#* you’re a little tragedy aren’t you ? // edits.
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a predator on the prowl
an endless stream of Calcifer edits. personals dni.
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tag dump uwu
#* v. i don’t rise from the ashes; i make them // undecided.#* this is my unfinished symphony // ooc.#* the world is on fire & it’s your fault // aesthetic.#* come closer; play with my chaos // desires.#* clever as the devil & twice as pretty // about.#* but if i choose darkness instead? // self promo.#* i’ve always been comfortable in chaos // prompts.#* this is who we are; a product of war // promo.#* i am not afraid of fire; i am fire // answered.#* v. may god have mercy on my enemies // main.#* dirty dark beautiful magic // imagery.#* how many centuries deep is your wound? // isms.#* you’re a little tragedy aren’t you ? // edits.#* tasting your blood means i love you // flappervcmp.#* you & i were simply meant to be // lovebraves.#* v. fire consumes you // fox fire.
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As a Jewish advocate for Palestinian rights, let me tell you something. I’m fucking hurting right now.
I hate Hamas because they have made the plight of Palestinians so much worse with their actions in that now even fewer people will be willing to acknowledge their 70 years of suffering.
I hate that they will be used as an excuse to demonize all Palestinians, and the US is already upping their already astronomical military funding for Israel.
I hate that they’ve committed unforgivable violence in the name of a cause that is just.
I hate the Israeli government and the IDF for creating the conditions for this tragedy and countless others stretching back to the Nakba.
I hate how they have perverted my culture into a settler-colonial ideology and perpetrated on the Palestinians the very kinds of pogroms my own family fled Europe to escape.
I hate that so many Jews in Israel and throughout the diaspora face ostracism from their communities and families for speaking out against the atrocities Israel has been committing against Palestinians.
I especially hate how many of my fellow Jews have bought into an ideology that can handwave the bulldozing of homes and schools, the imprisonment of children, the bombing of residential homes, the displacement, the massacres. Virtually all things we have suffered as Jews at points in our history.
My heart aches for the innocent people murdered across the board - no matter who the bombs came from. Even though part of me thinks settlers aren’t innocent, what can you really do if you just happened to be born there? And even if you moved to Israel, do you really deserve to die? No.
But neither do all the children in the Gaza Strip currently being bombed in a revenge attack that, with the denial of food, water, and medical aid, violates the Geneva convention.
But to everyone who is posting now about Israel and these “unprecedented tragedies” - yes, these are tragedies, and my heart is so heavy with them. But they are not unprecedented. Where were you when the same things were happening to Palestinians for decades upon decades? There’s a monumental amount of video evidence of atrocities against Palestinians, but somehow people have managed to miss all of that. If you’re only paying attention to the suffering of certain people, ask yourself why.
If you’re only now posting about “of course Palestinians should be free” in posts primarily about mourning the killing of Israelis, where were your voices before now? Those of us trying to organize and fight for Palestinian human rights could have used you.
If more people had spoken out against our government’s support of what Amnesty International and countless other human rights organizations have called an apartheid regime, who knows what could have been possible.
Edit: Since this is getting a little traction, I wanted to leave these links here. Both are very reputable organizations that are providing humanitarian aid:
#personal#Israel#Palestine#free Palestine#Gaza#Gaza under attack#human rights#fuck hamas#free gaza#israeli apartheid#war crimes
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Ex-Husband (2)
Bitter
An: Mentions of child loss. Also I tried editing this so many times and it never got better. I just kept getting frustrated. I ran through it one more time before being ok with this one. I hope you guys enjoy it though and I’m sorry it’s sad!
Master list
You look at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, feeling self-loath. You remember Kieran's words: "Be yourself." But you don't want to be yourself. You want to erase your past and start over somewhere new. Somewhere where no one knows who you are or what you've done. Somewhere where you can lie and pretend to be a good person who never hurt anyone. Somewhere where you don't have to face the demons inside you.
You open the drawer, pull out the little bottle of your anxiety medication, and swallow two tiny pills.
Memories flood your mind as you walk down the hallway. You thought taking down the picture would've helped remove the pain, but it didn't. Now, you stare at empty walls, plagued by the traces of what used to be there. The faded outlines of frames and nails mock you with their emptiness. You stop at the closed bedroom and stare at it, feeling a knot in your throat. You don't know if you can ever enter it again. You don't know if you can face the reminders of what you lost.
You urge yourself to keep walking, and when you reach the living room, you snatch your purse and anything else you might need. You secure your doors and step outside.
Of course, it's raining as if today wasn't hard enough already. You pull your hood over your head and sprint to your car, swiftly unlocking it and tossing your stuff on the passenger's seat.
You start the engine, fastening the seatbelt with extra care. You've seen the consequences of a loose buckle and how a split second can change everything. You still feel the guilt gnawing at your chest.
You rest your head on the steering wheel and let out a shaky breath. “Damn it.” You curse as tears cloud your vision. You lean back and wipe them away. You have to keep it together.
Your phone rings through the Bluetooth speaker. You glance at the screen and see Rory’s name. You know what he wants but aren’t sure if you want to talk to him.
You sigh, knowing you’re breaking your promise. You’re not moving on; you’re still letting him contact you. Seeing him at Jazz's birthday party a few weeks ago almost sent you into another spiral. Why are you doing this? Were you that lonely?
You feel weak knowing you continue to let him text and call you, but at the same time, talking to him feels safe and almost comfortable.
Out of desperation for someone to soothe you, you answer.
"Hey," You say while pulling out of your driveway. You try your best to smile as you speak, hoping he won't hear the sadness in your voice.
"Hey, um. I was just calling to check on you. See how you're doing." He softly says, "Uh, how are you?"
Your eyes threaten to water again. "Shitty." You say, feeling like a broken record that keeps playing the same sad song over and over.
"Me too." He admits. "I was going to go visit her." You can hear the weakness in his voice as he tries to compose himself. "It being her birthday and all, I think she would like us there."
You never thought this was something you'd go through. You never knew heartbreak like this. If someone had told you ten years ago this would be your life, you would have laughed. Your life wasn't some fucked up tragedy.
"Yeah." You quietly say.
"Do you want me to meet you there, or can we drive together? I don't mind picking you up," Rory speaks with uncertainty. He didn't know how to talk to you anymore. He tried to keep things light-hearted and superficial, never getting too deep.
"I'm driving right now." You bite your bottom lip, wondering if you should offer to come to his house.
"Oh," Rory sounds surprised like he didn't think you'd leave bed today. "I can meet you there."
You deeply sigh, "Let me come pick you up. I'm close to you anyway."
"Yeah, I'll just get ready. Text me when you're here. I'll see you shortly."
"Yep, bye." You click the end button, unsure if you made the right decision.
You turn the radio on and do your best to escape your feelings as you continue to Rory's new home. The songs don't help you ignore your feelings like you'd planned. You turn off the radio and drive in silence until you arrive at Rory's house, and when you park on the curb, you text him. Here.
Seconds later, the door opens with a loud creak, and you slightly jump from the sudden sound. You look up and see Rory standing there, holding the door handle. He's wearing a gray zip-up sweater, flannel underneath, and plain blue jeans. He looks comfortable, but his eyes are tense and anxious.
You stare at Rory briefly before grabbing your things to make space for him. "Sorry. I have stuff everywhere." You speak fast as you try to throw some things in the back seat quickly. Talking on the phone was one thing, but sitting next to him brought feelings of discomfort.
“I thought it was supposed to be nice today…” He sighs, gazing at the dark clouds and the raindrops on the window. His voice tinged with sadness.
“The world doesn’t owe us anything.” You reply, sounding harsh.
You feel his eyes on you, searching and questioning you. The way you responded was unexpected. This bitter woman wasn't you.
You hate that he makes you feel weak and exposed and doubt your decisions.
“Stop.” You snap at him, trying to sound angry and confident but only sounding hurt and insecure. “Don't make me doubt myself for letting you in again.” You warn.
He shakes his head, shoulders slumped in defeat. He looks away from you as if avoiding your eyes. He breathes out heavily, revealing his exhaustion.
Rory knows this isn't the best time to bring this up, but he needs to get it off his chest, and after today, who knows when he'll see you again? “You know, I didn’t divorce you to hurt you.” He says in a quiet voice as if admitting a mistake. “I did it because I thought it would be better for both of us. I hoped you would heal and move on like I've tried to.” He meets your gaze again, his blue eyes filled with pain and longing. “I still love you and want the best for you.” He adds softly, making your heart clench. “But I couldn’t stay with you like this. It was tearing me apart to see you suffer and not be able to help you. I felt like I lost both of you.”
“So you decided to leave me alone in that house by myself with all of our things and all of her things and expected me to heal? How could you be so heartless?” You bite your lip, holding back the tears that threaten to spill. “You know what? Forget it..” You say, shaking your head. "I needed my husband...that's what I needed, and you walked away so easily."
“I didn’t want to leave you and it sure as fuck wasn’t easy! (Y/n), you stopped trying! She was gone for a full year! I didn’t know how to deal with it either. There was no guide for what we went through.” He tries to explain, but you can’t listen to him.
You scoff, “Yeah, right. Blame it on me. That’s what you always do. I get it!”
You pull into the cemetery’s parking lot and hastily park the car as if trying to escape him. The sky is a dull gray, reflecting your mood. The air is cold and damp, making you shiver.
You avoid looking at him as you leave the vehicle. You can feel his eyes on you, full of questions, when he sees you approaching him instead of walking away like you usually would. You pull the car door open and glare at him like you’re going to scold him, but your eyes soften when you see him lower his head, “You act like I don’t understand what you’re going through,” He whispers, his voice breaking with emotion. “I lost Gracie too, remember?” He reminds you.
You shake your head, tears filling your eyes and streaming down your face. "No, you don't understand. You don't have to live with knowing you're the reason she's gone." You say bitterly, feeling resentment towards him. "You have a life, a future, a chance to be happy again. I have nothing. Nothing but this pain that won't go away." You say, pointing at your chest.
He reaches out to touch your hand, but you pull away.
"Don't." You warn him. "Don't try to comfort me. Don't try to make me feel better. Don't try to pretend that everything is going to be okay because it's not." You say.
He gets out of the car and stands next to you. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you close to him, ignoring your protests and struggles. He’s getting better at ignoring your spew of mean words.
He holds you tight as if afraid to let you go. He kisses the top of your head and whispers in your ear. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed me most.." His voice trembles with emotion. "But we can find a way to heal and move on." He says, hoping his words will reach you and make you feel something other than anger.
You stop fighting and let him hold you, exhausted and drained from the emotional turmoil.
"I'm tired of being like this." You mutter against his chest. "I don't want to be like this, but it hurts so much." You confess.
He gently rubs your back, trying to soothe you. "I know." He kisses your temple, feeling your tears wet his skin. "Let me help you."
But you don't want his help. You fear he'd abandon you again.
You shove him away, escaping his embrace. You stare at him with a blend of sorrow and fury. “You can’t help me.” You snap, turning your back on him. “I don’t deserve to be happy again.” You nearly choked on your words, part of you knowing it wasn't true.
Rory’s mouth falls open, stunned by your words. He watches you walk away from him, feeling powerless and hopeless. He wishes he could make you forgive yourself, but he knows he can’t. He knows he’s losing you and fears it won’t be just mentally much longer.
Part 3
#rory culkin fanfic#rory culkin#rory culkin x you#rory culkin x reader#roryculkin#culkin cult#ex husband 2
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DEXTER SEASON THREE SENTENCE STARTERS (PART ONE)
Lines taken from s03e01 - s03-e08 of the show Dexter. Feel free to change pronouns or edit in any way to better fit your needs. Here is part two.
❛ Everything's falling into place for the first time in my life. ❜
❛ Ay, ay, come here! Don't walk away all "fuck you" on me! ❜
❛ I guess your dick can suck itself from now on! ❜
❛ You don't get to blow me off and still ask questions. ❜
❛ Just hold me till you have to go. ❜
❛ If you need something for that temper I've got a man down the street with some really mellow weed that can take that edge right off. ❜
❛ Blood never lies. ❜
❛ Look on the bright side: Now that you've given up men, booze and cigarettes, running your mouth is the only bad habit you have left. ❜
❛ I'm a model of fucking perfection. ❜
❛ You certainly did not suffer from the tragedy of perfection. ❜
❛ All I want is chocolate pudding, and you - not necessarily in that order. ❜
❛ Kind of a cunt, aren't you? ❜
❛ You should stay. Grab a drink and work some of that massive tension out on the dance floor. ❜
❛ Maybe you should be a little less subtle in the future. ❜
❛ Some people just shouldn't have kids, you know? ❜
❛ The leaders of tomorrow. Their parents must be proud. ❜
❛ I've made a lot of mistakes in my life but being a mother was never one of them. ❜
❛ This child is happening. But your role in its life is entirely up to you. ❜
❛ Just when you think you've answered all the questions, another one smacks you in the face. ❜
❛ Life is just like that. Which is why I prefer death. ❜
❛ I didn't know what to do. I fought back. The knife ended up in his neck. ❜
❛ There's a lot more cannibalism in this country than any of you realize. ❜
❛ A baby? A motherfucking roly-poly, chubby-cheeked shit-machine? Are you kidding me? ❜
❛ I don't know what's more complicated, having a father or being one. ❜
❛ Showing up late at night like this, is it creepy, or just what friends do? ❜
❛ Having a conversation with you can be dangerous to one's health. ❜
❛ This is absolutely, without a doubt, the worst moment of my life. ❜
❛ I could probably kill her before anyone realized what happened. ❜
❛ I'm sorry. I just don't want to hurt you. ❜
❛ You got a lot of potential in you. Sometimes I think that you are the only one who doesn't know that. ❜
❛ People don't get married because it makes sense. ❜
❛ How do you show someone real love when you don't even know what it feels like? ❜
❛ I like the sound of the quid. What's the pro quo? ❜
❛ I know that trust doesn't come too easy to you. ❜
❛ My life has always felt like... an unanswered question. ❜
❛ You're what makes me real. ❜
❛ There are many ways to stop the heart. Electric shock. Bad diet. Sever the aorta - my personal favorite. ❜
❛ Your life is gonna change forever. ❜
❛ Every man needs his privacy. Some more than others. ❜
❛ Right on time. You're getting pretty good at this secret meeting stuff. ❜
❛ I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to do my job. ❜
❛ Thank the baby fucking Jesus. ❜
❛ Maybe I'm realizing no one around here is my friend. ❜
❛ The only time you people even acknowledge me is when you want something. ❜
❛ "No" doesn't really work in a relationship. "Can we talk about it?" is a little more productive. ❜
❛ I can't just drop everything at the last minute because you want me to. ❜
❛ That's not opinion. That's science. And science is one cold-hearted bitch with a 14-inch strap-on. ❜
❛ You think you and I are so different, don't you? ❜
❛ I'm nothing like you. ❜
❛ I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere. ❜
❛ You can't make me feel any worse than I already do. ❜
❛ You don't have to lie to me. Don't you understand? I see who you are. ❜
❛ You have nothing to explain to me. Nothing to apologize for. Ever. ❜
❛ I'm with you. I'm behind you. And I respect you. ❜
❛ What did it feel like to, uh... take him out, hmm? To end his life. ❜
❛ Together, we can make a difference. ❜
❛ He's seen me with blood on my hands and hasn't blinked. ❜
❛ Every time you let someone get close, it ends badly. ❜
❛ Can you imagine the shitstorm this is gonna create if I'm wrong? ❜
❛ Aw. You do care about me. ❜
❛ This asshole doesn't deserve to breathe, okay? ❜
❛ That's beyond dangerous. That's crazy! ❜
❛ We both have too much to lose. We should quit while we're ahead. ❜
❛ Can I throw something at you that might sound a little crazy? ❜
❛ Can't ignore something just cause it's messy. ❜
❛ What the fuck makes you think I'm suddenly willing to play now? ❜
❛ Hard to believe even you would sink that low. ❜
❛ Be careful what you think you know about someone. You're probably wrong. ❜
❛ We're living in crucial times, crucial times that demand extraordinary measures. ❜
❛ If you're gonna bail out of this, now would be a good time. ❜
❛ Mark my words, he'll give you up in a heartbeat to save his own ass. ❜
❛ We only see two things in people... what we wanna see and what they wanna show us. ❜
❛ Never underestimate the capacity of other people to let you down. ❜
❛ You can make this stop right now... if you tell me where he is. ❜
❛ You scared the fuckmother out of me. ❜
❛ You can't imagine how much I've been looking forward to this. ❜
❛ Death will be a mercy. ❜
❛ You stay the hell away from me! ❜
❛ It is kind of illegal. ❜
❛ So what I'm about to ask you is...the most terrible thing anyone could– ❜
❛ What's so important you had to see me at the ass-crack of dawn? ❜
❛ Am I being set up? ❜
❛ Just shoot me if I ever get like that. ❜
❛ Hand-holding. So simple. So intimate. So...uncomfortable. ❜
❛ I'm so sorry for putting you in that horrible position. ❜
❛ Asking you to violate your conscience was one of the worst things I've ever done. ❜
❛ I had a high opinion of you. Guess I was wrong. ❜
❛ Now he can't even be civil in front of company. ❜
❛ I never should have said anything. ❜
❛ I've never been great at conflict resolution. Not without a blade and several rolls of plastic wrap. ❜
❛ How much caffeine have you had? ❜
❛ That conscience I don't have? It's been eating away at me. ❜
❛ Only an idiot would ask for a meeting here. ❜
❛ I am not good at this. Letting people help me. ❜
❛ We're not gonna man-hug, are we? ❜
❛ I'm doing a good thing, aren't I? Then why does it feel so bad? ❜
❛ It's said that everything is connected to everything. The butterfly effect. ❜
❛ I don't want you to kill him. I wanna do it. ❜
❛ Last time I got into your car, your radio was tuned to marching music. ❜
❛ Is this the beginning of a whole new level of friendship? Is it the end of life as I know it? ❜
❛ Relationships are complicated. ❜
❛ Number one rule of the code is "don't get caught". ❜
❛ Is it a mix-up, or is [name] fucking with me? ❜
❛ I just heard a love song on the radio that reminded me of you. And it made me really angry. ❜
❛ You say anything more about my brother and I will kick your fucking nuts down your throat. ❜
❛ Jesus Christ, do you know what kind of a bonehead mistake that is? ❜
❛ You can stop this right now. Call it off. ❜
❛ You don't get to have friends. Nothing good can come out of this. ❜
❛ We can't exactly load up the cart with axes and machetes, now can we? ❜
❛ You ever drop a quart of milk? Watch it spread over the whole kitchen floor, the mess it makes? There's six quarts of blood in the human body. This isn't gonna be pretty. ❜
❛ There's no shame in backing out. ❜
❛ My god, you just get dumber every day. How do you survive in this world? ❜
❛ Yeah, of course, I'm making excuses. Don't you? I mean, how else do you sleep at night? ❜
❛ You never should have asked me to help you. ❜
❛ That was the first time in my life that I've ever felt...powerful…like I was in control of ❜ something. And ever since then, I've been trying to get that feeling back again. ❜
❛ So when you talk to me about...the darkness inside of you...I understand. I really do. ❜
❛ Thank you for this. For letting me in. For showing me the way. ❜
❛ You've set something in motion here. ❜
❛ It's like I have this monster living inside of me, and I don't know how to control it. ❜
#rp meme#sentence starters#sentence meme#rp sentence meme#roleplay meme#roleplay prompts#rp prompt#inbox meme#rp prompts#sentence starter meme#rp memes#*tv#*Dexter
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hiya! can I get your top recs for period films please? you have such good taste and I'm trying to watch more movies lol
hiya!!! first off i’m so honored you would come to me. i feel like i’ve really made it in the world now. and thank you wow?? i’m touched you think i have good taste 🥺🥺🥺 anyway i myself am always trying to watch more, but here’s a list of ones i enjoy!!
Pride and Prejudice (2005) - in my top 5 favorite movies, top 4 on letterboxd, even! (my letterboxd is “batb2017” hehe, feel free to follow if you’re there!) but yeah just a gorgeous piece of cinema. an absolute work of art your honor.
Rosaline (2022) - perfect for your url, this is a comedic take on romeo & juliet. it’s from the perspective of juliet’s cousin rosaline. honestly it’s so funny and has a great romance too. it is fully canon romeo & juliet in my mind now lol
Enola Holmes (2020) & Enola Holmes 2 (2022) - both GREAT movies, highly recommend. romance is a secondary factor for sure, but i think they’re both so wonderful and enola is an incredibly charming main character. (+ henry cavill is absolutely my new favorite sherlock holmes, and this is coming from someone who used to be obsessed with bbc sherlock haha)
Little Women (2019) - also just so stunning!!! i have nothing against the 1994 version, for the record, i simply have not seen it yet lol.
Belle (2013) - a wonderful story & romance, and based on a true story! definitely absolutely worth a watch.
Titanic (1997) - i’m sure we’ve all seen this but hey, it deserves to be here. it’s not among my absolute favorites but it’s a great story.
Outlaw King (2018) - this film is definitely more about the scottish war against england (i’m paraphrasing bc i don’t remember the official name of this war) so if medieval war movies aren’t your thing that’s very valid. BUT!!! there is a sweet romance mixed in there that keeps me coming back for a rewatch <3
Emma (2020) - i didn’t LOVE this one but i did like it a good amount. it’s sweet and fun and certainly worth the watch.
The Man Who Invented Christmas (2017) - i just watched this like two days ago and it’s not a romance, it’s just about charles dickens and how he wrote a christmas carol. but i personally loved it and found it funny/relatable as a writer, so you may enjoy! and perfect for the season!!
AND! here is a list of movies that i have not seen, but are on my watchlist. so i can’t vouch for their quality, this is just to say they have intrigued me (or been recommended to me) and i will watch them some day haha.
Bright Star (2009) - EDIT: i’ve seen this now! it’s a tragedy but a very beautiful one. verrryy beautiful. but you’re definitely going to cry.
Mr. Malcolm’s List (2022) - EDIT: i’ve seen this now! AND I LOVED IT!!! definitely in my new top favorites of period pieces.
A Room With A View (1985)
Marie Antoinette (2006) - EDIT: i’ve seen this now! absolutely stunning vibes & aesthetics. i had an amazing time watching it :)
Ophelia (2018)
Chevalier (2023) - EDIT: i’ve seen this now! AND IT IS AMAZINGGGG amazing amazing. another true story that is so worth the watch.
BONUS you didn’t ask for series but here’s a shortlist of my favorite period drama shows, just for kicks!
Poldark
Call the Midwife
The Crown
Bridgerton
Anne with an E
The Great
Downton Abbey
#feel free to ask about anything i can go into more detail !!!#thank you so much for asking 🥺#i love making LISTS 🤌✨#i’m also probably forgetting stuff but i did my best here#romeoandjulietyouwish#answered#period pieces
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Okay, so I’m assuming that you would be wanting translated baihe. I gotta say that there just aren’t many xianxia baihe in the first place, even fewer that are translated at all (to say nothing of being complete).
I’m sorry but this got long, so TLDR:
100% recommend: The Dragon (见龙)
Thought was entertaining: Mistress I Was Wrong; What’s wrong with a snake that just wants to cultivate and transform; After the Full-Level Boss is Reborn
I love this but I can’t recommend it when it only has like 3 chapters TL tier: The Art of Taming the Dragon (降龙诀[穿书])
More detail beneath this cut:
The only (good) one I can think of at the top of my head is The Dragon (见龙). It’s pretty slow burn but well-paced with a happy ending that felt truly complete and not merely forced in. The second act is somewhat weaker and meanders a little but quite a few offhanded lines turn into great pay-offs here. It’s a tight read with a fairly compelling romance between a cold love interest that is learning how to express herself past her own self-imposed boundaries, and the MC who is a free-spirited ball of sunshine filled with the vibrancy of life. And you know what? ITS BEEN COMPLETELY TRANSLATED (NOT A MTL EDIT EITHER)
Link to the translation here: https://dragontl.net/story/the-dragon/
The same TL group is also going to be translating ‘What’s wrong with a snake that just wants to cultivate and transform’. I’ve read that one in chinese and it was a rather enjoyable read too. Soft and fluffy, though lacking in high stakes and suffering from weaker plot and character writing. (It is a transmigration story, just in case that’s a deal breaker). It never truly engaged me but it was a fine enough change of pace after reading a few tragic baihe so… keep an eye out if a more slice of life style beat is what you want.
—-
The other stuff I’ve read with English TL is… middling. Though if you just have a specific itch you want to scratch and a good few hours to waste, then why not.
‘Mistress I was wrong’ is one of those generic “Oh no I’ve transmigrated into a cannon fodder character who’s the nearest person I can seduce to save me” —sorta stories. It is exactly what it says on the tin and does what it advertises decently enough. Paced a bit slowly for my taste but a half-decent time waster. I did drop it about two/three hundred chapters in but I don’t really remember why.
‘After the Full-Level Boss is Reborn’ has a half-way original premise that was executed quite well actually. The author of the novel themselves transmigrate into the book they wrote and have to deal with the tragic fates they wrought for these characters. Characters that they increasingly care about too. It had jokes that landed solidly in the first quarter. A plot twist that—though somewhat predictable—changes a reader’s understanding of the whole plot in the middle. I haven’t read the english MTL though, so I have nothing to say on its quality. Maybe give it a few chapters if you’re interested.
—-
The Wildcard: The Art of Taming the Dragon
See I love this novel to bits and it’s genuinely one of the most well-structured and engaging baihe novels I’ve read. But at the same time, its translation barely started before it’s sputtered out.
Though it starts out as a generic (if well-executed and really funny) rendition of the ‘ah fuck I transmigrated into the MC’s sworn enemy’ trope, it becomes an unravelling mystery of both the circumstances of the Dragon Clan’s massacre AND the hidden details in the original novel. There are so many plot twists that pull the rug out from under you and shatters your heart. It’s the slow realisation of the full-scale of the tragedy originally written in the book. That it is and has already become unchangeable.
The unfolding romance between Luo Qingci and her disciple, when there’s a blood debt running deep as the seas underpinning the circumstances of their meeting. How would that be reconciled?
Its funny. Its sad. It is tragic at many turns.
It is something well-worth reading.
(Which is why I’m starting to translate it myself. Though as an amateur, that is going to take a while.)
There’s probably few more on NovelUpdates, but I haven’t read any of them personally and (in light of the general poor standards on the site) am hesitant to recommend.
(Though if MTL or it being untranslated is not a barrier then I have quite a few more that might be interesting.
Also, are there any good baihe xianxia series?? I love the gay boys but where are the gay girls?
#baihe#baihe novel#its a reblog#i have written this in a spurt of inspiration at 3 am so im sorry if thsi reads as if grammar doesn’t exist#i have so much rage and energy at the prospect of gl you have no idea#i fucking wish any of these novels were popular enough to have established tags but alas#if i start spewing these titles into the tags i would be polluting the seas
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heart-on.
↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.
◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]
❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜
notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!
⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.
warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(
You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.
“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”
“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”
“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”
Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.
“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”
You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”
“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”
Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.
“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”
“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”
You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”
“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”
“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”
Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”
You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.
“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”
If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”
You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”
“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”
You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”
“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”
“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”
“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”
Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”
She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”
///
As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.
Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.
There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.
And then your mind goes to Jay.
You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.
A lot.
The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.
“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”
You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”
“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”
A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.
And arguably, a little too well.
“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.
“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”
That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.
“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”
Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”
You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”
The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”
“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”
“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”
You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.�� Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”
The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”
One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”
“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”
You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.
Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.
It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.
He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.
“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”
Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.
“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”
You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”
Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.
“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”
“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”
“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”
The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.
“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”
Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”
You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.
And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.
“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”
You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”
He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”
Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.
“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”
Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”
You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.
“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.
The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.
“I’m guessing this is yours?”
He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”
“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”
Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.
“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”
Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”
And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.
“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.
“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”
Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”
You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”
Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.
It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”
“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.
“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”
Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”
For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”
His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.
“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”
“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”
Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.
You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”
That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”
The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”
Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.
It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.
“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”
“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.
Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.
“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”
You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”
-
The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.
And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.
[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘
It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.
Fuck.
Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.
[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?
His response is instantaneous.
[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours
[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅
You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.
Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.
///
It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”
“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”
“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”
“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”
“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”
You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”
Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”
You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”
“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”
“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”
“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”
“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”
“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”
“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”
Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”
“Yeah.”
There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..
“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”
Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”
“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”
Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”
You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”
“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”
You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
///
The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.
You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.
Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.
At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.
Great.
Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.
“Need a hand?”
The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.
“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”
“Hey.”
Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.
“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”
The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.
“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.
“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”
“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”
Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”
You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”
“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.
“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.
The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.
There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.
[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight
Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.
[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.
You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?
[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged
[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!
///
Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.
“Is she alone?”
“Figures.”
The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.
“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”
“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”
Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.
“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”
You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”
Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”
“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.
“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”
“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”
She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.
“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”
The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.
Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.
“H-hi.”
Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”
Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”
Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”
“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”
Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.
“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”
“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”
“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”
“Definitely.”
A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.
From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.
“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”
“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”
“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”
Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.
“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”
“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”
Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”
His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”
You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.
“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”
“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.
“Yep.”
The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.
“Here’s to second meetings.”
“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.
You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.
Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.
“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”
You blink. “The verdict?”
Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”
“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”
Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”
“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”
“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”
“What if I am?” you challenge.
“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.
The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”
Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”
“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”
“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.
“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”
Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.
“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.
“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”
His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.
“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”
You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”
///
“Hey, you made it!”
You beam. “Hi.”
You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.
“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”
Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”
You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”
He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”
You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”
“Just promise me one thing?”
The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”
He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”
#hoseok#hoseok smut#hoseok x reader#bts smut#bts scenarios#hoseok scenarios#jhope#jung hoseok#bts#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts fic#kpop scenarios#hoseok x you#strangers to lovers!au#strangers to lovers#lia writes#gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL#my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening
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doing the bf tag with my bf.
hey, siri, does bf stand for best friend or boyfriend? (or both?)
pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: fluff / best friend + youtuber au word count :: 4,691 words warnings :: none playlist :: mean it (lauv & lany) ⋆ always, i’ll care (jeremy zucker) ⋆ fearless (taylor swift) ⋆ fingers crossed (coin) ⋆ cardiac arrest (bad suns) author’s note :: this fic is a tiny bit different than my usual writing because i emphasize more on dialogue than description in order to mimic a youtube video. happy birthday to this absolute darling angel! you have the biggest heart in the universe, and thank you for sharing so much of it with the world ♡ ↳ part of the not clickbait series.
Your subscribers have always wondered if you would do this type of video countless of times, and you never thought you’d ever actually record one due to the state of your love life (or lack thereof), yet here you are.
Unfortunately, the romantic department of your life still remains very much empty though. But lucky for you, so is your best friend’s. And that pretty much works out perfectly because he could stand in for your nonexistent boyfriend in order to complete the popular GF/BF tag (along with a hidden challenge that was popular by demand and personally requested by a certain friend with a flair for baking. Now if only the frantic butterflies in your stomach would settle down just enough for you to do it).
After all, BF could stand for either boyfriend or best friend, right?
It’s also no secret that yours and Jaemin’s subscribers shipped you two together either. Heck, you may be a little delusional as well because you ship yourself with your best friend, too. Blame the massive crush you’ve been secretly harboring. But two best friends sharing an apartment and frequently appearing in videos on each of your respective channels? In the eyes of your fans, that’s basically the perfect setup for a modern day love story.
It would 100% be the greatest love story since Kat and Patrick in 10 Things I Hate About You, but at this point in your life, your story is going to be marked down as a tragedy. You feel even more hopeless and dramatic than Romeo was about his unrequited love for Rosaline. Also, that dude got over her way too quickly at the sight of another pretty girl. You wish that would happen for you, too, but your heart is much too stubborn over Jaemin.
When you had asked him if he would do the video with you, Jaemin immediately agreed much to your initial surprise. The publicity would be good though, you surmise later on, and both our fan bases would grow, so of course, he would agree. It’s not like your best friend liked you back. That would be absolutely absurd.
“Are you ready?” Jaemin speaks up, breaking your train of thought, and you’re slightly startled. He plops down in the plush pink rolling chair next to you, the chair moving back a few inches. He scooches it closer to your own chair, buzzing with excitement. You smile at your best friend, pushing down the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You nod before reaching forward and pressing the record button on the camera set up in front of you. You pull up the list of questions on your phone.
“Yeah, let's do this.”
How did we meet?
“Oh, this is an easy question,” Jaemin says, flashing his award winning smile at the camera before he throws his arm around you happily, hugging you affectionately. “It was freshman year. You ran into me. Literally. We were in the same class, and it just ended. You were trying to shove your textbook into your bag and didn’t notice where you were walking until you face-planted into my back.”
The memory is still fresh in your mind, and you remember how you had already resigned yourself to your fate of becoming good friends with the floor. But Lady Luck was on your side for once, and she sent an angel in the form of Na Jaemin to save you from embarrassment on your first day of university.
“Yeah, I almost fell flat on my butt, but luckily, Nana has great reflexes and when he turned around, he grabbed my arm before I hit the ground,” you add on, still squished into his side. He beams, eyes crinkling into half moon crescents before placing a kiss on your cheek and turning back to the camera.
Your heart skips a beat, but you ignore it. Jaemin has always been affectionate, and kisses were all in good fun. You continue on, plastering a nonchalant smile on your face. “And he said, ‘Looks like you just fell for me.’ And then he insisted that we get lunch together.”
“And the rest is history!” he exclaims happily, resting his cheek on the top of your head. You smile fondly before going onto the next question.
Where was our first date?
“The dining hall immediately after you ran into me.”
“That wasn’t a date,” you interject. “We can skip this question since we aren’t dating.”
Jaemin shrugs, waiting for you to read the next question. He murmurs faintly under his breath, “It was supposed to be one.”
We’re going out to eat, where are we going?
Jaemin answers immediately, leaning back in his chair. “The little pizza place down the block! They always make three different types of unique pizza everyday, and once they sell out, they close for the day.”
“We always go on Wednesday because they make both of our favorite pizzas then.” You chime in, and he nods enthusiastically, moving closer to the front and throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis. “They have corn and potato pizza that day!”
You wrinkle your nose slightly before leaning towards the camera. “To my subscribers, for the record, I assure you that I have better taste than that, and I love the artichoke pesto pizza with ricotta.”
What food do I dislike?
“... Corn and potato pizza,” he says reluctantly with a pout. “And kiwis. The outside is furry and creeps you out, and the fruit makes your tongue itch.”
You flash a thumbs up at the camera, and your best friend grins, puffing up his chest. Chuckling quietly, you shake your head before answering the question yourself. “And this dork absolutely hates anything strawberry flavored. And he’s lactose intolerant, so dairy is his enemy.”
“I love cheese, but cheese hates me,” he says mournfully, hanging his head down low before he jumps back up and reads the following question listed on your phone’s screen aloud.
Who is my best friend?
“Me!” Jaemin shouts gleefully, throwing his hands up in the air, and you can’t help but laugh, grinning widely at your best friend, a fond expression on your face.
“You.”
Am I a morning person or a night person?
“We’re both night people,” you say, and Jaemin nods in agreement. “You won’t catch either of us waking up before noon if we can’t help it, and we each have to set up like five alarms just to wake up.”
“It works out because we can stay up together watching movies or editing our videos,” he adds in, turning to you and smiling fondly. “And I always have a partner when I want to go on a midnight snack run to the convenience store nearby.”
Do we have a song? What is it?
“Jeremy Zucker’s Always, I’ll Care.”
“That’s our song?” You’re surprised. You were going to mention one of the go-to karaoke songs the two of you liked to belt out on the top of your lungs after a movie and wine night. Jaemin makes a great Sharpay Evans when you both want to bop to the top.
“It’s the song that reminds me of you,” he says, voice growing softer as he reaches the end of the sentence. Curse your heart for melting into a puddle. His cheeks turn pink under your gaze, and he becomes uncharacteristically shy, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“Anyway, what’s the next question?”
What’s my nickname?
“Nana!” You reach out to poke his cheek, and he puffs them up before pouting at you. He reaches out and pinches your cheek.
“I call you ‘angel’ sometimes. It’s why your channel is called peachyangel.”
What's my weirdest habit?
“Jaemin eats way too much cilantro,” you state, swinging around side to side in your rolling chair.
“I do not!” he protests loudly, and you give him a blank stare. The two of you sit there in silence, not breaking eye contact until he finally relents.
“Okay, maybe I do. But you pour cereal before milk!”
“That’s not a weird habit!” You defend yourself. You are appalled at your best friend. Neither of you have ever woken up early enough for breakfast, so this has never come up before. If you would’ve known this in the past, maybe you wouldn’t be so ridiculously in love with him in the present.
“Yes, it is! Your cereal gets all soggy that way!”
“Only idiots pour their milk first!”
He clutches his heart dramatically. “Are you calling me an idiot?!”
“... So moving onto the next question—”
What do you think I’m talented at?
“Making people fall in love with you,” Jaemin blurts out, and your eyes widen at his answer as your grip on your phone loosens considerably.
“I—I mean, you’re just so approachable, and you’re kind to everyone. You care so much about everyone and everything. People feel comfortable around you, they always gravitate towards you, and you just— I don’t know, you make people feel loved,” he explains, unable to meet your eyes, and his cheeks darken. He fiddles around with the loose strand on his sweater sleeve.
Your heart swells ten times bigger and beats faster than ever. You wonder if Jaemin knows he has the same effect on everyone, too. You hope he does.
You wonder if he knows you’re in love with him and if he would love you back. You hope he does.
When was the first time you said “I love you” to me?
“Uh, we can skip this one, too,” you say awkwardly, but he throws his arm around your shoulder again, hugging you tightly. “Nope, not skipping! I have the answer to this one!”
He grins toothily at the camera before pinching your cheek for a second time affectionately. “I said ‘I love you’ when you showed up at my dorm and brought me pop tarts at three in the morning after I accidentally drunk texted you, instead of Jeno. That’s when I knew you were a keeper.”
“I did that because I felt bad about throwing up on your shoes at the party we went to the weekend before that,” you mumble, face growing warm when you remember your best friend’s drunken confession a few years back. “Besides, you were drunk. It doesn’t count.”
“Okay, fine, but we say it to each other all the time. The second time I said it was when you brought me chicken nuggets, and I was hungover, but sober.” He says, spinning in his chair.
“I can see the pattern now. You say it when I bring you food,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest with a fake pout. “You love food, not me.”
“That’s not true!” he exclaims, halting mid spin and facing you. He turns your chair towards him, moving forward to clutch both of your hands in his, and stares directly into your eyes seriously. “I love you.”
You inaudibly gulp, helplessly gazing back at him as you feel your face begin to burn, your heart speeding up in your chest. Jaemin grins, leaning back and letting go of your hand. “See? I love you!”
“Y-yeah.” You swallow hard, fumbling over your words. “You love me.”
What is your favorite thing about me?
“Your laugh,” Jaemin replies honestly, reaching out and absentmindedly drawing circles on the back of your hand as he looks at you. “Hyuck told me the other day that whenever I try to do something funny or make a joke, I have a habit of turning towards you for your reaction. It makes me kinda proud that I can make you laugh.”
You know that you’re stupidly grinning like an absolute idiot at this point, but you don’t care. You even almost forget about the camera.
“Your smile,” you answer, maintaining eye contact with him. Your smile widens when you see one appear on his face, his eyes shining brightly. “You have the prettiest smile, and I’m grateful that I’m able to see it everyday or be the cause of it sometimes.”
What film always makes me cry?
“Oh, The Lion King.” Jaemin responds automatically. “We both cry our eyes out at the stampede moment and when Simba tells his dad to wake up.”
“When we saw the live action version together, we brought along a ton of tissues with us, and he used almost all of them.”
What drink do I always order?
“Jaemin is crazy and always gets a venti iced americano with no water and eight espresso shots. He used to drink it six times a day until I yelled at him about it,” you say, shaking your head at the camera before glancing over at your best friend. “It’s seriously bad for your health.”
His lips jut out into a pout as he whines, “You wouldn't let me cuddle with you until I changed it!”
“It was for your own good! Plus, that drink tasted like battery acid!” You exclaim, and he sulks quietly before begrudgingly agreeing. You pat his head in consolation, and he grabs your hand, naturally interlocking your fingers with his.
“I drink it less now and with only two and half shots.”
If I could, what candy could I eat all day long?
“Chocolate,” you blurt out immediately. “Jaemin is a chocolate fanatic. But he’ll take anything with sugar. He has such a sweet tooth. He eats brown sugar when he’s bored. Even his boba drink has 100% sugar.”
“It’s as sweet as you.” Jaemin winks at you exaggeratingly, and you roll your eyes, turning your face away slightly to hide the smile that begins to spread across your face.
“Y/N likes matcha green tea Kit Kats.” He leans closer to the camera, peering into the lens in a serious manner. “If any chocolate companies are watching this, we are both open to sponsorships.”
If I could live anywhere in the world, where would I live?
“Here,” Jaemin says confidently, beaming at you, “You’d want to live here with me. And I want to live here, too. Because this is the bestest place in the world.” He hesitates, faltering for a moment before searching your eyes. “Right?”
Who are you to say no to that?
You smile at him. “Right.”
What am I deathly afraid of?
“You’re afraid of spiders,” he announces, “You make me take care of all the spiders in the apartment.”
“Yeah, it’s the only reason I keep you around,” you say casually, and he gasps, insulted. You give him a cheeky smile. “I’m just kidding.”
He scowls at you, lips pulled into a frown. “You better be.”
What is the first thing that I do in the morning?
“Jaemin is never awake before I am,” you inform the camera, crossing your legs. “I have to wake him up first if we go anywhere.”
“Even if you don’t have to go to an event, you still wake up early to make sure I’m awake, so I won’t be late. So that’s what you do first thing in the morning: wake me up.” Jaemin nudges your leg. “You always come into my room as a blanket burrito with your comforter wrapped around you.”
“That’s because I have to face the treacherous cold to make sure you aren’t late to your events. But you still end up late anyway because you drag me down onto your bed and refuse to let me go until we lay there for twenty minutes,” you grumble, pulling up your legs onto your chair and wrapping your arms around your knees.
“Cuddling is a good way to conserve body heat and start the morning,” Jaemin states, waving his arms around to emphasize his point.
“Really? Do studies show that it’s beneficial to cuddle in the morning?”
“I don’t know.” Jaemin shrugs, making a noncommittal noise. He smiles at you, causing your stomach to do flip flops and your heart to do cartwheels. “But it makes me happy every morning, so I’d say that’s enough proof.”
Who usually wins our arguments?
“Y/N does,” Jaemin sighs heavily, leaning back against his chair in resignation. “You always win.”
“It’s true.” You nod, patting Jaemin’s arm consolingly. “It’s tough always being right, but someone has to do it.”
“You always pout, too, and I just give in because you’re too cute,” he says casually, and you freeze in your seat. Never mind the fact that he’s implying you’re wrong, Na Jaemin just called you cute.
Good thing this is caught on camera because this means you can secretly watch this multiple times in private. And also cringe over your awkward reaction, but let’s not talk about that right now because once again, Jaemin just called you cute. You! Cute! Jaemin! Your mind is honestly short circuiting, and you can’t do anything, except nod and smile like a complete fool.
What do we usually argue about?
“Adopting,” Jaemin says solemnly. Eyes widening, you wait for a moment, but he offers no explanation. You lightly shove his chair, and he rolls a few inches away. “Nana, you can't just end it like that! You have to say more than that!”
Turning towards the camera, you hurriedly explain, “He’s talking about pets. He wants to adopt five dogs and name them after Jisung, Chenle, Jeno, Renjun, and Mark. And then he wants to adopt a snake and name it after Donghyuck.”
“She said we could only get one dog and the snake.” Jaemin scowls, slumping in his seat as he stares into the camera. “I can’t believe she isn’t letting me get five dogs. I love Jisung and all non-Jisung’s equally.”
What’s my favorite clothing item?
“It’s not even yours. You always steals my white hoodie. I haven’t been able to wear it for the past month,” Jaemin complains, and you have the decency to look a little guilty.
You play with the strings of said hoodie that’s currently engulfing your body, curling into yourself as you tuck your face into the sweater like a turtle. “Your clothes smell nice.”
“But we use the same laundry detergent.” Jaemin wrinkles his eyebrows, confusion evident in his eyes. “All our clothes smell like snuggles and cotton.”
“It’s not the same,” you insist, wrinkling your nose, and he shakes his head, lips curling into a smile. He reaches over and tugs the hood of the sweater over your head playfully.
“Okay, whatever you say, angel. You look better in them than me anyway.”
Where am I on a Friday night?
“You’re here with me, eating Chinese take out and watching Criminal Minds,” you answer, and he agrees, nodding.
“We just finished watching all twelve seasons on Netflix, so if anyone has any show recommendations, please send them in!”
What is my weirdest interest?
“Once again, my clothes,” Jaemin says, and you begin to protest but he wags his finger at you. “No, no, no, you don’t get to disagree! You hoarded like six of my sweaters in your closet. I bought you the exact same sweater for your birthday, but you still take mine!”
You silently decide that it is better to accept this defeat than correct him because you actually have seven of his sweaters and a few tee shirts as well.
Who’s my favorite YouTuber?
“Me!” Jaemin’s hand shoots up in the air. “I’m your favorite YouTuber. Next question.”
Your hands start to get clammy as you look down at the final question you have been saving for last. It’s been a good fifteen minutes, and the butterflies still haven’t subsided. If anything, they seem to have multiplied and transformed into a whole rampaging zoo complete with elephants and monkeys.
“Uh, are you sure about that, Nana? ShowMeTheMonet is really good. I also really like itsmebetch a lot.” You stall for time, staring at the last question until the words are stamped in your mind. “Dream Unsolved and Worth It are amazing, too.”
Suddenly, Jaemin is right in front of you as he spins your chair around to face him, frowning and complaining, “What do you mean I’m not your favorite? You’re my favorite! What kind of best friend are you? This is a betrayal! An insult! This is worse than Jisung not calling me his favorite! How could you do this to m—”
“Okay, okay, you’re my favorite! I’m sorry! It was a joke,” you interrupt, but he turns away from you, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No, go make a video with ShowMeTheMonet instead.” He sulks, shoulders hunched over. “If you like her so much, go be best friends with her.”
“I’m sorry! I’ll buy you all the chocolate you want after this,” you plead with him, placing your phone on the table next to you. “I’ll even buy you boba everyday for a week!”
Jaemin brightens up at that immediately. “Oh, yeah! I want some milk tea after this! Okay, what’s the last question?”
You swallow hard, nervously fiddling with the hoodie strings once more and shoving all the butterflies down to the pit of your stomach. Twisting in your seat, you move your chair and spin his around until you’re both facing each other, knees touching.
“‘Where and when was our first kiss?’”
At the immediate thought of kissing you, his cheeks explode in various shades of pink, the tips of his ears catching fire. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about kissing you daily. Heck, he had to stop himself from doing so earlier when you were burying your face in his stolen hoodie. It’s so unfair that you’re always so cute and looking so… so… kissable.
“I, uh, I don’t think I can answer that,” your best friend stammers out as his eyes dart towards your lips before meeting yours.
“But you got all the other answers right.” Your voice comes out steadier than you thought it would, and you mentally pat yourself on the back. Gnawing on your bottom lip, you pause for a moment, balling your hands into fists before uncurling them and asking hesitantly, “Should I help you out?”
“Yes.” He wonders how exactly you can help him out. Oh god, did he kiss you before when he was drunk? But you would’ve told him if he did that. What if he had ki—
A soft pair of lips lands on his.
You’re kissing him. Oh my god, you’re kissing him! Jaemin wants to jump up and shout it from the rooftops. His heart leaps from his chest, and he’s wildly cheering in his mind as fireworks explode around him before he suddenly remembers that he has to kiss you back.
And so he does.
Jaemin tugs you closer until you’re pulled onto his lap, a muffled squeak of surprise coming from you, and he laughs as he presses his lips against yours more firmly, hands gripping your thighs as you straddle him. Your arms loop around his neck, and your heart ricochets in your chest as you kiss him back until your lungs are screaming for oxygen and you have to pull away.
Jaemin positively beams at you, eyes sparkling as he leans forward and nuzzles his nose against yours affectionately. He laughs breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, that was really helpful. Our first kiss just happened right here a few seconds ago. And now, our second kiss is about to happen.”
Your best friend closes the distance, crashing his lips against yours once more, and you kiss him back just as fervently, smiling against his lips as he does the same. Never in either of your wildest dreams did you think this was going to happen, but you sure as heck aren’t complaining, and neither is he.
When the two of you finally break apart, you bury your face into the crook of his neck, flustered, and Jaemin laughs giddily, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling. He hugs you tightly to his chest before nudging you to look up at him. “So did I get a 100% on the boyfriend tag?”
“Yes,” you say, sitting up straight on his lap and grabbing both of his hands in each of your own, intertwining your fingers with his. “You got twenty five out of twenty five. Congratulations on your perfect score.”
“Technically, you did do the boyfriend tag with your boyfriend then, right?” he says slyly, squeezing your fingers. “Shouldn’t I get some bonus points for helping you do the tag correctly?”
You chuckle, failing to contain your smile. “Okay, fine, you get bonus points, too. You did an A plus job, Nana.”
“I’ll take those bonus points in the form of kisses.” He puckers his lips at you, and you easily comply, wordlessly leaning forward to give him one, two, three kisses.
Jaemin grins at you, positively delighted before he attacks you with kisses, peppering soft kisses onto your cheeks, forehead, chin, the tip of your nose, and everywhere else in between until he finally kisses your lips gently.
If this was a cartoon, there would be hearts floating around his head and shooting from his eyes. He leans forward again to kiss you one more time for good measure. You smile mischievously, tilting your head to the side slightly as your hands curl around his shirt. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you want for your bonus points?”
His eyebrows furrow for a split second before his entire face lights up. Jaemin carefully cradles you, picking you up as his grip tightens under your thighs. You let out a quiet squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck, as he stands up enthusiastically.
“Cut the cameras!”
One new notification: peachyangel uploaded a new video!
nana ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ commented:
I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ANGEL 🥺💗💞💖💗🤩💝💕💜🤧💖💘😭💘🌼💐🥺💖🥺🥺🥺
peachyangel replied: ily too baby 🥺🤧💖💖
insert goofy’s chuckle commented:
is this allowed?? there are minors here 😫 jisung look away
peachyangel replied: get your mind out of the gutter, ya nasty 🙄 we turned off the cam because he wanted to go get milk tea
jisung pwark replied: I’m 18!!!!! Stop treating me like a child!!!
ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ jisung pwark stop making me cut the crusts off of your sandwiches then
big head king replied: @ ghosts are real so suck it hyuck how come you don’t cut the crusts off of my sandwiches 😭😭
ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ big head king because you are a grown adult and jeno already does it for you
jenojam commented:
congrats jaemin!! :)
Starbucks Official commented:
we would love to sponsor you, Mr. Na!
FIGHTING HAEYADWAE commented:
OH YOU ARE NANA!!1!1!!! 🤯🤯
ShowMeTheMonet commented:
um hello i would love to do the gf tag with you! i accept!!! it would be an honor 🤩
peachyangel replied: omg yes!!!! 🥺🥺 let’s do it soon 💖
insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ nana ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ did… did we just lose our gfs 🤧
mork lee rawr xD commented:
hahaha nice guys ! this was really cute haha
ty track commented:
the babies are all growing up too fast ):
jeno is my favorite commented:
.... i feel so single @.@
DonutKillMyVibe commented:
let it be known that I was the friend who challenged @ peachyangel to do the challenge and hence, I am the reason these two are together 👀👀
ghosts are real so suck it hyuck commented:
someone should make an updated version of that jaemin complaining video compilation with this
big head king commented:
ayyy you all are the GOAT 🐐🐐🐐
jenojam commented:
so are we just gonna let it slide when he called everyone except jisung “non jisungs” ?
jisung pwark replied: 😎😎
insert goofy’s chuckle commented:
is no one gonna comment on how he called me a snake?????
ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle is no one gonna comment on how much of a clown hyuck is???
insert goofy’s chuckle replied: @ ghosts are real so suck it hyuck wtf? where did this even come from
ghosts are real so suck it hyuck replied: @ insert goofy’s chuckle sorry I thought we were stating the obvious here
big head king replied: LOLOLOL
apado gwenchana god commented:
nice 😎👍🏻
#jaemin scenarios#jaemin fluff#jaemin imagines#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct dream scenarios#jaemin x reader#nct fluff#nct dream fanfic#nct fanfic#jaemin fanfic#nct scenario#nct angst#jaemin angst#nct dream fic#nct dream fluff#na jaemin#jaemin#nct#nct dream
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Just a Human (S.R.)
Type: mini-series turned one-shot, SHIELD recruit!reader
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 8750
Summary: Being a SHIELD recruit was a dream come true, especially with people like Sergeant Barnes or Captain Rogers offering an input to your class’ training.
It was also hard work for many different reasons. One of them being all those guys around; not all of them were exactly fit to become heroes, simply because they were not good people.
Maybe you shouldn’t have pointed it out so openly though. Then again, what would the world turn into if you kept your mouth shut when feeling like speaking up?
WARNINGS: so-so graphic description of assault almost turned sexual, violence and a bit of blood, boys being boys in a real bad way, language
A/N: Steve Rogers vs assholes, round 2. Also, ‘you’ vs. assholes. And Bucky in the mix.
A/N: This was originally posted as a miniseries on AO3, but now edited, I decided to thrown it in as a long, sort-of three part one-shot. Enjoy and mind the warnings.
(gif source dailymcugifs, divider by firefly-graphics)
A Handful of Spite
“Can you believe the fucking nerve on him?!” Henry hissed, punching the bag harder and catching your attention. The statement was followed by his companion nodding grimly.
You tried to ignore the walking testosterone jerks; you never liked either Henry or Jim. The reason was simple – they were, as you loved to remind people, an advertisement on toxic masculinity. Bullies on top of that. The kind of people you wanted to avoid at all costs.
You weren’t that lucky to have that chance though.
So instead, you scoffed under your breath and continued your sit-ups series. You had more important things to do than wonder about what they were talking about this time.
It was your regular training session with the other SHIELD recruits led by Sergeant Barnes – which--- oh my. When joining the academy, you had no clue that the director’s ‘you’ll be learning from the best’ meant that of all things; trained by the more-than-once-believed-late James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone here knew his story – or at least some of it. The brainwashing. The murders. His heroics to make up for them as much as he could. His everlasting friendship and a nickname that was tied to it. Bucky; the very best friend of the oh-so-praised Captain America.
Oh, speaking of which, he joined the sessions too. You were being trained by not one, but two supersoldiers slash war heroes. You couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes, but you were not one to dwell on it. You just accepted it as a fact. An abso-fucking-lutely incredible fact.
“He’s just a fucker, man. Forget about Barnes, you have Cassie in your pocket. Just ‘cause he’s all sticky sweet on her doesn’t mean she’ll suck his-“
You made a disgusting face, pushing harder to tune out the conversation. You wanted to gag and at the same time, your blood was boiling.
Could there be a jerk who was objectifying women more than Jim? A guy who was using his lower brain more frequently than him? Doubtful. You really wanted to throw up at rubbish that was leaving his mouth.
Not to mention that he was throwing dirt on Sergeant Barnes who absolutely didn’t deserve it.
“-he’s like that to all of them. The chicks. And they fucking dig him, it’s disgusting. He makes the poor brainwashed kicked puppy face, reminding the sob story of his and they’re all dropping to their knees I swear…” Jim continued, practically spitting the venomous words.
You squeezed your eyes shut, half furious and half guilty; the sergeant did have a heart-breaking backstory and many girls were making eyes on him, their hearts softened by the tragedy and his bravery, yes. And you couldn’t say it wasn’t moving you as well, filling you with compassion – but compassion only. Obviously, Sergeant Barnes was objectively a very attractive man too, but what they were saying… ugh.
He didn’t deserve these insults; he was not trying anything on anyone, he wasn’t offering his ‘sob story’, actually being rather secretive about it for obvious and no doubt painful reasons. He couldn’t really couldn’t be blamed for the girls fawning over him a bit more because of it, could he? What was he supposed to do? Stop breathing? Stop doing what he chose to be his job?
It wasn’t his problem – and thank god for that – that these two assholes had egos the size of Texas and couldn’t handle a little competition.
Seriously. Walking testosterone-filled jerks. You seriously considered moving from the station you had been given, eyeing Captain Rogers, checking if he would notice.
“Well, he’s not. Getting. Any. From. My. Chick. Asshole!”
The bag swung wildly under Henry’s blows despite Jim holding it. You laid off, taking your fifteen second break.
“I bet he’s fucking them all on side. Always so… so soft on them. I bet he’s leaving all the hard shit for bed,” Jim snorted, somewhere between angry at him competition and amused at his own crude joke.
You were gonna puke. You were sure of it.
“And he’s too hard on us. Showing off for them. I would fucking want to see him holding up against us without that metal arm-“
You had enough. You sat up sharply, panting, your face flushed, unsure whether it was from the exercise or the exchange you were listening to.
“Are you serious?!” you hissed their way, earning their shocked glances.
And then, Jim’s face twisted in annoyance and disgust.
“Oh geez, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” he snarked, rolling his eyes. “The fangirls.”
More heat burned in your cheeks. You weren’t kidding anyone; both the sergeant and the captain had showed up in your not so innocent dreams, but you were only human, alright. There was only so much time you could spend with two very fine men like them in one room, a bit sweaty and rough (or just slightly gentler with the ladies) until your brain reacted. Mostly to the captain. Not the point.
But actually crossing the line? Being a part of the thing they were describing if it ever existed? Waiting in the line until one of them picked you for the evening with a promise to do it again after they… Jesus what, tried all the others? No, thank you. You had some dignity left.
Also, you simply couldn’t imagine them doing such thing. Raised in a different era, tried by war and pain and lost, yet remaining the great men they were? Just nope.
“No! Jesus, are you even listening to yourself?” you hissed, minding your volume. You hoped that the low hum of voice in the room, of others working out, giving each other pointers and the noise of the machines would offer you a cover from the rest of your companion.
“What, you wanna tell me they’re not going easy on you? On any chick, really?”
“Yeah, well, maybe because they don’t actually want to break our bones during training. Supersoldiers. Superstrength. Does that ring a bell?” you pointed out, reaching for your water bottle, hoping either of your trainers would forgive you when seeing you only took a sec to have a sip.
Henry scoffed, leaning onto the bag. “Sounds like someone has a crush…”
You couldn’t help the motion of your hands, inconspicuously throwing them in the air in frustration.
Why were you even speaking to them? You should have kept your mouth shut!
“Oh go to hell, Ulrich! You’re just jealous and scared that your girl whom you treat like a piece of shit will run off,” you murmured, wiping your forehead off sweat.
“Yeah, because they’re sure pulling their punches with guys too,” Jim complained again, rolling his eyes as Henry now watched you, eyes narrowed in anger – oh you hit a nail on the head, alright.
You couldn’t but mirror Jim’s action, deciding to stick to Devil’s advocate, because…. yeah, because it wasn’t fair to either Rogers or Barnes. They were good people and didn’t deserve this.
“So they’re not beating the shit out of us like they do with you, get over it.”
“They’re humiliating us! Showing off their big muscles, trying to impress all the chicks-“
You chuckled incredulously as they actually admitted the real reason behind their bitching so openly; as if you hadn’t known the whole time. Ego. Ohhh, the ego was bruised. Call 911, CPR is gonna be needed! God, how did they even live with ego this big? Compensating for something?
“They’re doing their job. Training. Yes, they go a bit harder on you, because your physiology can take it. Did it ever occur to you that they have bigger problems than entering a pissing contest with you just so they could steal the girls? Jeez… just… maybe try to be less of assholes and the girls will be into you too… ”
You missed the hard look Henry gave you, laying down again, this time on your belly to work on your back.
You wheezed when a knee suddenly dug into your back, violently and painfully knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, one of your arms was twisted behind your back, Henry’s voice raspy right into your ear, low and dangerous.
“Listen, you little bitch, you don’t get to talk to me like that. Understand? Huh?”
He was so proving your point, but you didn’t have the time You tried to breathe in properly, and free your arm while pushing up on the free one, your muscles burning with the effort. Shit, he was heavy. You wheezed again instead of the answer.
“Can’t hear you, sweetie. What was that?”
Peripherally, you could see heavy boots approaching rapidly, making a quick guess of who that could be. You gritted your teeth, tears of humiliation pricking your eyes. You were not about to give Henry the satisfaction of proving his point of your trainers being sweet on all the girls even if this so wasn’t that.
“Screw. You,” you let out with the last oxygen left, grabbing his left calf and sharply tugging to the very same side. A half-second later when his weight of you eased just a fraction, you threw your body to the left as well, adding a jerk of your legs.
Both of you rolled over, him ending up under you and you quickly spun away, gasping, desperately fighting for air. As it burned your windpipe, it was as painful as welcomed. Little spots danced inf ornt of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away – luckily for you, Henry didn’t dare to attack you again.
You shook your head before pushing to sit up, only to meet with Captain Rogers’s strict gaze.
“What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded, sharp blue eyes flickering between the three of you.
Maybe you were hallucinating, but he seemed to be murdering Henry with his eyes. Uh-uh. You would have been glad he was, hadn’t Henry been talking about favouritism only few moments ago. You pushed up simultaneously with him and you both stood straight, facing the captain.
“Apologies, sir,” you stated mechanically, his gaze immediately shifting to you. Your heart stopped. Oh wow, you would swear the blue of his irises was on fire. You gulped. “We had a slight disagreement with Mr. Ulrich. I’m aware I shouldn’t have been talking to him in the first place. I’ll take whatever punishment is given to me.”
“Yeah, I bet you’d liked taking a punishment from him, wouldn’t you…” Jim muttered under his breath, making your gut twist in disgust.
Was he ever not thinking about sex? You prayed the captain didn’t hear him and you had to stop yourself from shooting Jim a murderous glare.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. Consider it a warning. Mr. Ulrich? You have something to add before you take a few laps?”
You could literally hear Henry’s blood boiling. You opened your mouth to ask for the same punishment, not wanting to have his point proved. You never got the chance to speak.
“No, sir. I only don’t understand why I’m the only one being punished,” Henry questioned innocently and you gritted your teeth.
Maybe because you attacked me, you dickhead?
Captain glared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jim. “You’re not. Mr. Larkin is following your example.”
You pressed your lips together, this time to stop a smile threatening to spread on your lips. God, who knew America’s Golden Boy could get that sassy? You cleared your throat.
“If I might speak, sir, I deserve to run the laps as well,” you noted carefully, earning a curious expression from your superior. You could tell he wavered, a strange spark appearing in his eyes.
You desperately wanted him to let you run too even if you breathing was still a bit difficult; because otherwise Henry would be proved right. Yeah, nope.
“Very well, then. Ten laps around the gym, recruits. Then you move to the station free at the moment. Go. Don’t let it happen again.”
The three of you nodded dutifully and picked up a pace. For some reason, you could feel the captain’s eyes on you while he walked back to assisting his friend with hand-to-hand training. You glimpsed the sergeant leaning to him, probably asking what was that about, but the blond just shook his head.
Towards the eighth lap, you were being overpassed by Henry and Jim, who ran together; faster than you, whether you liked it or not.
“This isn’t over, bitch,” his hateful hiss reached your ears and you picked up speed stubbornly, not showing them that they might intimidate you even for a second.
They wished.
Even when leaving the room after the session was finished, you would swear there was a pair of blue eyes burning a hole to the back of your head. You hoped that you’d soon be free of the captain’s attention.
You sure didn’t want him to watch too closely. You didn’t need him behind your back to see mistakes you sometimes made just like anybody else. Also, it would be harder to admire and ogle him; you did that occasionally, okay. You were just a human, after all.
A Handful of Mistakes
Shauna, your roommate and bestie from science division of SHIELD, was very patient listening to your lament about guys being dicks; she was awesome like that.
So you vigorously vented your frustration with male population, rolled your eyes when mimicking the silent threat of ‘this not being over’, had a very unhealthy piece of cake at the cafeteria that afternoon and moved on.
You should have known better.
Henry’s words came haunting you few days later; which was too bad, because you had already forgotten about them, until the very moment they had punched you to the face.
…or rather to your shoulder and it wasn’t even a punch, more like one of those bumps people did, especially when they were being jerks, shoving you too hard for you to believe it was an accident.
“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” you threw over your shoulder sarcastically, continuing your way to the women’s locker room.
In hindsight, that was probably mistake number one; ignoring Henry and not starting a fight right there, not to mention being mouthy.
To be fair, you had no interest in further interaction; you were exhausted from the training, you were sticky and sweaty and all you craved was a shower. You would have just gone to have one at your dorm, but Shauna was having a hot date and you didn’t want to step on her toes. So you had taken your toiletries with you, using the showers near the gym.
Using the gym shower; mistake number two. It meant all of the students being gone by the time you emerged in fresh homey clothes, hair dripping water, because you hated hair-dryers and avoided them unless they were completely necessary.
You had spent much longer in the shower than needed, allowing your muscles to completely relax under the spray of water. That was mistake number three.
The fourth mistake was your pride. When you saw Henry, Jim, George (at least you thought, you weren’t sure, not having many classes with him) and Frank in the corridor, clearly waiting for you, since they bounced off the wall they had been resting against when you appeared, you should have probably been smarter and scream for help right away.
But no, you were being Miss Future Agent and you weren’t intimidated by four equivalents of high school jocks. Yep, this one was definitely the biggest mistake of yours.
“Fellas,” you beckoned to them, passing them gracefully, your bag over your shoulder along with the wet towel.
You barely made a few steps before a hand gripped your arm, harshly tugging you back. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you tried your best not to let it show. You turned to Henry, looking at his face, head tilted back just slightly due to his height.
“Is there a problem, Ulrich?” you asked calmly, earning a lift of his eyebrows at your tone.
“You know there is. I told you it was not over.”
You tried to ignore your pulse skyrocketing and the panic rising in your gut. You were not that stupid – you understood the implications. You knew that with four guys slowly circling you, you would have to fight bites and nails if it came to it and probably still lose. Sometimes it was just better to walk away and swallow your pride; a concept Henry and Jim clearly didn’t understand.
You jerked from Ulrich’s grip, still hoping you could walk away and call it day.
“It is over for me. Now if you’ll excuse me…“
Yes, you were being naïve thinking it would work.
The bag was torn away from your shoulder, your fingers automatically letting go to stay attached to your hand. You gritted your teeth, blood slowly reaching the boiling point.
Also, maybe you were more than just a bit afraid. Not that you would ever admit it to them.
Henry’s hand reached for your chin and your snatched it away in disgust before he could even make contact with your skin. Amusement dances in his eyes along with a flash of anger.
“Oh, kitty has claws?”
You felt another hand on your backside, sending a shudder up your spine, so you grabbed it, shoving it away as well.
Jim. Why weren’t you surprised? Pigs. What the fuck was their problem?
“I’ll let you know when I meet any. Now get out of my way,” you spat, your gut twisting as a sly grin spread on Henry’s face and he made a step right into your route.
“Or what? You’ll scratch, kitty? Or you’ll scream? Like a little girl?” he mocked you in high-pitched voice, his face lowering to yours so you were only inches apart.
“Bet you’d like that,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes when his breath with an unmistakable hint of alcohol fanned over your face. “No, I’ll offer you a breath-mint, because honestly you should do something about your breath.”
Yep, that was the mistake no.5 and definitely an enormous one.
You heard one of the guys chuckle, but you never got to enjoy the thrill of victory.
Out of blue, there was something around your neck, the weight of the towel shifting (add that to the mistake list) and your body flew backwards, colliding with a male one. George was it?
Your hands went to instinctively grab after the towel crushing your throat, but suddenly they were wrested down and pinned to your sides by strong arms. Jim had caught one, Henry another. Fucking cowards.
With your breath coming out short with both lack of oxygen and rising fear, your pulse thundering in your ears, you tried to jerk from their grip, but they wouldn’t budge, having an undeniable advantage.
Oh fuck, fuck, you were so fucked.
“Sassy little mouth, aren’t we?” Henry hummed, wry expression on his ugly face. “So dirty, feels like we should wash it with something. Who wants to go first, fellas?”
Loud alarm bells rang in your head, icy shiver running down your spine, stomach turning over.
Oh no, you don’t.
Your knee snapped up on instinct to gain the momentum, followed by a swift low kick to Jim’s knee.
He yelped and let go of your arm, allowing you to send an elbow straight to George’s face; and finally, your airways were free as the assault as the towel trap loosened.
You coughed, fighting for oxygen and mindlessly threw the item away to have at least one arm free.
“Bitch!” one of the men yelled; you weren’t sure which one, but you didn’t waste time thinking too much. Survival instinct took over.
Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes and you barely silenced the scream when Henry took advantage of your hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back. Fuck he really had a thing for that, didn’t he?
You tried to kick him, but someone else’s leg somehow managed to swept their leg under yours and you fell on your knees. Sharp tug on your hair caused you to cry out and obediently tilt your head back. Few tears escaped you, but you pushed up in attempt to get up again.
A kick coming from behind threw your body forwards and you nearly fell on your face when Henry finally let go of you. You tasted blood as you bit your cheek, but you managed to at least land on your shoulder instead of face-planting.
It still hurt like a bitch, but at least you still had all your teeth… or you thought so, not having time to check. Catching a movement from the corner of your eye, you managed to roll over before a kick to your side could hit you with full force. Frank’s foot only brushed you, but you were sure you’d have a bruise as a souvenir anyway.
A punch landed next to your face when you dodged it in the last moment, someone grabbing your legs and holding them together. Between your efforts to free them, you didn’t have time to chase away the body suddenly holding your arms as well.
“Fuck--- she’s a handful.”
A ragged battle cry erupted from your throat as you tried to jerk your body from their grip on pure instinct, every self-defence move you had ever learned flying of the window.
“More fun to break her, don’t you think?” Henry purred, his hand sneaking around your waist under the hem of your t-shirt.
Your head spun like crazy at the skin-to-skin contact and nausea hitting you hard. You wanted to puke and scream and punch and you couldn’t make yourself to do either, tears rolling down your cheeks as your body convulsed in a desperate attempt to break free.
There was ringing in your ears, disorienting you, but aware of the hand suddenly covering your mouth you tried to bite it on instinct holding you down.
“Oh-ho, biting!“ you heard, strangely muffled as if you were under water.
“I like them feisty-“
“Playing hard to get!”
“Shit, SHIT-“
The pressure on your legs eased all of sudden and you immediately kicked with all you had, catching the rising figure in the calf, knocking them off balance.
“Fuck!”
You would swear the floor vibrated, but in must have only been your mind playing tricks on you. George disappeared from your field of blurry vision; you only saw a fist sending him flying sideways.
Yep, your mind was fucking making up things, because there was no way he could have been thrown away like this by a single punch. You weren’t complaining; the relief the illusion provided was almost blissful.
Henry’s body weight vanished as well in nearly supersonic speed as if he wanted to escape the illusion. So you did the first thing that came to your mind; with your hands free, you grabbed his ankle, stopping him from running away. Which, thinking about it, was stupid, because only a moment before, you would have given anything to get him the fuck away from you.
He kicked back blindly, but his sole never met with your body – he was dragged away and… and lifted to the air as if he weighted nothing.
Blinking your tears away, your fuzzy mind cleared.
Only to reveal a very muscled and very much pissed off blond slamming Henry against a wall and then letting his suddenly unconscious body slide down.
You gasped, your eyes catching a glimpse of the fourth figure – Frank – several feet away, running for his life.
“Buck?!” came a shout and before you could question it, a metal arm emerged from behind the corner, stopping Frank dead as he rushed straight into it.
“Yep?!” the dark-haired supersoldier yelled back, sounding almost amused.
What the hell was happening? What the hell just happened?!
You blood sizzled in your veins, loud and rapid thump-thump-thump banging in your ears, face damp with several shed tears, body aching and your mind fucking racing.
You heard a whimper on your left, automatically turning to the sound. It left Jim’s lips, his form crumbled on the floor, struggling to stand up.
The captain’s knee seemed to come out of nowhere, digging into Jim’s back and pinning him down again before you even registered a movement.
“Is it fucking over now?”
“Steve, let him be. Not worth it,” Barnes’ voice tried to reason, sounding rather growly, but not nearly as loud as before. He approached your group in rapid pace and Rogers scoffed and let go.
You gulped at sergeant’s angry grimace, crazily convinced he was angry with you for all the mistakes you made that lead to this; but his expression softened when his gaze fell on you.
“Hey there,” he greeted you almost casually, holding out a hand to help you up. “Can you stand?”
You blinked several times at the suddenly dispassionate tone, even if you still sensed something bubbling under it. You shook off the thought and accepted the offered hand – the flesh one. The detail didn’t escape you, your bran in overdrive. Of course he hadn’t offered you the metal arm. He didn’t want to scare you. He was thoughtful like that-
-or not. The strength he dragged you up with was way too much for you, more so when combined with the speed and your state. You stumbled over your feet, a wave of dizziness messing with your balance.
You awaited the upcoming reunion with the floor, unable to stop the fall, but it never happened. Before you could as much as reel, gentle hands supported you in a firm grip, pleasantly warm against your bare arms.
“Whoa, take it easy,” Rogers’ voice warned you, soothing. For some reason, it felt more like ‘I got you,’ instead of ‘take it easy.’
You took a deep breath, Barnes’ hand letting go of yours as he semi-voluntarily handed you over to his friend.
“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”
Thanks for the reminder, I noticed.
You swallowed the snarky remark, well-aware of the sergeant’s care. You fought against the urge to spit the blood out.
“Is fine…” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Bit my cheek. I’m pretty sure I—“ you quickly ran your tongue over your teeth just to confirm your theory, “-still have all of my teeth.”
Sergeant Barnes gave you a tiny smile, the worried crinkle that had found its way between his brows disappearing.
“Whatever you say.”
His gaze flickered to something behind your head, probably in order of exchanging a wordless conversation with your still present crutch. Not that you were complaining. The weight of what had happened was slowly settling on your shoulders and you were grateful for any support – and who were you kidding, Captain America made for a pretty reliable support.
“Why don’t we leave you in pu- Cap’s capable hands while I-“ Barnes’ jaw clenched, pale eyes scanning the four bodies on the floor, calculating. “-take out the trash?”
You nearly choked at the choice of his words, wincing. Captain Rogers’ hands squeezed your shoulders reassuringly and you nodded, not sure what else to do.
You didn’t want to look at Henry. Or Jim. Or their loyal companions.
So when the captain carefully spun you on your heels, you didn’t protest and your feet started moving on autopilot in the direction he had set.
“You okay to walk without support?” he asked softly, a stark contrast to the voice you remembered from earlier or from the training sessions.
You knew that if you said yes, he would let go of you. Honestly, his touch felt damn nice, firm and yet somewhat gentle, a pleasant contrast to harsh fingers of the men who had the nerve to attack you – you had to swallow bile rising to your mouth at the awfully fresh memory. Fuck, it had been so close, just a minute later and--- you shook your head mentally and tried your best to erase this memory from existence.
You decided not to abuse the kindness the captain was offering. After several indulging steps, you quietly confirmed he could release you. You found out that sensing his large frame by your side as if he was your bodyguard was nearly as comforting. Nearly.
You didn’t have the strength admonish yourself for basking the light of his protective persona. Future agent of not, you still had the right to want to feel secure at times.
After all, you were only human.
A Handful of Truths
You didn’t realize you were shaking until a blanket was tossed over your shoulders.
You were sitting on a short couch in what looked like a cosy office, hair still damp, body finally registering the ache caused by previous events, just like your brain was slowly taking in what had happened.
Captain Rogers, whose courtesy was to escort you from the hellhole you had been attacked in, had clearly took it as a personal mission to take care of your injuries; it hadn’t dawned to you until you were seated and your mind helpfully supplied you with ‘This isn’t the infirmary’.
He pulled a swivel chair to sit face to face with you, a box of medical supplies left open on the coffee table at your side. You didn’t realize he had moved the chair or dug the box from god-knew-where until the items were simply there.
“How do you feel?” he inquired, attentive eyes scanning your hunched form. You instinctively curled onto yourself, snuggling further into the blanket. You knew you should come up with an answer, but your brain started to hurt with the effort to do so. “I guess that’s fair. Can you tell me what hurts the most?”
You quickly glanced at his openly kind face, his baby blues still watching for any reaction that would clue him. Your throat went dry at the compassion of display and you had to swallow before speaking – and think. What hurt the most…?
You didn’t know what possessed you to tell him what you did, but it came out before you could stop yourself.
“My pride,” you croaked, causing his eyebrows jump just like the corner of his lips.
“That’s probably fair too. Then again, I’d rather know about something I can fix.”
You felt your body relax a little at his informal tone – you might even say a jovial one, but you could still sense too much worry behind it to call it that. You attempted a tiny smile at least to show him that you were more or less fine – you weren’t – and brilliantly failed.
“Landed on my shoulder. Probably gonna have a bruise on my side from when… when they kicked me. Ribs and arms might be a bit tender for few days, ‘cause they were heavy as they--- they’re heavy,” you voice wavered as you saw the muscles on the captain’s forearms clench and his hands curled up in fists. You sheepishly looked up to his face. “I got lucky.”
His eyebrows rose again in a ‘figures’ manner as he leaned back to the chair.
“Nothing else apart from that, your cheek and your pride?”
“I’m a little cold, but you took care of that,” you admitted, taking a deep breath in as you tugged on the blanket pointedly.
Despite what you were saying, you didn’t feel okay, the tremble never quite leaving your body. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. You stared at your knight in shining armour, gathering courage to do what was needed. You tried your best to meet his gaze, feeling so small and embarrassingly weak in front of him.
“Could have been much worse if you haven’t showed up. Thank you.”
He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. He leaned in, his elbows on his knees.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster... I should have kept closer eye on Ulrich,” he muttered under his breath, making you wonder if you only imagined it. “Your pride shouldn’t be hurt. You held yourself against them just fine.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the honestly his voice held – and you were honestly grateful for the slight shift of attention. Oh. Had he forgotten how things had been when he had arrived?
You weren’t sure whether you should remind him. You definitely didn’t want to remind yourself, but before you could solve your little dilemma, he clarified.
“You haven’t started training the combat against multiple opponents yet. Let alone four opponents, all of them having both height and weight advantage. You couldn’t exactly go all Black Widow on them if no one showed you how.”
He accented his words with a reassuring smile and you almost believed him. The shivers finally eased, most likely thanks to the warm treatment you were being given in all senses of the word. The inner cold gradually melted and you were left in nothing but pleasant warmth.
Mentally, you patted your pride gently on its head; you couldn’t quite disagree with him. No matter how helpless you had felt earlier and how ashamed for it you were, the truth was you were still learning. You weren’t a finished agent yet.
You breathed in and out, avoiding the gaze that was still on you. It felt like a freaking brand with how intense it was. You couldn’t say you hated it necessarily, you only wished you at least didn’t look so pathetic. No make-up, probably red with a smudge on blood somewhere, perhaps with some bruising already forming, hair wet and messy. You absently ran your fingers through it in attempt to fix it a bit as if it could help.
What had you been talking about? Right… those assholes being cowards and coming at your four against one.
“I… I just fucking hate bullies,” you grumbled darkly, your hand immediately covering your mouth when you realized what you had said. Oh. Language. Still your superior you’re talking to, no matter how nice. “Sorry. Please, pretend you didn’t hear the f-word. I just hate bullies, period.”
“I might have sworn earlier too, so let’s call it even,” the captain offered, one corner of his lips raised. Oh. He had, hadn’t he? ‘Is it fucking over now?’ What did that even mean? “And so I heard.”
“What?” you yelped, your mind racing again in search for the meaning behind his words.
“I mean… I heard you. When you were defending Bucky, in the gym. I’m pretty sure your exact words were about a ‘pissing contest’.”
“Oh god,” you breathed out, your face no doubt set aflame. He had heard you; that was why he had said he should have kept a closer eye on Henry. Oh. Ohhhh.
Also, did he just say ‘pissing’?
“You weren’t wrong by the way. But… neither were them.”
You blinked in surprise. What? “About?”
You knew he didn’t mean the sleeping around with recruits, your gut was screaming that at you, because they wouldn’t, but still, you rather asked for clarification. If he didn’t mean that part, which one then?
“Ladies do fall over for Bucky,” he hummed with a lopsided smile, a playful twinkle in his eyes. It did something to your belly, a strange familiar shift that was very inappropriate, but hell, people needed to cut you some slack. He was impossible not to ogle and you didn’t have the energy to control your reaction after today’s events. “And I don’t really pull my punches when I’m training those two in particular.”
“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and think better of it.
His gaze bored into yours, burning with intensity and with a glint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
“I don’t like bullies either.”
Did he lean in even more or were you so focused on his face it only seemed closer?
You weren’t able to look away. His blue eyes simply locked you in, not allowing you to escape. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t scary. It should be, he was— he was a freaking captain, your superior, a superior to a lot of people, which you were constantly forgetting ever since he had saved you from falling on your ass in the hallway and you had to remember that.
Before you could though, your racing mind packed up and let your body, your mouth to be precise, act without supervision.
“Not trying to impress the ladies then, huh?”
His tiny sheepish smile cut off the uprising panic in your chest when you realized how bold of you was to say that. He lowered his gaze, giving a subtle shrug. “Guess I wouldn’t want one falling for guy’s muscles and a show-off of dominance.”
“What for then? Honesty? Sincerity? Kind eyes? Strong moral compass?” you heard yourself prying, internally horrified how far you had come when saying that. Your face was drained of colour when it clicked. You were literally naming things you liked about him, absolutely shamelessly putting them in the open. Oh shit. Fix it, fix it, fix it! “…the sass?”
His eyes went wide and he burst out laughing so loud it startled you for a second, especially as he threw his head back with the outburst. Then you reluctantly joined him, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.
“The sass!” he howled, unable to hold back another fit of laughter and when you peeked at him through between your fingers, you saw his palm resting against his chest as if it could help him stop laughing.
Just like that, blood rushed back into your cheeks.
“Oh god, I made it worse!” you cried out, wishing for the earth to swallow you, frantically looking around for the fastest escape route. “Oh my god, I have to switch schools now… excuse me-“
You hastily got up from your seat, but a quick hand snatched yours, pulling you back.
You stumbled, landing ungracefully right back in your place, this time without the blanket. Captain Rogers was watching you with the corners of his lips high, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Sorry for grabbing you like that. But no, please. Stay.”
Your throat closed off when you heard his soft plea, only traces of humour in it. Yeah, you bet he hadn’t met anyone with such big mouth for a while, so he thought it was better to keep the comic around.
“Captain Rogers, I-I- what I said, it was completely out of line-“ you stuttered, only to be interrupted.
“Were you making it up?” he questioned.
You gulped, your mind screaming at you to say yes to save you the humiliation. And yet, with the cerulean irises staring into your eyes, your mouth did the exact opposite.
“No.”
Dammit.
“Then why would you go?” he questioned softly. His hand still didn’t leave yours, only easing the grip into a kinder one. You felt like a brand was being burned into your skin. A pleasant one, so you didn’t retreat. Oh, you’d never. But what on Earth was he getting at? “We need someone honest like you. People who stand up for others, even if only to defend their honour. That is the kind of people who should be in this line of work. The good ones.”
You opened your mouth, no sound coming out as his speech shook you to your core, tickling your stomach pleasantly along with your pride. His words seemed to be coming from heart, genuine, which was not helping your blood pressure and suddenly wobbling limbs.
“Even when they have potty mouth and put their foot in it? ‘Cause I seem to excel in that.”
“Especially then,” he chuckled and you could tell there was no pinch of a lie in it.
Something was in the air, crackling deliciously, and you liked it. You wouldn’t be able to describe it properly, the feeling simply too unique, but it was tickling your fancy so weren’t about to complain.
“O-okay. Thank you, Captain,” you whispered, revelling in the sight of the gentle curve of his lips.
“You started with the compliments, Agent.”
And just like that, you wanted to run for your life again, drowning in embarrassment.
What were you even still doing here? Complimenting him? Enjoying his touch? Flirting with him?
Were you nuts?!
Him, a captain— no, the captain. And you, an agent--- hell, you were not even an agent yet!
The captain whose eyes flickered to not-an-agent’s lips for the shortest of moments, widening a fraction before returning to her eyes.
Oh, now you were definitely going nuts. You were hallucinating. You must have hit your head too. He wasn’t into you and you being into him was very stupid.
You should go.
…any moment now.
…just get off your ass for god’s sake-
“Can I ask you something?”
You blinked yourself back to reality, shushing the voice in your head, curious smile appearing on your lips involuntarily. The softness of his voice felt better than the blanket before and you wanted to cocoon yourself in it, postponing the leaving plans to never.
“Sure,” you replied, the smile remaining on your face despite your better judgement.
He lowered his eyes to your joined hands, his thumb running over the back of your hand in a feather-light touch. You heart positively stopped at the moment, your breath hitching. Holy shit, what was he doing?
“This, does it… do you hate it?” he whispered the question, not meeting your eyes as if he was too shy, which was… ridiculous. He had no reason to be shy.
It still felt like a shot through your heart – a nice one, though, it that was possible. The words combined with the way they were spoken, it stirred something in your belly, warming it up and you couldn’t deny it anymore.
You really wanted this man; whatever this was, it was getting beyond a silly crush. Also, for some reason, it seemed as if he was trying to tell you he was interested too, which you thought was pretty freaking crazy.
“Stay honest, please,” he pleaded when you didn’t answer right away.
Did you hate it? The chastest display of affection if you dared to call it that? Your mind raced, trying to figure out why on earth he would ask that. Because the only reason you had come up with so far was completely impossible.
“No,” you said simply, earning a brief glance up before he looked down again. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Good. That’s good… and would you… I’m aware this is out of line and I—I want you to answer truthfully without fearing the consequences-…“
It was your turn to swallow loudly, because what? What did he want to ask that he considered it out of line? He was your superior – you could think of thousand ways of how you could get out of line, but him? And why should you fear the consequences?! Did he want you to help him to hide a body?
That’s not it and you know it. You know what he wants to ask, you rational side admonished you.
Oh please, shut up. Since when you switched sides?
“O-okay. What— what is it-- Steve?” you stuttered out, freezing when his name left your lips and his head snapped up, his hand giving yours a squeeze. Oh boy.
“Would you possibly say you like it?” he blurted out and your brain went to overdrive at the hope behind his expression.
Huh. He really just asked that. Oh shit. Oh wow. Your jaw fell into your lap – only figuratively, you hoped –, your ears buzzing, your blood bursting in excitement.
Oh yeah, you understood why he mentioned the consequences. Either you could say no and you’d fear he might treat you differently or you could say yes and you’d ‘fear’ he might treat you differently.
The fire in your insides burned hotter at the idea of the latter.
His hand slowly left yours, giving you a simple choice you still couldn’t believe you were given.
Holy shit. What do you even say to something like that? Coming from someone like him? Your brain froze as you only managed to stare.
Did his— did the corners of his lips turn down? Was that sadness pooling in the sea of blue of his eyes?
Oh no, you don’t.
“Y-yes,” you admitted sheepishly, closing your eyes at the heaviness of your confession.
You could feel the weight on your shoulders as silence fell, only interrupted by your soft breathing that sounded ominously loud.
Your fingers twitched when his warm palm covered them again, your lips parting in surprise. You kept your eyes closed, indulging the strange moment. His free hand caressed your other as well, the gentlest of touches, tender, contrasting with rough callouses on his fingers.
“I like it too.”
At that, you gathered enough courage to look at him, only to see him inspecting your face closely, observing your reactions. It shocked you that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you would expect; must have been the kindness and wonder in his gaze. You forced your lips to curl up in a tiniest smile. Steve smiled back with same hesitance, his face lighting up.
He looked like a boy next door (making it to a modelling agency), shining eyes and happy grin forming on his lips. He was more gorgeous than ever.
Still keeping your hands, he raised his right one, his knuckles brushing your unharmed cheek. The gesture was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, causing him quickly retreat.
“Sorry-“
You shook your head with a self-deprecating chuckle, squeezing his fingers before he could let go of you completely.
“It’s not you—I mean… it is you,” you babbled nonsensically, taking a breath to gather your thoughts. “It’s just— that was really sweet. No, that’s not-“ Not the right word. “It was beautiful. I swear I never felt so…” loved “-cared for in my life.”
He frowned, a shadow of pain running over his face. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that today was… unpleasant.”
Seeing his reluctance and discomfort, you went for the first thing that came up to your mind. You straightened up and pressed a light kiss on his cheek, withdrawing much slowly because once you were in his orbit, it was hard to leave.
His breath hitched, his eyes glued to you intently, flickering to your lips again.
“You didn’t upset me, Steve. That’s the last thing you could do with that,” you assured him, face still inches from his. His name rolled off your tongue easily this time, even though it still left your heart fluttering.
“And if I asked you to have dinner with me?”
Your stomach twisted in a pleasant knot at that suggestion, your lizard brain already thinking about having a dessert for a second; and you weren’t thinking cake or ice-cream.
Yeah, barely. This was a guy ready to treat you right, you were sure of it. He certainly wasn’t about to kiss you now, not afar what happened today, he might go for it after the dinner and that was only if you got lucky enough. You swallowed the disappointment at the idea, quickly shaking it off.
Make up your goddamn mind, woman. You should be glad that men who weren’t thinking with their lower brain still existed and one of those was clearly interested in you, which… yeah, what the hell, that might take a while getting used to. Add the fact that he was being incredibly considerate of how you might feel after being assaulted and you had a winner of your heart. You realized you were actually happy he wouldn’t try anything even nearly ‘funny’.
You were fine with hand-holding and brushes of his fingers on your face, which honestly, the tenderness behind that gesture made you toes curl. You didn’t care much if that made you a freaking sap.
“Still not upset,” you gave an answer at last, deciding he probably liked when you were a bit cheeky.
He offered a closed lipped smile in response, confirming your theory.
“Does that count like a yes?”
You shrugged, the corners of your lips twitching. You had no idea when the change had happened, but all you wanted now was to giggle. And maybe snuggle, but you weren’t about to say that out loud.
“You tell me.”
He licked his lips and shook his head as he retreated. Before you could protest – or have a heart attack, because the motion of his tongue attracted your gaze like a magnet, setting your core on fire –, he sat beside you, leaving enough space in case you didn’t like it.
You liked it, subtly moving an inch closer to his side. Damn, he radiated warmth. Maybe just a bit closer…?
“Cheeky dame, aren’t you?” Steve more stated than asked, reaching for the blanket pooled around you to cover you again.
You didn’t realize you had goosebumps before his hands gently tugged you in, careful not to touch you where you could consider it inappropriate.
Yeah, forget about any funny business any time soon.
You huffed. “Clearly. It did get me into trouble before.”
His eyes darkened a bit, his face noticeably falling.
No, nope, bad move, miss not-an-agent.
“I should walk you back to your dorm,” he remarked, already rising to his feet.
You first reaction was to say no, because you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. Your second was to say no also, because Shauna probably still had her hot date.
Instead, your hand shot up to catch his, effectively stopping him. He froze before returning to his seat, tiny question mark in a place of his face right next to his soft smile.
You cleared your throat, deciding to give him the latter reason.
“Uhm… my roommate has a date. If I go there, I’ll probably find a sock on the doorknob,” you admitted, biting your lip when he raised an eyebrow and relaxed to the cushions.
“People still do that?”
You chuckled, the fact that not only he was a captain, but also Captain America, which meant he was about hundred years old, hitting you like a train.
“Yeah, people still do that,” you assured him, amused.
He pouted, which you found unfairly adorable and… kissable. Nope, later.
“Sure, make fun of the old man…” he uttered, but a spark of laughter lighted up in his irises, so you assessed he wasn’t too offended. He was most likely used to the teasing.
As an idea of interpreting his words differently popped in your mind, you grinned.
“Is that a permission to make fun of Sergeant Barnes?” you pried playfully, sending Steve into another surprised fit of laughter, not unlike when you had complimented his sass. Your heart swelled at the joyful picture of him and the prospect of seeing more of it in future.
Due to his laughter, you didn’t hear he knock on the door if there was any n the first place. The door simply swung open, revealing the other supersoldier. Speak of the Devil…
Seeing his friend, Steve burst out laughing once more. Sergeant Barnes closed the door with a puzzled look.
You just shrugged in response, opening your mouth without a sound coming out and he took in the scene in front of him again, a smirk appearing on his lips. Under that gaze, you felt your face heat up. You could only imagine how that looked like, Steve cosily close to you, laughing, your hand right next to his thigh as his outburst had sent it sliding from his hand.
The smirk on the supersoldier’s face only deepened when he noticed how flustered he had made you.
“Punk?” he questioned and Steve wheezed once more, raising a palm in the sergeant’s direction, turning to you first.
He offered you a hand to shake. Confused, you accepted as his eyes twinkling in mischief bored into yours.
“Deal,” he mouthed, sending your lips twitching, and only then he shifted his attention to his friend. “Buck?”
The supersoldier had his eyes narrowed, watching you suspiciously.
“I’m gonna regret sending you with her instead of doing it the other way around, aren’t I?” he stated, not actually asking as his gaze flickered between the two of you.
His expression pushed you over the edge and the giggle building up in your chest for the last few minutes finally broke free. You simply couldn’t contain it anymore despite having two superiors in the room. Steve gave you a warm smile as the sound left your lips, clearly not bothered by it.
You hoped you’d be forgiven by Sergeant Barnes as well. After all, you were just human.
“Yeah, Buck, I think you are.”
S.R. masterlist
Sorry for the cavities at the end. Or should I say ‘you’re welcome’? Whatever works for you :))
Thank you for reading!
#fanfiction#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers imagine#mcu#marvel#shield#shield recruit reader#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#captain america fanfiction#steve rogers#captain america x you#captain america x reader#captain america imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes#captain america#just a human#anika ann
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i'll still see it until i die you're the loss of my life.
an edit for @lovebraves. don't rb unless ur her. thanks.
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the burning god - r.f kuang sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !! some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw : ptsd , addiction , death , murder , nsfw , language
‘do you think I’d ever let anything happen to you?’
‘you’re terrified. that’s why you’re fidgeting. you’re scared.’
‘soldiers are worth more than civilians, it’s just math.’
‘don’t cut off the head of the snake if you can tame it.’
‘none of this— our villages, our people, our freedom— will survive under their intended world order’
‘i’m the least terrible option you’ve got.’
‘I don’t mean to call you stupid, because I love you, but that plan is so stupid.’
‘i’m not sorry for this. you shouldn’t have gotten in my way.’
‘that wasn’t an insult. just being frank.’
‘they’re bullies. weakness is what they want to see.’
‘bad moral is a big weapon. don’t underestimate it.’
‘i’ve gotten you this far. trust me just a little longer.’
‘i’m not crazy right? this is clearly a trap?’
‘how do you think history will judge me if I throw away it’s fate for one person?’
‘it felt like you’d put the universe back in place. like you were balancing the scales. didn’t it?’
‘you don’t fix hurts by pretending they never happened. you treat them like infected wounds and then, maybe, you have a chance to heal.’
‘it’s not justice, it’s chaos.’
‘this is a revolution. it’s not a fucking tea party.’
‘cut me a fucking break. i’ve been fleeing for my life.’
‘I shouldn’t have counted on his virtue. but he didn’t count on my survival.’
‘they’re never gone. do you understand? they still come for you in your sleep. only this time they’re dream-wraiths, not real, and there’s no escape from them because they’re living in your own mind.’
‘your pain will always be mine.’
‘i’m not living my whole life like a beast on a leash.’
‘I should kill you. why can’t I kill you?’
‘you don’t behave rationally around her, you never do.’
‘’all right’ is not a term anyone would use to describe you.’
‘I used to hate myself for living, too. I didn’t think it was fair that I’d survived. that others had died in my place.’
‘it’s not fair. I should be in the ground with them.’
‘it doesn’t go away. It never will. but when it hurts, lean into it.’
‘this life you’ve chosen, you won’t get many moments like this again. but it’s the nights like this that keep you alive.’
‘give up, darling. trust me, this is easier. this is so much easier.’
‘you know, I think I’ve figured out where you get all that self - righteousness.’
‘their blood is on you. you killed them.’
‘I hate you. I wish we were all dead.’
‘do you think he loved you? do you think he ever loved you?’
‘this story will end. the way it was always meant to.’
‘I just want to sit for a second. in peace. can I do that?’
‘I don’t know, I thought maybe— maybe they’d realize that they need me.’
‘you are so bad at this. it’s cute.’
‘people are attracted to power, darling. they can’t help themselves. power seduces. exert it, make a show of it, and they’ll follow you.’
‘I killed him. and I don’t feel bad about it.’
‘stop pretending to care about ethics, it’s embarrassing.’
‘at some point, you’ll have to convince yourself that you’re above right and wrong. morality doesn’t apply to you.’
‘fear turns into despair, despair to panic, and then panic into utter submission. it’s incredible, the power of psychological warfare.’
‘knowing what I’ve done? yes, it hurts. unlike anything you could ever imagine.’
‘they want to erase us. they want to make us better, to improve us, by turning us into a mirror of themselves.’
‘any culture or state that diverges is necessarily inferior. we are inferior, until we speak, dress, act, and worship just like them.’
‘people pay you less attention when you don’t leave a trail of bodies in your wake.’
‘i’m just telling you what’s right in front of you. you know I’m right.’
‘you seem to have mistaken me for a dullard.’
‘it’s a tragedy we’re on different sides. you know that. we would have been so good united.’
‘he’s tried a million different things to break me. but he should have remembered he never figured out how.’
‘lost my mind for a bit. just starting to get it back now.’
‘you think we should just surrender. that we’d be better off under their rule.’
‘that’s the implication of your logic. and I won’t accept that. I can’t.’
‘i’m sure you said whatever you needed to to get them off your back. I don’t care about that.’
‘everything you do convinces them you should not exist.’
‘I did what I had to do to give him the only chance at peace he’d ever get.’
‘you are the worst thing to happen to this country. these people deserve better than you.’
‘you were only ever fighting to survive. I was fighting to win.’
‘we don’t need peace right now. we need blood.’
‘I don’t know what’s insane anymore. I just hope you know what you’re doing.’
‘there is no turning back. i’ve waited too long for this.’
‘I can’t take that from him. not even if he’s happier like this.’
‘there’s more, there’s something you’re not telling me, I deserve to know.’
‘let go of the man you remember. you’re never going to get him back.’
‘in times like these, you can’t let sleeping threats lie.’
‘if we ever feared him, it was because he was great, and great rulers always inspire fear in the hearts of the weak.’
‘you don’t get to forget. whatever you did, you don’t deserve to forget.’
‘she’s not a person anymore. she’s rage.’
‘it’s not just about the enemy. it’s about what the world looks like after.’
‘you’re trying to protect your people. I understand that. but I’m trying to protect mine.’
‘i’m not crawling into oblivion with a whimper, and you should have known that before you came here.’
‘I don’t care what else happens up there. but you come back to me.’
‘what’s this? finally developing a conscience?’
‘I know what you did. I know everything. and I don’t care. the past doesn’t matter. ____ is in danger now, and I need you.’
‘nature can’t be altered. only held at bay.’
‘don’t take on the burden of an entire nation. it’s too heavy. and you aren’t strong enough.’
‘you should know by now that when you leave your enemies alive, wars don’t end.’
‘she told me I’ll never be afraid again.’
‘that’s power. and you’re not giving that up. I know you. you’re me.’
‘I know how humiliation feels. keep your secrets if you want. but there’s nothing you can say that will make me think any less of you.’
‘i’m not going to survive this war.’
‘do you want me to say I’m sorry?’
‘what did I tell you? you were never meant to serve.’
‘if you try that shit, I will kill you.’
‘good luck. don’t do anything stupid.’
‘keep down. and when you get the chance, run.’
‘you never want to hurt them. but you have to. you have to put them through hell, because that’s the only way anyone else will survive.’
‘I would have spared them if I could have.’
‘I wasn’t a person to you, I was a weapon, and you needed me to work.’
‘it’ll never stop hurting.’
‘you love them like your own family, and a knife twists in your heart every time you watch one of them die.’
‘see this through to the end. that’s the least you own to the dead.’
‘I wish things had been different.’
‘I so hate when you’re right.’
‘you kill me and you accomplish nothing. your world as you know it will end.’
‘i’m not going to kill you. you don’t deserve that.’
‘why does everyone think this war is over. am I the only one with eyes?’
‘it’s hard to prioritize the enemy that you can’t see.’
‘don’t call me crazy.’
‘you are being crazy. you’re acting like a fucking maniac. shut up for a moment and face the fucking facts.’
‘they can’t do this to me. I was supposed to win.’
‘we built an entire nation. we don’t have to let it collapse.’
‘what he wants is what we all want, which is to stop killing our own people.’
‘we’re about to have the world we fought for. can’t you see it? it’s so close, it’s just over the horizon.’
‘you can come back. I’ll bring you back. we’re in this together.’
‘we’re trying to broker a peace here. let’s not start off with death threats, shall we?’
‘i’m just trying to make this less painful for everyone involved.’
‘you can’t do this for me. I won’t let you.’
‘it’s not for you. it’s not a favor. it’s the cruelest thing I could do.’
#the poppy war series prompts#the burning god prompts#the burning god sentence starters#literature prompts#literature sentence starters#rp memes#rp prompts#rp sentence starters#weeeeeee I did it <3
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Gunpowder Milkshake Starters !
Taken from the 2021 Netflix movie, Gunpowder Milkshake! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit! There may be some light spoilers for the movie!
“Why? How much trouble am I in?”
“Tell me. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Evening, darling. Can I lighten your load?”
“This was supposed to be low profile, not a bloody massacre.”
“I’m embarrassed to say, but it’s been a while since I visited a library.”
“I, for one, think we should get rid of the body and then have a long talk about our on boarding protocols.”
“Let me guess, you’re the sentimental type. Ro-man-tique.”
“They’re quite annoying, aren’t they?”
“When I say reason with them, I mean no guns, no knives.”
“Could a cop do what I just did?”
“Anything broken? Are you bleeding? Bleeding on the inside?”
“A girl fucked you up and made you look like The Walking Dead?”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to lie for them. They never come when they say they will.”
“Just, uh, stay behind me, okay?”
“Thank god it’s just you. For a second there, I thought it was someone dangerous.”
“You are a goddamn rockstar.”
“This is business, (Name). And you landed on the wrong side of the sheet.”
“Just remember, you were spared thanks to an eight-year-old little girl.”
“Are you a serial killer?”
“Here’s an unrelated question: Do you know how to drive?”
“Didn’t I teach you to always guard your back?”
“You look really good. Have you been eating well?”
“Once I knew, I couldn’t just let him walk around enjoying life after what he did to us.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I know you. You make plans.”
“You’re frothing at the mouth. It’s unbecoming.”
“No, you don’t get to talk. Because you’re a ghost, and ghosts don’t talk.”
“I’m sorry I just couldn’t give up and stay here with you.”
“Would it kill you to say thank you?!”
“You left. Killing people was the only thing I knew how to do.”
“Okay, maybe it was not the best environment to raise a child in.”
“They’re not going to push us around. They’re not gonna scare us off. This ends now.”
“You think you have a chance here? I have an army.”
“If you make me work for it, I’m gonna shoot you in the stomach. Then we’ll have some real fun there.”
“Idiots to the left, morons to the right.”
“They took (Name). I couldn’t save them.”
“It’s a real tragedy what happens to poor orphans in our line of work, ya know? It’s really quite sad.”
“He says skinning you alive will help him work through his, uh, grief.”
“It’s been a long day. It’s going to be over soon, okay?”
“You’re a special kid, (Name). I wish I had more time to get to know you.”
“We understood each other, and I wasn’t alone anymore.”
“Don’t start begging yet. There’s still time for that.”
“There’s no more standing on the sidelines. We all need to pick a side.”
“They make all the rules and change them when they need them. They think they’re untouchable.”
“We can kill them one hundred times over without them ever seeing us coming.”
#rp meme#roleplay meme#sentence starters#sentence meme#starter sentences#ask meme#ask prompts#inbox memes#inbox prompts#movie sentence starters#gunpowder milkshake spoilers#i feel like i forgot to rewind a couple times to get some of of the cool lines but *shrugs*#also the aesthetic of this movie ?? *full chef's kiss*
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mechanisms basics & lore
welcome to my updated mechanisms intro post! this post will cover both the topics discussed in my mechanisms basics post, which is geared towards people who don’t know what the mechanisms are, and my deep lore post, which aimed to be a comprehensive compilation of all the important character and world lore. this post should serve the above group, but it’s geared towards people who have listened but feel there’s a lot of lore that seems to be common knowledge they’re missing. we’ll start out with a basic introduction, and then go into crew lore and a semi-comprehensive guide on where to go for further information.
basics
the mechanisms were a steampunk concept band, known for their queer representation and their tragic stories. they are no longer together, their last performance being january 2020, but several of their members are still creating related spinoff content.
they follow the trope many steampunk bands do, which is albums that tell a story; think similar to listening to a musical soundtrack, but geared to a visual-less experience. what distinguishes them is 1) narration tracks between each song, making the plot very easy to follow, and 2) being meant to be watched live, meaning there’s layers of meta that are more easily understood by watching recorded gigs rather than studio recordings of albums. specifically, there’s a focus on the narrators, known as the mechanisms or the crew of the aurora, who are immortal space pirates telling the stories and occasionally inserting themselves into them. though they are tragic figures themselves, their banter serves the purpose of bringing a lightheartedness and dark humor to the stories. if there’s an aspect of the lore you’re confused on, it’s probably related to the narrators!
to watch the mechanisms live, you can find recordings on youtube, dropbox, google drive, soundcloud, or vimeo, which are all compiled in this post (including transcripts!). if visuals aren’t your thing, i’ve linked the studio recordings later on in this post when they come up, and here are the mechanisms’ official spotify, bandcamp, and youtube, as well as an unofficial comprehensive lyric videos channel.
the albums
regarding the albums specifically, there are 4 main ones (once upon a time (in space), ulysses dies at dawn, high noon over camelot, and the bifrost incident), 2 that are compilations of miscellaneous songs (tales to be told 1 & 2), 1 single (frankenstein), and 1 album that’s a high-quality recording of their last live show, including an alternative performance of the bifrost incident, 2 songs only performed at live shows, and 'the deathsong’, which details how they all eventually die (death to the mechanisms).
as you might have been able to tell from the titles, they’re all based off of various myths, folklore, literature, and/or fairy tales, using different genres on top of a sci-fi setting to add a fresh twist to them! for example, high noon over camelot is a western based on arthurian mythos, set on a space station. (the albums are known for all ending in tragedy, so be careful if that isn’t your cup of tea!) if your goal is to get into the mechanisms, i’d suggest sitting down and listening to them all in full; links will be provided below, or alternatively you can watch once upon a time (in space) live here, ulysses dies at dawn live here, or the bifrost incident live here. (there is no full live recording with visuals of high noon over camelot, sadly, but there are partial and audio only recordings.)
once upon a time (in space) - spotify/bandcamp/youtube
ulysses dies at dawn - spotify/bandcamp/youtube
high noon over camelot - spotify/bandcamp/youtube
the bifrost incident - spotify/bandcamp/youtube
tales to be told, volume 1 - spotify/bandcamp/youtube
tales to be told, volume 2 - spotify/bandcamp/youtube
frankenstein - spotify/bandcamp/youtube
death to the mechanisms - edited video with the stream corruption fixed + subtitles / stream / spotify / bandcamp / youtube / transcript pt. 1 / transcript pt. 2
reading the fiction is integral to understanding both the albums and the mechanisms themselves. the fiction is a collection of short stories set in the mechanisms universe posted on their website here and compiled by me here, with an extra high noon over camelot story here. (there are also audio versions for ‘mirror mirror’ and ‘a rebel yell’ included on both the website and the compilation).
the crew of the aurora
as for the crew, at their peak there were nine members played by people, as well as the ex-member dr carmilla, who has extensive solo lore and is still active (which we’ll touch on in a few paragraphs). there is also their ship, the aurora, who is sentient and has her own lore. in fact, every member of the crew has their own backstory, set in a different genre or historical period; for example, nastya rasputina's is historical, jonny d’ville’s is a western and marius von raum’s is a mecha anime. however, they’re all still different flavors of steampunk! below, i’ll list each member, their performer, and the main sources of lore about them. for the majority of them, they have their own song in tales to be told, but there are a few outliers. everyone also has their own bio up on the website, which can all be found here.
the aurora (n/a, ship)- on aurora (meta)
jonny d’ville (jonny sims)- one eyed jacks (song), jonny before he was mechanized (meta)
nastya rasputina (anonymous)- cyberian demons (song)
ivy alexandria (morgan wilkinson)- archive footage (fiction), crew bio
ashes o’reilly (frank voss)- lucky sevens (song)
drumbot brian (ben below)- lost in the cosmos (song), crew bio
the toy soldier (jessica law)- the story of the toy soldier (fiction)
gunpowder tim (tim ledsam)- gunpowder tim vs the moon kaiser (song/minialbum)
marius von raum (kofi young)- the death of byron von raum summary (blog post)
raphaella la cognizi (r l hughes)- crew bio
if you’ve noticed the crew bio doesn’t say much about raphaella, that’s because we know little to nothing about her backstory. the only thing we have to go on is a quote from the tv tropes page, which looking at the edit history, was likely written by one of the mechanisms. the quote is ‘Science officer who may or may not have cheated her way onto the ship after becoming a little too interested.‘ and the page is here.
the majority of fandom content is about the crew, working off of what we get from the tales to be told songs, the live gigs, and the fiction.
dr carmilla
speaking of characters with obscure lore, let’s talk about dr carmilla! rather than linger, i’ll just link my carmilla basics post, which is a comprehensive summary of who she is in and out of universe. to summarize, she’s a character based on the novella ‘carmilla’ by sheridan le fanu, commonly regarded as the first vampire novel, but her lore has diverged heavily from that original starting point since then. she is the oldest out of all of the crew, and made the majority of the other crew members immortal. she, as well as aurora, is from a planet called terra, which was destroyed partially as a result of her actions. her character is defined by her immortality and how she deals with it, her experiences on terra, her relationship with the mechanisms, and her dysfunctional relationship with her ex-girlfriend loreli, the last of which is the most covered by her songs. out of universe, she is played by maki yamazaki. all her lore lines up with what happened out of universe, and ties to the fact the mechanisms were originally dr carmilla and the mechanisms. she has two solo albums and two singles, which i’ll link below.
ageha (prototype edition) (album)- bandcamp | youtube
exhumed and {un}plugged (album)- bandcamp | youtube
the city {nex:type mix} (single, in-character cover)- bandcamp | youtube
eleven (single)- bandcamp | youtube
the majority of her lore is still to be officially revealed, and will be in the trilogy of albums maki yamazaki is working on.
further reading
if you’d like to delve further into the lore, there are a few sources i use! there are official, in-character, blogs, as well as things that are harder to dredge up; i won’t link them here, but some sources include @/thedreadvampy (the band’s artist, as well as morgan wilkinson’s sister and kofi young’s partner; don’t bother her for lore or anything, but she’s previously made posts sharing previously unknown information), old websites and deleted content found on the wayback machine, the tv tropes pages, and most notably the lore doc.
the ‘maki forbidden lore doc’ is an archive of all the lore maki yamazaki has shared on the mechscord, the official mechanisms discord which she’s on, and her own personal server, where she’s running an arg (alternate reality game) as a way of relaying more lore about the dr carmilla universe. for an idea of the scale, the doc is currently 91 pages and 28346 words, and recontextualizes much of what is known about dr carmilla and maki’s canon of the mechanisms universe. it is confidential to anyone not in her discord or the mechscord, as she’s said that this lore isn’t thought out nearly as much as the albums and is subject to change, so she’d rather it not be out in the open. however, information on how to join the mechscord can be found here. there is also a non-canonical fan project based on the arg in progress, but information on it is also confidential for now.
with regards to the above phrase ‘maki’s canon’ it’s worth noting that all of the individual band members have their own idea of what counts as canon and what doesn’t, and as you foray deeper into lore that division becomes more and more apparent.
with that, here are the mechanisms’ blogs. they are all both run in-character by the main nine band members and inactive unless i note otherwise.
twitter
tumblr
facebook
website/wordpress (run ic by tereshkova’s ghost, the blogbot, for the most part)
carmilla twitter (active, run ic by dr carmilla)
conclusion
now that we’re coming to the end of this, i’d like to thank whoever got this far, and to say a few words. my interest in the mechanisms has been slowly fading, and i’ve been writing less and less meta and lapsing in keeping up with new lore myself. honestly, i’m pretty worn out by how much i’ve done on this blog and in this fandom, and the commitments i’ve assigned myself. i do have plans for future meta, but it’s unlikely they’ll come to fruition. so, i thought i’d do a new version of my two oldest posts on this blog, and hopefully enable other people to look into the lore and theorize themselves with the new information.
to find more information, remember there’s a mechanisms wiki, and that my askbox is always open.
thanks for reading!
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Of Monsters and Men (pt. 1)
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier travel to a small seaside village after being hired to take care of a monster that has been terrorizing the villagers for months. However when they arrive, Geralt finds that the monster in question isn’t so easy to kill.
A/N: This was getting to be quite lengthy, so I decided to split it into parts. This is the story I wanted to write when I first started watching the Witcher on Netflix and I am nervous and excited to finally be sharing it here!! Like with all my fics, I try to keep my Y/N has physically non-descript as possible, she/her and vibe are the only descriptors. I’ve also not proof-read but will edit errors as I see them post post lol. I hope y’all enjoy this!! Your feedback is always welcome :’)
this is approx. 2200 words and is largely setting the scene. I expect this to story to be told in no more than 3 parts.
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When Geralt and Jaskier rode up to the quiet coastal village, they were struck by how calm and peaceful it was. The sound of waves lapping against the rocky shoreline, the rhythmic bumping of boats against the docks, and the soft clatter of driftwood windchimes melted together to create an atmosphere that soothed Jaskier to his core. He found himself gaping at the sights that surrounded him in wonder; truly taken by the way setting sun cast a golden glow on everything and painted the cloud-laced sky in rich hues of pink and orange.
“This place…” he sighed theatrically, waving his arms around, “is wonderful! Geralt are you not moved by the sight of it all? Does your soul not sing out! Oh, Geralt! Wow!”
The witcher only rolled his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. Jaskier was always so blown away by the simplest things and it both amused and annoyed Geralt. Yes, the sky and the sea were beautiful sights, but more importantly, they were merciless vehicles of danger, death, and destruction; and Geralt knew better than to romanticize things that were, at their core, dangerous.
Sensing the bard’s eyes on him, Geralt gave him a hum of acknowledgement hoping it would be enough to satisfy Jaskier’s need for collective appreciation. It was, as he dreaded, insufficient.
“Come now, Geralt!” he enthused, “take that stick out your arse for a moment and appreciate the sights and sounds of this charming inlet! Listen to the sea! The chimes, Geralt! Listen to how the wind tickles the –”
“For fucks sake, Jaskier! It’s a fucking port city just like any other. This place is one bad storm away from being wiped out by that scenic sea of yours!”
“Yeesh,” Jaskier said letting out a low whistle. “Was it the stick in the arse bit? Too far?”
“Jask-”
“- because look, you are very stoic but – and I mean this as a compliment Geralt, so don’t get your leather in a –”
“Jaskier!” Geralt interrupted gruffly as he dismounted Roach with a huff. “Will you please shut up! Let’s just find the stables and the inn and get this over with.” Without waiting for Jaskier to catch up to him, he led his mare deeper into town.
Jaskier, refusing to let Geralt’s gruff exterior get him down, dismounted gracefully and lightly jogged to meet up with him, his lute clacking loudly against his back as he ran.
“Remind me again what dreadful little creature brings us out to this enchanting harbor?” he asked, still jogging a little to keep up with the witcher’s long strides.
“Don’t know yet.”
“Oh, ho-ho! A mystery? Always makes for a good song. What do we know so far?”
Geralt stopped and turned slightly towards the bard before speaking.
“Apparently a creature has been killing and dismembering men in town. They are being killed at all hours, bodies found in town, at sea, or out in the surrounding forests. Seems nowhere is safe.” Geralt let his cat-like eyes linger on the bard’s horrified expression for a moment before turning back and keeping on the path into town, shaking his head at Jaskier’s queasiness.
“Yeesh – Geralt! You’re not serious! Why would you bring me with you!?” Jaskier picked up the pace, suddenly wanting to be closer to his friend.
“You invited yourself,” Geralt said, trying to contain his smile, “as always.”
“Of course, I invited myself! You’re far to proud to admit you’d miss me.” Jaskier retorted. “Let’s get these horses to the stables, get rooms, and find food so that you can sort this out as quickly as inhumanly possible,” he said, speaking quickly and with a light waver, trying to pretend the quaint seaside village around him didn’t now leave him chilled to the bone.
“Hmm,” Geralt chuckled, happy to have managed to scare the bard into silence, at least for the time being.
The local pub was busier than Jaskier had expected when they rode into town. Seems the reason the village was so peaceful upon arrival was because everyone had already made their way to the bar. Fortunately, he’d managed to nab them a table by the stone fireplace; after a day of riding alongside the sea, Jaskier was desperate for a cold ale and a warm fire.
“Alrighty then, Geralt,” Jaskier said, holding his hands up to the hearth, “what have we got so far?”
“Not much,” he replied, tearing apart the loaf of bread a barmaid had brought over moments prior, “a couple people stopped me at the inn to ask me if I was here to kill the beast, but they didn’t have any information to offer besides the fact that it was a constant threat.”
“Well, maybe you’ll have more luck here – I mean look around, you’d think the whole town’s come to drink!”
“Port cities, Jask,” Geralt said, letting his gaze scan the room slowly, “the people here either spend their days at the mercy of the sea or waiting for their loved ones to come home. You drink for sorrow and for hope of a bright tomorrow.”
“That was poetic as fuck, Geralt! My influence?” he teased, shooting the witcher a cheeky grin, who merely grunted distractedly in reply.
Now ignoring his still-talking friend, Geralt’s eyes had landed on the two women working behind the bar. One was talking excitedly and kept casting quick glances toward the bard, blushing brightly when she caught his eye, while the other was watching Geralt with inquisitive eyes.
“… I tell you Geralt the more you allow yourself to – oh! Speaking of which, here come a few now!” Jaskier flourished, winking enthusiastically at the blushing barmaid who was making her way towards them sheepishly.
Geralt sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes, already tired of the flirting he was about to witness. To his surprise and great pleasure, Jaskier got up and met her halfway, leaving him in peace with his thoughts.
Having brought his attention back down to the bread before him, Geralt didn’t notice that he had company until she was right in front of him. Sensing her presence, he shot his gaze up quickly, and found her staring at his wolf medallion with a quirked brow.
“Forgive me,” she started, her deep, velvet-like voice washing over Geralt like morning sun after a cold night, “but you’re… a witcher?”
“I am,” he replied, giving her a crooked smile, his own voice, low and gravely and smooth, not going unnoticed by the woman before him. “Geralt, of Rivia.”
“Oh fuck,” she said, with a breathy sort of laugh, “so you’re not a witcher, you’re the Witcher then, aren’t you?”
Geralt let out a low and modest grunt, shaking his head at the comment. He thought himself immune to the scrutiny and awe that came with being the White Wolf, having carried the title for so long, but there was something about the way she was looking at him that left him shy.
“I’m,” he faltered needing to stop to clear his throat, having made the mistake to look her in the eyes, “just a witcher. Really.”
“Well, they don’t send you out for just anything, do they? For you to be out here in our little hamlet…” she squinted at him with a small tilt of her head, “we must be under some kind of threat. Should I be worried?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me, –” he stopped, waiting for her to introduce herself.
“Y/N,” she replied quickly, offering Geralt a warm smile despite the fact that she’d just crossed her arms, “and I mean we do get the odd ruffian coming through town. They always make a mess of things, don’t they? Beyond that, well, I suppose alcohol does breed violence in some,” she gave a light, one shouldered shrug, “but that’s not the kind of crime that would reach your ears.”
Geralt hummed thoughtfully, taking his time to consider Y/N’s words. She seemed almost too friendly, and there was something about her that both drew him in and had him putting up his guard.
“A monster has been picking the men of the village off one by one.” Leaning back into his chair to put some distance between them. “I’m surprised you wouldn’t be aware, considering,” he nodded towards the bar, “your job here.”
“Meaning what?” she retorted, wearing a playful smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Only that you must hear a lot,” he gestured vaguely to the crowd surrounding them, “and see a lot, doing what you do. I would have expected that the disappearance and dismemberment of men in town would be something of note.”
“Well,” Y’N tsked, “I’m sorry to say that you’ve been brought out here on something of a fool’s errand. There’s no monster here; the tale of disappearing men has been told here for months. It started with a woman, too embarrassed to admit that the man who impregnated her left her overnight, telling everyone that a creature from the forest killed him. From there the story grew wilder with every retelling.”
“Hm,” Geralt hummed, watching Y/N carefully with narrow eyes, “I was told dismembered body parts were turning up, consistently, after each disappearance, and that they were being identified as belonging to the latest victim. Besides, I was hired to come here. Why would someone pay me coin to rid a town of ghost?”
“People struck by tragedy will claim to see many things, Sir Geralt,” she replied softly, “not all of them will be true. A dead fish floating at sea, a creature mauled by wolves by the roads, rotten meats abandoned by vendors…” she shrugged, “the mind will twist the truth in order to bring comfort. Who hired you?”
She added that last question quickly, and Geralt could tell it was calculated. Sensing this, he only replied with a quirked brow and a tilt of his head.
Y/N betrayed no sense of frustration when she realized the Witcher wasn’t going to elaborate. Instead, her eyes softened, and she smiled at Geralt with what he perceived as pity.
“Look, the truth is that there is no monster here. Isn’t that right Thalia?”
“Sorry, what?” Thalia, who had just walked back over the Geralt’s table with a tray of ales in her hands, was breathlessly giggling at something Jaskier had whispered in her ear. As she and Jaskier placed four ales on the table, Y/N took a seat across from the Witcher and quickly explained got the two up to speed.
“Oh goodness, that! I can not believe our town’s little lore made it to your ears, Sir Geralt!” She said with wide eyes as she snuggled up next to Jaskier, clinking her tankard with his before taking a generous sip.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Jaskier coughed on his ale, “you’re telling me there’s no monster here? That we might actually be able to enjoy a little rest and relaxation here without any horrible monster-killing business? Geralt this is good news!” he exclaimed, smacking his free hand on the table for emphasis.
Geralt only growled out a hum in response, never taking his eyes off Y/N.
“I’ll admit,” Thalia continued, seemingly unaware of the tension between the Witcher and her friend, “it’s scary to think about – you know, murder – but when you actually think about who disappears, it’s not difficult to see the truth.”
At this, Geralt turned his fierce gaze away from Y/N. “What do you mean, ‘who disappears’?”
“O-only that the men who leave aren’t really the type that anyone would miss.” She replied, stuttering a little against her best efforts to not recoil at Geralt’s inhuman eye-contact. “They were mean, violent types. The kind of man that would get crueler the more he drank. Just, awful, evil men, right Y/N?”
Y/N nodded quickly in agreement, taking a slow sip of her ale. “Good riddance.”
“Exactly!” Thalia agreed, clinking her glass to Y/N’s.
“Hell, I’ll drink to that,” Jaskier laughed, before picking his lute up off the floor. “What do you say ladies, a song?”
Thalia cheered loudly and encouraged the rest of the patrons to listen to the bard, letting them all know that he was in fact, the one who traveled with the great White Wolf. Jaskier was positively floating from the adoration as he danced around the pub, pulling cheers and applause after every song.
All the while, Geralt never took his eyes off of Y/N, who had retreated back to the bar after finishing her drink.
Geralt wasn’t sure what to believe. He had a strange feeling about this place from the moment he and the bard arrived, and it frustrated him to no end that even after hours in town, he was no closer to understanding the source of his discomfort. One thing was for certain, something about the story he heard here tonight did not add up, and he definitely didn’t trust its source.
Y/N was standing behind the bar washing glasses, but she wasn’t focused on the task at hand. Instead, her eyes were trained on the crowd before her. Geralt watched her as she scanned the pub with calm, slow-moving eyes that jumped from patron to patron.
The witcher was distracted for a moment when Jaskier sauntered into his sightline, singing a loud chorus of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher. Despite himself, Geralt couldn’t help but smile at the bard, whose face was flushed from the ales and the exertion.
However, as Geralt watched Jaskier twirl across the crowded pub, something in his peripheral vision made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Y/N had turned he head and was staring right at him with a pair of pitch-black eyes.
Like a shot, Geralt turned his gaze to the woman behind the bar – his heart beating loudly in his ears – only to find her smiling warmly at him, her eyes their normal shade.
Instinctively, Geralt brought his hand up to his wolf-head medallion, hoping it would signal the presence of some supernatural evil. But he felt nothing.
He didn’t know what she was, but she was not human.
#the witcher fanfiction#the witcher x reader#the witcher netflix#the witcher fandom#fanfiction requests#fanfiction#fanfic#the witcher series#geralt of rivia#witcher geralt#witcher fic#witcher fanfiction#witcher x reader#toss a coin to your witcher#geralt of rivia x reader#geralt x y/n#geralt x you#geralt x reader#Jaskier
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This edit on Arya Tv Tropes is something else lol -
Cersei sends informers to spy on Margaery to get any dirt on her. What she found out was a woman who enjoyed horse-riding, hawking, talking to and befriending smallfolk, not caring about getting dirty to fit in with them, collecting things she found in nature, a sea-lover and an all-around fun person. That's exactly like Arya as Sansa described her, which makes it all the more ironic since she wanted a sister like Margaery. Margaery is what Arya could have become if her tragedy never happened to her, but also shows Sansa is a very inconsistent judge of character, because the things she disliked in Arya she adored in Margaery. Margaery is also what Arya could have become had her interests and willpower been accepted and made the most of, rather than being told she was inferior to her older sister's type of proper lady.
And whoever made this edit has poor reading comprehension, because those aren’t the reasons (hawking, horse-riding- which btw, is a common activity for all noblewomen. Arya is hardly unique in this regard.) why Sansa enjoys the company of Margaery and the Tyrells. Sansa explains why-
Margaery's kindness had been unfailing, and her presence changed everything. Her ladies welcomed Sansa as well. It had been so long since she had enjoyed the company of other women, she had almost forgotten how pleasant it could be. Lady Leonette gave her lessons on the high harp, and Lady Janna shared all the choice gossip. Merry Crane always had an amusing story, and little Lady Bulwer reminded her of Arya, though not so fierce.
Closest to Sansa's own age were the cousins Elinor, Alla, and Megga, Tyrells from junior branches of the House. "Roses from lower on the bush," quipped Elinor, who was witty and willowy. Megga was round and loud, Alla shy and pretty, but Elinor ruled the three by right of womanhood; she was a maiden flowered, whereas Megga and Alla were mere girls.
The cousins took Sansa into their company as if they had known her all their lives. They spent long afternoons doing needlework and talking over lemon cakes and honeyed wine, played at tiles of an evening, sang together in the castle sept . . . and often one or two of them would be chosen to share Margaery's bed, where they would whisper half the night away.
She enjoys doing needlework, playing games, singing with them. You know, simply being able to interact with her girls her own age.
Regarding Margaery and the smallfolk, I’ve addressed this before- I cannot speak for Margaery because we don’t have her POV, but the thing is with the Tyrells- they’re all about PR. Keep in mind they were complicit in the famine. Now is Margaery responsible for that? No. But, if Margaery really did inherit some things from her grandmother & the implication that Olenna was mentoring her (seeing her as her chance to do things right, considering the way she looks down on Mace.) I think its very likely that she was advised by Olenna or someone in the Tyrell circle to do this. Unlike Olenna, I don’t think Loras is entirely stupid. I think he could have seen the way the commons loved Renly, and therefore told his sister about what she needed to do to emulate that.
Does that mean Margaery is heartless & doesn’t care at all for the smallfolk? Of course not. But I don’t think you can compare her and Arya because its very clear in Aryas POV that she doesnt have an ulterior motive that the Tyrells likely do. 9 year old Arya was just interested in seeing the world and meeting new people.
Margaery is also what Arya could have become had her interests and willpower been accepted and made the most of, rather than being told she was inferior to her older sister’s type of proper lady.
Well first off, Arya would hate being Margaery. Being married off three times.
Furthermore, like Margaery and Sansa are very similar in terms of ladylike behavior so really... you’re just arguing that if Arya is like Sansa, then her life would be better. Arya can never be Margaery & have her interests (ie swordplay) because they’re two conflicting things. Margaery Tyrell didn’t have a sword made for her. Margaery Tyrell didn’t wonder about what it would be like to be Wenda the White Fawn, an outlaw. Margaery Tyrell didn’t ask her Dad if she could sit on a council one day. And maybe she did. But book Margaery is really an underdeveloped character IMO, and show Margaery makes it clear exactly the thing she wants- being queen.
#sansa stark#anti arya stans#asoiaf#game of thrones#got#my eyes rolled so far back#a song of ice and fire
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