#This one gave me the biggest struggle and I’m still not satisfied | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

junghelioseok · 4 years ago

Text

clandestine. | 01

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 10.3k [1/6]

notes: this fic was originally going to be a oneshot, but i changed my mind and decided i didn’t want to kill tumblr with a totally unnecessary 50k jk fic so 🤷🏻‍♀️ here is part one of a fic that 100% only came about because @puellaigmotum coerced me into it like 2 years ago (lmao rip 💀) and also bc i have zero self-control and am hopelessly h*rny for jungkook these days and don’t look at me i don’t wanna talk about it okay??? 🙈

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink, some ~under the table~ action, too much detail about jk’s dumb veiny arms probably, but at least he doesn’t have tattoos bc i started writing this before he got them and i don’t need to torture myself anymore than i already do!!!

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

It’s always been easy to spot your brother in a crowd. Passengers flood off the train, jostling around you on their way to the station’s exit, but even in the swarm you can perfectly see Jimin’s golden head of hair bobbing its way toward you, a deep scowl etched across his face. “You’re late,” he says in lieu of a greeting, his honey brown eyes raking over your scuffed suitcase distastefully as he comes to a stop a few feet away.

“And you’re just as impatient as ever,” you retort, coming to a stop before him with your luggage in tow. “Think you can lord it over me since you can drive now?”

“Don’t forget that I’m your ride home,” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I could just as easily leave you here to fend for yourself.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you tell him, raising a brow in silent challenge.

Jimin stares down at you unflinchingly, and you stare right back. The tension stretches between you, taut and heavy, until every passing second feels like a light year. Around you, the crowd slowly dissipates, but still you remain—two motionless statues locked in a wordless struggle. From somewhere overhead, a monotone voice announces the next train departure times.

Jimin’s mouth twitches. You blink, twice in quick succession.

And then your little brother breaks into a grin—one that’s so wide you fear his mouth may detach from his face entirely. An answering smile settles across your face as you watch him throw his head back, dissolving into laughter that you can’t help but echo.

“Damn it, Chim!” you say, instinctively grabbing onto his wrist when it looks like he might fall over. “Your poker face still sucks.”

“I’ve gotten better!” Jimin immediately defends. “I mean, you’ve got to admit that, right?”

“Nope.” You sigh and hold a hand over your head so you can measure your height against his ever-so-slightly taller frame. “Same old annoying kid I grew up with. Seriously, have you grown at all in the past year?”

“Whoa, too far, Noona.” Jimin takes ahold of both of your cheeks, pinching them affectionately. “You’re only a year older than me, you know. Besides, I’ve been taller than you for two years now!”

“I’m pretty sure hitting puberty at age seventeen isn’t something to be proud of,” you reply, pulling away from him with a mock grimace and giggling when he lets out an offended squeak. Playfully, you reach up to ruffle his hair, scrubbing your knuckles just a little too roughly against his skull.

“Noonaaa,” he complains, drawing out the last syllable until he runs out of air. “Jeez, you haven’t even been back for an hour yet and you’re already being mean to me. When do you go back to Seoul again?”

“Three weeks,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. “But I can and will make these three weeks hell for you. Don’t test me.”

Jimin snickers and drapes his arm over your shoulders. He picks up your suitcase with the other hand, and you thank him with another, gentler hair ruffle as the two of you start toward the exit of the train station. “College hasn’t changed you one bit.”

“And senior year hasn’t changed you,” you say, letting him guide you outside and breathing in the balmy summer evening air. Jimin’s brow furrows as he tries to remember where he’s parked, and you kindly take your suitcase back when he nods decisively and heads toward the left side of the lot. “You excited to graduate?”

He sighs, fumbling in his pocket for the keys as the two of you approach the car. “It’s going to suck. Your ceremony was boring as hell last year.”

“Wow, rude.”

Jimin looks up from where he’s unlocking the driver’s side door. “Am I wrong, though?”

You flash him a grin as he unlocks the remaining doors, heaving your suitcase into the backseat before sliding into the passenger seat beside him. “Nope. But afterward, you’ll be done with high school forever.”

“Thank god.” Your brother rakes a hand through his hair, mussing it further as he carefully starts the ignition and checks his mirrors with all the diligence of a new driver. Once satisfied, he pulls out of the parking space, meandering his way out of the lot and onto the main street.

The ride back to your childhood home is a short one, full of familiar storefronts and landmarks that dredge up all sorts of fond memories. You hadn’t expected your first year of university—away from your family and your hometown—to make you quite so emotional. But before you know it, Jimin is making the turn into your neighborhood, and you can’t stop the way your eyes begin to well up when you see your house in the distance.

As if reading your mind, Jimin glances at you as he pulls into the driveway. “Feel good to be home?”

You nod, blinking back tears. “Feels great.”

He grins. Pulling the key from the ignition, he climbs out of the car and grabs your suitcase, waving for you to head inside. Eagerly, you start toward the front door, but you barely make it halfway up the driveway when it bursts open, revealing your father standing there with open arms and an enormous grin. He’s just as tall as you remember, and looks exactly the same save a few more strands of silver lacing his hair. All of a sudden, you’re a little girl again, running up to give him a hug and giggling madly when he tries to scoop you up like he used to do so many years ago.

“Hi Dad,” you greet when he gives up and sets you back down on two feet. “Where’s Mom?”

“Cooking up a storm,” he replies, chortling. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he leads you into the kitchen where your mother is hunched over the stove with a spatula, delicious aromas wafting up from the array of pots and pans in front of her. “Honey, look who’s home!”

“Hi Mom,” you say, grinning when she whirls around, startled. The spatula, still dangling loosely from her hand, drips sauce onto the tiled floor, but she barely notices in her eagerness to give you a hug, throwing it down into one of the simmering pots and striding forward to wrap you up in a tight embrace.

“How was your trip?” she asks, pulling back and angling your face this way and that. “Did you sleep on the ride? Did Jimin drive safely?”

The last question draws a protesting whine from your brother, who has lugged your suitcase over the threshold and is now seated at the dining table, fiddling with a spoon. “My driving was fine, right Noona?” he says, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

“Yes, Chim,” you agree, laughing at the pleased expression that overtakes his face. Curiously, you walk over to the stove to inspect the food, your jaw dropping as you take in the assorted vegetables and meats. “Wow, Mom. Are you cooking for an army?”

“Jungkook is coming over for dinner,” she explains, following you over and plucking up the spatula again. “That boy has the biggest appetite I’ve ever seen—you remember, right?”

You laugh. “Of course I remember. He and Jimin were always stealing bites of my lunch at school.” Peering over at your brother, you fix him with a mock glare before walking over to the cutting board on the counter and sizing up the pile of onions and peppers sitting there. “It’ll be nice to see him again, though. How is he doing?”

To your surprise, a new voice answers your question—a voice that somehow manages to be simultaneously familiar and foreign. “Why don’t you ask me directly, Noona?” it says, and you whirl around, wide-eyed, to face the newcomer.

This can’t possibly be Jeon Jungkook, is your first thought upon seeing the young man standing in the kitchen doorway. The Jungkook you knew in high school was a scrawny kid—all gangly limbs and a nose that was too big for his face. The Jungkook you knew wore oversized white t-shirts that made him look even younger than he was, a look that was only enhanced by round wire-rimmed glasses that always gave him a look of permanent astonishment. The Jungkook you knew was nowhere near this tall, and definitely not this broad.

But this Jungkook—this Jungkook takes up nearly the entire doorframe with his bulk. Dark eyes stare at you from beneath equally dark hair, his gaze unhindered by his old glasses. A cobalt blue shirt stretches tight over his chest, and you swallow when you notice just how much the buttons are straining to contain the muscle underneath. Black jeans and simple black sneakers complete his outfit, and the entire look is so jarringly different from what you’re used to that you are left momentarily speechless, gaping like a fish out of water. Vaguely, you wonder when he got his ears pierced.

And then Jungkook—or at least, the young man claiming to be Jungkook—takes three steps forward, his entire face melting into a crinkly-eyed grin. You catch a glimpse of the adorably prominent front teeth that always made him look like a rabbit, and that’s all it takes to break the spell.

“Jungkookie!” you exclaim, darting forward to greet him. “It’s been so long!”

“Hi, Noona,” he replies, his grin widening at your approach. In an instant, he has you wrapped up in an embrace, easily lifting you off the floor in a display of strength that would’ve had a lesser woman swooning. His hands curl firmly around your waist, and you have no choice but to wrap yours around his nape, squeaking in protest when he spins you in a full circle.

“Kookie!” you gasp, wriggling helplessly in his grasp and huffing when he only cackles. “Put me down!”

Obediently, Jungkook lowers you back to the ground. His hands linger on your waist until he’s certain that both your feet are planted firmly, and it’s only then that he pulls back to get a good look at your face. “You know I’d never drop you, right?” he asks innocently.

“As if I can trust anything that comes out of your mouth,” you retort with a laugh. “I’ve seen you scam your way out of detention with those pretty doe eyes. Don’t try me, kid.”

Jungkook snorts. “Kid? I’m not that much younger than you. Plus I’m older than Jimin, y’know.”

“By a month!” your brother protests from the dining room, his blond head popping up from behind the vase of daisies serving as a centerpiece.

“Month and a half,” Jungkook stage-whispers to you, cupping a hand and bringing his mouth to your ear conspiratorially. His breath tickles your cheek, and you swat him away with a giggle that becomes a full-on laugh when Jimin lets out an offended cry and rises to his feet. Striding over, he pokes Jungkook squarely in the chest, his eyes narrowed.

“I invite you over to my house and this is the thanks I get?”

Your dad chooses that moment to interrupt from the living room. “Your house? When exactly did you start paying rent, Jimin?”

Jimin’s jaw drops. “Are you taking his side?” he asks in disbelief, glaring at Jungkook when he starts laughing. “I’m your son!”

“I’m your father,” your dad replies.

“And I’m your mother,” your mom pipes up, brandishing a spoon. “And I’m telling all of you to get your butts over to that dining table in the next ten seconds, or no dinner for any of you.”

Your dad, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately fall silent, cowed by her proclamation. Grinning, you join your mother at the counter, grabbing a handful of spoons and accepting the platter of kimchi she hands over. “Direct as always, Mom.”

She laughs and picks up a bowl of rice. “To deal with men like them? You have to be.”

Food in hand, you make your way into the dining room. The table is set, the steaming food arranged neatly in the center, and you watch as your mother takes her seat next to Jimin and leaves you to sit beside Jungkook on the opposite side. Your father beams from his spot at the head of the table, glancing at each of you in turn before turning and giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Look at you kids, all sitting at the same table again.” He sighs, and you’re certain that he’s thinking back to the last time all of you were together—well over a year ago, at this point. “It’s a shame that your parents couldn’t join us, though, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, they told me to apologize on their behalf. They have tickets for the theatre tonight, and couldn’t get a refund on them.”

Your father laughs and waves the apology off. “I’m sure we’ll catch them next time,” he says. “Pretty hard to avoid each other when you live next door, isn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Jungkook agrees with a chuckle. Then he turns to you, the silver hoops in his ears glinting in the light from the overhead chandelier. “I’m sure they’ll drop by soon to see you, Noona. Mom wants to hear all about Seoul—I think she’s worried about sending me so far away by myself.”

“Junghyun stayed in Busan for university, didn’t he?” your mom asks.

Jungkook nods. “Yep, he still lives downtown and everything. He wanted to come over tonight, but his work wouldn’t let him take the time off.”

Your mom sighs. “That’s such a shame. Is he at least attending your graduation?”

“He’s driving in the day after tomorrow for the ceremony,” Jungkook confirms. Then he pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His gaze flickers down to the plate of sweet potatoes on the other side of the table, and before he can even open his mouth, your mother is already passing him the plate. He thanks her with an embarrassed chuckle but digs into the food nonetheless, and everyone else takes it as a sign to follow suit. You’re in the middle of scooping rice into your bowl when Jimin speaks up again.

“So what’s it like living in Seoul?” he asks, his cheeks bulging with pork belly. “You have roommates, right?”

“Suitemates,” you correct. “But yeah, I live with three other people. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jennie are all great though, so it hasn’t been a problem.”

Jungkook pauses mid-chew to gape at you. “You live with guys?”

“My building’s co-ed,” you explain. “We all have separate bedrooms, but we share a common space and bathrooms.”

Your mother—on the lookout for any potential future grandchildren, as always—perks up. “Namjoon and Hoseok sound like nice boys. Are you friends?”

“Yes, Mom,” you sigh. “We’re friends. Just friends.” And then before she can ask about whether or not any other boys have caught your eye, you quickly turn back to your brother. “So, what’s your plan for next year? Are you and Jungkook living together?”

Jimin hums. “Yep, that’s the plan. Unless you want to live with us too, Noona.”

You laugh. “Why, so I can protect you from all the bullies like I did in elementary school?”

He flashes you a cheeky grin. “More like so I can protect you from all the weird college guys. Who’s this Hoseok guy anyway? Do I need to beat him up?”

“Please don’t beat up Hobi,” you entreaty, giggling when he pretends to crack his knuckles. “Or Joon!” you add quickly when he remains undeterred and makes to stand up from the table to defend your honor. Balling up your napkin, you throw it at him, and both of you burst into hysterics when your makeshift weapon bounces off his forehead and straight into his glass of water. The rest of dinner passes in a haze of similarly playful antics and happy chatter, and by the time the last bowl is scraped clean, it feels as if you’d never even left.

“I’ll do the dishes,” you volunteer, standing up and gathering up the empty platters. Jungkook and Jimin are quick to jump to your aid, collecting any utensils that you missed, and you offer them a grateful smile as they follow you into the kitchen.

“Let me do the washing, Noona.” Jungkook rolls up the sleeves of his cobalt blue shirt to expose a familiar silver watch glinting on his left wrist—a watch that his father handed down to him when he was sixteen, and that had been worn by his grandfather before him. You still remember the day he’d first worn it to school, proudly displaying it even though the band was too loose around his narrow wrist.

He’s grown into it now, you realize. The watch no longer flops around like it used to, and sits snugly in place instead. Your eyes trace the silver buckle on the inside of his wrist before trailing up to follow the network of thin, branching veins in his forearm, admiring the smooth flex of muscle as he grabs a sponge from the wire rack hanging above the sink and squirts some dish soap onto the surface.

“I’ll dry,” Jimin chirps, selecting a towel and brandishing it. “Noona, do you want to help me? We’ll finish faster that way.”

Nodding, you pull another towel out from the drawer and rejoin the two boys at the sink. Jungkook washes quickly and efficiently, and you determinedly avoid staring at the way water trickles along the patchwork veins on his hands as he gives you bowl after bowl to dry.

It doesn’t take long for all the dishes to be washed and dried. The three of you take the time to put them back into the proper cabinets before bidding your parents a good night, heading out onto the back porch. Falling back into old routines feels like second nature, so you plop down onto the steps without hesitation and grin when Jungkook takes a seat beside you.

“Wait, I almost forgot!” Jimin exclaims, bouncing up from where he was beginning to sit down next to Jungkook. “I bought some beer earlier and left it in the trunk. Be right back!”

You watch your brother run off, his floppy blond hair a stark contrast with the deep blue evening sky. In seconds, he’s disappeared around the corner of the house, leaving you and Jungkook alone on the porch steps.

“Chim really hasn’t changed one bit,” you remark with a laugh, turning toward your dark-haired companion.

Jungkook chuckles. “The kid loves his alcohol, that’s for sure.”

“Please.” You elbow him in the ribs. “I know you’re just as bad as he is.”

“Maybe,” he concedes with another chuckle. “But come on, Noona, you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy a drink every now and then. What about all that college stress?”

You hum, leaning back on your hands and staring up at the sky where the full moon is just beginning to rise, surrounded by a smattering of stars peeking through the velvety darkness of night. “I never said that I didn’t enjoy a drink, or five.” Jungkook laughs at your remark, and you smile before letting out a soft sigh. “I’m glad Jimin got the beer, though. Maybe I’ll finally be able to stop stressing out about my internship.”

That sobers Jungkook up immediately, his eyes widening as he peers down at you and lays a gentle hand on your back. “Are you still worried? You already got the job, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly, thinking back to the job offer that you had accepted at the end of the semester. It had been difficult finding a company in your desired field that offered internships to first-year students, but with dogged persistence and a lot of luck, you’d managed to snag a summer position. It isn’t due to start for another three weeks, however, and while you’re grateful for the chance to visit your family, part of you also wishes that you didn’t have to wait such a long time. “I just have no idea what to expect, you know? The only jobs I’ve ever had were in retail and food service, and that was all ages ago. I don’t feel ready at all.”

A strong arm settles across your shoulders, and you look up to see Jungkook gazing down at you with something indiscernible sparkling in his deep brown eyes. “You’re gonna be amazing,” he murmurs, his voice whisper-soft. “You know that, right? You always are. This won’t be any different.”

And you believe him. Every detail of his face is bathed in silvery moonlight—the gentle slope of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw, the little scar high on his cheekbone—and you wonder how you never realized how handsome he is before now. And maybe it’s the low, soothing timbre of his voice, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you—with unspeakable tenderness and gentle affection glimmering in his irises—but you lean in before you can even realize what you’re doing. You don’t look away, and neither does he.

Jungkook’s gaze drops, trailing down the slope of your cheeks until it lands on the curve of your mouth. He hesitates for a split second, his throat bobbing harshly as he swallows and sucks in a breath.

And then his lips are pressing against yours—soft and tentative and just a little bit chapped. Your eyes flutter shut almost on instinct, your body relaxing as he shifts and pulls you a little more firmly against him. Slowly, his arm finds its way to the curve of your waist and settles there. Your fingers curl around his nape, carding through his silky hair.

It’s only when Jungkook’s tongue darts out to run along the seam of your lips that reality comes crashing back down, your stomach plummeting down to somewhere around your toes as you wrench away from his embrace. “Kookie!” you gasp, your breathing labored. “We can’t!”

Jungkook blinks, momentarily entrancing you with the way the stars reflect in his gaze like glittering diamonds. “Why not?” he asks, reaching out for you again. “You kissed me back, didn’t you?”

Squeaking, you bat his hands away. “Jungkook, no! We can’t! You’re Jimin’s best friend, and god, this is all kinds of weird, and—“

The dark-haired young man looks like he wants to protest more, but the sound of footsteps coming back around the house sends both of you scooting back to your original positions on the porch steps. Jimin appears two seconds later, plopping down beside Jungkook cheerfully and dropping a six-pack of beer at his feet.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to the tension lingering in the air as he pops open a bottle and hands it to you.

“Nothing,” you say immediately, accepting the proffered beer. The cool glass bottle is a welcome relief, and you hurriedly take a long sip when your mind unwillingly begins to wander back to just how warm and soft your dark-haired companion’s lips had been.

Jungkook is much slower to respond to Jimin’s question. His shoulders slump as he reaches down to grab a drink of his own, twisting the cap open viciously and taking a swig. “Yeah,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nothing at all.”

Luck must be on your side, because Jimin doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss as he grabs a beer for himself and flops backward, resting his weight on his elbows as he gazes up at the night sky. “It’s nice out,” he remarks, looking utterly at ease.

You are anything but. Beside you, Jungkook is sipping pensively on his beer, and you are painfully aware of the heat radiating off his body. Jimin is still chattering away, rambling about whatever pops into his head, and you take the opportunity to sneak a glance at Jungkook. His face is cast in silvery luminescence from the moon, his mouth pulled down into a deep, contemplative frown—and you are once again forced to shake off thoughts of how nice it felt to have his mouth pressed against yours.

This is Jeon Jungkook, you tell yourself sternly. Friend, neighbor, and Jimin’s best friend in the entire universe. You kissed him, sure, but it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. And it won’t happen again.

You repeat that over and over, silently reciting it in your head like a mantra, until, at last, you finally start to believe it.

///

You’re in the middle of brewing a fresh pot of coffee after a lazy morning spent sleeping in when you spot Jungkook outside through the kitchen window. He’s standing in the yard in a sleeveless white tee, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand as he thoughtfully regards the row of hedges that serves as the property line between your house and the Jeons’ house next door. In his other hand is a shovel, and you can’t help the way your gaze automatically traces his exposed biceps, admiring the way they flex when he finally selects a spot and begins digging.

“Is the coffee done yet, Noona?”

Jimin’s voice yanks your attention away from your gardening neighbor, your vision overtaken by a mess of fluffy blond bedhead as he sneaks into the space between you and the counter and obnoxiously cuts you off from the pot of fresh brew. “Hey!” you protest, but Jimin just gives you a cheeky wink before grabbing a mug and pouring out a generous helping of piping hot coffee. After a moment’s thought, he pours you a mug as well, handing it over with an exaggerated bow.

You roll your eyes, but accept the warm cup nonetheless. Following him into the living room, you make yourself comfortable on the couch as he flops down onto the carpeted floor and turns on the television. Idly, he begins flipping through the channels in search for something to watch, and you endure random snippets of the morning news, a cheesy soap opera, and a series of infomercials before sighing and rising to your feet again. “I’m getting some food. Want some toast, Chimchim?”

“Mmm. Sure.”

Slowly, you meander your way back into the kitchen. Your mother is standing at the counter stirring sugar into her coffee, and you smile as you walk up to join her. “Morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, sweetie,” she says, taking a careful sip of her drink. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” you reply with a grin. Grabbing the loaf of bread off the counter, you pull out a few slices and shove them in the toaster. “Do you want toast? I’m making some for me and Chimchim.”

“Just one slice for me,” she says, opening up the dish cabinet and pulling out three plates. Obligingly, you hand her one of the two freshly toasted slices and drop the other onto your plate. Popping some more bread into the toaster, you’re just about to grab the jam from the fridge when there’s a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Jimin yells from the living room. You hear the soft pad of his footsteps in the hallway and the low creak of the front door as it swings open—and then your brother is snorting out a laugh at whoever is on your doorstep. “Dude, why are you covered in dirt?”

You’re beginning to have a sneaking suspicion as to who your guest is, and it’s confirmed when your brother’s question is answered.

“I’m helping Mom plant some hydrangeas out back,” Jungkook’s voice explains, his tall figure stepping into view a moment later. “Can you come help me lift the bushes?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You could’ve just texted me.”

“Who knows if you would’ve answered?” Jungkook asks, laughing. “Knowing you, you’d just leave me on read. Besides—” and here he glances over at you, dark eyes glimmering with an emotion that you can’t quite pinpoint, “—I wouldn’t get to see two of my favorite ladies if I didn’t stop by.”

Jimin pretends to vomit at the line, but your mother laughs delightedly as Jungkook takes another step into the foyer and flashes her a winning grin. “Good morning, Jungkookie,” she greets him. “Have you eaten breakfast yet? {Name} was just making some toast, and we’ve got fresh coffee.”

Jungkook’s gaze slides over to you again, taking in the flannel pajama pants and oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says, though his eyes never leave yours. “I ate already, but coffee sounds wonderful.”

You are beginning to feel increasingly vulnerable as Jungkook continues looking unblinkingly in your direction. Thankfully, your mom pipes up, drawing his attention away with a decisive clap of her hands. “Coffee it is, then!” she says brightly. “{Name}, why don’t you grab Jungkook a cup?”

Hurriedly, you turn toward the cabinets, trying your best to ignore Jungkook as he chats comfortably with your family. Your success is limited though, and you can feel his penetrating stare lingering on your back even as you fetch a mug and fill it up to the brim.

“Noona.” Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, much closer than you remember him being. “Can I have some cream and sugar, please?”

Somehow, you manage to reply without stammering. “Yeah. Sure.” Dumping some of the excess coffee into the sink, you spoon in some sugar and give it a quick stir. Just as you turn toward the refrigerator for the cream, a strong arm cuts you off.

“I got it, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs, backing you up against the counter as he tucks the little white carton into your outstretched hand. His proximity has your heart skipping several beats, and you almost drop the carton entirely when he speaks again in a husky whisper, his mouth at the shell of your ear. “Just a little bit, please.”

You are acutely aware of the heat radiating off of his body, warming your back and flushing your cheeks. Quietly, you open up the carton and pour a splash of cream into his mug, the swirl of white melding with the dark liquid within. “Is—is that enough?”

Jungkook reaches around you to open up the silverware drawer, grabbing a spoon and giving the coffee a stir. “That’s perfect,” he purrs, his hot breath stirring gooseflesh on the back of your neck.

This close to him, it’s easy to forget where you are and who you’re with, but you somehow manage to regain enough of your senses to wrench away and reclaim your personal space. “G-great,” you stammer, picking up the mug and shoving it into his hands, determinedly ignoring the ripple of his arm muscles as he accepts. “Um. Chim. Did you want your toast?”

“Yes, please,” Jimin says, barely glancing up from where he’s made himself comfortable at the kitchen island, idly playing on his phone.

Your mother pokes her head around the doorframe of the adjoining laundry room, where she has clearly started a fresh load if the sound of splashing water is anything to go by. “Don’t make your sister do all of the work, Jimin. Go help her—it’s your food, isn’t it?”

Obligingly, Jimin hops off the stool and grabs his favorite jar of jam, joining you at the counter. He takes the slice of toast you offer him, slathering it messily and taking an enormous bite. “Thanks for breakfast, Noona,” he says, blowing you an exaggerated kiss. “Ready, Kook?”

Jungkook raises his mug of coffee in acknowledgement. “Ready.” Then his gaze flickers back to you, twinkling with silent mirth. “And Noona—thanks. The coffee’s delicious.”

You can’t find the words to answer. Silently, you watch him disappear out the front door with Jimin, following his dark head of hair as it bobs across the yard. His biceps flex as he gestures for Jimin to help him lift a hydrangea bush, and your eyes linger on the stretch of defined muscle, tracing the network of prominent veins running along his forearm before your brain can caution you to stop. It’s almost as if you’re on autopilot, and by the time you zone back in, your gaze has wandered too far south for your liking. Letting out an audible groan, you tear your eyes away from the mouthwatering view of his thick thighs and return to your now-cold breakfast. And you don’t think about Jeon Jungkook again, pushing the image of his broad shoulders and handsome face into the darkest recesses of your mind.

Or at least, that was the plan. Jimin comes back inside after about an hour, tracking mud through half the house before your mother reprimands him and orders him to take off his shoes. Jungkook, thankfully, chose to return to his own home as well, and you immediately banish the thought of him showering off all the sweat and grime that has no doubt accumulated on his toned body. You shove away the mental image of water slicking his golden skin and collecting in the hollows of his collarbones, and when your mind conjures up pictures of what lies south of his waist, you resist the urge to scream into the pile of freshly laundered pillowcases your mom presses into your arms.

You’re just about to head upstairs to scream into a real pillow when there’s another knock on your front door—a familiar cadence that you heard just this morning. And that’s when you realize—to your complete and utter dismay—that Jeon Jungkook isn’t done tormenting you yet. Not by a long shot.

“You again? You do realize that this isn’t your house, right?” you ask, swinging open the door and thanking whatever gods may be out there that your voice remains steady. Then you raise a brow, glancing down at his change in attire. “Wait, why are you wearing a suit?”

Jungkook gives you an infuriatingly impish grin. “Do I need a reason?” His hair is still damp from the shower, a stray lock flopping down across his forehead, and as you watch him brush it away absently, you notice that he’s holding something in his free hand.

“What’s that?” you ask curiously.

Footsteps sound from behind you, interrupting before he can answer. “Jungkookie?” your mother asks, appearing at the foot of the stairs. “I thought I heard your voice. Are you here for Jimin again?”

Jungkook flashes her a winning smile and raises the garment bag he’s holding. “No, I was actually hoping to get some advice. I’ve got my suit ready to go for graduation tomorrow, but I can’t decide which shirt looks better. My mom likes how I look in blue, but I wanted a second opinion from you and Noona.”

To your utter annoyance, your mother coos and gestures for him to come in. He’s already wearing the blue shirt—a pale periwinkle one that reminds you of a cloudless day—but your mom takes the garment bag out of his hand and unzips it to look inside. “What are your options?” she asks.

“Blue, red, and yellow,” Jungkook replies, pulling each shirt off its hanger and holding them up to his chest in turn. “What do you think, Mrs. Park?”

“The blue is lovely,” your mom says thoughtfully, straightening his collar. “But this shade of yellow looks nice too. A handsome young man like you—you really can’t go wrong with any of these.”

Jungkook grins and scratches behind his ear, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Thanks, Mrs. Park.”

The dryer chooses that moment to beep shrilly, signalling the end of its cycle, and your mother darts off to tend to it, leaving you and Jungkook alone in the living room.

“What about you, Noona?” Jungkook asks, just as you’re about to try and sneak out under the pretense of helping with the laundry. “Which shirt do you like?”

“Does it matter?” you ask. “It’s just going to be hidden underneath those horrible black trash bags they make you wear.”

He laughs. “Sure, but what about before and after? You know my mom’s going to want to take a million pictures.”

“Can’t argue there.” Resigning yourself to your fate, you put your stack of clean pillowcases down on the arm of the couch and cross your arms over your chest. “Show them to me again?”

Jungkook raises the yellow shirt, holding it up for a few seconds before swapping it out for the red. “Well?”

You pause to consider it. “Red,” you decide after some deliberation, pointing at your choice. It’s a deep crimson color—almost burgundy—and you rub the silky material between your fingertips before taking it and replacing it onto its hanger. Jungkook joins you with the yellow shirt, his arm bumping into yours as you both reach for the garment bag, and even though you flinch away from the contact, Jungkook doesn’t let you stray very far. A strong hand clamps down around your forearm, and you inhale sharply when he backs you up against the wall and cages you in with his solid body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Jungkook looks thoroughly unfazed as he blinks a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Jungkook—” you hiss, struggling to see over his shoulder if your mother has returned. “Get off me.”

“Come on, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me. Ever since you got back—ever since we kissed—”

“A mistake,” you say, cutting him off with a finger to the lips and glancing around furtively to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “That was a mistake.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Was it? Because I really wanted to kiss you, and I’m pretty sure you wanted to kiss me too. You kissed back, didn’t you?”

“Y-you—“ You clear your throat and try again, cringing at how shaky your voice comes out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But Jungkook simply laughs. “Don’t I?” He inches closer until you’re chest to chest, his gaze darkening as it flickers downward and lands on your mouth. Your heartbeat quickens, thudding erratically in your ribcage. It would be so easy to push to your tiptoes and close the distance between your lips.

“God,” you huff. “You’re so—”

His other eyebrow rises to join the first. “I’m so—?” he presses, tilting his head as he awaits your answer. The loose lock of hair flops across his forehead again, and this time you cannot stop yourself from reaching up to brush it away.

“Shut up,” you hiss as your fingers drop down to wind into the soft hair at his nape. “Just shut up.”

And then you’re kissing him—really, really kissing him—pulling him down to your level and sliding your free hand up his infuriatingly toned chest.

“See?” Jungkook’s lips curl up into a smug smirk as he pulls away slightly, his warm breath fanning across your cheeks with every word. “I knew you were into me.”

“God, do you ever stop talking?” you retort, pushing him back until you have enough room to switch your positions and maneuver him against the wall.

Jungkook lets you pin him in place, blinking down at you lazily with his mouth still stretched into that maddening little smirk. “Only if you make me, Noona.” His hands slide down your sides, coming to a stop at your hips in an ironclad grip. “Only if you kiss me like that again.”

So you do. Your fingers tighten in his hair as you crush your mouth to his, and when his lips part you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook—still smirking—relaxes and lets you take control of the kiss, but his hands continue to wander. Before you know it, he’s already snuck underneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing warm circles into the soft skin of your waist. His lips move languidly against yours, his tongue careful and gentle in its exploration of your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you closer. You’re pressed flush against him by this point, pinning him between your body and the wall, and neither you nor he have any intent to move anytime soon.

The sudden slamming of a door jerks you back to reality. Here you are, standing in the living room where anyone could walk by and see you kissing your brother’s best friend—again. Shakily, you pull away from Jungkook with your heart in your throat, putting as much space as you possibly can between your bodies. “Fuck,” you mutter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. We can’t do this.”

Jungkook’s chest is heaving, his lips swollen and red. “{Name}—” he tries, but you shake your head and cut him off before he can continue.

“You need to leave,” you whisper.

“But—”

“Please,” you say, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. “Please, Jungkook. Just leave.”

Jungkook swallows, hard. And then, much to your relief, he picks up his garment bag, shoving both shirts back inside. “Okay,” he rasps. “I’ll go.”

Elsewhere in the house, you can hear your mother calling for Jimin. Your father is watching TV in his study—you can hear the low hum of voices and a laugh track. Your entire family is here.

And yet, you’ve never felt more alone as you watch Jungkook stride down the hallway and disappear out the front door.

///

Returning to your high school is odd. The hallways and classrooms are familiar, but they all seem smaller than you remember. And were the ceilings always this short? You aren’t sure. What you are sure of, however, is that Jungkook and his family are currently headed your way, with beaming smiles on their faces and colorful flower bouquets in hand. Greetings and congratulations are exchanged, and it isn’t long before you are face-to-face with Jungkook himself, a tight smile on his face as he meets your eyes.

“Hi, Noona.”

“Hi,” you reply. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Now that the graduation ceremony is over, he’s taken off his robe to reveal the red shirt underneath. The silky material drapes over his torso and clings to the toned planes of his chest, and your fingers itch to run across the defined muscle. Swallowing down the urge, you instead gesture toward his parents, who are engaged in deep conversation with your own parents while Jimin chats with Junghyun off to the side. “I guess we’re all getting dinner after this, huh?”

He nods. “Yeah, at that one place downtow—“

“Jungkook! Jimin!” A feminine voice interrupts him mid-sentence, and you watch in surprise as both your brother and Jungkook are suddenly engulfed in a massive tangle of limbs. Immediately, you recognize Jisoo and Lisa—two girls you considered casual friends from your own high school days. The third girl in the trio of friends—Chaeyoung—is noticeably absent, but you don’t get a chance to question her whereabouts. “Can you believe it? We’re graduates!” Lisa is saying excitedly, still clutching tightly onto Jungkook’s shoulders. She’s pressed flush against him, her chest molded to his, and the sudden rush of jealousy that takes root in the pit of your stomach takes you aback with its ferocity.

Calm the fuck down, you instruct your pounding heart. Stop it, right now.

“Has Tae told you about the party tomorrow night?” Jisoo asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You guys better be there—and that means you, too, {Name}! It’s been forever since we’ve seen you!”

You clear your throat and attempt to smile. “Yeah, it’s been way too long. It’ll be nice to finally catch up.” Unwillingly, your gaze flickers back over to Jungkook and Lisa, doing your best to maintain a neutral expression when you notice the casual way his arm drapes over her shoulders.

Your attempts are in vain. Jungkook notices your stare immediately, a massive shit-eating grin spreading across his face. One eyebrow rises in a silent taunt, and you swear his grip around her tightens. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you instead turn back to Jisoo, finally voicing the question that’s on your mind.

“So, where’s Chaeyoung? I saw her during the ceremony, but haven’t seen her around since. She didn’t leave already, did she?”

“No, she’s still here,” Jisoo answers, exchanging a look with Lisa. Curiosity piqued, you watch her gaze dart over to Jungkook for a split second before returning to you, a tiny smile gracing her face once more. “She’s with her family right now, but she’ll be at the party tomorrow.”

“I’ll congratulate her there, then,” you say, returning her smile with one of her own. Silently, you wonder at the uneasy glance the two girls had exchanged, but decide not to press it, chalking it up to some senior year drama that isn’t any of your business.

“Well, we should probably get going,” Jisoo says after another beat. “We’re off to dinner.”

“We should be on our way too,” you agree, glancing over at where your parents are still chatting, having absorbed Junghyun into their conversation at some point. Bidding the two girls goodbye, you sidle over to join them, trying your best to subtly nudge your parents toward the door.

After what feels like an eternity, your parents finally decide that they’re ready for a change in scenery. The drive to the restaurant is blessedly short, much to the relief of your grumbling stomach, and you are more than grateful for the brief reprieve from Jungkook and his knowing smirk. It doesn’t last long, however, and you mentally brace yourself when you spot the Jeons’ car in the parking lot of the restaurant. Upon entering, you are quickly ushered to your reserved table where the Jeons are already waiting, and somehow in the shuffle you end up right between Jungkook and Junghyun, the former’s face dissolving into a satisfied grin as he watches you sit down.

Then he turns to Jimin, who’s seated on his other side. “Hey, man.”

You bristle at the blatant way he’s ignoring you. But two can play at that game, so you turn to Junghyun with a winning smile, laying a hand on his shoulder for good measure. The older Jeon brother is four years your senior, but despite the age difference, you’ve always gotten along well.

“Junghyun, I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?”

The elder Jeon grins and leans in to give you a hug. “Good, good—work’s insane, but that’s old news. What about you? How’s school going so far?”

You can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, hot and heavy. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle under the weight of it, and you resist the urge to shiver. Instead, you give Junghyun’s bicep a final squeeze before pulling away, steadfastly ignoring the way Jungkook lets out a disgruntled hiss from between his teeth.

“School is good,” you tell Junghyun. “I’m trying to get all my general requirements out of the way early, so my first semester wasn’t very interesting. I took some more focused classes in the second, though, which made things infinitely better.”

The elder Jeon laughs. “Guess that means you’re on the right track then, huh?”

“Guess so,” you reply, laughing right along with him.

The server stops by to take drink orders, and your parents take it upon themselves to order food for the table as well. You continue chatting amicably with Junghyun as the server returns with a tray of water, sodas, and soju; beside you, Jungkook does the same with Jimin. The only break in conversation comes when the server—a pretty girl with a chirpy voice and a nametag that reads ‘Mina’—leans over to set a glass of Coke down in front of Jungkook. He thanks her with a crooked smirk and a low purr of gratitude that has her cheeks flushing pink, and it’s all you can do not to gape at him like a fish. The flirtatious quirk of his lips, the seductive tone—it all comes far too naturally to him, and you wonder for a moment just where the old Jungkook has gone. The Jungkook you used to know stammered every time he had to talk to an unfamiliar girl, and had trouble looking even you in the eye despite having known you since grade school.

But now, he’s nowhere to be found. The young man sitting beside you remains as calm as can be, shifting his body toward Mina so that he can request a straw.

“Of course, here you go!” Mina’s gaze lingers on his hand as he accepts the proffered straw, eyes widening when his fingers brush against hers lightly.

“Fast service,” Jungkook remarks, his voice dipping into a low, indolent drawl. “I like that.”

Mina giggles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She’s clearly about to respond to him—flirt right back, undoubtedly—but your father stands up and taps his glass with a spoon before she can open her mouth. “I want to make a toast,” he says, and you send him a silent, heartfelt thank you when Mina wisely chooses to make herself scarce. “Congratulations to Jungkook and Jimin, our two rad grads!”

An audible groan rises up from your side of the table, where Jimin has buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god, Dad.”

“What?” your father asks innocently. “I really think you’re rad, grad!”

Jimin groans again, muffled by the sleeves of his jacket. “I want the earth to swallow me whole.”

Laughter all around. More toasts are given, and the bottles of soju scattered around the table slowly dwindle down to their last dregs. Junghyun picks up the one closest to him and fills up your glass for the fourth time, drawing a protesting whine from your lips as you try to cut him off. “Wait, that’s not fair! Pour some for yourself too!”

“Relax, we can always order more,” Junghyun says with a laugh, topping off your glass before glancing around to find Mina. Much to your irritation, she’s already headed your way, bearing loaded platters of meat and vegetables and wearing a bright smile that seems to only be directed to Jungkook.

“I hope you’re all hungry!” she chirps, coming to a stop between you and the subject of her affections. You swear she shoots you a dirty look over her shoulder before turning back to the table, her cheerful facade back in place as she smiles at Jungkook. “Where did you want me to put the meat?”

“Anywhere it’ll fit,” Jungkook tells her with a suggestive smirk, keeping his voice soft enough so that only you and she can hear.

Mina cannot hide her answering smile. Likewise, you cannot hide the way your nostrils flare, throat bobbing as you swallow down the ugly feelings bubbling up in your chest. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze roving across your skin, but you refuse to look at him, stubbornly facing the front as Mina distributes food around the table. As soon as she’s departed again—her fingers brushing across the back of Jungkook’s chair in the process—you’re up and out of your seat, heart beating faster than you’d like to admit.

“Restroom,” you say shortly by way of explanation. It’s thankfully empty when you arrive, and you immediately make a beeline toward the sink to splash some cold water on your cheeks.

It’s absurd—this snaking jealousy coiling in your belly and winding up between the slats of your ribcage. Straightening up, you give your reflection in the mirror a stern look, silently willing the feelings in your chest to abate. Gradually, your heartbeat slows into a regular rhythm, your cheeks cooling, and after waiting another two minutes, you decide that it’s been long enough. Drying off your hands, you exit the restroom and wind your way back to the table, keeping your pace leisurely even when Jungkook looks up and catches your eye. His expression is unreadable, and you valiantly ignore his burning gaze as you take a seat.

“How is everything?” you ask Junghyun, picking up a spoon and piling your plate with food from the nearest platter.

Junghyun pauses mid-bite to answer. His mouth opens, but you don’t catch his answer because there is a sudden, heavy weight on your knee. A warm palm caresses the skin exposed by the hem of your dress, slow and sensual and deliberate. Your eyes widen and your lips part, but no sound escapes. The rest of the table’s occupants fade away into the background, conversations and laughter dulling into a low drone. Beside you, Junghyun is still talking, but all you can hear is blood rushing through your ears.

And on your other side, Jungkook is smirking.

The bastard.

Gentle fingertips skim along your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Your entire body stiffens, but Jungkook refuses to relent. He’s still chatting with Jimin, chuckling at a joke you didn’t hear, and you wonder how he can remain so calm when you are anything but. Your heart takes off in a sprint, clattering wildly against your ribcage, and for a few moments you are absolutely positive that everyone at the table can hear. Any moment, one of your parents will look over and see how wide your eyes are and how warm your cheeks feel. Any moment, Jimin will look down and see his best friend’s arm snaking beneath the table and realize what’s happening.

And then Jungkook squeezes your thigh, and all thought flies out of your head, dissipating like fog in the sunlight. He’s growing increasingly bold, his fingers trailing up until he can trace the hem of your dress, teasing at the soft material. Your breath hitches in your throat, and Jungkook’s smirk widens. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hide his smugness behind his soju glass, and for a moment you’re tempted to throw his drink in his face.

But more than that—more than anything else right now—you want him to continue touching you.

He’s sliding beneath your dress now, inching down to the delicate skin of your inner thigh and tracing nonsensical patterns there. You grip the edge of the table as he trails closer and closer to the lace of your panties, knuckles turning white against the dark wood. It’s a wonder no one has noticed your flustered state yet, and you cast concerned glances at Junghyun and Jimin before Jungkook notices your inattention. Punishingly, he slides a single finger into your panties, snapping the lace against your skin and covering the sound with a cough that he buries in his elbow. He can’t hide the way you jolt in your seat though, your knee thudding against the table. Junghyun gives you a worried look, laying a hand on your shoulder as he asks if you’re okay, and you hurriedly nod. And underneath the table, Jungkook resumes his ministrations, languorous and soft and deliberately avoiding the place you need him most, as if he has all the time in the world.

There’s a growing damp spot between your legs. You can feel it seeping through the cottony material of your panties, sticking uncomfortably to your folds. Jungkook’s touch is whisper-soft, caressing along your thigh until your skin is tingling, and it’s all you can do to swallow down the whimper that’s bubbling up in your throat. He’s thoroughly enjoying this—you can tell—and you’re certain he can feel the way you tense up when he suddenly drags a single finger up your clothed slit. A low hiss escapes your parted lips, and in an instant, all eyes are on you.

“Noona?” Jimin asks curiously. “Something wrong?”

“I—” Your mind whirs, searching for an excuse. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. The, uh, sauce was just spicier than I was expecting it to be.”

You haven’t touched a single thing on your plate in minutes, but no one seems to notice your obvious lie. Conversation resumes, and you determinedly pick up your spoon again, intent on getting something more substantial in your belly than the fluttering butterflies that have taken up residence there.

“You sure you want to eat that, Noona?” Jungkook’s voice reaches your ears—a low, dulcet purr that sends electricity shooting down your spine. “You should probably drink some water to cool down.”

And before you can answer—before you even manage to reach for your water glass—he’s slipped his hand into your panties, the warm pad of his thumb pressing experimentally against your clit. The slight pressure has you gasping, your heart pounding hard enough to leap out of your chest as you drop your spoon. Your hands drop down to your lap—one gripping the edge of your chair while the other finds its way around Jungkook’s wrist, and you aren’t sure whether you’re trying to stop him or spur him on. His arm muscles flex underneath your fingertips, and that’s all the warning you get before he angles his hand, a lone finger sinking inside your drenched entrance.

“Oh, fuck.” You can’t stop the strangled curse that escapes your lips, an airy hiss from behind clenched teeth. Your grip on Jungkook’s wrist tightens, but it doesn’t seem to dissuade him at all as he begins a leisurely pace, sinking deeper into your cunt with each thrust.

Luckily, no one hears your whimper. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you bite back the sounds threatening to spill out and instead focus on maintaining as neutral an expression as you can muster. Beneath the table, Jungkook remains relentless. Even when your mother looks over and addresses him directly, he doesn’t cease his ministrations, keeping both his tone and his pace even as he responds.

“Jungkookie, you’ve barely touched your pork belly. Are you full already?”

“Stuffed,” Jungkook replies smoothly. He punctuates the word by adding a second finger, and you almost bang your knee on the table again, your eyes going wide at his audacity.

Your mother pushes the platter of meat closer to him anyway. “No need to be polite, honey. Here, eat up.”

Obligingly, Jungkook picks out a few pieces with his free hand and piles them on his plate. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says as he brings some to his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

Satisfied, your mother turns her attention elsewhere. Jungkook returns his to you, and you almost groan aloud when his thumb brushes against your clit again, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud before he sheathes both fingers inside you once more. There’s a growing heat coiling in the pit of your stomach by this point, lighting every single one of your nerves on fire. Your body is screaming for release, and Jungkook seems more than eager to give it to you. He’s freed his wrist from your grip, leaving you to clutch helplessly at the table as he angles his fingers upward. No doubt he’s searching for the spot that will have you seeing stars, and you know he’s found it when a sudden burst of pleasure spikes through you. Your mouth falls lax, and Jungkook grins, thoroughly satisfied.

There’s something building inside you, something that has your tummy tensing and your toes curling in your shoes. Jungkook’s fingers dig deep, his palm rubbing against your clit with every thrust, and it takes every remaining ounce of your self-control to resist the urge to rock your hips into his hand. A bit more of that delicious friction, and you’ll be falling over the edge. You know it, and so does Jungkook if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

And then a voice is pulling you back to reality, a warm hand settling on your shoulder. You flinch at the contact, your startled gaze flying up to Junghyun’s, and balk when you see him staring at you with equal parts amusement and concern.

“I—what?” you stammer. “Did… did you say something?”

Beneath the table, you feel Jungkook’s fingers retreat, leaving you empty and aching for release. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook wipe his glistening hand on his napkin, a frown that can only be described as petulant settling onto his face.

“Whoa, relax!” Junghyun drags your attention back to him, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I just wanted to say goodbye. I have to be up early for work tomorrow, so I’m driving back into the city tonight.”

“Oh!” It takes you a few seconds to process his words. “Right, yeah. Have a safe drive back. It was good to see you.”

“Ditto,” he replies, flashing you a warm grin. “But hey, are you all right? You’ve been a little weird the whole night. Was it the food?”

Gratefully, you seize upon the excuse. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I think maybe something isn’t sitting quite right in my stomach, but I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

He nods and leans in for a hug. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“You too. Bye, Junghyun.”

With the elder Jeon brother’s departure, everyone else quickly decides that it’s time to disperse as well. You adamantly refuse to look in Jungkook’s direction as your parents fight over the bill, focusing your goodbyes on Mr. and Mrs. Jeon even when he glances your way with a knowing little smirk and a soft murmur of, “Bye, Noona.”

You can’t look at him. Not when every movement reminds you just how damp your panties are, your core begging for relief. Not when he’s waggling his fingers in farewell—the gesture anything but innocent. “Bye,” you warble weakly, before fleeing to the car.

The memory of his fingers burns fresh in your mind later that night as you lie in bed, your hand stuffed down your panties and working furiously to find that sweet, sweet relief.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #kpop scenarios #brother's best friend!au #brother's best friend au #lia writes

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fanficshiddles · 4 years ago

Text

Be Gentle, One shot

Summary: Loki noticed Thor was having trouble pleasuring women. So he ropes you in to help, but while he is trying to teach Thor to be gentle, he finds he wants you all to himself instead. And you only want Loki.

Loki was heading along the corridor and was almost knocked over by a young woman charging down it, clearly not happy. He moved to the side to let her passed as she stomped by.

He frowned and looked down the corridor to see Thor stood outside his door, rubbing the back of his head.

‘What did you do?’ Loki headed towards him. ‘Or more, what did you not do?’ He asked knowingly as he reached his brother and leaned against the wall, awaiting his answer.

‘Why do you always assume that I did something wrong?’

‘Because you always do. Especially when it comes to women. Did you fail to pleasure her properly?’ Loki smirked.

Thor glared at Loki, nostrils flaring a little. ‘Not at all… We had fun and’

‘Let me stop you there.’ Loki said with a finger up. ‘When you say we do you mean you had fun, so simply assumed that she also did too? Because that certainly did not look like a satisfied woman.’

Thor was a little stumped, he didn’t answer, just looked down sheepishly.

‘Exactly my point.’ Loki chuckled.

‘Help me, brother. You seem to have luck in pleasuring women, you have them eating out of the palm of your hand. Teach me?’ Thor pleaded.

He wasn’t wrong. Loki did often have a woman spend the night with him back on Asgard, he always gave them a night to remember. Though he hadn’t had as many since arriving on Midgard and moving in with The Avengers. He’d been busier concentrating on work for a change.

‘Why don’t we get a lovely lady’s help.’ Loki suggested.

‘Who do you have in mind?’ Thor asked.

A big grin formed across Loki’s face.

You were just reading a book in the living room when the Asgardians strolled into the room. You looked up, slightly confused when you could feel their eyes on you.

‘Oh… Hi.’ You waved shyly at them, well, mainly at Loki. You were usually so confident, even around The Avengers. But with Loki, he just made you feel like a shy giddy schoolgirl. You had the biggest crush on him.

Loki liked you, he liked your intelligence and how kind you were. You didn’t treat him different from the others, aside from being a bit shy around him. But he found that rather endearing. He had thought about trying to get you into his bed before, but you were too nice to simply be a one-night stand and he wasn’t sure if he was worthy of courting you.

‘Can we borrow you, love?’ Loki asked.

‘Yeah, sure. What can I help you with?’ You asked as you stood up, slightly keener than you had meant to be. But it made Loki smile with how keen you were to help.

You’d do anything for Loki, he just didn’t know it.

‘Let’s go somewhere more private.’ Loki reached out and gently took a hold of your elbow, he also grabbed Thor’s arm and he teleported the three of you to the privacy of his room.

‘My brother has some lady issues.’ Loki started after motioning for you to take a seat on the edge of his bed.

‘Lady issues?’ You raised an eyebrow, glancing at Thor.

‘He manages to scare away everyone he beds, taking his own pleasure and not thinking about the woman.’ Loki explained.

‘Oh… Uhm, how do you need me to help?’ You asked, a slight lump in your throat at discussing this kind of subject with Loki.

‘I wanted to go over a few scenarios with you, see which one appeals more.’ Loki sat down next to you, rather close. ‘You return from dinner with him, are kissed sloppily, more like a dog snogging you. You are manhandled onto the bed, clothes torn off and then you are roughly poked and prodded around your quim, not hitting any good spots at all. Then you are crudely invaded by a reasonably large cock, barely ready. Rammed into until he finds his pleasure, then without making you cum he simply rolls over and says how amazing it was.’

‘Like a DOG?’ Thor roared at Loki. ‘I think you’ll find’

Loki narrowed his eyes at Thor and cut him off. ‘Brother. Was I wrong with any of that description? Or was that pretty much how it went down with that woman I saw running away from you?’

Thor put his hands on his hips angrily and just snarled in response.

‘Does any of that appeal to you, darling?’ Loki asked you.

The only thing that did appeal to you was Loki’s voice telling it. ‘No, not at all.’

‘How about this scenario. You come back from dinner, you are invited into his room for a nightcap. As he hands you the wine glass, his fingers lightly brush against yours.’ As Loki spoke, he acted it out a little by brushing the tips of his fingers against your hand, making your breath catch.

‘He slips an arm around you to pull you in close to him. Brushes your hair back from your face,’ Loki looked at you intently and did as he said, smoothing your hair back behind your ear, then resting his hand on your collarbone. ‘Gently holding your chin, he leans in and kisses you softly, slowly working up to using his tongue in a gentle dance with your own.’

Your heart was hammering in your chest while Loki spoke, so sensual and intimate. You struggled to keep eye contact with him, instead looking at his lips.

‘Then he would slowly remove your clothes, kissing every bit of skin that became available to him. Before gently lowering you onto his bed beneath you. He would kiss and lick his way down, to then make you dance on his tongue. After you were well satisfied, he would take you. Slowly, intimately… Filling you with his cock, rocking into you deep while looking into your eyes. He would make sure that you came first around his cock, to feel you soaking and squeezing him, then he would explode within you.’ Loki’s voice caught in his throat slightly as he had moved a little closer to you, your beautiful scent capturing his attention. And his hand was still resting on you.

‘Loki?’ Thor asked, getting irritated.

‘Well, which is more appealing?’ Loki grinned and leaned back a little, not looking at Thor.

‘Uhm, tha… that last one. Definitely.’ You swallowed hard and nodded, trying to calm your racing heart down.

‘But how do I pleasure a woman? I never seem to even get that part right.’ Thor asked as he started pacing back and fore, clearly frustrated.

Loki rolled his eyes. ‘Do you even know the anatomy of a woman, Thor?’

‘Well, of course.’ Thor nodded, folding his arms over his chest.

‘Oh really? What is the name of the body part on a woman that is most sensitive to stimulation?’ Loki asked, he looked to you and winked.

‘Well, it’s the uh… Of course it’s the vagina.’ Thor chuckled and looked at you with a shrug.

Loki face-palmed and you started laughing.

‘It really is no wonder you can’t pleasure a woman.’ Loki sighed.

‘That’s why I need you to teach me!’ Thor pleaded.

‘You need to listen, didn’t you just hear the two scenarios?’ Loki snapped at him.

‘I need to be taught, I can’t just go by words…’ Then he stopped and looked at you, eyes wide as an idea hit him. ‘I need to be shown, physically!’

Your eyes then widened. ‘Oh no… No, no, no!’ You said quickly, shaking your finger at him.

Loki did look surprised at first too, but then he realised it might be the best way to teach his brother. As you looked at Loki, he gave you the best puppy eyes. ‘That might actually be a good way of teaching him.’

‘You can’t be serious?’ You asked Loki.

‘You trust me, right?’ Loki asked.

‘I do.’ You said quietly. ‘But that’s not the point.’

‘We will be respectful, darling. I will make sure that Thor behaves and does exactly as I tell him. It means you’ll get an orgasm or two out of it, too.’ He grinned cheekily. ‘I will personally guarantee it.’

You were already aroused and the thought that Loki would be involved was rather exciting, too exciting to pass on…

‘Ok…’

‘We won’t if you aren’t comfortable with it, love.’ Loki said softly and put his hand on top of yours.

‘No, it’s fine… I just uh, it’s been a while.’ You said shyly.

Loki took the lead at first, taking your hand and standing you up. He smiled warmly at you, then with regret he looked at Thor and stepped back, hands behind his back.

You weren’t attracted to Thor at all, though he was a kind hearted person. He just wasn’t your type. Even less your type when his brutish hands grabbed your upper arms and he pulled you into him, forcing his mouth upon yours.

You pushed at his chest to try and get him to stop as you couldn’t breathe, his tongue almost all the way down your throat.

‘THOR!’ Loki hauled Thor off you. ‘Did you not listen to a word I said?’

Loki ran his hand down his face and moved over to you, rubbing your back. ‘Alright, love? Not too traumatised?’

‘I’m fine.’ You smiled at him.

‘Alright, why don’t we try and just show him the right way to pleasure you?’ Loki suggested.

‘If… If you think that will work.’ You nodded slowly in agreement.

‘You can just lift your dress up and take off your knickers, if you wish.’ Loki said.

‘Ok.’ You nodded and did as he suggested, glad you weren’t going to be completely naked.

Loki helped you onto the bed and gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. He sat down next to you and motioned for Thor to begin.

‘Let’s see what I’m working with first.’ Loki drawled, he didn’t hold out much hope though.

Thor grinned and moved onto the bed, he grabbed your legs and pushed them apart roughly. You looked at Loki uncertainly, he reached over and rubbed your shoulder.

Thor looked at your cunt and he just started rubbing his fingers over you, then poked and prodded to try and get his fingers in, not aiming for anywhere in particular.

‘Ow! Thor!’ You hissed at him and tried to move away, he was being far from careful.

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘You need to be gentle, Thor. Not hard.’

‘I was being gentle!’ Thor argued.

‘Clearly not!’ Loki yelled at him and he shoved Thor out of the way. He took your hand and helped you up off the bed.

‘I uh, don’t think this is the best idea.’ You laughed a bit.

‘No, you’re right. I think the master needs to show him how it’s done from the beginning.’ Loki said cockily as he moved his hands to your hips. ‘If I may?’ He asked softly as he pulled you into him.

‘Uhm… Ye… Yeah.’ You squeaked.

Loki grinned at your shyness and trailed his fingers down the side of your face, then cupped your chin as he leaned in to kiss you. His lips moulded with yours gently, moving in such a nice way.

You ended up wrapping your arms around his neck as you melted completely into him. Loki had just started using his tongue when Thor coughed, getting impatient.

But Loki ignored him and continued to slowly seduce you, even though you were already putty in his hands from the moment he just laid eyes on you. But when he did start to undress you, it was a whole new kind of seduction.

He was slow, gentle, passionate, doing just as he’d described before. Kissing all over you as he removed your clothes, paying extra attention to your neck and when you whined at a certain spot, he made sure to zone in on that area.

You completely forgot that Thor was there, watching. You were so wrapped up in Loki, it was like you were alone with him only.

Loki carefully lay you down on the bed underneath him, he took your hands and slowly raised them up above your head, leaving them there as he started his journey down. Kissing and licking on his way, he prized your thighs apart and when you felt his warm breath against you, you almost bucked him right off the bed.

He chuckled and wrapped his arms tightly around your thighs, keeping you in place as he dove in. His tongue was like the devil as he licked long strips up and down, never keeping over your clit for long. When he had you squirming and begging for more, he concentrated on your clit, running his tongue over it firmly. He brought a hand down and added two fingers into the mix, carefully twisting and curling them until he found the right spot that had you howling as you had your first orgasm.

Thor was watching wide eyed from the side, having never seen a woman get off like that. He was hard in his trousers, so was just stood there squeezing himself.

Loki smeared his lips against your inner thigh, kissing you gently, slowly pulling his fingers out of you. He crawled up your body, suckling on your nipples on the way, making you moan.

‘Clean my fingers, love.’ He growled as he pressed them against your lips.

You opened and took them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digits, tasting yourself on him.

‘Good girl.’ He hummed. You could feel his erection against your thigh, through his leather trousers.

Thor coughed, clearing his throat. ‘Can I try now?’ He asked, stepping closer to the bed.

‘NO!’ Both you and Loki said at the same time, shocking Thor.

Loki looked at you with a big grin, you bit your lower lip and smiled up at him.

‘Get out, Thor!’ Loki barked at him when Thor was just hovering like an annoying fly.

‘I thought this was my lesson!’ He whined.

‘Not anymore.’ Loki growled and glared at him.

As soon as Thor left, Loki’s attention was back on you. He cupped your face and leaned down to kiss you again. ‘Mmm, I don’t think I want to share you with anyone anymore, now I’ve had a taste of you.’ He growled over your lips.

‘I don’t want anyone else.’ You whispered, wrapping your arms around him.

He smiled widely and nuzzled his nose against yours.

‘There is uhm… still more to your scene that you described earlier?’ You asked with a smirk.

‘There is indeed.’ He growled and kissed you again.

#Loki #Thor #Loki x reader #be gentle #one shot #fan fiction #tom hiddleston #mcu Loki

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ramzawrites · 4 years ago

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Snow Day - Dad!Schlatt and Reader

Pairings: none

Characters included: Schlatt, Tubbo, Quackity

Warnings: cursing

Series: It’s a small fun drabble

Summary: It snowed in Manberg! How can you not be excited for it! Tubbo and Y/N certainly are, dragging their father Schlatt out so they can play in the snow.

Word count: 2220

Author’s Note: Okay, obviously lorewise this doesn’t make much sense but I just wanted to have a nice little drabble about Dad!Schlatt playing with Y/N and Tubbo in the snow since I love snowy days. Also I’m kinda just writing drabbles right now to get through my writers block so if you have any ideas shoot em my way though I am a slow writer, sorry

„Dad! Dad! Wake up!“ Y/N came running into Schlatt’s bedroom, jumping straight onto his bed, landing on his legs.

Schlatt threw his eyes open and let out a pained cry. His child was young and not that heavy but it still felt like they just snapped his legs in two.

“God damn it, Y/N! What in the world are you doing? How early is it anyway?” he sighed as he pushed them off to the side so they wouldn’t destroy his bones anymore, wondering why they were awake so early. Taking a short look at his alarm clock he could see he still would’ve had about an hour of sleep before having to get up for work.

Their eyes were wide with excitement as they grabbed his blanket and begun pulling on it “Dad! It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” Jumping up and down in excitement on the side of his bed.

Now it made sense why Y/N woke him up.

A smirk appeared on his face. He closed his eyes again, pulled his blanket up and turned away from Y/N. Acting as if he fell asleep again.

“No!” Y/N cried out in horror. Throwing themself against Schlatt and grabbing onto his horns. Softly pulling on them. Not hard enough to hurt but just enough to annoy him.

He finally decided to sit up “Okay! You won! Let me get dressed and then we’ll see about going outside, okay? Also wake your brother up if he is still asleep. He’ll want to go out as well.”

Their frown immediately turned into a huge brimming smile “Yes!” He let out a deep breath, already knowing that this day would be a straining one. Actually he had some stuff to work on back in the White House but alas the first snow fell and these plans got obviously pushed back.

Maybe he needed that small break anyhow.

As he got up and got dressed in comfortable and warm clothing, opting out of his usual suit due to the snow, he heard some rumbling and laughing from outside his room. The two kids were excitedly yelling about the snow, making snowmen and igloos.

Once he got properly dressed he took a look outside his window only to see Manberg covered in a thick layer of snow. It looked peaceful and beautiful but dread was still building up in him. If the snow was that thick he will have to shovel some of the snow in front of his house away. To that he would have to make his way to the office through all of that.

It was very tempting to grab his communicator and shoot Quackity a message that today the two could take the day off, though as president of a small nation this isn’t a thing you could just nonchalantly do. So instead he grabbed his communicator and wrote Quackity a different message “Will come in a few hours later than usual today. You can take your time as well.”

He didn’t immediately receive an answer. Quackity was probably still asleep, which made sense. He didn’t have a child at home that woke up early and noticed the snow before anyone else in the house after all.

Schlatt opened up the door to his room only to see Tubbo skipping down the stairs, already dressed and full with energy. Of course he was happy to see both of his kids being excited but he was still lagging behind concerning his own energy.

“Hey, kiddos.” He yawned, stepping down the stairs himself, already seeing the two trying to wrangle themselves into their boots. “Before we go out let’s eat some breakfast first.”

“But dad!” Tubbo whined, still trying to push his foot into the shoe.

Schlatt shook his head “No buts. First breakfast and then we can go out and play.”

Both Tubbo and Y/N looked absolutely betrayed he would force them to eat first before being able to go out but they also knew there was no sense arguing with him about it, so they just begrudgingly let go of their boots and followed their father into the kitchen where he begun making some basic breakfast for the three of them.

Schlatt was taking his time drinking his coffee and eating his food, slowly waking up properly while Y/N and Tubbo couldn’t sit still on their chairs. Wharfing down their food and drink as fast as they could only to be annoyed at Schlatt’s slow eating. He would lie if he didn’t think it was a tiny bit amusing watching them as they struggled to patiently wait for him. Honestly it looked like they were sitting on hot coals.

“Come on! Eat faster!” Y/N drawled out angrily. Tubbo let out a frustrated sigh showing that he was just as annoyed as his little sibling.

Oh how easy Schlatt could prolong this by pouring himself another cup of coffee. He almost went for it but he didn’t want to torture his kids too much.

Rolling his eyes he gave them a small nod “Alright, alright. You guys get dressed up and I’ll follow you guys in a sec.”

Both let out relieved sighs and exclamations almost literally jumping off their chairs and running out to get their things.

That’s when Schlatt’s communicator rung. Seems like Quackity finally answered him.

“Gotcha Boss.”

While Schlatt didn’t necessarily wanted to make his children wait even longer he still took the time to get properly dressed up in his coat, gloves and scarf. He even got some ear muffs out for the two as well which the two didn’t appreciate. Schlatt used his authority as their dad though to make them wear the muffs.

Then it was finally time. Schlatt opened the door and the kids ran out right into the snow. Both laughing in glee as they threw themselves right into it. Schlatt wanted to chastise them for it since this would most likely end up with them catching a cold but he stopped himself. It has been a while since they could play in the snow so he wanted to let them enjoy themselves like that just for a little bit. Also he didn’t like how much he acted like a typical boring, worried dad.

While the two were yelling and throwing snow around Schlatt got his snow shovel out and begun freeing up the front door. He was a few minutes in as he felt something pull on his jacket. Turning around he saw Y/N trying to get his attention.

“Can you help us build a snowman?”

Y/N looked expectantly at their father. Cheecks and nose flushed from the cold. Snow was gathering on their head, especially on their small horns. The horns were still pretty small but since they were a bit rough the snow stuck to them very easily. Schlatt smiled and got rid of the snow on their head.

“Alright but only one. Then we have to make our way into the city.”

Their eyes begun to glisten “You are taking us with you to work?”

“Something like that, come on kiddo. Let’s get the snowman going.”

Together the three begun working on making a snowman together. Schlatt took care of the biggest snowball since he was obviously the strongest of he group. Tubbo took care of the middle part and Y/N rolled together the head for their master piece. Since they were also the fastest done they were allowed to look for things to decorate it later with.

As Tubbo helped Schlatt setting the snowman together Y/N reappeared with some twigs and stones in their hands.

“There you are, was wondering what took so long.” Tubbo smiled as he put more snow on the snowman to fill in some indents.

Y/N just stuck their tongue out and begun trying to stick some twigs at the side to make some makeshift arms for the snowman. Schlatt helped them a little bit to make sure it was really stuck in there before they continued to put on a crooked smile with small pebbles.

Once they were done the group gave the snowman a good look over. It was definitely not perfect but both Tubbo and Y/N had they biggest and proudest smiles on as they looked at it. Schlatt was smiling too, more happy about their happiness than their little snowman.

That’s when Schlatt had an idea. He took some of the more elastic twigs and put them on the head of the snowman, curling them around its head to make it look similar to the horns he had and pushing the ends back into the head so it would stay in that form. Well, to be fair Tubbo’s horns were well on their way to resemble his and while Y/N’s were still pretty small they already begun to show a similar curl.

Satisfied with his work he picked up Y/N who wrapped their arms around him for a short hug “Thanks Dad. It looks great.”

Tubbo nodded “Yeah! That does kinda look like dad though!”

Schlatt frowned “Hey! What is that supposed to mean!”

“How about we add two more later as well! One for me and one for Y/N!” Tubbo stated. Expertly ignoring his father’s outburst.

Y/N giggled “Yes! Let’s do it!”

“Later. I have to slowly get into the city so I can go work. I’ll take you guys with me this time. We’ll find something for you guys to do there, alright?”

The two agreed sure enough so the group made their way, albeit slowly due to the snow, into the heart of Manberg where the White House was waiting for them. Usually Schlatt would leave them at home. Tubbo was old enough to look over his younger sibling and the way into the city isn’t that long either way anyhow. They would hang around at home and do their shenanigans or just run to Manberg where they would hang out with the other residents.

Schlatt had problems expressing it but he was truly proud of his two gremlin kids. They were usually really patient and polite which was honestly pretty surprising seeing how he acted but somehow he managed to raise two polite and nice kids. Okay, they sometimes get into trouble but who could fault them that’s just what kids do.

Inside Manberg you could see a few residents shoveling snow away from the walkways and homes. Some seemed to be happy to see the snow while others were pretty annoyed. Schlatt would have been one of the latter group if his children weren’t so happy with all of this.

He has really gone soft hasn’t he?

“Alright. We are here now. You guys can come in with me and warm up a bit but you two can also go and play.” He rambled off as he set Y/N back down.

“Can we have some money so we can buy some food from Niki’s?” Tubbo asked.

Schlatt frowned, putting on an expression as if him getting out some money and handing it towards him was physically hurting him “You are killing me, Tubbo. You better not waste it.”

Tubbo just rolled his eyes and held his hand out for Y/N to take it so they could walk off together.

Schlatt put his hands on his sides, looking at the two walking off for a few seconds before he felt something hard hitting his back, resulting in him letting out a yelp in surprise. Both the kids turned around laughing at the weird sound their father made only to see Quackity standing behind him with a mischievous grin, already forming a new snowball in his hands.

“Oh you are so dead, motherfucker.” Schlatt grumbled only to make a snowball himself to throw it at the duck hybrid, hitting him square in the chest. Feeling a tiny bit vindicated by this Schlatt begun to cackle.

Y/N looked at Tubbo, not sure what to make of this, who in return just shrugged. When they looked back at their still cackling dad they saw how Quackity was pointing to the snowball in his hand and then at them. It took them a moment to understand what he meant but immediately crouched down to get better access to the snow once they understood. Tubbo followed suit.

This is how a full blown snowball fight started though it wasn’t much as a fight since Quackity, Tubbo and Y/N all concentrated on Schlatt. Throwing all they had against him. Schlatt had to hide behind an old stall that was still standing on the marketplace, only sometimes looking from behind it, throwing his own snowballs.

To think he was angry and trying his best to get this stall removed for the longest time now only for it to now save his life.

“Y/N! You are supposed to throw it at your dad! Not me!” Quackity suddenly yelled out.

Curious Schlatt took a look from behind the stall only to see how Y/N ran towards him to hide behind the stall as well while Quackity was trying his best to get rid off the snow that was on his beanie.

Schlatt was impressed. A headshot, huh.

Y/N was out of breath huddling down next to their father “I thought it was unfair. Three versus one didn’t seem right.”

Schlatt formed a new snowball, handing it to Y/N “That’s why you are my favorite” he joked “Now let’s start the counterattack.”

#dream smp fanfiction #dream smp reader insert #dream smp x reader #dream smp x Y/N #mcyt x reader #mcyt reader insert #mcyt x Y/N #mcyt fanfiction #jschlatt #jschlatt fanfiction #tubbo fanfiction #ramza writes #dsmp x Y/N #dsmp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #quackity #quackity fanfiction

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kallypsowrites · 4 years ago

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Shadow and Bone and a Clash of Story Genres

So. I’m a writer. You all know this. And I recently read a book called Save the Cat Writes a Novel. It’s about how to structure the plot and character of a novel and its very helpful if you’re the kind of person who struggles with outline. i don’t struggle with outlining but still enjoyed it.

Anyway, at one point the author discusses these ten ‘story genres’. It isn’t genres like fantasy, sci fi, horror etc. Instead it has to do with how the plot structure is set up--who the character is, what problem they face, and how to overcome it.

There are two specific genres that stuck out to me here.

1. Institutionalized: In which a character becomes a part of (or grows up in) a family, group, society, system etc. They must decide whether to join it, change it or burn it down.

2. Super hero: In which a character discovers they are extraordinary in an “ordinary” (ordinary does not mean non magical) world and must embrace this power to save the day.

Fun fact, Shadow and Bone is listed in this novel as an example. And its listed under the Super Hero genre. And that’s when it struck me why I have such a problem with Shadow and Bone. Because it IS a superhero story...but it uses the elements of an institutionalized story for flavor while never actually delivering on these elements.

More under the cut...

All righty. So. First. A quick rundown of these genres.

In the ‘Superhero genre’ (according to this book) there are three requirements:

1. A power...bestowed upon your hero that sets them apart

2. A nemesis... who directly opposes your hero and who possesses equal or even greater power, but who is the self-made version of the hero and lacks the faith to truly be “the one”.

3. A curse... for the hero to overcome or succumb to as the price for who they are and which makes your hero relatable to us as mere mortals.

In the ‘Institutionalized genre’ on the other hand, we have these requirements:

1. A group a family, organization, business, community or uniting issue that is interesting

2. A choice: an ongoing conflict between the naif (the newcomer) and the company man (who embodies the group) usually revolving around the question to join or not to join/stay or not to stay.

3. A sacrifice leading to one of three possible endings: Join, burn it down, or escape.

You can see how the Grishaverse toys with both of these genres. For the superhero genre.

1. Power= sun summoning

2. Nemesis=darkling

3. Curse= the shadow fold for which Alina must sacrifice her powers.

For the institutionalized genre its more shaky.

1. A group: The grisha

2. A choice: Does Alina stay to help the grisha or nah?

3. A sacrifice: Alina gives up her powers in order to...escape? Its unclear. We’ll talk about it.

Clearly the story fits better into the superhero genre than the institutionalized genre. Though I think it also fails on that level but we’ll get to that in a sec.

The problem is that the first book really sets itself up like an institutionalized genre. Alina is ushered into an oppressed group and she faces the choice of whether to embrace her powers or stay rooted in the past. She starts to choose one option, but then Baghra comes in with the reveal and she escapes. She ends up sacrificing the people on the skiff (in the book) and runs away.

The big problem is that the next two books do not follow up on any of these themes. It doesn’t focus on the Grisha as a group and how they’re oppressed by a larger system. The system itself and the oppression of the Grisha doesn’t change much via Alina’s sacrifice. The fold is gone as is the Darkling but the Grisha are left basically where they started. And most importantly, Alina rarely makes active choices. For instance, her biggest choice in the first book is basically made for her by Baghra.

And the other big problem is...I WANTED it to be an institutionalized narrative. I know this is a personal preference, but all of the story’s most interesting themes initially came from this idea of Alina being ushered into this new group/society and having to decide her place within it. Institutionalized narratives are great and leave room for a lot of complex themes. And Leigh hinted at those themes but then gave us a completely different kind of story.

But the books don’t work well as a superhero narrative either. For one thing, Alina’s sacrifice to get rid of the “Curse” (the Fold) doesn’t make much sense and isn’t well foreshadowed. She also doesn’t make the CHOICE to sacrifice her powers and therefore its less satisfying. And her “nemesis” the big bad, has the primary goal of...trying to make a place for an oppressed group.

But okay, if he’s fighting to save the Grisha but going about it the wrong way, that means our hero Alina SHOULD be positioned as the one who will ultimately save the Grisha. Except for she has little investment in the Grisha cause and her getting rid of the fold actually doesn’t change much for them. So......guess we don’t have that.

I think the reason that the grisha trilogy falls short is because it introduces the themes, world building and antihero of an institutionalized narrative...but then forces them into a superhero plot structure. And in doing so, it fails to really be either.

Anyway, that’s my story structure rant for the day. Hope you all enjoyed

#shadow and bone #the darkling #general kirigan #aleksander morozova #the grishaverse #the grisha trilogy #leigh bardugo critical #alina starkov

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nitpick7 · 3 years ago

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Ayo anyone wanna see my essay on why removing Anybody Have A Map made the Dear Evan Hansen movie worse? It is slightly long

Disclaimer: I did like the movie (I cried three times), but I think they made some stupid decisions with it.

Dear Evan Hansen movie + musical spoilers under the cut, plus a fair amount of DEH neg/crit

Instead of Anybody Have A Map, they just have Evan's mom say "Hey are you writing those letters to yourself? Also you should ask the kids to sign your cast" before he goes to school and sings Waving Through A Window. They ignore every other part of the song and quickly insert the only thing from the song that's absolutely needed to understand the story so Evan can go be angsty at school. We don't even meet the Murphys until they meet Evan in the principal's office to tell him about Connor.

Disclaimer part 2 electric boogaloo: I complain about Evan a lot here. It's not because I think his experiences aren't valid and it's not because I'm trying to demonize people with mental illnesses or something. I know that his own struggles influenced his bad decisions. That doesn't mean they weren't bad decisions. He still did shitty things and he wasn't justified (listen to Words Fail), but I know it was influenced by his mental health.

On with the complaining!

First of all, the movie opens with Waving Through A Window? It feels like they're putting the most popular song first as a desperate grab for your attention to convince you the movie is good and like... they really didn't need to do that. Waving Through A Window is right after Anybody Have A Map, it's not like anyone's gonna walk out of the theatre after one (really good) song.

Anybody Have A Map establishes a few things: it shows us that both of these families are struggling so that we know immediately that the Murphys' perfect facade is fake, it shows us that Connor was a dick to his family (this is very important), and obviously it tells us why Evan was writing letters to himself. It also introduces us to the two main families at the same time so we know this story isn't just about Evan.

By starting the movie with an Evan solo song instead of the group song, they frame Evan as the one main character, the only person whose perspective we need to understand. But Evan is incredibly flawed, just like everyone else, and by making us think the story is only about him, it immediately makes us (the audience) more inclined to believe that Evan is always in the right and less inclined to consider everyone else's side of the story. Evan is an incredibly unreliable narrator, he's always going to frame his actions as correct, or at least excusable, even when he's actively hurting/lying to other people.

All of the Murphys get introduced through interacting with Evan instead of interacting with each other. This makes it seem like the Murphys only exist for Evan, but the entire point of the climax is that everything doesn't exist just for Evan! Evan is not part of their family, he can't just use everyone around him for his own benefit, and all of the Murphys have lives outside of him. When they're introduced through Evan, they're introduced as existing for Evan. Anybody Have A Map introduces them separately from Evan instead of attached to him.

Without Anybody Have A Map, we never actually see Connor being mean to Zoe, so she just looks like an asshole for not being sad about her dead brother. To make up for it, she's constantly having to tell the audience why she hated him, tripping over herself to talk about all the shitty things he did to her because we don't have Anybody Have A Map to show us their interactions. Zoe ends up complaining about her brother the entire time, so when it gets to Only Us and she says that she doesn't want everything to be about her brother, it seems out of character for her.

And with the removal of Anybody Have A Map, we don't ever see Connor interact with his own family in the movie. Anybody Have A Map is the only time we get to see Connor with his family. It shows us that Connor really was an asshole to his family, it justifies Zoe hating him, and it gives his mom more dimensions by showing her struggling to keep her family together even with everyone fighting against her. Without that, the writers ended up ignoring the most basic piece of writing advice - "show, don't tell" - to fill in the missing information from the song.

In the movie, all we get of Cynthia Murphy is... her being sad about Connor and refusing to admit that he ever did anything wrong. She's just boring and annoying in the movie, but in the musical, we get that bit at the beginning that shows her as an actual person with actual motivations! By cutting Anybody Have A Map, they made her into a more one-dimensional character.

So in a bit of a conclusion: Anybody Have A Map establishes the Murphys as main characters separate from Evan and shows us Connor's relationship with his family instead of telling us about it. It sets the scene for the story before just jumping into "Evan is sad and alone uwu anxious depressed soft boy" and makes everyone a better, more three-dimensional character. Getting rid of it meant that they had to do backflips to justify everyone's decisions during the movie instead of setting everything up at the beginning.

I do think the movie could've benefitted from Disappear but then again, it could've benefitted from the whole "Connor being the visual/vocal representation of Evan's justifications for why keeping up the lie is helping people" thing in general, but they got rid of that so Disappear wouldn't have worked. (I am salty that they got rid of that thing but whatever) The Anonymous Ones worked instead and it was a good song, so sure, why not I guess? /neutral

I could also complain about how they got rid of To Break In A Glove, Disappear, and Good For You, but none of those decisions actually impacted the story too much. To Break In A Glove and Good For You both got replaced with some tell-not-show cutscenes that gave us the same information in a less interesting way (and Larry got less character development without To Break In A Glove), and Disappear got replaced with an Alana song which was honestly pretty good so i'm fine with that one.

Now for some good changes that the movie made!

The Anonymous Ones was a good song, I actually really liked that. I'm disappointed that they got rid of Disappear, but they replaced it with another song that served the same purpose while also giving Alana more screen time and character depth! And it was a genuinely good song, I really enjoyed it and it made me like Alana more!

I really liked the ending of the movie. In the musical, there are literally no negative consequences for Evan, Zoe even forgives him at the end. She fucking forgives him for lying to her entire family about their dead son and and taking advantage of them because it "brought them closer together". And the internet never finds out what he did! He does all this terrible shit, lies to the entire fucking world, and gets away scot-free. And he never learns anything real about Connor. The movie changes all of that.

Connor's song was also a great addition! Every time we saw Connor in the musical, he was either being a dick or he was a fantasy version of himself made by Evan and/or Jared. Seeing that Connor can, in fact, be a nice person, that Cynthia's belief in him wasn't misplaced, was so satisfying. He really was just a meaner version of Evan a troubled kid lashing out at the world in self-defense. He wasn't an entirely bad person.

The Murphys still decide not to tell anyone what he did, but then Evan decides (on his own!) that he needs to own up to what he did. He records a video of himself admitting to what he did, shifts all the blame to himself, and then goes out of his way to fix his mistakes in any way he can. He says that his biggest regret is not getting to know Connor while he had the chance, so he goes online to find anything he can. He reads Connor's favorite books, tries to find anyone who might be able to tell him what Connor was like, and when he receives a video of Connor playing his song in rehab, he takes the time to send the video (through the mail, on a flash drive) to the Murphys, Jared, and Alana.

Evan doesn't contact Zoe at the end, she contacts him instead. She doesn't forgive him, and he doesn't ask for forgiveness. He knows what he did was wrong and he owns up to it and tries to fix it as much as possible, knowing full well that it could ruin his life. He does the right thing for the first time in the entire fucking movie (that's hardly even an exaggeration) and it's such a good ending. It makes more sense and is more satisfying than the musical.

The Dear Evan Hansen movie was not nearly as bad as the reviews say it was. It wasn't as good as the musical, it had its own problems, but it also made some good changes that I think made the story better. It wasn't perfect, but I enjoyed it and most movies aren't perfect anyway. It really could've benefitted from Anybody Have A Map, though.

#the first draft of this took 50 minutes to write and it was on discord #then i spent a solid hour editing it while at work #please appreciate me /hj #pie.txt #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen movie #dear evan hansen musical #dear evan hansen review #evan hansen #connor murphy #zoe murphy #cynthia murphy #larry mora #alana beck #i tagged a post for once now give me clout #/j /j

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marianarira · 4 years ago

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How Art Challenges Made Me a Better Artist

(Watch the YouTube video!)

There are tons of different art challenges; I think there's a popular challenge every month—Inktober, plain airpril, creatuanuary, huevember, mermay, to name a few. Usually, influencer artists start a challenge with a hashtag. And it spreads throughout the community.

Participating in art challenges has become almost a norm, especially in recent years. And there are benefits in doing so:

You become part of the artists' community.

If your work is good enough, you can have exposure and grow your audience.

You can experiment and try new things.

And last but not least, you have fun.

They are also supposed to encourage people to draw every day and become better artists by improving their skills. (I'm not sure about this one, but I'll get back to it later.)

On the opposite side, I've seen artists, even professional ones, resist participating in these hashtag art challenges. So let's look at the disadvantages:

There's pressure to draw every day, and if you skip one, then there's a feeling of failure.

There's also a direct comparison with amazing artists, and for some of us, that can be discouraging.

Another negative I've seen recently is the obsession with getting followers and growing an audience. Of course, I understand the interest in that; we all want an audience. Still, I've seen artists, beginners especially, focusing on the followers more than on their drawing skills.

I think the most significant disadvantage, and this is something that happens to me, so I know this by experience. Is that, I would prepare myself to draw daily for one month. I would accomplish the 30 or 31 drawings and be happy with my results, but then, when the challenge was over, I wouldn't draw. Instead of being constant with my practice and growth, I would grind during that particular month and never grind the same for the rest of the year. I was treating drawing as a sprint when it's a marathon.

Looking at the "improving your skills" benefit and the disadvantages. I think there are better ways to improve and be a better artist. Don't get me wrong, the act alone of drawing every day will make you progress. It's just that I don't think these particular challenges are very beginner-friendly.

Introduciiiiing the "Make Your Own Personal Challenge"... Challenge!

Anybody can create their own challenge, and you can choose to share or not your results on social media. You don't need to be a professional artist, you don't need to be popular, and your challenge can be whatever you want. For example, look at this Haikyuu themed challenge. So just like you can make a challenge to satisfy your love for an IP and draw fan-arts during a month. You can also make a personal challenge to focus on improving what you want and need.

That's what I did on my Drawing Leveling Up challenge. I don't intend for other artists to follow it. It doesn't have a theme; it's not a hashtag with prompts. When I started it, I had no idea where it was going. If you see the videos, you'll notice that I change my mind from one day to the next. I just wanted to improve my anatomy drawing, and I wanted to do it as fast as possible. Committing to a challenge was the best way I found to force myself to study daily.

I want to show you the challenge an animator did: zoray99 on Instagram. They uploaded a daily animation exercise throughout a whole year. It was rough, focused on learning and improving. Look how simple this day's animation is, they wanted to really understand what was happening here. Doing that for a whole year is impressive, and I'm guessing Zoray feels satisfied with the achievement, but more importantly, how much they learned.

So if you're a beginner artist and the well-known hashtag art challenges overwhelm you, you can create your challenge to improve at your own pace. You only have to set up doable boundaries:

The first you need is a time limit; this is important because the ending and objective are not clear without a time limit, affecting your commitment and confidence. For a daily challenge, a month would be ideal. But you can also choose to draw every other day instead of daily. You can also say something like, "I'll draw daily on this sketchbook with a 15-minute time limit until I finish it." Those boundaries are helpful because maybe you don't have a lot of time to spend on drawing.

Another useful boundary is a prompt list. Sometimes we spend more time thinking about what to draw than drawing. If you want to evolve as an artist, I recommend following a book and study from it. Or you can focus on a specific study subject you want to improve, like "sketching backgrounds for 15 days".

Another thing is that, for hashtag challenges, most of us try to make finished illustrations with ink and color and everything. So you can also determine how far you want to go with each drawing, simple sketches, ink, and painting? You decide.

My personal challenge's boundaries were: drawing daily for 30 days following the lessons and tutorials of artists on youtube. That way, I didn't have to think about what to draw, the "prompts" were their videos, and also, my sketches didn't even need to be clean. This challenge's purpose was to study.

The best part is that you control your challenge and improvement. If there are things you struggle with, you can repeat and practice them more. You can also slowly increase the difficulty. That's what I did when I implemented the animated anatomy studies.

With a personal challenge, you can focus on self-growth. And leave the hashtag challenges to have fun, experiment, and be part of the community.

Ok, but does making a personal challenge help you improve? Mine finished on May 30. Am I a better artist now?

To measure my drawing improvement, I made some life drawing exercises in "class" format, and then without a time limit, I drew some poses from my imagination. Comparing them to day 11 and day 16 of my challenge, I think I improved a little, drawing-wise speaking.

The biggest difference is not in my skills, though. It's in my mindset. I feel the challenge made me feel better while drawing. I feel less stressed and with more confidence. I am still doing the anatomy animations I started on day 21, even though the daily challenge ended. So it also gave me the boost I needed to keep grinding forward. Like a marathon, not a sprint. And that's what matters the most.

If you feel artistically stuck, or you're not enjoying drawing as much as you once did, or you want to polish your skills or learn something new, you can make a personal challenge and focus it on self-improvement. It's hugely motivating for other artists and me to see someone challenging themself, and coming out better.

#script #youtube video #art challenge #artists on tumblr #art improvement

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marypsue · 2 years ago

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18 and 30!

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

I wrote Murray Bauman. Somewhat sympathetically. I’m going to avoid ever doing that again, if at all possible.

(I also had to go back through the draft of the road goes ever on after completing my season two rewatch and completely overhaul the voice I’d given Sam Owens, because in my memory, it was too highfalutin’ and not trying nearly hard enough to be friendly and down-to-earth. And I had to try to recognisably update Bram Stoker’s attempt at Van Helsing’s broken British-English-with-a-supposedly-Dutch-accent to 1983 America for the light of all lights. That was a fun one.)

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

Honestly, just how easy it felt to sit down and hash out a plot, from start to finish, including instead of ‘ehhh I’ll get to that later’-ing major waypoints in the Dreaded Middle and the general directions to get to them, after finishing up the road goes ever on. How making the major structural edits to the second draft of the road goes ever on felt so achievable and invigorating, instead of daunting and impossible and despair-inducing. How those major edits actually made the thing immediately, noticeably better. How I managed to take the hot stinking mess that was the first draft of the final chapter and actually find the bits of that mess that were worth cleaning up and salvaging, and make something that I’m mostly satisfied with out of it, instead of having to start from scratch like I was afraid I was going to have to.

Every single story-construction, editing, technical-side thing I was afraid of before the road goes ever on, every Good Writing Practice I’ve been struggling with up until that point, all of it was what it took to make that fic happen. I’m still frankly just astonished that I got it done and posted at all, let alone posted before the deadline (which I set and I could have changed, but also had an element of external pressure, because I decided I wanted it out before season four). I’m still just kind of staggered that hey, I actually did that. And it has made the whole business of writing feel so much more achievable and doable and given me the concrete tools I needed and didn’t have the first times I attempted to draft an original novel.

And all it took was a global pandemic, a handful of characters I cared deeply about, some loose ends that got under my skin, and the audacity to bite off more than I could chew. And then chew it.

[ask me about my year in fic!]

#chatter #there's nothing Wrong with murray and honestly he is much more fun to write than he is to endure on the screen #it's just...on the screen...i find him unendurable

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enjennie · 4 years ago

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In The Limelight [chenle x reader]

Summary: Tutoring the CEO’s son, when you’re barely interested in business. And falling for him, when you knew nothing about love.

Genre: Fluff. Rich kid!Chenle Tutor!Reader

Warnings: None

a/n: not proofread! I’ve been in a slump lately ☹ my works haven’t been satisfying me but I hope you enjoy this! btw omg this is a reupload bc the first time... somehow, the paragraphs were jumbled up?

“Y/N, there are flowers on your desk,” your classmate gestures behind them to the classroom you were headed to before quickly passing by. You could only nod, a little taken aback by the sudden information you received. Flowers? As far as you know, Valentine’s had passed, so has white day and it’s definitely not your birthday.

But as you enter your classroom, the bundle of flowers catching your eyes, you knew one thing for sure was from who it was. As you approach your desk, you lift the thoughtful gift and inspect the small card attached to the string that tied it beautifully together. ZCH, it read in cursive.

“How was your day?” Chenle’s voice can be heard from the other line, the smile on his face almost something you can hear along with it.

“It was great! Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re delightful,” you beamed, eyes landing at the arrangement that now sat on your vanity. Chenle chuckles, his laughter sending serotonin to run through your body.

“Not a problem, I’m glad you like them,”

“Though I’d appreciate if you gave them to me yourself,” you cheekily continued. Chenle could only smile, his face softening at your request. It was a simple request. Yet, he couldn’t do it.

When you notice the silence that follow, you immediately regret what you said. You desperately try to backtrack, sputtering out words. “Well- I mean-, It’s fine- Thank you, still! I love them,”

Chenle hums, “I know. Don’t worry. You’ll wait though… right? It won’t be long,”

You plant your feet to your carpeted floor and nod, even if he can’t see you. “Of course, Lele,”

Zhong Chenle is the son of the most respected CEO of one of the biggest corporations in Shanghai the entire world. Chenle was the next in line to the company. After his brother had expressed how the business world didn’t interest him, the responsibility immediately fell into Chenle’s hands. And even if music was his love and calling, he had to let it go as to not disappoint his father.

Chenle had accepted it some time ago, going to school only for the degree so he could be eligible to own the business. He accepted the fact that he was going to be living the life his father made for him, not one he made for himself and it was the hardest pill to swallow. But things changed when he met you. There was more purpose to the things he does, it wasn’t just for nothing. Life had gone from monochromatic to colorful.

“Miss, Y/N. Mr. Zhong just moved and he has to take this class to pass the semester. I trust you can fill him in with our module? Mr. Zhong, this is Miss. Y/N, she scored the highest during midterms,” your world economics professor had marched towards you after class, a tall boy following behind her. He looked just as oblivious as she did, to the sudden weight and pressure being put on you.

You merely nod and say a simple hello, not being able to say anything else. It wasn’t a question, this was a demand. Jeez if I was gonna teach your student I should get a portion of your pay. You thought bitterly. At the time, you were struggling to juggle a part-time job at a café while also maintaining your grades to keep your scholarship.

When your professor left you two, the boy kept his hands buried in his pockets. His clothes were semi-casual and his hair was styled nicely. Who the hell moves halfway through the year?

“So, Mr. Zhong-“ you take your books into your arms and lazily sling your bag over your shoulder, heading towards the door with him trailing behind you.

“Chenle-, You can call me Chenle,” he finally spoke, startling you a little with how cool and soft his voice is as opposed to his striking visual that intimidated you at first.

“Nice to meet you, Chenle,” you give him a smile.

You were gonna be around this guy for who knows how long, might as well try to be his friend. Maybe it’ll make the teaching less of a chore.

“Wrong,” you huffed, marking his essay and adding in annotations. “Chenle, remember there is a specific way to start these essays and that’s by defining the terms you’re using,”

The boy sat opposite of you, arms crossed and back against the couch comfortably. You were in a café. The café you worked in, to be precise. Your schedule today overlapped with Chenle’s and as much as you didn’t want him to see you slaving around, you also couldn’t miss this paycheck at the café. You gave him an essay to write just to check on his phrasing and structure and left to buss some tables and serve orders. But when you came back, Chenle barely wrote anything and could care less about it.

“Can we not study today?” he whined.

You and Chenle have been meeting each other for a month now, and you’d soon learned about the type of boy he is, the life he led. In ways you didn’t expect to.

The first time you found out about Chenle’s reputation was through the newspaper. No, not the school newspaper. Not even the local newspaper. But on the Wallstreet Journal, when you had to grab material from any recent article for a class. Chenle’s name floated along with the words ‘Young entrepreneur’ and their company��s name. You gasped so loud you had to excuse yourself from the library and leave in a hurry. That afternoon you smacked him on the shoulder with your thick world econ textbook.

“You’re from a family of business corporates and you’re learning world economics from someone who crammed the exam?” you exclaimed. He stared at you blankly, book in hand and pen in the other.

“And you don’t pay me!” you added. The fact that you’ve been tutoring someone as rich as Chenle just didn’t make sense to you. Why not go to a professional? Instead, he was here with a sleep deprived college student who sometimes mixes up business terms just because she couldn’t care any less. World Economics was a mandatory for you. You studied to pass, sadly.

“I could start paying you, name the price,” he said easily. But you shook your head.

“I didn’t mean it that way, sorry. I actually don’t care about the money,” You led him to the picnic bench with the table outside school grounds and propped your book on it along with your bag before taking out your bento box. “Just blows my mind how you won’t just pay for the classes. I don’t teach that well-” you continue.

“I like you, though,” Chenle calmly interjects. You look up at the boy, movements being halted by his bold statement.

“Pardon?” you felt the need to have him clarify what he said. The boy leaned across the table, over your textbooks and notes. “I like you,” Chenle repeated himself, but the impact it had on you was just as powerful and hit you hard. Your heart was doing somersaults.

Chenle’s eyes grew thin as he smiled, backing away from you and sitting back down.

“So, chapter 12,” he starts flipping his book nonchalantly, leaving you out of breath with a heart hammering in your chest.

“What do you mean not study today? You have an upcoming quiz with Mr. Byun this Friday and mind you, that man searches for wrongs, not rights,” you raised a finger at him, shaking it matter-of-factly.

“No, let me help you. Do you usually run the café on your own?” he closes the book and takes his essay from your hand. You’re left slack jawed.

“No. I- Johnny couldn’t come in today,” you explained. Suddenly, you were stammering as if explaining to your boss. At first, you were doubting if it was the same Chenle you were reading about in the articles. The boy you were tutoring didn’t come off as someone who would be running corporates and buying stocks or whatever. He was more laid back and relaxed. Aside from the way he dressed, nothing gave it away that he was indeed the CEO’s son. But there were times where you got a dominant feel from him. Times when he stood with much authority and didn’t accept no for an answer. In those moments, you realize how Chenle’s presence alone demanded respect.

Soon enough, you found yourself behind the counter with Chenle beside you tying the apron to himself. He looked cute, somehow. The way he smiled at customers and tried giving them their recommendations set butterflies run free in your stomach, you almost swooned. He didn’t get much studying done that day, but you surely did. You learned the fact that you falling slowly but surely with Zhong Chenle.

There were two chapters you’re left to cover. In the short month and a half, you managed to teach Chenle six month’s worth of topics. Seeing him every other day made Chenle a familiar face to see around. Of course, you never actually got to see him around campus when you weren’t tutoring him. It left you wondering if you were actually teaching a ghost. But all doubts went away when the girls in your class started whispering about the cute boy waiting outside class. You quickly found out it was Chenle who they were talking about, and he was there for you. It was safe to say he wasn’t a ghost and is in fact real.

Carrying his book bag, he was stood against the wall with reading material under his arm.

“Chenle, we don’t have a schedule today,” you walk up to him, trying to avoid the dozen pairs of eyes that watched you. Chenle nodded, “Sorry, I won’t be here tomorrow. My father is bringing me on a business trip,” he states.

It wasn’t new for you to hear this coming from Chenle. Just the other week, his father brought him along to Japan for a company deal and Chenle came back with a little keychain souvenir for you. The same keychain dangled from your bag now as you both walked to the exit of the building. “Are you free?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t bring my book with me tod-“ you begin searching in your bag, even if you knew it wasn’t there. You were just trying to ignore the way his question made your heart jump.

“I mean… for dinner. Are you free for dinner?” he places a gentle hand on yours, stopping you from looking further in your bag. Chenle’s bold movements sometimes took him by surprise as well. He quickly retracts his hand, shoving it in his pockets. You let go of your bag, placing your hands on either side of you.

“Why?” you squinted at him suspiciously.

Chenle’s smile is small, but doesn’t go unnoticed by you as he turns his head towards his car then back down at you. “Listen, you don’t have to overanalyze this. I just want to treat you,”

Chenle had thought about it a hundred times or more, before finally making a decision. Although you’ve been seeing each other in cafes and libraries for some time now, he didn’t want to consider those as dates. Sure, it gave him time to admire you up close and get to know you but he wanted you to know his true intentions. The only problem was boy, was he a wuss. And were you oh so dense!

Despite the subtle and not so subtle hints he’s given you, you remained clueless about his feelings. Unsure, confused and just downright oblivious. From the way he looked at you to how he vocally told you he liked you. You shoved everything under the rug, afraid that this boy was just toying around with you and having a laugh. He found it cute.

It didn’t matter that you were in your school clothes, carrying about three thick books in your shoulder bag. He thought you looked stunning. You ate at a pizzeria just in town and he expressed how it tasted just like pizza from Italy. You said you wouldn’t know the difference since you’ve never been, and had a laugh about it.

The walk from his car to your apartment wasn’t that far, it’s just that he had to park a little further since there was no more space left in front. As you walked together, you noticed how the vibe and atmosphere between you two that developed as the night deepened, was different. More lax, comfortable. Like friends? You were both silent, until Chenle piped up.

“I lied, I didn’t just want to treat you,” he muttered, looking into the distance of your quiet street.

You turn your face towards him and you catch a glimpse of his face in the moonlight before looking away. He’d taken your bag from you and had it around his shoulder now. Him in his white polo shirt and brown suit jacket. He was always dressed like he was attending some kind of formal event. That’s Chenle for you. Mr. CEO’s son.

“Then?” you prompted him to continue.

Chenle averts his attention towards you as you finally reached the front of your apartment. You both stop walking, facing each other with the moon as your spotlight. You look at him from the light of the moon, it illuminated Chenle’s features perfectly. You would be able to inspect him when he studied, but each look at him made you breathless every time you had to look away. Much like right now.

“I wanted to take you out. Like, on a date,” Chenle confesses.

You could never wrap your head around how bold Chenle could be. Always leaving you flustered after saying such things, this boy was your weakness. But you didn’t give in. At least, you tried not to.

“Oh,” was your only response as you put your hands together, looking up at the tall boy. You hoped it wasn’t obvious that heat was rushing to your cheeks and ears by now. You could practically feel your blood flowing through your body, making you feel warm all over. “It was fun, I enjoyed it,” you shyly admit.

Chenle takes a step forward, raising his hand to palm your cheek gently. It’s the first time he’s ever gotten this close. “But I’m not sure you’re ready for my world yet,” his voice is lower, cool. Like wind.

You part your lips slightly, willing yourself to breathe. Your breath is unstable, shaky. This time, you take a step forward. “Are you underestimating me?” You don’t know where the surge of confidence came from, but you were thankful for it. The look of surprise is quickly melted into amusement as this was definitely the first time you ever made the second move to the dozens of times he’d left you flustered.

Chenle dips his head down close to your face. Eyes trained on each other, you tried to get yourself to breathe. He looked alluring, and you watch his eyes drop to your lips. Your head had become blank, nothing in mind. Just him. Chenle, and nothing else. His calm eyes, button nose and plump lips that you so very badly wanted to press against yours. “Are you sure?” he whispers.

You close the space between you and Chenle, lining your lips with his and connecting them together. The sensation almost sending you on your knees, you grab onto his shoulder for support and he holds you up by the waist, swiftly wrapping his strong arms around you. It felt like such a big relief, you almost sighed.

When you pulled away, Chenle’s smile comes into view as you fluttered your eyes open. He places his hand at the back of his head and scratches, suddenly becoming shy. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“You’re something else,” you giggle, smacking his arm before snatching your bag from his shoulder and turning on your heel to leave. You feel his hand against yours, forcing you to stop. “I’ll see you after my trip?” he asks.

“Same time… for class,” you reply, looking back at him with a cheeky smile. Chenle lets your hand go, a smitten smile on his face and a warm feeling in his chest. Zhong Chenle wished things were simpler. He wanted to give you the world.

“It’s just a black tie party and my dad’s forcing me to come with a date,” he fixes himself in the mirror. He looked handsome, as always. In an all-black suit that fit him perfectly. Dressed like he had someplace to be, people to meet.

You sat on your bed behind him, arms folded and face scrunched up into a frown. A date. Probably someone from a rich family, better than you, his future spouse. They’d have perfect little babies together. All these bitter thoughts were flooding in your brain. When he notices your unusual quietness, Chenle turns to face you and gives you a goofy smile.

“What’s on your mind?” he approaches the bed, placing either hands on the side of you and leaning in close. Chenle could tell when you lied and knew exactly how to make you crack. You pull your knees to yourself and don’t bother hiding the scowl forming on your face. You couldn’t do anything about it. After several talks with Chenle, he explained how much pressure he gets from the media and his family. How dating even became a hassle because of how the pressure would then be shared with his partner.

For years, it wasn’t a problem. He didn’t find anyone that sparked his interest, and only had meaningless one night stands. He was fine with it, really. But all of that changed when he met you. For once, he wanted to go after something he loved. Not let it go, unlike what he did with his own passion for the sake of his father’s dream and business.

You shook your head, ridding the thoughts in your head and throwing them out. “Nothing. I know it’s just business. Message me when you get home?” you didn’t need to ask, but you still do. Chenle always kept you updated, whether if it was how the party he’s in has a chocolate fountain or if the bathrooms have automatic toilets. It was always bizarre hearing about his stories and taking a peek of what his world is like. The world of corporates. You weren’t ready for it, and Chenle knew.

The secrecy of your relationship didn’t last very long, soon enough it’s got media questioning who Chenle was seeing and your status. After a few run-ins with the paparazzi, you both decided it would be best if your meetups were more discreet. Luckily, the cameras hadn’t captured your face yet, but it was only a matter of time until they did.

To top it all off, the news had spread across campus. Girls left and right claiming they were the one dating Chenle, it didn’t bother you too much. You had a scholarship to keep and a job to go to. Sometimes, you’d find a single rose and a letter waiting for you in class, or at the café. Of course, you and Chenle had wrapped up the tutorial classes and he was able to pass the exam. He was one step closer to his degree, but happy wasn’t the word to describe him.

He yearned to be with you, have you in his arms and spend hours together just like you used to before things got complicated. Chenle grew lonely without your presence as months passed. Nonetheless, you hung onto the string of hope that maybe one day people wouldn’t care so much. That you could take all the criticism, the heat.

It was around 2am when your phone rang, disturbing your slumber. It was a Friday night and you took it upon yourself to catch up on some sleep after the horrendous exam week you just faced. Chenle had said goodnight hours ago. You wondered who could be calling at such an ungodly hour.

You pick up without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Chenle’s voice filled your ear. Your eyes snap open and you shot up from your bed, pulling the phone away from your ear. Sure enough, it was him. Lele, with a little heart beside the name.

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask worriedly. His voice sounded slow and there was rustling behind him.

Chenle lets out a groan, and your heartbeat picks up its pace. You knew better than to think Chenle would cheat, but it was definitely worrying hearing this without any idea what was going on. “I miss you,” he breathed, voice raspy and low. You couldn’t keep the smile from appearing on your face. In the darkness of your room, your heart swelled with joy. “I miss you too, Chenle,” you whispered back.

Distinct voices come through the line, and you make it out to be Jeno and Jaemin. They’re bickering and you hear a guitar in the mix. “We’ll leave you here, Chenle,” Jaemin calls to his friend before you hear a door close.

“Why did you call?” you ask but you were happy that he did.

“Because I can’t be there with you. Even if it’s all I want right now,” he confessed. Your smile faltered and a hint of sadness falls upon your face as he continues. He was obviously drunk, but Chenle has always been really honest because he couldn’t lie. These days however, you haven’t had the time to talk much and you knew there was a lot on his mind. It hurt to know that it’s been this, and you couldn’t do much about it. “I just want to tell everyone about us. Screw what they think, YN. You’re perfect to me,”

Hearing his words gave you a glimmer of hope. You wished he was right, you wished you could believe it.

“Chenle-“ you sighed. “I want that too,”

There was a moment of silence before his voice came through again and you thought he’d passed out drunk already. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve sacrificed so much for my father, but you’re not going to be one of them,”

His words brought the smile back to your face, tears welling up in your eyes from how happy you were to hear them. It seemed at this moment that you could battle anything, because you were with Chenle. Everything would be alright. He was here and you are too, it’s the two of you against the world.

“Tomorrow, let’s make it official,” Chenle proposed.

You bring your hand up to your lips and bite on your nails, now fully awake more than ever. “Okay,” you agreed. Chenle grins, getting up from his bed. “I’m coming over,” you can hear him walking around now, keys jangling and shoes on his wooden floor.

“You can’t drive-“ you hurriedly try to stop him, keeping in mind his state.

“I don’t drive a Tesla for nothing,” he chuckles. “I’ll be there soon,” The outgoing beeping of the call followed afterwards as he ended the call. The realization hit you a moment later.

The next day, you and Chenle arrived in school together. He stayed the night, carrying a change of clothes in his bag. For someone who was smack drunk, he sure did pack well.

From the moment you stepped out of his car, many students were around to watch. Exchanging whispers and staring, your cheeks set aflame when Chenle pulls you by the arm, your hands connecting between you and threading together naturally. It drew the attention of many onlookers and you chewed on your bottom lip, not used to the attention.

“They’re staring,” you whisper close to him.

“Let them,” He responds. Chenle tilts your head up to meet his gaze before planting a lingering kiss on your lips, confirming people’s already forming suspicions. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

#zhong chenle #chenle #chenle fluff #nct chenle #nct dream #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct fluff #chenle au #nct dream au

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tommybaholland · 4 years ago

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haikyuu (oikawa, kuroo, tadashi) s/o excitedly calls them to come over their apartment, to show them the new song they have learned on the violin and they wanted to show them first

im sorry, this is long :,)

s/o who plays the violin

featuring: oikawa, kuroo, and yamaguchi

i actually played the violin in middle school so i tried to expand a little more on this.. enjoy!

oikawa

you’re a hard worker just like him so he knows how important this is to you

playing an instrument and being in an ensemble is similar to playing on a sports team in that you individually have to do your part in order for the group to succeed

he makes sure that you’re fully confident in your ability to play new and more difficult songs

he doesn’t like seeing you struggle or be so hard on yourself but he can only speak for himself and knows how it goes

he knows that you’ll always come around when you’re ready

“why, hello there. how’s my s/o?” he answered with his familiar greeting.

you didn’t even answer his question, getting straight to your point. “toru, can you come over soon?”

he laughed lightly at the urgency of the statement. “hold on, sweetheart. maybe we should go on a date first.”

your silence was seemingly unamused by his joke. “i’m being serious, babe. i need to show you something so can you please come?”

“you know i just like playing with you, babe. of course. we’re cooling down at practice now and then i’ll be there in 15.”

“yay! i’ll see you then.”

“can’t wait, baby. love you.”

he let himself into your apartment, like always, and proceeded to where he knew you would be.

he knocked on the door frame of your bedroom. “is there a beethoven that lives here?”

you turned around, shaking your head as you strode over to greet him with a hug and kiss.

“hey, sweetie. sorry i’m a little sweaty.”

“it’s okay. but you know that beethoven didn’t play the violin, right?”

he scoffs, feigning offense. “can you just humor me? i try really hard with the music references, you know.”

“i know, toru. i love when you do,” you reply, giving him another hug. you then pulled away to get back to what you originally called him over for.

“okay. are you ready?”

“yep. let’s hear it, baby,” he replied, taking a seat at your desk.

you began playing, facing away from him and towards the window. you liked to play in front of the window in your bedroom as you always liked to say that the natural lighting provided a more peaceful setting. seeing the silhouette of your figure while you played was his favorite part.

you’ve played for him so many times that he developed a sense for when the music was about to end, much to your surprise. with this, he always claps early so that you’re smiling for him when you’re finished.

“yes, that’s my baby right there!” he reacts as he gets up from his seat, continuing to clap until he has you in his arms again, giving you a few praising kisses.

when he pulls away, he keeps his hands caressed over your shoulders.

“is this why i haven’t seen you lately, hmm? you’ve been practicing real hard? aww,” he coos, hugging you tightly after you nod.

“well, it looks like all that hard work was worth it,” he remarks. “but let’s go do something now because i have missed you so much.”

kuroo

he’s very honored that his s/o is someone so talented like you

he likes watching you play the violin as much as you like watching him play volleyball

even if it’s just watching you tune the instrument or play some scales

like you just watching him block or serve a ball

there are times though when he feels you’re not getting adequate rest because you’re practicing so hard

he hadn’t seen you much at all that week. he tapped on your contact in his phone, hoping that you’d make time to spend with him, given that it was friday night.

“oh, perfect timing,” you spoke immediately when you answered. “i was just about to call you.”

“really?” kuroo smirked. “well, that’s good to hear. i guess i just have a sixth sense, babe.”

“can you come to the practice room, like, now?”

“practice-- baby, i thought you were at home. why are you there now?”

“i just wanted to work on this piece a little longer and then i guess time slipped away from me. so can you please come over here now, please?”

you had repeated please twice so he knew that it was serious. he chuckled at your cute tenacity.

“of course, babe. be there soon.”

“oh, good. you’re here!” you remarked as he entered the smaller room. you quickly strode over to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him over to where you were working. he looked around to see sheet music everywhere along with several empty coffee cups and some food wrappers, as well.

“gosh, babe. it’s like you live here,” he joked. “i hope you’re not sleeping in here too. it doesn’t look very comfortable.”

“i may have dozed off a few times in here,” you answered candidly as you grabbed your violin and bow and fixed the sheet music on the stand.

“okay. ready?”

he nodded and you proceeded to play. there was something about how you looked when you played. you were so focused and looked like you could actually feel the music as you played it. that effect spread to others because he could feel it in every inch of his body. it’s a familiar feeling that he’s so lucky that you would share something like this with him.

when you were finished playing, he found himself stumbling over his words.

“wow, beautiful. that was...beautiful!” he praised, walking closer to you.

you laughed at his goofy compliment and thanked him before laying your instrument back in its case.

“but why didn’t you just play it at your apartment?”

“i felt like i wouldn’t be able to since i’ve been grinding away at it here. i’m sorry.”

“no, kitten. you don’t have to be sorry,” he replied, wrapping his arm around you. “and i know you’ve been working hard but you could play it well anywhere.”

you nodded gratefully and leaned in to give your pretty boyfriend a kiss, realizing that you hadn’t greeted him properly when he arrived.

“now, let’s go get you some real dinner,” he proposed as he took your violin case in one hand and yours in the other.

yamaguchi

he’s naturally very curious about your life as a musician

it’s nice energy to have around because at one point, you felt embarrassed when having to carry around your huge case with your instrument inside

but he didn’t care at all and didn’t want your talent to go unnoticed or without appreciation

he’s your biggest (and cutest) supporter out there

reciprocity is an emphasized aspect of your relationship and he tries to be as uplifting as you are for him with volleyball

you had been frustrated since you received the latest sheet music for your orchestra group. it was by far the most difficult piece that you had to learn. it seemed like you had an issue at almost every measure and had yet to master vibrato.

it was plaguing your mind to get it right and when you weren’t playing, you were thinking about how to overcome this block.

your boyfriend had seen you progress into obsession with perfecting the playing of this song. on one hand, he understood it because it was your sense of pride that pushed you to want to become better. at one point, however, you were so upset that you wanted to quit and that’s when he felt he had to step in.

“this is so stupid,” you huffed, rubbing your hands over your eyes as angry tears threatened to spill over.

“no. it’s not,” he disagreed. “come here, peaches.”

he held and comforted you over the woes of not being good enough.

“i know you can do this but i think you may be stressing yourself out too much over it. it’s worth the effort but not breaking down your entire emotional state.”

from then on he was diligent enough to try to help you take breaks when you needed or to give you space when you wanted it.

“tadashi,” you addressed your boyfriend one day over the phone. “i would like for you to come over so i can show you something.”

“sure, babe! i’ll come right now,” he replied. “does this have anything to do with music?”

“i’m not telling you,” you answered in a sing-song voice. “you’ll just have to see.”

“hey, cutie,” he greeted as he entered your apartment and found you in the living area with your violin out and everything. he walked over towards you as you returned the greeting, where he gave you a sweet kiss.

“so it looks like i was right?”

“yeah. you were,” you affirmed. “what else would it be though, honestly?”

“i don’t know. maybe you just wanted to spend a little time with little ole’ me,” he joked while wrapping his arms around you, giving you a good squeeze.

“that could’ve also been part of it,” you chuckled. “thanks for coming anyway.”

“of course, my pretty peaches,” he replies, booping your nose. “you call and i am there.”

you respond with a smile and another kiss before instructing him to sit down on the couch. you fiddle with your sheet music and stand before turning towards him again.

“this is still very much a work in progress but i think i’ve finally gotten somewhere with this one.”

he nods with a cute grin and you begin playing. he recognizes it, after several measures, as the piece that was giving you so much trouble. he smiled at how you looked much more confident in your playing and if you made a mistake, he couldn’t tell. even though he didn’t personally know too much about music, he could relate with volleyball. it’s that satisfying feeling of getting better at something that you’ve been working so hard on and that work finally shows.

he kinda got lost in the music that he didn’t realize that you were finished and he hadn’t said anything yet.

“like i said, it’s a still a little rusty but that’s the best play through i think i’ve done so far.”

“that was rusty?” he said incredulously. “i thought it was amazing, babe!”

you thanked him and he got up from his seat to give you some more love.

“aww, come here,” he beckoned, wrapping you up in his arms again and pressing kisses to the side of your head.

“i am so proud of you, peaches. i love you so much.”

you love him too and you’re so happy that you have such a sweet and supportive person by your side.

twas a good one, haikyuu night! send in those requests for next time..

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #oikawa x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa headcanons #oikawa scenarios #kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo headcanon #kuroo scenarios #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi fluff #yamaguchi headcanon #yamaguchi scenario #request #requested #tommybaholland

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recklessmark · 3 years ago

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I heard ur requests are open 😊 can i get some idol!mark angst wherein he accidentally met with his photographer!ex through a shoot 😊😊😊 pls make me cry 😅😂 thank you for all the wonderful mark ficsss

words count: 1.3k

a/n: i wrote this at 1 in the morning lol i couldn’t sleep and this wasn’t really giving off misery but i hope you like it!

you shove the last piece of your hamburger into your mouth, chewing it aggressively while fasten your steps. you were on your way to have your lunch when the studio suddenly called you for an urgent photoshoot which you have to make an appearance in 20 minutes. your schedule is clear today and thanks to your coworker and his illness, you had mc donald for lunch and couldn’t even enjoy your food thoroughly.

you stop in front of the restroom to throw the piece of trash on your hand into the bin when some voice catches your attention.

no actually it’s a laugh, a very contagious laugh that you’re familiar with.

your eyes widen when you realize who it is, no one other than your most handsome ex ever, mark lee.

if you have a chance to make an index of the most regrettable things you’ve ever done before you die, breaking up with mark will come first.

you wipe your sweating palms on the sides of your jeans when footsteps approach you, along with the sound of him talking echoing into the wall. instantly, you rush into the restroom and close the door, still, remain a tiny gap that you can peek through. people always say that vision is more trustworthy than hearing, you can lie both way, though, it’s a different story. the biggest question you’re currently having on your mind is mark’s presence at the studio. you want to poke your eyes right away when you see his figure passes by through the gap on the door. not every information we adopt from our hearing should be verified by our eyes.

why is he here?!

however you have no time to speculate about the reasons and his purposes as your ringtone blares out of the blue. you hold your breath in and slowly shut the door since mark’s eyes just fly on your direction. hearing footsteps fading away, you sigh and answer your phone.

“what?”

you don’t know who you’re trying to hide from but you’re practically whispering.

“where are you?”

“in the restroom.”

“the shoot starts in five minutes, hurry up.”

“alright.”

you hang up the call and shove your phone back into your pocket. you groan and brush your hair backward. the fact that you’re going to be late doesn’t irritate to as much as how you’re gonna walk around this place without bumping into mark.

being an dramatic overthinker you are, you’re two minutes late on set that you don’t have time to take a look at who you’re working with. you hang the strap of the camera around your neck and idly tap your fingers on the wide desk which is furnished by three computer screens, waiting for the artist.

just as you let out a breath in relief since you didn’t meet mark on your way, the door flings opened, revealing the least person you want to see.

mark lee.

cliché as it sounds but it’s your fate and you can’t pretend to have a seizure and cancel the shoot now, perhaps you can choke yourself.

you notice the astonishment on mark’s face when he sees you either, however he’s quick to cover it. certainly he’s a celebrity, professionalism is prioritized in any scenarios. and that’s what you found yourself struggle with when you were in a relationship with him. he’s too good at hiding his feelings that you couldn’t distinguish whether he’s honest or it’s untruthful. although you knew mark never lied and he was serious with your relationship, you still couldn’t ease the doubt deep inside your mind. it’s your fault that you ruined everything, you broke him completely so whenever you see mark, there’s a pool of guilt bubbling inside your chest.

you glance away and mark scratches the back of his head when the silence is broken by the noises of the staffs as they prepare for the photoshoot.

this is not the first time you worked with mark. nevertheless, his efficiency when it comes to work never fails to impress you. and he never fails to distract you with his dazzling charm either. suave, divine, glorious there’s no such a word that could precisely describe him.

neither of you start a conversation during the shoot, you don’t even know what you’re supposed to discuss about. therefore keeping your mouth shut to avoid any possible stupid utterance is probably the best option.

everything went well, no such incidents happened and you’re extremely satisfied with the results. you take out the memory stick from your camera and connect it with your laptop. while reviewing the images, his face reminds you of the embarrassing memories you wish never happed.

mark had a condensed schedule, he debuted with superm last year and it worsened the situation. with the nature of either your and his career, you didn’t have much time for each other. basically keeping in touch only by messages and calls, occasionally got to see your partner when you had a chance to work with him. no dates, no private time. both of you had to work with a variety of different people, it’s like a competition that who’s more insecure will lose. and your petty insecurities outweighed your faith and trust in mark.

mark was doing everything to keep you, sending you encouraging and reassuring messages, calling you every night and spending time with you even for a second if that’s all he got. but it didn’t stop you and your most-ever stupid decision, breaking up with mark.

you remembered how depressed mark was. he lost weight, his cheekbones became more prominent and he couldn’t focus on anything. you was dazed when you saw mark on a music show with his dark eye bags and tedious face. there was a night he called you, apparently intoxicated. he was just crying, sobbing, telling you how much he loved you and then cried himself to sleep. you were laying on your bed, balling your eyes out and listening to his emotional speech through the speaker of your phone. and when he’s finally asleep, you still didn’t hang up the call, hugging the watermelon squishy he gave you for your birthday and crying your eyes out.

all of a sudden, your phone rings out loud, cutting your memorial flashback. you frown at the strange number, debating whether you should pick up or not. this better not be some creeps messing with you at 10 in the evening. your thumb swipes on the screen and you bring your phone up to your ear.

“hello?”

“y/n...”

“mark?” you ask in confusion, more like confirmation. you don’t reckon it’s someone mimicking his voice.

“yeah.”

your brows furrow tighter, ‘yeah’?, he calls you and says nothing except of your name and yeah...

“what is it mark?”

“nothing. i just miss your voice.”

sir literally saw me two hours ago and chose to keep silent.

“what are you doing?” he asks. you can’t hear anything but nonchalance in his voice.

“uhm...editing your photos.”

your eyes flit on your laptop again, which already go black and you hit your keyboard to activate it again.

“mark...”

“yes?”

“i’m sorry...” you whisper, trying to cover your shaky voice as your eyes watering. you don’t remember when was the last time you got to hear him calling your name.

“for what?” he asks quietly.

“everything.”

there’s a moment of silence before he speaks again, tears run down your cheek. “don’t be, i just hope you’re doing well, can you do it for me?”

you nod furiously and then realize that mark can’t see so you say into the phone instead, “yes i will, you should stay healthy too, don’t stay up late.”

“i know, i’ll see you again alright? goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

you ring off the call and put your phone aside. your hands wipe the tears on your cheeks and your lashes away, staring at the photo displaying in the screen, your vision becomes blurry again.

he’s probably moved on.

you’ve lost him, you’ve lost mark.

#requests #mark lee #nct mark #mark blurbs #mark boyfriend #mark imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark scenarios #nct imagines #nct mark lee #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct u scenarios #nct drabbles #mark angst #nct angst

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mittensmorgul · 4 years ago

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So for the most part, I outright reject the finale. But I do think, in light of the whole "Jimmy was supposed to be in the bar, and Dean was disappointed by that because his perfect heaven would have Cas in it" just makes me all the more convinced that the final episode was some kind of djinn dream. Like.... There's no other explanation in my opinion. If Dean's perfect heaven was supposed to have Cas, and he tragically gets faked out by Jimmy (????? Why tf would jimmy be there anyway), it just proves that it's not ACTUALLY heaven. That, along with he El Sol beer he's drinking is all the evidence I need. I think after 15x19, Dean and Sam got whammied by some monster, and are stuck in a hallucination, and that's what we're seeing. (My headcanon is that it's actually The Empty doing it, because it knows if it doesn't keep Dean and Sam occupied and spinning in circles, they'll invade the Empty to save Cas. So its trying to prevent that) :)

Hello, anon friendo! I am gonna start by offering the socially distanced version of a high five, because yeah... There is just so much to unpack here, and you provided such a succinct and all-encompassing series of statements to start from. Thank you!

*flings open array of questionable suitcases*

First off, Congrats on having rejected the finale. I know a lot of folks are still struggling with that one, for many reasons. But you have hit upon so many of the points I’ve been trying to make about the finale since it aired. I’d just like to start with some of the assumptions I’ve heard from folks about the finale that make it impossible for me to consider it fully honestly canon. Because so much about it just makes no goshdang sense... like... not at all...

One of the biggest issues I have surrounding the reception of the finale in parts of fandom is that it portrayed a “happy ending.” The show itself spent the entire final season telling us that a gravestone marked Winchester was not and never would be a happy ending (thank you Becky Rosen-- words I never thought I’d say, but honestly and most sincerely meant). Let’s break this down a bit.

Starting from the assumption that “heaven was fixed” so that characters could have true free will there, making it satisfying in any way that Dean died so young and never got to truly experience happiness during life, I would like anyone who has adopted this attitude to then explain Kansas the band. I mean... explain that in any satisfactory canon-compliant way. (hint: you can’t. it makes zero sense in canon, if heaven is truly reformed and “happy” with everyone in possession of free will.)

Which brings me to Misha’s comments about Jimmy being in the Roadhouse. Why, if heaven were truly fixed, would Jimmy ever in a bazillion years attend a party for Dean Winchester? If Heaven were truly a “happy” ending for Dean, why introduce this element of eternal tragedy and heartbreak to his heaven experience? Why taunt him with the eternal loss of Cas-- even if you don’t think he reciprocated Cas’s romantic feelings, he was canonically the best friend Dean ever had, and being forced to exist forever in a place where he had everyone else he ever cared for except for Cas? Is frankly horrific.

How the actual fuck is that a happy ending, in any sense of the word?

How is this the sort of heaven that Dean would’ve made for himself before it was “fixed?” At least in the memorex heaven, he could’ve lived in oblivious peace with Cas, even if it was always just his own memories and not ~actually Cas~. I honestly think that would’ve been happier than the abject tragedy of what we did get, and what we would’ve gotten had the original script played out.

All of this kind of makes me wonder if they ever even actually defeated Chuck. Like... it feels more like Dean got pulled into the Empty at that moment with Cas and Billie, and everything else after that point was the Empty’s endless experience of sorrow and despair we knew it subject its charges to. So that’s one potential for what could’ve actually happened. I mean, everything about the finale was sorrow and despair, you know? Dean didn’t even get to enjoy his pie at a pie festival because Sam smashed in in his face. How is any of it happy, in any way?

Because if that was actually heaven, there wasn’t actually any free will (because why tf would Kansas the band have chosen to put on that concert? why tf would Jimmy have been there, just to torment Dean with the taunt of Cas returning to him only to have that hope snatched away again? It’s cruel. It’s, in fact, a source of intense despair).

The djinn theory could also work, and I’ve read some excellent fix-it fic using that as a premise. But that doesn’t really explain what happened to Jack (and Amara, since she was in there with them) after hoovering up Chuck’s power, you know? I think the simplest explanations in canon are that Chuck actually won via the unified power of Light and Dark being transferred into Jack and effectively using him as a vessel. With Sam and Dean convinced they’d won, they effectively stopped resisting Chuck’s story for them, and using Jack’s understanding of humanity and the Winchesters specifically, Chuck finally was able to implement a version of his story that the Winchesters would just waltz into without thinking it was supernaturally influenced at all. Going bigger and bigger with monsters and cosmic troubles hadn’t worked, but going so small Sam and Dean would barely even notice the influence-- even with the incongruous reappearance of a vampire that appeared in their lives once, for like two whole minutes 15 years ago, and an unsolved case from the journal from more than 30 years ago that John had never even linked to vampires at all.

At this point, I need to mention that I’m watching 10.23 as I type this up. An episode in which we confront the Mark, along with Death, and Dean’s despair, where he learns a version of the truth (but by no means the full truth, or even accurate truth in some respects) about Chuck’s Story, Amara/The Darkness, etc. That would unfold more fully over the next five seasons. And what was the case Dean took in this episode? Vampires. LOLOL omg this show is nothing if not horrifically consistent, yes?

So because of this, I went haring off through my own blog looking for a post I made a long time ago about the symbolism of how various monsters are used on this show (because again, consistency). I got sidetracked by other posts in my monsters tag, including this from after 15.09 aired, which feels particularly awfully relevant. This was my reaction to Chuck’s Story he showed Sam in that episode, about what the future would look like should he successfully trap Chuck with a Mark, and which... yeah is basically exactly thematically consistent with what we saw in the finale, right down to a cheesy twist on vampires. Read the whole post right here, but this is the part that reached up and punched me in the face:

this is how Dean personally reacts when he loses Cas. We know how he reacts when he loses anyone else– think about what he did when Charlie died. He went on a murder rampage against the Stynes for killing her. When Mary died he broke some furniture and went full bore toward both resurrecting her and stopping Jack. But without Cas, Dean loses the will to fight. Sam has… always been different. He referenced Jess in 15.04 to remind us of how he was after she died in the pilot episode. Just like John, he picked up the revenge mission and ran with it. But for Dean, Cas is different. Without Cas… Dean gives up.

Because... Dean gave up. Sure, he and Sam weren’t overrun by vampires in the end. Chuck knew they’d never stop fighting the monsters, one way or another. The only way to get Dean to give up is something Chuck hadn’t quite figured out yet... maybe not until after 15.17, after confronting Cas in the hallway of the bunker, after absorbing Amara’s power, knowledge, and perspective on Dean.

Chuck needed Dean to give up, and honestly? Pushing Billie to clear him off the table and send him (and Cas, that pesky angel who never did what he was told) to the Empty would’ve been a direct way to deal with that... pretty much akin to having one sibling locked in a cage forever, yes?

Also, still looking through my monsters tag, I’m reminded of 14.15, and still cannot differentiate the version of Heaven in 15.20 from what was done to the people of that town. This... is not... paradise. This is actively what Dean has been insisting is the OPPOSITE of paradise since like… 4.22… No ending where Dean was a “Stepford bitch in paradise” ever had the possibility of being “happy,” at the core of things, and this “fixed” version of Heaven just doesn’t hold up to any degree of inspection. Something is seriously wrong here. https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/183465650390/so-can-we-talk-about-this-monster-of-the-week-for

And since I was unable to find the post I wrote who knows how long ago about Monsters and how they’re symbolically used on Supernatural to represent larger themes in the episode, I’ll just attempt to sum up what Vampires have been used for. Revenge. Vampires are always, in some way connected to themes of revenge.

(and hooray, I found at least a post adjacent to the one I’ve spent the last four hours trying to find... https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/187207052080/i-obviously-did-not-think-this-through, where I mention that shapeshifters are about revealing hidden truths (mostly about Dean since most shapeshifters are connected to Dean), zombies are about grief and the inability to move past it.)

So why... why at the end of their road is the monster that comes after them-- literally FOR REVENGE for something that had never been blamed on Sam or Dean to begin with, from season 1, directly connected to John’s revenge mission and the first time they learned about the Colt AND the first time they learned in canon that Vampires were even real... like... this feels very specifically like some kind of layers-of-meta levels of shade on them, you know? Vampires are for revenge, so what vengeance exactly is being visited upon Sam and Dean in this episode? If not Chuck’s entire story for them itself?

So yeah, 100% agree, something is incredibly rotten in the finale. And I am sick to effing death of people trying to convince us that anything about this was “good” or “happy” or “satisfying” in any way. Or even “how it was always supposed to end” with Dean dead bloody, as if the entire back half of the series hadn’t been suggesting that a true win was the subversion of all of Chuck’s story for them, and Dean finally being able to have his chosen family all alive, happy, and chilling on a beach somewhere watching the sunset. Nothing will ever convince me that the ending portrayed in 15.20 wasn’t exactly how Chuck thought he “won,” rendering it entirely irrelevant to the rest of canon, unless all of canon was ultimately the tragedy we’d been encouraged to believe would be firmly defeated in the end.

Folks, you can’t have it both ways.

#spn 15.20 #chuck's process #if this was the 'happy' ending for dean they sure did fail big time to make it actually happy!#it makes me feel sick thinking that dean's happy heaven ending was more like an eternal pit of torment #like actively tormenting him and taunting him with the fact that cas was truly gone forever #like wow they went all the fuck out to make it clear that even in heaven #dean would never be allowed to respond to cas's declaration of love #like... it's the most hurtful and hateful thing the show could possibly have done to us #and it still fucks me up knowing there's people who think this heaven was a 'good' ending for dean #like... fuck that entirely and with extreme prejudice #i feel like i have not been emphatic enough about my absolute hatred for this episode in these tags #but sadly there are limitations to expressing the actual feelings i'm feeling in the english language #sometimes the only effective word for these feelings involves velociraptor screeching #Anonymous

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