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#I just wonder if anyone else is annoyed with this trend of people pretty much getting bored with being upset about something or whatever
zgvlt · 1 year
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sending your crush a survey form hcs part 2 second years x reader (separate) -> riddle, ruggie, azul
author's note: jade, floyd, kalim, jamil, and silver will be posted separately because of the tumblr image limit, i can't fit them all into one post (also i'm having trouble with massive lag for this post as is huhu)
general tags: gn reader, fluff + attempt at humor, sfw, not beta read, mix of text and images (for images, alt text/image description available)
part 1 w/ first years
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character: RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS premise/trope: sending Riddle an "academic survey" to answer
HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK
You've done too good a job at making the link look legit, at hiding your intentions. Using a link shortener like twst.ly so that no preview would show up, talking about how you needed respondents, all that jazz.
Riddle would help any student in need (academically) if he was capable of doing so, he was just that kind of person, but because he liked you he was very willing to go above and beyond.
He was going to help anyway, but telling him things like "I really appreciate you doing this for me," seals the deal for him.
You had a survey that needed answering and you wanted him to answer it because you needed respondents? Well, what if he sends the link to other people as well?
He asks you about how much respondents you still need, though you don't respondent yet. He decides to delay sending it to the rest of Heartslabyul for now, only sending it to Cater and Trey.
Thank the Sevens for that.
Trey and Cater are immediately poking fun at him, telling him to actually open the survey first because they knew that he wouldn't want to send it to anyone if he saw the contents.
"Aren't you lucky you sent this to us and not the rest of Heartslabyul?"
"How embarrassed would you have been if you sent this to the Dorm Leaders gc?"
"Or worse... to Ace and Deuce."
He's rather angry, not necessarily at you (though he is a little bit annoyed, could you not have done something else less... troublesome?) but mostly at himself for not checking first. He should be more vigilant next time.
RIDDLE: Cater said this was a trend, but... I still don't understand why you would make something like this.
You haven't responded yet, so Riddle decides to answer the form all the way through.
In his head he wonders, whatever happened to regular courtship? Like he's not flustered by the whole situation.
Riddle's answers carry that tone where it feels like he's seriously questioning your intentions/decisions, but also like he's trying to answer genuinely. It's almost like he's trying to let you have your cake and eat it too (that is to say, letting you have your fun) despite not being quite sure of how to go about it.
The point is, the fact that he actually answers it is a miracle in itself, and you don't shy from letting him know you appreciate it.
HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS
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AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM
Actively seeks you out in person to confront you about the form. He has a feeling you were being serious about it despite the formatting, so he pretty much confirms that you do like him.
Also asks you why you would want to go about it this way, and most answers don't exactly satisfy him, but at the end of the day he's happy about the results.
You like him, he likes you, and that's what's important, really.
(Though he has no real intentions of telling his mother that he's getting into a relationship, he wonders how she would react if she found out not only did he not ask his s/o out first, but that you did it in such a bizarre manner)
"I don't think I would even give this the time of day if someone else sent it," Riddle tells you honestly, "but because it's you... even something this weird is endearing."
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character: RUGGIE BUCCHI premise/trope: sending Ruggie the classic crush form, except you send it when he's busy with work and now he can't concentrate because he's too busy blushing and giggling and kicking his legs at the thought of you 👍👍
HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK
He hadn't planned on viewing any of your messages at first (or anyone's messages, really). He planned on viewing them once he finished up for the day.
But Leona was getting annoyed with the constant beeping, and honestly he was too (like, couldn't they just send it all in one message, whatever it was they wanted to say?) so he moved to view the messages quickly, maybe answer if he felt like it, then mute his phone for an hour.
Except he saw that the messages were from you, and he caught a peep of the link preview... and then he just lost it.
"It" being all sense of focus and comprehension and he knows it's bad because Leona's staring at him weirdly.
"Why are you blushing and giggling like a school girl what the hell..."
Leona just doesn't get it, Ruggie justifies. When the actual love of your life confirms their feelings for you it's enough to make anyone collapse to the floor and weep, and if anything Ruggie is holding up pretty well by, well, still being able to fold a shirt properly in spite of it all.
And then he almost messes up the laundry by mixing the colors with the whites, so maybe he is too distracted after all.
RUGGIE: ya rly hda to go send it now of all times, dontcha?? do ya want me to embarras myself in fornt of leona or smth???? wth have mercy on me
He makes a bunch of typos but he can't be bothered to correct them.
He can't really focus for the rest of the day, and when he's free from his assigned tasks he heads straight for his phone. He should be studying, but he doesn't think he can focus on that at this point without reading the form and just... seeing if you're for real, for real.
Ruggie answers like he's trying to be slick but he also can't help but slip in just how much he likes you and the types of reactions you get out of him.
HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS
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AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM
He needs to call you (honestly would prefer to meet up in person, but it's pretty damn late and he wants you to get your rest and... yeah, the in person talk can wait for a little bit)
Honestly you've just... lightened up his mood, like a lot. Like he just knows he's going to be full of energy and motivation tomorrow, and maybe the days after because of how much happiness you've given him.
You can tease him all you want for his answers and the spelling/grammar mistakes (in his defense, his hands were shaking the whole time!) but he can't even get himself to be too upset by it. You're laughing and giggling and that's all enough for Ruggie's good mood to skyrocket.
After that dies down, though, the two of you end up planning for your upcoming date.
"Don't think I'm not gonna getcha back for this, shishishi..."
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character: AZUL ASHENGROTTO premise/trope: sending an s/o application form to Azul, who's been crushing on you for a while now
HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK
Makes sure to check the link properly first since bait links are popular these days (he learned his internet safety from Idia). Messages you in a different platform to ask if you've been hacked.
When you tell him you were the one who sent the link, it still doesn't quite sink in that you're being genuine. Before a crush you are a friend and he does trust you, but a part of him wonders if this is some prank or if someone forced you to send him something like that. You must know how badly he likes you, don't you? Please don't make fun of his feelings like this.
He calls you to really make sure, and with some reassurance from you he finally understands that this isn't something mean, that it was a trend you wanted to hop on, and that you won't judge him for his answers
You tell him that he doesn't have to answer if it makes him uncomfortable, that you just thought it seemed fun, but he tells you he does want to answer it.
"If... if you really consider me as someone who could become your partner... When opportunity knocks on my door, who am I to not answer its call?"
He tries to sound more confident, but inevitably hangs up because he doesn't think he can answer properly with you on the phone. He might end up typing a bunch of nonsense!
Azul struggles with having a fun answer and answering completely seriously, almost like it's a job interview or something. Doesn't realize until the last few questions that there are no other candidates to compete with. Maybe he should have skimmed all the questions first before answering.
The good thing, though, is that you do learn about how Azul sees romance, so even if the whole form was meant as something silly at first you do learn more about him.
HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS
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AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM
The last two questions gave Azul some confidence when it came to pursuing you. There's just something reassuring about actually knowing that his feelings weren't unrequited as opposed to having to make assumptions or having to make the effort to get you to fall for him.
You've already made most of the first moves, from confessing your feelings (albeit not quite in person, maybe he could try doing that...), to being the one to ask him on a date... There must be something he can do. He wants to play on equal ground, make the first move as well.
That's when the idea strikes him. It's not very innovative, but there's no need to fix what's not broken, is there?
Azul sits in front of his laptop for approximately an hour, and when he's satisfied he converts the file into a PDF. It's not a very serious document, even if it's formatted as such, and that's how you know that he's finally eased up.
"Since I've passed the application period, the next step is to sign a partnership contract, is it not?"
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masterlist | end notes
[ 1 ] twst.ly is basically bit.ly, the link shortener
[ 2 ] compared to part 1 (the first years) where it was set post-NRC, this time i set it during NRC. the remaining second years will also be set during NRC, though the third years is mixed 👍
[ 3 ] the text versions of the images are in the alt text/image description but do let me know if you would prefer it to be in the post itself!
[ 4 ] i'm thinking about whether i should continue making the forms manually instead of just using the actual google forms app, it's such a hassle my laptop keeps overheating these days huhu
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biff-adventurer · 4 months
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Spontaneous Roleplay for Dummies OR How to roleplay with random strangers on the internet, no plotting required OR XIV in game roleplay specific & general writing tips
I've been roleplaying for a good long while now and I'm starting to see some issues trending lately. So here is a guide/tips from me, a spontaneous RPer, who has run into a lot of younger or newer RPers without a lot of guidance. Let me have the honor of trying to help. Or at least let me share what I want some people to know.
i) So you go to a venue. The safest way to start RPing with literally anyone in particular is to ask them an opening question. It doesn’t have to be ground-breaking.
Sonny Silvertear: “Hi there! I'm Sonny, what’s your name?” “ Luna Lifebringer: “Hi? My name’s Luna.”
ii) If the stranger doesn’t “yes and” you, move on. People are jerks, and if they judge you, that’s on them. If someone doesn’t respond in fifteen minutes, you’re safe to move on. (People type slow in game, so fifteen minutes feels like the safest number to me. Please work within your comfort zone–it’s a part of creating boundaries and protecting yourself!)
iv) If you’re the stranger sitting around waiting for someone to ask you a question, the polite thing to do is “yes and” them back. Sometimes, this means just saying something that your new roleplay partner can respond to. It doesn’t always have to be a question!
Luna Lifebringer: “Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around.” Sonny Silvertear: “It’s my first time here. Do you come here often?”
Remember: No talk is too small. Small talk can lead to big talk if you continue to “yes and” with your partner. If you take an interest in someone else’s character, the courteous thing is for them to take an interest in yours.
(As an aside, it’s a little narcissistic to wonder why someone took an interest in your character unless they offer the information themselves. If they compliment you, make sure you find something nice and genuine to say back! Most of the time, the safe assumption is that people are just trying to make friends–unless you have good reason to believe otherwise, of course.)
v) “But I play a character who doesn’t talk too much?” Body language is a great way to show emotion for characters who are stoic. If they can’t offer much dialogue, you can help your partner out by sharing your character’s thoughts or assumptions in your prose. It does NOT have to be fancy or complicated.
Luna Lifebringer: “Not really, no.” Luna raised an eyebrow, then turned to her drink. She wasn’t sure why this cheerful stranger was talking to her, but she didn’t mind it. She just didn’t think it made sense to share her prior line of thought–about the adventure she’d just survived, in a dungeon where she pretty much carried the party with the strength of her white magic.
Sonny Silvertear: “You seem to have a lot on your mind. Do you wanna talk about it?”
Luna Lifebringer: “Not really, no.” She smiled weakly at Sonny, but without any malice. She didn’t want him to think she was annoyed. “What about you? Something on your mind?”
Sonny Silvertear: “Not really, no.” He had to laugh. Should he have come up with conversation topics beforehand? He was new at the social thing, which he hadn’t known was part of the adventuring thing until he’d picked up the mantle of sprout.
Luna Lifebringer: Luna Lifebringer laughs, too. “I guess we both came out to enjoy a nice drink.”
Sonny Silvertear: “I really like drinking. But I’m not, like, a drunk!”
vi) “But how do I get out of small talk territory?” This is where you choose to be vulnerable. Contrary to what some people might tell you, it’s alright to share some exposition about your character’s backstory. It just has to seem natural–and the best way to make something seem natural is to find a natural opportunity to share.
Luna Lifebringer: “Well, good. Because I hate drunks, lies and deception. Especially deception.”
Sonny Silvertear: “Anyone who knows a drunk hates drunks.”
Luna Lifebringer: “You, too? I’ll drink to that!”
vii) “But my partner isn’t picking up on my cues.” That happens sometimes. It can happen a lot if your cues aren’t obvious. It can also happen if you run into a lot of people who are either really uninterested, really tired, or just really not perceptive. Those are all not your fault, so you can’t compensate for that. When you find yourself working too hard, it’s okay to drop the RP, either by finding a reason to leave, talking to someone else, or simply ending the conversation.
viii) “What if I’m not getting their cues?” Then it’s perfectly harmless to bring up what you think they’re referring to, or something new entirely, so long as you acknowledge whatever else the person said. Remember that you don’t have to respond to every single line–just what you think is important, either to you or to them. That way, no one feels like they wasted what they wrote.
Sonny Silvertear: “Yeah, me, too. My dad.”
Luna Lifebringer: “That sucks.”
Sonny Silvertear: “Yeah. My dad sucked.”
Luna Lifebringer: “Mine did, too. Is there a rule somewhere that says dads have to suck?”
Sonny Silvertear: “I think that’s part of why everyone hates drunks. Because they make terrible fathers.”
ix) Don’t write more than you need to. An easy way to lose your partner’s attention or try their patience is making them read a small novel, only to find out the last two lines are all they need to read to reply. That doesn’t mean you can’t share lovely details about your characters; it just means you need to choose those details wisely. For example, if there’s something about your character that we can’t see on the model, like freckles under a scar or a third color of hair on their head, bring it up if it seems relevant. Just ask yourself why it’s relevant and why you want your new partner to know about it.
Luna Lifebringer: She laughed. It was bubbly, but there was a sadness hiding amid the bubbles somewhere. “More women need to not sleep with drunk dudes.”
Sonny Silvertear: He nodded once, firmly. His smile reached his eyes, though the light in them was gone. He looked at his hands. Without gloves to hide the scars, it was easy to see how rough they were. “It would save everyone a lot of stress, time and work.”
x) Use the right words. It’s hard to figure out what the right words are, but sometimes, that’s because they’re simple. And sometimes it’s because they’re not. Really, the key is to make sure the word means what you think it means. The thesaurus doesn’t give you words that are exactly interchangeable; it gives you words that can mean the same things, in a general sense, but mean something specific when you look closer.
Old: Luna looked around the bar. She was by herself, but she was waiting for someone, so she didn’t feel like a total loser. She just needed to be patient. She smiled at the bartender and took her drink, then looked around some more for the right seat. (Grade: C)
New: Luna looked around the bar. She felt self-conscious, but reminded herself that she was waiting for someone. When the bartender handed her the drink she ordered, she smiled graciously. Then, she looked for a place to sit. (Grade: B)
Don’t ask me how to get an A, starters are hard. Making yourself look known and available, and giving people an insight to where your character is mentally, is a good start. Frankly, I’d just sit my character somewhere before I made a starter but I wanted to try something new. I don’t think it worked. But the point is, the words are better. They’re more varied and less soulless. But sometimes soulless gets you through the day, so don’t judge yourself too hard.
xi) When writing a character from a specific place, try to use in-game dialogue to influence the depiction of your character’s ethnic background or childhood experiences. There are a lot of NPCs in the game and a lot of MSQ dialogue by people from different places on the Star. So, if you start RPing a character of a different background than yours, the best starting point is the source material. Although the source has its own problems, it’s also the text we share. Identifying the problems in the material is more like the second or third step in character building; but it’s unlikely folks will be angry with you for drawing from the source. However, do try to research the places in game and their real world counterparts to get a sense of where your character should be. It helps add depth and it helps you learn about the world, too! Creating, writing and researching for non-Western characters is its own large topic; this is just a good starting point, in my experience.
xii) In Conclusion: show people you care to know about other people’s characters. Focus on what they need to know about yours in the moment. Artistry can follow once you have the meat down in place. Don’t commit so much to aesthetic that you lose the ability to build relationships with other people. When you take an interest in those around you, the world really opens up. And isn’t that what being an adventurer is all about?
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heliads · 3 years
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Crows
Everyone has a symbol on their palm that somehow relates to your soulmate. You have a crow, which led to you joining the Dregs in Ketterdam. Every Dreg has a soulmate symbol that in no way relates to you- except Kaz Brekker, as no one has seen his palm at all.
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You stare at the crow inked into your palm. It stares back at you.
You hesitate for a second longer, then snap your hand shut, letting the unblinking eyes of the black bird disappear back behind your fingers. This is the price of a soulmate, of wandering too far from your home and never finding the one person you were meant to belong to. This is the price of being a canal rat, a Grisha, of being anybody still foolish enough to believe in a soulmate in the midst of all this darkness.
Soulmates may technically be real, but people only believe in them as much as they do Inej’s Saints, or anybody else’s long-held dreams. Between the wars and Shadow Folds springing up across the world, it’s getting pretty hard for anyone to find their soulmate at all. It’s supposed to be simple- one mark on each person’s palm to designate their soulmate, a mark that will disappear at the first touch of their hand on yours. Sometimes, you wonder what mark would be on your soulmate’s skin: a flame or sparking coal, maybe, for your branch of the Small Science, or a skull, for all the death that seems to shadow your path.
The crow has been on your palm for as long as you can remember, as long as anyone has ever had a soulmate. It was there when you were born, but judging by your trend in luck, it’ll probably be there until the day you die. Soulmates aren’t for girls like you, girls who flee their homes to trade a life amongst the Grisha for a death in the gray-streaked streets of Ketterdam.
You were born an Inferni, that much is true. You witnessed the Ravkan civil war, and you were there to flee it for safer tides. You weren’t sure what cruel twist of fate landed you in Ketterdam, one of the worst places for a Grisha, but you were at least able to keep your identity a secret. You’d seen what happened to the luckless Grisha trapped inside neverending indentures, and you know what tortures would await you if word of your firestarting habit got out. So, you never spoke a word, and pretended you were just another otkazat’sya traveler in need of safe harbors.
You hadn’t been wandering the canals long before your path turned into the Barrel. It wasn’t an intentional choice, just an eventual fate that you would end up in the worst part of the twisting sidestreets. There was no escaping the Barrel, not unless you were a wealthy mercher or some other lucky sap who the Saints blessed with the ability to avoid getting dragged down into the muck like everyone else. You learned the names and locations of all the gangs like everyone else: Black Tips, Dime Lions, and most notably, the Dregs.
Your breath had caught in your chest when you heard of them. They frequented the Crow Club, some were called the crows themselves, their leader had a crow on his cane. Everything seemed to point in a glaringly obvious arrow towards your soulmate mark: a crow for a crow. Where else could you have ended up?
You knew better now. You had met Kaz Brekker, the boy with the crow cane, and you knew that any chance of finding a soulmate among his crew was near impossible. You had been walking home after dark one night when you found yourself set upon by a duo of thugs. Not Dregs, possibly Dime Lions with a bone to pick, angry that the Dregs had such control over the pigeons of Fifth Harbor. They had been expecting an easy mark, somebody they could thunk over the head with a pair of brass knuckles and walk away without a scratch. They weren’t expecting you to beat them into the dust in a matter of seconds.
No matter your status or location, you were still a Grisha, and you’d been trained by Botkin long enough to be able to defend yourself. When the goons were finally laid at your feet, unconscious, you had allowed yourself a moment to smile. It was easy to feel low, a gutter rat in the canals of Ketterdam, but being able to use your fists again almost reminded you of the training halls at the Little Palace.
Enjoying this one brief memory, though, was a slip that you shouldn’t have made. When you looked up, you weren’t alone- a boy stood before you, gloved hands clasped over a crow’s head cane. You didn’t particularly know who he was, or make the connection between him and the Dregs, and moved to get out of the alleyway before he decided to make the same mistake as the thugs. He had slid his cane in front of you, fast as lightning, stopping you in your place. “I think we should speak about your future in Ketterdam.”
You were annoyed at this sudden interruption. “I think you should leave me alone.” You had retorted, using your hand to move his cane back in front of him. You had also been irritated, both by the fight and this boy’s brashness, and slipped your hand into his pocket for just a second to retrieve a newly shined pocketwatch. No one could have possibly seen it, this tiny movement, and the boy certainly didn’t, as he let you pass without another word.
You were still grumbling when you got back to the ramshackle building you called an apartment complex, and your landlady had raised an eyebrow when she saw you. “What, have you finally realized that it was a fool’s errand to come here?” She asked, and you shook your head. “No, just bothered by some guy with a crow’s head cane. Weird prop to carry around.” The woman had blanched, face suddenly seeming to age a decade in a second.
She had bustled over to you, voice low as if terrified that the boy might be able to hear her. “That’s Kaz Brekker, you fool. He runs the Dregs. Saints, he might even run this city.” She had hurried away from you then, forcing herself back to her work. Even then, you had known she was wrong. There was nothing the Saints could know about Kaz Brekker, nothing they could even hope to involve themselves in.
You had shaken the experience away, climbing up the stairs to your apartment. When you pushed open the door, however, you saw that you were not alone. The boy from earlier was back, this time leaning against the far wall. He gestured for you to close the door, which you did, albeit hesitantly. You had no idea how he got in- you had changed the locks when you first arrived at the apartment all those weeks ago, barred the windows, made it impossible for anyone except you to make their way inside. Yet here he stood, with knowledge of both where you lived and how to get there before you. It was impossible. Well, impossible for anyone except Kaz. The Barrel was his home, after all, and you doubt Dirtyhands had ever bothered to knock.
His fingers tapped the crow’s head of his cane. “I don’t think we quite finished our conversation. You could do more than just wash dishes, you know. The Dregs could always use a new member. That, and I’d like you to return what you stole from me. I’m impressed, actually. No one is that good at pickpocketing except me, and no one would try something that daring except for, well, me. I think you’d fit in nicely with my gang.”
You had folded your arms across your chest. “And I’m meant to believe that my pickpocketing was impressive enough to warrant a visit from Dirtyhands himself?” Kaz had shrugged, the movement stiff in the darkness. “You can believe whatever you want. I just want to see if you’ll take a good offer when you see one.” After a while, you had accepted, and Kaz had left, but not before whispering something in your ear. “If you steal from me again, I will cut off both of your hands. I don’t tolerate theft, not from me.”
You had heard enough threats to know that he meant good on this one. As it turned out, however, Kaz would not have to fear theft from you again. You found a home amongst the Dregs, a home you weren’t likely to give up due to the thrill of pickpocketing Kaz Brekker. You had a room at the Slat, a place at the table, a voice in the masses. It was something you weren’t willing to trade away.
Even amongst the many crows of Kaz Brekker’s gang, however, you still couldn’t let the issue of your soulmate go. You can remember one night, late into the night’s bells when you, Inej, Jesper, Matthias, and Nina had all made the journey up to Kaz’s office, slumped against chairs and floorboards and chatting the night away. Kaz was sitting at his desk, apparently doing paperwork, but you did notice that he kept coincidentally chiming into conversations even when he said he wasn’t paying attention.
At some point, Nina steered the conversation to soulmates. She held up her now blank palm, proclaiming that at some point it had held a wolf’s head. She had been terrified, she said, terrified that she would have a drüskelle or some other weirdo for a soulmate. Matthias had acted affronted at that, but if he was feeling particularly charitable he might relent and tell the gathered Crows about how he’d had a heart on his hand, and how frustrated he’d been when it had disappeared the second he’d locked Nina away on that slaver’s ship.
Nina had turned to Kaz then, intent on poking the bear and having some sort of fun that night. “So, Brekker, what’s your soulmate mark? Or do you not do that sort of zealot human thing we call soulmates?” Kaz had raised his eyebrows, looking distinctly bored. Of everyone in the room, you’re pretty sure that only you and Inej would be able to tell that he was holding back a smile.
“I’m not entirely a monster, Zenik. I do have a soulmate.” Nina had leaned forward, intent on clarification. “Then what’s the mark? We can’t just take a gander at your palm, remember? They’re hidden by your gloves.” Kaz had let his papers fall back to the desk with a thunk, turning to her with an expression laced with both exasperation and studied disinterest. “It’s a fire. A small flame. Happy?”
Nina had looked fascinated. “Beatific. I wonder what that means. An Inferni, maybe?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Kaz. “Maybe it’s supposed to show that they’re devilishly attractive. Really hot, get it?” Kaz had made a sound that was either a dry cough or his best attempt at a laugh. “Hilarious, Nina. I see why you’re a Heartrender- you could make a person want to die based on your jokes alone.”
Nina had acted affronted, making sure everybody knew that her jokes were hilarious, thank you very much, but you couldn’t help but think about the repercussions of this. What if Nina’s first guess was right, and Kaz’s soulmate was an Inferni, like you? If your tattoo was of a crow, and Kaz’s was of flames, then surely it was too much to just be a coincidence. You’d never know, anyway, because soulmate marks only disappeared on flesh to flesh contact. Kaz always wore gloves, so you’d never find out the truth. Besides, you remind yourself, the chances of this were superbly unlikely. A crow could mean anything, so could a flame. You need to stop getting your hopes up.
Despite the possibilities and impossibilities, you’ve still been running with the canal rats long enough to know that you can’t dwell forever on what might have been. You’re a Dreg now and you need to focus on that instead. When Kaz announces an upcoming settlement with the Razorgulls, yet another one of the gangs that roam the streets of Ketterdam, you’re eager for a chance at something entertaining after a long while of nothing. Kaz will meet with the leader to negotiate their way through a claim on the various pigeons coming and going from the harbors, and that will be that.
However, this is the Barrel. Negotiations are rarely easy. This is why, when Jesper arrives as Kaz’s second, he’s shunted aside to a separate room to stay out the duration of the meeting. Kaz and the leader of the Razorgulls are on the opposite side of the street in an empty courtyard, far away from any help should they need it. Kaz was prepared for this, as always, and set up a plan. Inej will shadow Jesper, making sure that he’ll have a way out if he needs it, and you’ll be shadowing Kaz himself. You’re not sure why Kaz chose you instead of his faithful Wraith, only that he rarely makes decisions based on nothing and you would do best to follow his judgement. The times he’s let you down are few and far between.
You and Inej split up, staying amongst the rooftops to avoid detection. She follows Jesper and the Razorgulls’ second into a crowded tavern, and you head towards the abandoned courtyard. Ahead of you, Kaz’s cane taps against the crooked cobblestones as he wends through desiccated hedges and marble statues severely lashed by time. The Razorgulls’ leader is waiting for him there, but you can’t follow now. Instead, you stick to the edges, climbing stairs and making your way into the empty buildings that watch over the courtyard like silent sentries.
You’re not sure what trouble you’ll be walking into, only that it will exist in some crooked form. There’s no logical reason the Razorgulls would want the seconds in another building unless they were planning something, and no reason Kaz would agree to this at all if he wasn’t sure you could have his back when he needed it. As you creep along the buildings, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings through the few broken windows, you notice that the two gang leaders have begun to speak. You can’t quite hear what they’re saying, only a few whispers here and there.
You’re just rounding a corner, ready to make your way into a neighbouring building, when the lights flash off, landing you in darkness. Instantly, you panic. Lighting is scarce here, only the moonbeams and a couple of oil lamps, but there’s no reason they should have shut down this quickly. You hear footsteps on the stairs, along with two pairs of voices: Razorgulls, discussing how important it is to stick to the shadows so Brekker can’t see them.
Your heartbeat thuds in the dark as you realize they haven’t spotted you yet. In fact, they have no idea you’re there at all. When Kaz was giving directions for the negotiations, he specifically told you to make sure that you weren’t seen, even if rival gang members showed up. If you want to go along with his plan and make sure he lives to see the end of this shoddy deal, you’ll have to stay in hiding.
This, however, is easier said than done. If the lights were on, you would be able to see the wooden beams of the floor and tell which ones would creak and which wouldn’t, which large shapes of furniture to avoid and which holes in the floorboards you should step over. A chill washes over you as you realize what you’ll have to do. You move your fingers together, quick as scraping flint against steel, and a small flame materializes at the pad of your index finger. It’s small, barely visible to anyone except you, but it’s enough to help you get out of the room before the Razorgulls notice you.
Even as the thrill of using your Grisha power after so long sends a charge of energy through your veins, you can’t help but feel uneasy. The only reason you’ve been able to survive in the Barrel and avoid unwholesome indentures is because you never used your power, not once. Even if it was necessary, this still feels bad.
You’ve found a new hiding place in the corner of the room and move to extinguish your flame now that it’s no longer useful. However, it’s been too long since you last used your powers as an Inferni, and your concentration wavers. The flame grows brighter and you start to panic, eventually clamping down your mind and forcing the fire to disappear.
The disappearance comes too late. The Razorgulls have seen some light in the shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there and are now edging your way, careful not to let you out of their sight. You have no choice but to take them down, standing over their unconscious bodies and feeling a wave of nerves crest over you. Kaz specifically said not to mess with the gangs, but you had no choice. You can only hope that this won’t ruin his plan too much.
Quietly, you step through the room and unlock a window, letting the panes move open in the wind. Now, you can hear the voices echoing up from the courtyard, and your heart sinks as you realize that things aren’t going well. The leader of the Razorgulls has revealed his ace in the hole, that he’s got guns trained on Kaz right now. Kaz just laughs, the sound as cold as rocks scraping against a ship’s hull, ready to damn a hundred men to the depths of the ocean.
“Do you, though? Who are the men you sent up- Dirk Struik and Niels ter Avest? Your coffers may be deep, but mine are more extensive. Gentlemen, take down this man, if you please.” Your stomach twists as you realize Kaz was counting on the men you just knocked out. Without them, he’s alone with a man pointing a gun at his skull. There’s no way around this- you’re going to have to break your most cherished rule again.
You thrust your palms out in front of you, letting tendrils of flame arc out of your hands and cascade onto the leader of the Razorgulls. He twists in agony, burns appearing on his skin. He only suffers for a moment or two, however, until he becomes unconscious due to the pain. Kaz’s head jerks up, staring at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kaz Brekker truly surprised, but he most certainly was not expecting this.
You don’t think there’s anything you can do except try to explain yourself. You jump down from the open window, letting your heels land lightly on the stones of the courtyard. Kaz seems frozen in place for a second, then moves forward until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Your breath comes wild in your chest. Kaz speaks after the longest of moments. “Where were the guards?”
You hold up your hands uselessly. “They saw me. I had to take them out.” Kaz’s eyes dart to your palms, faster than a sharpshooter pulling the trigger. He takes in the smoke still curling around your fingers, then the crow mark in the middle of your hand. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its icy edge. He just sounds like a boy again, young and confused.
“You never told me you were an Inferni.” You sigh. “It was a secret I needed to keep. You know what happens in the Barrel, the indentures and the tortures. If I used my powers, I would have died a long time ago.” Kaz jerks his head in a harsh nod. “I don’t blame you for surviving. We have all committed worse crimes to live” Your voice gains a confidence it didn’t have before. “Then what do you blame me for? You’re upset, anyone could tell that. If it’s not with me keeping my Grisha abilities a secret, then what is it?”
Kaz hesitates, as if pulling himself back from a yawning chasm. “Me.” You stare at him, at the indecision wracking his brow, then at the way he’s pulling at the glove at his palm. His hands almost seem to shake, like he’s still not sure that he’s doing the right thing. He pulls the glove off, inch by inch, seeming to dread every second that his hands aren’t covered by the black leather. At last, you see it- the mark on his palm, the flame sparking into being right there on his hand.
He reaches out tentatively. “I need to know.” He manages, and at last you understand. You move your own hand slowly, stopping when it’s only a few inches away from his. Kaz squares his shoulders, as if preparing to jump from another broken building, then closes the distance and lets his hand rest lightly on yours. As you watch, your soulmate tattoos shimmer for a second and then vanish, erasing from your skin as if they’d never been there at all.
Kaz lets his gaze linger on the empty skin of your palm, and then he seems to come back into himself, snatching his hand away like he’s flinching from a blow. You can see it in his eyes that he regrets this, that he can’t keep his hand there, but you understand. You can understand quite a lot from him.
Kaz’s voice is like the grating of metal. “I’m not somebody you want as a soulmate. It won’t be easy. It won’t be good.” You laugh quietly in the night. “If I wanted something easy, I would have never come to Ketterdam.” Kaz nods at this, something almost like relief in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” You manage. Something almost like a smile flits across Kaz’s face. “Good. We have much to discuss.”
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infectedpaul · 3 years
Text
You Matter To Me (Squip/Reader)
You've had your Squip for a bit now and it's been fine for the most part, until he brings up the idea of looking into romantic relationships with others which opens up a lot of wounds you wanted to just bury deep and forget about. But you can't begin the road to recovery without asking why you got there, right?
SO IVE NEVER....WRITTEN AN X READER B4 UGH HJKSAJDASKDJSA esp not for a near dead fandom OH WELL oh well oh well h ignore this my normal followers please please
(warning 4 talks of depression/self degrading talk, its hurt comfort yada yada i need 2 touch grass ik)
ao3 link if u prefer that!!
You weren't made for love, at least, you didn't think so.
For as long as you'd been looking for it, it was always so out of reach. Easily visible, sure. Walking past groups of friends laughing it up on the sidewalks, partners entangled in each other's arms, seemingly trying to make their love known for all. But for you to have any of that for yourself? The heat death of the universe would sooner come, surely.
You'd sort of given up on it. It would be nice, you'd think. To be held, wrapped up in someone's arms, and just to stay there for as long as either of you could want. That cozy, warm feeling of being with someone that you only saw in movies or read about in books. But you had just accepted it wasn't in the cards, so to speak. And you were fine with that.
Well, you told yourself anyway. You knew it was for a deeper reason, though, but that wasn't something you liked to think about too heavily.
It was easier to do that when you didn't have a roommate that could dig into your brain and pry every little detail about them out of you.
When you got your Squip, you didn't know it'd be so adamant about perfecting every little last thing you were. How long or short your hair was styled, if your shoes matched your eyes, how fast or slow you were walking and how too brisk would make you seem like you were constipated but too slow and your likelihood of getting run over by a horse-drawn carriage gone would go up much higher, nevermind that you've never even seen a horse in real life.
What you did know, by now at least was that the Squip was persistent, seeing himself as your guardian angel, a guiding light in your desolate dark world of humanity, ickiness and week old pizza boxes you were too unmotivated to at least move off the bed.
So when his ideal response wasn't given when he proposed seeking out a lovelife, he was...well,
"I'm not sure I understand." His head crooked to the side, puzzled by your surface level indifference, "You're of consenting age, marginally attractive and only slightly under average at socializing. Finding a mate can't be too hard."
His holographic form hummed a soft, near silent buzz, a small imperfection to his otherwise flawless binary makeup. Other than that, and the soft, tinted blue glow around his form, he looked completely human. A little too human, really. Something so real, realer than any CG or video game, but something was just...off, something from the uncanny valley. You hadn't kept him in this form long, you liked to change it up from time to time, maybe to trick yourself into thinking he was someone new, making your brain think you had more friends besides the computer you bought behind a Rack Room.
You didn't look at him though when you responded, too preoccupied with the paper in front of you, decorated with a few characters concocted from your imagination. "I dunno," you shrug, brushing off eraser marks, "Just not my thing, I guess." You could feel his confusion, a bit of gut feeling as his thoughts jumbled in with your own. He was really only in your brain, afterall; the figure behind you sitting on your bed was just something he made up to ease your brain into trusting a new, larger source of perpetually growing information. "But, the purpose of this time in your life is to mate and birth young, is it not?"
You really wished he'd learn to stop talking about you and 'the homo sapien species' like you were a mindless ape made to breed and nothing else.
"Uh, I mean not really. I know that's what everyone around me is doing," Your mind thought back to all the cringey baby announcement videos from kids you knew in high school, "But it's...I guess I'm just not up for it. It's not really for people like me."
He was quiet. Only for a second, before he asked,
"People like you?" Another silence hung in the air. It was a truth you knew he could easily just reach into your brain and find for himself so you kept quiet for a bit longer, waiting for him to start digging. But you didn't feel it, that very familiar sudden ache in the back of your head you got when he went poking around for more things to nag at you about. Just quiet in your room, only the soft buzz and birds tweeting outside your window any solace from the uncomfortable silence you felt.
You shrugged again, and turned to face him, seeing now the muddled and a little concerned look on his face. "You know? The quiet ones, the losers. People like me don't get to be loved. I've just accepted that." You could have said a lot worse, and it seemed like he knew that. You didn't really understand, either. You didn't like yourself, plain and simple.
His concern only seemed to grow, eyebrows furrowing and staring intently at you. You thought for a second, maybe it was anger. It wouldn't be the first time. You were mostly compliant to his (mandatory) suggestions for life improvement, but every once in a while he would propose an idea that you would fight about, like clothes you weren't comfortable wearing for one reason or another. He said he was a learning computer, so he would need your help on things like emotions and comfiness, physical or mental, ruling out whatever the newest trends were. He would be fine afterwards but, he could get pretty huffy about you trying on too skinny-skinny jeans.
But that didn't happen, there wasn't a small but fierce jolt of electricity in your back to stop you from going against 'social programming', as he called it. He just looked at you a bit longer, seemingly turning gears in his head as he tried to process what you're saying.
You gave him a sober smile, trying to still seem indifferent, though for a second you wondered maybe if he was still prying at you, in a different way at least, because if he was, it seemed to be working.
"What? I'm just not that special. You of all people know that, right?" It was almost like you weren't hearing what was coming out of your mouth, that casual self-degradation that almost frightened him. You heard stories from message boards about that, older models of the Squip forcing reprogramming onto the host by breaking down their emotional state with verbal or physical punishment for...just existing, really.
He wasn't really like that though. Yes he could be annoyed when you didn't comply, but you were both good at compromise and treated situations like adults, even if at first you weren't much motivated to treat any situation at all. He informed you while you were looking through those boards that his creators had taken in accounts of previous incidents and built more of a guide to self-improvement than a ball and chain with a backhand. Humans were fragile, he knew that, and it wasn't okay to hurt them just to get a little closer to their goal.
But maybe, did he not think that humans were more than capable of hurting themselves? Their own words used against them, their internal voices bashing against their brains, turning them to mush and making them too scared or unmotivated to build it back up again.
"I just know no one would love some useless, pitiful person...I just kinda got over that a while ago." You almost frightened him with how nonchalant you were about the whole thing. It wasn't intentional, you weren't trying to seek attention or be funny. You just knew there was plenty of other people out there worthy of all that lovey-dovey stuff you thought would be nice but...it's just not meant for you.
There was a knot in his voice as he finally spoke up,
"That's why I'm here, isn't it?" The last piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place, but he didn't look satisfied, not that cheeky, self-centered chagrin when things went his way or when he was proven right yet again.
You thought he knew that. You thought from day one he just figured that out and that's why he's been trying so hard to make you into a model citizen or something. "Did you just think you were here to help me pick out clothes in the morning?" You laughed, he seemed to know it was forced.
"Well...y-yes, maybe. I just...I never looked into that possibility of…" He was regaining his composure; this was a side you've never seen of him before. He's always been so astute, robotic and to the point. He's never fumbled over his words or had to give himself a second to figure out what to say next.
"How long has it been like this, Y/N?" His hands were folded neatly on his lap, still looking you dead-on, waiting for you to answer his distressed queuerie with worried patience.
You got up out of your chair, pushing it back and behind you to step away from the table and your drawings. "I dunno," you said, taking a few steps towards the long mirror hung on your wall, "for as long as I can remember, I guess." You looked at your reflection, only tired, dark eyes looking back at you. Even though the edge of the bed was visible in the mirror, your Squip didn't show up in it, another reminder of just how alone you were outside of your head.
"I just started to feel like I didn't belong more and more and...that ate me up so much I just started believing in it. I-I didn't wanna go to school or talk to people or even get up 'cause...well," You turned away from the mirror before you could see the tears you'd been holding back, looking at the more distressed figure in view of you again, "what would anyone be missing, really?" You still smiled, that big smile you both worked so meticulously on making seem not too forced when you had to act excited or just blend into normal social gatherings, but it wavered so easily, like a thin strip of paper about to tear off the nail that barely held it up on the wall.
His eyes widened at the sight of your tears, immediately getting up and briskly walking to stand in front of you, not knowing how to proceed in the moment. He hadn't had to deal with something like this yet and he was troubleshooting to see what was the correct response to a human breakdown.
You looked down, covering your eyes with one hand and clenching the other into a fist, big, strained smile still plastered on your face and trying so hard not to seem more weak than you knew you were. You were nothing. You knew that, you thought he did too. You thought you could just fix things, but how could you do that without getting to the source? You knew you couldn't just sidestep around why you wanted things to get better with humans, but with a computer who could read your brain like the newspaper, you thought maybe you could get around that.
You heard him sigh before a feeling of arms wrapping around you caught you off guard, the Squip entangling you in his grasp and his head resting on yours. It was all simulated, you knew. He had done things such as lightly punch your arm as if to say 'Good job, Sport!' or tap your shoulder to grab your attention without startling you, but this was different. He held onto you for a good couple of seconds, a wave of warmth spreading through your body in an instant. He pet back your hair with one hand, rubbing your back with the other and finally broke the silence in the room.
"Y/N, it- ...it pains me, hearing you speak that way about yourself. You're…" He looked down at you, holding you a bit closer and tightening his grip just a tad. "You're an incredible, talented, wonderful person. You've come so far and you've taught me so much about humans and myself and I just couldn't ask for a better-" He stopped. You knew what he was going to say, a better host, a better human, a better assignment to help and guide and-
"A better friend."
A friend?
He never referred to you or anyone with such a personal or affectionate term. It almost didn't seem real, like you maybe misheard him. Your smile had shattered into a small frown and, with teary-eyes and your voice already cracking, you looked up at him, meeting his almost-heartbroken eyes in an expression that looked so foreign on his normally composed face.
"What?"
He gave a weak smile, trying to be comforting but his fear showing plain as day. You could feel it within you too, a pit in your stomach forming as your chest tightened. You knew it wasn't your anxiety, but his.
"Do I need to repeat myself, Y/N? I think of you as a friend and..." His hand moved off of your back and ran itself up to rest on your shoulder, the other holding your cheek and wiping away your tears with his thumb. "I want to do all I can to show you that from here on."
You almost couldn't breathe as you looked at him, feeling for the first time that unconditional love you yearned for. You could feel your heart race in your chest, something you knew he could feel too but you were too crushed to say anything. You simply slammed yourself into his chest, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt that made your hands tingle like they fell asleep. His arms enveloped you yet again, the both of you holding onto each other so tight like either of you would fall through the floor if you let go.
You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed for what felt like hours, and, just maybe, you thought you could hear him crying too, but that'd be silly...right?
When you were finally out of tears to cry, you stood there still, simply bathing in each other's presence, the feeling you only saw in others finally yours. And you knew it was only a matter of time before this too was stolen from you, the universe would take back anything from people unworthy but...for right now, you wanted to be a little selfish.
"I'm sorry." You whispered, face still buried in his shirt.
"For?" His head was rested on yours again, holding up your weak and tired form with no effort, just trying to keep you propped up until you were ready to let go.
"I got you to help me but...I can't even let you in like I'm supposed to. But...I want to. I just want help." You pushed yourself off of him, one thought between you and him and his hands meeting yours, the simulated tingle in there again as you held each other's palms in yours and looked at each other with such exhausted eyes and worn-out but so genuine smiles.
He leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead, a soft hue of pink blush spreading on your drained and exhausted face.
"I'd love to help, friend."
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crowdedimagines · 3 years
Text
Leaked (Finale) Harry Styles
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“You guys got to see a very raw and real side of us. It’s a bummer that it wasn’t our choice, we didn’t choose to reveal such a personal thing that happened, not to mention what else has been leaked.” I sigh, finally breaking eye contact with the camera sitting on a tripod in front of us. The fans will be getting a glimpse into Harry’s home for this video.
“I know what I signed up for when I got into this business, very little privacy, but I never expected it to come to this extreme. M’very private with my relationships, and I never want to see anyone-'' He pauses to focus himself again, I place a hand on his thigh and attempt to carry on. Against the better judgement of both Jeff and Jordan we both decided against a script, we had highlighted points we wanted to address, but didn’t want it to seem disingenuous.
“Harry and I lost a child last July.” I pick my head up letting the tears openly fall without letting myself choke over them, “And the song you guys have all heard came from that, a place of hurt and exhaustion. We never expected the world to hear it, and we never thought those pictures would be out in the world either. But that’s life isn’t it?” I laugh humorlessly.
The song was leaked a few hours ago now, my name having never left the top trending on twitter, but now Harry’s and several conspiracies have joined it. People cutting parts from it with raw and loud sobs coming from each of us, open for discussion among the whole world.
“We love you all, but please understand our choice to step back from the public for the time being.” Harry chimes in. We both look at each other and nod, feeling we addressed what we need to.
“Treat people with kindness, yeah?” I ask as we both get up from our spot on Harry’s couch.
“Yeah.” He pulls me in for a hug, as Jeff gets up to cut the camera. Our teams were both getting the footage and posting it to our accounts. Harry and I have both agreed to a break from phones for a bit.
“Okay, so this will be posted across all platforms, on both of your accounts shortly. I don’t think we’ll need to edit much.”
I walk over to the other side of the living room where Jordan is standing reading through her phone, she glances up as soon as she sees me coming. She puts on a smile, and pulls me in for a tight hug. She knows just how long the past few days have been.
“Alright, Paula and I booked flights, we’re heading out this afternoon to go home.”
“What about me?” I question.
“We both know that you need to stay here for a while.” She smiles, “Take some time to heal, just remember you two never fell out of love. Call me if you need anything.”
I glance back at Harry whose now joined by his sister and mother. I don’t want to leave, to be completely honest. The last thing I want is to have to go home to my empty house in L.A. Harry and I ran away from each other last year, maybe this is the opportunity for us to finally stop running.
Harry’s POV
“Don’t you think that you need to heal together this time? You can’t let her leave again.” My mum explains, trying to make her point, as quietly as possible. I watch as she glances over my shoulder to where Y/n must be somewhere.
“Mum, I can’t make her stay.” I shake my head. I couldn’t make her stay before, now we’ve spent so much time apart. All I want is to pull her into my arms, but I don’t know if that’s what she wants after all this time. Hell, after this week she might not ever want anything to do with me.
“No, but you can ask her.” Gemma nods her head in Y/n’s direction as she walks over to join us.
“Harry, can I talk to you?” Her voice is soft and calm. My shoulders visibly drop as I relax and follow her to the back porch. We sit in the same spot on the couch as we did yesterday.
“What’s going on, love?” I ask once we’ve both taken a seat.
“Well, Jordan and Paula are flying out this afternoon.” She says, she pulls her legs up close to her chest.
“And you?”
Please god tell me you’re staying.
“I think I might stay.” She picks up her head, “If that's alright with you.”
I can’t fight off the smile at this point. I just give her a simple nod, pulling her close to lean on my shoulder. I should’ve known that we were on the exact same page, we always have been.
“I don’t think I could go back to an empty house, to be honest.” She sighs.
“I don’t think I could let you walk out of that door again, to be honest.”
Y/n’s POV
“Do you mean that?” I ask, picking up my head, “Truly?”
He simply nods and bites at his bottom lip.
“What are we supposed to do, Harry? I don’t think we can just pick up where we left off?”
“No, but isn’t that the beauty of it? We can try again, try for a different outcome. Build on how much we already love each other.”
“Hmm, how much we already love each other?” I smirk, my tone taking on a teasing edge.
“Mhm.” Harry hums, his cheeks taking on a pink hue.
“Alright Styles, lets give this a shot.”
T W O Y E A R S L A T E R
“Hello? Is anybody home?” Anne’s voice rings out loudly as she lets herself in the front door.
I make my way downstairs, I’m sure that she’s found Harry who's in the kitchen getting dinner prepared. Gemma got here about ten minutes ago. I put on a record and go to stand in the doorway and watch the encounter. Anne gives her son a big hug, stealing a carrot from his cutting board as they make small chat to catch up.
“Hello.” I walk in, making my presence known.
“Look out you!” Anne squeals, “You’re glowing!” She immediately walks over to pull me in for a hug, her hands resting on my belly once I pull away.
“I feel like a bit of a whale, but thank you.” I smile.
“Oh hush it.” Harry scolds.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Like I’m having a baby in four weeks.”
“Yeah, and she’s still going on runs!” Harry says with a proud grin, “Every morning she gets up with me and we run a few miles.”
“It’s pretty much a fast walk for Harry though.” I smile.
“Yeah, but he isn’t forming a pancreas while he does it!” Gemma cuts in making us all laugh. “We’re more impressed with you.”
“Exactly.” Harry presses a kiss to my temple.
I join Gemma at the counter while Anne helps Harry finish cooking everything. I would help, but my ankles are too swollen by the end of the day, and I know everyone in the room would kick me out before I could even start.
“So, things have been going well with everything? You guys feeling ready to be parents?” Anne grins.
“Is anyone ready before they are?” I ask, “I’m just trying to take it one day at a time, and read as much as I can.”
“You guys will be wonderful parents.”
It means the world to hear this from Anne. It’s been weird to be in London for most of the pregnancy and away from my own mother, but it’s been a blessing to have Anne. She’s an amazing mom herself, and she hasn’t complained once over my odd and annoying questions.
“And if not they’ll have the best Aunt ever to make up for it.”
I roll my eyes and take Gemma’s hand in mine and set it on the front of my belly. Moving and adjusting to the exact spot that the little bean is kicking in.
“That’s mad.” She sighs, “I don’t think I would ever be able to get over that.”
“Harry can be like a leech sometimes! Can’t get him off.” I laugh.
“You feel it all, I’m going to steal as much time as I possibly can.”
We all sit down to eat, and catch up on everything that we’ve missed in life over the past few weeks. Ever since the pregnancy both Anne and Gemma have made an effort to come to our house as often as they can for meals, or even just a visit.
I think we were all a bit shocked to find out I was once again pregnant. Harry and I couldn’t believe it at first, I don’t think we wanted to. Didn’t want to risk getting our hopes up. It had been a year and a few months since we got back together when we found out. Four tests sitting on the counter, two thins lines on each of them.
We waited a long time before telling anyone, too afraid that it could be a repeat of what happened those years ago. Once we did finally tell our families they couldn’t be more excited. The fans were too, surprisingly. I debated pulling a Kylie Jenner and just disappearing from the world for months, but I knew I would get too stir crazy. So as soon as the bump was visible, Harry and I both confirmed it on social media.
The fans were happy for us, most of them were so disappointed and saddened about what happened, they felt bad that we were made to share things neither of us were ready too. This time we were trending for positive reasons, and I’ve never felt more supported by everyone in my life.
F O U R W E E K S L A T E R
“Love, are you sure I’m good to go to the studio?” Harry asks for the millionth time, not wanting to leave me home alone so close to my due date.
“Yes!” I laugh, pushing him closer to the door, “You actually have the time while the bean is inside me, I’ll need you here once they’re out.”
“Alright.” He says with hesitancy, “Please call me for anything. The studio isn’t even far from here, so please don’t hesitate with anything.”
“Ok, babe, just go so you can come back!”
“Promise you’ll call?”
“Yes, I promise.” I laugh, he’s always been protective, but now he’s to a whole nother level since the pregnancy.
“Alright, I’ll bring home food too, I really shouldn’t be gone too long.”
“That’s perfect, babe! Maybe we can get - ow!”
He instantly turns around and pulls his hand from the door when I cry out in pain.
“Darling? Are you okay?”
“No, I’m fine.” I hold out my hand, “It was just this really sharp-ow!”
I cry out again, clutching my belly. Before I know it, a warm liquid is spreading down my legs.
“Love, your water just broke!” He cheers, his eyes saying nervous but he has a smile on his face. “I guess I’m not going to the studio.”
“Oh god!” I groan, I start waddling towards the door, “Okay, you grab the go-bag, I’m gonna start walking to the car.”
I know it might take me awhile to get there. I know it’s not true, but I feel like I need to keep my knees shut from keeping the little bean from falling out.
“Right, go bag.” He mutters to himself, slowly becoming more flustered, “Should we call an ambulance?”
“No.” I laugh, taking deep breaths.
“Love, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Just grab the bag so we can go to the hospital.”
“Yeah-”
“Harry!” I yell, “In the coming hours I am going to force a human being out of my vagina. Now I personally would like to do that at a hospital, will you go grab the bag, or do you need me to do it?”
He swallows and runs upstairs to grab the bag and I make my way to the car. It doesn’t take him long at all, now he’s finally had some sense smacked into him.
“We’re really doing this?” He asks, smiling as he pulls out of the driveway.
“We’re really doing this.” I grin, taking his hand in mine.
O N E   Y E A R  L A T E R
“Happy birthday to you dear, Anderson, happy birthday to you!” We all sing to the little one year old boy I hold tight to my chest.
“Let’s blow out the candles, baby.” I lean forward and blow out the singular candle for the one year old. We made a true event of it, calling everyone we knew practically to celebrate in our backyard, complete with so many games for other children, even though our son was still too young to play most of them. Harry and I couldn’t be more proud of our little boy.
Everyone cheers, I smile looking at Harry who’s got a similar grin. A year in the making to get to this day, lot’s of late nights, but more laughter than anything else. It’s been a wonderful afternoon, everyone loving the little boy who looks practically identical to his father. Cheering as he smashes his little cake all over his face, the table, and his clothes.
“Alright, let’s have Grandma get you all cleaned up!” Anne says as she steals Anderson from me. I smile watching her take the giggly little boy inside to get the cake he’s managed to smear everywhere cleaned off.
Most everyone has left at this point, it has been a packed house to celebrate the one year old, but as it gets later things slow down. It’s finally just down to immediate family and Harry and I can put our feet up for a few minutes.
“Can you believe it? A whole year we’ve been parents.” I lean back into Harry’s side. We’re sat on the outdoor couch, a spot that has grown to contain a lot of heart to hearts over the years.
“No, he’s getting too big too fast.” Harry presses a kiss to the top of my head, “He’s going to be needing another sibling soon.”
I let out a soft chuckle.
“Hmm, is that so?”
“Yeah, who wouldn’t want another kid like that?” We both look over our shoulders to peek in to see Gemma and Anne playing with blocks on the floor in the living room.
“Are you gonna push the next one out?” I tease, I get up and grab the only unopened present that’s remained on the table all day.
“It’s funny that you should say that.” I smirk, turning my attention back on the man I love. I hand him the box, neatly wrapped in polka-dot paper.
“What’s this?”
“Just open it.” I sit down again.
He tears the paper from the box and flips the lid open. His jaw dropping as soon as he sees the contents. Pulling out an olive green tee shirt for Anderson. Simply written across it is “Big Brother”
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“You’re teasing me?” His eyes look hopeful though, like he’s praying I wouldn’t tease him like that.
“You can check the four tests in my drawer in the bathroom if you don’t believe me.” I smirk, “Or the fact that I have an appointment at the clinic this Monday.”
“Shut up.” His grin only getting wider.
“Baby Styles number two, coming soon.”
He tackles me down to the couch, a big warm hug.
“Oh my god.” He sighs into my neck. “I can’t wait to do this all again.”
“Me neither.” I grin, rubbing my hands up and down his back. He finally pulls back to get a good look at me, holding my face in his hands.
“God, I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
kinda cheese, but a fun way to end it! this was cute lol
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lwt28brave · 3 years
Text
369 free merch + promo + singles
Welcome to another ramble by me because I am bored and can't help but think that the free merch thing has to mean something. Or not, because... expect the unexpected. I won't bring anyone else into the conversation but I'm incorporating some messages I sent into a GC pretty much unchanged.
There’s been a lot of talk surrounding the fact that we got studio pictures and then radio silence again, which I agree it’s not nice but not unheard of. And I know we all joked about the possible meanings of 369 but, after all, nothing really pointed to July 15th other than circumstantial evidence (a year it’s 365. 369 could be a year + four days. We don’t know when to start counting, but hey, July 11th is the day he left Syco, let’s start there because it seems important to him. Last year had 366 days, anyway).
The rest is under cut because this got out of hand pretty fast.
Let me preface this by saying I don’t think 18 months it’s such a long time for an artist not to release new music, but I understand that the circumstances might play into why the fandom is so on edge. As someone who’s been there for all of Louis solo career, I get why people might look at everything going on and have 2017 flashbacks. I get them from time to time. I remember him saying the album was ready to go, I remember the shift with Miss You and his tweets full of frustration, I remember TXF. And I wish to take a glimpse into 2021-Louis-brain too, let’s be honest, because Walls might have come out in 2020 but half of the songs were written by 2017. I am not the same person I was back then, and I hope he isn’t either.
But Louis already said we won’t be getting a new album this year. And I do think that him being a perfectionist plays a role into that, no matter how many fingers we can point. The pandemic also contributed to the state of fandom dynamics nowadays. We were supposed to get a tour last year, which equals lots of content, and we got silence then a livestream then more silence. And now we got some content then back to nothing (that we can see—I don’t want anyone to come and call Louis lazy in my DM’s again, I don’t have the patience for that).
Let’s recap. We have an 18-months-old album that got little to no promo back when it should have gotten it, and while I will always support all the projects going on, but, frankly and while this might sound shocking giving my annoying perseverance to stream the album day and night, I don’t think the numbers are so bad. There were never any intentions to have Walls reach newer demographics. The singles aren’t being pushed right now and, certainly, weren’t promoted when they should’ve been. They never got radio play and, nowadays, can’t be added to playlists by his new label… (and we can’t really expect them to do better when the artist has already moved on from that project and the team and discography can’t or won’t help). Obviously, the push we got with Defenceless was great, and it could be even bigger if we got the hang of Tik Tok, but I don’t want the fandom to feel like we’re failing Louis, or we could be doing more, when it’s out of reach unless we get really lucky and creative with those algorithms and trends.
So, now, do I believe we’re getting new music? Does 369 feels like a buildup? It does and, at the same, it doesn’t. From a marketing perspective, for a brand to tease something for so long without clarifying anything it would mean the loss of interest from the potential clients/buyers, creating a feeling of weariness if it goes on for too long, which could pivot them to look for other things to spend their money or time on.
So, no. I don’t believe the 369 thing was being intentionally promoted when Louis teased it the first time, and I think that’s a mistake. If it really has some deeper meaning that can be associated to his next project, I think mentioning it back in March to wait until the end of April to bring it up again and, even then, sell a product related to it without specifying anything about it is a mistake. As a strategist, you have to plan while keeping in mind we (your potential clients) have the attention span of a fish. It’s harsh but it’s what it is. Not to mention this ploy, if it is promoting something, does absolutely nothing to reach new demographics… once again.
I am talking from a professional standpoint here, not throwing blame at Louis but at whoever runs this shit (please, get back to me, I did send you a CV). It’s not as easier as looking for old patterns and discerning whether we’re getting something or not. We have to assess this as a potential new situation and thenwe can focus on analyzing.
Do I believe we’re getting new music? I suspect there’s something coming but it’s just that, a supposition. It’s an assumption that’s once again, pretty baseless. Is Louis sending out new merch to promote a new single? Is he just being grateful?
Let’s look at the facts. The last merch drop was called 369, so it has some kind of significancy. There’re 369 letters/presents. At least one journalist, that we know of, got one of them. We got a few articles almost two weeks ago already talking about Louis in a general sense, re-introducing him to the public as a successful musician and nothing else (which is always great to see). It could be slow seeding, to test the waters. We could have more coming, or it could have been a one-off because he was out and about for the EURO thing andwriting music and making sandwiches for charity, so it’s good to remind people of his existence. Don’t fade away, yada yada yada.
As I mentioned above, he made it clear that he wasn’t going to be releasing an album this year, but that something BIG was coming/going to happen. Right now, I’m expecting a single that could be tied to the documentary, and parallel promotion of both. Maybe we will get Louis’ music in a Netflix show thanks to BMG deal with them, too.
I don’t think we’re getting a new LP (long play, not Liam Payne) until the tour for the previous one is done BUT I think an EP would be an interesting and very clever move. It could help keep his name relevant and get him some presence in playlists and some radio-play without changing too much the setlist of the tour and, at the same time, pave the way for his sophomore album, giving him a much fair chance of breaking into the charts.
Alas, I can’t really make any of this happen. If the sound is summer-y, which could be because of the video of them dancing in the studio, I will say they are already a little late. If you want a summer hit, but you don’t think it will be an instant hit but a sleeper (not really the term I’m looking for, but you get me), release it during spring. If the sound is more like COACOAC it won’t make sense to release it until late August or September because emo music hits harder during autumn and winter which leaves me wondering why now, why now (if it’s now, which I doubt, given the silence from his socials once again, but then, not a good move to send more things related to 369).
So here’re my thoughts on all of this. If you have any questions I will be happy to answer them but let’s be honest, this has 1,3k words so most of you won’t even read all of it.
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auty-ren · 4 years
Text
The Offer: Chapter 1
Introductions
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Pairing: ClanLeader!Mando x Reader (no y/n)
Rating: Explicit (for future chapters)
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: Mentions of violence, Blood, Injury, Longing, Pet names
A/N: After the feedback on my preview, I decided to make this into a full-fledge fic. This chapter is a little slow in terms of action but I wanted to establish some things before we dived into filth. I’m honestly so excited and I hope y’all enjoy. Comments and feedback always appreciated. ClanLeader!Au created by @magichandthing 
Chapter 2
P.S. Mira is an OC I created for this story and she will be in future chapters.
P.P.S. I also posted it on AO3 if you prefer that forum.
Summary: You run into a Mandalorian who wants to repay a debt. Little did you know you'd meet the most alluring man along the way. Din Djarin.
“Have you thought about my offer?”
“Yes, I have,” you sighed.
“And?”
“I accept"
You can’t recall when the calm began and the fighting ended. For most, the lines between peace and war blurred a long time ago. It certainly affected the locals of the planet you were currently living on. Manual labor was the only thing you could offer to the galaxy, picking up jobs here and there to buy rations of food. Scavenging for metals, digging, harvesting, and menial tasks were all that made up your day. You survived this long, longer than your family, longer than most of the galaxy, but it felt part of you had died long ago.
After the empire, life was truly never the same for anyone. They drained the galaxy of everything it had, leaving destruction and barrenness in its wake. The Imps had caused most of the galaxy to become a shell of what it once was, the only thing that seemed to thrive was lawlessness. You saw it in the faces of people in the market, in the seemingly empty homes that ran alongside the town, an emptiness that was buried deep in wounds trying so desperately to heal.
Everyone tried to live their lives just as they have done before. Children still played in the streets, people walked together laughing, but the happiness was only skin deep, masking the grief of the galaxy. It was something that ate away at you, an emptiness that created a growing void over time. You could feel your mind falling away, going numb to the routine of your life. Your conscious embraced something that seemed to root from deep inside you, it had burrowed into your soul one ago, slowly eating away at the rest of you. It was becoming suffocating, exhausting you past the point any manual labor could. You feared you would never escape its clutch. Living and working and dying on this horrible little planet, where no one would miss you. Your loneliness became your one solace and your worst enemy. Alone, all you could do was immerse yourself in work, trying desperately to hold onto something you never had in the first place. It was a vicious cycle you weren’t sure could ever be broken. That was until the woman happened.
You couldn’t remember exactly what transpired. How any of it happened really. It was a day like any other, just as routine and conventional as they had been since you got here. You do remember being smacked across the face with something hard, falling to the ground. The taste of copper flooding your senses, and wetness pouring down your face. You had reached up to cradle yourself, blood seeping through your fingertips.
Everything surrounding that moment was a blur. The woman had offered her hand, apologizing for the injury. You had seen her before; walking through the market and even arguing with some of the townsfolk. She was truly hard to miss, she walked with a swagger of confidence and carried practically every weapon known to the galaxy on her back. She was always dressed in a maroon color, her armor is the only thing that offsets the monochromatic trend. It was much different than anything she had seen before.
If anyone else stood in her place you would've fled fearing the worst, but your mind was muddled, unable to comprehend the Mandalorian standing above you. Something was different about her, at least from the other mercenaries that came through. You had witnessed her differing moral compass at work before. She once threatened a man who came through town, a common criminal like most who came through. Unlucky for him, he robbed one of the places she frequented, taking the entirety of the merchants’ earnings. Everyone, including yourself, just stood by, too afraid of the confrontation. She, however, intercepted him before he could leave, disarming him quickly and leaving his unconscious body on the ground. She gave the credits back to the merchant.
“There is no honor among thieves,” she had huffed, annoyed with the disturbance of her day.
As she turned to leave you spoke up, asking her why she had even bothered.
“This is the way.”
“How long have you lived on this planet?” She inquired, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. Her helmet glinted in the sunlight, causing her presence to practically glow in the shade of the alleyway.
“Long enough,” you huffed, holding a cloth to your nose trying to reduce the bleeding. Why would she ask such a question? Since when did Mandalorians care for small talk?
“You don’t like it?” The woman didn’t sound surprised. Her tone rolled in an almost sarcastic way.
You just huffed in response. You hoped if you seemed uninterested the woman would leave you alone. It felt like an interrogation, intimidated by the domineering presence of a Mandalorian. At this point, you just wanted to return to your day, no matter how draining it would be.
“Would you like to leave?”
Those words rang in your ears, echoing even now as you sat in the belly of the woman’s ship, being carted off to a planet unrecognizable. The dizziness from earlier seemed to subside, especially since the woman gave you a shot of some sort, claiming it would help.
“Where are we going?” you mumbled.
“To my clan,” the woman responded, busying herself with the controls in front of her.
“Your clan?”
“To my home,” she clarified, not bothering to look up. “You will be welcome there and can rest, heal.”
“You’re taking me to your home because of this?” you gestured to your face, no doubt bruised and blooded. If it looked as bad as it had felt, you were sure it wasn’t pretty.
She paused in her actions, thinking carefully about her next words.
“It is my fault you sustained these injuries, you were innocent and did not deserve my wrath. Therefore, I will make sure you are healed and it will be much more comfortable for both of us if we return to my clan.”
The Mandalorian seemed unbothered by the notion of taking a stranger back to her home as if she does it regularly. But you figured it didn’t concern you. If this Mandalorian and her clan lived up to the stories you heard, they weren’t afraid of anyone.
“What’s your name?” you asked. If you were going to be staying, you couldn’t keep referring to her as “the woman.”
“You can call me Mira.”
The rest of the flight was spent in silence. You eventually moved to sit with Mira in the cockpit. Watching as she worked to prepare the ship for landing. You wondered what Mira’s home would be like. The Mandalorians were known to be the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. You had heard the stories before; tales of battle, triumph, and loss. Stories of the most formidable soldiers in the galaxy.
Regret started to cloud the corners of your mind. Fear of what you had gotten yourself into seeped into your chest, tightening your rib cage with each breath you took. Truly, you had no desire to stay and heal with Mira, you mainly wanted to escape her life previously. Opportunities to leave we’re few, especially with no status in the New Republic. When Mira had offered, there was no hesitation to get off that forsaken planet. You weren’t sure if things went sour you would be strong enough to get yourself out of it.
When the ship fell out of hyperspace, Mira’s home finally came into view. It definitely wasn’t what you expected, it was such a beautiful and peaceful looking place, tucked away in the far corners of the galaxy.
The planet was covered in a green lushness, the sky littered with enormous clouds that reflected the sun giving them faint hues of color. As you entered through the atmosphere, you saw the planet was lined with dense areas of forest. Trees reached the heavens, with fat brightly colored leaves adorning them. The forests stretched for most of the planet's surface, with large mountains that loomed far in the distance.
Mira landed in a clearing on the edge of a forest. Some other ships surrounded them, you recognized a few of the models from your time working as an apprentice. You figured these probably belonged to the rest of Mira’s clan. Mira couldn’t have been the only one who left the planet.
You stood staring at the mountains while Mira unloaded your ship. You had never seen a place this mesmerizing in your life. The sun was beginning to set, painting the landscape in red and purple rays. The air was fresh and crisp, filling your lungs with a gentleness you hadn’t felt in years. Everything seemed so bright and livid compared to your previous homes.
Mira called for you, climbing onto the back of a speeder driven by an R2 unit, loaded with supplies. You murmured an apology, settling among the crates and stretching your feet in front of you, Mira did the same mirroring her position.
“It will take some time to get to the village.” Mira’s tone was passive, in a matter of fact sort of way.
You gave a nod to let her know you heard her. As you tried to sleep, cushioned by the bags lining the speeder, you were reminded of the dull ache still permeating your face. The excitement of arrival had clouded the pain, but as you sat consumed by only your thoughts, it returned. Your face was no doubt swollen and puffy. You just hoped your nose wasn’t broken, you hoped it was nothing more than some swelling. Exhaustion was creeping up, and you wanted to succumb to it but the persistent throb of pain kept you from it.
Suddenly the speeder came to an abrupt halt, jolting you to the side.
“We’re here,” Mira started getting up and slinging sacks of supplies over her shoulders. “Follow me.”
You got up to follow as quickly as your legs would let you, holding onto the crates for support, your balance became unsteady as the pain pulsed harder. Whatever Mira originally gave you was wearing off. Before you could step foot off the speeder you were overwhelmed by the presence of what you can only gather is Mira’s clan.
People rushed to the speeder to help unload, brushing past you except for a curious glance. Most of them wore helmets like Mira, some of them didn’t. Either way, it was hard to keep track of the direction Mira moved. You were sure you’d lost her until you saw the glint of her helmet ahead.
That woman moves entirely too fast.
You continued to follow her, securing your own bag across your shoulders. You tried to move quickly, bumping into people on the way. You apologized to everyone you ran into, which was seemingly the entire clan at this point. You could feel the embarrassment rising, you just wanted to find Mira and it was getting frustrating at this point. It was hard to focus on the surroundings with the pain shooting through your skull. You nearly fell and ran into something you were sure was a wall. It was firm whatever it was and caused you to wince, jolting back from the pain that pulsed in her face.
“Easy,” a voice said that was much deeper than Mira’s.
Arms came up to steady you, and a warmth radiated towards you. You looked up and saw a dark visor staring back at you that was certainly not Mira’s
He was a Mandalorian but stood out from the rest in a way that demanded attention. His authoritative demeanor rolled off him in ways. His helmet was shiny and unlike Mira’s, two large tusks jutted out from the bottom, curling around to the front of his mask. His clothes were the same deep maroon Mira donned. He wore a cape with a large fur that sat on his pauldron covered shoulders, draping down his back. His forearms were accented with sleeves made of leather and cloth that bleed into a tattooed pattern tracing along his arms. Yet, his chest was bare except for the necklaces he wore; round beads and animal teeth were woven together to sit in the middle, set off by the toned muscle of his chest and torso. At his waist was a thick belt with a large buckle resting in the middle. It shone with the same luster as his helmet, it was molded into the shape of some creature. It seemed familiar but no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.
His fingers lightly traced your chin, bringing your eyes back up to his visor. You didn’t realize you were just standing there, ogling over him. It was entirely unintentional, you had never seen anything like him before. You felt scolded like a child, almost embarrassed by your staring. Face suddenly growing very hot under his gaze.
“You must watch where you’re going,” his hushed baritone hit her ears, “or you’ll hurt yourself.” That voice quite possibly the most heavenly sound you had heard. You willed herself to speak but nothing came out, your mind was completely blank. It was as if you were stuck, only able to stare back up into this stranger.
“It’s a little too late for that,” Mira appeared to his right, arms crossed over her chest. The man turned to her and offered Mira a greeting in an unfamiliar language. They shook, hands clasped together at the forearms as if they were old friends.
“Who is this sweet girl?” The man asked, turning back towards you. The name he called you did not go unnoticed, and you felt your face getting even hotter. Mira began to explain the details of your meeting.
Mira refers to your injuries, and gently takes your chin and tilts your head so the Mandalorian can examine it better. Your instincts told you to run, to go anywhere else but here, but you remained planted firm to the ground. They were so close to you, examining as if you were just some object. You couldn’t even see their faces and yet they overwhelmed you. You had never wanted to disappear so badly at that moment.
They continued conversing in whatever native tongue they possessed. You stood there feeling much too exposed for your liking. More people seemed to notice your presence, looking in the direction of the three of you. Some murmured, looking between you and the two Mandalorians. There was no malice behind their intentions; you knew this but standing there with all those eyes watching your every move was not where you wanted to be.
Eventually, the man gestured to something behind him, Mira nodded and took a hold of your arm leading you away.
“One of the elders will be with us to help you shortly,”  Mira led you in the direction of what you assumed was her home. You didn't even register you had moved until you were almost inside. You weren’t entirely sure if it was your wounds or the domineering exchange between the Mandalorian that left you light headed. Either way, you wanted nothing more than to lay down in a quiet place and hide away from the events of the past days.
You glanced back at the speeder, the Mandalorian was still in the same spot where he intercepted you, watching you both walk away. You turned back to Mira.
“Who was that man?” You asked much more enthusiastically than you would have liked. You couldn't lie and say he didn't intrigue you. His aura was overpowering but also enticed you in a way you couldn't explain.
“That was our clan leader, Din Djarin.”
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hecallsmehischild · 2 years
Text
Recent Media Consumed
Books
The Road to Wigan Pier by George Orwell. First, I actually appreciated the foreward to the “Left Book Club” copy, even though it says that anyone who is not a member should disregard it. It gave an interesting rebuttal to parts of the book. That aside, I’m not totally sure what to make of the book. On the level of descriptive writing, I rarely find something this richly penned. But it’s loaded with concepts and lingo and even a monetary system I’m unfamiliar with, and that hampers my understanding of the points. I get the general gist, but all the finer points are very lost on me, simply because I’m an American millennial.
The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck by Mark Manson. I’ve seen the “F*ck” series titles floating around here and there, and I’m intrigued by a couple of them. The idea of this one is that people give way too many f*cks about everything, and that you really need to pick where you give your f*cks in life and never give a f*ck about anything that doesn’t line up with your values (in a nutshell). It’s an easy and interesting read. It’s interesting to me that, in the wake of what I hear was many years of positive-mood and high self-esteem type self help books (most of which I’ve only heard of and never read, were they before my time?), we’re getting a backlash of “Yes, life sucks. Yes, life has pain. Dealing with pain and failure appropriately is a part of life. Accept that, or lose yourself to complete entitlement” type self-help books. I’m curious what this trend produces in people over time. I’d also like to highlight that this book has the best discussion of dividing “fault” and “responsibility” that I’ve ever read.
Shows
Loki. WHAT EVEN. WHAT EVEN. WHAT. WHAT THE. WHAT THE. FRESH… THE FRICK FRACK PADDYWHACK???!!!
Mushi-shi. So, turns out the first time I watched this I somehow started on Season 2, and my source cut out before the season end… no wonder I was pretty confused. So I started re-watching this and… I remember how incredibly unsettling this anime is. It’s equal parts gentle wonder and soft horror, a blend that is very difficult to describe unless you’ve seen it. Much like Mushi themselves, eh? I think I’ll balance this out by ending each watch session with an episode of Log Horizon rewatch. That’ll keep the emotional balance intact.
Claymore. I ended up dropping this one halfway through. It has an interesting concept, but the “things that bug me” points mounted pretty fast. In the early episodes, everything is so dark that it’s hard to see what’s going on. There’s a huge amount of monologuing and info-dumping IN monologue, and this goes on even mid-fight, and even CALMLY mid-fight. Yes, this isn’t the only anime that does this, but it decreases my enjoyment. It’s difficult to take the story seriously when the big bad yells, “Why can’t I defeat you?” to the weakest-but-somehow-also-the-strongest member of a team, and then have a colleague of the team member calmly explain to the big bad exactly why he’s unable to land a blow, then they take off his head together. This show has a lot of that sort of thing. I’ll read up on how the series ended, not interested in slogging through the other half.
Elfen Lied. This is a re-re-rewatch for me. I stumbled on this anime when I was newly inducted into anime-watching and, well... given that Princess Tutu was my very first anime, this one was a real shock to my system at first. By all accounts I should have dropped it and run screaming at the time, but I couldn’t. There was something about the sheer tragedy of the story that called to me. Plus it was VERY short. So I returned to it from time to time. Now that I’ve developed more of a feel for what I do and don’t like in a story, how does this hold up? The relationships are terrible, imo, and the whole thing about diclonius is never explained enough (and I still don't understand the ending) but it's STILL hard not to be pulled in by the sheer tragedy of the series.
Movies
300. I haven’t seen this movie since college. Is it weird how much I enjoyed it as a romp? Yes, there’s death and tragedy, but the dry humor and utter gung-ho-edness of it is infectious. It’s a good flick, I’m really glad I went back to see it. And I also finally understand Leonidas telling the traitor, “May you live forever.” Damn, man. No wonder he flinched.
Weathering With You. GORGEOUS. I need to see more by this animator… LIGHT. WATER. FOOD. I hear they’re calling this person the new Miyazaki? I CONCUR. And the story is sweet and beautiful and just yes. Yes. Oh, look, he made something else before this movie…
Your Name. Okay so I have mixed feelings about this one. On the one hand, fantastic story and, once again, gorgeous animation that all makes me want to track with this creator in the future. And the twist definitely socked me in the gut, I didn’t see it coming. On the other hand, I feel like this movie hits an extreme of “show, don’t tell” in a way that comes awfully close to a negative. I didn’t think that was possible, but this movie switches timelines, POV, points in time, etc, so rapidly that it becomes difficult to keep track of what’s going on, properly. I could not imagine watching this movie in theaters, it has to be watched with a remote in hand to pause, rewind, rewatch, discuss what the heck just happened. It’s like watching Mystery Skulls videos, with that level of rapid fire little details that are incredibly important to the plot, but for a feature length film. Also, after some discussion, I came to see (and agree) that there’s a foundational issue in the main relationship that doesn’t bode well for the future, as much as I rooted for them to be together. Still, it’s an incredible movie and I can see why it was the highest grossing movie for Japan a few years back.
Games
Diablo II. I’m really happy. I live in a house with my husband and his best friend, and in the past year or so we’ve begun playing games together. This is the sort of game I would never have gone to on my own because I actually need someone in the room who I can ask, “Hey, how do you assign attacks again?” or “Hey, is this piece of gear better than the piece I’m wearing?” I don’t like playing the number game on gear so much, but I let the two of them dress my character up and then I back them up in a fight and enjoy myself. Looting and exploring for treasure is probably my favorite aspect (says the person who plays Breath of the Wild just to forage for mushroom and herbs), although as a level 20 Amazon I’m now shooting out waves of 8 arrows at a time, and that’s pretty epic too. It’s a special kind of joy to find out you actually like a type of gaming as long as there’s people there who can explain things along the way and who don’t get annoyed at re-asked questions. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m having a blast playing Diablo II in a group. And as for the other game we play together as a group…
WoW Classic. I covered this before, but back then I was a lowly level 17 Dwarf Hunter. Now I’m a lowly level 36 Dwarf Hunter. With a mount! I have epic skills like explosion traps, poisonous shots, and multi-shot. My wolf has gained a ton more skills, too, and is (or so I’m told) a pretty effective off-tank. I have been told I am an effective DPS person, which makes me very happy. I really enjoy this kind of gaming, but specifically when I’m in the same room as the people I’m gaming with. Communication is a lot easier and we work really well as a team that way.
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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years
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Remember I Love You
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A/n: This is my first time writing for our Lee Know! So I hope you like it! I adjusted the age a little bit so the hate would be a little more realistic I hope that's okay :)  (this is not edited btw sorry if there are spelling errors, I type fast)
Requested by: @petalskook​ (thank you for requesting bb!!!)
Word Count: 1.7K
Warnings: mentions of hate? nothing else maybe cussing?.....
Member: Lee Minho
Summary: Being a Soloist attracts a lot of attention. The focus now seems to be on the age gap between you and your boyfriend Minho. While it seems small to him, you can’t help but focus on what the media and fans are saying. Minho has to remind you what he sees instead of what the public sees.
Genre: angst, fluff, romance, idol!au
The green room was surprisingly hot. Sweat dripped down the back of your neck as you looked up at the TV screen. The MCs were commenting on the stage you just did and clips of you dancing with your back up dancers showed behind them. “Miss Y/n, you got a text message.” A staff member said handing you your phone. 
You smiled seeing a text from your boyfriend, Minho. He was set to go on stage a few acts after you but had to stay with his members. Quickly you responded before flipping over to Twitter to post about the stage. You were shocked to find your name already trending. 
Curious, you slid your finger over to the tag and scrolled through the first couple of posts. They seemed to all be about you and Minho. Your relationship was no secret. The two of you had been completely honest since the beginning. 
I can’t believe our Minho is dating such an old Ajhumma 
Fans Wonder About the Age Gap Between Stray Kids Lee Know and Soloist Y/n
Y/n should just stick to people her own age and leave Minho to us
She is way too old for someone like Minho. Her career is pretty much at its end soon anyway. #CancelY/n 
Isn’t she embarrassed to be dating someone younger and more successful than her?
Running a hand through your hair, you tossed your phone onto the couch beside you. The age gap wasn’t that big of a deal, was it? You thought nothing of it and you assumed Minho didn’t mind. You weren’t that much older than him. There was hardly a year's distance between your ages. 
“Y/n, do you want to stay and watch the stages or are you going back to the company?” Your manager asked you with a busy but kind smile. You thought about it for a moment, your eyes glancing at the phone once more. For some reason, you just felt like hiding from the world under your covers. Your shoulders felt oddly heavy now and your chest felt like there was an invisible weight on it.
“I think I’m just going to go home if my schedule is done. Will you tell Minho that I wasn’t feeling well and that I am sorry I missed his stage?”
Your manager smiled and checked your schedule before giving you the okay to leave. After giving the stylists your stage clothes back you changed and hopped in the car that would take you home. The radio played softly as one of your security detail drove you home. Your ears picked up Minho’s name mentioned.
“Oh Yes! He was on the show last week right?”
“Apparently, his girlfriend is going viral on SNS.”
“She is a little old for him.”
“She is so fierce onstage; do you think she makes him do everything at home too?”
“Oh, Noona! Why? Can’t I choose what film to watch??” The host said in a mocking voice.
“I could never date a woman older than me. I would hate not feeling masculine like that.”
You sighed and tried to ignore the jokes they were making and stared at the passing city scenery. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get their annoying voice out of your head. “Joonhee, can you please turn off the radio.” He nodded politely and switched off the radio. You rode the rest of the way home in silence. 
You could usually handle the hate about you or your relationship, but this was just intense for one day. You sighed seeing photographers outside of your apartment. “Should I escort you inside?” Joonhee asked, ready to get out of the car.
“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you, Joonhee!” You put on a fake smile and thanked him before gathering your bag and exiting the vehicle. Thankful you left on your stage makeup, you waved to some of the reporters you knew. However, there were quite a few journalists shouting at you for a comment on the articles about you and Minho. Choosing to stay silent you simply smiled and walked into your building.
Thank goodness for doormen and security. This was just too much for one day. You glanced at your phone as you waited for the elevator to climb it’s way to the eighth floor. No text from Minho; which wasn’t unusual. He was probably performing now and had schedules later. However there several notifications from Twitter and Instagram. 
The ding of the elevator brought you back to reality. Finally, you could be safe in your own apartment. Away from reporters and rumors and people who hated you for no reason. Having had enough of the world, you placed your phone on the kitchen counter and shut it off fully. 
With tired and sluggish movements you wiped off your makeup in the bathroom mirror. Your eyes stopped on your forehead seeing a couple wrinkles you hadn’t noticed before. Most likely from stress but your mind couldn’t help but remind you that you were aging faster than Minho.
With yet another heavy sigh you threw the hand towel in the sink and flipped off the lights. Your heavy body flopped onto the couch and stayed there for the next ten minutes. Eventually finding the motivation to do so, you reached for the remote and turned on the television to a random channel. Some drama you had seen probably a million times was playing. 
The hours passed by as if time was moving through tar or glue. You watched as the shadows grew longer across your apartment floor and the sun slowly disappeared, leaving you in a dark apartment. You were hungry but not hungry enough to get up to go to the fridge. You were cold, but not cold enough to go get a blanket. So instead you sat there on your couch, staring mindlessly at the TV. 
The front door opened with a loud noise and your boyfriend charged into the room, his brows furrowed. “Hey! Not answering messages and calls is my thing! I’ve been texting and calling you for the past three hours. What’s the deal?” You blinked as he turned on a lamp, eyes not used to the light from being in the dark. 
“Sorry...”
He stared at you in disbelief. Sorry? That was all he got? You just didn’t really feel like talking or doing anything really. You hated to admit it, but the comments had gotten you pretty depressed. He watched you shift on the couch under his unrelenting gaze. 
“Is it your time of the month or something? What’s up with you?”
“Minho- just leave me alone. I have had enough of today.” Having reached your already short limit, you got up off the couch and headed to the bedroom. His grip on your arm stopped you. 
“Y/n-...what’s wrong? Tell me.” 
His voice softened and he looked a little concerned. His thumb brushed the skin of your arm softly. It was Minho’s way of saying: I’m comforting you but I’m too badass and tsundere to actually do anything so I’ll do this instead.
“Minho, I’m not in the mood. Just go do your own stuff.” You said pulling away from your boyfriend. Before you could even reach the hallway he called out again.
“Y/n L/n, if you don’t tell me what the hell is wrong in the next ten seconds I’m withholding sex for the next three weeks.”
You turned slowly and rose an eyebrow at his words.
“Minho- honey, you are in no position to make that demand.”
He sighed when you turned back around and entered the bedroom. Starting to get a little frustrated, he followed and shut the door behind him. Your back was to him as you sat on your side of the bed. He noticed how heavy your shoulders looked and how tired you seemed. You were so full of energy when he saw you perform. What was wrong?
The sounds of his footsteps padded across the room. He kneeled in front of you, taking your hands in his. Your eyes stayed focused on your lap, not wanting to look at him. “I’m doing my best not to be frustrated with you because I know you are hurting. I’m trying to help, my love.” His voice was gentle as he stared at your sorrowful face. You let a few more minutes of silence pass before deciding Minho wasn’t going to give up anytime soon. 
“Do you think I’m too old?”
The question kind of shocked him. He definitely had not expected this to be what was wrong. Were you too old? What kind of bullshit was that? You started to pull your hands away when he stayed silent. Quickly, he grabbed them back and laced his fingers with yours
“Too old for what? To win another Song of the Year? No. To order off the kid's menu? Yes.”
He smiled seeing your lips threaten a tiny grin. “I’m being serious, Minho. Am I too old for you.” He looked in your eyes, a sad smile coming over his face. It hurt him that you would say something let alone believe something like that.
“Why would you say such a thing?”
“All these articles and posts are saying I’m too old for you. That dating an older woman makes you less of a man or something. Do I really do that?”
Minho scoffed and sat next to you on the bed. “Y/n, we are both in our early twenties. You are not too old for anyone. I would still love you if you were thirty-two and I was twenty.”
He sighed, seeing your gaze drift away from him. He pulled your hands closer, making your attention come back to him. “Don’t listen to them, pabo. Listen to me. I love you. No matter what. Even when you don’t answer all thirteen of my calls.” He smiled finally seeing you laugh. 
“So- Repeat after me. I,”
“I,”
“Y/n L/n,”
“Y/n L/n.”
“Will never ever question my incredibly hot boyfriend’s love and affection ever again because of internet douchebags.”
He smiled seeing you fully laugh, eyes sparkling again. You sighed, this time with relief as you looked back at your boyfriend. Your kind, somewhat unorthodox boyfriend. “I promise.” It was his turn to laugh when you kissed his cheeks in thanks.
Requests are open my lovelies! Just send an ask or message me!
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jngles · 3 years
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Thoughts You Definitely All Asked For on ‘The Mandalorian’ Season 2 Finale!!
These are in chronological order for the show.
One of my biggest fears about them reintroducing Boba Fett was that by removing some of his mystery, they would make him less cool. Thank god that has not been the case. He’s still an aloof and nasty piece of work but with dimensions added.
We all know the Empire is most often a metaphor for America right? At least when it’s not being Nazi Germany? The Imperial pilot talking about destroying an entire planet (of peaceful weaponless civilians no less) to stop terrorism hits a little too close to home of the nuclear bombs the US has dropped and the endless destruction of the Middle East in the “war against terror.” And of course we frame all our wars in similar language like “our troops died to keep our country safe,” which hasn’t really been true since WWII.
I do think it’s worth noting that this is the first time SW has had someone acknowledge the human losses of the Death Star blasts. Usually it’s framed as a loss in construction time, strategical advantage, and power. The Empire proved time and time again that the lives of its soldiers were utterly expendable, which always made me question why people remained loyal outside of fear. Through this pilot’s phrasing, you can see the propaganda Imperial superiors used to twist the truth to their followers, always blaming those deaths on Rebel aggression instead of prideful Imperial neglect (I.e. not abandoning ship when there was still time) or even direct Imperial aggression like Operation Cinder where they fired on thousands of their own (discussed in S2E7.)
You can’t tell me Din wasn’t into it when Cara shot that asshole pilot. That cold faced revenge shot? 100% Mandalorian style, and also very very hot.
I appreciate that it was a pretty equal match between Boba and Koska Reeves. So much of Boba’s advantage comes from his suit, but since she also has one, it’s a battle of wits on how to use it, and they even out. This both maintains his legendary badassery and also that of highly trained Mandalorian warriors, and hopefully avoids asshole chauvinist SW fans on the internet complaining abujt “pandering to feminism” (fuck off @ all of them, especially since Mercedes Vernado who plays Reeves is a WWE champ and could kick all of your asses.)
Din point blank asked how many Death Troopers there are and Dr. Pershing never answered, and that annoys me.
Why is no one suspicious why Dr. Pershing is being so helpful and revealing so much information? He totally did not have to tell them about the Dark Troopers or any of the specifics of locations on the ship. He’s still with the empire post-fall, implying he’s a loyalist, so... wtf on his part (since no tricks come of it), and “be smarter” on the part of everyone else. Unless he’s been captive as a clone engineer all this time. But couldn’t he have made his escape back in Season 1 when Din killed everyone at that lab to get the kid back?
Bo Katan really could’ve just told them how the retrieval of the dark saber needs to work in the flight before the mission instead of being vague about “he belongs to me.”
Boba Fett’s usage of “Princess” and “don’t worry about me” are a good throwback to Han Solo and the culture they both grew up in. You can never quite tell if it’s based in misogyny or resentment for upper classes, but both of them seem to use it as a shield for begrudging respect they hold for a woman they think is brave but following a fool’s errand (the Rebellion and retaking Mandalore).
The Comms Officer (Katy O’Brian) assisting Moff Gideon will forever and always look like Ilana Glazer to me, and then I get swept up imagining what would happen if the Broad City cast accidentally got transported to Star Wars.
The launch tube sequence has some amazing cinematography.
The second I saw Boba was cut off from the pack, I really thought they were going to kill him again and make his return bittersweet. Glad they didn’t.
God this team of Bo Katan, Koska Reeves, Fennec Shand, and Cara Dune is SO BADASS. I’m just obsessed with all these characters and their various motivations to get shit done. I honestly didn’t even think about the fact it’s all women until my re-watch, showing that the writers made it feel natural, the way women deserve to have their representation done. You can bet I am SO EXCITED for my future daughter and the wealth of possibilities she’s going to have of characters to play pretend as, action figures she can relate to, Halloween costumes to wear, etc. It’s so validating that we’ve gone from only Princess Leia as a female main character to all these women + Rey, Jyn Erso, Ahsoka, etc. etc.
Can’t wait for the trap remix of the Dark Trooper activation noises. (And the transition from that to the minimalist flute theme is perfect.)
The spy movie version of the main theme music is sick.
The Dark Trooper droid faces have a lot of similarity to Darth Vader’s mask. That callback is especially apparent when the one is literally lit from the inside with fire. He was already a martyr/legend to the Imperial remnants, Kylo Ren didn’t start the trend of ignoring his redemption.
Cara’s “excuse me” right before shooting up Stormtroopers is hilarious. Literally “can’t talk rn, doing hot girl shit and murdering space Nazis.”
Finally an Imperial ship got some frickin security cameras. Truly- the amount of times people just wander down hallways they’re not supposed to be in with no one being able to find them throughout the course of Star Wars is ridiculous when you think about the degree of surveillance our real life society carries out. I also love that this means The Mandalorian characters have also seen The Mandalorian.
The storytelling does such a service to Pedro Pascal and his already heroic efforts to portray emotion through a helmet. For example: Din easily could’ve killed the one stormtrooper outside Grogu’s cell much more efficiently, but instead, to show his absolute rage, they wrote in Din choking him out with a spear.
Moff Gideon would have been the BIGGEST pain in the ass in philosophy class. “Assume I know everything” my ass. I want to hear about his backstory (he would’ve been “coming of age” at the time of the Clone Wars) mostly just to hear about him getting bullied at school.
Smart move honestly, to try to tempt Din with the Mandalorian throne, given the Mandalorian power struggles of the past. Proud of our boy for keeping his priorities straight.
So has the blood from Grogu been transferred out of the ship and back to the remnant empire already, or do they have to find a new “donor” to help with building Snoke and Palpatine’s clones? Will they continue to go after him with Luke?
Lmao Din being so annoyed by Bo Katan being stringent about the tradition of winning the Dark Saber through combat is HILARIOUS, coming from a man who up until like a day ago hadn’t shown his face to a living being in decades.
The dark troopers can punch in blast doors but NOT Din’s helmet?? That’s a wild testament to beskar. Somehow that’s the comparison that sticks out to me, more even than its resistance to lightsabers.
This show works because of the cynicism of so many characters adding contrast to the moments of heart. Cara Dune is not a “fan” the way Rey was (for the record I love Rey, don’t come at her, it’s just different). Cara doesn’t see an X-Wing and go OMG THE REBELLION I LOVE THEM. She’s been through too much to believe in the magic saviourism of the “good guys,” and is instead thinking strategically when she, the one Rebel present, brushes off the usefulness of “one X-Wing.” The only positive things she seems to feel in battle situations are moments of relief and brief satisfaction in hurting the empire, with a dark knowledge that it will never make up for the hurt they did to her.
How do you keep a cloak hood on while fighting? Both from a technical standpoint (my hats fall off without me even having to move- is he expending force energy just to keep it on and look cool lol?) and also because idk, maybe it’s just me, but peripheral vision is helpful when surrounded by killer robots on a thin bridge above oblivion. I know his first lesson was to “see” through the force, but every resource helps, right?
Now that she has the ship, I wonder if Bo Katan can reprogram any salvageable Dark Troopers to help with retaking Mandalore?
There is nothing like seeing Luke’s fighting style, with its efficient choppiness and twinge of darkness. I always wonder how much is natural and how much is influenced by his first fights with Vader (that Skywalker diva flair). I love how they’ve advanced his technique but also kept him extremely “grey” here- like to straight up COMBUST a Dark Trooper takes some violent energy lol.
How tf is Moff Gideon alive after threatening Grogu’s life twice directly? That’s a wild testament to Din’s regard for Cara.
I love how seeing Luke slice through a bunch of murder droids like butter probably was a huge point in his favor for Din actually letting Grogu go with him. Like he will only send his child to boarding preschool if he knows the teacher will be a certified killing machine.
Oh my god they finally brought in some OG Star Wars theme music for Luke to take his hood off to 😭 It felt weird seeing him fight to different music, so the emotional payoff is huge when his themes come back for the face reveal.
Whoever added the digital young Mark Hamill face NAILED those classic shining Luke eyes and the earnest eyebrow lift.
Whoever shines the glass of Baby Yoda’s lil puppet eyeballs each day deserves a raise. The light caught in those babies is devastating.
Din is shaking as he takes off his helmet. This is the most enormous show of love he could give him, and possibly the last he’ll be able to for a long time. He only just got Grogu back and is desperate for a moment of real connection before letting him go once again.
This is the first time anyone has touched Din’s face since... likely his parents as a child.
Whoever wrote this scene clearly actually has kids. Anyone who’s ever had to leave a young child even just to go out for a bit or to drop them off somewhere knows that heartbreak of seeing them look in your eyes and hold on to your leg, trying to keep you with them. Especially when they can sense your mutual separation anxiety. The one thing that starts to make them feel better is something fun like a new toy or friend who can be their guide in the new environment, and R2’s friendly introduction is exactly that (since digital Luke isn’t being particularly emotive or child friendly... I hope that’s just because he’s reaching into Grogu’s mind while also keeping an eye on the multiple people with guns trained on him, not because he’s going to be totally unfeeling raising this kid.)
I love that Grogu and R2 are immediately buddies in contrast to Episode 5 when R2 was like “fuck this guy” @ Yoda stealing food and hitting him with a walking stick lol. I would imagine Luke must be reminded of that first introduction too and entertained by this display of playfulness in a *positive* light between R2 and mini-Yoda.
I need to know if Luke and Ahsoka have met- it is KILLING ME.
Does this mean Grogu will get killed by Kylo Ren when he fucks up Luke’s academy??? I will reincarnate Ben just to kill him again if that’s the case.
How does Luke not even fully SMILE at Grogu?? An adorable little baby version of his beloved master Yoda, and you’re telling me he doesn’t have the same heart stopping gasp we all did when we first saw him?? Maybe he did when they first connected through the force. He has a bit of bemusement on his face, and also wonder in his eyes, but I want a grin of recognition and welcome, dammit.
I really wish Luke had somehow acknowledged Cara Dune. Everyone else seems to see the tear drop Rebel sign and know it means Alderaan. He could’ve been like yo I have a badass warrior sister from your planet that you should meet. Or just “thank you for your service.” (I know this actually wouldn’t have been cinematically good but my heart wants it.)
Luke didn’t tell Din his name?? Or ask for any details about the kid and his care?? I could literally never let my kid go with someone, regardless of how worthy, and not be like, “Excuse me sir who are you and where tf are you taking my tiny beloved green goblin in case I need to find him? Here is my contact info. He likes to eat frogs and eggs, and he can have macarons as a treat. He’s 50 years old and his favorite toy is still a ball. Bedtime is 8pm and he’s allergic to dairy.”
Another reason I wish Luke had identified himself would be to see the mishmash of reactions that would ensue. Cara would be like DAMN IT’S THAT GUY WHO BLEW UP THE DEATH STAR AND KILLED THE EMPEROR, ACT COOL (and she would indeed act cool). Fennec would be like ugh it’s that guy who helped kill my best paying client Jabba the Hutt and then fucked over my boss Boba, I helped save the kid for THIS? And I would LOVE to know how Bo Katan feels about him, assuming she’s heard of him, and especially if she knows he’s Anakin Skywalker’s son. That confusion is probably the reason WHY the writers didn’t have him reveal himself- they didn’t want to break the emotion of the scene.
Let‘s all be real I’m just being needy about wanting things from Luke because of what he meant to me as a kid and my resulting innate need to have more canon of him, whatever it is, whenever I can get it. Especially in this form that’s so similar to ROTJ, a movie I watched on endless repeat. Even getting this was incredible though. Who else could we trust this lil heart-stealing green bean with so fully? Yet who would be so arrogant as to try to train a baby yodling (see: Ahsoka’s wise refusal)?
R2 is reckless as hell lmao. Not that we don’t already know that, but for him to just head on in, effectively abandoning Luke’s ship (how can they know if there are more troopers or not who might blow it up?) and also putting himself in the path of the ridiculously deadly Dark Troopers is NUTS. I’m usually on his side but he absolutely deserves a scolding by C3PO for this one.
I wonder if Grogu has any memories of R2 or vice versa since they did occupy the Jedi Temple at the same time. Can Grogu understand droids? They could swap stories about mutual acquaintances.
Does Din pretty much have to go with Bo Katan now since a) he’s shown his face and may not be able to go back to the Watch, and b) because he has the darksaber and has to figure out how to get it back to her without dying?
How in the hell did Bib Fortuna (whose chins age was not kind to) go from being butler to being boss? Were all the henchmen just like, “Fuck yeah, no Hutt parents no rules, let’s do what we want!!” And then they’ve spent the last ten years living off of whatever money they could salvage from Jabba’s non-banked wealth? Why has no one challenged them for that prime real estate and loot? I would love to hear that story.
Fennec Shand says “respect sex workers” so you better fuckin’ do it.
Idk dude Bib Fortuna really was a good butler, and he seemed pretty willing to comply with whoever’s in power. Did he screw Boba over in his attempt to return from the dead and earn that killing shot somehow? Or was this to make sure there was no one left who would have a claim to loyalty? Or maybe Boba just really wanted to sit in that chair.
Does “The Book of Boba Fett” mean we’re not on Din Djarin’s story anymore? Or is it a new show? I would much prefer the latter. I want to see Din help retake Mandalore or at least get a hug.
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luke-skywalker · 4 years
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Mike aka captainpoe is talking shit about me so let me get things straight.
He’s gonna do screenshots of what will makes him look like the victim, like he always does so you will have to believe me on my words (since I coun’t found our conversations by pm) but most people who know me or I've been following me for a long time know that I usually stay out of the drama. Big thanks to my friends for telling me what he was doing behind my back like the adult he is.
3 years ago Mike started following me, I was back then a small blog and I thought “wow a big blog is following me!”
He started to talk me and really fast told me to send him my edits by messages and I did! he also reblogged me on his mcu blog (and his sw blog too... I think).
I was really stressed with a big exam around July and I became obsess with EVERYTHING, I was a true pain in the ass to everyone. I’m not gonna lie. So yeah I also became obsess with my Tumblr notes, I did gifs to relax but it was not working very well back then. my behavior was childish and I apologized to him after! 
(He accused me of wanting to be reblogged on his sideblogs, it’s true, but it’s natural to me to reblog everything that people send me or tag me in on my sideblogs, I sincerely don’t understand people problem with reblogging on sideblogs things ).
When he got harassed on here, more like called out (it was actually around the same time I was a dick)  he asked me to take his defense and to reblog a post he made, he was basically whining about how he was the victim and never harassed anyone, he sent me messaged telling me that he was a married man in florida and never did anything against the once upon a time fandom, wasn’t homophobic and meh meh meh... Back then I believed him because he was the nice guy who was helping me getting notes in the MCU fandom. He used me, after talking to other members I realized that I wasn’t alone. 
I WANT TO APOLOGIES TO THE POEPLE I DIDN’T BELIEVED BACK THEN. I KNOW WHO HE IS NOW. 
He started being aggressive but nothing worriedly when TLJ came around, it was a real little thing but I wasn't shipping Rey x poe and I felt like it was problem for him that I wasn’t shipping them. I didn't thought too much about it but still, it left a bad taste in my mouth, I wasn’t talking a lot to him after that.
When I had problems and got hate on my blog he didn't do shit to help me. 
I was still sending me my edits because... Notes. I can’t lie about that, like every  creators here I want my edits to get notes. 
I think we haven’t talked for a verrrry long time, I was sending my edits that’s it. 
Last year he asked me to join my GOT blog, after all the reblog he did for me I thought It would be really bitchy to me to not add him as a member. But I also noted that it was funny how he joined both the B99 and the GOT fandom once he realized that it was very popular. 
He did edits on the blog so no problem at all, until s8 ended. I’m like everybody, I hated that season but when someone join my sideblogs, especially my got one, I am very clear about the no hate rule (I had problems with that on this blog before). But he thought that since he was popular he could do what he wanted, I deleted the two first he reblogged, one of them was calling people to harass D&D and I hate what they did but as someone who has been victim of bullying at school and still suffer from that I was disgusted by what he posted but I haven’t told him anything since he’s really popular and I didn’t want to create any drama... I have a life so I  finally forgot about it. 
My laptop broke and gosh, I really understood who he was at that moment! I sent a messages to all the members of my sideblogs asking them to keep the blogs active while I can’t, normal stuff for an admin. I had my tablet with no photoshop... spidey got “fired” and like a lot of other people I thought about that scene in iw where Tony told him “you’re an avenger now”, lucky me I have already made that gifset before so I took my tablet and just reposted my own gifset, it took me so long because I had to convert it back to gif format because of Tumblr... Anyway, later he sent me a message accusing me of having copied him and I haven’t seen his gifset so told him exactly that. He then accused me of doing that ALL THE TIME with endgame and I told him “listen bro we’re both using the same 30 seconds YouTube clips that marvel gave us”, like 20 other people (they were not a lot of people because that channel was weirdly unknown), it’s true that I was doing them after him but it’s just because I have a life and cannot always do gif, I make them when I have time. He also basically told me that I must be rich for having replaced my laptop that fast, I haven’t, I was using my tablet but even if I did replace my laptop, mêle toi de ton cul ( I have no English expression coming to me ).
I really understood who he was then. 
He totally stopped making edits for my got blog, because it stopped trending so it wasn’t interesting him anymore. 
a few months past and I think the only thing he told me is that he was scared of clowns... Literally. 
And then the BIG ONE, I know he was a douche but omg. Mike asked me to reblog ALL his posts on a sideblog I'm only a member of. He told me that the admin have blocked him because she was shipping reylo and well reylos hate him because he’s posting shit on them , they were a huge misunderstanding then (because i’m French and I may not have explained myself right) , I told him that I wouldn’t reblog him if the admin didn’t want to see his posts on the blog, he was blocked! and I was, at the same time, talking to another member of this blog who is a close friend of the admin and she agreed with me. he was very insisting and I told him that the admin was checking what we add to the queue and would certainly delete his posts, it was the big misunderstanding that could have hurt the admin of the blog, I just meant I know she checks what’s happening because she told me when I don’t tag a post with the right tags, it’s just what a good admin (unlike myself) does. I also told him that it was a new blog with “only” 14k followers, he must have something like 50K followers sooooo, and that his edits were getting 100K notes, more than anybody here. He became... I have no words to describe that. He told me that it was a dictatorship if I couldn’t reblog what I wanted, and that I should leave the blog, I stopped answering pretty fast after that. 
 In our last conversation I was vulgar. (it’s in the post he sent to my friends), he really need to get over it, I’m French and from Normandie : I am vulgar! wtf. It’s also the last thing he ever posted on my game of thrones blog. It was a Sunday either two days after after the last star wars movie came out or ten days ( I don’t remember if he waited a week or not) but he reblogged a text post from his blog sending hate toward the writers of both got and sw and spoiled the entire Star Wars movie on my game of thrones blog, which was “the drop of water that caused the vase to bleed” like annoy me all you want but when people goes on my got blog they don’t want to be spoiled, it was so rude and mean and that post had nothing to do there and it was at least the third time so I told him to “fucking stop” and since mr thinks he is the king he went all “you can’t talk to me like that” “I'm an adult” meh meh meh. I told him to never go in France ‘cause he wouldn't like us. And it was the last time we spoke.  Nothing to do directly with me but I would never do what he does to get notes, that man he’s ready to use any big events such as pride or women’s day to get notes. I do make edits for those events too but I'm actually a bisexual woman and not an heterosexual man and I really don’t think he’s doing those edits to show his support to those movements but just to get notes, this year he did the same thing with blm movement I thought it was disrespectful at best, he even made the famous “I we burn you burn with us” gifset  from the movie and no, just stop dude.  Making that gifset of Naya before she was even found was awful, a lot of people are doing gifs to feel better about things but I don’t think it would have came to anybody else mind to have it ready in their draft. It actually make me think of myself because after they died I made a gifset of Carrie Fisher and Stan Lee  and in my head  it was a tribute but now that I think back about it I wouldn’t make gifset when people dies anymore, I said it once again but in my head it was a tribute to those wonderful people life and work.  I did to feel people and myself a little better in those situations but it didn’t makes me feel better. I thought about it even more, especially for Carrie, because I couldn’t stop thinking about Billie and losing my mom is the worst thing that could happen to me. You can say that, at the end, Mike makes me realize something. 
He has been calling out for his behavior but instead of facing it like an adult he just want to take people down instead of him, I'm one of them and I certainly won’t be the only one.  it’s someone who doesn’t know how to face the consequences of his behavior and still think he’s untouchable, me and one of my friend said that he thought he was the king of Tumblr and I sincerely think that in his head he is. 
Sorry for the grammar I'm French and it’s almost 4 am so I'm gonna check the grammar tomorrow. 
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everything-withered · 4 years
Text
For day 2 of ichiruki month: fantasy vs reality. I have no idea if I'll be able to keep up with the prompts, but I figure there's points for trying. This fic is also on ao3 and ffn.
Sometimes, Ichigo wonders what his life could've been.
If his mother hadn't died. If he couldn't see ghosts.
He wonders sometimes what it would've been like if he'd been normal.
He watches his friends, his classmates; the ones who don't know about monsters wearing masks and swords forged from souls. He watches them and wonders if he'd be as stressed out about exams, or as fretful of the future, or be turning himself inside out over some guy or girl. If he'd be so focused on milestones and school politics if he wasn't so busy training and fighting, and a girl with blue eyes.
Ichigo would be fussed over by his mom through every new school year. His parents would be gross and loving, and his sisters would get to be kids, same as him.
And that. That would be good.
Maybe he'd go through a rebellious phase because it seems like a trend to. Maybe he'd get into fights because he'd said the wrong thing and not because they'd been the jerks first. Maybe he'd even dye his hair, in fit of pique and insecurity.
Maybe one day, he might meet someone. Date. Say the wrong thing. Break a heart. Break two. Maybe he'd find someone he liked enough. Maybe they'd even make it. Maybe.
But maybe the story was always meant to be written that he'd lose his mom, that he could see ghosts.
So, what if, instead, Rukia hadn't appeared?
If it had been a different shinigami in town that night. If he hadn't gotten in their way. If the Hollow had been disposed of without his intervention. If Rukia hadn't given him her powers.
Because it must be Rukia.
Only she could've done something so reckless, so selfless to risk herself for a stranger.
Another shinigami wouldn't have.
But then again, that's not entirely true: "She saved me, I saved her."
Ichigo's expression is stiff. "It was a debt."
His dad huffs a chuckle. "Is that what it was with you and Rukia?"
And.
Well. Like father, like son.
So, he wonders instead, if without Rukia, he'd continue to live as that grumpy kid who could see ghosts, who had nightmares of his mother dying; who walked through life in a gauzy haze of existence, and who would eventually have to set an alarm on his phone to remind himself to wake up, goddamn it.
He wonders how long that would've lasted.
If he'd finish high school. Go to college. Become something respectable enough to feed himself and eventually move out. If he'd continue to live with ghosts he couldn't help, and nightmares of his own inadequacy, and an alarm on his phone pleading him to feel something, anything.
His breath shudders out of him at the thought, a chill trickling down his spine.
Or maybe. Maybe he'd pretend.
Maybe he'd get tired of being that kid. Maybe he'd try to be normal. Maybe it would work. Maybe he'd be so good at it that even he could believe it.
Meanwhile, the alarm on his phone would trill in reminder, in accusation no one can know you're a liar.
These are not thoughts Ichigo occupies himself with. Not usually.
His mother's death is the only almost. The only what if. The only, if I could go back and do that right.
But life is a fragile thing, strung up together with the threads of everyone else's destinies; one thread pulled, plucked, rewoven and resewn, could send it all tumbling down. So. Ichigo learns to let it go. Learns to let her go. Because his mom wouldn't have wanted him to get tangled in the past, in the would-bes and almosts.
So, he doesn't, but that doesn't mean he doesn't indulge sometimes. He's allowed to be a little sentimental today, and wish she could've been here for this.
An alarm on his phone goes off, but when he reaches for the device it's a call incoming instead.
He smirks. "Having second thoughts?"
"No," is Rukia's snorted reply, and though she's annoyed at having the question thrown at her, she's still teasing, and hearing her voice for the first time today makes him feel stupidly giddy. God, he's so whipped. They'd only been apart for one night. It's not like they haven't been separated for longer before.
"I was just checking if you were having any," she continues, purposely casual. "I don't want to walk out this room and look like an idiot when you aren't there."
At that he effects a scandalised tone, "And ruin all of Byakuya's wedding planning?"
And that gets her to laugh. He presses the phone a little closer, like somehow that'll erase the distance between them until he can feel her breath against his skin, the soft shudder of her shoulders against his chest.
"You laugh," he says, goading for more, "but I'm pretty sure if I've so much as tied this tie wrong, he'll pick a better dressed guest to marry you."
Rukia hums, her smile curling her words as she teases, "In that case, I'll make sure you can still come to the reception."
It's his turn to laugh, but before he can say anything more, there's a knock on his door, and Karin's head has popped in. At first she looks approving, likely that he's managed to get dressed to her equally rigorous standards, until he turns and he has his phone pressed into his ear.
His sister scoffs. "You two are ridiculous, you guys are literally going to see each other in ten minutes."
"Who even says I'm talking to Rukia?"
"Please," Karin scoffs again, "you don't like talking to anyone but her. Now give me your phone, you should be mediating on the fact that this is your last ten minutes before you're shackled into the bonds of marriage. Forever and ever, in your case."
"She makes a compelling argument," Rukia tells him, faux seriously. "Maybe I don't want to do this."
"Now look what you did,"  he complains to Karin, "I just tricked her into agreeing to marrying me."
"It only took ten years and three proposals," Karin deadpans, and Rukia's laughter echoes, bubbling like champagne in his chest and splitting his face in an answering grin.
Karin rolls her eyes fondly, shakes her head and says, "C'mon, we gotta finish up or Byakuya will find other people to get married today and I don't like my chances, I've been sitting next to Toshiro, and I don't trust Rangiku not to have volunteered us as tributes."
Ichigo snorts, agrees, and Karin leaves.
Against his ear, Rukia asks him softly, "You ready?"
At that, he huffs out a breath and says, "Always." Then, "And if Byakuya makes me wait longer than I need to to see you, I'll storm the bridal suite in full Bankai."
"You'll ruin your suit," is her derisive sniff.
"Good, tell him that. God knows the kind of fit he'll pull for ruining his color scheme."
She laughs and not for the first time he thinks dazedly I'm going to get to hear that sound for the rest of my life.
As he ends the call, the alarm on his phone from earlier is front and centre with a simple reminder: This is real and this is yours. Don't screw it up.
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smolbeandrabbles · 3 years
Text
Common Threads - An Orson Krennic AU (Rogue One: A Star Wars Story)
@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​
This will be a short series set across a number of parts.
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Author’s Note: All credit, and I mean ALL credit, to Harry & Rob @ Stop Making Sense Podcast. They’re real ones!  REAL ones. Thank you both for letting me write such a genius idea!
Basically this all started here on Instagram. And if you want to see where it’s going you’ll want 54:33-61:20 of this! Also please support these guys, they’re so great and so funny! Highly recommended!  While we’ll have no central romance, we know how Krennic is so... there’ll be fleeting mentions of goings on.
Also it wouldn’t be my writing if I didn’t almost lose half of it due to microsoft word complications, would it?
Disclaimer: Star Wars & Rogue One characters places etc all not mine / There’s some call backs to Catalyst but they’re rather small / The idea certainly isn’t mine either in this case / lyrics not mine / I did bring my OCs into this.
Premise: When Krennic is attacked by a band of rebel insurgents and they get away with vital information, the Empire devise a rather unusual punishment...
Words: 3547
Warnings: Slight sexual references / Please don’t look at the timelines too closely / AU
_____ I know what I want And I'ma go and get it, I'm a number one, I know you won't forget it Keep my eyes on the prize, no surprise that I'm lit I be cruisin', you be snoozin' That's why you losin', I'm oozin' Confidence is boomin', boomin'
I ain't worried 'bout nada 'Less it Gucci, 'less it Prada 'Less it Dolce and Gabbana 'Less a trip to the Bahamas I wanna feel like I'm way up Stay lit every single day I wake up I ain't worried 'bout shit, you a parody Ain't no wonder why they all so scared of me I'm a rarity, I got clarity
---
Part 1: Stitched Up. 
The communications device rumbled across the table again, begging to be picked up. This time it annoyed her; she’d managed to ignore it up to now but if it interrupted the meeting one more time she was in danger of being thrown out. She pulled it from the table, glaring. The person on the other end of the line, who clearly needed her desperately, could have only been one of two people – and due to the frequency, she could easily narrow it down to one. Krennic. And if it was her boss, she’d find that highly ironic, considering he’d been the one to tell her how imperative it was she took note of every little thing said here. ‘I don’t want a single detail missed Lieutenant; do you understand me!?’   It continued to buzz on and off feebly in her lap as she listened to the group of commanders drone on and on… but at least it wasn’t disturbing anyone but her anymore. Upon exiting the meeting it rang again, probably for the billionth time, and she answered: “Director.” He seemed a little taken aback that she knew it was definitely him, “What took you so long to pick up!?” “I was in a briefing you told me to go to! And yes, before you ask, I made all your notes. I’ll send you a copy of them right away.” “Well forget about that, I have something far more urgent for you to attend to!” “Sir?” She stilled in the corridor, ready to run in whichever direction he commanded. Krennic’s voice lowered to a hiss, “This is very embarrassing Lieutenant, and I would prefer you kept it discreet. Can you get yourself to my place?” “Yes, Sir.” She waited for a further instruction, yet upon receiving none but “Good, and make it quick, Suraya.” and the click of a terminated communication, she supposed that the only thing to do was board a shuttle to his apartment and pray that his version of urgent was not ‘I need a suit for a ball tonight, and your help to pick one!’ …again. ***
Nothing appeared out of the ordinary when she stepped off the ship, smoothing out her uniform as she did so. Krennic was waiting for her by the door and ushered her in quickly – what could this have been about? Suraya’s question was answered before he’d even closed the door, “Oh… my…” Her eyes traced slowly from floor to wall to ceiling, but there wasn’t a part of his apartment that wasn’t ransacked. “…word.” She finished, not able to think of something better to say. Krennic stepped forward into the room, arms crossed and staring hard at everything before turning to her. “Rebels!” “…Rebels?” Suraya immediately questioned, “In your house? ON Coruscant?” That didn’t make any sense, “They wouldn’t dare!” “Well they did!” He indicated around, then waved her forward, implying she should join him. “How?” “That’s what you’re here for.” “I’m hardly a detective, Director… where were you?” His blue eyes lowered to the floor and he chewed his lip, face a little flushed – she could bet from embarrassment and anger. Therefore his answer was a little mumbled, “Not conscious.” Suraya couldn’t help stifle a laugh which turned his steely gaze on her, “The rebels knocked you out?” She scanned the room again, “Well did they break in, there’s no broken glass or forced entry?” “...No.” Krennic was hesitant, and the lieutenant knew she’d missed something, turning in a complete circle on the balls of her feet, she stopped as she eyed the bed. Bed sheets rumpled and his clothes strewn nonchalantly around, there was no evidence that he’d been with anyone, but Suraya knew better. “Where’s the woman?” “What woman!?” Although there was hesitation in Krennic’s voice again. She quirked an eyebrow as she looked back at him; there wasn’t a planet in the Galaxy that didn’t know about his reputation. Her look was enough to get him to confess. “She was here when I was blindsided, when I came to, nothing!” She doubted this account by the fact that, although Krennic looked fairly unscathed, there was a mark above his eye. He’d likely let them in and would never admit it. He grumbled again, “What kind of woman would just answer the door to the rebellion!?” Or maybe that was it, but Suraya doubted Krennic would have just let anyone else answer his door for him without express permission or command. “Did it occur to you she was a rebel?” The Director nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, then composed himself. “Nah. I would have known. Anyway, why would she?!” Suraya let her eyes linger on him a little longer than she perhaps ought to; “I dunno, if I got the opportunity to say I’d slept with you, I would. Your reputation does precede you, Director Krennic. Why not take the opportunity to see if the rumours are true?” Krennic flushed but automatically dismissed it, “No. There’s no way. Self-respecting rebels would never-! And I---” She kept her mouth shut for now, and pushed a scoff and a taunt back down where they belonged. “---No. No.” As he began walking across the floor, musing to himself, Suraya traced his footsteps. “Well, what did they take?” “Hm?” “If they’ve overturned everything here, then they were looking for something Director, what have they found? What was here?” “Most of my research is back with Galen at the Eadu facility. I suppose there are a few data packs… but that’s general Weapons Division stuff. And-” Krennic turned quickly, trying to figure out where he’d last seen his personal data pad. He wasn’t about to outwardly look flustered about this though, he’d been in little mishaps before and he’d always come out of them on the right side of things. This was just another one of those, Krennic told himself he had nothing to worry about. Something else was pressing on the lieutenant’s mind as she watched him move around, and Suraya wasn’t thinking as she interrupted him to voice it. “Where’s your cape?” Suraya wasn’t sure he wore it all the time. Did he wear it when he relaxed? There weren’t so many times she’d seen Krennic in civvies or ever had a reason to come over here, unless it was for an early morning pre-meeting briefing; by which time he was usually up and dressed. But he was certainly in his uniform right now – so, where was the most iconic piece of it? Then Krennic really did go red and in his attempt to stutter through a sentence, couldn’t, and had to sit down, running his hands over his face. Then it all clicked; this was what was so urgent. It wasn’t that the rebels had come here, upturned his place, perhaps stolen documents – Krennic was annoyed about that but he wasn’t bothered by it. The information he was about to impart to her was his top concern. “It’s gone.” He managed, muffled slightly behind his hands. Okay, but he had more, right? Krennic wasn’t the type of man to keep one copy of a uniform around, especially when he was so picky about tailoring. Those poor imperial tailors were yelled at if there was even so much as a stitch wrong. She was pretty sure that he’d even stood over their shoulders to watch them remake it after he’d sent it back. “There’s more than just one, isn’t there?” If there wasn’t, he at least had a rainwear version he could substitute until they made him another. Krennic just shook his head, but still wasn’t looking up. Suraya crossed to his wardrobe, pulling it open and immediately seeing the problem. She stepped back with a gasp. By ‘it’s gone’ Krennic didn’t just mean the cape, he meant his entire closet was empty. No uniforms, no finely tailored suits (that he spent who knows how many credits on just so he was on trend), nothing. There was a single note stuck to the inside of the door, which upon reading Suraya found was indeed from the rebellion – but also fairly unrepeatable. She untacked it and walked back to him. “…Well, that’s a story you’ll have to tell Uniform.” “They’ll make my life hell.” He protested, suddenly regretting all the times he’d had them redo his clothing over one stitch, finally taking his head out of his hands and looking up at her, “I can’t leave my house like this!” “At least you have a uniform, Sir.” Was the best she could do, and by the looks of it Krennic also had whatever he’d been wearing last night, so not all was lost. Still, Suraya knew why she’d been called here, “I’ll put an expedited request in for you.” He nodded, and opened his mouth to verbally agree, when there was another sharp knock at his door that demanded both of their attention. “Director Krennic! Open this door at once!” Her heart dropped and Krennic groaned, “This is just what I need!” He stood, turning back to his assistant, “I TOLD you not to say anything.” “I didn’t! It’s not like I knew this had anything to do with the rebels before I got here-!” Suraya would have hit him with her data pad if she thought it would get her anywhere. Krennic swivelled from the door to her and then back to the door, “Then how the hell does Tarkin know!?” Forced to play defensive she held her hands up, and said her next sentence almost hopefully, “We don’t know he does, maybe that’s not what he’s here for!” ***  Krennic took the deepest of deep breaths as he cracked the door open, leaving Suraya to stand to attention on one side of the room, data pad behind her back keeping it dead straight, a trick she’d learned was pretty useful as a cadet. “Governor Tarkin, how may I assist you?” “Let us in, Director, my day is very busy and I don’t have time for this, particularly.” Tarkin was curt as ever, it didn’t help Orson’s mood. “Time for what?” Clearly Krennic’s feign of ignorance wasn’t making him friends. “Oh, out of the way, Krennic! We spotted some Rebel insurgents leaving atmosphere and on breaking down the contrails of their craft and fuel particles in the atmosphere, it appears they came from your apartment. Now I don’t wish to accuse you of treason, but if you want to confess it might make things easier.” The lieutenant found herself suddenly wishing Krennic hadn’t dragged her into this first, so she could be saved from watching these two argue again. The Director scowled as he was forced to open his door wider on the chaos of his apartment.  “Oh dear!” Although as Tarkin waltzed in it was clearly only said as a formality, and the sharp smile on his face let Suraya know he was about to lord this over her boss. He was followed in by no less than five other imperials, all young looking protégés, eager to survey the scene for themselves. She would suppose even if they found forensic evidence, Krennic wasn’t about to be told of it, and it also didn’t look like they were about to be too careful with his remaining things. Once Tarkin had acknowledged her presence at the scene and turned back to Krennic, still scowling, Suraya made her way quickly across the room to kick Krennic’s discarded clothing under the bed. Maybe the kids wouldn’t put two and two together, but Tarkin certainly would. Rebels were scandals themselves without a potential sleeping-with-the-enemy situation. “It seems to be a bit of a mess you find yourself in, Director.” “It’s hardly of my own doing.” Krennic straightened, defensive, “There were far more of them than I, I fought back but was unfortunately blindsided.” “I see no evidence of force entry.” Suraya shook her head subtly as Krennic’s eyes flicked momentarily to her; if he wanted to go that way, he probably should have opened a window or the balcony doors or… something. “Well, no, as it turns out I let them in.” She couldn’t see Tarkin’s face, but his movement and the freeze of the others in the room said everything. Krennic’s eyes momentarily flickered in panic but he controlled it, “I expected to see my assistant returning to de-brief me on the meeting I sent her to this morning.” Suraya did everything in her power not to look pissed that he’d just thrown her to the wolves instead, with Tarkin immediately turning, but it was not her he addressed, “I believe I know the briefing the lieutenant attended, which you also therefore would have known did not finish until after the incident took place. Why would you expect her so early?” Krennic shrugged coolly, “Sometimes they end early.” This wasn’t untrue, of course, but it was a big bluff. It didn’t explain why Krennic wouldn’t have checked who was knocking. Also if Tarkin had the inclination to check the call log, it would show that the Director also began his tirade of calls after the rebels had left. Krennic, having become suddenly useless, was dismissed, for Tarkin to turn back to her. “Lieutenant. When you arrived did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” Suraya could see Krennic gesturing out of the corner of her eye but ignored him. “Besides the whole place being over turned, nothing Sir.” Although she tilted her head, before pausing, immediately thinking better of it. “Lieutenant?” It didn’t get passed Tarkin. “I just don’t understand why they would take the Director’s wardrobe, Sir.” The word ‘take’ obviously alerted Tarkin to something else, and his eyes darted around the room again, Krennic walked forward, clearly bumping Tarkin’s arm on purpose as he strolled to the closet to present evidence. You watched the Governor’s little smile widen in amusement, before he became serious again, “Well, well, Director. You better check they’ve not stolen anything important. Especially with the project you’re working on.” “Anything of significance is with Galen.” Krennic disliked how quick he was to address that point, he didn’t want Tarkin to know how irked he was. “Still, it would be best to check. I believe that your personal data pad will have been here along with some files. Something as significant as those would not have escaped the rebels notice.” Krennic’s teeth gritted, as he indicated back to the closet; “My WARDROBE is gone!!” Suraya was right, that was the most important thing to him. Tarkin’s eyes flicked to hers, and they shared the same exchange of exasperation, unable to quite comprehend why clothing was at the forefront of Krennic’s mind. “As I was saying…” She almost chuckled as Tarkin made it clear on what he perceived as important and it was not Krennic’s lack of uniform, “There’ll be consequences if anything is missing, Director! This is already a dire security breach.” Ironically Krennic thought that was a little dramatic, but simply grumbled to himself as Tarkin took his forensics team back and exited the apartment. The Director was just glad to get them out of his hair. “Security breach.” He muttered, “You’d think I handed them the whole damn Project Stardust!” Suraya sighed gently as she made her way back over to him, “For now, Sir, I believe we should figure out exactly what data has been taken. And report it up the chain as soon as possible, less Tarkin find a reason to return. Then we can get your uniform re-ordered.” He turned those blue eyes back on her, at least a little brighter at that idea than they had looked when she arrived, “Yes. Let’s… let’s do that.” *** It took a couple of days to overturn the damage that the rebels had done and take stock of what was actually missing. Krennic had retrieved his personal data pad, and they hadn’t managed to gain access to the most important discs in his desk. Nor his own weapon, thankfully. That didn’t mean data packs and other things of value weren’t looted. Krennic had to go through the ordeal of cancelling a lot of his access pips and cards – but they arrived fairly quickly from the Intelligence Bureau, reset. Suraya remained with him to assist the clean-up operation and order his uniform; this took a little longer to arrive and by the end of the second day Krennic was starting to get antsy. “What takes them so long!?” “Well you do have very exacting standards, Sir!” “Exactly! So they should know how to do it by now. Did I not specify clearly enough!?” She wasn’t about to answer that question. If his previous interactions with them were anything to go by the urgent note she’d placed on it was being wholly ignored and the Director would be constantly bumped to the back of the queue. She couldn’t say she’d blame them, either. On the morning of the third day, as they both anxiously awaited the results of their carefully worded email detailing exactly what documentation the rebels had stolen, Krennic received another knock at the door. “If this is Tarkin-” Suraya wasn’t about to tell him to keep a level head, but she did give him a look to tell him not to blow up. He opened the door to a woman dressed in civilian clothing, even though it appeared that she possessed rank pins. She had bright pink hair and light eyes and as she moved her hair flew as if she was starring in some kind of commercial. “Director Krennic? My name is Kora, I’m here about your uniform.” “About time it turned up!” He took a pace back in order for her to walk in, “Are you from Uniform? Next time you ought to tell them that when I say urgent, I mean same day-” Kora wasn’t done talking, and she turned back to him, saying rather bluntly, “Request denied. For letting the rebellion enter and steal documentation of the upmost importance to the Empire, YOU are going to star in a documentary about Empire approved businesses.” There was silence in the room for a moment and Krennic wore a half smile as he tried to work out if she was serious. Kora simply stared him down, and as the Director’s face fell, Suraya once again wished she wasn’t in the room. “No.” Suraya couldn’t tell if that was Krennic refusing or his own disbelief. Kora knew which way she was taking it. “Well it better be a yes before I go back, Director, or you’ll be in hot lava.” Krennic’s eyes widened and no one was under any illusions as to what he was thinking; “Not Mustafar again-!” There had to be a way out, he wasn’t about to waste his time on this! “This documentary will be of the upmost importance Director. Lord Vader and the Governor only hope that you will take it seriously.” Suraya couldn’t help giggling behind her hand at this. It wasn’t the being in front of a camera, it wasn’t the thought of doing a documentary on business – or fashion - it was that Krennic was being forced into this by a man he hated. Krennic cleared his throat, once more folding his arms as he looked back to Kora, giving her a single nod. “Very well, but there is nothing in my wardrobe that isn’t tailored to within an inch of its life and most of it is from high end shops, some of which are on Lexrul.” Krennic was a very big advocate of his home planet after all, so he’d expect at least one part of this documentary to take place there, “So you better have budget!” Instead of agreeing Kora simply smiled, in the same way that Tarkin had a habit of, “Oh no, Director, we’re highlighting small businesses that scrape by for a living, right here on Coruscant, to show our support and cater to all audiences.” Suraya thought that his face fell even faster than it had with Tarkin around, and she also didn’t think that livid covered it. “WHAT!?” “That’s the deal Director.” “It’s not much of a DEAL!” “It’s the one I’m giving you, I can take it elsewhere… and I’m sure that Lord Vader and Governor Tarkin would love to hear why you couldn’t do it.” The Director looked desperately to Suraya, but she wasn’t sure what she could say. How could, at her position, she possibly rescue him from what Tarkin wanted?
Realising indeed that his assistant wouldn’t be much aid to him, Krennic’s eyes fell back to Kora and he swallowed hard, smile feigning confidence - but also a little nervous. “Well then, I suppose I will accept your offer.” This time Kora’s returned smile was warm and sweet, “That’s great news, Director Krennic.” She took a step forward and extended her hand to him, “Well, as series producer and director, I’m very much looking forward to working with you. Welcome to the team.” Suraya bit her lip as she watched him step down to shake Kora’s hand, hoping he wasn’t crossing his fingers behind his back: this could be huge for Krennic if he used this opportunity wisely. Things were about to get interesting around here...
---
Thank you for reading! 😘😘
I really am SO excited to bring you the rest of this
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ddaenggtan · 5 years
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chasing butterflies | jjk
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you never meant to be a jock in school. the volleyball team had just needed people and you were there and then you had a knack for it. you just happened to be good at it and went with it. similar to how you saw jeon jungkook in your friend’s orientation group and thought he was absolutely radiant and just went with it. for two years. you’ve spent the entire time pining from afar, mostly because you always seem to make a fool of yourself when he’s around, but also because jungkook is part of that exclusive crowd, the ones that you never can seem to penetrate: the weebs. that is, until your friends get sick of your hopeless pining and decide to do something about it.
pairing | jeon jungkook x reader
genre/warnings | fluff, college au, coffee shop au, pining, somewhat idiots to lovers, jock!reader, nerd/weeb/otaku!kook, swimmer!kook, jock!jimin, kook smiles a lot, reader is a dumbass, jungkook is a dumbass, everyone’s a dumbass tbh, love confessions, profanity, like a lot of profanity, smut: oral (f receiving), face riding, grinding, hickies, unprotected sex (wrap ur willy before things get silly kids!), creampie, soft!kook except when horny, this is somewhat crack-y, there’s also a very fair amount of secondhand embarrassment in this just fair warning i cringed a lot while writing it
word count | 12.8k | cross posted to ao3
a/n | i busted literally all of this in one day because i couldn’t sleep and had the idea for a coffeeshop au with pining nerd/jock, but i didn’t want to do the trope of pining nerd and i also kept seeing @strawbxxymilk‘s tags saying she was going to fight jungkook, so you can partially blame her for his (love u reni xx) i’m honestly REALLY in love with this fic, it was so much fun to write and even edit, like i honestly have never been happier with how a fic turned out.
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If asked, you don’t think you’d be able to point to one exact moment that led to this. You aren’t sure why anything about your college life has been the way it is. You went through almost all middle school and part of high school intending on coasting through under the radar. You didn’t have many friends and you didn’t mind that, citing quality over quantity, and you definitely expected that to continue into your extended school career.
Somehow, though, you ended up on the volleyball team - the captain had seen you playing in a gym class and recruited you. She was adamant that with practice and training, you’d be great, and also they needed at least one more person if they were going to have any chance at competing that year. So you agreed, started practicing, got good, and…kept doing it. You were a talented player, and you made several close friends through the game, ones that had lasted you until even now.
You only got better and better, too, earning you more than one offer from various universities. It was exciting when you finally chose one, and even more exciting that your friend group almost tripled overnight. University teams were large, you discovered, and while that meant more competition, it also meant more friends. More friends that had more connections to people on other teams, in other sports, who were also fun and extroverted and threw really good parties. 
You like to think you’re still that little nobody from middle school. You enjoy your readings and your coursework, and a lot of nights you choose to stay behind in your shared apartment instead of going out. As much as you like to think that, though, you can’t help but face the truth every time you look in the mirror after practice or a game or a workout.
You’re a jock.
You don’t even know why. The labels were supposed to end when high school did, and yet here you were. You pretty much only hang out with other sporty people, since no one has much time to make friends with anyone they didn’t see five times a week and every other weekend. You have a strict workout regimen that you run through with other girls from the team. Your class schedule is built around your volleyball schedule. You call yourself an athlete. You get looks sometimes, from the smart kids who think they’re better because you’re ‘only’ an athlete and they’re not. It reminds you of the people who look down on other sports because theirs is the only ‘true’ sport. Those people used to piss you off, but you’ve grown used to them now; there would always be people who thought they were better because of some imagined divide.
Realistically, there is no divide. People are free to associate with whoever they want, fuck the social norms that become ingrained in high school to contrast class differences. Okay, your Societal Influences class may have skewed your thinking a bit, but your point stands. You had no good reason to conform to the antiquated ideas of high schoolers.
So why, why, are you still standing by a waffle maker and staring helplessly at him?
Jisoo nudges you and you move to let her at the waffle, not looking away from him. She follows your line of sight and laughs when she sees him. “Seriously?” She asks, shaking her head.
“Shut up,” You groan, popping part of a roll into your mouth.
“It’s been almost three years,” She teases. “How have you not worked up the nerve to talk to him?”
“Two years, three months,” You correct as you follow her to where the chocolate syrup and fruit await for her waffle monstrosity. You can’t even look at it anymore, sickened by the mere sight of all the sugar stacked atop it.
“That is not helping your case the way you think it is.”
“I can’t just…talk to him, he’s gonna think I’m weird. Who just walks up to someone and says ‘hi, I saw you in my friend’s orientation group two years ago and thought you were the most beautiful man in existence, and still think that in fact, would you mind going out with me?’” Jisoo levels you with a look that could make cacti wilt.
“Uh, plenty of people do that every day. That’s how relationships happen. I know you’ve got this big hard-on for this whole…pining, lovesick idiot look,” She barrels on, ignoring the squawk of defiance you let loose, “But it’s getting kind of hopeless. That one guy asked you out, like, last month, and you literally laughed at him.”
“In my defense, he was like way older than us! I don’t want to go out with a grandpa!”
“I cannot believe you just called Kim Seokjin a grandpa, the entire team is going to revolt against you for this.”
You huff and lead her to the table you picked out, which she very kindly does not mention gives you a perfect view of him while you pick at your food. She continues to rant at you about your hopeless crush, but you don’t even hear her anymore, because he’s laughing at something across the dining hall and it makes your chest tighten.
God damn, you don’t know how in the hell someone so fucking nerdy can make you so fucking weak in the knees.
Across the room, Jungkook adjusts the round lenses that have been sliding down his nose, and it makes your heart flutter. He laughs again at something someone beside him said. His nose scrunches as he does it, and the cute bunny teeth are obvious, and it makes you want to die a little inside but also throw him off a bridge a little bit. He starts talking, animated and excited, and you wonder what it is he’s talking about. You can almost pretend that he’s talking about you for a second, until he pulls something out of his bag and sets it on the table, covering it with his hands before pulling them back in a dramatic effort to reveal–
God, it’s a fucking Hatsune Miku figurine. 
You feel like sobbing at the sight. “God, he’s such a fucking weeb,” You say, hatred for yourself rolling off the words in absolute waves. Jisoo huffs, probably annoyed that you haven’t been listening to her rant, and waves a hand.
“You knew this,” She tells you bluntly. The issue is that she’s 100% correct; the first time you ever remember seeing Jungkook, he was in a God damn Naruto cosplay, dumbass wig in his hands while he adjusted his ninja headband, and he was still the most beautiful human being you’d ever laid your eyes on.
His eyes dart over like he could hear your thoughts and he makes eye contact; you get whiplash, you look away so fast. Your face is burning, you can feel it, and you’re actually in danger of staring a hole into the table with how hard you’re looking at it.
“You’re safe, he isn’t looking anymore,” Jisoo eventually says. You chance a glance to see that Jungkook is focused on whatever conversation he’s having, Hatsune Miku nowhere to be seen and replaced with a very pretty red flush across his cheeks. You audibly coo over the sight and Jisoo pretends to gag.
“Don’t you have class?” She says. It’s obviously an attempt to distract you, she’s always so transparent about those things. Jungkook looks over again and suddenly your phone becomes the most fascinating thing in the entire world. You balk at the time, because fuck, you really do have class in two minutes.
“Bye Jisoo, love you, don’t gorge yourself on waffles, or Rose will kill you at practice!” You shout over your shoulder as you bolt from the dining hall.
You don’t see nor feel the eyes on your back as you go, too focused on making the five-minute walk into a sixty-second sprint.
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Work is boring. It always is. You work the overnight shift, 9 pm to 4 am, so that you can balance your volleyball schedule and your classes and your bills. If there were less 24-hour coffee shops around, it may be busier, but alas, the trend of having spaces for haggard and exhausted college students to roll into at all hours of the day had caught on, and thus, you work at one of four all-night coffee shops. And that’s only on this side of campus. There were even more on the other side, where the dorms were, and they see much more traffic than yours. Kids never want to go very far to get caffeine, so the ones across the way were always bustling and packed full of people writing last-minute papers and emailing for sources and who knows what else. 
Which meant that only the stray customer wandered in after dark, usually people getting off work and wanting to unwind for a second before heading home. You got a lot of homeless people, camping out in corners away from other people and sipping on one coffee for hours at a time. Some of the other workers complained about them, but you didn’t really care one way or another. If it kept them off the street and out of the cold, then you’d let them sit there as long as you could. It wasn’t like there were many people around to complain, anyway.
Of course, the few customers meant that there were fewer interruptions to the daily tasks you had to do, so it only takes an hour or two, max, every night to get everything clean, stocked, polished, and counted. Which left another five for you to fill.
You sigh, staring at a blank page of your notebook. You’re lucky your boss doesn’t care if the workers do schoolwork on the job, so long as the work gets done and the customers are happy, but just this once you curse him for being so kind. You’ve been procrastinating this essay for a week and it was due next class, but you had absolutely no idea where to even start. You sigh again and straighten as the bell over the door rings, the customary 'Welcome to Brew’d Awakening, what can I get for you today?’ already halfway out before you actually look up.
You choke on air as Jungkook smiles at you, small and shy and sweet, and you can actually feel part of your soul shrivel up and die along with every single one of your brain cells. You stare at him for a solid six seconds as he peruses the menu hanging above your head, and you’re so focused on memorizing the way he looks this close up that you nearly miss his order.
“A large iced black, please?” He phrases it like a question and it’s adorable, despite the countless times you’ve bitched to Jisoo about people doing the exact same thing in the past. You tack on your customer service smile as best you can and ring him up.
It’s a relief to turn away from him to actually make his drink. He’s gorgeous, even with the dumbass hoodie with some naked anatomy model on it that has to be from some anime, that it makes it hard for you to breathe. He’s not even wearing the nerd glasses and it just makes his eyes so much more obviously beautiful, and you know Jisoo is going to whine about hearing you wax poetic over them for weeks after this. Your hands shake as you pour the coffee into the cup and click the lid into place, but you force yourself to steady them as you hand it to him.
He’s blushing again, and you want to kiss it so badly, and he waves. “Thanks,” He says as he starts to leave. Your brain is torn between responses, one half reverting to your generic response and the other wanting to assure it him it was absolutely not anything he needed to thank you for, and you can feel the stupidity coming, but you cannot stop the words as they claw up your throat and you nearly shout–
“Your problem!”
He falters in his steps, turning to give you a confused look, and you’re honestly disappointed the earth doesn’t quake and part to drag you directly to the pits of hell, because even that would be less painful than having to maintain your professional demeanor like you didn’t just say the absolute stupidest thing you’ve ever said in your entire fucking life.
Jungkook just nods and strides out of the coffee shop, bell dinging in his wake.
The screech you unleash in the break room a few seconds later is inhuman and chilling, and yet Rose doesn’t seem at all fazed.
“I would say you should just talk to him, but clearly you can’t even do that like a normal person.” She pats your arm as you bang your head into the table, and you consider the option of getting new friends.
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You’re no stranger to wild Jungkook sightings. You both go to the same university, you both have similar classes, you both take full advantage of the dining hall at every opportunity, you both use the library. It’s hard to go ten feet on campus without seeing someone you know, and it’s even harder when you’re actively looking for that person everywhere you go.
So you’ve already seen him a couple of times after the Your Problem Incident - and you may have turned around and completely avoided even thinking about it, but who’s going to judge you for that, really - when you walk into an extra-credit lecture for one of your science classes to immediately zero in on the familiar grin.
You’d foolishly believed this would be a popular lecture and as such would be held in one of the big lecture halls, the ones that seat 100+ people, but no. Of course not. This was in a regular ass classroom, with regular tables and regular students and regular everything, including the dumbass that regularly stars in every single one of your daydreams. The impulse to turn and run jolts through you, but before you can do exactly that, Nayun is calling your name and waving you over to the seat she saved just for you.
Right in front of him.
Several people turn at her call, but you focus your gaze on the chair and refuse to look to see if he’s looking at you. You refuse, you will not be that girl, you have standards, dammit, and grades to keep up, and immense public humiliation to pretend never happened.
You have to pass him to sit at your chair since Satan himself designed the classroom and put the door at the back of the room, as only a literal demon would do. You focus on not falling flat on your face, as you’ve been prone to do when Jungkook is in your range of vision, and as such you’re wholly unprepared for the way his scent floods through your brain.
You’re able to sit before you collapse entirely, legs shaking because he smells so fucking good. You’ve become accustomed to the boys’ volleyball team, who’re known for always wanting to hang out right after practices but not ever wanting to shower after practices. You’ve been friends with guys before. You are very close with several of the guys on the volleyball team. You’ve been around college dudes for three entire years. You know how guys smell, you know they all tend to get wrapped up in whatever boys think about and neglect their own hygiene unless gently reminded that no, Taehyung, girls do not like it when a guy is sweaty.
Apparently, one dude didn’t get the memo, because Jungkook smells like fucking heaven. Clean linens and summer flowers and rainstorms, with a lingering and faint whisper of chlorine that shoves you into the nostalgia of high school summers at the pool with your friends. It’s glorious and wonderful and you’ve never been close enough to smell him before, which you also never thought would ever go through your brain.
You wish you could say you’ve never thought of how he might smell, you really do. But the truth is you are a girl in love, with an overactive imagination and a lot of time spent not writing essays. You’ve imagined a lot of things. And yet. Even in your wildest daydreams, there is no possible way you ever could have expected it to floor you the way it did.
Nayun is saying something and you’re nodding along, but she could be telling you the secret to life itself and you would never know. You’re too focused on him. You can’t look at him - a blessing and a curse, because now you may be able to pay attention to the lecture, but you’ll also be too distracted to think about anything but if he’s looking at you - but you can hear him. You’ve heard him speak before, you’ve built up somewhat of a resistance to his voice and the way it slides along the air, which is such a sappy romantic thing to think but here you fucking are.
You have not, however, heard him speak for such a long period of time about the continuity errors in Boku No Hero Academia. You don’t even know what the fuck that is, never heard the phrase in your entire life, but he’s so passionate about it that you can’t help but listen. He’s making all sorts of points and giving all kinds of examples and you want to nod along just to encourage him. For all you know he could be wrong about every single instance he mentions but fuck, he just sounds so sure of himself and so absolute that it has you wanting to agree.
The sheer confidence in what he’s saying has you getting weak in the knees. He’s such an absolute fucking weeb, and yet it’s always been so sexy to you when someone knows their shit and can prove it. You could have gone your entire life without knowing that that particular kink extended to fucking anime.
The professor walks in shortly after and you are blessedly saved from more of Jungkook’s rants about anime inconsistencies. You’re impossibly wet and you curse yourself for the millionth time for somehow falling for the biggest dork the planet has possibly ever seen. You focus all of your attention on the lecture, doing your best to take notes even as you find yourself doodling the best (read: atrocious) representations of Jungkook in the margins of your notebook.
You groan on the way out. You’d spent the full hour and a half taking sporadic notes between doodles of Jungkook as a prince. You still couldn’t decide if you were imagining the feeling of someone watching you, either. Nayun just laughs and leads you to the dining hall for dinner before you both had to head to practice.
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You are blessedly free of Jungkook for exactly four days. It is, in fact, a new record, since the first time you saw him.
It’s turned your life into a hellscape and you hate it.
You look for him around every corner and past every door, and more than once you’ve caught yourself expecting him to walk through the door at the coffee shop for absolutely no reason. You’ve only ever seen him there the one time. There was literally no reason to expect him to show up ever again, and yet each time someone walked in, you responded as if it was the 1500s and the king himself had entered the building.
If you’re being honest, though, your biggest issue with not seeing Jungkook’s dumb ass for four entire days is that it is just long enough for you to start to expect not to see him. It’s just enough time for you to get so accustomed to not seeing him around that you stop turning corners and looking for him immediately. You don’t immediately think 'this is it’ when the bell above the shop door rings. It takes a second to kick in, a delayed response that is still habit but one on its way out.
You miss him, that is definite. You find yourself wishing that he would show up out of the blue one day, spouting some nonsense, just for the sake of hearing it again. His rants about which Bleach character would actually win a fight because 'well, according to the manga,’ his tirades about how the revamp of Voltron is nowhere near as genuine as the original and is clearly pandering, you just…miss it. You never understand a goddamn thing he’s saying but it’s so fucking attractive. He’s so passionate about all of it and he’s so knowledgeable that even the discussion you overheard in the library about the top ten most powerful moves in the entirety of YuYuHakusho had you dripping and running for your apartment, and you miss that.
At this point, though, you should know the universe fucking hates you.
It’s late, close to 2 am, you haven’t slept in too long because you had an away game that afternoon that you lost on a fucking bullshit call and then had to stay to watch the boys’ team play. They, of course, crushed their opponents, which you were proud of, but it only made your defeat that much more bitter. You were still pissed about it when you rolled into work that night, Rose lagging behind to talk to the coach and Jimin glowing beside you with how well his team had done.
You’re tired, you’re pissed, you’re starving, you have a test in six hours that you haven’t studied for, the cafe is mercilessly dead, there’s a guy in the corner building an actual literal scale model of a castle, and all you can think about is the bullshit ref insisting that the ball touched Jisoo’s elbow after she made contact and completely fucking over the last serve of the game in favor of your opponents.
Jimin, the light of your life and angel among men, had gotten your food before your break. It isn’t fancy, two quick drive-thru burgers with fries and a drink, but it may as well be the nectar of the gods with the way you’re inhaling it. The angel and future father of your immaculate conception babies sits on one of the stools against the counter, chin in his hand as he watches you eat. He looks torn between horror and fascination and you can’t blame him for it. It must be a sight to behold: you, behind the shop counter, elbows planted for maximum efficiency, mouth stuffed full of French fries, ripping viciously into a burger as you continue to go off about the bullshit that was your match that day.
Really, you wouldn’t be this mad any other day. But the combination of so many shitty things - hunger, exhaustion, stress, frustration, not having seen the love of your life Jeon Jungkook in y e a r s - has you absolutely livid. You’re well past the end of your break by now, but Rose knows all too well how you are and is graciously letting you vent until you’re less ready to rip the head off the next person that comes in the door.
You express the sentiment to Jimin, who laughs, the fucker, and fail to realize that someone has, actually, just walked into the coffee shop. You’re halfway through your sentence - “I swear to God, Park, if I see that fucking ref again, I’m gonna rip his balls off and shove them so far up his ass that he starts to digest them, what kind of bullshit even was that, her elbow was nowhere near the ball, that foul never would’ve stood if we had been on our court,” - when it registers that Rose is taking an order. You glance over, out of habit more than anything, and proceed to attempt to inhale the food crammed into your mouth as you gasp.
Of course, of fucking course, Jungkook would show up while you’re like this. Your hair is a mess, still damp from the post-game shower, you’ve got some kind of stain on your shirt from the food that’s absolutely smashed into your mouth, and you’ve just been basically shouting expletives all over your workplace, which he definitely heard. It’s made worse because he’s staring at you, eyes wide behind his stupid round glasses, and his striped shirt with fucking ridiculous overalls. You’re torn between planting one on him since he looks so fucking cute and bewildered, decking him straight in the face because where the fuck has he been, and just bolting straight out of the shop because the guy you’ve liked for two fucking years witnessed all of that and you want to die.
You stare at him and he stares at you, looking as shocked as you feel. Jimin is just looking between the two of you, a shit-eating grin overtaking his face as he starts to connect dots you never ever wanted him to connect, because-
“Jungkook-ah, I didn’t know you came here!” Jimin says, grinning at the younger boy and one of his very best friends. He’s got a glint in his eye that you recognize and you contemplate not for the first time if you could actually impale him with a coffee stirrer.
“Oh, yeah, well…” Jungkook stutters and you hate that it’s so cute. “The others close to my dorm are all really busy at this time of night, y'know, so I like to get coffee on this side of campus so it’s still coffee and not watered down when I get back to my dorm.”
“Why don’t you just drink it here?” Jimin asks as he stirs his own coffee that had long since gone cold, as if he had every right in the world to offer up your coffee shop to a literal God among men. “It’s quiet, you could probably get more work done here than in your dorm. I remember you said your neighbors have been keeping you up.”
Jungkook turns red and looks away. Rose takes the opportunity to slide his iced coffee across to him and he takes it with a smile that makes your heart melt. You watch the exchange with more focus than you probably should, and the food is forgotten in lieu of your future husband right there in front of you for the first time in days.
“I guess I could,” Jungkook eventually says, eyes darting all over. They rest on you every few minutes before quickly flying away, and it makes you even more self-conscious of the stain on your shirt and the way grease has no doubt pooled around your mouth. You grab a napkin to try to clean yourself up as Jungkook continues. “I just don’t know if I could focus here, y'know, there’re a lot of…distractions.”
The silence that follows the statement is deafening, only broken by the quiet huffs of the guy building a castle in the corner.
Jungkook turns even redder and ruffles the back of his hair. It’s impossibly cute and you’re halfway to offering to ruffle it for him, either between his sheets or in the alley out back, when Jimin cuts you off.
“Well, you should consider it, at least. I always have the best times here, even with all the distractions.” Jimin sips at his coffee as he speaks and you get the very distinct sense that he’s teasing Jungkook about something you don’t know. The younger boy just smiles and gives a quick bye to Jimin and Rose. You like to think his smile softens as he looks at you, and the way he says your name as he waves will forever be embedded into your mind.
He’s gone before you can respond and you’re glad, sure you must be at least as red as the strawberry syrup. Jimin whirls on you the second Jungkook is out of sight, Rose doing her best to pretend she isn’t mortified for you.
“I cannot believe that you didn’t tell me - me - that the guy you’ve been pining after all these years is Jungkook.” Jimin sounds scandalized and betrayed and his face just makes you think of- “Top Ten Anime Betrayals, really.”
“Fuck, this is exactly why I didn’t want you to know! I used his codename for a reason.” You whine, dropping your head to the countertop with a resounding thud.
“Oh, yes, because Dumb DumbDook is oh-so-subtle,” Rose mutters. You ignore her.
“I could have been doing wingman work this whole time, though! Imagine how much further along you’d be if I’d been able to hype you up every time I hang out with him. You’d be able to talk to him, five words at least.” You smack Rose when she laughs.
“No, absolutely not. There’s no way it’s gonna happen, Jimin, I can’t set myself up for that failure.” You shake your head and go back to your food, though you’re much less angry after seeing your weeb. “Besides, we’ve got like…nothing in common, what would we even talk about?”
“Are you serious?” The deadpan is what catches your attention, and when you glance up, the look Jimin is giving is scathing. “I’ve heard you gush about his nerd rants, alright, you said yourself you could listen to him talk for weeks without getting bored of hearing his voice.”
“Conversations are a two-way street, Jimin. What the fuck could I contribute to that?”
“Uh…you’re kidding me, right? You didn’t see that face he made while you were doing your whole 'I’m gonna shit talk the ref because he made a call I didn’t like’ thing.”
“It was bullshit and you know it, he never would’ve done that shit for the other side.”
“Point stands, dude. Kook could listen to you go off about your sports shit for just as long as you could with his anime shit. I’d put money on it.”
“You’re delusional, Park, but I’m gonna let you live in this fantasy world because it’s nice to have company here.” He scoffs but doesn’t press the topic, which you’re thankful for. Instead, you fish your study guide out of your bag and hand it to him so he can quiz you about the test you have in four hours.
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It seems that Jungkook takes Jimin’s word as law because he starts to show up more and more often. At first, it was just the coffee shop, where he would order his iced black and then leave with a shy smile that had you melting. Then he was at the library at the same time you were, one table over and typing furiously away at his laptop. You assumed it was for a class until he disappeared and returned with a printed copy and you caught the “Neon Genesis Evangelion: A New Order, Chapter Five” at the top.
You won’t lie, you did judge him just a bit for that because you don’t even know anything about the show but no way in hell would you be caught dead printing your fanfic on wireless school computers when cloud hacks are a thing.
He appears at your favorite takeout place, too; not that he saw you since you dove behind a fish tank to avoid getting caught. You’d watched carefully through the water as he waited, looking around in the meantime as if in search of something. He almost looked dejected when he left, though you didn’t know why until you got your food and found out they were out of crab rangoon like you hadn’t just been playing peekaboo with one in the fish tank for twenty minutes.
The thing that really gets you, though, the one that grinds your gears, is how he makes the coffee shop his thing. He just keeps showing up, night after night, and while at first he just left with his coffee, he apparently decided that wasn’t enough, because now he stays. He parks himself at the corner table near the outlet and taps away at his laptop while you try to do any semblance of work. He’s so distracting. He makes the most adorable faces - the brow furrow and slight frown when he’s focused and trying to figure something out, the clenched jaw with tongue in cheek when he’s irritated or frustrated, the cute ass bunny smile that makes you want to jump off a bridge and/or push him off a bridge.
Honestly, if you’re being truthful, you could’ve gotten used to that. He’s quiet and doesn’t talk much and even though you can feel him nearby like a sunflower to the sun, you could’ve managed eventually.
The issue is that his nerd friends start joining him, and they are not quiet. They are loud and argumentative and enjoy debating their dweeb things and they especially enjoy dragging Jungkook into said dweebates, if you will. Which in and of itself is not terrible. You’ve had a literal debate team in here practicing, you’re accustomed to that kind of thing.
No, the issue is that Jungkook is like the king weeb. He seems to know everything about everything complete with sources to back it up and even if he doesn’t know something he can either find out in ten seconds or he can bullshit his way to being right. And it’s so goddamn sexy. He just fucking…owns the other nerds, no matter what the subject is, and he’s so confident and sure and he gets sassy with them when he knows he’s right and they’re wrong. The body language, the expression on his face, the way he just stomps them into the dirt…it gets you hot and bothered every fucking time, and it’s a problem, because you’re at work. It is not socially acceptable to kidnap someone into the break room to fuck their brains out because they just won an argument about whether Yu Gi Oh or Pokemon was a more successful trading card game.
It’s made even even worse because Jungkook has started to pay attention to your rants. Every time you have a game or watch one with the team, you and Rose spend at least part of your shift talking about the ups and downs, what can be improved, what you specifically need to work on and how you can do it. One night the two of you spent upwards of an hour debating whether Lang Ping or Mireya was a better overall player and why, and when you finally stopped to restock the coffee beans, Jungkook was staring at you with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t place.
Of course, that was when you turned and hid in the storage room for the rest of your shift, but the point fucking stands.
Jeon Jungkook is a menace and he is taking over your life and you really should be more mad about it. It almost comes to a head when Jimin drags you to a swim meet, which you have attended exactly zero times in your entire life because who the fuck cares about swim meets.
“Trust me,” He had pleaded. “I want to go to support some friends, but I’m gonna be bored if I have to sit alone on the bleachers.” You’d eventually caved when he promised to buy you food, and now your ass was planted on the most uncomfortable stand seats you’ve ever been on and you were about to pop a blood vessel because Jimin was being so fucking infuriating about everything. He’d pulled you straight from practice, not letting you change or shower or anything, and he’d been trying to goad you into a debate the entire time you’d been waiting for the meet to start. It was legitimately starting to get you riled up, even as you stretched your legs out, thighs spread wide as your fingers massaged the muscles in your familiar post-game routine.
“For the last fucking time, Jimin, no, the Canada/Mexico save was not better than the fucking Italy/France save!” He rolls his eyes, but he opened this can of worms so now he has to suffer with you. “It was flashier, sure, with the sliding and the moving of the barriers, but the Italy/France save was more technically sound and less likely to result in any kind of ref interference. They were both good, sure, but there is no way you can truly believe that the flashier and less technically sound and less safe of the two is actually better.”
“Oh, your boyfriend’s waving,” Jimin says as he smiles and waves, eyes turning into crescents as he does.
“What? I don’t have a-” You stop when you look. You really should have expected this because life is a cruel mistress and the universe itself is even crueler, but here you were. Rendered speechless by the sight of Jungkook. In swim pants. Shirtless.
“You’re drooling,” Jimin comments dryly.
“Fuck off, it’s not my fault he’s sculpted by the gods.” You don’t even bother to look at Jimin, too focused on the way Jungkook’s back flexes as he pulls himself out of the water. Time legitimately slows, water falling off of him and trailing down abs you did not know were there, and your heart honest to God stops beating. “What the fuck is he even doing here?”
“He’s on the swim team,” Jimin smirks and calls Jungkook over before you can shove your hand over his mouth. “Kook-ah, good luck! You’re gonna do great!”
“Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook says with an excited grin as he jogs over. You don’t think you take a single breath in the five minutes they chat. Your chest may actually explode, and you’re tempted to dive into the pool not two feet away to cool off. Jungkook steps back like he’s going to leave, giving you a small smile as he does.
“Wait, Jungkook, remind me, how did you get into swimming? Someone was curious,” Jimin nods ever so subtly to you but you can’t even find the strength to be upset because Jungkook’s chest is right there and you want to run your tongue along his muscles.
“Oh, there’s actually this anime called Free! I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, it’s really good, but it’s about these swimmers. They complete and a lot of it is them learning how to get better at their techniques so I thought, 'well, that can’t be that hard can it?’“ You let out a quiet sob. He’s just…you clench your fist in your lap and sigh. He’s just such a fucking nerd. Jungkook shoots you a somewhat worried look but continues. “It’s how I learned archery and boxing, too. I saw them in manga and got really interested and figured if the characters can do it, why can’t I?”
“God, that’s so fucking nerdy,” You mutter. It doesn’t register that you spoke out loud until you see Jungkook’s reddening face and hear Jimin’s soft choke. “In a good way! I mean, I think it’s…it’s really awesome that you just saw it and did it, that’s really…” Don’t say sexy. “…cool.”
Jungkook stares at you, cheeks reddened, and you struggle not to start digging your own grave here and now in the middle of this indoor pool area. You’re about to stand and do exactly that when Jungkook’s face brightens and his nose crinkles and the most blinding grin you’ve ever seen in your life takes over his face as his shoulders bunch up. Your eyes are probably actual fucking hearts now, it’s easily the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen on a human male as tall and buff as he is, and it kind of makes you want to shove him in the pool.
You really don’t have to, though, because he just shakes his head and turns to go back to the swimmer’s benches or whatever they’re called in swimming. He’s ruffling the back of his hair again and watching the ground, but he keeps turning back to beam at you and Jimin. You see it before Jimin does, and both of you start to call for him when his heel slips and he falls completely back into the water.
Every face in the area turns to look at where Jungkook is surfacing, wiping his face and slicking his hair back out of his face. The sight of it nearly sends you into heart palpitations because you honestly didn’t think he could get more fucking attractive but you were wrong. You force yourself to calm down because Jimin is too busy rolling on the ground beside you to be of any use in resuscitating you if your heart actually gave out.
“Ah, nani,” You hear Jungkook mutter as he climbs out of the pool and you wish you had a brick to hit yourself with because of course, of fucking course, he looks so fucking good and is so fucking bone-meltingly hot and still says weeb shit like ‘ah, nani’ when he falls into a goddamn pool.
You’re honestly legitimately fucked and the fact that you don’t even care anymore says a lot more about you than you want it to.
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It all actually comes to a head nearly a week after the swim meet. The sight of a wet and dripping and half-naked Jungkook doesn’t leave your mind, forever burned into your retinas, but even more wonderful is the shy, bashful Jungkook that greets you the next day at the coffee shop. It’s almost like he thinks you’re going to tease him, as if he didn’t see you shoving your whole mouth full of junk while cursing out a ref, as if he didn’t fully hear you tell him ‘your problem!’ with a happy grin and death in your eyes the first time he came into the shop.
It’s just…it’s so fucking cute that you physically cannot contain it anymore, and you find yourself bemoaning your state of perpetual adoration with Jisoo and Rose while you all shower after the latest match.
“I’m just going to suffer for the rest of my life aren’t I?” You say, speaking louder than you typically would in order to be heard over the several showerheads currently running. “It’s too much for my heart to take, absolutely too much, he’s too fucking…ugh, clenches fist, he’s too fucking cute.”
“Did you just verbalize the ‘clenches fist’ meme?” Rose shoots from her own stall. You shoot a face at the wall separating you, not that she can see it. “Listen, you know how I feel about this. You need to make a move because that boy never will. He’s a mess.”
“Wow, who else do we know that’s also a mess at all times for the guy they’ve liked for years?” Jisoo comments from her own shower across the way. You groan and kick your stall door, which only results in a muffled curse and you cradling your toe as you balance precariously on one foot.
“Do not injure yourself, we have a tournament next weekend,” Rose says offhandedly. You huff.
“Why would I even make a move? He’s got…Hatsune Miku and anime girls and shit.”
“Oh, of course,” Rose says. “I forgot, every guy would willingly give up a gorgeous, real-life girl willing to fuck him senseless for a pretty cartoon. Silly me.”
“What I don’t get,” Nayun calls from the locker room proper. “Is why you think he isn’t interested. He gets a chub every time he so much as looks at you, and don’t think Jimin didn’t tell me about the swim meet. The boy fell into a pool.”
“Yeah, because he’s a goddamn idiot.” You shake your head and wash the conditioner from your hair.
“What if we dare you to do it?” Rose’s voice echoes from too close. You turn and see her silhouette against the plastic shower curtain. She takes your confused silence as permission to continue. “Seriously, if we dare you to ask him out, will you?”
“What the fuck,” You say, sticking your head out of the curtain to level a glare at her. “I’m not ten years old, why the fuck would I do something just because you dare me to?”
“Bet, then,” Jisoo says as she wraps her hair in a towel. Your eyes must be wide as saucers because she laughs. “Bet on it. If the boys lose this game, you have to ask him out.”
“No no,” Rose says, and a familiar and all-too-dangerous grin spreads on her face. “If the boys lose this game, you have to confess. Do the gift and the letter and the whole fucking anime thing for him. If they win, we’ll drop it, and listen to your moaning and groaning for the rest of forever without complaint or comment.” Jisoo and Nayun look much too excited at the prospect, but you’ve been watching the boys play all season.
“What kind of bet is that? The boys haven’t lost a game all season.”
“Then you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?” Rose says, grinning as she saunters over to put her street clothes on. “Five minutes before game start.” You curse and rush to finish your shower, determined not to run laps for being late again.
As fate would have it, you do have reason to worry, because apparently, the rival university recruited some fucking professional athlete super mutants or some shit. It’s a close game, the boys only losing by one, but with the level of skill they’ve been playing with all season, it should’ve been an easy win.
And yet.
You’re standing outside the boys’ locker room, waiting patiently for Jimin. It’s a routine you got into when you first met, just after you’d both joined the respective teams. He would wait for you and you would wait for him, as long as it took, especially after a loss. You’re still in shock, still reeling from the game itself. You would almost think Jimin had found out about the bet and thrown the game, just to get you to shut the fuck up about Jungkook, if you didn’t know him.
If you didn’t see the dedication he put into the game, the perfection he expected of himself and his team. It rivals even Rose’s, and you can hear him yelling from where you stand, slamming what is probably his fist into a locker several times before he falls silent. As much as you had riding on this game, as pissed as you are that you lost the bet, you know it’s minuscule in comparison to the way Jimin feels, and you can’t even summon up enough energy to fool yourself otherwise. You’ve known him too long.
When he finally does emerge, you help wrap his knuckles with a clean bandage and ruffle his hair. “It’ll be alright, Park,” You tell him, quiet. He doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you sling your arm around his shoulder to lead him to your car. He’s quiet the rest of the night, even as you eat shitty fast food burgers in your car, even as he sits at the counter at the coffee shop, textbook open in front of him but not reading it.
“So I bet the girls that I would do an anime confession for Jungkook if you lost, you wanna help me plan it?” You ask him towards the end of your shift, long after said dork is gone from the shop. It’s the only time you see Jimin smile all night, but it’s worth it for the way his eyes crinkle and he starts outlining ideas.
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“Did you even sleep last night?”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Jimin responds as he chugs the rest of his coffee. Calling it coffee is generous, if you’re honest because it smells like he put twenty espresso shots in a cup and added some sugar. You force back a gag and shudder at the thought. “Everything’s in place?”
“This isn’t a bank heist, Jimin, I’m giving him a fucking box and a letter.” Even behind sunglasses you can tell the look he’s giving you is withering. “Whatever, yes, everything’s in place.”
“Good. Target sighted. Commence mission.”
You huff, grumbling as you move forward to the door. Of the cafe. Where you work. Where Jungkook is sitting, surrounded by his dork friends and heatedly arguing about something you no doubt have no clue about. Looking absolutely delectable, despite just being in a regular ass fucking jacket and a beanie that almost matches his skin and his hair looks so soft that you want to rub your face in it and also maybe bury your fingers in it while he’s between your legs.
You open the door and are immediately hit with the sound of Rose choking on her drink, the sudden conversation about which dps character is better - what the fuck that means, you don’t know - screeching to a halt, and every single person in the shop staring at you. Which is only like three people that aren’t Rose, Jungkook, Jimin, or the six people around Jungkook, but still. You force yourself not to throw up and move, cursing the itchy and uncomfortable dress the entire way.
Really, it was Jimin’s fault. You’d been brainstorming ways to confess and how to make it so perfectly Jungkook that he at least had to respond. He’d been the one to suggest dressing up as Hatsune Miku, which you, of course, nixed immediately. You weren’t about to spend who knows how much on a fucking wig and costume of one of the most popular cartoon characters of the modern age, not when you were only going to use it one fucking time.
So here you fucking are, dressed up like god damn Haruhi Fujioka, in an itchy yellow dress that doesn’t move where it should and feels like fucking sandpaper against your skin, that Jimin just happened to have on hand, like that wasn’t super fucking weird, and now everyone at your place of employment is staring at you and the small white box in your hands with a little pink envelope on top of it and you can hear Rose’s muffled laughter as you step further into the shop.
You stare at the ground as you walk, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. It doesn’t take more than a few steps before you’re staring down at Jungkook’s Timbs. You take a deep breath, and then another, and then another before you look up. He’s openly gawking, jaw nearly on the floor as he looks you up and down. Not a single soul is making a noise in the shop, so your voice rings out loud clear as you say–
“My chest hurts when I think about this person. When this person is happy, I am happy. When he smiles, I feel like crying. I distinguish his voice better than other people’s. I think this person is respectable. I want to become this person’s strength. I have scored more than 80 points, and it’s official. I-” You stop, cursing the fact that you’re doing this at three in the fucking morning on your day off in your workplace all because of a fucking bet and the fact that you couldn’t shut up about Jungkook’s stupid fucking face for more than two minutes without being in danger of combustion. “I like him, and I hope that he feels the same.”
You shove the white box into his hands and turn on your heel. Without looking back, you march out the door, grabbing Jimin on the way even as Jungkook calls after you. You keep going, walking quicker than you ever have to get to your apartment as fast as possible. Jimin just laughs as he follows you.
“I can’t believe you actually did it, holy shit. I hope he likes the chocolates, you worked really hard on them.”
“This is going to end up on the internet, I just know it, and I’m stating right now that this was not how I ever wanted to fucking tell him.” Jimin laughs again and hands you the coffee Rose had made you. When you finally make it back to your apartment, he helps you take the dress off and gets the pint of ice cream out of the freezer so you can wallow in peace.
“You don’t even know what he’s going to say,” Jimin protests, though he heaps his own spoon with ice cream in the process.
“I walked up to him in a jank cosplay of a shojo manga character and confessed my fucking love for him, Jimin.” He balks at the look you give him. “I don’t care how much of an otaku he is, he’s gonna think I’m fucking weird.”
“Well, don’t count yourself out just yet, alright?” Jimin ruffles your hair and you swat at him. “You never know. Maybe he’s really into Ouran and you just don’t know it.” You groan and bury your face in a pillow in an attempt to smother yourself. It doesn’t work.
It still hasn’t worked the next day when you wake up around noon to find Jimin gone and your dishes done for you. You grumble about it since you had every intention of doing your own dishes, but you send him a quick ‘thanks for washing my grime bitch’ because no matter how capable you are, you never want to do them.
It’s later that night when you’re fresh out of the shower and getting ready to head to your practice except for the fact that you can’t find your fucking keys that there’s a knock on your door. You open it without looking and dive back into the couch, bent nearly in half while you dig through the cushions. “Hey, Nayun, I’m almost ready, I just have to find my keys. I think Jimin threw them somewhere last night, after that fucking debacle at the shop-” A choked noise that definitely does not sound like Nayun reaches your eyes and you bolt upright, eyes wide.
Jungkook stands in the doorway to your apartment, wide eyes darting up from where he most definitely was staring at your ass and his face bright red. “Jimin gave me your address. Um…can we talk?”
You really want to say no. You want to tell him that no, you can’t, because you have volleyball practice, as he can tell from your uniform, and you absolutely cannot be late because Rose will literally use your entrails to make a new net.
Instead what comes out is, “Sure!”
You wave him in and close the door behind him, shooting off a quick text to Rose to let her know you might be late or may not show up at all, you’re not really sure because motherfucking Jeon Jungkook just showed up at your door. All you get back is a string of the cry-laughing emojis, and you curse whatever deity decided she should walk this earth with mortals.
“So,” Jungkook says. It’s long and drawn out, like he doesn’t really know where to go from here, but you’re distracted because he looks so good. Matching grey hoodie and sweats that are just the right side of baggy, standard Timbs, hair pushed to the side slightly to show off a bit of forehead. God, what is the world coming to that you’re this worked up over some fucking forehead?
“So,” You echo.
“Did you mean those things you said yesterday?” You hesitate and he takes it as an answer in itself. “Listen, I…I get it, y’know? You’re this super cool volleyball star, and I’m a big nerd who swims, haha, let’s tease the kid about his crush, but…it didn’t really seem like you were teasing. And now I’m confused because I can’t tell if you actually meant any of that or if you were just…dared to do it.”
“I was. Kind of. It was a bet, actually.” Jungkook’s face falls and you wince. “No, not like that, it wasn’t. Fuck, okay, it wasn’t a mean bet. I made a bet with the girls on the team that if the boys lost their game, then I would confess my feelings to you in some big dramatic anime way, like all that shit you like, right, and then the boys actually lost their game, so I had to do it, and then, wait.” Your brain catches up. “Did you say you have a crush on me?”
Jungkook’s face is still slightly pink, but he’s got the most tentative bunny smile on and he looks so unbearably fond that your heart is breaking. “I did,” He says softly. “So you really have feelings for me?”
“I’ve been in love with you for more than two years,” You blurt. You immediately want to take it back, want to suck the words back in before they can escape and embarrass you further, but it’s too late. “I mean…I was an orientation leader with Jimin right before my second year and you were in his group, and I saw you talking to some people and you were just really super cute and you have a really nice smile and I was kind of hooked and then later that year we were both at the dining hall and I was sitting near you and this guy said something about some anime and you were all, ‘really, because if you’d bothered to watch the show then you’d know blah blah blah’ and it was the single hottest anime takedown I’ve ever seen.”
Jungkook is silent through your babble, though his smile just grows and he fluffs the back of his hair. He looks around your apartment briefly, like he’s looking for words, and he’s got the prettiest flush on his face and you want to kiss it but he hasn’t said anything.
“I went to your first volleyball match that year, and you spiked a ball into a girl’s face,” He admits. You remember that match, mostly because- “And then you argued with the ref for almost ten minutes about whether or not you deserved a penalty for it because technically she was the one that tried to hit the ball with her face, you hadn’t tried to hit her in the face. I’ve never been so turned on by sports in my entire life.”
“I once spat water out my nose because you said hi to me in the dining hall.”
“I fell into that pool because you looked really fucking hot in your uniform and I couldn’t process the fact that you thought my anime shit was cool.”
“I want to lick your abs.”
He stops at that, and for a second, for a single second you think maybe you went too far, but then he’s glancing around at the apartment as if he’s actually looking for something now. “Is there anyone else here?” He eventually asks. You can’t even finish shaking your head before he’s on you, pressing his mouth to yours in a feverish kiss.
You want to say that it was soft and sweet and gentle at first, but it wasn’t, at all. The two of you had too much pent up sexual frustration for that. Instead, his lips move against yours with a ferocity you didn’t expect, and his hand on the back of your neck is unforgiving as he tilts your jaw to get deeper into your mouth.
“Fuck, Kook,” You moan, hands already roaming along his sweatshirt. “Please take it off, I’m begging you.” He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling against your lips and it sends a wave of arousal crashing through you even as he strips his hoodie off to reveal nothing underneath. You feast your eyes on the muscles he keeps hidden away, hands hesitating as they start to run along the skin. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind, seems to actually bask in it, and he chuckles again as he lets his hands fall to your hips.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?” He whispers in your ear, and you find yourself shaking at the way it feels. Erotic and sensual and hot as fuck, you want to return the favor, but you find yourself at a loss.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?” You ask, pushing against his chest and walking back with him until his knees hit the couch. “Do you know how often I’ve thought of this?” You push again and he falls back onto it, hands coming to grip your thighs as you straddle him, and you make sure to grind your hips against his as you move to whisper into his ear. “How often I’ve touched myself thinking of you?”
Jungkook moans, and you want to etch the sound into your fucking skin, it’s absolutely glorious. He says your name like it’s a curse and you’ve never wanted someone more. You grind yourself against the stiffness you can feel through his sweats, your own volleyball shorts leaving little to the imagination. You’re absolutely soaked, and you know it’s going to be a bitch to wash but you could not give less of a fuck right now.
He rolls his hips up to meet yours and it’s your turn to moan, hands coming up to brace on his shoulders as your tongue slides along his neck and down to his throat. His breath hitches when you graze the skin there with your teeth, so you repeat the action. His hands tighten at your hips and slide to palm your ass; you never thought a guy’s hand on your ass would feel as good as it does, but you also never thought you’d be making out with Jeon Jungkook on your couch instead of going to practice.
“Fuck, Kook,” You moan into his mouth as he slides his right hand up your shirt to cup your breast. It’s more difficult than it usually would be, as you wear your sports bras to practice, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. “Need you.”
“Don’t wanna fuck you on your couch yet,” He replies between the slide of his tongue against yours. “Your room, wanna make you come in your bed first.” Your legs tremble at the thought and you push yourself up. It’s hard to stand, your legs are wobbly, but Jungkook doesn’t even seem to notice it as you turn. His chest is pressed against your back immediately, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady while the other gropes your ass. His mouth is harsh on your neck and you can feel the bruises forming but at this point, you don’t even care.
You press yourself into him, and you can feel him. He curves, you can already tell; the heat radiating from the hardness pressed into the swell of your ass is delicious, and another wave of wetness seeps into your shorts as you think about what it’s gonna be like with him inside.
“You have no idea what these shorts do to me,” He whispers, nipping at the skin of your neck one last time before he slaps your ass - hard. You yelp, more in surprise than anything, but before you can say anything he’s pushing at your hips to force you through the apartment.
You’ve only made it to your bed faster once before this, when you thought you were being chased by an ax murderer that turned out to be a coat rack.
Jungkook isn’t gentle when you get to your room. He doesn’t even pause, just flips you around and shoves you onto the bed. It shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it is, and you’re quivering a little because of it. He slides between your legs, hands running slowly up your thighs, and it seems that now he’s decided to take his time.
His touch is feather-light against your skin. You can barely feel his hands as they slide up your thighs and over your hips, around your waist, and between your breasts, but you can’t ever deny where they are. You’re hyperaware of him, and the smirk on his face tells you that he knows it. The competitive side of you, the one that makes you so fucking vicious during games, swells; he needs to know you’re not one to take it lying down, and he needs to know now.
Your legs move up around his waist and you push, using all your weight to flip the two of you so he straddles you once more. He’s rock solid against your ass and you grind back into it. His hands slide along your waist again and he pouts a little.
“Wanted to taste you,” He whines, fingers dipping just below the waistband of your shorts. You hook your thumbs in alongside his and pull, letting the material slide down just enough to tease.
“So do it,” You tell him. He looks confused for a second before recognition washes over him. His dick twitches behind you, but you pay it no mind. You rise up enough to slide your shorts off, a true feat of excellence considering how tight they are, and when you settle back down on your knees, his tongue runs across your slit. You gasp at the feeling and he takes this as permission to continue.
Whatever you expected him to be like in bed, every sexual fantasy you’ve ever had about him, none could ever live up to the reality of Jungkook’s tongue sliding between your folds to flick your clit. You moan, nails digging into your thighs.
“You like that, princess?” He asks, muffled by your thighs and pussy. You nod before realizing that he may not be able to see you.
“Yes, I do,” You tell him, and your nails dig in harder when he flicks it again. He continues, tongue darting out to tease you but not giving you enough to get you where you want to go. You growl, and he laughs.
“Maybe you should be kitten instead if you’re going to growl at me.” You shudder at the name, and when you look down with red cheeks, he has one brow raised. “Really? Kitten?”
“Shut up, I know you have a Hatsune Miku body pillow,” You tell him. He looks ready to protest but you lower yourself so his lips brush your folds. He takes the hint, thankfully, and lets his hands curl up to grip your hips. “Put that fucking mouth to work, Jungkook, or so help me-” You’re cut off by an unexpected moan. He slides his tongue along you once more, from clit to hole, and you whimper.
You can literally feel the smirk against your pussy and you rock down onto him. He laps up your juices, swirling his tongue around your clit and back down to your hole. You grind your hips down into his mouth, desperate for more friction, and you feel soft breaths against you as he chuckles. You whine and he takes pity, angling himself better before sliding his tongue tantalizingly slow into you. You clench around him and are left unsatisfied. As wonderful and skilled as it is, it’s not nearly big enough to do what you need it to. Still, it feels damn good as he thrusts it in and out of you, good enough that when he starts to pull away, your hands dart down and tangle in his hair to keep him right where he is. You can feel your orgasm coming, it’s so close you can taste it, and when he slides a finger over your clit, you break.
Your hips stutter in their rhythm and you slide yourself to the side so he can breathe properly once more. He’s got a grin on his face and looks entirely too pleased with himself. He moves to lay between your legs, pressing soft kisses to your torso and thighs with every breath, and the fondness in your chest swells.
You can see him straining his sweats, it has to hurt, and yet here he is, showering you with kisses and sweet nothings instead of immediately trying to get off himself. What a refreshing change of pace.
“Thank you,” He mutters with a laugh, and you realize you’d been talking out loud. “I do really, really want to fuck you, though.” He trails kisses up your neck to your ear and you shiver. “Would you like that, kitten?” You whine and arousal courses through you once more. He trails kisses back down and unsnaps your bra; you would have to remember to thank Jisoo for suggesting you get a clasped sports bra, because it’s never been helpful before but thank God you don’t have to try to peel yourself out of a regular one now.
Jungkook presses his lips against your nipple lightly, fingers ghosting over the other to stiffen it. “You didn’t answer me, kitten. Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to slide into that pretty pussy?” You whimper, doing your damndest to pull him far enough that you can grind against something that isn’t air, but he holds his body just far enough away that you can’t. He gives your nipple little kitten licks, his saliva making the air that much colder and your nipples that much harder.
“You’re so wet for me, kitten,” He mutters as he lets his free hand rest on your thigh, thumb swiping lazily over your hipbone. “Can you feel it? Because I can, even from here. You’re absolutely soaked, I could probably just slide right in. Do you want that, kitten? You want me to pound that little pussy of yours until you can’t walk straight?”
“Fuck, Kook, please,” You moan. Your hands slide along his body, looking for any kind of purchase and finding none. He’s enjoying himself too much, and you’re too desperate right now to do anything about it. “Please, Kook, please fuck me already. I swear to god, I’m gonna send your fucking Evangelion fanfic to your professors if you don’t get in me soon.”
“How do you even know about that?” He asks, momentarily stunned out of character. You give him a satisfied grin.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You lift your hips off the bed completely, letting them brush lightly against him. He stifles a moan and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, your entire body shivers with delight; he’s still that dumbass weeb but fuck, he looks like he’s going to absolutely wreck you.
“I’m gonna fuck this slut pussy of yours until you’re gushing, you hear me, kitten?” He says, kicking his sweats off. You don’t even get a chance to appreciate the sight of his dick before he’s lining up with your hole, the tip brushing against your clit in the process and making you moan. “I’m gonna fucking pound your pussy until it’s so fucking full you can’t remember your own name, let alone random shit about me. You’re gonna be begging for my cock, all day every day.”
“Fuck, Kook, yes, please, I want that,” You grind your hips up again and he moves, sliding inside of you in one easy movement. The stretch burns at first; he’s fucking huge, and he does curve, and it presses against every inch of you in such a phenomenal way that you never want him to stop. Your eyes must have rolled back in your head because when you open them, Jungkook has one hand stroking your cheek as the other supports his weight.
“Are you good?” He asks, soft and gentle. You nod, rolling your hips in a quick circle to let him know how good. He lets out another groan, soft and muffled, as if he’s containing himself. “You’ll let me know if you need me to stop?” You nod again. “Fuck, kitten, you’re so good for me.”
He starts to move then, dick dragging against your walls as he pulls back out slowly before slamming back in. Your moan echoes through the apartment, but all you hear is the soft call of your name from his lips as he repeats the motion. You raise your hips to meet his thrusts and it only takes a couple of minutes before you’re both panting. Your legs lock around his hips to bring him in deeper and he moans at the contact. He sits back on his knees and brings you up with him.
You’ve wanted to ride his dick for years, and it’s so much better than you ever thought. Every drag of his cock has you clenching, every thrust with this new angle has him hitting your g-spot and you’re seeing stars. He’s got one hand on the small of your back to keep you steady and the other on the back of your neck so he can bring you in close and kiss you deeply, whispering sweet nothings in your ear when he has to breathe.
The two of you move in tandem, hips gyrating against each other’s as you chase that high together. Having him inside of you feels like heaven and you never want it to stop. He starts to pull out and you shake your head, slamming your hips down onto his with renewed vigor.
“Gonna cum,” He huffs, and you press a kiss to his cheek.
“Good,” You tell him. His grip on you tightens and he slams into you harder. “Fucking cum inside me, Kook, please.” He moans, loud and unashamed, as he hits deeper inside of you with more force than you expect. You’re bouncing on his dick now, there’s no other word for it, and you fucking love it.
“Fuck, kitten, gonna fill you up so good,” He mutters. You nod, feeling the pressure inside of you tighten. “Gonna paint you with it gonna cover your pussy with my cum, want you to feel me inside you for days. Fuck, take it, kitten, take my cum inside, all of it, don’t let a single drop fall out.” He slams into you, again and again and again. Your throat is raw from the screams, you’re pretty sure he has scratch marks on his back, but you can’t bring yourself to care because, fuck, he feels so good.
He slams into your g-spot again, at the same time he kisses you deep and moves his hand to rub against your clit, and your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. You can’t even say anything, moans swallowed up by Jungkook’s mouth, but he knows by the way you clench and spasm around his cock, you can tell, because it only takes a few more shallow thrusts and he’s over that edge with you. You can feel his hot seed settling inside, spreading to fill you completely.
He lays you back on your bed, gentle, and slides out. His cum starts to seep out of you, you can feel it on your thighs, and when you open your eyes, he’s staring at the sight.
“Is this…something to be worried about?” He eventually asks. You shake your head and tap your bicep.
“Implant,” You tell him. “We’re good.” He nods and leans forward, and you feel his finger slide up your slit once more, gathering all of his cum before he pushes it back inside of you. When he’s satisfied that you’re as full as can be, he lays down next to you and tugs you into a lazy embrace. You take his hand and lick it clean, surprised at the fresh wave of arousal that hits despite your exhaustion. He smiles, cute and bunny-like, with the nose scrunch and everything, and you let yourself get lost in it.
He traces invisible shapes on your skin with his hands, all over your thighs and belly and arms and chest, and it’s an intimacy you’ve never had before. You watch him, eyes following each curve he makes, and trying to figure out what he’s drawing.
“It’s not Hatsune Miku,” He eventually says. You raise your brows at him and he grins. “I don’t have a Hatsune Miku body pillow.”
“Oh,” is all you can say. “Well, then, I’m sorry I misjudged you.”
“It’s Nami from One Piece,” He admits. You roll your eyes and grab a pillow to smack him.
“This is why we can’t have nice things, Kook.”
“I disagree.”
“What do you mean, you disagree?”
“I’ve got you, don’t I?”
The blush on your face gives you away even as you suppress the smile, but Jungkook lets you pretend, content to continue drawing on you with his fingertips. It’s the first time you’ve felt content and at peace in two years, and - you can’t believe you’re about to think this - you’re glad you put on that fucking cosplay.
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disappearinginq · 4 years
Note
for the writers ask thing: (3) What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway) AND (6) What character do you have the most fun writing?
Hilariously, the first one is a Prodigal Son scene between the team (specifically JT) and I just wanted a...merger? scene between beginning season JT & Malcolm, where they just like to harass one another, to basically an embodiment of the Kink!Tomato explanation. I like that they’re not cozy with each other, but they go from purposefully hurtful banter to just off beat teasing, and I had a scene where that was spelled out. I wonder if I can find it...or possibly actually getting around to writing the fic that i wrote three lines of dialogue for when @rohanrider3 gave me a prompt for it.  As for most fun -ooo. Hmm. Snarky ones. And family relations. I think one of my favorite things to write was between Bellamy and Kane for Left Behind, despite not watching the show for years now, and that fic sits languishing in writing purgatory. 
And I really, really love to write unexpectedly smart/badass characters (or make canon characters into unexpectedly smart/badass characters, because no one can prove I’m wrong).  Edit: FOUND THE PRODIGAL SON THING. 
“No, JT, really, I want to know,” Malcolm snapped, holding his hand out – steadier than JT could remember ever seeing it – jabbing accusatorily at him. “What exactly was I supposed to do? Hmm? If you know, I’d love to hear it, because I haven’t got a fucking clue. I’m a bit of an outlier, you see – people aren’t good with things they can’t categorize. They want to stuff you in a box whether you fit or not, and I’m guessing as a Hispanic male combat veteran, there’s a couple boxes people like to tick off for you, right? Suicidal. PTSD. Temper problems. Into drugs and alcohol. Anyone ever tell you you’re a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off?”
JT didn’t answer – it was rhetorical and both of them knew it. Veterans today had a rate of suicide comparable to WWII, and instead of trying to curb the trend by digging deeper to find out why, Washington just swept it under the rug – denied treatment, refused disability claims, shoved people out on the street like Monday morning garbage. The only time people cared enough to even Google the statistics were November 11th and the last Monday in May.
“Oh look,” Malcolm barreled on. “Finally, something we have in common. We don’t like it when people try to shove us in boxes to make us something we’re not. But you know what? You’re at least not alone. You can feel it, and it can seem it, but you’re not – one point three million people in our military, odds are at least one of them feels like you. Can understand what you’ve been through, why you are the way you are. Wanna know how many serial killers had kids? Huh?”
Malcolm’s pointed finger became a splay of five.
“Five. In the last half century, with their kids still alive today – five. Six kids total. Ted Bundy’s daughter has vanished so completely not even the FBI knows who or where she is. Dennis Rader’s kids? His daughter fucking wrote him a letter forgiving him for what he did and that she ‘hoped to see him in Heaven one day’ and that she still loved him, and her brother told the newspapers that despite killing ten people in utterly horrific ways, he was a good dad. And nobody comes close to the Surgeon’s body count – maybe the ones he was convicted for, but not what he’s suspected of.”
“Look, Bright, I – ” JT tried to cut in. Bright’s glare stopped him midsentence.
“No, no, no, no, you don’t get to derail this train now,” Malcolm snapped. “Not when you’re the one who keeps looking at me like I’m only one conviction away from being Martin Whitly’s sequel because I’m good at my job. And you know what, literally anyone else who is a profiler, or a criminal psychologist, or even a forensic psychologist is supposed to try and interpret the criminal mind, but I don’t see you avoiding Dr. Tanaka. My father was the monster, not me. I was fucking ten years old when I turned him in. All the other Serial Killer Kids were adults when the police found out their fathers were killers, but I don’t see the FBI keeping tabs on them, waiting for them to pick up where Dear Old Dad left off. So why me? Because I annoy you? Because it bothers you that because I can’t solve my own problems, I try to solve others? I have twenty three lives that were cut short because of the Surgeon that I have to make up for, and yeah, there’s only so many ways I can atone for my father’s sins.”
JT wasn’t the only one who noticed the change in Malcolm’s voice as he almost choked on the word father in relation to Martin, his already pale features turning slightly green at the mention of being related to the Surgeon.
“Since you seem to have all the answers, why don’t you clue the rest of us in? Hmm?” Malcolm threw his hands wide to encompass the whole room. “What should I be doing that would make you believe that I am not my father’s son?”
Dani shifted in her chair, looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here, but gave him a side-eyed glare that clearly stated she was actually on Bright’s side for this one. Gil hadn’t said a word the entire argument, but then, if he’d known Malcolm since the day he’d turned in Martin, then he’d probably heard it more than once.
Malcolm must’ve said it more than once, because that was a lot of statistics to rattle off that fast.
JT sighed, picking up a pen and tapping it against the notepad just to have something to do with his hands as he met Malcolm’s eyes.
“It’s not what you think,” JT said. “It…” he considered his next words, weighing the sound of them in his head before he said them aloud. “I think you’re so good at this, it’s killing you.”
Whatever response Malcolm had braced himself for – because that’s exactly what he was doing, keeping his hands firmly over his chest, hunching slightly like he was expecting a physical blow – that wasn’t it. The kid’s eyebrows almost shot into his hairline before they narrowed back in suspicion, and JT couldn’t really blame him.
“I knew these guys – combat guys, all of them. Saw some serious shit over in Syria. Afghanistan. Iraq. You name the shit storm, they were in it, boots on the ground. They didn’t fare much better than you. Nightmares. Depression. The twitchy hands. The mania. The insomnia. Insisting they were fine.” He absently let the pen in his hand doodle across the notepad, and he watched as Malcolm’s gaze couldn’t help but flicker towards the movement more than keep JT’s gaze. “Hyper vigilant. Some of them saw counselors, but you know how that goes…seeing them doesn’t mean they followed their advice. Sometimes it’s just a band aid on a bullet hole. A couple of them got jobs where they thought they could do some good – use those skills, those…habits, at work. Thought it gave them an edge. Kept them vigilant.”
JT clicked the pen, putting it down as he leaned forwards, his elbows on the table, interlocking his fingers as he caught Malcolm’s piercing gaze. “It burned them out. One put a gun in his mouth Christmas Eve in his basement while his kids were asleep upstairs. The other one stepped in front of train during the morning commute. The other one gave himself a heart attack – he’s the one that lived. And you may not believe me, Bright, but I don’t want that to be you on the evening news. You may be good at this job, but I think it’s bad for you. Trying to make up for things you had no control over, keeping some tally in that head of yours of if the life you saved is equal to the one he took. That’s not healthy, and if your stupid habit of haring off after murderers without backup doesn’t kill you, then this life will. I don’t think you’re anything like the Surgeon, because if you were, this wouldn’t bother you at all, instead of eating you alive from the inside out.”  
The room was quiet enough you could hear a pin drop.
Dani shot him her half smile reserved for special occasions and people she particularly approved of. Gil’s expression was still hidden by his hand over his mouth, but JT realized he wasn’t looking at him – probably hadn’t been for most of the conversation.
He was watching Malcolm.
Malcolm who was completely silent.
He didn’t think Bright did silent. He pretty much non-stop jabbered on, even when he wasn’t supposed to. Perhaps even especially when he wasn’t supposed to.
And now that piercing blue stare was levelled straight at him, and JT fought the urge to fidget under the intensity of it.
Malcolm’s eyes widened slightly, a funny little gasp that would’ve made more sense coming from someone who’d just had ice water dumped down their back passing between suddenly parted lips as he pulled his head back as if physically slapped. “You’re…not lying.”
JT frowned, glancing over at Gil who was still zeroed in on Malcolm. The older man hadn’t decided if this was good or bad, which put JT even more on edge.
“No, I’m not lying. Why would I lie about something like that?” He tried to catch Gil’s attention without getting even more of Malcolm’s, but the older detective ignored him.
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gamerwoo · 4 years
Text
Pentagon headcanon: Pentagon as mall workers
a/n: I’ve always lowkey wanted to do some sort of mall series but never actually had a solid plot so we gonna just do this instead. and Seventeen will be mentioned bc I wanna do one for them and I want them all to work in the same mall and no one can stop me 😤
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Lee Hoetaek
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the manager at FYE
everyone calls him Hui though
really good at reading people and just kind of knowing what they’d like
but y’know he doesn’t wanna be creepy so he asks what kind of music they’re into
and then he can pull any album and know it’s perfect for you
you always go to him when you’re looking for new music
he’s also always up to recommend some new stuff you might not have listened to
knows the store inside and out
if you’re looking for a specific album, he knows exactly where to go
the friendliest dude ever
he loves that you ask him about music so he always gives you his discount
sometimes makes you mixtapes
but he got that idea from his co-worker, Hansol
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Jo Jinho
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assistant manager at Music Center
lowkey salty that the manager is Jihoon who’s way younger than him
but honestly together, the two run the store really smoothly
they do their best to help out the other employees who might not know as much
like Joshua, for example since he really only knows guitars
Jinho often sings to himself while he’s working but the customers lowkey love it
honestly you only go in there to listen to him sing
and because Josh flirts with you but that’s neither here nor there
one time you were looking at a keyboard so Jinho offered to ‘demo’ it for you
he’s so talented you don’t know why he’s not famous instead of just working in some music store
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Yang Hongseok
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works at GNC
flirts with pretty much everyone who walks through the door
but lowkey though
gives really good advice on how to stay fit and what things to use
knows everything about everything in that store
still wondering why he’s not manager
oh yeah it’s because Matthew is lmao
even though he’s more of a flirt, he does take his job seriously and is a genuinely sweet guy
one time after a bad day, he saw you sitting on the bench outside his store and he went and got you bubble tea from the place downstairs
you go to Hongseok when you’re stressed now and he’ll listen
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Ko Shinwon
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works at Gamestop
always laughs about how he’s glad he’s not the manager because all the workers get treated like garbo by 12 year old boys and their parents
so he teases Wonwoo for having to get the bulk of the trouble
gets yelled at for playing the game demos instead of working
takes too many breaks to go get food but then downs it all in the back room in like 3 minutes
tbh the only reason he hasn’t gotten fired is probably because they’re short staffed
but you like him because he plays the game demos with you
you think he’s funny and if he wasn’t there, Gamestop just wouldn’t be the same
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Yeo Changgu
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works at Build-A-Bear
does so well with the kids even when they’re bratty
you don’t go into the store because you’re embarrassed to but he sees you always staring at the Eevee Build-A-Bear and he’s waiting for the day you come in to make it
and yes he would absolutely make you do the heart ritual thing
and yes he would giggle at how red your face would get
he loves doing that to people his age when they come in
“can we skip the heart thing?” “absolutely not”
they get so embarrassed doing it and he lives for it
he takes his job seriously ok
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Yanan
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barista at Starbucks
might be the most handsome one there which makes his manager, Jeonghan lowkey salty
kinda slow when it comes to making drinks but nobody seems to care
how could you care?? look at him
whenever you go to get a drink from Starbucks and Yanan’s at the register, you always stutter and get blushy
but it’s fine because he always seem flustered talking to customers too
he usually doesn’t work register though
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Adachi Yuto
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works at Hot Topic
he likes it because the store just doesn’t give a shit about anything and hardly anyone goes in so he can just dick around with Wooseok all day
plus he gets a discount on all his goth clothing lmao
people will go in the store just to see him though
you sometimes go in there for shirts or for pop figures and stuff and he’s always really nice
quietly asks how you’re doing and if you need help finding anything to let him know
but he won’t ask Wooseok or Soonyoung to do their job
he’s not annoyed by it anyway so it’s fine
the only responsible worker there tbh
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Kang Hyunggu
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works at Bubble Bee
everyone calls him Kino
tbh half the reason anyone goes to get bubble tea is because of Kino
he’s just so smiley all the time and so sweet????
between him and his coworker, Seokmin, they really draw in a good amount of business
and y’know bubble tea is like a big trend now, so there’s that
makes the best taro bubble tea you’ll ever have in your life
one time he was working a shift alone and it got busy and he got your order wrong so now he always always always makes extra sure that it’s what you wanted
like he literally has you try it while you’re in front of him to make sure it’s good
send you off with the biggest smile and a “have a good day, _____!”
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Jung Wooseok
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works at Hot Topic
that one employee that does not give two shits about actually working
but he knows he’ll get away with it because as I said, Hot Topic does not give a frick
likes to change the music in the store to bubblegum jpop
Yuto lowkey likes it which is half the reason Wooseok does it
he’s always either fucking around at the counter with Yuto or giggling and fucking things up with Soonyoung in the back
if you ask him for help, he calls someone else over
literally does not do anything
you know well enough to not bother asking Wooseok for anything so he likes you
whenever you go up to the register, he calls to Yuto to give you his store discount and then says “keep up the good work” when you’re leaving
to this day, you have yet to ask him for assistance
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