#If there's any mistakes we can all just ignore them and that's cool and fine!!

[vivwritesfics]

"You Did It"

Something short in celebration of me passing my dissertation! I didn't think it would happen but I fucking passed!

She'd been staring at the keyboard of her laptop for a good ten minutes now, fingers itching to dance across the keys. But the words just weren't coming to her.

"I hate this," she mumbled. She'd said it at least once a minute for the last few minutes.

And one of her boyfriends was getting bored of it.

"Stop then," said Lando. He was laying on the sofa beside her, head propped up on the cushions, legs stretched out in front of him and his arm slung over the back of the sofa.

Suddenly, Oscar raised his head. He looked like a meerkat on sentry duty, searching for any danger. "Nope," he said as he stood up and walked over to his partners. "Don't listen to him, not when you're so close to being done," he said as he leaned over the back of the sofa.

Immediately, Lando was begging for his attention, but Oscar ignored him. No, Oscar was focused on their girl. "Promise me you'll try and do as much as you can tonight," he said before he leaned down to kiss her.

"I promise, Osc," she said and tried to get back to it.

And she really did try. She got maybe a few more sentences done, but that was about it. Still, it was progress.

She worked on it for the next week, on and off until it was finished. Concentrating wasn't easy with Lando and Oscar around. But then they headed off to the next grand prix and she was, admittedly, grateful to be alone.

It was easy to get it finished now that she was alone. She worked in silence, maybe to some music as she checked for any kind of spelling mistakes.

But no, it was perfect and it was ready to go.

As soon as she hit submit on her final essay of her final year of university, she called Lando and Oscar.

They couldn't answer right away, not with them both being on the race track. But as soon as they were out of the car, as soon as they had debriefed and as soon as they were back in their hotel room, they called her back.

She picked up almost instantly. "Hi, baby," said Lando as he held Oscar's phone. She could hear the shower running and could only assume that was where Oscar was. "Sorry we missed your call earlier."

"I forgot you guys were out on track," she mumbled as she laid herself in the bed the three of them shared. Her head was on Lando's pillow, half of her face squished against it. "Osc in the shower?"

Lando nodded.

"Surprised you're not in there with him," she said with a small grin.

Lando let out a chuckle as he ran his hand through his curls. "You know I would have," he replied. "But I wanted to call you back."

She and Lando made idle conversation as they waited for Oscar to return from the shower.

And, once she had both of her boys on the screen in front of her did she tell them the good news. "Boys, I did something pretty cool," she said to them as she sat up slightly. They could see her properly now, could see that she was dressed in one of their hoodies (it had originally belonged to Lando, but all three of them wore it so often that it had no owner).

"What did you do?" Oscar asked as Lando settled against his chest. She could have done anything to be there with the two of them, cheering them on through the weekend and cuddled up in bed with them.

She was unable to keep her grin from her face. "I submitted my final essay," she said as that grin grew wider.

Lando sucked in a gasp and Oscar's grin matched her own. "Well done, Baby!" Lando cried.

"We're so proud of you," said Oscar.

They were so fucking proud of her. The final year had been a mental struggle for her, they knew. But they'd encouraged her, kept her going through it. She could safely say that she wouldn't have been graduating without them.

"I wish I was there with you guys to celebrate."

Lando let out a laugh. "It's fine, baby. We'll make it up to you when we're back. Plus, I'll throw in another win on top."

"Or maybe I will," Oscar said as he looked at their boyfriend.

A laugh bubbled up from her lips. That might have been the only thing that would have made this weekend better.

"I love you boys."

"We love you too!"

[dira333]

A Win is a Win is a Win - Sakusa x Reader

for anonymous - rivals and meet cutes - for the Milestone Event Week 1

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The store is almost vacant at this late hour, just one other lone shopper is perusing, his back turned to you.

You go straight to the men’s wear, which brings you closer to him where he’s standing exactly where you’re headed. The sleepwear.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly when you peer over his extended arms. 

Yes, you’re in desperate need of some sleepwear - all-linen only - but that doesn’t mean you won’t at least try to get a fashionable piece.

He grabs a grey one and you know, just at the sight of it, that that’s the one you want. The cut is simple, yet stylish, cozy enough that you’ll have a good sleep in it. 

“Is there another one of these?”

The guy turns as if he’s just now made aware of your presence.

He’s wearing a face mask, though it’s pulled down to his chin in the absence of the usual crowd of shoppers. 

He’s pretty, from the full lips to the beauty marks sitting right beneath his dark curls.

“Go ahead,” he tells you, his voice smooth enough to make your toes curl up.

But as he turns away you realize that he’s gotten your question wrong - or did not care at all. Because he’s taking the last grey pajama set with him.

“Excuse me,” you follow him to the checkout counter. “It’s the last set.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and I need it.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“I do indeed,” you try to step in his way but his impossibly long legs have no problem stepping past you.

“Excuse me?” He ignores you, addressing the guy at the register instead. “I’d like to buy this set. Is there any chance to only buy the trousers?”

Your heart flutters in relief. “I only need the top.”

“What?” Both men turn to you.

“I said I only need the top. We could share.”

A blush works itself onto his pale cheeks.

“We don’t offer any change with the sets,” the salesperson tells you. “I’d recommend splitting the cost privately.”

“See,” you turn back to your man, err, the man with the pajama. “I’ll transfer you the money right away. I only need the top of it.”

He considers it for a second. But you know that set is pricey. Their pieces are an investment, worth it, but an investment nonetheless.

Finally, he nods. “Very well. You pay, I transfer you the money.”

You grin. “Deal.”

-

His name is Sakusa Kiyoomi, you find out, when the money enters your account. 

It’s a nice name, not at all fitting his curmudgeony behaviour.

But you don’t get a chance to tell him that, not when he’s out the door the minute the salesperson snips apart the attached pieces, his pants in hand.

Fine. It’s not like you liked him like that anyway.

-

“Found what you were looking for, Omi-Omi?” A guy asks right in front of you, his voice too loud for this fancy hotel.

“Shut up,” another voice grumbles and you recognize that misery instantly. It’s Sakusa.

He turns to glare at his colleague, his eyes catching you just a few feet behind them.

“Are you following me?” He asks, clearly annoyed.

“No,” your smile is all saccharine sweetness. “I hope you sleep well tonight. In my pants.”

You sidestep him, enjoying the pink flush on his cheeks a little too much, to get to the stairs. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, Omi-Omi?” You hear behind you, but you don’t turn back to look. You’re better than that.

-

“Slept well?” A deep voice asks from behind you as you fill your plate at the breakfast buffet. A shiver runs down the back at the sound.

“Very well,” you admit. “And you?”

“As well as one can in sheets that have hopefully been washed before.”

“What?” You turn in surprise. “Didn’t you ask for all new sheets? Beginner-mistake.”

His eyes, dark and cool, watch you like one would his favorite food. 

“Interesting,” he points out but doesn’t say more, stepping away with his breakfast in hand.

He got it from the other end of the buffet, which tells you that he came all the way over just to talk to you.

But, you remind yourself, that doesn’t mean anything. After all he would have been perfectly fine stealing your pajama set if you hadn’t stopped him.

-

“You ready?” Juro asks from behind the camera. You nod.

The door opens as if pulled by your thoughts.

You ready yourself for the next athlete you’re going to interview, only to choke on your own spit when you recognize the- well, everything.

Sakusa looks just as surprised as you are, though he masks it quickly, taking the seat across from you.

“You’re not getting a cold, are you?” He asks when you cough into the crook of your arm.

“Just swallowed wrong,” you apologize. “I’m sorry.”

His mouth, formerly turned into a flat line, pulls into a smirk.

“That’s what you get for sleeping in my clothes.”

Juro gasps behind you as your cheeks heat up and you all but dive into your bag for a moment of privacy to calm yourself down.

“Where were we?” You ask once you feel ready again, glaring at Sakusa in the most professional way he can muster.

“I was wondering if you have any allergies?”

“Shouldn’t I ask the questions?”

“Am I not allowed to ask my own?”

“You- you are.” This is getting out of hand. “What do you want to know?”

“Allergies,” he repeats, before smiling to himself. “And another thing. What is the correct way to wash your hands.”

You snort. “There is only one way to wash your hands.” 

“Elaborate.”

You do, mostly because you want him to disagree. Surprisingly enough, he smiles.

“Allergies?”

“None,” you shake your head to emphasize it. “I just hate the feeling of cheap fabric.”

“Agreed,” he looks down at his lap as if he’s looking at notes. “Are you free this weekend?”

You almost swallow wrong again.

“That depends on who’s asking.”

“And if I’m the one asking?” There’s something like vulnerability in his eyes now, warming the dark brown.

“Depends,” you repeat, unable to keep your own smile at bay. “Are you free as well?”

-

“Aw,” Atsumu coo’s at your story. “You guys had a meet-cute.”

“It wasn’t a meet-cute,” Kiyoomi disagrees. His foot is hooked around your ankle in the most private way of showing affection. “It was annoying.”

“It wasn’t annoying,” you correct him. “You were annoying.”

“Excuse me?”

“Annoyingly cute?” You correct yourself, fluttering your eyelashes up at him.

He huffs out a something between a laugh and a groan. 

“Saved your ass again,” he tells you before leaning in for a kiss on the temple which in turn, drives Atsumu away.

A win is a win is a win.

-

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[namfinessed]

and...cut! - p.jm.

genre: fluff, very mild angst (13.6k)

summary: the last time you saw jimin, you were pathetically deep in a one-sided love while he wasn't even at the shallow edge, that was when you were on the stage, dancing and acting together for hundreds to see. now, you are grown, you like to think you're cool but when jimin comes back to your life, you are just as pathetically deep, once again, in a one-sided love.

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you were breathless when the lights cut out, the crowd immediately broke into loud applause and your teammates gathered around you to congratulate you but as good as all of it felt, your eyes searched for him, desperately, more desperately than you would ever admit to anyone else.

and when you finally caught him, he was leaving the stage, he didn’t turn back like you hoped he would, he didn’t congratulate you like you hoped he would and you swallowed your tears.

but it was okay.

it was going to be okay.

you would see him in class in a few days and everything would fall into place.

for now, you grab the friends around you and squeeze them, hoping everyone mistakes your tears for happy ones.

-

you like to think that you’re cool.

you didn’t cry when you broke up with your first boyfriend, you didn’t crawl back to him and never begged anyone for a second chance. you set a ten-minute timer to cry for your second boyfriend and when he called you right after breaking up with you to ask how you were feeling, you told him you were reading a book and cut the call.

so, yes, you are cool.

maybe a little too cool because now, you’ve been single for two years and your friends take more offense to that fact than you do.

“we are just worried babe, you don’t seem to like anyone,” mia whispered with her hands in her boyfriend’s hands, as if it was some big secret.

“you don’t have to be,” you gulp down your drink, ignoring all the looks your friends and their boyfriends give you.

they didn’t have to be, you were perfectly fine the way you were.

you were totally okay with sitting at the end of the table with an empty seat next to you, you were okay with listening to your friends be all romantic with their boyfriends, you were okay with everyone.

sure, sometimes you wish you had someone to call at night and talk nonsense with, and yes, it would be nice to have someone you can call yours and someone who would sit next to you as if any other place was unacceptable.

but those were all things you could adjust with, all things you have grown to get used to.

“but seriously, you don’t like a single person we set you up with, i know you have commitment issues but i don’t think you’re even trying,” megan, who you could always count on to give you a reality check, spoke up with you guessed it, her boyfriend’s arms around her.

next to her, faye pursed her lips and turned away from the conversation to say something to her boyfriend, you were at least grateful that she didn’t add to the advice.

“you were single till two months ago, don’t act like you’re some love guru,” you bite back and the whole table falls silent and you hate it.

you hate that you have to sit here and listen to them advising you as they’ve figured it all out.

you hate that you look bitter as fuck right now.

you hate that, just because you don’t have a partner, everyone thinks you’re miserable and lonely.

you hate that you probably are miserable and lonely.

“okay, let’s look at the menu, what does everyone want?” mia chimes in, the mom of the group, the problem fixer where glaringly you are the problem at this table, and everyone is gracious enough to follow suit, and check the menus.

except you.

“i think i’m going to leave actually, i feel pretty tired,” you pick up your bag and immediately everyone starts protesting, “you know i didn’t mean it in that way,” megan grabs your hand with softer eyes and you nod, “i didn’t either, i’ll meet you guys another time.”

and just like that, you’re not mad at her anymore.

“please stay, it’s been so long since we’ve met like this,” faye whispers next and you want to scream that it could’ve been just you and the girls, that you hated their boyfriends coming as extended versions of themselves but she did stay quiet, she didn’t encourage your friends shitting on you so you sit back down.

“sorry, i’m late,” your ears pick up on a new voice and you instinctively look up.

you almost kill yourself on the spot.

“hey guys, this is jimin, my friend, i hope it’s okay if he joins us,” noah, megan’s boyfriend gets up and hugs his friend who very gladly returns the hug and nods at everyone at the table as they introduce themselves.

but you already, unfortunately, know jimin.

just not from here, or from any recent period in your life but from a buried piece of school history.

and when he gets to you, you mumble your name and immediately look back at the menu.

what was he doing here?

did he recognize you?

you hope the fuck not because there wouldn’t be a bigger embarrassment than him remembering that he rejected you even before you could ever ask him out.

but when he sits next to you, you stiffen up, mutter out some dish’s name, and pretend to be very interested in the shape of your plate.

why did he smell so good?

“oh yeah, i think she went to the same school,” you hear faye’s voice and immediately, your hands clench on your lap.

“really?” and his voice isn’t familiar or unfamiliar, you know it’s been years, and voices, sounds, and faces change but jimin’s voice always had a certain warmth that no one else seemed to have.

and he still had it.

he carried that warmth everywhere.

especially in his eyes, which were looking right at you when you lifted your head up.

“i’m sorry?” you clear your throat and faye answers, “he’s from your school,” and you make a ‘is that so?’ face and quietly nod along.

“which year did you graduate in?” jimin speaks from your left, you swear he’s recognized you already when he leans into your figure, and god, if that didn’t make you want to shoot yourself.

“2015,” you say and then grab your wine glass, keeping it close to your mouth so that you don’t have to speak.

“oh same!”

you fucking know!

he is delighted of course and the smile on his face still makes your face red.

and that knowledge only twists your guts further.

“that’s great,” you dare to glance briefly to nod at him and then turn back to everyone else.

“okay.” he purses his lips and looks away.

fuck.

you were being rude.

it didn’t seem like anyone really minded cause they continued with their conversations but you and jimin were now deathly silent.

you had to fix this.

you can’t have him hate you in the present too.

“i know you,” is apparently the best you can do and you want to smack yourself when he raises his eyebrows at you because, from a supposed stranger, that was creepy and mildly horrifying to hear.

“oh?”

“yeah, you were in the cinderella play in school, the prince,” and it was out.

now you have to hold your breath and see if he laughs in your face.

“i was,” and then he cranes his neck to look at you.

really look at you.

you wait.

you know he’s going to hate you when he figures it out, you know that you’re going to kill yourself at this table.

but he keeps looking, eyebrows narrowing and dropping, eyes scanning your every feature, and you know he’s putting his earlier pieces together, that it’s finally clicking for him.

his smile disappears.

his eyes lose all warmth.

you can tell the second that it clicks for him.

“you were cinderella.”

you can’t hide, you can’t look away, you can’t run, all you can do is meet his cold and sharp gaze.

and nod.

he looks away, puts his head down, and lets out the heaviest sigh.

you try not to reach for the knife on the table.

-

the rest of the dinner was…awkward.

so painfully awkward.

once in a while, the conversation would turn to you both and you would force yourself to say a few words before going mute whereas jimin enjoyed the conversations only to fall mute whenever you spoke.

it was embarrassing, the hot kind of embarrassment that paralyzed your entire body, every movement you made felt unnatural and forced, every time your hand moved, jimin would jerk away and towards the end, you just folded your hands on your lap and refused to be mobile.

if anyone noticed anything, they didn’t say a word.

“we should still get a few more drinks,” megan insists outside the restaurant and you twist your entire face at her, “what?” she shrugs her shoulders and you look away, panic rising in your throat.

two hours beside jimin was torture enough.

any more and you would probably combust.

“actually, i agree,” jimin steps away from his conversation with noah and for a split second, you catch him looking at you but you turn away, though the split second still leaves your knees shaking.

“i would love to host you guys at my place if everyone is comfortable,” he offers graciously, a smile reaching his eyes, warmth so bright and inviting on his face but you know that the invitation didn’t extend to you.

and the same way you fell head over heels for him, you see everyone around you falling for him, their eyes soften, they all nod at him and start cheering at the long night ahead of them and you, well, you just want to go home, knock a few teeth out and escape from the country with a fake passport.

but everyone turns to you, your silence is a bit too loud in their chaos and you stammer as all of their faces pick up in anticipation.

“i’m gonna turn in for the night, you guys go ahead, have fun!” you raise your fists in cheer, cringe internally at yourself, swallow that shame, and start waving goodbye and turning around to leave.

and you were truly so close.

so, so close.

your cab was booked, the night was done and you exhaled in relief.

until you hear steps coming towards you, “come, it will be fun,” jimin’s voice was still new, a sound that almost knocked you over and you shifted on your feet, “you don’t want me there.”

“did i tell you that?”

“you don’t need to, jimin,” you hate how breathless you sound when you say his name.

jimin tilts his head at you, eyebrows furrowing again and you want to duck and crawl away from his sight, “i would lov-“

and your cab pulls up.

you clear your throat, “thanks for inviting me, but i have to go, goodnight,” and you step away towards your cab, not waiting for his response.

as your cab pulls away, you avert your eyes away from the pavement where he stands, eyebrows furrowed still, and eyes following the tires of the cab.

you take a deep breath in.

you would never see your first crush again.

and that was probably for the best.

-

sixth grade was life-changing for you.

it was the first time you realized you could feel so much for one person, even if you never intended it to happen that way.

you didn’t even know someone called jimin existed in school until he walked into your practice room, with a head full of thick, soft hair, with this smile that had you frowning, with this walk so confident which was uncommon in guys your age.

everyone was busy being cool, everyone was busy being something they were not but jimin was always just him.

when your drama teacher announced him as the prince in your drama, you nodded and looked away, passing him the script later and walking away.

liking jimin was never part of the plan, liking jimin wasn’t something you ever saw as a possibility, you always thought his personality was too much, too loud, and that he was a little too naïve and a little too bubbly.

but soon, he became your prince, as if every terrible cliché in the world had to come true, he became everything you would ever want in someone.

-

days passed, you watched the photos on your friend’s instagram from the night that you never ended up staying for, and you felt a jolt of joy every time jimin was in their pictures.

he still looked fucking gorgeous, he still smiled with his entire face, and he was still tall and moved with a confidence that guys, even at your age now, usually lacked.

it was a shame that he hated you.

you sighed, put your phone down, and waited for your nephew to burst out of his preschool class. as an aunt, you were constantly on babysitter duties, those duties included picking and dropping him places, taking him out to the park, attending parent-teacher meetings if your sister was too busy like she was today.

it was exhausting at times but your nephew was your baby too.

speaking of your baby, sunoo runs out the door full-speed, eyes darting everywhere before they land on you, you’ll always remember his smile as he heads straight towards you, your heart always picks up and immediately your arms are open to him.

“hey baby,” you mumble into his hair and he giggles, holding onto you tightly and you stand up, with him still koala wrapped around you.

when you look down again, a little girl is staring up at both of you with large eyes and you are immediately concerned.

where are her parents?

why is she alone?

“bubba, do you know your friend here?” you ask sunoo, who, to your relief, nods aggressively and signals to be put down.

and as soon as his feet are on the ground, he hands you his bag to hold her hand and your eyebrows jump up your forehead. sunoo was a very shy kid, he didn’t talk much to kids in the class, and his world was only your family.

so, when they both smile at each other with half their teeth still growing, your heart warms and you bend down to their height, “hello sunoo’s friend, can i know your name?” you hold out your hand and the girl shyly reaches out to take it, “arin,” she whispers before putting her hand back in sunoo’s and you giggle at the sight.

they were adorable.

“is it your first day here, arin?” you don’t remember seeing her and she nods, “this is my new school.”

“ah okay, sunoo, do you want to head inside for the meeting? arin can come in as well, yeah?” you look at them and hold out your hands to each of them which they happily take and you almost collapse when you turn around.

“you’ve got to be kidding me.”

jimin stood, a few feet away from you, with a pink backpack held loosely in his hands and your face immediately dropped.

this can’t be real.

this cannot be your tuesday morning.

this cannot be your life at all.

“what are you doing here?”

“what are you doing here?” you stare at him pointedly with your arms across your chest and he rolls his eyes, “that’s my niece next to you, she started here today,” and at that, you bend a little to see arin’s face and surely, the resemblance was there.

full cheeks.

and warm eyes.

god loved to punish you.

“oh.” and arin smiles at you, you smile back a little hesitantly and turn to see jimin who’s eyebrows have furrowed deeper than ever.

“yeah,” he looks exasperated at your presence and you try not to get hurt over it, “this is my nephew, by the way,” you point to sunoo, not knowing what else to do or say, and he waves at jimin with a toothy smile and like magic, jimin’s entire face melts into the most beautiful smile.

oh, fuck him.

he starts walking over and you clutch sunoo’s bag tightly, watching as his feet fall one after the other, watching as he completely avoids looking at you when he bends down to ruffle sunoo’s hair and press a kiss to arin’s head.

you hate when men are nice to kids, it makes it so much harder to despise them.

“oh, sunoo’s aunt! i didn’t know you came with your boyfriend,” you freeze at the sound of sunoo’s teacher coming from the hallway and jimin freezes too as she starts quickly walking over to you.

marjorie was an older woman who loved sunoo and you, she was the only teacher you trusted completely and she was also a bit chatty.

this was a live nightmare.

“he’s so handsome, good for you,” she slaps her hand on your arm while gushing at jimin and you, once again, wish to change your identity and immigrate to some unknown island.

“we’re not-“

“that’s not-“

and you both pause to glare at each other with pure venom in your eyes.

he may have been your first crush but he was insufferable and you didn’t need someone else to think that you were together with him and his horrid personality.

jimin probably thought you were enjoying this, people mistaking you to be a couple, just like in school, but he was so wrong, he wasn’t nearly as cute as he was in school.

marjorie clears her throat and stares at you with anticipation, you hate to break her bubble but, “i don’t know who he is marjorie, i think he’s related to your new student here,” you point to arin and she starts looking between the both of you in confusion and jimin extends his hand to her, “i’m arin’s uncle, i’m here for her parent-teacher meeting.”

she nods with a smile, taking his hand graciously, “oh that’s lovely, arin’s mom did say her uncle was coming today, come in, come in, you too, sunoo’s aunt,” and starts walking ahead of the both of you into the classrooms.

you and jimin follow her in, you watch as he takes in the school and the classrooms and smiles at the artwork made by the children all over the walls, you look away with an irritated scowl.

why did he pretend to be some children-loving, kind jesus when he was absolutely vile to you?

“by the way, you two look so good together, it’s a shame you’re not a couple,” marjorie smiles at the two of you and you both nod stiffly at her which seems to delight her as she walks into a room.

you and jimin glare at each other one last time before following her in.

-

sunoo is still holding arin’s hand as you and jimin awkwardly follow the two of them outside the school, the parent-teacher meeting was done, thankfully, only two other teachers assumed you were a couple but was that really a win?

“okay sunoo, why don’t you say bye to your friend and we can go home?” you step forward from the slow, uncomfortable pace set by you and jimin, sunoo pouts and tightens his hand around arin’s which makes you frown, and look at jimin who was also observing the scene in front of them.

“but arin,” he starts tearing up, his face scrunching up and your panic rises, “it’s okay baby, you’ll see her in class tomorrow and every day after,” you try to calm him down, “it’s saturday tomorrow,” he whimpers and you wince, “well, it’s only two days bub, i’m sure arin wants to go home too,” and arin starts pouting too, “no.”

wow, she looked even more like jimin when she pouted.

you look at jimin again helplessly and he also seems to be panicking, at least you weren’t alone.

“sunoo, arin,” he bent down, “you two are in the same class, you will see each other again soon, for now, everyone should go home after class,” jimin’s tone was strict but still soft enough not to trigger any tears but just when you think he’s a better guardian than you, arin huffs and throws her bag on the floor, “no!”

you almost join the bag to laugh on the floor at the shock in jimin’s face.

“she never does this,” jimin says with his mouth still wide open as he gets up and you raise your eyebrows, “i think she gets it from you, the drama of it all, it’s cute, don’t worry,” and he glares at you.

“kids, for today, we have to go home, another day, i’m sure we can do something,” you try to appease them and jimin scoffs next to you, making you narrow your eyes.

“wouldn’t you love that?” your mouth falls open as his eyes roll back in irritation.

the fucking gall this man has.

“shut the fu-“

your colorful words are interrupted by sunoo and arin, who are so in sync already, that they begin their sniffing and subsequent loud cries together.

you immediately shut up to meet jimin’s eyes in horror as both of you see the kids melt into a puddle of tears before you.

“okay, okay! what do you want?” jimin is the first to give in and you want to smack him on the head, you should never give in to kids, that was the rule, you should always wait for their meltdown to finish and then bribe them with something less than what they want.

“seriously?” you give him a dirty look.

“i hate to see her cry,” he whispers to you and if it were anyone else, you would gush, to be honest, you were gushing, but you were also hiding it really well.

“playdate!” it’s like they never cried at all, children were truly magical.

you stare at jimin, waiting for him to respond because if you guys agreed to the playdate, you were also agreeing to spend the next few hours together.

and you didn’t want to be the one to agree to that, it was bad enough that he thought you were getting a kick out of meeting him like this.

he finally lifts his head to look at you, you shrug at him with your heart beating thunderously against your chest, you almost place your hand on it to calm it down but it only gets louder when jimin smiles at you, “sure, that would be fun.”

-

“yay!” sunoo and arin burst into jimin’s house, throwing their shoes and bags at the doorstep to wander off into the house and you are left with jimin, who just like you, would rather be anywhere else.

“thanks for hosting, we’ll do it next time,” you mumble while shrugging your coat off and he smirks, “if you want to see me again, you can just say that.”

you throw your coat on his face and stomp into the house, letting go of any politeness or manners that you would usually have and his giggles float into the air around you, making you scowl.

if he wanted to behave like a pig, he would be treated like one.

“i meant it though, sunoo doesn’t talk to anyone so it was nice to see him bond with arin, but i won’t be the one hosting it, it would be my sister, so no one’s dying to see you, settle down,” you sit down on the sofa, keeping your back straight and legs neatly crossed over the other, and scanned the house that you’ve only seen on instagram till now.

it was a nice house, cosy and bright and definitely expensive.

“arin doesn’t usually talk to anyone either so works for both of us.”

“but what if i wanted to see you?” he joins you on the couch and you roll your eyes, “can you stop with that nonsense?”

“it’s not nonsense, just a question,” jimin shrugs, “tea or coffee?” and you’re appalled at his skills of diverting a conversation, “green tea, if you have it, thanks,” and he laughs, walking into the kitchen, “you know, you don’t have to be so formal with me, we know each other,” and you squirm in your seat.

“i know you’d prefer it if we didn’t,” and jimin pops his head out of the kitchen, “what makes you think that?”

“seriously?”

was he dumb or were you overthinking this?

you get up and walk over to the kitchen where jimin stands, in the simple t-shirt and jeans under his coat, and he looks unjustly attractive in that bland outfit.

“did you forget school or something?” you ask again and he shakes his head, handing you a mug of steaming green tea, “i haven’t forgotten anything, i’m very sharp in case you didn’t notice already,” and you have to let out a groan at his tone.

“i know you hate me, jimin, you don’t have to sugarcoat anything just because we’re older now,” you take a sip, appreciating the light sweetness in the green tea, “did you add honey?”

“nope, cinnamon and i don’t hate you, where the fuck did you get that?” he looks at you as if you’re insane, as if you’ve imagined the times he ignored you in school, as if you’ve imagined him smiling at everyone but you during drama practice, as if you’ve imagined him leaving the stage without even looking at you.

was this what people called ‘gaslighting’?

“um you were an asshole to me and an absolute angel to everyone else,” you try to sound cool and casual about the whole thing but you were dying a little inside about having to have this conversation.

“when?”

“always.”

“no, but when exactly?”

“are you really going to make me say it?” you raise your eyebrows at him, there was absolutely no way that he didn’t know that he was your first crush and that he hated being liked by you.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” and you force yourself to smile because if you didn’t, you might just throw the mug in your hands, onto his face.

“you look weird,” he frowns at you and you purse your lips, trying to keep your calm, “i really have no idea why you think i hate you, then or now.”

and you were done.

“during play practice! you smiled at everyone, talked to everyone, played along with everyone, talked to them even after the play finished but never to me! are you happy now that i’ve said it?” you push the mug away from you on the counter and fold your arms across your chest, looking away to some corner in the kitchen.

if there was a feeling more dreadful than shame, you were feeling it right now.

how embarrassing that you still remember every single detail about him, how your adolescent mind never really let him go, how your crush on him was so clear, so true that it never left you.

“y/n,” he calls out and your heart is in your throat.

his voice, even as a kid, was so soft, he always spoke so well, he always spoke as if the opposite person was the most interesting person in the world but somehow, that tone never came when he talked to you.

“can you look at me?”

“no.”

“no?” he laughs out, palms coming up to cover his smiling face and for a moment, you’re starstruck again, you can only stare at his smile that held the world’s love and warmth, from your periphery though.

“okay, don’t look at me but i never hated you-“ and just as you’re leaning into listen to jimin, loud stomps break the moment and you’re both turning to see who’s coming.

it’s sunoo.

and he’s crying.

“baby, what happened?” you get up from your seat to sit on your knees in front of sunoo, “home!” is all he says and you frown, “that’s no way to talk in a home that has invited us, sunoo,” you weren’t as strict as his mom but kids needed to be disciplined from time to time.

“it’s okay,” jimin sits beside you, “what happened, big guy?” he coos at sunoo who instantly falls into jimin’s arms and you’re left baffled, this wasn’t like sunoo at all, he never touched anyone until he liked them.

this was dangerous.

“arin’s not giving me her toys, i want to play too,” sunoo says between hiccups and whines and you straighten beside jimin, “those are arin’s toys sunoo, you should ask someone before you use their stuff, you know this,” and he falls silent.

“but arin should also share, right? she should know that too,” jimin rubs his palms on sunoo’s back who nods furiously, “i asked!”

“okay, let’s call arin and we can sort this out?” jimin suggests but sunoo shakes his head, “home,” he says again but with exhaustion instead of anger.

oh, the trials and tribulations of a 5-year-old.

and you know that once he’s tired, he won’t listen to a word, “i think we’ll head home, he’s tired so,” you scoop sunoo up in your arms and he immediately curls into your shoulder.

“i’m sorry,” jimin sighs and you let out a laugh, “they’re 5-year-olds’s jimin, it’s no one’s fault, and we’ll arrange something for them at mine or my sister’s, okay?” you don’t know why you’re trying to console him but it came automatically.

at the door, jimin casually wraps your coat around you, being careful to not disturb sunoo who was already dozing off, and you walk to your car with your hands and heart full.

“let’s talk sometime, yeah?” jimin says from next to you and you narrow your eyes, “why?”

“god,” he throws his head back with a delighted look on his face, “i just want to talk, jeez,” and you nod reluctantly.

“here,” he opens the door for you to put sunoo in carefully, you could’ve done it yourself but you didn’t mind the help.

“thanks…for today, it was nice of you,” you look at jimin and he nods with a teasing smile, “i can be very nice,” and you roll your eyes, closing the door and effectively creating a barrier between you two.

and you can finally breathe.

while you pull away, you feel your heart thud and thud and thud again.

seeing him with sunoo and spending so much time alone with him did a number on you, you’ll have to write down why you hate him to make sure that no lingering feelings surface but as you leave, he smiles at you through your side view mirror and you’re not sure you ever stood a chance.

-

it only took you a few seconds to understand what you felt, that it was against everything you had believed until then.

it was the first time you were so close to a guy, his hands were a little above your waist, your hands were on his shoulders, and his face was (so) close to yours.

you were practicing for the ballroom scene and when you looked at his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, you felt your stomach drop with the realization that you liked him, this guy that seemed so ordinary some minutes ago, became something magical, something beyond you and your heart.

“come closer, you two,” your drama teacher shouted over the music and you mindlessly shuffled forward and jimin moved with you, hands tightening on you by instinct and your breath hitched.

you danced weakly, still reeling with the consciousness of liking him and he looked like he did any other day.

later that day, everyone left the practice room except you and jimin, you waited for him to look at you at least once, say anything, you would’ve hung onto any word but he scurried out of the room just as you opened your mouth to tell him what you felt.

“jimin, can we talk? i think i lik-” and he was out of the door.

as if he could sense what was coming next and wanted to avoid it.

and since then, you never brought back the courage to tell him anything.

you had to make peace with that, your buried feelings in your heart had to stay buried.

and you coped with that until the day of the actual play, until he looked like he wanted to say something too, right when the ballroom scene started.

but then, he didn’t turn back on the stage, and you were left warm from his touch, cold from his absence, hurt from his steps away from you, and hopeful from how he looked at you in the eye while you danced.

-

“are you sure that it’s the same guy?” your sister’s voice came from your phone’s speaker and you sighed, “unfortunately, yes, he is,” and she laughed an evil laugh that told you how much she loved this situation.

“this is golden, you used to be so obsessed with him,” she gasped, you were sure her mind was playing the whole reel of you gushing about jimin, “that was a long time ago, give it up.” you groaned and scrolled mindlessly through your instagram.

jimin had sent you a follow request after you left his house a couple of days ago, you almost fell from the bed when you saw it pop up on your screen but what was more embarrassing was the speed with which you accepted the request and sent one back.

“oh my god, i just remembered how you would go for that weekly school exercise thing just to see him! you used to bend forward, backward, to see him a few lines away, this is amazing, this is amazing!” she sang from your phone and you winced at that memory.

it was true, you only went to the weekly drill to see jimin, a quick glance of his face used to make you unexplainably happy.

but with your fingers scrolling through his posts now, you guessed that some things just don’t change.

jimin would probably be doing the same thing, no one sends an instagram request without the intent to stalk that person’s profile, right?

but maybe he has a life and you don’t.

sigh.

“can you send me a picture of what he looks like right now? also, what is sunoo doing?” she asks and you frown, “sunoo is sleeping and why do you need his picture?”

“i just want to see,” and she starts rambling about how she deserves it as your sister, you tune it out, getting up to answer the door when the bell rings.

“it’s just so crazy to me that he’s back in your life, like imagine meeting your first crush in your nephew’s school? i bet it’s only yo-“ but you’re not listening to her at all anymore because at the other side of the door, are jimin with arin, who have both now heard your embarrassing older sister.

“anyway, send me a picture after you’re finished stalki-“ and you cut the call.

“hello.” you clear your throat, and he waves his hand while arin beams at you.

“oh wait, please come in,” you open your door wider, watching with wide eyes as they both step in and take in your home, you are suddenly too conscious about your pajamas and hair.

you weren’t expecting visitors.

what is he even doing here?

just as you’re about to ask jimin, he turns to you with a guilty look which consists of sad, puppy eyes and a slight pout.

arin truly gets it from her uncle.

how is that look not turning you off?

you know for a fact that the same exact look on another man would have just pissed you off.

“sorry to come so suddenly, you mentioned where you lived in one of our messages and arin was killing me all morning about wanting to see sunoo, and i tried to calm her down, i really did but you know how it gets,” jimin rambles on and on, and you nod along, only half distracted by his long coat and ruffled hair.

he must have come in a rush too.

and yes, you were texting each other and no, it’s very casual and friendly talk only.

“i thought they were fighting?” you ask and signal jimin to follow you into the kitchen where you put on a pot of water to boil.

how did he look like he belonged in your space when he was in it for all of two minutes?

“i thought so too,” jimin laughs and you smile at the sound of his laughter, you loved it then, and you love it now, someone should shoot you to snap you out of whatever magic spell jimin has cast on you.

“arin baby, what do you like?” you turn to her and she shakes her head, “you’re not going to ask me?” jimin raises his arms up in question and you hum, “you take what i give you, park jimin,” and he’s laughing again.

wow, you must be some extraordinary comedian.

“sunoo is sleeping right now but i’m sure he would love to see you guys, i’ll just be right back with him,” you place a cup of green tea in front of jimin and start heading out of the room.

“honey?” you hear as you’re leaving, “nope, cinnamon,” you reply, ignoring the shiver up your spine from how he called out honey.

after a lot of struggle with sunoo’s blanket and begging him, he was finally out of the room and standing in front of arin with his arms crossed, you and jimin watched with interest as they stared at each other.

“what do you think they will do?”

“fight?” you offer and jimin rolls his eyes at you, “they’re kids,” and you shrug, “kids are very good at fighting.”

and your eyes snap back to them when arin hugs sunoo over his crossed arms, you and jimin look at each other with your hearts melting as sunoo tries to resist but soon, gives up and wraps his arms around her.

“they’re so cute,” he whispers, and you nod with your hand over your heart.

sunoo and arin then take off to the living room where his toys are laid out and they’re lost in their own world within the next five minutes.

you and jimin sit in the kitchen, sipping your tea and looking at each other, only to return to sipping your tea, words lost in your tongues and throats.

“was that your sister on the phone?” and you ignore it, staring at the cup of tea with much focus and interest, “hey, she was, wasn’t she?” his voice gets more teasing, more light, more carefree and you hate that it makes you smile, you hate that your cheeks still flush in his presence.

“i won’t tell anyone or will i?” he winks at you when you finally look up and you groan, slamming your face into the table and he giggles next to you, uncontrollably.

“i’m going to kill myself,” you mumble into the table and he brings his hand forward to push your face away from the table and…towards him, his face and you almost fall off a chair once again because of him.

“don’t worry, i stalked you too.”

-

it was scary, how quickly you could come to terms with the fact that you liked jimin again, how quickly your heart accepted him even if ages passed and even if you’ve both changed.

“why do you even like him?” this was a question that your friends had asked you then, a question that your sister asked you then, and a question you often asked yourself.

it was simple to you.

jimin was different.

softer than other men but stronger too.

more delicate but also more protective.

he could make you blush and burst into laughter, in all of two seconds.

he was always like that, even when kids back then were trying to be cool and tough, jimin carried a bright, easy smile with care for the people around him. even if it didn’t always extend to you, it was still there.

but you think that might have changed.

“and you’re sure you are free to pick sunoo up?” your sister asks and you nod happily, “absolutely, don’t worry, i got him,” and she thanks you before cutting the call.

and now, you’re standing in front of his school in a better outfit than you normally would wear, you’re giddy with sweaty palms and flushed cheeks, but you don’t hate this.

“looks like someone’s all dressed up,” you don’t stop yourself from grinning at jimin’s voice from a few feet away.

fine, maybe you’ve been picking sunoo up a lot more these days but that’s just you being the best aunt in the world.

“unlike you, people like putting an effort into their outfits and personal style,” but you’re lying straight out of your teeth, jimin had a very good sense of style but he didn’t need to know that and besides, when he laughs and bumps your shoulder with his, your heart lights up.

so, this is what park jimin is to everyone else.

this is what everyone else felt when they were next to him.

how did all of them not fall in love with him?

you couldn’t have been the only one.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt this sure of something in your life.

you like chocolates, but not in milkshakes or when they are dark.

you like reading books, but sometimes you get into a slump.

you like romantic comedies, but sometimes, you find them cringeworthy and unrealistic.

you like jimin.

but….nothing, you just liked him.

“should we go get ice cream after this?” you turn to see him and he raises his eyebrows so, you quickly backtrack, “sunoo keeps asking for it and arin would like it too,” and he nods at it, you nod fiercely with him.

what your nephew wants, he gets, of course.

“i didn’t ask for ice cream,” is the first thing that flies out of sunoo’s mouth when you tell him about it, you are frozen with your knees bent as jimin stifles a burst of laughter behind his palms and you know if you turn around, you might as well bury yourself six feet under.

“sunoo,” you warn-whisper and he just tilts his head at you, you drop your head, there is no point in blaming your nephew for this, you’ve done this to yourself.

you grab sunoo’s hand and speed-walk to your car without looking back, with red cheeks and shaky palms.

the universe seems to be hell-bent on making sure that you embarrass yourself in front of park jimin for the rest of your life.

“hey hey, where are you going?” jimin pulls you back with his hand around your elbow and you purse your lips, “did you not hear my nephew out me?”

he throws his head back in laughter, “i did but don’t be silly, let’s go,” and you frown, “go where?”

“for ice cream,” and you’re lost again, he’s tutting at you, “if you want ice cream, we’re getting ice cream,” and looks down at you with a grin that has you holding your smile back, “okay.”

at the ice cream store, jimin hovers around you, asks you your favorites, asks you if you like desserts, asks if you like movies or tv shows, and you answer each question with increasing fondness towards him.

god, you must love attention.

“you were so intimidating in school,” and your jaw dropped, “no, i wasn’t! if anything, you were intimidating,” and jimin shook his head, “no way, how was i intimidating? i talked to everyone.”

you wipe ice cream from the corners of sunoo’s mouth as you speak, “that was intimidating to me because i didn’t talk to too many people,” and jimin nods, “and for me, you were intimidating, i could talk to literally anyone and everyone but you.”

“but why?”

“why?” he looks up in question and you pause for a second, not knowing if you should continue the sentence, “but why was i intimidating? why couldn’t you talk to me?”

because i would’ve given everything to talk to you, stays deep in your throat.

jimin sits back in his seat, pondering for a few seconds and you almost take it back, you almost tell him to forget it but then he opens his mouth, “you were intimidating because you were always good at what you did,” and your eyes widen by their own accord, you had never heard that from anyone except your drama teacher.

“i don’t know if you remember but i was so lost in the beginning, i didn’t know anything about acting but you set this example that i could follow and it was easier for me, you were constantly checking on me too,” he laughs amusedly, as if that time was playing behind his eyes and you crack a smile too, though your heart just got warmer and warmer until it felt like it was catching on fire.

“you were good at it too, jimin, especially the dance,” he was taken for his dance skills first and he was bloody good at it, “i know, i was amazing,” and you’re throwing a tissue paper at him.

“but i wanted to talk to you,” he nods as he speaks and you can’t help it, “because you knew that i liked you?”

he stops himself from grinning, “that was the biggest shock of my teenage life, y/n,” and you roll your eyes, “i know, it’s hard for me to believe too,” he groans and slides into his seat, making you giggle.

“did you…really like me?” his voice is soft, unguarded, and he throws one arm over his eyes, you notice his cheeks are red too and you shift in your seat, the mood was shifting, you didn’t want to giggle and deny it like you probably would have if he asked that even some ten seconds ago.

“i did,” and he removes his arm, and stares at you unsuredly, as if he doesn’t believe you and you clench your hands on your lap to hold back from saying anything else.

“home!” a chorus from the kids you’ve forgotten about brings you back to life, a life where it wasn’t just you and jimin in it.

jimin smiles, “how about a refill?” and as they cheer out loud, he looks at you, and you know that look.

he had something to say.

-

you both got scolded by your respective siblings for giving their kids extra ice creams but it also meant that the kids loved you more, you and jimin had giggled about it on text.

it was a win-win for you.

but what was even more of a win-win was that jimin purposefully got them extra ice cream to spend more time with you, you are about 90% sure that’s the reason.

you spent about half the day in that ice cream parlour, and jimin asked you questions that no one else ever has and you asked him all those things you never got to when you were in school.

it was terrifying, to talk to him like that, to give him parts of what made you, you, and it was especially terrifying when you gave all of it away so easily.

“so, you’re coming to pick him up, right? like this isn’t an extra task for you?” jimin’s voice through a phone was different, lower, more serious, you loved it.

“definitely, don’t even worry about it, i’ll pick her up and bring her over,” you didn’t know what it said that he trusted you with his niece but it had to be something good, it made you feel fantastic.

“thank you so much, seriously, i owe you one,” and you can sense the relief in his tone, “you do owe me one, yes,” he laughs at your tone, “you get here, i’ll make it up to you very well.”

on the whole way there, you are so giddy that you can’t stop smiling.

you never understood why people got so excited over phone calls but if it was up to you, you would’ve never even cut the call with jimin.

when you get to the school, sunoo and arin are holding each other’s hands and standing obediently next to margaret.

“hi kids, today auntie is going to take you both home, are we excited?” sunoo and arin raise their hands up in joy and you resist the urge to pick them both up and give them one nice hug.

“her uncle called and said you would be picking her up,” margaret smiles at you knowingly and you roll your eyes, “it’s nothing like that margaret, we’re good friends,” and she scoffs at you but it only makes you giddier.

it felt good that someone, besides you, liked the idea of you two together.

you: picked them up, on my way over!

jimin: thanks again, see you soon <3

you almost throw your phone out of the window in happiness but for the sake of the kids, for them to think you’re not some insane person, you just grin and put your phone aside.

“okay arin, let’s go to your uncle’s place,” after checking them, you fasten your seatbelt and they both cheer again.

oh, you love these kids.

as you pull away, they instantly start rambling about their day, which picture they were made to draw, which teacher annoyed them, which toy was stolen, which color pencil they lost and you nod intently, offering dramatic reactions wherever you could.

“and then mummy told me that i had to throw away some toys but can you talk to mummy? i like my toys,” sunoo whines to you and you sigh, “you got it buddy, i’ll deal with your mother.”

“so arin, what have you been upto? anything exciting?” and she lights up, “i drew a castle today, do you want to see?”

“of course baby, as soon as we’re home, i absolutely have to see it,” your agreement only makes her happier, “our new home is nice, i like it, mummy and daddy made my room pink, and i even have a close friend!”

“is that so? who’s this lucky person?”

“it’s miss ana, uncle jimi’s girlfriend! she’s always over at uncle’s home and she likes me, i like her too.” and she goes back to swinging her legs and poking at sunoo until he laughs.

in the front seat, you are frozen and confused.

“your uncle has a girlfriend?” you try to sound casual and you hate that you’re asking a kid about this but you couldn’t help it.

“yeah.” she shrugs and goes back to sunoo.

you felt your stomach turn.

of course, he has a girlfriend.

of course, you had read it all wrong.

of course, you are the idiot again.

you kept your eyes steady on the road as the feeling of nothingness settled into you.

you would get over this, you got over jimin once, you could do it again and next time, you wouldn’t make the stupid mistake of thinking that anyone could ever like you for anything more than what you present them. you’ve gotten over first boyfriends, situationships, and dates which felt like they would lead somewhere and you would get over this too.

it was weird that you could still feel the same embarrassment of liking jimin, the same pathetic feeling you get when you overestimate yourself and what people feel about you, rises and falls in your chest.

but it was okay.

you’ll get over this.

-

“oh jimin! jimin!” you turned your face away from classmates who yelled his name.

somehow, the cat was out of the bag and everyone knew about your crush on him, your bets were on one of your play’s cast members but you couldn’t point a finger at anyone. your school was small and boring enough for this kind of stuff to spread quickly.

it was true, you did like him, a lot but you never wanted anyone to know, you only wanted him to know.

you were hoping to catch him alone, tell him that you liked him, and accept whichever response he gave you, he didn’t have to like you back but now, he knew, you knew that he knew, it was just not in the way you ever wanted him to know.

and then one day it happened.

the quiet rejection.

the annoyance of being liked by someone you don’t like back.

“look, look! they’re together” you were in the hallway, talking to your friends and jimin was just a few feet away, your friends were subtly pushing you toward him while you pushed back and his friends were pushing him.

that itself was embarrassing enough.

then, your back hit his back and you froze, skin tingling already but he immediately pushed away, and you heard him yell at his friends.

“how many times have i told you guys not to bring her up? how many?” jimin was a gentle guy, that was the first time he had yelled at someone and it was because of you.

and since then, whenever you were in the same room, he would look away with an irritated sigh, he would leave the room or he would glare at his friends until they shut up.

you took it all in, you really did, you just reasoned to yourself that you too, would be very annoyed if your friends acted like that.

but one day, you were alone in your art classroom, arranging some portraits and he walked in, your eyes met his and you were both too aware of how empty your surroundings were, for the first time in a really long time.

he immediately stepped back, his footsteps landed heavily as he walked away.

no one was there.

no one to make fun of him, no one to see or hear.

but he still pretended that you didn’t exist.

your feelings were more tender then.

your heart was a bit too soft and you had taken that as his reply, his response, his rejection and you buried your crush.

your chest was tight the entire day, you couldn’t speak without choking up because as much as you accepted his rejection, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

he never uttered a word to you since then.

you vowed to yourself never to like anyone too much again.

-

“how was school, guys? i missed you,” jimin hugged arin and sunoo as soon as they entered his home and you stood near the door frame with your heart in your throat.

today wouldn’t have been so hard if you didn’t have to see him.

they leave his arms and run into the house, their bags and socks left behind and you quickly collect sunoo’s stuff to put them aside.

“hey,” he appears beside you and you nod, keeping your eyes away from his face.

“i missed you too,” and you wish that you didn’t give in to seeing his face because as soon as you turn to face him, you are in front of his warm eyes and smile, the ones you were so jealous others could see.

but whatever feeling tried to creep on you, you shoved it away.

you nod again, swallowing and the warm scene fades and it’s replaced with a stiff awkwardness that both of you feel in a flash.

you see it go away, the warmth, the smile, the eyes, all of it drops and you hate that you feel terrible even if you didn’t do anything.

“arin made a castle drawing, it’s in her bag,” you say and jimin frowns before shaking his head, “of course, i’ll see it later.”

and your head bobs once again, the only response you could produce at the moment and when jimin steps forward, you step back.

“hey, is everything okay?” he asks, fingers reaching to scratch the nape of his neck confusedly, “yeah, everything’s fine.”

this time, he’s the one nodding and pushing his hands into his pockets, “i’ll make you tea, come on,” you have no choice but to follow him in, though you stay at least five steps behind him.

any touch from him would break your resolve, you couldn’t afford that, not anymore.

“honey or cinnamon?”

“honey.”

“alright,” jimin frowns once again, turning away to boil some water.

and you sit there, wondering if this is all you could ever be with him, wondering if both of you were always destined to be close and far, you feel scalded by the fact that he had never mentioned a girlfriend, you hadn’t asked but he shouldn’t have been texting you the way he was.

“you know, i owe you one,” he turns with a mug of steaming green tea and you stiffen in your seat when he hands it to you with a small, unsure smile, “would you accept dinner as me making it up to you?”

twenty minutes ago, you would’ve jumped up, spilling hot tea everywhere, and closed around him, your arms and heart giving even more way for him, but that was twenty minutes ago, now your arms and heart were closing in on themselves.

him rejecting you in school, you could handle.

him hating your presence, you could handle.

but this, you could only handle for about five minutes before you crumbled.

you should’ve never let your young feelings grow and stay.

“don’t worry about it, you don’t have to do anything, it was just one pickup,” you shrug, playing with the handle of your mug and you see jimin visibly deflate.

“okay, i don’t know what’s going on, is everything okay? did i do something?” the pleading in his tone was there, the sincerity in his face was there but you couldn’t believe any of it.

“nothing happened, jimin, it’s just that you don’t have to make up for anything,” you couldn’t bring yourself to confront his betrayal, to ask him about his girlfriend, you know that any answer would just hurt you more.

“fine, i don’t want to make up for anything, i want to take you out on a date, a proper date without anyone else around, because,” and he pauses, you release the breath caught in your chest, grateful and disappointed that he didn’t finish his sentence.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea,” you give a weak smile, feeling your bones tighten in your body, you would snap like a bowstring if this continued.

jimin looks away, chest rising and falling slowly, he squeezes his eyes shut and you see his hands shake as he whispers, “why?”

“sunoo is sleep!” arin’s yell makes you get up immediately, the distraction was welcome and needed, “also, see this!” she shoves her drawing into your hands and you smile at the messy green castle.

“it’s beautiful, arin, just like you,” you tap her nose and she giggles, you are all too aware of jimin’s stare on your back so, you pat her head and rush to take sunoo out of her bed and into your arms.

you held your nephew tighter to you, his sleeping form was the only thing keeping you stable, you never realized before how much you needed him the way he needed you but today, you needed him most even if he was just sleeping in your arms.

you don’t say bye to jimin on your way out, you only hug arin, ask her to take care, and leave his home with your mind so heavy that you feel like you could tip and fall over.

but as you pull away, you catch jimin in your side mirrors, he stands as if he’s lost everything, you almost turn back, break down in his arms, and ask him why he was so cruel to you, but you drive away instead.

-

“and you’re sure that he won’t be there?” you ask megan for the third time over the phone and she sighs, “listen, it’s his friend, i can’t tell him not to invite his friend but i did tell him that something happened, the rest is truly up to him,” and you bite your lip in annoyance.

it’s been two weeks, you’ve successfully avoided jimin at sunoo’s school, you’ve ignored his calls and deleted his texts without reading them, and you were only one more week away from mentally cutting him off completely.

but again, the universe hated you and noah’s birthday came up right as you were starting to forget that a person named jimin existed.

“you’re right, i’m sorry for being difficult and i’ll be there, noah is sort of my friend too,” you give in, you couldn’t be a bitch to your friends just because you were going through something, and megan hums, “but just know that i won’t judge you at all for not showing up, it’s totally your call.”

you thank her and close your eyes as the call goes dead on the other end.

what a fucking mess.

-

“happy birthday to you!” you sing with everyone else as noah shyly stands in the center with the birthday candles lighting up his face.

it was nice to see your friends again, you melted into every hug they gave you as you walked into noah’s home, you almost teared up at how much you needed them, you were annoyed with all of them just weeks ago but now, you saw clearly that you needed people who cared about you in your life.

“how are you feeling now?” faye put her head on your shoulder as you sat on the couch and you hum, “i’ve been better babe but i’ll be fine soon, i promise,” you squeeze her hand and she purses her lips, “i don’t think he will come, you know, it’s already been a while since the party started, everyone will leave in an hour or so,” and you know that she’s trying to make you feel better.

“thank you for saying that but even if he does come, it’s okay, it’s not like i’ll see him after this,” you shrug and she nods unsurely, “but it’s also okay if you feel shitty that he’s here, you know? you don’t have to pretend that you’re fine with all of it, it’s not a great situation, he lied to you and you’re hurt, you’re allowed to be hurt.”

you blink back tears as you try to rush some air into your lungs that tighten with each word from her.

“i love you, faye.” you whisper, “i love you more,” she smiles and pats you on the back before getting up, “now i’m going to get us some drinks so you stay there in that emotional mood,” you laugh at her and shoo her away.

maybe you weren’t fine now, you won’t need to be for a while but you’ll be okay at some point.

you sigh, you don’t want to be here anymore and pretty much everyone’s given you the green light to leave, you can always have drinks with faye another time so, you get up, surer than ever that you don’t want to be okay anymore, you kiss your friend’s goodbye, you thank noah for inviting you and you step out to the cold night.

right near your car, just as you feel relieved and light, you hear it.

“y/n?” and then quick footsteps.

a presence behind you.

his voice in your ears and bones.

and you freeze.

you hold the key to your car and your legs feel so heavy, they might as well be dead, and you blink, you do nothing but blink until he’s in front of you.

you almost cry at the sight of his face.

“you’re leaving?” jimin huffs out, his breath leaving white clouds in the night and you just stare.

how could someone so beautiful lie to you?

you only come back to earth when you feel him scanning your face and body, as if he was re-remembering what you looked like, as if he was savoring you in front of him but you knew it was all deceitful.

and you lose it.

“don’t you feel ashamed?” you breathe out, feeling every nerve in you tighten impossibly, your body was once again a bowstring being pulled, in front of him.

tight and so breakable.

jimin’s entire face falls, “about what, y/n? why haven’t you been answering my texts and calls? why are you suddenly ignoring me? what is going on? i tried to come up with so many reasons but none of them made sense, i thought we were heading towards something good?” and his face looks so pained, so sad that you almost break.

almost.

“i should’ve never fucking liked you in school, i should’ve never given you that ego boost, i should’ve seen you for who you are,” you angrily spit out as you fumble with your keys and open your car.

without looking at him even once, you climb in, leaning back once you are in.

but immediately, as you begin to start the engine, another door opens and jimin is in your car.

jimin is in your car.

“what the fuck are you doing? get out!” you yell at him, and he shakes his head, “i’m not going anywhere until you explain to me what is going on.”

“i don’t have to explain shit to you, get out jimin, or i swear to god,” you huff out, feeling your hands shake from the rage you felt, he doesn’t move an inch, “or what?”

“seriously?”

“yeah, if i don’t get out, what will you do?”

“i’ll fucking crash this car.” you level your glare on him and he sits back, “do it.”

“what?”

“do it, crash it, i’ll pay for the repairs, but i’m not getting out until you tell me why you hate me right now.” the calmness he had at that moment, the level in his tone never wavering, pissed you off even more.

“fine, we can sit here all night,” you shrug, desperate to match his cool, you switch off the engine, “fine by me,” jimin shrugs back and you clench your teeth to not groan at him.

minutes pass, you tap your foot against the floor of the car, he looks out the window, and both of you sit stubbornly without making a move.

you should be furious.

you should be still trying to kick him out.

but you slowly start to deflate, your anger fades bit by bit as the feeling of missing him, liking him even now, begins blooming in you again.

“who is ana?” you whisper, not trying to hide how sad just mentioning her name made you.

whatever his answer was, you would move on.

you never liked him for him to like you back, not then and not now, but it felt good to believe that somewhere, he felt the same desperate, pathetic love that you did, that somewhere, he was different with you the way you were different with him, that he too lost his cool and common sense when it came to you.

“what?” he frowns and you sigh, “please don’t lie to me jimin, just tell me who she is and why you never told me that she was your girlfriend.” you choke back the sobs building in your throat, and jimin immediately leans towards you, “hey, hey, what girlfriend are you talking about? i don’t have a girlfriend.”

you laugh bitterly through your tears, “so, you’re calling your baby niece a liar?”

“arin? what did she say?” he continues to frown, seemingly growing more confused by every passing second, which only makes you more confused, “that ana is your girlfriend? she’s always at your place?”

“ana? oh!” and jimin throws his head back on the seat, eyes closing in what you thought was relief, “ana is her new babysitter, y/n,” you huff out in annoyance, “believe it or not jimin but i’m not as stupid as you think i am, how fucking convenient is it that a woman your niece calls your girlfriend, turns out to be her sitter.”

and he gapes at you before throwing his arms up, “i’m sorry that the truth is convenient and fits with the situation!” he yells back at you and you glare at him, “oh really? then why is she over when you’re there with arin already? why does arin think she’s your girlfriend? do you have an explanation for any of that?”

“i do, but only if you’re willing to at least hear me out,” and jimin is back to calm, back to zen, and you want to push him out of the car, “see, i know it sounds bad if she just mentioned the girlfriend part but i’ve told you, arin is shy, she never talks to anyone, she doesn’t like sitters, she takes a lot of time to get used to strangers so i’m a buffer until she gets used to ana so, that ana can just babysit her at my brother’s place instead of mine.”

you narrow your eyes at him as you process his words. unfortunately, it made a lot of sense, sunoo was the same, that is why you always babysat him.

“okay, then why call her your girlfriend?”

“because she thinks friends if they’re girls are girlfriends,” he sighs out and you purse your lips, that also made sense, especially with kids as young as sunoo and arin.

“i see.” you whisper back, not knowing how to feel about all this, it made sense, you should be over the moon, falling into his arms, telling him that you feel everything again, that you like him again but you freeze instead.

you were so ready to move on.

you were so ready to never see him again.

and you were so ready to never know his response, to never know what he felt.

but you are here, in front of him, as he waited for you to speak with anxious eyes and you only felt overwhelmed.

“okay.”

“okay?”

“thanks for explaining, if you get off, i will go now,” you keep your eyes on the road ahead of you, refusing to look at him even through your periphery.

“seriously? do you need time or is something else wrong?” you hear the pleading in his tone, the desperation, you wonder if you ever sounded like that to him.

“nothing’s wrong, i’m glad you explained, and now, i’d like to go home,” this always happened, whenever your emotions got too much, whenever it seemed like everything would fall on your head and crush you, you slipped into robot mode, where you refused to feel anything, where you refused to be human, where your feelings were nothing but dust in the air.

it’s how you never went back to a boyfriend, how you never begged anyone for anything and it kept you protected.

“why are you doing this?” but god, the crack in his voice might just break your resolve.

“doing what, jimin? i just want to go home,” you try to reason and he huffs in annoyance, “that’s not what this is, you aren’t even looking at me.”

and you pause.

take a deep breath.

look at him.

and the warmth you missed for all your teenage life, lights you up, beyond his frown, his gathering tears, his clear sadness, his warmth peeked through and stared straight at you.

you knew you had to go, leave before you couldn’t but where will you go?

how many times will you turn your back on yourself?

how many chances do you have left with jimin?

and will he ever take those chances the way you will?

“you’ll never like me, jimin,” you start, unwilling but forcing yourself to pull through, he opens his mouth to protest and you cut him off, “you’ll never like me as much as i like you.”

and his mouth falls shut.

“and i’ll always know that, i’ll always know that you like me less than i like you, that you hated me at a time when i would’ve done anything for you, and by some miracle, it’s changed now, you might like me but never as much as i like you, my past of loving you as a kid, will always haunt me, and your rejection then will always hurt me,” you have tears dripping down your chin by the time you’ve finished and you know it will only pain you more if you look at him so, you stare at your lap.

you wait for him to get off, to go away, to finally understand why you two would never work out.

“so, please let’s leave this be, i’ll continue to bring sunoo around for arin, we can be civil for them but whatever this is, i can’t do it, not with you,” you whisper, hoping that it was loud enough for him to hear but he stays eerily still, staring into nothing and you wonder if he didn’t hear you.

“jimin, can you-“

“what about me?”

“now you’re just being childish,” your anger rises again.

“no, i never got the chance to explain my side at all, what if i like you more? what if i liked you way before you did?” your heart stops in your throat at his words but you shake it off, “this isn’t a competition, jimin!”

“fine, then this should just be a casual question, when did you start liking me? in school, when did it start?”

“seriously? what are you trying to prove here?” you turn to fully face him with a scowl.

“just tell me.” he sits just as rigid, just as fed up, and it only irritates you even more but your face goes red nonetheless at the memory, “ball room scene, dance practice.”

“i liked you when you gave me the script,” and you want to look away, ignore all of what he says but you only lean in further and he leans in too as if letting you in on a secret that no one else knows,  “i remember exactly how stomach-bottoming it felt, how scared i was because i thought you would never like me back.”

“really?” you’re leaning in even closer, so much more desperate to every other secret of his.

“really, and i’m not saying this because it’s a competition, i’m saying this because i couldn’t then, i didn’t have the courage, i liked you so much that the thought of you rejecting me, it would’ve killed me,” he laughs, both amused and horrified at the truth spilling out from his lips, but you see the fear too, the restrain in his breath, and it makes your own shoulders fall.

“then why did you act so annoyed whenever someone teased you?” you whisper again, embarrassed to ask the question because it made you feel like a kid again, the same kid who hid her feelings to make sure that he wasn’t inconvenienced by your heart.

he drops his head in quiet laughter, “imagine you like this person so much that your whole body fails you, and there’s some idiots making it even harder for me to look you in the eye,” he looks up at you as he says it and your spine weakens to fall on the seat behind you, every word of his puncturing itself into your heart.

jimin copied your movements and fell back too, sighing out, “i also knew how annoying it could be for you so i thought if i acted like that for a while, they would forget but fuck, they were persistent. honestly, i thought you would figure it out because of them.”

“figure out what?” you are breathless by the time the question escapes you.

“your crush was never one-sided, y/n, but mine was, at least for a little while.” you blush, not knowing what to do with your face anymore, you didn’t know if you were smiling or frozen or frowning but the numbness, the blind excitement left you gasping.

and jimin purses his lips, “i might’ve been this bright kid who talked to everyone then, but none of that helped me when it came to you, it was like every bit of confidence i had fell from me when i was around you and it was alarming, you know, it was so fucking scary to feel so different because of one person.”

and there it was.

the confirmation.

that he was different with you, that he too lost his head with you.

“what about later? when we met again?”

“oh that, i was trying to be cool, it didn’t work, right?” he winced and you couldn’t help the laugh bubbling out of you, “nope, not at all.” and jimin bangs his head against the headrest and you sit there, smiling.

it was strange, the elation and frustration you felt, it was strange to sit next to jimin and hear the words from him that you’ve waited for forever.

but you won’t hold that over him anymore and you were done burying your heart.

“i like you,” you say, twisting to face him and he smiles, not bothering to hide it, “a lot, jimin, i liked you then, i like you now, a lot and i’m scared.”

he leans forward to take one of your hands into his palms, you melt your fingers into his skin, and he speaks with a smile and with the world’s confidence and fear, “i like you, i’m sure that like is love too, it’s always been there and i’m scared too.”

“but i like you and i’ll continue to do that while i’m scared.” and any worry you had, flies out the window.

you feel brave.

you feel like you could fly and never see the ground again.

you stare at him for a minute or two, until his face is in your head like it’s your own face and you cross the barrier, in this case, the handbrake in your car to climb into his lap and you shiver when he buries his face into your neck.

you loved him when you didn’t know what it meant, and jimin loved you before he ever knew his heart could feel so much.

and that was enough for you to smile into his hair and wrap your arms tighter around his neck.

“i’ll do the same, jimin.”

-

jimin felt heavy with the love in his heart, with his arms on your waist, with his fingertips touching your skin, he felt overwhelmed, a bit crazy, and definitely scared out of his mind.

this was it.

the performance.

after today, you probably wouldn’t even look at him again, he’ll probably be just another guy who sees you walk down the hallway.

he knows when this funny feeling in his heart started, you had passed him the script and walked right past him to teach someone else how to do their scenes, and instantly he saw you, he saw nothing but you.

being the loser he was, he messed up any scene he could so that you could walk over, glare at him, and then, help him endlessly, help him until he was perfect (which he already was).

and he was alone in that pathetic-ness, alone in that feeling until one day, you looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky and he didn’t know what to do with himself since that day.

but he had you in his arms, he had you in front of him, he had you in every moment of being on the stage and he knows he can’t just get off.

“and…cut!” jimin deflates, his arms that were so sure of holding you, weaken and fall from you.

then, the lights die and his confidence dies, and he feels ashamed of himself, so much so that he leaves the stage immediately.

he hears the cheers, the screams, the applause but none of that matters when the words he’s wanted to say die inside of him.

but he stops below the stage, looks up to see you hugging everyone on the stage, and hates himself a little but charges forward.

he would love you from afar.

but he would continue to love you.

[giuliettagaltieri]

A Hundred Sleepless Nights

Pairing: Husband!Coriolanus Snow x Wife!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Beloved

Warning: perversion, explicit smut, unprotected sex, sexual euphoria

Word Count: 3988

5 of 7

Coriolanus thinks he might have made a mistake in choosing your honeymoon destination.

Mrs. Plinth apparently owns a private beach down in the south. She insisted that you spend your honeymoon there as it was more private.

Private.

A scowl made it to Coriolanus’ face the moment you arrived in the secluded beach town. He was still in his suit and you were still in your wedding dress.  Anybody with eyes can see that you were just married.  But the locals knew no shame.

The men, their skin bronze from being on the coast, fit from constantly moving, their faces sculpted manliness. And they seem to have taken a liking to you.

“May I help you with that, Miss?” A man asks you for the third time that night, referring to the handbag you carried. It has your personal effects, you would not trust anyone with it.

“That would not be necessary.” Coriolanus quips, his arm circling around your waist.  The man straightens up and looks Coriolanus up and down before he grins

“Her other baggage, then? You won’t be able to carry them all.”

Coriolanus scoffs and you politely smile at the man. You know Coriolanus is more than capable of lifting baggage but there is too much of it, it seems unreasonable to make your husband carry them all.

“Oh, we have more than enough help. Thank you.” You say sweetly and as if on cue, peacekeepers and porters appear to start putting your bags in the yacht.

The man frowns, his mind whirring before he comes to a realization.

“You’re those politicians who just got married.”

Coriolanus looks at him, his eyes now sharp.

“Does the Capitol news not reach this part of Panem?” He raises a brow.

The man chuckles as he rubs his stubble. “Nah, just don’t watch any of that bullshit.”

“You watch your words very carefully.” Coriolanus grins, the iciness in his tone not matching his charming face. “The Capitol is not very kind to those who call our affairs ‘bullshit’.”

You look at the man with much fascination. You have to commend how he stands his ground, now sizing Coriolanus up, but his lax posture was breaking apart on the surface. Ignorance really has a feeble power to it.

Despite the burliness of this person, you are not too worried about Coriolanus as he had his fair share of training. And the peacekeepers are just waiting for the man to cross that fine intangible line, their postures tight and ready to spring.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us. My wife and I have other places to be.”  Coriolanus leads you to the yacht where your luggage has been placed.

“The impudence of some people.”  Coriolanus spits.  “He does not even recognize the President.”

“I will talk to the mayor.” You attempt to soothe him but he clicks his tongue.

His jaw tightens before he takes a deep breath. “We agreed not to work while we are on our honeymoon.” He says but you can see how excruciating it was for him to say.

You grimace before breaking to a smile.

“If you say so, my love.”

You glance behind you and see the man still staring at you. You turn away when he sends you a boyish smile and a wink.

Coriolanus grunts when you cling to his arm tightly.

“Hurry, Corio.”

He straightens his back and slows his pace. “I see no purpose in rushing.” He’s not running away from anything.

It makes you roll your eyes but you match his pace anyways.  You enjoy the night stroll, the cool breeze refreshing your skin that is trapped in your wedding gown. You wanted to get out of it the moment the reception ended but Grandma’am almost dropped her turban when you mentioned a change of clothing.

Perhaps it was an old Panem tradition but she said only the groom must free you of your bridal gown.

Again with the superstitions but Coriolanus and you both decided you’d listen. A way to apologize after that stunt you pulled in the middle of the reception.  Coriolanus tightens his hold around your waist as you board the yacht.

“I’m hungry.” You tell him. 

He nods. “So am I.”

With the pressure of the ceremony and reception, you did not get to enjoy the food served despite them being of the finest qualities.

“I’d love to have that filet mignon again.”  You sigh as you sit on a sofa.  Coriolanus watches you with a smile.  Your face was full of disappointment and you looked adorable as your poofy gown swallowed you. “And posca.”

“Mhh, agreed.”  He sauntered over to the glass windows. Watching how the hydrofoil cuts the waters below.  The ruffling from your gown makes Corio turn to look at you once more.

You have occupied the entire sofa, now lying on your back as you stared into the tall ceiling. Your eyes have glazed over and he can see how your fingers picked at your gown.

“Tell me what you are thinking.”

Sighing, you close your eyes. He’s always so commanding.

“Nothing.”

He walks over to sit on the armrest. You look up to meet his glacial eyes with your own.

“There is definitely something in there, wife.”

Wife

You bite your bottom lip to contain your smile. Coriolanus raises a brow, his lips quirked up.

“Wife?”

You giggle as you reach up to pinch him but he easily swats your hand away.

“Are you regressing to your teenage self?” He pulls you up and slots himself under you so you are sitting on his lap.

“No.” You answer quickly. Too quickly.

You play with your ring as he watches you, still waiting for you to talk.

“I will hold you the entire night if you refuse to tell me.”

You shrug.  “I’m comfortable.”  His nimble fingers slip to your waist and your breath hitches.

“Yeah?”

You nod hastily.

“Tell me what is going on in that head of yours.”  He whispers against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver to crawl up your spine.

“Corio!”

“Yes?” He flashes you that charming smile again.

“Stop it.” You say, your cheeks are now bubbling.

He tilts his head to the side.  He is fooling nobody with this pretense.

You try to get off but he keeps you in place with a hand.  He is looking around the room now, acting nonchalant to your struggle.  He looks at you with his face passive and you eventually settle.

“Stop making me flustered.”  You raise a finger at him and he grins lazily at you.  The glint of those rather sharp looking canines had you retreating your finger back.

He sets a steady bounce of his leg, jostling you and you click your tongue at him.  “What are you doing?” You grab at his coat to steady yourself.

“Trying to calm your tantrum.”

“I am not a child.” 

His eyes return to the carpeted floor and now just leans back on the sofa.  “I can see that.” You ignore how his eyes roam to your bosom.

“If you must really know, I was thinking of having a new signature.”

A perfect blonde brow was raised. “Signature.”

“I want to keep my maiden name in it but I also wanted to add yours.”

“Ours.”

“Ours.” You echo as you smile at him meekly.

“You are a Snow now.” He reminds you sternly and your cheeks warm up as you nod.

“I know that, Corio.”  You shift in his lap and he rubs your waist.

The air shifts, making it difficult for you to keep still. 

A knock pulls your attention to the door.

“Mister and Missus Snow, we have arrived.”

Coriolanus looks at you and raises both brows briefly as if making a point.

You roll your eyes and get off, he lets you this time.

The private beach.  Well, more like a private island.  It was like how every beach shown in brochures is.

The staff is already waiting by the docks, standing tall and in uniformed clothing.

“Don’t worry, Missus Snow.  The staff will be here only until seven in the evening.”  The head butler tells you as he escorts you and your husband off the yacht.

“The security?”  Coriolanus looks around the island, taking in every face that was present.

The butler nods, a proud smile on his lips.

“Stationed just in this dock and on the ocean.”

You would love to have privacy but not if it meant compromising you and your husband’s safety.

“Peacekeepers are also stationed on the coast.”  The head butler reassures you.  “This island is also being covered by the most recent security offered by District 3.  We have sonars covering the waters.  There is no need to be uneasy.”

It was these kinds of over the top operations that reminds you that it is the President you have married.  His security can easily topple the peace that the retired President Ravinstill tried so hard to maintain.

“The staff will come to prepare your meals and leave after the dishes are cleaned up.  The day after tomorrow, the cleaning crew will take care of the linens and your laundry.”  The staff bows at you as you pass by them.  “Should you need something else.  We are a call away.  We are stationed in the ocean to respond right away to your every need.”

You share a look with Coriolanus.  It was a bit overkill, you both can agree.  But nothing less for the Presidential couple.

“Food is being prepared right at this moment.”  The head butler continues.

The villa is nice and airy.  Spacious and a perfect place to relax in.  And the smell of food, oh it is divine.

“The gods heard you.”  Coriolanus jests and you scan the table to see a glistening filet mignon.  Coriolanus pulls a chair for you and you thank him.  The head butler pours you a glass of posca and you smile gratefully.

Coriolanus and you eat your dinner quietly.  Giving compliments to the chefs who are standing in anticipation behind you.  You are generous in your praise, just to help in easing their anxiety.

You bid them goodbye as they all board a boat to take their leave.

When they are a considerable distance away, you and Coriolanus are able to drop the pretense. 

“Ugh.”  You groan as you grip your gown up to head inside the villa.  “I refuse to see anybody for twenty-four hours straight.”

Coriolanus follows after you, his hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed manner.  “Does that include me?”

You look at him briefly.  “What a stupid question.”  You link your arms to his and he glances at the clam expression on your face.

Now that he is standing so close, he notices just how much your childhood features remained in your face.  Your eyes and lips stayed the same.

“There was this one time I found you under the tables during a banquet held by our fathers.”  Coriolanus tells you and you don’t look up to him.  “I accidentally kicked you.”

You only hum to acknowledge him.

“I slipped under the tablecloth and joined you.”  He recalls.  “And you stole my first kiss.”

“Corio, stop talking.”  You groan.

“You told me you will be my wife.”

You purse your lips, not knowing how to respond.  

Sighing, you finally say,  “You were distraught.”  

“I was five.”

“In the Academy.  You hated me.”

“I envied you.”

Coriolanus opens the door and lets you pass first.  You continue to walk until you find the bedroom and he follows suit.

“Is that why you preferred Clemensia Dovecote’s company?”  You say sharply and Coriolanus looks at you as he leans on the vanity to undo his coat.

“She was pretty.  A nice accessory.”

You walk over to him, throwing your arms on his shoulders as you look deeply into his eyes.

“You think she’s pretty?”

He shakes his head.  “Not anymore.  She’s more of a snake than a dove now.”

“But you thought she was pretty.”

Coriolanus places a hand on your waist to steady you.

“That was because I did not want to admit my attraction to you.”

You pull away, doe eyes looking up at him meekly as your brows raise hopefully.  “You were attracted to me?”

“I am attracted to you.  How could I not be when everything about you tells the entire Capitol that you are mine?”

With utmost shyness, you focus your attention on his tie, not quite able to meet his eyes.  “You didn’t care.”

“The rosettes you used to wear in your hair were pretty.”  He smiles as he tucks your hair to the side.  “And so were the rosette patterns on the lace of your panties.”

Your movements have gone still.  Your eyes wide as you feel like a bucket of ice was dumped on your head.  Your eyes are frantic as you look up at him.  His face was passive, not betraying him.

“You think you were sneaky?”  He taunts as he starts to pull at your dress.  “You thought I would not know about your naughty little secrets?”

You gasp when he rips a stitch of your dress as he tugs it.

“Corio.”  You say breathlessly.  “How did you-”

“That initiation we had in our first year.”  He says gruffly as he pulls your gown once more until your breasts come spilling out.  “You were to exit the academy with just your skirts and blouse.”

Your face flushes.  “Y-you saw?”

“Everybody did.”  He tells you and you bury your face in his chest.  “It worked in my favor.  No boys came after you in the Academy.”

You cursed the wind that day.

Coriolanus pulls your gown and his fingers hook on the dainty fabric that cupped your innocence.

You place your hands on his shoulders as he tugs them down.  You cover your face as he gets the fabric off.

“Oh, will you look at that?”  He chuckles as he examines the lacy fabric.  “Still adorned with rosettes.”  He twists the fabric in his long fingers and you swallow as your throat has gone dried up at the sight.  You grab his arm when he brings it up his nose.  He looks at you sternly.  “Smells like roses too and feminine musk.”

You have had enough.  After securing your gown, you turn your back to him and head to the closet, muttering angrily but he chases after you and pulls you to the lounge instead.

“You are a…a sick man!”  You say angrily as you pull away.

“If I am sick, then so are you for liking it.”  He laughs as he finishes his work with your gown until your torso is bare but he never quite got it off you just yet.  “Come here, my love.”  He sits on a plush chair and beckons you by patting his thighs.

You attempt to sit sideways but he clicks his tongue and with much reluctance, you straddle him instead.

He keeps his eyes on you as he holds your hips, his fingers digging in the large poof of your gown.

“You look so bridal.”  He says.  “I’d want nothing else but to ruin you while you still have the dress on.”  Coriolanus noses your cheek. 

“You’d let me, won’t you?”  He asks in a deeper voice, making you nod your head with your eyes closed and lip caught between your teeth.

He chuckles at your startled gasp as he prodded at your petals.  His fingers spread to your lips, creating a wet noise that had you wrapping your arms around his neck once more as you hid away.

“She’s wet.” 

You buck your hips against his when his thumb presses flat on your pearl.

“You like it?”  He smiles against your hair and you hum.  “Words, darling.”

“I do, Corio.”  You murmur against his chest.  “More please.” 

He swallows thickly as he lets a finger slip between your folds and he winces lightly when you bite his shoulder.  His finger was met with resistance but he pushed it further, willing you to relax.

“There you go.”  He says as you start to grind against his hand.  You throw your head back as your hands grip his shoulders.

“Mmh!”  You mewl, your eyebrows pinched as hot puffs of air escape your lips that have bloated after being nibbled.  “F-feels sooo good!”

Coriolanus watches your face as you move above him, his fingers dripping with your sweet honey.

The thickness of his fingers nudged at your quivering walls, it had soft sighs spilling from your lips.  He curls his fingers upward and you melt as it massages the sweet spot inside you.

You suddenly gasp, bowing your head as your hands grasp at his hair.  “C-Corio…I’m-…Oh!”

Your body seizes up as you pull him close, your walls pulsating around his fingers as you cum.  Your honey stains your thighs and he revels at the look on your face.

Coriolanus carries you to your bed as he dips his head to kiss you.  You are mewling his name through the kiss as his fingers keep massaging your walls.  He gently slips his fingers out of you, the sensation most frustrating.

He slips out of his coat and you admire him for a while before trying to tug your gown off but he glares at you and your hands retreat from doing it.  The gown is soon tugged from you and you find yourself covering your feminine parts as his eyes roam around your body. 

Warm rough hands cup under your knee to part your legs further.  You whine in embarrassment and you make an attempt to pull your knees together.  Still so shy from him seeing your body.

“Don’t.”  He warns and your bones turn weak, you feel shameful with how much your body responds to him.

“I’m sorry.”  You say meekly.

Both of you are thrumming in anticipation as he unbuckles his pants and you wait with bated breath as he frees himself.

Coriolanus grunts as he grips his cock, pumping until you feel a warm dribble land on your stomach.

You watch his face contort with concentration as he guides his leaking tip on your entrance and you bite back a moan as the tip catches, the head slotting itself between your petals.

“If you hold back on your sounds, I would get upset.”  He says pointedly and you nod at him, your hand running on his arm to soothe him and to get him to hurry.

Coriolanus hooks your legs over his arms, he holds your waist as he slips himself inside you.

Your pained gasp had him gritting his teeth. 

“Just a bit more, darling.”

But that was a lie.  He was barely in.

Your nails are biting at his arms, forming red angry crescent moons.

“Almost there.”  He groans and you let out a choked sob, feeling the burn from the tight stretch.

Coriolanus inhales sharply as your tightness keeps him from filling you.  He places your legs back on the mattress and he clicks his tongue at how your walls reject his size.  He glances at your face before he tongues his cheek.

“I’m sorry, my love.” 

You don’t get to ask why when he crawls on top of you, his corded arms slipping under you so he can grip your shoulders.  He pulls back slightly and your juices, now painted pink with the mixture of your broken innocence, slips to coat your inner thighs.

Coriolanus murmurs apologies on your hair and makes shallow thrusts, your hands gripping his nape with the conflict of pleasure and pain, making you wetter and wetter.  And in one full thrust, he sheaths himself.

Your eyes shot open as you clawed on his back, feeling yourself tipping before you came crashing down.  Your flower clenches as it pulses around him, your slick overflowing with his tip kissing your cervix.

You are making noises that Coriolanus never thought you were capable of.  Your words were more of like babbles as wet sobs spilled from your lips.

The sight of you, so debauched, makes Coriolanus laugh.  “You come from just being stuffed full?”

Your glare up at him but your tongue is still unable to form words as pleasure makes tears leak from your eyes.

“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it?”  He chuckles while he rocks his hips against yours.

He watches with amusement at how you throw your head back when he pounds on you.  He can see your pulse jumping and he wonders if you know how vulnerable you are right now.  He grazes his teeth on the thinness of your skin and to his surprise, you mewl wantonly, only tightening around him.

“Naughty girl.”  He chuckles but you look at him, offended.

“I’m not.”

He kisses your pouting lips.  “Hm?”

You shake your head.  “I’m not.”

“You’re not naughty?”  He snickers and you nod.  You are acting no different to a drunk.  “That’s right.  You’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?”

Coriolanus wonders if the look you are giving him are what they say heart eyes are.  

He realized that he feels most powerful when he is on top of you and making you feel good. 

Your feet absentmindedly slide to caress his leg and he smiles at your adorable display of affection.

Nobody would believe the sight of you right now.

So docile, so submissive.

The damp fabric under you was uncomfortable and it was too warm, but such tiny discomforts flew over your head when Coriolanus was making you feel too good.

Your big teary eyes look at him as your brows curl in pleasure, you were too adorable he had to kiss you.

You break the kiss with a whine, your heels digging on the mattress as your back arches off the bed.

Coriolanus understood and fucked into you rougher, trying to keep a steady pace but it was getting harder and harder for him to do when your soft wet walls rub against his sensitive cock.

“Corio, Corio please!”  You beg him as your hands cupped his face in desperation.

He seethes through gritted teeth, his hands leaving a red print on your shoulders as he crushed you with his weight.  You were sobbing, just needing him all to yourself.

And you cum once more.  You are lost as every coil in your body snaps.  You are unraveling beneath him and Coriolanus grunts, chasing his own high and he slots the tip of his manhood deep inside you and spills his seed.

You wince at the warm spurts of his spend and you pull him to share another kiss.

Coriolanus breathed heavily against your lips.  He felt invincible yet ready to go down on his knees for you.  No wonder why so many empires collapsed for women.  He would gladly die if you asked him to at this moment.

Your sob pulls him from his thoughts and looks at you with concern.

Coriolanus tucks your damp hair to the side as he kisses your cheek.  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?  Did I go too rough?”

You shake your head as you pull him closer, your legs crossing over his posterior, burying him deeper inside you, making him groan, the tendons on his arms popping in an attempt to control himself.

“I love you.  I love you, Corio.  It felt so good.”

He chuckles at your words and he nods, dipping low to kiss your lips once more.  “I love you too.”  He looks deep into your eyes and starts moving his hips once more, determined to make love to you again.

You give him a tired smile but you encourage him by tracing his nape sensually with your manicured nails.

You share a look of pure fondness, so in love and lost in pleasure.

It was then you realized that you need nothing else but each other and you would do everything to protect this love you found.

Quest for Happiness

[captain-hawks]

BRIGHT AS THE MORNING/SOFT AS THE RAIN.

jean kirstein x f!reader

Jean Kirstein may have sharp teeth—but he seems to forget that you do, too. 

wc: 3.9k tags: 18+ only, wolf shifter!jean, witch!reader, little witch as a pet name, enemies to lovers, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, outdoor sex, sex against a wall -> requested

No turning back now.

The glass vial is cool against your fingertips when you pull it from your back pocket, uncorking the stopper before bringing it to your lips and tipping its pale green contents onto your tongue. You fight back the full body shiver that threatens to wrack through you as the bitter liquid burns its way down your throat.

It tastes awful. 

Flicking the empty container into a nearby garbage bin, you hastily wipe the back of your hand across your mouth, making a mental note to include a neutral additive next time you find yourself thumbing your way through your grandmother’s crumbling grimoire. The old coven never did pay any mind to the foul taste of their ancient elixirs. 

Eyes darting to the neon sign hanging above the building across the street, its colors reflecting in the puddles strewn about the sidewalk out front, you sigh. Now for the annoying part. 

You dog-eared the page on this vitality spell years ago, intrigued by the rejuvenating properties of the concoction that your grandmother’s gnarled old hands had once made use of in days long past. Most of the ingredients were easy enough to procure, and the elixir need only be saved for the full moon for maximum potency. A moon that hangs bright and heavy over a blissfully clear, star-speckled sky tonight. 

But the reason why you’ve put off this tempting spell for so long is the final ingredient that you’ve now begrudgingly come to collect—shifter saliva.

Wolf shifter saliva, to be exact. 

When you step through the front doors of the bar, you wrinkle your nose at the decidedly canine scent that invades your nostrils. Not that it can be helped, given that you’ve purposely chosen an establishment frequented by them to make this as quick and transactional as possible. 

It’s not particularly ideal—traipsing around in a building full of wolf shifters on the full moon. While the waxing and waning crescent does not dain to dictate their transformations, their power finds an apex, just as yours does, on nights like this. You can feel the buzz of it in the air, licking against your skin, the tendrils of magic bearing an earthen touch. 

It takes you all of ten minutes spent perched on a stool at the end of the bar to find yourself confidently approached by what appears to be an easy contender. A shifter who introduced himself as Eren now sits beside you, his dark brown hair half pulled back into a messy bun, knee lightly brushing against your own in a way that treads the line between a polite mistake and a subtle invitation. 

He’s cute, and he’s caught your interest enough that you might even be willing to let him get a hand or two up your shirt when you inevitably stumble your way into a bathroom or alleyway to make out and swap spit. Nobody said you couldn’t at least try to get some enjoyment out of this, after all. 

That is, until the last voice that you’re expecting to hear on this fine evening unceremoniously interrupts your conversation from somewhere behind you.

“And what do we have here?”

Stiffening, you turn to face none other than the head of the Trost pack in all of his annoyingly handsome and insufferable glory—Jean Kirstein.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter under your breath.

Jean ignores your comment, though there’s not a single doubt in your mind that his wolfy hearing picks up every word loud and clear.

“I think Armin’s looking for you,” he tells Eren.

Eren raises a brow, taking a slow sip from the glass in his hand. “Nah, I doubt that.”

He returns his gaze to you, but Jean steps closer, putting an arm around his shoulder as he leans in. “She’ll eat you alive, Jaeger. You know what she is, don’t you?”

Eren smiles, canine teeth on full display; it’s less friendly and more of a challenge. “I’m a big boy, Kirstein.”

Jean’s eyes flash, and he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, “Take a fucking hint.” 

There’s nothing remotely cordial in his tone now. 

The two men are quiet as they stare at one another, the air thick with tension, and you can almost feel the shift when Eren’s hackles finally drop as he seems to think better of challenging Jean’s dominance. Looking at them side by side, you can’t say you blame him, though you’re loath to admit it. 

“Whatever man.”

Eren offers you an apologetic nod, shooting Jean one last annoyed look before he disappears into the din of the bustling crowd. Meanwhile, the pack leader slides into the now-empty seat without preamble, all long limbs and unnervingly bright eyes, the sight of his messy brown hair and the hint of stubble on his jaw bothering you for reasons you have no desire to examine. 

“Really?” you bite out. 

Jean doesn’t answer you right away. Instead, he picks up Eren’s cup and takes a sip, lips immediately curling downward in disgust as he puts it back down and makes a brief gesture in the direction of the bartender. It’s only once a glass full of something else is placed in front of him that he finally looks at you.

“Hm?”

You wonder just how much trouble you’d land yourself in for punching a pack leader right here in the middle of a shifter bar. He takes a long pull from the glass, clicking his tongue against his teeth in satisfaction after.

Yeah, you’re definitely going to punch him.

“What the fuck was that about?”

Jean shrugs, smoothly dragging a coaster toward his drink with his middle finger and wiping away the ring of condensation left behind on the dark wood countertop with the side of his hand. When his eyes meet yours, the light brown of his irises nearly gold in this light, something hot unfurls in your chest. 

“Believe me when I say you don’t want to fuck Eren Jaeger,” he replies evenly.

You scoff. “I wasn’t going to fuck him.”

He raises a brow and says nothing.

“I was just going to…why the fuck does this even concern you anyway, Kirstein?” you snap. 

Elbow now placed on the counter, he leans his cheek into the palm of his hand, like he has nowhere better to be than mercilessly cockblocking you on a Friday night. 

It’s ironic, really, given the origin of your perpetual disdain for him. 

Maybe it’s a bit immature to hate a guy for turning down your tipsy advances on a night out with your friends. 

They were all convinced he’d been staring at you from across the room for the better part of the evening. But the rough scrape of his words against the shell of your ear when you finally found the courage to approach him still echoes in the recesses of your mind all these years later—”Go home and sober up, little witch.”

It’s always bothered you more than it should, the sting of that casual rejection. Like he couldn’t even be bothered to entertain a moment of your company, if not a drunken kiss that would have very well been a dime a dozen at a place like that anyway. 

What made it worse was all of the subsequent times you’ve had the misfortune of running into him after. He makes a game of it, flirting with you. Calling you little witch. Like he wants to subtly remind you of how you embarrassed yourself that night, to toy with you just for the sake of driving you to the brink of the relentless, burning ire you feel in waves every time you see him now. 

“I know you have some problem with shifters, and you’re here on a goddamn full moon of all nights. So I’m just trying to make sense of this,” he says. 

You narrow your eyes. “I have a problem with you.”

He puts his shoe on the metal rung of your stool beside your right foot, voice dripping with sarcasm as he replies, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you can feel the tug of the unfinished spell swirling restlessly inside of you. Waiting. “I need wolf saliva.”

Jean’s brows shoot up, and it would almost be comical, if you weren’t so goddamn annoyed. He recovers just as quickly. “So you thought you’d waltz in here, suck face with some poor, unsuspecting pup for a bit and then break his little heart when you skip off back to your coven with your special ingredient?”

Well, he’s not wrong, per se. 

“Oh, is that why you barged in on my conversation? You were worried about me hurting Eren’s feelings after I let him cop a feel in one of those dingy bathrooms over there?”

You swear Jean’s eye fucking twitches.

“Jaeger’s a bastard, and he’s not worth your time.”

A flash of hot anger prickles over your skin. “Why is who I kiss suddenly any of your concern now, Kirstein?” 

You place emphasis on the ’now’ without quite meaning to.

Jean’s nostrils flare as he inhales. Without another word, he gets up and walks away.

And for whatever godforsaken reason, you stalk after him, fists tightly clenched at your sides.

After weaving through the crowd, you find yourself standing in the deserted back alley behind the building. You quickly regret your decision not to grab your jacket from the hook beside the door on your way out of your apartment, the air much more brisk now than it was when you left. 

Jean whirls to face you, the look on his face softening a fraction when he sees the way you’ve wrapped your arms around yourself. He tugs off his leather jacket without fanfare, draping it around your shoulders before you have a chance to protest.

You hate how good it smells—the rich, woodsy scent that you’ve long-since come to associate with him, its musky notes almost dizzying at this dangerous proximity.  

And as you unconsciously finding yourself soaking in the residual warmth that lingers in the material, you’re reminded of just how very hot shifters run. 

“Walking away in the middle of a conversation is generally considered rude amongst most species,” you mutter, leaning on the brick wall and bending a knee to press a foot flat against it.  

Jean drags a hand through his hair. “There are some conversations I prefer to have beyond the vicinity of a bunch of nosey wolves with good hearing.”

“What, you didn’t want your friends overhearing a witch tell you what a gigantic asshole you are?” you drawl. 

Sighing heavily, he runs a hand over his face. “I find it mildly infuriating that you have zero fucking sense of self-preservation and thought that fooling around with a shifter you don’t even know during a goddamn full moon is somehow a good idea.”

He makes finger quotes at the last two words, and for whatever reason, that’s your last straw this evening. 

Jean Kirstein may have sharp teeth—but he seems to forget that you do, too. 

“Go fuck yourself, Kirstein,” you grit out. “I’m not even going to pretend to understand whatever kind of twisted amusement you get out of mocking me at every given chance. But do me a favor and go stick your mangy nose in someone else’s business, and maybe I will go back inside and fuck a shifter after all. There sure are plenty in there to choose from.”

Between one breath and the next, the space between you and Jean rapidly dissipates as he crowds you against the building, one hand resting beside your head.

“I don’t give a shit about whatever witchy little spell you’ve got cooking. I’m not letting any of those moon drunk idiots touch you,” he rasps.

His words do something to you, something that has rogue electricity expelling its way down your spine. Something that has you biting the inside of your cheek. 

Something that makes it difficult to breathe.

“I already drank the elixir. I’ll probably get sick if I don’t finish the spell,” you retort. 

The now-golden shade of Jean’s eyes up close is mesmerizing in a way that has your heart trembling against the shackles of your ribcage.

It makes sense right now—why your grandmother used to warn you about the wiles of shifters. 

He huffs a small laugh, a warm puff of air filling the space between your faces. “You sure are confident.”

You glare at him, at the jab that you know the comment is meant to be. “Can you just let me go take care of this? It’s a harmless spell that’s the equivalent of a witchy energy drink. I’m sure you can point out at least one half decent shifter in there for me to chat up.”

Jean tucks part of his plush bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

You can’t help it—you bark out a laugh right in his face. “You’re fucking joking, right?”

Something that can’t possibly be hurt flashes in his eyes. “No?”

“Why would I embarrass myself like that again?”

Jean blinks, tilting his head sideways in confusion. And the gesture would almost be cute—

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Exhaling in annoyance, you cross your arms. “You’ve already shot me down once, Kirstein.”

He straightens. “Are you…what? Seriously? You were drunk.”

A fresh wave of embarrassment prickles over you. “You shot me down and told me to go home like some child.”

“Because I didn’t want any of the shithead shifters that were lurking around that night to take advantage of you.”

Now that you’ve broken the dam, the words just keep on spilling out. “And you take advantage of every opportunity to make me feel stupid for coming on to you in the first place, even now years later.”

Jean looks taken aback. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing this whole time?”

You frown. “...yes?”

He pushes his hair back, and the way the brown strands relent and fall against his brows when his fingers move away has no right to look as attractive as it does. And yet—

Jean takes your wrist in his own and tugs you forward, until your positions are reversed, and he’s the one backed against the opposite wall of the alleyway while you stand before him. He doesn’t let go of your hand, and you find your fingers pressed to the soft fabric of his shirt. 

The soft fabric and the feeling of his hot skin beneath—

“I turned you down because I don’t entertain drunk witches who think a night with a shifter is a novelty,” he says slowly, eyes never leaving yours. “And I flirt with you now because I like you. Even if you’re hellbent on hating me.”

You can feel his steady heartbeat beneath your palm. 

“I don’t hate you,” you whisper, not quite certain if you’re more shocked that you said the words, or that you actually meant them.  

You’re not sure what compels you to do it, to reach up and brush back a rogue strand of Jean’s hair. But it’s worth it for the way his eyes momentarily fall shut, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“No?” he breathes out, voice a little rough. 

You’ll marvel at the memory of this later, this sight of Jean Kirstein bathed in moonlight and bending to your touch. 

“No,” you tell him. 

Jean laughs quietly. “Then finish your spell already, little witch.”

There’s an odd sensation that ripples over you, a tug. Like the fire and brimstone of your magic feels the wind and earth in Jean’s, like it’s begging to touch—

Jean meets you halfway when you cup his face and begin to lean in. 

And when his lips find yours, your magic sings. 

It’s instant—the way you can feel the spell’s completion ripple through you as Jean’s mouth slots against your own, a sunny sensation fizzing in your veins. 

It’s instant—and it’s how you know everything that follows has nothing to do with the elixir and everything to do with Jean. 

Jean, Jean, Jean. 

Your blood pulses everywhere Jean’s touching you—one hand cupping the back of your head, the other curled at your waist. 

Your magic surges and shivers, cresting higher as he parts the seam of your lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss. A moan slips out of you of its own accord, and Jean growls softly. 

As a shifter, Jean can’t wield the power that lives inside of him with his bare hands, not like you can. But you can feel every tendril of it as it curls around your own, as your magic grasps for his almost desperately. 

Jean flips your positions, pressing your back to the wall once more, and his fingers press into the small of your back. 

And his magic is hot and wild as it seeps into you, as he drags hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, as he groans rough and deep at the little keening sounds that tips out past your lips when his hips press into yours. 

“Jean,” you whimper. 

A plea. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, mouth hovering near the damp patch of skin he was just sucking at below your earlobe. 

He’s so hard against you, his erection straining against the front of his pants. 

You shake your head, pressing forward into him, and he groans, cupping your chin. His eyes bore into yours as he drags his thumb along your lower lip. 

And then he’s dropping to his knees right there in the alley, thumb pressed to the swollen bud of your clit through your stockings as he pushes your skirt up out of the way. 

“Were these expensive?” he asks casually. 

You blink down at him in confusion. “No? They were like—“

Jean doesn’t wait for you to finish your answer before he nudges your thighs slightly further apart at the ankle and tears a hole in the stretchy black material right between your legs. 

“It’s too cold for you to take them off,” he murmurs by way of explanation, as if your brain is capable of focusing on anything other than the feeling of him tugging aside your panties and dragging two fingers through your slick folds. 

“Oh,” you gasp, knees already threatening to buckle. 

Jean grasps your hip to steady you, eyes glinting in amusement as he stares up at you while he slides one thick finger into your tight channel. 

“What kind of spell was that?” he teases, as if you’re not dripping fucking wet from him and him alone. 

“N-not that kind,” you gasp as he sinks in knuckle-deep. 

Jean seems pleased with this answer, slowly pumping the digit in and out of your aching cunt. You bury your face in his jacket to stifle your moans as you tremble in pleasure. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he rasps, the lewd squelching sounds only intensifying when he stretches you even further on a second finger. 

Part of you wishes you were somewhere soft and horizontal, so you could feel the slide of his tongue on yours in a messy, spit-soaked kiss while he fingers you deep and slow until you’re a whimpering, sobbing mess. 

You wish you were naked and pliant beneath him, feeling the touch of his burning hot skin against your own from head to toe. 

But the fantasy is short-lived, tucked away for another time when Jean brings his mouth between your legs and laps a firm, broad stroke through your slit. When he groans at the taste of you, large hands tugging your legs even further apart as he buries his tongue in your cunt and begins to devour you whole. 

Because when he pauses to look up at you, to marvel the way you can hardly hold back your keening sounds as he fucks you with his tongue—he looks just as wrecked as you. Just as desperate and unwound with his mussed hair and golden eyes and your slick, sticky arousal painted all over his face. 

It’s what has your hands winding in his hair before you can even reach your impending climax, dragging him upward for a filthy kiss as your fingers scramble for purchase against the button of his pants. 

Jean hisses when you get your hands on his cock, and your now-empty cunt spasms around nothing while you stroke his girth. 

“Jean, please,” you pant against his lips. 

You can feel your stockings rip even further when Jean hoists you up, the bricks pressing into your back as you wrap your legs around him. The material is soaked with spit and arousal as he pushes your panties aside once more and lines his cock up with your dripping entrance. 

And it’s all encompassing—the way your magic explodes in a burst of heat and energy as his cock plunges into you, every cell in your body vibrating with searing hot pleasure like nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

“What the fuck—“ Jean chokes out, groaning as he kisses you hard, his grip on your hips tightening beyond measure. 

You know he feels it, too. 

“I know,” you gasp, and he takes your lower lip between his teeth. 

The pleasure surging inside of you begs for release, your muscles tensing harder with each deep, thick stroke of his cock against your slick walls. 

He’s all you can see. All you can smell and feel and taste. You want to feel him everywhere, want to let his magic sink so deeply into yours that you lose where you end and he begins. 

You’re so fucking drunk on Jean Kirstein, you might laugh—if you could do anything but moan and whimper and sob his name right now, that is. 

“Jean I’m close—“ you whisper, voice breaking. 

“Then come on my cock,” he murmurs. “Let me feel you come all over my cock, pretty witch.”

Your pleasure erupts in a gushing flood of euphoria, and your walls expanding and contracting rapidly on the stretch of Jean’s length as he fucks you through your orgasm until his own thrusts grow sloppy, too. 

“Come inside of me,” you breathe out, feeling the way Jean tenses and growls at your plea. 

“Fuck,” he groans, cock still pumping into your fucked out hole in deep, rough strokes. “You feel so good, fuckfuck—“

Jean comes hard, burying himself to the hilt when his cock begins to pulse inside of you, filling your cunt with rope after rope of sticky, hot cum until it begins to leak out and drip down your thighs. 

—and without warning, your pussy spasms as you climax once more in an unexpected surge of pleasure that has you whimpering and shaking in its wake. 

There’s a exhilarating, magical edge to it. 

Jean stares at you, lips slightly parted as he marvels at the sight. 

“Was that—“

“Well the spell called for spit, not cum,” you exhale shakily, cunt fluttering as he pulls out, and you whine. 

He watches you closely as he brings a hand between your legs, slowly rubbing your swollen, over-sensitive clit. 

”Oh,” you breathe out, fingers digging into the front of his shirt. 

You rock your rips into his touch, and all it takes is the tease of the pad of his fingers circling around your tight hole to have you coming again on his fingers. 

“Wow,” he murmurs against your lips, lazily slipping a digit back inside of you to feel the sloppy mess of cum that’s dripping out of you. 

And it still feels so good. 

“I think I fucked up the spell,” you gasp, already on the edge of another orgasm. 

“I think I can help you take care of that,” Jean rasps, kissing his way down your jaw to sink his teeth into the soft, plush curve between your shoulder and neck.

[yanderecrazysie]

Rhododendron (Yandere Android! Oikawa and Iwaizumi)

Part 2 of the Flower Language Series

I got these meanings from the internet, so some may be wrong. Sorry if that is the case, but please ignore my mistakes.

Please do not request the Flower Language Series.

Title: Rhododendron

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader; Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder

Flower meaning: Danger, beware

Summary: There’s something off about your husband’s new androids.

“I know you don’t like me bringing home work, but this is going to blow your mind,” your husband said, one hand on your shoulders as he led you through the apartment to the living room, one hand over your eyes. 

You had a half-smile on your lips, “This has to do with your ‘top secret new project’, doesn’t it?” 

You came to a stop and he removed his hand from your eyes, saying, “You tell me.”

A gasp left your lips. In your doorway stood two tall, rather attractive men with their eyes closed. After a moment, something struck you as off about them, though you couldn’t put your finger on what it was. Maybe it was the way their skin shone under the fluorescent lights. Or maybe, the fact that their skin had no flaws whatsoever and their faces had perfect symmetry.

You spotted your husband’s company’s logo on their matching blue shirts and realization hit you.

“They’re- they’re robots, aren’t they?”

“Androids,” your husband was practically glowing, “I designed them myself. What do you think?”

“They look so real…” you left out the part where you found that to be very creepy.

“Just wait until they open their eyes,” your husband replied eagerly, misreading your hesitation, “The one on the left is called ‘Oikawa’. His model is designed for housekeeping and basic chores. The one on the right is ‘Iwaizumi’, and he’s kind of like an android guard dog.”

“And they’ll be… staying here?” you murmured, unsure of how you felt about their presence.

Your husband finally noticed that you were less than enthusiastic and began to squirm a little, “Well, yeah, just for a little while. They need to be tested so we can work out any bugs. They aren’t dangerous or anything, I promise.”

“And no one else can take them?” you asked in a small voice. You couldn’t help but shiver when you looked at them- something about them frightened you. Some part of you needed them gone.

The pained look on your husband’s face told you all you needed to know, and your heart sank. His voice was quiet when he spoke next, “I’m the lead designer on this project, so it’s required that I test them in a natural environment… I’m really sorry, honey.” 

You squared your shoulders and forced a smile to your face, “It’s fine. It’s totally fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

“Well, like you said, we don’t really have a choice,” you said, unable to keep the sourness out of your voice this time.

“I’ll turn them on,” your husband said softly, “Maybe you’ll warm up to them.”

“I hope so,” you sighed. You didn’t mean to be so unsupportive, but you had both agreed to keep your work at the office and, sometimes, it felt like only you held up your side of the promise. Not to mention, his “work” this time around was very unsettling.

“Oikawa, Iwaizumi, turn on,” your husband commanded.

Their eyes opened at the same time- one pair brown and playful, one pair green and serious. Both androids turned their attention to your husband instantly, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were somehow watching you at the same time.

“I’m adding another authorized user,” he continued. He pointed at you and the androids’ eyes snapped to look at you, making your stomach twist in displeasure, “This is my wife, (Y/n).”

Iwaizumi nodded and said, “Understood.” 

Oikawa, on the other hand, crossed the distance between you and held out his hand, a charming smile spreading across his face. You reluctantly let him take your hand in his and he lifted it to his lips. You shuddered at the coolness of his lips against the back of your hand. There was no warmth in his hands and lips. His “skin” was soft, but it lacked life.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetie” he said, his voice as sweet as honey.

You took your hand out of his and drew it against your chest. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, so you merely nodded, a shiver crawling up your spine at his pleased smile.

You noticed the eager smile on your husband’s face and felt bad that you couldn’t match his enthusiasm. However, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the androids standing before you. Oikawa’s smile was unsettlingly perfect and Iwaizumi’s green eyes seemed to pierce through you. 

“Why don’t I show you what they can do?” your husband suggested excitedly, “Oikawa, clean please. Iwaizumi, check all the doors and windows please.”

“Yes, sir,” the androids said in unison. You watched as Oikawa began tidying up the kitchen, his movements as fluid as a human’s. Iwaizumi, on the other hand, began to check the house, locking the windows that you had forgotten about.

Your husband placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “See? They’re very helpful and you’ll barely notice they’re around.”

You highly doubted that you wouldn’t notice them, but you forced a smile, “I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------

As the days passed, the androids seamlessly became a part of your household routine. Oikawa kept the house spotless, prepared meals, and engaged in small talk that was so eerily human-like that it unnerved you. Iwaizumi, on the other hand, rarely talked and guarded the front door and kept things locked up with military-like precision.

But the feeling of unease never stopped. Oikawa’s gaze always lingered on you for too long, and Iwaizumi seemed more interested in protecting you than your husband. You did your best to avoid being home when your husband was out.

One evening, you returned home from work to find the house unusually quiet. You were surprised that Oikawa was the one to let you in the house and lock the door behind you. It had always been Iwaizumi who did that.

“Good evening,” Oikawa said with a blindingly white-toothed smile, “How was your day, (Y/n)?”

“Good,” you replied, “Where’s Iwaizumi?”

“He’s outside, making sure everything is safe,” Oikawa said pleasantly, “What would you like for dinner?”

“I’m just going to rest, actually,” you said, “Is my husband home yet?”

“No, he is staying late at the office,” Oikawa replied.

That was odd, considering his big project was at the house and he was usually home early, working on the androids.

Oikawa’s head tilted, “You seem tense. Would you like a massage?”

You swallowed uneasily, “No thanks. I just want to rest. Alone.”

Oikawa nodded, but his intense gaze didn’t leave you as you hurried up the stairs and into your bedroom. You locked the door behind you, heart pounding. Something felt off, but you couldn’t figure out what it was.

Moments later, a knock sounded on the door. You froze, praying it wasn’t Oikawa. “Yes?” you called.

“It’s Iwaizumi,” the reply was muffled through the door, but his voice was steady, “I just wanted to let you know that you are safe now.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling as though the words meant something deeper, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Iwaizumi replied. You listened for the sound of retreating footsteps down the stairs but the sound never came. He was still standing outside your door.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and sent a text to your husband, asking when he’d be home. The wait for a response was excruciatingly long, but a reply finally came.

I’m still at the office, sweetie. Is everything okay?

You stared at the message for a full minute before you realized what it was that seemed off. He had never called you sweetie before. Suddenly, a memory resurfaced in your mind of Oikawa.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetie.”

As you stood there, trying to make sense of it all, the door handle turned slightly, as if someone was testing it to see if it was locked. You stopped breathing for a moment before shakily calling out, “Iwaizumi, what are you doing?”

There was a long pause before he answered, “Please do not be alarmed, (Y/n). I must ensure your safety.”

Gathering your courage, desperate for answers and plagued by unease, you opened the door. Iwazumi���s eyes widened at the sight of you as you demanded, “Where is my husband?”

Iwaizumi’s gaze didn’t leave you, “Your husband is at work, overseeing additional development.”

You frowned, “Iwaizumi has anything… changed in your programming recently?”

A flicker of something crossed Iwaizumi’s face, “Our job has always been to ensure your safety and happiness.”

“And what about my husband’s safety and happiness?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, “His safety is secondary to yours.”

A shiver shot down your spine and you quickly pushed past him, hurrying down the stairs. There was something you needed to know.

Oikawa was standing in the kitchen. Not cleaning or cooking, just standing there as though he were waiting for you to come down the stairs, a smile plastered on his face.

You headed for the door, ready to get in your car and get the hell out of your house and away from the androids, but Oikawa blocked your path.

“Out of my way!” you snapped.

“Where are you going?” Oikawa asked sweetly, “You aren’t safe out there, you know.”

“I need to talk to my husband, in person.”

Oikawa’s smile twisted into a victorious grin, “Why don’t you video call him right now?”

You shakily pulled out your phone, “Why a video call?”

“Then you’ll know we aren’t changing our voices to pretend to be him!” Oikawa said with a small chuckle. 

You weren’t even aware they could do something like that. At least he’s being honest. You reassured yourself.

You pressed the video call option on your husband’s contact page and waited. It took a moment for you to comprehend what was on the other side of the screen.

When you did, you screamed, mind branded forever with the sight of the remains of your husband.

Behind you, Oikawa began to laugh.

[sim0nril3y]

Seaside

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: You both spend the day down at the seaside Note: Set in 2014 Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), teasing, eating, smutty smut smut, sex, p in v, creampie, canon-typical swearing.

It was a surprisingly nice day, the sun was shining, the sky was completely clear of any clouds and there was even a gentle breeze to keep things cool. Added to the fact that it was a weekend and you didn’t have any plans it seemed like some miracle. Whilst you sat and ate breakfast you mentioned. “Maybe we could go to the seaside?” You suggested and from where Simon was making a tea behind you, he hummed in agreement. Honestly you had expected more resistance but he seemed just fine with the idea.

“Oh, that is exciting.” You giggled happily. “Do you want me to pack some food or should we get something down there?” You quizzed with a pinch in your brow. “Babe, I’m not driving all the way down there without having fish and chips.” He smirked, sipping from his tea. “And ice cream?” You looked up happily. “And ice cream.” He confirmed. “Now, go on. Go get ready.” He coaxed softly watching as you finished your toast in a big bite and then rushed to go get ready.

It didn’t seem to take long. You finally decide on an outfit and then were waiting as Simon approached his keys in hand. “Where’s your jacket?” He asked, his own fleece hung over his arm and arch in his brow. “I won’t need one, Si. It’s a nice day out there.” Gesturing to the window beside you as the sun beamed down. “What about when it gets chilly tonight?” He replied evenly, making a fair comment but not one that you were willing to listen to. There were times when you would do this, act stubborn or rather blatantly ignore his suggestions and typically you would always come around to his way of thinking only after the disaster had happened.

“Simon, I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” Then shaking your head and opening the door briskly. “The sooner we get there the sooner we can soak up the sun.” A tired sigh left his lips watching as you walk away from him. “Fine.” He huffed, closing the door and locking it behind him. It was your mistake to make.

The drive down wasn’t too long, but it seemed like everyone had the same idea of heading down to the beach. It was like a fight for a parking and earned the glares of several families when he finally slotted into a space. “Oi.” He growled as you were about to climb from the car. “Look here…” He took your face in hand and took some time applying sun cream to your face, taking his time massaging it into your skin. “I get the feeling you just like putting cream on my face~” You purred which earned you a look of caution.

“We only just got here.” Simon’s voice was even and he saw that cheeky smile that pressed to your lips. “Behave yourself or I’ll drive you home.” He commanded and you laughed and nodded. “Promise~” Then leaning forward to kiss him and he smirked. “You smell like a holiday.” He noted, it was a pleasant smell, one that he wanted to savour for a moment longer before climbing from the car and announcing. “It’s never too early for ice cream, is it?”

It turned out that it really was never too early for ice cream, the two of you took a couple cones down to the stony beach and sat down watching the ocean. Even on a roasting day like this the water would be shockingly cold and still there were people playing in it. You smiled happily as you watched them before turning your attention to Simon, eyeing his frozen treat and he huffed as he held it in your direction to take a lick. “Mmm…” Then holding out your own for him to taste too. “That’s nice, babe.” He approved softy.

A loud calling of music and flashing lights drew you both over to the arcades next. They were crammed with kids and adults lining up to play the penny machines, claw machines, shooting games and anything else that was hidden in there. You even convinced Simon to toss a couple pennies into the machine, whilst you exchanged almost all the change in your purse to win a plastic ring and a lollipop.

Proudly you kept holding your hand out for Simon to observe it. A smirk played on his lips as he observed it for a moment and then said. “Very nice… you put about £5 into that machine to get a 50p bit of junk from it.” “Ah-ah. I won this junk.” You corrected with a big grin playing on your lips. “More than you won, Si~” You teased and this caused him to smirk before pulling you into his side and continuing to walk through the arcade before hearing the roar of laughter and cheering.

The two of you glanced over to see a group of lads gathered around the punching machine, a bag swung down and you would test your strength by hitting it as hard as you could. They were clearly trying to beat the record that was into the high 800s. “Bet you could beat that.” You coaxed softly, hand caressing the strong ink-covered bicep. You both observed for a moment before the group grew bored with not being able to beat it and the second it was free you rushed towards it and placed a few stray coins into it. “You go first.” Simon smirked taking a step back and watching you curl your fist. “Ay…” He caught your wrist before you could swing. “You’ll hurt your hand like that… like this…” He fixed your fist and then stepped back. “Go on. Hard as you can.”

You threw a punch and laughed as you watched the numbers fly up. “Ow~” You shook your hand from the impact Simon gently held it and brought it up to his lips to kiss softly. “Not bad, you know.” He nodded at the numbers that flashed on the screen, proudly announcing your score which didn’t beat the record. “Now, out the way…” He struck your rear in a firm slap. “Let me show you how it’s done.” Pressing the button, the ball swung down again and Simon eyed it for a moment.

His punch was loud, making the ball bang loudly as it swung back. You laughed and watched as the numbers rapidly climbed and climbed. A squeal of delight found your throat as the record was beat and then some. The text of the screen flash proudly the new record way into the 1000s. “You did it!” You squeaked and rushed towards him. Simon laughed collecting you into his arms as if a prize he’d just won. “I’m so impressed.” “You should be.” He laughed and held you close for a moment longer and then settling you back onto your feet.

“Well, you’ll really impress me if you can win me something from that machine…” You pointed over to the claw machine and he huffed. “Fine. But you’re paying.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead and then stalked over.

As the sun was setting Simon brought the two of you fish and chips, you sat happily munching away with the stuffed toy he had won from the claw machine between your legs. A cold shiver ran down your entire frame then. Now that the sun had set a cold breeze was setting in. From beside you Simon observed the way your skin prickled and your shoulders shook softly from the chill.

“Bloody hell…” Simon knew that you’d be too stubborn to speak up and instead of fighting you on it just removed his fleece and handed it on your direction. “Here… before you get hypothermia.” You were quick to climb into the warmth of his fleece, enjoying that way that it smelt of his strong cologne and just of him. “Thanks.” You mumbled softly as you continued eating your chips.

You knew the comment was coming and simply smiled when he said. “Told you to bring a jumper.” Then glancing in your direction. “Just knew that you’d get cold.” A giggle slipped from your lips. “You’re always bloody cold. Like being next to an icicle at night, one that puts their bloody cold feet on you.” It would always rile him up when he was just dropping off to sleep and your cold feet you find their way onto his body. It was jolt him right back awake. “S’not funny.” He grumbled as you giggled and leaned into his side.

“I am always cold and I’m so lucky to have someone so warm and caring to snuggle up to.” You giggled and glanced up at him. “Besides, I knew a really good way of warming up~” There was that same playful lilt to you voice which let Simon know he was in trouble. “How much space do you think there is in the back of the car…” Simon smirked and responded. “Why don’t we find out?”

Night had drawn over completely and the car park was practically empty as you bounced on his rigid cock, from this angle you were hitting all the right spot, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every slam down against his lap, whimpering and mewling into his throat as Simon clasped desperately at your waist. “C’mon pretty girl…” Those strong hands clawed hard to slam you down filthily onto his cock. “S’fuckin’ tight… Fuckinghell…” Simon’s voice was practically a growl as his fingers dug into your soft flesh.

By now your thighs were burning, but you didn’t care. It was a perfect ending to this amazing day. The two of you wouldn’t have been able to survive the journey home and besides now you would avoid the traffic.

“S’close, Simon~” You cried softly, burying your face into his throat. “S’fuckin’ deep… Ohgod… C-can I… can… I please…” “Yes, baby.” He confirmed, his hand disappearing between your body so his thumb could rub your swollen clit so softly before grunting as he felt your body swiftly fall over the edge, walls pulsing and body shuddering hard in his grip, even as you body tried to lock tight his hands continued to use your body, bouncing you and extending your pleasure as much as he could. “Goodgirl… good girl… give me everything, babe… goodgirl… Such a pretty girl when you cum…” He praised in your ear causing you to mewl and moan sweetly. “My sweet little thing… cumming of my fuckin’ cock… makin’ such a mess… goodgirl…” He coaxed his hand down your back soothingly.

There were little noises of effort as you continued to bounce on his cock and Simon smiled at how beautiful you looked. “Need your cum…” You whispered breathlessly, using what little effort you had left in your body to try and milk some from him. “Yeah, you need it?” Simon grunted out, glancing down between your bodies to watch his cock disappearing into your tight hole over and over again. “Need it…” You whined, gripping at his shoulders and pressing down harder. “Use me… Give it to me…” You whimpered leaning in to kiss him. “Please~”

He took that as permission to grip at your hips and begin to slam you down recklessly on his cock, using your sweet body for all his pleasure. “Feel… fuckin’ good, babe… won’t last… long…” He warned and sticking true to his words only lasted a few moments before beginning to shoot his seed into your accepting walls, pulling your frame close so he could hold you as he exploded inside. “F-fuck…” He grumbled, seating you fully on his lap and panting against your throat. “Fuck… that was… fuck…” He chuckled lowly. “You’re perfect~”

“So are you~” You giggled into his throat and he stroked his hands slowly up your back, soothing you sensually. “Let me… just stay here for a bit longer and then… then I’ll drive us home~” Turning his head he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Just rest, love.”

Masterlist | Ask | 23-09-2023

[fangirl-writes]

Sick Day

JJ Maybank x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Sickness, fever.

Request:

Hi!! I've seen you account recently and I was thinking maybe you could write jj maybank x reader when the reader is always so guffy and childish, like they always jump from excitement and love weird things. So reader is sick like have really bad fever and is weary weak, almost fainted because of that and jj take kare of them and maybe lullaby them to sleep by singing them and rocking them please.

Also English isn't my mother language so please forgive me for any mistakes love you.

Feel free to ignore me if you want to byee

Notes: JJ would absolutely listen to Arctic Monkeys don't @ me.

"But JJ," you whined as he carried you into your house.

"No buts, Y/N, you can't put other shit above yourself. You're sick and you're going to be sick until you get better."

You pouted, burying your head in his shoulder. "But what if you get sick?"

"Don't worry about that, I literally never get sick. It's like some superpower I have," he replied, walking towards your bedroom. "One time John B. got the flu, like shit from both ends bad flu, and I spent the whole day with him anyway and never got sick."

"But you're gonna miss a pogue day off..."

"I think I'm willing to sacrifice one day just for you,"

A blush spread across your cheeks and you said, "...thanks."

You'd woken up feeling like shit, with a fever and an aching body, but you were never one to let anything bring you down so you popped some Tylenol and went on your way.

But the pogues knew something was wrong right away because you were usually the life of the party, bouncing uncontrollably all the way down the dock and talking animatedly about whatever it was that had piqued your interest that day.

But not today.

Today you were relatively silent, refusing a beer and a puff of JJ's blunt.

You'd had off days before, they all did, so none of them pushed you to tell them what was up.

Until you stood up too fast and nearly fainted.

Thankfully, JJ intercepted your body before it could hit the water and laid you down on the floor of the boat. Everyone fanned your face and Kie pressed a cool water bottle to your forehead.

"Y/N, you're burning up," she said. "I think you have a fever."

"What?" JJ said. "Seriously?"

You couldn't help but cry a little bit at the statement, the concern in everyone's eyes making you feel worse.

Which JJ could tell. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

"What? No-" you sat up quickly - too quickly- and had to catch yourself before you fell back. "Seriously, don't let me ruin your day, I can walk home."

"Y/N, you can barely sit up, let JJ take you home," Pope said.

"No, come on, he probably doesn't want to be around me anyway. You'd much rather stay here and drink and smoke with the pogues, right?"

JJ was silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes at you before he leaned over, grabbed your wrist and hip, threw you over his shoulder and hopped up onto the deck with ease.

"JJ!" You protested, but he'd trapped you. You had no escape in this position.

"See you guys later," JJ said, throwing a peace sign to his friends with his free hand before continuing his trek towards your house.

"JJ!" You tried again, pounding against his back. "Put me down!"

He swung you around, making you shout, but he didn't put you down, simply holding you bridal style instead.

You must've turned green because he winced. "Sorry."

Eyes squeezed shut, you said, "It's fine. You should really put me down though."

"Nope."

A few minutes of bickering later and well-

"Here we are," JJ said, setting you down carefully on your bed.

Having resigned yourself to sickness at this point, you immediately crawled under the covers and groaned.

JJ chuckled, running a hand over your forehead. "You really are burning up. I'm gonna go get you some water."

"J-"

"I'll be right back," He said, smiling at you as you looked up at him.

He pulled a water bottle from the fridge and the bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet before heading back to your room.

Your eyes were still open when he came back.

"What?"

"Nothing," you replied, smiling weakly. "Just never saw you as the nurse type."

"Never had any sexy dreams about me in a nurse's uniform?" he joked.

"You wish."

Instead of replying, JJ set down the water and Tylenol on your bedside table and picked up the thermometer that was already there.

"You had a fever before and you still came?"

You groaned. "Don't lecture me."

He didn't but he still stuck the thermometer in your mouth.

"101, wow," he said. "You are sick. And you definitely need to sleep."

You tossed your head against your pillow. How were you supposed to sleep in the middle of the afternoon with the sun shining right in your window?

Then an idea struck you.

JJ looked up from where he was surveying the thermometer and noticed your gaze. "...What?"

You made grabby hands at him. "Cuddle me?"

He shook his head. "You're sick."

"What happened to all that bravado about not ever getting sick?"

"I mean you need to sleep."

"I'll sleep better if you're with me," you replied.

He rolled his eyes but joined you in your bed anyway. "If you wanted me in your bed, you didn't have to get sick to do it."

"Shut up," you mumbled, tucking yourself into his arms with your head against his chest. "You know you've always wanted to be here, too."

He hoped his heart wasn't hammering too hard with you so close. "Maybe so."

You sighed, face scrunched up as you tried to will yourself to sleep.

JJ bit his lip.

His mother always used to sing him lullabies when he was sick as a kid. Course that was before she left.

Still, maybe he could turn that painful memory into a good one.

He started humming softly, just loud enough for you to hear, and raking his fingers through your hair.

"You call the shots babe, I just wanna be yours," he sang softly.

Sure he wasn't the most musically gifted person, but he could hold a tune and the way you snuggled further into him told him you were enjoying the serenade.

"Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours."

Forgetting the other words, he returned to humming.

You were so beautiful, lying in his arms, half-asleep. Even sick, you were one of the most beautiful people JJ had ever seen.

"I just wanna be yours," he sang one last time, assuming you'd be asleep by now.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and went to get up but you tightened your hold.

"Don't leave," You whispered sleepily, almost slurring. "I wanna be yours, too..."

A little stunned, JJ slunk back into his former position, holding you close. "Really?"

You hummed, nodding.

JJ absolutely got your fever the next day but he'd claim it was worth it to hear you sing the same song back at him and to kiss you whenever he wanted.

[lamemaster]

The Soulless One (Part 2)

Pairing: Maedhros x Reader

Genre: happy ending (Yay!)

Word Count: 2k-ish

Summary: Giving away your soul for a bloody battle? Pfft, you were fucking in for good.

AN: I tried. I'm sorry. Can we just ignore the cannon fea dynamics and roll with this? Please 🥹

Part 1 |

You pin him to the bed that creaked dangerously for an Elven creation. "Is this not enough?" You pull him closer by his collar. "These stupid braids, talking in riddles elegantly like you wanted, enchanting eyes, birthmarks right under my lips, and for so long I haven't allowed a damned curse to fall on these lips." And for once you can hear his heart clearer than ever. A skip in his beat that your human senses couldn't have caught.

But your own heart beats louder than him. "Is this not enough? Do you know how uncomfortable it is to dwell in a body my soul can never accept? And you...you never came looking for me. Did you not feel a pull in your soul?" You hold back the tightness behind your eyes that threatens to spill your tears at any given moment. "What else must I do my lord?"

Much to your annoyance, he stays quiet. And then it happens. In a flick of the moment your fist meets his cheek and you stare at the elf beneath you. A blooming bruise covers his face and a throbbing pain pulses in your fist. "Fuck!" You bunch up your gowns and rush out of the room which to run back to, just to drop ointment before running to your grandmother.

“I messed up,” you follow behind Melian who seems to be taken by the task of watering the garden, uncaring of your heart’s inner turmoil. “Can you hear me grandmother?!” You snatch her watering can blocking her path. 

“You did nothing wrong,” Melian replies with her unnervingly wise eyes boring into your soul. “Son of Feanor needed that wake-up call.” Of course, she knew! Nothing escaped your grandmother’s eyes. 

“I punched him!” Now you were not the one to not trust Melian, you weren’t repeating your grandfather’s mistakes. “How could he be fine with that? He probably thinks I am the same old brute.” You, much to your annoyance, find yourself watering the plants in her steed.

Melian had always known your truth. The half-human soul in your body that clung to the memories of your past life and your entanglement to the eldest son of Feanor. 

Perhaps, your soul that matched that of her daughter’s endeared you to her. Or maybe it was just a simple fondness for her grandchild. But you saw it in her gaze, a longing unfulfilled by you. Luthien Tinuviel lived in her mother’s eyes even ages past. 

Even now, parts of Tinuviel remain as your grandmother shakes her head fondly, “Nothing ever is unchanged honey, even the winds that brush the shores come back bearing brine in them. So how is it that you expect yourself and Maedhros to remain unchanged?” Plucking a swaying Lavender your grandmother tucks it behind your ear. “Love will come to you, General. Have faith.” Like a prophecy, her words imprint themselves on your heart.

Jumping into the blazing pits of his end, Maedhros had expected agony worthy of his crimes. It was supposed to be an end deserving of the likes of him. He did not wish for an existence beyond repenting the crimes of his acts. It was fitting for someone like him.

Yet, surrounded by devouring flames of his own choice, Maedhros felt nothing but a soothing stillness. It was wrong. He reached out his hand to feel the burn only for the cool sensation to ward off the flames with his movement. 

He knew. He had known it all along. Even in death, his General would stand by him. A soul so fierce that even the flames of Earth’s chasm could not diminish it. 

That could be the reason that Maedhros smiles softly before he closes his eyes. In the end, you found him. No…you’ve always had him. It is now that he can accept it free of the burdens of his life. 

Surrounded by you, Maedhros closes his eyes. His death is easy. It is most peaceful. He is undeserving of it. But it is a present he accepts. A courting present, he has accepted ages later after it was offered.

All that is left is to relay his reply. To tell you, that he is yours.

Reborn, Maedhros finds himself in the land of bliss. Surrounded by his brothers, mother, cousins. All who marvel at his recovery from a death so painful. 

He returns with a complete soul and a remaining fragment of you, that made it to his rebirth. All he has to do is wait. Maedhros awaits your return. Something that will come to pass no matter what. Because his General, never backs from promises. 

And when you do return, he will kneel to you and beg for the affection you once vowed to him. He will offer his heart, his soul, and his body which is now unmarred from the scars of the past. 

But what Maedhros did not expect was to encounter you, on the shores of Alquanlonde, dressed in finery, speaking with the tact of a skillful diplomat.

A form brighter than any other. The radiance of Maia blood was not unhidden. Such was to be expected of the daughter of Daeron, and the granddaughter of Melian herself. He knew it to be you, yet you were so different from the General of his past. 

His heart stutters at the first instance of your eyes meeting his. But he looks away from the glimmer of recognition in your eyes. Even the fragment of your soul, he possesses seems to remember its owner.

But Maedhros’ heart drowns in the waves of dilemma. 

His love for the General was warm, cozy, humble despite its depth. Yet, the person who now stood before him was different. 

His own words of the past where he jested with you, revolve in his mind.-

"Someone more refined perhaps…Someone who restrains from cursing after every other word…Enchanting eyes, long braided hair, a beauty mark or two placed by their lips, elegant nose, supple lips-".

He remembers them well. And it was as if, his General had taken every single word and made it real. 

But he is no longer worthy of a love like that. He wasn’t worthy back then and he isn’t now. A sinister part of his heart had bargained your human imperfections as a bargain for his own insecurities.

But now that too was lost to him. 

That is why he reigns his heart and lowers his eyes from you. At war with his own desires, he avoids, the one he had promised to confess to.

He does well until you find him.

It is then that he sees the spark of the past. His General who pinned him to bed, who cursed, whose hands were no less than ones of Tulkas' Maia.

His General, who does not remember to offer him ointment despite even as she rushes out of his room embarrassed.

You almost cringe when Maedhros shows up in front of you with a bruise on his face. Why were you heavy-handed even as an elven princess was beyond you…but when he asks for a private conversation you, follow him thinking of ways you could make up for how you had treated him.

Trying to ignore the wayward vine that rested on Maedhor’s head, you prepared to apologize as you should have done hours ago. Closing your eyes you push yourself in a bow, “Iamsorryishoudn’t-” your words pause when Maedhros’ speech interrupts you. And for once you let him speak as you straighten from your bow.

“I did not want you to ever think that my love for you is a result of this form or beauty.” Maedhros sighs. “I may have said things…but I loved you back then, and I love you now. How can I not love you?” He chuckles as if the thought was of fleeting mirth to him. 

“A woman reckless enough to give her soul to me, how could I not give her my heart?” His hand tentatively cups your face and you let him. “I was scared that my acceptance of this form would undermine the General. That it would make you feel less about the woman I have loved. But that is not true. And hurting you was never my intent.” His eyes look down in shame, you never intended to subject him to his hand falling down from where it rested on your cheek. 

“I let you die without ever caring for you. I have been nothing but selfish in return for your selfless affection. I treated you poorly for a crime you never committed. I always desired you but never held myself accountable to be worthy of being desired by you. Even now my heart is full of cowardice. Despite vowing to wait for you, I could not even summon the courage to look you in the eyes once I found you.” much to your surprise, the mountain of an elf kneels at your feet with his head bowed to the ground. “I am flawed. Greedy and self-serving even in my love. How can I ever ask more of you?” His hands fall emptily next to him in defeat. 

“Maedhros,” you try your best to avoid an overly sentimental choked up voice. Instead you crouch next to him gripping his slumped shoulders, that seemed unnatural for someone as prideful as him.“You are a fucking fool of an elf.” You tilt up his chin and look into his eyes. “Since when did love become a trade? When did it become so tangible as to weigh it in our actions?” Your thumb caresses the tilt of his jaw as you find yourself spilling all that had been left in your heart. 

“Even as a human General, I knew that my love for you was enough. I did not need to measure it with sweet gestures or sickeningly sweet words. I knew that I was born to love you and on the battlefield, I found out that I would die to love you. It is a fate I have chosen of my free will.” It is not for the first time that you marvel at the innate Elven skill to make up the poetic declarations out of most simple conversations. 

“I have forced the hand of doom itself to join me to you. So who are you to deny me?” You could not stop the smug smirk forming on your face. Arrogance, too perhaps was an Elven trait. 

Like an obedient pup, Maedhros sits in front of you, leaning into the touch of your palm. “You make me into a pathetic elf, General,” much to your surprise Maedhros’ voice cracks as you swiftly wipe the tears on his face. “But I am nothing but an absolute wretch without you. How unfair is that.” With a broken sob, your beloved pulls you into a hug.

And by the fragrant gardens of your grandma’s palace, you found love again. While being pretty sure, that she could very well be listening to your idiotic words but you allowed it. She deserved the show after being a part of it. 

And that is how, you a General from the East, became the first one to create a soulmate of your choice.

[thiccpersonality]

Do you, mayhaps, mean Ramadan?

It was a beautiful morning in Gotham, surprising every individual of the usually smoggy and dull city. Today the weather decided to treat all Gothamites kindly with a very spring feeling day! The sun was out, the weather was warm enough to feel comfortable and not too hot while the breeze blew just enough to feel a pleasant kind of cool, and the Wayne family has decided to take advantage of such gorgeous weather.

Bruce and his cousin Kate Kane sit under a large umbrella, the woman sipping on her ice cold lemonade while she gets Stephanie to slather some sunscreen on her.

Bruce himself sipping on his strawberry lemonade while watching his children have fun, his youngest child curled up next to his chair while sitting on his pool towel and finishing up homework so he can-in his own words-"demolish his siblings in pool games."

Bruce sighs in contentment while situating his sunglasses on his nose and reaching a hand down to gently pat Damian's head, the boy unconsciously leaning up into his hand while writing down more stuff into his workbook. Bruce is just glad that his youngest was able to enjoy himself today, the young boy was disappointed at not being able to go to boxing classes today, his two teachers couldn't make it today.

The small, peaceful moment is interrupted by Damian gasping softly as if he's remembered something. The boy sending a quick glare Jason and Richard's way when they start splashing water the youngest boy's way. Bruce quickly lowers his glasses so he can look at his baby son properly and look at him curiously, "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

Damian finishes up the last of his homework and looks up at his dad while nodding. "Oh, yes father. Everything is just fine. I just realized the reason my two boxing teachers couldn't teach me today."

Kate sips at her drink and waves her hand at Stephanie, signaling to the girl that she can finally leave to play in the pool, the redhead ignoring Bruce's small glare at her for using his kids as personal servants. The woman focuses her eyes on Damian and smiles, "Oh, yeah? And what reason is that?"

Damian looks up in intense thought, "It's because they are celebrating Muhammad-uh...Muhammadan? Muhammad Ali day!"

A loud burst of laughter comes from the edge of the pool, the three turning to look at Tim-who has leaned over the edge of the pool-curiously. "Damian, do you mean Ramadan?"

Damian blushes and looks down embarrassed while his siblings bust out laughing at his cute mistake. Bruce holding in his laughter long enough to wait for his baby son to dive into the pool and out of hearing range with the threats of drowning his siblings for daring to mock him.

(I totally head cannon that Kate Kane uses Bruce's many children to help her as personal servants 😂. Not in a mean way, but she takes advantage of the free help since he has so many, she gets annoyed at how he keeps such good track on them though...it makes it more difficult to steal them away lol.

And this was based off of something me and my twin's baby brother said. He was trying to think of and say Ramadan, but he said "Muhammadan" and "Muhammad Ali Day" instead. We had a good laugh at that one.

You darlings please stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always and I hope all and any were able to enjoy this short and simple mini-fic thing? 💛)

[physalian]

A Case Against “Redemption = Death”

“Redemption = Death” is, in my opinion, one of the laziest “telling not showing” cop-outs you can write, and it happens over and over and over again. It’s manipulative, it’s cheap, it kneecaps the character’s development, it undermines the meaning of a true redemption, and it promotes a message that some people are so evil, the *only* redemption for them is the ultimate sacrifice.

**Taking an aside here to plainly ignore religious connotations and focus on the success or failure of a satisfying character arc**

I hate this trope. I have never seen a flawless execution of this trope in its basest form: Evil bad guy is evil for 99% of their story, and in the 11th hour has an out-of-character realization that they’ve done wrong and sacrifices themself for the heroes, whom they don’t actually care about, for ~drama~.

Today’s writing advice is pretty straightforward: Please stop doing this. It tends to happen in action movies like the superhero genre, but also in action-heavy sci-fi and fantasy where rich character development is sacrificed for spectacle and cool battles. I love action movies, even the stupid ones, and I firmly believe that they can do better.

1. It’s manipulative

A malignant evildoer who shows zero remorse for their entire story, commits heinous acts of violence and abuse, who murders, steals, beats, cheats, betrays, and uses other characters does not earn any shed tears over their ultimate sacrifice.

Time and time again, the big bad will do a 180 and leave the protagonist distraught over how to react to this, often with lines like “maybe he was a hero all along,” or “you know he really wasn’t that bad”. (a la Snape before we all woke up and realized he's a whiny Nice Guy)

Nope. He was actually that bad, and his final act of terror was convincing you to give a damn about him and regret not being able to save him (and it is always male characters. It’s always men. Find me a story where it’s a woman and I will gladly read it and complain about her, too).

This character has only themselves to blame for their Tragic Backstory. They were never a tragic hero, they didn’t fall from grace. There was never any hope or expectation that they could do better, the hero isn’t even trying to redeem them, it just happens in an attempt to engineer depth where there isn’t any.

2. It’s cheap

A hastily-written “redemption” tips the author’s hand, showing that they didn’t plan for or can’t conceptualize how to fix the mess they’ve made. Now, maybe the villain dies in the last chapter of the book and the story has no room for the aftermath anyway—that’s fine. It’s only a problem when the villain gets an unfounded “he wasn’t so bad” reflection by the survivors to scribble a deeper meaning and message for the story in the final lap.

If you’re planning from the start to have your villain be “not that bad,” provide any evidence other than them deciding maybe they don’t want the world to burn as the clock on the nuke counts down to zero.

This would be like if Gandalf told Pippin Denethor was actually a decent guy as the man flings himself off Gondor's tallest tower after nearly burning his son alive.

3. It kneecaps the character’s potential

Character deaths, whether they’re permanent or not, are generally treated by the other characters as permanent and final in the moment. There’s tears, there’s funerals, there’s grief and regret over what could have been, what might’ve been, what should have been.

And all of that development goes straight to the surviving characters, not the one that died.

Your dead evildoer can’t prove they’re trying to do better once they’re dead. They can’t show their remorse, they can’t show how they planned to fix all their mistakes, they can’t follow through with choosing the path of “good”. They’re dead.

You killed them to avoid the hard work of having to write them as a good guy.

4. It undermines the meaning of a true redemption

Self-sacrifice is a noble end, but self-sacrifice because a character can’t imagine actually committing to the long and bumpy road of fixing all their mistakes is cowardice. The people they hurt are still suffering, the wrongs they committed still need answering for, the damage they’ve done still needs rectifying and dying leaves all that work to those who survive them.

They’ve done nothing to prove they’re worthy of redemption except to stop digging their hole deeper and at that point they’re not “redeemed” they’re only marginally defined as a “tragic hero” by the skin of their teeth, depending on what catastrophe they prevent with their death.

5. It argues that some people aren’t worth redeeming

Ironically, “redemption = death” proves the exact opposite of the case you’re trying to make. They die because they’re convinced they must, because not a single other character could either talk them out of it, or cared enough to show them death wasn’t the only option.

“Redemption” is only for those who everyone thinks aren’t worth redeeming. But he’s irredeemable! Is he? Or do you just want to see him punished and have zero faith that he can’t at least try to right his wrongs?

This would be like if Zuko showed up at the Western Air Temple and instead of becoming Aang's fire bending teacher, he died fighting Combustion Man or Azula in a blaze of glory, all because Katara would not budge from her "he's evil and always will be" stance.

Or, if Zuko died in the last agni-kai, taking Azula down with him, as if the story said "yeahhhhh, we just gotta go clean slate here and expunge the whole Fire Family, but hey, Zuko did stop Azula in his blaze of glory".

—

But what happens when “redemption = death” is actually satisfying? Aka, not a redeemed villain, just a tragic hero. So let’s look at a famous example: Darth Vader.

This is a character that checks two boxes: He has one pillar of light determined to save him, and he’s shown before his moment of sacrifice to have some remorse. It doesn’t come out of nowhere.

He’s not redeemed, though, because his one act of murder-suicide may end the war (ignoring the sequel trilogy) but doesn’t undo all the damage and lives lost and planets destroyed. He’s just a tragic hero.

Sometimes, however, this character knows the only way all the evil ends is with their death. They know they’re doomed because by their continued existence, evil persists, and they literally cannot live on to fix things because things will never be fixable so long as they’re still breathing. Or, they’re terminally ill and incurable through their own machinations with the Big Bad and will die no matter what they do, might as well go out swinging.

Greed, from Fullmetal Alchemist fits here. He spent more time as a reluctant good guy occasionally doing bad and selfish things because his essence is chained to a good guy, but he cannot survive the story, because by his very nature, he’s a piece of the main villain.

But even then, Greed’s redemption comes *before* he dies, we all already love his character, this is just the tragic icing on the cake. His realization that, in his final act, he becomes the most selfless character in the show—the antithesis of his entire being.

Your mid-redemption character redeems themselves as much as they can while they still breathe. They help the other heroes, they teach the team everything they know, they show their plans for a better future and have even built tools to help the survivors thrive. They’ve dreamed about being a part of this future that’s barred from them. They’ve fully understood and accepted the consequences of their actions. They understand that their final punishment is never living to see the paradise they nearly destroyed.

Even if they can’t change the world with their actions, they’ve done all the emotional and personal labor they can manage with those that they’ve hurt. They’ve made friends, allies, even romantic endeavors.

And when they die and the heroes mourn, they mourn the hero that this redeemed villain became, not who they imagined this villain could be if they tried, if they'd made different choices. At that point, redemption didn’t even equal death for them, redemption was the short road to recovery before the consequences of their actions finally caught up with them.

[killugon-truther]

“gon didn’t even know kite for very long/that well.” [hxh CAA analysis]

one criticism i’ve seen a few ppl have abt gon during his actions during the CAA is that he didn’t know kite for very long or very well, and so it doesn’t make sense that gon would have lost himself so quickly and entirely.

and ofc it’s fine for ppl to have this opinion, but i disagree, bc i feel like it’s a blatant simplification and misunderstanding of gon’s character, what his development during the CAA was rly caused by, and what it meant; this is what this analysis is abt.

while it’s true that gon didn’t know kite for very long or very well, that’s not really relevant when it comes to what’s affecting gon so deeply.

firstly, let’s not forget that kite saved him from a foxbear mother who was trying to protect its cub all those years ago. and when they meet again years later, he saves him & killua (along w killua pushing him out of the way) from an ant that was nearby.

while these scenes can be easy to gloss over, they’re also both definitely important, esp the first save; i believe gon idolized kite the moment he did, cementing him as a “golden figure” in his life/mind, and why wouldn’t he? he was a very little boy who was in life-threatening danger and then was swiftly saved right before anything fatal could occur.

at the same time, he was negatively affected by kite’s actions and words (but more his words than anything), which were to punch and chastise him bc his own ignorance has caused kite to have to take the life of a creature’s life. i believe that this, along w gon alr feeling abandoned by ging (ik gon often plays it off well, but i feel like he’s been displaying he’s insecurities surrounding that since the beginning), the other “golden figure” in his mind/life, encouraged his feelings of weakness and lack of self esteem.

those feelings of admiration of kite, probably thinking “wow, he’s so cool and strong!” and feelings of disappointment towards himself, probably thinking “and i must be anything but”, had been festering inside of him for years, the same way the effects of ging’s abandonment had. from the beginning, gon has felt the need to prove himself using his own strength, or else he’s weak and unworthy; it’s a dangerous and destructive cycle born from his black-and-white mindset.

the same way gon blamed himself for kite’s death, he blamed himself for the mama foxbear’s death. if he had known better, if he had been stronger, then that animal wouldn’t have had to die bc of him. kite wouldn’t have died bc of him.

so, basically, it’s not just kite dying that set gon off, it’s how it made him feel abt himself; personal insecurities and doubts that he alr had since early in the series began to bubble and overflow before eventually erupting entirely.

secondly, as i mentioned before, kite and ging are gon’s “golden figures”: the mentors he admires, the ppl he sees as being sm above him, and he needs to reach them in order to be worth what we wants to do in the first place, his over-arching life goal; successfully meeting ging. to him, kite’s worsening state and then eventual confirmation of death all say that if he can’t do smth as important as saving and fixing his friend, fixing his own mistake, then he’s definitely not worthy of meeting ging. he’s not worthy of anybody or anything except suffering.

thirdly, while their time together was fairly limited, it wasn’t like it was devoid of meaningfulness; kite served as an important mentor to both killua and gon when they rly needed it, and he helped them survive through his actions, words, and influence (such as the time he saved gon’s life again, this time from centipede, and when he advised gon to stay focused w his eyes open & to always destroy the head).

if i have any criticisms, comments, or anything u wanna add to my analysis, pls do!! hope you enjoyed it.

[mj-iza-writer]

Deaf Whump... I've been watching a lot of YouTube shorts from the deaf community lately. I love exclusivity in my writing and making my characters human. Please do forgive any errors I've made in representing the deaf community in this story, I also have two others in the works. I am not hearing impaired, but I support awareness for the deaf community. I hope you enjoy. -MJ

It started with frustration.

Whumper had found out their hearing loss was progressively getting worse. They had months before hearing would be next to impossible unless something was done.

"Hearing aids", Whumper sighed, "and those may not even help."

Whumper wanted to punch someone, hit something. Maybe that would help.

They drove past a clearly homeless person.

"That could work, they won't be missed", Whumper turned around. Without a second thought the person was in Whumper's trunk.

Once home, Whumper left the person in a spare room and got ready.

Whumper walked into the room they could partially hear them yelling... the person was..... signing.

"Shit are you deaf?", Whumper signed as they turned pale.

"Yes" the person fearfully signed, "are you?"

"Almost", Whumper looked down in defeat, all fight left them.

"My name is Whumpee", the person signed, still panicked, "please don't hurt me."

"I'm sorry, I'm Whumper. Please forgive me. I've made a terrible mistake", Whumper looked up tearfully, "I'm so sorry."

Whumper learned that Whumpee's expenses for their hearing loss were what landed them on the streets.

"If you're okay with it, you can stay here", Whumper offered, "it's unfair that we have to pay for our disability, but I'll help as much as I can."

That was a few years ago, and boy did Whumpee liked to poke fun at Whumper with that reminder. They now loved bickering back and forth like it was a game.

"Whumper can you....", Whumpee spoke and signed.

Whumper grinned as they reached for their hearing aids.

"Don't you dare", Whumpee signed frantically.

Whumper pulled their hearing aids out and set them on their lap.

"I don't want to hear you right now", they grumbled.

Whumpee frowned, "then look at me", they signed.

Whumper pulled out their phone and completely ignored Whumpee.

Whumpee picked up a tennis ball and threw it at Whumper.

Whumper just laughed as it bounced off their leg.

"Watch out for my hearing aids", they signed with a smirk.

Whumpee rubbed their temples out of frustration and left the room.

Whumper watched them leave and chuckled to themself.

Whumpee came back after a few minutes carrying a spray bottle.

"Don't you dare", Whumper signed as they watched Whumpee inch closer.

"Put those aids in or sign to me then", Whumpee threatened.

"Fine", Whumper sighed as they placed the aids back in their ear, "what do you need?", Whumper signed.

"I need to go to the store or have a few things ordered", Whumpee signed.

"Okay, well, I need to go to the store anyways", Whumper stood with a sigh, "let's go", they signed.

At the store Whumpee grabbed the few things they needed before they dragged Whumper into clothing.

"You don't need any clothing", Whumper signed.

"Yes I do", Whumpee grinned as they looked.

Their eyes got big as they noticed a display for deaf awareness.

"Look, look", they signed happily.

"Okay, that's cool", Whumper looked over some of the display, "pick out a few things."

A few people walked by and pointed out the display.

"They'll celebrate anything nowadays", someone commented.

Whumpee was too busy to read their lips, but Whumper unfortunately heard the comment.

Whumper tapped Whumpee's shoulder and started signing. Whumper glared at the group as they watched them turn and quickly walk away.

Whumpee looked at them confused, "why are you telling me about a dog driving to the ocean?", Whumpee signed.

Whumper laughed not realizing what they were actually signing, then told Whumpee what had happened.

"Morons", Whumpee signed.

Whumper nodded, "I'm taking a hearing break", they signed, "let's use signing for right now."

Whumpee picked out two ASL (American Sign Language) hoodies, then their was a small statue that they had to have.

Later as they were leaving the store, they saw the group again.

Whumper and Whumpee both glared at the group.

The group held their head low trying to ignore the glare.

Whumper turned up their hearing aids.

"Hey", Whumper called, "keep in mind awareness is important for many groups. What you said was extremely rude and hurtful, and I hope you've learned your lesson."

One person from the group turned and apologized while the rest kept walking.

"That's why we need awareness", Whumper called again, "because some of you just don't get it."

Whumpee nodded.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109

[gazing-at-my-stage]

hi question feel free to ignore if this is weird or anything but howd u find out that ur fictionkin and like whats it feel like

cuz most of the time i dont feel like im a human or anything (some of that could be self esteem issues but i think pretty highly of myself so probably not) and usually i just feel more like a character than a human?? if that makes sense???

idk im js a bit confused and u seem cool so i thought i'd ask u

-- m

I am indeed very cool, thank you for asking!

Firstly, I must emphasize one thing: it is perfectly fine to be wrong. If you believe you are fictionkin, identify as such, and realize out later down the line that you were wrong, that is fine. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. We all make mistakes.

I figured out I wasn't human before I figured out I was fictionkin (specifically that I was a ghost), so that was pretty neat. I ended up indulging in kff, like making jokes with friends about how "I totally kin x character!" and taking those silly "who do you kin?" quizzes on quotev and uquiz. I don't really remember how I actually figured it out, but somewhere along the lines I began to genuinely identify as a couple of characters and even used one of their names for awhile. I think part of it came from being very close to the host of a fictive-heavy system and them also discovering their kin identities that encouraged me to look into it.

I'd like to note: my identity as nonhuman (including being fictionkin) is heavily, if not solely due to me having MaDD. Fiction and reality are equal in my mind and I spend the same amount of time in both, an invested in both just as much as the other, etc you get the idea. I recently discovered a pattern with my daydreams in the regard that I subconsciously daydream about my 'types in scenarios with my f/os and other characters I really care about even before I realize they're a 'type, which has helped a lot but obviously isn't applicable to everyone. For this reason, I am a psychological nonhuman.

Back on topic (sorry my ADHD got the best of me)! Firstly, not feeling that you are human is a pretty good start to being alterhuman! If you feel like a character, you may very well be. However, it's just like sexuality and gender identity: I can't tell you if you are or not, only you can. It sounds pretty possible for you.

Being fictionkin feels...slightly odd but not that much. I'm me, but "me" happens to be like a dozen different fictional characters. For some 'types, I just looked at them and went "ME!" and boom, there was my answer. For others, it took (and is still taking, in some cases) lots of contemplation and experimentation. Do you feel comfortable being referred to as the fictional character you are kinsidering? Do you look at source and think "that's me!" Do you feel a connection to any other source characters? If your answer to any of these was yes, your chances are good. If you said no, your chances are still pretty good because the fictionkin experience is unique to each individual.

I experience kin shifts with some of my stronger kintypes, but not everyone does. It comes in subtle ways, such as referring to Shu as oshi-san subconsciously when I'm Mika shifted, suddenly loving myself when I'm Kaname shifted or Hiyori (cameo) shifted, and more! Again, this is not a universal experience, and really, there aren't any qualifications to being fictionkin besides...well, identifying as a fictional character.

Even if you aren't fictionkin, there are other possibilities! What are these possibilities, you might ask? Well, allow me to list them below!

Fictionkin - identifying as / being a fictional character

Fictionhearted - identifying with / relating to a fictional character

You'll notice the simple difference between these two. Both involve a strong connection to a fictional character, but one is being that character while the other is heavily relating to the character andor their experiences. It's easy to get the two mixed up, but it boils down to whether you are the character, or whether you are connected to the character.

But wait, there's more!

Otherlink - voluntarily choosing to "link" (aka identify as)

Copinglink - otherlink, but the reason is specifically as a way to cope (this is still a voluntary experience)

Note: otherlink, and by extension copinglink, are voluntary identities, meaning they are chosen. If you choose your identity, it is a linktype and not a kintype. Also, otherlink and copinglink are general terms not specific to fictional characters, so they could apply to identifying as an animal, plant, concept, song, etc literally any kin identity if it is chosen.

Fictionflicker - temporarily (and often frequently) identifying as a character, but not all the time

Paratype - a kin identity directly caused by another kin identity (for example: having Draculara as a kintype, but solely due to being vampirekin)

Cameotype - not a kintype, but is still a part of one's identity in some way (most often, this comes in the form of "cameo shifts", where someone experiences a shift of an animal/character/concept/etc literally anything else that is not a kintype. For example: experiencing Draculara shifts but not identifying as Draculara in any capacity)

There is so, so much more to all of this, but I hope this can help! If you have more questions, feel free to ask me! You can also look through tags just to get a general feel of things, that has helped me a lot!

[silviakundera]

Lighter and Princess ep 3

Ah, this is where reality finally gives us a wave and departs completely. Young ML the super genius master-hacker freshman that builds an extra special genius virus in like 30 minutes while the FL watches, interfering with school property, and the entire IT department and then his professor marvel at his brilliance, not at all threatened or irritated or threatening disciplinary action. And we were doing so well.

Gotta say, I think FL isn't entirely wrong when labelling ML a poser. He's authentically not socialable and contrary, but he's trying it on a bit too hard like kids do PLUS he obviously isn't as disinterested in her as he's trying to front. She's a very pretty girl and he could simply ignore her. But he takes multiple actions to get her notice, after that 1st fateful cafetaria mistake.

Gao's fixation on ML seems suspicious and creepy but tbh that might be just my bias since I know in the future/present he's sketchy.

Episode 4

yeaaaaah he's so into her. Oh you're way too cool and counter culture to be interested in pretty girls. Everyone believes you.

I love how fried his hair looks. That's really the look of a university kid who just bleached his hair in the bathroom. And the long sleeves striped shirt under the black tshirt 👌. Kudos to the stylist.

Zhu Yun the FL and these over achiever students starting to get on my nerves now. I'm not even distracted by FL's luminous beauty because I'm buying into her student persona too well and it's not my type.

ML flipping the script and pretending (?) to hit on her at the school assembly whatever was pretty ballsy of him. Sometimes he tries so hard to be 'different' that he's actually not much more original than these other kids (just mimicking a different role) and it's endearing but a lil dorky to my 40-something self. But other times he's actually got the spirit and I'm feeling his sullen & mischevious magnetism. The type of kid I would have hung out with at that age.

lolololol pretending so hard not to care but if she had gone for it you know he would have dated her.

The invest in the band girl scene from the flashbacks! Kinda exciting to fit a piece together. Don't really know what their connection is, maybe I missed it. but nice to see him relaxed and smiling without putting on an act for once. idk maybe there really isn't a backstory. I tended to know a lot of the other counterculture people in my district, at least enough to say hi to. why not?

Episode 5

I'm so done with the past RETURN ME TO HOT GRADUATE FL 😭😭😭😭😭

I did like the lil scene with Future Villain Gao and FL where she really rejects Gao's reasoning of quitting to save face and not get humiliated. Being like, nah that's fine if we're the only 2 people and no one else wants to join us. See, that's actually dgaf i do what i want energy and you can see why she is ML's type. Oddly reminiscent of the Thousand Autumns otp - demonic sect leader realizes that the uber good, incorruptible cultivator is actually just as unbending and iconoclastic as he is... It's just that they are standing for different things.

dear asian drama writers, we truly madly deeply do NOT require female extras to dramatically fawn over a male character to indicate they are desirable. Just write them that way!! This shit is too ridiculous and knocks me out of the story.

tbh Gao may be Potentially Evil but ML Li Xun is insufferable when he starts pontificating about what a special programmer snowflake he is.

lmao I wonder if any instinctive part of him feels uneasy that he's the one in the crowd. She's comparatively going against the grain.

but kids, you obviously like each other. making all these excuses to hang out all night together smh. Just give it up and kiss.

THE PIG KEY MOMENTO from the future. another piece slots in!

I see, so mom makes every decision for FL. That's why she's so stubbornly rebellious against ML's percieved takeover of their class. She's instinctively rebelling against his leadership. She's reacting against him acting as the authority on comp sci and dicating the 'right' way to learn and be a programmer -- become she can't rebel against her mother.

[thatradfailure]

Came across a post today.

I want to be clear about the mistakes of my past: I have drawn the w-nd-g- before out of ignorance, and I don't condone those past actions. But after trying to find the posts where ACTUAL natives try to explain that using the creature is deeply insensitive, as is calling it a cryptid, and just seeing a lot of people who aren't native just throw their pleas aside, I just need to say it. I'm frustrated. I've seen the posts before but now I can't find any but one of them. I know I've reblogged them (because I've grown as a person and will be editing the caption of the art I posted to remove the link to the creature) yet they elude me now and I'm not sure how to find them again.

I think it's more important to listen to the voices begging us non-Natives to stop than to listen to the ones who aren't offended. If you're not offended, cool, that's fine. But it's also not your place to say that just because YOU aren't offended, that it's perfectly ok. It's literally like a black guy or a gay guy telling their cishet white friend that it's ok to use slurs, period. It's not. Are they slightly different situations? Slightly, because I think you can reclaim slurs and give others the ok to use slurs to refer to only you, but maybe not the w-nd-g-. Then again, I am white and have no affiliation with any Native cultures, at all.

Still. We NEED to uplift Native voices about the appropriation of their cultures because it is still INCREDIBLY rampant. We need to listen to them, assess our own biases, and hear out how to best support them and their cultural practices.

Their legends and mythology are not our toys.