#are there as well. i just am the worst perfectionist ever. we WILL get there someday in the 10 wips mark believe me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baby-yongbok · 3 months

Text

Manipulation

Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

-`♡´- Genre: Angst? Fluff? Both? Yeah... both. [Supernatural themes]

-`♡´- Summary: Jisung is all that you have and you're all that he wants.

-`♡´- Word Count: 6k

-`♡´- Warnings: Mentions of Blood (Like, a lot, though no one ever bleeds), Supernatural themes (Jisung and Reader have supernatural abilities), Violence (Not the physical type), Mentions of smoking weed (While driving/ do not do this please) and drinking (Not while driving), Speeding (Please don't so that, drive safely.), It gets a bit suggestive for a second, Interaction with law enforcement. [I think that's all.]

-`♡´- A/N: So, I'm a perfectionist and I get nervous when I can't write or post when I want to. I just started a new job and I'm applying to new colleges so ya girl is stressed out. To top it all off I got sick with the worst Hay Fever I've ever had today and I can't breathe (Love that for me). Soooo I had to reach into my vault and see what I haven't posted yet and I found this! This story is something that I wasn't sure that anyone would actually like 😭. I wanted to take a shot at writing something supernatural so here it is! I hope that you don't think that it sucks!+ the reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡. All feedback is appreciated! Thanks for reading! 💗

-`♡´- Note - Hemokinesis or Blood Manipulation is the ability to control and manipulate blood.

-`♡´- Masterlist -`♡´-

We should have never met but the fact that we did means that chaos is a naturally occurring thing in this world. Why do I say that? Let’s just say that Jisung and I are not the type of people that you want around. We’re the exact opposite. Degenerates. The evil in a good situation, and we whole heartedly don’t give a fuck about the damage we cause because the only thing that matters is the fact that we have each other. We’ll always have each other. Now, what could we possibly do that’s so bad? We manipulate, but not in the way that you’d expect.

“Hey, bubs?” Turning to face Jisung from my spot in front of my closet I feel my legs weaken beneath me as I stumble backwards a bit, using the door frame behind me to keep me up. The feeling is gone just as fast as it came and I take a second to ground myself before flashing a well deserved middle finger in Jisung’s direction.

“Fuck you with the iron manipulation.” He erupts into a fit of laughter as I abandon the task of trying to locate the bag that he lent me that I’m more than sure is buried in my closet. I was going to be nice and finally return it but after that stunt I think that I’ll keep it for a bit longer. “You think you’re so funny.” I sit on the edge of my bed, glaring at my best friend as his laughs intertwine with the music playing from my speakers. He always gets a kick out of using his abilities on me, he’s had his fun now I’ll have mine. I lift my hand towards Jisung and his laughter stops instantly.

“Yeah?” With a grin Jisung looks around aimlessly. “Gonna take my sight away? You’re playing dirty now.”

“Oh am I? Come get me, Ji.” Standing and backing away from my bed a bit, I keep my control over his sight as he reaches out in front of him, swatting his hand in an attempt to hit me. I mimic his earlier laughter as he struggles to navigate the newfound darkness.

“Ya know, the good thing about my abilities is that, if I want them to, they apply to everyone in the room no matter if I can see you or not.” He clenches his fist and my body stiffens. “So now, you’re locked in place and I definitely can find you.” Standing carefully from the bed he holds his hands out to keep from banging into anything. I try to speak but the blood in my body is literally frozen under Jisung’s control, don’t ask me how I’m even still alive with one of the most important units of my life force frozen inside of me, I don’t know the answer. Nobody does. That’s why Jisung’s ability is so dangerous, it doesn’t make any sense. The only thing that I do know is that if I try to retaliate even a little I’ll be on Jesus’s doorstep.

“Mmm, I can hear you breathing.” He chuckles a bit as he takes his final step before bumping right into me. Unclenching his fist and freeing my blood from his bind he catches me as my body gives out from the sudden blood rush. His sight restores itself as I release my bind on his vision.

“Got ya” Looking up at him with angry eyes we both can’t help but to erupt into laughter. This is what we do, we use our powers to mess with each other and get what we want. There’s only a select few of us who can do the things we do, why would we want to waste it by doing what society wants us to? I understand that we can be troublesome from time to time like when we crash parties… or cars, but this isn’t our fault I swear.

If people didn’t think that we were monsters maybe we’d behave differently. If people didn’t think that Jisung was a criminal then maybe he’d be more willing to calm down. But no, because he is the only living person with hemokinesis in this city that we know of, he’s labeled as high risk and everyone is constantly on his back the moment he steps outside. There’s never been anyone willing to get to know him until he met me during our freshmen year of university. People aren’t too fond of me either, I guess having the ability to manipulate bodily function is scary? Seems pretty mundane to me. We were outcasts so naturally we gravitated towards each other and before we knew it we were best friends, partners in crime that promised to protect each other from everyone's nasty comments and condescending stares. That was short lived though because we both dropped out of university a month after we met.

The sound of The Neighborhood playing blares through my room and cuts through our laughter as we start to dance a bit as I regain my composure and even out my breathing. He sways me as we dance hand in hand through my dim bedroom before pushing me back onto the mattress and plopping down next to me.

“You know what would make this Friday night a real win?” He asks and I look over at him. “Weed and a couple of beers.”

“Then what are we still doing here? You’re driving.” Sitting up and grabbing my sweater next to my bed I stand with Jisung as we put our shoes on and grab our stuff. We leave my bedroom and cut through the kitchen to avoid my brother and father in the living room. The worst thing about dropping out of college is having to still live with the little bit of family I have left. Rent costs an arm and a leg around here so right now my minimum wage job won’t cut it.

“Going out.” I call to them.

We hear quick footsteps approach as I reach for the doorknob, before I can turn it completely my father appears to the left of us catching our attention. “Where are you headed?” He only wants to know so that he can listen out for any gossip later. He knows that Jisung and I will be the talk of the town if we do anything too extreme. I’ve learned that what everyone else finds to be extreme is very different from what we think. Death is extreme to us, a fire or a house crumbling to the ground, those are extreme events. To everyone else, either of us breathing is enough to get the damn president to send out the troops.

“Not sure yet, gonna drive around a bit.” I notice my step-brother standing behind my dad glaring at Jisung from over his shoulder. “Oh, Ji didn’t you want to head by that store?”

I take Jisung’s hand in mine and interlock our fingers. Both my father and brother’s eyes lock in on the gesture and they both seem to try and stop themselves from having a visceral reaction, they failed. Jisung catches on quickly and joins in on my little game. “Yeah, I did, they have a huge parking lot and it’s always busy. I thought we could go and put on a show.”

Jisung nudges me suggestively and I genuinely chuckle in response. What makes me laugh harder is my brother, San’s clenched jaw and my dads disgusted yet furious gaze locked on Jisung. I can tell that he’s praying that it’s a joke, praying that he and I aren’t really dating or fucking or anything like that. I’m sure that he would rather be stoned to death than hear me say that Jisung and I are dating. He’s so lucky that we’re not.

“Relax, I’m joking.” Jisung says before opening the front door and placing his hand on the small of my back. “It’s always empty so it’ll be a private show.”

I can’t help the laughter that escapes me as Jisung leads me out of the front door, swiftly closing it behind us. My dad calls after me but we just hurry over to his car like we didn’t hear him. “I’ll take good care of her.” Jisung yells back towards the house before sliding into the front seat and slamming the door closed.

“You’re horrible.” I scoff as I buckle myself in.

“You started it.” He shrugs as he starts his horribly old pick up truck and pulls out of the driveway.

As funny as that was, I know that I’m going to hear an earful later, especially from San, he’d kill Jisung if he could and I know that for a fact. San despises anyone with abilities but he has a special hate for Jisung, he’s gone on endless rants over the years hoping that one day I’d suddenly agree that he’s right and that Jisung is a monster, that day hasn’t come and it never will.

“You grab the beer, I’ll stock up on snacks.” Jisung says as he shuts his car off and steps into the gas station parking lot.

“Roger that.” I coughed a bit before ashing the tip of the blunt we were sharing. I’d be lying if I said that the weed we’ve been smoking for the past fifteen minutes wasn’t starting to get to me. I have a much lower tolerance than Jisung but you would never be able to tell since I’ve mastered the art of hiding it. Doing recreational drugs isn’t exactly welcomed at my house with my father being a part of the city government. Oh, did I forget to mention that my dad is the city attorney? How else do you think that Jisung and I are still walking free after all of the shit we get into. My dad might hate the guy but he’s saved us both more times than I can count.

We waltz into the store and go our separate ways to complete our mission. I head right over to the fridge housing our desired golden liquid and grab two cases, one of my favorite brand and one of Jisung’s. As I’m walking up to the front of the store I hear what sounds like aggravated voices going back and forth, when did that start? It was silent a second ago. As I get closer I realize that it’s the store clerk ranting at a now very aggravated Jisung. Seriously? We just left the house.

“All the stores in the area and this kid had to pick mine. We don’t serve the likes of you here.” Jisung hasn’t said more than two words to the guy since I’ve been standing here. He just lets him go on and on since we’re very used to this type of thing happening. They complain, take our money, complain some more and then we leave.

“If you’d let me pay I can leave.” Jisung states matter of factly as he slaps a twenty on the counter. “ I’ll take those cases too.”

I walk up next to him and place the cases on the counter. “I got this” I slip in front of Jisung and smile at the man behind the counter. He’s pissing me off but he doesn’t have to know that. I often try to intervene before things get too out of hand, especially when Jisung is high. He already has a fairly short temper and for some reason it’s way worse when he’s under the influence.

“This is all, sir.” I say to the clerk as I pick up the twenty and extend my arm towards him.

“You’re with that degenerate? Aren’t you Choi’s daughter?” Closing my eyes tightly I sigh keeping my arm extended towards him. Of course he recognises me, just wonderful. One of the downsides to being the city attorney’s daughter is that almost everyone knows your face. This is why I stopped going to those Godforsaken press conferences. “You’re gonna get yourself killed hanging with him.”

“No, it’s you that’s going to get yourself killed.” Jisung protests as he lifts his hand in that insufferable man’s direction.

“Ji, come on” The clerk behind the counter instantly starts to moan in pain so I assume that he is using his Thermovariance, in other words, he’s boiling his fucking blood. Not enough to kill him, just enough to nearly get a steam rolling.

“Han, seriously, let's just go.” He’s a sucker for me calling him Han, I never understood why but I don’t care as long as it gets me what I want.

He sighs, dropping his hand and rolling his eyes at me. He’s pissed off and I understand that but I’m not trying to build a criminal record at this age, maybe in my late twenties but not now. “Leave the cash, let's go before I empty him.” Placing the money down on the counter I grab some of the snacks and one of the cases of beer and leave the rest for Jisung to grab.

“Have a good night” I called over to the disoriented clerk before getting back into the car.

“I’m way too high for this shit.” Jisung groans as he lights a new blunt before starting the car. He takes a long drag before passing it to me and driving off. We get some ways down the road in comfortable silence before he breaks the barrier.

“Why do you still hang out with me?” I can barely hear his question over the music but he looks at me expectantly anyway. I shrug as I stare forward and focus on the passing streetlights.

“To piss off my dad obviously.” Jisung scoffs, snatching the blunt from me and bringing it to his lips.

“I always knew you were using me.” He shakes his head as he blows a thick stream of smoke through his nose in a deep exhale. “Such a bitch.”

Neither of us can contain our laughter as we fan at the cloud of smoke surrounding us. He may have asked a serious question but he knew that I wouldn’t give him a serious answer. We save the serious stuff for when we’re so stoned that we can hear colors and taste sounds, this is only the beginning.

“If I can’t use you for sex then I might as well use you for something.”

“And why can’t you use me for sex?” He quips back with a light chuckle. My red eyes meet his for a split second before looking down at the blunt that he’s passing me.

“Well first of all that’s disgusting and second of all I’m not trying to have my brother actually kill you. The only reason he hasn’t is because he knows that we’re just playing around.” I lean forward to ash the blunt on the dashboard and open the window to air out the car, the smoke mixed with the obvious sexual tension in here is suffocating.

There wasn’t an ounce of truth to me saying that fucking Jisung would be disgusting and he knows that, we’ve talked about this more than once. He thinks I’m hot which I find hard to believe since I’m not really a reflection of the girls that he likes to date. I’m thick, a lot thicker than anyone he’s ever slept with but he’s gone on several rants about just how much he loves my body so I have no reason to doubt the validity of his statement. Jisung on the other hand is exactly my type, honey skin and soft brown hair with a beautifully toned body and an impossibly tiny waist. He’s unreal and he knows it. Despite his social status there are a slew of women who are dying to piss off their families by having him dick them down in the backseat of his car on any given tuesday. They use him as revenge bait and he knows it but he doesn’t care as long as he gets to nut.

We’ve talked about things that friends normally discuss like when we lost our virginity or how many times we’ve touched ourselves thinking about each other, it’s all water under the bridge for us… I think. The tension between us always builds a bit higher on nights like this, I mean who doesn’t get horny when they’re high right? But on a serious note I can’t fuck Jisung no matter how attracted to him I might be because that would complicate things and he’s the only uncomplicated thing in my life. My dad and step-brother haven’t been the same since we lost my mom five years ago and then a week after that my sister fell to the same fate. My only remaining blood sibling wants nothing to do with any of us and San and I have an intricate relationship to say the least. Sleeping with my best friend would be like setting myself up for failure.

“First of all, that’s rude and second of all your brother loves me.” The teasing tone in his voice fades into a chuckle that prompts an eye roll from me.

“Do you want to kill everyone that you love?” He shrugs and hums lightly before glancing over at me with his eyebrows raised and his lips pulled into a thin line. “Fuck you, Ji.”

He laughs, eyes focused on the nearly empty street in front of him as we stop at a light. “I hope you know that I'd kill him before he kills me.” Jisung glances over at me, his features are cold and serious. I stare back at him, mirroring his expression the best I can before cracking a small smile. “I know where we can hide the body.”

“Fucking maniac.” He scoffs with a smile and I laugh with him. He turns onto the highway and I turn the radio up to a deafening volume.

“Speed up, what’re ya scared?” I reach up and open the sunroof and Jisung watches me as he bops his head to the music. He lets down all of the windows as I stand on my seat and stick my upper half out of the sunroof just as he speeds up. He’s probably going ten over the limit right now but I don’t see any cops around and there are barely any cars on the road. He starts racing imaginary cars, weaving between lanes and effectively throwing me side to side as I try to enjoy the night breeze. This has been my thing since I was a kid, my mom would let me stand in the car as my dad sped down the highway, she’d let me climb onto the middle console and stick my arms up out of the sunroof while she held me in place. It was dangerous but it was so much fun, so freeing.

The vibration of the bass shook the car as it glided down the highway. My skirt blew in the wind rushing through the window as Jisung sped up bit by bit. Suddenly, I feel warmth on my thigh and all of my concentration goes to that spot. Jisung’s fingers trail up my leg and caress the skin peaking out in the diamonds of my fishnet stockings. Though he and I agree that we could never fuck each other the bond that we foster isn’t exactly conventional. We like to touch each other, he’ll rub my thigh or hold me from behind casually and I reciprocate his actions on a regular basis. This is our normal, the part that’s new to me is the slow trail that his hand is making towards my heat. I can hear him singing the song on the radio as he speeds up just a bit more, probably hitting 85 in the 60 by now. His hand continues up my thigh, moving to the side to trace the curve of my hip.

“Fuck.” I hear him exasperate as I process the sound of police sirens behind us. I crawl back down into my seat and put my seatbelt on. We turn down the music completely and pull over to the shoulder of the highway. I reach into the glove compartment and hand Jisung his registration and we both take our licenses and ability identification cards and place them on the dashboard along with our open hands. When you get pulled over with an abilities like ours, some officers like to try and get a reaction out of you. The last time we got pulled over I was the only thing stopping Jisung from literally killing the officer that decided to get handsy with him.

The officer approaches the window like a snail crossing the street and we both sigh. We exchange knowing looks and I start silently praying to myself, please don’t let this man be an asshole. Once he reaches the window he looks us both over before silently reaching into the car to grab Jisung’s identification and registration “How are you doing tonight, kids.” He checks the registration then his License and lastly his ability card. Jisung and I opt to stay quiet and offer no more than a meek nod in his direction.

“What are you two doing out tonight?” The officer asks as he shines his flashlight in Jisung’s face. His eyes trail up and down Ji’s frame, sizing him up.

“We’re going on a date.” Jisung shrugs as he makes eye contact with the officer.

“A date, huh? Where to?”

“Well, sir, I’m trying to surprise my lovely girlfriend here so if it’s alright with you, I'll keep that to myself.” He smiles up at the officer teasingly. The less he knows the better.

“I see.”

“May I ask why we were stopped? Are we getting a ticket?”

“You were going twenty over the speed limit, I’ll let you love birds off with a warning this time.” The officer pauses before looking over at me. “ I’ll warn you especially ma’am, be careful with this kid he’s dangerous.”

Satisfied with himself, the officer smiles down at the irritated man in the driver's seat. “You two be careful alright? There was some commotion over at the gas station some ways from here. You two wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would ya?” the officer drops all of the collected information into Ji’s lap as he looks between us.

“Not at all, if we hear anything we’ll be sure to call the station.” I didn’t plan on lying to a cop tonight but I guess this is fine. He looks between us clearly trying to spook us but we’re unfazed, it’s gonna take a lot more than staring behind some black out shades to intimidate us.

“Alright, well then I’ll let you kids go, have a good night.” He starts to walk away but doubles back suddenly, bending down to the window. “And try to sober up a bit before heading home.”

He stalks away again, quicker than when he came and Jisung and I do our best not to laugh. “That was fucking close, is it that obvious that we’re stoned?”

I can’t help the laugh that erupts from my throat as I stuff my ID back into my wallet. Jisung stares at me in confusion as he mimics my actions.

“Dude, we have two cases of beer in the backseat and we literally hot boxed your car a couple of minutes ago. We smell like a dispensary and your eyes are glowing red.” He hurriedly looks into the rearview mirror and examines his appearance.

“ Fuck, you’re right.” He fixes the mirror and sighs, we sit in silence for a bit before he speaks up. “Can you pass me the eyedrops out of the glove compartment?”

“Yeah, sure.” I start searching through the glove compartment but I stop when a waft of smoke floats in my direction. I side eye Jisung as he takes a small drag of the blunt and blows it out of the window.

“Want a hit?” He offers me the blunt with raised brows and I scoff before continuing my search.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Which one is your favorite?” I ask Jisung as I raise my beer bottle to my lips. After some more aimless driving we ended up going to our favorite spot in some woods just outside of town. It’s the perfect spot for us to be left alone with our antics. We turn the car radio up and rotate between laying in the pick up bed of his car and sitting on a huge rock that we’ve claimed as our own. Right now the blankets spread out in the back of his pick up are way too cozy and inviting to pass up on since it’s gotten a bit chilly out.

“Which what?”

“Which part of your ability?” He looks over at me with a slight blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. He takes a swig of his beer and swiftly follows with a drag of our third shared blunt. I suggested that we stop a long time ago but Jisung insisted on pushing the limits tonight. I’m pretty fucked up from the cross fade of weed and alcohol but I’ll never admit that and I wont have to because the rosy blush on my caramel skin is a dead giveaway.

“Why do you want to know?” A shy laugh slips from his lips and I shrug, it’s just a question why is he getting shy?

“Curious, If you tell me yours I’ll tell you mine.”

“I like that I can control blood flow, it comes in handy.” With furrowed brows I take a swig of my drink while racking my brain trying to figure out how such a thing could be useful.

“How so?”

“Ahh.. that, my dear, is something I’d have to show you and I don’t think you want me to show you what I use that for.” He explains turning to me slightly. I mimic his movements turning my body to him and giving him my full attention.

“Show me.”

“Seriously, I don’t think - “

“What’re ya scared? I thought the Amazing- Bloodbending- Han Jisung wasn’t scared of anything?” My teasing seemed to get to him just a bit, so naturally I continued. “The Jisung that I’m always hearing about is some confident, daring and dangerous man who isn't scared of anything.”

“Fuck it.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me closer to him so that he can put his arm around me. He moves to put his beer down and free his other hand while I watch him in confusion.

“What are you-” He rolls his eyes, turning back to face me.

“You begged for it and now you want to back out? What’re ya scared?” He mocks my previous question and now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“Shut up, I’m just confused.”

“Trust me, bubs.” He looks me over slowly, too slowly. What's going on here? “Have I ever hurt you before? Okay, wait, don't answer that. Have I ever hurt you on purpose?” With a slight laugh I shake my head.

“Then relax and let me know if you get uncomfortable.” Without another word from either of us and some rock indie rock song blasting on the radio Jisung takes a deep breath and rubs his fingers together. He then lightly touches my knee and guides my legs apart. I furrow my brows again before he places the palm of his hand over my pelvic bone and I start to feel a euphoric rush in my stomach and legs. The feeling works its way up and down to fill every inch of my body. My core starts to pulse and drip as Jisung watches me closely with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“W- what are you -”

“I increased blood flow to your… you know. It’s like an instant turn on.” The air around me feels thick and I find myself fighting the urge to whine at the building pressure, am I about to… no way, I can’t cum from this. Impossible. “This is my favorite part of my ability.” A shy smile crosses his blushed lips and I can’t help but to stare at them. I always stare but never when he can catch me, I always wonder how they’d feel against my lips and skin. I’ve always wanted to taste them. Woah, what the fuck? No, I can’t think things like that, not about him.

“Okay, cool you c-can stop now.” His eyes stare down at me with a heated gaze, boring holes into my skin. His eyes switch focus between my eyes and my lips as he reluctantly moves his hand. I sigh in relief as I feel my body start to cool down but it’s not enough, I still feel the blistering heat of need crawling under my skin. Fuck, why did he have to show me that? It’s bad enough that we’re out here ten minutes to midnight while I’m in a skimpy skirt and he’s in a tight black tank top. He let me borrow his jacket when the wind picked up and now I want nothing more than to give it back to maybe extinguish these hot and disgusting thoughts running through my head.

“Remember our deal about not fucking?” I stare up at him, wide eyed and feeling vulnerable. “What does that apply to?”

“What do you… what do you mean?” Suddenly it feels like he never even moved his hand. My body feels hot all over again and I can feel myself clench around nothing desperately.

“I mean I just... Fuck.” He pauses as he takes a second to help me sit up and he picks up his drink and takes a long swig. That was definitely a courage shot, what the hell is he about to say? “I mean.. you have no idea how much I think about just… corrupting you. Manipulating your body, I’ve wanted to do that trick to you since I discovered it.”

A small chuckle escapes him as he looks over at me trying to gauge my reaction.

“Ji, you know why we agreed to that. Sex leads to complicated relationships or dating or whatever and I can’t do that with you. I can’t risk losing you too.”

“You wouldn’t.” Jisung's response is nearly a whisper, a desperate plea that came out weaker than he expected. “If we’re together then you’ve got me for life, bubs. You’re my best friend, nothing could ever change that. You’re the only person who doesn’t see me as a monster.”

Now it’s my turn to take a courage shot. I down the rest of my drink, avoiding eye contact like it could kill me. “I get it, you wanna fuck me, you don’t have to butter me up to get in my pants.”

“Hey hey hey, this is about way more than that. I don’t just want to fuck you, you’re so much more than a stupid notch in my belt. I want to be with you. I’ve wanted that for so long and you’ve wanted it too. I know you do. I see the way you look at me all the time, when I stay over at your place and we’re sleeping together and when I’m driving and you think that I don’t notice. You stare at me just like I stare at you, you have that same longing in your eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He’s serious now, his tone is firm and it adds an extra beat to my already hammering heart. How does he know all of that? How long has it been since he’s noticed?

“Jisung, I don't have feelings for you. You’re hot, that's it.” I’m lying. I’m lying through my fucking teeth and he knows it. I’m a shit liar when I’m faded.

“Then let me kiss you.” He finishes his drink and puts his bottle to the side all while looking straight at me. “If I’m nothing more than your hot best friend, let me kiss you. If you pull away then you’re telling the truth but if you don’t then you feel the same way that I do.”

“I’m not doing that.” My eyes fall to his converse and I take a shaky inhale. There’s no way that this is happening, what is he thinking?

“You are.” He sounds like he’s pleading again, his words are careful but he means them, oh gosh. He leans forward, placing the bend of his pointer finger under my chin and lifting my head until my gaze meets his. “I’m sick of us pretending” He whispers, his voice full of emotion. I can’t look away, my heart is pounding in my chest and I take a deep breath. His other hand reaches for mine, taking it and pressing chaste kisses to my knuckles. His eyes squeeze shut with each kiss and I can’t help but to take in the sight of him, his features softened by emotion, his emotions for me. I let out a shaky breath and whisper back.

"Han, we shouldn’t."

“Why not?” His eyes are still closed and he squeezes my hand as his lips move against the back of it. “I know you better than anyone on this earth. I love you more than anyone in this universe, you love me too, I know you do. What are you afraid of?”

“I told you, I can’t lose you.” My voice sounds more strained than I anticipated but I ignore it, it’s a reflection of how I feel. A verbal representation of the hurricane in my chest.

“If you’re so afraid to lose me then why won’t you be mine? Why won’t you let me have you?”

“Ji, stop it.” He drops the hand that he was kissing and moves his other hand to completely cup my cheek. We’re so close that his exhales are my inhales and I swear I can hear his heart pounding from here or maybe that’s mine.

“Let me kiss you.”

“Jisung” His name is merely a whisper as I exhale.

“Let me.” He whispers back and the sweet sound of his voice rings in my ears.

“Han.” I inhale the scent of him but it’s not the same, it's desperate, but it’s sweet. Much sweeter than usual.

“I’m going to kiss you.” He closes the gap between us and I hold my breath. His lips touch mine and the heat that I was feeling earlier multiplies with a spark of burning desire. He’s kissing me. My best friend is kissing me and only one word comes to mind. Perfect, this moment is perfect, he is perfect and I desperately don’t want him to be. His lips move against mine slowly, passionately, and I almost feel like I’m floating. I thought that I’d feel panic. I thought that I’d be scared but I’m not, he was right. Fuck it.

I sigh into the kiss as I melt into his touch, his fingers caress my cheek softly as I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me. His other hand rests on my hip, squeezing lightly and guiding me forward to straddle his lap. I climb onto him as I savor his taste. There's hints of beer and the blunt we shared but there’s a sweetness to it, it’s something that I can only describe as being him. It’s Jisung that I taste and he’s flooding my senses.

“I knew it.” He whispers against my lips before pressing me back into a hungry kiss. Our lips abuse each other relentlessly as they move in tandem. I can’t seem to control the small whines that escape me but I don’t mind because each one of my whines is matched with a desperate groan from Jisung.

“Be mine.” He whispers into my mouth and I sigh, content at the sound of it. He wants me, he wants to be with me… but what if I lose him?

“Ji.” I whisper back, trying my best to pull away but he holds me there. His hand on my cheek kept my lips on his. “Jisung” I lightly push at his chest, I can’t do this. We can’t do this. What if everything goes wrong? What if I lose him too? “Han.”

He stops, pulling away with heavy breath and dilated pupils. His blushed lips are more red than usual and he dips his tongue out to lick them quickly as he stares up at me.

“I can’t…” There’s a hoarse scratch to my voice as I stare back at him. “I can’t lose… we can’t do this.”

“We just did.”

104 notes · View notes

koala-confessions · 1 month

Text

Introductions

I have always been an over achiever. A perfectionist if you will. Raised by a drug addict mother and an equally addicted but absent father, I was surprisingly well adjusted. I graduated at 16, became a supervising CNA before I was 18, got married, had a baby, got divorced, got married again, had 2 more, got divorced. Got into an awful abusive relationship where I literally fought for my life. Left him at 33.

I spent a whole year single and for the first time, learned who I was. What my hobbies were, my likes and dislikes, my own values and morals. At the end of that year, I was rewarded with David. I fell hard and fast for this beautiful man who taught me what love was. I found it. the secret to happiness and life. I was madly in love. Our relationship was so strong. There was only one thing stronger than our love for each other. His love for heroin. My healthiest, happiest relationship was with a heroin addict. In his chase for heroin and my chase to keep him safe from himself, I found myself doing things I'd never thought I would do. We stole with abandon. We took care of his addiction and our family at any cost. My morals fell away. I also fell in love with meth.

In my head, I was a functioning addict, we still took care of and spent time with the kids. We paid our bills, even if the money was dirty. We were in love. Crazy in love. I didn't need anyone else ever. As long as I had David.

We were married New Year's Eve 2020. I was just getting over COVID. It was the happiest day of my life. I don't recall all my vows but I know that I said, " I know that I have trouble deciding on everything, and it is a pet peeve of yours. That is why we are late to EVERYTHING and have dinner at 1 in the morning. But I have never, in my life, been more sure of anything, than that I want to spend it with you."

Those words still echo in my mind today. They echoed the loudest March 08, 2021 when he was gunned down by the police in front of my then 7 year old son while he screamed for his dad. It was all very public. My grief. He was villainized in the worst possible ways. Attacked on all ends. Reporters, ignorant people, filled my messenger inbox. Our wedding pictures stolen from my facebook, nothing was private, everything was on display.

A few days later I found his other love heroin. She comforted me for a long time. I also fell in love with the syringe. Then my morals fell away. My kids took a back burner. Everything took a backburner to the numbness I craved more than anything. Anything to escape the pain. Suicide, I tried twice. I fucked that up too. I watched as my humanity and my life, everything I was, everything I worked for fell away. The felonies built.

Fast forward 3 short years, I am a 4 time felon fresh out of jail on my last chance. I am fighting to get my kids back. Blessedly, they have loved me unconditionally through it all and I only lost them recently. They will be home in a few short months. I am in Las Vegas in a program called drug court. I was just released Valentine's Day 2024. I spent 110 days in the local jail CCDC fighting for this opportunity, to spare me from prison. It is said, CCDC stands for Cant Complete Drug Court instead of Clark County Detention Center, and the odds are certainly stacked against me. 6% of participants complete the rigorous program. I was released to Crossroads, a rehabilitation program and stay at Koala house, a transitional living where around 150 men and women also live although only about 15 of us are court ordered. I attend class 3 days a week, 3 hours a day. i have a judge I see weekly, I have a court coordinator I ask permission for everything, I attend meetings daily, I drug test randomly at ATI and have an ankle bracelet called SCRAM and an officer I have to alert of my movements. I have a probation officer and a therapist. I have a case manager and will soon start paralegal school and a job. I am not allowed to do anything or go anywhere that doesn't involve one of these things except for 3 hours Saturday morning when I am allowed to grocery shop. The program is not meant to be easy. It is meant to set you up for success, if you want it. You have to want it bad. I also have a sponsor and am working the steps.

I fast forwarded through my entire life which I am writing a book about. I want this blog to reflect the inner workings of my mind on my journey to healing, growth, insight and recovery. I don't care how many people read or don't, but for those that do maybe they will find insight or gain courage through my words. I want an ever lasting memory of this journey which may be my hardest one yet.

So, I will publicly post my inner most thoughts and struggles, my daily journaling. My insights on my path to self discovery and recovery. Here it goes.

#recovery #AA #NA #self love #self care #SELF DISCOVERY #HEALING #mental health #MENTAL ILLNESS #DRUG ADDICTION #GRIEF #COPING

2 notes · View notes

thebreakfastgenie · 4 months

Text

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Tagged by @quordleona03! I think everyone I would tag has been tagged so if you want to do it consider yourself tagged and tag me so I can see it!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

89,648

3. What fandoms do you write for?

MASH, The West Wing, Star Trek TOS

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

'Til Death (Un)does Us Part The Wideness of the World Expenses hills like white elephants Fortune Cookie Wisdom

5. Do you respond to comments?

I like to and I try to but I get overwhelmed so sometimes I don't manage to do it. Positive feedback makes me extremely anxious so it's hard sometimes (I love it, don't get me wrong, but I get itchy).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Downpour

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably reconciliation

8. Do you get hate on fics? I never have! I never even get negative comments, although I totally welcome critical comments. I never got hate in the fanfiction.net era, either. I've been fortunate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't, but I would like to start! I think I want to start with m/f, even though the experience I have to draw on is f/f, but ultimately I want to do it all. I'm starting with more vanilla stuff, because I'm not so much interested in writing erotica as I am in being able to depict sex in prose. I'm open to writing kinkier stuff eventually but for now I'm just trying to add a tool (hehe) to my writer's toolbox.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I wrote one once; it was actually the first fic I posted, and it was an Ace Attorney/NCIS crossover. I was in middle school. It's still out there but I will not be linking it. I like crossovers but it's very hard to make them work, so I mostly play around with them in silly posts and bullet points, not full fics.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I would be honored if someone did translate one.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I don't think so! I've co-developed ideas with friends but it's always one of us ultimately writing it. I don't know how good at co-writing I would be because I'm a perfectionist control freak and also very slow.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Fic wise, probably Kirk/Spock. There are other ships I love a lot and outside a fic context I'm not sure I could ever pick, but I actually write very few ships and I think Kirk/Spock is the One. Runner up would be the Doctor/Rose Tyler, I wrote them once and I have fic-y feelings about them. I've never read or written them because I don't do fandom for this series but Indiana Jones/Marion Ravenwood have had my heart since I was twelve and I'd sell most of my ships for them. Also House/Cuddy is a ship of all time but I don't really like any House fic. I love CJ/Danny and Josh/Donna as well as some other West Wing ships but they're not the main attraction to me and most of the fic I write does not focus on them.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I was planning to write more of The Wideness of the World and at this point I doubt I'll write Hamilton fic again but I had some really good ideas and I like that fic enough that it bugs me. Still, it stands fine as it is.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, characterization, restraint, attention to detail. Hopefully pacing, I'm very aware of it but I don't know if I'm successful enough for it to be a strength. I'm playing a lot with structure and literary devices right now but I'm not sure they count as a strength yet. I guess willingness to experiment is the strength.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action, description, sex. Sex is the worst because it's action involving body parts we have stupid words for. Being slow, horrible writer's block because I'm too much of a perfectionist to write a rough draft.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

It's very, very hard to do well. I think in most fic cases, either the POV character knows what's being said and you can just write it in English (or whatever language the rest is in) or the POV character can't understand it and you can just say "they were speaking x language and they didn't understand." If I felt I really needed to include dialogue in another language I'd find someone who could help me translate and credit them.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

NCIS

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

The Emergency Room but if I actually manage to finish my time loop WIP....

6 notes · View notes

danpuff-ao3 · 1 year

Text

More Adventures in Bookbinding

My Aries Mercury + Mars really does a gal no favors

Being both a perfectionist but also stubborn + impulsive?? A nightmare.

Following instructions is wise but why be wise when you just know you can figure it out?

Many faux leather sheets and much glue was lost to the cause

I stabbed my finger with my utility knife because of course I did

Eddie was like "yeah I was worried about getting that for you."

(Sir, I am GRACEFUL, DELICATE, WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNEW --)

Measuring stuff is the worst, but that's because my brain really hates numbers. The actual math portion is Big Suck. Thank god for Google home who can answer all of my questions when I'm sitting in the middle of chaos, covered in glue, and have lost my phone.

Oh yeah my house is chaos. RIP my super nice and pretty office space, hello madness.

I did however find the white fold up table I knew we had but couldn't find for days. My next project I'm doing on that instead of my desk + cube organizers. And my lap desk. And a stool.

My paper cutter/guillotine has been living in my kitchen because while it technically fits beside my printer, it's best used standing, and I have the best height at the kitchen counter. Hopefully the fold out table will work for this but we shall see.

My "first" technically bound book is done, but it hurts me to call it the first, so I'm calling it the test run. But for the sake of transparency I'm saying "hey I did all steps but I don't want to count this one, please and thank you."

Now it is being used as a way for me to test putting a title on the cover via stencils made with my Cricut + dye markers. So far not so good, but I'm getting closer!

Oh yeah and faux leather? Not the best place to start. It's like I decided to learn a new hobby on hard mode. But on the plus side maybe this means I'll get the hard part out of the way and have an easier time with other fabrics? If I choose to use them because really, I probably spoiled myself with the idea of leather bound books.

That is the reason my tester copy turned out as bad as it did. By the end I was so desperate to get the leather to stick AND have the case fit the text block, that I went overboard and cut my chipboard too wide. Oops.

First rounds with the case (following a tutorial), the cover was a teensy bit too short.

Then by the end I was fighting too hard with the leather to care about much else.

I'd probably be happier with the test run if my measurements hadn't been so off.

Also...wax paper??? I wish someone had told me about wax paper sooner. Now I'm not getting everything stuck with glue.

I'm going to have to buy TWO boxes of wax paper today. One for baking and one for crafting.

I am really bad at gauging how even things are. I think that's ruled by the same bit of my brain as Math Hatred. Further hindered by overthinking and perfectionism. (Nothing is ever straight/even enough 😭)

Oh remember how the first copy is the "test run"? I decided the smart thing to do was to after one failure do two at a time. (Not actually smart, but ah well.)

Current stage: waiting for the leather to dry along the top/bottom edges of the chipboard. Then I get to do it all over again with the side edges.

With luck I'll have measured everything properly this time but we shall see.

Oh yeah: the multiple sources recommending waxed thread?? Bad idea. Or at least buying pre-waxed thread was a bad idea. That stuff is THICK. Easy to work with, but THICK and not pretty at all.

Round 2 I used regular thread and double threaded my needle. Less easy but a better result all around.

On that note: stitching the signatures is my FAVORITE part??

Also poking the holes. Poking holes in paper is very satisfying.

Stitching the text block is very therapeutic. Just me on my couch watching true crime videos and stitching signatures together. A great time was had.

Also, minor complaint, I got leather sheets in a variety pack. Bad idea. One won't fit everything the right way. I ended up having to glue my chipboard to two sheets but the "matching shades" are slightly off from each pack. Most noticeable and horrifying with the white leather. 😭 Will be getting proper rolls next time.

Also new hobby has confirmed that my partner is 100% into my obsessive nature.

100% Eddie is very affectionate when I'm hyper focused on writing, and also when hyper focused on binding. Causes mild annoyance at the disruption, but I choose to be happy about it.

Like hell yes my partner fully appreciates me in my element and is super into me being super into what I love. Like...isn't that precious?? I can put up with disruptions to be loved for doing what I love.

Also: when I stabbed myself with my utility knife? Eddie didn't get home until after I went to bed. So when I woke up due to my finger throbbing, he was in his office unwinding after work. And I was high on sleeping meds and exhausted from a long day of working hard. So I just sorta shuffled all zombie-like into his office and held up my bandaged finger. He very quickly deduced what happened, jumped to attention, examined my wound, re-bandaged it, fed me pain meds, and tucked me back into bed. This probably matters not a wit to you but I adore this man with my whole heart and as I was already gushing about him...why not gush more?

Hopefully my next update will have a success story, but y'know...one thing at a time!

#danpuff stuff #bookbinding #fanbinding #busy bee bindery #should have called it CHAOS BINDERY #or “aries fucks my life up” bindery

10 notes · View notes

rubbersoles19 · 11 months

Note

What are the worst fears of the main characters in 7 AM EST?

I wonder if it's too cliche to say they all fear losing their family....

These questions are always so hard for me. I know that every character is motivated by their want and their centers, so their fears should reflect that, but living breathing humans aren't usually motivated all the time by fear, it's a reaction, not an emotion.

So yes, Drake, Diver, and Gosalyn all fear letting their family down and losing them, and are motivated to not do that or let that happen, but is that their biggest fears? Does a more concrete fear, like fear of clowns, count?

I know Gosalyn is afraid of being labeled something bad, like "problem child," "orphan," "trouble maker," "delinquent," stuff like that. We saw that most obviously in Studio, but it also was part of her motivation in Gosalyn Eternal to try so hard at making the movie well. Maybe that fear comes from the fact that one way or another she's always been abandoned by her family, or has been labeled in ways she can't ever get rid of.

Drake has control issues. He's always been a perfectionist, but that probably stems from his fear of being a failure, which evolved over his life. When he was young, he needed to control his reputation so no one knew what a mess the Mallards were, when he was an adult it was so everyone knew how great he was, and after Gosalyn is was so he could make sure no one hurt him, his family, or friends again.

Diver is..... Significantly more complicated. I guess at the end of the day he fears being alone - as in being abandoned, not as in he can't stand doing things by himself. Diver grew up in a household with extremely absent parents (physically and emotionally), then in high school Drake kicked him to the curb, Drake left for college immediately after high school, their parents died while he was gone, and then, you know, Drake became the World's Worst Boss only to turn around and leave again. Everyone knows Diver trusts too easily and is far too loyal, and has lost pretty much all the fear of anything happening to him (dying will do that to a guy). So that leaves him in a compromised position emotionally, and we'll see just what that position got him into later on in The Masked Mallard...

#rubbersoles19 #7 am est #krueger4eva

6 notes · View notes

reginarubie · 2 years

Note

Hi, i had no idea you took prompts. I got all excited but I wasn't sure if I should send any since I don't want to overwhelmed you. With you balancing real life responsibilities and maintaining a social life, writing plus making metas. Do you have time to idk breathe?

I can not stress this enough but write at your own pace, no matter how needy we are I'm worried we'd burn you out.

Ciao anon!,

First of all...

Your message is so genuinely sweet that I swear it has taken a couple of months off my shoulders. Thank you for worrying about me, I appreciate it beyond what words can say.

While yes, I've commented on how I do feel a bit burned out lately (and I cannot stress enough how caring it is that you either guessed it or remembered I had commented on it), it's mostly related to work, and actually writing is a good way to vent and relax.

I'll own that balancing real life expectations and responsibilities, with writing metas and stories as well as maintaining a social life can be challenging, but let me reassure you I've not been taking it too far.

Usually I would update once, sometimes twice a day — I finished my first Jonsa fic (43 chapters long) in a bit over two months updating almost once a day, so I'm usually much faster than I am being right now — but since I've been balancing all of the above and also caring for my emotional and physical wellbeing I've slowed down considerably on my update schedule.

On the same matter, you might have seen I had quite the list of metas cooking in the pot, yet I've not even posted the second part of the Jonsa mythology series, because I am taking it at my own pace, slow if necessary, instead of throwing myself in a research spree to get out the content I had planned necessarily on a deadline that doesn't exist.

So don't worry you aren't burning me out, on the contrary seeing how many people enjoy my writing, ask for more, are interested in the writing process I go through and on my wellbeing in general is actually extremely, not only appreciated, but fuel for my energy. It makes me feel good to know how many people enjoy my metas, my stories and take their time to let me know, to — even through the net — take into consideration my wellbeing

Of course, there are times in which I get frustrated with a particular chapter, or plot-point that I can't seem the write right or fast enough, (I am a perfectionist and an over-achiever, my bad) I'm learning to not push through as I usually do on very important matters and just trust the process and take more time if needed; and I cannot stress enough how healing it is to hear someone, even a stranger online, tell you to take care of yourself and just go my own pace; so your message really did make me feel both seen and loved. So thank you, virtually know that I am hugging you silly.

In any case, if you want to send prompts (even if they aren't Jonsa related, I love the challenge), or are curious about anything, don't feel pressured not to because you are afraid you might overwhelm me, I promise to not overexert myself just to follow a pace that doesn't match my own in this moment. I enjoy seeing and reading of other people theories, if they match mine, what they think of my stories and I really enjoy when I see you all want more!

Worst case scenario, I will disappear from the net for a few months until I feel up to write again — just ask the readers and followers of Song of the Dragons which I started years ago, (my first ever fic that is a complete rewrite of the series with fAegon reaching the North at the beginning of AGOT and finding his hidden half-sister, femJon Snow with whom he falls in love in true Targ fashion and the way having a family might heal Daenerys' trauma and scars) they may get a series of updates in fast succession and then nothing for up to a year (they are really way too patient with me!); though seeing you all asking for more, theorizing and commenting on my works will make me feel better even when I am on hiatus.

Most probable case scenario, the prompt or ask might sit in my ask box with several others I haven't had the energy to reply to yet, since I like to do my things throughout and I'd rather wait to give a satisfactory reply than writing down an hasty one.

Best case scenario? I'll just keep being inspired and write at my own pace of the moment :D

Again, thank you so much for your concern and for taking the time to actually show it!

Hope you have a day as awesome as you are!

#ask the hag #anon asks

4 notes · View notes

thornfield13713 · 2 years

Note

Dick Grayson and Merrill Dragon Age, for the character ask meme?

Dick Grayson

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

best quality: Objectively? Dick is really, really good at people. Like- Even leaving aside that he's funny and charming, he's been described as the linchpin of not just the Batfamily, but the entire superhero community. He's a really good leader and big-brother-mentor figure, he's great at staying friends with people and keeping a community together. He's astonishingly multi-talented, sure, but his people skills are really phenomenal, and I always get distressed when a piece of media doesn't give him his due in this area in particular.

worst quality: I mean...the thing is, Dick isn't long on what you'd call fatal flaws. A lot of writing outside the Bat-books tends to portray him as sharing Bruce's issue with being excessively driven, perfectionistic and manipulative, but that's rarely to be seen in the Bat-books...granted, often because the rest of the family are worse about it than he is. I'd honestly call this an issue from a writing perspective, because I haven't read many stories that give Dick a distinct fatal flaw of his own that works with his broader characterisation. Yes, okay, this is an issue with comics in general and the nature of having so many writers at the table at once, but...yeah, can't really think of a consistent 'worst quality' for Dick that isn't a writer trying to give him Bruce's failings in a toned-down form to a degree we don't see in Batfamily books.

ship them with: Barbara Gordon. Not that I don't love Starfire dearly, but Dick and Babs are just...they just work for me, and I eternally regret that the 'no Batfamily member can ever have a happy personal life' rule keeps keeping them apart.

brotp them with: Wally West. They just...work. I enjoy their dynamic, they play off each other well...kinda wish more adaptations put this front and centre the way Young Justice did, honestly.

needs to stay away from: Tarantula, Mirage, Deathstroke - basically anyone with molester vibes or who has actually sexually assaulted him.

misc. thoughts: I love Dick as a character, but he often reads as a very different person based on who he's with, and not in the same way anyone's behaviour changes in company. Like, in the Batfamily books, he's often the most emotionally balanced person in the room, the one who has his shit together. In his own books, this is less the case, and in team books, he often ends up as Bats' junior counterpart, with all the attendant issues, which goes against his characterisation of being the best leader/people person in the DCU by bringing in the Batman tendency to manipulate people and use them as pawns. Like, I'm not saying these qualities are mutually exclusive, but writers don't often do the work of reconciling how all of these qualities can coexist, which leads to a somewhat jarring feeling when following Dick's career.

Merrill

hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

best quality: Merrill is one of the smartest people in Thedas. I am not even kidding. She managed to purge an Eluvian of the Blight, something we never hear of anyone else ever being able to do. Sure, she used blood magic and demonic help, but the fact remains that this is an astonishing achievement, and she did it on the move, in the face of the disapproval of her whole community. Merrill is one of the most brilliant people in the whole series, and it is a crime she wasn’t the Inquisition’s Eluvian expert.

worst quality: She does have a bit of a tendency to hyperfocus on Dalish issues. Which is very fair, the Dalish are facing an absolutely awful situation, but she is shown to disregard city elves, and to harbour some prejudices against elf-blooded people that are never fully unpacked. However, unlike basically every other character in DA2, she is allowed to grow through this and ends up working to protect the alienage community, so...still head and shoulders ahead of everyone else.

ship them with: Both Isabela and Bethany Hawke. Isabela is her canonical best friend, and one of the few people to be absolutely and entirely supportive of Merrill throughout the game. Bethany...well, despite the game claiming they don't get on, this is never really borne out in banter or cutscenes - Merrill is even one of the few people able to get Bethany to admit that there are things she might want more than to get to live as a non-mage and thus not have to hide all the time - and honestly I just think they'd be cute together.

brotp them with: I just really, really need her to meet and befriend Sigrun from Awakening. They’re both cheerful, sweet, friendly and often treated as immature for it by the fandom despite being grown adults with worldy experience, they both like learning about the world and are fairly open-minded, and I think they’d get along very well and have very interesting conversations.

needs to stay away from: Until they both do a lot of working on themselves and their biases and stop taking their shit out on Merrill, Fenris and Anders. I do think they are capable of this sort of personal growth, to be clear, but until they actually get there and engage in it, I do not want either of them near Merrill and prefer to avoid having them in the same party because some of their banters with her are just vile.

misc. thoughts: I love Merrill. I adore her. And I absolutely hate that the wider fandom often treats her like a child or an idiot when she’s one of the cleverest, most determined and most misunderstood characters in the whole series. She also absolutely deserved that ‘eluvian expert’ spot, and I would have absolutely loved to see her again. Not that it wasn’t nice to see Morrigan again, but her portrayal in Inquisition did make it a lot harder to like her, given her approach to elven issues.

#dragon age #batman #nightwing #dick grayson #merrill

2 notes · View notes

workscounselingcenter · 2 months

Text

Finding Harmony In and Out of Work

Have you ever stayed at work after hours because you have to answer all your emails before feeling like you can leave? Do you bring work home to do on the couch while watching The Bachelor? Have you ever found yourself saying yes to everything that is asked of you, even if it causes you to feel very overwhelmed? I can certainly say yes to all of these things, and I don’t like to assume, but I can imagine you said yes to all of those questions too. It is common to hear about people bringing work home with them. To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I heard someone say that once they leave the office, work is out of sight and out of mind. If you are someone that struggles to find work life balance, I hope this blog post finds you. As someone who is in the process of cultivating a healthy work life balance, these are some of the key points that I have found helpful.

Set Clear Boundaries and Stick to Them

I am sure whoever is reading this is saying, “Well duh, that’s a given.” You’d be surprised by the amount of times I have set work boundaries, only to ignore them when I actually need to be sticking to them if I want to avoid curling up into a ball of stress. These boundaries can look like defining your work hours and sticking to them, dedicating time to have a lunch break so that you are nourishing your mind and body during the work day, or communicating with your boss/colleagues regarding your workload capacity. These examples are each important in their own way. When the clock strikes 5:00 pm, you should be shutting down your laptop and heading out the door. When your stomach is grumbling, it might be time to take your lunch break. Don’t worry, the email you were about to send can wait an hour! If you are struggling to find available hours to provide support to new clients, it may be a good idea to communicate to your boss that you need to pause taking on any new work. For all my perfectionists and achievers out there, I promise that you will still be your best work self, even when setting these boundaries.

Shutdown Work Applications

It’s the weekend, time to put your work phone on do not disturb! Those glorious two days we have to rest should not be interrupted by the ping of a new email or a notification reminder about an upcoming meeting the upcoming week. I found that silencing notifications or resisting opening apps that my workplace uses creates a separation between work and personal life. If you are going on a vacation and are going to be out of office for a week, you can go as far as deleting the apps off your phone. They will still be there for you to redownload when you get back! If you don’t want people to think you fell off the face of the earth, you can always set up an out of office email response. I bet you will notice your screen time is going down after a few weeks of implementing this into your work life balance routine!

Learn to Say No

This key point goes out to all my fellow people pleasers. Does the idea of saying no to work things make you want to shrivel up inside? Me too. However, it is time for us to start learning to say no when it’s just not in the cards. Check in with yourself and notice when you are getting overwhelmed with your workload. It is okay to decline additional work when you are at your workload capacity. It’s going to be uncomfortable. You may feel like you are letting people down and getting the worst employee of the year. Let me be the one to tell you, you aren’t letting people down and you are not getting the worst employee of the year. I don’t even think that award exists! You can still excel in your job and be an attribute to your workplace, even when you aren’t constantly taking on a new task. I know it is going to be hard to say no but practice makes progress!

Get the help you need.

#Harmony #Self Help #Work

0 notes

missgeniality · 3 years

Text

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

2K notes · View notes

violettelueur · 3 years

Text

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || HIS LITTLE SONGBIRD

| featuring : ryōmen sukuna ft. itadori yuji and fushiguro megumi from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors and light mention of alcohol

| form : imagine (with she/her pronouns)

| word count : 2411

| published : 02 december

| request : I just finished reading Sukuna with so who good at singing and I love it❤️ After reading this, it makes me think of another possibility for reincarnation au. What if the so got reincarnated but instead of Sukuna actually met them in person, he found out that the so is now a famous singer, so their songs can be heard all over japan. Itadori went a store and their song was played which Sukuna realized it was his little song bird’s voice

| barista’s notes : hi hi guys~ sorry for the really late update today and that is because i fell asleep the second i got back home from school ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ classic barista violettelueur and what makes it lowkey worst is that it’s 2:20 am right now.....for a little information that might be helpful while reading this, i was listen to BLACKPINK - Don’t know what to do (JP Ver.) while writing this, so that is going to get a little mention on this imagine ʕ·ᴥ·　ʔ other than that, i hope you enjoy you cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) have a wonderday day and please come back soon!

The sounds of the strings being plucked to construct a beautiful melody filled the spring air with its euphoric sound as the pale pink cherry blossom petals graceful fell from its branches giving a beautiful sight to behold, while the crowds of men in the garden celebrated with red sake plates in hand that was filled to the brim with the sweet alcohol that was being consumed in a rapid rate.

However, as much as the King of Curses wanted to disrupt the little gather for his own sadistic pleasure, the melody that was playing in the air captivated him to pause his wicked thoughts and desires and demanded him to appreciate the music the was being created by the lone female that was at the centre of the ocean of men - who were laughing drunkenly while some observed her from afar.

The lone female on her knees, while her eyes were set on the musical tool that was set in front of her, was delicately but masterfully plucking the thin transparent stings to create a tune that no other person within the gardens could recreate - not even the other talented musicians that were also present within the large garden. Eyeing the beauty that was charming almost everyone within her presence, the King of Curses slyly came closer (but out of sight) to gain a closer look at what was going on.

“Who is she?”

“She’s the only daughter from the prominent L/N family, they’re are known for their musical talents and from the rumours, that is certainly no lie,”

“Is she married? I can imagine having her playing for me every day with that beautiful melody,”

However, before one of the males of court nobility could even answer the question, an elegant but powerful voice echoed throughout the garden causing everyone to swiftly turn to the direction of the angelic voice, only to suddenly find that it was that lone female in the middle of the garden singing with the alluring tone that she had created herself - leaving everyone in a trance to the grace that was beautifully presented to them.

“I need to make her my wife,”

“I’m afraid that is easier said than done, my lord. From what has been going around, she has refused all of the men that have proposed their hand in marriage, there isn’t a reason that is known for this that can answer everyone’s confusion,”

“What do I need to give her? Money! Power! I have plenty of that,”

“She has rejected all of the noblemen that have come her way, no riches could ever convince her and I’m surprised that her family also agree to her antics”

Listening from a distance, Sukuna couldn’t help but become intrigued by what was being said. Many women in this time would have jumped on the chance to marry someone from a higher status let alone be married off quickly, yet here you were singing and playing like you have all the time in the world with no worries or fears that could distract you. You were at peace, while he was the destruction.

Somewhat still in a trace, it was suddenly cut off once the final string was pulled causing there to be absolute silence to fill the space leaving only the wind to cover the lack of sound before a loud parade of claps were heard as the emperor - who hosted the party - stood up with pride written all over his face. Standing up from your position, you have a light smile before bowing to show your gratitude to being allowed to play in such a prestigious event as you then made your way to the other musicians to pass them on for the next performance.

“Y/N! That was amazing, you never disappoint,”

“I have no idea what you saying, I messed up on the second to last note when I hit the wrong string, ha what am I doing to do? That is going to extremely bother me for the time being,”

“Stop being such a perfectionist! None of the sorcerers, noblemen and emperor knows that, so you’re fine,”

“Thank you and shouldn’t you really go, is it not your turn?”

“Oh! My apologies, I’ll meet up with you later,”

With your friend running off to continue with musical performance, you stood in your spot as you watched her go further into the distance leaving you to soak in the sunray that was gently providing a warm glow to your complexion as the deep purple of your kimono also brightened up leaving it somewhat of a lavender shade. Taking a deep sigh, you looking up to admire the cherry blossoms that were in bloom, only to see a figure settled on one of the branches with his ruby eyes set upon you, even though the man was hidden very skilfully within the plethora of petals you could sense him from a while away, but before you could even voice out your confusion.

“Ah, there she is! Miss L/N,”

Displaying a face of irritation on the rude disturbance - leaving Sukuna to display a face of amusement instead - you turned around to find two men standing in front of you with one that seemed to be of younger age compared to his counterpart making you come to the realisation that it was a son and father - leaving you to mentally groan in annoyance as you instantly knew where this little conversation was going.

“I want you to met my son, he is -”

“I’m sorry, but I am not interested in his hand in marriage nor his companionship” you immediately interrupted the noblemen, causing both of the men to look at you in complete shock as they didn’t expect you to figure out their intentions so soon after only a few words exchanged.

“But my dear, this is an amazing opportunity for you to-”

“Become someone with a higher nobility? Don’t make me laugh, I rather become a peasant then spend the eternity of my life bound to you,”

“What is it that you desire for your hand? Wealth? Power? Prestige? You name what you desire and we will provide!”

“I’m afraid that what I desire is impossible for you to provide me, my apologies”

“What is it that you want, woman?! Who doesn’t want what I can give you within an instinct?” the son soon erupted in anger at this rejection, still in utter confusion on why you were so adamant on not wanting to wed him.

“Entertainment? Can you provide that? You see, you noblemen always offer what you have already stated to me and that may sound very enticing to another but, you all are so boring,”

The two noblemen looked at you with astoundment in their eyes as well as Sukuna, who was cunningly listening from above on where you found him - the King of Curses didn’t want to confess this to himself but he was confused on what you trying to demonstrate here with you little speech.

“You are so so boring, you men expect me to play and sing for you every single day like a bird in a cage, yet I get no entertainment in return from you? Isn’t that quite unfair? You have no talent yet you want to be greedy, what ridiculous idea is that? It’s almost laughable in my opinion,”

Sukuna almost burst out laughing from what you artfully expressed to the two men that were in front of you as he also could relate to what you were saying. The sorcerers that he had fought and killed with his bare hands were all boring with no hint of excitement from any of the battles he had faced and here you were expressing the same distaste - they were boring. All of them.

‘Well, well little songbird, I got your attention, now you have mine,’

ꕥ

“Sukuna?” you called out in a hushed surprised tone, as you unexpectedly found him sitting comfortably on the wooden corridor outside your room. Even since that little encounter back at the garden party, you have been seeing the special grade curse looming about here and there within your personal space, causing you to one day to finally acknowledge his presence that was constantly around you, only leading up where you both were now.

The excitement of these secret meetings that you both had late at night was the entertainment that you were looking for. The excitement of being so secretive with the man you desired to love but couldn’t to the outer world was the entertainment that no nobleman would ever provide you. It was the fact that this romantic link between you and Sukuna was forbidden that excited the both of you. This was the entertainment that you both desire.

“Hello, my little songbird,” Sukuna greeted you with a smirk before gently grabbing your hand to pull you down to his height - well more rather below his height - to meet eye to eye with you. “Didn’t you miss me?” he then teasingly asked, causing you to look away in a bashful expression because you knew that he knew what your answer was going to be. However, pushing your pride aside, you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into an embrace which then led him to place a hand on the back of your neck, holding you in place as he savoured the warmth that you were providing him.

“Where have you been? I was worried,” you stated to him, and even though it was a laughable comment to him since what was the point in worrying about him, he couldn’t help but appreciate the foreign concern that you had for him - it truly warmed his heart that you were here with him. “I was busy, now why don’t you sing for me, my little songbird, I do miss the sound of your sweet voice,” he declared to you before placing a few light open mouth kisses on your neck leading you to let out a soft moan of pleasure which seemed to put a smile on the curse’s face.

“What would you like for me to sing to you then?” You asked as you used your hand to gently run your hand through his hair which caused Sukuna to become relaxed and lower his guard within your embrace - the only time he allowed himself to do so and the only person that was allowed to see him in this state.

“Anything. Anything that you sing for me is enough”

To be held in your arms was what Sukuna always wanted and desired every day of his life, to hear your voice was something that made him forget about the world just like back at the garden party and the elegance that you embodied while playing the Koto was something he could never get out of his mind. You were his safe haven. His little songbird. However, that was 1000 years ago.

ꕥ

Residing within his vessel, Sukuna began to wonder what could have caused him to start to reminisce about the past when clearly he couldn’t do anything to bring you back with him. You were gone. You have passed. There was nothing he could do even as a powerful curse himself to bring your back onto his arms and let you sing to him.

However, what could make do for now was the song that was annoyingly playing within the music store that his vessel - Itadori Yuji - decided to visit as it seemed like he was interested in what was new with his friend Fushiguro Megumi. Slowly, the King of Curses could hear the music beginning to fade, indicating that it was the end of it before another quickly began to play to replace the ending song.

Unlike the other song, this one was softer in tune with something being strummed in the background - just like how you would strum the strings of the Koto when he would ask you to play it for him to admire - to which was then sung on top with a female voice. Disinterested, Sukuna began to dissociate himself with the song that was now playing until another voice came in with the song, suddenly leaving him in a trance like the one he was back 1000 years ago at that garden party.

Sitting up from his position, he intensively listened closer making sure that his ears didn’t deceive him from what he thought he heard.

“Oi brat! Who is singing that song?”

“Ha? What do you want now?” his vessel replied, surprised and annoyed at the sudden appearance of the curse that was inside him.

“What does Sukuna want now?” Fushiguro asked, slightly worried about what was happening and what could happen at this moment and time since they were in a public place filled with people.

“Answer the question before I rip your heart out again,” Sukuna threatened, slowing becoming impatient and desperate for an answer leaving Itadori no choice but for once cooperate with the special grade curse.

“From what I believe, it’s a group song called ‘Don’t know what to do’, I believe there are five girls within that group,” Itadori explained before he quickly stopped within his track to see a screen playing a stage performance of the exact same song being played in the store. “Yeah! There is the group, they are really well known in Japan since they’re are touring there, I think the youngest is the same age as me and Fushiguro” to which he pointed at a girl that he was explaining about.

Looking at the scene through Itadori’s eyes, Sukuna began to observe each and every single girl that was dancing on the stage before he paused his view on a certain girl that Itadori pointed, who was dressed in a white off the shoulder crop top that was long-sleeved with a white skirt paired with white trainers that matched with the rest of the girls within the group.

“Little songbird?” he quietly muttered, not believing what was presented in front of him at this current moment in time.

There was no doubt about it, that was you on the screen singing and dancing to a song that he slowly began to love once he heard your voice. You truly looked angelic as you gracefully danced across the stage somehow managing to maintain a stable singing voice that never disappointed him. You were back.

His little songbird.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagine #ryomen sukuna imagines #itadori yuji #itadori yujii #jjk itadori #fushiguro megumi #jjk fushiguro

1K notes · View notes

illusionsofdreaming · 3 years

Note

May I have some Beacrox and Rosalyn hcs? A mix of fluff and angst with their S/O being similarly weak to Cale? (Not their fault, not everyone can be as monstrously strong as the rest of the group)

Notes: I got.. a bit carried away with Beacrox's one, it's practically an imagine at this point hahahaha...

Ft: Rosalyn, Beacrox

Rosalyn

You’ll never quite wrap your head around how you managed to catch the attention of one of the smartest and prettiest person in the world when you’re honestly, just you

Rosalyn’s flattered but also chides you for putting yourself down. It matters not to her whether your strength lies in the sword, the wand or the pen because the person she loves is you not your skills

if you want she’ll gladly teach you magic and she’s an extremely good teacher

she also gifts you an amulet with her magic so that ‘she’ can always stay besides you wherever you go

because of the different natures of your roles, you sometimes travel separately

she doesn’t worry much as your job is not considered dangerous and the charm she gifted you had been inlaid with some basic protective spells

the day she felt the spark of her magic shatter and disappear, she was absolutely filled with horror and worry

she immediately abandoned whatever she’d been doing and teleported to the spot where she felt the magic die out

it was a classic case of being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and oh gods there’s so much blood-

healing magic isn’t her forte -what should she do, the bleeding isn’t slowing- please please please hang on, don’t sleep, don’t leave her-

she doesn’t leave your side for weeks afterwards and studied healing earnestly

it’ll take a while before she’s convinced you won’t keel over the moment she takes her eyes off of you

she gifts you a new amulet and you don’t have to have any affinity with magic to feel from the intimidating aura it projected - this one’s packed full of the strongest defensive and offensive spells

Beacrox Molan

it’s strange because you’re so absolutely mundane and yet here he is thinking and caring for you

the moment he finally acknowledges that he has feelings for you, your fragility is a weakness he must fix

you’re joining the wolf kids’ training whether you like it or not

it’s torture and too tough on you as someone who’s never lifted a sword in your life, suddenly having to run laps and wield weapons like you’re about to go to war

not to mention, Beacrox is an extremely tough and demanding tutor

you know that all this is just how Beacrox projects his worry because he’s still terrible at expressing his feelings. So you endure as much as you can - because learning how to protect yourself is not entirely the worst thing that can happen to you

but at the end of the day you’re still human, you don’t have the stamina of beast people nor the natural instincts of a warrior

no matter how well you train or practice you’ll always fall short of the others who seem to take to these martial arts concepts like fish to water

and it hurts when Beacrox doesn’t understand and gets frustrated with your lack of progress

many times you’ve told him to slow down to accommodate your lack of experience, but he’s unyielding in this matter.

“The others have long since mastered this. Do you think your enemies will take it easy on you just because you say so?” it was the finally straw that broke the camel’s back

you threw down your weapon, angry tears bursting from the corners of your eyes. “Enough! I am not the same as the others Beacrox Molan! If you’re so dissatisfied with who I am then perhaps it would be best if we call it off.”

“________!” he snapped but you had already exited the training grounds, slamming the doors on the way out

for several days you avoided him and he’s spent these days stewing over your words over and over again

even the others could feel the tension between you two and eventually Ron had to step in and knock Beacrox upside in the head

a stern father-son talk (which may or may not have involved knives and threats) which made Beacrox realise how his harsh words could’ve been taken the wrong way, how patronising he’s been

he finally turns up late at night at your door with baked cookies and ointment cream

if you allow him in, he’ll sit before you and care for your calluses and bruises silently - with how fresh some of these blisters and calluses are it really nails home how hard you’ve been pushing yourself - and Beacrox feels even worse

“I’m sorry-“ “Beacrox I-“

you paused and let him go first and Beacrox takes this chance to apologise for everything. For pushing you so hard, for dismissing your concerns and your efforts, for neglecting your feelings, for… everything.

he looks so sad and angry at himself that you sighed. “I know what you’re worried about Bea and I agree that it's important to learn how to protect myself. But I have my limits too. Perhaps I’ll never be strong enough for you, I’ll always hesitate at stabbing another, I might not ever meet up to your perfectionist standards… Would you hate me because of it?”

he immediately grasps your arm, eyes meeting yours sharply as his voice cracked “No. Never.”

you smiled gently, “I don’t mind returning to training but I’d like to rest a few more days first.”

that you’d still want to train with him meant a lot to him, he knows he’ll still have to work hard to apologise for his behaviour but at least he knows he hasn’t ruined everything yet

from that day on, training was definitely tamer for you

from time to time you can see how Beacrox sometimes still struggles to understand whats wrong but you also see how he holds himself back from his remarks and tries to consider a different way to teach you

it’s been rocky, as it will be for all new relationships, but you’ll always come out stronger on the other side

oh yeah, you’re not a swordsmaster or anything but you definitely know how to kick some ass by the end of things

Bonus:

+ Ron just admiring the chaos from the sidelines, shaking his head with fondness “Ah.. young love.”

#tcf #trash of the count's family #tcf x reader #rosalyn #beacrox molan #weak s/o #fluff #angst #headcanons #even though it's more like imagines at this point #beacrox's one just derailed and went to mars #I SHOULD'VE JUST WRITTEN THEM AS IMAGINES SMH #now they're like half assed versions of hcs and imagines #UGH

118 notes · View notes

katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

Note

General #7

Hiiii! Okay, well I bet you thought I forgot about this! Or, more than likely, you forgot you even requested this back in Decemeber. But never fear, my child. I remembered and have been thinking of this fic and what to write for months.

And so I’m so sorry, I’m a total perfectionist and I started and discared like 3 ideas for this before deciding on this oneshot sooo if this sucks, I’m at least comforted by the fact that I accomplished something in writing this itself? That sentence made zero sense but... I’m tired 🤷🏼‍♀️😅.

Prompt : General # 7 :

“Is that blood?”

“Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-”

“You are literally bleeding.”

Anyways, thank you for the prompt and here we go!

Whispers Of Light

I don't know exactly how I got roped into this. How exactly Delly Cartwright, Peeta's best friend—and alright, my friend now too—managed to convince me to help her and Leevy and about three dozen other members of the community with sorting boxes.

Sorting boxes. Organizing contents. Decorating with "found treasures".

The type of activities Prim loved doing with our mother. The type of activities I refused to do after my father died, to punish my mother for her depression.

The type of activities I now kick myself for walking out on, that I'll never be able to take back. I'll never be able to get those moments back with my sister. I'll never know what those hours between her and our mother entailed, because I chose to exclude myself, just so I could hold onto my petty anger for something that was out of all our control.

Maybe that's why I agreed to help Delly and the others with sorting through boxes upon boxes of debrief, of the items that scarcely survived Twelve's bombing almost two years ago. Maybe I only agreed out of guilt, both for never doing this type of endeavor with my sister and for being the direct cause of the bombing itself.

But whatever my reasons were, I agreed to help nonetheless, and I always follow through my promises. If there was one part of me forged in the war, if only one minor aspect of me was amplified in the smoke and haze and blood of revolution, it was the importance of keeping your promises, against all odds.

The dire consequences of a broken promise has long lasting aftereffects, beyond anything either Haymitch or I wish to dwell on.

"Katniss!" Delly calls, holding up an old, half-ripped paper book that is completely void of a front cover. "Look! I think this book is from the old Apothecary Shop!"

I squint at the dusty, decimated item, not entirely convinced. "I don't think so?" I murmur, unable to even decipher the words on the now melted, conjoined pages. "I'm pretty sure my mother kept the only apothecary book in her family?"

Kanon Bagley turns to inspect the battered item in his girlfriend's hands as well. "I don't think this is a medicinal plant book, Dells," he says sheepishly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

She gives him an incredulous look. "What do you mean medicinal?"

I peer up at him too, not comprehending his meaning any more than Delly. "What kind of plants do you think are in here?" I ask, taking the nearly destroyed object myself and flipping through the worn pages again, seeing odd herbs that neither of my parents ever mentioned or had on hand. "These don't look like the poisonous ones my father told me about?"

Kanon bites back a laugh now and I can't help feeling a little perturbed. As kind and soft-spoken as he usually is, I'm foreign to the feeling of him laughing at me. "What?" Delly snaps at him before I even can.

He still chuckles though, in spite of both our nasty glares. "You guys, it's a book of plants that'll get you high."

It takes a full minute for the meaning to dawn on me. Long enough that Leevy and a couple guys I used to go to school with come over to inspect the book as well. Long enough that they confirm Kanon's assessment just as I realize we're talking about plants that'll make you feel akin to how the morphling made me feel while confined for I killing Coin.

While everyone else snickers—and Delly full on chortles—I pass the book back to Kanon, sliding out of the crowd and moving towards a brand new box of savaged items.

It's not that the mention of plant-based drugs is a trigger for me. It's not something I ever truly gave any thought to before, to be honest. My father likely knew of them but it's not like he was about to bestow that kind of knowledge on his eleven-year-old and my mother perhaps felt it was inappropriate to mention.

No, it wasn't the subject in itself that hit a sore spot for me. But like so many times before, it's where the subject led my mind. It's where the topic took me back to.

Snow's Execution Day. The day I chose to kill President Coin instead. Being thrown back into my old tribute room. Getting high on the morphling.

Trying to forget all that I'd lost. Trying to forget my little sister becoming a human torch before my very eyes. My district engulfed in flames. The ambiguous loss of my best friend.

The connection between me and Peeta that I believed then would be permanently severed. That I believed then to be irreparable.

I suppose I believed then I was irreparable too.

And I miss Peeta suddenly, even more than I already did. Because he always knows what to say when my thoughts turn dark, when I'm suddenly triggered out of the happy, every day events and suctioned backwards to a war torn bird with her wings clipped.

But he's not here to talk me down or scare away the ghosts haunting my mind. He's not here to comfort me or even shoot me a supportive glance. No, he's at his very busy business today.

Peeta's bakery—the Mellark Bakery—has only proven to withstand the test of time these past few months. Since someone accidentally burned down the place, with nothing more than a croissant and a fancy Capitol toaster, the rebuilt bakery has been nothing but a success.

And also extremely time-consuming, I grumble internally, as I begin to pull out stuffed toys that once belonged to dead children.

"If any of those are still intact, we can donate them to the community home," Leaf John says as he opens the box across from me.

"And what exactly are we supposed to be use as decorations from these boxes?" I murmur, peering into another cardboard container, full of half-charred papers and cloths.

The general idea of today, as Delly had pitched it to me last week, was to help the community of Twelve finally sort through these boxes, donate what we could to those in need and decorate the new Justice Building with the leftover contents inside.

Somehow though I can't imagine pinning up terrible drawings of plants that'll inebriate you or headless teddy bears is going to bode well with the district.

Delly rolls her eyes in my direction—a whole new kind of response that I never thought I'd be receiving from the girl who skipped through the town square until she was fourteen years old—before nodding towards boxes on top of the ladder. "We're decorating the Justice Building with the surviving photos from those boxes, Katniss."

"Oh." Then why am I sorting these grimy, dirt-covered playthings? Why didn't anyone give me more clear instructions on today?

And why has it taken almost two years for Twelve to get a group of people together to organize the surviving items from the bombing?

I have no idea how Peeta's managed to get two bakeries built in the time it's taken for thirty-eight of us to come to the Justice Building and look through fifty cardboard boxes. And if I'm being honest, I have no idea why I'm even still here helping. I'm clearly not contributing much to the event. There's definitely more than enough volunteers without me.

And, of course, I could be at the bakery right now. Without a doubt, I'd be of more service there than I am here, digging through dusty knickknacks. I could be helping Peeta and Thom and the other part-time employees, exerting more knowledge and authority than I have here.

After all, Peeta did say the bakery was partially mine. In his mind, at least.

The ulterior motive of getting small, fleeting moments with my boyfriend, of basking in the feeling of safety with him beside me, of the occasional stolen kiss or hand squeeze when no one is looking, runs through the back of my mind.

And sways my decision immensely.

I open my mouth to tell Delly and the others that I'm about to head out, that they clearly have it covered here and I'm just in the way, when at the worst possible second, Leevy kindly murmurs, "Katniss, do you mind starting on the box on the ladder? Seeing if any of the pictures are in decent enough shape?"

I hesitate for a long moment, realizing immediately my predicament. It'd be rude to leave right after someone just essentially assigned me a task. I did agree to be here today, to help out with this tedious project. Leaving right now would only come off as rude and inconsiderate.

This is the reason I never did enjoy group assignments in school. The longer I'm here, the more I'm rediscovering this fact about myself. The division of the workload, the bore of the standing around, not knowing if you're doing the right or wrong thing, the lack of total control.

But I still nod after waiting a beat too long and agree with the nicest flare in my tone I can manage.

I'll go through the one box at the top of the ladder and then subtly make my exit afterwards. The image I unintentionally conjured up of Peeta and the bakery is still pulling at me, making me anxious to get back to him, to see him again even though we were together only three hours ago.

Since we officially became a couple a few months back—though Haymitch scoffs at that notion, claiming we've been together since Peeta first started sleeping over in my bed—I've found myself growing far more clingy to him than I ever could have anticipated. I hate when he leaves for the bakery in the mornings now, even as I still revel in the solace I find inside the woods. I look forward to his return home every night. More than even look forward to it, I'm usually at the bakery around the closing hours, helping him clean and inventory, asking him when he's coming home. Maybe looking somewhat unconsciously flirtatious as I say it.

I grab the box sitting on the ladder's top stair and pull it open, easily maintaining my balance one rung down, the same way I maintain my balance on a tree branch while hunting.

Inside pours out a plethora of photographs, mostly of Twelve's now past citizens. Near the top of the pile I see images of Greasy Sae's daughter, Dolly. The mother of her granddaughter. The daughter who died of croup a few years before the war.

Those photos must belong to Sae, I realize. Which means more of her items are probably scattered throughout the boxes here. And despite the fact that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'll tell me not of be impractical, that if she's made it two years without these things she doesn't need them now, I still make a mental note to return her lost items. If nothing else, I make a mental promise to give back to her the photos of her daughter.

I know better than anyone what kind of comfort photographs of the deceased can provide.

As if in line with my thoughts, as if I alone manifested it somehow, the next image that catches my eye is one I entirely do not anticipate.

It's a shiny photo, on the kind of glossy paper my family could never afford. In the image is a blonde man with broad shoulders and a tall build. Wrapped in his embrace stands a petite girl, with long blonde curls and mascara accentuating her already long lashes. The couple both have eyes that match the color of the sky and are dressed up in some of the nicest clothes in all of Twelve. A white dress with lace. A gray suit with a black vest. The pretty girl wears jewelry and lipstick and there's a familiar glint in the male's eyes and I find myself mesmerized.

And I can't pretend I don't see my boyfriend in both of their faces. I can't pretend Peeta isn't the spitting image of both his parents.

He has his mother's smile, I realize with startling assurance. I never saw the witch smile personally, at any point in my life so I suppose I wouldn't know where he got his charming, sweet grin from.

The mannerism looks so out of place on his mother. The kind smile Peeta has, the one that could light up a blackened sky, doesn't bode with the woman in the picture, even on her wedding day. The charming smile doesn't fit with what I know of the woman's character. With what little about her Peeta chooses to share.

But I'm even more surprised to find how much Peeta has come to resemble his father. How much Peeta has grown to favor the now deceased man.

The last time I saw the baker—the original baker, that is. Haidon Mellark—before the Quarter Quell, I resented the fact that Peeta wasn't as tall or as broad as his father. I privately believed if he'd inherited those traits, he'd be even more likely to win the games again and I could worry about him less.

Peeta was always taller than me and was always remarkably strong, after working in the bakery since childhood. But his father was a whole different level. Haidon Mellark, I'd forgotten until now, had a body that could only rival my own father's.

And as it turns out, Peeta did inherit Haidon's physicality. He just also happened to be a late bloomer. Like his mother, I imagine, staring at her tiny frame in the picture.

The change in Peeta's form occurred so gradually I barely even noticed until a couple months ago, when I woke up with my head against his heart and abruptly realized just how broad he had become. Until I couldn't even reach to kiss his jaw on my tip toe. Until he started laughing at me and had to lift me up in order to properly embrace the way I like.

"Katniss?" I hear Delly beckon, trying to bring me back to reality. Trying and failing, that is. I hear her but only in a vague, distant sense. My mind is still stuck on the image in my grasp. Still stuck on the novelty that I managed to find a remembrance for the boy who still at times questions if his memory is full of lies.

"I still cry about my family and somedays I can't even remember their faces."

I never even considered the possibility of finding a token of Peeta's departed family here. It never occurred to me, the potential finds in this box at my fingertips, that I could take home to my boyfriend. I never imagined finding him something to hold onto when the inevitable dark day came again like a storm cloud, full of thunder.

I'm so entranced what this could mean for Peeta, so lost in my own little world, that I'm barely even hanging onto the ladder. I'm definitely not as steady as I should be, standing near the top rung.

And I'm definitely not steady enough to hang on when Delly gives it a rough shake, trying to catch my attention.

The boxes break my fall. Sort of. Kanon and Leaf John had taken the liberty of placing the empty cardboard, already looked through and emptied, beneath the ladder.

Falling headfirst into a large, void box is better than falling plainly onto the filthy, concrete tile floor. But not ideal. Not as helpful as falling into a box of surviving clothes or toys would have been.

Delly apologized profusely for shaking the ladder. She'd even begun to cry when she noticed the blood seeping from my forehead.

Thankfully Kanon was there, as I didn't have the energy to console her much. I don't even know how I managed to cut my head at all, but it stung a fair amount and it provided me the excuse I wanted minutes prior, to escape the group project and head for the bakery.

Even after the fall, my mind still was cemented on the newfound treasure. My first instinct was still to show this memento to Peeta as soon as possible.

Kanon though, like a good friend, insisted on walking me home, despite my many protests that it was unnecessary, that I was just fine, that I could walk home blind if I had to. He insisted, foiling my intention to walk directly to the bakery and not wait for Peeta's return home, which still remained hours away.

Kanon was surprisingly stubborn when he felt strongly about something and I chose to relent, to give in and allow him to accompany me back to what used to be Victor's Village—where he now resided with Delly, inside Peeta's old home—without much fight.

Fighting for your independence and autonomy doesn't exactly present you as rational when there's a bloody gash in your forehead.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Kanon asks as we make out way up my porch.

I look up, maybe a little startled, from Mr. and Mrs. Mellark's wedding photo. "My head?"

"Yeah," he says carefully, looking at the blood like it's a mutt in an arena.

I shrug, doing my best not to indicate how dizzy I actually feel. Either from the fall or the blood still dripping out despite my attempt to plug the wound up with old cotton rags someone sorted into the trash box. "I've had worse."

He chuckles, a little sardonically. "Yeah, so have I."

I thank him for walking me home—for it was as inconvenient as it was sweet—and close the door slowly behind me, before leaning my ear against the wooden frame, waiting. Waiting for him to climb the steps down from my porch and make his way back to the Justice Building. Waiting for him to be far enough out of sight that I can sneak back out without him also trying to accompany me to the bakery.

It's not that I don't appreciate Kanon and Delly and all of my other friends' concerns. It's the fact that I wish to bestow a likely loaded item upon my boyfriend and I really don't need an audience to do it.

It's not the easiest feat, to slyly time it so Kanon won't hear me opening and shutting my front door again. And it's probably not my smartest plan, to walk alone along the rocky cobblestones and the uneven concrete, with a less than level head and body.

But I make it to the back door of the bakery still, just as I knew I would. It takes three times as long, but I make it there nonetheless.

Still clutching the photograph of his parents between my fingers too. Still with the same primary focus on my mind. To give him a token of remembrance, a token of the imperfect family he lost so tragically, that he still greatly missed, even when he can't say their names. Even when he can't conjure up their faces.

"You don't remember your family?"

"Sometimes I do... I'm not so sure other days. My memory isn't exactly top notch, if you know what I mean."

I push open the heavy-weighted back door, using all the energy my body can muster up. To my relief, Thom is already in the back room, sweeping flour off the floor.

"Hi, boss," he greets slyly as I walk in, barely glancing up at me. I shoot him an over-the-top eye roll, though I can't help smirking myself at the stupid nickname, when he beckons Peeta. "Hey, your girl is here!" He yells loudly. Too loudly to be packed with customers at the counter.

I take that to mean the daily rush has come and gone. Which would be very convenient, as it means I can present Peeta with my finding that much faster, without having to worry about his business—or our business, as he teasingly calls it—being held up.

I hear the sound of my boyfriend's quiet laughter from the front. The sound that I akin to my father's singing or my sister's squeal of delight. The last sound still alive that can make my heart do a flip.

But it dies out the second he peaks his blonde head into the back room. The moment his baby blues, the same color as both his parents', meet my silver ones and then trail upwards.

Almost as if remembering the gash in my head, I reach to my forehead, to ensure the makeshift cloth bandage is still in place.

"Katniss?" Peeta says, his eyes looking far more nervous than I anticipated. Which I can only take to mean the red liquid has seeped through the plain fabric. "Is that blood?"

I don't want him to focus too heavily on that fact though. Like I told Kanon, I've had much worse injuries in my life. Me and Peeta both have.

Just look at his prosthetic leg.

"Yes," I reply easily, before moving closer to him, pushing the glossy photograph towards him. "But that doesn't matter right now. What does matter is-"

"You are literally bleeding."

I sigh, feeling slightly perturbed now. "Peeta, look," I insist, thrusting the image of his parents towards him, waiting for it to take anchor.

And it does. It takes a beat longer than I expect, but it happens nonetheless. I watch silently as the image captives him, as the shiny photograph takes him back to a time when this exact location was the only home he'd ever known and this business was run by the two people inside the picture.

He touches the photo, as if to test it's realism, before looking up at me in disbelief. "Where did you find this?"

"The Justice Building today. Inside the boxes, with all the things lost in the bombing."

There's a long pause as Peeta process this. The silence makes me antsy, finding myself abruptly uncertain of what could be going through his mind.

Finally, he whispers softly, "I never thought I'd see this picture again."

And the awed, tender smile that spreads across his face swiftly encompasses me in its warmth.

And I suddenly don't even feel the gash in my head anymore.

Read The Rest On AO3

#everlark #thg #the hunger games #everlark fics #fanfic #everlark fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #play with me 🥰

73 notes · View notes

algernoninwonderland · 3 years

Text

'Lie' - wow, that's an episode and stuff. It had some genuinely great ideas and some sincerely terrible things in it too, it left a bitter taste in my mouth and I wish it hadn't

The Good

Chat Noir truly is a cat, overdramatic and teasing and inconsiderate and flawed, that's great.

He drinks milk when he's sad. It's genuinely funny!

All these parallels between the Tsurugis and the Agrestes. Some basic directing ideas but they work really well.

Kagami likes Toulouse Lautrec, she's a perfectionist artist and has to keep it a secret from her mother. And this isn't a hobby related to Adrien or her family's legacy, it's the thing she enjoys doing on her own. It's a good idea!

The repetitiveness of the "throwing the paper ball in the bin" motive. That's basic directing, again. But it works well. I like it when things work well, and sometimes they do.

Kagami sees through the lies of the Jedi Adrien's facade in a way none of the other characters have this far. I'd go as far as to say that she's a lot more perceptive about him than Marinette.

She's really assertive and that isn't shown to be necessarily an absolutely bad thing, or an absolutely good thing. There's some nuance in there. Can you believe it?

Nice fencing scene there, all these sparks weren't really necessary but it's done competently. They got the movements and the speed right.

The show really hammers down the fact that being friends/dating a superhero without knowing their secret identity means you're forced to deal with them vanishing all the time and hiding things from you and that it's pretty terrible. Kagami's expression progressively sours as Adrien is shown to disappear more and more. That's good directing.

Some good character blocking and shot composition during the scene taking place outside the Hôtel de Ville.

“A cop never lies!” “You're lying!”

Bob Roth calling out Jagged Stone.

Fang, the true Best Boy of this show.

Some really stellar voice acting from Benjamin Bollen. He's always good.

Kagami isn't the bad guy for taking her distances with Adrien! Wowie!

The Bad

Cheap ship teasing is cheap.

Would they really leave Adrien making a sadder face in that TV show thing? Nah, that's a moment that completely breaks that conceit.

Portraiture as the capture of the truth within people, “portraits can't lie” and all that stuff. The art historian within me is shrivelling.

The show is mixing up a lot of stuff for the sake of this “truth and honesty and lies” and remains very superficial about these things.

What is Adrien's “true self” anyway? Is his being a clown as Chat Noir part of his facade or not? It's really interesting and that would require an episode of its own but no, have a handful of minutes instead, that should do the trick, right? No it doesn't…

Everything after the 13 minute mark, really.

What kind of villain design is that? What is it meant to convey? Liars are paralysed… That's it? Wow. I'm genuinely impressed. Incredible stuff. I am awed.

That white ball of light means some pretty ugly rendering. Like, really ugly. There's exactly one good-looking shot during this akuma fight and it's the one they used in the season's trailer.

DQ Animation and Artage Studio are getting better. They're still not as good as SAMG. Which means that the character acting is really wooden during the more subtle moments, and generally not as good as the scenes would require. Character make weird faces that don't quite work during some scenes. It's not distractingly awful but it's not good.

It's a show with a fandom that uses every little character detail to call a character they don't like the literal devil. Kagami expressing her anger physically is a double-edged sword.

Some really weird shots with weird camerawork.

The Ugly

Do you remember when Marinette said she loved Adrien because he was kind and caring and all of that stuff and then started drooling over the picture-perfect, airbrushed image of him instead of trying to get to know him as a person, meaning that she's in love with his image? But then the show still tried to push the idea that she was truly in love with him as a person? They're still doing this now. We've had the exact same joke for like two seasons. And yet we're meant to root for Adrien and Marinette to get together because…???

Chat Noir acts irresponsibly, yet has immense responsibilities, the show portrays him as funny and as always it’s inconsequential, he never has to face the consequences of his actions for more than five seconds

That scene with Chloé and Sabrina. Is is supposed to be funny? Is it supposed to be awful? I don't know. It was just rubbish.

I get that the point is that Kagami has to lie to spend more time with Adrien and that she's done so during Ikari Gozen already but are you sure this is the same character who needed an app to talk to people just a couple of episodes ago? The same character who absolutely despised liars earlier on? Why not show her second-guessing herself then?

She's a fast learner, for sure, she's been shown to get better at complimenting Marinette in the span of just two episodes, but this is a whole other level of off-screen character development. She used to lie by omission, now she's a very chatty liar.

Which just confirms that in Miraculous, characters change radically to accommodate the episode's theme. They have no integrity, no internal coherence. It's a recurring flaw with the writing and it's never been as glaring as it is now.

That cheese analogy is awful and gross. I already thought that the "changing targets" stuff from the earlier seasons was awful but this is just as bad. So people you want to date are like game or fermented milk, then. How romantic. Not objectifying at all. What a great conception of what relationships are like.

Some pretty awful writing. Chat Noir "dying” was cheap and fell completely flat and the dialogue came straight out of a Wattpad fic.

Shadow Moth's “Noooooooo”, straight out of Revenge of the Siths.

And now the lesson of the episode is… Love Square, Hell Yeah? Really?

What was that final scene? It's rushed and stupid and we're meant to be satisfied with it but it's the worst thing ever and “sometimes we must lie but we know we can trust each other” is such a hypocritical line when you take the show as it has been this far. And yet you're meant to clap and be happy about it?

This episode is a mess and I don't know what we're supposed to do with it. Give Kagami her own show.

#ml #miraculous #ml s4 #ml s4 spoilers #ml lie spoilers #ml lie #kagami tsurugi #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #ml writers salt #ml canon salt #ml critical #ml salt #adrien salt #yes i use 'stuff' a lot

86 notes · View notes

okaywitheverything · 4 years

Text

World’s Worst Best Men: Itachi x Wife!Reader

A/n: I'm not writing a summary but I have a feeling you'll like this one. Not so much romance as usual, but it is fun and I’m proud of it.

Pairing: Itachi x Wife!Reader, Platonic Sasuke x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Here’s the dress I imagine wearing. Though, your imagination is key.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Uchiha weddings were nothing, if not extravagant and over the top, you should know, you have had one for yourself.

Standing beside your husband of three years, the prodigy, Itachi Uchiha, you couldn't have been happier. Sasuke was getting married and you and Itachi had the most triumphant grins on your faces, both beaming gleefully.

You and Itachi had been childhood bestfriends but didn't start dating dating until late teen years. So naturally Sasuke had been an important person in your life, an amazing boy whom you had watched grow up.

The wedding had been a blast, everyone enjoying themselves to the fullest. Asuma and Kurenai were dancing along with their son in a group with Kakashi and Gai. Kakashi drunk dancing was really a sight for sore eyes.

Genma was at the bar, really vibing with one of Sakura's distant aunts while Iruka was being paired up with one of Hinata's quiet aunts by Naruto.

Minato and Kushina were standing alongside Fugake and Mikoto drinking champagne and feeling proud.Smiles of genuine happiness were on each of their faces as they felt their life goals had been achieved.

Of course all the boys were dancing alongside the Jounins' group with Sasuke in between surrounded by a wild Naruto, drunk Kiba, flustered Lee and other friends of the like.

The girls were in their own group with the bride in between surrounded by perfectionist Ino, jovial Tenten, inebriated Temari, bewildered Hinata and likewise. Ino kept straightening the flowers in the newlywed girl's hair.

This was all you could ever ask for someone as important to you as Sasuke. You, someone who never cried, almost shed a tear when Sauske said his vows. The fact he found love in his life made you really grateful to God.

After all the guest tired themselves out by uncoordinated and off beat dancing, it was time for the best man's speech or in this case, best men.

Naruto and Itachi were the two best men as they both mean the world to Sasuke. His best friend and his elder brother.

With a champagne flute in hand, Naruto started, "Putting our rivalry aside for one day, I would go so far as to call you-, this is only a once in a lifetime privilege remember Teme," He referred to Sasuke getting off track his speech, "-my best friend. Who would have thought you would get married? Howbeit to a girl?"

Everybody laughed, silently agreeing with Naruto. The atmosphere of the wedding hall was bright, beautiful and cheery. The exuberant and buoyant gathering listened with real enthusiasm.

"I don't have anything against you marrying a guy, honestly because all of us expected you to, after you broke a lot of poor girls' hearts."

Sasuke seemed really shocked at this, even his mouth fell open with widened eyes while everyone once again silently agreed. Sasuke's shock told you that he actually had never heard about this rumor before.

God, he was a really oblivious kid.

"I know, Dobe," Naruto said referring to Sasuke's surprised expression, "I was that shocked too, when I came to know they shipped you with me nonetheless, because that was something even I wasn't aware of." Naruto and Sauke both made disgusted faces, as if on cue. The look of terror on Sasuke’s face might have led people to believe it was the most sinister thought ever.

But they did look cute together.

"But I guess they say, you aren't really best friends if they don't confuse you as homosexuals." Naruto let out a beaming grin while Sasuke gave a crooked smile. Everyone inwardly cooed at the pure expressions.

"However, there is one female I remember you crushing on, the only one in the entirety of our lives."

Sasuke had a look of horror on this face as he shook his head 'no' immediately, trying to get Naruto to shut up, specks of red in his eyes as he threatened to activate his 'Sharingan'.

"I remember you being all flustered and look at (Y/N) with heart eyes.”

Naruto's grin widened, showing his pearly whites, clearly content with Sasuke's reaction.

Your name caught you off-guard and you were in absolute shock. People turned around to give you a not-so-subtle glance but you didn’t care. You always thought Sasuke was a shy and quiet kid who liked to keep to himself. Mikoto let out a cheer while Fugaku smiled. Itachi let out a deep-throated chuckle from beside you which caused you to turn to him, “You knew about this?”

He silently nodded with a smile on his face and you carried on, “And never even mentioned it to me? Would it have killed you to do so?”

“It wasn’t any of my business. Also, it was pretty funny.”

You lightly hit his arm and retorted, “Oh God, I don’t even know who I got married to!”

A smile still broke out on your face as you turned to Naruto once again.

“I remember once Kiba and I were hanging out and we heard a really high pitched shriek from the forest. We ran all the way inside thinking someone was in danger but it turned out to be Sasuke squealing beacuse it was (Y/N)’s birthday and she gave him a kiss on the cheek for some gift he gave her. I swear our ears started bleeding. He was so red that we thought all the tomatoes he ate finally caught up to him.”

You blinked twice, your expression blank. Then a coy smile made its way to your face. You looked over to find Sasuke as red as a cherry, not even meeting your eyes. He was definitely praying to God that looks could kill, so that Naruto would drop dead.

“I remember that back in the academy, he never let any of us touch his hair because (Y/N) ruffled it while dropping him off. So he would sit through the lessons looking like he just woke up.”

All his classmates snickered at that, recalling the fond memory, while you were amused. It was so hilarious to see such a stoic person so flabberghasted.

“The most interesting incident that came out of all this was, and I’m totally risking my life by telling you all this. Sasuke would kill me if I even narrate it to anyone, rather announce it on the microphone at his wedding, but your best friend gets married only once. Well hopefully. If I turn up dead by the coming of dawn, it was Sasuke Uchiha everyone.”

Everyone laughed along once again while half of the people were on the edge of their seats thinking what it could possibly be. Sasuke had a puzzled expression on his face, anticipating and fearing what Naruto had up his sleeve.

“Anyways, one when we were high........ I mean drunk, he confessed of a secret love letter he wrote to (Y/N) as a tween but never sent it.”

Your eyes widened as you let out an audible gasp while the room buzzed with chortles and sniggers. Your brother-in-law crushing on you wasn’t necessary negative news but the whole event had overwhelmed you that you could not contemplate even your reaction.

Apparently, you were the only one to be surprised as all the other guests smiled knowingly and cackled. You glanced over to find Sasuke so scarlet that you wondered if the sharingan had spread to his face given that his kekkei genkai was active now.

Itachi chuckled again seeing your reaction and put an arm around your shoulder while gently squeezing. You turned to him and finaly let out a chuckle yourself, eyes still widened in disbelief.

“Am I dreaming?” you asked and shook your head.

“Seriously though, have I been that oblivious Itachi? How could I not notice this while everyone here recalls it as some keen memory?” You held your head with one hand, leaning furthermore into itachi. Your eyes flickered to see Sasuke’s eyes, boring apologetically into your own.

One look at his chiseled face told you of his anxiety and concern. The small frown on his face saddened your heart.

Does he think I hate him? Poor baby, NO!

You weren’t offened, flattered if anything. But the spontaneity of the situation rendered you speechless.

You gave him the best smile you could muster, wiggling your eyebrows at him and blowing him a kiss from your cherry lips, and grinning again.

He visibly relaxed, shoulders now less taut, jaw a bit slackened though his face remained painted in scarlet hues. Seeing him calm down, you winked at him and turned to Naruto again, anticipating his next words.

“My only regret tonight is that I couldn’t find that letter even inside his personal diary or his deep closet. I swear it was there the last time! No worries, hope you found this speech of mine, entertaining as it is. One last toast to Sasuke though, for his new life ahead. Cheers.”

Sasuke cooled down with each passing word, smirking triumphantly when he realised he won’t be shred of his remaining dignity anymore.

Everyone toasted together, drinking huge mouthfuls of their wines, rejoicing in Naruto’s words for Sasuke.

Itachi kissed your temple, and left you while moving to the centre of the stage, where Naruto was.

“If I may?” He asked as Naruto passed him the microphone.

“I’d like to say how proud of my baby brother to have come this far in life, as a great shinobi, an excellent son, a marvelous friend and a terific human overall.”

Everone clapped vigourously including you, while all his classmates hollered and hooted. A faint blush adorned Sasuke’s cheeks as he visibly pouted on being call ‘baby bro’.

“And I was about to give a half an hour long speech, but my wee brother’s best friend, Naruto just stole all my content. So much for the tales.” Itachi playfully sighed, all the specatators buzzed with laughter while Sasuke deadpanned.

Well, he wont forget his wedding day ever now. Everyone is dead set on embarrassing him.

“However, I do have something Naruto didn’t have.”

Everyone stilled, waiting with anticipation of what was about to come, including you. Itachi refused to rehearse his best man speech with you because he wanted to write a speech for Sasuke on his own, heartfelt and everything.

He reached inside his tuxedo’s jacket and took out an old cramped paper, yellowing a bit and you raised your eyebrows, questioningly.

Sasuke gulped.

“I have the love letter, everyone!”

Oh Wow.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: If you reading this, atleast you made it till the end. Thank you.

So that was that. It was some scenario I just thought about. A bit of a cliffhanger, I haven’t thought about a follow up part 2, but we’ll see if that’s what you want.

Thanks for the love you gave me on my first post, we reached 200 if you count the separate posts I made by mistake. This inspires me to write. Remember, requests are OPEN so feel free to hit my asks page.

334 notes · View notes

hslllot · 3 years

Text

Part I. Draft Day

fic masterlist | rated: m, mature | word count: 4.6k content/warning: hockey harry, nosey family members, a very brief mention of anxiety, overzealous hockey stans.

DRAFT REPORT: The 411 on Harry Styles by John Michaelson for Sportsnet

There’s this kid named Harry Styles. He plays hockey. Ever heard of him?

At this point there’s not much else to be said about the british Fighting Hawks’ centre, a lock to be the No.1 pick in the 2015 NHL Draft.

Dubbed a generational talent, Styles’ abilities are at a level typically only seen in video games. We all know the Edmonton Oilers will select him with the first overall pick on June 26. In years to come, hockey fans from around the globe (but especially Oilers fans) will be on the edge of their seats, watching to see if the phenom can develop into a future Hockey Hall of Fame talent the way Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux did.

Here’s what you need to know about Harry Styles:

Age on June 26: 19 Birthplace: Redditch, Worcestershire, England Current team: University of North Dakota Fighting Hawks Position: Centre Shoots: Left Height: 6-foot Weight: 190 lbs NHL Central Scouting Rank (North American): 1st

Harry Styles is a franchise-changing player in every sense of the word. He looked like a pro player even before he flew across the pond at a young age to play in the Canadian Hockey League. This has been a long time coming but the future is finally here.

He is talented beyond his years and always has been… Styles has played against older competition his entire career. Growing up in the small village of Holmes Chapel in Cheshire, England, the options for minor hockey teams were limited. Styles struggled to find a team in his age group that matched his talent level and was forced to play with older kids - and even then his talent was unmatched. Like the two other players from the UK currently playing in the NHL, Styles eventually had to leave home and play junior hockey in Canada, where he still had to play up a year against Canadian kids that grew up in a country that eats, sleeps, and breathes the game.

He should have been drafted 1st overall last year… Styles shocked the hockey world in 2013 when, instead of declaring for the 2014 NHL Draft, he announced he would be attending the University of North Dakota and lead the Fighting Hawks to an NCAA Championship. Styles, ever the media-trained athlete, dodged questions about why he chose to go to university for a year before joining the NHL, simply stating “University was always a part of the plan, no matter what happened with hockey.” The hockey community let out a collective sigh of relief when his agent, Jeffrey Azoff (whose father was, coincidentally, Wayne Gretzky’s agent), announced shortly after his championship win that after one year at UND, Styles would be declaring for the 2015 Draft.

His trophy case is full... Harry Styles has won pretty much every individual hockey award he could possibly win in his career so far. During his CHL career with the Vancouver Giants he won Rookie of the Year, multiple MVP awards, the award for most goals, assists, and overall points, and scholastic player of the year. During his short-lived NCAA career with UND, he won Rookie of the Year, the Hobey Baker Award as the top men’s hockey player, and was named to the Academic All-American team. Unfortunately, Great Britain’s ice hockey team will not be qualifying for the Olympics or the World Championships any time soon, so unless Styles applies for Canadian citizenship, international trophies and medals will be difficult to come by. Regardless, I have a feeling that there will be many Stanley Cups in his future.

He really hates underperforming… The kid puts a lot of pressure on himself. As we have seen with many successful athletes, an insatiable inner drive to compete can lead to greatness. Styles has that drive to be great and can be his own worst critic. “When I was growing up, my mum was worried about me because I was a bit of a perfectionist.” Styles told The Hockey News back in December. “When I had a bad game, I would get so upset about it. It’s just how I am and how I think every athlete should be. Good is never enough. It’s important to always keep learning and growing to better yourself.”

He is excited to play for the Oilers… Not that he would have anything bad to say about any of the 30 NHL teams, but the Oilers do hold a special place in Styles’ heart. “It’s a great hockey town with fans that are super passionate about the game.” He told The Hockey News. “They’ve been on a bit of a slide the last couple years but the team has a great history. Not many people watch the NHL where I’m from, but my dad was always interested in it and that’s how I got into the game. He was an Oilers fan during their dynasty years with Gretzky and Messier… So if they do end up drafting me first overall, I’ll feel honored to be a part of the team, and it’ll be a nice tribute to my dad.”

Be sure to catch our live 2015 NHL Draft coverage on June 26 starting at 5pm EST/2pm PT only on Sportsnet.

“With the first overall pick in the 2015 NHL Entry Draft the Edmonton Oilers are proud to select, from Holmes Chapel in England, Harry Styles.”

The room erupted in loud cheers and applause as the Edmonton Oilers drafted the National Hockey League’s newest and most sought after commodity.

Y/N’s closest friends and extended family roamed around her parents’ living room, congratulating one another with hugs and handshakes like one of their own family members was just drafted. That wasn’t the case though, they were all just deeply invested in the hockey team and the boy from England that was meant to turn things around after so many years of losing. They were so invested, in fact, that the family organized a gathering similar to something you might see on a holiday, like Thanksgiving or Christmas.

While it was not a normal holiday, for Y/N’s family it was just as significant. It was Draft Day. And every hockey fan in North America wanted Harry Styles to play for their team.

“That’s quite the suit, isn’t it?” Her uncle Will pointed to the television where the young man is dressed in an ornate red floral suit and black dress shirt. The suit was flashier than what most hockey players would wear, but it’s clear that Harry Styles is not like most hockey players. The camera panned to him as he stood up from his seat and hugged the two brunette women sitting next to him. He stuck out like a sore thumb among a sea of other young hockey players all dressed in variations of black and grey as they patiently waited to be drafted from the stands of the BB&T Centre in Florida. It was clear to Y/N that, much like his hockey skills, Harry Styles’ fashion sense was superior compared to his peers.

There was an air of excitement in the room as the draft party, all clad in blue and orange jerseys, watched the generational talent walk down the stairs of the arena and make his way to the stage. They collectively held their breath, the room becoming silent, when he arrived at the stage where both the owner and general manager of the team were waiting to greet him. Harry shook their hands before they handed him his own blue and orange jersey. As he slipped the jersey over his head and posed for a photograph with the executives, the silence in the room broke and excited conversations and speculations for the upcoming season continued. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a stir in her belly and a sense of anticipation for what the upcoming hockey season would bring.

Her thoughts lingered on the man on the screen, wondering what it might be like to meet him, when her brother pulled her out of her reverie. “Can you believe you’ll be working with the Harry Styles?”

No - she couldn’t quite believe it.

In fact, everything happening in her life right now seemed a bit too good to be true.

Set to start her third year of university in September and having to complete mandatory practicum hours in order to graduate the following year, she somehow managed to secure a placement with her favourite hockey team. The Oilers were only taking three students from the university program and everyone in the program wanted one of those spots.

The application process was incredibly stressful for Y/N. One telephone interview, one in-person interview, and a practical session where she had to demonstrate her athletic therapy skills to the team’s head trainer. She did well with the phone interview, given that they weren’t able to see her. She was able to look down at the talking points she wrote in her notebook and pause to take a couple deep breaths without making it obvious that she was reeling on the inside. Her anxiety got the best of her during the in-person interview though, freezing up when they asked simple questions like “why do you want to work for the team?” and “what experience do you have working with sport teams?”

She left the interview feeling embarrassed, but instead of taking the time to wallow and feel sorry for herself, she went home and spent hours upon hours taping her brothers’ ankles in preparation for the practical session the following day. There was no way she was going to let the opportunity fall through the cracks. Her dream of working for the Oilers was the whole reason she decided to go to school for athletic therapy in the first place. She was never any good at playing hockey but she knew in her heart that, someday, she would work for the team she loved so much. At the end of it all, she reckons her taping skills saved her, so she took her brother out to his favourite restaurant to thank him for letting her use his ankles for practice.

Fast forward a few months and she’s now stood in her parents living room thinking about how in three months she could be taping Harry Styles’ ankles.

At the time of her application, no one knew the Oilers would be picking first in the draft. The aura around the team was a bit negative at the time (because of all the losing) and there were rumours circulating the city that some of the star players were rude to the support staff and liked to party a little too hard at The Ranch (which contributed to said losing).

When she first decided to apply for the position her father warned her, “there’s a saying that you should never meet your heroes. What if they’re all a bunch of assholes and you end up hating the team you’ve loved your whole life?”

Y/N ignored her father’s warning but silently hoped that others would feel that way, narrowing down the applicant pool. However, the rumours circulating the team had no effect on the amount of students applying for the job. The fans were loyal in Edmonton (a city not known by many around the world unless you follow hockey or are compelled to visit North America’s largest shopping mall) and although the team was losing, every kid studying athletic therapy wanted a shot with their favourite team. Y/N knew of at least fifteen students that she beat out for the position.

Now, it’s late June and there is a general hype surrounding the team, as if Harry was about to come in and shine a light on the Decade of Darkness (a term Oilers fans use to characterize the recent years in which their favourite team hadn’t made the playoffs). That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person, but Y/N supposed that he’s been dealing with this kind of pressure since he was sixteen, maybe even younger.

Everyone at her family’s draft party was, yet again, watching the television intently while Harry gave his first interview as an official member of the Edmonton Oilers hockey team. While Y/N normally loved watching these types of interviews, she was a bit zoned out- mesmerized by the look of him. The suit, the wavy chestnut hair, the dimple in his left cheek, the accent. The accent. She had never really been that attracted to hockey players, which many people found hard to believe given that she’s such a fan of the sport. All of the guys from her high school who played minor hockey were rotten and thought they were better than everyone else. She did have favourite players in the NHL, players that she loved and admired, but they were her favourites because she loves how they play the game, not because she wants to fuck them.

There was something different about Harry Styles though. Not necessarily that she wanted to fuck him (especially since she recently signed an employment contract that would forbid it), but she was certainly feeling intrigued by him. He doesn’t look like the boys she went to high school with. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s British, or that he opted for a suit that set him apart from the rest of them, or maybe it was the duality of the way he held himself with unshakeable confidence in his floral suit, his gaze set intensely on the person interviewing him, posture strong and dominant, while simultaneously speaking so softly, his words laced with kindness and gratitude.

“When do you start working with the team, Y/N?” Her uncle Will asked from across the room, prompting everyone to look in her direction waiting for her response.

The news that Y/N would be working for the Oilers this season shook the family. As soon as her dad shared the news with his brother, she started receiving messages expressing congratulations from her many aunts, uncles, and cousins, shortly followed by messages asking if she would be getting free tickets to games.

“Um, mid-September, for training camp.”

“You get to meet Harry Styles?” her 9 year old cousin, Billy, asked.

“I do. I will be one of the team’s trainers.” The young boy held a look of wonder on his face, as if realizing for the first time that that his oldest cousin was actually kind of cool.

“Do you think he’s single?” Her aunt Maria asked with a smirk on her face, turning to the television to look at Harry Styles. Aunt Maria doesn’t care much for hockey but she never failed to mention which players she believed to be handsome. She was also the nosey type of aunt that liked to inquire about Y/N’s dating life. “Maybe you two will hit it off.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at her aunt, waving off her comment. But before she could retort, her father chimed in. “Ha! Yea, right! That’s not going to happen. She’s not allowed to date anyone on the team, it’s the rules. Plus, Y/N knows better than to get involved with any of these guys.”

Her father was right. It is the rules. Y/N thought back to when she went into the Oilers headquarters back in April to sign her employment contract. She asked a lot of questions, making sure she understood everything about the document she was signing.

“Personal relationships? Even friendships are forbidden?” she asked the head trainer, TJ, for clarification.

“It depends. You can be friendly, sure, but I would avoid spending time with the players outside of training and game times. Could be seen as unprofessional.”

Y/N understood why such rules were in place, and she had no issue with it at the time. A woman securing a position on a professional sports team was rare, let alone a woman securing a position with a professional men’s team. She knew when she chose this career path that it would always be an uphill battle and that she’d have to work harder and be more strategic than the men in her field. She wanted- no, needed to excel and prove that she could be a talented athletic therapist and a valuable member of the team, so she had no intention whatsoever of messing that up with any type of personal relationships. She also understood the power dynamic between the professional athletes and the support staff, the different ways in which power can be abused, and how personal relationships could complicate things. It all made sense to her. Plus, she was happy enough with just becoming friends with the other trainers and she probably wouldn’t have a lot of free time, anyways, balancing her practicum and her school work.

Today, however, she couldn’t help the very slight pull on her heartstrings at the thought of not getting to know Harry Styles on a more personal level.

As if he’d even be interested in the first place.

In a hotel restaurant in Sunrise, Florida, a few hours after the draft, Harry Styles sat with his mother Anne, sister Gemma, and agent Jeff, celebrating his newly drafted status over a bottle of champagne. He knew he should be feeling elated, like it was the best day of his life, but all he felt was exhausted. The conversation at the table happened around him while he sat in his own head, unable to think about anything but what it might feel like to be tucked into his bed in his childhood bedroom in Holmes Chapel.

The weeks leading up to the draft were an absolute circus filled with interviews and talking to the media nearly every day (he hates talking to the media), shooting promo for all of his endorsements (he’s thankful for the money they give him but he knows he is an excruciatingly terrible actor), and flying around North America to visit all of the potential cities where he might be drafted (it was a pointless tour because everyone knew where he was going to end up).

He had only tonight to celebrate with his family before it was all set to start again. Him and Jeff will fly off to Edmonton tomorrow morning for a week to speak to the media there, meet the teammate he’ll be living with, and do a surprise skating session with some kids at a summer camp. Meanwhile, his mum and sister will fly back to England.

“Any idea where you’ll live then?” Anne asked her son, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the conversation.

“Hm?” He hadn’t a clue what his mum just asked him but he’d hate to admit that rather than listening to anything the three of them had been talking about for the last hour he’d been thinking about how he’d rather be sleeping “Sorry, I think the champagne’s got to me a bit.”

“The team’s got him living with one of his older teammates and his family.” Jeff stepped in, knowing Harry wasn’t fully paying attention. “They do this with the young guys to get them used to living on their own. Teach ‘em how to cook, do laundry, and keep ‘em in line. He won’t be partying every night and bringing girls back to his place if he lives with the guy’s wife and kids.”

“Oh please,” Gemma chimed in. “Not like any of that would be an issue for Harry. He’s been away from home for years. And he’s hardly got time for partying and dating.”

Harry shot Jeff a look warning him to keep his mouth shut. When Harry found out about the living arrangements the team had planned for him, he was less than pleased. After all, he’d just spent the last year living in a dorm room at the University of North Dakota where he had complete freedom. Gemma was right, he didn’t have much time for partying and dating. But he liked having his own space, and he really liked being able to invite someone over after a game, either to celebrate a win or relieve some stress after a loss.

“You never know, some of these young guys get their first big pay cheque and a taste of the big leagues and it can go off the rails pretty fast.”

“I like to think I raised my baby to know better than to get caught up in a pay cheque.” Anne placed a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder and he quickly reciprocated, reaching up to place his hand over hers.

Not liking where this conversation was going, Harry finally cut in. “You did. And Jeffrey, you know I’m not that kinda guy. Either way, none of this matters if I don’t make it past training camp. For all we know I could be going back to the juniors for the season.”

“Doesn’t matter who you are or what kinda guy you are, H, it’s just what the team does. It’s tradition. And c’mon, I know you like to keep your expectations in check, but the team’s made it pretty clear that you’re gonna be in the starting lineup come October.”

Jeff was right. The team had all but promised that he would make it past training camp. The question wasn’t if he’d make it past training camp, but in what shape he’d be in and how long it would take for the team to start winning games.

“The coach said I’m small and need to bulk up, especially since I’ll be playing against older, more experienced men.” Harry could feel the weight of his mum’s gaze as she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not quite where I need to be yet, but I’ll get there.”

Harry and his family were stood in the hotel lobby with Jeff, convening on plans for the morning when he felt a small tug on the hem of his red floral suit jacket. He spun himself around, ready to confront the individual bold enough to touch him without his consent, to find a young girl, no older than five years old staring up at him.

Harry looked at her, a bit taken aback and undoubtedly with a bit of confusion written on his face, and then spotted, a few feet behind her, two individuals who were most likely her parents. Suddenly, he realized that he may have actually had a few too many glasses of champagne and immediately tried to compose himself, standing straighter and trying to will away the exhaustion in his eyes and the haziness in his mind.

“Oh - um, hello there.” He cleared his throat before using the soft voice he reserves for adorable, small children like the one stood before him.

“Are you Harry Styles?” She asked with wide eyes and a small, timid voice.

“I am, sweetheart. What can I do for you?”

A bright smile etched itself onto her face. But instead of answering him, she looked back at the adults standing behind her, motioning for them to help as she was too shy to proceed on her own. The man, who Harry presumed was her father, moved to stand beside her.

“This is Millie. She wanted to say hi to you because she’s a big fan of yours.”

Harry lowered himself in front of the young girl so that he was crouched down and eye-level with her. “Hi Millie, it’s a real pleasure to meet you.” He reached out to shake the young girl’s small hand. “Have you got anything that I could sign? Or I suppose we could take a photo if you’d like?”

The young girl removed her hand from Harry’s, nodding her head eagerly. She began to unzip her jacket, revealing a bright orange Edmonton Oilers jersey underneath.

“Oh? Look at that! You’re an Oilers fan. In Florida?” Harry lifted himself from his crouched position and directed his question toward at the girl’s father.

“Yes, well, we actually travelled here from Edmonton, to watch the draft in person.” Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. He knew that the flight from Edmonton to Florida is long, and likely expensive. The tickets to attend the draft live probably weren’t cheap either. “It’s not every day your favourite team picks first overall! Let alone gets to pick a player like you. We were so excited so we decided to make a family trip out of it. Turn around, Millie, show him the back!” Millie’s father handed Harry a sharpie as Millie turned her back to Harry.

It was at that moment that Harry started to understand the weight of the moment. The name ‘STYLES’ was embroidered on the back of Millie’s Oilers jersey, above the number ‘15’ indicating his draft year. He was speechless. This was, after all, the first time he was seeing his name in the classic Oilers’ orange and blue colours adorned on a fan’s back.

The feeling was different from earlier at the draft when they presented him with his own jersey. This one belonged to someone else. Someone bought his jersey before he’d even ever played a single minute for the team. They flew across the continent, from Edmonton to Florida, just to watch him get drafted. It was a lot for his hazy, champagne-diluted mind to take in.

Realizing he’d just been standing there staring at the jersey, he cleared his throat once again in hopes that he could hide the unknown thoughts and emotions he was trying to reconcile. “Wow, um, I didn’t realize you could get these already.”

Millie’s father laughed, “Man, they’ve been selling these in Edmonton since they announced we’d be picking first in the draft.” Again, the feeling was overwhelming for Harry.

We’d be picking first in the draft.

To this family, and probably others in Edmonton, the Oilers were “we”. They win together, they lose together. If the Oilers pick first in the draft, they all pick first. It was their team. And now he, Harry, was a part of that “we”.

Harry reached down to sign the jersey on Millie’s back, quickly scribbling his autograph on the left side. As he straightened himself, he felt Anne move to stand beside him, apparently having sensed her son’s unease and unconscious need for his mother to join him in this moment.

“Hi, I’m Harry’s mum, Anne. Would you like me to take a picture of the four of you?” Millie’s father eagerly handed his phone to Anne and waved his wife over to be in the photo. Several photos of Harry and the family were taken, followed by a few of just Harry and Millie.

“Would you mind if I took one of Harry and Millie on my phone as well?” Anne asked as she snapped the last photo. “This is the first time Harry’s met a fan wearing his name on an Oilers jersey. We’d like to remember it.”

The family was more than happy to oblige so Anne took a few more photos on her phone, including one where Millie’s back was to the camera and the ‘STYLES’ name in full view.

It was so like his mum to understand how special the moment was and to come in and save him. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling in that moment, as understanding emotions and sentimentality were not his greatest strengths, and he most definitely never would have asked to take a photo to keep for himself had she not done it.

The obvious feelings were joy and gratitude. Every day he was thankful to play the game he loved, to be successful, and to have fans that loved and supported him. It didn’t always make sense that complete strangers paid him so much attention just for playing a game, but he accepted it and always tried to show those strangers kindness in return. However, there was another feeling lingering, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Looking at his mum, he knew that she knew what it was. She always knew. And certainly she would make him talk about it later.

As they separated from the family and walked toward the hotel elevators, where Gemma and Jeff were waiting, Anne grabbed onto her son’s arm, holding him close as they walked side by side.

“Do you see that they love you already, my darling?” She asked. Harry raised an eyebrow at his mum, unsure of what she was going on about. “I know you. I know that you care what people think and that you are scared to disappoint them. You just need to step out on the ice and be yourself. Just be Harry. They already love you and this is only just the beginning.”

WOW! OK. I know it’s a bit of a slow start, but I wanted this chapter to be more of an introduction to harry and the mc and to the fan culture that harry is about to experience!! I’ve already started on the next part so that should be up before Christmas! If you’ve made it this far, all I can say is that I love you and appreciate you. If you liked it, please let me know. I debated not posting this so many times (and I might even regret it later) so feedback will certainly ease my troubled mind!! I ALWAYS LOVE YOU, BUT ESPECIALLY TODAY!! xx Shan.

Harry’s Draft Day Look

talk to me about generational | fic masterlist

#wow i'm so nervous to post this #generational #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #hockey harry styles #athlete harry styles

103 notes · View notes