#i wrote it in one go and am posting unedited but

[lineffability]

"Crowley."

Crowley froze, every atom of his body coming to a complete standstill. Aziraphale had appeared out of nowhere, just like that, and he felt like a fly in a spider's web, like he had just run against a glass door that he could not have seen. Oh, this was cruel. He did not turn around.

"Don't even use doors anymore?" He tried to keep his voice level, cold, unaffected. He failed considerably, but the message got across anyways.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, immediately flinching at the words. The first time they were seeing each other again, after-- after that, and his first words were I'm sorry and he was apologizing for not using a door? Aziraphale felt like swearing, but could not. "I thought you wouldn't open if I-- well. I thought this was easier. Like a bandaid."

"Well, you were right. I wouldn't have." Steel was creeping into Crowley's voice, steel around his heart. With a forcing of limbs, he spun around, his gaze piercing through the armor of his sunglasses. Facing him.

"I need your help" Aziraphale said.

"What," Crowley said. He had possibly never put as much meaning into a single word. The glass door turned into a Great Wall. Aziraphale understood. But he was willing to climb.

The angel (oh, a true angel now, wasn't he--not his angel) fumbled, talking with his hands before his mouth even opened. Talking with his eyes, too, but they got lost in translation. Repelled by a black mirror.

"I know this is untoward. I know it's-- But Crowley, I don't have a lot of time."

"Nothing lasts forever, yeah," Crowley spat, hating himself the second the words left his lips. Unnecessary cruelty. Demonic, huh? Worse yet, Aziraphale accepted the verbal lashing. Don't forgive me, Crowley thought.

Crowley looked at him. He was still wearing his suit, there was tartan in it, but it had become polished, the worn edges returned to pristine, boring perfection. He looked prim. Proper. Perhaps this hurt most of all.

"Why are you here?"

Aziraphale glanced upwards. Then he looked intently at Crowley. I don't have much time. Right. He couldn't speak freely, Crowley realized. Of course he couldn't. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, what he had known would happen. His angel in chains. (Yet here he was. Here he was.)

"They don't know I'm here," Aziraphale mumbled, gesticulating weakly between them and Up. "I guess I can divert their attention now, for a bit. Comes with the new powers"--he shrugged helplessly--"but not for long. Crowley, do you know about-- about the-- what they're--"

"Armageddon 2.0? Sure."

There was an undecipherable look in Aziraphale's eyes. "Why didn't you-- well. It's not just. I mean it kind of is--it's. More than that. Crowley, I need you to do something for me."

"No."

"This is important." (This isn't about us.)

"I don't care." (There is no us anymore.)

"You do! You always have."

"Oh not this again," Crowley hissed. "You were an angel once. You can be forgiven. Shut up."

"That's not what I meant."

With two long, angry strides, Crowley closed the space between them. Menace, anger, hurt-- "Then what did you mean?" He spat the words. Like a weapon. (Then why was it a question?)

Aziraphale's face crumbled. He stood his ground nonetheless, not backing away. The angel's anger was less spiky, but it rose to meet Crowley's. It made his next words hit like bricks. "I mean that you love. I mean that you, Crowley, are the best person I know. I mean that I love you."

The words dropped like a lead balloon.

There was utter silence between them.

Why were they so close?

Why were his sunglasses so dark? Aziraphale saw only his own reflection. He couldn't bear that, and dropped his gaze. Oh, worse. There was his mouth, mere inches away.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley's lips, really really looked, and there was nothing more, now that he knew about the feeling of Crowley's lips and of his heart, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to kiss him. But he couldn't, he couldn't. Not like this. He needed the next time (he had to believe in a next time, in a time with Crowley, again)--the next time they kissed he needed it to be good and happy and an affirmation. He couldn't bear it otherwise. He would break entirely. He was sure of it.

But still, still-- Crowley was so close. He could smell nothing but him. Think of nothing but him. That weakness again, that soft spot inside him he had never known how to hold down. And with it, Want reared its greedy head. Aziraphal leaned in ever so slightly, felt their noses touch-- and then used all his strength to move away, to pull back. It was not the right time. Not yet.

He looked past Crowley, who might have as well turned to a pillar of salt. Crowley, whose face was a mask he couldn't let slip. The air flickered between them.

There were tears in his eyes when he finally forced his gaze towards Crowley's face, a silent plead to not misunderstand. Please, please. But he couldn't expect that of him. He was pulling away again. But not because he wanted to. No, there was nothing he wanted more than to pull closer. There was nothing more he wanted than to talk to him, to truly talk, to explain and apologize and make amends, but he was bound by Duty and Rules and Watching Eyes more than he ever had been.

This was his rebellion: he lifted a hand, the ghost of a touch, fingertips against cheekbone. The memory of holding on. Of never wanting to let go. Crowley flinched without moving, a shiver of his lips. Aziraphale let his hand drop, briefly, to Crowley's chest, holding it over his human heart. It was beating just like his.

This was his successful magic trick, when it counted: he drew away, leaving a crack in Crowley's steel-clad heart, and a note in his chest pocket.

"I'm sorry. I need to go."

"Of course you do."

"Oh, Crowley. I--" But he did not finish the sentence, knew there was no proper way how. So he said, quietly, softly, "Trust me, please."

And he did. Crowley hated it, hated it so much, but he did, he did trust him despite it all. But it did not erase the hurt. The festering wound. Now what was he supposed to do with that?

With one last pointed look, Aziraphale vanished.

Crowley was alone.

His defenses lay shattered at his feet, and he slowly gathered them back up. He did not mend the cracks. (That's where the light had gotten in.) He cleared his throat. Tried to banish from his mind the look in Aziraphale's eyes, the memory of his lips and of his tears.

And failed considerably.

I love you.

(Touched his cheek, and then his chest, and faltered.)

[this fic is now also on ao3 and being continued there]

[fairene]

hello!! i LOVE your work you write the most interesting dynamics and your style always completely sucks me in! i saw you mentioned in the tags that requests were welcome and if it sounds fun, i'd love to read something with lando and a tennis player!reader, not just bc i love tennis lol but also bc it could be interesting to have him with someone who has experienced the same level of pressure. i'd love anything you wrote though!❤️

say less, my love.

pressure / ln4

a/n ⋯ a short pause from the one of your girls dual part. this was a beautiful request, and as a huge challengers enthusiast, i had to put it to paper. thank you so much for the request. also i am aware that the u.s. open takes place in new york, but for simplicity sake, we'll say its in miami.

music ⋯ link

warnings ⋯ no smut, fluff, angst, insecure thoughts, anxiety.

wordcount ⋯ 2.6k (unedited).

“you’re going to do amazing, my love.” lando’s words were soothing as he held you firmly against his chest. it was a saturday night in miami, both of you were dueling your own matches for the weekend. you were in the finals of your tournament held for the US open, whereas he was debuting in the miami grand prix the following afternoon. 

your head shifted into his chest, nose burrowing into the fabric of his shirt with a soft hum. you knew he was right, but the pressure waned on you. how could it not? your entire career balanced on your performance, and thousands of people would be watching you. not only were you lando norris’ girlfriend, but also an up and coming star in your own career. 

you kissed the fabric of his shirt, knowing the sentiment held little, but he appreciated the gesture regardless. his hand found the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair. his touch was gentle, kind, one reserved only for you. it was moment’s like these that the pair of you found solitude in one another. 

“i know, i just…” you hesitated, lifting your head so your chin rested on the center of his torso. he tightened his hand around your hip, cradling you against the firm shape of his body. 

“what, baby?” he said with a soft tone, velvety to your ears. you couldn’t resist him. couldn’t hold anything back from him, despite wanting to spare him the worries you held. the last thing you wanted him to do was worry about you. especially when he had a huge event of his own.

but all he did was worry about you.

day and night he would dream both through the sun and beneath the moonlight of you. you. it was always you that he was concerned about. you, that he searched for atop his podiums. you, that he would attend all your matches when he could.

this was one of the rare events where they overlapped. he would only be there with you in the morning to see you off before your matches. then, you would reconcile with him in the evenings. post race, post tournament. it would be a tough day to manage on your own, but he felt the same way. you were the light to all of his races, the focal point of which he could relax. his anxiety roared in these conditions, but you somehow soothed him at every turn. 

he needed you. but you couldn’t be there. 

“i want you there.” 

his features softened. there was a cloud of guilt brewing a thunderstorm above his head, threatening to rain down tears in your obvious distress. he hated seeing you this way, and most of all, he hated being the one who caused it. 

“i know.” his thumb stroked across your cheek. “i would if i could.” you believe him. he was your number one fan, just as you were his. a match made in heaven, one might be able to jest. “‘nd i want you there, tomorrow, with me on the radio.” 

you blushed, letting your face drop into the fabric of his sweatshirt. you felt his chest bellow with a deep laugh, centered at his core, letting his lids flutter at your bashful expression. your teeth even went as far as biting at his sweatshirt, which had him grumbling and pulling your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, raising your head to meet his eyes. 

“you’ll be the death of me,” he uttered, saying with pure love. your relationship with him was full of complexities, but overall dominated by your fatuous love for one another. the pressures you both face in consequence of your performances…

“you’re going to win tomorrow.” you sat up on his lap, straddling his hips. you were both in your shared bed in the hotel, lounging in your sleepwear in the messed up sheets. tonight was between you two and no one else. lando slammed that ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door the minute the pair of you walked in for the evening. “i can feel it.” 

“you think so?” he gulped, both his hands coming to run up the skin of your thighs. you shivered at his touch, but you were determined to keep a clear mind. 

“i know so.” you watched his face relax with relief. your words of comfort meant ten times than anyone else's, and you would always give him the truth. its what he loved about you so much. your blatant honesty, your charisma, your ability to power through every obstacle in your life. but he knew just as much as you did that you wouldn’t be able to do any of it without each other. it was one of the many little beautiful things about your relationship.

lando’s anxiety would gnaw at him every chance it got. but since he’s entered a relationship with you, he feels like a fucking king, but he was nothing without his queen. 

“don’t know,” he said, breaking the silence. “you’re my lucky charm.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’ve scored points at every race this season,” you pointed out. it was a fact. he was one of the only contending drivers to have such a prosperous season. you were delighted for him. “with or without me there.” 

but he didn’t like your excuses. he squeezed your plush thighs beneath his calloused fingers, which had you gasping. 

“don’t do that.” 

you quirked a brow. “do what?”

“pretend like you don’t mean the world to me.” 

you blushed and fell forward on his chest, your head falling into his neck. you giggled against his skin, unable to contain your smile. “stop that,” you insisted, blushing fiercely. a hand of his came to hold the back of your neck in a comforting grip. 

“loving you?” you caught his gaze, bleary with love. “i don’t think i can.” 

you were up at 5:30 that morning getting ready. lando was still sound asleep, snores being heard from the ensuite bathroom as your brushed your teeth and fixed your appearance. you wore a white tennis dressed, sponsored by fila, and just left when you made your way to the bed.

your hand brushed over lando’s exposed hip, shirtless in the bed with only a pair of boxers. he moaned in his sleep, pulling a pillow closer. but he was wide awake when he realized the pillow was made of feathers, and not you. 

“come on, my love.” you said to him in the dark room, looming over him with your hair undone and bright white dress. he turned to face you, sitting up against the headboard. his hands came to rest over his head, stretching. 

then he leaned in for a kiss, his hand cupping your cheek. you met him half way, sucking on his lower lip. he groaned, and you felt yourself shift, but couldn’t fall into his trap of desire. 

“ah, ah.” you pulled away before his hand came to snatch you down into the bed. “you promised me breakfast.” 

he fell back into the bed with disappointment. you laughed to yourself and made your way to the foyeur. you didn’t have to wait long when you heard him shifting and getting ready for the day ahead. 

when you arrived to the courts that morning, lando was carrying most of your things. it had you smiling with appreciation, insisting that you could carry your wilson tennis bag. but he refused, saying that you worked too hard for this day to be carrying your own bag. let me help you, and you were sold. 

you caught on to how much the crowds began to fill in. you were a sensation. but the notion would consistently fly over your head. 

you were tense and lando could see that. 

“hey,” his hand came to rest on your back. you leaned into him. “you’re going to do great, baby.” 

you sucked in a tight breath. but what if you didn’t? what if, that these set of matches, would damn your career to near ruin? what if you could never be perfect? 

your breathing became erratic. lando’s eyes widened, jumping into swift action as he covered your body with his. he backed you into a corner where no one could see the pair of you, and wrapped his hands around your body tightly. 

“match me.” he said. the words were so familiar to you. the both of you had discovered a coping mechanism when things got too much, too overwhelming, and too over pressured. you’d fall into each other’s arms and hear one another breathe. 

your lip quivered with tears. but you did as you were told. 

with an ear pressed to his chest, you could hear the steady beat of his heart. the strength in his muscles. the blood rippling through his veins. most importantly, the rise and fall of his abdomen against your own. 

with your thummering heart, you found pace with him. “in and out,” he would soothe, saying into the top of your head where he left kisses in his wake. 

he stroked the small of your back, thumb running circles over you. you fell completely into him. 

“what if i’m not good enough?” 

the words broke him. 

“then the world is full of fuckheads, i’ll tell you that.” his tone was firm, but ebbed with softness as he spoke into your scalp. his attempt at humor had you breaking into a soft chuckle. you appreciated him in this moment. “i’d kill all those fuckers, you just tell me who–”

your head broke away with a smile, finger coming to shush him. 

“lando!” 

“what? it’s true.” 

you loved him. 

“maybe so,” you reached up to kiss both of his flushed cheeks. “but i want you here. with me.” 

his forehead connected with yours. 

“you’ll always have me.” he placed his hand over your heart, and you placed yours over his. 

“always?”

“always.” he promised. 

the matches were flawless. you played to your body’s ultimate limit. you were skating across the base line, the volley line, snapping your shoulder with everything you had for your serves. 

“love, all.” the announcer began. 

you were up serving first. 

this was it. 

the final match out of six. whoever won this, won the title. 

you thought about lando. you thought about his breath against your neck. the texture of his stubble. the pride in his eyes. sweat dribbled from your forehead as you let the tennis ball bounce a few times before you to get a feel for the clay courts. 

and with one fluent swing and leap, the ball was set into the air. 

the cockpit was hot. lando was sweating profusely in the miami air. the humidity had changed their course of strategy at mclaren, but he agreed with his engineers wholeheartedly. there had been a safety car, and he abused it. attack it. 

when he was rounding corner after corner, lap after lap, he only thought of you. he thought of you in your pretty tennis dresses. you and your bright smile. you and your comforting touches, kissing him goodnight. it had his racing heart relaxing, fingers flexing against the steering drive. 

you were perfect. his perfect fucking girl. you were all his– his soon to be championship winner. and he wanted to make you a promise that he would win. he would win this for you. 

‘you’re going to win tomorrow,’ you said idly from atop his hips. you looked towards him with such riveting devotion. such intimacy that he never imagined was possible for someone to convey. but with you, anything was possible. 

the two of you were not so different from one another. the pressures you both faced were immaculate. it’s what held you both so heavily bonded to one another. you needed each other’s comfort. the touch of your hands. the sweetness of your lips. he didn’t give a fuck about codependency. fuck who ever came up with that. 

he’s going to fucking win. he will win for you. whatever it takes, he will stand on that podium in the firelli hat, and dedicate it all to you.

the score was 40-40. 

your body shook with adrenaline, muscles pounding beneath your layer of skin. your body pumped with red hot blood, blood of a future champion. this title would be yours. you knew that the minute you walked onto this court with your opponent. 

he was a smug gentleman. too smug. you wanted to wipe that fucking look off of his face. bruise it black and blue if you could. 

though your anger could be taken out on the court. you let it. 

your strokes were harder. faster. your serve pace was up to 140mph. he couldn’t even get to most of them with how your body contorted mid air, slamming it down and leaving an indent into the clay. you were a powerhouse. a machine. a gauntlet of beauty. 

and when you scored the winning point after an intense rally, jumping high into the air for an ace, you rocked back into the balls of your feet. your hips swung, racket thwanging, and you cheered; “come on!” 

your anger for him was palpable. it blinded you enough to forget the crowds. the only thing you had on your mind was winning, and that you did. 

the stadium lit up and you were met with a flushing amount of cheers. you were handed a towel from one of the members of your team before being swarmed with paparazzi.

they all complimented you. congratulated you. asked about certain points, but there was one member that caught your eye. 

“lando’s in the lead!” a cameraman said from the back. your head raised, brows quirking.

“what did you say?” you forced a path for the man to walk forward. he accepted your invitation, holding up his phone screen in one hand.

sure enough, you saw the standings. lando was in first. your boy was in first. 

your eyes widened. “this is live, isn’t it?” you were panting, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the lemon-scented towel. 

the man nodded, holding a microphone to you. 

“how do you feel right now?” you kept watching. lap 55. 

you kept quiet, and the rest of the paparazzi did too.

lap 56.

your hands clasped together, raising them to your mouth. 

“come on, baby…” you said beneath your breath. this was the longest minute of your life, you were sure of it. 

and when he crossed the finish line, he was only thinking about you. 

lando norris, first time grand prix winner, shrieked with joy over the microphone. 

you did, too, jumping up and down from your place on the court. the paparazzi swarmed you again, anticipating what you had to say for the both of you. 

“he’s incredible, isn’t he?” you gushed with a smile on your face, tears dripping down your cheeks. 

“what a day for you two, isn’t it?” 

you couldn’t agree more. “i’ll cheers to that.” 

you practically ran through the paddock. your tennis dress was still on, your team was irritated that you didn’t stay for press. you didn’t give a fuck. you just wanted to see lando. you had the rest of your life to deal with the press, but he only had one maiden win. 

you were greeted with a plethora of congratulations from the mclaren team. zak brown even caught a glance at you, waving you over. 

“podiums just about to start.” perfect. you made it in time. 

and when you saw him there, standing idly as they played the national anthem, you were brought to the front. the camera panned on you and your weeping expression, hand covering your mouth from your sobs. 

he saw it from the distance and his head snapped down to find you. his own emotions couldn’t be contained, not with you there– you, here, looking beautiful in the sea of people– and the tears slid down his cheeks. 

your face broke into a smile when he saw you. he was yours. 

and you were his. and you were in this together. 

forever and always. 

[vminizzle]

Unplanned night

pairing : husband!jungkook x f.reader

genre : angst, smut

warnings : soft dom!jungkook, jealous!reader (not that jealous tho), argument, teasing, pet names, swearing, sexting?, cybersex?, voyeurism, masturbation, marking, manhandling, praising, slight chocking, penetration, unprotected sex, doggy style, missionary, mirror sex, multiple orgasms (3), overstimulation, creampie, cockwarming. ( lot of words had been repeated sorry 💀 that’s actually embarrassing.) HONESTLY I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS THIS FIC SORRY

words count : 3.8k

A/N : hello hello, i hope you all doing fine. I felt like I haven’t posted in awhile even tho I posted there are a few days ago. well, here a little something I just wrote in my car while waiting for my next course in uni, because I’m introverted and I don’t interact with human irl. I rather stay in my car lmao. THIS is ACTUALLY the messiest thing I’ve ever wrote, but I hope you’ll like it tho, decided to change a bit. REMINDER : POOR ENGLISH. Love y’all !! -sunny

Heavily unedited!!

FEEDBACKS ARE WELCOMED 🦋

M RATED

"Oh c’mon don’t act like you’re innocent." you rolled your eyes.

"you’re exaggerating." he shook his head exasperated, throwing the keys on the counter.

Jungkook and you just came back home from a dinner with your friends, the evening was going well until one of your old college classmate joined you. She invited herself at your table without any shame.

Not only she was annoying but she was flirting with your husband.

"you flirted back!" you pointed at him as he followed you to the living room.

"now you’re just saying bullshit!" 

"C’mon if I wasn’t there she’d had sit on your lap! I had to put my hand on your thigh to remind her I was here, because she kept on touching you. She’s so fucking touchy and all, it irritated me!"

Jungkook sighed as he watched you stomping back and forth around the glass table.

"Listen, it’s not like that. You know I wouldn’t had let that happen-"

"wow that’s awesome! Should I congratulate you for saying that?" you threw your hands in the air dramatically.

"now, you’re gonna calm the fuck down because you’re getting annoying." he huffed at your behavior.

You stared at him speechless as he let his body drop on the couch.

"so i am annoying now?" you put your hands on your hips looking down at your husband, this one sighing heavily.

"It’s not like th-"

"It’s like what then?"

"You’re overreacting."

"she purposely tripped over you and that disrespectful slut kissed your neck!" you pointed toward his neck.

"that’s the collar of my fucking shirt!" he furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief.

"still! look at it! her ugly lipstick stained it."

"y/n." he started, resting his elbows on his knees, looking up at you.

"we’re not gonna argue because of that, are we?" he lifted an eyebrow up expectantly.

"I wouldn’t be arguing with you right now, if you didn’t opened your mouth to defend her." you crossed your arms over your chest angrily.

"what the fuck are you saying this time?! I didn’t even defend her!" he breathed deeply trying to keep his calm.

"you knew damn well she used to have a crush on you when we were in college but you didn’t put her in her place when she started flirting with you! She’s so shameless that she did it in front of me. Let me remind you that you’re married-"

"oh yea, the fuck I am." he rolled his eyes letting his body fall back on the couch again.

"what do you mean?" you furrowed your eyebrows.

"you don’t get it y/n. I didn’t flirt with her."

"it’s the way you talked to her. You still talked like we were in college. And when she touched you? You didn’t even moved! You let her do what she felt like." your grip on your purse tightening at the thought of it.

"I don’t want to argue with you princess, please let’s not. You probably misunderstood the situation. You know I love you and I wouldn’t flirt with anyone else than you, my wife." you gulped, his words making your heart beat slowly as you started feeling guilty.

But what you’ve seen tonight was just annoying. You just wanted to jump on her and choke her to death for touching your husband. You weren’t really the jealous type but there are limits to respect. And this woman crossed the line.

"but Jungkook, she knows damn well we’re married. Why would she acted like that?"

"maybe she was a bit too tipsy-"

"and again! you’re finding fucking excuses to defend her!" you threw your purse on him angrily, this one catching it midway to not get hit. 

You started walking away to the stairs making Jungkook groaned throwing the purse aside on the glass table annoyed.

"now where are you going?" he asked.

"bedroom. I don’t want to continue fighting with you tonight." you replied dryly.

"argh fuck it!" Jungkook threw his head back frustrated.

Usually, when you came back from a date or dinner with your friends, you both would come home in a good mood - a very good mood. 

Starting with slow little kisses at the front door, clothes on the floor in the living room as you both undress each other impatiently as you made your way upstairs to the bedroom.

But tonight, your plan have been changed.

Earlier, the ride was way too quiet, the atmosphere cold. No holding hands, only your husband stealing glances time to time at your angry figure sat next to him in the car.

Slamming the bedroom’s door and locking it, you made your way to the bed, sitting on the edge of it.

You stared into the void, thinking about your husband being close but not so close of you. He was in the house but it felt like he wasn’t here. It felt like he was far, really far away from you.

You didn’t wanted to be mad at him but his behavior got on your nerves. You weren’t even sure if he did something bad or not?

Did he? You hesitated.

Because letting another woman touch your arm and feeling "how strong you got since college" is not the best thing to let happen, right? On top of that, just next to your wife.

You stared at your phone, the screen showing your wallpaper, the beautiful picture of your wedding decorating it.

Suddenly, an idea popped in your mind. You’ve never done that before, but guess there is a first time to everything.

You decided to get on his nerves too. But in a better way. 

Jungkook is the type to get impatient over things he really wants. Things he wants right away if he had the chance to get it.

So teasing him was the best way to drive him mad. And on top of that, you’d get advantage from this little "punishment".

Jungkook grabbed his phone from his back pocket as he heard a notification.

He furrowed his eyebrows confused as he saw your name displayed on the screen.

y/n : [ attachment ] 

His eyes widened when he opened the message making him chock on his own saliva. He stopped breathing for a second, gulping as his eyes stayed glued on his screen.

"is she serious right now?" he pursed his lips not knowing how to feel.

He stood up walking upstairs to the bedroom.

"open the door." he knocked on the bedroom’s door firmly.

"no! I’m not gonna open." you replied calmly.

"I’m asking again. Open that fucking door y/n. I’m not playing." he knocked again impatient.

"I said no." you repeated confidently.

y/n : [ attachment ]

"why are you doing that?" he whined, resting his head on the marble separating you from him.

The "naughty" picture of you making him lose his mind.

Your beautiful body clamped in a black lingerie, sat on the carpeted floor on your knees facing the mirror, left hand cupping your bra covered breast, a small smirk decorating your pretty lips.

y/n : [ attachment ]

Jungkook gulped as he opened the new "punishment" you were "imposing" him.

Sat on the floor completely this time, still facing the big mirror, your left hand was now laying between your parted legs, covering the part where you needed him. 

< your hand would had been much better but I’ll do with what I have. > 

Jungkook bit his bottom lip, the caption making blood rush down there.

"C’mon please. Open the door baby." he asked desperately.

"nope. go away. I won’t open it."

"fuck! you’re really stubborn when you want to."

He groaned going downstairs to the living room disappointed, he sat on the couch thinking about a way to make you open the door before he lose his patience and break it.

Suddenly, his phone rang pushing him out of his thoughts. He immediately grabbed it without any second thought.

[ FaceTime ] 

His thumb reacted faster than his brain as he pressed on the green button. 

"y/n why-"

Jungkook stopped when he saw you.

He closed his eyes shut tight, feeling his pants getting tighter.

You smirked as you stared at your husband’s reaction.

"why are you doing that?" he muttered literally in pain, lowering his head 

"why? hmm.. guess." you pursed your lips.

"I didn’t do anything." 

"if you say so." you shrugged.

"C’mon open the door please." he looked at his phone again, his eyes dark, staring at your half naked body.

You thought for a moment before shaking your head with a playful smile.

"gosh what do you want from me? beg? I’ll do anything you want baby." he whined making you smirk.

"aw you’re so cute when you’re needy." you tilted your head to the side feeling satisfied.

You put your laptop away from your lap, pushing it a bit farther on the bed from you. You sat on your knees, facing the device.

Jungkook stared at the screen, throat getting dry.

"do you like it?" you smiled cutely, referring to the lingerie adorning your body, hand sliding from your chest to your lower stomach.

"so much, you can’t even imagine." he whispered, eyes following your hand down resting on top of your thigh.

He gulped as your other hand went up to play with the strap of the bra.

"the straps are so thin, or is it just me?"

"they’re fine." he breathed out making you hummed.

"what about the panties? lacy, do you like it?" you smirked knowing well that’s what he loves.

His weakness.

"fuck honey stop teasing!" he groaned impatiently.

"shh, calm down." you put a finger on your own lips.

Your fingers hooked in the waistband of the lacy material, pulling it slowly aside showing how stretchy the underwear was.

"It seems so fragile." you said with a fake disappointed voice.

You bent down a little to look closer to the screen, showing a bit more of your cleavage on purpose.

Jungkook’s hand travelled down to his pants, resting it on his confined boner as he watched your own hand sliding down between your legs.

"it feels so good." you said as you drew little circles on your lightly covered clit making Jungkook moan lowly, hand pressing on his bulge.

"fuck." he laid himself more comfortably on the couch, eyes not leaving the screen. 

You closed your eyes as your hand travelled up to cup your breast firmly, your other hand still teasing you, rubbing slowly on your clit.

"take it off princess." he said making you looked at him.

"please."

You weren’t used to it, doing such thing. You tried your best to stay confident but your body was burning from how shy you felt at the moment.

"do it."

Your hands went behind your back, unhooking the bra throwing it on the carpeted floor.

"fuck yes." he started unbuttoning his shirt, getting rid of it as he felt hot.

Jungkook put his phone on the glass table, quickly unbuckling his belt, pushing his pants and boxer down at once.

Taking his device back, his eyes wandered all over your body.

You looked so beautiful. 

Jungkook knew you tried to act nonchalant, sure of what you were doing, so he decided to play along and make you feel more confortable.

"hey look at me.” he said softly.

"touch yourself."

You froze for a few seconds before he talked again.

"C’mon baby touch yourself for me." he said breathlessly as he grabbed his cock pumping it slowly.

"you’re so gorgeous, look how hard I am because of you." he hissed, his thumb teasing himself as he brushed it over the slit.

You opened your mouth, no words coming out when he lowered his phone, showing you what his hand was busy doing.

"take these off too pretty please." he ordered gently, eyes on the black garment covering you from him.

Jungkook always been like that.

Even when you tried to be in control, he always finds a way to take over.

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy when you tried to be the one in control but you always end up whining for him to continue. And the way you’re so submissive for him always excited him.

You complied, hooking your fingers into the lacy material dragging it down your legs, discarding it away.

Your husband moaned at the view. The dimmed light enough to show your perfect features. 

"lay down and open your legs for me." his voice low.

You took a deep breath as you laid back on the pillow, parting your legs timidly.

"now touch yourself. show me how you do it. show me how you pleasure yourself."

"Jungkook." you whimpered as your fingers came in contact with your core.

"yes my love?" his hand still stroking his cock slowly, knowing you were lost already to answer him.

You slid two fingers between your glistening lips, teasing your entrance.

"put a finger in." he said between breaths.

Entering a finger slowly inside you, you grabbed on the sheet.

"put another one baby."

You let a breathy moan escaped from your mouth as you inserted another finger.

"good girl." he said eyes sparking at how submissive you were. 

"Imagine it’s my fingers." Jungkook watched with dark eyes as your fingers went in and out of you.

"yours are better." you whined as you went faster.

Jungkook moved his wrist faster too, tightening his fist around him.

"fuck princess you’re so fucking pretty."

You looked toward the laptop, watching as your husband pleasured himself, his eyes closed, mouth ajar, his head leaned back.

You moaned loudly as you rubbed your clit adding stimulation to push you closer to your orgasm.

"keep going baby." Jungkook encouraged you.

You threw your head back into the pillows as you felt it coming.

"Jungkook I’m-"

"Cum for me." he moaned loudly as he came on his hand, some landing on his lower stomach making him swear as he kept on stroking himself.

Your left hand went to play with your hardened nipple, your thumb flicking it.

You started clenching around your fingers as you came, moaning your husband’s name loudly.

"you did well darling." you heard Jungkook praised as you tried to catch your breath.

You stared at the laptop screen, eyes on him, the man staring at you too.

"fuck it." you groaned getting off the bed, grabbing the device and shutting it off.

Jungkook threw his phone away, getting rid of his pants and boxer pooling at his ankles as he rushed to the stairs to go to the bedroom.

You put the laptop on the furniture near the large mirror facing the bed before walking to the door, unlocking it.

Jungkook was about to knock on it when you opened it.

You looked into each other’s eyes, lust fogging each other’s mind.

You suddenly grabbed him by the back of his neck surprising him as you pulled him down on you, enveloping his lips in an eager kiss.

"god I fucking need you." Jungkook parted away pulling you on him, your chest pressed against his muscular one.

He bent down to kiss on your neck softly, sucking on the skin, your hands flat on his chest.

"Jungkook." you breathed hastily making him hummed.

"I want you."

"I knew you couldn’t resist me." he smirked making you look away embarrassed.

"and I can’t resist you either." he grinned lifting your face to look at your flustered face.

"you know I was about to break that fucking door to come make love to you when you sent me those pretty pictures." he grabbed you by your hips, your heart picking up the pace as he backed you to the bed.

"now that I’m here, I’ll take you as much as you can handle." he warned, his gaze a bit too serious.

He pushed you gently on the mattress, hovering over your bare body.

He attached his lips with yours, sucking on your tongue. You kissed him lovingly as your fingers made their to his hair.

His teeth pulled on your bottom lip as he detached from the heated kiss.

You felt his hard on pressing against the inside of your thigh making you feel aroused again.

Jungkook stood up, making you support yourself on your elbows, looking at him confused.

"on all fours. right now." he ordered with a too gentle voice for the current situation.

"what!?" you furrowed your eyebrows sitting up.

"I said, on all fours." he repeated approaching your frozen body. 

He lifted you up effortlessly, making you on your knees, hands in front of you as he positioned himself behind you.

"do you need prep or your little cam girl session earlier was enough?" he teased.

"fuck you." you muttered making him laugh.

Jungkook held your hip as he took his cock in his hand, aligning himself at your entrance.

He rubbed the head of it on your glistening lips making you whimpered.

"stop teasing."

"oh darling, you’re started it." he reminded.

"but since I’m way too impatient right now I won’t tease you." he sighed playfully as he moved forward.

"tell me to stop at any moment if it hurts or anything yea?"

"please do something." you pushed your bottom back on him, his hands stilling your hips.

Jungkook penetrated you painfully slow, making you feel every inches of his cock, the little vein on the side stroking against your velvety wall made you feel dizzy already.

You gasped as he started moving, his hands holding firmly on your sides.

"you feel so good around me." he threw his head back, his fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips.

He looked in front of him, his cock twitching inside you at the view, making you clench around him at the sudden feeling.

"fuck!" 

Jungkook hand travelled all along your spine to your hair, pulling you up to him, your back flat against his hard chest. 

He grabbed on your chin, making you looked in front of you.

You moaned as Jungkook hand went to grab your breast, massaging it gently, his finger teasing the erected bud, flicking it over and over, making you lose your mind.

"look at you." he pointed to the infamous mirror facing the bed.

"taking me so well."

His fingertips dancing on the smooth skin of your stomach.

You knitted your eyebrows, mouth ajar as you felt this familiar knot in the pit of your stomach.

"babe I’m close." you whimpered, your hand clasped on his forearm as you started clenching around him uncontrollably.

"Look in the mirror. Look at me when I’m making you feel good darling." he ordered.

His hand travelling up to your neck, fingers around your throat. He applied a light pressure enough to make you overwhelmed.

You shook your head, tears forming in your eyes as you felt his fingers rubbing on your clit.

"open your eyes pretty." he bit on your earlobe softly, his breath fanning over your neck.

You opened your eyes meeting his lustful ones.

You wanted to look away, his stare making you feel small but he was just so attractive, you couldn’t take your eyes off his face.

Some stands of his long black hair sticked on his sweaty forehead, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, droplets of sweat running down his neck, eyebrows knitted as he concentrated on hitting the spot that could make you see stars.

His beautiful veiny tattooed hand still resting around your neck.

You cried out as you came around him.

Jungkook held your weak body as he felt your thighs trembled from your orgasm, the pleasure too much for you to handle as he kept on snapping his hips into yours.

He suddenly switched position as he laid you on your back.

"fuck! you feel so fucking good! so warm and tight!" your husband moaned as he went faster, his hand grabbing your thigh angling it higher resting it on his waist.

You sobbed as he started sucking softly on your nipple, his wet muscle caressing the hard bud as he licked it, looking up at your face.

"I- i cant-" you chocked a moan when he bent down to bite on the abused skin of your neck.

"I’m so close." he moaned lowly in your ear.

You let a tear roll down your cheek as the overstimulation was getting unbearable.

"too much." you sobbed, head spinning at the pleasure hitting you again.

Your nails buried deep into the flesh of his back, scratching the soft skin as your legs started trembling again.

He groaned as he picked up the pace making the headboard hit the wall.

He put your leg back down as he felt his own orgasm coming.

Jungkook held your hands at each sides of your head before intertwining your fingers together.

"Jungkook!" you tightened your hands around his, squeezing your eyes shut as you let your orgasm washed over you.

Jungkook came inside you after a few strong thrusts, filling you up to the brim, a loud moan of your name passing by his lips.

His body collapsed on top of yours as he stayed inside you.

You breathed heavily, hand going up to caress his back, the other hand going on the back of his head caressing his messy hair.

He left lazy wet kisses on your neck after a few minutes.

"I love you." he whispered, face resting on your chest.

"I love you." you pecked the top of his head softly.

"did I go too hard?" he asked hoping he didn’t do too much, if he didn’t hurt you or push you over your limits.

"no, don’t worry." you reassured him still stroking his scratched back.

He hummed feeling your soft touches caressing over the burning skin, enjoying the warmth of your body under him.

"y/n?" he called quietly making you hum.

"I’m sorry." he lifted his head up to look at you.

"Koo it’s o-"

"no no listen please. I don’t know why you thought all these things. But forget them. You definitely misunderstood. I’ll never do whatever you said earlier. I love you and you only. I’d never flirt with anyone else than you. I’ll never disrespect you in any way. You mean so much for me. I respect you a lot. You’re my wife. The person I love the most. I don’t care about her and I didn’t find excuses to defend her." he explained making you feel guilty again.

"I want to apologize for my behavior earlier. I was so mad and I wasn’t think right I guess. She got on my nerves and I maybe, accused you for doing what you probably didn’t do. I’m sorry." you sighed making you husband shook his head.

"don’t apologize my love." he caressed your cheek before pecking your lips.

"I love you so much Jungkook. You mean so much for me too."

He rolled the both you over, so you're laying on top.

"I love you more, my favorite cam girl." he grinned making you slapped his chest.

"gosh you’re so annoying."

Jungkook laughed, hugging you tightly.

—

a/n : probably a weird way to finish this fic sorry 🥸. Well, I hope it wasn’t that bad. Thank you for reading! I love y’all.

[earthtooz]

x : SHADE MATCH :*+ﾟ

in which: reo loves your lipstick. even more so when it's on him.

warnings: suggestive towards the end so i am making this a 16+ post, fluff, UNEDITED ASF, 1.3k words, gn!reader, just... me loving reo, reader wears makeup, i am going crazy over him tbh.

a/n: i blacked out writing this tbh. enjoy !! wrote this on a whim 100%

you’re carefully applying your lipstick when a demanding yet familiar figure makes himself known in your peripheral.

glancing over, you catch reo’s eye in the mirror as he leans against the doorframe of the bathroom, subtly adjusting the cartier watch adorned around his wrist. he’s not wearing his blazer jacket yet, and the undone first few buttons of his shirt leaves more to be desired.

you look away before you can fall further in the rabbit hole, puckering your lips a few times before fixing up any stray splashes of colour dotted around your skin. smiling in satisfaction, you cap your lipstick before putting it back with the rest of your cosmetics.

two sculpted arms snake around your waist, and reo’s face finds home next to yours, eye-level with you as he blatantly admires your reflection. 

“stunning as always,” he murmurs, smugness dripping in his tone, and the way his hands squeeze at your hips tell you that he has some less than pure intentions.

“thank you. could say the same about you,” you say in return before breaking eye contact, leaning to grab the necklace you had laid out in preparation for tonight. “keeping your hair down tonight, love?”

reo runs a hand through his locks, letting the fringe fall back in place as he hums in contemplation. “i don’t know, what do you think? what you want me to do is what i’ll choose.”

“you know i love it either way,” you say, “doesn’t change how beautiful you are.”

he beams, your words having an obvious impact on him, but before he could shower you with compliments in kind, you raise your unclasped necklace to him.

“help me out?”

“anything for you,” the purple-haired delicately takes the jewellery from your hands, his heart swelling three times in size when he realises it’s the one he bought for you. in fact, he already noticed that you were wearing the outfit he bought for you, thrilled at how wonderful you looked dressed in his money.

of course, if he said that thought out loud, it would probably be received with a not-so-gentle punch from you. 

he’ll communicate it properly one day but for now, he mutedly admires you, gently brushing his fingers along your neck as he does the clasp for you. after a few moments, reo tells you he’s done by turning you around himself, hands lingering on your hips.

“what are you staring at?” you ask after a while of him simply admiring you, taking his time as if you had all the time in the world. 

well. if that’s what you wanted then reo would make that happen. 

“just the most beautiful masterpiece i’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he replies, hand snaking up to delicately hold your chin, and you realise what he’s trying to do when you see the way his eyes begin to droop before leaning in close.

“no, don’t ki-” you get cut off regardless with the gentle press of reo’s lips against yours, and you falter a little, needing to hold on to the bathroom counter for some semblance of security as the athlete leisurely moulds his lips with yours.

there’s no brain space to dwell over your lipstick when reo is kissing you breathless, pressing you harder against the counter. you pull away with a shiver, pressing a finger to his lips before reo could get ahead of himself and let the kiss heighten in intensity. 

the groan he lets out is an indicator of how unhappy he is with your blocking, but you can only take his pout so seriously when he has your lipstick smeared all over him. you probably look no better and you feel a little scared to turn around and see for yourself.

his breath fans heavily across your lips, eyes gleaming with lust and adoration as he looks down at you. “what was that for?” he complains.

“my lipstick, you ruined it,” you say, “and it’s all on your lips too.”

the athlete smirks, eyes widening in realisation. “is it now?” he asks before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your cheek. you feel it linger before turning around to look in the mirror, confronted by a clear kiss mark on your skin.

“reo!” you huff, “this is hard to wipe off, you know.” 

“just put concealer over it.”

you could slap him and it’s clear that he sees the intent in your eyes because he ducks away, covering his head with boisterous laughter slipping past his lips, the noise echoing around the marble of the bathroom. “please don’t hit me, i’m sorry!” he laughs, trying to sound sincere to no avail.

at the sound of your sigh, reo loosens up, grinning even wider when he sees the way your face lights up at his antics. he decides that he truly is willing to do anything for you, so long as he gets to see you smile at the end of it.

it’s reckless to think so but then again, falling in love with you hasn’t been anything short of, love filling up his lungs until he needs to pour it all out, only to be filled again with every second he finds himself lost in you. 

“fine. this will be payback,” you mutter, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him in, placing a kiss on the open expanse of his chest, right near his collarbone.

reo wonders if you could feel the way his heart rate spiked.

after lingering there for a few seconds, you pull away, satisfied with the mark you left behind. “now we’re even.”

you step away from where he had you against the counter, looking for makeup wipes and your concealer to have the two of you looking perfect again. but when reo looks at himself in the mirror, he is immediately entranced with the mark you left behind. 

reo wonders if it was too ridiculous to want it tattooed.

“here,” you say, pressing the makeup wipes against his chest which reo dumbly catches, mind still faraway even when you order him to clean up. 

without thinking, he obeys, cleaning the makeup off his lips. still dazed, he hadn’t realised that you were already done.

“you forgot a spot,” you point out before the purple-haired can feel a cool cream be spread on his skin- your moisturiser, he realises. after putting lip balm on his lips, you make a move to wipe the lipstick stain off his chest when reo snaps back to reality, stepping away from you. “reo… i need to get that off.”

“no, i think it should stay,” he says, voice laced with fascination. 

“babe, c’mon, don’t be silly, you sh-”

“-i’m not being silly, it’s a very nice, very territorial addition to my outfit.”

you’re horrified at the imagery of reo parading around with your kiss mark on his chest. granted, it wasn’t incredibly bold or out-of-place, and if you were going somewhere a little less formal, you would have inclined to agreed.

“i am going to be seeing your parents tonight.”

“they have an eye for art.”

“reo-”

“listen beautiful, what do i gotta do get you to agree?”

“do the dishes for a month, pay for my emotional reparations, donate a grand to charity, and show me a good time, and only then will i agree.”

“too easy,” he smirks. "hope you're ready for the time of your life then, you know i don't like to go the easy route."

BLLK MASTERLIST © 2023 EARTHTOOZ do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites.

[sanest-bsd-delegate]

The white hair tragedy

Headcanon: The white hair makes them go bruhhhhh ft Dazai, Ranpo and Kunikida Masterlist Please look at the request rules in masterlist before requesting.

Dazai:

He was horrified.

And pretty much earraped the whole agency

"Y/N LOOK" "Dazai there is nothing to scream" "ITS A WHITE HAIR"

He is 22 but he looks 32

He hasn't even reached middle age and saw a white hair.

"TELL ME ITS ATSUSHI'S FUR AND NOT MY HAIR Y/N"

Yup he is in denial.

Have to imagine him rushing to the nearest store to buy hair dye.

"Dazai, its nothing" "Y/N I AM GROWING OLD" "So?"

"I CANT DIE OLD, I AM STILL YOUNG"

Insert that one meme of masterfu (if u get it, you get it)

Am pretty sure he just overreacted to the situation.

You eventually had to just pull the strand of white hair.

"Oww I hurts Y/N" "Good you deserve it" "How mean..." Dazai slander 101

Kunikida was relieved to find peace. Whereas you just sighed at your boyfriend who changed the male restroom's hand wash with the dye.

Ranpo:

Oh boy. You were just squishing your boyfriend in your arms when you saw a single strand of white hair.

You practically yelled at him.

"I WAS RIGHT! YOUR SWEETS GAVE YOU EARLY MIDDLE AGE CRISIS"

He opened his eyes, for the first time and just looked at the white hair

HE JUST PLUCKED IT OUT AND CONTINUED EATING-

Yeah you were just speechless.

You snatched his snacks and ran

Poor baby doesn't know how to put his shoes to run after you.

Kunikida:

Am pretty sure he didn't even notice it till Dazai pointed it out.

"Kunikidaaaa" "What Dazai?" "Don't stress, you pretty much have white hair"

Insert bone's fisheye for Kunikida

Am sorry i had to-

He practically wouldn't scream like Dazai but wouldn't be chill like Ranpo.

He is just having 'questioning my life choices which led to this' moment

That was until you decided to pluck out the white hair.

"Y/N L/N WHY DID YOU DO THAT, IT HAS DISTURBED MY IDEAL HAIR" "Ideal hair?" You replied raising an eyebrow

"You mean the sorry excuse of growing bottom hair longer?" Dazai commented from behind

Rip Dazai.

Its short, weird and unedited but i had fun writing it (No it wasnt because i wrote it half asleep)

I was going to write for Atsushi when i realized, He has white hair-

i cant bring Chuuya having white hair HE IS IMMORTAL AND STILL A GROWING TEENAGER

here is a gif by yours truly me <3 (because i wrote this hc weird ngl take these people and bless your eyes with their presence after reading this cursed post)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for editing my friends cover letter and then telling him I wouldn’t give him my employee number for a referral if he used the cover letter he wrote? (Emojis to find this whenever it posts)

✍️🧠

For some context… I work for a HUGE university that is extremely hard to get a job at. I have friends in HR here now and they said pretty much every job posting (and the postings are pretty sparse) gets a minimum of 250-300 applications. I got extremely lucky securing my job and truly do not take that for granted. And now that I’m an “insider” I have the ability to make referrals for my friends so that they can at least get an interview and hopefully a job here too and hop on the good pay and excellent benefits train especially since we’re all coming up on 26, therefore, we are all losing our health insurance (yay America).

So, one of my friends finished his masters degree recently and was looking for jobs in my area and saw something at my place of employment he was interested in. I told him I would be more than happy to look over his cover letter and resume before he submitted his application because I know what they look for in those. He said if there was any major changes he would pay me for edits too. I agreed because why not help my friend out. Give him a shot at this place.

And as much as I hate to say it… his cover letter was just… bad. It was so bad I reread it a good 5 times before I was fully able to comprehend just how bad it was. I had to go for a walk around the block to collect my thoughts on it. It literally made me question how he got a masters degree if I am being completely frank. It was also just so atrocious I offered to edit it for free because I felt so bad.

I don’t want to give specifics but think, half a paragraph on things he explicitly states that he has not done and will never do in his masters program, saying “folks” instead of colleagues (which is fine in conversation but like. Not for a cover letter ya know?), talked more about his experience in retail than he did his actual masters program, and just so so so much more.

So to just give him as fair of a shot as I could, I asked him for his thesis and service work that he did in his program, and asked permission to pretty much start from scratch on his cover letter. He excitedly agreed and told me to “go to town and do what you have to” and said “you know better than me what they’re looking for” and once I returned the final product to him he wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the amount of jargon I inserted and the amount of changes I made to his “flare”. I had my friend in HR at the specific department I work at read it over and he said it was spectacular and he would interview someone with the cover letter in a heartbeat. I told my friend that and he still felt like I “robbed it of his personality.” I told him he’s welcome to edit it however he wants but my friends in HR said it was really strong how I wrote it and I would highly recommend not making any changes before he applies if he wants to get an interview and told him to just think on it for a bit before throwing in his application.

He didn’t respond for a couple of days and then called me out of the blue and told me he was working on his application now, was planning on using his original cover letter unedited, and needed my ID number for the referral. And I said… no. I am super super lucky to have my job and as jobs here are in such high demand I was scared to stick my neck out for him because I felt it might stain my reputation and reflect poorly on me. And he yelled at me and accused me I was being selfish and uppity about my job and that I needed to just give him the number because “if doesn’t matter anyway”. I tried to explain to him that any referral an employee makes gets added to their file regardless if the person got hired or not.

I did not want to stand by his original cover letter because I felt like it would’ve knocked him out of the running LONG before the interviews would’ve even started getting scheduled. I also feel it is important to add, I never told him his cover letter was garbage. I just told him it needed some work/jargon/fine tuning to the job description. I would never EVER say something like that to someone because I would never want to hurt someone’s feelings

I feel horrible. I didn’t want him to be hurt by the advice and changes I was making but I am in a very interesting and delicate position with my job in that I am one of like 5 people in any kind of administrative role at the entire institution that doesn’t have a bachelors degree. I secured my job because I worked as a temporary assistant for a few months and they loved me so much they made an exception to hire me in fully. I am deeply loved in my department and I truly love my job with all of my heart. It is wonderful and incredibly rewarding to do the work that I do so I really do not want to fuck this up for myself. I have had other friends apply and get jobs here with a little guidance and they love it too. I absolutely want that for my friend I was trying to help. I truly do. But he was not willing to take my advice and I just couldn’t risk sticking my neck out for him. So… AITA?

TL/DR: I work for a hard to get into place. Spent a lot of time fixing my friends app bc he writes like a 14 year old despite having a masters degree. He said he was using his shitty cover letter and asked for my referral number anyway and I told him no it’s not gonna happen because I can’t afford to stick my neck out like that since I got my job in a non traditional way leaving me a bit more vulnerable than most. I never explicitly told him “your cover letter is garbage” because I didn’t want to make him feel bad but warned him it would most likely not make it to the interviews and the one that I wrote him was applauded by my friends who work in HR.

What are these acronyms?

[necrotic-nephilim]

necrotic whump masterlist

note: as of 10/1/24, i am still writing fics for this! i have about a dozen left in my inbox and this masterlist will continually get updated as i post them.

this is the collection/masterlist for all the fics i wrote based on whump dialogue prompts! none of these fics are on ao3 currently, as the point of them is to be quick and unedited, but if you would like one of these put on ao3 so you can bookmark/download/etc, just let me know and I'll happily cross-post over there! for now, i hope you enjoy all the fics created for these prompts so far! <3

"if i have to force you, i will." [BruDick]

"you're enjoying this, aren't you? freak." [JayTim]

"i think you need a little something to remind you of who you belong to." [JayTim]

"but why should i let you go when you look so pretty like this?" [JayTim]

"can you two manage not to tear each other apart while i'm gone?" [BruJayTim]

"how else am i supposed to learn if you don't punish me?" [BruJay]

"you wouldn't." [BruJay]

"what is this 'mercy' you speak of?" [TimCass]

"i don't care how much you hate me- you need to eat!" [DickTim]

"how else am i supposed to learn if you don't punish me?" [JeanTim]

[svnflower-writes]

i wanna find out

part one. ao3 | series masterlist

description: james is confused, but no less confused as he was when he was a high school student and denying his infatuation with his best friend's brother. now, regulus is a regular at the cafe he works in, and james doesn't know what to do.

warnings: none it's fluffy james is so cute

note: (reblog and comment please please please i need the validation) HI HELLO I AM BACK OKAY SO i heard the new gracie song and i went insane bc its so jegulus and wrote this in one hour in english class and its unedited. anyway this is a series, the masterlist is linked at the top. this chapter has been on ao3 since yesterday but i didn't get around to posting it here. lowkey think this is terrible but oh wellll

taglist: (i included the people on my marauders taglist so lmk if you don't wanna be on this one) @thestarslittleking @chaserofstars11 @gu1lty-as-sin @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @a-beautiful-fool @optimizedchaos @star-ch4ser @qwerty-keysmash @lost-in-reveriie @tulips-best @nqds

Upon his first week at high school, James Potter had come to the conclusion that he would end up with Lily Evans if it was the last thing he did. She was exactly the kind of girl he liked, she was pretty and opinionated and she seemed like the sweetest person he’d ever met. Remus had chuckled at his lovesick pining, not having the heart to tell the messy haired boy that your crush when you’re eleven years old is never your soulmate.

He pined after Lily for two years, with no clear progression other than Lily awkwardly smiling at him each time they passed in the hallways. Safe to say, James’ feelings were not reciprocated, and Marelne had grown a habit of snickering at the way his eyes followed her down the hall.

A few students at school had thought he was overdoing it slightly, but he really wasn’t. He wasn’t overly pushy, and he had only asked her out once or twice. He was clear about his feelings, but wasn't going to make her uncomfortable. James Potter was a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel an undeniable feeling of heartache when she walked past and ignored his presence.

Now, however, James was in university. He was as over Lily as he had ever been, and he had escaped the inherent unpleasantries that come with being a teen going through the heartache of growing up. He felt undeniably free, and not to mention his psychology course was helping him understand himself better than ever. He was happier than ever, saying otherwise would be a blatant understatement. He was living in a flat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, which had been his dream since primary school.

Lily was now one of his closest friends, and she worked at the flower shop that had a door into the coffee shop James worked in. Lily’s law degree and James’ psychology one made them a perfect pair, and much to Remus’ surprise, the two studied together regularly. The fact that James’ attention span and motivation had changed since high school was something no one had expected, and although he still struggled, he had his tactics to get back on track.

Some things never change, though, and James still hated quiet, slow paced days more than death itself. He could deal with stressful, busy days, but the mundane was his greatest oppressor, the repetitiveness of a quiet day driving him to the edge of his sanity. Today happened to be one of those days, he sat behind the counter at the small coffee shop he worked in as customers filtered in once every half an hour.

He sat, watching the slow ticking of the clock as the time went by as slow as it possibly could. It was 12:38pm, and 12:20 felt like hours ago. Blankly staring at the wall, the coffee he’d made himself had been discarded on the counter next to him and he didn’t bother picking it up, knowing that after half an hour of it sitting there, it would surely be cold. Each time someone walked past the door of the shop, James perked up—only to sigh as they walked past without a second thought. James’ tendency to romanticise everything that life had to offer often left him disappointed.

Finally, he heard the bell signalling that someone had opened the door sound, and his head snapped up in relief. ‘ My saviour, love of my life, thank god you’re here.’ his brain sung as he sprung up from his seated position, standing at the counter within seconds of the boy walking into the shop. His signature smile appeared on his face, “hi, how’s your day going?”

The boy seemed to falter, as if his carefully planned interaction of simply ordering what he wanted and leaving had been disrupted by a simple question. His dull blue eyes widened, and his lips fell open in a dumbfounded expression before he picked himself up and showed James a tight lipped smile. “Uh, I’m good.”

James noticed that this small interaction had absolutely foiled his carefully planned coffee order, and the boy had entirely forgotten to say what he wanted. James smiled softly, chuckling in his head. He always thought it was interesting how common these interactions seemed to be when you worked in a coffee shop. The psychology major in him couldn’t help but psychoanalyse these interactions, which made working in hospitality both intriguing and perplexing. He found that you could get a pretty good idea of someone’s mindset and what their day to day life is like by doing this, and it almost acted as revision for his upcoming exam.

���What can I get you today?”

Embarrassment flushed over the dark haired boy’s face, and he automatically sent another tight lipped smile to try and compensate for his forgetfulness. A strand of his soft black curls fell over his eyes, and James could tell just by his body language and the look in his eyes that it annoyed him to no end. “A black coffee, please.”

That was fitting, James thought. With the tidy (almost obnoxiously so) outfit and the carefully styled short black hair, a black coffee was the only thing that really made sense for him.

“And can I have a name for that?”

Stupid boy, you know his name.

“Regulus.”

James knew how to spell it.

He knew how to spell it and he hated that. Regulus was his best friend’s brother, and things between Sirius and his younger brother were rough. They got along until they didn’t. Sirius had spent more evenings than James could count frantically ranting about him on evenings at James’ house after school. When Sirius had left for high school, Regulus had distanced himself from Sirius more than he ever had before. Regulus had always been detatched, and James knew this from Sirius’ extensive complaints.

James he knew he shouldn’t have been so enamoured with Regulus in his high school years as he was, but when James fell for someone he fell for them. He fell for them intensly and irreversably and everyone he had ever loved lived in his heart for eternity. It may seem like James was feeling too insensely, but for him to not love so deeply and fully would mean he was not James Potter. He could not be in any sort of relationship without loving them to the end of the earth. His mother had always told him to cherish this, that his way of loving was incredibly pure and a love that many people would give anything to be the recipient of. But based off his past relationships, his love was not something to be cherished.

“Alright, I’ll have that ready for you soon.”

While he was making the coffee, James allowed himself to watch Regulus, noticing the way his hair was slightly more inclined to falling to the right side of his forehead, the way his greyish-blue eyes fixed on one spot of the wall and didn’t seem to move. He watched as his hands anxiously clasped together in his lap and his foot tapped.

James was a master of the art of noticing, and he tended to read into what people did, more so than was probably helpful. But James had always been observant, even as a toddler he had had an integral interest in people. He understood when people said that the human race was done for, but he was compelled to disagree. He had a sense of optimism that many thought was overbearing, but in the same way, James sometimes found their pessimism slightly disheartening.

Regulus intrigued him, although the boy was made of very few words and made him fiddle with his hands behind the counter and cause his eyes to flutter around the room to look anywhere other than his eyes. Regulus was pretty. He was the definition of pretty, with his wavy black hair and his grey eyes that shone with something James couldn’t quite place. James felt an intense urge to sink into the ground and never reappear. Unsure of what this was, he played it off as simply nervousness around someone new—not that it was common for James to ever feel nervous around new people. Regulus had this aura about him, one that James couldn’t figure out. It was undeniable that Regulus made James shy, but James would deny the reason for this nervousness for as long as he possibly could—and longer. This was merely a customer that would show up to the coffee shop once and never again—after all, he hadn’t seen Regulus in the shop at all earlier in the year.

For a reason James couldn’t quite place, there was a hint of awkwardness between him and Regulus. They respected each other, sure, but when they were alone, without Sirius or Remus, James felt an intense urge to sink into the ground and never reappear. He played it off as simply nervousness around someone new—not that it was common for James to ever feel nervous around new people. Regulus had this aura about him, one that James couldn’t quite place. It was undeniable that Regulus made James nervous, but James would deny the reason for this nervousness for as long as he possibly could—and longer. Regulus didn’t speak much, and James tried but failed to match this. The silence felt awkward, and he couldn’t go for long sitting in silence with him until he overshared, making the situation more awkward than it had been beforehand.

“Long black for Regulus?”

He says his name, although there is no one else in the shop to mistake the coffee as their own. But James likes the way his name sounds on his lips, as horrifically cheesy as that may sound.

Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He’s off-limits and you know that.

Looking up, Regulus looked up and flashed a small, awkward smile, walking to the counter and reaching for the coffee. As his fingers wrapped around the cup, they brushed James’ fingers, and his grey eyes flickered up to meet James’ deep brown ones. “Thank you,” he looked away quickly and was out of the shop before James could even respond.

Okay, James thought, okay, this is okay. He just has to make it out of the shop and then I’ll never see him again.

But then Regulus stops halfway out of the door, sending James a wonky smile and a soft “I’ll see you around.” His eyes are twinkling with something unrecognisable, and once he leaves James allows himself to breathe and forces the dorky smile off his face as he swears under his breath.

Stupid, stupid boy.

[imgondeletedis]

IT IS THE

ೃ⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ *

’ SHORT N’ SWEET ‚

ERA

this pic is my editing lolz

・❥・

brina’s 6th studio album ~short n’ sweet~ is out, and honestly i love it so much so far, and it is motivating me to write one-shots (let's pray if i wrote any i would post them bec i have so many drafts including 2 chapters of “i love you it's ruining my life” that i am hesitating to post bec well looks like i am not myself’s biggest fan when it comes to writing (though i do write ALOT it is my only passion lol)

but this album gave me so much ideas to so many characters from different universes so i have decided to do something i never did and I am going to accept requests about certain characters inspired by the songs on the album (you choose the song, and choose from the characters i write for)

・❥・

✯ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ♡ my current muses ♡ :

╰┈➤ benedict bridgerton form the bridgerton universe

╰┈➤ james potter from the marauders universe

╰┈➤ sirius black from the marauders universe

・❥・

: ̗̀➛ some notes ✧.* :

those three characters i write them “ x reader” (i do love some ‘already-existing ships’ like wolfstar and jily SO MUCH, but i am afraid i can never do specifically those two ships justice)

the one-shots inspired by this album will be mostly until now ‘modern au’ but i’ll see what i can do ♡

requests are open my loves, but just know i take my time with my writings i don't like writing something fast, and unedited so if you sent me something and i didn't respond to it just know that i am taking my time so it can live up to your expectations, no i am not ignoring you (i can never ignore any of you♡)

important note: .I DO NOT WRITE SMUT. i am not comfortable with writing it,, i can however allude to it since it would be MORE than required with some of these songs ahaha

when requesting please choose the song, with which character and SPECIFY the ending you want (as in happy/fluffy ending, angsty, alluding to smut, etc) bec if you don't i will just go with whatever the song says/alludes to, and if the song doesn't specify either i will probably make the ending angsty bec that's my thing hehehe

i didn't try to write for another characters/ships from the two universes mentioned above, so also i don't know how would it feel because tbh no one inspires me like these three hehe (maybe + remus lupin/moony) , i can try and write for others though or existing ships but no promises.

i can try and write for some characters in the MCU but it depends honestly (i did write something once for ‘an-already-existing’ ship but it was a scrap) so also no promises

・❥・

So yeah that’s all babes,, happy ’ short n' sweet ‘ day to those who celebrate🙏,, and whether you don't or not, hope you have a SWEET day💓🫶. (sorry if that post is not so short, hopefully you find it sweet though🫢)

・❥・

[silv3rswirls]

Worship me

Warnings: 18+, unedited, yandere au, idol yoongi, stalking, online harassment, mentions/fantasies of sex and masturbation, obsession

Note: I wrote most of this in an hour. No one speak to me, I am unheathily in love with this yoongi. Also, I didn’t have the brainpower to write a like actual story with scenes and stuff, so I’ll probably post the little blurbs and such to go with this.

Until recently, Yoongi never found himself absorbed in his social media. Other than his members, and close personal friends he didn’t find himself scrolling aimlessly or jumping to see anyone’s new posts. That was until he stumbled on your profile. He was bored one night, and couldn’t sleep as he tossed and turned in bed so he went scrolling through his feed to check out what the other members were up to. He huffed as he accidentally clicked on Jin’s likes rather than hearting them. 

He would’ve click off right away like usual, but he stopped at the last second to see your profile nestled towards the top of the list. He tilted his head, why not check out some profiles? It would pass the time and hopefully bore his insomnia away. Maybe it would have worked if he hadn't spent well over an hour just looking at your posts, reading every caption; piecing together some kind of life story to go with your admittedly cute face. He closed Instagram and called it a night, thinking nothing more of you.

Too bad he woke up the next morning, sleep-deprived and cranky; only to open Instagram and scroll. Just for a few minutes to wake up, but eventually, he found himself typing in your username without much of a thought as to if you had posted- you had. He had to stop himself from liking it. What was he thinking? He could only imagine what would come from his official account liking some random girl's post just minutes after she posted it.

No more, he told himself, there was no need to go to your profile to kill boredom. He got ready for the day and headed to the studio to do something far more productive.

Productivity came hard though, as every day his desire to check your profile grew. He couldn’t help it, you were so cute and your posts were addicting- there wasn’t even much special about them, Yoongi told himself one evening, but still he looked. After a week of taking in every selfie and photo, reading your captions closely, and making his way through your older posts; he had completely sunken into the never-ending hole that was stalking your profile. He made note of everything you did, your likes, what you ate that day; it felt weird at first, but every day he found himself caring less and less. He was alone, doing it in his free time. You posted it all for people to see, so didn’t he have a right to look?

Every few minutes he checked for your updates, he hated not being able to follow you. Sometimes the temptation to do so struck him hard, but he held off. He wanted to comment, and tell you how beautiful you were. How much he loved your interests and humor, hated how you interacted with other men in your comments. He wanted to talk to you, this wasn’t fair. Didn’t he deserve to talk to you?

Yoongi was drinking more than usual, why? He couldn’t say. Maybe sipping on liquor and staring at you has become his new favorite pastime. He spent god knows how long locked in his studio doing it, his work neglected as he favored you. He’d get tipsy, get flirty and think about everything he’d say to you. He typed it out sometimes, teasing the idea of sending you a message. 

He wanted to send them, so badly.

He’d get upset, start drinking more and then get sloppy with his messages. They turned from light and flirty to downright awful. Paragraphs filled with how much he wanted you, in every way he wanted you. How he thought about going to that cafe you were always at just to see you, how he wanted to give you everything, how he wanted to touch you; how he wanted to fuck you and never speak to you again, or how he wanted to be with you forever. Use you. Love you.

Sometimes he would get a little too worked up thinking about, staring at pictures as you went out in cute outfits with your friends. Tonight was starting to feel that way, he was leaning back at his desk, eating up your new post about going out to the bar with some old friends. You weren’t that dressed up, inches of your skin weren't on display. You looked how you usually did, but Yoongi found himself shifting in his seat uncomfortably as his cock twitched in his pants. He was growing warm, mouth a bit dry as he m ogled over your pictures. Never had he considered himself to be so needy like this, but he couldn’t help but to slip down his pants and tug at his cock. Just thinking about you did something to him, made him want to whine for you to touch him; be with him.

He stood, one hand keeping him propped up against his desk as his head lulled down, little grunts and half moans filling the dark studio. His eyes fluttered open, looking at the space of the empty desk beneath him. He could imagine you laying there under him. Thrown with care in a rush of passion, his hungry eyes traced your every curve. Sometimes his fantasies felt so real, in the daze of lust he’d reach for you under him only to be reminded that you weren’t there.

He’d wake up the next morning and feign guilt for even thinking to speak to anyone that way, but deep down he knew he had passed guilt a long time again. What he said was true, and he wanted you to know it. He never felt guilt for getting off to the thought of you though. You were always posting such cute photos, didn’t he deserve to do it?

Two months into his insistent stalking a new face started to appear in your posts. Though you always said he was a friend in your captions or comments, Yoongi felt an immense weight of jealousy on his shoulders every time. Sometimes he could barely look at your profile, you posted too much with that damn guy. It pissed him off, unreasonable anger boiling in his as he gripped his phone tighter and rolled his eyes. The way you let other men put their hands on you. His arm was thrown over your shoulder, smiling ear to ear, or how when he held your waist in one. 

He’d get drunk and think about all the nasty things he’d call you, and all the horrible things he’d do to that guy if he ever saw him. 

Call him insane, but he created a fake profile just days after so that his fantasies of talking to you could be true. Still, locked in his dark studio with desire squirming and eating at his insides, he went all in. He couldn’t calm himself down to play it cool- he was damn near begging you to stop posting that guy, to accept his affection and not his. He went on and on about you, how he had been watching your profile- how one day he saw you at your favorite cafe, that he waited for hours hoping you’d come.

You read it but didn’t reply.

Tonight he was fuming, and a bit tipsy as he looked at your new post. He wet his lips, eyes burning as he kept a hard stare on his screen. Whoever that guy you are with was, he looked pathetic. Yoongi could only sneer. If only you knew that he had messaged you, not some random faceless man, but Min Yoongi- the Min Yoongi. Far superior to any random man you would ever post in your feed.

Rather than continued to gravel at the will of your Instagram feed with fucked up fantasies of you, occasionally hoping to see you in public and just look at your beauty. He should be making you chase him. If only you knew, you’d be at his fucking feet in an instant. The image sent a thrill to his head. He didn’t care about keeping his ego in check anymore. He was Min Yoongi; a genius producer, a worldwide superstar. Other men could never compare, you should be at his feet begging for every part of him.

He deserved you, how dare you disrespect him? How dare you not reply to his messages, shouldn’t you be grateful? You post so much, didn’t you deserve this?

He dragged a hand through his hair, his mind clouded with lust as he stared at your story. You were laying in bed with your cat, smiling as it walked over your stomach, the camera panning up to your smile as you giggled. A harmless video was no longer harmless to him, everything set him off. Everything you did made him want you more. He couldn’t recall a time that he had yearned so hard for someone, but it felt so good. He lets out a light sigh, rubbing himself over his jeans as he thinks about how you’d look so much better laying in his bed, or over his desk, or anywhere as long as he was there.

Though, he didn’t whine for you or think about how much he wanted you with him; he thought about how he deserved your presence. You should be here letting him have you, he deserved it. He was Yoongi, you should be here all over him. His eyes passed over his liquor bottles sitting untouched, he had stopped having to get drunk to think about you this way weeks ago. He ignored what that said about him, or how it marked how he was changing every day; falling deeper into a worse person.

He didn’t care anymore, he was Yoongi. He could do what he wanted, he had every right to treat you like this in his head and through the messages you still ignored. He wondered for just a second what the others would think of him if they found out. One day Namjoon had almost seen the messages on his phone, and Yoongi almost challenged him to see them and say something. So confident in his obsessions he was. 

He was Min Yoongi after all, he deserved to have you at his feet worshiping him.

[guardarecheluna]

Who was i, to deserve such a love?

Word count: around 2.1k Warnings: none except teeth rotting fluff and dadrry

Authors note; Hi! First post! I wrote this last year, but Lucia was just the other day, and i decided to post this to really set the mood for Lucia and christmas. I really love Lucia, and as a Scandinavian girlie i celebrate it religiously every year, and last years Lucia resulted in this messy piece. Again, i am in no way a professional writer, this is unedited and MESSY, but if you have any feedback for me or just an encouraging word or two, i'd love to hear it <3 enjoy lovelies.

It’s Elidas big choir day in the local church. Harry was struggling to get Elida’s coat on, clumsy fingers trying to zip up her tiny coat. He’s huffing and puffing by the time she’s finally got her thick winter gear on to combat the icy winds on the other side of the door. Y/N is situated on the couch, still. Feeding their fresh baby, Ruth, just four weeks old. Ruth whimpers and writhes in her arms, not yet decided if she’s full or if she’s ready for her nap. ”I’ll buckle her up in seat, take your time, lover.” Harry shouted from the hallway, popping the baby bubble Y/N was currently in. Shaking out of her thoughts, she rises from the couch, Ruth on her shoulder, trying to get one final burp in before heading out to see Elida sing in the Lucia choir.

Harry never really understood the Lucia tradtition. When Y/N first started seeing eachother they were both living in London, which Y/N understood quickly, had no Lucia arrangements on december 13th. However, Y/N went on and on on their first few dates in december talking about the tradition. In scandinavia Lucia is celebrated on december 13th every year. Lucia was an old saint, apparently. Her story was told as she was a young woman, living in Sicily around 300 years A.D. She refused to be married of to a man and suffered the consequenses of a martyr death, but in her memory, it’s common to bake saffron buns and light candles, to bring some light in the absolute darkest season. Harry knew he was in love with her the moment she told him the story about Lucia. He knew by the time she had finally found a Lucia celebration in London and dragged him with her, that he wanted to buy her a ring. Harry was sold just hearing hear speak about her roots, traditions and her passion for keeping up with it, even though she was far away from home.

-

Y/N had been up early that morning with Ruth, leaving Harry to get another hour of slumber as he had been up with her throughout the night. She knew she couldn’t have a Lucia without her saffron buns. So there she was, barely 5 am, throwing sugar, flour, yeast and saffron in the mixture, Ruth drowsy on her chest. She had been trying to make this a tradition in their home, so that her family could wake up to the smell of freshly baked saffron buns on Lucia morning. And she was tired, god was she tired, but the smiles on Harry’s and Elidas faces when they wake up would be priceless, this she knew.

-

And now years later, having just welcomed their second baby girl, Y/N had signed her up for the Lucia event in their local church. She couldn’t help herself, she knew Elida would make the sweetest Lucia and Harry, although slightly apprehensive about a chuch choir, agreed when she reminded him about the tradition and how important it was to her.

With everyone in the car, Elidas long white dress and pretend candlecrown packed they left, warm and fuzzy in the cold weather, and knowing that tears will shed from their eyes watching ther first daughter participating in the event. Harry grabbed the sling and put Ruth on his chest, leaving Y/N to help Elida get her white dress on. ”Mumma, i’m going to be Luica!” Eldia proudly said when she was finally dressed. Twirling around and dancing in her long gown in the entrance of the church. Y/N smiled at her daughter, pride filling her chest at the little person she’s forming into. ”You are, my love. The prettiest one.” Ruth was fast asleep on Harry’s chest, letting out small puffs of air while Harry’s lips were constantly ghosting on the top of her head, breathing in the baby scent that he just couldn’t get enough of.

Elida was off as soon as she saw her choir teacher, giggling with all the other children in the choir and getting their little voices ready for the event. Y/N and Harry sat down on the benches, quite up front sp they could get a good look at Elida during her performance. ”How are you feeling?” Harry murmured, sound muffled with his lips still ghosting over Ruths downy hair. He had noticed how Y/N had gotten quiet, and by now, he could read her quite well. He knew she was excited, nervous, proud, all at the same time. But of course, he’d still ask. She let out a breath she had been holding, body inching closer to Harry to let her in on his warmth. ”I’m alright, it just feels…full circle in some ways. I can’t belive this is where we ended up” She gave him a watery smile, eyes glazed over from the overwhelming feeling. Harry chuckles. He knows exactly what she’s talking about, and he’s thinking about it too. How their little girl grew up so fast. How it feels like it was yesterday when Y/N had dragged Harry along to his first Lucia celebration, with that all consuming, freshly in love feeling aching in their hearts.

Harry had grabbed her hand as they sat on the bench in the old church, giving it a squeeze to get her to look at him. ”I never imagined myself being where i am today, and i wish i could tell you how all of this feels for me too, but i think you already know.” He said, eyes already watery as he’s thinking of his oldest baby girl performing in just a few minutes. Y/N smiles, leaving him with a kiss on his jaw, and a kiss on Ruth’s soft head. She squeezed his hand back, and she was just supposed to answer him when the lights dimmed and and the faint voices of the childrens choir started sounding in the back of the church. Their heads turned towards the back of the church, seeing a little train of children dressed as Luica, gingerbreadmen and little elves trailing down towards the altar. Elida was singing on the top of her lungs, not yet having spotted her parents in the crowd, and looking around the church like the curious child she is. Harry and Y/N was beaming with pride as Elida finally spotted them in the benches, waving energetically, with Harry and Y/N waving back.

With the choir in the front of the church, their little candlecrowns slidning here and there on top of their heads, Ruth had started writhing againgst her father’s chest. The mummy instinct immidietly kicked in with Y/N and she turned her head away from Elida to coo at her second baby girl. ”I’ve got her, i’ll walk around for a bit to soothe her” Harry said, a now experienced father to his newborn. He rose from the bench, ditching the sling in his seat, cradling Ruth in the crook of his arm. He sneaked out of the row, walking down the aisle while bouncing Ruth, whispering incoherent scentences to his littlest love. Y/N had to turn around to the front, focusing on Elidas performance, instead of watching her glorious baby daddy having a moment with his daughter. She let out a shaky breath, he looked so good with their baby in his arms. She’d give him a million if she could just to watch this scene unfold again and again. Not that there was anything special with his looks on this particular day, just plain beige trousers and a loose, button up shirt. The sleeves were rolled up due to the heat in church with all the candles, and his uruly hair is tamed by a single hairclip.

Suddenly Elida spots Harry and Ruth in the back of the church, bouncing around with slow steps. Elida takes a step forward out of the choir, searching to contact with her father, and the moment she knows that she’s spotted him, she waves and waves, and finally let’s out ”Hi daddy!! Hi Wuth!” With her tiny, but mighty, 4 year old voice. Harry is startled, the crowd of people turning their heads to the back of the church where he was stood. Many women oogling his tattooed forearms with his fresh baby cradled in the crook of one. Y/N couldn’t stop laughing, it was like a pot boiling over as she let out a genuine laugh at her daugher. That girl truly had no shame. Y/N watched Harry as he blushed, raisin ghte hand that wasn’t holding Ruth, and waving, shouting back. ”Hi darling!” A stream of giggles and embarrassed laughter rolled through the church, finding their little Elida absolutely adorable with her curly hair and crooked candlecrown.

-

As they stepped through their front door, with one sleepy child in each of their arms, Y/N and Harry smiled at eachother as they put Elida down for a nap after her big day. Ruth got changed and put in her crib for some downtime. The parents stepped out of their daughters bedrooms at the same time. ”You know,” Harry said as he walked up to Y/N. ”She’s absolutely insane, that girl, i don’t know if we’ll be able to keep up with her.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, eyeing him. ”Hmm, and i wonder where she gets that from?” Acting clueless as a big smile takes over her features. Harry bites down a laugh, looking down at the floor below them, grabbing Y/N to bring her close to him. ”She did really good.” He said, eyes still gleaming with pride. That was his daughter, His own flesh and blood becoming a person and growing up in front of their eyes, all too quickly, ”She did. I really hope she’ll take on the tradition and love it as much as we do. I have to say though, i thought maybe she would freak out when she saw the crowd, i’m surprised she didn’t care too much” Y/N said softly, knowing that Elida wasn’t nessicarily shy, but she could definitely become overwhelmed with that many people. Harry nodded, looking down at Y/N, a look in his eyes. ”Are you even listening to me?” Y/N laughed as she tilted her head, questioning him. ”Mhm, i’m listening. Just thinking.” He said, proceeding to hide his face in her neck, leaving a few soft kisses around her pulsepoint. ”Yeah? Penny for your thoughts?” She answered, genuinely interested if it was going to be a horny answer, or a lovey-dovey answer. ”I’m so in love with you. I’m so in love with our daughters. I want you to know that i’m not taking any of this for granted, not you, not these traditions, not our love. I just…i feel like my heart is bursting with all these emotions for you, Elida, and Ruth, that i sometimes don’t know where to put them.” He confessed, head still in her neck, crouched down, with Y/N’s hands running soft patterns on his back. This was indeed not a horny comment. She smiled, taking his face in her hands and looked at him. ”You put them here. With me, in our home, with our family. Write it down, take pictures, spend time. I know just the feelings you’re talking about. I feel it too. And although i sometimes have a hard time accepting that this actually is my life, i’m so thrilled about it. I love you, you know this, but…i promise to never stop putting my feelings here as long as you promise me the same.” She said, eyes scanning his features, landing on his forrest green eyes. ”I promise.” He said, leaning in to catch her lips with his. Warm, plushy lips dancing together, like they were made for eachother. ”I love you.” He told her between soft kisses, ”I’ll never stop, i don’t think i can.”

[chaotic-nick]

Boyfriend! Miche Zacharias Boyfriend Headcanons 𐑺ִ - 🌳 ₪ ˚ Ꮺ 🧺ꞌꞋ

note: am I back? am I back? I hope so 😭🤚 I'm a day late, but here's a miche zacharias boyfriend headcanons. [Miche HC anon if you're reading this, hi. I wuvyu] I've so much to post about him in my drafts but time and being burnout is not so fun

warnings: unedited (I'm typing all this on my phone) slight mention of an FWB relationship, reader is artist-coded, Miche calls reader 'doll'

boyfriend Miche and you whose relationship really didn't *surprise* your pool of friends at all. The two of you already acted like a couple. If anything it was you two who were surprised.

boyfriend Miche and you who started off as being friends with benefits [here's a fic I wrote] where alot of nights were spent sleeping on his chest, or him sleeping above you

fwb Miche who looked at you one night, so close to asking if you two should *escape again*

fwb Miche offering his shoulder to you when you shyly rest your head once Hanji starts talking about a new government funded research on Ragako's cattle practice.

fwb Miche who checks up on you throughout Hange's story, noticing that your fighting off sleep.

fwb Miche who's heart stops beating. he was sure it stopped beating when you looked up and said, 'let's go home'

fwb Miche who confirmed that he felt more that just "I like being around (y/n)." when he looked at your sleeping figure on his passenger seat when he stopped at a red light.

boyfriend Miche who's more shameless I'm asking you if he could watch you draw/write/edit/paint.

boyfriend Miche who's worried that you'll injure yourself making your canvases, so he takes it up in himself. "Can't have you accidentally hammering yourself with this—" "might've happened once".

Boyfriend Miche who took it as his responsibility to make your canvases from then.

Boyfriend Miche who tries to play it cool that he's in love. Everyone at work notices him smiling more, smiling at his phone more. His interns were sure that it was his bike that shamelessly roared when the clock showed 5pm.

Boyfriend Miche who keeps all your doodles of you two in his wallet. Just underneath the polaroid the two of you had taken.

Boyfriend Miche and you who are still friends. One day you catch him smiling as he cooked, "You're smiling stupid" "I am?" He says with a smirk "I'm in love with the prettiest person alive" "oh"

Boyfriend Miche who takes in your stunned face, leaning towards you to peck your face. Then a quick one on the lips.

Friends who kiss more, as you two would joke about.

Boyfriend Miche never understanding why you two should match. slowly though, he's the one who initiates it. Matching watches, matching keychains, matching baseball caps.

Boyfriend Miche who likes towering over you when you two shop for groceries or go to bookstores, vending enough to rest his chin on top of your head.

Boyfriend Miche also has an embarrassing amount of pictures of you sleeping on him.

Boyfriend Miche who goes straight to your house than his after an unexpected overtime. "I'd rather be here than that apartment"

Boyfriend Miche who tiredly watches you from the couch as you put takeout food on plates. "You didn't have to, (Y/n).You're tired, too" "Yea.. I still wanna eat with you unless you don't want to"

Boyfriend Miche has that stupid smile again, forcing himself up from the couch and joining you on the floor. "What was my doll's day like?"

[amethystina]

I am intrigued by all the wips honestly. Anything you give us will be amazing, I have no doubt.

I will ask about Thou Shalt Not Covet tho because it is completed.

And I LOVE the How To Build a Family for Dummies title lmao. If you feel that it fits the story, you don't have to change it imo 😆

Also, I have to ask about your health. I hope you're doing well these days and that you're getting better. If not, don't push yourself too hard. Take care of yourself either way 💜

No pressure x'D

Jokes aside: thank you 💜 I'm very flattered that a lot of you have such faith in me and my writing.

Thou Shalt Not Covet was something I wrote in a feverish haze about a week ago because I was high-key panicking over not having been able to draw or write in what felt like forever and my brain just latched on to that story. Which wasn't at all what I had planned but, apparently, what I needed at the time, so I try not to hold it against myself.

It's basically a fic about Ga On being a raging ball of jealousy for 10k straight.

... or gay, I guess?

So the title is a bit misleading since there is actually A LOT of coveting going on. Coveting of Yo Han, to be more specific.

Ga On you little sinner you.

And it's 10k before editing, I should say. Because since I wrote it with a fever, I'll probably have to add a bit as I edit. Understandably, I tend to miss a lot of details when I'm too feverish. The fic is set just before Kim Choong Sik's first trial, so around episode 10. Which means I'm going to have to add a couple of warnings because Yo Han does not play fair. Whenever I write Yo Han as he was during the drama I'm reminded of how far he's come in Who Holds the Devil because dear LORD is he a manipulative asshole in this one x'D

So yeah. Jealous!Ga On and a Yo Han who doesn't pull his punches. A recipe for disaster, in other words. But they work it out eventually.

Here's a snippet from the beginning of the story (though unedited so there might be changes before it's posted)

---

Ga On had never understood how utterly devastating jealousy could be until he felt it — truly felt it — for the first time.

If asked, he would have said he wasn't a jealous person. He may have felt a burst of it once or twice as he and Soo Hyun had grown up — whenever another boy had shown an interest in her — but it had faded just as quickly as it had flared up. Perhaps because, deep down, Ga On had known that Soo Hyun only had eyes for him.

There was no need for him to feel jealous since the odds of him losing Soo Hyun to another were slim.

And, in hindsight, that must have lulled Ga On into a false sense of security, giving him the impression that he wasn't the jealous type. That he was calm and rational enough not to get upset, and knew how to handle the surge of emotions that might occur. Not realizing that what he'd felt at the time wasn't jealousy — or at least not the true depth of what he was actually capable of feeling.

Ga On had underestimated his own possessiveness.

And it wasn't until he met Kang Yo Han that Ga On knew true jealousy.

His first clue that he'd misjudged himself should have been his inexplicable desire to remain within Yo Han's orbit despite having numerous reasons to stay away. All Ga On wanted was to keep pushing closer, to keep proving himself, to keep asking for that intoxicating attention that crackled like electricity down his spine. He may not want to name what he was experiencing — instinctively shying away from a revelation he knew would change his life beyond what he was ready to deal with, finding comfort in denial — but he still craved the rush it gave him. He couldn't help wanting more.

His second clue should have been his own reaction as he'd watched Jung Sun Ah fuss with Yo Han's tie during their photo shoot.

The anger Ga On had felt in that moment — curling black and vicious inside his chest — had been an overreaction of the kind that should have given him pause. But, somehow, it hadn't. Somehow, Ga On hadn't even registered it as something out of the ordinary. Some part of him had even felt justified in his anger.

As if he had a right to feel that possessive over his chief.

But the rational part of Ga On knew that he didn't. He may be sleeping in Yo Han's house and helping him with his mission to upend the world as they knew it, but they were still nothing more than coworkers.

Yo Han had never promised him anything.

---

Expect jealousy, anger, and a bit of angst. Because Ga On has abandonment issues and it actually hits pretty hard when he starts suspecting that he's not so special to Yo Han after all...

As for How to Build a Family For Dummies, the title doesn't fit the vibe AT ALL which is why I'm calling it a working title for now. It just sounds way too cute and cheerful for the actual theme and content of the story x'D But more about that in another reply since I got a specific ask about it!

Aaaaand when it comes to my health, things are really bad, unfortunately. The kind of bad I haven't had since January, with daily exhaustion fevers and lack of focus. And it's probably not going to get better anytime soon since the main cause is related to something outside of my control that will most likely take months to fix. So it's really just a matter of me trying to hold on as long as I can and, if I'm lucky, I won't break completely before I reach the other side. I guess we'll see?

Anyhow! Thank you so much for the concern and the lovely ask. You take care of yourself too 💜

WIP Tag Game

[apprenticestanheight]

Imagine rimming/pegging Adam for the first time and hes all sarcastic and sassy like convinced he wont really like it even saying youre a perv (like the smart ass he is), then the second you start hes whimpering like a bitch and spreading his legs and begging for more <3

Pegging Adam Stanheight Headcanons + blurb

OH MY GOD ANON thank you for opening the floodgates with this one. It feels like it's been AGES since I last wrote for Adam (i've spent a lot of my time focused on an AU with Lawrence and trying to get a couple ideas for other characters to work on on my off days lol) and writing a fic involving pegging just felt like the right move to make so--here's this??

I also also also am SUPER SORRY for how long this has taken--if you've looked at my blog since I started last week, you'd know I work a really fuckin weird rotating schedule and twelve hour days. This has been marinating in my inbox since before I started working, however, and before then I was just demotivated and so anxious it borderlined upon debilitating. I really hope you enjoy this one and that it makes up for the time you spent waiting for it to come out. Also hope you're okay with headcanons and a little bit of a blurb as the fic format, as it made more sense mentally for me to do it that way.

Fic type - this one is SMUT!! y'all should know what that means by now, too--minors, GO AWAY!! This fic is for those 18+ and if I see you interacting I will not hesitate with my bestie, the block button.

Warnings - pegging, praise, begging, the use of a strap-on, I wanted to get this out today so it's also unedited, and again, MDNI!!

All right, to start, you are the one who finds it interesting first. You spend a solid week wherein all of your horniest thoughts consist of Adam pinned to the bed beneath you, one of your hands holding his chin while he whimpers bc the strap-on you're using is so big and you're moving at a pace that's so slow he almost hates it.

Adam finds it mildly interesting--he's thought about it once, decided he might not like it but also decides to bring it up to you one random night bc you're both high, exhausted, and horny.

So, now you're wondering how it gets brought up, right?

WHHAAAAAAAAAAALEEEEEE, Adam brings it up half asleep, when you're both in the aforementioned state of high and horny and also very exhausted.

"How would you feel about pegging, baby?" and then you're pulling him close bc he's not close enough (his chin is tucked into the crook of your neck and you can smell the mint and cigarettes that he emanates even when he's not smoking. You just want to meld yourself to him bc when you get high, yeah time ceases to be something you believe in but when you're high with Adam you're the clingiest person Jersey ever did see)

and you're saying "yeah, that would be fun, Adam," bc it has consumed your thoughts wholly for a solid two or three weeks by then, but you're wanting to be chill about it.

both of you are completely out to the world like, five minutes thereafter.

It does, however, get brought up the next night. He agrees to it pretty easily, says that the two of you can try it the next time you have sex and if neither of you like it then that's that, and if he doesn't like it, then you respect his boundaries enough to respect that about him.

You buy a strap-on on a compete whim from a sex shop near your apartment on a random wednesday, buy lube that day too bc sex safety and all.

Both of them wind up being used on a friday night, when Adam is stressed bc post-saw vet school has taken it's toll and if he has to study one more minute, he'll lose his mind.

You have dom/sub dynamics in the sexual aspect of your bedroom and both of you are switches, and Adam asks if you have the necessary things to peg him and laughs when your face just lights up at the idea.

You prep him, and the entire time that goes on, Adams like "I'm unsure about how this'll feel, but if it's not my thing, meh. I don't think I'll like it but trying it will have been decent, at least."

AND THEN YOU START

and Adam is still thinking he's probably not gonna enjoy it as much as you will.

"When did you become such a perv, baby?" is said by him in a few different variations when you're prepping + rimming him. It eggs you on and he knows that, wants whatever comes with it.

And then, you actually start pegging him--the strap-on you bought is a fairly large eight inches in length, a fairly thick girth, and blue just because, and seeing him beneath you is probably akin to seeing the handsomest man to ever exist?? maybe??

SO ANYWAY, you start, and Adam goes from thinking he won't really like it to needing you to bottom out like, instantly. He likes how it feels to be split open in that way, doesn't so much as TRY to hold back his moans.

He does try to look away, though--he's loud and proud of it but also somewhat embarrassed bc he's not really one to be submissive in the relationship (you work in marketing and deal with people all day so you come home wanting to be fucked into thoughtlessness more than he)

you, however, don't let him, and when you push into him another inch and a half, he moans lewdly while staring directly at you. it's one of the hottest things you've ever seen.

When you finally bottom out, pressing a kiss to the sweet spot on his neck as one of your hands goes to his cock, Adam is feeling so amazing that he's convinced he'll start seeing stars.

You've heard Adam beg but a few times since you'd started dating, and it's been amazing every single time.

That night, he begs so much that you're sure you could bottle it and use it to get black-out drunk, should you have pleased.

He spreads his legs a bit more to let you have better access and moans when you start from a different but better angle.

He becomes a mess SO QUICKLY TOO IT'S THE FUCKING HOTTEST THING

all in all?? pegging him is one of the best decisions you could've made for your relationship bc both of you love it so much

-

"Oh my God, Y/N," he's moaning, helplessly, as you thrust quickly into him. "Oh my God. Please, please, please don't stop. Please--fuck."

"I know," you kiss the sweet spot on his neck, quickening the pace of your hand on his dick. "You're taking me so good, Adam. This is one of the best things I've ever seen. You're so hot, beneath me and begging to come, mm?"

Adam is so blissed out that he's almost not thinking, and when he comes he already knows he's gonna be a thoughtless mess from your ministrations. He's cock-drunk, loving the way that your strap-on fills him up and never wanting that to end.

"Fuck," he moans, not even trying to suppress the sound. "So close, Y/N. I'm--ah!"

You laugh, kissing his cheekbone as ropes of his come spurt from his dick and paint his stomach.

"You're so cute when you're cock-drunk like that," you laugh again. "You liked it?"

You're pulling out of him, slowly, as he nods. "Yeah," he says. "I loved it, actually."

You clean up his stomach and clean up yourself, having come from the feeling of the strap-on against your clit and the sound of Adams moans. When you climb into bed with him again, he pulls you close and holds you tightly.

"I love you, Y/N," he says.

"I love you too, Adam," is your, admittedly very exhausted sounding, response. "Next time I peg you, you're riding me while I sit with my back against the headboard. You love that position when I'm the one doing the riding, and I wanna know what the fuss is about."

Adam laughs, kisses your collarbone and gives your ass a cheeky little smack in form of a response.

You fall asleep not soon after, naked and cozy in each others arms.

[sweetdejun]

dear you.

trope: optional bias x fem!reader, arranged marriage, angst/fluff

synopsis: An all-too-well story through a series of letters she wrote to him, as they navigated a withering love story that had yet to see its eternal bloom.

word count: 3.7k, unedited (typical)

AHHH so excited that this is finally done!! I haven't posted in a LONG time so I'm nervous to see how this goes. thanks for reading, hope to see you soon xoxo

Dear you, 

Today was the first time we met. I couldn't hear much of the loud conversation our parents were having while, well, I tried to keep the thundering beats of my heart quiet. Stolen glances were all I had the courage to give you, and when our eyes locked for a brief moment, I could’ve sworn I saw a tinge of honey in those gorgeous eyes of yours. Perhaps it was the effect of the lighting, but I doubt it. 

I wonder what your hobbies are? What kind of music do you listen to? How do you take your coffee or tea? Is there a place in the world you wanna go to? Do you want the right side or the left side of the bed? Just thinking about the two of us sharing a bed makes me blush. These next few months are going to be dedicated to celebrating us, and I can’t wait for the day I get to become your wife. 

Patiently waiting,

Me

Dear you,

The wedding festivities are ticking closer and closer. We got to exchange numbers so every now and then when I get the chance I send you small texts here and there. Your responses are slow, if at all, but I bet it’s because you’re busy with work. It’s no big deal, I totally get it. 

Did you know, my friends ask about you all the time? I have to say that you’re always busy, so you don’t have time to talk or spend time with me. There’s always a flash of sympathy on their faces when I mention this, but I don’t care. As long as you respond to me, that’s all I care about. 

I’ve been trying to learn more and more about you through your mom and sister, who have been nothing but kind to me since day one. I didn’t think you were the type to be in a band in high school, but I got ahold of one of your demos (courtesy of your sister) and I listened to it in the car one day. Pretty good, I would say. Your voice sounded so cute… a little bit of that childhood innocence is mixed in with the majority of the baritone found in your voice today. 

Eager to meet you,

Me

Dear you,

When we sat down for dinner, you didn’t talk much. A couple of quick exchanges were all we had, but mostly I spent the evening picking at my food and looking around to watch the couples smile happily and enjoy their lovers’ presence. I moved one piece of broccoli around back and forth for a good ten minutes, while you quietly ate your dinner, one hand glued to your cell phone and mindless scrolling.

I saw a lady walk behind you towards the bathroom, and a quick look at your phone was all she needed to give me a look of pity before disappearing behind me. I excused myself to go the bathroom, and as soon as I leaned against the sink, my hands gripping the cold, wet porcelain, the woman was exiting the stall. I didn’t miss that strange look on her face when she approached the sink next to me to wash her hands. I tried to take a few deep breaths when she turned to me, a paper towel aggressively ripped from the automatic machine. She was hesitant, but eventually, before leaving she said to me, “take care dear, he’s not worth your time.” I don’t know why she’d said that. 

Confused and a little hurt,

Me

Dear you,

The countdown is getting shorter. It’s now a matter of days, and if things weren’t crazy enough, the hustle and bustle around the house have definitely been made very obvious now. I’ve had my bachelorette party, and a few other small dinners courtesy of my friends, but I feel that now I must be the blushing bride everyone wants me to be. At least for the next few days, that is. Once we get married, things will be different. I know they will. I hope that whatever doubts and hesitations I am feeling now are nothing but mere wedding jitters. 

I have to get my nails done, my hair colored and every inch of my body scrubbed and polished. My facial needs to be done, too. It’s funny, the last time I must’ve put this much effort into looking prim and perfect must’ve been for my senior prom, and it’s been years since that day. Did you go to prom as well? I have to remember to show you those dreadful photos, but back in those days, there was a spark of hope that love existed out there for me. Even if the guy I went with was nothing more than a friend, I hoped that my destiny had love written for me at some point, when I’d grow into a woman. I hope that time’s finally arrived.

Excited about what’s to come,

Me

Dear you, 

The wedding is over. You looked dashing, as always, and I was told that I looked beautiful. My parents cried today, and I think it didn’t hit me until now that I really am a married woman now. You’re gone to play pool with your groomsmen, you just told me that you would be back in a bit. It’s been an hour and a half, and I got impatient and changed out of my gorgeous but annoying dress into something more breathable. I took the dozens of bobby pins out from my hair, and as I wiped the makeup away, I couldn’t help but remember the fake smile I’d put up for everyone; the pictures, your friends and family, and my friends and family. The facade is already setting in that we’re a happy couple… are we really? You didn’t even feel the need to spend tonight, of all nights, with me. I must be that ugly, huh?  

Maybe pessimism isn’t how we wanna start this new chapter of our lives. I’ll try to make an effort to be more present in your life because I don’t wanna lose something without giving it a chance. 

I hear your laughter downstairs. Wonder what that’s about.

Just stood by the door, but what I heard was enough to lull me into the security of my dreams. “I can’t believe we’re married… I know nothing about her, and frankly, could care less about her.”

Heartbroken on the night that was supposed to be cherished,

Me

Dear you,

Things have been up and down. On one end, when you’re around, we talk a little. Getting to know you has far exceeded my expectations, even though it’s little by little. In the beginning, you didn’t even want to sleep in the same bed as me, but one day, when I had enough I decided to confront you about it. The strongest I’d ever been, I will say, but it was liberating. You had no idea of the feeling of a burden being lifted from my shoulders that day. That conversation clearly had an effect on you, as you had started sleeping next to me since that day. but some people only deserve good, dare I say perfect, things in small doses.

I usually don’t wake up next to you. Feels like how it did when we first got married, which feels like ages even though it’s only been a few weeks. The faint dips in the bed from your body are almost completely faded by the time I wake up. The remnants of a freshly brewed pot of coffee lie in the coffee maker downstairs. I find myself repeating the same routine; making another batch of coffee, quietly having breakfast, and maybe rearranging the living room furniture to see if you’ll notice it when you get home. I do the laundry, cook a little, and work a little. 

I actually did something a little interesting today, though. When I went grocery shopping I was surprised to see handwriting that wasn’t mine. I couldn’t read what you wrote, though. Your penmanship is not great but I guess in the corporate world, you don’t really see the need to handwrite things anymore. I hesitated on calling you before I eventually deciphered what you wrote. Turns out, you just need to look at it a little longer and give it some time because before you know it, it’ll unravel right in front of you. Maybe there’s hope in me that you’ll do the same.

Slowly feeling the fatigue of the night,

Me 

Dear you,

Today was a bit different than the rest of the mundane days I’d spent in this empty house. I was sipping on my tea in the final hours of afternoon, reading a book when suddenly your footsteps started to echo against the marble floor. My gaze turned up to look at your figure that leaned against the doorframe, hands in your pockets. I raised my eyebrows, doggy-earring my page and setting the paperback to the side. “Hey, what’s up?” “Uh, nothing much,” you started. “I was wondering if you wanted to go grab something to eat.” I blinked back. This is the first time you’ve voluntarily offered to take me to dinner. Naturally I’ve grown a little skeptical after hearing the empty promises, but my heart has yearned for your calls. I hesitantly let my heart win over my head, and take you up on your offer. 

I took out the perfect outfit, gold earrings and wore a blood red lipstick. The last time I wore a shade like this… I can’t remember. Not even on our wedding day did I go with a bold shade as this one. 

When I got ready, you look up from your phone for a second and for the first time, you did a double take and took in my appearance properly. I felt shy under your gaze for a moment, but my brain was refusing to believe that this was happening. “You look nice, y/n.” I shift my gaze up through my eyelashes for a second and reply with a curt ‘thank you’. 

Everything between going to the restaurant (which has a beautiful seaside view, a live musician and there’s a warmth accompanying the brisk autumn breeze), ordering the food, eating the food and going home, we had a conversation longer than we’ve ever had before. 

The words exchanged were still formal, at least on my end, because deep in my heart I want you to experience what I experienced these last few months. I think you have a way of letting your frustration peek through more easily though, because I could sense your impatience with my one sentence responses to your questions and not as much reciprocation. My frustration’s getting to me too. 

Wondering what’s gonna happen next,

Me

Dear you,

We walked into the house tonight and you gritted your teeth, “I’m just trying to get to know you better. Why are you making this so hard?” That made me stop in my tracks. I’m confused now, because this entire time you were the one making things hard for me. I wanted to reach out and touch you, hold you, tell you that there was always a soft spot in my heart for you. But I couldn’t. Not anymore. “You were the one that pushed me away, and I just could not keep putting in an effort to try to win someone over that never wanted to be mine in the first place,” is all I can tell you. Tears ran down my face and the pain that I buried away reappeared on the surface of my heart with a vengeance. “I wasn’t ready!” I hear you exclaim as I walk away. There’s a tone of disappointment I’m picking up from your voice, almost like you’re confused as to why I’m walking away. “Well, good. I’m glad we’re finally on the same page for once,” my shaky voice responded and I shut the door to our room.

Crying myself to sleep,

Me

Dear you,

It’s been a couple of days since our argument. We’ve gone back to our terse exchanges, the lackluster life I grew to tolerate reentered my life. One day, much like before, while I was tending to my plants you came from around a corner, and grabbed a seat before me. “Look up at me for a second.” There’s something new in your voice, a sort of fragility that has my broken heart skipping a beat. I met your gaze and paled when I took in your appearance. Not that you’d been crying or anything but I could tell the stress over the last few days started to bring out an aged quality in your features. Subtle dark circles and a shadow of a stubble along your jaw. “I want to take this moment to say a couple of things,” you started. “I want to firstly apologize for how formal I was in the beginning. The truth was I never thought I would be involved in an arranged marriage. I was confident that I’d find someone myself, and when it didn’t work out the way I wanted it to, I let my ego come in the way of even starting off on the right foot with you.” I thought back to the very beginning, your words and actions aligned with you showing no interest. Perhaps what you say is true, so I nod to let you know I hear you. “I also want to give us a chance to start over. Like I said, it was a rocky start and I don’t think our families will be too happy if we keep things going this way. I’ll put in more of an effort, but this is a two way street. Are you willing to do the same?” 

Truth of the matter is, I’ve grown tired of living this way. We became two strangers, two roommates under the same roof instead of husband and wife. I know that even though I don’t show it much, there’s still a part of me that’s mad for you. I want to revive her. I want my happily ever after. If this is what will lead to that, I’m willing to give it a shot. “Yes.”

Looking forward to starting fresh,

Me

Dear you,

Things have been getting better. I learned about the company you work for and what you do there. I had an idea of when you left for the office and when you came back home. Now that your alarm is something I can hear now, I have started to mold my routine to fit yours a bit better. This is how things go now: your alarm goes off and you go and shower, while I get up and get a pot of coffee going and pull your pre-packed lunch from the fridge. By the time I get to pulling out your breakfast stuff, I hear you come down the stairs. You make our coffee, which has taken you several tries to get it right for me, and I go brush my teeth and wash my face. I come down and you’ve made your breakfast and mine. We enjoy breakfast silently, albeit on the same table, which is progress in itself. You’ve asked me how the coffee was today, and it’s a bit on the bitter side but it’s gotten much better since day one. On day one, I had to pretend to like the coffee and then I waited for you to leave so that I could remake it.

When you get back from work at the end of the day, I usually have dinner ready so that all you have to do it wash up really quick and join me for dinner on the table. Our conversations pick up a bit at this point. You tell me about anything exciting or crazy that happened at work that day, and I tell you bits and pieces about my work from home situations. You’ve made it a point to learn more about me too, so now you know that my favorite color is forest green, I have a fondness for interior design and that I’ve always wanted to go to Europe. Your favorite color is blue, you enjoy the occasional mystery novel and you have a guilty pleasure of 90s rom-coms. 

Beginning to wonder when we’ll have our 90s rom-com moment,

Me

Dear you, 

You have started becoming more open and friendly, and now we’re becoming friends. I find your lingering gaze on me from time to time as I complete a chore or fix my hair in the mirror. I can’t find it in me to connect my eyes with your own yet, but slowly and surely I’m getting there. I feel too shy, is that so bad? I suggested that we sit down and watch a 90s rom-com tonight, which I know you won’t object to after the latest revelation. You’ve gone to the kitchen to warm up some popcorn whilst I had time to sneak out to write this letter. I wonder if you’ll ever find these, I’ve hidden them quite well and I know you won’t look there. My wedding ring is glistening under the desk light as I finish this letter to you. Today it seems extra radiant.

Hearing you call my name with that dulcet voice,

Me

Dear you,

It’s been a while. Our mini vacation to that cute little town is over now, we’ve just returned home. I finally got to see the many sides there are to you. Your adventurous side that wants to try any new food, your mortified side when you almost slipped down the hill during our morning hike, your gentle and soft side when a little girl was standing in front of us in line for ice cream. I’ve started showing you sides of me, where I laugh the loudest at a comedy show, or make stupid puns when I read street signs or stare in awe as fresh snow falls from the sky over our heads. 

Tonight you asked to kiss me. Before today the last time we kissed was for the camera on our wedding day. The air was different tonight, though. You tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and asked for permission before leaning in closer. When our lips touched, a gasp left my lungs and my world stopped. My hands froze, hovering over your face and I slowly reached in till I felt the warmth of your cheeks across my fingers. Perhaps the chill in my touch caused you to pull back in shock, but you hesitated to let go. Your hands firmly held my hips with a fragile touch, like you were scared to hurt me, maybe again. Your eyes shined back at me and I’m reminded of the moment I first laid eyes on you. That tinge of honey came back to me and is now glistening with the same want and desire I used to see in my own reflection.  

My heart has had its time to heal. It’s slowly letting me love you again. I’m mortified that I’ll regret it if things go wrong, I don’t have the capacity to get hurt again. I don’t know what to do. You’ve noticed when I grow quiet and have started asking if I was okay. I put on a small smile and tell you I’m fine, but I have a feeling you see right through me. 

Scared to put my heart on my sleeve yet again,

Me

Dear you, 

You found them today. All of the letters. I thought I had done a pretty good job hiding them but out of sheer luck, when I found myself out of the house coincidentally while you were at home, you found the letters. You read every single one of them, you told me. That’s why when I came home and found you sitting on the couch, the letters in your hands as you read through them my heart stopped. You noticed the door closing and looked up at me, the red rims of your eyes telling me these letters have affected you in a way I don’t want to think about. “I didn’t mean to, I’m, uh, you weren't…” I started, rambling while avoiding your gaze, embarrassed and ashamed that you’ve discovered a vulnerable side of me that you could have hated. You could have left me tonight. We could have been over. But instead, you put the letters down and rushed over to hug me. Hold me tighter than I’ve ever been held before. 

“I’m sorry for everything, my love,” you started and my heart stuttered at the term of endearment. “I have never known someone as sweet, kind, innocent and breathtakingly beautiful as you. Please don’t be ashamed, I shouldn’t have opened these up,” Now you were the one rambling. I looked up at you, tears gathering at the margins of my eyelids. Waiting to slip and fall so you can catch them with the calloused pads of your thumbs. Your hands holding my face, cradling me gently, I wetly smiled, “they were addressed to you for a reason, honey. It was destiny for you to see them one day. I thought my world would come crashing down at the thought of you finding these letters, but I believe you. I’m ready to give you my heart in completion once again, because now I know. You are not going to hurt me like you did before. I trust you and love you.” With that, our mouths connected once more, and we spent the whole night talking about the letters. I am glad our lives brought us together like this, for now we will spend the eternity of our lives hand in hand, facing the world together as one strong team. With love, happiness and companionship at each step of the journey, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Confident that this is my last letter to you,

Me

(p.s. You just read the ends of this letter and whined for me to keep writing to you. I’ll start giving them to you directly starting from this one, my dear)

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

It’s Not All Black and White: An Analysis of Po and Shen’s Relationship through Yin-yang and Wuxing in Kung Fu Panda 2

NOTE: i wrote this essay several years ago (pre-kfp4) as a mere sophomore in uni. i am posting it now -- completely unedited from its submission to my prof, with the exception of some extra paragraph breaks -- because an anon asked me to talk about kfp2. in other words, what else am i going to do with this essay? might as well post it on tumblr for fellow kfp fans to read -- i hope y'all enjoy! (as you read, be gentle with my sophomore self; i promise my writing and my knowledge of critical sources have improved vastly in the years since)

Introduction

The Kung Fu Panda trilogy is a DreamWorks production that follows giant panda Po on his journey to learn different aspects of kung fu. He becomes Dragon Warrior in the first, finds inner peace in the second, and masters chi in the third. The films are set in a fictitious ancient China full of anthropomorphic animals (C. Wang 6, 10). The movies have been successful worldwide, garnering a total of over $1.8 billion (“Box Office”). With this popularity comes criticism, often centered on the issue of orientalism in the first film. Chenjun Wang argues that the movies, particularly the first, become “a hybrid image where orientalism lingers” because they emphasize “western values” amidst superficial Chinese aesthetics (3, 11). Naomi Greene agrees, claiming Kung Fu Panda is empty of “historical, moral, and spiritual weight” because Po “remains preoccupied with the self” throughout the film (204, 210). Alternatively, Xiao-yan Bu asserts Kung Fu Panda is an example of transculturation, where both Chinese and American cultures influence the movie and are given equal weight, offering that being “a cultural hybrid” is not a criticism but a compliment (883).

This research departs from previous literature by focusing on the influence of Chinese philosophies in the second film. Specifically, it will examine yin-yang and wuxing philosophies because of the recurring yin/yang and fire/water motifs throughout Kung Fu Panda 2 [KFP2]. The second film was chosen because of this clear presence of Chinese philosophical motifs and the lack of existing literature, but also because it deals with the most mature themes of the trilogy. There are two plots to KFP2: the first is the overarching plot of Po trying to defeat antagonist Lord Shen, an albino peacock who seeks to conquer China with his firework weapon. This plot is resolved through Shen’s defeat (Kung Fu Panda 2 [KFP2] 00:18:59 – 00:19:04; 01:13:07 – 01:17:05). The second is Po grappling with PTSD and his repressed memories of Lord Shen killing all the pandas, including Po’s parents, when Po was a baby. 1 This plot is resolved when Po allows himself to recall and accept his memories, finding inner peace (KFP2 00:01:13 – 00:01:22; 01:02:00 – 01:05:04). KFP2 thus deals with themes of genocide and trauma that are not present in the first or third film, setting it apart. Furthermore, it approaches these themes through Po and Shen’s relationship as narrative foils, Po and Shen being the two characters the aforementioned yin/yang and fire/water motifs are applied to in the film. Foils are “literary device[s] designed to illustrate or reveal information, traits, values, or motivations of one character through the comparison and contrast of another character” (“Foil”). The primary reason Po and Shen are foils is their inherent connection. In the first and third movies, Po and the antagonists have no prior relationship. In the second, however, Shen is directly responsible for the genocide of Po’s people, meaning their narratives were intertwined from the beginning, thus marking the foilistic nature of their dynamic. As such, this research intends to examine how Po and Shen’s relationship in Kung Fu Panda 2 is influenced by the Chinese philosophies of yin-yang and wuxing; specifically, it will analyze how these philosophies accentuate the characters’ complementary and contrasting qualities as foils through their narrative arcs and their visual portrayals.

Yin-yang and Wuxing

What are yin-yang and wuxing?

Yin-yang is associated with many Chinese philosophies, where yin and yang are two opposing yet complementary forces that change naturally from one into the other (e.g. day into night), acting as “a process of harmonization ensuring a constant, dynamic balance of all things” (Littlejohn “Daoist”; R. Wang). Yin (black/dark swirl) represents qualities that are receptive, passive, and so on, while yang (white/light swirl) represents qualities that are prominent, active, etc. (“The Deep”). Wuxing is similarly connected to many Chinese philosophies, often translated as “five elements.” These elements are wood, fire, earth, metal, and water, and they are seen as “ever-changing material forces” that possess different relationships with one another, either generating or overcoming (Littlejohn “Wuxing”). These philosophies will be discussed together within Po and Shen’s relationship because each wuxing element is considered more yin or more yang, though an element can be further divided into yin and yang qualities (e.g. water is yin, but a flowing current is yang to still water’s yin). (“Yin-Yang and Five”; Pun-Yin). As such, it is appropriate to acknowledge the philosophies’ interconnectedness (an interconnectedness fitting for foils, two characters that share inherent connection).

How do yin-yang and wuxing apply to Po and Lord Shen?

Wuxing predominately applies to Po and Shen because it highlights contrasting qualities of their relationship as foils through visual fire/water motifs. In KFP2, Shen is consistently associated with fire, while Po is consistently associated with water. For example, Shen’s very introduction is him experimenting with fire; similarly, Po’s climactic achievement of finding inner peace involves manipulation of a single water droplet 2 (KFP2 00:00:39 – 00:00:47; 01:02:10 – 01:03:43). Within wuxing, fire and water are considered opposite elements, thus presenting the contrast of Po and Shen as protagonist and antagonist (Littlejohn “Wuxing”). This opposition is enhanced through fire being a yang element and water a yin element, highlighting how Po and Shen stand against each other. Wuxing also asserts that water overcomes fire, which directly applies to Po’s (water’s) eventual defeat of Shen (fire) (“Yin-Yang and Five”; Littlejohn “Wuxing”).

A more in-depth analysis, however, reveals the application of wuxing to Po and Shen’s relationship goes far deeper. Not only does water overcome fire through Po’s defeat of Shen, but Po’s victory comes on the water of Gongmen Harbor. In fact, all of Shen’s firepower is destroyed in this harbor, and Shen himself dies on the water, too, emphasizing the inevitable triumph of water (Po) over fire (Shen) that wuxing illustrates (KFP2 01:14:30 – 01:15:16; 01:15:30 – 01:16:55). Moreover, Po (water) never succumbs to Shen’s fire, neither when he was a baby during Shen’s attack on his village nor later when Shen tried to kill him with his firework weapon. Po’s victory comes as he visualizes Shen’s firework as a water droplet to redirect it, again demonstrating the inevitable submission of fire to water that wuxing asserts (KFP2 01:01:17 – 01:01:43; 00:58:21 – 00:58:35; 01:13:25 – 01:13:38). As such, the fire/water duality of wuxing is reflected in the oppositional dynamic of Po and Shen’s relationship as protagonist and antagonist, particularly through visual association.

It is also worth noting, however, that Shen’s fire in KFP2 was always yang (i.e. beyond the general association of fire/yang) because his use of fire was action-based and destructive. Namely, he slaughtered the pandas with an uncontrollable blaze and intended to use his firework weapon to conquer China (KFP2 01:01:17 – 01:01:43; 00:27:27 – 00:27:39). This predominance of yang in Shen’s fire is juxtaposed with how Po defeats him by harnessing yin water. As aforementioned, Po visualizes Shen’s fireworks as water droplets when he redirects them in their penultimate battle; the water’s yin qualities of stillness and curvature are thus emphasized (KFP2 01:13:25 – 01:13:38; Pun-Yin). Po’s water overcomes Shen’s fire as yin’s stillness eases yang’s destructiveness. The oppositional dynamic of Po and Shen demonstrated through the fire/water visuals of wuxing therefore comes full circle in the film, beginning with Shen destroying Po’s people with yang fire and ending with Po defeating Shen by yin water. One should also acknowledge that while Shen is only associated with yang qualities of fire, Po’s association with water in KFP2 reflects both yin and yang aspects of the element. There is the yin of the water droplet and of the harbor’s stillness, but there is also the yang of the river’s current that guides Po to the soothsayer after Shen hits him with his weapon (KFP2 01:11:39 – 01:12:52; 00:58:57 – 00:59:10). Po’s association with both yin and yang qualities of water, something Shen never demonstrated with fire, relates to another crucial aspect of their relationship as foils: inner peace.

As aforementioned, the natural flow of yin and yang ensures balance in the universe (R. Wang). In KFP2, Master Shifu explains that inner peace is about “harness[ing] the [natural] flow of the universe” (00:06:05 – 00:06:10). As such, a harmony of yin and yang equates to inner peace in this film, and moreover yin-yang is already associated with inner peace in popular culture (“The Deep” 00:00:13 – 00:00:19). This equation of yin/yang harmony and inner peace is crucial to understanding Po and Shen’s relationship as foils because the “inner peace” aspect of yin-yang philosophy is reflected in their complementary arcs. Po and Shen share the same narrative struggle in KFP2: they have complicated relationships with their past and future. As such, both characters have a dependence on yang, where their first instinct is always to take action. Po and Shen both need the passivity and receptiveness of yin to accept their pasts for what they were, understand the future is out of their hands, and thus find inner peace. This shared struggle with yin and yang illustrates the complementary nature of their arcs. Shen sought to control his future; upon learning he would be defeated by “a warrior of black and white,” he took the action of killing all the pandas and later tried to kill Po to prevent his defeat (KFP2 00:01:03 – 00:01:22; 01:07:13 – 01:07:18). Shen is also unable to let go of his parents’ past actions, explaining he is driven by the belief that “[his] parents wronged [him]” when they sent him away (KFP2 00:53:17 – 00:53:37). He seeks to “right” that “wrong” by taking action to conquer China. In other words, Shen’s excessive action (yang) to control his future is a direct result of his inability to accept the past. Shen’s belief that “[h]appiness must be taken” epitomizes his dependence on yang, as he relies too much on taking and struggles to receive (yin) (KFP2 00:53:49 – 00:53:57).

Po’s struggle parallels Shen’s. His own dependence on yang is clear in that for a majority of the film, he seeks answers about his past from everyone except himself. He even attempts to get information from Shen, his enemy. For most of KFP2, Po also actively represses his memories about when his people were slaughtered (00:55:37 – 00:55:59; 01:00:14 – 01:01:54; 00:57:55 – 00:58:21). Similar to Shen’s need to control the future, Po sought these answers because he believed knowing his past would help him understand who he was supposed to be. Po and Shen’s parallel struggles with the past/future and with yin/yang therefore complement each other, strengthening their relationship as foils. They have too much yang, they need more yin. By decreasing their reliance on yang (action) and embracing the receptiveness of yin, both characters could find inner peace (a harmony of yin and yang).

Here is where Po succeeds and Shen fails, their parallel arcs splitting. During the sequence of “Po Finds the Truth,” Po harnesses the receptiveness of yin by allowing himself to recall his memories of Shen massacring his people instead of repressing them. The importance of yin in this scene is further emphasized by how he manipulates a water droplet, again highlighting yin qualities of stillness and curvature. Po accepts his memories for what they are by embracing yin, and in doing so, he finds inner peace (KFP2 01:02:00 – 01:05:04). His achievement of inner peace is exemplified through his understanding that the past and future are not within his control. All that matters is the present—“who [he] choose[s] to be” (KFP2 01:04:12 – 01:04:15). Shen, on the other hand, cannot fully embrace yin to reduce his reliance on yang; thus, he cannot find inner peace. His failure is demonstrated by his rejection of the soothsayer’s advice that the present is the most important time (i.e. he continues to cling to the past/future) and by his inability to understand how Po achieved inner peace when he disbelievingly asks, “How did you [Po] do it… How did you find peace?” (KFP2 00:28:24 – 00:28:31; 01:15:49 – 01:16:22). That said, while Shen cannot find a harmony of yin and yang, he does demonstrate some of yin’s passivity through his final act in the film: he accepts his death, allowing his weapon to crush him instead of moving aside (KFP2 01:16:52 – 01:16:54). Ultimately, Po and Shen’s narrative arcs complement each other as foils because they share the struggle of coping with their past and future, reflected in how both were driven by yang and needed more yin to find inner peace. Only one succeeded.

Yin-yang philosophy is also reflected in Po and Shen’s character designs. As aforementioned, Po is a giant panda while Shen is an albino peacock; a black and white antagonist was thus purposefully chosen to complement the existing black and white protagonist.

Figure 1. Po and Lord Shen in DreamWorks Kung Fu Panda 2 from DreamWorks; Po; Kung Fu Panda Wiki, Fandom, 2021, kungfupanda.fandom.com/wiki/Po. and DreamWorks; Lord Shen; DreamWorks Animation Wiki, Fandom, 2021, dreamworks.fandom.com/wiki/Lord_Shen.

The side-by-side comparison in Figure 1 reveals Shen’s design is predominantly white in nature, while Po’s is more evenly divided between black and white. The abundance of white in Shen’s coloring—including his robes, which could have been any color 3—emphasizes his inability to overcome his dependence on yang (white swirl). Po, on the other hand, demonstrates greater balance of black and white in his design, reinforcing his capacity to decrease his reliance on yang, harness the receptiveness of yin, and find a balance of yin and yang within himself (inner peace). Their designs highlight how inner peace was inevitable for Po and impossible for Shen, calling attention to where their complementary arcs as foils diverge into contrasting ends.

There are also implications of wuxing in their designs: Dr. Shan Tung Hsu explains that each element is associated with a color, the key ones here being fire-red, metal-white, and water-black (“Yin-Yang and Five”). The abundance of white (metal) and unique presence of red (fire) in Shen’s design present a connection to his weapon, which “breathes fire and spits metal,” and to his previously discussed association with fire (KFP2 00:18:59 – 00:19:04). Metal itself is actually a lesser yin element, meaning the predominance of white in Shen’s design may foreshadow his comparatively lesser acceptance of yin through death (“Yin-Yang and Five”). White also symbolizes death in China—a fitting color to dominate a character who chose death as his defeat (Li 708). The white and black of Po’s design, on the other hand, corresponds to his inevitable victory over Shen’s metal (white) weapons by visualizing them as droplets of water (black), and to his previous discussed association with water (KFP2 01:13:25 – 01:13:38). The synthesis of yin-yang and wuxing in Po and Shen’s designs thus further emphasizes their complementary and contrasting nature as foils: their similar-yet-different coloring reflects not only their shared struggles with yin/yang, but also their different ends with life and death and with victory and defeat.

There is also explicit yin-yang imagery used in KFP2 to highlight Po and Shen’s relationship as foils. This research seeks to analyze the most poignant example of this motif:

Figure 2. Netro Man. Po and Shen in a Stylized Yin-yang from Kung Fu Panda 2. 2011. YouTube, 19 Jan. 2019, www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYpZjsPP-PI.

In Figure 2’s stylized yin-yang symbol, Po and Shen are posited as the “dots” (KFP2 00:21:16 – 00:21:19). Po is in the yellow half, but his figure is tinted with the red of the other swirl. Shen is in the red half yet lacks a corresponding yellow tint. The presence of both colors in Po’s swirl foreshadows how he will eventually achieve a balance of yin and yang (inner peace), while the presence of only one color in Shen’s swirl emphasizes how inner peace is impossible for him. It is also worth noting that red, being associated with fire, is a yang color; Po’s red tint and Shen’s red backdrop thus illustrate their complementary dependence on yang (Hsu; “Yin-Yang and Five”).

Regarding the yellow of Po’s swirl: yellow is a holy color in Taoism, a Chinese philosophy with connections to yin-yang (Li 709). Tao is “the alteration of… yin and yang” in the universe, an explanation noticeably similar to Shifu’s explanation of inner peace as harnessing this flow (Littlejohn “Daoist”; KFP2 00:06:05 – 00:06:10). As such, the predominance of yellow in Po’s swirl and lack thereof in Shen’s again emphasizes the contrast of Po’s inevitable success at finding inner peace and Shen’s inevitable failure. This theme is also connected to wuxing, where yellow is associated with earth, an element often considered to have a balance of yin and yang (Hsu; “Yin-Yang and Five”). It is thus telling that Shen has no yellow in his swirl while Po is surrounded by it. Shen, who could not fully embrace yin, was condemned to inner turmoil. Po, who accepted yin and thus found a harmony of yin and yang within himself, achieved inner peace. Moreover, the red and yellow of this stylized yin-yang is reflected in Po and Shen’s framing throughout the film. 4 Perhaps the most crucial parallel is the conversation before their final battle, where Po is framed by the yellow light of the rising sun and Shen is lit with the red glow of his destroyed weapon, as this imagery emphasizes the contrasting endings of their arcs (KFP2 01:15:42). Such a visual represents the inevitable success of water over fire in wuxing, of inner peace over inner turmoil in yin-yang, and of Po over Shen in KFP2. As a result, their complementary journeys and oppositional fates as foils are reflected in the visuals of the film itself, particularly emphasized by stylistic yellow/red imagery as seen in Figure 2.

Discussion

Throughout the film, Po’s association with water and Shen’s with fire emphasizes their oppositional dynamic as protagonist and antagonist, particularly through wuxing, which declares fire and water opposite elements. Because water overcomes fire in wuxing, it draws attention to the inevitability of Po’s victory through water over Shen’s fire (“Yin-Yang and Five”; Littlejohn “Wuxing”). This juxtaposition is strengthened by the complementary nature of their narrative arcs, as both Po and Shen grapple with their pasts and future and with yin and yang. Po and Shen demonstrate a shared reliance on yang because both are driven by action; to achieve inner peace, they need to harness the passivity and receptiveness of yin, a task at which only Po succeeds. As such, the inevitable power of water over fire in wuxing becomes the marker in Po and Shen’s parallel arcs where their paths diverge; water overcomes fire, Po defeats Shen, and Po finds inner peace where Shen failed.

Their characters designs shown in Figure 1 further synthesize these yin-yang and wuxing qualities, as the shared black and white visuals demonstrate a complementary aesthetic. The presence of red in Shen’s feathers as well as the differing ratios of black/white (Po with nearly 50/50, Shen with a predominance of white) are moreover emblematic of the contrasting conclusions to their arcs. Shen was crushed by his own weapon (red and white feathers) because he rejected full acceptance of yin (white/yang feathers > black/yin feathers). Po, despite his struggles, was destined to find inner peace (white/yang fur ≈ black/yin fur); with this achievement being impossible for Shen, inner peace became the key to Po’s victory. Through inner peace, he harnessed the yin of water to defeat the yang of Shen’s weapon, demonstrated by how he chanted “inner peace” before redirecting the fireworks (KFP2 01:13:25 – 01:13:38). The stylized yin-yang symbol of Figure 2, then, is perhaps the most direct visual illustrating Po and Shen’s relationship as foils. Yin and yang are two opposing yet complementary forces that experience mutual attraction and repulsion, causing constant change (“The Deep” 00:00:52 – 00:01:00). Positioning Po and Shen in a stylized version of this symbol emphasizes how Po and Shen are these opposing yet complementary forces. Shen is the only character besides Po himself who witnessed the genocide of the pandas, meaning Po is drawn to him for answers. Inversely, Po is the only character—the prophesied “warrior of black and white”—who stands in the way of Shen’s victory; as such, Shen seeks to repel (kill) him (KFP2 00:01:03 – 00:01:22). These foils are thus intertwined in every way, from their narrative arcs to their visual portrayals, and it is near impossible to see one framed alone in KFP2 without feeling the presence of the other.

But while this analysis of yin-yang and wuxing’s influence on Po and Shen’s relationship contains merit because of the consistency of their applications, one question remains: is this interpretation what the creators intended? It is near-impossible to answer with certainty. However, production designer Raymond Zibach mentioned in an interview with the New York Times that Po and Shen’s fight on the harbor was “an ultimate battle of fire vs. water,” indicating influence of wuxing, if unnamed (Murphy). Zibach also explained that when making the first and second films, the crew researched color meanings in Chinese culture and sought to magnify similarities between Chinese and Western interpretations; as such, they utilized specific color symbolism in the movies 5 (“Kung Fu Panda” 00:00:05 – 00:00:28; 00:00:59 – 00:01:02). This blending of Chinese and Western color symbolism is abundantly clear in the film’s repeated use of red and yellow; the golden framing of Po throughout the film appeals to the Taoist and wuxing balance of yin and yang that Po achieves through inner peace, as well as to a more Western sense of glory and heroism that Po achieves as the protagonist (Hsu; “Yin-Yang and Five”). Similarly, Shen’s association with red appeals to the meanings of danger and power shared between China and the West through his role as the antagonist (Li 707, 709-710). Director Jennifer Yuh Nelson also emphasized in an interview with the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences how important visuals are for her in film, which may allude to the repeated fire/water motifs of wuxing and to the yin-yang imagery seen with Po and Shen (“Creative Spark” 00:00:04 – 00:00:15). Again, while it is difficult to conclude with certainty what the “original intentions” of the filmmakers were, the interwoven application of wuxing and yin-yang on Po and Shen’s relationship is clear for all the aforementioned reasons, and commentary from the creators suggests this influence may have been part of their plan for these foils, too.

Implications

The use of these Chinese philosophies in KFP2 illustrates that a sequel can improve from the orientalism of its predecessor. While Kung Fu Panda exists in a “one-dimensional [China]… ruled by American values, attitudes, and behavior patterns,” KFP2 moves away from merely superficial Chinese influence (Greene 210-211). To improve, DreamWorks hired an East Asian director and sent much of the crew to visit China for the second film (Inoa). Zibach and art director Tang Kheng Heng explained in one interview how the visit was enlightening and that they drew extensive inspiration from the areas they visited for new designs in the sequel (“Kung Fu Panda” 00:01:26 – 00:02:15). In another, Zibach discussed how they worked directly with Chinese individuals as they absorbed the influence of real locations (such as Mount Qingcheng), Taoist philosophy, and different forms of kung fu for the second film (Xinhua). The greater interaction between “East and West” in the production of this film is clear, as KFP2’s inclusion of specific Chinese landscapes and better understanding of Chinese philosophies helps distance it from the superficiality of the first movie (for example: yin-yang is embedded into the film through the theme of inner peace, not solely treated as an “aesthetic”). While KPF2 is not a perfect film, as it does not use explicit yin-yang or wuxing terminology despite harnessing these motifs, it nonetheless illustrates that orientalist mistakes of one movie need not carry over into the next.

As aforementioned, KFP2 uses yin-yang imagery throughout the film, and yin-yang philosophy is a core part of Po and Shen’s complementary arcs. In Western audiences, there is often a conflation of yin and yang with the racialized concepts of good and evil. Specifically, “good” is associated with light, meaning “good” is ascribed to yang (white swirl), while “evil” is associated with darkness, thus “evil” is ascribed to yin (black swirl). Of course, yin-yang cannot be reduced to such a binary division, but nonetheless the Western misconception that yin/black is evil and must be defeated by yang/white lingers. What is interesting about KFP2 is that it subverts this notion. Po and Shen’s parallel struggles of an overdependence on yang (action) has to be overcome, or rather balanced out, by acquiring more yin (passivity and receptiveness). Rather than the reductive interpretation of yin/black being defeated by yang/white, KFP2 can be assessed as having a triumph of yin over yang, as it is Po’s yin water that defeats Shen’s yang fire. However, such an analysis is a simplistic one, and a more appropriate conclusion is not the triumph of yin or yang over the other but rather of the need for inner peace, a harmony of yin and yang, for victory. The film emphasizes the power of this balance in that when Po redirects Shen’s final firework, he catches it in his chest, the force propelling him into the air with such speed that his spinning body combined with the glow of the firework creates a yin-yang symbol (KFP2 01:14:51 – 01:15:07). KFP2 thus emphasizes that both yin and yang (inner peace) were necessary for Po’s triumph; it was not a “superiority” of either force. As such, the movie avoids the pitfall of conflating yin-yang with Western good/evil, and perhaps other Western films could take a lesson from this portrayal.

Conclusion and Future Research

The Kung Fu Panda movies are often written off as children’s films, unworthy of deeper analysis. This assessment could not be further from the truth, and Kung Fu Panda 2 in particular has more depth than meets the eye. As this research examines, the Chinese philosophies of yin-yang and wuxing apply deeply to the core of the film, that core being Po and Shen’s relationship as foils. Po and Shen both reflect and contradict the other: they are water and fire; they struggle with yin and yang; they push and pull, receive and take, succeed and fail. Few DreamWorks films can claim to possess the intricate dynamic between protagonist and antagonist that Kung Fu Panda 2 has.

As expected, there are extensive opportunities for future research regarding these films. While this analysis focused on yin-yang and wuxing regarding Po and Shen’s relationship as foils, other studies may wish to consider the more Western theme of individualism, perhaps examining if Shen and Po’s dynamic ascribes more to that of the villain and the hero or of a genocidal dictator and the (apparent) sole survivor of said genocide. A more critical lens might be taken by investigating the orientalism still present in KFP2, such as how Lord Shen perpetuates evil, imperialist, and effeminate stereotypes associated with China since Fu Manchu (Greene 54). Other research could analyze the influence of Taoist wu-wei in the film, as wu-wei’s simplified definitions of “natural action” and “going with the flow” present a parallel to the soothsayer’s advice for Po to “let [his memories] flow” before he finds inner peace (Lin; Loy 76; KFP2 01:01:56 – 01:01:58). More analysis might also be conducted on the third film, particularly examining how “being produced by… a joint Chinese-American… film production company” may have further reduced issues of orientalism (Wang 9).

Footnotes:

During the second film, Po is not aware that his biological father and other pandas still live; as such, this analysis will reflect that belief (KFP2 01:20:30 – 01:21:05).

Other instances include Shen using fire to kill the pandas; the fire in Shen’s fireworks factory; Shen burning a map; Po discussing his father (Mr. Ping) with Tigress on the water; and Po’s final stand against Shen on the water; some of which will be discussed in more detail throughout this analysis (KFP2 01:01:17 – 01:01:43; 00:02:22 – 00:02:30; 00:52:39 – 00:52:46; 00:25:31 – 00:26:08; 01:11:39 – 01:12:52).

For example, given that Shen’s desire was to rule all of China, his robes theoretically could have been imperial yellow (Li 709). Instead, additional white fabric was chosen.

Instances include the red lighting of Shen’s fireworks factory; the association of Po with golden sunrise and sunset; the light changing from yellow to red during Po and Shen’s first battle as the upper hand switches from Po to Shen; Po bringing golden light into the red glow of Shen’s ships; and Shen’s fireworks switching from a red to a gold glow as Po redirects them in his penultimate battle with Shen (KFP2 00:01:54 – 00:02:30; 00:48:43 – 00:49:28; 00:07:20 – 00:07:42; 00:18:43 – 00:19:35; 00:45:46 – 00:48:43; 01:08:47 – 01:11:29; 01:13:07 – 01:17:05).

One example Zibach provides is the association of green with wisdom as a connection to green jade, hence green being assigned to Master Oogway in the first film (“Kung Fu Panda” 00:00:28 – 00:00:45). And indeed, Master Shifu wears green robes in the second film that were not present in his design for the first movie, thus indicating his newfound wisdom of having mastered inner peace (KFP2 00:06:05 – 00:06:10).

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