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foodandfolklore · 1 year ago

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Snow White or Snowdrop

I've been thinking more about the story Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It's such a famous fairytale, eclipsed only by Cinderella. It was also the story chosen for the first ever fully animated film. And that scene where Snow White makes a Pie with birds helping her, I always loved watching. Granted, the story and pacing is a little stale; which is understandable considering it was literally the first ever animated film. But the Visuals, I think, still hold up.

Anyways; as is well known, the Brothers Grimm are the authors of Snow White, along with many other pivotal fairytales. However, their stories were originally written in German. Their stories have been translated and retranslated by different people. The original German title of the story was Sneewittchen and later Schneewittchen.

In the hard copy of Brothers Grimm tales I have, published in 1940, the story is Called Little Snow White. However, I found an older version and translation where she is called Snow Drop. I'm not 100% sure why, as I am not fluent in German. However, perhaps the translator felt the name "Snow White" made no sense in English and opted for Snow Drop. The drop referencing the drops of blood (These stories have a weird pattern of mixing blood with something white like cream or snow and wishing for a woman). Thus may of been a localization choice.

Little things like this are good reminders about how things can get muddled in translation. But it's also important to remember localization is important. I don't think the 1938 Animated Film would of been as popular if it was titled Sneewittchen instead of Snow White.

Snow Drop (Snow White)

It was the middle of winter, and the snowflakes were falling from the sky like feathers. Now, a Queen sat sewing at a window framed in black ebony, and as she sewed she looked out upon the snow. Suddenly she pricked her finger and three drops of blood fell on to the snow. And the red looked so lovely on the white that she thought to herself: ‘If only I had a child as white as snow and as red as blood, and as black as the wood of the window frame!’ Soon after, she had a daughter, whose hair was black as ebony, while her cheeks were red as blood, and her skin as white as snow; so she was called Snowdrop. But when the child was born the Queen died. A year after the King took another wife. She was a handsome woman, but proud and overbearing, and could not endure that any one should surpass her in beauty. She had a magic looking-glass, and when she stood before it and looked at herself she used to say:

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall, Who is fairest of us all?’

then the Glass answered,

‘Queen, thou’rt fairest of them all.’

Then she was content, for she knew that the Looking-glass spoke the truth.

But Snowdrop grew up and became more and more beautiful, so that when she was seven years old she was as beautiful as the day, and far surpassed the Queen. Once, when she asked her Glass,

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall, Who is fairest of us all?’

it answered—

‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,But Snowdrop is fairer a thousandfold.’

Then the Queen was horror-struck, and turned green and yellow with jealousy. From the hour that she saw Snowdrop her heart sank, and she hated the little girl.

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall, Who is fairest of us all?’

The pride and envy of her heart grew like a weed, so that she had no rest day nor night. At last she called a Huntsman, and said: ‘Take the child out into the wood; I will not set eyes on her again; you must kill her and bring me her lungs and liver as tokens.’

The Huntsman obeyed, and took Snowdrop out into the forest, but when he drew his hunting-knife and was preparing to plunge it into her innocent heart, she began to cry:

‘Alas! dear Huntsman, spare my life, and I will run away into the wild forest and never come back again.’

And because of her beauty the Huntsman had pity on her and said, ‘Well, run away, poor child.’ Wild beasts will soon devour you, he thought, but still he felt as though a weight were lifted from his heart because he had [3]not been obliged to kill her. And as just at that moment a young fawn came leaping by, he pierced it and took the lungs and liver as tokens to the Queen. The Cook was ordered to serve them up in pickle, and the wicked Queen ate them thinking that they were Snowdrop’s.

Now the poor child was alone in the great wood, with no living soul near, and she was so frightened that she knew not what to do. Then she began to run, and ran over the sharp stones and through the brambles, while the animals passed her by without harming her. She ran as far as her feet could carry her till it was nearly evening, when she saw a little house and went in to rest. Inside, everything was small, but as neat and clean as could be. A small table covered with a white cloth stood ready with seven small plates, and by every plate was a spoon, knife, fork, and cup. Seven little beds were ranged against the walls, covered with snow-white coverlets. As Snowdrop was very hungry and thirsty she ate a little bread and vegetable from each plate, and drank a little wine from each cup, for she did not want to eat up the whole of one portion. Then, being very tired, she lay down in one of the beds. She tried them all but none suited her; one was too short, another too long, all except the seventh, which was just right. She remained in it, said her prayers, and fell asleep.

When it was quite dark the masters of the house came in. They were seven Dwarfs, who used to dig in the mountains for ore. They kindled their lights, and as soon as they could see they noticed that some one had been there, for everything was not in the order in which they had left it.

The first said, ‘Who has been sitting in my chair?’

The second said, ‘Who has been eating off my plate?’

The third said, ‘Who has been nibbling my bread?’

The fourth said, ‘Who has been eating my vegetables?’

The fifth said, ‘Who has been using my fork?’

The sixth said, ‘Who has been cutting with my knife?’

The seventh said, ‘Who has been drinking out of my cup?’

In the evening the seven Dwarfs came back.

Then the first looked and saw a slight impression on his bed, and said, ‘Who has been treading on my bed?’ The others came running up and said, ‘And mine, and mine.’ But the seventh, when he looked into his bed, saw Snowdrop, who lay there asleep. He called the others, who came up and cried out with astonishment, as they held their lights and gazed at Snowdrop. ‘Heavens! what a beautiful child,’ they said, and they were so delighted that they did not wake her up but left her asleep in bed. And the seventh Dwarf slept with his comrades, an hour with each all through the night.

When morning came Snowdrop woke up, and when she saw the seven Dwarfs she was frightened.

But they were very kind and asked her name.

‘I am called Snowdrop,’ she answered.

‘How did you get into our house?’ they asked.

Then she told them how her stepmother had wished to get rid of her, how the Huntsman had spared her life, and how she had run all day till she had found the house.

Then the Dwarfs said, ‘Will you look after our household, cook, make the beds, wash, sew and knit, and keep everything neat and clean? If so you shall stay with us and want for nothing.’

‘Yes,’ said Snowdrop, ‘with all my heart’; and she stayed with them and kept the house in order.

In the morning they went to the mountain and searched for copper and gold, and in the evening they came back and then their meal had to be ready. All day the maiden was alone, and the good Dwarfs warned her and said, ‘Beware of your stepmother, who will soon learn that you are here. Don’t let any one in.’

But the Queen, having, as she imagined, eaten Snowdrop’s liver and lungs, and feeling certain that she was the fairest of all, stepped in front of her Glass, and asked—

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,Who is fairest of us all?’

the Glass answered as usual—

‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,But Snowdrop over the fells,Who with the seven Dwarfs dwells,Is fairer still a thousandfold.’

She was dismayed, for she knew that the Glass told no lies, and she saw that the Hunter had deceived her and that Snowdrop still lived. Accordingly she began to wonder afresh how she might compass her death; for as long as she was not the fairest in the land her jealous heart left her no rest. At last she thought of a plan. She dyed her face and dressed up like an old Pedlar, so that she was quite unrecognisable. In this guise she crossed over the seven mountains to the home of the seven Dwarfs and called out, ‘Wares for sale.’

Snowdrop peeped out of the window and said, ‘Good-day, mother, what have you got to sell?’

‘Good wares, fine wares,’ she answered, ‘laces of every colour’; and she held out one which was made of gay plaited silk.

‘I may let the honest woman in,’ thought Snowdrop, and she unbolted the door and bought the pretty lace.

‘Child,’ said the Old Woman, ‘what a sight you are, I will lace you properly for once.’

Snowdrop made no objection, and placed herself before the Old Woman to let her lace her with the new lace. But the Old Woman laced so quickly and tightly that she took away Snowdrop’s breath and she fell down as though dead.

‘Now I am the fairest,’ she said to herself, and hurried away.

Not long after the seven Dwarfs came home, and were horror-struck when they saw their dear little Snowdrop lying on the floor without stirring, like one dead. When they saw she was laced too tight they cut the lace, whereupon she began to breathe and soon came back to life again. When the Dwarfs heard what had happened, they said that the old Pedlar was no other than the wicked Queen. ‘Take care not to let any one in when we are not here,’ they said.

Now the wicked Queen, as soon as she got home, went to the Glass and asked—

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,Who is fairest of us all?’

and it answered as usual—

‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,But Snowdrop over the fells,Who with the seven Dwarfs dwells,Is fairer still a thousandfold.’

When she heard it all her blood flew to her heart, so enraged was she, for she knew that Snowdrop had come back to life again. Then she thought to herself, ‘I must plan something which will put an end to her.’ By means of witchcraft, in which she was skilled, she made a poisoned comb. Next she disguised herself and took the form of a different Old Woman. She crossed the mountains and came to the home of the seven Dwarfs, and knocked at the door calling out, ‘Good wares to sell.’

Snowdrop looked out of the window and said, ‘Go away, I must not let any one in.’

‘At least you may look,’ answered the Old Woman, and she took the poisoned comb and held it up.

The child was so pleased with it that she let herself be beguiled, and opened the door.

When she had made a bargain the Old Woman said, ‘Now I will comb your hair properly for once.’

Poor Snowdrop, suspecting no evil, let the Old Woman have her way, but scarcely was the poisoned comb fixed in her hair than the poison took effect, and the maiden fell down unconscious.

‘You paragon of beauty,’ said the wicked woman, ‘now it is all over with you,’ and she went away.

Happily it was near the time when the seven Dwarfs came home. When they saw Snowdrop lying on the ground as though dead, they immediately suspected her stepmother, and searched till they found the poisoned comb. No sooner had they removed it than Snowdrop came to herself again and related what had happened. They warned her again to be on her guard, and to open the door to no one.

[8]When she got home the Queen stood before her Glass and said—

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,Who is fairest of us all?’

and it answered as usual—

‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,But Snowdrop over the fells,Who with the seven Dwarfs dwells,Is fairer still a thousandfold.’

When she heard the Glass speak these words she trembled and quivered with rage. ‘Snowdrop shall die,’ she said, ‘even if it cost me my own life.’ Thereupon she went into a secret room, which no one ever entered but herself, and made a poisonous apple. Outwardly it was beautiful to look upon, with rosy cheeks, and every one who saw it longed for it, but whoever ate of it was certain to die. When the apple was ready she dyed her face and dressed herself like an old Peasant Woman and so crossed the seven hills to the Dwarfs’ home. There she knocked.

Snowdrop put her head out of the window and said, ‘I must not let any one in, the seven Dwarfs have forbidden me.’

‘It is all the same to me,’ said the Peasant Woman. ‘I shall soon get rid of my apples. There, I will give you one.’

‘No; I must not take anything.’

‘Are you afraid of poison?’ said the woman. ‘See, I will cut the apple in half: you eat the red side and I will keep the other.’

Now the apple was so cunningly painted that the red half alone was poisoned. Snowdrop longed for the apple, and when she saw the Peasant Woman eating she could hold out no longer, stretched out her hand and took the poisoned half. Scarcely had she put a bit into her mouth than she fell dead to the ground.

The Queen looked with a fiendish glance, and laughed aloud and said, ‘White as snow, red as blood, and black as ebony, [9]this time the Dwarfs cannot wake you up again.’ And when she got home and asked the Looking-glass—

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,Who is fairest of us all?’

it answered at last—

‘Queen, thou’rt fairest of them all.’

Then her jealous heart was at rest, as much at rest as a jealous heart can be. The Dwarfs, when they came at evening, found Snowdrop lying on the ground and not a breath escaped her lips, and she was quite dead. They lifted her up and looked to see whether any poison was to be found, unlaced her dress, combed her hair, washed her with wine and water, but it was no use; their dear child was dead. They laid her on a bier, and all seven sat down and bewailed her and lamented over her for three whole days. Then they prepared to bury her, but she looked so fresh and living, and still had such beautiful rosy cheeks, that they said, ‘We cannot bury her in the dark earth.’ And so they had a transparent glass coffin made, so that she could be seen from every side, laid her inside and wrote on it in letters of gold her name and how she was a King’s daughter. Then they set the coffin out on the mountain, and one of them always stayed by and watched it. And the birds came too and mourned for Snowdrop, first an owl, then a raven, and lastly a dove.

Now Snowdrop lay a long, long time in her coffin, looking as though she were asleep. It happened that a Prince was wandering in the wood, and came to the home of the seven Dwarfs to pass the night. He saw the coffin on the mountain and lovely Snowdrop inside, and read what was written in golden letters. Then he said to the Dwarfs, ‘Let me have the coffin; I will give you whatever you like for it.’

But they said, ‘We will not give it up for all the gold of the world.’

Then he said, ‘Then give it to me as a gift, for I cannot live without Snowdrop to gaze upon; and I will honour and reverence it as my dearest treasure.’

When he had said these words the good Dwarfs pitied him and gave him the coffin.

The Prince bade his servants carry it on their shoulders. Now it happened that they stumbled over some brushwood, and the shock dislodged the piece of apple from Snowdrop’s throat. In a short time she opened her eyes, lifted the lid of the coffin, sat up and came back to life again completely.

‘O Heaven! where am I?’ she asked.

The Prince, full of joy, said, ‘You are with me,’ and he related what had happened, and then said, ‘I love you better than all the world; come with me to my father’s castle and be my wife.’

Snowdrop agreed and went with him, and their wedding was celebrated with great magnificence. Snowdrop’s wicked stepmother was invited to the feast; and when she had put on her fine clothes she stepped to her Glass and asked—

‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall,Who is fairest of us all?’

The Glass answered—

‘Queen, thou art fairest here, I hold,The young Queen fairer a thousandfold.’

Then the wicked woman uttered a curse, and was so terribly frightened that she didn’t know what to do. Yet she had no rest: she felt obliged to go and see the young Queen. And when she came in she recognised Snowdrop, and stood stock still with fear and terror. But iron slippers were heated over the fire, and were soon brought in with tongs and put before her. And she had to step into the red-hot shoes and dance till she fell down dead.

#fairytale #folktale #snow white #snowdrop #magic miror #brothers grimm #food and folklore #pie #folklore #kitchen witch #November #name translation #klickwitch #witch #cottagecore

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ask-de-writer · 1 year ago

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WIND MEETS THE ROM : Part 24 of 27 :

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WIND MEETS THE ROM

Part 24 of 27

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat

54212 words

Writing begun 06/01/18

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from Part 1, here!

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They were working Hanar's booth while waiting for Rose to finish making Wind's bow and arrows.

By way of simple gossip, Wind remarked, “Rose has already started to make some boxes out of that opalized wood that she bought this morning. They are lovely.”

“Wind, dear, I thought that she was working on your new bow and arrows.”

“She will be, Hanar. Just as soon as she gets a box or two made up. Priorities, you know. She has a new material to play with. A lot like you with a new dance step.”

Hanar chuckled, “Not just me, dear. Those sways and slides are spreading faster than wild fire with a strong wind behind it. Apparently Marchhare mentioned them to De Writer and he has been telling all the Rom bands about them!

“We are going to be busy every time that we meet a different band, teaching them how to do sways and slides. And those bands will teach any bands that they meet.”

While Wind was realizing with some awe that the enthusiasm that she had seen was only the tip of the iceberg, she saw a filly and two colts from Sando's band setting up a blanket to do some busking. The two colts had a lyre and one of the Rom's deceptively tricky double drum sets.

As the music began, with flourishing sashes the filly began her dance. She was dancing to Wind's Wings and brilliantly incorporating the new sway and slide steps!

Wind nodded toward the youngsters, “You are right. Those foals are from Sando's band, if I remember correctly.”

Hanar shook her head in agreement as she measured off a length of cloth for a customer. “They are, Wind. Could you cut this for me? I don't want to put it down to get my shears.”

Wind absently reached over with her metal hand. A claw sprang out of the tip of her index finger and sliced the stretched fabric precisely.

Barely even pausing, she casually slapped the nose of town pony who was trying to swipe a few of Hanar's coins from her cash box. The coins fell back with a tinkle as the unicorn yelped!

Hanar smiled as she folded the fabric. “Thanks, Wind. I always wonder why such a prosperous town as this has so many poor ponies that need to steal from us. Surely their towns can take care of them.”

The foals that were following Wind about interrupted with laughter. “Won't no pony hire him! All that he ever does is drink his money away!”

That brought Wind pause. She quietly reflected that she had not seen or heard of any Rom getting intoxicated on any substance.

She asked Hanar, “I have seen town ponies getting drunk on that, what do they call it? Locoweed beer. Why don't any Rom?

Hanar tapped her Freedom with reverence. “When we get the Freedom, we have to promise to do the best that we can at everything that we do. If you fog your mind, you can't keep that promise. Marchhare, De Writer or both of them will know.” She shuddered all over as she finished, “Worse, they will be disappointed.”

Wind thought about that for only a few moments. Shaking her head, she agreed, “I had not thought of it that way, but you are right. I would hate to disapoint them.”

It was only a few more minutes before Myest strolled down the midway from his forge. He was carrying a beautiful recurve bow and two quivers of arrows in his magic.

Wind, looking them all over carefully, was impressed. She asked, “That is beautiful work. I am not even going to ask how you managed to bond the steel laminations to these wooden ones. What is that wood? It doesn't look quite like Blackwood.”

He beamed as he replied, “It is a close relative of Blackwood. It is tougher and springier but not quite as hard. It has prettier grain than Blackwood does, too.”

Wind agreed, “It sure does. The grain patterns really go well with the swirly weld patterns in the steel laminations there.” She stepped between the bow and the loose string, carefully fitting it into the nocks of the bottom limb and putting the bow under tension as she slid the top loop of the string into its nocks. Flexing her arms and shoulders first, she held the bow in her flesh hand and drew back the string to a chin anchor, held it for a few seconds and gently let it relax. She repeated the exercise twice more.

Selecting a target arrow, she laid it across the rest and nocked it to the string. Smiling happily, Wind pulled the arrow back, aiming at a bale of hay about forty meters away. The thump of the arrow burying itself in the bale was almost instantaneous after her release!

Whistling a happy little tune, Wind went up to the bale to retrieve her arrow. It was sticking almost all the way out on the backside of the bale!

Taking her arrow out carefully, she sauntered back to the waiting foals.

With a serene smile, she pulled and shot all five of her target arrows in quick succession. Up at the bale, she tipped it up for all to see. All five arrows were standing up from the bale in a tight group. She carefully recovered them all, placing them in her quiver and returning to the waiting foals and others who had gathered to watch.

She noticed that an RRP pegasus had joined the crowd that was watching her. He told her, “I'm corporal Hayes, Mam. I will be magic detecting while you are shooting. If somepony tried a prank on you with those arrows ponies could get seriously hurt.”

Wind smiled at him and replied, “Thank you, corporal. That does set my mind to rest. Do you know where I can get some willow withies? I want to make some hoops to hold moving targets.”

He smiled, “What? Something that Rom don't make?”

Wind grinned as she retorted, “They likely do, I just haven't seen it yet!”

“Well give Rushy Glen a try, up the midway there, about ten spaces. She does wicker works.”

Bobbing her head in thanks, Wind trotted up the midway and easily spotted Rushy Glen's booth. Her wicker work was truly excellent. Wind paused to check the tightness of the weaving and the neatness of the forms that she made in her wicker work.

Shaking her head in admiration, Wind told her, “This is wonderful work. I have never seen wicker this well done in all of my travels. I need three simple hoops about a meter across. What would they cost and how soon can I get them?”

Rushy looked out from under her light yellow forelock as she replied, “I can do them in about ten or twenty minutes. They will cost one silver, five. Do you want anything else?”

Wind pointed at her display, “Yes, I want those three baskets too. How much for all of it?”

“Those three and the hoops? Three silver, four. Why not get something from one of your Rom friends?”

Wind smiled as she pulled the coins from her pouch, “Because none of them makes baskets this good, that's why. Rom always buy the best, if they can. I will send some of my friends who need basket work up here.”

“You are serious? Me? Better work than a Rom?”

“Dead serious. You prove that town ponies CAN do first rate work. Most just do 'good enough' rather than their real best. The Rom just really do their best at whatever they do. They do have some secrets but the real secret of their success is never doing a slipshod piece of work.”

Rushy Glen nodded as she pulled willow wands out of a soaking tub and started weaving them together in a sort of complex braid. It was not at all long before Wind's first hoop was ready. Setting it aside, she began the second.

Wind watched a master of wicker in delight as Rushy Glen finished up her last hoop.

Rushy Glen's eyes went wide as Wind packed her largish baskets into her innocent looking bag of holding. Her customer happily rolled her hoops down the midway back to the Rom encampment.

Things were slow for a little before another Rom wandered up, looked over her basketry and thoughtfully selected several. Before the day was out, she was busy, frantically but carefully weaving more baskets to replenish her stock!

In the meantime, Wind set up her targets in the centers of her new hoops and had Corporal Hayes take them behind a tree for safe shelter. One at a time, he rolled the springy, bouncing hoops across in front of her. Wind bided her time on each shot as the hoops leaped and bounded from the tufts of grass in the meadow in front of her.

When the last of the hoops had bounded to a stop, Corporal Hayes gathered up both the hoops and the arrows. He gave the arrows to Wind and set the hoops up against the inner rope ring where everypony could see what Wind had done. Of the three, two were in the yellow ring and one was a bull's eye! Pasting dots of paper over the holes, Wind silenced any comments about luck by repeating the performance four more times.

Hanar cheerfully circulated through the crowd with Wind's donation box! The tinkle of coins was music to Wind's ears!

An off gray earth pony snorted in a disparaging way, “That ain't impressive! You done it too easy. Now, if you was blindfold, that would be worth watchin'!”

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#WIND MEETS THE ROM #Part 24 of 27 #MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer

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covecampfire · 9 months ago

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So I watched the new ATLA

{SPOILERS AHEAD}

Preface: I just finished binging it with my Mom. It's been AGES since I've watched The Legend of Kora, so I've forgotten pretty much everything about it. I haven't done much research past the lore already present in the show. Cause of everything above, this is gonna be a preeeetty basic overview, but I needed to get this out or I'd INTERNALLY COMBUST.

The Good:

The MUSIC oh my GOD. Same composer as last time if I remember right, and it's WONDERFUL. It mimics the same motifs present in the original show, but it has its' own special twists - either being played in a slightly different note, or contining a whole new additional composition. [For more neat stuff about the original shows' score, check out this video by Sideways:

youtube

Generally, the costumes are great, and pull a lot of inspiration or directly copy many different Asian cultures, ranging from Japanese to Indian.

The CGI is AMAZING most of the time. All of the elements look and behave realistically, and look like they do ACTUAL damage. The fire actually burns, and the severity depends on the length of exposure to the flame. The water dampens clothes. The earth looks IMPENETRABLE. The air causes such a physical recoil to whoever encounters it that it LOOKS painful. Not to mention the water healing scene with Katara was done beautifully - as if the wound melted away with the water.

Most of the casting was great physicality-wise: Jett, Aang, Katara, Sokka, Iroh, and especially Ozai and Suki.

Momo was a cute little bean, aw.

The fight scenes were engaging due to the choreography, use of quick camera angles, and pace of time.

Jetts' fight scene had me geeking out because I've always LOVED his weapons, and he did the SPINNY THING WITH THEM!

The slight humor in it was usually enjoyable.

The scenery was PHENOMENAL. Drop dead GORGEOUS.

I loved Monk Gyatso. That's all. To play Pai Sho with him and a cup of tea would be a day well spent.

HEI BAI. OH MY GOD.

The Ehh:

At least for Katara and Sokkas' clothing during the initial "Aang waking up in village" bit, it looked too clean. No visible stitching, wear and tear, or anything. It meant to be handmade, and yet it looks more like a costume. Later on, it improves.

Another nitpick on the wardrobe: I hate Sokkas' shoulder plates. They look like they're made out of painted styrofoam.

Generally, it felt like the acting fell flat a bit. The tone didn't land right most of the time, and the only way I can put it is it seemed "disingenuous". (There's definitely a better way to word that lol.)

Sokkas' humor. :( Barely there. I understand that this show is toneally different from the original, but :(.

Katara isn't as "snippy" or loud as she was in the original - and that's one of the reasons why I loved her so much in the original. Another :(.

Irohs' moments of wisdom early on felt very forced. As if he was putting on a "wise voice", and moving his eyebrows to sell the point.

Irohs' humor also felt forced, when it came to tea among other things.

General Zhao wasn't intimidating at all. I feel the casting was poor for it, as he came off as more of a slimy, sleezy politician (which, yeah he is), instead of a mostly strong, intimidating, warmongering Admiral. Was generally uninterested in his character.

Many of the characters felt OOC. (Ex: Sokka and Katara in the Secret Tunnels, with Katara being more "science-believing" in the glowing stones, while Sokka fully believed in the "light of love".)

In exchanging the story for the runtime, it often felt confusing and odd with the pacing, especially for people like me who have watched the original show. Mushing up multiple episodes (some not even from the first season!) into one episode felt rather messy and disjointed.

ZUKO ISN'T ANGRY. Like ???. Literally most of his arc??? Where'd it go??

There's probably more I could say on this, but it's getting late and I'm tired. Overall, I'd say it's:

Zukos' scar looks more like a birthmark than anything? In the show, it was shown to literally change the way his eyelid functions, and it is puckered on his skin. Plus, the whole "oh they got some healing salve so you can see fine lol" felt like a weird way to solve that issue that people have been talking about for years? Idk.

Appa looks odd. I want to say it's the animation of the fur? Like, it catches the light in an odd way, and it moves weird. I know fur is super hard to animate, but- still. Odd.

~Odd, but Entertaining~

Would I watch it again? Yeah, probably. The visual effects really tied it in for me, since I'm a sucker for it. But most of the performances and storytelling causes it to fall flat. Overall, I'd say it's a 7/10. I'm still glad I watched it - I enjoyed it. Happy to hear what y'all thought too! :)

Edit:

I FORGOT THIS I WAS LAUGHING MY ASS OFF AT THIS - BEST PART IN THE ENTIRE MOVIE! 😭

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russellsppttemplates · 2 years ago

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I care about being with you (Mick Schumacher)

Mick just wanted you to have a special night but he soon figured out that all that you needed was eachother

Note: english is not my first language, here is some fluffy Mick content that I hope you like. I'm trying to go through the requests and Mick is the chose for some of them so you'll read about his cutie a few more times 🤍

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so but know that I'm not certain when I'll be able to tend to them!

"I'm sorry, my love, I'm going to have to leave work a little later. I can meet you where you wanted to take me", you apologised as you looked at the new file that just came in that needed some urgent tending to, "No worries, darling. Do you have an idea of when you'll be ready?", your boyfriend softly asked, "in about an hour so... around 35 minutes after the time we originally scheduled", you cringed, really hating to not be on time and not keeping your promises, saying your goodbyes and you cracked on with work.

As you were leaving the building, you looked for Mick's car, noticing it when your handsome boyfriend was looking in the boot for something before he noticed you, "Hello gorgeous, how was your day?", he said as he presented you with a bunch of flowers, "Oh Mick, you didn't have to! Thank you, thank you, thank you!", you beamed as you kissed him repeatedly, the few people on the street granting you both the security for such displays of affection, "Thought I'd treat you since you were working late", he said as he opened the passenger door for you, "but you already had planned a date for us, which you have told me nothing about by the way, and you still gift me these, you really are the best, thank you for waiting for me", you said as you kissed his lips one last time before he closed to door so he could hop in the driver's seat and drive through the streets. "It's a surprise for you, for us really. I know we haven't been spending much time together with the triple header and all", he explained while his hand went over the gearshift and landed on your suit cladded thigh, squeezing it as you placed you hand on top of his, "You know we don't need anything special, or a surprise for that matter", you reasoned, all while still feeling incredibly giddy at his efforts, "but I like treating you". Mirroring his smile, you asked "and are you going to tell me where we are heading?" when you noticed he was looking for a parking place, not recognising this part of the city that well, "we have to walk a bit it seems, but I'll show you when we get there", he said as he seamlessly parallel parked his car, checking everything before you two headed out. The chillier night prompted you to hug your boyfriend by his waist, the warmth he was providing comforting and relaxing your muscles immediately, "and then Angie just jumped, she must've not heard me because she was so scared when it dropped", Mick told you about how the Australian Shepherd got scared by a pillow that fell on the floor, "My poor baby, bless her", you cooed, imagining her movements in your head as you finished the ten minute walk, Mick stopping in front of a bookshop, "this is a new shop and I thought you might like to visit it, I was here the other day and it reminded me of you", he said, blushing as you looked in awe at him, "I love it! And I love you, thank you!", you squealed, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss his pink lips, grabbing his arm as you hurried, "C'mon, let's see inside!", the driver chuckling at your excitement.

"Look, I've been wanting to read this one for the longest time! And it's the pretty cover I like too!", you said as you took a copy for yourself before Mick tried to snatch it from your hand, "you're not paying for this, I'm not letting you", you said seriously and Mick knew better than to argue with you despite wanting to treat you a little bit more. You were showing Mick a book you thought he would enjoy reading when the power in the book shop went out, and after waiting for a bit, one of the employees came to tell you that there had been an electrical issue that they couldn't fix right away, telling you that unfortunately you had to come another day since the sales system was not working either, apoligising for the inconvenience.

While you and Mick headed back to his car, "Well, that was unfortunate", he said, "If I hadn't left work that late we could have come earlier and that wouldn't have happened", you frowned as your boyfriend was quick to touch your cheek, "none of that, it could have happened any other time, now it just means that we can go and get food at that restaurant we really like!", he revealed the next part of the date, "the one with the pasta dish?", you wondered, doing a little happy dance once he nodded.

Parking in front of the restaurant, Mick got out of the car quickly so he could open your door for you, "thank you mister", you said as you clasped his hand in yours, heading to the front door while you thought the restaurant was quieter than usual and realising that maybe the weekday was the reason behind it, heading to the door only to realise it was closed, "what do you mean it's their day off? I booked a table", Mick mumbled as he grabbed his phone, checking the app where he had made the reservation, you looking at the screen too, "Mick, my love, today is the twentieth, not the twenty-first", you pointed out to him with your nail on the phonescreen, the reservation dating the next day, "I can't believe that", he groaned, "hey, at least dinner for tomorrow is sorted", you smiled as you kissed his cheek.

Heading back to the car, you sat inside as you thought of what to do, noticing a pizza place just across the road, a couple leaving the shop with a pizza box, "How about we go and get one? And then we can eat here, it'll be more private", you suggested, seeing a small smile apper on his face. You only had to wait for 20 minutes before the waiter brought your pizza in a box for you, paying him and wishing him a goodnight before Mick and you headed back to his car, the box placed on the arm rest over the center console as you both ate your slices while talking about random subjects that came up, "today's date took an interesting turn, first the power issue, then I book the wrong date, I'm sorry schatz, I just wanted to get this really nice evening for you", he apologised and you had to stop him right there, "Mick, love, handsome, man of my dreams", you said as you tried to make him cease his ramble, "I couldn't care less that we're eating pizza in the car, I care about being with you and spending time with you, I don't care where", you said as you wiped your hands on the wipes you kept in your purse o you could cup Mick's cheek, your thumb rubbing on his smooth skin before you kissed his lips, a groan leaving his throat as you came up for air, the smirk on his face guaranteeing you of a good night ahead.

#mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fic #mick schumacher fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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chaeryybomb · 3 years ago

Text

BRUTAL

pairings: female reader x best friend!jungwon

summary: they told you that these were the golden years, but to you "golden" was a rusting metal spray painted yellow. the story of a seventeen year old trying to survive high school when all you do is try your best. but your best friend jungwon makes it worth the while.

genre: high school au, friends to lovers, fluff, tiny bits of angst if you squint, attempt at humour

featuring: jang wonyoung, kim sunoo & nishimura riki

word count: 4.5k

warnings: reader having a existential crisis most of the time, strong language, mentions of insecurity

the sour series masterlist

You slumped forward the moment the bell rang, letting your head hit the table. You could care less if a bruise would form on your forehead, you had much bigger things to worry about. Your teacher left the class wordlessly as the class was busy doing their own thing. And by that, everyone was buried nose deep in studying. You lifted your head to see the different books of the same topic scattered on your desk, a yellow highlighter balancing on the edge of your table.

Reaching over to grab the highlighter, you turned your head over to the side to look at your desk mate. Wonyoung sat there looking straight out from a k-drama, with her hair flowing down her back perfectly and her slender nimble fingers moving as she continuously wrote in her notebook. She was smart too, fluent in English and Korean, great at maths and science. And on top of that she was kind and friendly, everyone loved her. You did too, you had the honour of calling her your best friend. But sometimes you felt insecure around her, everything she did looked flawless and there you were just trying your best.

"Ack!" You yelped as you sat up straight, holding your forehead. Wonyoung rolled her eyes at you with a small smile on her lips, she had flicked your forehead to get you out of your thoughts.

Without taking her eyes off the textbook, she tapped your own workbook with her pen. Silently telling you to stop procrastinating. You pouted at her and looked at the clock, 10 minutes before lunch. Maybe a walk to the girl's bathroom would do you some good.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you whispered to Wonyoung. She nodded and smiled at you before you walked out.

As you strolled towards the girl's bathroom, you passed by the bulletin board outside your class. A bright blue poster stood out with the words "ENJOY YOUR YOUTH" in white. Scoffing at the message, you continued on your way.

"I'm seventeen now, where's my fucking teenage dream?" You muttered to yourself. You were tired of waiting for your life to end up like a coming of age movie. Everyone told you that these were the golden years and you should enjoy your youth, but you swear to god if you hear another one of those cheesy sayings, you might just cry on the spot.

Reaching over to open the stall door, you halt in your actions when you heard familiar voices talking.

"I'm so worried for finals, my parents are gonna kill me if I fail English again," a girl complained. You hear the sound of tap water running. "How are you so calm during this time, Mirae?'

"What's the use of studying hard anyways," the second girl, Mirae, said. "We all know the top spots are gonna be taken by Jang Wonyoung and Yang Jungwon, I just study enough to pass."

The other girl snorted at her reply. "Imagine if those two got together, the power couple of the year," she suddenly said.

"Poor Y/N then, she's gonna be over shadowed by them."

"As if she already isn't. I almost forgot they were a trio until you mentioned Y/N," the girl laughed.

"What can I say? They're out of her league," Mirae joined in with her laughter.

The two voices faded away as you heard the door closed. Finally pushing the door open, you looked at your reflection. Your eyebrows knitted in annoyance and your face was morphed in a scowl. You washed your hands aggressively and poked the inside of your cheek. What bugged you was that they were right. You were the black sheep between Wonyoung and Jungwon. Both of them were smart and amazing, and you're just…you.

You love your best friends, you truly do. But you were constantly compared to them and you hated it. Everyone wanted them, you watched as guys tripped over to confess to Wonyoung and girls squealing when Jungwon smiled at them. The two of them always reassured you that you weren't beneath them but you were sick of their sympathy. You're so caught up in the news of who likes you and who hates them. You just wished people liked you more.

Storming out of the bathroom, someone accidentally ran into you and caused you to fell onto your butt. The student immediately stood up and scurried off, not bothering to even a mutter an apology. All I did was try my best and this is the thanks I get, you thought bitterly.

They said that these were the golden years, but you wished you could just disappear. God, it's brutal out here.

"Y/N, wait up!" Jungwon called after you.

You stopped in your tracks as you watched Jungwon waved goodbye to some students before jogging towards you.

"You heading to cram school today?" He asked you as the both of you fell into the same walking rhythm.

You shook your head, clasping your hands behind. "I moved it to Thursday instead, Wonyoung said I had to many things on Tuesday," you told him. Originally, you would be heading to the library to study before heading over to the cram school. But Wonyoung took one look at your schedule and decided that you did not had enough breaks, so she managed to convince you to take the Thursday slot instead. Thursdays are one of the days where you would not go to the library.

Jungwon seemed to be disappointed to find out that you had switched slots. Maybe he should changed slots too, but does he have any empty spots open for Thursday though? He'd have to check later. Instead, he coughed and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Do you wanna come over later? The new Demon Slayer movie is out," he offered, hoping that you'd accept.

Unfortunately, you once again shook your head. "Sorry Jungwon, I'd want to cram even more later. Finals are really creeping in and I can't afford to waste any time," you told him with a sad smile. As much as you would like to ditch the books and watch Demon Slayer, the glaring C on your last history paper was telling you otherwise.

You stopped walking when you had reached your doorstep. "Thanks for walking me home, Jungwon. See you tomorrow!" and with that you disappeared behind the door.

Jungwon waved goodbye as he watched the door closed. The smile on his face dropped and his shoulder sagged. Jungwon you idiot, of course she would want to study, he scolded himself. With disappointment on his face, he trudged home with a heavy heart.

"Change of plans, guys," he announced as he swung the front door open, unfazed by the fact that Riki and Sunoo were lounging on his coach. He accepted the fact that Sunoo had somehow gotten the keys to his house (suspecting that his mother probably gave it to him due to favouritism or maybe Riki had sneakily made a copy).

Riki's head poked out from the couch. "She rejected you, didn't she," the younger boy said with a smirk.

Jungwon's face ears turned red as he glared at the boy. "No she did not!" He immediately told him. "She rejected the offer to watch the movie, that's different!"

"That's basically rejection, hyung," Riki laughed.

The other boy just glared at him. "Shut up!" he sputtered out before hiking up the stairs.

Sunoo gave Riki a look, to which the Japanese boy just shrugged his shoulders innocently.

Jungwon walked out from the shower, a towel around his neck with one hand running through his damp hair. Sunoo and Riki had left earlier, finally giving him some peace and quiet. His phone screen was flashing from his study table, initiating that someone was spamming him (quite aggressively) with text message. With a raised eyebrow, he picked up his phone

[7:09 pm] wonyoung: JUNGWON

[7:10 pm] wonyoung: WHY DID Y/N JUST MESSAGED ME ABOUT HOMEWORK

[7:10 pm] wonyoung: ISNT SHE WITH YOU

[7:11 pm] wonyoung: I THOUGHT YOU SAID U WERE GONNA WATCH A MOVIE

[7:11 pm] wonyoung: DEMON HUNTER OR SMTG

[7:12 pm] wonyoung: WHY IS SHE ASKING ME FOR HW

[7:12 pm] wonyoung: DID U CHICKEN OUT???

[7:13 pm] wonyoung: omg u chickened out didnt u

[7:14 pm] jungwon: jfc wonyoung

[7:15 pm] jungwon: and no i did not chicken out okay

[7:15 pm] jungwon: she declined

[7:16 pm] jungwon: she said she had to study ;-;

[7:17 pm] wonyoung: omg u suck

[7:17 pm] wonyoung: i told u the movie idea was dumb

[7:18 pm] wonyoung: but do u ever listen to me

[7:18 pm] wonyoung: no

[7:19 pm] wonyoung: and now u suffer the consequences

[7:20 pm] jungwon: yea yea i get it im dumb

[7:20 pm] jungwon: now what's ur solution the great jang wonyoung

[7:21 pm] wonyoung: i am so glad u asked :)

[7:21 pm] jungwon: oh no

[7:21 pm] wonyoung: stfu im giving u a better idea

[7:22 pm] wonyoung: a n y w a y s

[7:22 pm] wonyoung: my ynradar is going off and she's s a d

[7:23 pm] jungwon: how would u know

[7:23 pm] jungwon: she seemed fine today

[7:23 pm] wonyoung: stfu jungwon its best friend things u wont understand

[7:24 pm] jungwon: i-

[7:25 pm] wonyoung: and as her future bf u SHOULD start to train ur ynradar

[7:25 pm] wonyoung: anw its exam season stoopid

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and its when those kids start to talk abt how the both of us are gonna get top scores

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: and they talk down on y/n while doing so

[7:26 pm] wonyoung: assholes

[7:27 pm] wonyoung: so i propose to u

[7:27 pm] wonyoung: a ✨ study date ✨

[7:28 pm] jungwon: i

[7:29 pm] jungwon: that's

[7:29 pm] jungwon: actually not a bad idea

[7:30 pm] wonyoung: obv i came up with it

[7:31 pm] jungwon: can u not

[7:31 pm] wonyoung: anw a study date

[7:32 pm] wonyoung: she's struggling in maths

[7:33 pm] wonyoung: specifically taxes because she said and i quote

[7:34 pm] wonyoung: "why do we have to do taxes when we pay people to do it for us"

[7:34 pm] wonyoung: so pls help her and try to cheer her up

[7:35 pm] wonyoung: and confess coward

[7:36 pm] jungwon: i make no promises for the last one

[7:36 pm] wonyoung: aFTER EVERYTHING I JUST SAID

[7:37 pm] jungwon: what if she rejects me wonyoung

[7:38 pm] wonyoung: WE'VE HAD THIS CONVERSATION A LOT OF TIMES JUNGWON

[7:38 pm] wonyoung: SHE LIKES U BUT SHES TOO DUMB TO REALISE

[7:39 pm] jungwon: sigh

[7:40 pm] jungwon: fine i'll try thanks wonyoung

[7:41 pm] wonyoung: np i expect y'all to be a couple by next monday <3

[7:41 pm] jungwon: i-

Sighing for the nth time of the night, Jungwon sat on his bed. He allowed the towel to slipped off his shoulders as his thumb hovered over your chat icon. Truth be told, he always thought his crush on you was unrequited love. You never showed any signs of returning of feelings so he thought he would just ignore the feeling until it was gone.

But oh boy was he wrong, because he didn't knew that he would be spending his high school years by your side. And now you occupy his mind 24/7. Wonyoung could literally tell that he was in love with you, but somehow you never caught on. He allowed Sunoo and Riki to convince him to do the whole "movie date idea", but that failed. So Wonyoung's suggestion was his only option left.

He typed out the message, ready to send it out. If only he could just press the button. Come on Yang Jungwon, you can do this. Just press the damn button Jungwon. Suddenly his phone pinged loudly, scaring the lights out of the poor boy as he yelped and his phone landed with a thud on the ground. He peered over his bed, as if his phone was a ticking bomb.

Oh, it was a message from you.

[8:01 pm] y/n: hey do u know where wonyoung is

[8:01 pm] y/n: she isn't answering my texts

Oh no. He realised that your chat was open, the two ticks indicated that he had (unintentionally) read the message. He couldn't just leave you on read. That's just evil. Scrambling to get his phone, he immediately typed a reply to cover for the other girl.

[8:02 pm] jungwon: sorry i don't :/

[8:02 pm] jungwon: what do u need her for

[8:03 pm] y/n: mf was supposed to teach me a maths question but she left me on rEAD

This was his chance! It was the perfect opportunity for him to score a date with you. Okay, breathe in breath out Jungwon. Don't mess it up and just ask her, he mentally prepared himself.

[8:04 pm] jungwon: oh i could help you if you want

[8:04 pm] jungwon: yk with finals coming up and everything, i can help you study

[8:05 pm] jungwon: if you want of course

[8:05 pm] y/n: omg srsly??

[8:06 pm] jungwon: pls help me study my braincells are literally dying

[8:07 pm] jungwon: jdsjkda okay how about this saturday at your place?

[8:08 pm] y/n: yeah sure

[8:08 pm] jungwon: cool its a date then!

You blinked at Jungwon's message. A date? Wait, did Yang Jungwon just indirectly asked you out? Nah, nah. You were overthinking it. Yes, definitely overthinking. Don't kid yourself, why would Jungwon ask you out on a date? Jungwon is just a friend, you tried to convince yourself.

Keyword: tried.

If he really was just a friend, then why did it felt like butterflies were in your stomach when he said "it was a date"? Then why did you frowned when those girls said that Wonyoung and Jungwon would make a good couple?

Oh god, do you have feelings for your best friend?

Saturday came faster than you would have liked it to. Ever since that last chat with Jungwon, it gave you the sudden realisation that you did in fact had feelings for your best friend. You tried so hard to avoid him in school because you don't want the butterflies back in your stomach. It was basically confirming the fact that you like him. Well, avoiding him also confirmed the fact but you choose to be in denial about it.

You didn't tell Wonyoung about your study date but lately she's been sending you outfit ideas on Pinterest. Specifically, date outftis. And whenever you tried to ask her a question about school, she brushed you off with a random excuse. So it left you no choice but to save those questions for Jungwon.

Speaking of Jungwon, he had texted you 10 minutes ago that he was on the way. You were standing in the middle of your room with your hands on your hips. Both of your parents were out for the day, which left you alone at home. You had taken out the low table to be used later and it was currently in front of you. Colourful workbooks were neatly stacked on top of it.

You did a 360 turn around your room. Was it messy? You cleaned it this morning when you woke up. Did you had any clothes out? No, doesn't look like it. For some reason, you were a nervous wreck. You blamed Jungwon. He just had to call this a date, didn't he.

Should you change? Maybe you should finally look through all those pins Wonyoung sent. Wait, no, why would you have to change into something nice. Jungwon was here to help you study, just that.

Yeah, a study date, your mind emphasised on the word.

The sound of the doorbell pulled you out from your thoughts. You immediately went to open the door. Yang Jungwon stood there on the other side, with his signature smile. Had he always resembled a sheep? He just looked so fluffy.

"Hey!" You greeted him with a smile, internally wincing at your way-too-enthusiastic voice.

But Jungwon didn't seem to mind it. "Hey!" he greeted back.

You moved to the side to let him in. "Thank you for having me," he said as he bowed then proceeded to remove his shoes.

"Uh, do you want anything? Water?" You asked him.

He shook his head.

"Ah, cool. Let's head to my room," you started to walk back to your room.

"Where are your parents?" He asked.

"Out," you simply replied.

That was when it dawned upon you, that your parents were not home. Leaving you and Jungwon, alone. Together. In your room. Alone. With the boy you potentially have a crush on.

"Y/N?" Jungwon tapped on your shoulder. You had stopped walking when you were suddenly washed over by your thoughts. Snapping out of it, you sent him a small smile before opening the room to your door.

The both of you shuffled into your bedroom, you sat down in front of the low table while Jungwon settled down next to you. He moved to take out his books then turned to you. "How about we do some studying and if you have any questions, you can ask me okay?" He said.

You nodded and flipped your own workbook open, immediately starting to work on the first question. Jungwon copied your action and a comfortable silence engulfed the both of you. As the time passed, you found yourself stuck on a certain maths question.

You slightly turned your head to the side to look at Jungwon. He was concentrated at doing his work, you felt a sense of deja vu while looking at him. He resembled Wonyoung when she was studying. At the thought of Wonyoung, you suddenly thought of what those girls said at the bathroom.

They would make a good couple, wouldn't they, you thought. The power couple of the year.

The butterflies in your stomach faded away into an uncomfortable feeling. Just the idea of them getting together already made you sick. You bit the inside of your cheek, you really did had feelings for him. And now it scared you because what if he doesn't feel the same. You made a mental note to consult with Wonyoung later, at least you hope that you'll allow yourself to tell her.

Jungwon must've noticed you staring and gently tapped your head with his pencil. A contrast to when Wonyoung painfully flicked your forehead.

"What's wrong? Are you stuck on a question?" He asked.

You leaned back a bit at the sudden action. You were so deep in your insecurities that you had totally forgotten about the literal problem sitting in front of you. Yet you couldn't even bother to ask him so you just shook your head. "I'm gonna get something to drink," you said instead.

Jungwon watched as you stood up, then decided to follow you as well. "I'll come along."

The boy joined you in the kitchen, perched on one of the island stools as you grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. He studied your movement as you worked around the kitchen. Your features were neutral, you weren't smiling nor frowning. But he could tell that your shoulders were tensed. Wonyoung was right, you did seem down. And he cursed himself for not noticing earlier.

"You okay?" His question made you stopped in a mid-pour stance, the can of soda was tilted but not enough for the contents to be poured out.

You brushed his question off and poured the drink into the cup. "Yeah," you hummed.

Unconvinced by your answer, he pried more. "You know you shouldn't care about what they say, right?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, pretending like you didn't understand where he was coming from.

"You're not below us, you know that right?"

You couldn't help but scoffed at his words. Jungwon's lips tugged downwards "I'm being serious here, Y/N," his tone was stern. "You shouldn't listen to what they say. You're more than just-"

The sound of the can being slammed down shuts him up. Your fingers tightened around the can as you looked at him. You didn't had the energy to hear him preach the same old "Don't Listen To Them" speech. You don't need his pity.

"I don't want to hear it, Yang Jungwon," you said through gritted teeth. Not sparing him another glance, you threw the empty can into the trash as you grabbed your glass.

As you walked past Jungwon, he suddenly reached out and held onto your forearm. "Y/N," he said softly. "Please tell me what's wrong."

You sighed and slowly turn around to face him, placing the glass back on the counter. You took in a deep breath before you opened your mouth. "I feel like I'm not enough," you finally said. "Everything I do just doesn't seem enough. All I'm doing is my best but it's just crushing my ego because everyone is telling me that you're better than me."

"I feel like no one wants me and I hate the way I'm perceived. It's always poor Y/N this and poor Y/N that's because everyone just sees me as your shadow and I fucking hate it. I only have two real friends," you gestured wildly. "And lately I'm a nervous wreck cause I keep comparing myself to the two of you. I'm not cool and I'm not smart, and I can't even parallel park!" You threw your hands up in frustration, the feelings you kept inside were pouring out like a waterfall.

Jungwon just stood there as he listened tentatively to every word. He didn't knew that you felt this way, bottling up all your emotions like that.

"And I'm so tired of people telling me to enjoy my youth and that these are the golden years. I might just fucking cry if I hear those words again," you finished ranting. It felt good, it felt like a weight on your heart has been lifted. Then you remembered that you just dumped all of it on Jungwon.

You opened your mouth to apologise to him but he surprised you by pulling him into his arms. At first you were standing stiffly at the sudden contact, but it took a millisecond for you to melt in his embrace. His arms were gently around your back and you returned the hug by wrapping your arms around his torso. The two of you stay in that position for awhile, relishing in each other's embrace. You definitely needed this hug.

Tightening your hold on Jungwon, you realised how important he was to you. He was your best friend and he was always there for you. It was stupid of you to compare yourself to him, when all he did was tried his best for you. The taller boy chuckled when he felt you rubbed your face into his shoulder, he involuntarily released a contented sigh. You felt one of his hands stroked your hair, it felt comforting. That action itself was enough for the butterflies to slowly settled back in you.

After a while, both of you finally (unwillingly) released each other. He pushed a strand of hair behind your ears and said, "You're wrong by the way." Which made you tilt your head in genuine confusion.

"You are cool and you are smart. You're like the coolest person I know. And no one thinks of you as our shadow, you don't hear it but I've always hear the juniors praising you for helping them and how enthusiastic you are," the way he delivered his words was filled with pure awe for you.

"And who cares if you can't parallel park. You didn't hear it from but Jay hyung failed his drivers test three times just because he couldn't parallel park," and that got a laugh out from you. Jungwon smiled proudly that he managed to make you laugh. "And you're wrong when you said no one wants you. I want you."

You blinked once, twice and thrice. He wanted you? "You're just saying that cause you're my best friend," you replied.

"No," he firmly said. "I like you, Y/N."

(Jungwon doesn't know where he got this sudden surge of confidence, but the mood was the perfect time for him to confess. It was a one time chance and he had to take it.)

You chuckled. "I like you too, Jungwon. We are friends aren't we?"

"No, Y/N. I like you. More than friends."

"Oh." Oh.

"Yeah," he scratched the back of neck awkwardly. Oh no, did you not feel the same way?

While you on the other hand, were malfunctioning on the inside. Your best friend just confessed to you and you were frozen on the spot. Why couldn't he had done it over text instead. If he had done it over text, then you could've left the message unread and you could've spammed Wonyoung for help. But the thing is that it wasn't over text and you couldn't just tell him to wait here while you panicked to Wonyoung in your bathroom.

Yang Jungwon likes you. And you like him too, right? Because if you didn't, your cheeks won't be heating up right now and your heart would have not be beating rapidly like it was going to break your rib cage any second. If you didn't like him, there would have never been butterflies in your stomach. Yeah. You like Yang Jungwon, you like him a lot.

"Me too," you whispered, it was soft but it was enough for him to pick it up. Jungwon eyes snapped to you, doe eyed filled with hope. "I like you, too," you said, this time louder. And you made sure you looked him in the eye when you confessed.

You watched as Jungwon's mouth morphed into a big grin. He let out a sigh of relief and dropped to his knees, surprising you. "Jungwon!" you squeaked, bending down to help him.

"I'm fine! I'm fine," he assured you as he stood up with your help. The grin on his face was still there. "It's just that … you like me," he breathed out. "You like me back, wow. I-I can't believe it."

Your face was definitely burning with embarrassment. You punched him lightly on the shoulder, turning away to hide your face. "Believe it, you dork. I like you, okay!" Somehow his grin was able to grew wider at your words, Gently, he took your hand in his.

"How about we stop this study date, and I'll take you out on real date?"

a/n: thank you so much for reading this <3

#enhypen #yang jungwon #jungwon #enhypen imagines #yang jungwon imagines #jungwon imagines #enhypen x reader #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #enhypen scenarios #yang jungwon scenarios #jungwon scenarios #jungwon fluff #enhypen fluff #yang jungwon fluff #chaeryybomb; the sour series

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills. warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened. “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch.

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive.

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still.

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

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neoaevis · 4 years ago

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How Much I Love You/Hate you

Word Count: 2654

Warnings:Smut(Use of the word slut, Boss kink, Over Stimulation, Male and Female receiving, Dom Mark, Pregnant Sex, Office Sex, Unprotected Sex(Don’t forget to wrap it), Cheating,Mentions of the word gold digger , Angst,Violence;punching and mentions of hurtful words(that’s it ig pm me for more)

!! NOT PROOF READ!!

A/N: Hello my dear bbys I finished the second chapter and I really hope y��all like it and just like I said it will be indiv story first and in around the third chapter we will see some interactions between our main characters but well lol depends in what I write, I really hope you enjoyed this as much as I did lol and please don’t hate me if you don’t also don’t copy any of my works,you may also chat me for suggestions or give me some asks of atw with things you are curious about and btw I will open the taglist so send me a message if you wish to be tagged enjoy💋

Chapter II

Day Before Heading To Korea

“That was amazing but can be better” Mark says as he stands up away from the girl that was shaking from the sex they just had. Mark was in a meeting that was honestly really boring when one of the intern that he has been flirting around with started palming him under the table that makes his eyes grow wide and his dick erect, originally he wanted to keep his dick inside his pants but she palmed her faster which made him hornier, so in the middle of the meeting he stood up and made everyone confused from his actions and people asking in small murmurs if something was wrong “Let’s continue this later, lunch break” he said with a loud enough voice.

He walked to the door signaling the girl to follow him into his office once she was inside he locks the door shut pressing the girl’s back to the door “What a fucking slut you are” he said with absolute dominance that makes the girl shiver ” I w-want you sir” she said as he tries to grab Mark’s face to kiss him in which Mark refused “You are not allowed to touch me” he removes his tie grabbing the girl’s hand and tying it hard enough that it will surely bruise, due to Mark’s action she feels her clit’s dripping wetness, Mark started by removing her blouse and tossing it just wherever, seeing the lace underwear she wore his eyes grew full with lust, he went to her neck hungrily leaving small marks as he unclasp her bra, he removes her skirt now carrying her towards the sofa near his table, he opens her legs harshly, rubbing her clit he said “Your this wet, I’ve barely done anything” he grinned, the girl was unable to open her legs from too much pleasure in which Mark reacted to by opening it wider “I’m going to punish you and make sure you will regret what you did” he exclaimed while ripping the girl’s panty, he sucked her clit harshly tightly grabbing her thighs, he then moves his tongue down her entrance which makes the girl release a loud moan, he stops and grabs her neck pulling it towards his face “You’re too loud do you want everyone in the office to know how dirty you are” his statement makes the girl’s voice hitch and even before she can give a reply he gets back to pushing his tongue in her entrance while rubbing her clit with his thumb, the pressure make the girl see stars all over ”I-I I’m cumming sir” she stated stuttering too much, Mark stops the girl felt the emptiness and she whined “You don’t get to cum yet slut” he said, he pulls her hair making her kneel he unbuttons his shirt and unbuckles his belt pushing down his pants with his boxer “Open your mouth” he orders as he pushed her towards his dick deep down enough for her to gag , he went on and on that the girl is now crying from how it’s too much but not wanting to stop as pleasure spreads all over her as Mark felt he was close the sloppier he got in pushing her, so she took the initiative to suck him on her own and not long after he came in her throat, saltiness filling her palate.

He pulls her bending her over his desk, he thrust inside her slowly before he slams harder and deep “S-sir you feel so good” his ego got boosted with her compliment thrusting harshly to make sure she would have a hard time walking and for her to learn her lesson, he grabs both of her boobs pushing her towards him deepening every thrust and soon after the girl clenched around Mark “You’re cumming huh?” “Y-yes” she said and Mark slaps her but really hard “You need to call me sir for you to cum” he said demanding her to follow “Y-ye yes sir please make this slut cum” soon after she cums and after a few more thrusts Mark follows, he gave her three more sharp thrusts befor pulling out.

“That was amazing but can be better” Mark says as he stands up away from the girl that fell down shaking from sex, “Your on the pill right” he inquired remembering he came inside her.

“Oh shit, I-I’m not on the pill sir” she said while she tries to stand up but fail, Mark then removed his tie from the girl and began collecting his clothes putting them back on one by one.

“I will tell my secretary to buy you some plan B make sure to take it” he said as he pulls his tie up signaling he will be leaving already.

“What if I don’ take it” she asked teasingly but Mark did not take it well slamming his palms towards the desk she is leaning to “Why did you fuck me is to get yourself pregnant for money?” he exclaimed, fear has spread across the girl’s face making her feel small.

Mark grabs his check in his desk and wrote 1 million dollars worth of money “Here’s the money so make sure to take it” he throws it towards her face.

“Are you just going to leave me, how about me right now or my panty at least” the girl said feeling pathetic and which Mark replied with a scoff giving her another check worth another million.

“I believe the money is enough now” he said walking away now and stopping before opening the door to say “I don’t care about you, what we did was just sex and nothing more so get out of here as fast as you can” and he left as anger spread all over him.

Flashback to College

Truth be told Mark is actually sensitive about pregnancy topics, there was this girl that he loved so deeply when he was just eighteen years old her name was Mina, he spent his youth loving and protecting her, she was poor unlike Mark which his parent’s disliked and protested that she was only a gold digger that is after his money, Mark even went through extreme lengths for her, from buying her expensive gifts to giving every part of him, even arguing with his parents every day and when she got pregnant when they were twenty he was extremely happy, he thought his life was complete with her not until one day when he went to her apartment he heard moans from her room “God, Mark doesn’t even know what we are doing, fucking around like this” said Mina “He is like a puppy following you around” exclaimed the man “Baby if not for his money I won’t be even fucking him, nor get pregnant plus you’re way better in bed” she said moaning, it made Mark really angry and pained, he slams the door open to which shocked the both of them.

“What the fuck did you just say y-you” he said as his voice breaks from too much pain that the love of his life gave him “Only loved me for money” Mina get’s herself off from the man as she tries to get close to Mark “ Mark no you, you heard wrong, I love you not because of your money” he pushed Mina away as he made eye contact with the guy making him punch him hard releasing all the anger “ I did not hear wrong, how dare you cheat on me” he said eyeing Mina, she begged Mark all over and over and the man she was having sex with said “Just leave that good for nothing asshole Mina” his words made every vein from Mark pop that’s why he punches the guy again and again and again in which the guy returned but Mark was overpowering as he threw more punches, Mina tried to stop them both but she was too weak to stop them soon after he gave the final punch that made the guy fall “I am not good for nothing, in fact I have money which both of you don’t have” he said in the most angry tone he has ever been, Mina and the guy was left shocked with his words they felt very belittle by it “And for you Mina, I loved you and all along my parents were right you are nothing but a gold digger” it made Mina cry even harder, regret filling her all over as she tried to reach Mark only to be pushed away hard enough that her belly hit the side of the bed, soon after that blood filled the room Mark was alarmed remembering his baby so he gave the ambulance a call. When they arrived in the hospital Mina was immediately checked and he found out his baby died his blood and flesh died, regret, blame and all different emotions filled him mostly blaming Mina if she did not cheat on him this will not happen. He left her that day returning to his parents because of how sorry he feels he defended her yet they were right all along, after that Mark has changed he no longer is the bubbly and friendly Mark he became a bad boy fucking every single girl not caring about them at all or would have a girlfriend but would cheat on them on multiple occasions, no relationship after Mina lasted as he thought all people care about is money not how he feels.

Day Before Heading To Korea

Walking he saw his secretary slash friend Taeil he immediately orders him to buy the plan B for the girl he just banged or just anything to prevent her from getting pregnant “Sir why do you fuck girls when you don’t want them to get pregnant” his secretary exclaimed “Come on Taeil don’t play innocent who knows you might’ve banged as much as I did or even more” he said teasing him to which Taeil returned with a huge shake of his head “Nope,nope I’m not like you and never will, well infact I am getting married soon” Mark was shocked not really believing Taeil so he slapped his arm “Your jokes are getting better” he laughed while Taeil had a straight face “Im not kidding my girlfriend really said yes and we are getting married” Mark stopped laughing with a face of disbelief that made Taeil chuckle now “Your gonna settle with someone now?” he questions “Hahaha Mark yes I am” he pats Mark’s shoulder “Wow, why is everyone around me getting married, you should know that the single life is way better” he said while clicking his toungue “Being single is indeed better, but when you love someone you would prefer to be with them every minute and every second and then it would be better for you because you love each other” he said lovingly making Mark laugh “You are madly in love hyung” he laughs “I bet when you meet your match you will also be madly in love with her” Mark shook his head showing a big X sign with his arms “Loving someone crazily will only kill you ,plus I know for sure all they want from me is my money” he said protesting and Taeil gave him a comforting smile before he turns his back to return to work.

Mark headed to the rooftop to get some fresh air while doing so he reminisce his past about Mina and Taeil’s words about him finding true love, discovering that there is indeed a part of him that wants to meet someone that loves him for him and not his money but before he could think more he shrugs it off and in que his phone rings and the caller was his Dad, he answers the phone.

Dad : “Son how have you been there in Canada?” his father questions with a giddy tone

Mark: “Here alive and well” he answers bluntly

Dad: “That’s good, how about the company is it doing well?” he questions further

Mark: “Of course it’s doing exceptionally well, is that all you have to ask” he ask as he sense there is something more with his phone call

Dad: ” Well uhm son I need you to come to Korea asap” he said as he cleared his throat

Mark: “How about our company here, it needs me dad” he said, but actually deep down he is not ready to come back to Korea because coming back means revisiting his past.

Dad: “I already fixed that, your brother is coming to Canada to manage the company”

Mark: “But Dad I’m not really sure I actually don’t want to go back”

Dad: “Look Mark, honestly I wanted to ask you kindly first to hear your first reaction but I just want to inform you that even if you say no, I want you to come home here as soon as you can”

Mark: “Dad but I- I ok fine yes I will come go to Korea as soon as I can but do I just leave?”

Dad: “Yes Mark and starting the day you come back here you will manage the company in Korea plus you need to attend a charity ball this week Saturday”

Mark: “ Ok Dad I get it” he said with a defeated tone

And his Dad hangs up, he doesn’t really want to go and feels very hesitant having an inner conflict with himself, his phone rang again and the caller this time is Taeil telling him to get back to the meeting as lunch break was already over, he endured several more meetings after another until it was finally over to signify his day will finally end. He went back to his office massaging the temples of his forehead as he sat down to think about the many things that bothers him, he then pages for Taeil through his phone, Taeil rushed to see him asking what are his orders for him, Mark stood up and told Taeil “Book me a flight to Korea tomorrow” Taeil took note of it as schok embodied him “Tomorrow sir? And Korea?” he knows that Mark hates Korea for the reason behind it being Mina but he repeated “Yes tomorrow to Korea also you are coming with me” he said as he grabs his things preparing to leave work “B-but sir why shall I come with you and how about my wedding?” he inquires worriedly “It’s part of your job as my secretary and as for you wedding if your soon to be wife loves you so much she can wait oh and make sure it’s a one way ticket” Taeil was very schoked with Mark’s action but before he can speak up more Mark was waves him goodbye making his exit.

The next day Mark woke up with a not so good mood, he made his secretary Taeil pack for him and for which Taeil cursed him for, after packing they head in to his car to drive to the airport Mark tried to get some sleep but he can’t seem to get some with all the flashback memories filling him, they arrived in the airport, checked in and headed to the first class seats of the plane, the whole plane ride was spent with drinking, sleeping and eating for he past 15hrs and after all that has passed he finally hears the flight attendant proclaim” Flight #127 to Seoul South Korea has now landed” and there he was in the land he long abandoned, the land filled with bright yet devastating memories, he shut his eyes preparing himself, as he finally left the plane he feels the jet lag kicking and decided to go to his parents house, just as he thought everyone was asleep due to the very dim lighting he was surprised by his parents with a huge “WELCOME HOME” banner, and he thought to himself “This is it Mark you are really here”.

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct mark #nct smut #nct angst #nct mark smut #mark lee smut #mark lee angst #nct fanfic #nct 127 smut #richkid #neosmutcollective #kpopcatalog

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isaterriblebore · 3 years ago

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Stex Appreciation Month Day 24 - Original Characters

Okay so I’ve never actually talked about my Stex OCs before... so here we go 😅

1. Barney

Barney was my first original character with @rrrrrumble. He’s a little steam train and he’s Rusty and CB’s kid (because I’m Rusted Brakes trash lol). They found him abandoned at the train station when he was about 3 years old and they took him in.

I don’t have any drawings of him but we headcanon him to look quite a lot like Bobby Collins’ Rusty (with Rusty sorta looking like Blake Patrick Anderson’s Rusty lol).

About Barney

His dream is to be a racer just like his dad and Rusty coaches him.

Due to CB’s closeness with Dinah, Barney calls Dinah ‘aunt Dinah (and Greaseball ‘Uncle Greaseball’). Greaseball has a soft spot for Barney (as he does with any kid tbh).

Dinah and Greaseball have a kid called Lovette. Barney and Lovette grow up together and are very close.

He hates sandwiches. When he was at the station he would have to steal sandwiches from passengers so he can have some food.

Rusty calls Barney ‘Little champion’

Barney is quite outspoken. He can be very cheeky more often than not but it’s all harmless fun.

Barney’s bedroom ceiling has stars painted on it because when he was living at the station, he’d count the stars until he fell asleep.

His favourite meal is spaghetti and meatballs because he loves helping to make the meatballs.

Rusty obviously sings ‘Starlight Express’ to Barney before bed.

He’s named after the station they found him at ‘Barnsboury station’.

2. Bolt and Broadcast

Bolt and Broadcast are mine and @bag-of-broadway-snacks original characters. Bolt is an Electric engine and Broadcast is an Electric brakevan and they’re Electra and CB’s two kids.

Credit for both drawings belongs to the amazing @bag-of-broadway-snacks 🥺

About Broadcast and Bolt

Bolt and Broadcast are twins

Bolt looks up to Electra a lot and wants to be just like them when he’s older. He likes to follow Electra around and copies his every move 🥺

Broadcast is always up to shenanigans and drags poor Bolt along with him.

They love to terrorise poor Krupp. Broadcast wraps himself around one of Krupp’s legs while bolt tries to zap him. Krupp just sighs and deals with it.

Broadcast loves to play with CB’s hair and makes it stick up in all different ways with the static.

Bolt loves playing with dolls but he’s very particular about how he plays with them and he gets into tantrums if things don’t do his way.

Bolt has mad tantrums and they are painful. It starts off with him stomping his feet and crossing his arms... then it’s downhill from there.

Broadcast makes Bolt pull him around everywhere which is good because Bolt learns how to pull.

I’m not sure if it’s a regular occasion but CB sometimes keeps the babies in a donut box.

Bolt and Broadcast have a little secret handshake 🥺

#stex appreciation month #starlight express #stex #stex oc

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gentlemen-of-lies · 3 years ago

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Gentlemen of Lies, chapter 1

British towns have weird names (Or last time I stay in a London hostel)

(Next chapter) (Prologue)

————

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

The café was further than Curt had originally thought, and getting lost down the maze of roads and blocks of flats didn’t help him with time keeping. He was already running late after spending twenty minutes- not getting dressed like he was supposed to- but instead fuming over the fact that he’d forgotten half of his clothes at home. All he had were a pair of trousers and thankfully a new pair of underwear. But other than that and his coat, he had to wear what he had on last night, and it was starting to feel like cardboard.

Needless to say, he failed in his attempt at not looking a mess. He was unshaven and all he could do with his dishevelled hair was try and flatten it down with the palm of his hand. He was chewing on a mint as he raced into the café, out of breath, ten minutes late, and stinking of whiskey.

He spent a few seconds pulling himself together before scanning the room, ignoring the looks he was getting from customers. He had to figure out which one of these people were his new partner. He did a mental count. Four customers, one waiter and a person behind the counter. Six possible people. One of the customers had a child. So it was most likely five possible people. That wasn’t too difficult.

“I hear the weather in Teignmouth is particularly bad,” he greeted the guy behind the counter, in a British accent that he’d been instructed to use, but which he’d completely forgotten about until now- once again hoping that Cynthia didn’t find out. He thought his accent was pretty good, he had to be good as a spy of course, but he still received a slightly confused stare. And no reply. Or at least, not the reply Curt needed. So it wasn’t the bartender.

“Right...” was all the man had to say. Curt put his mind at ease by immediately changing the subject and ordering a coffee. The man raised his eyebrows, nodded and turned to where the coffee beans were kept. Curt resumed his search, and his eyes landed on a man sitting in the far corner of the restaurant.

A young looking man, perhaps around his age. Dark hair, brown cap over his eyes. Certainly very secretive looking. Curt decided he was his best option, hoping his decision was right; he could get away with a slightly eccentric opening statement to the bartender, but not to a complete stranger. As if he needed to lose his dignity any more today.

He tried to smarten himself up as much as possible, so even if he had got the wrong person, he hopefully wouldn’t look too ridiculous. Curt cleared his throat just before he reached the man, and once again put on his mock accent.

“I hear the weather in Teignmouth is particularly bad.”

“To travel there you’d have to be mad.” Curt breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god. He sat down opposite from the man, just as the waiter came over to give Curt his coffee. Curt gave a swift thank you, and turned back to the man, still hiding underneath his cap.

“So... you’re who I’m teaming up with?” Asked Curt, a little awkwardly. It wasn’t like him to lack any sort of confidence, but the man sitting across from him was clearly much more together than he was.

“Unfortunately,” replied the man, revealing a very low voice. “For me,” he added. At Curt’s silence he raised his cap above his eyes and leant his crossed arms on the table, his face nearing Curt’s. “I take it you’re a newbie and, judging by your appearance and the whiff of booze that met everyone’s poor noses as soon as you entered the shop, you’re not a very good one.” Curt was defiant.

“I had a rough night,” he explained. “The flight over was long and the accommodation sucks. Doesn’t make me bad at my job.”

“No, what makes you bad at your job is doing so little research that you can’t even pronounce the name of the place you were given in your secret code.” He sat back again in his chair, arms still crossed. His eyes were bright, smug. Cocky. Curt already hated him.

“You mean Tane-mouth?”

“No, I mean Tin-muth, my dear.” He gave a slight chuckle, laughing at Curt’s stupidity it seemed. “First rule of England,” the man continued. “Don’t trust the signposts. Chances are you’ll pronounce them wrong.” He held his hand out. “Perhaps a proper greeting is in order,” he said. “Owen Carvour. MI6.” Curt reluctantly took his hand, tightening his grip as if to assert some kind of dominance after having his last remaining dignity stripped away in a matter of seconds.

“Curt,” he replied. “Curt Mega.” Owen snorted.

“God, how American.” Curt sipped his coffee, if only to stop himself from saying something he’d regret. “Well, enough of the chit chat, Curt Mega. We have work to do.” Owen stood up, and put a few coins on the table.

“Where are you going?” Asked Curt, his coffee cup still almost full.

“We are going someplace more private,” replied Owen. “Or did you forget that we’re part of the secret service?” Curt took one more gulp of coffee, drinking down as much as he could- burning his mouth in the process- and stood up to follow Owen.

“Your place or mine?” Owen said, and Curt couldn’t work out if it was rhetorical or not.

“Yours?” Owen looked him up and down.

“Better not. People know me. We’ll go back to yours.” It was Curt’s turn to scoff.

“If you say so, but fair warning. The place is a dump.”

“So is everything around here, we were in a war after all.”

“So were we.”

“Oh hardly. You came in forty five minutes before the war ended.” Owen opened the café door with a clink of the bell, and the two stepped out into the grey street, weak sunlight barely piercing through the sides of the surrounding buildings.

They barely talked on the way back to Curt’s hostel; Owen didn’t seem to mind. Curt was apparently so beneath him that ignoring him was as easy as ignoring a flea. Curt on the other hand was suddenly very aware of his movements, how his arms were swinging, how many steps he was taking. He didn’t want to walk faster than Owen, nor did he want to walk slower. But the middle ground meant that he inadvertently fell into step with his new partner, which just felt embarrassing. As if he was copying him or something.

God, Curt, what’s wrong with you? He was supposed to be leading Owen, but it was as if Owen was leading him. He didn’t like this imbalance of power one bit, so he reluctantly sped up his walk to ensure that he was in front of Owen, and not the other way around.

Bill looked at the two suspiciously when they finally returned, a clear question of ‘who’s this bloke?’ playing on his lips. Curt declined to explain himself; simply nodded in greeting and allowed Owen to follow him to his room.

“You know you’re supposed to tell the man that I’m a colleague from work, or here for a game of poker,” informed Owen, a low voice in Curt’s ear. “Saying nothing will make him suspicious-”

“Are you going to criticise everything I do?” Replied Curt, his voice louder and more abrupt as he became more and more irritated at Owen.

“If it fucks up our job, then yes. How are you supposed to learn otherwise?” He was so full of himself, and how? He barely looked older than Curt himself, he couldn’t have been in the force for that much longer. How was he so confident?

If Curt wasn’t such a proud man, he’d probably be able to admit that he was jealous in a way. Jealous that someone in the same position as him was so much better at their job. Cynthia would love Owen, and they didn’t even work for the same government.

But Curt was a proud man. So he settled for viewing Owen as nothing more than an arrogant bastard. And by now they had reached room 17, the worst room in London. Curt brought his key out and unlocked the door, pushing his weight against it since the door itself barely fit in its own frame.

“Huh. Quaint,” was Owen’s observation of the room. Sarcastic of course, but it could have been worse. The room was an absolute mess, every piece of furniture was rotten or broken, the wallpaper was damp, the curtains were covered in mould, and not even Curt could deny that the smell was overpowering, like a drunkard’s basket of dirty laundry. It wasn’t pleasant.

“Perhaps we should have gone back to mine after all.”

“I’m sorry about the smell, nothing works here and half of my stuff is back in America.”

“A spy without a change of clothes? You really are bad at this aren’t you? I’ll have to lend you some of mine.” Curt blinked at him.

“Really?” Owen raised a confirmatory eyebrow. “That’s a bit... personal isn’t it?”

“Bloody hell, Curt, there’s nothing personal about our job. If it makes you any more professional, which clearly is a tall order, then I have no choice.”

“Fine...” Curt replied through gritted teeth. “Thank you for the offer.” He sat down on the chair near the bathroom, the only piece of stable furniture in the room. As much as he didn’t want Owen sitting on his bed, with any luck the frame would break and Owen would finally have a taste of losing one’s own dignity. But alas, Owen declined sitting down altogether, and simply leant against the window frame.

“I won’t go through everything,” Owen began. “We’ll start afresh tomorrow. You need time to get to grips with the case. You do know what the case is don’t you?” Curt nodded, trying to remember what Cynthia had told him. Something about a mole in MI6 feeding information to the Russians. He didn’t know why he was involved though. Surely this was enough for the British secret service to handle.

“I have the necessary files inside my jacket. I’ll give them to you to peruse,” he pulled out a light brown folder from his jacket, and placed it on the tabletop beside him. “Try not to lose them.” Curt rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going to lose them.” He wasn’t that incompetent.

“If you say so. Read them over tonight, and we can report back tomorrow. The files contain a list of suspects. Do try and memorise them.” Curt reached over and picked up the file, opening it up and scanning the first page absent-mindedly. All he managed to take in were the photos of people’s faces, not yet bothering to even read their names.

“Where are we meeting tomorrow?” He asked, looking up from the file.

“Down by the station. It’s not far from here, but I’ve slipped a map into the file for you.” Curt turned the page, and as expected, a small, square map was slotted into the fold, with what was presumably the station circled in red pen. “We’ll meet outside, and maybe take a little wander. Better to talk on the move, but I suspect you already know that.” His tone of voice suggested a conviction that Curt did not, in fact, know that. Curt decided that a response wasn’t worth his time.

“Right. I’ll read the files.” Curt stood up, the chair creaking as he did so. Perhaps it wasn’t as stable as he first thought. “Anything else?”

“Yes. Take a shower. I’m not working with someone who smells like the inside of a pub.” And with that, Owen went to leave. “I’ll see you at ten tomorrow, old man.”

“Ten it is.” The door closed, catching on the frame, so Curt had to push it in fully once Owen had left. He sat back on his bed, the mattress sagging at an alarming rate. He was sure he could feel the floor underneath. He lay on his back, staring at the popcorn ceiling. He wanted a drink, but he thought against it. He was determined to prove that Owen bastard wrong. Show him- and Cynthia- that he wasn’t the idiot, drunken agent they though he was.

He was Agent Curt Mega. The greatest spy to ever live.

#spies are forever #spies are forever fanfiction #spies are forever prequel #curt mega x owen carvour #tin can bros #gentlemen of lies #agent curt mega #owen carvour #starkid

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his-mother-is-lightning · 5 years ago

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We all know that Aziraphale hates customers. But I submit that he LOVES grad students.

- if asked (by Crowley, solely to fluster his Angel) he will say that it's completely reasonable to love people who want to study and discuss books? And that feeling he gets when they come and ask him for help isn't Pride no. It just so happens that having lived for millennia means he's the best primary source on the planet. It would be selfish to not share his knowledge really. Why shouldnt he feel good about helping young people learn? So it's really only lowercase 'pride' at most...

- ...I mean, it's just harmless satisfaction that he is spreading knowledge like God intended. Err, probably intended. This knowledge isnt that Forbidden Knowledge so it's fine, right? They're way past that at this point. Surely there is no objection to knowing about books?

- if you were to ask Crowley, he will point out that grad students can't afford to actually buy any books. But no one has ever asked him

- back when the shop first opened, poor Aziraphale was struggling with the realization that people might get suspicious if never lets anyone buy any of his books. And in walks in some poor, exhausted student from Kings or London University who has spent the last 10hrs looking in every bookstore and library around for an original copy of 'The Tamer Tamed'. So they stumble in, turn to Aziraphale and ask if he has any 17th century editions of Fletcher's work. They just need to look at it bc every copy they've found has been edited.

- does Aziraphale have a 17th century editions of Flecher's 'The Woman's Prize, or The Tamer Tamed'? What an absurd question! He has the first edition, printed in 1647. Two copies in fact, one with notes in the margins written by an early actor that Aziraphale particularly liked. It was, after all, one of Crowley's favorite plays from that period.

- (Crowley claims that he has nothing to do with the plays popularity when compared to the work it was in response to, 'The Taming of the Shrew'. Yes, he preferred the feminist-leaning work by Fletcher, but it's not his fault the audience agreed with him) [1]

- the look on this students face when Aziraphale sits them down at his desk and brings over this folio - full of relief and gratitude - have the angel feeling a bit chuffed. So much so that, as he's closing the shop for the day, he tells them to come back tomorrow if they need another look. And thus one of the great student pilgrimages of London is born

- at the beginning of each term, new students make their way to this strange, magical bookstore run by a nice, possibly-immortal man. Group visits are discouraged, as they seem to make the owner nervous.

- fellow students (and sometimes professors) warn newcomers that the owner doesn't actually want people to buy any books. But if go and tell him that you just want to look at them for a class, he will let you come and look around.

- actually, browsing isn't recommended: depending on his mood, Mr. Fell (the owner) may encourage you to look around or he may decide to suddenly close early, or find some way to get you out the door. It's always safest to ask Mr. Fell for something specific, the more obscure the better: he likes it when he has the exact thing you're looking for

- there are snakes in the shelves - well, one snake, probably. Just like Mr. Fell, this snake has been hiding in the shelves since the store opened and never ages. It loves to jump out and scare customer, but is generally considered harmless unless you damage or mistreat the books. There are numerous accounts of people being bitten for dog-earing pages, putting cups on books, and general rudeness.

note: do not refer to the snake as Mr. Fell's pet. He tends to get rather indignant if you do (Mr. Fell, not the snake. If anything, you would think the snake finds Mr. Fell's reaction amusing) Think of it as his slightly terrifying roommate who occasionally hides in the shelves or curls up by/on Mr. Fell to nap

- A. Z Fell & Co had the world's least comprehensible business hours. He could be closed for days or weeks at a time, then open 24hrs for a month without explanation. Often, he would open at 4 or 5AM then close around lunch, then open again after he finished lunch (anywhere between 1 and 4PM). There was one 11 year span when the shop was almost always closed - university's saw a drop in grades in several departments until it finally opened again. If he recognizes you, sometimes you will arrive to find the store closed, only for him to suddenly open the door and let you in because he was "just about to open up".

- Mr. Fell can easily be bribed when someone needs to stay after closing or come in early the next day. Down the block and across the street is a bakery: it has had many names over the years, but it has been supplying students with bribes in the form of cream puffs, eclairs, Turkish delights, and other sweet treats since the bookstore opened. Students scrambling before a deadline got 10 cents off their purchase.

- while he never seems to know what day it is, or what year it is (see: immortal), he always remembers when it's time for exams because suddenly the shop is open at all hours, and Mr. Fell "just so happens" to have trays of sandwiches and fruit leftover, and wouldn't they help him finish it? It'll spoil, after all. Outside food and drinks are never allowed but suddenly there are little plates and napkins on a table by the door, and stacks of strange coasters from all over the world. Coffee is not allowed but tea is. Of course, everyone knows that Mr. Fell makes the BEST hot cocoa and if you put a coaster next to you, he will bring you a mug of cocoa, always at the perfect temperature.

- as revisions comes to a close, you will find almost a dozen students at Fell & Co. They will be slumped at a desk or curled up on the floor by the windows, cups of cooling cocoa and plates of healthy snacks left in places where they couldn't spill onto the books. Colorful blankets come out of a back room as Mr. Fell tidies up, smiling fondly as he drapes them over the slumbering students

- there are stories of people whose old, cruddy laptops seem to work better in the bookshop. People listening to music (quietly, of course) may notice that the songs that come up on shuffle are always exactly what they wanted to hear. Notes you could have sworn you left at home or lost show up at the bottom of your bookbag. Documents you should have lost when your computer crashed can be recovered. One Martin Pryce insists that in 2014, he brought his broken bike to the store and when he came out again, it was fixed. He actually went up to Mr. Fell as he closed shop and asked him about it but Mr. Fell insisted he had nothing to do with it. Martin says Mr. Fell sounded like he was telling the truth, but looked very pleased and muttered something about it being a "minor miracle", which is a bit much for a bike.

- if there are a thousand stories about Mr. Fell and his bookshop, there are just as many about the man in the fancy black car who comes around sometimes. Many have speculated on the nature of the men's relationship, ranging from torrid love affairs to blackmail to Dickensian-level family drama. But the only thing you really need to know is that when you see that fancy black car parked by the shop, you best just to home. The store is most definitely closed.

1. One account survives of the audiences reactions to the two plays. 'Shrew' was performed first and was "liked". 'Tamed Tamed' was performed after and it was "very well liked". Whether or not this account is from Crawley is impossible to say.

Now with a a furiously doting Crowley sequel

Aaaand a fanfic

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #az fell & co #the secret is that Crowley is the one with the massive soft spot for kids #Aziraphale teases him about the bicycle for WEEKS #hasnt found out about Crowley paying the bakery to make cheap sweets for the kids for 200 years tho #imagine how much sugar they've eaten bc of him?#imagine the state of their teeth?#its very demonic #oops i forgot a read more i'm so sorry #to everyone whose dash it shows up on #valued customers tag

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catxsnow · 4 years ago

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OLD WOUNDS PT. TWO

Summary: Dick’s words broke you more than a bullet ever could, it was time to fix that once and for all. No matter the outcome.

Warning: angst, some swears

A/N: Part two babyyyyy. Wasn’t planning on this but I’m glad that I did!

Word count: 3.5k

GIF not mine

Part one

It took weeks for your bullet wound to heal. Weeks of not being able to go out on the streets, weeks of being stuck at home, and weeks with nothing to do except for think about the words that Dick Grayson lashed out to you.

You knew that he was being honest about what he was thinking. Dick never yelled at you unless there was a reason and this one was loud and clear. Dick hated you. He hated you for leaving everyone behind without a second thought. He hated you for abandoning the people that you once called family.

And he was right to do so. You left for your own benefit and didn't think about anyone else while doing so. It was selfish of you, and you regretted it. Of course you did, leaving them left you with no one. You had been alone for years. You didn't want the pain of Jason and Wally's deaths leaning on you, or anyone else that you couldn't save.

Those weeks had left you in a mess. Sleepless nights of wondering how different things would be if you hadn't left. Stressing over whether or not you should ever show your face outside of your apartment again. Most of all, you felt the kind of sadness in your chest that never truly went away.

Dick's words hurt more than the bullet he took out of you.

It was what you needed to hear. You needed to know that you hurt so many people because of your actions. The pain that he cracked against you like a whip stung deep, but the true pain came from knowing that everything was your fault. You took his happiness, and you ruined him for years.

Babs, Kori, they were better than you, they always had been. Morally, skillfully, they always won against you and yet Dick wasn't happy with either of them. He was happy with you and you broke him in return.

By the time that your wound had healed, you needed to get out of your home. You needed the fresh air, the harsh punches against criminals. That was the night that you wouldn't mind if a thug got the upper hand on you.

You had left Gotham the moment you left the Wayne Manor. It wasn't fair of you to stick around after already causing so much pain. Home was only a few cities over, you could never bring yourself to veer too far off.

It felt refreshing to leap from roof top to roof top. The crisp cold air woke you up out of the sluggish state you had been in. This was what you lived for, fighting crime and bringing peace to the people. It was too bad that you could never bring peace with your friends, if they dared to call you that anymore.

That night, you had taken down a few people. An idiotic thief, a pickpocketer, a group of men who were getting a too handsy with an innocent woman. The moment you jumped from the roof you knew that you were way outnumbered. There were too many men at once and you were stuck right in the middle of it all.

It was what you felt like you deserved. More punches than you normally would receive, but not enough that you couldn't take these bastards down. By the time the last one fell to the ground, blood dripped down your cheek and your lips. You spit out a mix of saliva and blood and stormed away from the scene.

The rest of the night was quiet, and quiet was what you were trying to avoid. It wasn't until you passed by your old hideout did you finally stop. It was well abandoned now, you hadn't been there since leaving the team. With a sigh, you headed over to the building. The access code was still the same - Dick's birthday.

Dust covered all the computers but nothing had been changed. You spent a lot of hours in that room. Between you and Dick, it was easy to clock in over thirty hours a week there. You spent a lot of time with him there and being inside only brought back memories that you were trying to diminish, not resurface.

However, you pushed on. You flipped the lights on in the room, looking around at everything that you once had. Dick was right, this was your fault. Everything that happened was because you weren't strong enough to be there.

You fingers trailed over the desks and you walked towards the Zeta Tube Bruce allowed you to have. It made it a hell of a lot easier to get to the mountain or the watchtower rather than going all the way over to Gotham. The machine whirred to life, and with a moments of hesitance, you typed in where you wanted to go.

The likeliness that they kept your name in the roster was slim, and you were sure that it wasn't even going to work. However, when you were beamed out of the room and to the Watchtower, you were more surprised than anything. The robotic voice spent chills down your spine as you arrived.

The Watchtower looked the same as it always had. Cold, empty, never home. Mount Justice had been your home for many years when you finally settled from going from mentor to mentor. The team was the first time that you ever felt like you had a stable life. Leaving it and having to come all the way up there? It never felt right.

You didn't realize you were walking towards the large window that overlooked Earth. A smile made its way to your face as you thought about the amount of times that you and Dick would watch from above. You spent hours with him up there, watching, talking, simply loving him and everything there was to him.

Fuck, did you miss him.

The loss of him hadn't hurt you this badly in so long. Seeing him again destroyed you just as much as him. You hadn't realized how much you missed having him by your side, whether it was fighting crime or in bed. You needed him in your life and it had been years since you had him.

"It's been a long time."

"Bruce," you acknowledged. You hadn't heard him come up behind you but you knew the sound of his voice. "I'm surprised you didn't cut off my access. Not very Batman of you."

"It was Tim that insisted," Bruce finally stood by your side. You could hear the underline in his voice though: Tim, not Dick. Tim always looked up to you when he had the mantle of Robin. He copied your fighting style in many ways and had a similar thought process to yours. You didn't know how he felt after you left.

Tim and Dick were as close as any non-blood related brother could be. During missions, Dick relied on Tim to be the leader of the group, he knew that he could handle things when things got tough. You both did. Tim was just another poor soul that you crushed upon your leaving.

"I take it you healed just fine?" Bruce continued upon your silence. You managed to avoid him, and anyone else in the Manor as you left that night. You weren't surprised that he had still managed to find out about your brief visit.

"Physically, you bet," you nodded. This time, Bruce picked up on your tone - Dick had laid a new one on you. He didn't know what conversation went on between the two of you but Dick had been on edge and snappy ever since you left. "Thank you, for saving me. I owe you one - I owe you lots."

"You could come back," Bruce looked over at you. His lips were in a tight line and his eyes couldn't be seen beneath his cowl. The long black cape draped his shoulders and you couldn't help but wish that you too had a cape to hide within. "We could use you on the team, either team."

"It's been years, Bruce," you sighed. I'm not welcome back, was more like it. You felt traitorous to even show up there, you couldn't consider rejoining the team. When the pain of your friends deaths started to dim, you dared showed your face there again? No, that wouldn't fly with half the members of the team. Dick wouldn't allow it.

You couldn't put him through that. He could barely meet your eyes, how did you ever expect that he would trust you again on a mission? Or trust you to have his or anyone else's back? No, your spot on the team was long gone, you didn't deserve it anymore.

"I'm not the same person that I used to be," you continued. Bruce looked at your bloody, bruised face. Beneath your mask, he could see the outline of fresh purple bruises. A small cut dragged across your cheek and although you tried to wipe the blood from your busted lip, some of it was still smeared around your mouth. In all the years that he knew you, you would never allow someone to get that many face hits - this was on purpose.

It wasn't just the beaten face you referred to. It was the aggression. Your tactics became more violent, less with the law. It was hard to maintain a sense of justice when justice killed your friends. Doing the right thing didn't always get your somewhere in life, it got you killed.

Even your suit had changed. Oliver had designed your original one. It was form fitting, covered any exposed skin and protected your from the harms of your world. Now, you showed off a dangerous amount of skin, not caring what could happen to you.

"Dick has gone through too much in his life, I can't put him through this," you pulled your mask off with a sigh. You eyes that once shone bright at the sight below you were now cold and sharp. Bruce could see the exhaustion on your face and how much being back here was tearing you apart.

"I did a lot of bad things in my life but leaving him was the worst thing I could have done. Doing things right by him isn't me joining the team again, it's me leaving, for good. I'm not coming back Bruce, ever," You fished out the device that he had given you and handed it over to him. He never made a move to grab it. "I can't keep causing pain in other peoples lives just to try and lessen my own pain. Leaving for good might just solve that."

Bruce reached into his belt to pull out a small velvet box. He handed it over to you and with confusion in your eyes, you grabbed it. Inside was a ring, an engagement ring.

"Weeks before Jason died, Dick was going to give this to you," Bruce told you. Tears stung your eyes and your throat tightened up. It had been just over three years that the two of you were dating before Jason died. "He wanted Jason to be one of his groomsmen., Wally to be his best man."

"Why are you telling me this?" You didn't want to hear about how you ruined his plans for his future. You didn't want to know that Dick loved you enough that he wanted to marry you. The reality of how much you hurt him amplified.

"Running from your problems was what caused this in the first place," Bruce didn't accept the ring or the beacon as you tried to hand both back to him. "Dick and I don't always see eye to eye on things, but we both knew that you were good for him."

Bruce said nothing else to you. He glanced down at the items in your hand once more before leaving. The velvet box in your hand seemed to be burning a hole into it. The idea of marrying Dick would once excite you, bring you joy about your future with him because at one point he was your future. Now? Now all you could feeling was the unwelcoming pain of shame.

"Fuck," you muttered. You crouched down, the ring box pressed to your forehead as you tried to decipher your thoughts. Dick was the love of your life all those years ago and you truly fucked that up. No greater mistake could have been made on your behalf. "Fuck."

Why hadn't you just stayed? Why did you have to make the unwise choice of leaving for your own benefit? To pull yourself away from the people that you cared about so that if they ever got hurt you wouldn't have to feel heartbreak? Where did that get you? At home, miserable because you had no one. Miserable because you knew that just as much as you missed your friends, they missed you more.

All this time you thought that you left to avoid the pain, but being back here? That hurt you more than all those years away. The reminder that you once had people that would trust you with their life, that wanted to spent their life with you. Now, you had no one. No one would be willing to take a misfit like you back into their life, not after they had just gotten back to where they were before you left.

Maybe it would have been easier to not have pressed that beacon. Maybe it would have been easier to let those men take you. Whatever pain that they would have inflicted upon you had to have hurt less than what you were feeling now. Emotional pain never went away, physical wounds healed.

You wanted to apologize to Dick. You wanted to tell him how you really felt about these past years but you knew he wouldn't stay long enough to hear you out. Hell, you didn't even have a way of contacting him. The device in your hand suddenly felt heavy. You had one way of getting him to come to you.

"Fuck," you repeated one last time. With the ring weighing you down in the other hand, you pressed the button. Who knows if he would even come but you needed to see him once more. If he truly wanted you out of his life, you would heed to his words - trying to force your way back in wasn't going to be fair to him.

You stood there and waited. The Earth below you was cascaded with darkness as the sun had been on the other side. Darkness of the world seemed to be no less dark than you.

Your heart raced as you heard the animated voice - someone was arriving in the zeta tube. You stood there, still facing the large window that cast into space. Being all the way up here made everything down there feel impossible irrelevant. All the problems that you had within the planet seemed to disappear.

"Why are you here?"

Dick. You turned to face him, unsure of what you wanted to say. There were so many things racing through your head and none of them seemed good enough to even sightly make up for what you did. Nothing you could say would ever make up for it, but you hoped that maybe Bruce was right, maybe there was hope for redemption.

The anger that was on his face fell to one of worry as he saw the state of your face. The bruises that covered your jaw, cheeks, and the blood that had dried up on your skin. No matter how angry he ever was at you, even when you were still here, he was always concerned with your safety first.

"What happened?" He changed his statement. Dick stood at your side, his hand reaching up to look over what was wrong. No matter how tender his touch was, you couldn't help but flinch away. You didn't deserve his comfort. Dick's hand dropped back down to his side.

"Nothing I didn't deserve," you assured. He was in his civilian clothes, but he looked tired. Bags were under his eyes, his shoulders drooped while his hands were in his pockets. "I know you don't want to see me, but I wanted to talk with you."

"I'm here," Dick surmised. That was enough to tell you that though he didn't want to be there, he would listen to what you had to say. However, his gaze went from your face down to your hands, he recognized the small box in your hand. "Where did you get that?"

His voice became harsh. So harsh that you winced and cowered back. Wish shaky hands, you handed him the ring. "Bruce," you answered. "Dick I could apologize to you a thousand times and it would never be enough to make up for what I did, I know that. I could announce to the whole world that I'm a fuck up and that I deserve to be frowned upon and that wouldn't come close to enough.

"Fuck, I know that there is nothing in this world that can make up for my mistakes. What I did, to you, the rest of the team, it was awful of me. I know that. I shouldn't have left but you were right: I am weak. I was too weak to face my fears so I ran. If I would have known better, I should have ran to you instead of away, but I didn't.

"It's too late to change things, to change what I did. I just hope that one day that you won't have to look at me with that same anger in your eyes that you have right now." You played with the small velvet box between your fingers. With a sigh, you handed it back over to him. "You deserve a happy life Dick, and after all of this, the life shouldn't have to include me."

Dick grabbed the ring from you. "I bought this less than a year after we started dating," Dick finally spoke after a long moment of silence. You couldn't tell what he was thinking. "I knew I wanted to marry you. After being friends for so long, I couldn't picture myself with anyone else. You were always the one."

"I'm sorry I ruined that," you sighed. You looked down at the mask that you held in your hands. It was the one that Dick got you when you first joined the team. Even if your costume changed, you couldn't bare to part with it. Reluctantly, you handed that over to him as well. He smiled a little as he held it.

"I came to say goodbye, Dick," his gaze abruptly shifted from the mask, to your bruised eyes. "I put you through too much in this lifetime, I can't keep doing this to you. I figured after all this time, a proper goodbye would do us good. I understand that you don't want me here anymore, I understand no one does."

"I never said that," Dick cut you off. "I never said I didn't want you here. It wasn't fair of me to blow up at you the other night, I'm sorry for being so reactive but I'm not sorry for what I said. You left us, you ran away, but if you truly want to make things right, then you need to stop running.

"You want to make up for everything that you've done? You work your ass off here, on this team. You lead the kids to make the right choices and not to make the same mistakes that you did. That's how you earn my forgiveness, that's how you make things right with the team, with your friends."

Your head hung low. "If you want me to stay, I'll stay. If you want me to leave, I'll leave. Whatever choice you make, I promise you with my life that I will stick with it."

There was another silence between you. Dick's gaze turned away from you and towards the window. "We spent a lot of hours here, looking down at the world that we give our lives to protect. Couldn't bring myself to spend a lot of time here after you left," He honestly told you. Dick handed your mask back to you. "I'm tired of seeing you walk away."

"Then I won't. Ever again," You grabbed your mask from his hand. The same calloused hands that would cup your face when you were feeling scared, the ones that would grab your own hands when you needed comfort, the ones that fought against so many people to protect you.

"Dick, I-" you cut yourself off with a staggered breath. You wanted to tell him so many things: I love you, I never stopped missing you, I want to be yours again. You couldn't. If Dick ever wanted you back again, it would have to be on his terms, not your own. You didn't even know if he ever wanted that.

It didn't matter though. You would live a lifetime in pain just to make him happy for even a second.

"I'm glad to be back."

tagged: @gotta-get-back-to-johnlock thanks for getting me to do a part 2!

#dickgrayson #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson oneshot #young justice #young justice imagine #dc #dc imagine #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #bruce wayne #catxsnow writes

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quazartranslates · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH137 (Extra)

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents ]

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Chapter 137: Extra

Introduction to Extra: When a high school student idol girl encounters an exorcist of the Holy See who transferred to her school, the original scientific world seems to suddenly become unscientific...

Beautiful idol girl: A lovely and beautiful girl like me, of course, only likes handsome girls!

Handsome girl: Hmm!

Agent: Excuse me?

　　&&&

Note: This story is an AU (Alternative Universe) story, that is, a parallel universe, not a story within the same timeline as the main text. There is no Nightmare Game in this story. Everyone is living in modern times, including fantastic creatures such as supernatural ghosts, demons, and blood cults, but they are not widely known. The story involves the locations and characters from the Castle Cry copy, but it is different from the story in the text. Please refer to the text.

Genders are different, genders are different, and genders are different (important things are said three times). Because of gender differences and different experiences growing up, the characters are slightly different from the text.

Qi Leren entered the entertainment industry from an early age while attending high school, filming and singing, and was a famous idol and beautiful girl; Ning Zhou is the royal elder sister* mixed-race exorcist who transferred from abroad for some reason.

*{E/N: yujie, like the Japanese onee-sama character type}

　　&&&

The sunshine outside the window was too good, and there wasn’t even a cloud in the blue sky.

Qi Leren looked out of the window with her cheeks propped up, a little absent-minded.

The teacher was giving a lecture on the podium and the students around her were all keeping their heads down and taking notes carefully. Qi Leren’s eyes quietly drifted to the black-haired and blue-eyed student by the window. She sat upright and looked at the teacher on the podium, looking serious and earnest.

Her blue eyes were really beautiful.

Qi Leren's thoughts suddenly returned to the day a month ago.

On that day, she’d flown back to X City overnight the previous night. It was already after midnight when she’d gotten home, so she’d unfortunately overslept the next day and rushed into the lecture building as the school bell rang. Although the school was tolerant of her frequent leave, Qi Leren didn't want to be treated specially because of her idol status, so she would try her best to observe the school rules.

The bell was drawing to a close, and she was still a corridor away from the classroom. Qi Leren ran at the speed of the 800-meter women's champion in the school sports meet. As she ran, she thought she might not be late this time. As a result, at the corner at the end of the corridor, she ran head-on into someone.

"Ow!" The bump was really strong. Qi Leren raised her head angrily, covering her nose, and glared at the person.

The blue-eyed girl who was hit: "...Sorry."

Who is this? I've never seen her before. Is she wearing fashion contact lenses? So tall and beautiful!

Qi Leren stared at the person and for a long time she apologized until the class teacher coughed: "I'm sorry, I ran into you, I'm sorry!"

The class teacher accompanying the blue-eyed girl smiled and said, "Xiao-Qi, what are you hurrying for?"

Qi Leren immediately wore a bitter expression: "...Sorry teacher, I'm late."

"It doesn't matter, you’re busy with your work, the teacher understands it, go back to the classroom quickly," the teacher in charge said, taking the two people with her to the classroom.

Qi Leren walked on the left side of the head teacher and slowed down after two steps. She secretly looked at the girl walking on the right side of the head teacher. She looked only ahead of her, and she could see that her facial features were more three-dimensional than the average person. With those sapphire eyes, Qi Leren boldly guessed that she should be mixed-race.

"Hey hey, I’m Qi Leren, what's your name? Why haven't I seen you before? Did you transfer to this school?" Qi Leren put on her trademark smile photogenic smile and smiled sweetly at her, and spoke without any of her idol baggage.

The blue-eyed girl gave her a look, turned her face quickly, and fell silent.

Qi Leren, who’d failed to strike up a conversation, froze for a second. What? Someone ignored her? This was not scientific!

Qi Leren debuted at the age of seven, playing the sister of the self-improving poor hero in a drama set in the Republic of China. Because the story required crying from beginning to end, crying deeply and emotionally, and because of her lovable role and outstanding acting skills, she played the clever and poor little girl vividly and immediately became the little daughter in the eyes of the aunties and became a national sweetheart.

Since then, Qi Leren, who was still a young girl, relied on her mother's contacts as an actress and her own outstanding acting skills - and probably also her well-proportioned face - and after ten years, her development route had been well planned by the management company. From the age of thirteen, she had changed from the role of poor and lovely sister and daughter to the route of a youth idol and beautiful girl, acting on one hand and singing on the other, busy enough that she needed 48 hours per day. If it wasn't for her mother's insistence that she should continue her studies and at least finish college, she probably wouldn't even have the chance to experience normal school life.

It can be imagined that the campus life of this popular idol, this beautiful girl, was full of stars, yet Qi Leren had never met anyone who was nice to her.

To paraphrase the lines of the hero of her recent idol drama: Very good, woman, you have successfully caught my attention!

"Ning Zhou is a new transfer student. She was in Italy before, and her Chinese isn’t very good. Xiao-Qi, you should help her more and let her integrate into the group as soon as possible," the teacher in charge said.

"Oh, no problem, leave it to me!" Qi Leren smartly saluted the class teacher, which attracted the class teacher's tight smile.

The girl named Ning Zhou unnaturally turned away from her gaze, staying silent as she looked at the distant scenery.

It had been a month, and she was still like this.

Qi Leren, who was pulled away from her memories, sighed softly and looked at Ning Zhou with increasingly melancholy eyes.

Ning Zhou was really beautiful and cold, and she exuded an aura of staying away from strangers. Qi Leren heard that her classmates would also talk about her privately, saying that she wasn’t easy to get along with, and the amount of time she normally took as leave was comparable to Qi Leren.

Hey, why was she so cold? She had spoken up many times explicitly and implicitly, but Ning Zhou always ended the conversation with a "hm" which made the idol girl frustrated. If it weren't for Ning Zhou's eyes that were clear of disgust, she would have almost thought Ning Zhou really hated her.

Qi Leren was resting on her arm and looking sideways at Ning Zhou. The side of her face seemed to be glowing in the warm sunshine. It was really beautiful...

Suddenly Ning Zhou turned to look up, and Qi Leren who was peeking was caught red-handed as their eyes collided in the air... What happened with ordinary people? Were they embarrassed and looked away? Qi Leren didn't. She kept her head pillowed on her arm and smiled generously at Ning Zhou, especially sweetly.

Ning Zhou quickly withdrew her sight, not looking out the window.

In the warm sunshine, her earlobe was red.

Qi Leren blinked and repeatedly confirmed that she was not mistaken.

So, in fact, Ning Zhou wasn’t cold but just shy? Qi Leren was stunned by this idea and screamed in her heart for a long time, Ning Zhou! Lovely! She's shy! Super cute!

Qi Leren's heart was filled with an unprecedented impulse. She should try harder to strike up a conversation with Ning Zhou and make good friends with her! The kind where she could bury herself in her breasts!

When the bell rang, Qi Leren immediately sat up straight, and the students around them stood up and walked around the classroom. Several nice classmates gathered around Qi Leren and chatted with her twitteringly.

"Qi Leren, I heard that you’re going to release a single again. Have you recorded it?"

"When will your new show be released?"

"Qi Leren, help me ask Su Ying for a signature! The news said that you’ll be acting in that show, right!"

"Are XX and XXX really in love? I think it’s all just a rumor!"

All kinds of questions surrounded Qi Leren, these curious baby girls racing against time to inquire about the entertainment industry. Qi Leren patiently answered them one by one, and some inconvenient words had to be vaguely taken out. Fortunately, the girls were just curious, not asking why. Compared with them, it was obvious that the students in other classes and even other grades outside the window gave her a headache. If she wanted to go out to the toilet now, she couldn't do it without two students because she would be overwhelmed by the crowd...

This was also the trouble of being a popular and beautiful idol girl.

Until after school in the afternoon, Qi Leren didn't find a chance to get closer to Ning Zhou. She walked too fast. Qi Leren didn't find a chance to leave school with her, so she had to instead leave the school with several girls. In the afternoon, the driver who was in charge of picking her up asked for leave. She thought about whether to take a taxi home or to walk home. After thinking about it, the school wasn’t far from home anyway. It was currently rush hour, so the road would be too blocked. It was better to walk.

So Qi Leren put on a mask and walked towards home with her school bags.

Since the beginning of primary school, Qi Leren had had only a handful of opportunities to go home by herself. She looked at the cars blocking the street from one end to the other and the motorbikes occupying the sidewalk, gave an annoyed tut, and turned her head and walked into the alley.

Through this alley, one could reach the neighbourhood her house was in. Qi Leren was happily humming the tune of her upcoming single that she would be shooting the music video for tomorrow...

At dusk, the orange-red light fell on the corner of the lane, which shrouded the scenery in a decadent golden splendor. A cold wind blew, and the coolness was a little unsettling. Qi Leren instinctively had a feeling of foreboding. She hesitantly stopped and looked around - the sunset’s sudden dimness was only caused by the shadow of a building, and everything seemed ordinary.

The exit was just ahead. With an uneasiness in her heart, Qi Leren strode forward.

There was a cold wind, and the wind mixed with the foul smell and decay. Qi Leren held her breath and took three steps in two strides, but the accident did not let her go. Just less than ten meters away from the corner, the golden sunset was suddenly swallowed up by a strange darkness, and Qileren stopped suddenly and looked ahead in amazement.

The residential buildings on both sides of the alley echoed with the shrill cries of crows, and the daylight around her suddenly darkened as if she had stepped into an instant night. Qi Leren looked back in panic, but the road that she had originally come from had been submerged in the darkness.

What was happening? Was this some strange joke?

Qi Leren panicked and took out her cellphone to make a call. As soon as she unlocked it, there was no signal at all!

Qi Lered was flustered, using her cellphone to illuminate ahead as she walked faster and faster, but no matter how far she went, there was no end to the road ahead. Only the light of the cellphone illuminated a small section of the concrete ahead, and there was a mottled blood on the ground...

There was a strange movement in the darkness ahead. Qi Leren stopped and looked toward it with bated breath. The flashlight lit up the darkness. In this faint light, there was a rickety and distorted shadow coming towards her, step by step, slowly and heavy, as if a cold corpse had been forcibly fished out of the morgue was posing strangely and stumbling forward.

It entered the range of the flashlight’s beam and Qi Leren breathed in a gasp - Was that alive? The limbs were stiff, the skin was gray, and the eyes were glowing red. It paused for a second, its head lowered, and the red eyes looked straight in Qi Leren’s direction.

The next moment, it opened its closed mouth, showing a whole row of sharp teeth, and growled at her!

Qi Leren gave a cry and ran away. She bet that hadn’t tried so hard when she’d ran 800 meters in the school sports meet, but even still the monster that had suddenly become agile got closer and closer as it chased her, and with a swoop forward it grabbed Qi Leren's calf.

"Ah-" Qi Leren fell to the ground, and the monster opened its mouth and bit her throat.

At this critical juncture, Qi Leren, who had closed her eyes tightly, heard a gunshot, but the expected pain did not come. She opened her eyes carefully. The monster holding her down was covered with frost and the cold seeped into her body. She shivered, struggling out of the monster's hold by rolling and crawling, brushing the dirt off her clothes while looking in all directions for the source of the gunshot.

The darkness around her was fading gradually and the sunset came back from the end of the world, spilling its afterglow on the earth.

And in the direction of the sunset, there was a tall and slender figure with a silver shotgun pistol in her hand, looking at her from a distance.

That figure...

Qi Leren suddenly opened her eyes wide and ran to her without thinking. The girl took a step back and seemed to want to leave, but Qi Leren had already cried her name: "Ning Zhou! Wait!"

Ning Zhou didn't go away after all. Instead, she was pulled by the arm by Qi Leren: "What happened just now? What was that monster?"

"...Low-level magic," Ning Zhou said, and went to the monster who had been shot dead by her gun. She bent over to check it and confirmed that it was dead. Then she took out a bottle of a liquid flashing with silver luster from her bag and dumped it on the body. The body instantly turned into black and dissipated in the air.

Qi Leren was still immersed in the absurdity of the thrilling adventure just now, and her mind was full of strange questions. However, when Ning Zhou was about to leave, she quickly caught up and held onto her: "Don't go, where did that monster come from? Why did it suddenly get dark just now? What’s the silver liquid in your bottle? Corpse water? Who the hell are you? Certainly not an ordinary person?"

Ning Zhou, whose arm was being clung to, looked at the curious girl with a depressed face. At that time, she didn't know what to do. She could tell her, of course, but it would hurt her, involving her in something she couldn’t escape from... What should she do?

"Oh, please talk to me, I'm scared to death, can you walk me back? My house is just a little way away, it’s very close! Just be good enough to walk me there." Seeing that Ningzhou seemed to be shaken, Qi Leren immediately switched to acting mode and watched Ning Zhou, trying to impress this mysterious transfer student with what are known as "puppy eyes".

"...Let's go," Ning Zhou gave in.

Qi Leren silently made a victory gesture in her heart and took Ning Zhou's arm happily and naturally - at that moment, she felt Ning Zhou stiffen: "Thank you for saving me, Ning Zhou, you’re so handsome! I upgrade you to my goddess!"

And then? Then she succeeded in seeing Ning Zhou's ears turn red again.

It's so lovely, Qi Leren chuckled in her heart.

On the way home, Qi Leren played the rare dead-end part of the idol beautiful girl and pulled a lot of information out of Ning Zhou's mouth, which was sparing in words and inaccurate in pronunciation. What had happened just now was she had walked into the Nightmare World at dusk, a projection of the real world that existed in hell. Whenever night fell its power would become strong, and occasionally someone would go into the Nightmare World and be attacked by monsters.

She also learned that Ning Zhou is not from Italy, but from the Vatican. The Vatican was not only responsible for religious beliefs as she had imagined. There was also a very complex and huge underground Holy See beneath the surface. Since the Middle Ages, they had fought with the dark forces. Exorcists were not simply characters in novels and movies, but really existed.

At this moment, the person whose arm she was holding was an exorcist of the Holy See.

It sounded really cool. It sounded cooler than an idol girl!

On the short walk home, Qi Leren's worldview had been scrubbed clean. Sadly, she still wanted to continue to be washed, but she had already returned to her doorstep. Still holding onto the girl: "Eat with me, my parents aren’t at home these days. I have no appetite when I eat alone, and I’ve lost a few pounds!"

Saying this, Qi Leren pinched her arm and looked at Ning Zhou pitifully.

Ning Zhou compromised again.

Qi Leren felt that she had found the trick to deal with Ning Zhou, she just had to play up this charm and act as the cute coquettish girl. Ning Zhou was shy and soft-hearted, and had no idea what to do with this kind of girl.

"Let me see what's in the refrigerator. When the auntie comes to clean the house in the morning, she leaves something for me to eat later. I just take it out and heat it up at night." Qi Leren opened the refrigerator and studied it for a while. She smiled back and reported the name of the dishes present. "...What would you like to eat?"

"Whatever."

"There’s no food called whatever! I’ll tell you what, shall I make you spaghetti and steak? I'm good at that! Okay, it's a deal! Go and do some homework and I'll cook." Qi Leren kicked Ning Zhou out of the kitchen, turned on the stereo, and played the songs off her last album, which were all youthful and relaxed and made people feel happy when they listened to them - although Qi Leren was not interested in her own songs at all. When she heard the melody, she would recall collapsing while singing and having to leave the recording studio to vomit, but out of some unspeakably subtle mood, she especially wanted to play it in front of Ning Zhou now.

This careful choice really caught Ning Zhou's attention. She picked up the album case that Qi Leren "inadvertently" put on the coffee table. The girl on the cover was wearing a sailor suit and full of energy, with her hair that was tied into a pair of ponytails floating up as she jumped. Her pitiable and lovely drooping eyes became glowing because of her happy smile.

Ning Zhou looked at it for a long time, but she didn't even notice that Qi Leren, who was busy in the kitchen, looked back at her frequently. She picked up the remote control and turned on the TV. The image of the song’s music video immediately appeared in front of her eyes. The girl wearing sportswear in the music video was participating in a sports meet and fell down as she ran, suffering from a cold sweat, but stood up stubbornly and limped to the end regardless of her bleeding knee.

That stubborn and tough look... Ning Zhou's heart was suddenly hit, and then she woke up. It was just a music video.

When she looked into the kitchen, she happened to collide with Qi Leren who was secretly peeking at her. Their eyes were separated by the transparent glass door. Caught red handed, Qi Leren covered her eyes with one hand. After a long time, she opened the glass door and blushed and as she said, "That music video was shot blindly! I didn't fall when I was running. Last year I won the 800-meter women's championship in the school sports meet!"

Of course, winning the championship was due to the fact that special sports students couldn't participate in the school sports meet.

At the sports meet, Qi Leren was photographed from beginning to end and made headlines with her win of the 800-meter championship, so when this music video came out, it was ridiculed in good faith - Le-mei, you won this 800-meter championship by beating the previous player, right?

Qi Leren really wanted to promote herself in front of Ning Zhou. It was naturally a bit depressing to be seen in the music video, and for Ning Zhou to take it so seriously...

Inexplicably ashamed and resentful Qi Leren pulled Ning Zhou away from watching the TV: "Give me a hand, you cook the spaghetti and I'll make the steak! If you don’t know how, I can teach you."

So one person's kitchen became two people’s, and the sunset outside the window stretched the shadows of the two people until they collided with each other unconsciously. When an elbow touched another person, the two people would stiffen and casually pretend it hadn’t happened.

The living room outside the kitchen echoed with the familiar melody, full of youth and love.

After dinner, Qi Leren invited Ning Zhou to work on homework together. Whenever she did homework, she always complained that she could earn money to support herself yet she still had to study hard and do homework. With how often she took leave, it wasn’t easy to stay in the middle ranking. The price was that she often had to study hard on the set with her textbooks, and she was so tired that she would never get up until she was hungry in the afternoon.

When doing homework, Qi Leren's mouth didn't stop. She talked to Ning Zhou who didn’t say a word. Ning Zhou said too little, and she was almost always chattering: "My mother has been very busy recently. She’s the busiest person in my family. It’s normal for her to fly to three cities in a day on press tours when a movie’s released. She acts so tired even at her age. I think she’ll struggle until she’s 80 years old. My dad’s fine, he isn’t too busy working at the university. I don’t see him very often, even though we’re his wife and daughter. When my mother’s resting, he is not busy. I really want to cover over his face." At some point, Qi Leren casually asked, "Where are your parents? Did they come to X City with you?"

Ning Zhou's writing hand kept moving as she said faintly, "They’ve passed away."

"Ah..." Qi Leren froze, "I'm sorry..."

Ning Zhou stopped writing and looked up at her: "It doesn't matter, it’s been a long time."

Her blue eyes were so calm, almost empty, as if talking about something irrelevant, but… why did she feel sad?

No, you haven't let it go at all, Qi Leren retorted in her heart. You’re obviously sad, but you don't want to admit it. Do you feel that you’re weak? It’s lovely that people have such strong emotions. They laugh when they’re happy, cry when they’re sad, and pursue bravely when they like someone. Because of these feelings, people are able to become real.

A bell came from somewhere far away. Qi Leren took a look at the time, strengthened her heart to keep Ning Zhou here, and pretended to learn the time casually as she said, "Ah, it's late, why do you have to leave? I am alone at home, and with what happened before... I’m a little scared." With that, Qi Leren blushed and asked, "Can you stay with me?"

In the face of such a person, such a request, Ning Zhou couldn't refuse. Receiving a positive answer, Qi Leren happily went to help her find a change of clothes: "I haven't worn these pajamas yet, the underwear is new, a toothbrush and towel are ready, and I put them in the bathroom on the second floor. I’ll go wash on the first floor."

Finished saying that, Qi Leren trotted down the stairs, brushed her teeth and washed her face quickly, and took a bath while humming. After washing, she looked at herself in front of the mirror for a while. After hesitating repeatedly, she picked up a bottle of girls’ perfume with a fresh scent from the washstand, sprayed it twice in the air, and then walked through the mist.

Qi Leren, who walked out of the bathroom, also sniffed her body nervously. It was light, and it wasn’t obvious after being mixed with shower gel. It should be... It should seem quite natural.

The fragrant Qi Leren walked to the piano in the living room, pressed it twice, then sat down and played the piano skillfully.

Ning Zhou, who had finished washing, came down the curved staircase. Qi Leren looked up at her and smiled as she said, "I'll sing you the song from my new single."

Ning Zhou nodded silently.

Qi Leren coughed twice: "This song ‘I like you’ is dedicated to the goddess Ning Zhou who is willing to accompany me through this frightening night. Your blue eyes are as beautiful as sapphires, I like them very much.

"Everything became incredible, I fell in love with you at first sight, and the world was instantly sweet. Your smile and your voice linger in my mind. My eyes only follow you in the crowd, and my first love suddenly comes... I want to take you out of your lonely world, I want to accompany you to see all the beautiful sights, and I am inseparable from you from now on... La la la la, just like you so much, la la la la, I like you."

In the brightly lit living room, the girl who played the piano and sang presented her a song with countless sweet smiles. When being watched by brown eyes, the heart always lost its rhythm, and the heat surging in her chest was so strange and difficult to control. She was afraid of this uncontrollable thing, but she just wanted to let it go.

As she finished playing, Qi Leren looked at her eagerly: "Is it good?"

Ning Zhou hard nodded her head.

So Qi Leren smiled: "I hoped you’d like it! When I have a new song next time, I’ll sing it to you again!"

Ning Zhou looked at her deeply, and her deep blue eyes seemed to become gentle under the light.

Qi Leren, who despite not having a teacher had learned how to pick up a hot chick, jumped with excitement and tried to calm down, saying, "It's late, let's go to sleep."

With this said, she took Ning Zhou to the bedroom: "My bed’s quite big, it’s no problem for two people to sleep in it. If you’re not used to it, we can each have a quilt."

Anyway, there was no such option as sleeping next door.

Ning Zhou was not used to it. Girls here went to the toilet in droves and walked in the street hand in hand. Kissing and touching were commonplace. When she first came, she thought the girls here were all gay, but later found out that this was a difference of national customs.

"My friends have told me about having sleepovers with their girlfriends, but I entered the entertainment industry too early and the agents are very strict, and I haven’t had any friends close enough to sleep with." Qi Leren seemed to be a little hesitant to look at Ning Zhou, and quickly tried to act cute to disguise it. "I’ll definitely have nightmares tonight..."

Ning Zhou compromised again, and she found herself frustrated that she was always easily persuaded in matters relating with Qi Leren, without any bottom line.

Qi Leren, successful in being allowed to share the same bed as the goddess, got under the quilt and snickered, so happy that she couldn't wait to roll a few times in bed. But in the face of the goddess, she had to be careful and reserved!

The dim bedside lamp lit up this square inch. Qi Leren got out from under the blanket and leaned against the pillow. She looked at Ning Zhou sideways and said with a smile, "Let's chat."

"..." They had agreed to go to bed since it was late. Ning Zhou felt unbearable condescension, but nodded her head.

Qi Leren was quite good at chatting. She couldn't help it, it was also the actor's professional quality to be eloquent. Otherwise, they would be tongue-tied when being interviewed by reporters and the other party will be embarrassed. When she was on talk shows, the atmosphere would be stagnant, and the lethality of the silence would be huge.

Seeing that the goddess agreed, Qi Leren chatted with her in a garrulous way, getting closer and closer, and in the end she had cocked her head and leaned on the other's shoulder to show her her photos.

"This photo was taken when I was seven years old. At that time, I cried and didn't want to go to school. My mother threatened to make me go to her film set with her if I didn't go to school. Every day, I had to crawl in the mud and hang from a wire. I cried and said that I would rather go to the shoot, so my mother took me to her film studio to teach me a lesson. At that time, she was filming a drama set in the Republic of China. It was scary watching them shoot a war scene. I was scared. I thought that the actor brother was really dead and started crying. The director of the studio next door had just come to chat with an old friend, looked at me crying pitifully, and said that the actress who was meant to play the little girl next door had broken her leg and couldn't come, and he discussed with my mother whether he could borrow me the show. At that time, I was so naive that I thought I really didn't have to go to school anymore if I did it, so I happily went away with the director and embarked on the road of no return. The worst thing is that I have to go to school while I’m shooting a show. If I don't do well on an exam, I have to ask my tutor to make up the missed lessons! It’s mad, there’s no humanity." Qi Leren chattered at Ning Zhou, talking about her mother and making angry gesticulations as she went on.

From the tip of her nose came the sweet smell of girls, mixed with shower gel and an unknown fragrance, which was pure and fresh and sweet. Ning Zhou, who was almost never so close to anyone, instinctively felt her body stiffen and repeatedly stressed to herself that she was harmless, that she needn’t be so on guard or have to fight back. On several occasions, her line of sight had habitually fallen on her slender neck, which was so soft that a gentle push would be enough to stop her from ever singing well again. It turned out that she was flawed, and she didn't have any precautions about showing them. This naive innocence made Ning Zhou anxious and subconsciously worried.

"...And you? What was it like when you were a child?" Qi Leren asked in a low voice, she was a little uneasy for fear that such a question would be too abrupt, but she couldn't help but want to know more about Ning Zhou.

That isn’t a happy memory, she doesn't want to know, Ning Zhou thought.

She didn't want to know of the endless bloody killings at the border between the Nightmare World and the human world, and what it was like to hunt demons alone at the border of hell since the age of thirteen, and she didn't want to know how painful it was when she ran out of food and fell into the demon forest and her intestines slipped out of an abdominal wound. Even when they were sitting side by side, the worlds they lived in were never the same.

She didn't want her to see the filth and darkness hidden behind the peaceful world.

Ning Zhou was silent for too long, and Qi Leren lowered his eyes in frustration and realized that her questions had troubled Ning Zhou: "I'm sorry... I'm too curious..."

"When I was thirteen years old, I went to the Vatican..." Ning Zhou interrupted her apology and said quietly, "I’ve never seen my father. After my mother died that year, I had no other relatives who could serve as guardians. Her friends followed her will and sent me to the Vatican, where a senior who respected her was my guardian.

"Living in the Vatican was very happy. I’ve learned a lot of things and I am determined to be an exorcist like my mother, fighting demons hidden in the dark. In recent years, the scope of the Nightmare World is expanding, and the number of demon attacks around the world is increasing... I was commissioned by a descendent of a German noble to investigate the history of his past relative who had lived in China with her family."

Ning Zhou saw Qi Leren looking eagerly at her and wanting to hear more, so she talked about some modified hunting demons. Qi Leren listened to her carefully. Ning Zhou said many words very carefully, with a little accent, but it sounded so lovely to Qi Leren. The more she listened, the more absorbed she became, and when she heard some thrilling thing she would gasp and hold Ning Zhou's hand nervously.

The girl's hand was small and soft, and the veins were clear. She found that Ning Zhou's hand was different from hers. She took her palm and looked left and right. She also curiously touched the thin veins that ran from her palm to her wrist, and touched Ning Zhou's left hand. There was a scar in the center that looked like a thorn, and she said with distress: "This must have been painful."

The palm of her hand felt crisp and numb, and Ning Zhou breathed slowly and withdrew her hand quietly: "It's time to sleep."

Qi Leren was a little regretful but she had to turn off the lights, depressed at the thought of having to shoot the music video tomorrow on her day off classes.

The room was dark and the balcony off the bedroom was open. The wind blew in from outside the screen window, together with the moonlight. Qi Leren lowered her breathing and listened carefully. She couldn't hear Ning Zhou's breathing at such a close distance. If it wasn't for the other person's temperature, she wouldn't even feel someone sleeping beside her.

The hand hidden under the quilt sneaked over and grabbed Ning Zhou's hand. She looked at her with her tilted face that was turned away from the moonlight. Her facial features were immersed in the darkness, yet her sapphire eyes were shining.

A smile appeared on Qi Leren’s moonlit face. She held Ning Zhou's hand, leaned over, and kissed her on the cheek: "Thank you for saving me today. Goodnight, Ning Zhou."

It was too close. When she had neared, Ning Zhou had almost turned over and stopped her, but the sweet smell of the girl puzzled her and she didn't move until her soft lips pressed to her cheek.

Qi Leren, who had kissed the goddess, lied back, and the quilt covered the lower half of her face, which also covered her hand clutching Ning Zhou’s.

Strange joy and pain haunted her at the same time. In such a complicated mood, she breathed another person's breath and gradually fell asleep.

The night was silent and long, but Qi Leren, who had always slept well, suddenly woke up. She hesitated, rubbed her eyes, and got out of bed to go to the toilet without realizing that she was the only one in the big bed.

When she walked to the bathroom, she looked at the mirror with a yawn. She looked sleepy in her reflection. Just when she was about to go out of the bathroom, she suddenly looked back with a start - the toothbrush cup on the washstand wasn’t hers!

The sleepiness was washed away at once and Qi Leren recalled, because the bathroom on the second floor had been lent to Ning Zhou, she had moved her things to the bathroom on the first floor, but... Where was Ning Zhou?!

Qi Leren ran out of the bathroom, shouting Ning Zhou's name and searching everywhere. There was no one in the bedroom, no one in the bathroom downstairs, no one in the living room, no one anywhere! A slipper fell off as she ran and Qi Leren suddenly thought of something, running to look at the shoe cabinet by the front door with one foot bare - Ning Zhou's shoes were gone.

She was gone?

Qi Leren sat down in front of the piano, angry and wronged. Why did Ning Zhou quietly leave in the middle of the night without saying a word? Why?

Maybe it was something urgent, Qi Leren thought sullenly, picked up the slippers she had dropped as she ran, and walked slowly back to her bedroom.

Once again back to the warm bed, Qi Leren sleeplessly rolled back and forth. When she was finished shooting the music video tomorrow, she would have to ask Ning Zhou.

Suddenly, an idea came to Qi Leren’s mind: Wait, was it because she snored and grinded her teeth when she slept, so Ning Zhou left because she couldn’t bear it?

Qi Leren held her face on both hands, like the frightened figure in "The Scream". After all that effort to convince the goddess to sleep in the same bed as her, she had made it unbearable for her to stay!

Qi Leren, who was on the verge of collapse, tearfully wanted to pick up her cellphone and turn on the camera. She wanted to record herself sleeping. How could a beautiful girl who was an idol sleep so badly? No, she refused!

With the cellphone set to record, Qi Leren lied back in bed, pulled the quilt up to cover half of her face, and the moonlight outside the balcony window was still clear. She still remembered that she had looked at Ning Zhou's face against the moonlight a few hours ago, and she was so curious about her, but when the tip of the iceberg of her past was uncovered, she couldn't help but feel distressed for her. She knew that the past Ning Zhou had told her of had been modified. She was not as relaxed and happy as she’d said. When she approached her, the stiff and cold alertness of her body could not deceive people.

Qi Leren didn't know what kind of experiences would make her develop these habits. Unlike her, this little princess who was brought up in the greenhouse from childhood and grew up like a star, Ning Zhou's wounds, cold eyes, and precise marksmanship... All the details implied that she is not a person of that world at all.

But so what? Couldn't different people be friends? She just liked Ningzhou, loved her dearly, and wanted to make her happy. She wanted to give her the most beautiful songs and show her all the bright, warm, and happy feelings. As long as she could get a little bit of happiness and a little bit of the world under the sun, she would feel it was worthwhile.

Since childhood, Qi Leren had received a lot of love. Now she wanted to give her love to Ning Zhou. She wanted her to feel that being loved was a very happy thing.

Thinking about this, sleepiness surged up again, and Qi Leren yawned and glanced at the moonlight on the balcony before closing his eyes.

When she was beginning to drift, Qi Leren felt that there seemed to be some movement by the bed. She opened her eyes in a daze and saw Ning Zhou lying down softly with her back to her.

"Where have you been?" Qi Leren murmured dreamily.

"...The bathroom."

Liar.

Qi Leren suddenly woke up, but she didn't open her mouth to confront her. Instead, she pretended to answer in a daze, stretched out her hand and continued to close her eyes. She could smell that the shower gel on Ning Zhou's body had changed, which wasn’t the smell of her family's shower gel.

Recalling the scene in which she had shot and killed the monster in the Nightmare World at dusk, Qi Leren knew her whereabouts well.

The fragrance couldn’t deceive her of the smell of iron and blood it masked.

Let's not expose her, Qi Leren thought. She took Ningzhou's hand and interlocked their fingers. Either way, this time she won't loosen her hand again.

When she was about to fall into a deep sleep again, Qi Leren felt vaguely as if someone had leaned over and said something to her, but she was too tired to fully register it before she lost consciousness.

Ning Zhou should have gotten up at dawn, but her hand was clasped tightly. As soon as she turned her face she could see Qi Leren sleeping soundly, with long eyelashes, red cheeks, and slightly open lips. What do you think is so lovely about me? Ning Zhou watched quietly for a long time, letting the sun rise higher and higher.

There was the sound of opening the door downstairs and someone came in. Ning Zhou, who had excellent five senses, frowned. These were a woman's footsteps. Was it Qi Leren's mother? Was it better for her to avoid them?

But Qi Leren also said that it was normal for girls here to sleep together...

The bedroom door was pushed open rudely and the woman with slender eyebrows and a good figure stood outside the open door and angrily knocked on it: "What time is it, is your cellphone not on, do you remember that you have to go shoot the music video today? Hurry and get up!"

Chen Baiqi, the agent who killed people in Qi Leren's family*, was about to rush in and pull her up. But when she looked at it from a distance, there were two people in the bed!

*{E/N: metaphorically, in case that wasn’t clear}　　

At this moment, Chen Baiqi, a senior agent, was about to collapse: Qi Leren! Do you still remember that you’re an idol acting as a role model for young and beautiful girls? Why is there a wild man! You can't fall in love before changing your image! How have you already developed to this step!

The "wild man" sat up from the bed and looked at Chen Baiqi coldly.

Oh, it's not a wild man. That's great... Like hell! Who is this woman!

With her hair a mess, Qi Leren yawned as she sat up in bed, looked back at Ning Zhou, and kissed her on the cheek naturally: "Good morning, Ning Zhou."

Chen Baiqi: "..."

"Oh, Chen-jie, this is my classmate. I’m a little scared of sleeping alone, so I let her accompany me," Qi Leren talked nonsense without a hint of shame.

"...Hehe." Chen Baiqi thought: Don't smile, your parents aren’t home half the time. How did you sleep before?

The girl named Ning Zhou nodded to her and went to wash up. Qi Leren took Chen Baiqi to the bathroom downstairs and explained the situation to her while brushing her teeth and washing her face. Paranormal, met yesterday, couldn't be spoken of. She had to say that there had been a small incident with a mugger as she had been walking home yesterday, and she was just saved by her classmate Ning Zhou. Since she was a little afraid, she had asked her to please stay for one night.

Chen Baiqi was skeptical but she couldn't say anything, so she let her quickly wash up so they could go to the studio.

Qi Leren remembered that her cellphone was recording her last night, and it should have automatically shut down when the battery had been depleted. No wonder Chen Baiqi came to her house in such a hurry to catch her in person.

After washing, Qi Leren, who had forgotten to eat breakfast, told Ning Zhou that there was food in the refrigerator. The auntie will come to clean up later and she could leave a note for her. She should just say what she wanted for the evening.

Ning Zhou had the illusion that she lived here.

After telling Qi Leren that she had something to go do, Qi Leren let out a "oh" in frustration and reluctantly followed Chen Baiqi to get in the car that would drive them to the shooting location.

Chen Baiqi inquired about Ning Zhou from beginning to end along the way, and Qi Leren said all the things that should be said, but didn't say a word that shouldn't be said. Chen Baiqi's intuition was that Ning Zhou wasn't so simple, but without evidence she couldn't rashly make Qi Leren stay away from her.

Finally, she sighed: "Your identity is unusual. You should be very careful when making friends. If you meet someone with ulterior motives who enters your room, secretly films you, eavesdrops on you, and reveals your privacy to the media, it will be a great blow to your image, especially as your current image is very sensitive to negative news."

Qi Leren knew that Chen Baiqi is good for her and obediently listened to her instructions.

"Although your last transformation was very successful and you got rid of the image of a little girl, this transformation is the key. If you can't jump out of the image of a young girl now, your journey will only get narrower and narrower. You’ll find that as you grow older you’ll be hired for fewer and fewer roles, and there are always young new faces to replace you. The audience doesn't want to see a 30-year-old actress playing a 17- or 18-year-old girl. Your mother's train of thought is very clear, she will take the time to find a drama for you where she can play mother and daughter with you - your mother also fights for you, she never promised to play such an age-exposing role before - this stunt can drive your popularity, if you play well, you’ll play the leading role in the next show, and when the small screen stands firm, it will develop like your mother to the big screen. The company is already discussing your new image and route. When you go to college it will begin, and then you won’t be as leisurely as you are now." Chen Baiqi couldn't help rubbing her temples when she thought of how busy she would be in the future.

"I’ll try my best, Chen-jie, thank you for taking so much trouble for me." Qi Leren cleverly said that although she was the one standing in front of the audience, there were countless people worried about her behind the scenes/ She had gone too far today and Chen Baiqi had helped her block trouble she didn’t know about.

It wasn’t easy to be an actress. Qi Leren looked at the passing scenery outside the window and sighed softly.

But it was no harder than being an exorcist. As Qi Leren thought again, she couldn't help smiling at the thought of Ning Zhou. They would have many opportunities to get along with each other in the future.

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Editor’s Notes: To be continued...? (don’t hold your breath)

Phew, this was a longer chapter than I remembered, but this completely caps off Nightmare Game part 1! I have one more little bonus of funny things from the mtl, which can be found [here] if you’re interested.

Thank you once again to everyone for reading and I’ll see you again in part 2! :)

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