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mishasminion360 · 1 year

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I saw your response to my comment earlier and I thought of a request!

Our sweet bean Javi Gutierrez and plus size female reader. Reader needs a body confidence boost from a bikini they bought on a whim and he helps them feel more confident and comfortable. Just absolute fluff. Thank you!

Oh, my dear @twistedboxy, it would be my pleasure to complete such a request! Please enjoy 😊

More to Love

Javi Gutierrez X plus size fem!reader

Warnings: Angst; body insecurities; self-deprecation; hurt/comfort; fluff; Javi G being the perfect and supportive boyfriend we know he is.

Summary: When a new outfit isn’t as flattering to your full figure as you’d hoped, your man makes certain you never doubt how beautiful you are again.

A/N: As a plus sized gal myself it’s high time I wrote a fic giving full figured gals some much deserved love. (Full figured fellas are beautiful, too!) A lot of this was written from my perspective, the way I view myself, so this was a rather cathartic process.

Large, dimpled thighs, a second chin eclipsing the first, a stomach that sags and a pair of breasts that match. These are the first things you see each and every time you look into the mirror; where your eye (and everyone else’s) is immediately drawn to. These features overshadow the rest.

Sometimes, some days you don’t think you look so bad. Other days, days like today, moments like this one, you can’t stand the sight of yourself.

No matter which way you turn, no matter which angle you see yourself at, it doesn’t hide or at least lessen the impact of the painful truth: the bikini was a bad idea.

You love the beach but loathe the attire. Whenever you dare go out to soak up the sun you hide as much of yourself as possible under baggy shirts and cutoffs that fall just above the knee. You’d bought the yellow polka dot bikini on a whim. You’d spotted it on a clearance rack practically crying out for attention, and a little voice at the back of your mind had said, “now’s your chance! Step outside of your comfort zone. Get a little something special to make yourself feel sexy.”

But appraising yourself now you feel anything but. The two piece is just too itsy bitsy, too teenie weenie. And you’re….not. And that horrid realization brings you to your knees. You’re struggling not to completely crumble when you hear a soft tap at the bathroom door.

“Bonita, everything okay? I thought you were going to model for me.”

That’s right. Another reason you’d gotten the ludicrous idea to purchase the suit. You had hoped it would be a confidence boost, that it’d make you feel attractive. Not just for your benefit. You wanted to look good for your significant man friend. For Javi.

Rich, successful, charming Javi. Who could have his pick from a sea of busty, beautiful, doll-like woman who toss themselves into his path. But instead, for reasons you still don’t understand, he’d chosen you. And you can’t even be beautiful for him.

“It doesn’t fit,” you whimper from the solitude of the bathroom.

“Are you alright?”

“It…doesn’t f-fit.”

The door opens with a soft click and the next thing you know Javi is kneeling before you, his comforting hands squeezing your arms.

“What’s wrong, mi amor?”

“What’s wrong? Javi, look at me!”

“I am,” he says gently. “There’s no one I’d rather look at.”

You scoff and wipe at your eyes. It’s hard to be so down when Javi is so easily able to lift your spirits.

“I should have known I couldn’t pull off a bikini.”

“Then forget the bikini,” he says casually. “We can go skinny dipping instead.”

“There’s nothing skinny about me, Javi,” you snort. “Just once I wanted to look pretty. For me. For you.”

His hands slip from your arms to your cheeks. “Honey, you are beautiful.”

“No. No, I’m not. I’m huge.”

He breathes a sigh through his nose as he chews on his lower lip. He hates it when you get this way, you know he does. He doesn’t like it when you speak ill of yourself.

“You’re not huge,” he insists. “You’re a little bigger than most gals, but you have to be.”

“What? Why? What do you mean?”

“Well, you have to be a little roomier to contain that big personality of yours.”

A laugh bursts forth—a sound from the depths of your soul—and Javi cracks a smile.

“On the day we met, do you know what the first thing I noticed about you was?”

You pinch a roll of skin between your fingers with an inquisitive look.

“No,” he chuckles. “Your eyes.”

“Really?”

“Really, really. One look into those peepers and I was over the moon. Then I heard that laugh of yours and I knew I was a goner. I never stood a chance.”

He really is too good to you. You can’t even stay upset with yourself when he breaks out that smooth talk.

He helps you from the floor and pulls you before the mirror as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“I have never once thought of you as anything less than perfect,” he says kissing your cheek as he holds you tighter. “But the size of your hips can’t hold a candle to the size of your heart. The package isn’t nearly as important as the contents.”

You allow him to kiss the few remaining tears from your reddened cheeks as his fingers nimbly work out the knot tied at the back of your neck and the bikini top tumbles away.

“And trust me when I tell you that the only problem with this bikini is that you’re still wearing it.”

“You still want to go skinny dipping?”

“Not without you, I don’t.”

With a smirk you tug off the bottoms and let them join the top on the bathroom floor.

“Then you’d better lose those clothes, Mr. Gutierrez. Can’t race me to the pool with your pants around your ankles.”

He yanks his shirt over his head and discards it with your swim suit.

“Oh, yee of little faith.”

@grimeylady @rav3n-pascal22 @mamacitapascal @insomniamama1 @pedrosbisch @emmaispunk @lv7867 @reonlouw @hawaiianmelodies @pascalsky @pascalpanic @heythere-mel @healingstardust @delorena @pedropasxal @caesaryoulater @kiizhikehn-cedar @hellovanessax-deactivated202209 @fangirling-alert @fromthedeskoftheraven @axshadows @dragon-scales88 @spacepastel-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @pbeatriz-blog @hauntedmama @mswarriorbabe80 @horton-hears-a-honk @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @a-trial-run-on-paper @oonajaeadira @foli-vora @dhadiirah @felicisimor @practicalghost @luz-introvertida @amneris21 @hb8301 @tanzthompson @littlemisspascal @dobbyjen @supernaturalgirl20 @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @trickstersp8 @neganwifey25-blog

#pedro pascal #javier gutierrez #fem!reader #the unbearable weight of massive talent #plus sized reader #fluff #angst #bikini #body image

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fourseasonsfigs · 11 months

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Fierce Husbands

Yesterday's sad Rainy Night Wen was having a tough time of it. But today we're jumping ahead to Episode 16, where we have our two favorites reuniting (again).

I absolutely love this scene. It's incredible.

I remember watching this for the first time and being utterly blown away by how Lao Wen just swoops down and it's like the previous scenes never happened, he's so intent on ensuring A-Xu is alright. And the look on Zhou Zishu's face. That breath Zhang Zhehan takes in is just incredible. They're both so badass and the scene is just tender and gorgeously romantic at the same time.

So of course these two figs are a must have.

That being said, they were definitely not something I could have, at least when they were first produced. The fig maker restricted the sales of this set and two other sets in the same series with some pretty onerous restrictions. In order to purchase these, you had to show proof of endorsement purchases / charitable donations for both actors, provide screenshots of your social media accounts to prove you were a CP fan, and had to have bought at least 6 previous figures from their shop before. I could have done the first two, but the last I had not. At the time these were launched, I had not had the opportunity at that point to buy directly from their shop for more than just a few figs.

So, I resigned myself to tracking these down on the secondary resale market once they were produced and shipped. I figured they'd cost a pretty premium when marked up for their rarity and popularity, but I searched and searched (and searched some more), and luckily didn't end up paying all that much more over original price.

These two arrived in their protective polystyrene cases, but somewhere in the travels home to me, they met with misfortune.

Ahh! Horrible. The stuff of figthusiast nightmares. I yelped when his little head rolled right out of the box.

Luckily, the break was pretty clean. Sometimes, like in this case, the break is the least of all possible problems. What's much worse is chipped paint and / or collateral damage that is caused when the broken pieces bang and scrape against each other. Some super gentle buffing with a Magic Eraser can sometimes help with discolorations. Chipped paint, though, is a whole other story. Speaking of which...

Lao Wen did not escape unscathed either. His poor hairpin! If you read yesterday's post, you saw where the fig maker sent his hairpin separately. It's to prevent exactly this. Now I've had lots of figs with pre-attached hairpins make it to me OK, but certainly not all of them.

If you look closely, you can see where the paint has broken off. There's no mending this one perfectly with this much damage, unfortunately.

Here's Baiyi, and you can see his hand where he can hold the hilt. Thankfully, the sword fit perfectly into his hand. You can also see here that A-Xu's beautiful neck is as good as new, more or less.

You can see here how well A-Xu holds his sword - really nice modeling on the hand. It's snug enough of a fit it won't fall out, but not too tight that I worry about damaging his little fingers.

What a cute angle for these two! I love the flowy motion of their robes as they both head towards each other.

Ah the epic image. I know A-Xu looks a bit taller here, but his high ponytail and weimao are adding some extra volume to his head!

Sadly, this is a good angle to see the damage in the mended hairpin. After the success I had with painting over the damage to Lao Wen's xiao in yesterday's fig, I'm going to mix up some paint and try to do the same for this hairpin.

Oof, this is an even better angle to see the damage in the poor hairpin. I had a hard time getting it to even stick together, as you can see. In happier news, their robes look fantastic here, and Baiyi also looks great. It's well sized for the fig and adds interest while not distracting from the overall scene.

I really love the movement in their robes and their hair.

The modeling on these figs is very true to the show, I've been watching my little clip on a loop and I'm impressed with the fig maker's level of detail.

The little one-sided wrinkle by Lao Wen's left eye just delights me!

And we're back around. Look at how each of them has a foot stepping out front as they walk to each other. I just love them.

Despite the dynamic poses, these figs stand quite well. Normally robe layers like this help to balance the figs, but these figs are a little unusual in that so much of their robes are flowing off the ground.

This show made me fall in love with the weimao. It's such a great look.

I'll come back and post a pic of the painted hairpin when I attempt it. Hopefully this weekend!

These figs came in a plain white box, so no box art, but the box card art is lovely!

The other two sets are just getting stocked in at my warehouse, so it'll probably be a month before they arrive at home. They'll skip to the front of the posting line when they do, though!

Material: Resin

Fig Count: 389

Scene Count: 26

Rating: Fierce and loyal!

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

#wenzhou #word of honor #word of honor merch #episode 16 #gong jun #zhang zhehan #junzhe #figthusiast #a-xu #lao wen

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dailyfigures · 2 years

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Hi I hope you're having a good day! I'm really new to figure collecting and I was wondering if you (or your followers) could explain a little bit about paint transfer and leaning? I hear about those a lot but I don't really understand what to look out for to know if it might happen with a figure? If not that's fine!

hi anon! i have to say i'm not exactly an expert on those topics but i can try and name some situations that i know are risky!

paint transfer mostly happens when your figure is rubbing against anything. for example when parts of your figure touch other parts of itself, or when it's in the box (especially when it's in there without those extra loose pieces of soft plastic and just rubbing against the hard blister. always keep those!!!).

in my collection this madoka has paint transfer; her base is not attached to her, you have to slot her butt onto the dress imprints on her pillow. moving her around to get that fit has caused the pillow to have red lines where her shoes rubbed against it and transferred her paint. oh well.

leaning often happens with figures at an angle, especially older figures. they used to use way softer plastic mixes for figures, so olders ones (i'd say before 2016ish) especially can be a leaning risk. i also know that any figure that has metal rods in their base or support poles is not a leaner usually. i'd really just recommend checking reviews when you see figures with poses that look a bit risky to you. there's also a mfc group specifically for leaners and btw this girlie right here is the queen of leaning. google it and weep.

in my collection this whole set looks like they would have leaning problems but they're totally fine thanks to the metal rods. however this nightmare right here snapped in half after spending 48 hours standing on my shelf untouched. could've guessed an old figure at that angle has no chance of survival but i was inexperienced when i bought her. oh well.

long story short; paint transfers can happen to any figure that's being rubbed against anything. leaning can sometimes happen to figures posing at an angle that haven't been supported properly by metal rods or support poles. i hope this helps anon!

#i hope this makes sense cause im writing it at 2am. 4 hours past my bedtime im getting crazy out here #anon #ask #non figure

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unbalancedconfessions · 11 months

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Me and my little brother grew up in the same household, the same parents. But our experiences and memories are vastly different. And even though we lived under the same roof, we have spent hours upon hours arguing about how our past turned into our present lives. The only thing we can agree on is that it hurt enough that we will never be the same again, that it changed us fundamentally. Our stories are so different from each other, but for the both of us, our stories of pain start and stop with the same two people.

My brother and I are constantly playing the blame game, and the blame we place upon our parents is never harmonious. We argue with each other constantly, trying to convince the other of what was right and what was wrong, what was true and what was lies. It’s a miserable tug of war that neither one of us will ever win. But we both feel like it’s deeply important to make the other understand and agree with the different opinions we have. And it sounds stupid to pick at our wounds until they bleed, over and over again, for something as simple as being right. It’s petty perhaps.

But any person who has had a painful childhood will knowand understand the constant search for answers, the constant need to make sense of it, the constant need to understand why it hurt to be a child.

It’s an endless cycle of digging up old memories and feelings, playing the same stories on loop in our brains, in an attempt to connect the pieces, in an attempt to build a bridge and a walkable path between our past and our present. We choose a memory to twist and turn to see if we can find the right angle and lighting that will make it comprehensible, that will make the many puzzle pieces fit together so the image of ourself becomes clear and certain.

One person can spend their entire life trying to make sense of the past and still be nowhere near an answer before they die.

But for me and my brother we aren’t just one person with one past.

We share our pain, we are two different people trying to reach the same conclusion, the same absolution. We have the same two ghosts haunting us. But even though it’s been 10 years since we began the journey of searching for those damn answers, we still argue about the same things as we did back then.

We hardly even listen to each other when we talk about our parents, too busy with our own opinion and understanding to acknowledge what the other person is saying.

But I try sometimes. Try to put on his glasses and see his side of the story. I try to understand his perspective, try to understand the answers he’s come up with to all the questions.

But it hurts in a very complicated way. Because our story is defined by a big divide. There came a time where our story split in two.

There is our childhood before I moved away and our childhood after I moved away.

And that one year that we don’t share is the one we still argue about.

It’s hard to see the other person’s pain when your own is the one you know for certain.

And when the pain is different, the things you remember clearly are also different.

And I was lucky enough to get a new set of foster parents, a new connection and family to put my faith in. He didn’t, all he has to call his own, is where the pain came from, yet he remains loyal to that pain, because he has nowhere else to go.

I think we want to understand each other, but as much as logic is visible; feelings aren’t. I think we’re both tired to our core with the past, and I think we talk about it together in the hopes of finding peace if we can agree in the end. There’s strength in numbers, strength in being united against what hurts.

Maybe we can have that one day, but there’s a long way to go.

We shared the same house but not the same home.

#broken home #foster family #little brothers are a lot of work but also a huge gift

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mmary-janee · 2 years

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hello Mj💃🏽,ur dick cannons r soo good 10/10 u def deserve ur pussy ate for writing those😵‍💫💕 sanzu dickcannons pleaseee

𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓈:thank you babe👩🏽‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽 I do in fact need my pussy ate,but let’s get this shit show going😮‍💨

𝒯𝒲:Mention of drugs because,Sanzu.

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ * .♡

HORSE COCK SANZU SUPREMACY🛐🛐 okay okay let’s get this moving along…. Haru is 100%part of the pretty dick squad I take no criticism about that.I feel like both him and his brother are big so they def got the good genetics. But on a serious note now, he’s long, He’s 8.5inches normally and when he’s extremely turned on and on sum (💊)he’s 9inches, he’s also a sadist so RIP that pussyy Ayee.

Girth wise he’s average not to slim but not to overbearing at the same time. He is circumcised and his tip is rosy pink matching the exact shade as his hair. His cock is one shade lighter than his skin tone but reddens easily(he’s a slut for cock hickeys, give them to him). He isn’t actually much of a grower, when flaccid his cock sits at 6.3inches. It kinda bothers his sometimes because his cock is more visible than he’d like in certain outfits. Props to you for getting a view tho.

His balls are extremely sensitive,he is also a masochist so he’s into the whole torture thing and wouldn’t mind you making him cum with only stimulation to his balls, absolutely loves when you overstimulate him until he’s crying and begging you to let him cum while he’s tied up to you guys bed.

When hard he’s veiny, when he’s inside you can literally feel his cock pulsing inside of you like a second heartbeat, when he’s enveloped inside your tight velvety walls you can feel each vein and detail of his cock bullying your poor cunt.

He is curved a little upwards, you had better thank god because when you two are having sex his curve is angled perfectly to hit your g-spot, it’s like the missing piece of a puzzle.

His tip is leaky, very leaky. Due to his constant drug consumption the boys cum is NASTY ASL, it’s bitter and sour at the same time and this mf knows that his cum doesn’t taste the best but he makes you swallow it anyways🥲. When he does cum it’s slightly watery but thick at the same it has its own unique consistency. His favorite places to cum are either down your throat or on your ass.

Speaking of down your throat how could I have almost have forgotten, ZUZU HAS A PIERCED DICK😩🛐 and holy fuck does it feel good. When he teases your entrance rubbing his tip all over your wet folds and teasing your clit for about 10mins with his pierced tip and exactly when you begin to get needy and on the verge of loosing your shit he just says “don’t get to needy on me,any gentleman knocks before entering, didn’t you know that princess.” in a teasing voice.🛐 the piercing adds so much extra pleasure when he’s fucking you, you can feel him in your tummy while he’s hitting your sweet spot over and over again. Or when you can feel it down your throat while sucking the soul out of him.

His pubes are dyed pink, he trims regularly mainly because he doesn’t want his pubes getting in your mouth when you’re sucking him off and I don’t think you’d want that either

He is EXTREMELY open to trying new fun things in the bedroom with you,he can’t help the fact that he’s a kinky lil shit,but it’s okay because so are you. Two sluts just for each other ig.

(ONLY if you’re into it, you two would play a game where you take viagra pills and the person who abstains from anything sexual the longest wins and gets to punish the looser however they see fit)

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ * .♡

End note: I wrote most of this high off my ass and I’m pretty sure I wrote with with my pussy, so ignore any grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoyed reading babe<3

ℒℴ𝓋ℯ ℳ𝒶𝓇𝓎-𝒥𝒶𝓃ℯ🕊

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harfanfare · 3 years

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I saw this post and I was wondering if you write Malleus' too, is okay for you to make that?

How to win a heart of Malleus Draconia?

a/n: I started posting my writings here because I want to improve my English — so I technically wouldn't make this request. But! Someone on Wattpad (where I take requests) asked for the same thing, so I rolled up my sleeves and wrote this guide today in both languages. Enjoy~

1. Don't be afraid of him.

It is said that the first impression is the most important.

So when you first saw this guy walking through the corridor of Diasomnia, it was hard for you to get rid of that view from your head.

Illuminated both by the green magic flames set in the lobby, as well as by the moon, which eventually managed to break through the dark clouds and with a bright glow appear in the windows of the dormitory, he seemed... lonely and beautiful.

You shuddered as you took a step down the hallway and the dark-haired man turned to you. He measured you with his emerald eyes. And then you recognized him; all the conversations about the mysterious and fearsome Malleus Draconia flew through your head.

Everything told you to rush towards the hallway and run as far as possible, but a piece of you found it inappropriate. Or rather, no one would want to chase everyone away from themself... right?

When you realized you were looking at him for a while, you took a deep breath and nod slightly.

"Good evening, Draconia-san," you said quickly. After a while you added, "The moon is beautiful today, don't you think?”

2. Smile a lot.

Today was a really wonderful day: the test was postponed, your favorite dish was given in the canteen, and for some reason, the last two lessons were canceled – your class had to make just a quick note about a topic and it took less than fifteen minutes.

"Something happened?" Malleus asked, seeing how almost in the jumps you walk past him. When you looked at him, he added, "You smile a lot.”

"I can stop smiling if you want," you made a sad face, but after a while, the corners of your mouth began to tremble uncontrollably and twisted up again. "Oops, I can’t. Today... it was such a good day... that I think I'm slowly using my life's happiness.”

"I didn't say that smiling is bad," he said. "You look so much better when you smile.”

"Oh," you sighed with apparent surprise. "Is it a compliment?"

"It’s rather a fact..?"

3. From time to time visit him during club activities.

"Is this a class of the ‘Gargoyle research society club’?” with a deaf knock you opened the door. Malleus turned to you, making a break from browsing through the materials gathered in the library about the history of each of the gargoyles on the school grounds. And there were a lot of them.

"Yes," he replied briefly, getting up. "Do you need something, [Name]?"

"Not at all, my club don’t have a meeting today," you said, closing the door behind you.

You looked around: the room was as clean as ever, except for one desk, where were laid several huge volumes about statues in NRC.

“Are you here alone?” You said before you thought. You lowered your eyes to see Malleus nodding unconcerned slightly. You blinked several times trying to think of what else you could say. "This room... could be a secret base," that was the first thing that came to your mind. Malleus turned his head to one side, uncertain of your response.

“A secret base..? Why?”

"I have no idea," you admitted quickly. "But the very existence of a mysterious point is interesting, isn't it? Doing normal things, such as watching movies or just talking, seems more interesting in places like this,” After a moment of silence, you sighed. "You know what, this idea with the base is stupid”

"We can try," he replied with serious tone. You raised your eyes to see how he looked around the room. "But you'll just have to explain this idea to me in more detail. We can also tell Lilia, Silver and Sebek about it...” he smiled as if seeing your five together in his thoughts was a pleasure. "It will be surely... fun.”

4. Get yourself a Tamagotchi.

"Look!" you spin a new key chain on your finger. You finally stopped and showed it to Malleus. "Now they are matching!”

A small electronic toy, in a dark green screen that, when it flashed, showed a virtual, pixelated animal. You were impressed with how good quality it was made, especially since you only gave the Shroud brothers a sketch of a toy that Malleus owned.

Your keychain was exactly the same, just a different color and with another pet.

Malleus pulled out his own device and put it on the table. He pressed one of the buttons and a small pet appeared on the keychain – a dragon.

"They can now be friends," you brought your toy closer to so-called Gao-Gao Dragon-kun.

"Do you think so?" He asked in a very surprised tone, but it sounded as if in a moment he were about to burst out with an inexplicably joyful and surprised laugh.

"Of course. Everyone needs a decent friend, no?”

5. Gain the trust of Lilia, Silver and Sebek.

Lilia, one of Malleus' closest people. It is much more likely that you will meet him before Malleus. He will be very proud when he learns that Malleus has found a friend. If you become a taster of Lilia, in terms of his pastries, he will 100% like you, and at 20% you will leave the kitchen alive and well.

Silver, who has mastered the art of sleeping in any conditions. It's easy to get him into your plans, although with the craziest ones he will hesitate. Rather well-disposed towards everyone, he can cover for you when you are not in class— but he usually inadvertently falls asleep and both of you often have penal assignments after school.

Sebek, faithful to Malleus, if he doesn't like you, you won't have too many opportunities to stay by Malleus's side without a thunderous glances at you. He will recognize you if you will listen carefully to his monologues about his master and as a sign of your friendship, he will teach you by heart of all the titles and achievements of Malleus so far.

With this trio by your side, you can get a lot further than you might have imagined...

6. Be a master in hide and seek.

You’d give your right arm that your breath was too loud.

You pressed your hands to your mouth as you crouched in the corner of the room.

From whose voices you already heard, you knew that Lilia had already found Sebek. This meant that you or Silver would still be helping cook dinner since Malleus didn’t come at the start of the game.

This may seem silly, but the ability to play classic games was one of the elements of the art of survival in Diasomnia.

It was thanks to games like ‘stone-paper-scissors’, hide and seek or tag that household chores fell on the shoulders of the losers. Lilia loved the idea, and there was always a proud smile on his lips when he saw his beloved children play together.

You heard the steps behind you and shivered.

Very slowly you turned around and looked up to see Malleus standing over you and wondering what you were doing, crouching in the darkest corner of the room.

Puns were also included in the survival pack.

Fearing that Lilia would hear your whisper, you put your finger on your mouth, asking him not to say a word. You put a begging eye into it – all but not cooking with Lilia. Not again.

Malleus nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation, although he smiled.

Really, no one would want Malleus to be an enemy.

Or at least in such a situation.

7. Do not hesitate to ask him for help with learning.

"In theory, you should focus on the space around you," Malleus pulled a wand in front of him. It flashed, and almost at the same time, a thin but incredibly strong protective barrier was created around him. “Weaker spells can be reflected. In turn, the stronger ones are better to block”

You nodded understandingly.

Defensive magic was not something easy to understand. Most depended on the person against whom the counter spell was being prepared. And there are countless people who walk on this Earth and want to start fights.

"Unique spells block or avoid physically," he continued. You nodded at every subsequent sentence, slowly feeling like all the lessons are eventually gaining transparency. “Using unique magic against unique magic, the stronger will win, both will lead to explosions or completely reduce.

He looked at you when you wrote down the last sentence in your notebook.

"I sincerely hope that you will only need this information in class," he said with a sigh. "If you need help, call me. I will come. I promise.”

8. Sometimes be persuaded to wear extravagant clothes.

"Do you really think it suits me?" you turned around, looking at yourself from every possible angle in the mirror.

You were going to the theater in a few classes to see some era-related play that you've been discussing now in history lessons. Everyone, respecting the reputation, actions and achievements of theatre, dressed in their best clothes.

Malleus stood next to you.

He was already wearing a black and white outfit with green accessories. They all worked so well together and fitted him like a glove that you were sure that the whole outfit was made especially for him.

"Yes," he replied. "Everything you put on today suited you very well.”

Once again, with critical eyesight, you looked at the outfit, face and hair, before you quickly turned off the lights in the room and closed the door behind you.

Then you smiled at Malleus.

"We can go now," you said. You made your way through the portal to the main NRC building. "And... thank you for your help.

"My pleasure," he said. Under no circumstances was it just a polite formula. He really loved looking at you.

9. Invite him to your birthday/party.

"Another break from school soon, huh?" — you muttered, leaning against the railing.

You took a deep breath and let the fresh, pleasant air refresh you.

"Are you going to home, [Name]?" Malleus asked. Green lights were still flying around him, so you guessed he’d just appeared here.

"I haven't decided yet," you sighed. "It would be nice to go home, but the break won't be very long... Ah, that's right!” you straightened up and turned to him. "How about spending another break together? As soon as I can, I will contact my family... although I cannot promise anything.”

Though he did not show it, Malleus' heart beat a little faster.

Spend free time? With someone? With someone he likes?

"Of course," he sounded less calm than he thought. He wasn’t often invited anywhere, even for the things he should have been on, so there was a lot of excitement growing in his body. "I don't see anything against it.”

10. From "The Great Malleus Draconia-sama" to "Love".

"Ah, The Great Malleus-sama!" you sighed theatrically, taking from him a box of chocolates with a joyful smile. You could promise that because of this dark-haired boy here, you slowly become pampered. "Thank you for your generosity!”

Malleus frowned.

"The Great Malleus-sama"..?” he pondered, putting his fingers to his chin. "Did Sebek told you again to call me with this title?"

"No," you laughed softly at his reaction. "I did it out of curiosity. Maybe I could call you some cute nickname, hmm?" you smiled mischievously.

"For example?"

"By adding ‘-chan’ to your name?” you turned on your phone and typed something related to the nicknames. You started reading suggestions and struggled to hold back from laughing. ” ’Sunshine’, ‘star’, ‘flower’, ‘sweetheart’, ‘love’...

"I like the last one," he said, and the invisible force stung you to the ground.

"Would you like me to call you like that? Out of curiosity or out of love?" You laughed, but your cheeks were all red with blushes.

He smiled sincerely at your reaction.

"Hmm, I wonder..?"

#i wonder too #malleus draconia #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst malleus x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #diasomnia x reader #twst malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #anonymous

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drcriminalminds · 3 years

Text

Red Handed

Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language. Smut (very, very short).

A/N: This is inspired by that episode where Rossi walks in on Penelope and Kevin in the shower HAHAHA.

Word Count: 1,298

“You know, I think he’s seeing someone.”

Aaron’s kisses were hot, heavy, and they moved with each of his hard thrusts as he fucked up into you. He had you pressed tightly against the shower wall, keeping you there by firmly being squished against you. He didn’t stop his movements, loving your noises and whimpers too much to even think about teasing you.

“Oh, fuck! You feel amazing...” You breathed, throat straining to get the words out.

He sucked on your neck for that, leaving a purpling bruise and chuckling just below your ear. He had a rather rough day, and he had a lot of pent up frustration that you were more than glad to take off of him. He held you up even higher, slamming into you at a new angle that had your toes curling behind his back.

Hot water from the shower head was still flowing steadily, drenching the both of you and filling the room with so much steam that it was getting difficult to breathe. He needed some gratification after his horrible day that you had seen from beginning to end, and he was grateful that he had you to ease his tension.

“You’re so perfect...so beautiful.” He praised as he felt your legs tighten around him, letting him know that the band was about to snap.

His suspicions were correct. A few seconds and thrusts later, his name rolled off of your tongue deliciously, and he was milking your walls white as you released around him. Your breathings were heavy as he set you down on the floor, your legs feeling a bit wobbly. He peppered you with lazy kisses, the shower washing away the evidence of your dirty encounter. He eventually pulled back to look at you, all the traces of lust were gone from your eyes and had been replaced with contentment.

“That was-” Aaron went to say, but was cut off when a loud knock was heard on your apartment door.

It was pretty late, nearing 11:30 at night. You had absolutely no idea who could be there this late.

“I’ll get it.” You grumbled, annoyed that someone was interrupting your more than enjoyable shower.

Aaron whined in protest, but helped you out of the shower to keep you from slipping and possibly hurting yourself. The knocks had grown louder now, and you scrambled to throw on your robe and get to the door. You expected it to be one of your nosy neighbors to see what all the noise had been about, but you were shocked when you saw your best friend standing there.

“Hi, [Y/N].” Spencer greeted, allowing himself inside as he normally did.

It wasn’t at all uncommon for Spencer to drop by your apartment. He was rather spontaneous despite popular belief. Sometimes he would just get bored because he couldn’t sleep or he just wanted someone to talk to. But he almost never came over this late, or at least without calling first.

“Uh, hey, Spence.” You greeted, feeling all your blood rush at the remembrance that Aaron was in your bathroom alone.

Spencer didn’t know about you and Hotch. No one did. Except for Rossi, who figured it out himself. It was something that you and Aaron agreed to keep on the down low, and out of public knowledge. It was a frowned upon thing to date a co-worker...or in your case, your superior. It was nice to have a little secret that you were keeping from the team. It kept things interesting.

“Did Hotch seem weird to you today?” Spencer asked, entering your small kitchen and opening the fridge.

“I...not really, no.” You lied, knowing he had a terrible day.

You couldn’t see Spencer from the refrigerator door blocking him, but his muffled reply alerted you that he had just found your leftover pizza from about an hour ago.

“He just seemed off to me. He never yells at you like that.” Spencer remarked.

It was true that Aaron had yelled at you in front of everyone, resulting in the two of you getting into a massive fight, before making up over pizza and a movie...and then a round of shower sex.

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” You replied, the sudden lack of sound of the running water from the shower setting in; “Spence, now really isn’t a good-”

“You know, I think he’s seeing someone.” Spencer cut you off.

That sparked your interest for obvious reasons. You had already begun to wonder how NO ONE had picked up on it yet (other than Rossi). You were curious to see what Spencer was picking up on.

“Oh? Why do you say that?” You questioned.

Spencer rose from the fridge, closing the door with a half-eaten slice of pizza in his hand.

“He just seems happier, aside from today,” Spencer said; “And a few days ago, he walked past me and I could smell perfume. Definitely not his regular cologne.” He announced.

You snorted, teasing the lanky man.

“Are you smelling Aaron on a regular basis?” You joked.

Spencer stopped his chewing, and raised a brow.

“Aaron? Since when are you on a first name basis with Hotch?” Spencer queried.

Your cheeks went hot at your mistake, your amused smile fading.

“Oh, well...I just meant-”

And then the man in question made his entrance. Almost stark naked if it hadn’t been for the towel around his waist.

“Baby, I know that you know this, but your hot water heater is terrible.” Hotch said, referring to how your shower could go from blazing hot to frigidly cold in a matter of seconds.

Spencer’s entire face went red, the tips of his ears almost going purple at the sight of Hotch in front of him. Hotch noticed your deer-in-headlights stare and Spencer’s ghostly look. The three of you were frozen in time, very aware of the situation and how peculiar it was.

“Reid, what the- what are you doing here?” Aaron asked in a calm, yet panicked tone.

Aaron knew that you and Spencer spent a lot of time together outside of work, but he didn’t think that Spencer would ever show up when he was there. Spencer’s eyes couldn’t help but dart between the two of you, back and forth as if he were trying to convince himself it was real.

“I thought that [Y/N] might want to talk about today...but I see I came at a bad time.” He blushed.

“Spencer, it’s...we just...” You tried to explain, but couldn’t find the right words.

This was not how you thought this would go. Spencer had just showed up at a very inconvenient time, and now was in the presence of two of his dearest friends who had just clearly been doing something they probably shouldn’t have been.

Spencer had just caught you red handed.

The boy genius was piecing it all together in his head. The pieces all fit together to create one solid, obvious picture.

You and Hotch were together.

“I’m sorry I interrupted...I, uh, guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spencer said, making a mad dash for your front door.

“Reid.” Hotch said in an attempt to stop him.

“Spencer, wait, it’s not-”

But he was out the door and down the hall before either of you could convince him to stay. A pit of dread and guilt was brewing in both of your guts. Now that Spencer knew, it was only a matter of time before everyone else did. It wasn’t that you didn’t want the team to know, it was more of the legality stuff you’d have to go through when they did.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples stressfully. Aaron rested a hand on your shoulder, his deep, sarcastic voice sounding out.

“That went well.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner oneshot #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #drcriminalminds

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parker-razor · 3 years

Text

many a dream about you

afab!reader x mando (no y/n)

5.2k words, 18+, EXPLICIT!!

warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under the cut), mentions of injuries, unprotected sex (use protection!), very little editing

summary: when you and mando are forced to share a bed together, you end up having a dream that reveals more than you had hoped...

author’s notes: ahhhh! this is my first fic!! i’ll be honest, i got so excited i wrote most of this in one sitting. indulge me in some of my favorite smutty tropes about everyone’s favorite space dad!

extended warnings: oral (f receiving), wet dreams, thigh grinding, mentions of rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation... i think that’s it

*****

Stars, you were exhausted.

You had just spent three weeks on the Razor Crest with the only bed available to you being a cheap mattress that might as well have just been a sack stuffed with sand. On top of the little sleep you were running on, you had just finished loading three bounties onto the Crest and into carbonite while Mando patched himself up. Dragging three grown men onto the ship and freezing them took all the strength out of you.

You finally collapsed into the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, catching your breath and giving your muscles a well-deserved break. Your eyes flutter closed as your body decompresses from the hard work and no sleep it’s been put through these past weeks. Mando had hired you just a month ago to look after the ship while he was away on hunts. Not to mention the little green gremlin he had adopted as his own, who kept you company and looked to you to get taken care of. It was much better than the life you had known; growing up on the outskirts of Tatooine was hard enough as is, but when your little shop had been pillaged and ransacked, you had nothing left on the small, desert planet. Mando had shown up just in time, sitting next to you in a dive bar.

*****

You had never seen one of his kind before, and to be honest, you were overwhelmed with the way he carried himself. He was big, towering over everyone he passed on his way to the barstools. You wondered why he even bothered if he couldn’t remove his helmet to drink, but you’d never ask. He sat himself just a few stools from yours, and after stealing a few glances with flushed cheeks, you finally opened your mouth to say something.

“Bounty hunters like you must be pretty busy on a planet like this,” you said, trying to talk over the loud band playing in the corner. “Not too many upstanding people tend to find themselves here.”

Slowly turning his helmet to face you, the Mandalorian said, “What does that say about you?”

Damn, you thought, he was quick to the draw.

“It’s not exactly my choice to live here. I’d give anything to get off this ball of sand.”

He says nothing, just turns his helmet forward again. You figure that’s the end of that, at least you tried. You can now say that you’ve talked to a Mandalorian before.

After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks. “Anything?”

You whip your head towards him, trying to figure out where this was going. Of course you wanted to leave, but you didn’t want to come off too eager in case he wasn’t serious.

“I mean, what do you have in mind?” you ask, trying to act as calm as possibly, but you couldn’t help but get a little excited at the prospect of leaving.

“I have… a son. He’s very small and can’t take care of himself yet. I don’t like taking him hunting, but I can’t leave him on the ship by himself,” he pauses, piecing together his words carefully. “I need someone to look after him.”

“So, I’d be his babysitter?”

“And ship sitter. Just keep it clean, nothing complicated.”

You pretended to ponder his proposition, but you knew you’d say yes almost immediately. There was nothing left for you here; no family, no livelihood, no friends. This was the best deal you had gotten in a long time. Except…

“So, what do I get in return?”

“I’d pay you, as much as I can afford. But you’d have your own bed and food.”

You’re sold.

*****

You’re brought back to the present when you hear Mando’s footsteps ascend the ladder to the cockpit. The child is holding onto him, smiling when he sees your face.

“How bad are you hurt?” you ask cautiously.

“I’ll live. Just a gash.”

“Well, I got the bounties in carbonite. But I gotta say Mando, I don’t know if I can sleep another night in a row on that shitty mattress.” He says nothing, and you haven’t figured out if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you making room for me! I’m just saying, I think we both need a proper rest tonight, especially after today,” you backtrack. You hear him sigh, nodding his head in agreement.

“Alright. I passed an inn on the way back here. Let’s see if they have any vacancy, hopefully with a bed better than the one you have.” You blush, embarrassed that you came off as ungrateful.

Mando was a mystery to you. He was quiet, a man of few words. It was especially hard trying to read him without being able to see any facial cues or expressions. Nevertheless, something about him exuded strength. He was much taller than you, but he was also just… big. Especially with all the beskar adding a whole other layer of strength. You couldn’t explain the attraction you felt for him. Something about how he towered over you, his visor boring into your face made you weak in the knees. How could you feel this way for someone who you’d barely talked to, let alone never seen their face?

He made you feel weak, but for some reason you liked that. Growing up on your home planet, you had to learn to fight for yourself. You were strong, with curves and muscles that showed just how tough life had made you. You never let a man make you feel less than or weak, always ready to defend yourself. But you liked that Mando made you feel small. It made no sense, but it also made perfect sense.

Sometimes at night, you’d let your hands wander. One hand wandered up to your face, whether to bite down on a finger or cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, and the other down the front of your pants. Being around Mando so much made it difficult to wait until after he fell asleep to take care of the burning need you felt for him. You had your fair share of flings with the boys in your village, but none of them made you feel the way Mando did. With the most subtle actions he could make a heat blossom in your stomach and goosebumps spread over your arms. Sometimes the way he’d fly the Crest made you clench your thighs together; he looked so in charge in that pilot’s seat. Rubbing tight circles on your clit, clenching around nothing while angling your hips just right, you would be sent into orbit at the thought of his hands taking care of you instead.

After you and Mando had packed up your essentials, you got Grogu into his pram and headed off to the village nearby. You had no idea what planet you were on, but the flowering trees brought some joy to you. In the past weeks travelling with Mando, you had seen so many new things. You had never once left your home, and things like trees and streams had you in awe. You would never get used to how it made you feel.

The village was small, and it didn’t seem like there was anything else around for miles. You got to the motel, one of the larger buildings in the area. The lobby was small and surprisingly clean, much cleaner than the interior of the Crest. An older woman, the innkeeper you presumed, stood at the desk.

“We’d like two rooms. How much would that be?” Mando asked, not interested in entertaining niceties.

“So sorry sir, we only have one room available. A few of our rooms are under renovation, and there’s only one unoccupied that is fit to house anyone,” the woman said with a sickly sweet smile.

Mando sighed, obviously conflicted with the choice laid in front of him. He turned to you for your input.

“I- I don’t mind sharing a room. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, I just thought it be nice to escape the ship for the night.” You rushed your words out, feeling shy at the prospect of sharing the room with Mando. He had his own quarters on the ship, and you had yours, if you could even consider them quarters. After a few beats, Mando put some credits on the desk, and took the key the woman was offering.

Pushing down the excitement you felt, you grabbed your things that you had set down and followed Mando to your room. It’s not like you hadn’t been living in close proximity with Mando for the past few weeks anyways.

But this was different.

And you didn’t fully realize why it was so different until you opened the door to your room and saw that there was only one queen sized bed. Your jaw dropped, as you looked to Mando for his reaction. Nothing, as usual. He just walked into the room as if nothing had changed.

How was this gonna go? Were you just supposed to… share? The bed wasn’t puny, plenty of room for the both of you. But this was crossing a line that you didn’t even realize had been established. You didn’t really know much about each other and hadn’t been acquainted for very long. Not to mention the burning need you felt for him growing day by day.

And now you had to share a bed with him. No big deal.

Grogu’s cries for attention brought you out of your reverie of thoughts. You picked him up from his pram and placed him on the bed, allowing him to take in the room. The love and affection for the child had grown immensely since Mando had first introduced the two of you. You were initially shocked at how silently affectionate Mando was with him. You had never expected him to be the paternal type. You had yet to learn how the curious pair had found each other; a small part of you wondered if Mando looked similar to the child under his mask.

Mando had set his things on the chair in the corner and mumbled something about using the refresher. And as quickly as the door shut, you heard the shower turn on and the sound of beskar hitting the floor.

The realization that Mando was maskless, naked, just a few feet away sent a shockwave through your body. Was he tan? Did he have blond or brown hair? Was he truly strong or did the beskar just add extra bulk? You imagined he had scars littering his body, with chest hair dusting his front. The thought of it trailing down beneath his pants sent a shiver down your spine. Stars, your mind was in the gutter.

The sun had set, and Grogu’s eyes started to flutter and shut on one of the pillows on the bed. You picked him up and cradled him, resting your cheek to his. You savored moments like this; the ones that made your heart warm and full of comforting joy. Grogu’s breathing slowed, letting out snores every once in a while. You heard the shower shut off, and carefully placed Grogu into his pram, closing the top for him to sleep in peace.

Mando stepped out of the refresher in a thin pair of sleep trousers, a similar shirt and, of course, his helmet. Your gaze made you realize that he was definitely not wearing underwear, not leaving much to the imagination. You felt your face heat up as you looked anywhere but at him, almost positive that your face has turned as red as the setting sun.

“Your turn,” Mando said as he sauntered to the chair in the corner. He placed his things on the ground, sat in the chair, and crossed his arms as if to get comfortable.

“You’re not sleeping over there, are you?” you asked.

“I… just assumed… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Your blush was back with a vengeance.

“I don’t mind. We got this room to relax, and you sure as hell don’t seem at ease with the way you’re sitting.” He said nothing for a few moments before sighing and standing to walk over towards the bed.

Oh Maker, this is actually happening, you thought. What act was more intimate than sharing a bed with someone? Well, there was the obvious one, but…

You scurried to the washroom, desperate to cool yourself down and collect your thoughts. This didn’t have to be a big deal, and if you kept acting all standoffish like you had been, you’d chase Mando away with the bizarre energy you were emitting.

You splashed cold water on your face to calm your blush, brushed your teeth with vigor, and changed into your pajamas. Granted, they were much scantier than the ideal, but you hadn’t expected to be sharing a bed, let alone a room, with the Mandalorian.

Stepping out of the refresher, you see Mando lying in bed with the lamplight on. Maker, you wanted to nothing but climb in with him and lay on his chest…

His chest. This was the first time you’d seen him without all that bulky armor. Through his thin clothing you could tell he was strong, with broad shoulders and contoured muscle. His helmet turned towards you, and what you didn’t know was that he was eyeing you in your not-so-modest sleep clothes as well.

What you didn’t know was how Mando gazed at you when you held the child, cooing at him as he gently tugged on your hair or stroked your cheek. His helmet protected him from you finding out how often he stared at you in adoration. Your curves, your smile, your silent strength. Stars, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But what you saw when he looked at you was a silent T-visor staring at you with no emotion.

After a beat, your gaze met the floor as you walked to the other side of the bed, closest to the window. You crawled under the covers, waiting for some quick comment or a reaction from the man next to you. Finally, he spoke.

“Are you sure you don’t want me in the chair?” he asked.

“Stars, Mando, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d want to be as far away from me as possible,” you responded, embarrassed.

“That’s- no, not at all. I, uh, just wanted you to feel comfortable,” he stumbled. You had never seen him so lost for words, so taken back.

“I promise, Mando, if anything I feel more comfortable with you next to me.” Oh Maker, why did you just say that? That was the most upfront you’d been with him. Just as you were about to take back your words…

“I feel the same,” he responded quietly. Stars, if your heart didn’t explode at his words.

It was quiet for a few moments, until you said, “Well… goodnight Mando.”

“Goodnight.” He turned off the lamplight and shuffled deeper under the blankets. You were unsure if you should stay as close to the edge as possible or be truly comfortable and let yourself get a little closer to Mando. Before you could make up your mind, exhaustion overtook you and you drifted to sleep.

*****

Mando stirred in your sleep, disturbed by something he hadn’t recognized yet. As he continued to drift in and out of sleep, he heard something that he wasn’t sure was a part of a dream or reality.

Quiet mumblings came from your side of the bed, mixed with indistinguishable groans. His instincts kicked in, becoming fully awake to survey the room for any threats. It took him a moment to realize that as you slept, you had moved closer to Mando – much closer.

Your leg was draped over his torso, with your chest pressed to his side and your arm resting on his chest. But what he noticed most was the way your hips rolled, your core grinding against the side of his thigh. Looking at your face, he could tell you were asleep. Your breaths grew heavier, quiet groans turning into moans. Mando felt his pants grow tighter, not know whether or not to wake you from your obvious wet dream.

Mando froze when he heard you say his name while your hips sped up. “M-Mando, don’t stop… Please…” Fuck, you were dreaming about him. He wanted nothing more than to rub the growing problem in his pants, but he knew that crossed a line.

As your breath started to hitch, he could tell you were getting close. Just as you were about to cum, you jolted awake, breathing heavily while taking in what was going on.

You looked down at the scene you had caused, rendered speechless. Flooded with humiliation, you jumped out of bed and ran to the refresher as Mando shouted your name. You slammed the refresher door and locked it, tears springing to your eyes. Fuck fuck fuck, this was bad. Did you just ruin everything? Mando must hate you now.

“Please open the door, I’m not mad. Let’s just talk,” Mando said through the door, not wanting to reveal how he felt behind a slab of wood. You said nothing, feeling utterly mortified. There’s no way you could look him in the eye (well, helmet) after getting yourself off on his thigh in your sleep. Fuck.

After twenty minutes of Mando trying to convince you that he wasn’t upset and he just wanted to talk, he gave up. Sighing, he pushed himself off the floor and went back to sit on the bed. Though the tension in his pants had gone down, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sounds you made. He looked down to see that you had left a wet spot on his leg, causing him to groan. He had to stop himself from thinking that way, at least for right now while you were upset.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, you were in shock. You tried your best to recount what had happened, but it didn’t help that you were asleep for most of it. The dream you were having a blur; Mando on top of you, and the intense feeling of being filled to the brim. Then, you remember waking up to Mando staring down at you, putting two and two together, and that was that.

You realized that Mando was awake before you were, which means he was watching you… do that to him. He didn’t try to wake you up or stop you. He was watching you get off. That had to mean… he liked it. He liked seeing you like that. Right?

You slowly stood up from the bathroom floor, wiping the tears you didn’t notice had fallen down your cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths, you calmed your bedhead and opened the washroom door, rounding the corner to face Mando sitting on the bed.

He looked up from the spot on the floor he was staring at as he sat deep in thought.

“Are- are you okay?” he asked, uncertain of what he should say.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I was asleep and I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable,” you admit, eyes glued to the floor. A few moments of deafening silence pass, with you shuffling in the spot where you stood and Mando’s helmet fixed towards you.

“What did you dream about?” Mando asked quietly. The Mandalorian was normally so stoic and strong in his conviction that to hear his voice quiver in nervousness made your gaze shoot up to his.

“It’s… embarrassing. I don’t want you to think less of me.” Your face turned beet red, a trait of yours you didn’t realize you possessed until you met Mando. He was the first person to make you feel shy and flustered.

“I won’t, I promise. I just want to know… I need to know.”

“It was… about me. And you.” Mando rose to walk over to where you were standing, near the foot of the bed.

“What about us, exactly? You can tell me. Tell me everything.” You hesitated to meet his gaze, eyes wide and nervous.

“You were… on me. In me. All over me.” You felt yourself getting breathless as Mando got closer to you, as you retold your dream without getting too graphic yet still admitting that you had dreamt of him taking you.

“And was I gentle, or was I rough?” Mando’s voice grew husky, just as breathless as you. Maker, his voice made you weak at the knees.

“Gentle, at first. But the longer you went you got rougher. Much rougher.” Your voice dropped into a whisper as Mando found himself right in front of you, almost chest to chest. Your eyes dropped to admire his chest, what it’d look like without his shirt. You wanted to trace every scar that marked his skin, kiss him, bite him.

He grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, drawing your gaze from his chest to his helmet.

“And which did you like better? Tell me,” he whispered through the modulator, but there was no filtering out how deep and raspy his voice had gotten, like you had never heard before.

“I… I was just happy you were touching me,” you whispered, in shock that this wasn’t just another dream. His hand drifted from your chin to your neck, caressing every inch of you. You closed your eyes, unable to believe that he was touching you without his gloves on.

Suddenly, both hands came to your waist and pulled you into his chest, your hands finding their place on his chest. You whimpered, never feeling so small, not knowing why you liked it so much.

“Do you want me to touch you, sweet one? Like I did in your dream?” he rasped.

“Please… please touch me, Mando.” He groaned at that, manhandling you so your back turned to the bed and quickly thrown onto the bed.

“I like hearing you beg, love. Beg some more for me.” You whimpered, flushed and embarrassed but in the best way. Mando yanked at your legs so they were hanging off the bed with him standing between your knees. His hands drifted from your stomach up to your breasts, squeezing them while his thumbs rubbed your hardened nipples through your shirt.

Unable to take it any longer, you sat up and yanked your shirt over your head as Mando did the same. His expanse of muscle was all you could think about, the thatches of chest hair made you want to run your hands all over him.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“Tell me, did I eat this sweet pussy of yours in your dream?” You moaned, unable to remember but wanting his mouth on you all the same.

“I want you to, but your helmet…” Mando grabbed the blanket that was at the end of the bed, throwing it so one end covered your stomach and the other fell near the middle of his back. Awkwardly, you saw him maneuver under the blanket to take his helmet off, and then your shorts.

Before you could say so much as a “please,” Mando’s mouth enveloped your cunt with his hot mouth. Your gasp was loud and ragged, not expecting him to feel this good. You felt him moan into you, licking from your hole up to the tip of your clit.

“Am I the one who made you this wet, my sweet one? You’re dripping onto the bed for me,” you heard him rasp under the blankets.

“Please, Mando, you feel so f-fucking good,” you gasp as he puts his mouth on you again. You reach under the blanket to grab his hair to pull him the exact spots you wanted his mouth to be. Maker, his mouth was immaculate. His tongue messily toyed with your clit, groaning in your cunt when you tugged his hair which sent vibrations everywhere.

When he found that one spot, just to the left of your clit, you started to feel that familiar tension in your stomach, the one you’d get when you’d touch yourself in the silence of night in the Crest. You tilted your hips just right as he sucked your clit into your mouth, letting out an animalistic moan.

As soon as you felt him hum into your cunt again, you were gone. You fell over a cliff higher than ever before as everything went utterly white, white in your vision and white noise in your ears.

Maker, you came so fucking hard. And through the whole thing, Mando licked and sucked at you, slowing down when you eventually came down. You felt like you were floating through the aftermath as Mando kissed the inside of your thighs, and through the reverie you were in you felt the tickle of facial hair on your skin. You smiled to yourself, finally able to know something about the appearance of the man you adored so.

Mando quickly put his helmet back on under the blanket before pulling himself over you, stroking your face with the back of his hand.

“Do you want more? Or do you want me to stop?” he asked. As spent as you felt, at the sound of his voice your body began rearing up for more.

“More. I need your cock, Mando, so badly,” you whimpered, feeling a brand new wave of wetness flood at the apex of your legs.

You picked your head up, finally wrenching your eyes open as you felt Mando start to take his pants off. You were very suddenly awake again when you saw his cock spring out. He was big, bigger than the boys you had taken by far.

“I- I don’t know if you’ll fit. I’ve never had a man bigger than you.”

“No, sweet one, you’ve only had boys. I can’t wait to be the first man who wrecks you,” he rasps into your ears as your hands wrap themselves around his neck and down his back. Stars, he was sexy, an odd mix of shy and domineering all at once.

He started rubbing the tip against your cunt, and suddenly you were on fire again. You had never tried to get yourself again after one orgasm, always too spent and high on dopamine to go again. So you never got to realize that once you had one, more orgasms were not very difficult to achieve. Until, Mando’s tip swirled around your clit and you could feel the coil tighten yet again.

“M-Mando, I’m gonna cum again if you keep doing that,” you whimpered, causing him to groan and only put more pressure on your clit.

“Then do it, my love. I want to see your face when you cum for me.” You let out a series of curses until you came again, slightly weaker than the previous one but it rocked through you. Before you could even come down, Mando thrusted himself into you in one go. You let out a yell bordering on a scream, feeling your pussy stretch itself to fit all of him. Stars, the burn of the stretch made you shiver.

“Oh f-fuck, my sweet girl has an even sweeter pussy,” he gasped as he started to thrust himself into you. “S-so fucking t-tight and w-warm, I’m not gonna last…”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Mando’s thrusts sped up, slamming into you at an unfathomable rate.

“No no, look at me. Look at me while I’m making you feel good,” Mando growled as he grabbed your cheeks to make you look at his helmet. You tried so hard to keep your eyes open, but as Mando tilted his hips just right, jamming into your G-spot, you lost control over your body. You were saying something, but you were so far gone that you couldn’t decipher what it was.

“Is that- fuck- all you can say, pretty girl? Please? Please what? What do you need, fuck I’ll give you everything you want, just say the word,” Mando rambled, just as drunk on your pussy as you were on his cock.

“D-d-don’t stop, p-please don’t s-stop,” you uttered out, not completely sure if you were having one long orgasm or if it was building to something even bigger.

“I’m never gonna stop, baby, never wanna stop…” Without warning, an orgasm so strong racked through your body. You had never cum just from penetration before, but the way the hair at the base of Mando’s cock was brushing against your cunt as he fucked you sent you beyond the edge.

“Oh my fucking- stars, baby you’re so tight I can barely move… I-I’m gonna-“ Mando gasped as you felt him cum deep inside you, moaning louder than you thought he would.

You both gasped for breath, utterly exhausted from the best sex in both of your lives. Mando pulled out and laid next you on the bed, stroking your hair gently.

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” you croaked, voice almost gone from overuse. Silence fell over the two of you, and you wanted to take back your words, until…

“Close your eyes. And don’t open them. Promise?” he said.

“I promise, I swear I won’t,” you said, shutting your eyes with your heart leaping at the prospect of finally kissing him. After a few moments of the sounds of shuffling next to you, you felt a soft pair of lips meet yours. It was tentative at first, but after a few gentle pecks Mando caressed your face and kissed you with a passion so strong it took your breath away. You felt his mustache tickle your upper lip as he kissed like if he pulled away, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

When he finally pulled away, you reminded yourself to keep your eyes closed as he put his helmet back on. You pulled yourself over him, almost in the exact position you had found yourself in when you woke up from your dream, except this time Mando’s arm was draped under your neck.

“I’m glad we finally did that,” Mando admitted after a while. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first day you started living on the Crest.” You lifted your head from his chest and rested your chin on his right pec, gazing at his face.

“You mean that?” you ask.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You grinned from ear to ear, thanking the Maker that this wasn’t just because Mando was horny and he had found you getting yourself off on him. He had wanted you, too.

“For a minute I thought…I thought you’d tell me to leave and never come back. I was so embarrassed to wake up like that. But… I guess it ended up helping us out,” you chuckled. You heard Mando chuckle too as his chest shook a bit, warming your heart.

“I will never ask you to leave. I want you to stay, I need you to stay,” he admitted quietly. “Plus, I don’t know anyone else who would take care of Grogu so well.”

“Oh, Maker, Grogu!” you exclaimed, realizing Grogu had been closed in his pram in the corner throughout the entire… act.

“The device is soundproof, he didn’t hear a thing,” Mando explained. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t know, with those ears?” you laughed, hearing Mando laugh with you.

“Maybe they’re more for balance rather than hearing,” Mando replied, causing you to let out a loud laugh, making joy flood Mando’s body.

“We can only hope…”

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bts-weverse-trans · 3 years

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201128 Weverse Magazine ‘BE’ Comeback Interview - Namjoon

RM: “I spend a lot of time thinking about where I am now” BTS BE comeback interview 2020.11.28

The story of BTS’ new album BE started on April 17, 2020 when group member RM announced its production on the BANGTANTV YouTube channel. In the seven months that followed until the album’s release, RM’s mind was full, his thoughts flowing in and out of his head.

How do you feel about the unique approach you took to making your new album, BE? RM: The other members were a ton of help to me. My lyrics made it on the album, but the music I composed didn’t, so I’m really thankful to the group for the music. How should I say this? I feel like everyone is doing a great job. There are so many parts in these songs that I’m indebted to them for. “Stay” was originally going to be the title song on Jung Kook’s mixtape, but everyone liked it so much, and they all agreed to put that on our album. That’s how much influence they had. I’m really happy my room idea was chosen to be the album photos. Since we’re spending a lot of time in our rooms because of COVID-19, we laid out the idea of each of us decorating a room in our own style. I can’t remember for sure (laughs) but I think I’m the one who came up with that. I made a comfortable room, one that’s modern and warm because that’s what I like.

There’s a painting in the middle, and symmetrically arranged figurines. RM: The figures are from my own collection. I wanted to show one of my paintings, but that didn’t pan out. But still, those are the things I hold most dear to me right now, so I let the room embody the things I wish I had, too.

It’s well known that you like art and frequent exhibitions, but how do you feel when you look at art in your home or another space where there are no people, like in the album art? RM: Someone said, “You don’t have to buy this painting; it’s yours so long as you’re looking at it.” That’s my favorite sound bite these days. What I most envied about painters was that, even after they died, their work would be hanging up somewhere, maybe even in another country, still defining that space. Musicians leave behind their songs and videos, too, but it’s only through fine art that viewers in the future are able to completely meet artists from the past. I’m envious that this is only possible for painters. These days I’m trying to find spaces where I can have more relaxed viewing experiences.

There’s a full experience involved, from the time you get ready to leave your house until the time you’re actually looking at artwork in the gallery. RM: That’s perfect to me. There’s art you can keep at home, and then there’s art that should always be viewed in museums.

What effect do you think that type of experience has on your music? You didn’t compose any of the songs but instead participated in writing the lyrics to all of the tracks. Did that experience affect your lyric writing in any way? RM: I think it’s helped me develop a way of thinking using all the senses. I used to be attuned to speech and focus on language and auditory textures, but now I can look at my thoughts from many different angles. That’s why I spend more time studying art now. I’m waiting for the day that it all comes to the surface, like when you paint the base on a canvas over and over so the colors pop. It’s hard to answer in one word if it has a direct influence on my work, but I think people who create music develop a way of seeing the world through their personal experience and their creative process. Painters naturally exhibit their art over a very long period of time. I think it gave me an eye for looking at the world in one long, continuous stroke. So now it’s become a little challenging for me to write lyrics these days. I’ve become more cautious.

Why is it so challenging? RM: I used to have so many ideas pouring out that it was hard to pluck one out. So I would stack them up like a Jenga tower and ponder over which one to remove. But now, it’s hard to even add a block to the stack. I’m not sure why but, when I look at these artists whose works span their entire lives, I sense that the rhythm of my creativity is slowing down more and more. That’s the source of my dilemma. I’m only 27 years old. I still need to wander around and get tripped up a little. But am I just trying to imitate what the fine artists are doing? Or maybe BTS experienced so much in the past seven years, that now it’s time for us to take a breather? I’ve got so many questions, I feel like my hair’s turning white. That’s why none of my songs are on the album. I wrote some, but they were too personal to use there. I don’t exactly like myself like this, but I have to see through to the end in this direction and find the answer.

Maybe for that reason, your rapping has shifted focus to the lyrics more so than trend or musicality. It emphasizes the feeling of the words over a particular format or beat. RM: Exactly. In—was it 2017? Pdogg was talking to Yoongi, Hobi and me about our style, and said, “Namjoon, it feels like you’re becoming a lyricist,” and it really stuck with me. I have a lot of thoughts lately when I watch Show Me the Money or listen to hip hop songs from the Billboard chart. My music started out all about my life as a rapper, so I spend a lot of time thinking about where I am now.

So you’ve started to ask yourself who you are as a musician? RM: I listened to Lee So-ra’s seventh album again today. I keep changing my mind but, if I had to pick between her sixth and seventh album, I like her seventh a little more. And then I listen to the most popular songs on Billboard, and I feel kind of thrown off. Um … There’s something Whanki Kim said that’s been running around in my head lately: After moving to New York, he embraced the style of artists like Mark Rothko and Adolf Gottlieb, but then he said, “I’m Korean, and I can’t do anything not Korean. I can’t do anything apart from this, because I am an outsider.” And I keep thinking that way, too. That’s my main concern lately.

You can feel that on BE. As the members take on more prominent roles as songwriters and producers, characteristics of old Korean music—the kind of music you likely listened to in middle and high school—gradually entered your sound. But your music isn’t from that era, and it sounds like pop, but not quite. RM: The sound has to fit with the whole album so I couldn’t incorporate that feel into BTS songs, but the songs I’m listening to most lately have been Korean. Songs like P-Type’s “Don Quixote,” Dead’P’s “Spread My Wings,” Soul Company’s album The Bangerz. The impressions the songs from back then have left on me, the lyrics from back then and the lyrics from now, they’re different. So BE is both Korean and pop; it’s very unique, in my view.

I think that’s especially true for “Life Goes On.” It’s got a pop melody, but compared to “Dynamite,” it has a very different feel. It doesn’t slip deep into the sentimental, instead allowing the melody to flow naturally. RM: Exactly. The chorus is totally pop, and one of the writers was also American. But the song doesn’t really follow American music trends, weirdly. So I don’t know how “Life Goes On” is going to be received. It’s really calm, almost contemplative. So there’s lyrics, like, “Like an echo in the forest,” and, “Like an arrow in the blue sky.” The song kind of feels like that: It could just float off and disappear. It might even come off as bland next to “Dynamite.”

If nothing else, it seems the song will stick around for a long time. Maybe kids now will listen to it later on in the future. RM: I hope so. That’s the one thing I really hope for, people in the future, thinking back and saying, “Oh, right! Remember that one song?” That’s what my favorite artists and other people who leave a lasting impression on me have in common. One thing common among the songs that have affected me a lot, like Lee So-ra’s seventh album, is that the lyrics they utter in their voice along with the overall sound stick with me. I hope when people look back, my words uttered with the sound of my voice, echoes for a long time in an auditory or visual way, or even throughout their entire lives. But that’s the dilemma: We have all these bling-bling symbols of our success, but we’re not that kind of team.

And yet, BTS’s career path is even more “bling-bling” than ever. “Dynamite” was the top song on the Billboard Hot 100. RM: I was the first one to check our position (laughs) but I didn’t want to get too excited about it. I was scared of facing disappointment so I put the brakes on out of habit, and restrained myself. But on the other hand, I feel like I should relish this moment. This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing; shouldn’t I enjoy myself a bit? But I disliked that sensation of only feeling elated so I tried to be as objective as possible. I was just one small part of everything that made this happen.

It reminds me of that part, “Running faster than that cloud of rain / Thought that would be enough / Guess I’m only human after all,” from “Life Goes On.” RM: “Only human” sounds so appropriate for me right now. One time, I saw a dark cloud over the N Seoul Tower while I was walking along the Han River. I was with a friend and we talked about where the border between where it’s raining and where it’s not might be, and suddenly, we came up with the idea to run and find that spot. But after running for 10 minutes, the cloud was even further away than it had been. At that moment, the puzzle pieces snapped into place. You think you can go faster than that dark cloud? No. That’s what I realized then. And I just like what Whanki Kim said, that maybe I can’t do anything not Korean, because that’s what I am. I used to work late and then stay up all night when things weren’t working out, sometimes walking from Samseong to Sinsa station, thinking everything through. But now, like the saying, I realize that maybe I can’t do more than what I am.

On Weverse, you said that you gained some muscle from working out. Could the change to your body improve your creativity in the long term? RM: I started to think I better change myself a little, physically or mentally. I’m talking about being steady. I used to bombard myself with challenges and worries and just get over them, but now I think it’s time to find that one sturdy thing and plant myself there. The best choice was working out, and I think it’s changing my behavior a lot. I’m hoping that, if I keep working out for a year or two, I’ll become a different person.

Music is your job, but also your life. Like you expressed in “Dis-ease,” how would you say you feel about your work? RM: This is my job and my calling and I feel a great sense of responsibility. I think I’m lucky and happy that I can solely worry about my creative process. And I feel very responsible to those people who put their trust in me, so I try not to cross any lines, judge myself honestly, and always be professional. Those are the responsibilities that come with the job—the things I have to do and the promises I won’t betray. But if I’m going to do it, I’m going to be happy while I do it. That’s not always going to be possible, but that’s generally how I feel.

Well then, how do you feel about BTS at the moment? RM: BTS is … Well, it’s really hard to tell. (laughs) When BTS started out, I thought, “I know everything there is to know about BTS,” but now it’s, “I don’t know a single thing about BTS.” In the past, I felt like I knew everything, and that anything was possible. Call it childish or ambitious. But if I were to ask myself, “What is BTS to me?” I would say, we’re just people who met each other because we were meant to. But it feels like the stars aligned and a startup company became a unicorn, with perfect timing and lots of smart people. Looking back, there were a lot of ironies and contradictions in this industry. I thought I figured them out one by one, and then finally understood the whole thing. But now I feel like I don’t know anything at all. Anyway, to sum up: My young, reckless twenties. The events of my twenties. There were a lot of contradictions, people, fame, and conflict all tangled together, but it was my choice and I got a lot out of it, so my twenties were an intense but also happy time.

And what about you, as one individual person? RM: I’m a real Korean person. (laughs) A person who wants to do something in Korea. I think millennials are charging into society stuck between the analog and digital generations, and what I chose is BTS. So I try to integrate myself into our generation, try to understand what people like me are thinking, and try to work hard to capture that feeling without being a burden on them. This might be another kind of irony itself, but this is who I am. I’m a 27-year-old Korean. That’s what I think.

Trans © Weverse

#bangtan #namjoon #weverse #weverse magazine #comeback interview #be album #201128 #2020

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elliotoille · 4 years

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Do you have any advice for understanding hands better? I’ve been practicing them for years but feel like compared to other aspects of anatomy it’s the one thing I haven’t seen much improvement in. I draw both from life and images and draw nearly everyday but nothing I’m doing seems to help

I personally get by mostly from remembering poses that I’ve already practiced a ton, like I figure out how to draw it once and am able to file that away in my brain and use it again later, and tweak bits of the pose or the level of simplification to suit what I’m drawing.

I’ve paid special attention to drawing hands for like.... most of my life so I have a LOT of poses I’m easy comfy with now, but when I need to figure out something complicated or new, I can usually work it out by breaking a hand down into shapes, remembering a few key points/”rules” from what I’ve learned about hands in order to help me break it down in a way that makes sense. And if that’s not enough either, then I take photo refs.

^^^ here is a pose I use a ton. I have a quick way of drawing it from various angles. the first time I had to draw a pose like this, I had to think and figure it out, but in drawing it a bunch of times and having to use various angles like this, I’ve eventually come up with a quick, reliable way to draw it from a few of the most common angles that fits the style I like to draw in. I’m blessed with a good memory for observations, so when I see a beautifully posed hand, I can usually really quickly analyze what I like about that pose and why, and that helps me absorb it so I can recreate my saved impression later. But I know not everyone thinks the same way. it might benefit you to quickly scribble down a study in a sketchbook when you see a pose you find beautiful and want to learn from for later.

^^^ here are some poses I had to stop and spend time figuring out, calling up the “rules” for how hands are built to kind of logic-out how they should look from angles I’m less familiar with. results can be mixed, but... if I end up with something expressive that fits the style of the rest of the drawing, I’m usually really forgiving of fudged anatomy or slightly wonky proportions. as long as the thumb is on the right side and there aren’t too many fingers, that’s a great start lol.

^^^ and here are ones I had to take reference-selfies for. I try to use this as a last resort because 1) it’s a lot of trouble 2) interrupts my drawing and 3) if I’m not careful I stick too close to the reference, and the drawing ends up with the hand looking referenced and the rest of the pose not, which is jarring to me. not to mention I have tiny manlet wrists that without fail, look horrific and emaciated in photos, and the lens distortion makes my fingers look scary too... ugh, photo reference has definite flaws. I actually don’t like the look of drawings for which I can Really Tell the artist drew from photo reference, because most often that means they’re taking the ref too much at face value and incorporating ugly lens distortions into their drawing. so I have to think extra hard not only about interpreting the ref, but also might have to make multiple passes just to get the hand to look normal, AND match the style of the rest of the drawing.

Anyway, here are some of the ““rules””” I mentioned earlier that I fall back on to help me figure out more complicated poses:

1. probably seen this before, but basic proportions. the palm is usually half the total height of the hand. obviously you can mess with this purposefully.

2. I think of joints as like, ball joints or hinges. I find that easier than trying to remember bones & muscles. here’s a drawing of the wrist as a hinge. note that when you’re thinking of it this way, it’s a shortcut, but a shortcut is only good if you use it with precision. notice the pin for the wrist hinge is not just halfway, it’s closer to the top of the hand. being precise about that is what allows this shortcut to work. the heel of the palm juts out, while the top of the hand transitions into the wrist quite smoothly.

3. simplified planes. planes are important yo. in super simple terms: top is flat, bottom is round. this works on the fingers too, actually. the tops are bony and tendony, and the bottom is where the fat is, so it’s rounder and soft

thinking of the hand as abstract shapes REALLY helps simplify the task of drawing hands, and is just as helpful even if you are drawing from reference. I can say “the palm is a box” and obviously the palm is not really as simple as a box, but if I think of the palm, wrist, and each finger joint as various shapes of box, then all of a sudden, psychologically, my task is SO much easier. I’m not drawing a Hand, which is hard, I’m drawing boxes, which is easy.

4. that prominent knob some people have on their wrist? that’s on the pinky side.

1. the knuckles aren’t really a flat row on top. the hand is like a cup right, so your palm can hold water and things. so we can think of the hand as a box to make figuring out the pose easier, but when it comes down to it, you’ll want to make it more of a curve. this curve is why you can see multiple fingers in a side view

2. when curled up, the fingers nestle together. the fingernails also turn slightly toward the center. even if I’m simplifying the hands significantly, I usually still draw the fingernails because they are SO useful for communicating the pose of the hand effectively.

3. lots of people suggest to think of the hand as a mitten, grouping the pinky/ring/middle fingers and singling out the index finger. this works great, the index finger is more independent from the other three. on the flip side, those three are really stuck together; if you’re drawing the pinky curled up all the way, then you better not draw the ring finger sticking straight up, cause that would HURT. anyway, singling out the index finger leads to more interesting poses in my experience.

1. this is another illustration of top = flat and bottom = curved. this is a really easy way to organize your line quality. straight lines and sharper angles where there is bone, and soft gentle lines where there is muscle and fat. your drawing as a whole will read very clearly if you find some guidelines like that to stick to, as it means all your lines are intentional and thoughtful.

2. this one’s about overlaps. when forms overlap, it makes a crease, and when you draw that crease you’re communicating which form is in front of the other. in the second drawing I reversed all the creases, and it looks.... messed up. think about how pieces connect.

so when you’re trying to make up a pose without using specific reference, I think it’s good to think about the.... flow of energy through the pose. honestly, I know it’s really abstract, but if I have an ability to make interesting poses that communicate weight and movement, the things that make people say your character feels ALIVE, like they really EXIST in a space... it’s because I started to think of poses this way. imagining streams of energy bouncing through the body, flowing down the limbs and out through the fingers. this is why hands are so important to me, cause they’re where the kinetic energy of the pose ultimately ends up. I talk about it when drawing the torso and arms and legs, but an interesting drawing has a bounce back and forth between opposites: for every curve, an opposing straight line, alternating back and forth down the entire body. if you’re sensitive to the energy of the pose, then even very simple poses will be interesting to look at.

anyway, with regards to hands, I imagine the energy getting sort of cinched in as it passes through the wrist, and then emanating out through the fingertips. I hope my drawing at least SORT of communicates this imagery. it makes sense because that’s BASically how the bones in the hand are anyway. and then the right side of the image above is just demonstrating some highly simplified gestures. see how the fingers fan out and curl in, rarely parallel to eachother. when you’re figuring out the pose, using a line to stand in for the row of knuckles is super valuable.

aaand finally, here’s two hands where I intentionally neglected correct anatomy and proportion because I felt it worked better for the style of the whole drawing. Left side: since this is a really simple and cartoonish style, I was thinking back to kids’ and shoujo manga I have read where the style was very solid and distinctive, but definitely NOT overly concerned with correct anatomy, or even really drawing hands, uh, “well” at all. to me, that sort of approach has a Look that I like to invoke sometimes, since for years I felt like I learned a bunch of anatomy and proportion and drawing from life actually in detriment to the liveliness and appealness of my drawings. this hand is mushy and makes very little sense, but it turned out as intended. Right side: sometimes I like to pretend fingers only have 2 bones in them, cause i am a Queen and i do what i want

and there you go. I hope that helped, like, at all? Look at real hands and photos of hands and hands in motion, but also look at drawn hands as well. find what you like, and work towards expressing that yourself. and remember the hand is part of the whole drawing. not only in the art style like I’d been talking about, but because the angle and placement of the hand is reflected in the angles of the arm, which in turn reflects on the angles of the shoulder, which affects the whole torso, etc etc etc. and the techniques you can use to understand and draw the rest of the body, works on hands too. as you improve everything else, your hands will improve as well.

DISCLAIMER: I whipped up these diagrams quickly, they’re not meant to be good drawings or accurate refs, just diagrams to illustrate my thought process lol

#god im long winded as usual #Anonymous

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

Text

pairing: jimin x reader || genre: smut, 18+ || word count: 3.8k

warnings: sexually explicit content, generally dom!jimin, fingering, multiple orgasms, kinda cum eating, unprotected sex, jimin exploring his gender identity a wee bit with feminine presenting clothing, jimin getting called pretty as he deserves, creampie, bondage (wrists tied)

summary: jimin sees you doing your laundry and decides to make it a little more exciting.

A/N: so here’s the deal i blame d2 filter jimin fully for this reappearance, it’s a one-off, i’m not coming back i’m just having a sexuality crisis over park jimin right now and i need you all to understand how much i’m suffering. this is technically in the tgm universe (though separate from the plot, kinda a slice of life/oneshot kinda deal) but it can totally function as a standalone

“Am I interrupting something?”

You jump in place when the sudden voice - so close to your ear that you can feel the warm exhale - is paired with a hand curving around the dip of your waist.

“I guess you are,” you reply lightly, even as your heart races.

Lips press chastely against your ear, Jimin’s lips, as he lets out a curious hum. “I bet I can make it more interesting,” he lilts, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your stomach. “Hm? Doing some chores, little mouse?”

Even as arousal begins to stir in your belly at his words and the heat of his body behind you, you sigh at the pile of clean clothes strewn in a heap on the end of your bed. “Just laundry,” you murmur redundantly, hooking your finger on a pair of jeans, slightly stiff from the wash.

“How boring,” he teases, making your breath hitch with a single playful nip to your earlobe. Snaking his other hand around your waist so that you’re pinned to him completely, he slowly sways you back and forth, the movement belying a hardness pressed to your lower back. “But look at all these clothes, little mouse; which one is your favourite?”

“Am I going to put on a show?” you question coquettishly, reaching an arm arm so that your hand rests on the nape of his neck, nails scraping his scalp lightly.

He huffs out an airy laugh through his nose, a hand slipping onto your front. It slides up under your shirt, magma-hot, and you feel the texture of his fingertips as they run over your sensitive skin, every touch that ventures too close to your nipples making you shiver. “Pick something out for me, baby. Something pretty.”

The air inside your lungs is laced with excitement, every breath only deepening the hot coil of arousal in your stomach. Jimin drops his arm again to hang low over your hips so that you can bend over, and even as you mourn the loss of his fingers on you, you arch your back and press into him. The new angle has your clothed pussy snug over where his cock strains in his pants, and your mind goes hazy as you struggle to focus on the pieces of clothing in front of you.

With one hand propped up on the mattress to keep you from buckling down - though you doubt he’d mind all that much - the other sifts through pants and jackets, sweaters and odd socks, until a flash of red catches your eye.

Tugging it out, you straighten up and use a hand on each strap so that the wine-red lace bodysuit is put on display. Jimin hums in approval before his hands go slack, freeing you to turn around and face him.

The sight you’re greeted with takes your breath away. Black slacks and a silken black shirt with the sleeves rolled up outline his lithe figure, while his eyelids have been adorned with a soft rosy pink, lips pearlescent. He’s always been strikingly beautiful, but there’s an almost feminine grace to his look that has you wanting to kiss the gloss right off his pillowed lips.

He quirks his brow at your stare, lips twitching. With a graceful movement, he reaches deftly around to take the lingerie from your hand, eyes not leaving yours for a second.

Your hands lift to the hem of your shirt, but his free one intercepts them, tugs them higher.

“Why don’t you undo my buttons first, little mouse?” he requests, his voice leaving no room for protest, though it stays warm and honeyed. Jimin’s power isn’t in volume or glares or muscle. It comes from within, an aura that has your knees weak and your panties wet. You fumble with the top button, wanting so badly to please him.

Bit by bit, the fabric parts down his chest, falling off his shoulders and getting hooked on his elbows. Black silk hangs slack from his forearms like a shawl as he guides your hands lower still, until you’re undoing his pants too.

He does all this with the silent confidence of a dom entirely in control, and as the only sounds in the room are the teeth of the zipper and your own shaky breaths, you feel that submissive headspace fill your mind like a thick fog, leaving no room for thoughts that don’t involve Jimin.

You don’t mind that, though. Not when his pants drop to the floor, revealing nothing underneath. Not when you catch a glimpse of his gorgeous cock, straining upwards and shiny with precum. And not when your chin is being tipped upwards and his lips are slanting across yours, making you lose every thought entirely.

With eyes slipped shut in bliss, you feel drunk on the euphoria of his embrace, heart thudding in your chest with every slight movement. He tastes like peaches, you muse, smells like it too as if that gloss was flavoured especially. Languid but intentional, his tongue presses between your lips and devours you from the inside, pure electric. Your body feels lighter and freer with each stroke, his teeth catching and nipping. It’s not until you feel a sudden bolt of stimulation to one of your nipples that you realise you feel so airy because he’s been undressing you as you kiss.

Head swimming, your body gives no resistance when he walks you forward, your knees buckling on the edge of the mattress and your bare back laying across the haphazard pile of clean clothes.

You crane your neck, looking him over as he stands between your dangling legs. With lips swollen and shiny with spit instead of gloss, and his cock a pretty rosy shade, he lets the shirt hanging off his elbows finally shed to the ground, leaving him just as bare as you are. He looks ethereal in a way you’ve never seen as much before, positively glowing, and it takes your breath away.

“Close your eyes,” he commands sweetly, making you tremble as he runs a single finger up your inner thigh.

You follow his instructions, legs parted slightly as you anticipate the textured drag of lace, but nothing comes. After a few moments, you sigh out into the silent room, back arching off the bed in neglect. “Minnie,” you breathe, and Jimin shushes you gently, running a broad hand up your side.

“Almost finished, little mouse,” he chimes, and a mere moment later you can hear the smile in his voice when he instructs you to open your eyes again.

The sight that greets you has you breathless, lightheaded. Even as your mind overheats trying to process the image in front of you, Jimin is already lifting his knees onto the bed, straddling you.

You feel the drag of lace now, rubbing against your core as it stretches taut over Jimin’s cock. The fabric is formfitting on you; on Jimin, it’s sinful. Looking like temptation itself, Jimin arches his torso so that the ribbon at the waist accentuates his slender frame, hints of two dusky nipples poking out from behind the thin material. Instead of covering his back, the two sections of lace that cover his chest lead to wide ribbons which he has tied up and around his neck, letting the long ends dangle onto you once he bends down.

“Tell me, Y/n,” he breathes out, sultry and rich with desire, “do I look pretty?”

Every shift of his body above you causes the textured fabric to rub over your clit, and you whimper as his fingers play almost absentmindedly at your nipples, stroking and flicking without any real pattern. You can barely think, but you force your mind to focus in on the way he sucks his lower lip into his mouth, teeth poking out just slightly to pin the flesh.

“So pretty, Jimin,” you praise earnestly, “look so good, holy shit.”

His eyelids flutter upon hearing your words, and he muffles his own moan with your lips, kissing you more frantically now, pressing his chest to yours. “I feel good,” he confesses between nips and licks, pulling back onto to gasp for air. “God, Y/n, I wanna fuck you like this. My little mouse.”

“Fuck, Minnie.” Your skin is on fire but you reach around to pull him closer, nails catching on his bared shoulder blades. “Take me, I’m yours.” Your voice breaks into a strangled moan when fingers plunge inside you, crooking up to find your g-spot without hesitation.

At this point, Jimin knows you inside and out perhaps even better than yourself, and you lay back as he scissors two digits so carefully. Even in the height of his arousal - now straddling your thighs, his hips rut shudderingly against your thighs, the head of his cock beginning to escape the narrow band of lace - he’s wary not to treat you too roughly, his thumb finding your clit so that the hot snaking arousal never fades for a second.

“Muh-more, Jimin, I- ungh.” Your thighs tense around his wrist when he fits a third finger in, but he just uses your ever-growing wetness to fuck you faster, the only burn being so pleasurable it takes your breath right out of your chest. “I’m ready, please fuck me,” you whine, unable to even rock your hips up with the way his weight rests on your upper legs.

But he doesn’t stop, moaning so beautifully that it almost sounds like he’s the one in your shoes, bending down to press slack kisses to your stomach, tongue even slipping out to run a line over the curve of your hipbone. The pressure inside you rises and rises and rises until you’re fisting the sheets desperately. Unable to catch your breath, you writhe beneath him and feel an orgasm swiftly approaching.

Wary that of Jimin’s mean dom streak that sometimes caught you off guard, you hold back the hope of release until it’s already rocking through you like a tsunami. The restriction of your lower half mixed with the visual stimulation of a dollified Jimin sucking hickies just below your belly button only send the pleasure higher, until you can’t even stop yourself from convulsing, shoulders lifting off the bed to curl into yourself where you’re pinned down.

His fingers don’t slow down until you’re gripping onto his forearm for dear life, shivering beneath him. Panting himself, he rolls onto his back beside you with his eyes lidded, brushing his fingers over his lips until they’re coated with your slick, just as shiny as the pearly lip gloss he came in with.

You let out an exhausted chuckle at the sight, your core already stirring in excitement at the obscene sight. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Park Jimin,” you quip, but it’s not long before your eyes drop to his cock, still painfully hard and soaking a patch in the red lace. The fingers of his other hand lazily play at the head, spreading the precum that continues to drip from it. Without even really intending, your own hand snakes over his lean stomach to grip the base of him, stroking slowly as he sighs out his pleasure.

For a few moments, he just licks and sucks at his own lips, abs and thighs tensing as he lets you jerk him off unhurried. He looks so beautiful, hair billowed out like a vibrant halo around his sex-sweetened face. The halter ribbon - tied too loosely in his quick change - slips down and bares his shoulders and upper chest, exposing his nipples to the cool air of your bedroom.

Feeling a little self-satisfied and in the mood for mischief, you take advantage of his shut eyes to sit up on your side, reach out and drag your nails over one. Like a startled cat, he hisses and goes stiff, one hand locking around your wrist like iron. When his eyes open, they’re molten with lust and ire, a brow twitching.

Your heart quickens at the way he sits up and fixes you with a harsh glare, bodysuit riding lower down his torso with the weight of the ribbon, which he uses his free hand to quickly tug out of the loops.

“Jimin-” you start, but his sharp and assured movements have any protests dying on your tongue. He grabs your free hand and quickly begins binding them together in front of you by the wrists, not saying a word even as four lines of pink appear over his chest.

Only once you’re bound and panting does he speak again, standing to slowly and meaningfully strip the lace bodysuit off himself. “If you’re going to act like a brat, little mouse, I’ll fuck you like a brat,” he declares. “And bad girls have to wait.”

Fighting the urge to bury your tied hands between your cum-soaked thighs, you bite down hard on your lip and look up at him. Not even sparing you a glance - no doubt intentionally - Jimin reaches around you and picks up a tank top off the pile on your bed.

You watch, disbelievingly, as Jimin carefully and painstakingly slowly folds the top in quarters, placing it to the side. In no hurry, even as his cock hangs heavy between his legs, he takes every item of clean (though that’s now debatable) clothing and folds it for you, setting up a tidy pile up by your pillow.

At one point, you tilt your hips downward in an attempt to rut against the duvet, but a single sharp glare and raised eyebrow from Jimin stops you in your tracks. “Be patient,” he chastises you, “you should thank me for doing this for you. I’m sure it would take you a lot longer with your hands bound like that.”

You send him a pouty scowl, but keep quiet, knowing your best bet to finally get fucked is to just let him finish on his own time. He lets out a bemused huff and returns to his task, paying about as much attention to you as he would a pet.

Your forced patience just about runs out by the time he reaches the last of the heap. Instead of folding the final item, however, he holds it out in front of him thoughtfully. A satin dress, royal purple and lush with gathered hems. It was enough of a cocktail dress that it always felt too formal to wear around the house, and you’d yet to find the right opportunity to wear it on one of your rare excursions. Nevertheless, you’d decided to wash it in the hopes that it would inspire you to wear it. Now, it seems someone is going to beat you to the punch.

“This,” Jimin announces in a voice so low it’s nearly whispered, pulling it flush against him to feel the cool material on his skin, “I’m going to fuck you in this, little mouse.”

Almost out of your mind with arousal, your tongue is loosened and the words spill out easily. “You’ll look so pretty, Minnie, please put it on. Wanna see you fuck me pretty.”

Jimin’s chest heaves once, his fingers curling in the material before he’s lifting it swiftly over his head. The torso is a little tight going over his shoulders, but there’s plenty of give in the skirt and bust, and when his head pokes through it falls to his thighs so beautifully.

Looking more lush and exotic than a princess, Jimin runs his hands over himself, down his chest, stomach, hips and thighs. With lidded eyes, he smiles at the way it feels, before turning the full heat of his gaze to you.

“On your back,” he commands. “I want you to see me while I’m ruining you.”

You collapse back onto the now-flat bed almost immediately, legs parting without shame as your tied hands rest on your chest. He mounts you with the lithe grace of a panther, looking just as predatorial. The hem of the dress rides up his thighs with every movement, bunching around his ass, but it just saves him time in lining his cock up at your entrance, pausing for a moment to slick himself up before he snaps his hips forward with a satisfied growl.

The sudden penetration has you jerking automatically, but a moan is quick to follow. Already relaxed and soaking wet from your earlier orgasm, there’s nothing your pussy wants more right now than to be filled to the brim, and Jimin is certainly happy to oblige. Whining at his stillness, you clench around him and push your head back onto the duvet.

“Fuck, like that,” he mutters mindlessly, hands gripping the flesh of your ass to hold you against him. Releasing his grip onto to smack you, the punctuated noise sets him into gear, and before long he’s reaching a pace that leaves you gasping for air.

Still sensitive, you let out broken cries at the feeling, but he shows no mercy. The heat of his cock inside you and the cool of the satin on the backs of your thighs as he holds them up has your mind going hazy, and you let yourself slip deeper into that fuzzy headspace.

Things feel so much better when the only thoughts in your mind are Jimin, pretty Jimin, beautiful Jimin who takes you apart so thoroughly. Your whole body rocks up and down with the power behind his thrusts, but you’re content to ride the movements, focusing on his presence inside you.

“Fu-fuck,” Jimin gasps, “I won’t last long like this. Open your eyes, please, l-look at me.”

You had barely realised you’d closed them, but you blearily follow his instructions and blink up at him. His hair is heavy with sweat, his smoky eyes even more blurred, lips so swollen and beautiful. And the dress, the dress that looks better on him than it ever could you. “So pretty for me, Minnie,” you praise, heaving for air to propel your words, “fucking me so good, I’m close again already.”

Just saying the words aloud makes your statement even more true. You clench down tightly as he shifts angles slightly, his cock dragging against the base of your clit with every stroke. You begin to babble, curses and praises alike dripping from your lips like the saliva you can’t quite swallow back. He’s fucking you dumb, looking like a temptress as he fucks you into thoughtlessness, and before you know it you’re arching off the bed violently with your second orgasm.

This one is somehow more powerful than the first, even more so when Jimin cries out and joins you in that heady ecstasy. Tears prick at your eyes and wet your temples, but your lips stretch into a grin as you feel pleasure heat every single particle in your body.

Jimin’s spilled inside you, is still spilling inside you as he rocks his hips deeply and presses slack-jawed kisses into the crook of your neck, and the feeling has you trembling long after the aftershocks of your orgasm subside.

He recovers before you do, and the pressure around your wrists lifts, until the ribbon falls away entirely and his fingers massage the joints carefully. Still inside you, you can hear him suck in breaths through his teeth when you throb around him, but he makes no move to pull out. Rather, enjoying the closeness, he carefully grips your hip and tips you onto your side so that he can lie with you without lying on you.

You sigh at the sweet feeling of his lips roving over your neck, but as soon as the prickles of clarity return to you, you’re lifting his chin to join his mouth to yours.

Both of you are too tired to kiss properly, but you slowly move your mouth against him, wanting to taste him to the fullest. You stay like that, legs entwined, noses bumping, until sleep pulls at your consciousness.

Feeling Jimin’s face go still and his breathing even out, your heart warms with pure, deepset content. It requires all of your remaining energy, but you force your eyes open again to watch his expression, so sweet and angelic. Even without the dress, even without the makeup or the jewellery. “So beautiful,” you murmur, and finally let yourself sink under.

#jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #jimin oneshot #pjm smut #the gentlemen #bts oneshot

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s 6✩ Inspiration: Umbrae Secrets [繁荫秘语] Date Translation (END 2 + 3 + 4: Call Out)

“This is such a remote area. Were I to do anything, it would be nothing more than a piece of cake.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *This 6✩ Inspiration has 8 Endings!! *Reblogs and likes appreciated! *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution *T/N: This card takes me out so quick I needed time to recover. Hunter and prey... MC triggered the Hunter...

After pondering for a while, I finally decided to…

✥ Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

⊹ Ask Evan for his opinion ⊹

MC: Any bright ideas, Evan?

Evan: I'm thinking that maybe we can find a place to set up camp early…

Evan: Because you seem very eager to camp out.

MC: You got me. Let's go with that then!

❖☆———————————★❖

Evan was very experienced when it came to selecting a suitable campsite.

Eventually, we managed to find a fitting flat and cosy patch of grass that was both leeward and shaded, with a source of water nearby.

By the time we finished setting up the tent, the sky had already gradually darkened. The temperature of the forest quietly dropped as the occluding darkness surrounded us. But I had Evan with me, so there was no need to fear.

We lit the camp stove and roasted some food. The flickering firelight became the most dazzling thing in the forest, casting dancing shadows and lights all around. There was a certain romance to it.

For a moment, all I could hear was the crackling of fire and the soft chips and buzz of the insects nearby. It felt as if even time had come to a standstill.

❖☆———————————★❖

I inadvertently raised my head. The night sky above was adorned with stars, like fine scattered gemstones sewn onto an expanse of black velvet. Each and every one of them was equally lustrous, converging into a glimmering band of light and extending into the distance.

I watched the sky in a trance while lying on the grass. Evan sat quietly beside me

After a while, I tugged on his sleeve.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Look, the light of the stars only becomes much more apparent once all the lights have been extinguished.

MC: The grass smells good too, so why don’t you try lying down too?

He looked down at me with a smile and contemplated the idea. He finally agreed after a moment of hesitation.

Evan: Alright.

❖☆———————————★❖

He moved closer and laid down beside me. Now, another rhythm sounded in my ears: his gentle and steady breathing.

Evan: It is very beautiful.

MC: I feel like it's been a long time since I last saw a starry sky like this.

MC: No wonder those philosophers always liked looking up at the stars when they think. Now I understand why they would.

MC: The sight of an area this vast can make people forget all trivialities and let their thoughts wander further to the past and even the future.

Evan: So where has your mind flown off to now?

MC: Me? I’m thinking that since the forest is so beautiful, maybe I’ll go live in the forest next time, aha.

Then, a curious thought popped into my head.

MC: Right, Evan. Have you ever thought about where you’d like to live after having fulfilled all your goals?

❖☆———————————★❖

I waited for a long time, but Evan never replied.

Did he fall asleep?

I decided to gently call out to him…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

⊹ E2: If you fail to call him ⊹

I’d called out to him multiple times in a row before he finally turned his head, looking slightly out of it.

Evan: Are you calling me? Sorry, I spaced out.

MC: Oh, no worries.

Evan smiled at me but didn’t say anything more.

Some people are made of mysteries. Perhaps this was simply a question he didn’t wish to answer now.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

⊹ E3: If you call him EVAN (陆沉) ⊹

Evan instantly snapped back to attention upon hearing me call out to him. He smiled apologetically.

Evan: Sorry. Your question's a little hard to answer. I lost track of myself thinking it through.

MC: Huh? Have you never imagined such things?

Evan: Hmm. That might be because the matters I always have on hand are more important, so I tend to focus all my attention on them.

MC: Right… I've been there and done that too.

MC: Back when I was schooling, I often found studying to be very dry and stressful.

MC: But, whenever I found myself unable to bear it anymore, I would fantasize about Summer Vacation and draw new motivation from it.

MC: Whenever I felt down or life got hard, I’d always dream about how much better life would be after I achieved my goals.

MC: Maybe you could think about it this way too?

Evan: After fulfilling my goal?

Evan: After that… I think nothing matters after that anymore.

His last sentence was so soft that it sounded as if he was mumbling to himself, and I wasn’t too sure if I’d actually heard him.

I turned to him in question, but he never answered, keeping so silent that it was almost as if he was one with the very ground.

I was starting to feel a little inexplicably worried when he then opened his mouth, as if the prior silence had never existed.

Evan: How about you tell me about it first? What’s your ideal life like? Maybe it’ll nudge me in the right direction.

MC: Hmm… Sometimes, I like lively Cities.

MC: But other times, I like someplace quiet; somewhere with mountains and water… I think that’s a pretty good place to live too...

MC: But there's no wifi there and I can’t eat my favourite ice cream… It’s a real pickle.

Evan: Perhaps what you like is change itself.

MC: Yeah… But some things will never change!

MC: Like, how I don't want to be too far from everyone.

MC: Without the people to share interesting things and breathtaking sceneries with, it'll certainly take the fun out of things.

His low chuckle sounded near my ear, close at hand.

Evan: I now know where I'd like to live next time.

MC: Where?

Evan: Somewhere not too far away from you. Would you welcome that?

MC: Of course I do. But, aren't you already here by me?

He turned his head over, watching me with a serious look as the light flickered at the bottom of his eyes.

My arm moved, inadvertently brushing against his cool skin, but also not shying away from it. He flipped his palm and encased my fingers within them.

Evan: You are correct.

Evan: To me, right now, life is perfectly fine as it is.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

⊹ E4: If you call him HUBBY (老公) ⊹

Evan shot me a slightly surprised look. Suddenly, the realization of what I'd just done washed over me.

Then, he shifted closer to me; so close that I didn't even dare turn my head.

Evan: Are you trying to hint at something by suddenly addressing me in this manner?

Evan: This is such a remote area. Were I to do anything, it would be nothing more than a piece of cake.

I inwardly froze. Evan was different from usual today… His warm breath brushed past my ear, inciting a continuous yet faint ticklish sensation.

MC: Hahaha… You wouldn't...

Evan: And why are you so sure that I wouldn't?

MC: You're always mindful and courteous. You aren't… that sort of person.

Evan: "That sort of person"? What sort of person?

He lifted his head in interest, looking down at me in a condescending manner. I was so embarrassed that I couldn't even get a sentence out right as the temperature of my cheeks rapidly shot up.

MC: That… That sort… Evan, stop making fun of me like that…

He narrowed his eyes into a smile, suddenly flipping himself over and balancing himself above me!

Rationally speaking, I knew deep down just what sort of person he was, but my body still ran on instinct: It sensed danger.

His broad form, usually reassuring, looked immeasurably intimidating from this angle. I couldn't help but bite my lip as my heart sped off the charts.

MC: Evan, what are you… doing…?

Evan: I'm thinking about your question.

Evan: You asked me what sort of place I'd like to live at, correct?

MC: Then… what does this have anything to do with that?

Evan: I feel like your eyes might hold the answer I seek.

MC: That's a lie and you know it…

My voice grew softer and softer because Evan was slowly lowering himself down.

Watching those dark red eyes of his that hid a glimpse of a smirk in its depths gradually draw closer, I panicked, stiffening up as my mind went completely blank...

I frantically swiped his glasses from the bridge of his nose, turning over to keep them away from him.

MC: Any more, and no glasses for you!

Evan paused, a little stunned at the sudden loss of his glasses. He then moved away with a smile, lying back down on the grass.

Evan: Did I scare you? I apologize. I just wanted to poke fun at you.

Evan: Sometimes you’ll bite off more than you can handle when you think someone too simple.

I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief before angrily puffing out my cheek.

MC: Okay, okay, you’re not simple! Even more so to keep your glasses away from you!

Evan: Then I’d better stick close to you and let you lead me around. Will that be alright?

Evan: Hm? (Y/n).

I turned my back on him and felt him gently place a hand on my shoulder. The heat swiftly passed through the thin fabric of my clothes, making me unwittingly shudder at the warmth.

I could even feel his eyes digging into me. The area where he burned holes into me with his eyes was hot, the grass underneath me was no different, and neither were the glasses I held in my hands.

I couldn’t form the words to answer him; all I could do was to hope that he couldn’t hear how fast my heart was racing.

❖☆———————————★❖

The next day, early morning. I woke up to the melodious singing of birds.

Evan was already awake, neatly dressed and sitting on the folded chair at the entrance, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Evan: Good morning. Sleep well last night?

MC: Brilliantly! I was so tired from walking so long yesterday that I fell asleep the moment my head met the pillow.

MC: Oh, right. It’ll take quite a long time to go back where we came, so let’s eat something, pack up, and leave as soon as possible!

Evan set his cup of coffee down,

Evan: Aren’t you forgetting something?

MC: Huh?

Evan: I recall you wanting to see bamboo piths, but we have yet to see any.

I froze, awkwardly laughing it off

That had originally been an excuse to get him outside and I’d totally forgotten about it.

MC: Hehe. I’m not that adamant about seeing bamboo piths.

MC: I only said that back then as an excuse to get you out so that you can relax.

MC: I heard that you had things rather rough before that so I was a little worried about you.

He looked slightly surprised. Then, he lowered his eyes, a warm smile catching onto the sides of his mouth.

Evan: So it was because of me.

Evan: Thank you for accompanying me here. I’m certainly much more relaxed now.

MC: But considering how you were previously… Are you really okay?

Evan: Yes. It’s probably not as bad as you’re thinking. I was just thinking about some old people and old things and felt a little glum about it.

Evan: I never thought that I’d end up alarming others.

MC: Why am I “others” now?

MC: Don’t bottle your troubles up to solve them yourself. You need to remember to share them with people close to you as well!

Evan: Okay. I will keep that in mind.

I still didn’t know what he was troubled by, but I suppose this was still within my expectations.

From my impression of him, he has always been strong. It was almost as if he was shouldering a mission that no one knew about, walking down a similarly obscured path.

After finishing breakfast, we packed and prepared to leave the forest.

We idly chatted with each other along the way until suddenly, Evan stopped short while we were passing through an area.

Following his gaze, I saw a unique-looking umbrella-shaped thing growing within the shrubbery’s shade.

Evan: See? We still managed to chance upon it.

MC: Wow, are all of these bamboo piths?

We walked over together, squatting beside the small white fungi.

It had a small black cap and had grown out a long white mesh skirt.

This was the first time I ever saw a bamboo pith growing in the soil. I widened my eyes in surprise, unwilling to blink as I drank in the sight. After observing it for a while, I finally raised a finger, reaching out to touch its “skirt”.

MC: It’s so wet and soft-looking! It’s adorable! Have you seen it before, Evan?

MC: I can’t believe you managed to recognize it at a glance!

Evan: Yes. It was back during the first time I’d been driven into the forest as a child.

Evan: I witnessed the law of the jungle and escaped from the jaws of death of a snake. I felt like the forest was a place filled with danger and wanted nothing but to leave the place the faster, the better.

Evan: Then, just as I was hungry and exhausted, I saw a bamboo pith.

Evan: At that time, I didn’t know what it was and if it was actually poisonous.

Evan: Deep in the throes of despair, I thought “why not just take it, eat it, and see what my fate turns out to be”?

MC: Evan…

Evan: But guess what I saw while I was hesitating?

Evan: I saw it growing its fungus skirt. All it took was a little effort on its part, and its little skirt grew longer and longer.

Evan: I stared at it blankly, in a daze. I didn’t even notice that my legs had gone numb from how long I’d stared at it.

He retracted himself from his memory palace, turning around to face me with a smile.

Evan: It was as simple as a little young lady, capable of encouraging me with its adorability and enchantments.

Evan: It made me understand that forest, in all its gloom and doom, still has its own little interesting spots.

Evan: And that one is only capable of seeing it by living on, don’t you think?

His expression was quiet, but within those calm eyes of his, I could see that little boy who’d struggled his hardest to remain strong. I felt my heart constrict slightly at that and moved to hold his hand tightly in my own.

MC: Evan, that’s all in the past. You’re no longer that helpless little boy.

Evan: No, I’m fine.

Evan: I might have forgotten even this if we hadn’t seen the bamboo piths today.

Evan: It feels a little unbelievable when I think back on it now. It was a memory plagued by darkness, yet it still held its own beautiful moments.

I felt a pang of sorrow creep into my heart. Words of comfort were right at the tip of my tongue, yet I felt like they’d be completely helpless.

This man before me, strong as a warrior; someone who’d been forced to face life-or-death decisions from a very young age… Maybe he wasn’t as complicated as I initially thought he was.

There are many reasons why one would choose death, but to choose life? The reason was simple; just a little spark was required, and Evan was no exception.

MC: I forgot who said it, but someone once said that the meaning of existence that people spend their entire lives seeking out is actually hidden in the simple things.

MC: Evan, won’t you say that you might end up thinking similarly as well one day?

MC: You might not be able to find it immediately, but that’s fine. I will accompany you in your search for it, no matter how long it takes.

Evan fixed me with a profound look before stretching out his hand and reverently crossing it over my own.

Evan: Alright. Together we shall be.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 +3 + 4 | Choice: Call Out [呼唤] ⊹Speak⊹

END 4 + 6 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 7 + 8 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ☆Light & Night★

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Revolution⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Prologue)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #陆沉 #Evan #For Night For Revolution #繁荫秘语 #Umbrae Secrets

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bellawritesnonsense · 3 years

Text

That wasn’t a No?

Fred Weasley X Reader.

Takes place in Goblet of fire era

*Warning* Swearing

Summary~ Basically Fred gets jealous when George ask’s you to the Yule ball.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no denying your feelings for Fred Weasley. Everyone knew how you felt about him...except Fred of course. So you weren’t surprised when he told you about his plans to ask Angelina Johnson to the Yule Ball. Yeah you wanted him to ask you, but you also didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

You were hurt to say the least. It was hard acting like everything was fine when in reality, your heart was being shattered into a million pieces.

“I think I’ll ask her sometime today!” Fred beamed. He had been telling you about his plans to ask out the girl since the beginning of lunch.

“That’s great, Freddie,” you said with a fake smile. You had gotten pretty good at hiding your feelings. After years of watching Fred be with other girls it had become like a sixth sense.

George gave you a sympathetic smile, knowing how you really felt about Fred asking Angelina out. “Shut up Mate.” George flicked a baby carrot at his brother. “Nobody cares about the bloody ball.”

“OI! Watch where your flinging those!” Fred shouted,dodging the small vegetable.

You gave a small chuckle at the boys argument as they played with their food like young children.

The day dragged on as you waited to hear Fred brag about how he had asked Angelina to the ball, but surprisingly it never happened. You were feeling quite hopeful as you walked into the library for study hall with Snape. You sat down next to your friend Alicia.

“Hey.” she whispered, not wanting Snape to hear.

“Hey.” you said in the same tone, taking out your potion homework.

You worked on your homework silently until you heard two familiar voices.You looked around the table until your eyes landed on three red heads.

You saw Fred throw a piece of paper at Ron. He gave a confused face and looked back up at his brother.

“Who're you going with, then?" said Ron.

Fred looked around the table his eyes landed on you, and for a split second you thought he was finally going to ask you...you were mistaken.

He quickly looked away and crumbled up a piece of parchment, throwing it at an unsuspecting Angelina.

“What?” she whispered.

Fred smiled and mouthed “You want to go to the ball, with me?” he made a dancing gesture as he spoke.

“Sure, alright.” Angelina gave a small smile and turned back to her work.

Fred gave Ron a wink and turned to George, a huge smirk on his lips.

You felt your heart shatter as you watched it all unravel. He asked her out right in front of you. You quickly looked down, at your now finished potions essay, tears threatening to fall. You stood up and walked over to Professor Snape, handing him your work, and walking out of the library.

“What’s wrong with,Y/n?” Fred asked, noticing you walking out.

George hadn’t realized you were there, his heart hurt for you. He hadn’t wanted you to see the interaction.

“I’ll go check on her.” he said, standing from his spot next to Fred.

“I’ll come too.” Fred tried to follow, but George quickly stopped him.

“No!” George nearly shouted. “I mean, Snape will think were up to something if we all leave at the same time.”

Fred gave an unsure nod and watched as his brother went after you.

“Y/N!” George jogged up next to you as you hurriedly walked up the moving stairs.

“Oh. Hey Georgie.” you smiled, trying not to show how upset you were.

“You alright?” he uttered.

“Never better.” you joked.

“I’m serious Y/n/n,” George pulled you aside. “want to talk about it?”

“No.” you said bluntly, pulling away from George and walking up to the portrait hole.

“Come on, your obviously upset.” George stopped you again.

“Of course I’m upset George!” you cackled. “Fred just asked another girl to the ball. Right in front of me! Plus I don’t have a date to the ball. Lee and Alicia are going together, Katie is going with some 5th year, and now Angelina is going with Fred!” you huffed, letting all your frustration out.

“Go with me.” he said nonchalantly.

You were taken aback by his words. “W-what?” you stammered.

“Go to the ball with me.” he smiled. “We could go as friends. Besides I don’t have a date, and wasn’t really planning on asking anyone.”

“Really?” you smiled.

“Of course! Your one of my closest friend, Y/n.”

A sudden wave of graduated ran through you, you wrapped your arms around the red head.

“Thank you.” you beamed, your mood lifting greatly.

“I’ll take that as a yes than.” George laughed, hugging you back.

“I guess.” you teased.

“OH! YOUNG LOVE!” The Fat Lady squealed as the two of you pulled apart. “HOW WONDERFUL!”

The news about George asking you to the ball spread like a wild fire. Alicia and Angelina were gushing over the fact that you all had dates. Fred on the other hand didn’t seem to happy. When he had found out, he marched up to the common room and dragged George into their dorm, without saying a word towards you.

“What the fuck mate!” Fred roared. “Since when do you like Y/n!?”

“What?” George said confused. “I don’t like Y/n? What are you on about?”

“Then why’d you ask her to the ball?!” Fred was getting angry now, crossing his arms like a small child.

“Because she didn’t have a date, and neither did I.” George answered like it was the most simple thing in the world.

“You could have told me!” said Fred.

“Why, your going with Angelina?” George raised an eyebrow.

“Well- I- she’s my friend to. I would’ve liked to have known.”

George rolled his eyes and walked out of the room, Fred not far behind him. They made their way down to the common room where you sat with Angelina and Alicia.

“Hey.” you smiled at the twins.

George smiled and sat next to you while Fred just nodded and sat down on a nearby chair, not saying a word.

This went on for the next week as the Yule ball approached. Fred was being awfully distance with you and George, which wasn’t like him at all. However, you didn’t let that spoil how exited you were for the upcoming party.

You were currently sitting in your dorm getting ready with Hermione, Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and Ginny. All six of you listening to music as you did your hair and makeup. You were wearing a beautiful dress that fit you just right, your makeup was done in a natural look that made your eyes shimmer, and your hair was done in a way that suited the whole outfit.

“Wow!” Alicia exclaimed, looking at you with wide eyes. “You look amazing Y/n!”

“Gorgeous!” squealed Angelina.

“George is going to lose his shit!” Ginny shrieked

. “Ginny!” Hermione scolded. “You look lovely Y/n.” she smiled.

“Thank you, you all look gorgeous as well.” you smiled at all the beautiful girls in front of you. “Shall we head down?”

“YES!” they all squealed, opening the door and walking down the spiral staircase.

Once you were in sight of the boys, who were waiting for you in the common room, you started feeling butterfly's as you caught sight of Fred. He was wearing velvet black dress robes with a dark green waist coat over his white button up shirt. He look incredibly, his silky red hair was messy, the way you loved it.

“Wow!” the boys gasped as all the girls came into their view. You saw George’s ears turn a bit red as he looked at Angelina, you couldn’t help but smirk at the boys obvious feelings for her.

“Hey.” you smiled.

“You look great.” he beamed.

“So do you.”

George smiled and laced his arm with yours.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” you joked, laughing slightly as you walked out of the common room.

Fred watched the whole interaction. His mouth was slightly opened as he looked at you. They way your hair was done in a way that showed your smile, the way your dressed hugged you in all the right angles, the way you look absolutely stunning.

Once everyone had made their way down to the great hall, that had been trans formed into a spectacular ball room, you found a table and sat down.

“Want to dance?” George offered his hand to you.

“Please.” you smiled taking it. He lead you onto the dance floor, the two of you jumping around and head banging to the song that was playing. Fred watched as you danced and smiled with his twin, he folded his arms in his seat, glaring at the pair of you.

“Will you quit it!” Angelina groaned, shoving his arm slightly.

“What?” Fred snapped out of his trance and faced her. “Quit what?”

“Come off it Fred.” she laughed. “You fancy Y/n.”

“W-what, no I don’t!” he argued.

“Really?” she made a face that said ‘do you think i’m dumb’.

“I- I mean, I- FINE!” he groaned,sliding lower in his chair. “I fancy her.”

“I knew it!” Angelina squealed. “Wait? Then why would you ask me to the ball if you fancy Y/n?”

“Well, I don’t know. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.” Fred confessed.

“Are you kidding me! She’s been in love with you since third year!” said Angelina.

“Really!” Fred’s face brightened up at the news.

“It’s obvious.” Angelina laughed. “I’m surprised you never figured it out. Even George knows.”

“Wait what!” Fred asked alarmed. “George knows?”

“Yeah, that’s why he asked Y/n to the ball. He didn’t want her to feel left out.” Angelina gave a fond smile.

“Oh.” Fred looked back down. He felt awful, knowing he caused you to feel bad about yourself.

“So stop sulking and go get your girl!” Angelina pushed Fred off his seat and watched him stumble towards you.

“Hey, Y/n?” Fred muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah.” you smiled, turning around and found that his was mere inches from your face.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

You looked towards George who nodded and went to dance with Alicia and Lee.

“Sure.”

The two of you walked away from the crowed and into the deserted hall.

“Whatcha need Freddie?” you smiled.

“I- um” Fred fiddled with his hands. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to let it out. I love you.” he blurted.

Your face fell as the words left his mouth. He loved you, you had waited years for those word to leave his mouth. And now that he finally had, you didn’t know what to say.

“This is when you say something, Love.” he gave a shaky laugh, rubbing his neck once again.

“I- I,” you were a stammering mess.

“It’s fine.” Fred looked away. “I get it, you don’t feel the same.” he turned to walk away, but you grabbed his wrist and pulled him down. You lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. Fred eagerly wrapped his arms around your waist, nearly lifting you off the ground. You wrapped yours around his neck and kissed him harder, the kiss never breaking as your lips swayed together. Only when you had to pull away for air did you break apart, Fred had a huge smile on his face, as did you.

“So you love me then?” Fred teased.

You rolled your eyes and pulled him back in for a quick peck.

“That wasn’t a No.” Fred smirked, pulling into yet another passionate kiss.

#fred weasly x reader #harry potter #x reader #fred weasley #george weasley #yule ball #hp and the goblet of fire #fred x reader #george wealsey x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #golden trio era #fred and george weasley

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mimiplaysgames · 3 years

Text

Terraqua Week Day 5 (Mischief)

Summary: Aqua doesn’t have a crush on Terra. She doesn’t. Okay, she does. Or, Terra accidentally walks in on her in the shower. || Word Count: 3,476

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek I should mention a tiny little warning that there is a reference to nudity in this fic! It’s not described, so it’s totally T-rated but in case that is something you wanted to know. :) This is the shortest fic in the bunch, something cute and fun. The shower scene was a deleted scene in my Terraquanort fic, but I found that it just didn’t fit with the mood at all haha

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

nah.

Accidents don’t often happen to Aqua.

Ha.

Aqua swings her Keyblade upward. The force juggles golden rings assigned for training, usually tied to a pole for a bounce back. The Master mentioned some interesting techniques the other day in class: style changes, or the ability to enhance your power after a string of emotional attacks deep in the heat of battle, when you’re forced to rely on your heart to pull you out of a tough situation. Terra is sure to be developing new tricks, too.

There’s two months left until the Mark of Mastery. Letting the rings loose is a handicap Aqua places on herself: they’re heavy, resisting her magic to bounce in the air. This way, they should mimic what it’d feel like to fight a powerful enemy. She practices her pirouettes, and her waves of magic attempt to buoy them in the air in a violent tornado, but her spell flounders, a small push by a child in a playground. She adds a waltz step, a flip to give it a good kick, but it’s not enough. The rings crash back onto the grass.

Aqua grunts and goes for the kill—but she twists her ankle at the crevice of a rock, landing on her knee.

“Stars,” she curses, wincing. Her knee is scraped, a hole ripped through her stocking, and her ankle aches. Stars. She casts Heal on her knee to soothe the sting and the gentlest summon of Ice to counter the swelling in her ankle. She tries to stand on it but can’t, so she casts more rounds of Heal and Ice spells until her leg can at least bear her weight.

Aqua limps to the castle through the back entrance, where the communal showers are. Showerheads, each with its own white curtain, are built on one side and sinks on the other in a wide open space. It’s part of a long hallway that connects to one of the gyms and a storage room down a corner. The floor is lilac concrete tile and drains, where it gives way to marble when you enter the castle proper.

There was a time when the castle housed enough students to justify the size of this room, but Aqua is grateful she has direct access instead of having to drag this stupid ankle up a tower to her bedroom.

She shrugs off her sweaty, dirt-ridden clothes and shoes, and throws them in one corner, picking a shower that already houses soap, careful to put all her weight on one foot. The curtain draws around her in a u-shape and she turns the hot water knob, the pipes whistling as the water gushes through.

It gently scalds her at first but Aqua sighs when she gets used to it, rolling her shoulders and lifting her elbow over her head to stretch. The heat is good for the muscles. She presses her fingers near her neck, where it’s tight, and massages, then bends down to cast more Heal and Ice spells onto her ankle. Grime and sand flow down her skin, losing saturation as it curls down the drain under her feet. The soap stings when it runs over her scrape.

She can’t keep making mistakes.

Maybe the waltz step was too much and over-complicated things.

Aqua turns the knob off after rinsing her body and listens to the water drip onto the floor. The repetitive sound is hypnotic. She’ll journal her progress when she gets to her room and make comparisons with entries from the last few weeks.

Hopefully, she’s improving at an acceptable speed despite the injury.

Aqua tests her ankle. She can’t flex it. Stars.

What is she missing when it comes to her technique? Does she need better endurance with her pirouettes? Does she have the time to do it right before the Mark of Mastery?

When she realizes that she needs a towel to dry off—and there’s no towel in sight—she realizes that she’s been standing there wasting the time away. The shower is the greatest and the worst place to think.

Aqua figures she could grab a towel from the storage room nearby without anyone noticing.

She opens the curtain.

Terra is standing right there, eyes as round as oranges with a heavy bag of fertilizer in his arms. He drops it. Aqua shuts the curtain with a screech.

“I’m sorry!” she hears him yell. Through the bottom of the curtain, she sees him scalping for excess that spilled over. Whatever hits the floor is mixing into the water, making mud. He’s barefoot.

“Terra, what the stars—?” she hisses, covering herself despite the curtain (a single piece of thin fabric).

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were in here!”

“How is that possible?”

“Why are you standing here doing nothing?”

“Just—Terra—” She groans loudly.

There is a pause as he walks backwards. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

“Get out of here.”

His footsteps slap across the floor, a subtle splash and the smack against the tile. Aqua peeks through the curtain when it’s quiet. She’s alone with a sequence of mud heading into the castle. Aqua grabs her clothes, slipping the bare minimum on despite its filth, and treks down the hall, purposefully taking opposite directions from his trail.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Their designated table in the library is always littered with books, damaged ones exchanged for the unread when the assignment deems it. There’s an extra stack for Ven since he’s a couple of years behind.

Aqua (carefully) enters the library (ignoring the throbbing—it will heal quickly, she tells herself). She’s cleanly dressed and re-bathed, and takes a seat at the desk while Terra and Ven babble about the nonsense of a textbook they both hate.

Terra gives her a quick, panicked glance before turning away from her and staring hard at the book in front of him.

Ven notices. “Aqua, are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, just a sprain,” she says, suddenly clenched in the throat. What happened in the shower was nothing. No big deal. Sometimes best friends see things. So why is she, too, bordering on panic? Heat builds in her cheeks, so much that it hurts. Aqua tilts her head at an angle so her hair covers her face.

“What’s with you two?” Ven asks and Aqua flinches.

“Nothing, Ven,” Terra says too sternly. He bites his lip and stands too quickly. “A Heal spell isn’t enough for a sprain, what were you thinking?” he asks her without looking at her. He clears his throat loud enough to make Ven recoil, trying his best to hide how shaky his voice has become. “Excuse me,” Terra says before shuffling his feet like he’s holding his pee and disappearing.

When it’s quiet, Ven leans forward to get into Aqua’s personal space. “Okay, I know something’s up. What’s going on?” He squints. “Why is your face all red?”

“N-no reason.” Aqua opens a book. If she digs her entire face into it, it will look like she’s hiding on purpose. She lowers her chin (casually) to pretend she’s reading.

“You’re a liar.”

Aqua slams the book back down. “I do not lie, Ven.”

“Sure, you’re the definition of perfect. But you’re lying to me now.”

Aqua doesn’t know what to do. Her record is spotless. She’s a good student and a good person. She’s only ever told small, harmless white lies, about being tired when she doesn’t feel like it, or saying she isn’t hungry when she is so they don’t catch her sneaking in a brownie. But not this.

“I’m not,” she says in the most unconvincing way.

“Fine, I’ll bug Terra about it—”

“There was,” Aqua says, her voice uneven (damn the stars), “an accident.”

Ven raises a skeptical brow. “And? How bad could that be?”

Aqua huffs and crosses her arms. It’s just Ven. Her other best friend, no judgment here. “Terra surprised me.”

Ven rolls his eyes.

“In the communal shower.”

He points and laughs at her, dropping his head in a fit and slamming a fist onto the surface of the table. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard,” he says in between gasps. “Oh, he must be suffering right now.”

Terra returns, more relaxed, carrying a wooden bowl and bandages. Still, he avoids looking Aqua in the eye.

“So…” Ven says with an obnoxious knowing to his voice and Aqua regrets everything. “Did you enjoy the view?”

Terra stares at her first, his brown skin pale. He glares at Ven with the ferocity of homicide.

Ven bursts into another shake of laughter. “Stars, don’t tell me. You’re blushing so hard.”

At that, Aqua looks away. The thought is embarrassing and a… relief? At the same time?

Terra doesn’t honor Ven with a reply. He trembles, forming a claw with his hand. When he waves it, the bookshelves shake. Several books zoom out and flap, hovering over Ven and hitting him on the head like crows on the attack.

“Wait, stop, how are you doing this?” Ven shields his head with his arms, but Terra is bent on murder. Ven summons his Keyblade and cuts straight through the spine of a book. “Okay, okay, I get it!” The books glide close, ready to torpedo if necessary. Terra refuses to say anything. Ven steps away from the table, on guard. Then he smirks. He sticks his tongue out and bolts out the door. “Maybe that means you guys will finally kiss!” he yells down the hall.

Kiss.

A word as loud as a volcano erupting.

Terra lets go of his magic and all the books drop to the floor, yet the crash is still quieter than Kiss, quieter than how hard her heart is drumming in her chest.

Without a word, Terra picks up the bowl with both of his hands and mumbles a short-lived Fire spell. It’s obvious that she’s to remove her sock and give her ankle to him. That’s the point, a turmeric and olive oil mix, gently heated to reduce inflammation. He doesn’t need to ask.

Aqua lifts her leg to remove her stocking.

Terra flinches and dramatically averts his eyes.

“It’s just a sock, Terra.”

Terra motions to look at her as a response, but stops himself. “You shouldn’t be walking on it,” he bites.

“Call me stubborn.”

“You’re stubborn.”

She fights the impulse to slap him on the back of the head. “Here.” She offers her naked leg to him.

Terra still won’t look at her, but digs two of his fingers into the mix and holds her calf with his other hand. He almost draws back from her skin. Stars, he is blushing. She is too, she can feel it, a boil in both of her cheeks, a flame building in her stomach. His fingers are warm and strong, a caress on her skin. She likes this. She has all the capability to do this herself but she doesn’t want to.

Shit.

Aqua crosses one arm over and brings her hand to her chest—her way of looking dignified as Terra rubs the solution over her ankle. She has been appreciating how broad his shoulders have gotten, how sharp his jawline is, how tall he’s grown. All things that most people would notice, surely. He’s beautiful, he’s always been.

He opens his mouth to say something.

Aqua panics. “If you dare make a comment—”

“You’ll kick me?” Terra lifts her leg higher out of spite and nearly pulls her off the chair. He takes the bandage and starts to wrap.

Aqua stammers. How are they going to get through this?

“It was an accident, Terra.”

He freezes as though he can’t decide if he should finish the job or drop her leg. After a pause, he pitches his voice into a high octave to mimic her (badly). “Oh please, Terra, they’re just breasts. Nothing major.”

“You said—” she squeaks and covers her mouth. She shouldn’t be so naive. The heat in her cheeks bake.

That’s fine. Best friends know lots of intimate things, especially with how long Terra and Aqua have been together. Some of her guts, though, are about to choke her esophagus. She hopes that doesn’t mean she wanted him to see anything. That she’d want him to enjoy it.

Shit.

Terra trembles in nervous laughter, soft and quiet, staring holes into her ankle as he knots the bandage. He’s blinking too much. “You’ll need to compress cold rice on it every now and then,” he says, suddenly serious. “And rest,” he stresses like it’s a curse word.

“Terra?”

He hesitates. “Yeah?”

Footsteps approach them from behind, too graceful to be Ven’s. Terra scrambles to pick up the books, choosing the sliced one first to slip into the bookshelf so the Master doesn’t notice. Aqua straightens herself out and slips on her shoe.

“Would someone mind explaining to me the mess in the communal showers?” the Master asks as he enters, before eyeing the mess in the library. He braces his hips with his fists. “What on earth are two concoting here?”

Her cheeks burn harder.

“Not much, sir,” Terra says, gathering a tall stack of books under his chin. “Pranking Ven. The usual.”

The tone of his voice is too suspicious and the Master knows them too well.

“Aqua,” the Master says, “you sustained an injury.”

All she can come up with is, “Not in the prank, sir.”

“So the mud—?”

“In the shower,” Terra says quickly, without thinking. Overcompensating for the awkwardness. He bites his lip. “I mean, she slipped when she was showering.”

“He only knows because I told him,” Aqua says and she wants to slap herself. Of course that’s how Terra would find out in any normal story. Spelling it out makes it seem like he witnessed it himself. Terra glares her a new one.

Eraqus reads her with skepticism. He folds his hands behind his back and clears his throat. “Terra, you remember the discussion we’ve had some years ago regarding certain curiosities—”

“Yes, Master.” Terra inhales sharply and coughs.

The Master smiles. He looks pleased with himself. “You may continue to clear this up. And if you would please, keep the mischief at a minimum. It would be a great distraction from your work.”

Terra grits his teeth and Aqua lowers her eyes. “Yes, Master,” they both say slowly, like they’re about to step on hot coal.

When the Master leaves, Terra drops books onto the table. He’s finally looking at her, his eyes such a striking depth. It suddenly melts her away. Why so sudden though? He’s always had dark eyes.

Oh. She’s taken him for granted. Now she sees.

“What was that?” he whispers.

Aqua scoffs. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He shakes his head. “I never want to have that kind of conversation with the Master ever again.”

“At least let me help you,” Aqua says, nodding over to the last gathering of books on the floor.

“I’m not letting you stand on that foot.” He bends over to do the work himself.

“Then I’ll help you clean out the mud.”

Terra puts away the last handful of books, and chuckles to himself. “How do you want to get there? Crutches?”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, I either carry you in my arms or I fling you over my shoulder.”

Aqua needs to find a spell to hide the blushing. It aches. “What an obnoxious suggestion.”

“Then I’ll leave you here in the library.”

“No.”

Terra snorts. “Okay.” He hooks an arm under her knees and lifts the rest of her body like she’s a hollow ragdoll. So close to him, Aqua can feel the grooves of his muscle, his chest durable and broad. She wonders if he enjoys holding her this close, too.

“I am really sorry,” he says as he takes her back towards the showers, passing by the open entrance to that gym, padded for wrestling. It’s not one they use often, since most of their training happens towards the front entrance. “I was on my way to take care of the squash. It was a dumb accident.”

“It’s okay,” Aqua says. She’s resting her head on his shoulder, staring at the way his neck moves when he speaks. Here, they don’t have to look at each other. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Yeah.” He sounds almost disappointed, if not relieved. “Glad we sorted that out, right?”

“Definitely.” She wraps her arms around his neck tighter.

“What were you doing?”

“Pushing myself too hard.” Aqua scoffs.

“Typical Aqua.”

At the way he says that—mock-cocky, snivelish, playful—she blushes. He hasn’t changed since they were little, but it’s a side to him that only she and Ven sees.

There’s a lot to him that he only shows her.

They reach the storage room where the mop and towels would be stored, but he doesn’t enter. “We really need to install a door here,” he says. They reach the communal showers, and he bypasses them too. Terra finally settles her down on the terrace outside.

“Stay here, I’ll be back.”

“No, wait, I’m helping you—”

“Not with that foot, you’re nuts.”

“You can’t stop me from crawling back inside.”

“Then I’ll drag you back out.” He smirks, almost like he’s his old self but not quite. His old self isn’t this adamant. It makes her think that there’s something he isn’t saying, that maybe she’s misreading him, stuck between doing his duty to help her and needing time away from her. That he’s hiding it all behind a joke, and she has to let him go.

“Okay.” She crosses her arms.

“Rest isn’t terrible for you,” he says as he walks away.

Aqua stares at dry dirt. Down this path are the flower and vegetable gardens, contained by a fence. Beyond is the trail that leads right to the spot where she started this ridiculous ordeal. If only she didn’t trip. She’s been training for years. She’s too skilled to be having accidents, too far in her studies to think this hard about her feelings for Terra.

Too far in her studies and too mature to keep denying that she wants him to look at her. She does.

She gets tapped on the head.

“Wait here,” Terra says, heading towards the gardens, barely giving her a glance.

Aqua anchors her elbows onto her thighs and drops her chin into her hands. A sudden thought invades her mind: he’ll come back from whatever chore he has to finish here, take her to her room, and now that everything is said and done, they’ll pretend like none of this has happened.

And that is that. A weird day finished, a blip in history.

Terra comes back into view faster than she anticipated, holding a bouquet of orange and blue flowers in his hand.

Aqua uses the wall to pull herself up, keeping most of her weight on the good foot. “What’s this?”

Terra opens his mouth to speak, and leaves it there. He licks his lips and offers the flowers. “Um…” He scoffs. “I’m bad at this.”

They smell nice. Roses and bluestars. They must be his way to apologize. “They’re beautiful.”

“Um…” He clears his throat, rubbing something raw at the back of his neck. “Would you like to, uh…” He glances at the ground beneath him, summoning the courage to look at her and speak clearly, overusing his hands to demonstrate. “There’s actually a really pretty cave nearby, full of crystals and minerals. It’s spectacular, and I’ve always wanted to take you to see it.” He blushes, swallowing. “Um, when you feel better, would you like to come see it with me? Spend the night, I mean?” He blushes harder, scoffing. “It’s a nice hike and it’s a great camping spot.”

Aqua squeezes the stems of the flowers and her heart hammers too hard to find her voice. “That sounds…” She exhales. “Nice.” She almost asks for permission—from who, she doesn’t know. Terra is asking her. She’s asking herself. “Yes, I’d love to.” She hopes to the stars she’s blushing less than him.

Terra has no answer except for a nervous giggle, his eyes gleaming. He leans forward and kisses her on the cheek, whipping himself back with a hand to his face like he’s committed the worst sin in the world.

It’s warm where he left his lips. Aqua touches it with her fingers.

Embarrassed laughter sputters out of Terra’s mouth with many unnecessary apologies.

Aqua smiles, and it comforts him. “Can you take me back inside?” she asks, that smile twisting her cheeks. It hurts so good.

“Sure,” he breathes. “Anywhere you want.”

They exchange rogue giggles and excited glances as he carries her. They talk as if nothing indeed has happened, where they avoid any mention of mischief to be had in the near future, at least for now. Maybe the stars threw her off balance this morning on purpose. Best friends. They’ve always been.

#terraqua #aqua #terra #ventus #kingdom hearts fanfiction #lmao omg #this cute little one is finally out #i hope you like it!#my fic

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yehet-me-up · 3 years

Text

White Rabbit

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (gender not specified)

Word Count: 5,091

Genre: hacker!AU 🧑🏻‍💻, Matrix vibes inspo, angsty but with a happy/hopeful ending

Rating/Warnings: (M) - mentions of violence/blood, swearing, death of a family member (brother), gunshot wounds

Summary: After his brother’s murder took everything from him, Jungkook is dead set on revenge, even if it costs him his own life. But at the last moment he finds a ray of light, of hope. At the last moment, he meets you.

The blood on the wall is not his, but it haunts him just the same.

He rests in bed though he hardly feels the full meaning of the word. The blackout curtains are pulled tight, blocking any errant strands of sunlight that would seek to come in. Jungkook knows he’s isolated himself, but he can’t find it within himself to care. With a groan he turns; the mattress and bedframe whine metallically, protesting the movement. The blankets would be warm and comforting - if he had pulled them fully, properly over him. But he can’t get comfortable; he forbids it.

Revenge and retribution are the twin flames that sustain him these days. They pull him through the pit of his loss like a rope around his waist, tied behind a moving truck. Through the mire of pain all he can see is one purpose. A single goal he clings to. Perhaps on the other side of his task he’ll find peace, or at least satisfaction that justice has been done. It’s a silly hope but it’s what he has, and he’ll sink his nails and his teeth into it with all the energy he has left.

Sweat coats his back in the midst of his half-awake state. Somewhere between dusk and dawn he found an uneasy sleep. His left leg hangs over the bed, exposed to the chill in the air, on purpose. He knows if he stops searching that he’ll sink, as if through quicksand. And the thought of what he must do is far less terrifying than the thought of what awaits him if he sank to the bottom.

In sleep he grasps the fabric of his sheets with tight fingers. His head shakes from side to side, neck straining and veins standing in attention. As always his dreams are fraught with slivers - of images and memories and premonitions, or what feels like them. Sometimes he remembers them when he wakes. Other times they fade in the light of the morning.

But always he remembers the white rabbit.

At times it’s a real animal made of fur and softness that dances around his feet in his slumber. Or he becomes one himself, when he stares in the bathroom mirror after long nights of sleep deprivation; when his teeth grow and his nose wrinkles and he imagines his ears lengthening to become animalistic.

It’s important, and he knows it in his bones. But finding the murderer has dominated his mind and always he rolls his shoulders and casts off thoughts of the rabbit. It lives in the world of his mind and he doesn’t have time to wander into dreams.

A discordant beeping pulls him from the fitful sleep and he sighs. Tossing off the blankets he rolls to the side. The damp white shirt clings to his frame and his bare feet hit the hardwood floor. Jungkook runs both hands through his hair, pushing the dark strands away from his vision, tucking them behind his metal-filled ears. Rising, he gets to work.

Once upon a time he and his brother had work stations opposite each other. Computers pressed almost back-to-back to form one technological beast. Since he was seventeen he’s gone by K00KIE and after a few bumbling attempts he managed to find his stride as a hacker. Like learning a foreign language he stuttered and reached blindly for what he didn’t know for weeks before the words came naturally to his tongue. Now the internet has opened itself before him like a book held in his hands and reading is his chiefest joy.

His brother was everything Jungkook is not, and he exists now like the sun does to the moon on long nights, haunting Jungkook like a phantom limb. Less than a year separated them and they were far more like twins than just brothers. Jihoon was indeed almost brighter than the sun itself. Loud and free and unrestrained. He led them both into this world and now, left behind to pick up the pieces, Jungkook vows he’ll get them both out of it.

He stands, pressing his hands on his knees for leverage. The walk to his desk chair is only a few steps but it feels like he walked a mile. In the weeks since Jihoon’s murder he hasn’t had the energy to exercise. Or shower very often. Or even eat. Grief hangs around him like a shroud and with glassy eyes he takes in his workspace.

Jungkook lets his lids close again, dragged down by exhaustion, and he sees Jihoon sitting at his desk with a lollipop skicking from his mouth, speaking with animated hands about the program they made. How it would change the world. The cowlick of hair on his right side that always stuck up at an odd angle, and his eyes that crinkled whenever he was excited about something.

That world is full of bright color and when Jungkook opens his eyes, slowly, reluctantly, his apartment is awash in grey. Jihoon’s desk is empty. Every space is filled with piles of paper full of Jungkook’s messy writing, scrawled on every available notebook and receipt, surrounded by empty take out containers and chopsticks and energy drink cans and the stupid fucking plastic bags his grocery delivery services uses instead of paper ones.

Again his phone beeps, signalling more and more messages from his friends. A few he knows in real life, but most he only knows online. People who started out as words on a screen or lines of code traded back and forth but became the ones who know him best. They know he hurts and are trying to reach across through the digital world to catch him as he falls.

Kook, where are you? Talk to us.

Is there anything we can do? We’re here for you

If you want help, you only have to ask. To heal or… to make them pay.

Maybe he’ll let them, once it’s done. It’s a dangerous rabbit hole to walk down alone, but he won’t risk anyone else. He can’t.

None of his friends knew what he and Jihoon were working on. It was too secret for either of them to discuss online, where anyone could be listening. But in this community death means one of two things - either the government found you, or the competition. Jihoon didn’t fuck with the government, everyone knew that, which left only one option.

After he finds his brother’s killer or - fuck, killers? - perhaps he’ll be who he almost was again. Someone young and alive with the world at his feet. He could get a new apartment with a view of the park his brother loved, full of old brick columns surrounded by ivy and a sprawling network of paved pathways to walk. He could marathon anime and order from that Chinese restaurant he loves and play Tekken and create games and programs with his friends. It’s so close and yet so far from possible.

He turns his hands so his palms face skyward and gasps in a breath with how badly he wants to be freed from this. The pain and the hollow feeling in his gut and the insatiable urge to undo bloodshed with more blood spilled.

Could he do it? He wonders to his empty apartment, the darkness only lit by the glow from his computer screen. He doesn’t know what he’ll have to do, but whatever price is asked of him, he’s willing to pay.

His brother built a program that was too dangerous to be allowed and Jungkook helped him. Jihoon must have said something, anything, to the wrong people. The reckless joy that carried him through the world must have been exposed and then they came and sank their teeth into him devoured his brother whole. Jungkook helped him build the damn thing. It should have been me. It should have been anyone, anywhere else, but Jihoon.

Jungkook was down at the Seven-Eleven, getting slurpees. And when he came back, his brother was dead.

It can’t have been more than fifteen minutes but already his brother’s body was starting to cool, despite the warm blood that ran over Jungkook’s hands as he tried to stop the bleeding. He found his phone with a slick, wet hand, the one not pressing against the wound in Jihoon’s chest, and called for help.

It was too late - his brother died in his arms and the people who did it left no trace, not a scrap of a clue about their identity. The security cameras were disabled remotely. The hard drives were taken by with gloved hands, no fingerprints. In the aching days after it happened he went looking - in the back ups, and the back ups of the back ups he forced his brother to make. Always the careful one. But everything was gone. Like sand between his outstretched hands there was nothing left for him to hold.

Jungkook has a rage in him that would terrify him if he wasn’t too numb to feel. He pops the top of the Monster energy drink and downs half of it in three swallows. It’s warm and the flavor is atrocious, but it gets the job done. Ages ago he would have listened to music while he coded and while his brother dreamed of things that hadn’t yet been created. Now he sits in silence and his world is reduced to the muffled clacking of his fingers as they race across the keyboard, echoing around the now bare beige walls.

He should let people in and he should let his friends help. They’re good, many of them might even be better than Jungkook himself at tracking the bastards that did this. But letting them in is like breathing underwater. If he gasps in air he’ll also inhale water and drown. After it’s done, he vows to try. But not until then.

“Follow the white rabbit, little brother.”

The words are an echo in his mind, pinging around the lonely apartment and so clear it’s as though Jihoon whispered it in his ear. Jungkook turns, shaken and startled. He needs to get himself together. The days and weeks are blurring together and only the readout on his unused but still charged cell phone tells him where he is in the passage of time.

Sixteen days, four hours, and twenty three minutes since his world changed.

He shrugs off the strange suggestion, as always. Now more than ever he doesn’t think he should listen to what the dead ask.

Instead he picks up where he left off yesterday - or, no. It’s just after eleven at night according to his phone. He picks up where he left off this afternoon, when he finally gave into his brain’s pleas to sleep. The trail dead-ended in all the obvious places he looked. The message boards and chat rooms his brother frequented. Anyone who even whispered about ideas related to the program his brother envisioned. Rivalries and competitive streaks are a dime a dozen in his community, but every time he feels like he might have some goddamned clue it goes up in smoke.

Hours of digging tonight and he somehow strikes gold. At first he assumes it’s a hallucination or a wish so strong he’s made his imagination tangible. But it’s right there in black and white on his screen. In a buried chat room so far off the beaten path he can’t see daylight anymore - he finds a conversation. Someone describing a program and another anonymous name offering to buy at any price. It was shut down almost immediately after it was posted, eighteen days ago.

If he wasn’t already known as Kookie he might have listened to Jihoon and gone by the nickname ghost. If there’s any memory of something happening on the dark web, Jungkook can find it, and tonight he’s scented blood. Tonight he’s not a rabbit but a predator himself.

It’s only a breadcrumb, a fishing lure dangling in the water, but he grasps it between his teeth. Jungkook was always good, almost the best. Now full of desperation and reckless energy, he’s unstoppable. He pulls on the line and it unravels before him, drawing the unsuspecting fisherman into the depths where Jungkook waits. First an IP address and then he finds a text message log and then a name and before he knows it, he’s found them. Or at least where they were three days ago.

Triumph is delicious in his mouth, but it also has the same rank taste as the lingering energy drink. Jungkook blinks and rubs at his eyes. He stands and tests the cans around his keyboard for any that are full. All empty. He curses and moves to the kitchen. Opening the fridge he’s greeted by emptiness. His stomach tightens and growls, reminding him it’s been far too long since he had real food.

A plan forms in his mind, but first - he stops to smell the shirt he wears and winces - he needs a shower. And food. So much food. Enough to see him through to the end of this.

The bathroom, much like the whole apartment, is full of reminders. Razors and toothbrushes and hair gel that has no owner anymore. Jungkook avoids the mirror. He doesn’t need to see the dark stains of purple beneath his eyes or the way his skin has pulled taut over his jaw, turning it sharper than ever before. It’s bright as he pulls back the shower curtain, morning light streaming in through the window while he turns on the water.

He strips and stands naked on the plush blue bath mat. Steam fills the narrow space and hugs him. His brother used to sing in the shower, loudly, to wake up Jungkook when he’d sleep in. He breathes in the moist air and emotion clogs his throat. The urge to give in pulls at him and he reaches a hand to the porcelain sink to steady himself.

Soon.

It’s all he can promise himself and his brother’s memory. Soon he’ll get his revenge and then - well, he doesn’t know. The future used to be a wildly exciting prospect before him. It was never money or fame that thrilled him, but simply the feeling of being a part of something. Together with his brother they built a community and the world was at their feet. Now he feels unmoored, a boat that got pulled by the tide and can’t find its port again.

He’s always been soft, even in his darkness. Violence and aggression were saved for the gym or for Fortnite, not for the outside world. But now a monster has awoken in him and he can only sate it with the blood of the people who took his blood, his family, from the world. Should he get a gun? Finish this the way they started it? Or should he attack them online, eviscerate their lives with code and strokes of his mouse?

When he blinks his eyes are sluggish, and finally he moves, stepping forward into the spray of water. With a groan he leans against the black and white tile and savors the feeling of hot water caressing his shoulders and back. Jungkook runs strong fingers along his neck and massages the kinks out. He rubs sleep and exhaustion from his eyes and reluctantly washes his hair and body. Much that he wants to, he does not sink to the floor of the shower and condense into a ball.

He hates to wait, but he needs food and fresh air and a chance to think. And more importantly, he needs coffee.

The world outside his apartment assaults him with noise and movement and he curls his hands into fists in the pockets of his leather jacket while he walks. Drinking a deep breath the air cools his lungs. He knows the way to the diner in his sleep. It’s yellow and teal neon sign draws him in like a North Star. The familiar tinkling of the welcome bell alerts the waitress to his presence.

“Oh, it’s you Jungkook! I haven’t seen you in ages. I’ll be with you in just a minute, sweetheart.” She tells him with a wave and a wink. “Have a seat.”

He gives Pearl his usual tight-lipped awkward smile, even as he breathes a sigh of relief at her warm presence. Her dyed red hair and bold red lips are still going strong in her sixties, even at the early hour. She takes a couple’s order at a far table, her boisterous voice holding him the way a mother might.

Jungkook takes his favorite booth - the two-seater in the corner with the view of the river. He wraps his arms tight around his chest and sits straight in the seat, feeling rigid and off putting in the warm, cozy space. But slowly the smell of bacon and coffee and the cushion at the back of the chair pull him in. Sagging, he releases his hands to grip the empty mug between his palms.

He starts to compose a plan. Something he can do today, quickly before they escape. But then Pearl comes over and fills his cup with coffee. She slips a piece of paper onto the edge of the table, face down, like normal. Jungkook stutters and reaches for it as she bustles away towards the kitchen.

“Pearl, wait-” he chokes on the word, throat scratchy. How long has it been since he last spoke out loud? She turns and cocks a hip onto the side of the waitress stand, waiting for him to continue. “I haven’t ordered yet.” His voice is small and unsure. He notices the items listed and total at the bottom and his brow furrows. “And there’s a zero dollar total.”

She smirks and looks at him through her lashes with trademark sass. “Sweetie, you’ve ordered the same thing for years. I know you. And I also know about your brother. I saw it in the papers.” Her expression turns sad, eyes widening. “A robbery in our neighborhood? I can’t imagine. It’s so awful.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I refuse to let you pay today.”

A smile tugs at him. “And the next time?”

The waitress snorts and waves a hand, giving him a lopsided smile that manages to be both comforting and cheeky. “Next time you owe me, darlin’.” She disappears around the corner and Jungkook laughs.

He tucks the slip into his pocket; a reminder that someone sees him. Cares about him. Remembers him. His phone weighs heavily in his jacket pocket. The notification tone is off now - not just because Pearl hates cell phones but because he’s not quite ready yet - though he knows there’s dozens of messages still waiting for him. Lifelines he could grab onto if he wanted.

The coffee warms his hands and he allows himself to look up. Through the windows he watches the river, winding its way through the center of the town and reflecting the sunlight. Movement to his right catches his eye, finding something else the sun loves two tables away - you.

Abruptly he thinks back to watching The Wizard of Oz with his family as a child. How Dorothy emerged from a grey world into full color and how it took his breath away. You rest your chin on your hand and yawn. Books are spread around you on the table. Piles of notes and stacks of plates that let him know you also haven’t slept in a while. He feels something stir inside him, long dormant. Curiosity, blooming in his veins like spring buds after a long winter of snow and frost.

He watches the fall of your hair across your forehead as you shake your head slightly, trying to stay awake. He imagines running his hand through it, feeling the soft strands. The world is hazy after so many days of insufficient sleep and you look like a dream to him. A slight flush has come to your cheeks and he wonders if it’s from the old heating unit mounted to the ceiling that’s been stuck at full blast ever since he’s come here. Or from the fleece-lined denim jacket and blue fingerless gloves you wear. Still, after what looks like hours in the warm diner.

He wonders if your studies consume your mind the way hacking has come to dominate his. From this angle he can’t see the subject or content of any of the books, but he can see your handwriting. Both precise and delicate, it fills the pages in neat lines. The world tilts as he leans up, calves and thighs flexing to get a better view, and he imagines tipping over the edge of a pool and falling into you. Like a parched man looks for water he feels drawn to you with an intensity he doesn’t understand.

He’s already been inside the diner for a few minutes, but he knows there’s still time. You haven’t looked up. You haven’t noticed him yet. He could stand now, and go. Taking his broken, jagged spirit and shattered heart and leave you in peace. Maybe today seeing Pearl is enough and maybe her voice will carry him through what he must do. He fumbles for his wallet to leave her a few dollars in tip before she can come back with his food.

But then you look up, drawn by the noise of his wallet chain scraping the wood chair. Your eyes lit by the morning sun hold nothing but innocence and kindness and he knows he can’t leave now. For a moment he imagines he could wipe his slate clean and be someone pure and good once more. Or maybe if he can’t be un-tainted by the stain of violence and death on his life, perhaps holding someone like you and kissing hope is more than enough.

He’s staring and he knows it, and so do you. With a subtle tilt of your head against your hand you smile sleepily at him. He knows you’re similar to him without ever talking to you. He knows you stay up too late and that your nights are consumed by the hunger within you. In a normal conversation he’d ask your name or perhaps buy you some coffee. But his world has been sharpened to a knife’s edge and he doesn’t have flirtation or standard social customs at his disposal. Instead, he skips the formality.

“What are you studying?”

With a smirk you reach for the book closest to you, holding it up so he can see the cover. Elementary Calculus. “I’m battling it out with some derivatives.” You sigh and rest the book back on the tabletop, holding his gaze.

“Are you a math major?”

“No, computer science.” You watch him, eyes trailing over his tattooed knuckles that hold the cup. It might be the heat of the coffee or the rays of light but he imagines it’s your touch across his skin instead. “But I have to take the last of my damn math credits to graduate. Just calculus between me and my dreams.”

He could offer to help, but in truth he was terrible at math in school. Jungkook found his way into hacking through a back door, not any formal study. “Computer science, huh? What are you hoping to do for work?”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips fighting a smile, as though you’re debating whether to trust him. To let him in. He’s nervous for the first time in ages. Pulse racing and stomach jittery with some bright feeling he can’t properly name.

After a long moment you slide out of the booth and stand. Not to leave but to close the distance and pull out the chair opposite him. You lean in towards him and he smells a hint of the scent you wear or maybe it’s your shampoo. “I have no idea what I want to do yet. Something good, hopefully.”

In a wave of lovable sass Pearl brings over his breakfast, forcing the two of you to move back. He hadn’t noticed how much he’d leaned in towards you as well. “My two favorite night owls finally meet,” Pearl says with a click of her tongue. “It’s gonna be a good day, honeys.” She walks off with a hum and the trademark bounce in her step.

You blush and look down at your hands, rubbing your thumb over the palm of your free hand. His mind is always full of questions, insatiable in his hunt for knowledge and creation. Today he wants to know everything about you. Where you go to school and how you got interested in computers. What your favorite movies are and if you’re from this city or if you moved here and what you might taste like if he’s lucky enough to kiss you, some day.

It’s easier to ask than to share, he’s found. A socially acceptable smoke screen to hide behind that conceals his nervousness when talking about himself. Without his boisterous brother beside him he feels both more mature, standing on his own, and younger. More vulnerable. To do this, to do life, alone now.

“What about you?” Your words break through his distracted mind with the soft lilt of your question.

“Oh, I’m not in school any more.”

You nod and reach back for your abandoned coffee on your table. The movement makes your jacket and your shirt ride up slightly and he sees a sliver of exposed skin along your side. Forget how long it’s been since he spoke, how long has it been since he touched someone, he wonders. Or was touched? He would normally keep desire locked inside but here in the daylight after what feels like an endless night he can’t remember how to behave properly anymore. All he wants to do is touch you, and to hear your sweet voice leading him to a kinder, more gentler world he’d forgotten existed.

“Figured it was a fifty-fifty shot since we look about the same age,” you answer, now returned to starting at him while you blow on your coffee. “So what do you do, then? I can’t imagine not having my head full of school and homework right now. Please tell me about the outside world.” You sigh dramatically.

It feels almost forbidden to speak the words aloud. To tell you about the world he and his friends live in that’s made of wires and binary in two dimensions. But it’s the truth, and he’s tired of keeping it to himself. “I work with computers too, I suppose. I do mostly programming and some… other things online.”

You raise a brow at him. “Like porn?” Jungkook’s mouth drops open, his fork paused midair and a laugh caught in his throat. Quickly you wave a hand in the air, unable to contain your own laugh. “Sorry, that’s a terrible joke. I just -” you groan and run the hand over your face. “My mother always says I choose the worst possible times to be inappropriate. But you’re cute and I’m sleepy and couldn’t help it.”

After a beat you drop your hand back to the table and look up at him. His chest is warm and other parts of him are coming to life that he hasn’t thought about in ages. Like Rip Van Winkle he feels as though he’s been asleep for years and didn’t know it. He does his best to contain his expression but if your playful smile is any indication then he knows the way he’s feeling is broadcast all over his face.

He sees you as a lifeline. A portal, like from one of his favorite video games, leading him somewhere better. There will be time later to figure out if the connection is real and not just him taking the first hand extended to him. Once you’ve both had a night’s sleep and see things more clearly. But right now he says the only thing that makes sense. The only question he can manage.

“Would you like to go out with me?” He knows he should be smoother or have whatever ‘game’ is, that his brother always talked about having. But this is what he has and he hopes it’s enough.

You look him up and down as he chews a bite of bacon. To a less caring eye someone might dismiss him because of the dark circles and the tattoos and the haunted look he sees in his face these days. But maybe you see everything he likes and everything he hates about himself from a far more charitable point of view. Maybe you’ll be nicer to him than he’s allowed himself to be lately.

“That would be great,” you answer softly, sipping your coffee. “How’s now for you?”

He blinks. “Now?”

“Well, after you finish your breakfast I mean.” Turning, you casually wave at Pearl and she lifts a finger to say she’ll be there in a moment. “I should get some pancakes myself, first.” With a shake of your head you gesture to the books. “I think I’ve earned some after an all-nighter with the devil, aka calculus.”

Jungkook nods, biting his lip to keep from grinning. “Sounds good to me.”

Pearl eventually brings you pancakes, blueberry with the fancy whipped cream she likes to keep in stock. She brings him another serving of food as well and waves him off when he tries to pay. As his belly grows fuller and the two of you talk about your favorite old school computer games he realizes it’s been over an hour since he thought of his brother. While you gather your books into your backpack he pauses, wondering if that’s a good thing.

Then you lift your hand to scratch an itch and that’s when he sees the tattoo. The gentle black outline on your neck, behind your ear; the white and pink ink. Faded a bit, not fresh. The small animal with big ears is a thunderbolt and he stops, then smiles. He holds open the door for you and tilts his head back up to the bright, cloudless sky and does something he hasn’t done fully in almost three weeks - he laughs.

Later today Jungkook will share what he knows. With his friends he trusts. Perhaps with you as well, in time. But for now he has walk to take with you along a river, and it’s shaping up to be a gorgeous day.

Follow the white rabbit, little brother. And finally, at last, he listens.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts fanfic #bts au #bts jungkook #meant to have a Namjoon fic ready to post today but life got in the way a bit so I'm going to post this a bit early instead!

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