re harboring such deep feelings but not allowing yourself to feel them due to fear of rejection, unhappiness-.”

With her hesitation, I felt uncomfortable yet also strangely calm. It felt like my guts were being ripped open and placed in front of me. Forcing me to look at them first hand.

“I think you need a rest.”

“Okay, I’ll go home and take a nap,” I retorted with a smart smirk.

“No no,” she chuckled. “A genuine rest! The bans are better with going out of the country right now. I think it would be good for you to go see your father. Talk to him, get another perspective. A father is a daughter’s first introduction to the shadow of men, and it seems like you have a good relationship. Communicate with him, enjoy yourself for a little while. When you come home, we’ll reevaluate things and see how you feel from there.”

I had to admit, going to see my dad had been on my mind heavily the last few weeks. I truly missed him and felt that some time away from everything would help ease the dark thoughts that continued to linger at the back of my mind.

“So, do Tuesday’s work for you?” Dr. Poulos spoke while opening up her schedule book.

“Yeah. But if we can keep it in the mornings? I already have something scheduled at 2:30 I can’t miss.”

She smiled. “Of course.”

READER

“Fuck, angel. I can’t believe you’re going to Japan without me,” Noah pouted out his bottom lip in a playful sadness.

I giggled while holding the phone as I sat on the couch in the living room. It was our typical 2:30 FaceTime call, and I took it in the living room with Chase and Malcolm, who were playing a video game.

“I’m so excited. When I brought up the idea to my dad, he immediately bought me a plane ticket and already is planning our week together. There’s so many different places he wants to take me. I don’t think he expected Chase and Malcolm to tag along but nonetheless, he’s happy.”

“I’m happy for you. It will be good for you, mentally, to take a break. You deserve it.”

"Which reminds me; do you think you or one of the guys could come check on Salem for me? Just to make sure he has food and water while we're gone?" I bit my lip, hoping the action would make Noah agree.

He licked his lips, voice turning dark. "Yeah, of course. We'll take care of him."

I rested my chin on my palm as I propped my elbow on the back of the couch. “I’ll have to cancel our gym sessions and might miss a few Facetime calls.”

He placed a hand over his chest, faux betrayal on the soft features of his face. “How will I ever go on?”

Chase snorted and pushed his face into the camera of my phone. “Dude, we’ll miss you too. No need to cry over us, though.”

Noah glared while flipping them off.

For once, Noah was actually wearing clothes, admittedly much to my dismay, a read sweater. He sat at his desk with his headphones hanging loosely around his neck as he worked on a Rubik’s cube. While I loved our daily FaceTime calls, there was this deep lingering feeling that it would only hurt in the end when it stopped.

Not if it had to. When it had to because like everything else in my life, good things never lasted long.

I pushed Chase back on his end of the couch. “I hate those things.”

Noah motioned towards the cube in his hands, and I nodded. “I never could get them right. I’d get aggravated so fast and toss it in the garbage.”

“Take’s patience, angel. I have a lot of it.”

I blinked, almost as if I had been slapped at hearing his words; memories from that night crawling back to my subconscious.

“I’m known for having a lot of fucking patience. I will wait."

“Angel?”

Noah’s concerned voice snapped me out of my haze, and I hummed. “Did you say something?”

“When’s your flight?” He asked.

“Sunday.”

“That’s in two days,” Noah’s shoulders fell.

I somberly nodded. “I know. Like I said, my dad’s excited to see me.”

With the look on his face, I knew Noah wanted to see me one more time before leaving but he wouldn’t come out right and say it. Instead, he changed the subject slightly.

“What about you?” He clicked something on the keyboard of his computer, eyes only leaving the phone for a few seconds before giving his attention once again. “Are you excited?”

A large grin pulled at my lips while I shifted my position on the couch, now facing the television, Malcolm winning in whatever game him and Chase were playing.

“I haven’t been in so long, I have this dream-,” the words died on my tongue, not wanting to go into it with Noah.

I already thought it was silly. I didn’t need Noah to think that as well.

“Dream about what?” He wondered.

“Nothing, it’s way to girly, way to out there. You don’t want to hear that shit,” I laughed while casting my eyes away from the screen.

“Well, excuse me then. Just pretend I’m your girliest friend,” Noah changed the pitch of his voice to be higher. “Come on; I want to know. Your dreams are important, to me.”

I broke out in laughter “You’re an idiot Noah Sebastian.”

“I’m cool with that, angel,” he shrugged. “Tell me!”

With a hesitant sigh, I nodded. “Japan is just such an important place to me, for several reasons. I have this little fantasy that I’d run off and get married there. It’s so peaceful and quiet with my closet friends and family. One and done romance type shit.”

Noah stiffened while scratching his chin.

“What? I freak you out, girlfriend?” I joked with a teasing smirk.

He chuckled nervously. “No. I- uh, who’s the groom?”

“I don’t know, never got that far. It’s always been the small child in me’s dream.”

Why the fuck would you bring up marriage, you idiot! His face went white, and he changed the subject, clearly uncomfortable. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Hmm.” Noah adjusted the headphones on his head. “Well, it’s going to be a lot of fun seeing your dad. I also have a list of shit I’d like for you to find me, please.”

“Okay, hang on let me get a pen,” I giggled while rolling off the couch to head into my room where I knew one was.

READER

“Y/N, dear, have you seen my-?”

I smiled while holding up my dad's wallet as he patted down every pocket of his jacket and pants. “Wallet?”

He pressed a kiss to the side of my head as he took the wallet, sticking it in his back pocket. “I’m almost ready to go. I’m so excited to show you guys the local market. I get all of my mochi’s from there.”

My heart skidded to a rapid pace, an image of Noah popping in my mind.

Chase walked out of the guest bedroom with Malcolm following close behind, tying his long hair back into a bun. “We really appreciate you letting us stay with you, Mr. Y/L/N.”

My dad waved Chase off. “You two have become like sons to me and everything you did to help, Y/N. It means a lot.”

I wrapped my arms around my dad, letting the familiar comfort and warmth of his presence radiate around me. It’s been years since I seen him but from the second he picked us up from the airport a few hours ago, my dad and I picked up right where we left off. The only difference were the wrinkles next to his eyes and the graying hair.

Just as I was about to open my lips to speak, my phone buzzed in my hand. My dad noticed and peered down at the screen with confused eyes.

“Mochi? You have your own mochi delivery service? Who’s the guy in the picture?”

Embarrassment filled me as my cheeks reddened with undeniable heat. Malcolm looked at the watch on his wrist and whistled low.

“Even with the time difference, Noah is spot on with their FaceTime calls,” he said.

Chase raised a finger. “Wait, is his contact name Mochi?”

“Noah, why is that name familiar?” My dad rubbed his chin. “Oh, he’s the guy that filled in no your last tour.”

“Yep,” I said popping the ‘P’.

“Does he have braids in that picture?” Malcolm tried to reach for my phone, that kept buzzing from the call, but I slipped away from him.

Now a few feet away from them, I answered the call with a small smile. Noah was bundled up in a variety of blankets, the orange glow of his neon lights shining from behind his bed.

“Hey, it’s kind of early there, no?” I said.

He yawned while rubbing his eyes. “7:30 in the morning. But it’s 2:30 your time, and I wanted to make sure you landed safely.”

I couldn’t ignore the way my heart fluttered with the concern in his voice and even though it was early morning in Los Angeles, he still made our 2:3o phone call; no matter how exhausted he looked.

“Did you set an alarm?” I questioned.

“Yep, even googled the time difference so I knew when to wake up.”

“Wow,” I stuttered. “You really-uh-you didn’t have to wake up so early just for our phone call, Noah.”

“Angel,” he readjusted his position in bed to lay one hand under his cheek. “I’d stop whatever I’m doing for these phone calls. They mean a lot to me.”

I swallowed the happy tears that burned in my throat. “Me too.”

“Mochi!” Malcolm popped up from behind me to make his face appear on the screen.

Noah rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Malcolm.”

“Oh, Mochi. We miss you! Do you miss us?” Chase now appeared on the other side of me.

“I fucking hate you guys,” Noah sighed while pinching his eyes.

Pushing them away from me, I stepped into a quieter area of my dad's apartment. “Sorry. They say the contact name and the picture of you in the braids.”

Something unreadable flashed in Noah’s eyes but I couldn’t read into it; it was gone that quickly.

“My contact name in your phone is Mochi?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I bet mine is Angel.”

His silence was the answer I needed.

“You know,” Noah began. “I miss you already and proud of you, angel.”

“Proud of what?” I raised a brow while leaning against the wall with my shoulder.

“Doing something for you, not holding back.”

My heart continued to beat at a rapid pace while the butterflies burned low in my stomach. “Thank you, Mochi, that means a lot to me. Coming from you, truly.”

“Always angel,” He yawned with a smile. “Anyway, I know you’re busy so I won’t keep you. But maybe-uh-when you’re back we can go out.”

“Go out?” I said the two words carefully, making sure I heard him correctly. The pounding in my ears made it difficult.

“Like hang after our class or something.”

If he was nervous to ask me that, Noah gave no indication. He was his typical suave self; with messy bed head, tired eyes, and deep voice laced with exhaustion. The entire sight made my core burn with desire and I had to clench my thighs together.

“I’d love that, Noah,” I finally said after a few beats of silence.

“Alright cool,” he grinned.

“Cool.”

Even though now, we stayed so far from each other, I’d keep him in my mind, until eventually our lonely limbs connected again.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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pikatrainer99 · 21 days

Text

Kieran is autistic and you can't change my mind!

Okay, I KNOW that I'm not the only one who holds this headcanon...but I wanted to do an analysis on Kieran anyway, especially since my best friend @sinnohanvulpix said she'd love to see me do one. Credit to her for all the screenshots used btw. The GIFs on the other hand were either found on Google Images or created by me using gifrun.com and these YouTube videos:

youtube

I did not use my own footage for this at all...as proof here's what MY character in the game looks like...he has my real name but I tried to make him look like Orange which is why he has the orange eyes 😅

(Sorry for the bad quality btw...taking pictures of my Switch screen is hard 😅)

Okay, now without further ado, let's get started with the analysis!

First, Kieran has a CLEAR special interest in Ogerpon, he admires and looks up to her, he was obsessed with the story of the ogre, he was always trying to go to her den and meet her, he has a meltdown when Ogerpon chooses the player over him, etc. Carmine even says that Kieran "really really REALLY likes the ogre" and that made me think, "Ah! Special interest!"

And then at the end of the Teal Mask he gains a new special interest in getting stronger to beat the player...and he hyperfocuses HARD on that...to the point of it being detrimental to both his physical and mental health, as he was doing nothing but training during that time...he barely ate, barely slept, just trained...and that is not healthy. It's a rare example of media showcasing a special interest being unhealthy and absolutely CONSUMING one's life, and the consequences do actually show for it.

Kieran is very introverted and doesn't know how to make friends very well. I actually think the player is his first friend considering his surprised reaction when the player says they consider him a friend, and following this, he quickly becomes a bit...too attached to the player, as he doesn't quite understand how friendships work.

(This is also such a neurodivergent way to say "I'm so happy I finally have a friend")

He also struggles socially, as is a requirement for autistic people to qualify for a diagnosis. Kieran specifically has a hard time reading social cues, he struggles with making eye contact, he has clear anxiety when talking to people as proven by his little stutter he has at times.

(This is an adorable screenshot 🥺)

He also struggles with social and emotional processing (and might have alexithymia as well due to his sudden huge outbursts of emotion), and he also struggles with initiating conversation as well, as seen when he tries to talk to Penny at the League Club. They both have no idea how to even start a conversation with each other and it's honestly pretty adorable seeing the two quiet adorkable kids trying their best to hold conversation. I get it, you two, initiating conversation is really difficult for me too.

Also the way they try to start the conversation by talking about the weather...that's really funny and ironic to me because that's what NTs do all the time. NTs always use the weather as a small-talk conversation starter but NDs like me (and Kieran and Penny too apparently) just don't get that stuff.

(These two are so neurodivergent it's great and I love them both 🥺)

Kieran also has four in-game animations that I personally see as stimming. The first one is him tapping his fist against his hip when he's thinking or nervous.

(Focus your attention to his hand here and you'll see it.)

The second one is him playing with a strand of loose hair, usually when he's nervous.

(The little nervous side glance at the player is relatable and adorable 🥺)

The third one is a more agitated stim that he only does ONCE in the entire game...and that is tapping the front of his foot on the ground. I do that myself when I'm agitated or impatient, somehow it's comforting, especially since for some reason I really like the way my shoes sound when I tap them on the ground... especially since I got my brand new Infernape-themed shoes, they sound extra satisfying because they're brand new.

(This is not the way most people tap their foot...I've never seen an NT do it like this...only other NDs such as myself and one of my brothers)

The fourth and final one is, unfortunately, a stress stim...Kieran runs his hands very fast through his hair and it also looks like, to me anyway as someone who has self-injurious stims myself, that he is digging his nails into his scalp as well while doing that. I do something similar myself, though on top of running my hands through my hair and digging my nails into my scalp, I also pull at my hair...yeah... self-injurious stims are no joke...and I'm kinda glad Kieran's autism coding brings attention to that aspect of autism...at least in my eyes as someone who does those things myself.

(He's in so much stress here, poor kid 😔)

Another aspect of autism that I'm surprised and kinda glad that Kieran exhibits as an autistic-coded character is meltdowns and shutdowns. Kieran has actual meltdowns in the game! This is something we have never seen in such an in-your-face way in any Pokémon game, and as someone who regularly has meltdowns myself, it hit me in the feels whenever I saw him having them. His first meltdown is in the Teal Mask when he steals the Teal Mask and runs off to Loyalty Plaza where he battles the player. He yells at Carmine and the player for treating him like an outcast...which is unfortunately something that happens to a lot of autistic people, myself included. Kieran screams at the player and Carmine for for lying to him while doing his stress stim, before running up to the Lousy Three's shrine and punching it, without any regard for his safety, which is also something autistic people may do during meltdowns...I know I have no regard for my safety during mine. After that's all over he gives the mask back to the player and goes home, leaving the player to talk to Carmine alone, who says that she's worried and thinks it's just "teen angst". When I saw that I was like, "...Uh, Carmine...I don't think it's just that, I think your brother is neurodivergent and really needs a lot of help and support because he's struggling a lot right now..."

His second meltdown is also in the Teal Mask, when he wants Ogerpon to go with him but Ogerpon wants to go with the player...Kieran can't process that and doesn't understand how to take Ogerpon's feelings into account, instead demanding the player to battle him for the right to be Ogerpon's partner. He collapses on all fours after being defeated again, and it gets worse...he looks like he's crying while the player battles Ogerpon in order to catch her. After the player catches her, Kieran wonders why he can't be like the player, and runs off crying, locking himself in his room for the rest of the story. The end of the Teal Mask has him doing his stress stim while being consumed by a new special interest in a very detrimental way...that interest being becoming so strong that no one can defeat him...including the player.

Kieran's third meltdown is in the Indigo Disk, after the player defeats him in the championship match. That meltdown is a full-on cutscene, where it is CLEAR to see his spiraling mental state through the visuals, and he holds his hands on his head like he has a headache while trying to process the fact that he lost to the player AGAIN (which is also relatable as someone who struggles with processing difficulties myself...it really does give headaches and it is one of the worst feelings when I just can't process what's going on around me or the emotions I feel or anything really)...he collapses to his knees and looks like he's breathing very hard as he is so upset and distressed at this loss. It is definitely one of the most heartbreaking scenes for me because this is a CLEAR CUT MELTDOWN in my eyes and it hits me in the feels like a TRUCK to watch that cutscene.

Also, in the Terapagos fight, Kieran has a bit of a shutdown for a bit, standing there frozen, thinking he's useless and can't do anything right (which is relatable as I have regular shutdowns as well, and I also constantly feel like I'm a failure of a human being who can't do anything right)...but let me tell you, when the player finally gets him to snap out of it and convinces him to help and he opens his eyes revealing that the light is back in his eyes as well as visible tears...I cheered (and teared up myself). My boy was back, and I was so happy.

(When I first saw the tears I was like, "NOOOO don't cry Kieran! 😢)

Also in the Indigo Disk, Kieran seems completely different and "no longer like his usual self". His autistic traits are (mostly) nowhere to be seen as he becomes much more serious, angry, assertive,and aggressive. I personally see this as a persona he puts on by masking, which is common for autistic people to do. I myself can't mask, but Kieran definitely seems to be masking here by putting on this persona in order to get stronger and seem stronger as a person as well. This is NOT his real self, this is a FACADE!

We see him start to drop the mask again in Area Zero when he says it seems like they're in a spy movie or something and how cool that is, but once the crack in his mask is pointed out he immediately puts it back on.

After everything in the under depths ends, and you go back to Blueberry Academy, he drops the mask again completely, and goes back to his real, adorkable, relatable self...and stays that way from then on, which made me so relieved and happy.

(This is my favorite cutscene in the entire DLC because of how adorable it is and also how neurodivergent Kieran is being here while apologizing for all he did 🥺)

In conclusion, I think Kieran is a great example of an autistic-coded character who has many relatable traits, and also does a good job showcasing some of the more "unpleasant and challenging behaviors and traits" (NTs use that terminology a lot, not me... that's how NTs unfortunately view NDs a lot of the time) of autism. I used to be afraid of him during the post-Teal Mask pre-Indigo Disk era but that was my trauma and PTSD talking (I talked about the emotional rollercoaster Kieran's story arc took me on in another post from last year after I finally worked up the courage to play the Indigo Disk...feel free to check that out too if you'd like). Now though I can wholeheartedly say that I love and appreciate Kieran a lot as a character, and his relatability is definitely a big part of why he is a big comfort character for me now (please Pokémon put him in Pokémon Masters EX, PLEASE I will literally cry from joy if he gets added to the game)!

Hope you all enjoyed this autistic person's analysis of yet ANOTHER autistic-coded character in Pokémon! I know I had A LOT to say but that just proves how relatable Kieran is, and I love him for that. Let me know what you think and if I missed anything in the comments below!

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bitchesgetriches · 11 months

Note

Bitches I need some advice.

I'm fat, okay? I'm not ashamed about it. It just... Is. I'm fat.

Being fat is also fucking me up. It's causing me sleep problems, it's fucking my joints, I can't walk as far as I used to, I haven't run in years.

I want to lose weight. Not for anyone else. For me. I want to be fit again.

I'm surrounded by people telling me I'm "not fat" and need to "love myself like I am". I'm 210lb and 5'3". Ya girl is fat. And I'm okay with that it's not a bad word. I love myself. But I also love the things I used to be able to do when I was fitter. It's just really fucking hard.

I've got zero support left and right. And I don't know what to do. I know this isn't your area of expertise, but you're such great internet mamas that maybe you can help.

My darling child, we are SO humbled that you came to us with this. And while this isn't an area of our OFFICIAL expertise... weight and athleticism is something that I, Piggy, personally think a lot about! So let me see if I can offer some support to you, my beloved fat child.

By way of background: I have never been fat. Heavier than I want currently, but not fat. So I don't completely understand what you're going through. I have always been an athlete of one sort or the other. But more than that, I have always had the privilege of being relatively skinny without trying. At peak fitness I was running and rock climbing and doing all the stretchy and weight-trainy stuff. I was 5'5" and 130 lbs of jacked Bitch.

I am also a proud Italian American woman, which means that after 30 genetics decreed that I start putting on weight and rounding out and coming into my full Zia-ness. I'm currently 155 lbs. and running/climbing/stretching/jumping about/weight training is getting harder and harder. And that's frustrating to me.

Fat is not a bad word, merely a descriptor. So I'mma use it just as you have! I'm proud that you are prioritizing your health and ability to do what you love over losing weight for the sake of just being smaller. Because let's be clear: weight and health do not necessarily go hand in hand. If your goal is to improve your sleep quality, energy levels, and joint pain, then you should focus on activities that will work directly on those issues. Maybe that'll lead to weight loss--maybe not!

A lot of the medical establishment is cruel to fat people, so I'd be cautious about approaching this with your doctor. But you SHOULD get medical guidance before embarking on any kind of physical change. If your doctor says "Well, just lose weight through diet and exercise!" then you might want to look for a new doctor. If they instead offer practical solutions for incremental improvement, then great.

One of my favorite athletes is The Mirnavator. She's a fat marathon runner and offers a lot of information on how to start walking more and running as a fat person. I think she'll be a good role model for you as she focuses a lot on energy and joint health.

Also, you should check out Aubrey Gordon's blog Your Fat Friend and her podcast with Michael Hobbes, Maintenance Phase. She's also got some great books out! She's a fat expert on weight loss and diet culture. And her insights into healthy nutrition and body image are amazing. Her data-based approach will help you avoid the extreme dieting and weight loss trends that can hurt your health. Plus she's funny as fuck.

Lastly I will just say that mental health is tied to physical health. You're bummed about not doing the things you use to be able to do... and that probably makes it a lot harder to change! Acknowledge any depression or anxiety you feel about being fat and give yourself compassion. Start small and do what feels good.

Now here are two VERY old articles I wrote when I knew less about fatness. I think they still have a little bit to offer, though:

Why You Probably Don't Need That Gym Membership

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Any fat members of Bitch Nation who want to weigh in? Uh... pun not intended.

#tw: weight loss #tw: fat #tw: dieting #just adding trigger warnings because I know any discussion of fatness and weight loss can be really triggering to some folks #be well my darlings

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bowtiepastabitch · 7 months

Text

Let's talk costuming: Avaunt!

So I think we can all agree that Aziraphale looks his most traditionally angelic in the Job minisode, no? In fact, all of the angels' costuming increases in drama for this particular episode. This is, obviously, a very deliberate choice on the part of wardrobe, so let's discuss.

On a technical level, the biggest thing that stands out to me about this fabulous robe is the draping. Oh, the draping. It feels like a classic angel 'fit because on a very fundamental level, it is. A lot of what we think of as angelic draws on Renaissance artists' depictions, with flowing robes, fluffy wings, and glimmering halos. In art from this era, there is a strong attention to detail on the natural flow of fabrics that makes Renaissance sculpture so breathtaking, such as here: (The Ecstasy of St. Teresa, Bernini, 17th century CE)

It's this ability to make solid marble look like fine silk rippling with movement that leaves such a strong impression in my mind when I look at these kinds of works.

In painting, too, there is a similar effect. Something about the material culture of the Renaissance really lent itself to this style, perhaps fueled by the rise in new textile luxuries that occurred in vaguely the same period. This is seen especially strongly for angels, such as in the sculpture above, and in this painting: (The Annunciation to the Virgin, Botticelli, 15th century CE)

There's a stark contrast between the dress of the two figures. The virgin Mary is no less ornamentally or expensively dressed, but her style is rather minimalistic next to the angel's voluminous robing. It paints a very clear impression of angelic dress, and the designers for Good Omens would have been aware, in at least a small way, of the art history precedence for such a thing.

The poof of the sleeves, the tucks down the front, the little belt with the train tucked in, the gathers, the weight of the fabric, everything about this robe is constructed to carefully recreate the rather fantastical imagery of renaissance art. It's not necessarily an easy texture to nail down, given that the artists themselves had no concerns of gravity, comfort, or the way it would look in actual 3d motion, while our brave costumers were dealing with all three as well as a budget, time constraints, and the constant consideration that white fabric just gets dirty so easy.

Here's some of the other angels as well, so you can see how theirs reflect those same dramatic themes.

And then, of course, when costuming a show you have a second question: What does this mean for our character? Or rather, we know how, but WHY did they make him look so traditionally angelic?

Well, thematically, the Job minisode centers around Aziraphale's struggle with being a good angel and Crowley's struggle with being a good demon. Aziraphale is learning how to be an angel that follows along with heaven as far as we can, and he's so terribly torn up about it. He spends a lot of his time fretting about doing what's expected demanded of him, even if perhaps he doesn't believe it to be the right choice. Natural, then, that he should look the part of the perfect angel whilst sorting out these ethereal woes.

Crowley even draws attention to it himself, giggling a bit at the suggestion that Aziraphale, with his fluffy hair and flowing angelic garb, could possibly become a demon. And it is a rather silly mental image; the garment itself would be comically silly in really ANY other context at all. In the same manner, his performance of angelic archetype borders on excessive:

He's trying so desperately hard here to be the angel he wants to and is supposed to be. He's dressed the part, he's using his big scary angel voice, but deep down he's clinging to an identity that doesn't quite fit.

(You'll notice in this shot the distinct difference between his and Crowley's dress on the level of silhouette as well as color. We see this a lot from the two of them, but with the points I made above it felt worth pointing out in this particular scene)

Here at the end, as he's coming to terms with the cracks in his heaven-given identity, his robe is largely in shadow, blurring out its startling whiteness. We do not see him dressed this way again. (He continues to wear white, obviously, but from here on out his style of dress mimics the human trends of the time rather than that classical angelic imagery)

#good omens analysis #art history #sometimes I am an academic weapon but only when it doesn't count #aziraphale good omens #job minisode #costume design #good omens #good omens costumes #aziraphale #michael sheen #historical clothing #good omens 2 #neil gaiman #also I love the little human touch of that little bend in his fucking sleeve cuff when he says avaunt #like that's a fully real piece of clothing that he's wearing not something animated and sometimes you just have to sit and appreciate it #it just makes me laugh a little #I'm sure someone somewhere agonized over it and wishes they'd fixed it but it just feels so human to me

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Yoongi:

Lock Me Up | Intro/Part 1

In which his job is pretty clear on paper; find the witness, bring her in, write down what she saw and then let the witness protection program handle the rest. The only problem: You've got other plans.

Tags/Warnings: Detective Agust D my friends, Criminal Kitty!Reader, hybrid Yoongi, mentions of murder, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, mentions of past abuse, strangers to enemies to I don't even know, sexual tension

Length: Long, 4k words

Next ->

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"So, just her then?" He asks, reading the files about his most recent case. "Double homicide, and she got away?" He wonders, as the young officer shrugs at the table.

"According to another witness, she saw her run out of the house we found the victims in, and she apparently got chased down the street- but a butcher downtown told a patrolling officer that she was fine the day after." He explains, making Yoongi sigh.

"Well, finding a cat in D-Town." The man takes the files for himself, grabbing his coat. "How hard can it be?"

Turns out, it's not that hard at all, considering the high percentage of hybrid population in D-Town.

He's walking into the small restaurant, most of the people eating and working being hybrids, immediately looking at him with suspicion as all conversation quiets down. He's used to it by now, most hybrids aware of what he is, his reputation amongst each and every one of them one of a traitor. "I'm searching for a female hybrid. Feline." Yoongi asks one of the servers behind the counter, cooks turning around to watch the detective. "Has a ID number tattooed into her left ear. 0713." He offers an image depicting you caught by the security camera of a small grocery shop nearby.

But much to his expectation, everyone shrugs, shakes their heads, won't tell him anything. It's a typical pack-mentality amongst hybrids- no matter what, they stick together against the human dominated police force.

"Alright, let's ask for your papers then. Mind me having a look at all the legal documents for your little establishment?" He melodically threatens, and it's clear that it makes the young server and her husband close by nervous, her eyes immediately looking at two young twin hybrids watching a cartoon on an old CRT-TV. "She's.. upstairs. She didn't do anything, she's a good girl-!" The woman begs, yells after the detective as he immediately makes his way up the stairs, only her husband holding her back.

The moment Yoongi opens the door to what he assumes might be a bedroom though, you're clearly there-

Jumping straight out of a window.

"Fuck.!" He calls out, running back downstairs to run after you, whole restaurant laughing and cheering for you as you dash away from the detective, heels clicking on the pavement as you run away. He has to admit that he's a little impressed by your ability to jump over obstacles and run so fast with those mary janes, though it's clear after a while that he's got the better stamina of the both of you. He's catching up to you.

But you're clearly already very knowledgeable in police chases, because you suddenly jump up against a wall of a small building, managing to somehow heave your entire body up the ledge to get onto the roof.

"So what now, huh?!" He calls out to you, breathing heavily just like you are. "One call and I've got the fucking thing surrounded. Just get down, I'm here- fuck.." He breathes for a second, before catching his composure again. "-I'm not here to arrest you."

"Hmm.. nah, I'm good." You simply answer, sitting close to the edge of the roof now.

"That wasn't a question." He calls out back up to you, one brow raised in annoyance. "Get down."

"No." You simply answer stubbornly, your tail swaying from left to right behind you, since you've moved to lay on your stomach instead, arms on the edge of the rooftop, chin resting on top of them.

"Alright. Hybrid 0713, you're under temporary arrest for suspicion of involvement in a double homicide case." He orders out to you. "Now get down here-"

"Does that ever work on anybody?" You ask after a moment of silence with an almost bored tone to your voice, face clearly showing genuine interest in the answer though.

He licks his lips, hands now in his pockets. "Not really if I'm honest." He shrugs honestly, making you giggle. "Come on now, I seriously only need you for questioning, I don't care about any other shit you've done."

"How about you buy me dinner first?" You ask, rolling over onto your back, now looking at him upside down, and he's unsure if you're aware of your cleavage ready to spill out of your dress, or if you're trying to put him under your spell.

With eyes as enchanting like yours, he could see it work if the setting was different. Wait- what the hell was he thinking?

"Are you serious?" He growls. "You're not in any place to make demands." He argues, and you shrug at that, before getting up to leave, moving out of sight. "Hey-!" He calls out, walking around the small shed you've climbed up on, unable to spot you. "I'm not getting paid enough for this shit.." He mumbles as he moves a trashcan closer to the side of the building, slowly climbing up onto the roof- to find nothing.

"I'll give it an eight out of ten, but only cause you've got a nice ass, Mister Detective-" You giggle behind him down on the floor, before you laugh. "See you later, Imposter!" You laugh as you run off-

leaving him sighing on the rooftop, questioning his life choices.

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Every day you're out there on your own, is a day where you run the chance of getting yourself killed. And while he's got no emotional connection to you at all, you're still an important witness to his case- so he's got to make sure he can avoid you biting the dust anytime soon.

He spots you near an old fountain that's now worked for years, but still holds water, back turned towards him. From the movement of your ears and the way your tail snaps upwards once, you've clearly notice him already though. "Don't worry-" You chuckle, moving around as he walks closer. "-Won't run off this time." You say, as he's finally close enough to see what you're doing.

The side of one of your legs is severely scratched up, from your ankle straight up to almost your thigh. You're using the water to wash off any dirt, shoes and socks neatly placed next to you. "What happened?" He asks, and you shrug, calmly cleaning yourself as he sits down next to you with a respectful distance.

"Tripped. Fell." You shrug, and it's clear to him that you're not telling him the whole story. Even so, he doesn't need to know it- the only thing he needs to know, is what you've seen the night of the murder.

"We'll get that looked at at the police station." He offers, standing up, and you grin impishly, leaning your head back to look at him above you. "What?"

"You gonna carry me, Mister Detective?" You ask, tail swishing from left to right in your amusement.

"First of all, stop calling me that, second of all, why would I do that?" He asks, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I'm hurt!" You whine, turning around with your now wet legs, holding the scratched up one out towards him. "I can't walk." You say with big sparkling eyes, and he squints his own as an answer to them it feels like.

"It's just scratched, now dry off and put your shoes on." He demands, making you pout and cross your arms.

"No." You answer, and he has to take a deep breath to contain himself.

He's however, internally, a little confused at himself. Why does this whole thing amuse him so much? He's not so much angry or frustrated, but there's something entirely different brewing inside him. "Hm, that angry look doesn't work quite right with human eyes like that." You say, catching him off guard. "You'd have a way better chance without those fake lenses." You offer, and he doesn't react to it at all.

"Get up." He simply says, and you do so, limping on one foot. "Come on, drop the act now. I don't have all day for your games."

"We could already be on our way if you decided to be a gentleman, Mister Detective." You snap back, picking up your shoes and socks.

"I told you to stop calling me that." He bites at you, and you have the audacity to laugh.

"And I told you to carry me, but I guess we both won't get what we want today." You joke, before you're suddenly lifted up over his shoulder, one arm over the back of your knees to simultaneously keep your dress from lifting up by accident. "What are you doing!?" You stammer out now, and he can't help the smirk growing on his lips as he walks towards the police station.

"Being a gentleman, just like you wanted."

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"She definitely needs some sort of protection until we've found and arrested everyone involved." Another officer named Namjoon says. "She's already been targeted judging from her injuries. She's been lucky until now, but luck is a gamble. Until they've been prosecuted, we'll have to keep her under protective surveillance." Namjoon orders, before he looks at Yoongi.

"Absolutely fucking not." He immediately says, but it stays quiet.

There's no arguing with orders given, so he does ends up walking into the interrogation room, where he unlocks your handcuffs. "Oh, Mister Detective!" You perk up as you catch his scent, tail swatting into his face almost as he leans away from it. "Finally! I'm so hungry, I swear.." You whine, eagerly freeing your hands out of the cuffs before you get up, jumping on one leg as the other ankle had been put inside a brace since you've sprained it. "Can you carry me back to the restaurant downtown?" You wonder hopeful.

"You're not gonna go anywhere for a while." He tells you, moving your hair away from your neck. It's weird that the way his hands touch you makes you shiver a little- nervousness bubbling up inside you as he places the leather collar around your neck, something clicking in place in the back. "I'm legally required to inform you that you've been electronically tagged until you're no longer required to be. You'll be staying under both GPS surveillance and house arrest until the case has been officially closed or dropped, and the tag can be used at any given time to locate you or send out police enforcement to retrieve you in case it's deemed necessary. Did you understand everything I just said?" He asks, and you sigh, kicking out your feet stubbornly.

"…yeah.." You mumble with an attitude, pulling on the collar. "Can you loosen it a bit though? You're kind of choking me and I'm not really into that." You say, and he clicks his tongue.

"That's as much as I can do." He tells you after loosening it a little. "You'll get used to it."

"I guess." You snap with your eyes rolling, standing up. "So.. I'm gonna be locked up?" You ask, looking at him.

"You're just under house arrest, like I said." He shrugs. "Close monitoring is what they call it. I'll basically be forced to be your babysitter until the case is finished, but they'll let you stay at your own home unless decided otherwise." He explains, and you suddenly seem a lot more relieved about that.

"Alright I guess." You say, getting up to grab your shoes, still barefoot., before you lift up your arms towards him.

"What now." He asks with an emotionless face, hands in his pockets.

"I still can't walk." You say.

"You can hop around on that thing." He answers, turning around, before he opens the door- though you've sat back down on your chair, arms crossed.

"I don't wanna hop around." You simply say, looking at him challengingly. He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek- and you just know, if he did have cat ears, they'd be full force airplane-mode right now to visualize his growing frustration with you.

And you love it- because he's so stuck up in being professional that there's no way he'd ever act on whatever the hell he's thinking inside his head. He's probably used to getting his way, a macho and alpha-male who's deep down so insecure about being seen as a proper male that he-

Suddenly your world is upside-down again as he carries you over his shoulder yet again, and you kick your legs out in denial. "Hey no, that's not fair-!" You whine, tail swatting into his face before he grabs a hold of it in the palm of the hand belonging to the arm holding your legs. "-Let me down you suit-wearing di-"

"Better watch your mouth, sugar, or I'll have to charge you with disorderly conduct." He tells you, and you huff in frustration to yourself as you shut up at that, hanging limply off his shoulder as he walks out of the police station with you like this.

"You think Detective Min is going to be able to handle this on his own?" A young police officer wonders to the leading detective Kim, who just chuckles in his office as he watches the scene unfold.

"Oh, I'm not worried about him whatsoever." He simply says, grinning amused.

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It's in the middle of the night, when the small monitor on his wrist begins to buzz, waking him him from his sleep. He's squinting his eyes painfully against the bright light of the small screen, before he realizes what he's reading.

[TAG ALERT: SUSPICIOUS MOVEMENT DETECTED]

He's instantly on his feet, rushing to put on clothes and shoes before he rushes out his door and onto the streets, where he checks the monitor to know where he needs to go. The tag alert itself isn't something he's surprised about- he's expected you to start wandering around even with your little issue- but you're moving way faster than you should be capable of, indicating that there might be something terribly wrong.

In front of the restaurant you've been living at, the mother with her twin children is already standing outside, pointing down the street with one of her toddlers in her arms, making Yoongi immediately run to where she'd directed him to. There's drag marks on the ground, alarming him further as he starts to smell your fear and panic- fueling his instincts to get to you before anything could happen.

"Let go you crack-smoking rodent-!" He can hear you yell, loud commotion coming from down the street behind a closed grocery store- and it's at least a sign to him that you're still very much alive and kicking.

"Fucking bitch just bit me-!" Someone yells out, as Yoongi rounds the corner, gun drawn.

"D-Town police, hands up where I can fucking see them!" He yells, causing everyone to move and dash off, no shot of his landing to keep them there.

"Nice aim there, Mister Detective." You huff on the ground, rubbing the back of your head. "Thought you guys are trained with those things.." You mumble to yourself, as he walks closer to inspect any damage done to you.

"I'll ignore that comment for now." He says as he checks up on you. "What happened?"

"Broke in, took me from my nest, dragged me here like a bag of rice." You explain, as he lifts your head by your chin, thumb wiping your bottom lip where some blood can be seen. You know he's only trying to figure out if you're hurt or if it's not your blood, but it still affects you considering you're not used to be touched like that.

But another thing you notice, is his eyes- his entire appearance, in fact, as you reach out to move your hand through his hair.

"Hey, stop that.!" He barks out, but you've already done what you wanted to do.

"Huh." You simply hum. "Been wondering if you had anything hidden on your head."

"There's nothing to hide there." He growls almost, standing up instantly before he lifts you up by the back of your shirt. "Now come on. We'll get some of your shit from your place, and then you'll stay with me. I'm not taking anymore chances with you." He orders, and surprisingly, you don't question it, and don't even ask to be carried around, simply hopping alongside him for a while as you make your way down the street.

It's quiet, most people asleep at this point in this part of town, when he sighs, turning towards you to pick you up.

"Come here." He mumbles quietly, tapping his shoulders as he turns around and leans down for you to get onto his back. You silently accept the offer, letting him piggyback you to your home where you stay, and pack a small bag of things you deem necessary for your stay with the detective. He watches quietly from the sidelines as you say goodbye to the young cat hybrids, when he's spoken to from the sides.

"She's a good girl." The husband of the mother tells him. "Just shaped by the circumstances, you know? You bite others or get bitten, as simple as that." He explains.

"I'm not arresting her." Yoongi explains, and the man shakes his head.

"No, no, I know you don't." He exclaims. "But I know you guys always think of us as some sort of criminal bunch that don't follow the rules just to spite you, and we're not." He simply explains. "Just- ah, what does it matter to you I guess.." The man shakes his head, before he walks inside, leading his wife and kids into the safety of the restaurant-

while you walk out of it, ready to be carried away.

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Back at his place, you still haven't really said anything- making him suspicious, as he sits on the edge of his bed, having put up a mattress for you to sleep on close to him in case anything happened at night. "Who were those guys?" He asks, and you shrug, pulling out a rather worn down blanket from your plastic bag.

"Don't know." You answer. "Probably with Takehiko, if I had to make a guess." You shrug, before you pull out one small flower shaped pillow to sleep on- the man mentioned, Takehiko, being the prime suspect of the double homicide. He's well known for selling tampered drugs on the streets of D-Town, as well as blackmailing hybrids by threatening to report them to authorities to be taken into shelters.

Yoongi wants to question if you're alright- if everything's okay with you, but he doesn't. It doesn't concern him, it's none of his business, and the less he gets himself involved with you-

the better it will be for the both of you in the end.

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"Mister Detective!" You call out, and he turns around from his desk to find you rolling around on his carpet on the floor. "I'm bored." You whine, and he sighs, turning back around. "Mister De-"

"I swear to god if you call me that one more time, I'm gonna fucking gag you.!" He growls, turning back around again.

"Kinky." You wiggle your ears, and he takes a deep breath before he crosses his arms. "I'm still bored though."

"Go read something then, I'm here to protect you, not entertain you." He mumbles, before it grows quiet. It makes him turn around to notice you staring into nothingness, before you move to curl up on your mattress instead. It makes him wonder if you're always this stubborn if you don't get your way- or if there's something else going on you're just not telling him.

Either way, he doesn't care, and shouldn't, so he continues working on things he usually doesn't have time for during his workdays, while he assumes you sleep.

"Do you have a tail?" You ask out of a sudden, making him choke on his sip of water as he almost spits it out, cough interrupting him for a good moment.

"What the fuck!" He snarls out, setting down his glass as he wipes his mouth.

"So is that a no?" You wonder, and he shakes his head.

"No!" He says, grabbing tissues to wipe his desk down.

"No- no tail or no- yes tail-" You continue, but he cuts you off.

"No as in, none of your fucking business.!" He growls, clearly agitated at that question. "If your plan is to annoy the fuck out of me so someone else will supervise you, guess what, it's working great."

"Wasn't my intention, actually." You shrug, sitting up now. "Was just curious. You know- since you're clearly a cat too, but also not really. Confused me, that's all." You explain.

"Yeah well, you're not the first." He mumbles to himself, sitting back down at his desk.

"Does it confuse you too?" You ask, and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, what the fuck does it take for you to shut up?" He asks, looking at you, and you just smile.

"An answer would be cool." You simply say. "Look, I knew a cat hybrid a few years back and he had a super short tail, but he was a really nice guy! Smoked a lot of weed, but still." You explain, and he leans back in his seat, arms crossed defensively. "So?" You ask.

"I don't have one." He tells you.

"Liar." You squint your eyes, ears tilted towards him. "It's short, isn't it?" You ask almost teasingly, and he looks away at that, giving you the answer needed. "Hey, that's totally alright though, no shame in it! Or.." You tilt your head. "Is that why you hate hybrids so much?"

"I don't hate hybrids." He scoffs, shaking his head at you.

"Yeah right, as if it's pure chance that you're known for putting hybrids into shelters left and right." You huff, crossing your arms as well now.

"It's because you belong there if you do not have a legal guardian or permit for independent living." He argues. "I'm only trying to help you out. A shelter provides you food, a place to sleep, education-" He tries to explain, but you're visibly becoming defensive now.

"Oh yeah and don't forget how they hit you with whatever they've got on hand just because you knock over a glass full of juice at the dinner table!" You hiss, annoyed that he's talking about shelters like they're as holy as a church. "Or how they lock you in the shower with ice cold water after you've pissed yourself out of fear as a kitten because everyone just keeps shouting at you-!" You angrily say, and his features remain without any emotion as he realizes you're not just making up examples you might've heard.

Considering the details and the way you tremble saying those things, it's clear to him that you're talking about your experience in a shelter.

"But what is it to you." You suddenly shrug. "You go continue cosplaying as a human I guess." You mumble, turning around to hide under your blanket again, silence engulfing the room for a moment or two, before he gets up and moves around. You don't know what he's doing, and you honestly don't want to know. You also don't know what you thought blurting your childhood trauma out like that would bring you as a result- but that's how you are, and have always been. Impulsive, wild, a little hyperactive and too honest most of the time.

Suddenly, he's close to you, and you hiss in pure pettiness at him, before you stop in your tracks, watching him.

His face is as stoic as ever, sleeves of his shirt rolled up as he wraps a blanket around you, tucking another one into places, and you're confused. "I- what're you doing?" You ask, and he scoffs to himself.

"You're the hybrid, I honestly got no clue how to do this shit." He mumbles, sighing in defeat as he sits back with crossed legs, letting his hands fall into his lap in defeat.

"But you're a hybrid too." You ask confused, though he shakes his head.

"I'm a freak, there's no need to try and sugarcoat it." He shrugs. "Neither here nor there. I don't know what it's like to be put through the shit you might've been, since I never lived life from your perspective-" He explains, "-and I don't know what it's like to be a human either, since you can only hide so much." The detective explains, watching how you correct his admittedly poor attempt at nesting for you.

It's clear to you that he's trying to apologize for his assumptions without actually having to apologize- the detective is a lot easier to read than he might think he is.

"Yeah, I mean you kind of suck at being both, I won't lie." You say, making him look at you with harmless offense. "What? Your nesting sucks ass, and those contact lenses you constantly wear creep me out." You jab at him. "But!" You bark out, leaning closer to him, catching him off guard a little. "Seeing as we're kind of stuck together, I can give you a rundown on being a hybrid!"

"And why exactly would I want that?" He asks you monotonously, and you roll your eyes.

"Because you clearly got some major identity-issues going on?" You tell him as if it's obvious. "And I also clearly can't magically turn you 100% human out of nowhere."

"I don't have Identity-issues-" He argues, while you look at him with an unconvinced gaze, arms crossed.

"Mid-life-crisis then?" You ask, "You do look pretty old.." You mumble at him.

"I'm not old!" He hisses, and you grin suddenly, ears in airplane-mode while your tail swishes from side to side in happiness. "What?" He asks annoyed again.

"Your teeth." You notice, and he instantly closes his mouth, lips pressed firmly together at having them called out like that. "And you're also not wearing those creepy lenses." You continue to point out, tilting your head to the side. "Handsome, I like it." You comment, and for some reason, that's what forces him to stand up and move away from you, all while you fall onto your back, laughing loudly.

"Shut the fuck up and tell me what you want to eat for dinner instead."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #hybrid imagine #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagines

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echo-bleu · 5 months

Text

Yesterday I posted more Noldor Hair Headcanons (Part 1 | Part 2 | On AO3 and @alqualonde-s wrote in the tags that she'd like some visuals. As it happens, I have very clear mental images of each hairstyle in the fic, so I did some sketches!

(individual sketches under the cut, terrible ID in alt)

Here we have:

a very sad injured Finrod with his mourning braids

Galadriel wearing the crown braids they devised on the Helcaraxë to protect their ears

Maglor and his far-too-complex mourning braids

Lalwen wearing armour and battle braids

Turgon wearing a formal style, black/kinky hair edition.

I didn't have designs yet for Lalwen and Turgon but I'm happy with these!

I'm not always consistent with my hairstyle headcanons in my art, but as a bonus, some hairstyles I've drawn before:

Finarfin in semi-formal Tirion style

Maedhros in battle styles here and here

Maglor in a slightly silly Fëanorian style

Finrod in fully formal Tirion style

Finrod in semi formal Tirion (or formal Nargothrond style)

Celebrimbor in a mixed late-Fëanorian and dwarven style

Fingolfin and Fingon in semi-formal Tirion styles (with Anairë in a simpler style)

Celegorm with his hunting braids

Elrond in a late-Fëanorian style

Fingon in two formal Tirion styles (but in trad pencil)

Bonus: "Elwing's hair floats around her as she falls."

#silmarillion #tolkien #silm art #tolkien fanart #noldor #noldor hair headcanons #if i am to braid my mystic crown #echo's drawings #echo's fanfiction #finrod #galadriel #lalwen #maglor #turgon

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aspoonofsugar · 2 months

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Do you think Adam will come back as a demon, having to redeem himself? It kind of feels like that's where the few hints at smth deeper going on with him are going.

Hi!

I mean, there is this:

As Charlie and Emily sing about amoral angels staying in the sky, the focus is on Adam and he looks very triggered. I also personally hope he comes back because I think his character offers great opportunities to explore others. Like Lucifer, Lute, Sera, Lilith and Charlie herself. That said, I am also okay if he is meant as a one-season villain tbh. In this case, I trust it is because the story has other plot-lines to follow. Also, it would be an hilarious call-back to his line:

A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month Gotta say, I can't wait to Come down and exterminate you

Adam, you're either right in how THE man only lives once, or you are so wrong and Charlie is so right, that you yourself get a second chance :P

That said, I think there is clearly more about Adam, Eve, Lilith and Lucifer's dynamic that needs to be addressed (either through Adam coming back or in other ways):

The series starts with the retelling of the myth of Eden in the form of a fairy tale. Still, it is clear that we are given only partial information.

Lucifer: Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer…or the second! Bowchicka pow pow!

Sera: He was the first human soul in heaven…

It is very unclear what happened with Eve and Adam himself is judged a "virtuous soul", after his human death. Not only that, but he affirms what brought him into Heaven is:

Vaggie: reading list "Act selfless, don't steal, stick it to the man." Are you fucking serious?

Except that Adam never once acts selflessly throughout the whole season. So, I wonder if an eternity spent being spoilt in Heaven made him worse.

In short, the things I am interested in when it comes to Adam are:

If and how Heaven has changed him

His relationship with Lucifer and Lilith (Eden + his pact with Lilith)

Let's now try to analyze Adam, starting with what we have in the series.

ADAM THE ANGEL

Adam: Call me, Dickmaster.

Adam is introduced as a powerful angel and a jerkass mysoginist. Both things are important, as they tie to different conflicts:

Adam is a genocidal maniac, who mistreats everyone. Still, he is considered a virtuous soul and holds some authority in Heaven.

Adam is "the man" and is shown discriminating and dismissive towards women. According to Charlie's recount in Overture, his mysoginy might be at the very root of the conflict behind the forbidden fruit and the birth of Hell.

These two sides of Adam come together in his interactions with Charlie, who is both a demon and a woman.

1- He dismisses Charlie's ideas of redemption in his song Hell is Forever, which is full of Christian references:

'Cause it's cut and dry Fair is fair, an eye for an eye And, when all's said and done (said and done) There's the question of fun And for those of us with divine ordainment Extermination is entertainment! Guitar solo, fuck yeah!

In general, he sees himself as superior to demons because he was judged worthy of Heaven. In his mind, this makes him automatically the "good guy", while people who exhibits virtues like Charlie or Angel are still beneath him, as they are demons. In short, he has a black and white mentality:

'Cause the rules are black and white There's no use in tryin' to fight it

2- He flirts with Charlie and calls her with sexist names:

Adam: I got you again, bitch! *laughs* Fuckin' hilarious!

Not only that, but his overall characterization highligths his sexism to hilarious degrees. Some examples:

His favourite food is ribs because Eve was born from one. So, it is as if he likes "eating women up"

He leads an army of hot and lethal women, who follow his orders in battle (classical male fantasy)

He gives Vaggie the name "Vagina" and calls it "the best thing ever"

So, Adam is a combination between a zealous religious fanatic and the patriarchy. All neatly tied up with jock imagery (his tunic resembles a letterman jacket). As a result, his interactions with Charlie explore two different power dynamics:

Heaven vs Hell or to better say Hell is Forever vs A Happy Day In Hell. Is Hell a place of eternal damnation or is it a chance of redemption?

Man vs Woman - Adam is far more childish and less intelligent than Charlie, but she has to kiss his butt because he is in a role of power. As it often happens in human society.

The question is: "How can such a person be worthy of Heaven?"

SERA THE MOTHER

Sera: I thought, since I'm older It's my load to shoulder

Sera is Adam's authority figure, as she is the only one Adam shows respect for. He asks for her validation and is ashamed after disappointing her. Considering Adam was created by the angels, it is easy to infer Sera is probably the closest thing he has to a mother. This also ties with Sera's overall role in the narrative, where she is framed as a parental figure to Emily and to the other angels and souls:

Not only that, but her parenting style seems rooted in the determination to protect those in her care, no matter what:

Sera: It is my position as the head Seraphim to protect our people at all costs.

Even if she has to lie to them:

I wanted to save you, the anguish it takes to Do what was required

Or if others end up hurt in the process:

Sera: Heaven needs us, Emily. Everyone looks to us… and we can't doubt ourselves or worry about the fates of demons when we have our own souls to protect.

She keeps Emily and the rest of Heaven in a Gilded Cage and chooses to exterminate the Sinners. In a sense, she too sees the world in black and white, just like Adam. Her loved ones. All the others. This attitude is present in her relationship with Adam too, as she enables him. Some examples:

She gives Adam permission to lead the exterminations. Even if Sera thinks killing Sinners is necessary, there is no reason to entrust it to Adam, who has a very obvious grudge against Lucifer.

He lets Adam boss around the exorcists and mistreat them. Like he did with Vaggie. In general, Sera gives him no rules, if not a generic "do not embarass me" one. And even then, Adam faces no consequence after he reveals the secret.

Sera is angry at Adam's cruelty towards Charlie and reproaches him for targeting the Hazbin Hotel. Still, this is all she does. She could have stopped Adam from attacking the hotel. And yet, she only makes a single remark.

In general, Sera gives Adam free reign and even fulfills all his cruellest requests. This is made clear during Charlie and Adam's questioning.

Since the beginning, Charlie is set up to lose and the seating arrangement shows it. Sera and Emily are at the very top, as they are the judges. Below them there is the jury and then there are the two sides. Still, Charlie and Adam are not at the same level. Adam is higher, while Charlie is at the very bottom.

Sera sustains Adam's petty objection:

Adam: Objection, lame and unoriginal. Sera: Sustained. No further dictionary references please.

But she is about to refuse Charlie's request and only agrees to it because of Emily:

Charlie: Angel will make good decisions, come on! We have to keep watching! Please? Sera: sighs Yeah, I don't know. Emily: Yeah, let's give him a chance. Sera: Very well, the court will allow it.

Finally, when Adam reveals Vaggie's secret (which is irrelevant to the matter at hand), Sera allows it to happen:

She is the one projecting Vaggie's angelic shadow on the wall. Once again she enables Adam's cruelty, instead of stopping it.

in short, Adam is a person who ascends to Heaven, but once there he spends millenias without anyone questioning or disagreeing with him. All his self-serving fantasies are fulfilled and he is never punished nor called out. As a result, he clearly becomes complacent and grows worse:

Lucifer: So, this is what you been up to since Eden? Gotta say, you've really let yourself go, buddy.

Lucifer's taunt mostly references Adam's physique. Still, this is metaphorically true for Adam's soul, as well. In the end, Adam regresses in Heaven, instead of evolving. Moreover, he never addresses nor solves the key event, which defined his life.

LUCIFER AND LILITH

Adam: You judging me? You're the most hated being in all of creation!

Adam's sense of self is clearly warped by what(ever) happened in Eden. Specifically, he is hurt that both his relationships with Lilith and Eve ended up badly (apparently). This is why:

He overcompensates by being overly masculine. He insists he is THE MAN and keeps blubbering about his love adventures. And yet, he has still no wife, that we know of.

He projects his own feelings on Lilith and Lucifer, to the point that thousands of years later, he chooses "messing their home", as his hobby. Specifically, he tries to steal Lilith away (through their deal) and to make Lucifer as miserable as possible ( which is why the King of Hell sends Charlie to meet Adam at the very beginning - he doesn't want to deal with the Exorcist).

This behavior is mirrored in how he treats the Princess of Hell too.

On the one hand Adam associates what he considers Charlie's positive traits with Lilith:

Adam: To think someone as worthless as you landed Lilith's little hottie. 'Grats on that I guess.

On the other hand Adam links what he believes to be Charlie's negative traits with Lucifer:

Adam: Risking your immortal life for sinners? That's some crazy shit, even for Lucifer's brat!

So, it is implied he still wants Lilith and despises Lucifer. These emotions are mirrored in his design, specifically his horned mask:

The horns ironically show that Adam was cheated on by (both?) his wife(s)

The horns give him a demonic-like appearance, which may be just another way Adam tries to appear more badass than what he is. All while trying to look more like a demon (Lucifer) to begin with

In other words, Adam is nothing, but a man scorned. Even moreso he is a person, who deep down could never really like himself. Hence why he chooses to wear a mask 24h/24h. Adam wants to be either a Demon or a God, but deep down he is just the Man. Ironically, this is what he could never truly accept about himself.

ADAM- A MAN

In the final fight, Adam is unmasked and we get a glimpse of his real self. What is he like? His design is far more average and human-like than other angels and demons. It is even inspired by his real voice actor, apparently. Why is that so? Because deep down Adam is no-one special. He is just a dude. He is the man. Not even that. He is a man. A person.

Sadly, though, he refuses this truth and tries to be more:

Adam: I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts! You all should be worshipping me, you ungrateful, disgusting, fucking losers-

He tries to be God and in this way he becomes worse than a Demon. He dies pathetically, after refusing mercy:

Adam: No… you don't get to end this! I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something!

He sees Lucifer as his enemy, but the King of Hell barely registers his presence and only considers him in relation to Charlie. His true opponent turns out to be a small woman of low status. And even she barely considers him as someone worthy of her attention.

And yet, Adam is still a man and he shows humanity in death:

Lute: NOOOO! Sir! Sir! Stay with me sir! ADAM!

Lute is his one genuine bond and probably the only person who earnestly makes him happy.

If only he could have pursued his humanity, he might have not turned into a monster. He might have developed a healthier sense of self and could have become happier. Instead, he could never love himself for being just a man and has spent eternity trying to be someone different.

HEAVEN ISN'T MEANT TO SUCK A LOT

Adam embodies the anti-theme.

Charlie thinks that everyone can redeem themselves:

Charlie: If I can show them the dream I've dreamed That any soul can change! Then they will know everyone can be redeemed From the evil to the strange!

Adam thinks nobody truly can:

'Cause Hell is forever Whether you like it or not Had their chance to behave better Now they boil in the pot

Charlie tries to grow into her own person:

Gotta come into my own Gotta come into my throne Gotta take charge and defend my only home

Adam turns himself into an idol:

The golden exorcists bring to mind the golden calf from the Bible.

Charlie thinks happiness and beauty can be found even in Hell:

I can hear all their stories The lost and displaced And I know that they're more of an acquired taste But if I open the door and I give them a place At my Hazbin Hotel It'll be a happy day in Hell!

Adam can't find happiness and beauty in Heaven and his only source of joy is knowing others suffer more than him:

Fuckin' Hell is forever And it's meant to suck a lot!

And yet, Hell might be meant to suck a lot, but Heaven shouldn't:

St. Peter and Emily: 'Cause every single day in Heaven is a happy day Welcome to Heaven

Still, Heaven could not make Adam happy. And if Heaven can't make its own people happy, then what is the point of such a Kingdom?

Sera: It's your position to keep them happy and joyful. Emily: How can I bring joy when I now know we are bringing misery to thousands of innocent people?

Adam is a character that embodies Heaven's problems, not only because he is an evil monster, but even moreso because he is an unhappy and unsatisfied man.

Here are my two cents on him :D We'll see if he comes back and manages to get some development!

Thank you for the ask!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel meta #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #my meta #asksfullofsugar #anonymous #sera hazbin hotel

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dark-night-hero · 1 year

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Pls part 3 of without me can u make it that y/n meets the god who tried to kill her before and he tells her abt what happened and guilts herbinto killing herself then xiao finds her and she tells him not to tell zhongli🥺 that would be amazing

: Hi! Sadly, I have no intentions of making part three of without me. The part two open ending was for you to think of your own ending. Still! It wouldn't hurt for a little imagine because why not, that idea is chef's kiss* Also, apologies for taking too long to answer since I was thinking of what to do.

Imagine laying on the soaked muddy road was your bloody figure. The harsh rain pouring all over your body, yet you find it calming. Strange as it may sound, you feel nothing but your heart aching in pain, and your mind has never been clear for the past few centuries that have gone by. Despite all the wounds all over your body, the countless scratches as well as a missing arm and an open wound to your stomach. All you could do was lay in there and wait for your doom.

Imagine, the feeling honestly wasn't that bad. It was pretty bad and numb. The feeling of confusion, self pity, self hatred, frustration, guilt comes crushing into you the moment all memories came back.

"You.. You're the same being all those years ago." "It's a pleasure to be remembered by the all mighty being like you. It's such a shame Morax won't be around as you meet your doom." "Hah! Just because the era of war is over doesn't mean I grew weaker as centuries passed by." "I suppose that's true. But you know, for someone who killed their own friend with their own hands, you got quite the mentality." "What?" Your (eye color) iris were shaken looking at the being right in front of you. In the first place, how come this being is still alive? Didn't you kill him? You did. Right?

"What." "I don't know what you're talking about." "Huh? But I do know what I was talking about. After all, it was all fun making you act like a puppet on a string as I made you kill your own friend- oh wait HAHAHAHAHA oh celestia. I was wondering what happened but it looks like somebody sealed your memories, darling." "Don't call me that! And I have no idea what you're talking about." "But darling, you do." As his eyes stare at you with malice, it send shiver down your spine. "Here I was wondering why you're acting all tough in front of me. Turns out Morax could never leave you alone huh?" "Leave Morax out of thi-" As you burst out in anger, he dash towards you and grabbed you by the face. "Let's bring back your memories darling. But oh, let's be careful not to alarm the dragon away, okay?"

Imagine looking back on how pathetic you are, letting your guard down as your true, the rest of your memories started coming back. But perhaps you deserve this. Dying alone, in the rain.

"I was wondering how you manage to live on knowing you killed your own friends once again. And yet it turns out Morax protected you until the very end. I was just wondering how could he leave his one and only alone but it seems like there was a contract in return. Was it to leave you alone? It's such a mistake, but what can I say? It's very favorable for me." You didn't look at him, nor were you listening to him as tears started rolling down your cheeks as memories come back and started eating you up. "Darling." With a troubled mind, he grabbed you by your chin. "If you just accept by hand way before none of this would have happened, you know?"

Imagine as it gets harder to breathe. The only being on your mind was Morax. He had done so much for you and yet you used to think he doesn't love you anymore. It was so pathetic of you to doubt him. Maybe you do deserve this. Die out in the cold in the most painful way. The worst part is that you couldn't even kill the one who did this to you. Maybe they were right when they say it should have been you who died. Of course Morax would be sad, but only for a couple of years and maybe decated but he would soon be able to forget about you.

Imagine as you lay there on the muddy ground with rain drops falling all over your body, it is so hard to breath. Even your mind was going blank. Still right now, you want to see him at the same you don't. You don't have the guts and the face to see him. Not in this state, not in the state he hated the most. Still you want to see him. You missed him so much. You want to say sorry and maybe with a little bit shameless tell him you love him still. But you knew yourself you're running out of time.

"(Fi-First name)?" Fuck. If you could run, you would right now, or if possible, you wish you could disintegrate right here and now. Speaking of which, that fucking bastard who did this to you made it slow and painful as possible. "Yak- Xiao, was it?" You heard rapid footsteps in the rain. "I- I need to call Mo-" He was panicking. "It's alright." You tried yourself to smile despite the pain all over your body. "Ho-hold on, I'm bringing you to Morax right no-" "Don't." "Bu-" "It's useless Xiao. I'm already dying, I can feel it." You knew yourself the best.

"Still! We'll never know-!" "I killed your Master with my own hands and yet you still wish to save me?" You spoke with a chuckle that was cut off with a fits of bloody coughing followed by hard gasp for breath. "It was an accident." "It doesn't change the fact that it was I who killed her." You smile painfully, you don't know if it was because of the memories or because of the pain on your body. "I know how much you treasure her as a friend. It's okay to forgive yourself (First name). It was an accident, no one expected and want that to happened." He looked like he was about to cry as he utter those words that made your eyes wide.

Imagine he said those words, though suddenly came into mind. Forgive yourself? How? The truth is that, it was just an accident. He was right, none want that to happened, so why can't you forgive yourself?

"Xiao." By the sound of his name being called. Xiao looked at your face only for his eyes to go wide as he seen you started to disintegrate. "I'm sorry, but can you please keep this a secret to Morax? Oh wait, it's Zhongli right now, right?" The name you've made for him. That small memory made you smile. "I can't! I won't!" "I knew this would happened." You said with a small smile remaining on your face.

Imagine, with everything bit of power and strength left, you lift a hand to pat him by the shoulder. "Leave me here and forget everything you saw today." You spoke with a majestic voice fitted for a God and soon as you does. He stood up and left, leaving you off on your own once again. "Now then, this is nice." As you lay down looking at the now clearing up sky.

Imagine not too long after that, you disappeared with a contented, maybe a little bit of regret with only one thought in mind. You'll do just fine without me, My love.

Imagine, at the same time. Zhongli dropped his tea cup and hurriedly look out the window with a feeling of animosity on his chest. It felt like he just lost something. Something really precious to him. Looking at the dark clouds above the harbor, it felt like a storm was coming.

"(First name)?"

: Sorry if it was a little different from what was ask. Apologies also for taking too long to answer. Also rather than making them kll themselves, letting their guard down enough for them to get killed is what I did which I hope is fine. Anyway that's all, enjoy :)

#genshin impact #dark night hero #genshin imagines #genshin #ask #genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #genshin x y/n #genshin zhongli #genshin x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fanfic #zhongli angst #zhongli #zhongli x reader #xiao

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wintaerbaer · 8 months

Text

things we don’t say: part 3 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 9.0k

chapter warnings: kook has literally zero chill (i’m so sorry about him), jimin channels his inner dominic toretto, taehyung is so sweet he’s giving me cavities, discussions of infidelity, swear words, namjoon still gives the best hugs

a/n: thanks for the patience in waiting for this one! for those who may have missed it, i ultimately opted to split this into two chapters, so now we’re looking at seven parts and an epilogue. :)

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"I can make you a drink?"

"It's noon."

"So?"

You sigh, slumping on the couch. "I appreciate it, Kook, but I'm just…" You stretch out, pressing your toes into his thigh. "Tired."

The week has gone by in a blur of tears and sleep. You'd taken the rest of the week off, thankful both that you had been carefully banking your PTO in case of an emergency and also for having a manager that prioritizes empathy and mental health. When you'd practically had a breakdown explaining your situation over the phone, she'd quickly granted you the time off—no questions asked—and told you to take care of yourself.

It's been mostly your friends taking care of you, however. After the night you came back from the beach house, you'd been whisked away to the guys' apartment to stay with them, camping out on their pull-out couch, which they’d insisted you could have for as long as you want (Taehyung had pushed you to take his bed, offering to stay in the living room, but you'd begged him not to make you feel worse by displacing him, and he'd eventually acquiesced). Maya and Taehyung had then gone back late the next day to pack you a bag with no Jace encounters.

He'd only texted you once—to provide a weak apology and to let you know he'd clear out of the apartment.

Still, your plan is to stay with the guys for a while; you don't think you could bear to be in your apartment alone right now, especially knowing that Jace has been with someone else in your bed. It's like the image is seared behind your eyelids, tormenting you every time you blink and pushing your mental fortitude to its absolute limit. You haven’t made it a single day without a breakdown, feeling as though you’re constantly trying to walk an emotional tightrope.

Except the tightrope isn’t pulled taut and is also on fire.

That being said, you welcome the distraction of having your friends around. Between Jimin working days, Jungkook working nights, and Taehyung having a flexible schedule with the museum and his photography gigs, someone is always around to spend time with you. Maya’s also taken it upon herself to pop in almost every night with wine, chocolate, or some other variation of breakup food and hang out for a while. You'd feel bad about their attentiveness (you feel sometimes like they're babysitting you), if not for the fact that it's the only thing keeping you remotely sane as you fluctuate between sobs and an overwhelming numbness.

This Sunday afternoon, it's Jungkook's turn to babysit; Taehyung left to run some errands an hour ago, while Jimin slept in late and is currently taking a shower. Jungkook's reclined on the sofa next to you, longs legs stretched out in front of him with his fingers laced behind his head. You'd thrown on a TV movie—some bullshit about a woman who goes through trials of love, only to realize that her perfect man was hidden in plain sight the entire time.

If only life were that fucking easy.

"Do you want an ice cream sundae?" Jungkook suggests as the credits roll. "I can make you an ice cream sundae."

"Are you just suggesting things that make your twelve-year-old brain happy?"

His lower lip pushes out in thought. "No, if I was going to suggest things that cheer me up when I'm sad, I'd offer to go down on you—"

"What the fuck, Kook."

"Which I'm game if you are, but I didn't think you liked me like that."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself."

"Leave her alone, idiot. She's fragile." Jimin steps into the living room from the hall, fully dressed but still towel drying his hair. He takes in your relaxed forms on the couch—you, halfway burrowed under multiple blankets—and frowns. "You're not dressed yet?"

You blink slowly at him. "Should I be?"

"Yeah, Kook and I are taking you somewhere." He looks over at the man sitting beside you. "You didn't tell her?"

Jungkook's mouth stretches into a wide grin. "Surprise!"

You're still processing what the hell is happening—your plans for today were to park yourself in this spot and not leave—when Jimin strides over and yanks the blankets off of your body.

"Chim!"

"C'mon, get dressed. We have an appointment," he says. "And wear something comfortable. You're gonna love it, I promise."

A half hour later and you’re sitting in the back of Jungkook’s black Mercedes, watching the city pass by outside your window. Now that you’re up, it does feel nice to be out of the apartment instead of wallowing inside on the couch with a tissue box in your lap (which had been the general trend of the past week). Even listening to Jungkook and Jimin bickering about navigation up front helps to distract you from the dread that lingers like a blanket draped over your shoulders. All-in-all, you feel like you’re managing the fallout of your relationship as best as one can—at least when they find their almost-fiancé in bed with another woman. But grieving the loss still means that you’ve barely eaten, barely slept, and it’s not long before you’re dozing off in the backseat, dreaming of college—of sandy brown hair and green eyes.

You wake to Jimin’s hand on your shoulder gently shaking you out of your nap.

“Hey, we’re here.”

You’re on the outskirts of the city, it seems, in front of a squat, gray building that looks almost like a tiny warehouse. Peering up at the neon sign, you read, “Smash City Rage Room?”

“Cool, right?” Jungkook says, leaning against the side of the car.

You can physically feel the lines stretching across your forehead. “I don’t get it. We’re going to…?”

“Break stuff!” He takes your hand to pull you along. “Let’s go!”

You're led into a small, unassuming lobby—flat gray like the outside. Jimin gets you checked in with a burly-looking man behind a desk, who (after you’ve all signed some suspicious-looking release forms) promptly brings the three of you to a back room where you're fitted with protective jumpsuits, helmets, and goggles and instructed to "choose a weapon" from a rack filled with baseball bats and sledgehammers. At this point, Jungkook is practically bouncing out of his skin, the absolute picture of a golden retriever waiting for a ball to be thrown.

"You guys are really trying to distract me by taking me to Kook's version of Disneyland, huh?"

"That depends, is it working?" he says, grasping one of the hammers and weighing it in his hands.

"I'm skeptical but open-minded."

"Perfect!"

He hands you a bat, and your brawny host leads you to your final room—a wide, concrete space with a sturdy table in the middle and piles and piles of objects. Wine glasses, dinner plates, a computer monitor, and even a flat screen TV sit in heaps along the walls amongst some broken shards from previous visitors.

"You're free to smash anything in the room," the muscle man says in a gruff voice, "just no intentional damage to the building's structure. If you need something, you can flag us down through the camera up there," he points to the device in one of the ceiling's corners, "and someone will come check on you. Otherwise, just be safe and have fun. We'll come get you after an hour." Then he's swinging the door shut behind him.

You look blankly at the two men in front of you. "Now what?"

"We smash!" Jungkook says happily, already dragging the flat-screen onto the table. Then, before you can even respond: "Not like that, Y/N. Get your mind out of the gutter." He swings the sledgehammer down onto the TV screen, and it caves in on itself as Jungkook giggles maniacally.

"We thought this might help to let off steam," Jimin says, cracking a smile as he slams his bat into a propped up picture frame. "Try it!"

The two of them watch with wide, expectant eyes as you gingerly pick up a small drinking glass and place it delicately on the table.

"So now I just…?" You halfway lift the baseball bat, peering down at the poor, unassuming glass in front of you.

Jungkook leans forward, eyes eager, gesturing with the hammer in a light swinging motion he's clearly wanting you to mimic.

So you swing, bringing the bat down onto the lip of the glass with a moderate amount of force. It shatters, pieces flying outwards like little slivers of shrapnel.

It feels good.

The guys cheer, and Jimin reaches down to grab a champagne glass, setting it in front of you.

"Now pretend this one is that asshole's balls."

You hesitate, the mention of Jace causing the fist that's been around your heart to squeeze. You're angry with him, sure, fury simmering in your belly even now. But your biggest struggle and the source of all of your pain this week has been wrangling with your lingering feelings. Four years of loving someone are not so easily erased.

But you wish you could wipe it all from your mind.

You wish you could hate him.

"Let it out," Jimin murmurs, as you continue to stare, your hands gripping the bat. "This is the place."

You visualize Jace's face in your mind. His bright green eyes, his crooked smile, the tiny scar on his forehead from when he fell off his bike when he was nine. You can practically hear his voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

And then you see him in bed a week ago, his lips pressed to another woman's neck.

The champagne glass explodes like a small bomb into a million tiny crystals.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jungkook yells, and it’s then that you realize that you were the one who swung the bat.

Your body is a live wire, pumping with adrenaline and a newfound rage. Before you know it, you don’t even have the patience to pick up the objects and place them on the table. Instead, you’re spinning around in a whirlwind, destroying plates and glasses and small kitchen appliances indiscriminately.

“This is for all of the lies about late nights!”

BOOM.

“This is for the fact that I’ve barely been able to breathe this past week!”

CRASH.

“This is for that dumb-ass crooked smile like he thinks he’s the star of some shitty movie!”

WHAM.

“And this is for that stupid, fucking green jacket.”

You channel all of your anger through the bat—every tear, every minute of lost sleep turned into shards of glass and debris. The tears come at some point, but you barely feel them as you scream out your frustrations, Jimin and Jungkook cheering you on the whole time.

It’s not a magical cure-all by any means, but you do feel a tiny bit of relief ease itself into your shoulders.

An hour later, you embrace both men in the parking lot. “Thank you,” you say, “for everything you guys have been doing for me. I needed this.”

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Hey, I owed you for that time when I got passed over for promotion, and you brought me to Bar 613 and paid for all my drinks.”

“I just wanted to smash stuff,” Jungkook teases with a grin, but he rubs playfully at your upper back to let you know he’s kidding.

Jimin’s phone chirps with a notification, and he pulls it out of his pocket, squinting at the screen before muttering, “Hmm, Tae’s not ready yet.”

“Ready for what?” you ask, a feeling creeping in that your day of surprise distractions isn’t quite over.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Jimin’s knowing smile twinkles with mischief. “In the meantime, what do you say we get some ice cream?”

“What do you mean you’re not coming?”

You’d returned from your rage room and ice cream outing only for Jungkook to swing his car into the “No Parking” zone outside the apartment and promptly kick you out to the curb, a pair of impish smiles flashing at you from the front seats.

“We have strict instructions to stay clear of the apartment for the next several hours,” Jimin chimes. “So we’re going to entertain ourselves for a while.”

You narrow your eyes at them, knowing they’re not going to spill but making a feeble attempt anyway. “What did he do?”

“Go find out!” Jimin says, just as Jungkook shouts, “Bye!” and rolls up the window right in your face.

You enter the building with a sigh, swinging the plastic bag from your wrist that holds the takeout container of rocky road that you’d gotten for Taehyung. A part of you wants to be whiny about your friends making such a fuss for you, working so hard to cheer you up, but at the end of the day, you just feel loved. Tomorrow, you may wake up with a hollow chest, your heart scraped out in the middle of the night as it has been for every day the past week, but for now, you let a little flame of happiness warm your insides.

You do hope, though, that Taehyung didn’t go through too much trouble for whatever he has planned for tonight. He’s already spent a majority of the past week hovering, holding you when you cry, and otherwise keeping a close watch on your moods. And in spite of him trying to be subtle, you’ve noticed how he doesn’t close his bedroom door all the way at night so he can listen for you.

He’s a great friend, the best, but the fact that you care about him, too, means that you don’t necessarily want to burden him, don’t want to be the source of his worry.

It sucks that you’re doing a shit job of it.

Probably just a movie night, you think during the elevator ride up. Like we’d do in college.

But when you slip the key into the lock and slide the door open, your heart immediately leaps into your throat, the bag of ice cream almost slipping from your fingers.

The apartment has been positively upended, furniture rearranged, flipped, stacked, and draped with blankets to create a massive pillow fort in the middle of the living room. It has to be almost eight feet tall, and you wonder what the rest of the rooms look like as you spy all three of the guys’ desk chairs incorporated into the structure—clearly, the entire apartment was raided to create this behemoth. Around the dining room and kitchen, dozens of candles have been placed and lit to give the open space an ambient glow, accentuated by the lowering sun dipping down outside the massive windows.

When the door swings itself to latch shut with a soft click, there’s a rustling sound before Taehyung’s head pops out of the fort, and he beams as he comes to stand in front of you.

“What do you think?” he hums as you continue to stare incredulously at the scene behind him. You try to say something, you should say something, but tears begin to flow over your cheeks instead, causing the room to blur and Taehyung to pull you into a hug. “Okay, I have to admit this is the opposite of what I was going for.”

You press a watery chuckle into his chest. “This is incredible,” you gasp, shifting back to look at him.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says. “And that’s not even all. Come look.”

He guides you to the kitchen, where you now notice the counters are littered with all of your favorite comfort foods alongside the snacks you used to share growing up: sugar cookies and popcorn, potato chips and pretzels, brownies and bite-sized chocolates.

“Just like old times. And—“ He lifts the lid off a pot on the stove, and you’re quickly enveloped in the soothing scent of tomatoes and basil. “Spaghetti for dinner.”

It was the first meal you ever made together. In retrospect, the lumpy, acidic sauce you concocted in your parents’ kitchen that day was far from perfect. But at the time, you’d called it the best meal you’d ever eaten, and Taehyung has spent the subsequent years perfecting his own recipe. He doesn’t make it often, but when he does, it’s the perfect blend of nostalgia and warmth.

“And to think, all I brought you was this,” you say sadly, dangling the bag limply from your hand. But Taehyung snatches it from you in a flash, digging in like it’s a Christmas present. When he pulls out the papery white container, he grins like it’s much more than just half-melted ice cream.

“Rocky road?” he asks, smiling even more widely when you nod. “This is amazing, Y/N. Thank you.”

You study him quietly as he puts the ice cream away in the freezer—just to soak in this beautiful, home-shaped human being—and he raises his eyebrows at you when he turns back around.

“What?” he asks, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to hide yet another smile.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you glance away. “Nothing.”

But the truth is, standing here in his kitchen, observing his tender movements as he carefully rearranges the snacks on the counter top—it’s the first time in a week that you’ve been able to breathe. And maybe it’s just because it’s been days of suffocating pressure around your chest, but the air pushing through your lungs now feels sweeter, richer as he looks up to capture your gaze again and gently takes your hand in his.

“Come see the inside.”

He pulls you to the mass of furniture and blankets, sweeping back an opening in the fabric to usher you in, and you gasp as he reveals the pillow fort of your childhood dreams.

It’s massive, tall enough for you to stand comfortably in, with wide walls and a tented ceiling that seems to suggest Taehyung has somehow tethered it to the apartment’s actual ceiling. The floor is absolutely packed with pillows, cushions, and heaps of additional blankets, and if you aren’t mistaken, there’s a literal mattress (maybe two?) buried underneath it all.

But the part that has your throat constricting on a sob, tears streaming once again, is the tiny side table he’s placed to the side, your star lamp glowing on top.

“How did—“ you choke, still taking it all in. The fort, the snacks, the lamp. “How did you—?”

“Found the lamp in your closet when we went to get you that bag of clothes.”

“And,” you wave a weak hand at the scene around you, “all of this?”

“Chugged a couple energy drinks,” he chuckles. “And Maya came by for a bit earlier to lend a hand.”

“Tae,” you say, wiping at your cheeks.

“Y/N.”

“This is…” Beautiful. Magical. Extraordinary. No single word seems adequate enough to describe what you’re feeling, his recreation of your childhood tradition to the nth degree tipping you into a state of practical euphoria after the hell of a week you’ve just had. You’d swear you feel like you’re about to combust with the amount of relief that’s flooding through your body in this moment, anger and grief giving way to joy and an overwhelming sense of fondness for the man in front of you.

You never complete your sentence, but Taehyung still seems to grasp your meaning, reaching out to squeeze your fingers one last time in a gesture of acknowledgment and understanding before he simply says, “Let’s eat.”

The two of you gather yourselves heaping bowls of pasta before burrowing into your pillow fortress, backs pressed up against the couch, which is being used to support one side of it.

“How was the rage room?” Taehyung asks, tomato sauce staining his lips.

“Surprisingly cathartic. But…”

“But?”

You rub at your temple before letting your hand fall in a huff. “Temporary. It all is. Every time I think I’m getting a moment to catch my breath, I feel like I’m being punched in the chest a second later.”

“It’s only been a week,” he says. “You’re grieving. It’s going to take time.”

“I don’t want it to though,” you snap, immediately regretting your tone, even though Taehyung looks unfazed. “I just want to turn it off. He did this terrible thing, and I should hate him for it. I want to hate him for it.”

“But you don’t,” Taehyung says, jaw clenching.

Throat swelling, you choke on the words as they find their way out. “I thought I was going to marry him.” The all-too-familiar pressure in your chest rears its head again, suffocating you from the inside. “We had all these plans.” Your breaths turn shallow, coming out in short, rough pants quickly joined by tears that Taehyung rushes to wipe away.

You’ve never known love could hurt like this until now, and for all intents and purposes, Jace was your first real love. You’d had a smattering of boyfriends in high school, but never anything long term until him—nothing that ever made your heart feel like it was going through a shredder, a blender, and a hurricane all at once when it ended. And it’s not just your idea of him or your relationship that you’re mourning, but also the future that you thought you’d have together. The dreams you had dared to dream when you’d traded ideas of rings and children and white picket fences while tangled together in bed.

Sensing an imminent panic attack, Taehyung pulls you into his lap and loops his arms around you, coasting his hands up and down your back in long strokes. He’s done this every time you’ve broken down around him over the past several days, the physical sensation giving you something else to focus on when the thoughts and memories of your now-ex come flooding through the mental barriers you’ve been trying and failing to construct.

You concentrate instead on the ministrations of Taehyung’s hands, the warmth of his large palms resting over your shirt, the glide of his fingers tracing your spine over and over. His fingertips trail up to your neck (inhale) and back down to your sacrum (exhale) on a loop as you clutch the soft fabric of his own shirt. And as the dread looming under your skin begins to ebb away, you notice how your breathing has synced up, pressed chest to chest like you’re two halves of one whole. It’s calming, the light press of his ribcage expanding against yours, and it serves as enough of a distraction to get yourself under control, your feelings stuffed back into their box for the time being.

When you lean back to look at him, his dark brown eyes map your face, steady as ever.

“Better?”

“Better.” You nod weakly. “But life would still be so much easier if love worked like a switch.”

His brow tilts downward a fraction, a touch of melancholy passing over his face. “If only.”

“That makes me an idiot though, right?” you ask. “To still feel for him even after that.”

“No, it makes you human,” Taehyung says, before his expression suddenly turns grave. “Has he contacted you?”

You sniffle, rubbing at your nose. “Nothing besides that one text saying he would clear out of the apartment.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Listen, I think everything you’re feeling is normal, and you shouldn’t put any pressure on yourself to process it any particular way.” A pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “But please, Y/N. Please promise me you’ll never take him back if he asks.”

Truth be told, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind until now—imagining a teary Jace on your doorstep, begging you to give him just one more chance. In spite of your lingering feelings for him, the image only stirs up a dull rage, disgust burning like acid in your stomach.

“Not a chance,” you say, twining your pinky around his for a brief moment, and he visibly relaxes, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t think I ever want to see him again. But it…it hurts.”

You struggle to pull in a breath that doesn’t want to come, chin dipping down to your chest before Taehyung begins to move. Long fingers reach out to squeeze your hips before nimbly dancing down to your ankles bracketing his legs, where they give you another squeeze. He works his way up your body from there, moving his hands to your knees. Squeeze. Your ribs. Squeeze. Your shoulders. Squeeze. Elbows. Squeeze. Wrists. Squeeze.

He’s pinching each joint of your fingers between the pads of his own when you finally ask, “Tae? What are you doing?”

He doesn’t even look up, zoned in on his task. “Putting you back together.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Yeah, Hobi and Joon have been giving me lessons.”

You snort, and it appears to be the reaction he was hoping for because he beams up at you as you keen forward with laughter until you’re practically sharing breath, faces mere inches apart.

Time freezes; something in the universe shifts.

Your eyes wander over his face, tracing the paths between details that you subconsciously know are there but which you’re not sure you’ve ever truly looked at: the deep brown of his eyes, the mole on the tip of his nose, the plush curve of his lower lip.

He’s beautiful. It’s something you’ve always been aware of—an obvious fact of life in the same way the sky is blue—but you’re also lucky enough to know that his beauty goes beyond a handsome face. It’s also in the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs with his whole body, the way he always carries crackers in his bag for photo shoots at the park so he can toss some to the ducks.

The way he’ll upend his entire apartment to help heal your broken heart.

Artificial stars dance around the fabric walls like fireflies as you become hyperaware of how his hands have drifted back to your hips, barely there but warm. It’s soothing, you think, to be held between the boundaries of his palms, as if nothing and no one can touch you here. But it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? He’s always been your primary source of comfort, your north star at every turn, propping you up within the safety of your own little world like he does now.

His warmth is a siren’s song that has you shifting closer, your hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders, when his grip on your hips suddenly tightens as he breathes out your name.

“Mmm?”

“We have snacks to get to.”

The bubble pops as Taehyung shifts you off his lap, darting away to the kitchen. You, however, stay firmly rooted to your spot in the blanket fort; your mind whirs, an unfamiliar tingling sensation gently working its way through your nerve endings and making your stomach dip. It’s not at all unpleasant, but you don’t know what to make of it, thoughts turning without reaching any kind of foregone conclusion until Taehyung ducks back under the blanket and into your space, arms overflowing with snack bags.

He smiles at you and your stomach dips again.

But your mind quiets.

He’s your person, you think. Undoubtedly now more than ever as he settles back down next to you like the rock he’s always been.

“Story time?” he murmurs, the light passing across his face as he hands you a bag of your favorite chips. You gently place it in your lap without opening it, still jittery from the way he held you only seconds ago. Watching you with hooded eyes, he frowns at your lack of movement, the way your fingers have stilled on the plastic. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you say, sitting up straighter so he doesn’t feel like you’re ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be a blanket fort without a story, right?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the light on the walls is now radiating from Taehyung himself as he launches into a clearly premeditated narrative about a princess and her devoted, best friend of a knight. After being betrayed by a prince from a neighboring realm, the two embark on an epic journey to restore their own kingdom, traversing mountains and crossing oceans together to retrieve the enchanted crown jewel that the thieving prince had stolen away. Another handsome and charming prince captures the princess’s heart during their adventure, and, once her power is restored, the two marry in the most beautiful and romantic ceremony the kingdom has ever seen.

“And they live happily ever after,” Taehyung says with a flourish. He reaches over to steal a handful of potato chips before slipping a hand behind his head and settling deeper into the mattress. You frown down at him.

“But what about the knight?”

He slides a potato chip between his lips, lifting a dark eyebrow in confusion. “What about him?”

“Where’s his happily ever after?” you ask, almost annoyed on the fictional character’s behalf. “He climbed a mountain and fought a dragon for her. What did the prince do? Just stand there and look hot?”

His expression changes, eyes widening in subtle surprise. “It’s not his story.”

“But—“

“It’s not his story, Y/N.”

He says it with finality, so you drop it, left to grumble internally about what you feel was an unjust ending for the caring and loyal knight.

It was a sweet tale, but you can’t help but think that you would’ve written it differently.

The return to work isn't as bad as you anticipated. Your boss, Jia, noticing your frayed nerves, has been easing you back in slowly with a handful of softball projects just to get you going again. As much as you think you needed that week to cry and wallow, it feels good to get back to some form of normalcy and have work to focus on and keep your mind off of things as much as you can.

The shadows linger though, anxiety grabbing hold of your chest every time you remember you'll be going home to a different apartment that night instead of the one you shared with Jace.

Jimin's been joining you for lunch every day, hanging around outside the office cafeteria before you get there like he's staking you out. You call him out for it on Thursday, and he looks sheepishly down at the table with a nervous chuckle.

"I kinda promised Tae I'd make sure you eat."

"Of course," you sigh. Taehyung's been getting up early every morning to cook both of you breakfast, insisting that it's part of his normal routine.

He forgets that you used to live together, and you know he's more of a granola bar guy in the morning, eager to get himself out the door and moving as soon as possible.

"You're all doing too much for me," you murmur. "You shouldn't have to babysit me like—"

"We don't have to do anything," Jimin says forcefully. "We want to be there for you. We do these things because we care about you."

"I know, but I just…" You swallow hard. "I don't want you all to see me as this broken thing that you need to protect."

Jimin's whole demeanor softens, and he reaches across the table to take your hand. You'd be worried about how this looks—two coworkers holding hands at lunch—if you didn't feel the tears welling up again, the urge to cry sticking itself in your throat like molasses as you try to choke it down.

"Y/N, that's not what we think," he says softly. "You're our friend. And you're hurting. And after the trauma you went through, it's perfectly understandable for you to need a little more attention and care than usual. Honestly, if anything, I'm worried that you seem to be taking things better than expected, and I think that's because you're trying to put a brave face on for us sometimes."

He’s not off-base. Especially after your Distraction Day, you've been doing your best these past few days to bottle everything down so your friends don't worry as much, taking your time to cry in the shower or quietly at night when everyone else is asleep.

"All I'm saying is that you can lean on us. That's what we're here for. And if your tough face can't fool me, you're definitely not fooling Tae. Let him help before he goes crazy with worry.”

Honestly, relying on Tae has been the least of your problems, even though you’re a little concerned about how he’s been waking up earlier than usual for you. That man has been your rock for years, and receiving comfort from him is almost second-nature at this point. It’s how the two of you operate. Everyone else, however…

“I’m fine with Tae,” you tell him. “But I’ve never felt this…vulnerable around the rest of you. It used to just be Tae and I, hiding away from our problems in my room, and now—“

“You have us!” He beams. “That’s a beautiful thing, Y/N, can’t you see? You’re not alone anymore. Not you, not Tae. You have us. All of us. We’re going to get you through this. And if you need a silver lining, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Jungkook and Maya this united against a common enemy before. I could’ve sworn I heard them the other night trying to figure out the best way to slash Jace’s tires without getting caught.”

“Don’t make me cry at work,” you say, blinking furiously to try and clear the sudden moisture from your eyes. “I think Jia is already prepared to send me home if I don’t stop sounding like I’m learning how to breathe for the first time.”

He laughs gently, giving your hand a squeeze before relinquishing it. “It’s going to get better, Y/N. I know I just called you our friend, but really, we’re family.”

The summer presses on in a haze as you focus on just getting through one day, one step at a time: get out of bed, go to work, come home, shower, try to get a few hours of fitful sleep, eat somewhere in between all of that. And before you know it, an entire month has passed.

Taehyung continues to make you breakfast every morning and insists on taking you to your favorite ramen place at least twice a week for dinner, watching you with concerned eyes from across the table. You’d give him shit for it if his worry didn’t feel so justified. If he wasn’t so persistent in making sure your base needs were being met, you’re not entirely sure you can say you wouldn’t be starving yourself in grief. And you know it makes him feel better to see you eating—how happy it makes him to care for others—so you don’t resist when he pushes an extra pancake onto your plate or orders you a second helping of noodles to go.

It’s one of your scheduled ramen nights when you get back from work a little later, a particularly emotional day preventing you from getting your tasks done on time. You drop your bag in the living room with a sigh, thankful that no one is around to ask you how your day was—you’re really not in the mood. Taehyung had sent you a text letting you know that he wanted to take a shower before you head out, needing one after a long day of photographing clients in the baking July heat. You can hear water running in the bathroom, so you assume he must still be in there.

The living room makes you feel vulnerable with its vaulted ceiling and tall windows, like you’re laid bare for the whole world to see. Because of this, you decide to wait for Taehyung in his bedroom, hopeful that you might be able to find some reprieve in his tucked-away space.

You’ve been in Taehyung’s room before, of course, but you’re not sure that you’ve ever taken the time to really peruse. Unlike Jace, Taehyung’s space is neatly organized, and you’re first drawn to the large bookcase that dominates the wall adjacent to the door. He’s stuffed it full of art anthologies: Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet, and Pollock giving way to old photography textbooks on the bottom shelves. About halfway down, you spot the bound collection of his own work that you’d had made for him as a college graduation gift (you got one for yourself too, and he’d blushed beautifully when you asked him to sign it).

Across the room, his bed is carefully made, dark bedding tucked cleanly under the mattress. In place of a nightstand and opposite the dresser, he’s set up a series of box shelves for his photography equipment—you spot lenses and tripods placed alongside gadgets you would have no idea how to use. His desk sits to the left, an impressive PC setup backed by a large cork-board brimming with post-it notes, business cards, and a photograph that has you stopping in your tracks.

The first photograph Taehyung ever took.

It’d been the spring right after you both turned sixteen, and Taehyung had finally saved up enough money from his newspaper job to buy his first camera at the secondhand shop. You’d gone along, bouncing up and down with excitement for him so vigorously that the shopkeeper kept giving you strange looks over the counter.

New toy in hand, Taehyung pulled you to the park, where the cherry blossoms were in full bloom—clusters of pastel pink contrasting wonderfully against the bright blue sky. You bought yourselves some kkwabaegi at a nearby food stall as Taehyung sat on a bench figuring out how to operate the camera. Distracted by the numerous dials and buttons, he didn’t even realize you had returned until you dusted his cheek with a bit of cinnamon sugar, teasing that his cheeks were just as fluffy as the donut you subsequently handed him with a smile.

Snacks finished, you strolled along the petal covered path, chatting about everything and nothing as Taehyung continued to fiddle with the controls.

“Are you going to be able to figure it out?” you asked, skipping ahead to pluck a wildflower out of the grass after several minutes had passed without him taking a single photo.

“Actually, I think I’ve just got it.”

“Really?” you said, turning around to face him and freezing at the sound of a click and the sight of the camera held at the ready in front of his face. His grin was full of mischief as he dropped his arms at your stunned look, and you rushed back to his side to give him a joking shove. “I wasn’t ready, you jerk. I’m going to look like an idiot.”

But Taehyung was still smiling widely, already striding down the path to line up his next shot. “Don’t worry. You looked perfect.”

You’d forgotten about the photograph after that day, as Taehyung never actually showed it to you. You figured that it probably didn’t turn out right, a blurry candid, and was scrapped. Now, looking at it, it’s not his best work, but it’s not nearly as bad as you’d pictured in the moment.

It’s you, backdropped by the pink of the blossoms, with delicate petals dancing around your form. Your eyes are bright and eager as you turn to face him, the corners of your lips upturned in the beginnings of a smile and the small purple flower raised halfway to your chest.

In spite of the struggles you know you were dealing with at home, you look content. Happy.

“Oh, you’re home.”

You jump, spinning around to face where Taehyung suddenly stands just inside the doorway, and you feel something flip low in your belly.

It’s not that you’ve never seen him shirtless—years of going to the beach house together have taken care of that—but here, in the low, intimate light of his bedroom, the sight of his mostly naked body strikes you in a way that it never has before. The veins in his arms and hands pop from the heat of the shower, skin tanned by his time spent outdoors. His dark hair is still wet and, as if on cue, a drop of water falls off the end of a ringlet, your eyes following as it rolls over sharp collarbones, down a toned chest and smooth stomach, and into the towel sitting low on his hips.

Taehyung clears his throat, and one look at his flushed face tells you that your perusal of his torso hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Why are you even looking?

“I—uh—sorry,” you mumble, snapping out of your trance also flustered, words spilling out in a jumble of unexpected nerves. “I had a rough day and just felt so exposed in the living room, and if Jimin or Kook showed up and asked me how I was, I was going to lose it so I came in here as a distraction, and I promise I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything—“

“Y/N, hey.” He crosses the room to where you stand, smiling gently down at you. “I don’t mind.”

You swallow, still looking for something to distract from the fact that you were very obviously just checking him out. “You still have this?” You point at the photo of yourself, and he looks at it, expression overcome with sentimentality.

“Yeah.”

“A reminder of how far you’ve come with your work?”

He turns his eyes back to yours, slow and warm as they settle on you. “A reminder of a perfect day,” he says, voice low, before creases form at his brow. “But your day wasn’t so good?”

Your gaze drops to the floor, and you suck your lips between your teeth in a gesture that is answer enough for him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t push; never pushes. If you told him no, you know that’d be the end of it, and he’d spend the rest of your night together coming up with different threads of conversation to divert your attention. And perhaps it’s this awareness—his consistent and mindful respect of your boundaries—that makes you so willing to open up.

“I just can’t stop asking myself if I missed signs. If I could’ve done something different. Something better.”

“Y/N—“

“We were together four years, Tae. Four fucking years.” You pull in a breath, fighting off the stinging of tears in your eyes. “And in the end, I meant next to nothing to him.”

It’s the part you’ve been struggling with the most, how you gave him years of your life—nearly half of your twenties—and let him dig his fingers into your heart only to pull it apart like clay.

Revealed bits of yourself to him that you’ve only ever showed one other person.

That man stands in front of you now, gently scrutinizing your face as he considers your words. His hands drift your way as if of their own accord, hovering into your space without ever truly touching.

“Would you want to though?” he finally asks.

“What?”

“If you could’ve done something differently. Knowing what you know now.” A pink tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Would you?”

It’s a fair question, and you know what the right answer is supposed to be. You’re supposed to say that no, that son of a bitch can burn in hell for what he did. He’s trash, you can do better—all of the empty platitudes that are supposed to be expressed when a betrayal like this takes place.

But his actions don’t erase the years you spent together. Don’t mean that what you yourself felt wasn’t real.

And you loved him. You really did.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung doesn’t exactly seem thrilled by that but nods nonetheless, his fingers wandering back to his sides to fidget with the edges of his towel. “You must know that none of it was your fault, though.”

“But if it was?” you question. “If I could’ve been a better girlfriend, a better partner—“

“It still wouldn’t have justified what he did.” There’s an edge to his voice now, a hint of anger. “Don’t you dare let that asshole make you feel like you deserved it.”

“But—“

“No. No buts,” he says roughly, hands shooting up to grip you around the elbows. “What he did is inexcusable. There’s no making sense of it, and there’s no one to blame but him.”

You know in your heart that what he says is true, but your newfound insecurities have had you questioning your sense of self—that maybe you had a part to play in what happened. A relationship is two people after all, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated if you had—

“You did nothing wrong,” Taehyung continues, reading your mind. “He made an active choice to sleep with someone else. If he had an issue with your relationship, he had a hundred other ways to approach it. He chose to do what he did.” His hands slide up to your shoulders, appraising. “You are kind and thoughtful. Fiercely loyal. Always want what’s best for those around you. You still get breathless for the first snowfall each winter and make the most delicious triple chocolate cake.” Fingers give you a gentle squeeze. “And you never take shit from anyone. Especially people who don’t give you the respect you deserve.”

His words are a balm sinking deep into your skin, but his voice sets something alight in your core, your veins thrumming at the spots where he holds you.

What in the world is this?

“Don’t let him convince you you’re anything less than the incredible person you are,” Taehyung continues, oblivious to your perplexed state. “And if he couldn’t value that, someone else will. Lots of other fish in the sea.”

He holds your stare, gaze boring into you like he can telepathically eliminate every doubt and insecurity rattling around your skull, and a stray voice at the back of your mind thinks that whichever woman eventually gets to wake up to those eyes every morning is going to be so damn lucky.

He frowns, licking his lips again as he finally notices that you’re not altogether with him. “Are you okay?”

Y/N, what the hell?

You give yourself a little shake, playing back what he just said. “I don’t know about that.”

“You’re not okay?”

“No,” you say, taking a step back so you can loosen his grip and clear your head. “About the whole fish thing. I kind of get it now.”

He’s clearly not following. “Get what?”

“Your break from dating,” you say. “Why you wanted to stop for a while.”

He raises a long finger to rub at his bottom lip. “That’s…not quite the same.”

“Why not?”

“There were…” He tilts his head as he considers his word choice, and another drop of water slides down his chest. “Underlying circumstances.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means it’s a story for another time when you’re not trying to deflect by turning this around on me.”

“I’m not deflecting,” you argue. “I’m just saying I understand where you’re coming from now. Dating sucks. People suck.”

He chews at the inside of his lip, studying you. “That wasn’t my intention when I told you that.”

“Yeah, well when you told me that, we didn’t know that my boyfriend was fucking another woman,” you scoff.

He sighs at your crude reminder. “There is a third option, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Just let yourself be,” he says. “You don’t need to rush into anything either way. If something happens, it happens. If not, then no pressure to look for it. But maybe don’t close yourself off from opportunities entirely just because one bastard made a terrible decision.”

“Tae,” you begin with an exhausted, rattling breath. But he cuts you off, already anticipating your protest.

“I just know you, and I know you’ve always believed in love. Dreamed of finding ‘the one’ and settling down.” He wrinkles his nose. “Made that whole wedding mood board after Haneul kissed you for the first time when we were fifteen.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, you helped me cut out the pictures.”

“I did.”

You look at each other for an instant, twin smiles reflected on your faces before yours falls. “I just don’t know.”

“And that’s fine,” he says kindly, gently. “It’s okay to need time, and it’s okay to want to step away from dating for a while. It would just be awful if he ruined that part of you, you know?” His voice lowers even further. “It’s a wonderful part of you.”

You feel warm all over, like the comfiest, fluffiest blanket has been draped around your shoulders.

Honestly, what would you even do without this man?

“You’re a great guy, Tae. Do you know that?”

He blushes, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and a tingle runs down your spine before he finally looks away.

“We should get going,” he tells you. “Namjoon and Hobi said they’d meet us.”

You dip your head, the moment gone. “Okay, but I’d recommend putting on some pants first.”

His face turns a deeper shade of red.

“Over here!”

Hoseok waves you down from a table at the back of the restaurant, pulling you in for a hug once you get there, just as he has every time he’s seen you since the incident with Jace. You’re then passed along to Namjoon, who embraces you with almost bone-crushing pressure.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, swaying you side-to-side. You just nod into his chest, giving him a tight squeeze before he releases you so you can slide into the seat next to Taehyung.

Aside from the hugs and the fact that the entire dinner is a ploy by Taehyung to get you to eat, the night feels relatively normal, and you’re grateful for it. Hoseok and Namjoon dramatically complain about the perils of medical school, regaling the two of you with stories about catastrophic anatomy labs and exam mishaps to your and Taehyung’s delight. The first blip comes when Hoseok absent-mindedly mentions an all-nighter of studying for boards while simultaneously working on seating arrangements before he immediately cuts himself off, throwing you a remorseful look.

“It’s fine, Hobi,” you say. “The world doesn’t just stop because my relationship did. And I’m still excited for you and Sunny.”

He nods but still looks apologetic, causing Namjoon to hop in with a change of subject. “Oh, by the way, I have my roommate situation settled.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, I’m moving in with my friend Yoongi at the end of the summer.”

“Your childhood friend?” Taehyung asks.

“That’s the one,” Namjoon confirms with a nod. “We’re planning on having a little housewarming party once we’re settled if you’ll be up for it.”

“Sounds fun,” you say. “And I’d like to meet him.”

“He’s a great guy. Musician. He’s moving into the city for work.”

“Well if you vouch for him, I’m sure he’s wonderful.”

You don’t notice it, but Namjoon gets a glint in his eye. Sipping on his water, he glances between you and Taehyung before saying, “Speaking of great guys, I’d also like to introduce you to someone.”

Taehyung stills beside you; you freeze in equally stunned silence.

Hoseok’s eyes nervously dart to Taehyung then you as he says, “Ah, Namjoon, I don’t think—“

“If you’re up for it, of course.” Namjoon looks only at you, his tone casual as if he doesn’t notice the sudden tension. “He also just got out of a long-term relationship and is kind of a mess about it. I’m thinking it might do both of you good to get back out there in a low pressure situation, especially with someone who understands.”

“I…” You don’t know what to say. You’d meant what you said to Taehyung about taking a break from dating, but you also trust Namjoon. He wouldn’t set you up with a creep, and maybe he does have a point about a low pressure date to at least take that first step.

But isn’t it too soon? You and Jace were together for years, and it’s only been a little over a month. Are you supposed to take more time? Or should you just get that first date over with? It hits you suddenly that you don’t even know how to meet people now that you’re out of school. How do capital-A Adults even find dates? Maybe it would be better to meet up with someone that’s already been vetted by one of your friends instead of some random on a dating app.

Namjoon speaks up again as your mind spins. “It’s entirely up to you. I can give you his number, and if you decide to reach out, great. If not, no harm, no foul.”

Still undecided, you turn for a second opinion. “Tae, what do you think?”

But he’s staring intently at Namjoon, expression indecipherable. Namjoon finally shifts his attention from you to engage in an intense staring contest with Taehyung across the table, the two of them clearly having some kind of silent conversation while Hoseok looks on in obvious discomfort.

You’re sitting there—just trying to figure out what the hell is going on—when Taehyung abruptly faces you, slipping a hand over your knee.

“I think you should go for it.”

His eyes are sincere, his hand hot where it rests on your skin.

“Other fish in the sea, right?”

You blink at him. Well, that’s that then. If there’s anything in the world you have complete faith in, it’s that Taehyung would never lead you astray.

Turning back to Namjoon, you shift so Taehyung’s fingers fall away. “What’s his name?”

Namjoon smiles.

“Seokjin.”

a/n: the next two parts are my favorite, and part 4 is already around 85% written so i'll be looking to get that out asap! in the meantime, please consider leaving a like, reblog, or feedback!

taglist is open!

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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