#however I can't. so take this moodboard instead

[kookooluvr]

MADE OF HONOR | JJK (fic announcement)

you gained a lot from university; a law degree catching dust in your attic, countless arguments with your roommate about laundry schedules, and a best friend whose biggest fear in life is commitment. in essence, jungkook's world gets flipped upside down when you take a trip to london and he finally realizes his feelings for you...only to find out you've come back with a fiancé.

pairing: jungkook x (fem) reader x namjoon

genre: fluff, angst, smut, f2l au, love triangle au, bestfriend!jungkook, fuckboy!jungkook, baker!reader, photographer!namjoon

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

w/c: tbc

warnings: tbc

a/n: my first one-shot woop woop !!!! i'm soooo excited to share this one with you guys because moh!jk is a menace and namjoon makes me swoon 😩😩 i didn't want to give too much away with the teaser so it's just jk and oc's meet cute (my namjoonie isn't in the picture yet). pleeease let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist and i hope you are as excited as i am !! love you cuties 🫶🏼

main masterlist jungkook moodboard oc moodboard

namjoon moodboard spotify playlist

[Teaser]

It's Halloween night on campus, which means three things: a really loud, obnoxious party filled with really loud, obnoxious people, drunk hookups that no one will remember in the morning, and you've locked yourself in your room to avoid all of the above.

The entire university is pulsating with the energy of drunk frat boys in capes, girls dressed in skimpy lingerie calling it their costume, and at least three professors who are far too old to be dressed up amongst the students. You, however, are in your true element: a large hoodie, fuzzy socks, a half-eaten Snickers bar on your nightstand, and a thick law textbook open in front of you.

Parties aren't your thing. You'd rather be sued than make small talk with a guy dressed as a ketchup bottle. While your roommate, Jieun, spent hours hot-gluing rhinestones onto her platform space boots for her "sexy astronaut" outfit, you politely declined all invitations and instead declared war on your midterm readings. The only spooky thing in your life right now is the growing realization that you don't actually want to be a lawyer, the thought that you'll probably die single, and knowing you'll be buried in student debt by the time you graduate.

And honestly? That's still more appealing than the campus party.

You take a break from studying around 2am and finally decide to turn off the light and get some rest.

Until the door of your dorm room creaks open.

You pause, blinking your eyes open in the darkness of your room. Maybe Jieun forgot her phone. Maybe she brought back a stray alien from the party. Either way, you don't move, not until the unmistakable dip of the mattress under your legs almost sends your soul flying from your body.

Someone just climbed into your bed.

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, your heart racing in your chest. It's pitch black, the only light coming from the little slit under the door.

"Jieunieee," the voice whispers, smooth and far too seductive. "Are you ready for the best dick of your life?"

That's it.

You scream as loud as you can, springing straight up. You grab the bottle of Channel perfume on your nightstand and spray it directly into his eyes.

"AHHH—WHAT THE F—!"

The stranger falls out of your bed with a loud thud, hitting the floor dramatically like he's been shot in a Western.

"What the hell?!" he groans, writhing on the floor with a hand covering his eyes and the other holding his head. "You maced me!"

"That was perfume!" you yell, feeling your heart in your throat, the perfume clutched tightly in your hand, holding it out in case you have to spray him again. "And why are you in my bed, you psychopath?!"

"I was looking for Jieun!"

"You can't just crawl into beds like a raccoon in the night!"

"I thought this was her bed!"

"Do I sound like Jieun?!"

He blinks rapidly on the floor, his voice strained through his agony. "I don't know, it's dark and I was promised a sexy astronaut!"

You switch on the bedside lamp with the force of a woman ready to kill.

And there he is.

Black leather pants. Tight black shirt. Fake bruises and cuts on his face, presumably made with makeup. An eyebrow piercing. Messy hair. Ridiculously attractive even while clutching at his eyes like he's just been gassed in battle.

Your brain fills in the blanks before he even says it.

"You're Jeon Jungkook, aren't you?"

He lowers his hand just enough to smirk at you. "And you're ___. The infamous roommate l've heard so much about."

You sigh, flopping back against your headboard in disbelief. "Of course she's hooking up with you of all people."

Jungkook is a campus legend. The boy whose reputation includes at least two streaking incidents, three girls who dropped out of the university due to their heartbreak, and a tongue that's done unspeakable things according to the word on the street.

And now he's on your floor, still very much looking like the kind of man your mother warned you about even after being sprayed in the eyes with perfume.

He sits up, rubbing his eyes. "For the record, l've had a lot of entrances, but that was definitely my worst."

"You scared the crap out of me!" you exclaim, tossing your pillow at him. "Who just walks into a dorm and climbs into an unfamiliar bed?!"

"I didn't walk," he scoffs, catching the pillow with an insufferable grin. "I strode."

You glare at him.

He grins wider. "Come on, that was funny!"

"You have a concussion, don't you?"

He wipes his eyes with the heels of his palms, settling on the edge of your bed. "Honestly? If you weren't so terrifying, I'd be impressed."

"Excuse me?"

"You're terrifying," he deadpans. "You sprayed me in the eyes and insulted me all within five minutes. That's worse than most of my Tinder dates. Not by much, but still."

You fold your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him. "Maybe don't go crawling into beds with strangers."

"Technically, you're the stranger," he quips, pointing a finger at you. "And you've maced and verbally abused me. That's a lot for a first impression."

You sigh, rolling your eyes. "Unbelievable. Are you always this irritating?"

"I like to think of myself as…persistently charming," he smiles.

You give him a dry look, your eyes narrowing. "You're the human equivalent of an unsolicited dick pic."

"Oof," he winces, placing his hand over his heart. "Okay, that one hurt. But also...kinda hot that you're this mean."

You blink at him. "Do girls actually fall for this crap?"

"Usually," he shrugs.

"Well, congratulations," you scoff. "You've officially found the girl who's immune to your bullshit."

He holds up his hands in surrender, laughing softly. "Okay, you've made your point. I'm sorry I invaded your bed. I didn't mean to scare you like that. I apologize."

Your face softens ever so slightly, giving him a curt nod. "Thank you."

"But also," he adds, leaning back on his hands, "you're hilarious. And clearly not afraid to defend your space. We should be friends."

You stare at him. "What?"

"Friends," he repeats, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "You and me. I'm serious."

You narrow your eyes once more. "You literally came here to hook up with my roommate."

"Which clearly isn't happening anymore," he sighs, lounging on your bed like he's at the beach. "But now l've met you. And I like you."

You scoff. "You don't know me."

"I know you don't care about going to a hot party and hooking up on Halloween night, and would absolutely tase someone if you had the chance. Right?"

You pause. That...is not incorrect.

"I also know that girls like you usually avoid guys like me. Which is fair. But still.." He swings his legs off the bed, standing up. "I want to be friends."

"Why would we do that?" you ask, genuinely curious.

He grins. "Because you're the first girl who's actually told me I'm full of shit to my face."

You open your mouth, then close it again, and he takes that as a win.

"Anyway, I'll see you around," he smiles, walking toward the door. "If Jieun asks, tell her I tested positive for an STD or something."

You roll your eyes. "Get out!"

He's halfway out when he turns back and winks.

"Nice meeting you, ___."

"Likewise, Satan," you grumble, gesturing for him to shut the door.

He laughs, loud and boyish, and disappears down the hall. And just like that, your quiet Halloween night turned into something totally unexpected.

You met Jeon Jungkook. And he wants to be your friend.

God help you.

[dreamlandcreations]

A moment of peace

Feyd-Rautha x Reader

Summary: A soft moment before his fight in the arena...

Warnings: idk what is this, done in one sitting and not reread. soft Feyd. well, he's still killing people but you know, he is soft with reader. no dialogue. written with fem reader in mind but I think there's no indication of that (let me know if I'm wrong)

~ 450 words

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You were behind Feyd before he could move on to the next girl. The slave with the slit throat just started to drop to the floor when he felt a delicate touch on his back. The na-Baron didn't even tense up despite not sensing your approach, he never did, you were the only one who could sneak up on him because you were even more lethal than him. Not that anyone else knew or he'd ever admit that to you.

A ghost of a touch, fingertips slowly caressing along his spine, wordlessly asking him to stop the bloodshed even as he presses the blade to the throat of the weapons master.

After a few more seconds of tormenting the poor man, Feyd orders everyone to leave and as soon as they are out of the door your arms circle around his waist, careful not to ruin the marks they put on him.

He feels you press a featherlight, lingering kiss right to his paint-covered shoulder blade as he places his hands on yours. And he stays like that, taking a deep breath, enjoying your embrace just a second more.

Feyd turns, his face still firm and of an intimidating predator but he holds your hands with such care and there's a glint of amusement in his gaze as his eyes drop to your blackened lips that lets you know not to fear him. Not that you would ever have a reason to fear him.

He steps closer, returning your previous motion with a gentle stroke of his along your collarbone before he slides his hand up and circles your throat.

There's no pressure in his hold, his intent is not to hurt but a show of dominance, of possession. Which is followed by a soft gesture, the kind only you are privileged to have.

He leans down, resting his forehead on yours, your noses brushing against the other's as he nuzzles slightly into you. His hand sliding to your nape, his thumb drawing lazy circles into your skin.

Leaning back after a minute or so, Feyd contemplates kissing you but the paint marking your lips is just too perfect to ruin, especially knowing that you left your own mark on his back in the shape of your kiss. He smiles at that thought and presses a kiss to your forehead instead of claiming your mouth, he will do that later when he will have the time to indulge further because he can never get enough of you.

You help him with the rest of the preparation before parting ways so you could watch him fight, promising that you would wait for him after, as always, letting him celebrate his victory with you however he wishes.

He can't wait.

•Feyd-Rautha masterlist• Main Masterlist • Moodboards masterlist •

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[pars-ley]

Title: I'm sorry, don't hate me

Pairing: Wooyoung (Ateez) x female reader

Summary: It's your last night in town and you are never coming back. You decide to make it count and spend it with the person you will miss the most, the only thing is…he doesn't know you're leaving.

Genre(s): Best friends to lovers / Idiots to lovers / Smut / Angst / Fluff 

Rating: Mature 18+ (NSFW) MDNI

Warnings: oral (male and female receiving) / edging / begging / grinding / Dom reader / Dom wooyoung / swallowed cum shot / fingering / nipping / nipple play / clit play / multiple orgasms / unprotected sex (wrap before you tap) / cum shot / hand job / dirty talk /

Word count: 5.3k

Banner: Me

Moodboard: @anyamaris amazing as always

Beta: @heechwe Lexi, you are an angel, always. 

Author notes: My first Ateez fic! Thank you to @anyamaris for supporting me and cheering me on to write Wooyoung and thank you to @shadowkoo for the helpful advice and support! This is for the @k-vanity event ‘Eau de fleur’

Your footsteps echo as they climb the stairs to his apartment, the only sound you can hear filling the entire block, bouncing off the cold, tiled walls.

The nerves you expected to be running rampant inside you were nonexistent, instead a strange calmness flows through you at the thought of finally confronting your feelings for your best friend.

Perhaps it's because you've finally got tired of hiding, or maybe it's simply because tonight is your last chance.

Tomorrow you leave, to start a new job in a new city. A new life on the other side of the country. There's one drawback, however…you haven't told him yet. How could you? How can you say goodbye to your closest friend and the boy you've loved for years? You'd been putting it off and now the time to leave was almost upon you, and before you did, you had to take your chance with him, hoping that your feelings are reciprocated.

And as you stand at his door, hope blossoms inside you that maybe just for tonight, he can finally be yours.

Your fist raps on the door, harsher than you intended and you wait, craning forward to listen in as the silence stretches on. You'd seen his light on from outside, so you know he's home. You knock again.

This time you hear loud footsteps rushing your way. But when the door pulls open, you are in no way prepared for the sight that greets you.

“Oh, hi,” he smiles shyly, cheeks turning pink instantly, “did we have plans? Did I forget?”

Your eyes rake down the length of his wet half-naked body and you can't help but stare at the water as it drips off his hair. Your eyes stay fixed to the droplets as they make their way down his chest and roll over his well-defined abs, until they reach the towel, held tightly around his waist, clinging to his cock beautifully. Your gaze hovers over the outline as your teeth dig painfully into your bottom lip, desperate to run your tongue along the length of him.

He says your name and it snaps your attention back up to his face in an instant.

“Yea?” You reply, scrambling to remember your previous train of thought.

“Did-did we have plans tonight?” He asks again, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh-no, we didn't. I just wanted to drop by, so I thought I'd take a chance that you were home.”

His mouth pops open slightly, surprise evident by the way his eyebrows shoot up.

“Is that ok? Or are you busy?” You wonder, as you look behind him into his apartment, praying that he doesn’t have company.

“No, no, I'm not busy. Sorry, come in.” He opens the door for you to pass, and as he closes it behind you, your core alights with a need so powerful it startles you.

“Did you have anything in mind for tonight?” he asks behind you.

Your teeth find anchorage in your bottom lip again as your mind races through the possibilities, images of the two of you in various positions, that have plagued your mind the entire walk here.

You spin to face him, “Actually, yes.”

He watches you expectantly, and you can't help but admire his impressive frame while he still holds the towel tight around him. With a fire deep in your belly, the urge to feel his skin beneath yours grows too much to bear. You walk towards him, leaving no more than an inch between you and watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

He searches your eyes, flitting between them, with his full of unspoken questions.

Something in your peripherals catches your eye, looking down you see the obvious tent in his towel from his growing erection, your mouth pops open. When you meet his gaze again his cheeks are aflame and he's immediately stuttering an apology.

“I-I’m sorry, I-”

Reaching up, you stroke a fingertip lightly along his bottom lip, soft like a rose petal and it makes you shiver with anticipation. He grabs your wrist, gentle but firm, and holds your hand in place before you can withdraw. His pupils are blown wide with a heat staring back at you so ferocious it almost leaves you breathless.

“Please, don't do anything if you don't mean it.” He whispers, desperation seeping out of every word.

“I want you, Wooyoung. I have for a long time.”

You've barely finished the sentence before his lips capture yours in a passionate dance, exploring your mouth with precise movements that leave your knees weak. You hear the towel drop to the floor as both his hands cup your face, holding you so tenderly you want to stay in his embrace forever.

He breaks away first, breathing hard and eyes staring straight into yours. You let him in, allowing him to see all the emotions you've kept hidden and make yourself as vulnerable as you can.

“Are you sure?” He asks, forehead pressed against yours, “I don't want you to wake up tomorrow and regret it.”

Sadness pings in your chest. Tomorrow you would be leaving town without him, but as selfish as it is, you can't bring yourself to ruin this moment by telling him that yet.

“I could never regret being with you.” You respond, kissing him tenderly once again before slowly making a trail down his neck. The scent of his shower gel swirls around you, the woody note of amber and something else, something sweet that makes your mouth water. His damp skin sticks to your lips, and you can't help but run your tongue along to get a taste.

He takes a step back in surprise, bumping into the door, naked butt pressed against the wood and he whimpers. The sound has your core quivering with desire, needing to taste more of him, needing to hear more noises like that.

You drop to your knees, now face to face with his hard and very impressive erection. Your mouth watering at the sight, and you can't help but plunge yourself onto him, taking him as far as you can until your throat constricts around him.

He gasps and releases a loud, surprised moan as you curl your fingers around his length and begin to move them, matching the rhythm of your mouth. His hands comb into your hair, holding your head steady. When you look up at him, the sight makes your cunt clench. His face contorts with pleasure and his mouth hangs open as he watches your every move.

You place one hand on his thigh to steady yourself, and feel it tremble beneath your touch. The thought alone of how weak he is under you makes you impatient to feel him inside you, but you want to enjoy this, savour the moment and make it last.

You come off with a pop, before licking a stripe up the underside of his cock and watch it bounce as he hisses.

Grabbing him once more, you slowly bring him to your lips, staring up at him through your lashes, and circle his tip with your tongue. His hand slams back on the door, trying to grip onto the wooden panes, “oh, fuck.” He says through gritted teeth.

You spit on him, making him curse again under his breath, and use your hand to spread the lubrication down to the hilt before plunging yourself right back onto him.

When he hits the back of your throat you push him further, opening yourself up to him, the deep, guttural moan that escapes him has you clenching around nothing. When he's as far in as you can get him, you swallow, making yourself gag but worth it from the way his entire body jolts uncontrollably.

“Holy shit,” he cries out, fingers fisting in your hair again before gently pulling you off him and tilting your head back as he looks down at you.

“What's wrong?” You pout, attempting to lick the tip of him playfully and making him growl slightly. “Am I not making you feel good?”

“A little too good,” he smirks, “I've waited for this a long time, and I would like to be inside you longer than thirty seconds.”

This makes you laugh, as he takes your hands and helps you up off the ground, pulling you straight into his embrace.

“Besides,” he says, as leaves a trail of light kisses from the corner of your mouth, down to your cheek and along your jaw, “I think you're wearing too many clothes.”

He pushes your jacket off your shoulders until it hits the floor, joining his towel, and hooks a finger under your dress straps. His lips softly skate along your collarbone as he pulls them off your shoulders and tugs your dress down until that too pools around your feet.

He leans back to admire you, biting his lip at the sight of your matching red, lace underwear set you'd chosen for him, thinking of those afternoons spent in the field surrounded by red spider lilies.

“You're so fucking perfect.” He whispers, as he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you to him, slamming your lips onto his with a kiss that's full of ferocious hunger and years of pent up yearning.

Your feet start moving backwards with no idea to their destination but as long as he's touching you, you don't care where you end up.

His hands roam all over your body, his touch gentle yet desperate as you both move across his apartment. Your hands fist in his hair, pulling him even closer, needing to be completely wrapped around him.

Your foot catches on something and you stumble, Wooyoung grabs and spins you as you both drop to the ground, his body shields your fall and you both giggle.

“Are you ok?” you ask, composing yourself.

He nods, cupping the side of your face and stroking his thumb across your cheek, “better than ok.”

Unable to help yourself, you lean down to kiss him, feeling his fingertips skating lightly down your spine sending goosebumps cascading across your skin. He reaches your bra and undoes it in one swift movement, before yanking it off and throwing it across the room. Your nipples harden the moment the air hits them and you straighten up as he sits himself up to be face to face with your breasts. He sucks one of the firm buds into his mouth, the warmth of his lips and the way his tongue swirls expertly around them has your head collapsing back and releasing a moan so sinful it surprises you.

He moves over to the other breast, giving that one the same attention, making your toes curl when his teeth graze your delicate nub.

You grind your crotch against him, your clothed, aching cunt rubs perfectly against his cock and it makes him moan against your breasts, the vibration sending another thrill through you.

“Something tells me you're a very bad girl.” He whispers, grabbing your backside and aiding the movement of your hips.

The friction against your clit has the knot in your stomach pulling tight but it's not enough, you need him inside you.

“You have no idea.” You reply, pulling your underwear to the side and using your other hand to line him up to your entryway. He stills under you, fingers so tight on your rear they're bruising as you rub the tip of him against your slick.

“You want to be inside me?” You ask, hovering on your knees.

“You know I do.”

“Have you been good enough, Woo?” You ask, your tone dripping with sex. “Do you deserve it?”

He nods eagerly and you watch his chest move as his breathing fastens, his eyes transfixed on your dripping cunt, “yes…please.”

You bite your lip as you pretend to be mulling it over, “I'm not convinced you want me enough.”

He whimpers, hands squeezing the flesh of your hips and trying to ease you down onto him. “Please, I'll do anything, just please…fuck me.”

You reward him with a kiss, “good boy.” and sink down on him, enjoying the way he cries your name as you envelope him.

You give yourself a moment to adjust to his size, your pussy throbbing around him as he stretches you in the most delicious way. Both of you pant heavily as your lips meet in another passionate dance. When you start to move, circling your hips as you grind against him, his rock hard cock strokes against that sweet spot inside you making you cry out for more.

He matches your rhythm, thrusting up inside you while his lips explore your breasts. The pressure builds inside you, drawing you closer to the high you're chasing with desperate movements.

“You feel so good.” He whispers, eyes closed tight and teeth digging deep into his bottom lip. You pull it out with your thumb and suck it gently, making his eyes fly open.

“That's better,” you nod as you lick his plump pout.

His eyes don't move from your face as you rock your hips back and forward. “Yes, just like that, Woo.” You gasp, as the knot inside you pulls even tighter.

“Yea? You close, baby?” He asks breathlessly, veins in his neck bulging as he tries to hold back. Your movements grow sloppy as you near your climax but he continues to guide you through it.

“Yes, fuck…I'm gonna come.” You call out as the cord inside you finally snaps and you unravel around him. Your cunt contracts around him, pleasure making you see stars, as you cling to his back, keeping him as close as you can.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, your movements slow.

“I can't hold it much longer.” He gasps.

You pull off quickly and dive on him, sucking him into your mouth just as he too reaches his end, calling out your name as he releases rope upon rope of his orgasm inside you. Swallowing eagerly as he thrusts up into you, the noises coming from him are like nothing you could have imagined and when he's finished you collapse beside him. His arm winds around your waist as he tucks you into his side.

“That…”he says between pants, “was incredible.”

“I second that.” You add attempting to catch your breath.

“You…have no idea…how long…I've waited for that.” He says, looking both serious and hopeful.

“I think…I do. About as long…as I have.”

His mouth pulls into a huge grin, his perfect smile blinding you and rendering you speechless just like always. Until his fingers trail lightly along the skin of your stomach, leaving a burning path in their wake, a temporarily sated hunger rising from the depths again.

You turn on your side to face him, sliding a finger down his nose, “I hope you're not done yet.”

Arching a brow at the challenge in your tone, he responds, “Absolutely not,” He climbs above you, eyes darkening, “this time, it's your turn to beg me.”

Your stomach flips with anticipation as he grabs your thong and pulls it off, discarding it to the side. He pushes your legs apart, and positions himself on the floor between them. His lips graze your right knee, making a slow and deliberate pathway up your thigh, while his eyes stay fixed on yours and you dare not look away. His devilish sideways smirk makes him look like the predator with you the willing prey.

The silence of the room envelopes you, his teasing kisses the only sound and it smothers you, putting all your other senses on overdrive. The rapid pounding of your heart feels like it's vibrating through your entire being, as you wait for him to reach your core.

He licks the skin at the top of your thigh, making a trail right to your clit, flicking it with his tongue and making your body jolt.

He draws back, smirking, before licking a stripe from your entrance back up to your throbbing bud. Your hips thrust up on their own, desperate for more and he tuts.

“Ah, ah, behave and you'll get a reward but if you can't be good, you'll get punished. Do you understand?”

You nod eagerly, hands balled into fists at your side. Your body feels electric under him with excitement at seeing this complete other side to him you've never been privy to. And boy have you been missing out.

“I need words, baby.” He demands.

“Yes, I understand.” You reply, taking a breath to calm your impatience but the image of his face between your legs is almost too much.

“Good girl.” he purrs, spreading your lips open, so all of you is on display for him. He leans down slowly, eyes never wavering from yours and envelopes your clit with his lips. Sucking gently, he pulls the air right out of your lungs as you cry out. Pleasure shoots through you, lighting your nerves on fire and making your skin feel hot as you writhe under him.

You feel him circle your entrance with his fingertips, gathering your slick and spreading it before easing a finger inside you. Curling it upwards he touches that sensitive spot inside and beckons to it, over and over again. He releases your clit and instead, circles it with his tongue, driving you to the edge. Your fingers go into his hair, gripping it and pushing him harder against you. His teeth catch your swollen bud making you yelp but the thrill you feel in response surprises you.

“I told you that you would be punished if you can't be good, didn't I?” He says darkly, making your stomach quiver.

You nod quickly, “yes, I'm sorry.” You respond breathlessly, absolutely desperate to feel his mouth again.

“This is your last warning.”

“I'll be good, I promise.” You plead.

Seeming satisfied, his tongue returns to your clit and he slides a second finger into you, stretching you open and making your back arch. Your fingers grapple with the plush living room carpet in an attempt not to grab him again. But when he flutters his tongue against you can't help but thrust up against him. Ready for the fallout of your actions only to glance down at him when there are none. He continues his onslaught, caressing you with his mouth and tongue in a kiss so deep it chokes you. The cord in your stomach pulls tight as you feel your second orgasm approaching, toes curling and fingernails clinging to the floor but just as you're about to unravel he withdraws, leaving you gasping. Annoyed, you shoot your eyes to him only to be met with a cocky smirk.

“You weren't a good girl, baby,” he says, “only good girls get to come.”

You can't help but laugh. The excitement of him taking control like this has you wanting to know what lengths he would go to if you continued breaking the rules, but your impatience to climax has you eager to please him.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you look down at him innocently, “I'm sorry, Wooyo, I'll be good.”

The look of amusement in his eyes tells you he knows that's a lie but he gives in and closes his lips around your sex once again.

He picks up the pace of his simultaneous movements of tongue and fingers and faster than expected, and you feel your orgasm approaching again. Just as your toes start curling, he withdraws, coaxing a frustrated growl from you.

He chuckles darkly, flicking his tongue in your entryway.

“You want me to beg?” You whine, which only amuses him more.

“Yes, I do, actually,” he licks a slow deliberate stripe up your centre, making your back arch again and your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you attempt to hold in your moan. “Tell me how bad you want it, baby.”

Your desperation for him overrides your pride and you play on the innocence, eyebrows knitted in anguish and batting your lashes, “Please Wooyoung, please can you make me come, I need you so bad.”

His answering smile tells you it's worked but you don't miss the heat in his eyes blowing his pupils wide and giving away his impatience too.

His mouth finds you once again, no more teasing, just focused, calculated movements he knows will get you there. The figure of eight movements he does with his tongue as he thrusts his finger up into you, has you pummelling towards your goal. Toes curling, fingers in his hair unable to control yourself as you feel that pressure low in your belly building more than ever before. He looks up at you, a recognisable need in his stare, “Come for me.” He commands and you're surprised as your body obeys and unravels for him. Your needy cunt clenching around his digits as he continues to beckon the spot inside of you and it makes you want to scream.

“Good girl, that's it, baby.” He encourages, as he helps you ride out your orgasm as each wave of pleasure dies down and the pressure inside you lifts, leaving you feeling nothing but relief.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he crawls up your body to kiss you.

Tasting yourself on him, has that fire simmering inside you again and you wrap your legs around his waist as he hovers above you. You feel his erection in your entryway, and you use your feet to push against him and guide him in. He slides slowly into you, your pussy still throbbing from your climax as you adjust to his size.

When he bottoms out he pauses, leaning down to kiss you again before rocking his hips into you at a steady pace.

Your arousal coats him and the filthy sound of it fills the room.

“You feel so good, fuck.” He exclaims, looking down at you, “you're so beautiful, I'm so lucky.”

He strokes your cheek, the action bringing tears to your eyes but you rapidly blink them back before he notices.

Clinging to his back, wishing you could stay this way forever, your nails dig into his skin every time his cock hits that spot inside you.

He pauses and pulls out, leaving you whimpering for me, and chuckles as he stands, “sit up for me.” He says sweetly and pulls you up. “Bend over this.” He points to the arm of the sofa and you obey, leaning yourself across it.

You feel him at your entrance standing behind you as he lines himself up. He slides into you again and makes you moan, feeling him deeper inside you at this angle. His fingers come round the front of you, finding your clit instantly and massaging your arousal around your very sensitive bud.

His movements pick up speed as he desperately chases his own end.

“Do you think you can come again for me?” He asks pounding into you.

“Yes! Yes!” You respond, feeling your third orgasm approaching rapidly. His fingers on your clit moving so fast they're practically vibrating, as you grip onto one of the pillows and shove your face into it to contain your scream.

Your legs stiffen as the balloon of ecstasy expands inside you, growing with each moment, and just as the fullness gets too much, it pops. You come undone around him, your greedy cunt gripping him tightly with each spasm. His movements slow and his thrusts turn sloppy, until he suddenly pulls out of you and releases himself all over your back.

Collapsing against the sofa, your legs wobbly and unable to keep you upright, he rushes off telling you not to move, and when he returns he cleans you up with a warm washcloth.

At some point he has slipped back into his boxers and he pulls you up to stand, straight into his embrace.

“Stay the night?” He asks, almost seeming shy, a complete contrast to the man between your legs not thirty minutes ago.

Looking up at him and seeing the hope sparkling in his eyes, how could you refuse? And so you nod, letting him lead you into his bedroom where he covers you both with that blanket and pulls you to his side, arms wrapped around you and keeping you safe in his warm cocoon.

Your eyes close, even though you attempt to will them open, but to no avail. His fingers stroking your hair and his gentle kisses against your face soothe you and comfort you in a way you could never have expected. And all you think about is him and you slip into a dreamless sleep.

*

Where am I?

Your first thought as your eyes open and glance around the familiar room. Images from last night come hot and heavy in your mind, making your cheeks flush. Having crossed that boundary of your friendship, you feel strangely embarrassed, but when you glance over at him, still asleep next to you, all those worries melt away.

You sit up slowly and admire the way he smiles slightly in his sleep, reaching out you touch the indent on his cheek.

The bright morning light of the sunrise streams through the thin, cream curtains and when you check the time, you're surprised to see it's only five thirty. You'd awoken before you needed to but if you were planning on sneaking out it's better to go early, you had a very busy day and a long drive ahead of you.

Easing yourself out of the bed as quietly as you can, you head into the living room to collect your clothes, putting your underwear back on and pulling your dress on over the t-shirt of his you'd worn to sleep in. If you were honest, you wanted to keep it, to have something of his to remind you of this night.

Grabbing your jacket, you fish the sealed envelope out of your pocket and head back into the bedroom. Placing it on his bedside table, looking at his name you'd written so elegantly, it would not soften the blow of the words inside however. Remembering some of the lines you wrote your chest constricts so tight it hurts to breathe, as you think about that last line; I'm sorry, don't hate me.

You risk one last glance at him, so perfect as he lay there. Your throat swells and tears brim in your eyes, threatening to overflow.

The thought of staying crosses your mind, which you knew it would, but you take that as your cue to leave and quietly exit his apartment.

Salty trails run down your cheeks as you make your way down the stairs, heartbreak threatening to consume you.

Why did this choice have to be so hard?

You finally have the opportunity you've wanted for so long, you can start your dream job and have a fresh start in a new place, the only thing that would keep you here lies asleep in the bed you just left.

Leaving the apartment building to face the walk home, you welcome it; time alone to deal with your decisions and the impending fallout you can feel in your gut is coming.

Swiping hard at your tear stained cheeks, feeling frustrated and angry at yourself, your name echoing across the silent morning and stops you in your tracks. Every part of your body is frozen, as you wait to hear it again or if it's simply your imagination playing tricks on you.

Sure enough, it sounds again. Recognising Wooyoung's voice, your stomach plummets as you slowly turn towards the sound.

Swallowing at the sight of him shirtless and barefoot in just some grey sweatpants storming towards you, your feet feel glued to the spot. Apparently your fallout is happening sooner rather than later.

“What the fuck is this?” He asks, lifting your letter in his hands as he stops in front of you. “Are you kidding me, right now?”

His furrowed brow and furious eyes make you feel ashamed, as he stares at you, waiting for an answer. But when you open your mouth to speak, any words you have die in your throat. What can you even say?

“So what, last night meant…nothing to you?” He says, voice breaking at the end and that cuts you deep, knowing you're behind any kind of pain he feels.

“Last night meant everything to me, Wooyo.”

“How, if you're still leaving?” He swipes a hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at you. “You couldn't even tell me to my face, I get this…” he shoves it towards you and glares, his eyes sparkle with emotion he's barely holding in. “I thought we were friends. Best friends.” He pauses, staring at you, vulnerability written all across his face. “I-I love you.”

Your breath hitches in your chest as the world around you seems to stop moving.

You had always hoped he returned your feelings and in some moments felt sure he did but you never knew. You'd waited for this moment for so long, now it was here…

“Do I really mean that little to you?” the hurt that pulls his brows together makes you feel nauseous.

How could he ever think that?

You step towards him, reaching out to grab his arm, needing to feel close to him again and hating the distance between you, both physically and emotionally. “It's because you mean the most to me.” You admit. He doesn't retreat when you step towards him again, bodies almost touching as you look up at him. “I knew if we had this conversation, face to face, I wouldn't want to go anymore.” You reach up and cup his cheek, “don't you get it? You're the only person I would stay here for…”

His eyes soften as he searches yours, lips parted calling you to him but you resist.

“...but this is my dream job. I need to do this, can you understand that?”

He nods, sniffing and trying to compose his emotions. “I wish you'd have told me sooner.”

“I know and I'm so sorry sorry. I'm a coward.” you admit sheepishly.

“Not because of that, but I got offered a job in the same city you're moving to.”

Your heart hammers wildly in your chest, the prospect of being with him not one you had considered up till now. “What?”

“I turned it down, though.”

That crushes your hopes instantly, your heart deflating as he speaks.

“But I could contact them to see if they're still looking for someone.”

This rollercoaster of emotions is almost too much to bear, as your heart soars once more. “Really? You would move there?”

He slides a hand around your waist and pulls you against him, “To be with you, I would move anywhere.”

“Wooyo, I can't ask you to do that.”

“You're not, I'm offering.” he reaches up and tenderly strokes your cheek with his thumb, “I've only just got you, I can't lose you.”

Leaning on your tiptoes you press a soft kiss against his lips, which he eagerly reciprocates.

A heat starts low down inside you, simmering faintly and reminding you of the events last night. He pulls away but keeps you pressed firmly against him, “I'm going to go shower and change and then let me come with you to your new place and help you set up?”

Your chest tightens with a swell of emotion you are not prepared for but you welcome it. “You do realise it's a three hour drive?”

“I don't care, I just want to be with you.”

Burying yourself against his bare chest you agree. He lifts you gently and gives you a kiss full of love and promise.

“You know, I need to shower too and it would really save time to do it at yours,” You start, “besides, saving the planet and all…we should do our best to conserve water.”

His eyes darken and he smirks as he turns, carrying you back to his apartment, giggling as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Then we must do our best to help save the planet, baby.” he says, peppering kisses down your neck with a firm grip on your behind.

Your plans might have changed but the possibilities with him by your side are now endless.

[sweetvixen1996]

Kiss the Villain, Moodboard Picture Analysis: Part Eight (Hands: 24/90)

Fun Fact about hands, they are one of the hardest things to draw. There are a lot of moving parts and segments to them, and when you don't get them right, people can always tell -even if they can't always explain what is off about them. Of course, these are photos we're discussing, but my point is that the hands are probably the second most expressive part of the human body after the face. And so I think these photos can give us some interest insight.

I know nothing about watches, but this looks like a nice one. I feel comfortable at saying this is definitely Kayden. These are a grown man's hands, strong and a bit more weathered than a young man's. The figure here is also straightening his shirt cuff, and Kayden strikes me as someone who'd be meticulous in his appearance.

This is certainly Gareth's. The hands and what we see of the face is much younger and softer. And the clothing is much more rumpled and dissuaded. But he also seems to be wearing a watch, though one that is far more feminine in design. Also, fun fact, while in most Western cultures, the wedding and engagement ring is worn on the LEFT ring finger, in Russia (along with Germany and India) they are worn on the RIGHT ring finger.

What is with all these watches?

The interesting thing about this picture is that it's hard to tell who is embracing who. If it is Kayden embracing Gareth, then this is an image of a somewhat possessive affection that Gareth is hesitant to allow -hence, the one of one hand instead of both to cover the embracer's hand. But if it is Gareth embracing Kayden, then it's possible to read unequal interest into this photo, i.e., Gareth is going all in while Kayden is less committed.

I actually find this picture rather sweet. Compared to a lot of the other photos, this one is softer and less... sensual in nature. Judging by the coffee and what seems to be the marble surface of a kitchen's island, this seems to depict a cute moment between Kayden and Gareth one morning.

This is a strange one, but what I think is happening is that the smaller, younger-looking hand (Gareth's) is grabbing onto the larger hand (Kayden's), which appears to be static between the two images with, I believe, the intention of pulling that person up. And, judging by the rural background, maybe Gareth and Kayden were having a picnic date?

Another odd one, to the point I considered saving it for another analysis set. But here are a couple of interpretations of what this could mean:

Hands covered in black paint are sometimes used to symbolize a sense of darkness, negativity, corruption, or involvement in something sinister within someone; often as an element of their personality they don't like and try to hide. However, it can also represent a loss of control, being stained by wrongdoing (either their own or someone else's), or a deliberate attempt to obscure one's actions. We know that Gareth is forcing down his darker impulses and may see them as stains on his own soul.

The idea of black-painted hands also has some relation to criminal activity, particularly when associated with gang culture or a "black hand" extortion scheme. Gareth, through the Heathens and his family's connection to the mafia, has plenty of criminal ties -though not as openly as the others. However, we also know that Kayden is involved in criminal activity. What kind though, is still a mystery.

Finally, it can sometimes relate to money or payment -usually for something illicit or illegal. If this is a case, I think this is referring to Kayden. Gareth is almost certainly a trust fund baby and doesn't need extra money. However, if we take the line in GoF about Gareth stalking a Mercedes as being about him following Kayden, that raises the question of how he affords such a fancy car.

At first, I thought this set of images was really cute... and then realized the sequence of events. What I think is happening here is that Gareth puts Kayden's hand on his heart, perhaps to symbolize his growing feelings for the man or the desire to have a more serious relationship, only for Kayden to push Gareth's hand down -seemingly rejecting him. If we consider that a lot of the songs on the playlist are about uneven relationships and people being used by their partners, it makes me feel very sad for poor Gareth.

[thesophistiicate]

I recently started following you after having read your post on upgrading one's personal items for ones of higher quality. Every post since that one has inspired me, more and more each day. Your recent one about "moving in public with a thoughtful brand" was something I felt compelled to write word-for-word in my journal as a constant reminder for myself and something I wanted to touch base on.

I got laid off from my job last fall but months before being let go, I was being given a hard time at my job. I know it has nothing to do with my performance, it's everything to do with how I carry myself. When I got let go, I unfortunately developed the fear of being seen and as a result, I watered myself down as a form of self-preservation (which I was only made aware of by taking some time to sit down with myself, look at images and how I longed for the girl I used to be in pictures a year or even months prior, and feeling disconnected with the person I saw in the mirror in the present). I chopped my hair off, went quiet on socials and going as far as starting new ones to regain my privacy, throwing myself into a hardcore workout regimen, and—for a while—disregarding the things that naturally tickle my brain. Though, in the last few weeks, I can feel myself reawakening. In the last year since being let go, I've gone through a few obstacles that were enough to water myself down further (if it's possible). But there was one major obstacle, which was the unexpected death of my senior dog, and a few back-to-back dead end interviews that awoke something in me. Rather than going further incognito, I've decided to make an appearance to the world again—sharing my passions and the things that make me tick, all without having to risk any boundaries being overstepped. After years of debate, I finally decided to start a blog and write what I know best: myself, and whether that's for myself, for a few or even thousands of subscribers. I'm no longer on hiatus for my moodboard account and have also started to fuse my own imagery/likeness with the collected content. I'm rebuilding my universe again, a brand. I was bullied into hiding, all for what though? I eventually found my way back to what I naturally gravitate towards and what naturally aligns with me. I no longer feel afraid, rather my guard is up but I now know what works for me and what doesn't. I've learned that I can't stop some people from feeling threatened by my presence and I shouldn't hide for that reason. Never say never but for now, I will not remain in hiding. I miss the universe, especially my own. I wanted to share this with you. Share it however you like. But know your words are complete magic.

oh thank you so so much, this message means so much to me! 🤍 i’m so sorry for your loss too.

your message reminds me of something i think of often, how so many extraordinary people i know have been subjected to things like bullying or abuse. it’s like the toxic people of the world see all the light and wonder and potential and want to take it away because it threatens them. i’ve often found people want to “consume” us, own us, have us, but don’t have the slightest idea of how to actually handle us, so break us down to their level instead.

it’s like two sides of a coin, if you learn to lean into who you are and building your own self esteem, getting in touch with your true self and expressing her, then there’s magic. but the dark side is that we can become lost in other people, our brilliance (and attention and energy) is often coveted by those who don’t know how to handle us and it can be profoundly harmful. like somebody buying some exquisite luxury piece in a material like cashmere or suede… when you don’t know how to take care of it, it will be ruined.

and every brilliant woman i’ve known has had phases of retreat, phases that felt like an undoing and a rebirth. in many ways i think it may be necessary for true excellence, when you are levelling up so much that the old life literally has to fall apart and be destroyed so that you can rise from the ashes, reborn. as i’ve gotten older i’ve learned to find the power and comfort in this pattern, i understand things are falling apart to come together and i don’t feel as scared or depressed when it happens.

anyway, i’m just so happy for you finding your way back to yourself and your passion and purpose. this is so powerful and truly exactly why i started this blog 😭🤍

[dead-sirens]

hey! I love your Daryl Dixon caregiver head-cannons and mood boards! Is it possible to make headcannons as if he was your caregiver and the reader/ little is a girly girl who is coquette, artsy/ crafty and likes the color pink and bunnies? I hope that made sense! :)

Hello anon!! Aaaaa I'm so glad you like my moodboards and headcanons it makes me so happy <3 I loved this idea!! So here are my headcanons for Caregiver!Daryl Dixon with a pink girlie girl regressor <3

Daryl just knows he can't take you hunting with him, it took one glance at your little self and he knew you were too sensitive and soft for a hunt

Instead he focus on making sure you know how to take care of the animals at the farm, he got you bunnies to raise when he found out you loved bunnies

It took months to find them in the wild but it was worth it when he saw your reaction, your face lit up and your smile was brighter than ever, seeing you like that he felt like all the problems in the world were gone

All of his weapons are now covered with pink ribbons "They for good luck, Dawy" you pouted at him when he asked why you did it and now he refuses to take them off even if the other guys make fun of him sometimes

He secretly loves them because it reminds him of you

And you made it your mission to make everything Daryl owns pink and cute. His cigarrete case is now pink, his boots have pink laces, his bag is full of dried flowers, etc.

He tried to teach you how to shoot a gun but the loud noises stressed you out so much you cried, he felt guilty for DAYS after that, instead he taught you how to use the crossbow so you could protect yourself from the walkers just in case

Even if Daryl won't take you with him to hunting trips he will let you tag along to his walks around the forest when he feels its safe for you and helps you identify flowers and plants you like

He teaches you how to preserve flowers so you can keep them forever, this became your favorite hobbie and you make cute drawings with pressed flowers for everyone in the farm

He brings back every box of art supplies he finds for you, crayons, pencils, pastels, notebooks and sketchbooks, others think it's impractical but he knows they make you happy

And honestly everyone loves to receive a cute drawing or letter from you, they just like to tease Daryl for being such a softie around you

He can't avoid it, even if he is a little hard on you when it comes to survival things, he will still try and give you anything you want and help you however you need

At bedtime you demand he kisses your stuffie and tell you a story so you can sleep well. Every night he refuses and every night you give him the biggest puppy eyes until he surrenders.

He tries to tell you all the classic stories (snow white, cinderella, etc) but ends up changing everything because he doesn't actually know them, but his stories are actually better than the originals.

Aaaaaa I woke up at 6am and as soon as I got my hands on a computer I started making this sorry if it's all over the place this isn't beta proofed I made this sleep deprived and delusional on coke zero but I hope you like it anon!! Thank you so much for the request, if you have more ideas I'll be happy to read them! <3

[bluestar22x]

You Had Me From Hello

The Writing Contest - Chapter 1: You Had Me From Hello

Summary: Unexpectedly, small town woman Nora Delaine wins a writing contest and is flown first class to Salinas Valley to meet her new screenwriting partner.

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Female!OC (Nora Delaine)

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 5,500(ish)

Warnings: Second person POV, mentions of drug use/addiction/loss and troubles with unhealthy family dynamics.

Author’s Note: I took inspiration for Javi's new home from this moodboard made by @wildemaven.

xxx

This is insane. I can't believe I'm actually going through with this.

That's what you were thinking as you settled into your seat in first class on a Southwest Airline plane headed for the airport in Monterey, California where you would then take a taxi to Salinas Valley, arguably the capital of the wine industry in the United States. But that's not why you were headed there. Nope.

You were headed to one of the vineyards, but it wasn't to taste test wine and forget your troubles, it was to write with an apparently well known up-and-coming screenwriter named Javi Gutierrez, who up until last week you personally hadn't known existed. Your best friend, Sierra Washington, however, had apparently heard plenty of him.

x

"You didn't!" you gasped, letting the letter in your hands float down to your kitchen table.

"I did!" your friend Sierra confirmed, grinning ear to ear.

"You entered my short story into a writing contest without my permission?" you hissed. You didn't feel that it had been anywhere near ready to be seen by anyone outside Sierra. When you'd sent her the document to proof read you'd trusted her not to share it with anyone else, and she'd betrayed that trust. You were furious.

"Aw, Nora, you were never going to release that document to anyone else if I didn't do it myself," she argued, placing a hand on her hip. "How many stories have I proof read for you? I loved every bit of them, yet every single one eventually ended up hidden in a file on your laptop and forgotten."

"They weren't good enough," you told her.

"Nothing ever is," she said, throwing her hands up in frustration. "You were stuck! You needed a little push. This is it. An opportunity to turn your story into a movie. Your dream!"

"I can't go to Salinas Valley for two months," you howled. "I haven't even found a new job yet!"

You'd recently been laid off from the pet magazine you'd been writing for since you turned twenty-five, nearly ten years ago, because of budget cuts a month ago and were having difficulty finding another job like it. You feared you might end up having to take a local job, instead of an online one, most likely waiting on tables. The thought of that made you cringe. You didn't like having to deal with the public. Even in a town as small as yours.

"Precisely!" Sierra exclaimed. "You need to work, and that's what this would be. You'd turn your story into a properly lengthy script with his help, and when it is bought you'll get money for it, along with some profits later on when the film is successful."

You snorted. "When?"

She narrowed her eyes at you. "When." Her tone was firm, certain.

You couldn't understand why she had so much faith in you when you'd spent most of your life failing. You'd struggled in college and you'd struggled to find a job and keep it for years. Writing for the pet magazine had felt mundane as far as writing went, but you'd been good at it and you'd finally felt like you had secured your future.

You should've known better with how the world was changing. Your generation and younger didn't read magazines anymore. You'd entered a dying industry that likely had an expiration date that would come before your retirement age.

"I can't afford to pay for another rent while I stay there," you continued.

She huffed. "Did you not read the part where it says all expenses will be paid? You'd be staying at his vineyard for free. You'd just need cash for extras. Like if you want take out or something."

"Staying at his vineyard..." You shook your head and met her copper brown eyes with your emerald green ones. "You really think I should be staying at a strange man's house, by myself?"

"He has tons of staff," she argued. "It's not much different from going on vacation and staying in a hotel by yourself."

You gave her an exasperated look. "That's way different! It's a private business and his staff aren't going to be there at night unless his runs it twenty-four seven."

"He knows Nic Cage," Sierra informed you, like that would make a difference to you. "They're friends. Javi's first screenplay was co-written with him."

You rolled your eyes. "Just cause you had a crush on Nic Cage in high school after you watched City of Angels and researched him, doesn't mean you know him and his friends."

"I did NOT have a crush on him," Sierra nearly shouted. "He's like three times my age."

"You did then."

"I did not."

You smirked and lifted your brows. "Thou protest too much."

She gritted her teeth, knowing full well that she wouldn't be able convince you otherwise. Because she had, in fact, had a celebrity crush on Nic Cage in high school.

She sighed. "Look. Sometimes you've got to take risks to gain the rewards. You can buy pepper spray when you land in California or something if it'll make you feel better. But I haven't heard anything about Javi Gutierrez that would suggest he'd be dangerous. And you wouldn't be sleeping in his mansion. You'd be in a guest house on the opposite side of the property. It overlooks some beautiful hills and valleys apparently. I did some research on Valley View Vineyard. That's his vineyard's name, fittingly. Anyway, it's apparently gorgeous in that area."

You had to admit to yourself a part of you was very tempted to say yes, not just to having help making a screenplay and selling it, but also to living in a California vacation destination for a while. You could use a break from your hometown.

"I can't," you said stubbornly. "I can't leave Buttercup and Tux with no one to watch them, and it wouldn't be fair to them to travel them out to California by plane. I wouldn't feel good about them being in cargo either. They're delicate creatures."

Buttercup and Tux were your two pet Lop rabbits, who you'd adopted as a bonded pair from a nearby animal shelter three years ago.

"I can watch them," Sierra offered. "I've done it for you before when you stayed in the hospital last year for food poisoning."

"Don't remind me," you groaned. That week had been the worst in your life and had put you off of salmon permanently.

She winced sympathetically. "Sorry."

"Look, even if I wanted to part from them for two freakin months," you started, sighing again, "Even if I wanted to go to California and write a script with a legit screenplay writer, my parents wouldn't approve. You know how worried they get."

"Yeah, I know," Sierra said with another huff. "I grew up with the product of their paranoia."

You couldn't help but laugh a little at that. Paranoia was a fitting word for it. Your parents were worry-warts. Especially since your older brother had died, leaving you as their only living child. Saying you were overprotected seemed to put it too simply. And you in turn were very wary of the world. Maybe too much. You'd turned down a lot of interesting parties and adventures with friends in favor of safety. You'd wanted to join your high school's travel club but had chickened out. Girls got kidnapped in foreign countries, after all.

The little voice in your head telling you such things sounded more like your mother's than yours.

"They'll say no," you added.

"Good thing you're a grown ass adult," Sierra reminded you firmly. "And you could lie and say you're staying at a rental to ease their minds."

You gave her a lopsided smile. "You're a bad influence on me, Ms. Washington."

"Somebody has to be!" she claimed.

You raked a hand through your shoulder length wavy brown hair as you silently debated over what choice to make. Stay or go. Safety or risk. You chewed your lip. "Fine. I'll do it."

Sierra jumped in spot and clapped like someone half her age. She squealed for you. "Oh my god, my girl's finally breaking rules and making her dreams come true."

You pursed your lips and silently hoped she was right. After all, there were no guarantees in life.

x

The next day you'd emailed Javi's manager, Walter, who was in charge of overseeing the contest and had helped Javi narrow all the submitted stories down to one. He'd immediately booked you a flight and told you to pack your bags, after reassuring you that Javi's intentions were good. He was going to co-write with you, but you'd be the top billing writer to the screenplay. He wasn't looking to take any credit that wasn't his.

Still, as you boarded the plane one week later, you found yourself nervous about the whole deal. You'd had to sign a contract, and part of that contract had protection for you and your script, saying you had all the rights, and therefore would have the final say over how it was written and what film company got to buy it. All nice things to ease your troubled mind, but you were worried now, a bit too late, over whether or not Javi would be a good fit as a writing partner. You'd seen his first film The Unbearable Weight Of Massive Talent the same night Sierra had handed you the letter, having wanted to make sure he'd be helpful and not be a bad influence instead when it came to your writing, and that had ended your concerns over his talent. The film was a little too out there for your liking, but you saw the heart behind it, and that was something you could work with.

The main concern you'd had since then was rooted in personality. You had no idea what he was like. He was clearly rich, anyone with a successful vineyard and a mansion was, and that concerned you, a child of two full time working parents who'd struggled to provide you with everything they'd wanted to give you. You'd been taught work ethic, you'd been taught to be polite to coworkers. What were the chances he'd been too? You shouldn't assume he'd be the typical rich person seen in media. You didn't know how most rich people actually behaved, and even if most were dramatic snobby leeches, that didn't mean he was.

That didn't stop you from thinking about how he might be during the entire time it took for the plane to take off.

"Would you like some wine?" a flight attendant asked some time later, drawing you from your inner thoughts.

You glanced up at her and blinked. This was new. You'd never been offered drinks on a plane, though this was only your second time in your life, the first time being when your family took a week long trip to Disneyland. "Is it on the house?"

"Of course," she replied with a knowing smile. "First time in first class?"

"You could probably guess that just by looking at my clothes," you reckoned. Most of the people seated around you were in suits or fancy business dresses, while you were dressed in a simple pair of light blue jeans, a bubble gum pink sweatshirt, and plain white sneakers.

The flight attendant shrugged. "We don't always get people in here who dress expensively. But most know about the complementary wine."

"I might as well take some," you said, "For the full experience. Don't know the next time someone will pay a ticket for me."

She laughed. "Would you be interested in a Pinot Noir?"

You had no idea what that meant, only really knowing wine as red or white, but decided to roll with it. "Sure."

As the flight attendant poured you a drink in a proper wine glass, you noticed the name on it. Valley View Vineyard. You wondered how widespread Javi's wine was as you accepted the drink and took a cautious sip.

It was good wine. Good was a lacking word. It was excellent. Smooth, flavorful. Better than any other wine you'd ever tasted. You could only guess that it was fairly expensive and aged well. You had to restrain yourself from downing the whole thing in under a minute. Wine wasn't meant for that, even a lower class small town girl like yourself who usually drank wine from a box knew that.

You did, however, make sure to have enough time for another glass before your flight landed.

x

Monterey Regional Airport, where you landed, was twelve miles from Salinas Valley, or around twenty-five minutes away. It took you an extra five minutes to actually get to Valley View Vineyard, totaling the cost of your taxi ride to nearly one hundred dollars, something that would've made you shudder if you hadn't just flown for free. You'd have had the ride for free if you had accepted the limousine Walter had offered you, but you hadn't been about to get in one of those things with what you'd been wearing for your flight. Besides, you didn't like feeling like you were leeching, having a real need to pay for some of your trip expenses. If you and Javi were successful, you'd get way more money back in profits anyway.

Salinas Valley was cooler than you'd expected, the temperature hovering around fifty-seven degrees Fahrenheit. It was a vast improvement from the thirty-two degree average in North Dakota, but not as hot as you'd imagined the middle of California would be, even though it was coastal.

They did have plenty of sun that day, something you knew your hometown wasn't going to get for the next a few days, a couple days of clouds and a severe snowstorm expected for most of the state.

On the way to the vineyard you cracked the widow to breath in the fresh air and you stared out at the landscape as the taxi drove by it at precisely the speed limit.

Salinas was gorgeous, as Sierra had promised. You passed many luscious green fields, farmed and unfarmed alike, several vineyards, and plenty of rolling hills and valleys, the latter expected, considering the name of the county.

You were excited by the time you arrived at Valley View Vineyard, anxious to see what the property itself looked like. You'd known it was fairly massive for a vineyard, sitting on one hundred and ten acres, but when you'd looked it up online the day after you'd gotten the letter, there wasn't much photos of the place anywhere, even on the official website. Mostly it had been photos of the grapes, the wine, and the wine making process, and mainly had detailed that process and how to get your hands on a bottle. You'd avoided looking at the history page, wanting to find out from Javi himself how he came to own it.

The vineyard was gated, with elegant iron bars, and your taxi driver had to press a speaker button on a fence post to be let in. Both sides of the tarred driveway was lined with bushes, leading up to the mansion, a Spanish styled home with arches you'd never seen before outside movies and TV shows that had taken place in Spain or South America. Beyond that were grape vines in every direction until they met the hills that bordered the area.

Walter was waiting for you on the front porch, a man in his sixties, with surprisingly thick gray hair and a considerably youthful face. You imagined he had several more decades left in him if his appearance was anything to go by. It was probably in spite of his job. You couldn't imagine a manager of any kind having it too easy.

The dark gray pinsuit he was wearing made you feel very under dressed, but he shook your hand and introduced himself without even twitching an eye, and helped you carry your belongings to a yellow Jeep in the corner of the driveway.

"Javi will be here soon to personally show you around," he informed you. "I'll drop your bags off inside the guest house."

"You don't need to do that," you proclaimed, not wanting to be a burden to anyone. You didn't think it was part of a talent manager's job to bring suitcases anywhere.

"It's no problem," Walter promised you, hopping into the Jeep's driver's seat. "We will talk more later, when you are done touring, to sort out some more paperwork. Legal stuff. Stick by the front porch. That's where Javi asked me to tell you to be."

"Okay," you said, waving at him. "Thanks."

He nodded at you, a warm smile spreading across his face. "You're welcome, Miss Delaine."

"Nora," you corrected him. "I don't like formalities."

"That's something you'll have to get used to if you want to take part in Hollywood," Walter warned you, "But I will call you Nora by default, when appropriate."

Then he was on his way, leaving you to kick pebbles off the tar by the porch. It was nearly ten minutes later when you spotted a man approaching at a brisk walk from a large industrial looking building to your left.

He was wearing sunglasses, a thick long sleeved orange button down shirt, dark blue jeans, and tan boat shoes. He appeared to be in his early forties, with limited gray hair in his patchy, but well trimmed beard. His dark brown hair was short, but wildly curled, and his skin was golden, tanned from spending most of his days out in the sun.

As he neared you and pulled off his sunglasses, you noticed his eyes were dark like his hair, and that he was at least a half a foot taller than you, probably just shy of six feet. Taller than most people you'd ever been around, especially family, but not untypically tall for someone in Hollywood.

He was worthy of Hollywood, you'd thought. He was handsome, and that was an understatement as far as you were concerned. No boy in your high school graduating class could've held up beside him and you felt your insides warm as you studied him.

Easy, you silently ordered yourself. You're just here to learn script writing from him, hopefully make a movie, and go back home. Besides, looks aren't everything.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," he apologized in a rush when he got within earshot of you, "I was helping my employees clean up a wine spill."

He spoke smoothly, with an accent that was far from any you'd heard before with your own ears. South American, maybe? Spaniard? You could definitely hear an infliction there that suggested he'd grown up speaking more Spanish than English.

"Oh no," you said earnestly. "Hope it wasn't too bad."

"Nothing we can't recover from," he assured you. He broke out into a bright smile and outstretched his right hand. "Javi Gutierrez."

You shook his offered hand and beamed back at him, putting on your best friendly demeanor. "Nora Delaine."

"It's so lovely to meet you, Nora," he said, covering your hand with his left one briefly before pulling both his hands away from you. His hold on you was long enough for you to notice how large his hands were in comparison to yours, and softer than you'd expected. You tried not to think about them too much.

"Let me show you around," he continued quickly, "It will give us a chance to get to know each other, no?"

"I'd like that," you replied honestly. "I've always been curious about how wine was made."

His lips tugged back even more, and in that moment he looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Excited and wide-eyed. You wondered if he was always this happy to meet guests. "Great! This way, then."

He guided you on a stroll around the main parts of the vineyard, showing you inside the buildings where the grapes were stored, turned into wine, and where the wine was aged in barrels. He also took you through rows of grapes in the fields behind his home, detailing the care that he and his staff had to put into them before they were ready to harvest in the autumn season.

"You know your stuff," you noted as you walked shoulder to shoulder with him. "I take you're not one to observe while your employees do all the work?"

"I used to be," Javi admitted, "But when I bought this place I decided I wanted to change that. Made a point to spend some spare time helping harvest the grapes and pour the wine into the barrels. I still have much to learn. Wine making is actually interesting to watch and inspired the last script I wrote, as you might tell."

You did not mention you'd only seen his first movie, afraid to insult him. You focused on the other tidbit in his confession. "You didn't grow up here?"

"No," Javi confirmed, in the way Spanish speaking people pronounce it. "I grew up on an olive estate in Mallorca, also called Majorca, it's an island off the coast of Spain."

"Why'd you move here?" you inquired. You'd seen pictures of islands in the Mediterranean Sea, watched movies that were filmed there. Who'd want to move away from that?

He hesitated for a second before answering, shoving one of his hands into a side pocket of his jeans. "I guess you could say I needed a fresh start. And this place being a lot closer to Hollywood, I thought the move could help my career."

"Has it?"

He hummed. "I think so. But even if not, I like it here."

"So how long have you owned this place?" you asked.

"A little over two years," Javi replied. "It was already a very successful vineyard when I bought it from the previous owner's daughter who wanted nothing to do with it after he died. I kept on most of the staff, including the manager, Enzo. He's the only reason it's still successful. I hardly know enough to dare participate in the business. He's taught me everything I have managed to learn about it and I'm very grateful. He's helped me gain financial independence from my family."

There was something about how humble Javi was being about his lack of experience that made it hard for you not to like him already. He definitely did not seem like he had a spoiled rich man's attitude.

"Does your family visit?"

Javi's brows knitted together and his smile fell. "No. We do not get along, unfortunately. Not anymore. My family...they are, as some people say, toxic."

"I'm sorry." You felt bad for being nosy about it. "My parents aren't easy either, they're a bit too overprotective. In fact, I had to lie about some of the details of this project to get here. Otherwise, they'd have talked me out of it. But at least we get along enough to still care about visiting each other."

"It's a shame you had to lie," he said, "But selfishly I am glad you did whatever it took to get here. When I read your script, it drew me in like witchcraft. The way you write...it's compelling. Poetic. And for such a simple premise, you made it exciting. It made me look at a so called average life with new appreciation I did not have in my youth."

"You can thank my friend Sierra for everything," you told him. "She submitted my work. She convinced me to come."

"I owe her a debt then," he concluded, and you blushed. You knew he was saying that because he was excited to work with you, but a part of your brain had jumped to the conclusion that he owed her for you. Not like you hadn't just met.

"If you want to repay it have Nic Cage send her a message or something," you suggested. "She's a big fan."

"No way!" he exclaimed giddily, halting suddenly. "I must meet her someday! I'm a huge fan myself."

"Aren't you and Nic friends?" you quizzed, confused.

"Being a friend now does not negate the appreciation I had of his work before," he declared. "But it does mean setting up a meeting between them would be fairly easy. She could even stay with us for a time."

Us. Oh, his choice of words. You ignored the flip of your stomach. It was absurd. Javi wasn't really your type. Rich and energetic. Earnest and puppy-eyed. Right? You frowned.

He led you out of the rows of grapes to the far corner of the property where beautiful rolling hills back dropped a cozy looking two story ranch styled house that had recently been painted white. It was far more modest than his mansion, but still twice as big as your childhood home.

"That is where you'll be staying," he declared. "Do you wish to see it first or the space we'll be working in?"

"House first," you decided quickly. "I want to grab a few things from my bag to put on my desk. Assuming I'll have one?"

"Of course!"

The inside of the house was rustic. It reminded you of home, minus the buck antlers your dad had hung up on the living room wall. Not that he'd hunted a day in his life. He'd found them while hiking through the forest with the family dog in the dead of winter, the pair having naturally shed off of the deer they had once been attached to.

"This is wonderful," you commented as your eyes fell on your bags by the staircase. Walter had dropped them off as promised.

Javi beamed at you. "I am glad you like it. I admit, it's not my style."

"It wouldn't be, would it?" you mused. "This is very western themed, not island."

"It was once a place for temporary employees to stay," he informed you. "It was remodeled and decorated this way before I bought it. I just haven't bothered to change it."

"There's nothing that needs changing," you told him surely. You weren't going to allow anyone to insult the taste of most of your hometown.

He chuckled. "Maybe not."

You reached for one of your smaller bags and pulled out a stuffed giraffe and a photo of your two rabbits, plus another of a man your age, military short hair and a wide grin on his face.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Javi inquired curiously.

You shook your head somberly. "No, this is Kip, my brother. Was, rather. He overdosed on opioids last April."

Javi expressed honest dismay. "Oh no. I am so sorry. Were you close?"

"Very," you answered, chewing your lip, remembering the last time when Kip was alive and truly happy. It was far too long ago to be comforting. "He was only older than me by a year. Was quite different than me though. Very independent. Whenever my parents told him to do something he did the opposite. That's how he ended up in the military. It's how he ended up a war veteran with a bad back, which led doctors to treating him with strong drugs and in turn got him addicted to them."

"There are no words," Javi said gently, squeezing your arm at the elbow. "Is he going on your desk?"

"The fire mantle," you told him, heading for the fireplace in the living room and placing the framed photo on the shelf above it, carefully setting it there. You returned to Javi's side after. "Now I'm ready to check out the office."

He must have sensed that you didn't want to discuss your brother anymore because he just nodded and followed you out of the house.

x

The inside of Javi's mansion was...excessive. Six bedrooms, six full sized bathrooms to go with them, another two basic bathrooms (one for each floor), a massive kitchen and living room, a dining room, a personal office, a game room, a movie theater, and a sun room. There was a double stairway of course, and the rooms were mostly white, with some gold and black accents.

While you weren't a huge fan of overly sized houses and lack of color, you had to admit it was impressive, and some of the rooms were charming, likely thanks to a talented interior decorator.

One of the most charming rooms was the sun room, with all of its natural light and green house plants in vases. There were even a few vines hanging from the walls. It was the last room on the tour.

"This is where we'll be working," Javi informed you, nodding at the two desks set up in a corner. "I like writing out here. Feels too stuffy in the office. What do you think?"

"It's beautiful in here," you commented, awe in your voice. "I'm sure I'll get plenty of inspiration from it."

"Great!" Javi exclaimed, clapping his hands together, startling you. "I'll give you some time to fix up your desk to your liking, the one closest to the door, and have you meet me out back for dinner when you're ready."

"Dinner?" you questioned, frowning.

"Is it supper where you're from?" Javi asked when he noticed your confusion.

"Yes, but it's not that," you replied, explaining, "I didn't know I'd be eating with you tonight."

"Is that a problem?"

"No," you said a little too fast, cheeks threatening to turn red. "I just didn't expect it."

"As long as you're on this property you will never need to cook unless you wish to," Javi told you. "The chef here is excellent and always cooks up way too much for me. You'd be doing me a favor by joining me. And I'd like to get to know you a little more before we start writing together tomorrow."

"Would it be rude to ask what's on the menu?" you inquired.

He grinned. "Not at all. It's shrimp scampi tonight. Though there are alternatives available if you are allergic or vegan."

"I'm not, and I would never say no to shrimp," you declared.

He chuckled at your enthusiasm. "Good. Dinner will be served in thirty minutes, until then -"

"You'll be out on the back patio area," you finished for him.

He nodded. "Just through the doors."

He backed out of the room through a pair of beautifully detailed white doors and you could see him sit down in one of the patio chairs. He pulled out his phone and made a call you could not hear from inside and you forced yourself to look away, not wanting to be caught staring like a creepy stalker.

You placed your stuffed toy giraffe on the center of your desk next to the tape and stapler, along with the framed photo of your rabbits, before plopping down in the chair behind it to open up the new laptop you'd been gifted.

It was sooo fast to start up, and the perfect size for you. You hoped at the end of the two months you were staying that you'd be able to keep it. Especially after you went on to spend the half hour Javi had given you setting up the laptop, which included adding giraffe wallpaper to the main screen.

Once you were done, with a few minutes to spare, you stepped outside.

The back patio was made of gorgeous red brick and covered with more plant vases. The standard pool and hot tub were beside a four person outdoor table with an umbrella for shade.

The area looked so peaceful and dreamy that you weren't sure a space could get better until you laid eyes on the mini pond a yard away from the glass table, and noticed the brightly colored fish swimming in it. Fish splattered and patched with reds, oranges, blues, and blacks on their white bodies.

"Koi fish?" you quizzed when Javi glanced up at you from reading an email on his phone.

"Came with the house," he told you. "But I kept them cause I decided I liked them. Do you like Koi?"

You nodded. "I always wanted to have some of my own someday. But North Dakota winters would be hard for them to combat and Koi are expensive."

"Well, you can come back here and watch them whenever you like while you're staying here," Javi said. "Maybe they'll inspire you."

"A sun room and a Koi pond." You smirked. "Careful, you might not be able to get rid of me."

Javi parted his lips and closed them like he was going to say something but decided not to, and you blinked curiously at him. What had he been wanting to say but thought was best not said?

"Dinner is served!" a woman who was most likely Javi's chef, shouted.

He beamed at you. "Prepare to have the best shrimp in your life."

x

Javi was right, the shrimp was amazing, and the company continued to be pleasant. It was just you and him for an hour, the chef checking in briefly on occasion to offer wine and water refills and several well spaced out courses of Mediterranean food. You were stuffed when you were finished, and you wanted to sit by the Koi pond and digest, but you thought it would be best not to overstay your welcome.

"Well, I'd better go," you announced, trying to sound casual, as you stood back up. You were about to fish for some answers to questions that had been dancing around in your head all day. "I'm sure your girlfriend - or boyfriend - will want me out of the house when they get here."

"Neither," Javi told you, smiling as if he knew you were digging for information. He probably did. You were rarely subtle. "I'm not dating anyone right now. My last girlfriend moved to America with me but after living together for a month we realized we were better just as friends and she went back to Spain."

You winced. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay," he assured you. "We're still friends."

Friends? The word shouldn't have made your stomach flip as it did.

"Good," you murmured, not sure what else to say to a statement like that. "Too many of my past relationships ended nasty or by ignoring each other awkwardly."

You sighed and stretched your right hand out. He stood and shook it again. "Goodnight, Nora."

"Goodnight, Javi."

With that, you left him physically, but your brain didn't. For half the night you couldn't help replaying the time you'd spent with him, committing it to memory.

It had been a great first day, but you feared that you were already tempted to enter a dangerous game.

The kind of game that could break your heart.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[hanzajesthanza]

Hi yes what is this about costuming for a hypothetical stage adaptation of the Witcher? My curiously has piqued and I would LOVE to learn more !!

😅 i'm flattered that you're interested!

the final artwork i'll post here. here, i will solely talk about the project premise and include more of the analysis and early work.

this was my final project from about two years ago, during the time i was still in school and taking an elective costume design class. the assignment was to adapt any kind of text to a performance-based adaptation (e.g., stage play, dance, live-action tv or film, opera, etc.), analyzing the text and coming up with a mandatory seven separate designs (i did an extra eighth one).

i chose to adapt chapter nine of lady of the lake (the assault on stygga castle chapter) as it's a fastly-paced, highly emotional chapter that's rich in themes. it both opens and wraps up very nicely, with a contained story arc suitable for a stage adaptation (heroes arrive, heroes die...).

first, i wrote out a description of the text and broke down each character:

i then combed the chapter and noted how the text is divided into scenes, each separated by a space and asterisk or dot (depending on the language/formatting). there were 35 sections in all, this is a chapter that cuts back and forth between the action a lot, so it was a bit of a challenge to consider the next part: reordering these scenes to be practical in a stage adaptation (where you have certain constraints; you can't cut back and forth between separate situations, because you only have one stage and have to have time to change scenery and stage setup).

however, i was adamant to not cut anything from the adaptation, because all of these scenes were necessary to tell the story.

(i think as it relates to milva and cahir's flashbacks, i would have the action pause, lights dim, and the characters from the flashback walk on stage, appearing as "ghosts" - thus not needing a scene change, just a pause in the action.)

then i did a character breakdown (not included) and a costume plot (below). this is basically planning out which costume each character would be wearing in which scene, and when (if at all) they would need a costume change.

then we did some moodboard work:

these were my preliminary sketches (NOT FINAL)

i was happy with how it turned out, but the unfortunate part is that this was a one-credit class and i was absolutely swamped with final projects for my four other four-credit classes at the time, so i didn't get to go "above and beyond" like i usually did with projects, and wasn't able to some of the things i wanted. my next steps would have included:

translate: thoroughly comb the translation for inaccuracies/localizations (i found just a couple things i'd want the casting and makeup to reflect)

adapt: adapt the entire text to a screenplay, note how actors should deliver their lines

stage and lighting design: i did a bit of this, but i had no idea what i was doing, so i just set it aside

choreograph: i said i wanted this to be a ballet, so i would vaguely script out the movements for fight/dance scenes

mechanics: my best idea during this project was to have regis' actor on a mechane. (if you don't know what that is, it's a device used in ancient greek theatre to raise an actor with wires to make them "fly" - medea at the end of euripides' medea, for instance. it's where the term deus ex machina, "god of the machine," comes from). but in order to hypothetically make this happen, i'd need to redesign his costume to allow for special harnesses and safety precautions.

oh, and i also dressed up as dandelion for the final presentation :) he was the one i didn't design, but manifested in real life instead. class was on a friday and the mood was pretty accepting and silly, so i went with it.

[crimsonscloud]

bunch of things about my lab rats oc because i have brainrot.

( will add a moodboard for him later )

name: adrien trevor abernathy

nicknames: dre, trevor

gender: male

birthdate: 1973. still have to give him a birth month

age: early forties. he just doesn't lie about it like donald does /j

hair color: dark brown, starting to gray

eye color: blue

faceclaim: pascal langdale

occupation: robotics engineer for davenport industries ( formerly; later reinstated )

i haven't had any time to rewatch and formulate anything so we're coasting on vibes only. prepare for word vomit and canon divergences

started working for davenport industries after college, was friends with both brothers. he and douglas had a crush on each other, but never said anything since they were both still in the closet at the time.

then the incident with douglas faking his death happens.

in my version of canon, donald finds the kids after douglas' "funeral" because... idk, i just like it better. hurts more that way.

[slightly related: daniel doesn't exist in my au.]

he doesn't tell adrien about them, but adrien figures out he's hiding something. combined with the grief over douglas (and adrien not believing he's dead, or thinking that donald had something to do with it because the brothers were fighting more just before it happened) they start drifting apart and fighting a lot.

adrien leaves the company at some point after this. i haven't figured out what he's up to in the space between here and the beginning of the show, but he pops back up at some point in the first two seasons (before the reveal that douglas is alive).

he's pissed (and hurt) that donald didn't tell him about abc because for god's sake donald, those are children and if you told me back then i'd at least have made an effort to treat them that way. it calls into question, for him, how much donald really trusted him. if donald ever trusted anybody but himself.

then he also has to find out that he was right -- douglas is alive. oh, yeah, and is also currently a villain. with another kid that is solely intended to help him get the other three back. that's a clusterfuck.

so much of this is just adrien going what the fuck davenport(s)

come season three (which i remember a little more of, yay) he hasn't forgiven either brother much for lying to him, but he can't fault the kids for that so he sticks around. he's sorta like the cool uncle.

he helps douglas sneak leo out of the hospital after his arm's crushed, and helps him work on the bionic arm. it's one of the first real opportunities they have to talk some things out.

rise of the secret soldiers- specific things, because there's a couple things here:

because adrien isn't bionic, he uses a pair of gauntlets he worked on pre-canon as a prototype and kept around. they're designed to absorb energy, so in practice they give him enhanced strength but he reworks them a bit (patterned after leo's bionics) so he can also generate laser spheres through nodes on the palms.

however, they have a limit to how much energy they can absorb before the user's body must take on some of the strain. krane overloads them, severely injuring adrien and putting him in the hospital (instead of donald).

everything else happens similarly to canon -- leo uses energy transference to save adrien, almost dies, the bionic soldiers save leo, etc. because of the gauntlets backfiring adrien now has scarring on his hands and experiences tremors / pain due to the nerve damage.

of course his response to this is i need to invent something better so he completely redesigns the gauntlets during season four / afterwards. the new design allows him to wear them all the time, disguised as simple bracelets when inactive.

other things about him:

not a power, but he can mimic voices. even if the voice is nowhere close to his. it's a disney show i don't care about logic, this is funnier /j. he and bree (since she has it but as an actual power) use it to prank the others by "switching" voices and leo is like "don't ever do that again"

douglas gave him a bracelet. initially adrien no longer wears it / doesn't mention it so douglas thinks he got rid of it, but after they talk during you posted what?! he starts to wear it again.

donald and leo both admit adrien (who is basically if ":) (threat)" was a person) scares them. leo had to clarify that it wasn't a compliment.

douglas, donald and adrien all have a habit of calling each other by their middle names when they're upset with each other / making fun of each other.

adrien's "dre" nickname comes from when he first met the brothers -- donald kept thinking his name was andre and adrien corrected him multiple times until he got it. douglas, however, thought this was hilarious and so the "dre" nickname stuck.

adrien and tasha friendship by virtue of being the mostly sane adults dealing with a davenport's nonsense is so real to me

gay as hell and definitely tells perry she's definitely barking up the wrong tree. and also no she can't have douglas, he was there first

[jellycat-cryptid]

This account is officially being re-branded!

As of 17 June 2024, this account is going through the process of being re-branded, rebooted and revamped. After a long hiatus, filled with the occasional reblog and text post, I have many plans to bring this blog back to life.

First of all, the name and theme will be changing, to a more gentle cottagecore vibe.

There will be regular posts of different jellycats like how the old blog operated, but focused more on personification of the jellycat and scenario, mood board and collage based posts, instead of the regular name and picture type favoured by some of my favourite blogs. I don't want to be a copycat, even if my special interests present in similar ways to others, through use of Tumblr.

There will be a weekly segment where you can send in asks with your jellycats, as a way to interact with the following of the blog and make some new friends along the way!

Another new weekly segment will be retired jellycat of the week, where I pick a random jellycat from any of the ones in let's say 2013 and post a moodboard and a little collage around that jellycat, as well as information about the jellycat from before their retirement, such as their blurb from their product page or some such.

I will still post regular jellycats, but with the new theme and format in mind. For example, I will post a cordy roy elephant, with a filter for effect, with a mood board and a who am I, telling you all about my personality I created for cordy roy elephant, as well as a mini collage of things I associate with cordy roy elephant.

As I start to get into the swing of making the who am I's and the moodboards and the collages, the posts may change in format. I have never made anything like this before. Previous experience is only with making a few basic collages with a phrase and some emojis, nothing so vast. I may struggle at first, primarily focussing on the other elements, such as the retired jellycats or reposting old jellycats with the new formats to help me get used to filling them out or creating them in general.

Content creation is a full time job and I am currently battling bone cancer full on, therefore my time is split between what I can gather up and what is left over after my "day" has ended. Spoon theory is a good analogy to what I'm dealing with. I'm already a chronically ill person, so I'm not unfamiliar to losing a spoon or two when trying to do something basic, but these are my special interests and they fulfill me as a person. I deserve to enjoy and be happy, it just takes some adapting.

I will not be posting everyday, every week, all the month, for all twelve months of the year. I will start out posting twice a week, weekly for the full month. I might transition over to four posts a week, however three may be the happy medium. I will take two weeks off at Christmas, I will take days off if I am with family. Life is busy and I don't intend to work around my creations, rather work my creations into my life, have them join and meld and wiggle around each other, like two people who can't get comfortable in a very small bed.

The revamping process will take time. As I said, I am fighting bone cancer, a very hard thing to maintain myself against day in day out. Your patience and understanding is appreciated as well as any help you can offer such as tips on how to do certain things, such as banner creation, moodboard websites, collage creators, good searches for good quality images or things like that.

I hope you have a good day, and I thank you for reading this post!

[ga-industrial-brief]

Redesigning level 1

After building my 5th level, I realised I'm actually not awful at making bigger levels. This was something I tested in my redesigning of the level 1 as through my preparations for playtesting, I realised it wasn't fit for purpose and needed to be remade. I'd also realised that I can't plan levels - my best come from getting inspiration and going straight into building the levels.

Whilst looking through the team moodboard, I came across these images. For some reason, I really liked the vibe and what I figured I could probably do with them.

This was the first section of the level inspired by the reference images. Already it's a massive improvement - it introduces the player to the red paint naturally in the elevator shaft and gives them an obstacle that can only be overcome by using it. It was also here that I realised I didn't need to worry about textures - the wire mesh doors and concrete rubble have relatively high detail texture but since I couldn't find anything with enough noise for the concrete wall, I made a simple pixel texture and didn't apply the paper 2D settings after importing it. Despite the VAST quality difference, due to the filters they look coherent enough to work

After adding the opposite walkway that the player gets to after using both red and green paint to jump over the rubble, I realised that the rebar kept colliding with the player so I had to reorientate it

The rebar has been moved.

The next section has been added. I've started leaning into the industrial themes of my last level, partially because they're fun to make levels with and partially because they're easier to make levels with. I used pipes due to taking inspiration from my moodboard, and they should allow me to introduce environmental dynamism and also fill the distictly empty environment a little more.

Originally, I was going to have the fallen pipe that would have connected the two sections having broken through the walkway and suspended by cables or wires wrapped around the end, but I quickly realised that having something look like it's hanged itself in a game about mental health was an extremely poor choice.

As for the puzzles, I initially wanted a system where 3 pipes would have to be rearranged to flow into 3 nozzles via levers, but describing what I meant to Reece showed that this was a very flawed and overcomplicated idea. Instead we came to the conclusion that more typical style of pipe puzzles [using the same levers or switches] would be much more reasonable - and likely more fun

This was my initial sketch to give an idea of what we'd need to Reece and Louis.

This was the first draft - moveable pipes are in the red/orange. This is likely to change but it works for now. Overall, I'm fairly happy with how the pipes look [excluding red/orange] and I intend on having visual indicators at each of the copper blocks to signify when they're active. I considered making the pipes not actually power anything and instead the player has to use them to create a route forward, but I figured this would be far too difficult to design. Ultimately, I'm happy with this - it's functional and looks good enough.

Reece has since added working pipes and I've added walls and textures. Initially, the fog was in bubbles around the map. This worked, but it didn't look good. However, after some experimentation, it occured to me I could reduce the density and just have the fog encompass the map. You know, like how fog works. Once I did this, I saw a notable increase in how the map looked - the fog better obscured the extremes of the level, and was a lot smoother and less 'bubbled'.

This was how I TRIED to get the pipes to display when they were in the correct orientation

This was my code in the door. For whatever reason, it was registering 5 pipes instead of 4, and only the 1st, 3rd and 5th ever changed.

Once the pipes had been fixed [see post #30], I finished the level. I added a pipe running off to the side with the remnants of a walkway going into a building, the walkway to a shuttered door that will open once the puzzle is complete. I'm yet to attatch the pipes from the puzzle to this room, but I will.

[elvisabutler]

who's my princess?

fandom: austin butler rating: m pairing: austin butler x older female reader word count: 2169 warnings: jokes about being a sugar baby. heavy use of the nickname princess and baby boy. praise kink. faint d/s elements but not quite, you'll see in the fic. oral ( female receiving, attempted male receiving. ). public sex acts. no use of y/n. author’s note: welcome to day 4 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, praise kink with austin butler x older female reader. so here's the thing with this fic, i have been struggling to write it— and austin in general for the past week/two weeksa. to the point where i actually skipped ahead to rooster x reader titty fucking that i already posted on another account. i'll post it here once i finish my austin degradation kink day, promise. anyway what i ended up finally settling on with this fic was doing austin with an older female reader. you can read how much older however you like or if you want could ignore my reference to it being an older female reader. it also erred more toward plus size but can still be read a little more explicitly as not plus size. anyway, i hope y'all enjoy this fic even if it's a lil more niche for the fandom. as always, i do enjoy your comments and reblogs and tags and they are my writing life blood to be quite honest. there was also three different versions of this moodboard and i am still not sure i'm in love with this one. also i'm not completely back from my impromptu vacation but i wanted to post this before i tossed it in a fire or something.

"They think you're my sugar baby, you know," you murmur against the shell of Austin's ear, watching as his jaw muscle tenses just so at the implication.

His eyes slide across the room, taking in the looks people are giving the two of you. It's not that he isn't used to the looks, the slight judgment that people pass when they think he's merely just a kept boytoy but this time it hits different. For Vanessa, as much as he loved her and as much as he supposes she loved him there was always quite a kernel of truth there. It rubbed him the wrong way some days but at the same time it allowed him to slowly prove his acting chops without necessarily worrying about if he'd have a place to stay if things went horrendously wrong. But for you? For his gorgeous girlfriend? Oh, he wasn't a boytoy in the slightest. Sure, you could have made it so he was a kept man again. You could have allowed him to live in the lap of luxury and only come up for projects that were artsy and true cinema that he could sink his teeth into. No, instead he told himself he'd treat you, he'd make sure you were taken care of by him. You were older, you didn't need a partner to spoil you and cater to your every want and need. You didn't need these things but he was determined to give them to you. After all what sort of romantic partner would he be if he didn't spoil the love of his life.

"Hm," he hums softly, turning his head just enough to look you in the eyes. "Of course. They know I'm younger than you. They think I found another sugar mama to support me. If only they knew. Think they'd believe us if we told them?"

There's something so inviting and enrapturing about Austin's gaze that has you shivering just ever so slightly in delight and arousal. "About what?"

It's a dangerous game you're playing, teasing him like this but you can't help it. You want to rile Austin up in the same way he has with you on so many occasions. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he bites his lower one. "Is my Princess playing dumb? Is she trying to be coy? Tease me?"

You smile softly and shrug, attempting to look as innocent as can be, "maybe. What are you going to do about it, baby?"

"Baby?" Austin moves to pull turn you around and pulls you closer to him, his hands settling on your plush hips and squeezing. "I think there's only one baby here, and it's not me, Princess. You don't have to tease to get what you want, you know that. My good girl knows that."

A shaky inhale is your only response for a moment as Austin smirks, his eyes dancing with a certain mixture of arousal and amusement that he only gets when he looks at you. Things between you are always a little playful, the joys of being old enough to not care about what other people think of you but it's still a delight to see after failed relationships before him. Maybe that's why you hadn't had a relationship that lasted this long before him. Maybe the universe was just having you wait for him. It takes you a moment to collect your thoughts even as you feel your arousal slowly dripping from your vagina, slowly dampening the underwear you're wearing.

"Your good girl does, but maybe I want to be bad today. Maybe I want you to show me and everyone else how desperate you always are for me," you practically purr out the last words and Austin's grip tightens just that little bit more as he moves one hand down to your behind and squeezes partially as a warning and partially as a promise.

"How desperate I am for you? How drenched are your panties? Would they stick to that pretty little pussy of yours? That pussy that was made for my cock? The one that could never be satisfied by any other cocks before mine?" His words are quiet but so deadly that you can't help the whine that leaves you even as your hand moves to cup the front of his slacks. You're in public but between the two of you, you're making your way to an empty corner with no one the wiser about what's happening. It should be mortifying the way Austin has you acting like a teenager and yet you remember that you're doing the same for him. You're both acting as if you don't have a care in the world, as if Austin and you both aren't at least partially in the public eye.

The thing is in this moment it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because all anyone is going to see is you and him having your hands all over each other because you're so in love and practically obsessed with one another that you're both needy. Even if the way you're needy is subtly different between the two of you.

"Somewhere private." The words tumble out of your mouth when you finally make it to that corner and realize that your hand is trying to undo his slacks and his hand is trying to lift of your dress as if no one would be watching. Austin looks at you with blown pupils and huffs out a breath of air from his nose before he nods, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the room and into regrettably the nearest closet he can find.

You start to drop to your knees, thinking this has to be something quick between the two of you, a quick blowjob that'll ruin your panties that he'll steal and put in his pocket for the rest of the night until you can get home. Except Austin's grip on your arm stops you, pulls you back up into a standing position even as your eyebrow arches upward in a simple unspoken question.

"I didn't ask for you to suck my dick, Princess," he murmurs, leaning over you just enough that he practically pins you to the door. "You want to be good for me, don't you? Make up for how bad you just were?"

In another time and place you'd maybe be embarrassed about how quickly you nod. In another time before Austin you'd have scoffed and shook your head. As it is all you want is to hear Austin tell you how good you are with those plush lips of his. All you want to feel his lips upon your skin, sucking hickies on it, his teeth biting your skin and leaving small indentations. You merely want all of Austin in this moment. "What—what do you want then?"

A simple question and a request for direction. You can't be his good girl, his bestest girl, his flawless girl without direction. You might be accidentally bad.

His hand moves to cup your chin and pulls you in for a featherlight kiss before moving down to your neck kissing there. You don't realize what's happening until you feel his hands cup your breasts as he places kisses along the tops of them exposed by your dress. You see his body starting to inch closer and closer down to the floor as he trails kisses down your body, setting every inch of your skin they touch ablaze with a fire that burns starting from your aching vagina. It clenches around nothing, wanting something— anything— near it and being deprived even as his lips are so close to it that he could tongue you through the fabric of your dress.

"Aus—" you start to whisper his name only to be cut off with a shaky exhale as you feel his fingertips against your calves and against your knees. You feel his fingers press into your plush thighs and bite your lip to stop yourself from whining only to have Austin remove his hands from them. "What—"

"Good girls are loud for their boyfriends. For their baby boys," he smirks and you can tell even in the low light of the closet. Any other time and you might lightly tap his face to smack it off of him but right now it has your thighs clenching together and him laughing. "You're my good girl, aren't you, Princess? My goddess of a woman. The cougar who sunk her teeth into me? I just want to hear you. I want everyone to know that I'm bringing you such immense pleasure with my tongue that you can't help but scream."

You are about to say something before Austin's head is under your dress faster than the words can come out. They're quickly forgotten in the haze and loud groan that leaves your lipstick covered lips as his fingers— those long fingers you've sucked and nipped at before— find themselves buried in your pussy. Austin plays you like a musical instrument, earning sighs and whimpers and every noise in between to form a symphony that bounces off the walls of the closet. You feel your orgasm starting to inch closer and closer before he pulls out his fingers and you keen loud enough that you hear people on the other side of the door wondering what's going on.

Austin chuckles and if you could see his eyes you're certain you would see them blown with arousal but still somehow sparkling with pure mirth. His laughter is a warm gust of air against your thigh but somehow a cool balm against your dripping cunt. Your thighs are sticky with arousal but not release and you almost want to cry before you feel Austin's breath focusing closer and closer to where you want it. "It's like a fountain down here."

The words are said with a bit of awe before he continues, "this all for me pretty girl? All for me, ma'am? If breathe just right can I get another drop?" He teases even as he lets out the smallest puff of air against your clit. "Oh. I can. So responsive. Such a good responsive woman. Couldn't ask for anyone better to be on my arm and in my bed. Maybe I should marry you. Keep you all to myself."

"Austin, please." You plea as your hands move to his hair, ruining whatever hairstyle his stylist had crafted in one fell swoop of your hands clenching at the strands.

"What my Princess wants, my princess gets," he jokes before his tongue finds its way to your throbbing clit.

The noises between your legs sound obscene with his tongue and chin and everything sliding against the arousal between your legs. He eats you out like a starving man, one of his hands moving to curl inside you as his mouth sucks your clt. It's too much and too little all at once. Your thighs tighten around his head as your hands tighten in his hair and you hear Austin moan as he shifts just enough to have his cock press against your calf. He's in control but at the same time so are you. You're making him so desperate he needs to hump your leg to get relief and he has your cunt spasming even though you haven't come just yet. You're sure you're saying words or perhaps it's just gibberish as Austin's fingers curl just so, pressing against that spot that has the coil in your lower abdomen wounding tighter and tighter. His thrusts against your legs are becoming more stuttered and your hands yank at his hair to try and pull him away so you don't come all over his face only to have him use his one free hand to grab your ass and force you grind down on his face. Somehow the brush of his nose against your clit and the way his tongue moves just so in tandem with his fingers against that spot of yours has you shouting his name even as you try and muffle it just a little. Your body shakes with aftershocks, thighs twitching against his head and lower stomach feeling like it's pulsating from the intensity. It takes both of you far longer than you'd like to admit to catch your breath and even as you do, Austin looks every bit as wrecked as you do before he opens his mouth.

"Think they still think I'm just your sugar baby?" The joke comes easily and with a soft smile. "Because that was some loud screaming, Princess. I was proud of you for it."

You can't help but look off to the side in embarrassment before you feel Austin's hand on your chin, forcing you to look at him. You swear you smell your own scent on his hand and you can't help but lick your lips. "Maybe, but I don't— Let them. Because it doesn't change that I'm your good girl, does it?"

"Never."

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @slowsweetlove, @kxnnxy, @meetmeatyourworst, @purejasmine, @stylespresleyhearted, @powerofelvis, @amydarcimarie, @thegettingbyp2, @austinswhitewolf, @richardslady121 and @mrs-butler

[pens-swords-stuff]

Fanfiction writer here. How do you stop your writing from feeling stale? Like, a week ago I felt really hyped up about a certain scene that I was working on— now though, in retrospect, it doesn’t seem as exciting or weighty as I thought I was.

(TLDR; 4.5k words in, starting to feel stale.)

Do you cook at all?

Because if you do, I wonder if you've ever had the experience of spending a lot of time cooking something really delicious that you're excited for, but when you finally take a bite.... It's just not that good. But the people around you think it's amazing.

This is a pretty common experience among people who cook. One possible explanation of this phenomenon is that as we cook, we're tasting and smelling it a lot to the point where our nose and tastebuds get desensitized to it. When we finally eat it, it doesn't taste that good because our senses have dulled it. People who haven't cooked it however, think it tastes really good because it's their first time smelling and tasting it.

This applies to writing too.

As the writer of our stories, we are absolutely immersed in our projects all the time. We're thinking about it, planning it out, writing it, reading it over and over and over again... Because we're so heavily steeped in it, our senses also get a bit dulled and desensitized to it. That really cool scene that we were super hyped for, spent a lot of time thinking about it and finally writing it out, then reading it over multiple times? It doesn't taste as good anymore.

But just because we think that our writing has gone stale doesn't mean that it actually has. Whoever is reading it won't have that same reaction, simply because they're reading it for the first time.

Funnily enough, I think the advice for both cooking and writing is actually the same: You want to cleanse your palate.

Spend some time away from that particular project; work on another part, or something else entirely. Make some moodboards or playlists instead of writing. Read other books, watch some TV shows, play some video games. Go outside and take a walk. Take a break and breathe in something that's not that particular project or scene for a bit.

Once you've given it time to rest, and once your palate is cleansed, you'll be able to go back to your project with refreshed senses. Then, when we take that first bite back into our project again, we won't be desensitized to it anymore and can fully appreciate it.

We can't ever really stop our writing from feeling stale — it just happens as we spend a lot of time on it. Eventually, you'll run into this problem again. That's why it's important to take breaks every now and then, and fill your creative cup with other things instead of internalizing it and attributing it to our own skill (or lack thereof). When it begins to look boring, stale, or like there's nothing good about it, taking a break can be a lifesaver and make us fall in love with it all over again when we get back into it.

(I've also found that adding something new to a WIP can really spice it up. For me, it was attempting to write a sex scene for the first time, and it really transformed not only my project, but also my writing in general. It was ridiculously effective, but that's a post for another time.)

Remember, all advice is subjective! So don’t take this too seriously. This is just one person’s opinion.

If you’d like to ask me for advice on writing or running a writeblr, please check out my Ask Guidelines and FAQ first.

Ask Guidelines | FAQ | Advice Masterlist

[eyesofshan-if]

An update? I'm so happy!! Thank you and congrats on updating! ✨️

I read through it multiple times now and I really enjoyed it! Scarface was disgusting as always and I admire Hansol's restraint when talking to him, though I'm tempted to imagine how ??? would react when faced with that bandit

Also Commander being in charge is so cool? I love to see them do their job well and command so much respect (at least from those that matter). That contrasting with their origin is such a brilliant idea

Wooyoung's introduction was literally like if someone blew a bunch of flower petals to your face. Random, colorful and totally umpredictable. I love him!! And Hansol was so done with him (while also worried for him? what a nice and real touch).

The story itself has me really intrigued, the whole idea with selling eyes is very chilling and I can't wait for the Commander to stop those responsible and reveal what's going on.

Dalhwa's moodboard made me so excited to see her, I'm really looking forward to that. But somehow ??? keeps stealing my heart, I don't know how you do it since they haven't even been properly introduced yet.

This is truly one of the only IFs where I'll have MCs for every single RO 😄 Now I'm tempted to have my Commander romance ??? first instead of Hansol? What is this sorcery?!

Have a nice day and please take breaks! ♥️

You're writting so fast I'm amazed but also don't overwork yourself

oooh scarface... he's a little shit, but he's like a small fry compared to future enemies (no spoilers for now, though!!)

and you're right the commander is so cool!! i would 100% date my own commmander kjdbfkd... but as i said, things are fine and dandy when mc is in the palace. in the next update, however, they will be leaving the palace to go out into the big wide world... i'm really excited to write what will happen then

also WOOYOUNG!!! he really is like a whirlwind of chaotic energy and sunshine. hansol is a 100% done with him, but the relationship between the two cousins are a lot more complex, and we'll be exploring that as the story goes on!!

dalhwa and ????.... god both of them make me simp so hard for reasons that none of you know yet TT so i can't wait to get to those parts either. i'm glad you like all the ROs so much, as different as they are :D

[shesnotme]

my plans for summer ❦

i dunno about you but i always, always spend my summers absolutely depressed. it's not a matter of whether or not you i friends, because i always have, but rather it's an issue of all that fucking time on your hands. two whole months of just.. nothing. so what do you even do? my plans for summer mainly revolve around helping my future self. because once september rolls around, what good will it be if i spent the past 2 months lazing around in bed? i won't be benefited by that, quite the opposite, really. so instead i've figured out what i need for the new school year and to really reach the goals i have for this upcoming year (post on that soon !). nothing revolutionary, sure, but it'll definitely help out at least a couple of you wondering what to do this summer <3

self care. this means caring of my body both inside and out. inside, i'm working on self improvement by becoming a kinder, more feminine person. i'm getting over my failed situationships and getting more comfortable being alone. i'm practicing detachment and, of course, protecting my peace. outside, i'm working on my hair and my body. i don't think it's any help to work on my wardrobe, because in summer you make really shit decisions. i've begun working out 3 times a week with my friend who's more experienced in the gym, mainly working on my glutes, cardio and abs. i'm planning on investing in heatless curlers, because my hair's volume hasn't been great. <3 ways you could practice self care: inside, you could work on your gut health, diet (eating healthy, not practicing any restrictive eating!), mental health, social life, self confidence. outside, you could work on your physical health (gym, running, biking), skincare, hair health, wardrobe (if you trust your decision making during this season), posture.

hobbies. you're not gonna want to go to the gym or journal every day, so finding some ways to spend your time alone and having fun can be really beneficial. i've started watching a couple tv shows, in july i'll be watching a movie every day (hopefully), scrapbooking more, making bracelets, and cooking. these aren't necessarily beneficial to future me, however they are fun and beneficial to present me, and balance is really important! summer is the time to take on projects and begin passions for things you can't do during the school year. hobbies that could help you: if you want something beneficial, try learning a new language, practicing an art (music, painting, writing), learning to cook, taking up a new sport, learning touch typing, or reading. if you want something fun, try watching a new tv show (skins, gossip girl, pretty little liars), watching a movie a day (you could do movies all with the same actor, by the same director, in a series, etc), scrapbooking, keeping a journal, growing a garden, crocheting, or decorating your room.

jobs. i have a late birthday so i can't volunteer yet, so instead i've taken on a few "jobs", mainly babysitting and doing things for my parents. it's not the most fun but if you want the money for the new school year (especially new clothes), you should do it. put the money into savings. of course, if you're under 15 you likely can't do much, but it's worth a shot. jobs you could take on: getting your volunteer hours (summer camps!), babysitting, working at fast food, designing carrds, mowing lawns.

planning. lastly, i'm planning out my next school year. it's good to have things figured out so that september doesn't hit you too hard. i'm working on things like schedules, study guides, phone decluttering, and, most fun, moodboards. i'll make a bigger post about my plans in specific <3 this is also a really great way you could practice manifesting. make your intentions clear and assume that these things will happen, and they will, but this isn't the place to be learning about that. things you could plan: your daily schedule (by the hour), outfit ideas, lunch ideas, goals, the mood for this school year, a desk system.

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (08)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Series: CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 9

warnings: unrealistic court happenings i am not a lawyer ok mention of physical abuse, drinking problems, child trauma, mental illness, and infidelity. I want to build a whole new world in this fic that’s why i also didn’t research about divorce trials I’m sorry. OC is kind of annoying/disappointing in this chapter (?) or not (?) Young Choi Soobin of TXT is the kid in this chapter’s moodboard

Jeongguk was the ex-boyfriend Red was talking about.

You figured this out when you were at Seokjin's party. Frankly, the way your soulmate was looking at Red was already a giveaway, but then you had to confirm it yourself.

The only way to do that was to either confront Jeongguk or your assistant.

You chose neither and it was because you were afraid to hear what they would or wouldn't say. This being said, you resorted to your last option.

"Come on..." It was hard to sit on the floor when you're wearing a damn long dress, but this didn't stop you from rummaging through Red's personal things.

It's the middle of the night. You left Jeongguk at your apartment right after he reached his high.

You just wanted to teach him a lesson for being a brat. He was always so rude to you and you honestly thought that he was just in denial—that soon enough, he would realize that you two were really destined to be together.

Apparently, that wasn't going to happen.

You went to your office at one in the morning just to find something that would verify your speculation. You got what you wanted. The photograph of Jeongguk kissing your assistant confirmed it.

Your tears fell.

You didn't know why you felt betrayed. It wasn't like they wanted this. They hadn't done anything wrong. Fate was just cruel. Why didn't you meet Jeongguk first? You couldn't blame him for falling in love with Red—she was sweet, beautiful, and smart. Anyone would definitely like her, so you had no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat and accept this.

You just had to pretend like everything was alright.

It wasn't.

The divorce trial was near and there were still so many things you had to fix. Work was seriously draining the hell out of you and it wasn't like Jeongguk was helping. He was actually adding up to the stress you were feeling.

Jeongguk was giving you the silent treatment and no—it wasn't the type of silence you were used to. Before Seokjin's party, your soulmate was quiet, but not really. He would occasionally huff to let you know that he was annoyed at you. He would also stamp his feet and slam the door just to spite you.

You didn't mind. You knew he was just being a brat; however, things were different now.

After the night of Seokjin's party, Jeongguk changed. He was eerily silent, always avoiding eye contact with you.

You tried talking to him. Regrettably, you were only greeted by stillness.

"You want pizza, Gukkie?"

Nothing.

"Have you watched the latest episode of Start-up?"

Still nothing.

"Did you have a good sleep?"

Nope. Nothing. Nada.

"Wanna make out on the couch?"

Jeongguk's head jolted to your direction. His eyes were wide, cheeks turning crimson because of your bold statement.

"Hey!" You giggled, clearly happy with his reaction. "You finally looked at me!"

Jeongguk shook his head and then he went straight to his room.

You were unbelievable.

You pouted your lips, giving up. You had a feeling that he would come around.

He did. Days later, Jeongguk surprised you when he stood right in front of the door of your apartment. He was blocking your way out.

"Gukkie, I'm going to be late." You sighed. He reminded you of Miri, your cat that's always trying to stop you from leaving.

"You can't leave." His jaw clenched.

You let out a breath once again.

"Don't do this please. Mr. Kim needs me,"

The trial was happening today. You needed to run down a few things with your client before you go to the court room.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Jeongguk folded his arms over his chest.

You stared at him.

"I don't get what?" It was hard to keep your composure when the thing you had been trying to avoid for so long was being rubbed in your face. You knew exactly what Jeongguk was implying.

"—that you want me to drop this case because you want Red all to yourself?"

Jeongguk froze. What was the point of staying silent when you always knew what was running inside his head?

You just always knew.

"You don't have to pretend that you care about Soobin's well-being. I have enough people doing just that," you slightly pushed Jeongguk to the side so that you could pass through the door.

Ah, people.

They're all the same, always trying to conceal their self-interest by pretending that they care for others.

You liked Jeongguk—actually; you were convinced you loved him. He was your soulmate after all, but sometimes love wasn't enough to just give into what he wanted.

This wasn't about your relationship. This was about Soobin's welfare. He's just a child. You were a lawyer who swore an oath to protect the oppressed and incapable. You were their voice.

It sounded cheesy, but this was the type of person you aspired to be. The world was already dark, it wouldn't hurt to be someone's light.

Jeongguk didn't understand your reasons. It was evident when he showed up in court to watch you defend Kim Seokjin.

At first, you thought your eyes were failing you. Was he really here? Was he really the man at the back of the room wearing that big hoodie?

It was him. The familiar scowl on his face said so. Jeongguk was the only person who looked at you like you had offended his whole family.

"All rise!"

You turned to your client upon hearing the bailiff's demand.

"It's going to be alright," assured by you.

Seokjin smiled. He was looking at Red instead of you. He needed the comfort of his soulmate.

Red grinned back. She wasn't worried. She trusted you. She was certain you would succeed. Soobin wasn't going to be taken away from his father.

The first few minutes of the trial went smooth. You had your story straight and with the way the judge was nodding; you instantly knew she was in favor of your side.

Unfortunately, things started to go ugly during the cross-examination of witnesses.

Jung Hoseok was the first one to take the stand. He was the expert witness.

"You are the marriage counselor of Mr. and Mrs. Kim for months now, right?"

"Yes." Hoseok answered the opposing counsel. It was weird seeing him this serious. Your friend was always grinning, but you told him to try to keep a neutral face. This way, the judge and the jury wouldn't know if he was caught off guard by the question of the other side's attorney.

"Mr. Jung, is it true that marriage counselors rarely suggest divorce to their clients?"

"Depends—" Hoseok bit his tongue. You told him to simply answer yes or no. Be responsive to the question and never explain. "I mean, yes."

"And yet here we are..." Ms. Choi, the opposing attorney, shrugged her shoulders.

"Objection!" You stood up. "Relevance?"

You didn't understand why Ms. Choi asked that question to Hoseok when she's just shrugging it off now.

"Sustained." The judge felt the same way.

Ms. Choi raised her hand as if surrendering.

"My bad. I'm just curious, you know? If Mr. Jung is indeed an effective counselor, then why did he suggest that the Kim couple push through the divorce?"

Ms. Choi was furrowing her brow at Hoseok.

"Isn't that true, Counselor Jung? You told Mrs. Kim that it's better to end her marriage with Mr. Kim?"

"Yes." The expert witness answered truthfully.

The opposing side's attorney smiled mockingly.

"It's because you feared for Mrs. Kim's safety, right?"

"What?" Jung Hoseok was lost.

"Come on, Mr. Jung you know exactly what I am talking about! You found out that Mr. Kim is an alcoholic and you are scared that he might harm Mrs. Kim and Soobin, right?" Ms. Choi pointed at the five year old kid who was busy coloring books in the far corner of the room. He was with Seokjin's mother.

"Objection, Your Honor! Compound question!" You glared at Ms. Choi.

"Sustained." The judge clenched her jaw. "Ms. Choi, separate your questions. You are misleading the jury..."

Ms. Choi was flustered, yet she still held her head high. She knew she had the upper hand here.

"Is Mr. Kim alcoholic, Mr. Jung?" She tried again.

Hoseok cleared his throat.

"He had a history of abusing alcohol years ago."

"And you know this because you're also a licensed alcohol and drug counselor, correct?"

"Yes..."

"And Mr. Kim Seokjin also told you about his issue with regard to alcohol abuse?"

"Yes." Hoseok swallowed hard.

There were papers that could attest to Hoseok's claim. This was a win for Mrs. Kim. You could see her growing sarcastic smile that was directed at Red.

You inhaled deeply.

"Mr. Jung, can you please tell us the rate of patients going through alcohol relapse?"

"Uh, it's sixty to ninety percent after the first year of treatment," answered by Hoseok.

"I see. How long has it been since Mr. Kim sobered up?"

"As far as I know, it has been three years."

"Huh." Ms. Choi crossed her arms. "So is there a possibility that Mr. Kim would experience an alcohol relapse?"

"Yes."

"What's the statistical probability, Mr. Jung?"

"About fifty percent high." Hoseok looked dejected. He wanted to help Seokjin win the case, but he couldn't lie.

"I see." Ms. Choi was smiling as if she had already won the case.

"Can you tell us now the effects of experiencing an alcohol relapse? Or a slip?"

Hoseok's palms were sweating. Slip was one episode of drinking alcohol after trying to stay sober. Relapse, on the other hand, was the return to unhealthy behavior. Slip wasn't always followed by a relapse.

Hoseok also explained that there were different stages of relapse. Emotional relapse could cause suppression of emotions, becoming more isolated, trying to blame other people, and aggression, especially when they were confronted. There's also mental and physical relapse which included glamorizing alcohol and compulsive desires to drink.

"No further questions, Your Honor." The corner of Ms. Choi's mouth turned up upon realizing that the jury was in favor of their side now.

You had to step up your game.

The next witness was Son Chae-young. She was Soobin's babysitter. Chae-young had been living with the Kims ever since Soobin was born. She's a witness testifying against Seokjin.

Chae-young cleared her throat when your eyes landed on her. She already felt uncomfortable because of the way you were looking at her.

The way you stand up—shoulder down, neck long—was intimidating.

"You have a really nice necklace, Ms. Son."

Chae-young flinched upon hearing your compliment. She was confused. Mrs. Kim and Attorney Choi told her that you were scary, this was evident by the way you present yourself, but then...the way your eyes light up made her feel at ease. Your voice was soft too.

"Ah...thanks," regardless of your sweet persona, Chae-young still couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Why were you looking at her as if she was important? As if you were here to protect and not cross-examine her?

"Is it from Cartier?"

"Yes!" The babysitter beamed at you as she touched her pretty jewelry.

You smiled warmly at her.

"Did you buy it yourself?"

"Objection! Relevance?" The opposing lawyer clenched her fist. She was shaking, causing you to smile bigger. Guess she knew what was coming to her, huh?

"I'm getting there, Your Honor," said by you. Your expression screamed confidence that the judge was compelled to believe you.

"Overruled."

You continued.

"So...Ms. Son, did you buy that necklace? Or is it a gift?"

"Uh..." Chae-young's lips trembled. She was looking at Mrs. Kim, as if she was asking for her boss' help. "I-I bought it for myself..."

"I see." You nodded. Humoring her. "Do you have any other job aside from babysitting Kim Soobin?"

The nanny shook her head.

"N-No. I'm a full-time nanny of Mrs. Kim's son." Chae-young's lips were still shaking; her eyes were quivering as well.

"Hm, interesting..." You went closer to the witness. "That means you're earning what? Two hundred fifty dollars a month?"

"Objection, Your Honor! I still can't see the relevance of this!" Ms. Choi was losing her mind.

You turned to glare at her.

"Can’t you really see the relevance of this or are you just scared?"

You heard the judge's hit the gavel; she was calling your attention.

"Get to the point right now." The judge demanded at you. It was this or your statement was going to be sustained.

"I am merely establishing my point, Your Honor." Your voice was rough. "The necklace Ms. Son is wearing is worth four thousand three hundred dollars. I know because I have the same necklace and it took me, a lawyer, months!" You paused for a while just to emphasize the word months, "to buy it."

You turned to Chae-young when the judge remained silent.

"So tell me, Ms. Son, how can a full-time nanny like you who's earning minimum wage buy that kind of luxurious jewelry? Huh?" You were standing too close to the witness so Attorney Choi used this as an opportunity to object.

"Your Honor, she is badgering the witness!"

"Overruled." But the judge wasn't having any of it. "Answer the question, Ms. Son."

"I'm sorry!" The nanny's face twisted in fear. "Mrs. Kim bought it for me—"

"It's a gift!" Mrs. Kim blurted out, unable to contain her anger anymore. God. She hated you. "I bought it for her last month! It's my birthday gift for her!"

You smirked. Attorney Choi was panicking. She was caressing Mrs. Kim's hand, telling her to calm down.

Sadly, Mrs. Kim could not be stopped.

"Why am I explaining to you when you have no right to question my intention! It's my money so I get to decide what to do with it!"

She was yelling at you and it almost made you laugh. Why was she so defensive?

"May I remind you that you are a married woman, Mrs. Kim? You have to consider your husband's decision when it comes to spending that amount of money." You said this while glancing at the jury.

Base on their expressions, you knew that they agreed with you. This was a win on your side. One of the valid reasons of Seokjin for wanting a divorce was this. Mrs. Kim didn't know how to manage their assets.

You weren't done, though. You had to discredit the witness. You had to win the jury's side in all aspects.

"And you said you bought it last month for Ms. Son's birthday?" You shook your head, focusing your eyes at the nanny.

"Tell us, Ms. Son, when is your birthday?"

Mrs. Kim's face became pale upon hearing your question.

"January seventeen...”

You turned your attention back to Mrs. Kim again.

"Your birthday present is many months late, Mrs. Kim. Either that or you're just lying to hide the fact that you gave Ms. Son the necklace in exchange of testifying against your husband—"

"Objection—"Attorney Choi tried to stop you, but you cut her off too.

"Isn't that right, Ms. Son? You are bribed by your boss to say that you always see Mr. Kim Seokjin drinking alcohol—"

"Your Honor—" The opposing attorney was losing control, her objections were drowning because of how loud your voice was.

"Mrs. Kim wants you to lie! To say that her husband isn't a good father! That he isn't a good influence to Soobin!"

"Yes!"

You stopped trying to pressure Chae-young because it already worked. She admitted the truth.

"Mrs. Kim bribed me!" The babysitter sobbed, looking at you like you were the Lord and she was a sinner.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I can't say no, please...please...I need this job!"

"You bitch!" Mrs. Kim abruptly stood up. She wanted to attack you; fortunately the security officers were able to stop her.

The jury was surprised to see Mrs. Kim's violent reaction. You, on the other hand, didn't even flinch.

You were used to this kind of scene. Besides, you couldn't get sidetracked. You still needed to prove your point.

And so you faced the jury.

"Is this the kind of person that you want to raise a sweet, innocent five year-old kid?"

One of the members of the jury clutched her chest. She was affected by what you had said. Truthfully, they were almost decided to grant the sole custody to Mrs. Kim; however, upon seeing the latter's behavior, the jury was having second thoughts now.

"Just look at her!" You pointed at Mrs. Kim who was still seething with rage.

"She constrained an adult! Imagine the bad things she could force Soobin to do! Mrs. Kim is a manipulator!" You raised your voice dramatically.

"My actions are nothing compared to what that asshole is doing!" Mrs. Kim screamed as she angrily pointed at her husband.

She was crying.

Kim Seokjin was quiet. He was shocked by your responses. He didn't expect you to be this bold. You were different from the lawyer he thought he knew.

You didn't have any limit. You didn't know when to stop just to prove a point.

"He's teaching my son that it's okay to be unfaithful to your wife! Jury, please!" Mrs. Kim was desperate. "Don't let him come near my son! He's a drunken bastard!"

The judge was hitting the gavel again. There were too much drama and unnecessary comments from Mrs. Kim.

You shook your head. You couldn't stop now. The jury was undecided. They changed their minds from time to time. You could see sympathy in their eyes as they looked at the wife.

"Mr. Kim Seokjin is sober! You should be ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Kim! You keep blaming your husband when you're the reason why he turned alcoholic in the first place—"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Attorney Choi glared at you. "The attorney is assuming facts!"

You disagreed before the judge could say sustained.

"Am I?" You smirked at the judge before turning to your table to get your evidence.

Seokjin looked at you nervously.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing," groaned by your client.

You were blinded by your role as a lawyer, so you ignored Seokjin's plea.

"Don't do this..."

Seokjin was already too late.

"I have here the evidence that will prove that Mrs. Kim is the reason why her husband turned alcoholic."

You brought out the printed photos of Seokjin's beaten up face. Bruises, cuts, and other physical injuries were seen.

The jury gasped. Attorney Choi was groaning as she told the judge that these photos were not entered into evidence.

You were playing dirty, but so were they. Ms. Choi told you that they wouldn't bring Mr. Kim's sobriety issue in this court. She lied.

"These pictures are given to me by Mrs. Kim Sunghee, Seokjin's mother." You glanced at your client's mother.

"She knows that her son's wife was assaulting him. Seokjin didn't want to feel his wife's punches so he resorted to drinking the pain away. Mr. Kim just wants to be numb."

"N-No..." Your client's tears streamed down his cheeks. He was calling your name, begging you to stop.

It felt like everyone was begging you to stop; even Sunghee was shaking her head.

It was wrong. This was a mistake. Seokjin's mother realized this when Soobin began to cry. He was silently crying at first, but when the little boy saw the photos in your hand, he started hyperventilating.

"Appa!" Soobin's eyes dilated. He could barely breathe.

Mrs. Kim stood up to attend to her son.

"Soobin!" Mrs. Kim was wailing.

Things were becoming messy.

You didn't understand what was happening, so you just stood there.

"Appa! A-Appa is hurting!" Soobin was losing it; his eyes were rolling in the back of his head.

"Call 911!" Red shouted.

The noise was deafening.

You still didn't get what was happening.

Seokjin went near you.

"I told you not to do it!" He shouted, snatching the photos away from your shaky hands.

"This isn't about me or my wife!" Seokjin continued to scream at you.

You were stunned.

Your client was blaming you.

This is your fault! Seokjin said.

You were wrong. You didn't have to bring out these photos because apparently, Soobin knew.

He witnessed how his mom used to beat up his father.

The poor kid was traumatized.

He had to get some help.

His parents thought he had recovered.

It had been years.

The thing about trauma was, it never went away. It was there—silently sleeping and waiting for that one thing that would trigger it.

You triggered Soobin.

"I-I didn't know..." Your voice was low as you stated your excuse.

No one wanted to hear your lame excuse, not even Jeongguk.

You looked at your soulmate once.

You looked at him desperately.

You looked at him hoping that he would understand—like he would comfort you.

He would never.

Jeongguk had this look in his eyes, the kind of feeling that expressed disappointment.

Jeongguk was disappointed in you.

It was clear because right now, he was shaking his head as if you had done the most horrifying thing in the world.

He shook his head before leaving you all alone.

No one wanted to be with you.

You were a disgrace.