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kimtaejin · 4 years ago

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La Luxure (m.)

↳ Thank you to @kim-seok-jin for the beautiful banner and dividers, and to @chillingtae for helping her with it! ^^

Heartbroken and done with relationships, Y/N decides to vent about her breakup to the sweetest bartender. Yet just a glance in his dark eyes is enough to tell her that maybe, just maybe she won’t spend the night crying for an ex-boyfriend, but drowning in her lust for him instead.

↠ Pairing: Jungkook × f.reader

↠ Word Count: 10.9k

↠ Genres: Angst, smut, fluff, (slight) crack (if you squint)

↠ Rating: 18+

↠ Trigger Warnings: Breakups and toxic relationship, cheating, swearing, physical fight, drama, alcohol, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected sex, hinted voyeurism, one night stand, long foreplay, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, degrading, creampie

⇢ This story was written as a birthday gift to @rubinora. We hope you had an amazing day! :D ⇠

Soojin: Y/N come quick.

You take a deep breath. I’m almost there, Soojin, I’m almost there. The sound of your footsteps against the pavement is the only thing you hear. You would’ve made it. You would’ve made it in time if it wasn’t for your pesky co-workers.

To the usual person, it is a cool Friday night.

To you, it is one of the worst days of your life.

… Or maybe you wouldn’t go as far as to call it that. Maybe, in the future, you would even call this one of your good days.

But for now?

You smile bitterly, uncaring who sees. Right now- there’s nothing more you want to do than scream. Yell. Anything to take away the fury and pain burning bright in your chest.

Your eyes fall on a couple as you pass them by, reminding you of the reason you’re out in the streets this late at night, instead of relaxing at home.

Jihyuk.

Your boyfriend.

Someone you had a deep admiration for. Someone you loved.

Someone who doesn’t feel the same way anymore.

It had all started when you had seen him come home hours later than usual. You gave him the benefit of the doubt. You told yourself that he must be out in town with his friends while you were at work, since he must’ve been bored alone. Because the deal is, he wasn’t employed. He had neither a job nor a penny in his bank account.

And that’s where you helped him. You were the worker. You put a roof over his head, you were the reason he had food on the plate everyday. You were there when he needed to buy anything. It felt more like you were a single parent providing for a child rather than a real, romantic relationship. And that should’ve been more than enough of a reason to leave him but you didn’t.

And now you regret it.

The next thing that came were the hickies on his neck. Purple bruises put on display, with his flushed cheeks- sometimes he was even drunk. Still, you helped him. Still, you gave him the benefit of a doubt, even when his ears turned red when you asked him if he was lying about just hanging out with friends.

Because there was no point in asking and answering. You already knew what he was doing, already saw the truth in his eyes.

And somehow still, everytime your friends would show you Jihyuk kissing some other girl, every time they’d tell you that they saw him out with some chick, you’d tell them they had to be seeing things. That the pictures could be photoshopped. Or maybe this was just a joke to make you dump him. But those things weren’t things you were saying to them, as much as it was to yourself, to convince your mind that what you saw or heard wasn’t it. It wasn’t the truth.

The truth is everything that has yet to be revealed today.

And at this point, you had gotten over the crying, the weeping, the sorrow and the regret. What is left is the anger- the feeling of being used.

You had given him everything, literally everything, only for him to treat you like some side doll. It hurt then. It hurt even now. It hurt a lot, especially on those nights, when you’d greet him after he came home, the smell of perfume thick on his body, lips bitten and swollen, cheeks red and flushed.

“Do you want dinner?” you’d ask, your eyes wandering anywhere but his face.

“Uh, no, I’m full. I ate out with friends, one of them treated the group.”

Lies. So many lies, told just so you’d keep him under your wing, protected and financially secured.

You smile widely even though inside, your heart wrenches. Why couldn’t he just tell you? It wasn’t like he thought you hadn’t noticed his aloof behaviour. How it affected you in turn.

Or did he? Maybe, he just thought that you were actually that dumb.

Maybe you really were that ignorant.

“Oh... okay. Well... I still have to eat,” you waited for this douche. You can’t believe it. Starved yourself so you could eat dinner with him when he probably was out with a girl. “So… do you want to talk as I eat?”

“Uhm,” his eyes met yours for a moment before he turned them away. “Uh- babe, I’m sorry… I’m tired after the long day, so,” he gave you a small smile. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “If you really want, I can go, but uh, let me take a shower first? Honestly… my, uh, friends can be so rowdy… I’m exhausted, but I guess you were waiting for me and all…”

You bit your lip as the warring thoughts of indignation, and yet also guilt filled you. “No- no, nevermind. If you’re tired,” you clenched your fists, “you should- go rest now.”

“Are you sure, babe? I wouldn’t want you to think I was avoiding you. Maybe I should-”

“No! No, I told you, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re the only person who understands and loves me best,” he praised you- and you felt a spark of fury, of hate and love grow in your chest. Was that all he could say to you? “See you tomorrow, then,” he said, his smile fainting away before walking past you to the bedroom. You stared at him until he left, until you couldn’t see him anymore as his silhouette disappeared upstairs.

The next day went similarly. You had arrived at your empty home.

Why?

Then there were days where you felt a little too insecure and asked him instead.

“Baby, are you… cheating on me?”

His body froze. He didn’t say anything for a moment, sitting on the couch as you had begged him a little earlier to watch a K-drama with you. Maybe it would’ve made the relationship a little better. Maybe you could’ve bonded. But he only seemed to be interested on his phone screen.

“What makes you say that?” Still, his eyes did not lift up to look at you.

“Eun says she saw you with this girl,” you muttered quietly, so quietly that you thought he wouldn’t have heard it. But he did. “She must have seen someone else,” he replied in a nonchalant manner.

“But it really looked like you, she said…”

“Do you believe her over me?” You watched him as he finally looked at you. “I’m your boyfriend, for God’s sake,” you bit your lip, then sighed heavily. It didn’t let all the words escape you. “I know, but…”

“If you want to end this relationship, I won’t stop you. But just know, you won’t find a better guy than me. After all, here I am, taking the time to watch with you, and you accuse me of cheating?”

Maybe you won’t find someone better. But even so, you knew that you didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve the late nights, wondering where he was, why he wasn’t home, if you’d done something wrong. No, you deserved better- and even if that better wasn’t from someone else, it certainly wouldn’t be from him.

Jihyuk huffed before standing up, wearing his coat and moments later, you heard the front door open and close. Moments of silence filled the room. You waited for Jihyuk expectantly, waiting for it to open and reveal him, but it didn’t.

“I wish I didn’t meet you.”

You are so over it. You are so over him.

You and Soojin had decided to catch him in the act. Your best friend had come up with the plan, and initially you had been in denial of it. But you had to end this cycle. You were so tired of it, of the constant stress you had to live with, of the burden that you weren’t supposed to carry.

You chose to set him up. If he agreed to Soojin’s advances, you were going to catch him red-handed and break it off right there and then.

And he had done exactly what you didn’t want him to.

Of course he had. You should’ve caught onto him a long time ago, but you really were a fool. And now that disgusted you. Hate intended for him enveloped you for your own self.

Walking into the dim-lit club, you are greeted by the sight of bodies pushing up against each other on the dance floor, the faint smell of alcohol lingering everywhere you step, and a bar, shining the brightest in the place. Silhouettes with their lips’ on one another, people drinking down glasses of liquor by each second that passed. A part of you is disgusted that Jihyuk took Soojin to a club, and the other isn’t surprised at all. No wonder the marks on his neck, his swollen lips.

Y/N: I’m here.

Soojin: Ok I’m in the bathroom hiding he was getting too close

Y/N: Right... lets meet up at the bar then.

Soojin: Ok!

Walking swiftly to the bar, you hope Jihyuk doesn’t see you, though in the wild crowd, you know he likely won’t.

You search for a familiar face as you reach the bar. Your eyes wander and land on the blonde that seems to be looking slightly lost.

“Soojin!” You call out and walk over to her, knowing fully well what is next. “Where is he?”

“Follow me,” you hear her voice above the loud music. Her disheveled figure makes its way to the seats. You can barely see her in the dark place, if not for the neon lightings flashing here and there.

You take a deep breath in.

Under a stray lighting, you catch sight of the hair you used to so fondly caress. Another one beside it, too close for them to be anything but sitting close, closer than friends, and definitely strangers. A few steps closer and you’d be close enough to see them clearly, close enough to catch him cheating perfectly.

Your heart feels numb, for a moment, contrary to before, but-

Three.

It’s funny how you can hear your heels echoing even in this noisy club. Or maybe that’s the beating of your heart.

Two.

Thinking back on everything that you’d gone through with him, if there’s any emotion that you think you should be feeling right now, it’s disbelief. Why? Did all the tender touches, all the kisses, all the ‘I love you’s mean nothing then?

It must, or else this wouldn’t be happening at all. One.

Yet even so, your ever traitorous heart still weeps at the sight before you, as your gazes both match.

Jihyuk’s eyes widen as he sees you. His lips are pressed to the side of a girl’s neck, and even under the dim lighting, you can see the dark splotches of color on her pale skin. The girl beside him whimpers, leaning in closer, seeking his touches, the way he used to make you feel oh so good, your mind whispers.

He only pushes her away, frozen in place as he locks you down with guilt in his eyes.

The loud, deafening music somehow doesn’t matter anymore.

“Y/N,” his voice can barely be heard, but for someone like you who’s watched him utter your name with adoration before, you hear him perfectly.

"Well… I guess I’m not that surprised.” Your words are dry, devoid of feeling. Your fists are clenched. Your smile is wry. “What do you have to say for yourself?" you are going to do this quick, you tell yourself. But the crowd of people overhearing the matter already have their eyes on you.

As it is, even people lost in the rhythm of the club’s music are interested in your confrontation, bodies stopping in motion, only for strange eyes to stare at you with curiosity instead.

It’s scary. You can’t do this, a part of you wants to say- but how long has it been since you’ve kissed someone and felt the butterflies dance in your stomach, telling a tale so similar to the one of your lips? How long has it been since you’ve wanted to do something like that?

Your heart burns.

Truth be told, too long. Too fucking long. You’ve spent too much time in misery for you to turn your back on the person that brought you it. You want to be free. Breathe air without feeling suffocated, sleep without having to think about a person being next to you as you do so.

Free, at last.

“I-” he tries to speak, but you look at him quietly, face devoid of any emotion, only your lips tightening a clue to your current mood.

“Don’t you feel like shit? Leaving me alone on those nights when I actually put a roof over your head, when I’m the main reason you get to eat food every day? Why did you do this to me?”

You know you sound desperate. Here he is, clearly in the arms of another, yet you’re asking him, staring at him, waiting for an answer, an excuse, but he is able to give none. It only makes it all the worse, it only makes you gasp for more air, because each time he doesn’t reply, the walls get tighter and tighter.

“Fuck, if you wanted someone to give you a good time in bed, why couldn’t it have been me? We were in a relationship!” you exclaim. More people are gathering around, but at this point, you can’t care less.

“Could you not control yourself for once?! Do you have no shame coming home each day smelling like sex? Do you not love me?” The last words leave you as a whisper, your voice choked up and your tone vulnerable. It is evident he didn’t love you, if he did then he wouldn’t have done this. But you still wanted to ask. In case there was the smallest chance that he would give you something to hold onto.

“What about the times that you lied? Do you have no heart?” A single tear slips down your cheek.

Fuck. You hate this.

Seconds pass, and nothing but his silence answers you. And when he does- it does nothing but rile you even further.

“Babe…” There’s the guilt in his eyes, that’s true, but it’s eclipsed by the panic, the way he’s obviously trying to assuage your anger. Instead of just admitting it. Instead of asking for your forgiveness.

Not that you would at this point, even if he begged on his knees.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” he winces and you sharply smile.

“What, you can, but I can’t? Besides, shouldn’t I be the one telling you that? There I was, wondering where my boyfriend was, someone without a job staying out so late without even a message,” you laugh, as though the entire matter is funny to you, but anyone can easily hear the mockery in your voice. “Then I find out he’s in a club, busy whoring himself out.”

He bristles at that, guilt fading into anger as he stands up. “I’m whoring myself out?”

“Well, what else would you call it? You certainly don’t have any money, after all, not even to afford partying at this club. Isn’t that right? Isn’t that why you ask me for money?” At that, you turn to face his previously ignored companion. Seeing the surprise and growing disgust against your soon-to-be-ex, you ask her gently. It’s all too obvious she didn’t know, after all. And as angry as you are, you won’t blame her for something that’s not her fault.

“Miss, dare I ask, did he have you pay for the drinks?”

She startles, but answers you steadily after a moment. “No, not at the start… but he did insist we pay for our own drinks, and then later on, he told me he left his wallet at home…” Realization colors her features as he reddens in embarrassment and anger. “That asshole, I must have spent more than a hundred dollars by now!”

“Tsk, tsk,” you mockingly shake your head at him, a part of you roaring at the highly humiliated look on his face. Just a glance downwards, and you can see how his fists are clenched, perhaps as tight as yours, veins already bulging out. Just a little more, and you could get him to explode. “Here I was, all but raising you, looking after you and feeding you, taking care of you, and you can’t even learn to have basic decency. Maybe I should feel ashamed, after all… more than being a couple in a relationship, our relationship turned more like mother and son, didn’t it?”

At the very end of your words, you raise your head, laughing. Jihyuk’s face colors to the point that it’s almost violet, and you feel vindictive satisfaction fill you.

“Y/N, you bitch!”

“What,” you scoff. “Did I say something wrong?”

If glares could kill, Jihyuk’s would have long gutted you, but it doesn’t, so you continue to hold your head high, smiling nonchalantly.

His next words make you hiss.

“If you weren’t always so busy, I wouldn’t have to look for someone else. When you came home, you never want to have sex with me, so why is it my fault if I look for someone else, huh!?”

You feel the flames inside you consume you even further, raging inside you and there’s nothing you can do to help relieve yourself of it. Before you know it, you’re stepping forward, arms being raised-

All you want is to make him hurt, like he did you, even if it’s only a fraction of what he’s made you feel. That motherfucker, daring to place the blame on you!?

Hell no.

Hitting him all that matters at the moment- that’s all that runs through your head- but then you suddenly find yourself unable to move, restrained. When you look back, you see Soojin’s face, twisted in worry.

“Soojin, please, let me go!” You hiss furiously, struggling in her hold, trying to get away. Yet, to her credit, Soojin keeps a tight hold on you, not letting you take another step forward. “Are you seriously stopping me from hitting him!? Are you taking his side!?” You ask her in disbelief, even if you know it’s not like that.

“Y/N, I’m not!” Immediately she shakes her head, yet she doesn’t let you go. “But you know you can’t start this here, you-” she bites down on her red lip, shaking her head. “You can’t. Please, you know he’s crazy, what if he hurts you!”

It doesn’t matter, I’m already hurt where it matters most anyway! You want to shout at her, but then you change your mind, glaring at the man you were once stupid enough to call yours.

“If I was ever busy, or tired, I hope you realize that it was always for you! And if I didn’t want to have sex, what did that have to do with you cheating!? Do promises mean nothing to you!? I never asked you for anything more than you being faithful to me, even when you kept asking me for money, even when you lived free at my house, even when you made me into your personal bank and caretaker! You asshole, motherfucker, I hope you rot in hell where cheaters like you belong!”

“Shut up!” He yells back at you, beginning to step forward, and Soojin is dragging you away- but you hold your ground. Let him come, if he wants-

“Shut up!? How can I when I’m not even done yelling about what you did! What, are you ashamed now!?” Only a step away. “How can there be someone as stupid as you who dares to cheat but can’t admit they did!?” His hand raised, curled into a fist. “Not only that, you just took advantage of me because I loved you! You no good, lying, coward-”

You see his punch descending down on you now, yet still you stubbornly look up at him, gritting your teeth. You won’t say sorry, if he wants to punch you, then let him punch you.

Yet still, at the last second, your eyes shut by themselves. You’re angry, yes, you’re furious, but it doesn’t take away the fact that you’re well aware Jihyuk’s stronger, and you’ve never been punched before-

A second passes. You feel nothing. Not the feel of his hand against your face, not the harsh, stinging pain that’d come with it, not the screams of Soojin as she cried.

Two seconds pass. Time is a mere fraction of what it used to be, and yet it’s slowly returning to you as you open your eyes, realizing you were seemingly waiting for nothing at all.

Three seconds pass. Your eyes land on the stranger holding Jihyuk’s wrist with a strong grip, brows furrowed with an intimidating scowl on his face. You step back out of fear.

“I assume, when you came in, you knew the rules of this bar,” the stranger says, voice low, a certain weight behind his every word. “No starting fights. What makes you think you’re an exception to that?”

“Let me go!” Jihyuk hisses, struggling to free his arm from the stranger, yet the other just easily holds him back. “Fuck, you heard what that bitch said about me!?”

“You mean, your ex?” The stranger sighs. “I don’t know if you’re just as stupid as she said you were, if you don’t realize that it’s your fault-”

Whatever he says next, you don’t hear, as you take this advantage to step forward-

-and slap Jihyuk as hard you can.

Your palms immediately sting, but you can’t be bothered to care about that, not when you see the bright red imprint left behind on his face, and the stunned look on his face. Grinning viciously, you hiss at him.

“That’s just a part of the pain you owe me, but considering you’re too dumb to understand something as simple as respect, I’ll just take this as payment.”

“From now on, I want you to fuck off and never appear in front of me again.”

The ringing silence that follows makes you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“... Satisfied?” The unknown man raises a brow at you- and your heart skips a beat for the first time in a while as you swallow, finally calming down a little... It’s loud, crashing, dizzying all at once but you nod at him. Your hands are trembling. You’re about ready to cry but still.

The rest of the words your now ex screams out blur out into the background as Soojin thanks the stranger, leading you away.

The rest of the events happen in what feels to be a flashback you get as you’re taking a sip of beer from the cup leisurely.

The stranger, Jungkook, he had told you his name, was told by your best friend about the problem. He called security, but came first to mediate just in case. After that, he let them take care of Jihyuk. The crowd around you dispersed upon finding out that the scene you had created was over, and Soojin went home after giving you the tightest hug someone had given you in a while now.

Though she tried to persuade you to go home too, you were in obviously no mood to go home- where every inch of the walls was filled with the presence of your- your ex.

It was only after a lot of convincing and reassuring her that you were safe with Jungkook did she leave, her own baby calling for her.

And you stayed at the bar, quietly watching Jungkook work.

During that time, you find out that he’s, overall, a nice guy. He has a cute smile that shows off his teeth perfectly, dark hair that you could imagine him brushing through with his hand, and the cutest, biggest eyes you’ve seen, like a deer caught in the headlights. Adorable.

What surprises you is that he works as a bartender at this place. Which does make sense now that you think about it. But between your dunk mind and slurred words, every little piece of logic is thrown aside.

He had asked if you wanted him to walk you home. You being… well, you, denied almost immediately. Tonight seemed like a good night to get wasted, after all.

“Whatever you say… but you do have the keys to your apartment, right?” the dark-haired man asks, face resting on his hand. He blinks at you under the bright lights of the bar, staring as you take another sip of the alcohol. “Just so your ex doesn’t get in?”

“Of course, I locked it too,” you roll your eyes slightly, glare set on the table below you as you seethe, remembering him. “He’s probably gonna stay at some friend’s place for the night, the jerk. I hope he does, all his friends live miles away. I took the car keys so he can’t drive either, only either walk or take a cab. And considering he barely has any money left...”

You smirk.

A fleeting smile touches on Jungkook’s face as he regards you with awe. “Huh. I guess you put more to your plan than just charging in and breaking up with him, huh?”

“I’m heartbroken, not stupid. It’s an emotional stupidity, not a mental one.”

You huff, once again laying your head back on the cool glass of the table. Fuck, you’re tired. Not just emotionally, but also physically. The night’s events leave you wanting nothing but to stay and drink your sorrows away, uncaring in which bed you’ll be waking up tomorrow.

After all, it’s not like you’ve been to any besides your own for the past few months. Maybe that will bring you some variety at least. The thought makes you laugh bitterly, and in turn down another glass of alcohol.

You hear someone sigh beside you.

“...Right,” he mutters in response, eyes widening shortly after you take another huge gulp of your drink. You suppose, if anything, Jungkook knows how to make delicious drinks. “Don’t drink too much, Y/N, you’re already-” you watch with droopy eyes as he reaches out to you, your head only propped up by your elbow, before stopping with a sigh. “You’re already drunk.”

Ignoring him momentarily, you finish your drink, savoring the taste.

“Sh-shhhuddap,” you slur, the end of your words becoming a sigh. You set the cup aside, only for your head to plop back onto the bar table, a deep breath making your chest rise up- then down. Jungkook frowns at your small figure laying over the bar, the frown forming into a quiet pout.

“Let me… lemme just drink a little bit more, m-m’kay? ’ll jus…jus’ drink ‘nough to not f-feel...”

Whatever words you’re about to say dissolve into incoherent mumblings as you yawn, feeling the effects of numerous glasses of alcohol finally taking their toll on you.

“‘Night, Kook...”

When you wake up, your surroundings are awfully quiet, awfully dark. That is, until you rub your eyes and can see straight. Jungkook’s body comes into view, hand shaking you awake. His low whispers are barely addressed by your ears, and you numb them out until he kneels down to meet eye to eye with you.

Then a sweet smile plays on his lips, and wow.

For a moment, you wonder if this is what heaven feels like.

Then he flicks your forehead, and you’re hurtled back to earth.

“Good, you’re finally awake,” he remarks, smile turning wry on his face. You pout in response, getting up. Your head hurts, it hurts bad, and there seems to be nothing you can do about it as you lean over the bar for support.

“So… urgh, so tired… feeling sick,” you utter beneath your breath, sighing when you realize Jungkook heard it.

“Why’d you even get wasted then? You’ll have to deal with it now,” he frowns, patting your back.

“You don’t get it, dumbass. I’m trying not to remember my ex?” you cross your arms, eyes wandering the place.

The club’s a lot less crowded now, barely any people left except for the ones who are cleaning it up. The music is quieter, playing softly in the background as you turn to Jungkook. Closing time already, you guess.

“... sorry,” you finally say, feeling remorse make space in your heart. “I don’t mean to be so crabby, but fuck, I just feel-” You scrunch up your nose as you try to mull over what you say next. “Actually, I don’t even know what I’m feeling. Except- what the fuck was I thinking, letting it go on for so long?”

Jungkook hums, shrugging. “Everybody makes mistakes, everybody has their own stupid moments. I completely understand.”

“Yeah, and mine lasted for god knows how many years,” you grumble.

For a moment he pauses, and you watch him put away bottles.

“You know, you fell asleep quickly earlier,” he suddenly mentions, making you flush. Ah. Right.

“Oh… yeah, I’m sorry about that,” you sigh. “I must’ve caused you a lot of trouble, having to look after me while you’re also busy with your work.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he shakes his head. “You just broke up with your boyfriend of how many years again?”

“Besides,” he continues, smiling. “If anything, your performance earlier more than made up for it. His face when you slapped him was hilarious.”

That startles a laugh out of you. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “... You looked amazing then too.”

“Thanks. … to be honest, just a single slap wasn’t enough, so I definitely had to make it count,” you say, scoffing at the end.

“Yeah, I figured,” the hint of laughter in his voice makes even you smile. “You didn’t yell at him enough, huh?”

“Nope,” you emphatically shake your head. “Which is a shame, because let me tell you- I have a whole speech in my head for him and his douche-assery. I didn’t even touch on the other major fuck ups he did!”

At that, he really does laugh, and you can’t help grinning yourself. “No, I mean it! I was hyping myself up all evening, but then when I actually saw him, my head blanked and- damn it, I should have let him have it even more in front of all those people,” you dramatically groan.

A smile forms on Jungkook’s face, even his eyes curved into a pair of crescent moons and somehow, it makes you somehow feel better just by looking at it.

“Well, there’s only the two of us left inside now, but if you want, I’ll listen to your speech,” he nonchalantly states.

“What, really?”

“Really.” He takes a deep breath, turning your body around so you completely face him. “C’mon, shout at me. Vent. I’m the bartender, I’ll listen. Besides, I’m curious to hear how terrible this guy was that you went so far to set him up.”

Reluctantly listening to the alcohol, you sigh before you start listing off all the reasons for why you’ve never felt okay with your relationship with Jihyuk. Jungkook hums and nods along in all the right pauses, quietly telling you to continue.

“... and not just that, he never came home when I needed him most, ghosted me on dates, forgot our anniversary two years in a row, made me break off friendships, never once paid for his own food, never made me cum even once. Like, what a dick!? And I mean the bad kind, not the good one-”

“Wait wait wait…” Jungkook raises a brow, stopping you. “He- He never… made you cum? Not even once?” He stares at you in bewilderment, shaking his head with a smile of disbelief. “He must’ve really had it good,” he crosses his arms.

“I know, right,” you moan. “What was past me thinking? At this point, I don’t think any man will ever treat me right.”

The man shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe the next one will.”

You feel the urge to laugh at the ridiculous statement, though you hold it back. “You’re kidding, right? I’m never getting a boyfriend ever again,” you huff, shaking your head in disapproval. “Boys, pfft- no, thank you.”

Jungkook only turns his back to you in response, walking to the stools of the bar. He huffs loudly as he sits back down, and you can barely contain your laughter before it bursts out of you, ringing loud in the club. Nudging him by the arm to get his attention, you try your best to turn him around, but when he doesn’t, you move to sit next to him instead, on the bartop. The cool glass makes you initially shiver, but you don’t let it show.

“Did you say something?” You grin as you look at him, at the way he rolls his eyes just a little. “I know I heard you say something.”

“It was nothing,” he scoffs.

“Come on,” you cajole him. “You listened to me earlier and let me rant. I’m not going to laugh or be snarky, I swear.”

A moment passes, while you wait for him to speak up. At this point, the silence of the bar is comfortable, though while you look around, you see that no one else is left inside but the two of you.

“...-y’know?”

You look back at him. “Hm?”

“I think it’s just a little sad to declare that every guy out there is hopeless, because of one jerk,” he repeats, back turned to you as he fiddles with the display case.

You lean back on the bartop. “I guess so,” you say. “But it’s true that it’s disillusioning. I used to have high expectations when the relationship started, you know- but now that I ended it, it’s like- what happened? When did my expectations get so low? I deserve better, you know?”

“But it didn’t seem that way to me then. He seemed so great, so amazing… and now here we are. It scares me a little to think that I might fall for someone, only to find out how much of a jerk they are years down the road.”

“But you’ve got to try again, don’t you?” He softly says. “After all, you said it yourself. You deserve better.”

At that, he finally faces you - before glancing down and turning away just as quickly.

“Eventually, though,” he clarifies, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m not saying you should right now. Just that you shouldn’t give up on love.”

You chuckle softly. “Alright, alright, I get it.”

Quiet fills the room again, a comfortable one. You watch Jungkook clean the last of the bar, wiping the surfaces and glasses.

And as you do, you can’t help but think of something a little too inappropriate.

‘I wonder how it’d feel to ride him.’

Okay, maybe it’s absolutely inappropriate. But it’s not your fault, you tell yourself. Not when Jungkook looks that good. Clad in a neat outfit with a silk black vest and a cute bow tie around his neck, he seemed as though he was a five star meal- and you feel yourself starving.

It really doesn’t help that you haven’t had sex in months, nor have you orgasmed in that time. You need release, one way or another.

Still, it’s bad form to ask him, this kind bartender who literally was just consoling you moments ago from a nasty break up if he wants to fuck, so you try to keep the thought down, but-

You extend your leg, toes barely brushing against his back, watching as he shudders at your touch.

Oh?

You bite your lips to stop yourself from grinning.

“Hey Jungkook… why aren’t you facing me?” “I-I need to clean up the bar,” he huffs, but you hear the slight stammer in his voice, and oh, does it make you feel even bolder.

“Yeah,” you nonchalantly respond, “but you’d think you could at least try to appear like you’re listening to me, especially when we were having such a good chat.”

“You-” He stops, sighing, and you goad him even further, slowly feeling more sure the longer he hesitates.When he turns around- finally- you laugh as you slide your arms to rest on his shoulders, trapping him in front of you.

Furthermore, you cross your legs, a daring smirk on your face as you lean forward and over him close, close enough that as you look down at him, the tip of your noses brush against each other. The slight tremors that you elicit out of him at this close range doesn’t escape your notice, and you feel a rush of giddiness fill you up.

“You know, you were so insistent earlier, when we talked about what I deserved. But considering my past experiences, that feels a little hard to believe… do you think you can convince me otherwise?” You hum, fluttering your eyelashes at him. To his credit, Jungkook stills for only a moment, onyx eyes staring straight back at you. As if to ask permission, as if to wait for your next move. But you only continue to smile, letting him know you want this, asking him if he wants it.

Just as you think he’ll pull away, he only answers you back with a smirk of his own- and then, you can’t help but be entranced by the sudden, daring gleam in his eyes. Just as your arms are perched on his shoulders, you feel fingers gently trace over the edges of your lips.

“Why don’t you find out?”

You wouldn’t, normally. One night stands aren’t your thing. You rarely give your heart away, and even more your body.

But tonight, staring at the man in front of you, the challenge and interest visible in his eyes, you find yourself wanting to do otherwise.

Maybe I will, you think.

And then you dip down to kiss him.

Immediately, you can taste the hint of mint on his lips, the sweet aftertaste of what seems to be banana milk- it’s strange and surprising, not exactly what you’d think a bartender would taste like. It isn’t something you’ve tasted on someone else before either, but as his tongue glides over your lips, silently asking for permission, you find yourself coming to like the flavor. Especially when he kisses you hard enough to make you feel like you’re drowning.

You whimper in pleasure when you suddenly feel him press his bulge against your core for one moment, breaking the kiss only to groan again as he repeats the gesture, grinding your lower bodies together. You can only hold on to his back as tight as you can, feeling the rising tides of lust slowly pull you under its current. A breathless moan leaves you, echoing loudly in the quiet of the empty bar.

“Got something to say, sweetheart?” Jungkook coos, and the words are soon accompanied by a sharp pain on your neck, something that makes the pleasure taste all the more sweeter in comparison. That doesn’t even take into account his hands, which you now notice to be gliding over your stomach, stopping under your breasts as he fondles them and makes you arch back in pleasure for a moment.

“God, just continue doing that,” You whine out and he pauses to laugh, smirk turning into something softer, but just as wild. “Jungkook,” he corrects you, flicking your nipple and you flinch as a sharp wave of pleasure rushes over you. “Don’t call out anybody else’s name but mine, or I’ll punish you.”

‘How can I think about anybody else when you’re making me feel so good right now?’ You almost tell him that, you want to tell him that, but as Jungkook switches his attention from your collarbones to your breasts, tongue lavishing over each mound equally, you find your thoughts slipping away from you.

You don’t even register that you’re being pushed to lie back until the cold glass makes you jerk - and Jungkook firmly keeps you pinned down, another moan leaving you as you feel his fingers probe against your core. You feel him place butterfly kisses down your legs, the touch light yet the effects tremendous on you as you shiver and tremble from each one.

“We barely started and you’re already this wet, huh,” he grins as he slides a finger up your panty, where your slit would be. Juice already coats his finger well, and even though he only teases you against your panties, you find that you’re sensitive, too sensitive not to feel even more turned on by such a small gesture. “Or were you already wet earlier? What a naughty girl.”

“Fffffuck,” you groan, thrusting against his fingers so that they rub against you harder. “Just slip it in already,” you whimper. “Don’t be a fucking tease.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Jungkook purrs as he flicks your nub, making you clench hard at the frustration and anticipation. It infuriates you even more when you feel his fingers leave your skirt, and he leans away a little. You can clearly see the smirk on his face again, amusement swimming with lust in his eyes. “You weren’t being so nice earlier either. Maybe if you were a good girl, I’d listen.”

At that, you pull yourself up, coming closer to him until you bite his shoulder, leaving marks over his neck as well as you can under the raging pleasure. “Or you can listen now, before I make you regret it.” You roll your hips against his, relishing in the quiet groan that leaves him as the delicious friction threatens to drown you both in pleasure.

Honestly, in the face of Jungkook’s ministrations, you find it’s all too easy to let yourself loose, to want more.

You’re surprised when he bends, pushing you back down - and the flash of pain and pleasure on the inner part of your thighs makes you hiss.

“What are you doing?”Jungkook’s answer is light, but the cocky tone is all too evident anyway. “Didn’t you challenge me to make you cum?” Another hickey blooms on your thighs and you whimper as he leaves a trail of them on his way down. “So I’ve made it my mission to make you cum as much as I can tonight.” You feel his nose nudge your panty and you can’t help groaning in anticipation. “Starting with eating you out.”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“A-Ah, I’ve never been eaten out before,” you stammer, heart beating fast as you can clearly feel his hair brush against your skin. Lust, excitement, and yet also nerves envelop you then.

For some reason, you can’t help but feel a little self conscious. No one, not even your past boyfriends have done this, after all.

Still, Jungkook only chuckles. “How mean. There I was, making you drinks the whole night, but you won’t even let me have a taste of you now that I’m thirsty.” You can’t see him over the skirt you’re wearing- why, again, are you still wearing it- but you can imagine the chiding smile, the mischief in his eyes. Especially when you feel him blow on you down there, making you shudder.

“Look, you’re even overflowing. Bet you’d taste sweeter and better than any wine here.”

With that, your skirt is taken off, and you gasp as you suddenly taste something on your lips. Yet that isn’t the end of it as for some reason, you suck on his fingers, imagining it to be his cock.

Fuck, you taste good.

Just as that thought reaches you, you think- you want to taste him too.

“Can I, sweetheart?” He asks you again. “I’ll make you feel good.” There’s a chuckle in his words, but before he can say anything more, you tug him up.“Wanna taste you too,” you admit, before blushing. Still, you continue. “So get up here.”

“On the bar top? Kinky,” he grins, but follows your instructions. Moving so that your whole body is laid down on the bartop, you hiss as the cool temperature of the glass makes itself known to your thighs. Not for long though- as the warmth of Jungkook’s body envelops you moments later.

In this position, Jungkook’s crotch faces you, and you find your mouth watering over it. Eager hands cup it for a moment, before you pull down the zipper and admire his member.

God, even his dick is pretty.

Long and veined, what it lacked in girth, the slight curve certainly made up for it. You immediately took it into your mouth, moaning around it when you felt him move your panties to the side and immediately dived in.

On Jungkook’s side - he loves it, every single second of it. He loves how he can make you a mess, how he can wreck you, you bucking up your hips to meet him as you suck and moan around his dick. There is something about you that he couldn’t help but be attracted to. He can’t believe your ex had cheated on you. Just from that moment in which you confronted your ex, he could sense that you were far, far more better than any girl he had ever seen.

Moans and whimpers filled the room as you tremble under Jungkook. Every lap of his tongue, sucking on your nub- hell, just the way he moves his tongue inside your walls is enough to make you push your thighs together.

The pleasure inside you only rises higher and higher, making you continuously grind your hips against his face. True, it’s the first time someone’s eaten you out, but all the same you know you wouldn’t cum just from it if the other person wasn’t good enough.

Jungkook aims to go beyond your expectations it seems. In response, you take him in even deeper, slightly gagging on his dick. One hand reaches out to fondle his balls, rolling them over your hand. Soft, pliant in your hold. You squeeze them slightly, and a sense of accomplishment fills you as you feel him physically stutter, thrusting his dick deeper into you. Jungkook is obviously way more experienced though, or perhaps it’s a sense of competitiveness that’s driving him to make sure you come first, because as you feel something inside you continue to tighten - you pant, recognizing the signs of an impending orgasm. A distant part of you is amazed you could reach an orgasm so quickly - the other is very, very pleased.

“I’m... so close,” you say through uneven breaths, chasing your high. His tongue works at an even faster pace, making you cry out in pleasure. Your walls tighten around his finger, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel it. “Then come for me, sweetheart,” you hear him say.

And that does it.

White warmth, inside and out. Your lower body jerks against him, but Jungkook only rides out your orgasm with you, lapping up the juices that gush from you, the messy sounds of slurping and sucking turning you on even more, if that’s possible. You feel feverish, your oversensitive clit being given a little too much attention. What more, the feeling of your body contrasting against the cold surface of the bartop, shivering a little when his finger traces the curves of your body as you continue to feel the last trembles from your orgasm.When

he finally leans back, Jungkook smiles at the glistening digit and licks his fingers clean. You taste even better than he thought. Truly, you’re an angel. Just as he prepares to get off of you, you give one good suck to his dick, making him jerk. For you, you can feel his hard member twitch in your mouth - and it doesn’t take much to figure out that Jungkook himself is close to release. Still, as he lets out a quiet groan, he moves away. You make to protest, but-

The way he quickly moves on top of you, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shirt and grinding his member against your core makes you moan, long and loud.

“I don’t wanna cum just yet,” his voice is distinctively lower now, and something heady rushes through you at the realization that you did that. He hisses when you experimentally roll your hips back against him.

Hunger like you’ve never known spreads across you like a wildfire. You want all of what Jungkook has to offer.

“You ready, sweetheart?” He cooes. “You’ll have to be quiet if I put it in, don’t want anyone else hearing how beautiful you sound when I’m fucking you thoroughly.”

Instead of answering, you meet him up in an eager kiss, your hands spreading across his chest - God, you don’t know when he unbuttoned his shirt, but you’re definitely thankful he did. Otherwise, how could you so clearly feel the muscles on his smooth skin?

And then you feel him enter you and fuck.

If what you felt before was something new, then this was definitely out of this world.

Jungkook’s dick fills you up just perfect, the wetness of your vagina and the slick on his dick makes the slide inside so much smoother, and both of you sigh in pleasure. For a moment, you’re both content to lie like that, just basking in the feeling of being connected to each other.

He himself doesn’t know how to explain it, how you differ from others. Everything you do somehow seems to draw him in, and in this moment- he feels like he could just stay like that forever and be content.

You, on the other hand, feel different.

“Jungkook, please, move already,” you eventually plead. Your body arches up as he pulls out for a moment, before beginning to thrust his hips into you at a fast rate, clearly giving you no mercy. Fuck, how in the hells did you ever think any previous sex you had could compare with this?

It’s easy to lose all coherence in this moment, the overwhelming feeling of bliss making you think of nothing but Jungkook’s dick, and the way he drags it against your walls, teasing you before slamming it inside, drawing out the pleasure and then drowning you in it.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh resounds in the empty room, alongside your mixed groans and whimpers. Jungkook spares you no mercy, and you soon find yourself hurtling towards another orgasm, this one even more intense than the last. It doesn’t help that you feel him leave hickeys over your chest, biting and then soothing them afterwards, sliding his tongue over them. Tears prick your eyes as the pain and the pleasure mix together, making each feeling all the more intense to you.

Fuck, where had he been all your life? You’ve never felt so good in sex- not like this, not with your previous encounters. But right here and right now, you swear that if there’s a god, then Jungkook must have been his favorite, and you were blessed to have been touched by him.

“J-Jungkook, I-I’m coming again-!” Rather than slow down, it seems your words just urge him to fuck you harder, faster, making you sob as another wave of pleasure threatens to drown you under.

“Then come all you want,” he growls, dragging you into a fierce kiss, wanting to taste you- but also to silence you.

“A-Ah!” You scream out, panting, as you ride another wave of orgasm-

The harsh smack on your bottom makes you jerk off the table with a sob. Jungkook hisses as he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty- but not for too long, as you’re turned over, and he shoves his cock back inside your hole. You moan, long and loud in pleasure, before you feel another smack on your bottom.

“What part of ‘keep quiet’ didn’t you understand?” He reprimands you sternly, each word accentuated by a hit on your bottom that makes you jerk, each time. “I told you to be quiet, or we’d both get in trouble. There’s still the club’s bodyguard standing outside. If he heard us, how much do you want to bet he’d come in and see your pretty little body all laid out under me, huh?”

“I-” You try to explain, but end up heaving deep breaths instead as he thrusts his hips particularly hard, leaving you a whimpering mess as you drop your head onto the table again, the ache at the back of our head barely being addressed by your numb mind.

“You what?” He growls, hands snaking forward to pull your head back with your hair- making you groan as he lowers himself right next to your ear. “You what, Y/N? Got nothing to say right now?”

He tsks. “Or maybe him seeing you is what you want. How many hours has it been since we just met, and how you’re gladly taking up my cock in your cunt right now? I guess you’re nothing but a slut.”

“I-I,” You try again, but all that remains in your head is him calling you a slut. The humiliation it draws from you, reddening your cheeks, somehow only serves to make you feel even more aroused. You can’t think of anything else, but how to just push yourself back into Jungkook’s dick because clearly, he is drawing it out and depriving you of what you need!

“What are you, Y/N?” his voice is hoarse as he asks, his dark hair a mess that covers his beautiful face. “...Wanting others to see you looking so pretty for me,” the knot in your stomach tightens as you try to think of a reply, yet nothing comes. Fuck fuck fuck.

“I don’t, I-” you stop. You can’t, you just can’t, if you don’t get what you want right now, you might as well die.

“Disappointing,” he clicks his tongue dismissively, and you feel your eyes burn out of desperation. “And here I thought you’d be good for me?”

“I’m sssssorrryyyy!” You whine out when he won’t let you off, the tears falling down your face now. “I’m a slut! A fucking slut! Your slut,” you cry out. “P-Please, put it back innn!”

“Mm, I still don’t know,” he drawls. “I already warned you to be good earlier, but you just kept on pushing me. And now you clearly disobeyed me. Only good girls, not sluts, get rewards, don’t you think?”

“I’m s-sorry,” you repeat, whimpering. “Please, I can be good, so please-!”

Hands rub your bottom, a slight sting reminding you that he’d already hit you there earlier. Yet somehow all it did was make you even more sensitive to not just the pain, but also heightening the pleasure you felt.

“If you take your punishment obediently, I might let you off,” he suddenly offers. Jungkook’s voice has become sweet again, soft and sticky and coaxing. Not that you need it though, considering he has you in his palms either way.

Not to mention that the thought of the punishment at hand makes your core throb.

You bite your lips, hoping that he doesn’t see how flushed you are. You don’t doubt that you’re dripping down so much on the glass bartop that at this point, that there must be a puddle right below your cunt. But at the thought of what he’s about to do, you feel yourself secreting even more. “Oh?” He chuckles, dragging a finger along your clit. At this point your labia are puffed up, swollen with Jungkook’s relentless attacks on it, but still it doesn’t hide how aroused you are at this moment. All it is is overly sensitive, and still asking for more.

“Seems to me that you like that, huh? I guess I was right. Being good doesn’t suit you at all, slut,” he tsks. “You just wanted to get punished.”

“I-I can take it,” you meekly tell him, shaking your ass a little. At the sight, Jungkook smirks wickedly. “Alright then. I want you to count each strike, sweetheart. And if you lose count, we’ll be starting all over again. … Do you understand that?”

Near the end, you hear Jungkook’s tone soften, and it’s all too easy to hear the way out he’s offering you. You want it, though. “H-How many?”

He pauses, before continuing. “How many do you think you deserve?”

You swallow loudly. “I… I don’t know.” You bite your lips. “I’ve, uh- I’ve never been spanked like this before.”

You feel embarrassment course through your veins for a moment as Jungkook freezes, and you wonder if you should’ve just said a random number-

But then the loud smack of a hand against your ass rings out loud in the room, and you jerk wildly against the bartop, a silent scream in your throat.“Until I say stop, then. That was one already,” Jungkook purrs.

You whimper, but nod along as he starts.

Smack!

“Two!”

Smack!

“T-Three!”!

Smack!

“F-Four,” you whimper.

At each hit of his hand against your ass, you can’t help moaning, louder with each one. Jungkook’s hands are swift, and absolute- no mercy left for you, only his feather-light gentle caresses after each hit making you weep.

At the eight count, you’re absolutely gone, panting, a mess of tears and pain and pleasure and overall just too fucking sensitive. But the sheer amount of thrill and joy that settles in you as Jungkook finally stops is just short of euphoria, and you look up at him, your eyes pleading for his praise and reassurance.

Sure enough, Jungkook doesn’t disappoint.

He slides you off the counter and into his arms, your legs crossed around his, into a long, sweet kiss, swallowing up the sounds that leave your lips, the little whimpers and groans.

“You took your punishment so well,” he compliments you as he pulls back, making you preen. “I suppose you deserve a reward then, don’t you?”

“P-Please,” you plead, rutting your core against his erect cock. It slides against your core all too easily, making you groan. Still, you don’t dare put it inside, waiting for Jungkook’s permission first.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he grins, and-

Jungkook’s kiss swallows up the scream that leaves you as he thrusts back into your hole in one smooth movement, bringing you back into that land of sheer pleasure and lust.

In this position, held up in the air only by his arms, you keenly feel every movement of his cock inside you as he bounces you, forcing you to go up and down repeatedly. You’re almost delirious, your hands no doubt leaving scratch marks on his body as you hold him as tight as you can, feeling everything just too much.

It doesn’t take more than a minute or two to bring you to your third orgasm. It seems that Jungkook himself senses that as well, because the moment you feel it coming, he speeds up his thrusts again, making you scream.

“J-Jungkook!!” You wail out his name as one final jerk of his hips brings you crashing down, bliss enveloping you fully as you almost white out, spasming and losing control of your body for a moment.

When you come to, a second later, you feel him desperately moving in you, but the stuttered way he does so tells you all you need to know.

“W-Where should I cum?” He grits the words out his teeth, and you hiss in pleasure, in over-sensitivity and pain as his member remains inside of you even after you’ve orgasmed for the third time. You’re determined to get him to come as well though, something warm blazing in your chest. You don’t owe favors, and you won’t anymore, so maybe that’s the reason why.

For whatever reason it truly is, though, you tell him with a steady voice. “Just come inside me,” you give him permission. Jungkook groans at that, looking straight at you, as if to ask, are you sure?

You nod, drawing him into a sweet kiss. There’s nothing but elation inside you at this moment.

When you squeeze his member inside your cunt, you moan as you feel him paint your walls white, something hot and warm and sticky filling up your cunt. If your nails didn’t leave marks before, well, they had to by now.

It’s only when you feel it drip out of you that you finally pull back from the kiss.The both of you are panting, visibly exhausted, though you’re pretty sure Jungkook can still run a lap around the club, while you’re all ready to collapse on the floor. Fuck, where does he get all that stamina from?

“I work out at the gym.” The amusement visible in his eyes as he answers you tells you that you probably spoke out loud. Sheesh.

“Yeah, you were.” Jungkook’s chuckle brings your attention back to him, and you blush for the first time since a while now, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder. Honestly, if you tried to move right now, you don’t doubt you’d just lay down on the floor, so you opt to remain in his hold.

That decision definitely wasn’t influenced by how secure you felt in his arms, or how good he smelt, even after you both just had sex.

His chuckles turn into laughter- and you’re only dimly aware of it as he sets you down on a nearby sofa, grabbing a washcloth nearby to start wiping you off.

When you look down at him again- it’s as if he’s seamlessly switched back to the adorable guy you met earlier. Huge, doe eyes and bunny smile on display as he grins happily.

It’s then that you hear the door to the bar being clicked open, and you’re thrown back into reality.

“If you’re done fucking on top of the bar, I think it’d be good if we officially wrap things up around here,” you see a blond man barge through, wearing a poker face despite the words that make even more heat rise up to your cheeks. The connotations of the sentence… you’ll ignore that.

“And I think that included your dick, but okay,” he eyes Jungkook warily. He looks at you for a brief moment, before clicking on his tongue as he shakes his head.

“Anyway, out of this place, both of you, before Seokjin-hyung threatens to kill me again for not being a good enough caretaker.”

“And what exactly were you doing while we were… in here, Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook raises a brow out of suspicion.

“Sleeping. Now hurry up.”

Peals of laughter escape Jungkook, even as both your cheeks redden at being caught.

“Alright, alright,” Jungkook reassures him, before turning back to you. “Let me just finish up cleaning that mess, and we’ll get you home for real,” he tells you softly. Placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he lays you down to rest.

“Take a quick nap in the meantime, okay?”

Giggling under the blanket of the dark night, you run under the bright stars as the stars reign the heavens above your heads. With Jungkook hand in hand, you experience freedom like you’ve never felt before.

The gentle breeze of the cold wind at 2 am, in perfect contract to the feel of his warm hand enveloping yours is the sweetest sensation, one of accepting, letting go and moving forward.

You swear you’ve never laughed like you do when you dash through the abandoned streets of neighborhoods too hazy for you to remember in detail. His laugh rings in your ears like the song of an angel, a far cry from your own booming one that he still loves all the same. It’s beautiful, quiet, made for you two alone.

Reaching your apartment, Jungkook helps you into your adorable dragon onesie before tucking you into bed, the softest smile on his face. It hurts a little to leave you so quick, he wants to stay, he wants to spend the night beside you, but for tonight… maybe all that you have done so far is enough.

Maybe once morning arrives, the sunrise announces his fall. Maybe you won’t even remember him.

Thinking so, his trembling hand reaches out to cup your cheek.

Then he stops.

Goodnight, Y/N.

Morning comes. You groggily roll out of bed, heading straight for the kitchen to get yourself a cup of water. Your head is in shambles, too filled to think of anything more, too empty to think of anything less than the sticky note your eyes land on.

It’s stuck to the microwave that’s sitting on the counter, a stupidly lovable green note. Taking careful steps towards it, you peel it off to read what’s written, eyes widening a little.

‘here’s my number! call if you want :D

I also left some hangovers in here.

make sure to eat them and stay safe~

hope to hear from you. xx JK.’

Your heart flutters in excitement and love for the note as you pull it close, hugging it as much as one could a sticky note. You smile softly, hand tracing the curves of the writing, the action all too sweet and unexpected. Running to get your phone that must be somewhere around here, you start to jump around in the search for it out of nervous elation.

There’s so much more you want to do with Jungkook, but - you just can’t wait to hear his gorgeous laugh again.

#bangtanhq #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts smut #jungkook angst #bts x you #jungkook x you #fic: la luxure

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beautifulpersonpeach · 2 years ago

Note

BBP I've been following the NewJeans story since you talked about them on your blog and yesterday ADOR finally released a statement addressing all the issues. Have you read the statement yet? I was very impressed with how ADOR systematically addressed all the issues. Kpop fans who raised the issues should be satisfied now right?

Lol Anon,

If you think that statement is going to change anything you've either not been around long enough or you've not been paying attention.

As a general rule, if you can avoid even acknowledging a typical k-pop fan you should, because all those stereotypes muggles have about stans in these communities are well earned. I mean, there are exceptions, but K-pop stans are notorious for trolling, double-speak, and employing a shopping list of various logical fallacies. They're some of the pioneers and/or early adaptors of modern internet-speak in that way, the nature of many conversations in spaces like this is extremely dysfunctional and should usually be avoided because it's self-defeating. So all ADOR has done by putting out that statement is add fuel to fire lmao.

Their first mistake is thinking that statement is how you address k-pop stans. Because the frenzy around NewJeans is not about protecting minors, or inappropriate lyrics, or anything like that. If it were, k-pop stans wouldn't be hyper-focusing on one group when they are far from the only group guilty of all this and worse.

The point is to create an 'ick factor' to handicap the group and I'll explain what I mean (it's something that happens all the time in k-pop). The narrative is that NewJeans is especially deserving of this scrutiny because don't you know their CEO is a pedophile? So therefore NewJeans makes music for pedophiles and all their fans are secretly or naively supporting pedophiles disproportionate to the baseline number of creeps who stick around k-pop spaces anyways.

Oh, and fuck HYBE.

Anon, earlier on I'd actually thrown your question to my gc, because I'm only loosely following any NewJeans chatter. I like them, but don't actively keep up with them, so I sourced my friends for info and they sent me these SS:

Nobody knows if Min Heejin is actually a pedophile. I think it's unlikely she is because there is nothing that points to this being the case, but even if all the rumours about her were true, in the worst case all they'd indicate is that she or someone she knows has a creepy taste in movies by some standards. But it's not enough to say the CEO of the hottest group in Korea right now might have creepy taste in movies. After all, then we'd also be up in arms about JYP being bffs with R. Kelly (currently serving time), or YHS and his brother talking about how cool it was to marry a trainee he met when she was 14 years old (I'll skip Lee sooman for now lmaooo). Heck, it could even implicate Bang PD and his ties to Scooter Braun cause some Republicans apparently think he's one of the people funding Pizzagate. So it's not enough to think Min Heejin is creepy cause then which k-pop CEO isn't, she has to be an actual pedophile so the talking points around NewJeans have staying power.

It's the perfect narrative. Because if you're convinced the creator of a group with children is a danger to children, then:

you have a reason to put everything they do under a microscope,

you have every reason to second-guess their motives and intentions and assume bad faith, including when they put out a statement explaining their reasoning and approach to including lyrics some people consider controversial,

it's even reasonable to demand that the CEO be fired and the team replaced <- and this particular demand is what many of them are making.

NewJeans is the brainchild of Min Heejin and her leaving could seriously handicap the group. K-pop stans are demanding she step down because she's a pedophile, she denies she's a pedophile (of course) and so sees no reason to step down on what she considers to be a false charge, k-pop stans continue to have reason to (negatively) obsess about the group because there's no world in which it's appropriate for a pedophile to manage children.

It's the perfect narrative because it has no resolution. Min Heejin can never prove she's not a pedophile or extreme creep (in the best case). And so k-pop stans will always have this to use against the group.

Hyper-competitive environments quickly become toxic and one way this shows up is the creation of a scapegoat, such as the sort for people with narcissistic personality disorders. Scapegoating is very common in online and political communities. It's the logical basis for Republicans believing Barack Obama is the anti-Christ, or Taekookers obsessing with Jimin, or the Garam witch-hunt. And then there's the flashbacks I get to how k-pop stans treated 2014/2015 Bangtan - there's similarities here that I find very amusing.

Anyway, like I said in my first post on NewJeans, hate for them is only going to intensify. Their management team refusing to just put the song out with new lyrics also isn't helping. I think ADOR has made a mistake by expending so much of the goodwill they have defending lyrics that are sub-par to begin with.

Personally, I like Cookie and got nothing but cool vibes from it the first time I listened to it, and it seemed obvious to me from the MV that Cookie is a metaphor for a physical CD given all the times they alternate. But I get it if other people feel differently.

I wish the best for NewJeans. The girls all seem genuinely hopeful, and they're talented. The shift in musical direction this group has brought to k-pop is, in my opinion, the sexiest thing about them.

#ask #new jeans #fandom behavior #kpop fandom

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laughing-with-god · 4 years ago

Note

In the alternate Victor QQ timeline, what are the Bts Victor's opinions of the other? Have they also ever met Victor Y/N in that timeline as well before the game?

Jin:

Jin doesn’t really like Namjoon. He found his traps and schemes a bit pretentious and sometimes makes digs during mentor interviews that Namjoon didn’t really deserve to win his games. People suspect that he’s just upset because he was the mentor of the kids from One during Namjoon’s game and was personally offended that someone outside the career alliance won, and even outsmarted them.

Jin doesn’t have much of an opinion of Yoongi. He is kind of impressed that Yoongi managed to win at fourteen but doesn’t fully get the hype over a victor who just hid during most of his games. He also doesn’t understand why Yoongi keeps snapping during interviews and finds it pathetic, he always wonders why the Capitol hasn’t killed him off yet. He knows if he had an episode like that, he’d be six feet under.

Jin felt bad for Hoseok, but doesn’t quite forgive his stupidity. In Jin’s opinion, Hoseok should’ve known that the girl from 10 wasn’t going to live and he shouldn’t have tried allying with her. He should’ve saved himself the trouble.

Jin doesn’t mind Taehying. He often forget he exists and sometimes does a double take when all the mentors get together like “oh yeah, you’re a victor, forgot about that.” Taehyung is silent and never approaches any of the mentors that aren’t from District 11, so Jin doesn’t know much about him. He watched a few scenes from his games and had to admit that for a kid from 11, Taehyung did pretty well.

Out of all of them, Jin likes Jimin the most. They both are noted for their good looks and charming personality, were both careers who backstabbed their allies, and are frequently at the Capitol with female sponsors by their side. A natural friendship sparked between the two and when they are mentoring at the same time, they both push their tributes to form an alliance.

Namjoon

Namjoon acts cordial with all victors but finds it ironic that he isn’t liked by Jin when he secretly hates the guy just as much. Namjoon finds him very loud-mouthed and hungry for screen time. Furthermore, Namjoon doesn’t respect the manner in which he won his games. Sure, Namjoon knowingly lured tributes into his traps but he never went so far as to promise them his loyalty or protection.

Yoongi and Namjoon actually got along for a while. Namjoon was one of the few victors that Yoongi didn’t snap at and would actually have a civil conversation with. When at the Capitol and mentoring, they both could be seen getting drinks together and having late night conversations. But this stopped when Yoongi found out that Namjoon was going to go so far as help gamemakers design arenas for future games.

Namjoon likes Hoseok and Taehyung well enough, he has respect for their game plays but doesn’t go out of his way to talk to them unless a tribute from 3 becomes allies with someone from 11 or 8. They are quiet and don’t frequent the Capitol often so he doesn’t really get a chance to have a relationship with either of them. He does get a sense that Hoseok and Taehyung rather work with him than any of the career mentors though.

Jimin....he’s an enigma to Namjoon. A puzzle that Namjoon can’t quite figure out. He’s tried multiple time to find out why Jimin volunteered and why there’s such odd rumors about him floating around the Capitol, but Jimin never answers directly and avoids Namjoon at all costs. Namjoon thinks it’s because Jimin knows he will find out something eventually.

Yoongi

To no one’s surprise, Yoongi despises Jin. However, he is quiet about this one-sided hatred and doesn’t say anything when they cross paths. Somewhere deep inside, Yoongi is self-aware that it’s not really Jin he hates, but what he represents. Jin was a tribute turned celebrity and thus, in Yoongi’s eyes, a brain-washed Capitol slave. There’s a fundamental difference between them. While Yoongi runs away from the spotlight and regrets what he did to earn it, Jin seems to relish in it.

Yoongi used to like Namjoon. He appreciated his smarts and title of an underdog, and Namjoon had a calming effect of Yoongi. But when Yoongi discovered that he was going to be helping Gamemakers with Arenas, Yoongi cut the friendship off. He would never be friends with someone who lowered themselves to the level of helping them.

Out of all the Victors, Yoongi gets along most with Hoseok and Taehyung. Taehyung a bit more than Hoseok, because at least Taehyung doesn’t have a habit of overstepping his boundaries and telling Yoongi he should lay off the morphling. But the two are quiet enough and seem to share the same sadness every year when the Games start up again, something Yoongi can relate to.

Yoongi has heard things about Jimin and doesn’t like the bastard. Yoongi has gone on a drunken rampage on the former career before, and Peacekeepers had to get involved. Whenever they’re in the same room, he has a habit of muttering insults under his breath like ‘sell out’ or ‘whore’.

Hoseok

Hoseok knows he shouldn’t judge people for what they did in the games, that the need to survive is overwhelming, that all tributes have their hands tied and are willing to do anything to make it back home. But Hoseok still can’t understand why Jin did some of the things he did back in his games. After watching Jin burn his allies alive, Hoseok almost threw up in sheer disgust. Hoseok places a lot of importance on allies and can’t understand how someone could kill theirs so brutally and unnecessarily. Hoseok has never said a word to Jin and intends to keep it that way.

Namjoon is someone Hoseok has heard of before but never really met. When the games start back up and mentors start scrambling to make alliances, everyone rushes to Namjoon. He never has really gotten the chance to have a real conversation with him but his reputation proceeds him.

Yoongi is a fine man under all his trauma, but all attempts Hoseok has made to get him to stop drinking/taking drugs during mentoring has fallen on deaf ears. He routinely feels bad for the tributes from Six because he knows that Yoongi is no help to them when it comes to earning sponsors or getting allies. Yoongi is too lost in himself and refuses to “kiss ass” to see the situation at hand.

Taehyung is boderline mute but Hoseok doesn’t mind his presence. He and Taehyung both relate to using their Victor winnings to help people in their District and both can hardly stomach the games that play every year. They are decent friends but it’s more out of relatability and tolerance than actual compatibility for Hoseok. The other victors are too crazy for them, so they often feel like the only sane ones.

Hoseok has heard things about Jimin, much like everyone else, but was determined to not let rumors get in the way of a potential friendship. but when Hoseok introduced himself to Jimin, Jimin scoffed at his humble attire and made a comment about his fashion. Hoseok wasn’t too keen on that and now agrees that Jimin might be the bimbo everyone else says he is.

Taehyung

Taehyung has only had one interaction with Jin and it left a bad taste in his mouth. It happened when both were mentoring and the girls from Eleven and One formed an alliance later in the game. Jin approached him and told him that he hoped there would be no hard feelings when his tribute would without a doubt slit Taehyung’s tribute’s throat while they slept. Taehyung avoids being in the same room as him now.

Taehyung likes Namjoon, but like Yoongi, he can’t understand why he is helping the Gamemakers now. In his opinion, Namjoon might as well be a gamemaker if it continues and Taehyung can’t say he respects that all too much.

Hoseok is the closest thing Taehyung has to a friend. He understands that he’s not that conversational or even emotional but wherever Hoseok goes, Taehyung follows. Besides, when they both are alone Hoseok talks enough for the both of them. He despises going to the Capitol every year but finds the silver lining in the reminder that he can see Hoseok again.

Yoongi is alright and Taehyung understands his pain even though he can’t really relate to the method Yoongi goes about solving that pain. Secretly though, he finds his tantrums on TV rather funny and relishes in the shocked looks on the Capitol peoples’ faces.

Taehyung didn’t have an opinion on Jimin. But after Hoseok’s run-in with him he now dislikes the former career and can be seen glaring at him whenever they’re in the same room. Although it’s rare anyone from 11 gets asked into a career alliance, Taehyung always warns his tributes about 4, stating that they’re back-stabbing eye candy.

Jimin

There was a Capitol lady who had employed the services of both Jin and Jimin, and that’s how they met. They got to talking and realized they have a lot on common. Both were Capitol favorites, both were former careers who turned on the pack and killed them, both are attractive and enjoy the spotlight of the Capitol. Jimin likes Jin a lot and he sticks to his side whenever they both mentor. In his mind, they have to stick together because most of the other victors like to blame the career mentors for every tribute death in the games. Only Jin understands what it’s like.

Namjoon creeps Jimin out. He’s too smart for his own good and Jimin doesn’t trust someone from the Districts who managed to work his way into the gamemaker table. He steers clear of him.

Yoongi is a disgrace in Jimin’s eyes. What happened, happened. What is the use of flipping out every time there’s a camera in the room? Might as well enjoy the Victor’s winnings while you can, right? And if he really hated the games so much, why doesn’t he bother trying harder to mentor his tributes? Shameful, really.

Jimin didn’t even know who Hoseok was until he came up to him at the victor lounge and introduced himself as the mentor for District Eight. All Jimin knew about District Eight was that they were in charge of textiles and clothing, and without thinking he made a comment while looking him up and down, “Isn’t Eight supposed to be really good with fashion?” Hoseok excused himself after that but Jimin secretly felt bad about it, since he was pretty drunk that night. He’s tried to approach him again but the tall bastard from 11 is always glaring at him to stay put.

Taehyung doesn’t like Jimin, and that’s enough for Jimin to not like him in return. Even on the rare occasions when Jimin’s tributes ask him to approach 11, he refuses because it would mean talking to Taehyung. He’s secretly very intimidated by him.

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cinebration · 4 years ago

Text

My Dear Soothsayer (Loki x Reader) [Request]

thor ragnarok era drabble where reader is part of the grandmaster's court. she has a special gift where she can tell when people are lying, so she makes a game out of talking to loki since he's always twisting his words. it drives him crazy at first, but then he finds different ways to admit his feelings for her to see how long it takes for her to figure it out. just lots of fluff with good ole banter. — Requested by anon

This didn’t come out how I wanted, but oh well.

Warnings: none

Gif Source: MCUFAM

When Loki first appeared in the Grandmaster’s court, dragged in by the Grandmaster’s scrappers to your feet, the Grandmaster asked you if the silver-tongued devil was lying.

You told him no.

This carried on for several days, with the Grandmaster asking you if you sensed Loki was lying—always within the trickster’s hearing.

Each time you said no.

Each time, you saw the twinkle in Loki’s eye and the upturned curve of his lips as he suppressed a faint smirk.

You had him right where you wanted him.

By the end of the first week, Loki had secured himself a position in the Grandmaster’s entourage. The party that night raged long and chaotically into the morning hours.

It was then you pounced, cornering the trickster in the hallway.

“Silver-tongue,” you called.

He stiffened, spinning sharply to face you. A condescending smile pulled at his lips. “I didn’t realize we had progressed to name calling.”

You matched his smile with a viperine one. “I merely speak the truth.”

“The truth is malleable.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

A faint crease appeared in his brow. “Did the Grandmaster send you?”

“No.”

He swept his gaze over you. “You sent yourself?”

You laughed and leaned forward into his personal space. “I did. You see, I have some use for you.”

His eyebrows arched, lips curving. “Oh?”

“Yes. You see, I am desperate for an escape from this place, as you are, I suspect. You’re going to help me.”

Loki’s gaze sharpened as he laughed. “I’m not the helpful sort.”

“The Grandmaster,” you continued, meeting his stare, “will continue to believe me when I lie to him about your honesty, but only so long as I decide to keep it that way.”

The smile fell from his face.

“Yes, I know you’ve been lying the whole time.”

“I…have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Clucking your tongue, you stepped away from him. “I suppose you’re not the kind of man I need. I’ll inform the Grandmaster accordingly.”

You made it a few feet when Loki called out, “Wait!”

You smiled. He was right where you wanted indeed.

“How does this work, then?” Loki asked the second night after the party.

“Well,” you mumbled, picking at the food on your plate, “I will deliver to you information as to how to escape.”

“I don’t believe you would be so magnanimous.”

“Obviously I would be going with you.”

“Ah.”

You could sense him forming the lie before it spilled past his lips.

“I make a most agreeable partner.”

“Clearly, when you are partnered only with yourself.”

He chuckled. “That is no partnership.”

“Then why am I speaking to a copy of you and not your actual self?”

The frown slashed his face so completely you laughed. The illusion vanished before your eyes, and the real Loki emerged from behind an archway, glowering.

“You see, there needn’t be any trust between us,” you informed him when you regained your composure, “because I always know when you’re lying, and you always know I can’t be lied to.”

“How unfair.”

“You have your magic tricks, and I have mine. If anything, that makes it fairer.”

Loki leaned against the archway, arms folded across his chest, and sized you up afresh. You could see his mind working, his eyes hard with deep thought.

“So,” you said, pushing yourself away from the table, “do you have anything more to say?”

“Such as?”

“Perhaps, ‘Thank you for choosing me to escape with, else I may be trapped here forever.’”

“We haven’t succeeded yet. Or tried, for that matter.”

You nodded. “Ah, well, it was worth a shot.”

You moved past him, intending to leave, but his hand circled around your bicep, forcing you to look at him. He searched your face intently, brow furrowed again.

“I see you dislike me.”

“I’m not in the habit of liking the people who place chains on me.”

“Perhaps you should get better at avoiding those chains.” Tugging your arm away, you sauntered off, unaware of the shift in Loki’s expression.

The following week, you managed to pry Loki away from the Grandmaster. The former had been doing much to please the latter, enough to make you nervous. Serving you up to the Grandmaster would surely earn Loki the kind of trust he needed to earn himself a permanent position beside the Grandmaster.

“Is it now?” Loki asked.

“No, of course not. I haven’t told you anything of the plan.”

“Yes, about that—”

“Not now.”

You led him into another room in the grand palace and locked the door behind you before relaxing a fraction. The gladiator match wasn’t scheduled for another hour, so you had time to spare.

“I must say,” Loki purred, circling around the room, “no one has ever managed to keep me trapped for long.”

“But they still trapped you all the same.”

A cloud passed over his face. He met your gaze across the room. “Some traps are worth walking into.”

Your senses tickled, but it wasn’t because he was lying. Frowning, you watched him wander around the room, seemingly aimless. You knew, however, that nothing he did was uncalculated.

“So, the plan,” he prompted.

“It’s a matter of timing.”

“Isn’t it always?”

You matched his bared teeth with your own. “Besides, why would I tell you the plan just so you can run off without me?”

“You overestimate me.”

The laugh burst out of you. “I believe no amount of overestimation can truly scratch the surface of what you’re capable of.”

Loki’s sharp smile pulled at his lips. “Are you so desperate to scratch under my surface?”

Snorting, you ignored the bells chiming quietly in the back of your mind and redirected the conversation. “I hear you’re scheduled to fly with the Grandmaster on his pleasure ship.”

The mischief in Loki’s eyes glimmered. “Envious?”

“Hardly.”

“Then why do you mention it?”

“Because it may behoove you to pay particular attention to its security protocols.”

Loki paused, searched your expression. “Ah, this wouldn’t perhaps be related to your enigmatic plan?”

“Who’s to say it isn’t a misdirection to keep you occupied?”

“Ooo, am I boring entertainment?”

“You misunderstand what entertains me about you.”

Pushing away from the table in the center of the room, Loki sauntered over to you. “Oh, I think I know exactly what entertains you. My silver tongue.”

An unexpected shiver ran down your spine. Keeping your composure, you countered, trying to ignore how close he had drawn near you, “Insofar as I can use it.”

“Use it any way you like, my dear.”

Leaning forward, you felt his breath brush your lips. “Yes…I do believe it would look good mounted on my wall.”

You pulled back as he smirked, his eyes sharp with amusement.

“Tell me, soothsayer,” he purred, “how long have you been lying to the Grandmaster?”

“Longer than you, and better by far.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps you should offer to teach me, seeing as we are partners.”

“‘Partners’ implies equality.”

“Am I not your equal?”

“If you were, we would be gone from here.”

“Perhaps I’m not so keen on parting ways just yet.”

You frowned. “Why? Simply because you have the Grandmaster’s favor?”

“I was speaking more along the lines of the perks that favor brings me.”

“They won’t last.”

It was his turn to frown. “Well, I’d like to make them last as long as possible.”

His stare unsettled your stomach. Stepping away from him, you made for the door. “Keep your eyes open and your memory sharp,” you informed him.

“As you command, my dear soothsayer.”

Fighting the unusual feeling rising up within you, you fled the room.

Loki’s adopted brother ruined everything. You watched the plan fall apart as Thor wreaked havoc in Sakaar, as Loki raced against Scrapper 142 to locate his brother. When they stormed through the Grandmaster’s building to reach the ship hanger, you raced up to intercept them, hoping you wouldn’t find the hanger empty of the one ship you had wanted for your escape.

What you found, to your surprise, was Loki writhing on the floor, one of the electric modules the Grandmaster employed set to the highest setting on him. Getting rid of it, you waited for Loki to still, the color in his cheeks returning to normal as he stared up into your face.

“Your silver tongue failed you this time,” you couldn’t help quipping.

“It seems my brother had grown wise to my tricks,” he grumbled.

Helping him to his feet, you pointed at the ship some of the prisoners were boarding. “It wasn’t my plan, but it still works.”

As you both crossed the hanger bay to the ship, you felt Loki’s gaze on you. “What?”

“I didn’t intend to leave on my own.”

He wasn’t lying, to your surprise. “But you turned on your brother.”

“He was never part of the plan.”

You blinked, slowing to a stop. “What plan?”

“Are we or are we not partners?”

A slow-dawning realization spread through you. Quirking your lips, you countered, “That implies we are equal.”

“I do believe you have the upper hand, my soothsayer—for now.”

Laughing, you helped him across the gangway, thanking the universe for having delivered a silver-tongued devil to you.

#Loki x Reader #Loki #Loki imagine #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston imagine #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #Loki Laufeyson imagine #Thor: Ragnarok #requests

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catohphm · 3 years ago

Text

A True Friend for a Werewolf

Hi everyone, here’s the third in a series of drabbles that shed some light on my MC, Cato’s relationships with the canon characters of HPHM. I’ve written pieces for Talbott and Badeea. It’s Chiara’s turn now. For a while, we didn’t know what house she was in. She was revealed to be Hufflepuff in the sixth year. Chiara’s life and personality are defined by her biggest secret: she’s a werewolf. Very mysterious, she is. But unlike Talbott, she also faces social rejection and shame if her status is disclosed, not just government interference. In time, Cato grows to build a very close friendship with Chiara based on trust and a vow to look out for each other and keep their secrets safe. Just beware, this post is longer than the others as I provided some background and more details to help build the foundation of their bond. Enjoy!

Chiara Lobasca was born to an affluent family. Her father was an arithmancer and her mother was extremely skilled with memory charms. Due to her knowledge of the spells, she was employed by the Ministry as an Obliviator, responsible for solving violations of the secrecy laws by wiping the memories of muggles who were aware of the incident, as well as knowledge of magic in general.

As a young child, Chiara ran afoul of the infamous werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. She was bitten by him and became a werewolf too. He attempted to recruit her for his army, which sought to take over the wizarding world as revenge for oppression against their kind. Fortunately, her parents were able to stop him and send him packing before their daughter could be influenced by him. Chiara, aware that she got lycanthropy from her encounter with the cruel Greyback, was extremely scared that he had gotten very close toward taking her away from home and doing who knows what to her. Sheltering their daughter, they chose to keep it private that she was a werewolf, knowing of the large negative stigma and laws that would make it hard to live with her condition.

The Lobascas managed to live stable lives for some time afterwards, but the expenses of procuring Wolfsbane potion to help Chiara get through her transformations put strain on the family’s finances. She eventually befriended a neighbor named Selina, who wasn’t intimidated by hearing she was a werewolf. They were good friends until the former saw Chiara after she transformed. Selina was horrified and never talked to her again out of fear. Her memories were wiped by Chiara’s mum so she wouldn’t have to live haunted by the memories. It was from this incident that Chiara became a more guarded person, being very cautious over who she let into her circle.

She was sorted into Hufflepuff upon arriving at Hogwarts. Her secret meant her life and she understood that if it went out, she’d be in great danger. Chiara’s greatest fear was the fact she was a werewolf becoming known at school. Inside though, she remained the sweet, goodhearted individual she was before she was infected with lycanthropy. Between classes, she would help out Madam Pomfrey with work in the Hospital Wing, her dream of becoming a healer. It was there she first met Cato.

While Chiara found the Ravenclaw boy to be a kind soul who valued people, they remained only acquaintances for a while because of her previous experience with her former friend. They said “Hi!” or even waved to each other when they passed in the halls, but Chiara tried to avoid conversation as much as possible. Cato wondered why she was like this, but he had a feeling that she had something she didn’t want to share, so he respected her choice. It was early into their third year that they got closer.

Cato, Penny and Chiara were all in Herbology when a boggart emerged from its hiding spot. It took the form of a werewolf. Hearing Penny’s shouts, Chiara ducked under a table and fled from the greenhouse when the boggart was repelled. Her memories of Selina finding out she was a werewolf were triggered by the incident. As a result, she became less like her usual self and isolated herself more from her peers. Both they and her professors caught on this and grew worried. Penny was concerned too, and she sought her best friend Cato to try to speak to her roommate and find out what’s going on.

He was advised by Penny not to mention her to Chiara, as she is worried that her encounter with the boggart may create a rift between them. Cato was worried too, as he hadn’t seen Chiara in the hospital wing much after the ruckus in the greenhouse. He first questioned Madam Pomfrey on her whereabouts. She suggested he look in a cupboard down the hallway she uses to store medical potions and other supplies separate from Snape’s classroom so that students wouldn’t touch them during classes.

Cato went to the cupboard, quietly muttering "I hope you're in there, Chiara." A door opens and her, recognizing him by his voice, ushers him in and quickly shuts the door. Chiara explains that she has to tell him something, needing someone outside of her house that she can be able to trust with the information. He learns of a rumor that she overheard about a first year who was attacked by a mysterious white creature in the Forbidden Forest which was believed to be a werewolf. The victim is believed to be a Gryffindor named Pippa MacMillian as she was reported absent from Astronomy the night the attack took place. Hearing this made Chiara desperate. Afraid of what could happen if people started thinking she was the creature, Chiara wanted to tell somebody she knew who could be able to help her solve the mystery.

Together, she and Cato sought out Pippa, who couldn’t recall anything the moment she was attacked in the woods. With the help of a memory potion, she was able to explain that wasn’t sure if her assailant was actually a werewolf. Claw marks on the arm prompted the assumption it was a lycanthrope. Chiara was very relieved to hear this. The three of them dispelled the rumors with Penny’s help, who was also happy to learn the good news. Cato and Chiara became friends after the case was solved. They talked more, especially when they were assigned together in classes such as Herbology. She was still careful with how deep the conversations got, but entrusted Cato with her secret, knowing she could depend on him.

Eventually, their bond would be put to the test. Chiara introduced Cato to an acquaintance of hers, another werewolf named Remus Lupin. She revealed how she shared some of the wolfsbane potion she received from the school to aid in his plight. Lupin was poor and had to keep moving and changing jobs every once in a while to prevent people from finding out he was a werewolf. He stopped accepting wolfsbane from Chiara as it was now time for him to keep moving on. Before leaving, he reminded her that the full moon would be out that night.

That night, Cato and Chiara were playing gobstones, where they opened up a bit more about each other’s lives. She quickly left after remembering Lupin’s warning about the Full Moon. Urgently looking for a safe place to transform, a greatly worried Cato followed her to the Training Grounds. She was about to tell him to run. But it was seconds before she shifted into her werewolf form. Instead, she told him to not let her hurt anyone. As she transformed right in front of Cato, he covered his eyes with his hands, tripping and falling on the ground. When he looked back up, Chiara was now a large werewolf with white fur. She was menacing, but there appeared to be some hesitance in her motion. Cato pulled out his wand, got up and with it behind his back, he called out at her “This is not who you’re really like Chiara! Remember, you’re my friend! You can count on me!” Chiara pauses for a moment, halted by what he just said, but then becomes aggressive. He calls out “I’m sorry! I have to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or anyone, for you! Cato casts Flipendo but the jinx misses and the transformed Chiara strikes him, knocking him back to the ground. His arm is now hurting from the hard blow, but he remembers the Banishing Charm he had learned from Charms a few days ago. Teeth-clenched from the pain of his arm, Cato aims his wand at the werewolf as she closes in to him, his eyes now brimming with tears. He mutters out “Depulso” in a stressed, worried tone. A mass of bluish-white energy explodes from the tip of his wand, blasting the werewolf Chiara several feet away from Cato.

She gets back up on her feet and stares at Cato. A twinkle gleams across her eyes and she makes out a weak smile, before turning away and running back toward the Forbidden Forest to wait out the rest of the night. The morning after the fight, Cato joins Chiara in the artifact room to catch up on the night before. She, although surprised, thanks him for standing by her and not running away when she turned into a werewolf. She then explains why she was keeping her distance all this time, recalling the incident when her neighbor found out what she looked like as werewolf and asked her mum to Obliviate Selena so that she wouldn’t have to live in fear. Chiara was then reluctant to make friends as she didn’t want to harm others through her lycanthropy. Now confident enough to face her fears, she fully opens up to Cato.

He presents her a photo he recovered from the Training Ground after the fight. It was a beautiful color photo of the sun setting over the Black Lake, with Hogwarts Castle in the foreground. Chiara lets Cato keep it as gratitude for his help, and tells him that Lupin gave it to her. The photo was taken by Lupin’s friend James Potter, both of whom were part of the Marauders during their years in school. Cato learns from Chiara that the message of the photo is “The morning will always come.” They immediately give each other a big hug, Cato still holding the photo in one hand. She remarks “This is for not giving up on me. Thank you, Cato!" He answers “Anything I can do for my friends. They’re like family to me.” Chiara then said “I’ll always be able to make it through even the darkest night, so long as I have the support of my friends.”

They were best friends after those events, and continued to be so well into adulthood. Eventually Cato would retire from the high-adventure lifestyle of curse-breaking, looking for a more stable job he enjoyed that could also support his wife Penny and their two sons. He was hired as a healer at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Working with Penny and Chiara, Cato and they would often reminisce about their past adventures in school and as young adults. He continues to keep the photo Chiara gave him back in Hogwarts as a token of their friendship.

#cato reese #chiara lobosca #hphm chiara #hphm #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery mc #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm headcanon #hphm headcanons #hphm friendship #hphm jacobs sibling #jacob's sibling

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izazov · 4 years ago

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Thinking about Obi-Wan in New Hope and how he probably just goes about his usual business, when he receives a warning from the Force.

Now, for all that the Jedi Order no longer exists and his own self-imposed exile, Obi-Wan is still a Jedi, so, naturally, he follows the Force's warning.

Which leads him to Anakin's unconscious son, accompanied by Anakin's... unorthodox droids.

(I can only imagine that Artoo's beeps and whistles were not as polite as Obi-Wan's answers implied during their initial exchange.)

As if that isn't enough - which it most assuredly is, given how the memories of the past are starting to stir on the edges of Obi-Wan's mind and in the deepest recesses of his heart - Obi-Wan finds himself watching the holo recording of Anakin's daughter, pleading for his help.

(I can picture him sighing deeply as he watches Luke race off to save his Uncle and Aunt, carefully avoiding to acknowledge the ache inside him at how much of Anakin he sees in Luke.)

"I don't remember the Force being as blunt as this," Obi-Wan murmurs, resigned.

"The Force is only as blunt as it needs to be, my old Padawan."

Obi-Wan only hums in response to Qui-Gon's remark. Usually, he would agree with his former Master.

But not today.

The Force is making the past is come alive around him, merging it with the present, and directing his future steps. And, in doing so, employing as much subtlety as Anakin ever had.

Truly, only the hulking figure in black armor is missing from unearthing every memory Obi-Wan has kept buried deep inside himself.

Although, that meeting shouldn't be far off now.

After all, Obi-Wan has always felt - with a bone-deep certainty - that Anakin would be there with him when he died.

#obi wan kenobi

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years ago

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I keep thinking about Silmarillion, and I was wondering : what do you think of Fëanor ?

I don’t know exactly how it should be seen...

Ooh, Fëanor. Gosh, okay, let me change the channel in my brain.

Fëanor is, at heart, a Capitalist Inventor. He's Dark Tony Stark. He creates endless things for the world to use, but what truly drives him is the bone-deep belief that he and his chosen ones deserve his most prized possessions more than anyone else. And he's willing to kill anyone on both sides to get them back. He swears an oath to fight until he gets what he wants, and thus seals the doom of untold thousands he'll never even meet.

That's an antagonist. Which is not the same thing as a villain. But Fëanor is very much an experience to be survived - or not - rather than any kind of ally. Much of what he does in the Silmarillion is imbalanced, driven by emotions he doesn't seem willing or able to control. And because he's an elf among elves, and they all live a very very long time, the effects of his choices carry forward for thousands of years. This one dude got a lot of people killed, directly and indirectly, including his whole family. For an elf was supposed to love the stars, he wasn't very stellar. Our Man in Valinor was way more into fire.

The part that bothers me about his character - and this is a modern take looking back at JRR Tolkien and his world in the last millennium - is that Fëanor is born this way. He is flawed from birth, and he's just Like That, forever. No chance to change, no encouragement to be different, to be softer, to be better, to corral his spirit of fire into something more light than heat. He's just dangerous chaos from start to finish. He comes into the world sucking his mother's spirit dry so she dies, he lives his life disagreeing with everyone around him except his sons, and he goes out encouraging those sons to hold to their unholy oath to retrieve the Silmarils or die trying. Which they do - the "die trying" part, anyway.

He's a piece of work.

He was also a brilliant, god-tier craftsman. I guess that's what happens when you study under the Vala Aulë himself, who literally shaped the physical world into existence.

He created the Silmarils, capturing the combined light of the Two Trees into three brilliant gemstones in a way no one ever did before or since.

He crafted the palantíri, which not even Sauron could replicate later.

He invented Tengwar script, which is the swirly elven writing we all associate with Middle-Earth.

He crafted the mysterious Feanorian lamps, which are crystals that emit blue light and cannot be doused.

He was constantly thinking up new ideas and crafting them. Eru only knows what he made that has been lost. You'll notice none of these things he made are swords. Yet he led an attack against the Teleri on his way out of Valinor, and the Teleri defended themselves, so I kind of assume he was also a weaponsmith, trying out new ideas in metal form if nothing else.

Brilliant and misguided, a flawed juggernaut, destined to drag the entire world and countless lives off course. The earlier these characters show up in the timeline, the more destructive chaos they end up causing.

I do not like Fëanor. He's a White Guy, doing as he pleases with no thought for the consequences, to himself, to those of his family he actually likes, or to anyone else. He holds enough privilege and power that people keep following him into disaster, and then he just goes and does it again, without learning a damn thing from his imbalanced approach. He even dies thinking he did nothing wrong ever in his life. Like... Bitch.

Having power is no guarantee that you deserve power, and Fëanor is a prime example of why.

This has nothing to do with the objects he made. Those are just tools, free to be taken and used for good or evil, as the palantíri were, and as every message ever written in Tengwar was. Would the world have been better off without the Silmarils at all, or the palantíri? Would a different language script have somehow altered the world for the better? Since it's fiction, we could just decide that Yes, Yes It Would, or No Actually Not.

What's not fictional is my distaste for presumptuous assholes with a bit of power but no self-awareness, because I've already met too many of them who weren't fictional, either.

You want my unvarnished opinion of Fëanor? He's a billionaire. And I'm glad he got eaten. It wasn't nearly soon enough.

Eat your billionaires before they get all crusty, kids. They taste best fresh and plump. Nom nom.

Still here? Oh, then it's time to compare Fëanor to TDP! Because as much as I despise him, he makes for excellent storytelling angst and conflict, and vicarious conflict is how we learn to avoid it in our real lives - if we're paying attention.

I've said before that I'd like to see some kind of Oath of Fëanor effect in TDP. The absolute horror at seeing good characters get yoinked into bad deeds just because they promised? Ahahaha, horrible, thank you, I'll have some more. If the Moonshadow assassins have something like that behind those creepy binding ribbons, I'm gonna be cackling in between my tears, fam.

But Fëanor himself? Oh, do you see, that's Aaravos! He's even got that craftsman side, since he made the relic staff, and boy is it swirly.

(Does that make Ethari a Celebrimbor type, separating himself from the dark deeds of his forebears yet still massively talented, creating amazing magical devices?)

Aaravos is the main villain of TDP, as far as we've been told. He's crafty, in both senses of the word. Did he have some angsty complex family life with half-siblings and a mother who died because she birthed him? Maybe. Stars can be born from the detritus of other stars that exploded and died, so there's a sciencey metaphor there already.

Of interest: Fëanor had seven sons, and the world of TDP has seven kinds of magic. Aaravos created at least one of them. Did he create primal magics too, from the deep magic that came before? Might there be some kind of oath involved there, with the first elves to wield differentiated magic?

How about those primal stones that look like palantíri? How many of those did Aaravos craft? Can he use one from his library to spy on people who have them or something? That would mean he could already know a ton about Viren even before he came to the Storm Spire and stole the mirror. Woah.

What about a Silmaril equivalent? Are there especially glorious magical gemstones in Xadia? Did Aaravos wear them in his crown and now he's mister Grumpy Glam without them?

Did he create the original runes that diverged into all the elven languages? With his sloppy handwriting? Heh, the other elves must've been very patient.

You know... Aaravos has been called a Promethean figure, gifting humans with knowledge and skill they didn't have. But that gift was the gift of fire. A tool. A tool employed by craftsmen.

Fëanor literally means "Spirit of Fire."

In the end, Fëanor was consumed by his own spirit. He never learned to vibe with it, and it destroyed him and many others. Sounds a lot like dark magic.

Maybe the real Oath of Fëanor in TDP is one you have to speak backwards.

#asks #Fëanor #tdp #tdp speculation #silm #oath of feanor #just fantasy things #aaravos

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dwellordream · 2 years ago

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“To understand the incertitude facing the Victorians one has only to visualize a society in which, on one hand, great wealth was being created, while, on the other hand, a massive displacement was making survival nearly impossible for hundreds of thousands. The streets of London were disturbing reminders to the middle classes that their comfortable lifestyles were being won at a price. By the 1850s there were nearly 750,000 women working as servants in middle- and upper-class homes and a further 25,000 employed as governesses. These women helped remind more fortunate women that the most satisfactory career was that of a married woman.

Work became the great ‘protector,’ whether it was the work of a husband or the work of a woman thrown back on her own means. And work accelerated the pace of life. In the 1860s, Frances Cobbe (1864) made the following comment about her own era compared with the early decades of the nineteenth century: That constant sense of being-driven – not precisely like ‘dumb’ cattle, but cattle who must read, write, and talk more in twenty-four hours than twenty-four hours will permit, can never been known to them [the people of 1800–30]. (482) Indeed, the ‘reserve’ of the middle class was partially motivated by a desire not to be associated with the uncleanness and misery of the poor, who were living in terrible accommodations or no accommodations at all.

In Democracy in America ([1884] 1994), Alexis de Tocqueville explained this English reserve as a particularly aristocratic defence mechanism against the dangers of social mixing: Aristocratic pride still being a very strong force with the English, and the boundaries of aristocracy having become doubtful, each man is constantly afraid lest advantage be taken of his familiarity. Not being able to judge at first sight the social position of the people he meets, he prudently avoids contact with them. He is afraid that some slight service rendered may draw him into an unsuitable friendship. He dreads civility and is as much anxious to avoid the demonstrative gratitude of a stranger as his hostility. (566)

One cannot stress enough the brilliance of Tocqueville’s insight, for it demonstrates how a practice can become uncoupled from its original cause and take on a shape and purpose of its own long after it has outgrown its purposes. To understand the force of habituation is to realize that a sociology of culture needs to take two histories into account: the conscious and the forgotten. It was within this climate of anxiety and worry that the Victorians turned to the idea of ‘self-help,’ the notion that a person was responsible for improving himself through whatever means were available.

Overpowered by the contingency of industrial life, with its multiple seductions and displacements, a family had to exercise its duty: to work honestly, to never give up hope, and to press for the manifestation of an ideal culture governed by principled behaviour. This social idealism accorded with the idealism of the Victorian scientists and engineers who saw a future blessed with technical progress. It was as if there were a concentrated effort to come up with reliable general laws in both the social and natural realms. Even Mill ([1865] 1961), who came to mistrust the mechanization of rationalism, wondered if the natural laws of science could be applied to human action and produce a set of universal laws capable of guiding social behaviour.

Influenced by Auguste Comte, whom he introduced to England, he searched for a balance between optimism and anxiety, hope and disappointment, for he believed that even the more painful realizations of life could lead to a renewed commitment to duty and a revitalized practical morality. That Victorian writers often communicated with a partially educated public experiencing the anxieties of uncertainty should not be overlooked. There were as many prophets as newspapers and journals. What mattered less than what a man believed in was whether he was able to adopt a belief and stand by it.

This penchant for ‘volitional action’ had been a central theme of British literature and Evangelical Anglicanism. As literature was made popular and accessible to the middle class, themes of self-realization and personal responsibility emerged and supplemented the romances. English literature during the midnineteenth century played an important role in the creation of a public English personality (Taylor 1997:125). Samuel Smiles’s ‘Self-Help’ ([1859] 1958) became the behavioural bible of the period. Smiles believed that a man should be able to make something worthy of himself regardless of his social position. ‘Perseverance’ and ‘energy’ were sources of wealth in self-improvement.

Smiles legitimized this optimistic view of a person’s options in life by citing the biographies of successful men who had come from humble beginnings. In defence of the ambitious individual he wrote: It is energetic individualism which produces the most powerful effects upon the life and action of others, and really constitutes the best practical education. Schools, academies, and colleges, give but the merest beginnings of culture in comparison with it. Far more influential is the life education daily given in our homes, in the streets, behind the counters, in workshops, at the loom and the plough, in counting-houses and manufactories, and in the busy haunts of men. This is the finishing instruction as markers of society, which Schiller designated ‘the education of the human race,’ consisting of action, conduct, self-culture, self-control. (39)

Smiles was championing a respect for work, any type of work, provided a person did his best to arrive at his utmost potential. He even considered easy riches a hindrance to self-realization: ‘Riches are so great a temptation to ease and self-indulgence to which men are by nature prone, that the glory is all the greater of those who, born to ample fortunes, nevertheless take an active part in the work of their generation’ (51). He swept aside the idea that failure can come to good, hardworking people: ‘Men who are constantly lamenting their luck are in some way or other reaping the consequences of their neglect, mismanagement, improvidence, or want of application’ (267).

To further his argument, he quoted Dr Johnson, who had declared: ‘All the complaints which are made of the world are unjust. I never knew a man of Merit neglected; it was generally his own fault that he failed at success’ (266). Smiles, however, did not address the fact that the jobs that were being created in the new industrial state were being made possible precisely by individuals who were spending their money on products without which they had managed quite well before. Like many moralists of the Victorian era he did not consider what Mandeville had realized in his Fable of the Bees ([1715] 1962) that virtue and vice were part of a system that required both for its economic survival, that for every miser a wastrel was needed to balance the available supply of cash.

The Victorian ethos attempted to connect personal health and virtue with public health and order. This was a key period in Western history because it transformed conceptions of the body. As Anthony Synnott (1993) explains in The Body Social, the end of the nineteenth century brought forth an acute ‘medicalization of society.’ Vaccination legislation and public health laws controlled the bodily freedom of individuals in the name of public welfare (26). So did the poorhouses, the shelters for unwed mothers, and the placement of illegitimate infants in the care of wet nurses far from the eyes and minds of the unfortunate child’s family.

The ‘breach of promise’ clause in marriage laws further ensured that a man who proposed marriage, seduced the potential bride, and then broke his promise of marriage would face consequences. Smiles embodied the Victorian association between self-regulation and public welfare. He was also (intentionally or not) legitimizing the inequalities that had emerged as a result of the Industrial Revolution. Echoing the Victorians’ horror of the idle pauper, he wrote, ‘Labour is not only a necessity and a duty, but a blessing: only the idler feels it to be a curse’ ([1859] 1958:59), and, again, ‘There is no reason why the condition of the average workman should not be a useful honourable, respectable, and happy one’ (284).

On the poverty of the English labourer, he pronounced ‘that this class would be otherwise than frugal, contented, intelligent, and happy is not the design of providence’ (284). According to Smiles, a wise man should exhibit thrift and live below his means, regardless of his income. For a man barely able to put food on the table of his family it meant missing even more meals than were already being missed. In Thrift ([1875] 1958), Smiles criticized the working class for spending all its earnings and thereby limiting its opportunities for self-advancement.

He was one of the earliest modern proponents of a ‘culture of poverty’ theory: ‘The greater number of workmen possess little capital save their labour; and, as we have already seen, many of them uselessly and wastefully spend most of their earnings, instead of saving them and becoming capitalists’ (99). Explaining the formula for wealth creation, he advised: ‘It is the savings of individuals which compose the wealth – in other words, the well-being – of every nation ... every thrifty person may be regarded as a public benefactor, and every thriftless person as a public enemy’ (2).

The Victorian uneasiness with hedonism is echoed in Smiles’s advice regarding the socialization of youth: ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy; but all play and no work makes him something greatly worse. Nothing can be more hurtful to a youth than to have his world sodden with pleasure’ ([1859] 1958:318). Elsewhere in the book, he asserts: ‘The battle of life is, in most cases, fought uphill and to win it without a struggle were perhaps to win it without honour ... The school of Difficulty is the best school of moral discipline’ (325). Regarding character, he states: ‘That character is power is true in a much higher sense that knowledge is power. Mind without heart, intelligence with out conduct, cleverness without goodness, are powers in their way, but they may be powers only for mischief’ (362).

Objecting to the cult of appearance and fashion, he declares: ‘There is a dreadful ambition abroad for being “genteel.” We keep up appearances, too often at the expense of honesty; and though we may not be rich, yet we must seem to be so. We must be “respectable” though only in the meanest sense – in mere vulgar outward show’ (290). Smiles’s unwavering faith in the individual also reflected a growing disillusionment with government in the mid-Victorian era. Thrown back on their own resources to formulate some workable collective ethic, the Victorians came to value ‘personal enthusiasm’ as a socially cohesive force. It was this unwavering belief in the power of the person to improve himself that led to what has since become known as Victorian ‘earnestness.’

Such earnestness, however, had consequences. Christopher Lane (2003) has observed in Hatred and Civility: The Antisocial Life in Victorian England – a perceptive psychoanalytical critique of Victorian evangelism – that one of the consequences of this single-minded commitment to ‘social progress’ was the censoring and mistrust of ‘misanthropy.’ While withdrawal from a corruptive society had been tolerated and even admired in the eighteenth century, the Victorian ethic of ‘enthusiasm’ rendered those who criticized from the margins highly suspect. Civility and the benevolent associations it produced were equated with social responsibility.

The misanthrope was now seen as someone who stood in the way of cheerful progress, a mental aberration rather than a credible conscientious objector. Such obligatory sociability further contributed to the suppression of ‘dangerous’ emotions, leaving successive generations with the onerous task of reversing this code of enforced silence. Smiles’s enthusiasm found a large audience in America. His republican non-aristocratic presentation of self-worth and self-improvement appealed to Americans seeking a republican representation of ideal behaviour.

Writing of authentic politeness, he stated: ‘The inbred politeness which springs from right-heartedness and kindly feelings is of no exclusive rank or station. The mechanic who works at the bench may possess it, as well as the clergyman or the peer’ ([1859] 1958:369). In support of the English practice of tact, he wrote: ‘The gentlemen is eminently distinguished for his self-respect. He values his character ... as he respects himself, so, by the same law, does he respect others’ (372). We see in Smiles’s writing the non-negotiability of the English conception of ‘gentle’ behaviour: ‘Gentleness is indeed the best test of gentlemanliness. A consideration for the feelings of others, for his inferiors are dependents as well as his equals, and respect for their self-respect, will pervade the true gentleman’s whole conduct’ (380).

This ethic of ‘earnestness’ restrained by ‘decorum’ became embodied in the British Victorian monarchy. The new courtesy practices and the idealization of family and propriety had created an aura of perfection in Victorian England, one shared by the Queen herself. Victoria and her husband Albert had maintained a model middle-class marriage, setting an example for the rest of the population. The Queen was not averse to publicizing the domestic side of her life – it was perhaps the first time that the British monarchy had taken middle-class values and replayed them to the public.

This confirmation had a profound influence on the working classes, giving them access to a collective morale that transcended issues of wealth and title. Ironically, this common social denominator was made possible precisely by the fact that class differentiation had been accepted as a given. Paralleling ‘tact’ and an appreciation of ‘gentleness’ was a very strong belief in the efficacy of rules. Rules helped define an orderly way to achieve personal and civilizational competence. John Stuart Mill and Harriette Taylor ([1869] 1912), worrying about the spirit of the times, wrote that the English were alienating themselves from emotion by adhering to so many rules. They warned that Victorian values were alienating the English from nature.

Despite their warnings, work, thrift, and a steadfast observance of rules became the hallmarks of a ‘reputable family.’ That Victorians had such a horror of deviance, non-conformity, and bad reputation is understandable when viewed from the perspective of rules and the manner they were equated to social harmony and social health. Despite the self-help movement, the certainties of nineteenth-century rationalizations of science were being shaken by a growing sense of futility at the end of the 1800s. A series of bad harvests created social unrest, precipitating the second Reform Bill of 1867.

The bill gave the working classes of the towns voting privileges and forced upper- and middle-class Victorians to face the fact that a new class was emerging, one that had already demonstrated its power through a series of strikes and riots. By adopting ideal values and categorical explanations of reality, the Victorians had set themselves up for disappointment – observable reality did not conform to the ideals of the self-help movement. The social optimism of a writer like Smiles and the moral fury of a Wilberforce were based on a mono-directional view of social economics. An ethical and disciplined life was seen as the best path to individual happiness.

Yet, what was not sufficiently considered was that varying motivations could produce the same beneficial results. A man buying a dog for his wife was contributing to the creation of jobs no more and no less than another buying the same dog for his illicit mistress. There are echoes of Kant’s thinking in the Victorian attempt to establish a categorical moral imperative. Yet, the times required a commercialism unshackled by conservative restrictions. Confronted with these dilemmas, Victorians took to doubting the viability of their moral project.

If there seems to be any hypocrisy in the Victorian era, as has been retrospectively suggested by many historians, novelists, and cultural critics, this hypocrisy does not lie as much in an act of bad faith or a consciously adopted double standard as it does in the fact that conservative Victorians were trying to make ideal declarations in spite of an economic juggernaut that required a tempering of social idealism. Certainly, the old art of gentlemanly conduct went through a transformation during this period. In 1935, Henry Dwight Sedgwick was already mourning the passing of the gentleman in his book In Praise of Gentlemen ([1935] 1970).

Yet, Sedgwick was ignoring a very important development in English courtesy. Certainly, the formality of aristocratic gentlemanly behaviour was suffering with the demise of the British Empire, but England had preserved Smiles’s ideal of gentleness, the ministering to the comfort of the other. Both mechanic and lord had somehow managed to internalize the functional properties of Hume’s and Smith’s conceptions of sympathy. This very important development in English civility should inform current observations of English interaction style.”

- Benet Davetian, “England and the Victorian Ethic.” in Civility: A Cultural History

#victorian #class #benet davetian #english #history #civility: a cultural history

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sd1970x · 3 years ago

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Marinette, work in progress - Ch4 - BlueCollar

Read also on AO3: here first chapter | previous chapter | next chapter

Marinette took the short path home as she hopped, still transformed, towards her balcony. No sooner than reaching her room, she thrust herself into her bed and her face into her pillow.

“Spots off.”

The suit dissolved and Tikki emerged, hovering about. She was quick to pick up on Marinette’s distress.

“Marinette, is everything okay?”

Marinette turned her head towards Tikki, peeking just a tad out.

"No.” She tersely replied, then turned away again. “I’m not fit to be a superheroine.”

“What? Why would you say that?” Tikki shuddered.

“Why? because I’m not even a real girl and I nearly failed because of that!”

Tikki just stared back, wordlessly.Marinette slowly rose up and sat upright at her bed.

“If being a girl is so much better for me… why wasn’t I just born one? Maybe I should just accept my fate. I can’t win this one.”

Marinette tried to look away as Tikki hovered in front of her, denying her the option to end the conversation just yet.

“Maybe fate has crossed your path with the miraculous because of that? Because your burning desire to be a girl means something?”

Marinette looked back, contemplating Tikki’s words.

“All it means is that I’m a wannabe and that I’ll end up embarrassing everyone who believes in me. Like Alya and Mylene.”

Marinette recalled the conversation back at school lunch. Alya and Mylene sure seemed to think very highly of her.

“They sure don’t seem to think that way, and they should know a thing or two about girl power.”

That much was true, even Marinette had to admit it.

I don’t know Alya and Mylene that much and yet they’ve both already managed to impress me, Alya for standing up to Chloe and Mylene for standing up for what counts in this city. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to brush off their instincts, and take their trust as affirmation.

“What is it that makes you think you’re a boy, Marinette?”

Marinette’s mind screeched to a halt.

I might not be a true-born girl… but I’m not a boy either. What the hell am I, again?

“I… I don’t know anymore.” she whispered and Tikki smiled.

Marinette flared up her computer and started looking at some of her designs. She followed by reading some of her hidden computer diary entries.

The more she looked at her designs, the more she read into her diary entries, the muddier the answer in her mind became.

Maybe these tell the story of what I am better than everything else? What is it that makes a design “a girl’s design”? Or a story “a boy’s story”?

Before she noticed it, it was time for dinner, followed by shower and bedtime.

---

It was the last thing Marinette thought would happen to her. Chloe was the first to point at her and explode into mocking laughter, interrupting the morning’s lesson.

“Look at Marin! What’s Gay-boy doing with pink trousers in class?”

Instinctively she tried to cup her breasts, but they weren’t there anymore.

Oh no… the magic… it… dissipated? But… how? Why?

Soon enough, most of the class burst into laughter. She braved a look at herself and her heart sank.

She was back in her boy-suit, the one she thought she had discarded already. The sensation of body hair that she did not miss, back to haunt her.

Everyone laughed at her. Even her teacher! Caline bustier, otherwise a fair and decent teacher, joining up with class, pointing at her.

No. No no no. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!

She tried to scream, but only muffled sounds came about. She tried to run away, but she felt like her muscles betrayed her. The sounds of laughter echoed around her, piercing her soul.

“Gay-Boy! Gay-Boy in pink!”

She decided she must gather her energy and leave class, but felt herself jerked upwards instead.

Into a seating position, in her bed, covered in cold sweat and panting heavily.

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Tikki flew by, worried.

“It was a nightmare.” she blurted out.

A most vivid one, that’s bound to come to life as soon as the magic dissipates.

Marinette woke up early that day, still exhausted from the night. The sight of herself in the mirror did quite a bit to cheer her up.

It’s not a dream after all. Maybe if I hold onto it, it won’t slip from my grip.

She combed and tied her hair neatly, brushed her teeth and went downstairs to have her breakfast.

“At least you won’t be late today, honey.” Her mom smiled at her.

Having a properly-paced, non-rushed breakfast also proved helpful for her mood. She walked towards school, hoping that the new day would bring relief from yesterday’s battle and that awful night.

---

Mylene was one of the first to enter class, picking up the aptitude test results from the teacher’s desk.

While she feared many things, math wasn’t one of them. The good grades were sure to make her parents happy and perhaps more lenient in letting her go out on more activities like she had wanted.

Then again, someone next to her was clearly unhappy about their test results.

Ivan seemed to be very happy to see her come over, but immediately switched his looks back to his test results and gloominess was quick to take hold.

“What’s the matter, Ivan?”

Ivan paused before spitting it out.

“I… barely passed it. I was this close to flunking it. I’m no good at maths.”

Chloe kept filing her nails as she overheard their conversation.

“Oh, don’t you worry about it, there would still be plenty of higher education options available for people like you.” she commented.

Ivan looked at her, dumbfounded, while Mylene eyed Chloe suspiciously.

What’s she planning? Is it a rare moment of kindness, or a ploy to make things worse?

“ Ecole-de-imbecile , of course. You’ll eke out a meager living hauling boxes for people like me who will run daddy’s hotel.”

And to think I believed it could be the first for even a split of a second.

Ivan grit his teeth and looked like he was about to respond, then looked at his test results again.

“... Up until you become totally useless, at which point you’ll probably find yourself homeless in the streets, your wife dumping you, if you ever had one in the first place. Guess that’s too bad.”

“Chloe, you’re the meanest! Ivan is-” Mylene tried to protest but Chloe was quick to shut her down.

“-a loser, and the world doesn’t need losers in it. Sorry, that’s just how it is.”

Ivan clenched his fist and ran off to the locker room. Mylene looked at Chloe accusingly for a brief moment, only to refocus her attention on following up on Ivan.

---

Light intruded upon Hawk Moth’s domain as his senses picked up on a victim of choice.

“Fear of the future. Fear of who you may become. Uncertainty. Go forth, my precious akuma, let his self-doubt seal the fate for Ladybug and Chat Noir!”

---

Marinette was walking through the corridor, looking at her aptitude test report card, when Ivan nearly bumped into her. She dodged it at the last moment and was quite surprised when Ivan said nothing.

He is usually very nice and polite, despite his brutish looks. That’s not like him not to apologize.

Something must have happened. This doesn’t look good.

Before she had much time to dwell on it, Mylene came about, looking around.

“Marinette, have you seen Ivan?”

“Yeah, he went that way.” She said as she pointed out the direction. “Has anything happened?”

“I’m tempted to just say ‘Chloe happened’”, Mylene replied, “but she’s outdone even herself.

She told Ivan his test results set him for a life of failure.”

“How mean!”

Mylene nodded.

“He deserves so much better than that.”

With that, she rushed forwards to search for Ivan, leaving Marinette behind with more than one thing to think about.

Does this one test really set up our fate for the future?

Of course not! I mean, I’m sure Ivan can change it!

Are we the masters of our own fate, or has it been written for us?

Then again…

She looked at her hands and imaginary boy hands were superimposed on them.

Is my fate in my own hands?

---

The butterfly easily homed on the sobbing student in the locker room, landing on a decorative pin he was wearing.

“ BlueCollar , I am Hawk Moth. Your fate has been rewritten, your destiny now changed. You shall lead a revolution.”

---

Marinette was just leaving class as a confrontation outside on the street drew her attention. It was Chloe and her dad, the mayor, arguing with a figure that seemed like a large and sturdy construction worker.

“Shouldn’t you be doing your job?” Chloe yelled at the figure. “Daddy, tell him!”

“How insolent. I don’t report to you. I’m BlueCollar and I report to Hawk Moth.”

Chloe and the mayor shuddered at these words and tried to back away slowly, but BlueCollar wouldn’t stop.

“Maybe you two will finally do something useful for the people of Paris!” BlueCollar went on and a blue streak of energy engulfed the two of them.

Chloe found herself donning a sanitation worker’s uniform and holding a broom. In a moment, magical compulsion forced her to start cleaning the street, much to BlueCollar’s satisfaction.

Marinette was quick to hide in a nearby alley.

“We’re needed. Time to transform! Tikki, spots on!”

Marinette emerged from the alley, with Chat Noir arriving at the scene at the exact same time.

“Please, Ladybug, Chat Noir, save us from this fate!” Chloe managed to say before BlueCollar’s magical compulsion forced her to tend to her work again.

Marinette barely managed to stifle her giggle.

Isn’t that some poetic justice out there. A taste of your own medicine, Chloe. Maybe a few hours of work would do you good.

Marinette and Chat Noir both hopped on to a higher ground to make plans. Then again, one of them had plans the other probably did not think of.

“So. BlueCollar’s power is making people work for him. We must avoid his strike at all costs.” Marinette remarked.

“We have more than enough work without his powers employing us. But would you like to go for coffee once our work is done?”

Marinette froze in place as she tried to digest his words.

“Huh? Are you… asking me out?”

He flashed a grin.

“Well, all work and no play is a major hassle. I’m a playful cat, try me”

He can’t be serious. My god, what’s wrong with him?

“A playful cat.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And your game is... prowling about, hunting down a superheroine for a superhero.”

“Yep.”

“Swooping someone, from partner to lover. Oh, such brag rights! A game with a prize!”

“I don’t see why not. If you’re into it...” he smiled.

My god. He really knows no limit.

Marinette poked him in his chest.

“Do I look like I’m some prize to be won, partner?”

His smile faded in an instant.

“We save Paris together. Save your romantic aspirations for someone else.”

She then pointed his head towards BlueCollar as he went towards the city hall. “Does this look like a game to you? No? Then this should be your focus.”

Both Marinette and Chat Noir darted down to confront BlueCollar, avoiding his zaps successfully but making little headway.

Chat Noir managed to strike him with his baton, only to feel the recoil as he proved far too sturdy to be impacted. Marinette fared pretty much the same, as he simply flung her away with her own yo-yo.

Making things worse, they were quickly approached by a league of BlueCollar’s supporting workers, armed with whatever they were using for their jobs.

“Looks like we need some pest control.” One of them remarked as he eyed Marinette.

“And a feral cat problem to handle.” another added, looking at Chat Noir.

“Hate to disappoint. I’m fully domesticated. Cataclysm!” Chat Noir called it as he touched the ground, creating a chasm and allowing both Marinette and him to escape to safety.

“Well, we don’t have much time, do we?” Chat remarked and Marinette nodded in agreement.

“It’s time for my thing, then. Lucky charm!” she called it, cupping her hands to grab a falling...

״Miner’s helmet? What am I going to do with that?״

She briefly flicked its headlight on, then flicked it off.

“Okay, Chat, here’s the plan…”

---

BlueCollar kept roaming the streets, until something caught his eye. It was an open manhole in the middle of the road, with an electricity cable running into it.

Clearly, someone was doing maintenance work in a negligent and extremely unsafe manner. No markings whatsoever, no signs to ward off pedestrians and no one to call should help be required.

As BlueCollar approached the manhole, Chat Noir jumped downwards from a nearby building and landed forcefully on his back. BlueCollar fell forwards and upside down, finding himself jammed into the hole, unable to move.

The hole was dark as night, although in a moment he was blinded by what seemed to be a flashlight. A short while afterwards, he managed to see it for what it was - Ladybug wearing a miner’s helmet.

“This site does employ some workplace safety” she commented as she walked slowly towards him. He could only watch as she removed his collar and broke it in two, releasing the akuma.

“No more evildoing for you, little akuma. Time to de-evilize!” she called it, as she whipped her yo-yo and whisked it away.

“Miraculous… Ladybug!”

As she flung the helmet upwards, it burst into a stream of Ladybugs, releasing all those bound to work by BlueCollar’s powers, including Chloe and her father.

---

“Pound it!” Ladybug offered her hand for a fistbump, and Adrien’s was quick to respond in like.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” he offered cautiously.

“It was a close call” she replied, her face showing little emotion, but she quickly softened. “But you do make a great partner. Respect my limits and it will stay that way.”

She followed by a short-lived smile, then hopped away and disappeared.

Adrien’s eyes followed her wake until she was gone from his sight. He breathed in relief, then sighed.

“I guess it’s just partners then. Even if I…”

Even if I want it to be more than that.

I’ve met the girl of my dreams… and I nearly ruined everything.

Is there any way I can get her to see me as more than that? Or are we fated to remain no more than partners?

---

A now de-akumatized Ivan made his way back to class, where Mylene was quick to warmly greet him.

“I’m sorry, Ivan. It’s just one test! And if you want, I’d love to help you with maths.”

“You would? That’s… that’s so wonderful!” Ivan beamed at her words, his joy clear to everyone around. Yet Mylene had more to say.

“But for your own good, you really shouldn’t let Chloe get to you! You’re the kindest person I know and that’s worth so much more.”

“I usually don’t… it’s just that… well…”

Ivan was blushing furiously now as he picked his words.

“I had plans to confess to a girl today and then Chloe just sapped all my confidence.”

“Oh? Who would that be? I-If you don’t mind me asking...”

There was a short pause before Ivan managed to say it.

“It’s you.”

“I was hoping you would say that.” She replied, a wide grin to her face. A moment later, she hugged him tight and his blush deepened by two shades.

“Aww, these two are meant to be together!” Rose said as she dug herself into Juleka’s arm.

---

Marinette smiled as Ivan and Mylene hugged each other, some of their elation sweeping her as well.

Maybe some of our fate lies in the hands of others who love us, that’s not so bad too now is it?

What does fate have in for me?

I seriously hope it’s more of an ‘Adrien’ direction than a ‘Chat Noir’ one!

Chat’s a good partner… and that’s where the line gets drawn.

But Adrien… He’s something special. I got to see a glimpse of a soul so pure.

It’s time for me to take fate into my own hands, and I will.

A girl’s fate.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #trans #fanfic #fanfiction #ladybug

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rosy-wooyoung · 5 years ago

Text

He needs someone [part II] | Park Seonghwa

Word count: 3.8k [of nonsense as usual] Genre: fluff [with a hint of what I consider suggestiveness at some point but nothing too spicy] Pairing: kindergarten teacher! reader x police officer!, single dad! Seonghwa A/N: Here is the long-awaited part II! The plot goes a bit everywhere since I had no inspo and I didn’t originally plan to write a second part, I just hope it will be enough :) thank you for all the love you showed for the first part, I almost cried when I saw the number of notes that it had. Hopefully, you will enjoy this part as much as the other one!! Warnings: none [except maybe it’s disgustingly sweet and cliché but if you are on my blog you know that’s how i write hehe]

second part of this fic.

Within the past few weeks, a lot of hectic things had happened, but you were happy with how the situation turned out. You were afraid to have overstepped the boundaries by interfering in the private life of a police officer, simply for the well-being of his son, but he had been diligent enough to forgive you and let you into his life, a few days later.

Everything was new for both of you. It has been a long time since you've shared your life with someone, and it was sometimes hard to get used to living together again. You were just too tired to go for a drink on weekdays or during the weekend with a stranger, who was most likely not to suit you. Seonghwa, unlike you, had tried everything, but to no avail, especially since he had a child. Single women didn't usually interest in being in charge of a little being who does not come from them. When you wanted to show affection to your lover, you had to wait until Haneul was asleep to be able to exchange a few touches or a kiss a little more languid than the quick ones you exchanged before leaving for work.

Seonghwa’s mother already adored you. You noticed that she spoke a little meanly about Haneul’s mother, which is also understandable from her point of view. She had hurt her son and grandson by leaving them to handle things on their own. You were a little apprehensive about meeting her, but the first time you came home after the incident in the car, she warmly welcomed you into the family house. You don't know what you did to make her love you so much, but you weren't against being in good terms with her.

This morning, you were waiting for your students at the entrance to the school playground, greeting the parents who were bringing their children. Some left as quickly as they arrived, probably late for work, while others started chatting together, looking after their children out of the corner of their eye. A familiar figure approached you and you recognized one of your students accompanied by his father. He started to chat with you, and it was rather boring. It wasn't the first time he had spoken to you; it had even become routine since it was warmer outside and you allowed yourself to wait for your students without catching a cold. You told your colleague who was older than you about this man, and she immediately warned you about him. He was a father, sure, but he was single. And ready to mingle, to settle down with any woman that said yes to anything. He had apparently flirted with the majority of your colleagues and the mothers who were awaiting their children, whether they were younger or older than you, married or not.

As soon as you learnt about this man's intentions, you immediately understood his interests and started being more careful. You politely rejected his advances, saying that you had a lot to do and that there were other things more important to you in life than all that dating stuff. But he did not lose hope.

A hint of relief hit the tip of its nose when you saw a police car approaching the school. You kept a neutral face, trying not to betray your emotions in front of the father. Haneul pushed open the back door of the car and ran towards you, carrying a small transparent box in his hands. You smiled and stretched your arms towards the little boy who wrapped his frail arms around your legs.

"Hi Haneul, how are you this morning?" "Y/N! Look what we found in the garden with Daddy! I named it Bobby." He showed you the transparent box where a small green frog climbed the wall, trying to escape, but Haneul held the lid tight between his fingers. You lifted him up and held him on your waist so that he could show you the frog up closer. "Your frog is beautiful!" You exclaimed and kissed the little boy on the cheek, having completely forgotten that the other father was still standing next to you. He watched you with an amused look at first, but he instantly frowned when you had shown some complicity with Haneul. "Do you...kiss all your students like that or-" You turned your head to the man, realizing he was still there and what you did. You wanted to justify yourself, but someone interrupted you. "Hello, Sweetheart." Seonghwa stood before you, a thin smile on his lips. It disappeared as soon as the policeman turned to face the man who had turned livid. His eyes went back and forth between Haneul, the hand that Seonghwa had on your waist and the proximity of your faces. He apologized while walking away and you put the little boy down to let him go play with his friends.

Seonghwa's hand travelled into the hollow of your back and drew you closer. Even though he was gone, he knew the father had still his eyes on you. His lips hovered over yours, his other hand tenderly cupping your cheek.

"Not here, please. Children and parents are watching us." Your eyes were avoiding his and looked around, preoccupied about the looks of others. Seonghwa lifted your head by the chin and he looked into your eyes. "I don't care," his voice was hoarse and powerful, he almost sounded pissed off. "They can look, I don't care. He was too close and I don't like that. I don't like seeing people I love being bothered by weird strangers." You barely had time to hear his words when he kissed you passionately. The liveliness of the kiss surprised you so much that you had to hold on to Seonghwa's uniform to not lose your balance. It was the first time he had shown himself in such a way in public, so possessive as he was currently behaving. His jealousy made you smile slightly into the kiss.

When he ended it, you smoothed your top and cleared your throat, as Seonghwa was staring at you with a smirk. You gave him one last kiss at the corner of his mouth and one last look.

"Tonight. We're talking about this tonight." You tried to stay calm and neutral but the redness of your cheeks betrayed you. A satisfied smile appeared on Seonghwa's lips, who winked at you before walking back to his police car. You gathered your students before bringing them into your class, still a little animated about what just happened in the playground.

The day was coming to an end and you had not forgotten the discussion you needed to have with Seonghwa. During the afternoon, he had sent you a message that his mother will pick up her grandson from school and that you didn’t need to take care of him. You gently greeted your boyfriend's mother and chatted with her for a while before you went home. You put down your bag and coat at the entrance, impatient at the idea of taking a good shower. But you didn't even have time to head to the bathroom that someone rang at your door.

As you expected it, Seonghwa was standing in front of you, a bouquet of red roses in hand. You grabbed him by the arm in your apartment and closed the door behind him.

"What do I owe the honour of this bouquet of flowers?" You questioned him with a smile as he handed it to you. "I don't know," Seonghwa followed you teasingly as you entered the kitchen to take out a vase. You poured water in it and put the flowers in, placing it on the living room table. "Perhaps the beauty, the charm, the sweetness, the intelligence and the empathy of my dear and lovely Y/N," He mentioned qualities between each kiss he placed on your skin, the next lower than the previous one. He kept on going from your forehead to arrive in the hollow of your collarbone, before rising back towards your face. "Don't try to distract me, we are having a conversation right now." You put your hands on his chest to slightly push him away, but he kept a firm grip around you. You took a deep breath to try to keep some self-control, but Seonghwa wasn't really helping.

"Oh really, and on what is this conversation about?" He said, raising a mocking eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "About your inappropriate behaviour in the schoolyard this morning." You touched the tip of his nose as you pulled yourself out of his embrace, but he stopped you by sneaking an arm around your waist. "I see big words are being employed," he whispered in the crook of your ear, causing the cheeks to turn a shade pinker. "But this behaviour was completely appropriate to the situation we were into." "No, I don't think so. I just think you were jealous." You snickered, a pinch at the waist made you yelp and calm you down instantly. "Me? Jealous? No, it's quite the opposite, actually. I trust you with all my heart, honey, I just don't trust other men’s intentions. And I saw that you were uncomfortable, so don’t try to play tough." His voice was calm and confident, while yours trembled and was hesitant. As a police officer, he had to keep his cool and he was very good at it. "You are very attractive when you try to be bossy, I would’ve liked to have a teacher like you." He whispered in your ear. He was trying to distract you, and it worked. ”Stop your nonsense now!" You said, turning around in his grip, a malicious look filled your eyes. Your mouth was only a few millimetres from his and his eyes were filled with desire, love and admiration. Seonghwa only let his emotions show through when he was alone with you. He smiled at you and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "You are so gorgeous," he whispered as if he wanted only you to hear it, even if you were alone in your apartment. "I said, don’t talk rubbish," you giggled, kissing his cheek. He tightened his grip and stared at you deeply. Something in his eyes changed. They weren't teasing or goofy anymore, it was only seriousness. "I'm telling the truth; I really mean it. And, one day, I wanna show it to you." His smile showed nothing but kindness and kissed your temple.

"Do you want to eat something? I don’t know if I’ve shopped for today." You changed the subject as you took your lover's hand and led him into the kitchen. "Don't you want to order? It would be easier, and we could spend more time together,” He pouted and persuaded you by his good ideas. "If you want, but I would have loved to cook with you." "Another time, honey. Why not with Haneul, too?" You shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, why not!" After all, it was a way for you to get closer to the mini version of Seonghwa, even if you were already very close. He still had a bit of trouble not calling you by your name when he was in class, but a colder stare was enough for him to understand and call you Teacher Y/N again.

You settled on the sofa when Seonghwa opened the door to the Chinese delivery man. He put everything on the coffee table and served you food, a smile decorating his lips every time your eyes met. Seonghwa was a whole other person in private, much warmer and smiling than when he worked. His smile was your weakness, and his big hazel eyes made you fall in love a little more with him every day.

Your character, your smile, your sparkling eyes, everything related to you drove Seonghwa completely crazy. He won’t ever say it, but he thinks he has never been this much in love before. Of course, he loved Haneul's mom a lot, but she was nothing compared to you. You were patient and kind; you hadn't judged him on his past and that is partly the reason why he fell in love with you. That you love him, even if he has a child, you care for his son, and really, he is grateful to have come across a woman like you.

"Oh, I wanted to ask you something," you broke the silence, your voice covering those of the characters in the film you were watching. "Tell me," he put his plate and chopsticks down for a sip of his soda. "Each year, I organize a school excursion where I go in nature or to a museum with the children to "celebrate" the end of the year. Would you like to be a companion to help me look after the children? I was unlucky enough to ask this at a parents' meeting and the man of this morning rushed to accompany us." Seonghwa grunted at the mention of this man but relaxed when he remembered your question. "I'm going to see if I can take a day off, I may be on patrol or keep a close eye on the neighbourhood at night. You know, the days are starting to grow again, and young people are sometimes turbulent, but I'll see what I can do." You smiled at him and started eating again, while Seonghwa caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. "It would make me happy to have you with me, and I'm sure Haneul would be happy as well if you come. He keeps telling his little friends about you, it's very endearing." Seonghwa stifled a little laugh. "Are you serious?" "I promise! He stands in the middle of the class, his classmates sitting around him, and he explains some things that you told him. Even if I doubt that they are all true, he’s very proud to have an officer as a dad." Seonghwa looked at you askance with a smirk. "Not all true, hm? What do you mean by that? That I tell him nonsense?" He teased while moving closer to you on the couch and putting his hand on your thigh. "No, but I doubt you beat a dragon with your bare hands last night, am I wrong?" "You don't know what I'm doing while everyone is asleep," you rolled your eyes and shook your head at your boyfriend's childish words. "Anyway, I will try my best to be free on that day. I really want to spend time with you." He winked at you and got ready to eat again, but he stopped. "Don't take the other idiot if I can't, please. I don't want him hanging around you, he’s already a pain in the ass when he comes to complain to us at work. It's in his best interests not to touch one of your hair or Haneul’s." "Seonghwa, I’m only teasing. I’ll never go with him. Not for my excursion, nor I’ll leave you for him. I'll go with your mom or a colleague if you can’t come, don’t worry about it." He nodded and you kissed his cheek to reassure him. You understood that his jealousy was his way of showing you that he cared and that he was still a bit insecure about you leaving for another man, so you were trying your best to comfort him. Some guys have used this method on you by the past, but you can see in Seonghwa’s eyes and actions that he doesn’t want to lose you and that he genuinely cares about you.

The school trip was tomorrow. It's been a few weeks since you had asked Seonghwa to come with you and your class and everything worked for the best. Haneul was euphoric about having his father as a parental figure for this trip, it was hard to keep him calm.

"Haneul, calm down," his grandmother scolded him, "Daddy won't come with you if you keep behaving like that." "No please, Granny, I want Daddy to come." Haneul whined, gripping his grandmother’s hand as he looked up at her. "Then stay calm and help Y/N, sweetie." "Okay, Granny!" He yelled as he went to his room to gather his stuff after giving a kiss to his grandma. "Thank you," you whispered to her ear and she gently squeezed your forearm with a wink. Seonghwa had her eyes and her smile, it was amazing how much he looked like his mother. He had harder facial features, but the resemblance was clearly striking.

The bags prepared, you all got into Seonghwa's police car and drove to the police station, which was next to the meeting place you gave the parents. You were earlier than the time indicated, but there were already a few parents waiting and chatting with the children. The natural history museum that you wanted them to visit was unfortunately in another town, it was more convenient to hire a minibus to get there. Once all the students have arrived, you left for the museum. The children seemed happy to discover this natural history museum. Some had already seen it with their parents, but for others, it was the annual expedition and they were delighted.

Seonghwa looked particularly handsome today. He didn't have his uniform, but his simple clothes matched his fatherly attitude. Your students were mostly calm, they had followed the instructions of the museum manager. Some had children's cameras, others simply looked at stuffed animals or scared themselves by going to see animals that were wilder than others. He smiled at you from afar when he was taking care of the other part of the group.

Haneul spent a lot of time with you. He was holding your hand and asking you lots of questions about animals.

"Y/N, um, Teacher Y/N, I'm glad to have Daddy with us." "Really?” You asked him, holding his hand a little tighter. "I'm glad you're happy.” He nodded but he still seemed a little sad. "Sweetheart, I know it's hard for you to call me Teacher at school and Y/N at home, but you have to understand that it can’t change is since I am with your Daddy, but I am also your teacher," you squatted to be at his level and you swept his hair out of his eyes to see them. "That doesn't mean you matter less to me, you're an adorable big boy. I love you very much with your Daddy and nothing will change that, okay?” He nodded again, with a little more enthusiasm this time and you stood back up. "Children! Shall we go have lunch outside?” The children gathered around you and nodded vigorously, some rubbed their stomachs and smiled.

Seonghwa helped you set up the large tablecloth that you had loaded on and the children took off their shoes before sitting on it. You helped them unpack their sandwiches and you offered them each a chocolate bar for being very behaving well during the visit and the meal. After finishing their lunch and eating their desserts, the majority ran towards the playground which was located a few meters from you, while the rest stayed near you and rested. Haneul returned from the playground soon after and he looked tired. He rubbed his eyes with his little fists and laid his head on his father's shoulder, who smiled and took him in his arms. Haneul fell asleep with his head on his father's lap a few seconds after Seonghwa sat down near him.

The day was coming to an end, the first children were already almost asleep on the tablecloth. Haneul had woken up from his nap and was playing with the other energised children. He was the leader of a small group, who had picked daisies and made a big bouquet for you. When you decided that it was time to leave, you all took your bag and went back to the vehicle. Seonghwa was driving the minibus to the meeting point of this morning. You could read the tiredness on his face, which you came to caress with the back of your hand. He grabbed it and placed a long kiss on it, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Aren’t you too tired?” You were talking to him softly; some children were sleeping soundly, and you didn't want to wake them up. They had a lot of fun in the park and watching them was also pretty tiring. "Yes," Seonghwa confessed, laughing, "I still don't know how you manage to do this every day. I feel like I'm reliving my police school entrance tests. They should do this as a test, it's just as tiring." "You indeed need to have a strong mind to handle these little children," you smiled as you looked at them in the rear-view mirror. "But I know you have it," Seonghwa stopped at a red light and planted his eyes in yours. When he sent you that look, you had flashbacks from the first time you found yourself in his car. It surprised you and you didn't want to go through it again. "At home," you whispered and Seonghwa chuckled at your words, shaking his head. He pressed the accelerator when the light turned green and you sighed with relief when you saw the parking lot with the parents who were waiting for you.

Once all the bags and caps have been returned to their little owners, you wish your students and parents a good weekend and you walk to the police car. Haneul was also tired, it would be easy to put him to bed and enjoy Seonghwa’s presence. It's hard not to show too much affection when you're in public. You wanted to keep your strict figure as a teacher, but you also wanted to enjoy your love life freely. You opened the back door and Haneul ran to you and jumped, letting you fasten his belt. You kissed his forehead and closed the door. You open the passenger door and settled in, waiting for Seonghwa to close the trunk.

When you walked through the front door, a divine smell of food ran through your nostrils, making your stomach growl. You headed for the kitchen. The hot plates were occupied by pots filled with food, covered with lids to keep it warm. Seonghwa's mom had left a note on the counter wishing you a good evening.

"She's really amazing.” You muttered as Seonghwa went upstairs with Haneul. You heard the water flowing and began to eat since your belly started complaining.

A little bit later, Seonghwa reappeared in clean clothes and damp hair. He widened his eyes at the sight of food, and you showed him his mother's note.

"I already sent her a bouquet of flowers to thank her," Seonghwa smiled at you and started kissing you in the middle of the kitchen, his food long forgotten on the counter. You could feel all the tiredness in his kiss, it was lazier than usual, but it still managed to make your head spin. When you pulled away, he kissed your forehead and started to eat the portion you had prepared for him. You went upstairs with a plate for Haneul, but he was already asleep, so you took advantage of being on this floor to go take a shower and relax after this long day.

Seonghwa did not take long to join you in your shared bedroom. He collapsed on his side of the bed and let himself be gently lulled by the sounds of your hairdryer. When you climbed into the bed, the softness of your satin nightgown brushed against Seonghwa's bare chest, his arms wrapped around your shoulders. You kissed him very tenderly and flopped down beside him.

"Thank you for coming with me," you whispered and traced random shapes on his abs. “It was really nice today.” "Anything for you, my love," he whispered against your lips and you fell into his warm embrace after turning off your bedside lamp. “ If you asked me to, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again tomorrow.” You giggled and gave him one last kiss before falling asleep. You loved Seonghwa and Haneul with all your heart, and nothing could change that. They were making you too happy to stay away from them.

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mothwingwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Treasured Friend

F!Reader X (Yandere) Joseph and mentioned F!readerX Caeser

Warnings: Yandere, drugging, cheating, noncon heavy petting, Joseph being a horny jerk

This is my very self-indulgent first shot as a yandere X reader fic (because I am a horrible goblin who loves me some yanderes) which I am a bit nervous about finally posting!!!! AHHHH! I feel like I made Joseph a little OOC, so I apologize for that. I also jumped back and forth from Joseph’s POV to readers so sorry if it gets a bit confusing. ^^;; And why did I have to do this to my girl Suzie Q? Hasn’t she been through enough??? Smh. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!!! Thank you!!!

'I shouldn't be here.'

His brain nagged him as he stood before your door, fist posed inches from the wood, primed for knocking. He stood still, frozen in... What, fear? Confusion? This wasn't like Joseph Joestar at all. He was, after all, the proud, boisterous man who's fought off countless foes, succeeded in being a skilled Hamon user, and ultimately defeated a perfect being that threatened the entire world.

So with all that bravado why the hell was he held up in front of a door?

Were these just nerves trying to block him from seeing a cherished old friend? Ridiculous, there was absolutely no reason at all for this horrible feeling of guilt to be weighing so heavily on his chest. Because that's all you were to him, right? Just his dear old friend?

He snorted at his own cruel joke

He heard you moving inside, as well as sounds of what appeared to be metal clanking together and water running. Perhaps you were cooking dinner? It was around that time of day.

'Maybe I should come back later,' He mused to himself, 'if she's busy with something I probably shouldn't bother her. Besides, I’d rather have her full attention than half of it when we are catching up, right?'

He lowered his hand for a moment at this thought, before quickly shaking his head, an urge of conviction flowing through his body.

'No,' he thought, finally connecting his fist to the door sharply, 'I came all this way. I need to see her now.'

"Coming," He heard muffled through the door. It was hard to make out, but it was undeniably your voice. Joseph couldn't contain the smile that that voice brought him.

After several moments, the door lurched open with a whiny screech. He's sure you spoke something, probably along the lines of 'who is it?' But with his heart beating so fast, the only sound he could manage to focus on was the loud thump echoing in his ears. He felt his breath catch as the door flew all the way open, his gaze falling upon the girl he hadn't seen in years, but hadn't left his mind for even a second in that time.

Your eyes widened a bit from the initial shock, followed by your signature smile that could light up the whole room, instantly igniting a fire in his heart. God, how he missed that smile, how he loved that smile.

"Joseph?" you laughed. An airy, joyful noise, "Joseph Joestar, is that really you?"

Her good mood was contagious, and Joseph's smile spread even wider. He was elated at how you responded to his presence.

'So she is happy to see me. She missed me, possibly even as much as I missed her.'

His heart thumped louder.

"(Name)," the towering man beamed, throwing his arms open dramatically as he shot you a playful grin, "Of course, the one and only! Now, the next thing you are going to say is 'come here so I can give you a hug!'"

Your laugh grew as you tried in vain to hide it behind your small hand. Joseph didn't like that habit of yours; he thrived on seeing you happy and loved it even more when he was the one to bring you that joy.

"I wasn't going to say it I was just going to do it," you teased, "But I guess I can indulge you just this once... Come here so I can give you a hug!"

And with those words, you passed by the door, making your way to Joseph. When you were directly in front of him, you softly launched off the ground, expecting him to meet you half way. He reciprocated, pulling you in to him, your feet dangling several inches from the ground. Just like how it used to be when the two of you were still living in Lisa Lisa's mansion. Also just like old times, he was more than happy to oblige, eagerly scooping you up as he pressed his face firmly into the crook of your neck.

Joseph mused over how good you felt pressed against him. Warm and soft, your hugs were always so inviting and enveloping, even with how much smaller than him you were. As your arms wrapped more snugly around his neck, he buried his face deeper into your neck and started to get lost in you. He breathed deeply, getting a whiff of the perfume you always used to wear. He was glad you still wore it. It always was one of his favorites. He squeezed you tightly, relishing the feeling of your affections. It was unfair how your body fit so perfectly against his.

"God how long has it been," your voice was soft, emotive, and so close. A shiver shot down his spine, "6 years? 7?"

"Too long," he responded immediately, his strong arms constricting you just a bit tighter, "I missed you, (name)."

Another playful laugh, "I missed you too, Jojo," you began to break contact, giving his arm a soft slap on your way down, "and I can't even imagine what owes me this surprise visit, but I am excited to find out."

You swung your door open, scooting out of the way a bit as you lifted your arm in a sweeping motion, "Please, come in! You came just in time, dinner is almost ready!"

It was shocking, to say the least.

The last time you had seen the man before you seemed like a lifetime ago. As soon as your eyes fell upon him, the memories flooded violently into your brain, the bittersweet nostalgia sweeping you away...

Two of your best friends had recently been wed and there was nothing but love in your heart for the both of them. Suzie Q, your best friend since you were small, had finally found her other half. You had joked with her a lot when you were younger that she was too easily wooed by a pretty face and too quick to give her heart away to men that were unworthy of her. She would laugh at you in response, shoot you a wink, and make some comment about having a lot of love to give so she'll eventually find the right guy, even if she does have to kiss a few frogs along the way.

That didn’t stop your worry for her, though. You always let her do her own thing and gave her space, but you were certainly not shy about letting her know you were not fond of most of the men she dated. On average they were arrogant, cocky, and loud womanizers who were also (unfortunately) extremely handsome.

So when you met Joseph Joestar, your protective nature instantly kicked in.

Both you and Suzie had been employed by Lisa Lisa, though in your case, maybe "saved" was a more appropriate term. You had come from a broken home and had a difficult upbringing, and you had spent many nights running to Suzie's house to get escape from your situation. When you grew a bit older and Suzie had been working for a while with Lisa Lisa, she was quick to recommend you as well. You were deeply intimidated and worried she may take one look at your past and skill set and cast you aside, but Suzie had talked you up so much that Lisa Lisa essentially hired you on the spot. You spent the next several years working your ass off to prove yourself to be all your friend had talked you up to be, and in the process gained a rather charmed existence surrounded by people you loved. You had a nice, safe home you shared with your treasured friend. The employer and teacher you greatly respected had taught you how to be strong, self-sufficient, and overcome any challenge life might through your way. In the hustle and bustle of it all, you had even met a charming man (one of Lisa Lisa’s pupils) that you had begun to develop feelings for...

And then Joseph showed up.

With the introduction of this cocky and loud brit, everything changed. From the get go, his frisky and flirty nature irked you. Throughout your years you had grown to a woman who respected manners and you took pride in the fact that not much in life could truly irritate you. As if honing in on this, you became a favorite target of Joseph’s endless teasing.

As much as you tried, he quickly had become unavoidable (Lisa Lisa had assigned you to watch over him, after all). You would cringe at the way he would ogle you, your teacher, and your best friend. He was a show off, always trying to one up Caesar (the man who had become the focus of your affections) to impress you, something you imagined Joseph had hoped would gain your approval. Needless to say, it did not work. Nearly everything the man did seem to grate deeply on your nerves, from the 'cute' nicknames he would make up for you, to the way he treated your blossoming skills dismissively, to how he'd casually find SOME way to touch you at every encounter. In the span on of a few days you had nearly reached your limit. You would purposely find something, ANYTHING, to do around the mansion to avoid him. But even then, you knew eventually you'd hear his booming voice break your small window of peace as it had become a habit of his to hunt you down each day after his daily trainings.

"Hey, (Name), there you are!!! You are looking a little bored, what say you come with me and we liven up the day a bit, eh?"

"(Name)! My favorite girl! Looks like you could use a break, and I know just the person you should take it with~"

"(Nick name) you were with Caesar AGAIN!? Come on, wouldn't you rather spend your time with someone who reeally~ knows how to treat a lady?"

It was all so obnoxious, but your blood didn't begin to truly boil until you had found him one day with Suzie Q.

You had warned her, or at least tried, of all he had put you through. The flirting, the disregard of your personal space, the shots fired at Caesar. At first she seemed to be listening, giving him the cold shoulder and dishing back whatever he handed to her, rolling her eyes jokingly at you whenever mention of him was made.

But as the weeks wore on her unamused glare changed to a fond twinkle. Her indignant frown when he would cast his attentions her way morphing into a coquettish smile. Much to your dismay, you knew you were rapidly watching your best friend fall in love.

"Caesar we can't let this happen," you grumbled one day to your lover, your head resting snugly in the crook of his neck as you curled against him during a break in his training.

"Let what happen, Bambina?" Caesar responded to your sudden remark, his fingers lazily weaving through your (color) tresses.

"Suzie and Joseph," you sighed heavily, "I've seen the way that she has been looking at him recently, and I know that look all too well. I have to get her away from him somehow..."

The blonde Italian hummed, "Hmm, a look huh? And just what look has our dear Suzie been giving Jojo?"

"It's the look she gives men before they break her heart."'

Caesar laughed, a pleasant rumble jolting your body. You pulled yourself up, steadying your arm across Caesar's broad chest so you could look directly into his eyes.

"What's so funny," you pouted, trying not to be swayed by the beautiful shimmer of his sea green eyes, “I’m serious! Joseph is bad news for her! I don't want my best friend to be used up by some pretty playboy and then tossed aside once he's done with her."

"I apologize, I didn’t mean to laugh. But carina did you and I not start similarly? Did people not also warn you to stay away from the great womanizer Zeppeli, a man who would always be nothing more than someone who would break beautiful girl’s hearts?"

You averted your gaze slightly, a light blush rising to your cheeks, "This is different! You understood my boundaries and never once acted high and mighty around me. I definitely had my reservations with you but," the blush on your cheeks grew a bit darker before you continued, “In the end you proved yourself to be a safe and worthy person to give my heart to."

A doting smile overtook Caesar's face as he leaned up, planting a firm kiss on top of your head.

"And I am forever grateful you took that gamble with me carina, as you have become the most treasured part of my life. Since you have come into my life, I have been a better, stronger man. But...."

"…But?"

Caesar sighed, gently shaking his head, "But you have to understand bambina that Joseph and I are different people with different personalities and different backgrounds," Caesar gently took your chin in his fingers, turning your gaze back his way, "I definitely don't approve of the hounding he gives Master, Suzie, and especially YOU, but Jojo is not a bad person. There's more going on inside him than you realize, and as I have been training by his side daily I can't help but admire how far he's come in this short span of time. He may come off as clownish, but after you've been through some things with him you see just how strong his ambition is. He’s a man fueled by a strong drive and tender heart. Carina mia, if Suzie Q is the woman he has chosen to bestow his true affections upon, I dare say that woman will live a very passionate life and never be left wanting."

As Caesar spoke, your eyes softened. You mulled over his words in your head, considering the possibility that maybe they would make a good pair. Perhaps Joseph wasn't just an annoying brute, maybe that was all a screen he hid his true feelings and intentions behind. Though it didn't entirely excuse him of all the things he had done, hearing Caesar explain it certainly did give you a new perspective on the man.

You sighed dejectedly, "OK, maybe you are right. He may get on my last nerve, but at the same time I haven't really given him much of a chance to get to know me, and I him. Maybe... Maybe he would be a good match for Suzie? Besides, we are both adults now, even if I still have qualms over him I need to have faith that my best friend is doing what's right for her."

Caesar playfully winked at you, "Exactly. Suzie is a big girl, and Joseph a big boy. If they desire to be together, I hope you can come to a point where you give them your blessing," Caesar sighed deeply, slowly running his hand through his hair, "Besides, with his attentions focused on Suzie that means he will leave you alone now."

"Oh, I see. Ulterior motives," You teased, flippantly waving your hand.

He smirked, "Is it so wrong for a man to want his woman to himself? Cuore mio, don't break my heart by telling me you actually secretly enjoy Jojo's affections?"

You snickered, giving the blonde a playful smack, "Please, you know I only fall for incredibly dashing Italian men. But I must say, I am surprised with all the trash-talking he gives you that you are standing up for him and speaking so highly of him right now."

Caesar shrugged, his eyes falling closed as he pulled you snugly back down against him, "What can I say? I guess he's growing on me."

Over time, he would grow on you as well.

After all you had gone through, it was impossible not to. Not long after that conversation, your life was wrought with tragedy and terror. The insurmountable threat of the pillar men coupled with the incredible loss of losing Caesar nearly destroyed you. You felt helpless and terrified, every good thing in life you had worked so hard to achieve being ripped from you in the blink of an eye.

You ached for your lost love, and agonized over the fate of your friends. What could you do? What would become of the world if you weren't victorious right here, right now? It was too much weight to bear.

And yet Joseph took it head on, becoming your rock when everything else in the world seemed so unsteady. With his signature smirk and twinkling green eyes he held you in his strong grasp before the final encounter. You’ll never forget the feel of one of his hands gently jostling your hair as he told you it would all be OK, that he would protect you and come out victorious.

And even with all the odds against him, his enemy quite literally transforming into the perfect being with no weaknesses, he came out the winner. At that time, you could neither laugh nor cry. You just stared on in awe and relief when you saw Joseph triumphant and alive, on a day that was supposed to be his funeral, no less. Your body went numb, collapsing on itself with the gravity of all that you had been through. Jojo didn't just save you and your friends, he saved the entire world.

It was hard not to give Suzie your blessing after that.

But that was all around 7 years ago, and in that time span you had unfortunately grown apart from the Joestar family. In the beginning of their marriage you and Suzie talked all the time. Visits to and from where both of you ended up settling were common. You always felt welcomed and loved in their home, and you counted it a blessing that you were able to stay so close to the ones you treasured, even with how hectic adult life had become.

However, the months kept passing, and in time, Suzie called less frequently. At first she would brush off your concern, saying she was just tired, or things were busy, her schedule had become so hectic. You would give her space in these moments, but couldn't help but feel a gnawing discomfort when the she went from being a bit unresponsive, to just out right avoiding your calls all together.

Sometimes when you would call you would get Jojo, and hearing his peppy voice sound so genuinely excited to hear from you instantly took a load off your shoulders. He would always reiterate the things Suzie told you to help put your heart at ease. She wasn’t lying or avoiding you, she truly was just held up with something.

That is until Jojo stopped answering the calls as well.

It wouldn’t be until a year later when you got a curt letter in the mail that changed everything. In Suzie’s handwriting, it asked you to please cease all communication with her and Joseph, explaining they were to be moving and starting completely anew in a faraway town and that they wished you not to be a part of that new life.

You felt hollow. You reached out through letter, phone, even trying to get Lisa Lisa to relay messages from you, but no efforts bore any fruit. Your emotions went from confused and heart broken, to bitter and upset. What had you done? Was it something you said or did? Why were they treating you like this, without even explaining themselves? You drove yourself to the point of madness scouring every inch of your brain for something that would want to make them abandon you, but in the end, could think of nothing.

For your own sanity, you tried your best to forget them and move on. Unfortunately for you, you were a horribly sentimental person, and dropping them the same way they had dropped you was something you could not do.

But more years passed, and as they say, time heals all wounds. Losing your friends got less painful and you were able to forge new relationships and start new endeavors. You had made a comfortable life for yourself in that time, even with Suzie and Joseph hanging on in the back of your thoughts, like phantoms you couldn’t exorcise.

So to see a phantom before you in the flesh, sitting merrily at your two person table with that all too familiar mischievous grin spread wide across his handsome face, his spirited eyes peering into your very soul. It was jarring, but you couldn’t help but be overcome with joy.

“Smells delicious,” Jojo exaggeratedly sighed, a look of bliss passing over his face, “I’ve been on the road so long, and it’s been forever since I’ve had a beautiful woman’s home cooked meal.”

You giggled, hand wrapped snugly around your mug of cooled tea as you brought it to your lips, “Well I’m not master chef, but I hope it lives up to your expectations.”

“Please, your cooking was always superior to nearly everyone in the mansion, I am sure it has only gotten better with time (name),”

Small talk carried on for several minutes, before a dense silence hung over the two of you. Your eyes darted to him, taking him in as his gaze swept over the content of your dining room, taking in all of the new and the old. You inhaled deeply.

“Joseph.”

The serious tone of your voice garnered the man’s attention, his bright eyes focusing fully back on you.

You looked held his gaze, the confusion and pain from the past emanating from your unwavering stare.

“Why are you here?”

“Because I missed you, (Name),” The words passed his lips before he could stop them, but the small blush that lit your cheeks more than made up for his brief loss of control over his feelings.

Honestly, he could think of no other way to respond when you were looking at him like that.

He watched intently as you shook your head a bit and closed your eyes, a quivering smile on your lips. He could tell you were fighting valiantly to suppress long held back emotions that may spill out at any second. He was in the same boat, just a little better at it than you were.

“I missed you too,” he noted the slight shake in your voice, “but Joseph… What happened? You and Suzie just left, and I…”

Your voice trailed off, another strong wave of emotions washing over your features. It was something he noticed about you after Caesar had passed, that you were no less stunning in heart break. Joseph stared at you, mesmerized. He hated seeing you in pain, but he couldn’t help the allure of seeing those tears dance just at the edge of your eyes. You were crying for him… crying because you missed him. His heart rate began to quicken. This surely wasn’t the first time tears had been spilled on his behalf. Had he being gone kept you up at night? Did you dream of him and his return?

“How is Suzie?”

The question ripped him forcibly from his previous thoughts. It was asked so earnestly, with such barely concealed desperation, it felt wrong to lie in response. Nerves began to take over, his hands sweating as he absent mindedly fidgeted with the mug in front of him. How could he possibly answer this? Should he really tell you the truth? Could he honestly tell you the reason Suzie began to distance herself from you was because of him? Should he confess and say he couldn’t get you out of his mind, even with his new wife at his side, and after sometime his wife caught on? Should he explain to you that Suzie had always been a replacement in his heart for you, a replacement he thought he could grow to love as fervently as he loved you, but never quite stuck? Should he confess that it was always you he thought of in the place of Suzie when he kissed, hugged, or even spoke with her? Should he tell you that while he made love to your dearest friend, it was you he was imagining beneath him? Should he divulge that on more than one occasion, it was your name he would scream while he came?

Joseph had single handedly ruined the lifelong friendship you had with Suzie. She had done everything she could to make him hers, giving him the entirety of her love. But in the end she realized she could never win over what he felt for you. This caused Suzie’s resentment and animosity towards you to grow, but she also knew in her heart these feelings were misplaced and unfair. So instead of lashing out on her closest friend and airing all the couple’s dirty laundry, she tried to distance herself and her husband from you. Her thought process being that if you were not around in any capacity to distract him, his fondness for you would lessen. In reality, the opposite had occurred.

When Suzie had found he had still been taking your calls without her knowledge, it drove her to the edge. Even after all he had done, all he continued to do, Suzie still loved Joseph, and adamantly believed she could make their marriage work. So she demanded they move, cutting ties with you completely so they could focus on being a family again.

He agreed, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he truly felt bad for the woman he conned into marrying him when his heart clearly belonged to you. Maybe he did it because somewhere inside of himself he truly believed he could learn to love Suzie the way he loved you. Maybe it was because even though Caesar had long been gone, he felt dirty for longing for the woman whose heart and soul belonged to his best friend. Regardless, he agreed, and they left you behind with nothing more than a short letter that he knew would lead you to anguish.

“Joseph you are scaring me, how is Suzie?”

Joseph was snapped back to reality by your concerned voice. He chuckled nervously, forcing a smile on his face before he spoke.

“Suzie is OK,” he began softly, considering his words, “We… We had some issues earlier on in our marriage.”

“…Issues,” you questioned, “What kind of issues?”

Joseph averted his gaze, his grip tightening on the mug. This lie had to be convincing. It was too soon to share his true intentions now.

“Mostly things brought on by the stress of being a young couple out on our own,” he began slowly, trying to keeps his nerves in check, “Well, that and the whole battle with the Pillar Men and its after math. It was a lot to take in. It was a mess that she didn’t want to burden you with, especially when she knew you were still reeling from Caesar and in the process of starting your own life.”

He was happy his lie seemed to relieve you a bit, but a deep frown was still engraved on your lips.

“As our marriage went on, those issues became bigger issues,” he continued, his own frown deepening, “I think we both had a lot of expectations and feelings about what we thought was going to happen once we became husband and wife, and we didn’t necessarily share those expectations or feelings with each other. We were young, on our own for the first time, still figuring ourselves out. Things were bound to get messy at points… It just ended up getting messier than we bargained for,” he sighed, his eyes returning to yours, holding within them an ounce of misery, “Suzie is fine, (name). She’s still her healthy, lively self. She just didn’t want to drag you down in our ongoing bullshit.” He finished with a melancholy grin.

Another silence settled in the air as you collected yourself, taking a deep inhale before speaking.

"Suzie is healthy… That's so good to hear," your voice trembled, "I was so worried all these years," you shook your head, focusing back to Joseph, "But I can't believe it... Things seemed to be going so well, I had no idea you two were going through it- ARE going through it. I feel dumb realizing it now. We did go through so much in such a short amount of time. The wedding was such a whirlwind, it makes sense…"

Joseph watched as your hand clenched at what he was sure was a steadily blooming ache in your chest. What was going through your mind at this moment? How were you processing the lies that fell from his lips? He was sure you were beating yourself up right now, your brain chastising you for not realizing the marital and life issues your dear friends were going through sooner. His eyes widened as he noticed your whole body softly quivering, tears beginning to fall slowly down your rosy cheeks. You looked so small, so hurt. He was a piece of shit for being the cause of this, but he also couldn’t deny the twisted feeling of excitement seeing you this way caused.

As far as he was concerned, those tear filled eyes were proof of your strong feelings for him.

"(Name)..." He whispered, enchanted as you fought back waves of emotion. It took all of his will power to not give in, to not push the table over and take you again in his arms. While you would melt into him he’d kiss away those anguished tears, promising to you the only time you’d ever cry again would be when he’d make you feel his love so fully, so strongly, that your over stimulated body wouldn’t be able to handle it anymore.

"Joseph," Your cracking voice struggled to say, drawing the man from his rampant fantasy.

“I never want you or Suzie to feel that way ever again. I know you were trying to protect me, but I never want you to ever feel like you have to hide anything from me ever again.”

Your conviction grew as you continued, “You two keeping things from me, going away and cutting all contact, that hurts me much more than any issues you have been fighting through ever could. I am never too hurt, busy, or tried to be there for either of you. I love you both so much, you are my family… So please, please don’t worry for me when you are going through so much on your own.”

You smiled warmly at him, blinking the tears from your eyes.

His heart was about to burst.

"(Name)... For now... Can we just forget about Suzie?"

The question that followed the next brief gap in conversation threw you for a total loop. Your conversation to this point had been going amicably, even if you were focusing your questions on your MIA friend and getting rather emotional.

"... Forget about Suzie? Joseph, what do you-"

"I don't want to talk about her right now." He cut you off roughly, a bite in his voice that alarmed you.

He took note of the dismayed look on your face his comment caused, and his expression instantly became lighter.

"I'm sorry. It's just a bit painful to talk about her right now,” he spoke, an uncharacteristic nervous tinge to his voice.

“The whole reason I am here now is because we are going through it again and I happened to be traveling in the area I knew you used to live. I took a gamble hoping it would still be you residing in this little house,” he flourished his hand, small smirk ghosting his lips as he took in the scenery once more, “and I’m glad it was.”

A moment of silence hung heavily in the air before he continued, his voice lower than before, “I really needed to talk to you, (Name). I needed to hear your voice. No one else…”

His voice drifted off a bit, his eyes softening as he seemed to get lost in his thoughts. Before you could comment, he snapped out of it, continuing on in a voice that was pleasant, but forced “What am I doing talking about this stuff? I came to share a few laughs and have a good time, not bog you down with my issues! It’s been such a long time since I have seen you (name), I am sure so much has happened in your life. I want to hear it all!"

While he spoke you noticed the quick change in posture from lax and inviting to rigid. His fingers tapping the wood of your table erratically, the set of his jaw had become stern. Everything about him was suddenly on edge. Your heart sank witnessing him like this, even now trying to hide things from you in order to not weigh down the joy of your meeting after so long.

However, you had already decided something. Joseph had come all this way to find some refuge with you, and that’s just what you were going to offer.

"Joseph," your voice dropped low, your hands sliding across the table to catch his own in a gentle hold. You felt his body jolt a bit, surprised by the sudden contact. You squeezed slightly, hoping to get across your feelings of reassurance. You smiled tenderly up at him, and after a moment, his hands shakily returned your hold.

“I’m so sorry… How could I have not noticed that you were in a rough patch? Suzie has been my rock through every trial life has ever thrown my way, and you have become equally as important,” you sighed in frustration, “You both can read me like a book yet I couldn't even tell how much you have been struggling. All of your laughs and smiles, they were masking your true pain, and through it all you both still put me first, not wanting to burden me with anything that was happening because you knew all I had gone through in my own life.”

Tears stung your eyes once more with the realization, “Joseph please, I don’t want you to struggle alone. I want to be your rock, too.”

You heard the man release a breathy sigh, the rough pad of his thumb gingerly starting to caress your firmly gripped hand.

"God, have your hands always been this soft?”

“W-what,” The out of place question took you by surprise, a tiny yelp of shock escaping your lips as Joseph repositioned himself, leaning his torso heavily over the table, threatening your personal space.

His grip on your hands tightened, lifting the digits slowly up to his mouth. A lucid smile graced his plush lips as they ghosted the tips of your fingers. His warm breath on your hand would be almost soothing if not for the obsessive gleam he held in his eyes as they bore into you. A shudder ran through your body, which had become stiff with discomfort. This small gesture between good friends quickly morphed into something much more intimate, the way he was looking at you feeling oddly menacing.

“Your hands,” he laughed a bit, his voice nostalgic, “I remember even during the most rigorous of the training that we were put through, your hands were strong, but also always so gentle,” his lips pressed harder into your flesh, his eyes narrowing as he continued to speak, “but I forgot just how soft they were… How good they feel when you touch me-“

As if breaking a horrible spell, the timer on your stove began to blare, causing you both to jump. You took the opportunity to quickly pull away, pushing yourself up and away from the table and Joseph as you hurried to address the now finished meal.

“Give me just a moment and I’ll have dinner out,” you tried to speak as calmly as you could, clenching your own hands together as your brain scrambled to make sense of what had just occurred, “wait right there.”

Perhaps the move was too soon, but he could think of no other way to respond to you suddenly grabbing him like that, being so earnest and vulnerable with your feelings. Sitting across from you as he indulged in the dinner you had prepared, it would have been easy to get lost in the domestic feel of it all. However he could tell you were growing increasingly uncomfortable despite his best efforts to bring everything back to normal, and he mentally scolded himself for that. Your once welcoming gestures had now become guarded, suspicious. Your bright eyes now looked at him with confusion, even a bit of distrust. He was doing his best to make the conversation jovial again. He was complimenting your cooking, bringing up past humorous exploits, asking you about your new job, your new life, everything and anything he could get about what you had been doing, who you were now.

Yet you kept succeeding in bringing the conversation back to Suzie.

At first it filled him with guilt, hearing his wife’s name fall from your lips with so much concern, now more amplified by his slip up. But the guilt was quickly becoming aggravation as even his best attempts to redirect the conversation kept sneakily coming back to Suzie.

As the tense dinner was winding down, he could tell you were trying to hurry things along. Your eyes darted to the clock more often, and you kept mentioning how late it was becoming, how you had something you had to wake up early for( regardless of it being the weekend). It wasn’t until you began to collect the plates that Joseph began to slightly panic. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go… You both were supposed to be so lost in catching up with each other that time seemed to no longer exist; enjoying each other’s company so thoroughly you’d keep the conversation going into the wee hours of the morning.

Joseph sighed a bit after you turned down his offer to help.

‘I was hoping to avoid having to do this,’ Joseph scowled, slipping the small vial from his pocket, ‘but I guess I have no choice.’

After the situation involving the Pillar Men nearly poisoning him to death, the Speedwagon Foundation really stepped up their game in the drug department. An entire new branch was created as a security measure to protect against threats of that nature, and as such, a lot of experimentation and creation was going on in their labs. Joseph couldn’t help but be intrigued when Robert had offhandedly mentioned one day they had successfully created a new kind of drug, one that was nearly impossible to detect or trace, but knocked someone out quickly for several hours. Robert had been initially confused by Joseph’s questions regarding the drug, as he usually didn’t take much interest in the more science-y aspects of their organization at all, but eventually gave him a small sample of the drug, warning him to not let it fall into the wrong hands.

Watching himself quickly pour a bit into your half-finished wine glass, he mused if his own hands could possibly be considered the wrong ones.

You came back in the room shortly after the deed was done, taking your seat across from him tentatively.

“I know you mentioned it, but I suppose it is getting quite late, huh?” Joseph questioned, doing his best to hide the frown that formed when he saw how relieved that comment seemed to make you.

“Yeah,” you responded, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger absentmindedly, “I hate to rush us after it’s been so long.”

Joseph smiled warmly, batting his hand playfully, “No need to apologize, I did just barge in here unannounced after all. I was lucky you treated an uninvited guest to a meal and a drink.”

You exhaled, your voice coming out softly “You are hardly an ‘uninvited guest’, but next time… I would really love to see Suzie as well. I know you told me not to bring her up and you seem to be avoiding talking about her altogether… But I really miss my best friend.”

You looked away as if you were ashamed to mention her around him. It was another stab to his heart.

“Hey (name),” he began, continuing once your eyes had locked back on his, “I want to apologize. For dumping this all on you, and for earlier when I was holding your hands. My mind has been such a mess, and I realize running to you to escape wasn’t the most mature or well thought out plan.”

He watched your body begin to grow more lax, causing relief to wash over him.

“It’s just you have always had a way of making me feel better (feel whole, he wanted to add, but thought better of it), and I knew this time wouldn’t be any different. It was selfish.”

Before he could say more, you chimed in with a small laugh, taking him off guard. Glancing your way, his eyes widened as he drank you in. You were smiling again, a true smile. Relaxed and happy, your eyes crinkled as they held his. Seeing you this way again felt as if all his troubles had been lifted away. You were infectious, alluring, hypnotizing.

Intoxicating.

“I’m sorry,” you spoke in between small laughs, “It’s just… the Joseph Joestar from years ago would never own up to being selfish, nor would he so sincerely apologize without throwing in some kind of quip,”

Joseph’s heart began to race as he watched you recline, check resting on one hand, the other now bringing the wine glass to your lips, lips that were still so tauntingly smiling at him.

“It’s nice to hear, and you are forgiven. I apologize as well if I seemed a bit put off. It just took me off guard,” you took a sip, Joseph’s breath hitched, “I guess I should have just chocked it up to your old ways, but don’t think I won’t tell Suzie about it someday, you flirt.”

You winked at him playfully, but he was so lost in bliss, it didn’t even register.

“Jojo, are you OK,” you questioned your now suspiciously quiet friend as you took another swig of wine, this one nearly emptying the glass, “I didn’t offend you, did I? I was just joking around.”

You pouted at him. His face had once again gone hard, his intense eyes not once straying from your face.

You chuckle lightly; trying to conceal the nerves his looks gave you, “Jojo please, you are kind of freaking me out again…”

His lips curled into a smile, his eyes keeping their strict hold on you, “It’s alright (name), no offense taken. In fact, I feel very good right now… how about you?”

As if on cue, a sharp pain pulsed through your brain. You winced, your hand flying up to grab at your pounding head. A moan escaped your lips as your eyes snapped shut, everything in the world was suddenly too bright and too loud.

“(Name)?”

“S-sorry,” you stuttered, the pain growing by the moment, “I just suddenly got hit with a horrible headache. Maybe I drank too much wine,” your voice trailed off as you noticed your vision beginning to blur.

Joseph laughed merrily, his seeming lack of care for your condition adding confusion to the already puzzling scenario.

“You barely had any! Such a lightweight,” He pushed himself away from the table, towering over you as his sharp eyes continuously bore down upon your form. Were you imagining that devious gleam they were holding?

“You need to be more careful, (name). People could take advantage of you this way.”

Your eyes widened, blood running cold. Something was off, terribly off. You weren’t just imagining things. The look he held in his eyes and the way he began to stalk slowly closer to you, like a predator approaching its prey, was all horribly wrong. Your breath hitched as he reached your side, his aura overwhelming you entirely in your sickly state. You felt his fingertips ghost the skin of your shoulder, traveling slowly up your neck to gently tuck a rouge stand of hair behind your ear, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. His touch was so delicate, but his eyes… His eyes had now completely glazed over, his breathing becoming heavier as he glared down at you in crazed admiration.

“(Name),” his breathy voice quivered, “Let me take care of you.”

The full extent of the danger you were in crashed down upon you. You pushed off the table, trying to put as much distance between him and yourself as you possibly could. You sprang to your feet, the sudden movement causing another rush of debilitating pain to pulse through your brain. Your vision had become so hazy that you could barely make out the man in front of you, and the tears that were pooling in your eyes weren’t helping any. You backed away slowly, your legs straining as you felt your body become impossibly heavy. At this point the only thing keeping you alert and upright was the threat that loomed before you.

“You need to leave Joseph,” You commanded, hoping your voice sounded much braver than you felt, “Right now.”

“Leave, with you barely able to stand on your feet? What kind of man would I be if I left you like this right now?” Though you had a hard time seeing his expression, you could definitely hear anticipation dripping from his voice, the implications causing you to shudder.

You grimaced, a cold sweat starting to coat your skin, “Get out of my house Joseph or I’ll-“

Before you could say another word, his lips crashed hard into your own, causing a short circuit in your brain. You let out a small gasp, granting him further access as he began feverishly conquering your mouth with his own. You tried to twist away, but that only caused him to pull you taut against him, locking you in place. His large hands snaked down your back, cupping and groping your curves as he traveled lower and lower.

His lips eventually released your own, instantly shifting focus to the exposed skin of your neck. As he sucked and nibbled, marking you in ways he had no right to, your resistance was growing less and less. In a short time, you couldn’t hold yourself up at all any longer, relying solely on Joseph’s constricting grip to keep you vertical. A whimper escaped your lips as he latched onto your neck particularly hard, his hands at the same time gripping your ass with a possessive squeeze.

“I can make you feel so good, (Name),” he whispered in your ear gruffly, lust dripping from his words, “You deserve the love I can give you.

“Joseph,” you choked, tears streaming steadily down your cheeks as the last of your consciousness was fading away, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you belong with me baby, you always have.”

Those were the last words you heard as your body succumbed to the darkness.

#yandere x reader #yandere jjba #yandere joseph joestar #reader insert #jjba reader insert #reader x joseph joestar #reader x caeser zeppeli #yandere behavior #yandere jojos bizarre adventure #yandere jojo x reader #i am so nervous loooool #yandere imagine #I am trying to get better at one shot fics #so this is good practice #enjoy!!!#battle tendency #battle tendies

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shih-coulda-had-it · 4 years ago

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Nanahiko growing old together gives me life

Oh god anon, me too. Passionate movie romances are all well and good, but I’m such a SUCKER for relationships that stand the test of time. Which I guess is why I like starting Nanahiko off as childhood friends. /taps head/ It’s the projecting.

Below: idle Nanahiko fluff that leans into the NanaLives!AU. Featuring Toshinori’s POV as he finally brings his son successor to Yamanashi Prefecture...

The intention behind the way she and Sorahiko have set up their desks: to hold each other accountable for their respective paperwork load. This has backfired several times, but considering the last configuration (separate personal offices, divided by doors and walls) resulted in Nana climbing out the window and Sorahiko sleeping under his desk, this truly is the lesser of two evils.

Except sometimes Nana gets distracted.

“What are you looking at me for?” Sorahiko grouches. He shuffles the permits into a neat stack, and continues to avoid Nana’s eyes. He is unmasked, ungloved, and it is a rare enough sight that Nana thinks she must drink it in before Sorahiko recoils into his turtle-shell.

“I’m picturing you as an old man,” she says, lightly.

“I’m already old.”

“You’re thirty, same as me.” Nana props her chin on one hand, and decides she might as well stare at him openly. He’s flushing pink under the attention, and—aha! There is a second of eye contact, because Sorahiko glances at her after the prolonged silence. His eyes widen, and then wrench their gaze towards the top sheet of paperwork. It makes Nana feel fuzzy, a little like blushing herself.

“I'll probably shrink,” he says. “Lose the bulk. It’ll make flying easier.”

“You’ll still fly?”

“I’m with you, aren’t I?” And Sorahiko swallows, hard. “I can’t imagine you giving up flying.”

“Mm,” Nana responds, picking her answer carefully. Because how sweet is that? In Nana’s experience, friendships come and go like the seasons; most of her primary school friends hadn’t been with her for junior high, and the same pattern had persisted through high school and her career. Sorahiko sticks to her like a burr, though, stubborn and steady in spite of all the bullshit Nana has tugged him into.

“You’ll be shorter,” he adds, before she can say anything else.

“What? Shorter?”

“Mm-hm. You’ll be the tiny granny who’ll forget how to turn off your Quirk, and you’ll manage to hit the stratosphere before a pro-hero can get you down.”

“I’m not going to turn senile!” she protests.

“It’s alright,” Sorahiko says, his voice turning mild. “I’ll probably think you’ve got the right idea, and I’ll Jet us into space. You’re welcome. I’ve made your childhood dream come true.”

She grabs one of their stress-balls from the center of their workspaces and tosses it at his face, a flick of her wrist sending it sailing straight to his nose. Unimpressed, Sorahiko lets it bounce off onto the desk; he rolls his eyes as he picks it up and pointedly returns it to the clear plastic box.

“What, you don’t want to find the moon bunny anymore?”

“I don’t know, Sorahiko,” she teases, ignoring the jab at her most cherished childhood wish. “I heard that old people are susceptible to the cold. You already wear a full jumpsuit and still complain about the chill. We wouldn’t even make it to our rooftop before turning back.”

“Should I grow a beard?”

Nana splutters. She’s never seen Sorahiko with stubble longer than a five o’clock shadow. Being clean-shaven is just his thing. She tries to picture him with a beard and her imagination falls short. Still, she tries to respond. “We could paste a fake one on you to try it out.”

“Gross,” says Sorahiko.

Nana warms to the idea. “Should we start with a dark color? Or would it grow out silver?”

“Silver, obviously.” He studies her right back and says, decisively, “You’ll finally get glasses.”

“Ah, like yours?”

He laughs. The force of it crinkles his eyes, and Nana is struck by the very thought that Sorahiko’s toothy smile is reminiscent of her own. She leans her chin on the heel of her palm, fingers curling at her cheek, and smiles helplessly back.

ii.

It used to be rare for Sorahiko to wake up before Nana. He guesses he can see the appeal of it, though, surfacing slowly and realizing, in the quiet still of the bedroom, that he’s the only one awake. Nana has plastered herself to him, an octopus in the making, and their cocoon of warmth is toasty.

He stares down at the crown of her head and idly counts the graying hairs. Nana likens them to spiderwebs whenever she catches sight of them; the grays never gather together to form a definite streak, instead scattering, like--

Sorahiko grimaces at the sappy turn of his thoughts.

Instead, he traces the skin of her hand, the thickened ridges of scars and the calluses that never left, even as Nana exited the field and found volunteer work. He’s followed her in this way too, except he’s opted to be re-employed as a teacher of U.A. The administration hadn’t welcomed him back with open arms, but they had begrudgingly agreed that his year off the grid had been good for him.

Eleven months of healing, of learning how to slow down again while figuring out how to live in America, after that frantic, terrifying month of trying to settle his and Nana’s affairs once he’d packed her and Toshinori off across the Pacific. Impulsively placing Kotarou under his custody might have been the only satisfying thing he’d done in those weeks.

He tilts his head, and finds Nana’s left hand. He brushes his thumb over the pale band of skin where Nana’s ring usually sits; Sorahiko would have a matching mark, if he wasn’t wearing gloves all the time.

“Mm,” Nana hums into his chest. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” he quietly says.

She rubs her cheek into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Sorahiko stifles a sneeze as her hair tickles his nose, and places a hand over her back, steadying. Nana makes a sleepy happy noise and practically undulates directly over Sorahiko, pressing him against the mattress.

“Ah, geez, watch the knees--”

“Why are you up so early,” Nana whines. “You’re supposed to be the sleepyhead of this relationship.”

“Someone climbed on top of me,” Sorahiko points out. “I’m growing old, my bones are getting frail, what did you expect to happen?” She grumbles, incoherent. “What’s that? You plan on breaking my heart by squishing me flat?”

Nana turns her head and enunciates, “Your old man humor isn’t funny.”

“But are you smiling?” He feels the curve of her grin against his chest, the twitch of muscle pulling upward, then Sorahiko drags his fingers through the sweep of her hair. Combing out the loose strands and shaking them off to the side of the bed. They’re due for a vacuuming. “Anyways, isn’t this uncomfortable for you?”

“I could be more comfortable,” she concedes. Nana, with a distinct lack of self-consciousness, wiggles her arm under her breasts and readjusts the… weight distribution. Sorahiko turns his eyes to the ceiling and does his best to ignore the sudden interest rearing its unwelcome head.

“So how do you manage to roll on top of me?”

“Hm,” she stalls. She is obviously coming up with a bullshit answer, and Sorahiko will humor it.

“I’m listening.”

“Well,” Nana starts expansively, “maybe I was dreaming about my historically fantastic rack--stop, stop laughing--and how sad I’ll be when I’m seventy and these girls will be sagging and not sexually appealing--Sorahiko, stop laughing!”

Hypocrite. Her words are sly and full of giggles, and Sorahiko loves her so much. Age hasn’t done anything but sand down the edges of an already smooth partnership; they move in almost silent synchronicity nowadays, since All Might is in the streets and Kotarou is sleeping over at his beloved older brother’s apartment. With this in mind, he props himself up on his elbows, and pushes up further, until Nana is obliged to rear back and sit on his lap instead.

“It was a total nightmare,” she persists, and her restless hands smooth his rumpled t-shirt, his ruffled hair.

“And your solution was to, what?”

She scoffs at his doubtful tone. “Obviously, my body knows you make everything better. Therefore, it knew to hug you until you solved the problem.” Nana bats her eyelashes at him, then wrinkles her nose and scrubs at the sleepsand. He politely turns his eyes to the historically fantastic rack and Nana’s gimmicky tank-top.

“You’re welcome.”.

“I didn’t say you solved it,” she responds loftily. “I need more cuddles than that--hey!”

iii.

Toshinori escorts his successor to oshishou and Torino’s apartment complex in Yamanashi Prefecture, because he accidentally forgot to introduce them to Midoriya before the school year started. Toshinori had only just informed them about choosing Midoriya after they called about the USJ incident, and then they had watched the televised Sports Festival.

The call had been three parts chiding, two parts teasing.

(“What the hell did I make you get a teaching credential for?!” Torino had barked, and in the background was oshishou’s voice complaining about missing their long-lost third grandchild.)

On the train there, Midoriya asks him question after question, almost dazzled at the prospect that he’ll be interning with All Might’s old teachers. Midoriya hasn’t even learned that they’re technically Toshinori’s parents by adoption (it doesn’t help that Toshinori still refers to them as oshishou and Torino).

“They live together?”

“They’re married,” Toshinori is compelled to clarify.

“Married,” Midoriya echoes, eyes shining. On his lap is an open Campos notebook. His hand is scrawling notes almost mechanically, and conjectures too. The boy might have missed out on a calling as a live analyst for cable networks. “And hero partners! Like Water Hose! What are their Quirks, can you tell me?”

“You’ll find out when they train you, I’d rather not give you any false impressions…”

Undeterred, Midoriya pivots his line of questioning. “What are they like? Why does Gran Torino still have his license? Is your oshishou still working with him?”

Toshinori suspects Gran Torino renews his pro-hero license purely to stress-test Japan’s Quirk laws. There is no age-limit on these licenses. No one actually investigates these matters out of concern for personal privacy, and also because elderly heroes are one-in-a-million.

“Gran Torino is a super-efficient pro-hero,” Toshinori says, striving for diplomacy. The old man’s mellowed out over the years; he’s no longer the scary boogeyman hovering behind his oshishou’s shoulder. Toshinori can be gracious. “And oshishou hasn’t stepped into the field for several decades.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He wonders if he can cram in all the family history before they reach Yamanashi Prefecture. Toshinori casts a cursory look around the train; the other few passengers on-board appear distracted. In any case, he lowers his voice. “Long before my own fight with All for One, the three of us were lured into a trap. My oshishou hadn’t expected to escape with her life. When she did, she decided to withdraw from pro-hero work and raise her son.”

Sons, technically. Regardless of how Toshinori was already grown and ready to step into the spotlight, oshishou had been insistent about Toshinori coming home and being Kotarou’s big brother.

“Not their son?” Midoriya probes.

For the keen insight, Toshinori ruffles Midoriya’s curly green hair. He would have to be blind to not see how Midoriya preens at the attention; it reminds him of himself when oshishou first allowed him into the Sky High agency. “Well, Torino-sensei didn’t marry oshishou for… a long time.”

“How long is long?”

Toshinori involuntarily grimaces. This is crossing into the complicated family history, and he’d rather have oshishou explain the details. How best to describe this… “Torino-sensei is oshishou’s first friend, and her second husband.”

“So… so her son is from the previous marriage,” Midoriya says. Toshinori nods. “Wow… did he love her all that time?” The awe, almost envy, in his successor’s voice is also familiar to Toshinori. Of course, Toshinori has also witnessed oshishou and Torino be stupid in love, to the point where he had the undesirable role of being confidant to both.

“Still is,” he confirms and then changes the subject. “Would you like to hear of my own internship with them? It shouldn’t spoil anything. There were extenuating circumstances with me, after all.”

Midoriya brightens. “Yes, please!”

#bnha #nanahiko #gran torino #torino sorahiko #shimura nana #all might #yagi toshinori #deku #midoriya izuku #anon #asks #shih.txt #ugh this is super late i'm sorry #nana lives!au

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