#pointing this out just in case because after all

[communistkenobi]

A newborn baby girl will have to go through life with the wrong sex on her birth certificate after a registrar’s error, which her parents have been told they cannot change. Grace Bingham and her partner, Ewan Murray, were excited to register their first child at the Sutton-in-Ashfield Registration Office in Nottinghamshire last week. But, after nights of broken sleep, they failed to notice the registrar had written the wrong sex on the birth certificate until after it had been submitted. “We were horrified but assumed that, as we saw the mistake just a few seconds after it had happened, correcting it would be an easy matter,” said Murray. “But although the registrar apologised for her mistake – and the area manager also apologised – it turns out that birth certificates can’t be changed.”

this article is interesting because it demonstrates that cis people can very easily apply structural thinking to sex assignment - this couple immediately identifies that their daughter, having mistakenly been assigned male at birth by the registrar, will have administrative problems in employment, education, travel, and so on. they pretty adeptly identify the foundational role that sex assignment plays in the administrative and civil functions of a state, and how incorrect sex markers effectively produce a ‘rational’ reason for discrimination within these administrative and civil arenas:

The General Register Office (GRO), which is responsible for administering all civil registration in England and Wales, and the Home Office have both confirmed that Lilah’s birth certificate cannot be reissued, although an amendment can be made in the margin of the original document. But Bingham said this is not enough. “People reading a birth certificate might easily miss a tiny note in the margin – which means that Lilah could be regarded as male when she applies for school, her passport, for jobs – for everything that she needs a full birth certificate for.”

And given that this was published in The Guardian, this article makes zero mention as to why it’s impossible for this couple to receive an updated birth certificate with correct information (something the author notes was possible to do a year ago), but the reason is obviously transphobia. 

Now one might ask why there’s no exception for cis people whose birth certificates were recorded incorrectly at birth, but this reveals the instability of cissexualism. How would you determine who is a cis person with a mistaken birth certificate, versus a trans person who wants to change their mistaken sex assignment record? Sure, you could say well, this is an infant, of course she’s “really” “biologically” female (something the parents argue in the article as grounds for having their child’s birth certificate re-issued), but 1) that certainly can’t be argued for in all cases, 2) 'biological sex' is understood by medical doctors as alterable through hormones and surgery, which trans people are often required to undergo in order to change their records, and 3) binary sex assignment is already imprecise and discretionary, particularly if infants have sex characteristics that don’t conform to binary F/M assignment standards (which is part of how the category of intersex emerges, framing this failure to conform to state census categories as a biological defect - and in fact, many intersex people do not discover they are intersex until the onset of puberty or later, at which point they are even less in luck if they want to change their sex assignment - and if they don’t, if they are cis but have sex characteristics that do not conform to cis standards, they will be discriminated against anyway). 

Even setting aside the issue of transgender and intersex people for a moment, states fuck up all the time in administration! you've probably either experienced this directly or know someone who's had some kind of record fucked up by the government at some point in their life. If you get married they could fuck up changing your last name, fuck up your disability status, record your social insurance number wrong, print the wrong address on your driver’s license, fail to acknowledge you as a dependent when filing taxes, incorrectly mark you as having graduated when you’re still a student, fuck up your immigration paperwork, record your name wrong during immigration, etc etc into infinity, and this is not even getting into errors that occur when different levels of government pass information between one another. This level of administrative rigidity is purely to punish people who fail to perform cissexualism correctly, and in the case of this couple's child, the administrative error of the state is imputed to them as a personal failure that she and her parents will now have to deal with for the rest of their lives. 

I think the ultimate analysis is not that transphobia will become less precise and hit more "wrong" targets as it expands its reach, but that this is the exact same operational logic as all other liberal state measures - if you encounter a systemic issue, it’s your fault for not avoiding it, fuck you, go away. You’re poor because you’re lazy, you’re unhoused because you’re lazy, you’re disabled because you’re lazy, and your daughter is now administratively transsexual because you’re lazy. In this case, we don’t even need to assume the intentions of the state - they outright say it:

The family complained to the GRO but was told the mistake was their responsibility and could not be fully rectified. “The duty to ensure that information recorded in any particular entry is true is the responsibility of the person providing the information and not of the registrar general or the registrar recording the birth,” the GRO said.

[cherrybr4t]

ex for a reason — choi seungcheol (+18)

cheol feels a wave of possessiveness when he sees your ex-boyfriend!

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering (f rec), sl*t, degradation (f rec), daddy cheol!, spanking, tit playing, jealousy! est. relationship, a little possessiveness haha, creampie, that’s all i think! ok enjoy <3

if seungcheol could pinpoint exactly why he, too, is a creature bound to the notion of possessiveness — he would. except, at this point of time, all he feels is rage.

not at you — no, no not at all. how could he ever be angry at his princess? the poor guy falling victim to his fiery glares would be your ex-boyfriend. said ex-boyfriend — mingyu, was definitely too buzzed to notice the hard daggers thrown at him.

you however, are quick to notice the switch in tension after mingyu came over to give you a hug, gushing over how it’s been forever since you’ve last met. you return the kind smile. after all you and him did end on cordial terms.

that ticks something off in seungcheol’s head. the way mingyu’s arms seemed too familiar — too comfortable snaking around you. all while he was standing there right beside you.

he shakes hands with mingyu, squeezing a little too tight until he notices the wince on that pretty boy’s face. head’s too busy thinking about the fact that he’s held you close under his covers before.

“baby, you all right?” you squeeze the hands that are tightly wrapped around your waist.

seungcheol hums, “yeah baby, just a little tired is all,” he reassures, leaving a peck on your temple. you narrow your eyes, knowing he’s withholding words from you.

“y’sure? we can leave early — anytime you wanna,” raising your brows at him, offering an exit.

“no baby, i’m fine. it’s your friend’s birthday after all, let’s stay a while more — enjoy this bottle of whiskey she has,” he lifts up the $3000 bottle off the table top, waving it slightly.

seungcheol self soothes. he thinks he’s got it all under control, it’s not like you’ve got residual feelings attached to mingyu — its been almost two years. but with the way mingyu keeps gazing over towards you, with that fucking smirk, seungcheol thinks he’s about to lose it.

the party is in full swing — party hits back to back, loud chatting over the speakers, with people dancing around. he sees mingyu start to make his way across the room towards the both of you.

without much thought, seungcheol pulls you in closer — if even possible, grabs your hand and leads you to a room. a guest room which you recognise due to the nights spent in your friend’s house.

“cheol, baby? what’s wrong?” you catch your breath, looking up at him and furrowing your eyebrows.

cheol tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. he looks at you tenderly, before deciding to come clean. it’s not the first time he’s informed you of how jealousy tends to cloud his mind.

“i…just couldn’t stand your ex being there. standing there looking at you, as if i’m not there right beside you — was fucking pissing me off,” he sighs out, leaning his forehead against yours, body to body.

you let out a small chuckle, “baby, you know how he is… plus the only man i’ve ever looked at the whole night — is standing right in front of me right now. he’s all i wanna look at.” you nibble on your bottom lip, hoping seungcheol catches every nuance of sincerity you’re projecting.

“yeah? i know baby.. sorry it’s just, i can’t help it. want him to back off. want him to know who you belong to now,” his voice barely above a whisper.

you gaze up, giving his plump lips a kiss. a simple peck which turned into sucking, biting and licking — which was the case all of the time because who could resist and pull away from those lips?

he kisses you back with even more urgency, even more passion and love — and you feel him take charge, grabbing your nape to pull you in closer. he wants to taste all of you, every inch and spot — he wants it all. wants the reassurance that you’re now his and only his to hold, to touch, to pleasure.

“you’re all mine aren’t you,” he growls out mid kiss, grabbing you by your chin, staring so deep into your eyes you feel the need seeping into you from his gaze alone.

“always have been, cheol.”

his heart settles at your voice. knows you’re his. but hearing it makes him feel a whole ‘nother level of complete. loves when you play to his possessive selfish desires.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself before sitting himself down on the edge of the bed, pulling you down to straddle above him.

he pushes and combs your hair to the back, hands rubbing up and down your body, hands claiming what’s his. he takes in your silhouette in front of him — sitting so prettily, just waiting to be devoured by him.

“you’re too beautiful baby, hate the thought of someone else getting to see you the way i do,” he removes the strap of your top, teasing slowly as he starts to pull your top above your stomach.

you raise your hands, letting him remove your top. he hisses, sucks in a sharp breath, noticing you went braless for the night.

“braless tonight baby? thank god it was warm out there. imagine if these,” he tugs on both nipples harshly, “were to stand if it were cold,” he releases them, rubbing over your hard nipples softly in circles with his thumb. “then that ex boyfriend of yours would’ve been able to see what’s mine, wouldn’t he.”

you whimper at the hard and soft sensation on your nipples, knowing he’s going gentle on you now.

“you’d like that baby? want him to see you like that?” he slaps across your tits, tainting the soft flesh with his print. you let out a whine, “n-no…don’t want him to,”

“yeah? it’s for my eyes only, right baby?” his hand inches towards your core, completely exposed under your mini skirt by the way you’re sitting.

he rubs his fingers over your panties, smirking at the wet patch he feels on your center.

“so wet baby, thinking about me or thinking about him?”

you frown and gasped at him indignantly, “you. baby — i don’t understa—” he slaps your cunt, soothing it immediately afterwards with a few gentle rubs across your core.

he knows it’s him, knows only he can get you so dippy — likes a confirmation of it anyways.

he pulls you in for another heated kiss while his fingers continue to stay busy toying with your clothed cunt. your warm cunt that he wants to drown in all the time.

“remove your panties and go on all fours for me baby,” he grabs your hips, lifting you off him. you silently think of ways to apologise to your friend before getting comfortable on the bed, just clad in your mini skirt.

seungcheol groans at the supple flesh of your ass spilling out of the short fabric. pulling you closer to the edge, he grips onto the flesh. fingers tense, possessiveness dripping down his fingertips. needs to feel you on every active nerve to remind himself that you’re solely his.

he dives in to give one long lick up your soaked cunt. you moan out his name, and he groans out how fucking wet you are.

“fuck baby, i think if i were to fuck you right now my cock would slide right in,” he settles for his fingers for now, feeling the way your walls immediately tighten around his finger.

“cheol…daddy, want more..” you push your hips back, wiggling your ass in his face. he slaps a harsh one down your cheeks, and you wince, whimpering slightly.

“greedy slut. think you deserve more? letting your ex boyfriend hug you like that,” he says that but inserts two fingers in this time. bottoming out to his knuckles, curling his fingers.

“d-don’t be angry daddy, you know i only want daddy… want you only…” you beg, breath hitching every time he hits the spot all the way inside.

“show me baby, tell daddy how much you want him.” he sees you look over your shoulders, eyes wide and sweat starting to form on the edge of your hairline.

the cocky look on his face has you tightening around his fingers. him fully clothed, fingers deep inside you while you lay so pliantly for him. you would do anything for this man. and so would he.

“please daddy, want you to make me cum. need your cock.” gripping onto the bedsheets tighter as you feel him sneakily insert a third finger.

“yeah baby? doesn’t seem like you want it that bad. i’ve heard you beg better.” he coos. he knows you could go louder — loud enough for him and the other guests to possibly hear. needs to set him straight.

you whine. god. frustration starting to boil and mix with the immense pleasure in your core. you know how cheol is. how he can get mean in bed.

“want—want you to fuck me daddy. please. need you so bad. please please cheol,” your voice breaks. you feel his other hand reach from behind to tug on your nipples, before reaching down to leave teasing touches to your puffy clit begging for attention.

he’s a master a multi-tasking. thinks when it comes to you, he’ll be a master at anything. anything that makes his princess feel good.

“fuck baby, making such a fucking mess. so desperate to cum aren’t you.” at this point, he’s more desperate than you to make you cum. he feels his cock growing so hard it hurts, and if he doesn’t cum inside you soon he’s going to lose it.

“fuck baby. show me why you’re my good girl yeah? cum on my fingers and i’ll think about letting you cum on my cock.” he rams his fingers so hard inside you, other hand rubbing tight and fast circles around your clit.

“cum for me baby, moan out my name nice and loud while you do yeah? let everyone know who’s making you feel good right now,”

with his urging, you snap and unravel, gushing out while cumming around his fingers. you scream out his name as you cum, hands turning white by how hard you’re holding on to the sheets.

“fuck daddy, so good… so good…” you puff out as you come down from your high. no time to register as you hear his pants drop to the floor.

“turn around baby, come sit on me.” you push yourself up, only to see him already leaning against the headboard, hand stroking his hard on. grunting. hints of pre-cum glistening in the dim room light. his gaze hard on you as he strokes himself.

you bite your lip, crawling slowly towards him before settling in front of him. he tilts his head, letting his pre-cum coat his length.

“think he heard you cumming all over my fingers?” cheol prompts. you flush, nod a little, think anyone within a few metre radius distance from the room would’ve heard you begging cheol to make you cum.

“wait til he hears how good my cock makes you feel baby,” he guides you towards him, letting you hover over his cock for a moment.

“you okay baby?” he whispers and gets a confirmation from you. “just want your cock in me,”

the tip presses against your entrance, and like what he predicted earlier, you sunk down his cock with ease, soaking wet cunt welcoming him eagerly. he groans, voice croaky. head so clouded by how snug and warm you feel.

“you feel so good princess, you feel fucking perfect around me,” he husks. his eyes unable to tear away from you — the way your mouth opens, gasps leaving you as you take him in all the way. the way your brows furrow with sweat down the middle. the blush spread on your cheeks and the moan you let out as you feel him completely.

he holds on to your hips, guiding you up and down his cock. switching between bouncing you and letting you grind on him.

“so fucking pretty, you always take me so well,” his brows stay furrowed, unable to fully process how fucking good you feel around him. feels like he could cum any moment.

“cheol.. daddy..so good daddy,” you moan out, you see and feel nothing but him and him only at this moment. and you want him to know how good he makes you feel.

“yeah baby? daddy’s cock making you feel good?” he raises his eyebrows, head hitting the back of the bed so hard yet he can’t feel the impact of it. so lost in the moment — wants you to cum around him, wants to cum inside of you.

“so so so good daddy,” you cry out, hands playing with your tits, giving him a little show as he continues to work your hips on him. his strong hands doing most of the work for you, while you focus on the feeling of his tip hitting and grinding against your gummy spot. the way he keeps creating waves of butterflies in your lower stomach.

“that’s it, let him hear how good i make you feel baby,”

“show him how you’re my needy little slut, bet he’s never gotten you like this,”

“no one can make you feel like i do right baby, no one compares to daddy right?” cheol utters out, cursing out every time he feels your walls tighten around him.

“n-no one daddy. only you can make me feel this way,” you cry out. “only you daddy, only you,” and it’s true. cheol works around your body like no other, like magic. knowing every spot of your body and how to take you there — faster than anyone ever.

his fingers make their way to your clit once again, and you jerk forward the moment he starts to rub messily on your slippery bud again.

“that’s it baby. only daddy can ever make you feel this way,” he snaps his hips up faster, feeling his incoming orgasm the more he hears you cry out.

“you’re doing so good baby, taking me so well. you belong on daddy’s cock don’t you,” he moans out. holding back on his thrusts, focusing on your clit to make you cum again. knows he won’t be able to hold back any longer if he continues fucking up into you.

“cum for daddy again? wanna see you cum around daddy’s cock. i know you can baby,” his pace quickens and he groans — knowing how it goes, knowing when you’re about to cum. needs to hear you fall apart on his cock.

“almost there baby, cum for daddy — that’s it that’s it… feels so fucking good doesn’t it baby, look at you.” his words alone bring you to a new high, cumming so hard around his cock, screaming his name so loud you think the upstairs neighbour knows who cheol is.

“fuck baby. gonna cum. gonna cum so fucking hard inside of you baby.” his hands find their way back on your hips, gripping onto dear life as he snaps his hips up into your dripping cunt.

“ah fuck, fuck i’m cumming baby, daddy’s gonna cum inside of you,” and you clench around him, watching the final string break as he whines out, and you feel his hot cum shooting inside you, painting your walls.

thick hot cum continues to spurt inside of you as he slowly fucks it in you, pushing his cum deep inside every crevice of your cunt. his moans come in sections, breaking more and more.

he lifts you up slowly before you decide to lay beside him, feeling beat. he extends an arm for you to lay on as a pillow and you smile, facing him as you use his arm comfortably.

“you were so good princess, did so well for me. as always,” cheol caresses your cheek softly.

“sorry baby, i shouldn’t have let mingyu hug me all over like that… i would’ve been upset if i were you too,” quietly, you place a kiss on his jawline. hoping he isn’t too affected by mingyu anymore.

“no baby, i’m not mad at you. just hate it when guys look at you that way…especially if it’s an ex-boyfriend.” he rubs his nose with yours.

“i know baby…let’s get out of here? i’ll find another day to bring minji out for a birthday dinner..”

giggling, cheol agrees — but not til you guys catch your breaths for a few minutes.

perm taglist 🖤: @gyuguys @black-swan-blog27 @do-you-remember-summer-127 @mrsjohnnysuh

a/n: hi luvs! sorry, i’ve been a lil caught up w life and etc so :(( missed being here n writing so here i am! managed to find some time to write a lil smth <3 hope u guys liked it, if u did — like, rb or comment ⭐️ love you, muahh 🍒

[spitdrunken]

HIAHA I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE MR SCARLETELLA CAN YOU WRITE MORE. so odd and unsettling and obscene m just giggling with delight

HIIII thank you so much for the high praise <3 this has kind of a different vibe from the last one but plays with similar-esque concepts!!!! this is 'weird and obscene' LMAO

Notes: Suggestive, mild body horror, bolded = dialogue in the Other World's language.

==========================

How do you touch a man without a physical form? Or, you suppose, 'man' isn't quite the correct term. 'Apparition' would perhaps best describe him. Though he can reach out to you and make you feel the illusion of touch, you can't actually make contact with him. Your hand passes through him as if he were nothing but air.

You don't think he minds. It's always a bit hard to tell, with him. Mr. Scarletella ususally just stares you down with a dead look, communication relatively limited. But you would like to touch him! So you experiment a little, an action for which no mutually intelligible word exists. Still, he doesn't move as you poke and prod at different parts of his body, coming up short every single time.

You crouch down before poking at his ankle, just in case. When you look up, your heart stops for just a moment. Mr. Scarletella's neck is snapped back, folded in on itself in order to observe you. Vacant-seeming eyes are trained on your every movement. The sight makes you feel squeamish. "God... Not do," you tell him. "Head look hurt. Not funny." There's no other way you can think of to put it. You get up and stick your hand down, waving your hand in the other direction at the side of his head. He seems to understands what you mean, as his skull snaps back in its usual direction. You circle around him. "Sorry. Not want upset you." He says, although you know he'll never really listen or learn, not when it comes to these things. "Me like you. You like me." As if you'd ever forget. You beckon him. Rather than simply leaning down, his form flickers, distorting, before reappearing in the desired position. There's just one place you haven't touched yet. Once again, you extend your hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against the top of his umbrella. The surface is smooth to the touch and wets your skin, accompanied by a small burst of static ringing in your ears. It takes a moment for the significance to register. "Oh! I can touch your umbrella!" You say, forgetting the Other World's language in excitement over your discovery. Even though it's relatively small. You can't touch Mr. Scarletella himself, but the umbrella appears to be 'realer' than the rest of him. ...Actually, maybe the umbrella is a part of his body? He's not human, after all. He doesn't have to exist according to your logic. Your brow furrows. The puzzle pieces of language move in your mind, until they're slotted together semi-coherently. You point at his arm. "Arm you." Then, you do the same for his leg. "Leg you." You wave your arm up and down. "Body you." Finally, you lift your hand in the direction of the umbrella. "Object you? Me can touch object. Touch you?" Mr. Scarletella's smile widens. It reveals a little bit of the void that stretches on behind his lips. "I see. Correct. Object me. Object is..." After which he lowers his umbrella and says a word you haven't heard before. You try to repeat it, and he says it once again, pointing the umbrella in your direction. "Touch umbrella. I want."

It's definitely... Weird. It's genuinely like touching an umbrella. Cold and smooth and slightly wet. But Mr. Scarletella wanted you to do it, and you're kind of intrigued yourself, so you do it. Because there's clearly something happening. As you trace your fingers over the outer canopy, making sure to at least touch every panel a little bit, his visible form starts to flicker and fade. When you apply a bit more pressure, move a little faster, parts of him start to distort and change colour. His arm appears a little dislodged from his shoulder, static rising in the background.

When you pinch one of the metal tips in between your fingers and rub it, he lets out a laugh that is far more high-pitched than you would've expected it to sound like. Clearly, there's some kind of link between the umbrella and the rest of himself. Though you can't envision what it must be like, he's feeling something. Your hand pauses. In the blink of an eye, Mr. Scarletella has materialised even closer to you, nose close enough to touch yours, if it could. The inky darkness of his pupils makes up most of what you can see.

"Me like. Like like like like." He sounds breathy despite not breathing. "Touch more. Again. Me want you."

[ukkoperkele]

Just to share my own thoughts, I don't think that was the point. @fortunatelyginger

The article is not taking the male perspective into account since this time the writer is focused on girls. I doubt she was bringing up girls' and women's problems in her book about men's problems either, because that wasn't her focus. Not focusing on the male perspective in this article doesn't makes boys' and men's experiences with bullying from women any less real.

The article is showing one possible explanation why teenage girls are feeling unwell. These girls are telling about their experiences with harsh online and in-person bullying from these certain boys in their school. Not from men as a whole. It is also true that people who are struggling are more likely to take their anger and sadness out on others especially without proper support or knowledge about healthy coping mechanisms. Boys still often lack support.

Regular cruel comments and sexualization are undoubtedly a valid cause for someone to start feeling unwell. Teenagers are at an age where their identity and emotional regulation skills are still developing. Receiving this kind of treatment will usually take a bigger toll on teens than adults.

It's been a while since I was a teen, but I remember this kind of bullying from both girls and boys. Both also received it. Teens in general can be cruel as hell.

However, in my experience teenage boys were doing this kind of bullying more often, or at least they were generally more aggressive and open about it than girls. The worst bullies were usually from dysfunctional families. Girls also usually had, and most likely still have, more pressure than boys when it comes to looks, and that pressure is not only coming from boys. This is an indivual experience, but I wouldn't be surprised if this was still the case in some schools.

Andrew Tate has some good points when it comes to self-improvement, but he also has more harmful takes on human value and mental health. "This is why women should not vote, they're morons" comment after a (trans)woman was expressing stress over elections is not something I would like my own sons to hear or look up to. Someone like HealthyGamer, a Harvard trained psychiatrist focusing especially on boy's and men's mental health, would be a better choice.

Tate's followers from what I've seen are not usually the kindest to women, some of them being blatantly hateful online. When young impressionable boys who have no proper critical thinking skills or media literacy skills yet see this kind of content and comments, there is a risk they will absorb all the things they're fed, including hatred towards women, without a second thought. They don't have the maturity to pick the genuinely helpful tips and ignore the rest. This in turn can affect the way they treat girls and women in their close circle. I think this is what the article was trying to convey by mentioning Tate.

These bullies might not be the only or the main reason why girls are unwell, but it is certainly still a serious problem that parents and teachers should pay more attention to. Teenagers are old enough to understand right from wrong. Behavior like this needs to be corrected not only in boys, but in teens in general.

Social media is creating more apathetic and cruel kids. You can also see it from the way those boys reacted to a fellow boy trying to stand up for her. Basic human decendy shouldn't be ridiculed or seen as something negative.

Why are British teenage girls so unhappy? Here’s the answer (Caitlin Moran, The Times, Sep 13 2024)

"The report, by the Children’s Society, found that British 15-year-old girls are the most unhappy in Europe.

British girls aged 10-15 are “significantly less happy” with their life, appearance, family and school than the average boy — and their happiness is still declining.

Boys’ life satisfaction, meanwhile, remains broadly stable. (…)

But I still didn’t have an “aha!” moment about why this so disproportionately affects girls until… I talked to some teenage girls.

It was at a party, and I went to vape with them on the patio. Because I take my nicotine like children do.

“Duh — it’s the boys,” one said when I brought it up, as all the others agreed.

“The boys?” I asked.

My last book, What About Men?, had been all about how much boys struggle these days: their loneliness; their suicide rates. I’d spent the past year feeling very sympathetic towards boys.

“Yeah, well, who do you think they’re taking out their unhappiness on? It’s us,” another girl said.

“One boy at school used to draw a picture every day of how ugly I was,” a third girl said. “Every day for two years.”

“They’ve all got ‘Rate The Girls’ polls on their WhatsApps,” the first said. “They mark you down for weight gain, haircuts, what you say.”

“But then, if you’re hot, it’s just as bad, in a different way, because they’ll be talking about how they want to f*** you.”

The girls discussed coping techniques. Bad news: none of them worked.

“The only way you can stop them is if you become ‘one of the boys’ and hang out with them. But then,” the second girl said with a sigh, “all the other girls call you a slut. Because you’ve gone over to the boys’ side.”

“Surely it’s not all the boys?” I said. “There must be some nice boys?”

“Oh, yeah,” one girl said. “But they keep their heads down. Because… well, look.”

She showed me the Instagram account of her friend. Under every picture she posted of herself — smiling in a new dress; with her dog — dozens of anonymous accounts had replied with the most rank abuse.

“Fat.” “Slut.” “You gonna try and kill yourself again, for attention?”

“They’re all boys from her school,” she said. “And look, this one boy tried to defend her.”

I saw a series of messages from a brave teenage boy, posting things like, “You’re all big men, leaving these replies under anonymous accounts.”

As I could see, this boy immediately became a target too. Mainly accusations that he was “white knighting” this girl: “You wanna f*** her, bro?”

“So,” I asked, “you don’t think it’s social media pressure to be beautiful, or the economy, that’s making girls so sad?”

“Well, yeah, them too,” the first girl said. “But, Monday-Friday, 9-3, I’m not on social media. I’m not… in the economy. I’m just with these boys. And no one talks about how horrible they are.”

I thought about another recent report, showing a 30 per cent ideological gap between Gen Z men, who are increasingly conservative, and Gen Z women, who are increasingly progressive.

I thought about Andrew Tate, who has nine million mostly young male followers — and faces human trafficking charges, which he denies.

And I thought: maybe these girls are on to something. Maybe more people need to vape with teenage girls and ask them for the school gossip."

[runariya]

Touch the Sky (m.)

summary: You turn Jungkook’s military life upside down, and his heart along with it. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolverse, military-verse, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: allusion to minor assault, foul language, getting tasered (third party), fluff, JK's smitten, fluff, catcalling, protective JK, vomiting, aaaaaand fluff, explicit sexual content, oral (f. + m. receiving), protected sex, multiple f.orgasms, multiple (2) positions, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 9.6k

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

It’s getting annoying.

Annoying to the point where Jungkook can’t focus on his workout routine properly, and he reckons his comrades feel the same. They’ve felt it since the day you arrived, silently sitting in the corner of the gym every day, watching, assessing, scribbling on your tablet, keeping a straight face no matter what.

He’d seen it coming, though. One day, as usual, you entered the gym five minutes on the dot after training started, bowing to no one in particular but everyone at once. Your gaze bored literal holes into everyone present, like always, and it was only a matter of time before someone snapped. 

Bong was the first, and last, not a week ago, when he saw red. He stormed straight over to you, cornered you, and demanded to know what the hell you wanted and who you were. Jungkook had half a mind to intervene, to de-escalate the situation because, well, frankly, you were, are, just a tiny, petite woman, probably just doing your job. And Bong? Bong was, is, 250lbs of pure muscle and testosterone.

But Jungkook hadn’t even had time to make the decision to walk over before you, without batting an eyelash, tasered poor Bong to the ground and resumed your notes right after, as if nothing had even happened.

But still, after a whole week has passed since then, it’s still annoying. You’re still annoying.

“Chill out, Jaykay.” Jimin, who’s letting his hands hover over the bench press in case Jungkook can’t keep the weight lifted any longer, though that would never happen, grins down at him.

“I am chill.”

Well, maybe he’s not. Not when he’s clenching his jaw so hard he reckons his teeth are seconds away from shattering, though not because of the weight, that’s for sure.

“Ignore her.”

“Who?”

And while Jungkook knows exactly who Jimin’s talking about, and also knows that, yes, he’s definitely aggravated by your stares at this point, he can’t do shit about it. He needs to remind himself that you’re just a woman. Clearly not part of the military, because you don’t greet anyone the way soldiers or others are obliged to, yet you’re still too involved to be here without someone escorting you out.

He can’t fucking think when you’re around. Not that there’s much thinking involved in working out, lifting weights isn’t exactly a task that requires brainpower, but your stares, whenever they find his form, which he can feel on his skin as soon as they land, fuck him up to the point where they make him forget whether he’s supposed to inhale or exhale, leaving him out of breath too soon and causing his muscles to ache like never before.

At this point, he’s sure you could be labelled as part of the gym’s inventory. Not just because you’re as silent as the equipment, if that’s even possible, but also because, if he’s honest, he can’t imagine this place without you anymore. It drives him insane, especially when all he wants to do is walk over and make you talk. Get a reaction out of you, any reaction, really. Maybe even choke you while his di—

His dumbbell freezes mid-push, his eyes incredulously wide at his own thoughts, as Jimin’s leaning over him, face split in half by the most insufferable, knowing grin Jungkook has ever seen.

“Thinking thoughts?”

“Shut the fuck—”

But as if the day couldn’t get any worse, Kang, the base commander, strides into the room, causing everyone, including Jungkook, to put their equipment away. In seconds, they’re standing stiff, saluting and reciprocating the greeting in unison: “Dan-gyeol. (Unity)”

“Resume.”

But nobody processes the command, too confused by the sight of someone in such a high position here.

Much to everyone’s surprise too, if that’s even possible, Kang turns to you. Again, he salutes, which causes you to rise gracefully from the bench and bow silently, as you always do.

Jungkook can’t tear his eyes away, not when your angelic face remains unmoving, nodding to whatever the commander is saying. And even though he’d love to strain his ears, play mouse just this once, to get a clue about what makes you so special, he knows he has to follow orders and resume his training.

While Jungkook stays silent like everyone else, he can’t stop his eyes from drifting to you again and again, like some pathetic little boy checking if his crush is flirting with someone else.

Stop.

A crush? No. He doesn’t do crushes. How absurd.

Though as your mesmerising eyes briefly glance his way, his heart flips him the metaphorical middle finger by rocketing straight out of his throat.

And Jungkook realises now, that he is doomed.

Fuck. 

You’re late.

You’re never late, so why are you late this time?

Jungkook doesn’t know, and somehow he doesn’t want to know. Not because he kind of has a bad feeling about it, but because he refuses to acknowledge the possibility that you might not come back ever again. It would make sense, in a way, seeing as Kang came by the last time Jungkook saw you.

It doesn’t help that Jimin’s being a little shit too, unable to keep his mouth shut about Jungkook glancing one too many times towards the gym door.

“One more.” Well, at least Jungkook can pay him back by pushing him just a tiny bit over his limit.

“I can’t,” Jimin groans, clearly struggling to lift the dumbbell one more time. His arms are shaking, and his face is so red that even Jungkook fears he might burst a vein in his eye.

“You can, and you will, hyung.” He didn’t mean to let his frustration out on Jimin, but who can fault him?

He’s what now? 27 years old? Struggling with his emotions, no, scratch that, his hormones over a woman he hasn’t even spoken to once in weeks? He doesn’t even know your name, so why on earth are his hormones going haywire?

Jungkook can’t tell. Just like he can’t tell how many days have passed or how many are left in his military service. But he knows exactly how many times he’s seen you. God, he wants to roll his eyes at himself, at the way he’s acting like a teenager, when he never even got the chance to be one in the first place.

Maybe that’s the problem. He never had the opportunity to experience this kind of infatuation. His busy schedule and the ever-present gold-diggers demanding too much of him didn’t leave space for what others felt years ago.

But when the door finally creaks open, all those thoughts vanish.

And while everyone startles into saluting position, Kang enters the room first, it’s Jungkook’s eyes, though, that can’t look away from your petite form trailing behind Kang, bowing the second you both stand before the soldiers.

“Dan-gyeol.”

“Dan-gyeol,” everyone answers in unison.

You’re so pretty again, your hair styled perfectly, shimmering healthily under the fluorescent lights. Jungkook’s mind starts spinning in circles, stopping only occasionally as he notices new details about you he hadn’t before. Like how your left shoulder hangs slightly lower, probably from carrying your bag on that side. Or the faint tremble in your hands around your tablet. He’s not sure if that’s always been there or if his gut feeling was right all along.

“Private Song Bong. Private Jeon Jungkook. Step forward.”

Jungkook doesn’t like this, not when he can’t even grasp what he might have done wrong for him and Bong to be singled out. Maybe you snitched on Bong for cornering you. Though, to be fair, you tasered him, but still that obviously wouldn’t end well for Bong. Maybe Jungkook’s stares weren’t appropriate. Maybe he’s screwed up too and can’t do anything about the punishment he’ll get for just looking.

“Private Bong, your recent actions are unacceptable. Attempting to assault an outsider, especially a woman, not only violates military code but also brings disgrace to this unit. Your conduct has revealed major deficiencies in character, and as a result, you are hereby removed from your current duties in supply inventory management. Effective immediately, you will be assigned to latrine duty for the next month. Consider this your opportunity to reflect on what it means to uphold the standards of this base and the military as a whole. Dismissed.”

And while Bong doesn’t protest but just steps back in line, Jungkook’s hands turn cold, his eyes switching between Commander Kang and you as he waits for a verdict he doesn’t even know the cause of, all while you’re staring blankly somewhere behind him and the other soldiers.

“Private Jeon.” Jungkook can’t help but gulp violently, though he tries to keep his face as stoic as he was taught. “Your exemplary conduct, unwavering character, and outstanding mental and physical strength have not gone unnoticed. As of today, you are relieved of your current duties in the kitchen and reassigned to the elite training programme for aspiring jet fighter pilots within the special forces. You will accompany me and Doctor ___ immediately to commence your training. This is an extraordinary opportunity, and I trust you will continue to excel and bring honour to this unit. Congratulations, Private Jeon.”

Muscles stiff, Jungkook salutes on instinct. “Chungseong! (Loyalty) I will do my best, sir!”

“Resume.”

It doesn’t take long until Jungkook follows you and Commander Kang out of the gym as everyone resumes their training, his footsteps echoing awkwardly in the corridor, making him too aware of the way only his trainers squeak against the polished floor, but he pushes the thought aside. 

This is big. Special Forces. 

Something he’s dreamed about but always was told was off the table because of his tattoos. And yet, he’s somehow being escorted to God-knows-where in a wing of the base he’s never even seen before.

Excitement rushes through him, but right underneath it is curiosity he can’t seem to shake. What’s your deal? Who even are you? You’re not military, your lack of a formal greeting protocol and Kang calling you an ‘outsider’ made that clear, but you’ve been given more authority than most. He steals a glance at you, walking slightly ahead of him, your posture as stiff as ever, and not to mention, your face betraying nothing. 

Kang stops outside a door and gestures for Jungkook to enter. “Private Jeon, step inside. You’ll be assessed for your new gear.”

Jungkook nods and salutes. “Yes, sir.” He hesitates briefly though, eyes flickering towards you, but you don’t even glance his way. Instead, you stay behind with Kang as he steps through the door.

Inside, another soldier is already waiting, a no-bullshit guy who doesn’t bother with introductions. There’s a computer, several measuring devices, and a distinct lack of comfort in the room as the soldier gestures for Jungkook to strip, and Jungkook just blinks.

“Boxers too, or…?”

“Keep those on,” the guy replies dryly. “We’re not running that kind of experiment.”

Jungkook huffs a small laugh, trying to shake off the awkwardness. He pulls off his shirt, then his joggers, tossing them onto a nearby bench as the soldier starts rattling off instructions, explaining how he’ll be measured, weighed, and fitted for his uniform and jet fighter suit. Jungkook nods along, though half of his brain is still stuck outside the room, wondering what the hell you and Kang are talking about.

The weighing and measuring process is straightforward enough, albeit a little dehumanising. He stands still as the soldier adjusts tools around him, scribbling numbers into a notepad. Jungkook’s not shy about his body, he’s worked hard for it, but something about the clinical nature of it all makes him feel strangely vulnerable and small. 

“Alright, time for the cardio resting point assessment,” the soldier wheels a heart monitor over. “I’ll wire you up, then you’ll run in place for a few minutes. Clear?”

“Clear.”

Wires are attached to his chest, and the beeping of the monitor fills the room as Jungkook begins jogging lightly. The rhythm is soothing at first, his heart beating steadily as he focuses on the mirror in front of him, zoning out slightly, until the door creaks open behind him.

You step inside.

Jungkook’s whole body tenses, and he nearly trips over his own feet, though no one seems to notice. Through the mirror, he watches you position yourself against the wall at the back of the room. You don’t say a word, just stand there, observing him. And then, God help him just this once, your gaze starts travelling. From his legs to his torso, slow and methodical, like you’re evaluating him for parts. Jungkook knows it shouldn’t bother him, telling himself it’s probably part of your job or whatever. But it does bother him, and not in the way it should.

He tries to focus on his jogging, but his eyes keep darting to the mirror, catching glimpses of you studying him. When your gaze finally reaches his face, his heart skips a beat. Literally. And the monitor beeps erratically, the soldier frowning beside him. 

“Hold up. Your heart rate’s spiking.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest, but you beat him to it. “It’s a malfunction,” you state smoothly, your voice soft and oh-so melodic, like fucking wind chimes he dreamed about. “He’s fine. Look at his form. Textbook. His fitness levels are well above average.”

It’s the first time Jungkook has heard you speak, a compliment at that too, and it knocks the remaining brain cells out of his skull, causing him to stumble slightly, catching himself just in time, but the damage is done. His cheeks burn as he wills his heart to calm the fuck down. What is he, a schoolboy? So embarrassing, Jeon. Get a grip. 

“Malfunction, huh?” the soldier mutters, glancing between the monitor and Jungkook. He doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs and waves Jungkook off the machine. “Alright, you’re good. Get dressed and head to the next station.”

Jungkook nods stiffly, pulling the wires off his heaving chest and grabbing his clothes. You step out of the room before he finishes dressing, which is probably a good thing because he’s pretty sure his face is still bright red.

When he emerges, you’re waiting for him, tablet in hand and Kang thankfully gone.

“This way,” you gesture with your slender hand, not even looking at him. Your voice is still echoing in his head, soft and almost surreal to the point he debates if he’s locked in a dream. Still, Jungkook trails after you like a puppy, cursing himself for how ridiculous he feels and acts. 

The next stop is a classroom-like space, though it’s more high-tech than any classroom Jungkook’s ever seen. Screens cover the walls, displaying schematics of fighter jets, and a stern-looking instructor stands at the front. You guide Jungkook to a seat near the centre, then take a spot near the back, again, silently observing. Of. Course.

The lesson begins, and Jungkook tries his best to focus as the instructor dives into the basics of jet fighter operation, rattling off jargon that makes Jungkook’s head spin even more. He nods along, taking mental notes, but it’s hard to concentrate when he can feel your eyes on him. Not in a direct, obvious way, but more like a gentle and subtle pressure, nagging at his consciousness. 

He sneaks a glance back at you, and sure enough, you’re watching him. Your tablet rests on your lap, stylus poised, and you’re scribbling something down without even looking down. About him, probably, surely. 

What are you writing? Does it matter that his leg bounced when the instructor mentioned G-forces? Or that his jaw ticked ever so slightly when he brought up emergency landings? What could you possibly be noting down about him that’s worth recording?

He catches himself zoning out and forces his attention back to the lesson. The instructor is explaining the mechanics of takeoff, and Jungkook tries to visualise it in his head. Still, his thoughts wander, looping back to you every time.

It’s stupid, really. He barely knows you. But still, he’s completely fixated. Maybe it’s because you’re different. Everyone else on this base is easy to figure out, soldiers, commanders, all operating within the same rigid system. But you? You’re an anomaly. And Jungkook has always been drawn to puzzles.

The lesson drags on, and Jungkook keeps stealing glances back at you. Each time, you’re scribbling something new, your expression as blank as ever and he wonders if you’re even capable of smiling. What would it look like? Would your face brighten like the sun itself, your eyes crinkling at the corners? Would your lips—

Nope. Stop. Not going there.

By the time the lesson ends, Jungkook’s brain feels fried. The instructor dismisses him with a curt nod, and he gathers his things, well, more so himself, glancing back to see if you’re leaving too. But you’re still seated, tapping away on your tablet. He hesitates, unsure if he’s supposed to wait for you or move on.

“You’re dismissed, Private Jeon,” you say without looking up.

Right. Of course you knew he was waiting for you, even without seeing him. He mutters a quick, “Yes, ma’am,” salutes and hurries out of the room, feeling like a complete idiot.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to expect when you appear at the door of his barracks the next morning. All he knows is that you’re there, standing stiff as a post, clutching your ever-present tablet to your chest like it’s a lifeline.

There’s something different about you today, though, something in the way your shoulders seem too tense, your hands gripping the tablet so tightly that your tiny knuckles turn bright white. And that’s when he spots it, the taser, hidden neatly between the edge of the tablet and your chest. 

He’s not sure why it surprises him. You’ve made it clear that you’re not above using it when necessary, R.I.P. Bong’s dignity, but something about the way you hold it now, fingers trembling slightly, makes him pause.

You’re nervous. Maybe even scared.

“Private Jeon,” you greet, not quite meeting his gaze. Your voice is the same soft, melodic tone as yesterday, but there’s a barely audible hitch in it that he doesn’t miss. “Follow me.”

Jungkook doesn’t question it, just grabs his cap and falls into step behind you. He’s curious, of course, curiosity seems to be his default setting when it comes to you, but he keeps quiet, sensing that whatever’s going on, you’re not in the mood for him to voice his usual internal debates about your role on this base. Still, he can’t help but notice the way your eyes dart around the hallway, scanning every corner like you’re expecting trouble.

And, surprise, it doesn’t take long for said trouble to find you.

As you lead him through the barracks, a group of soldiers loitering by the common area turns their attention your way. The first mocking whistle cuts through the otherwise silent area, followed by a low murmur of suggestive comments that make Jungkook’s temper flare. You don’t react, not a single flinch, not even a glance in their direction, but Jungkook doesn’t miss the way your eyes turn a bit frantic, your pace quickening just enough to be noticeable.

The second whistle is louder, accompanied by a snide, “Oi, sweetheart, where’s the taser today?” and Jungkook feels something too hot coil in his chest.

Protective instincts kick in before he can stop himself, and he steps closer to you, his broad frame forming a shield between you and the others. He doesn’t say a word, he knows he doesn’t need to, his evil glare, honed from years of performance and discipline, says enough. The soldiers falter, their smirks fading under his gaze, and Jungkook takes a grim sort of satisfaction in the way they quickly turn back to their conversation.

You don’t say anything, but he can tell you’ve noticed. Your pace slows just slightly, and for the rest of the walk, the tension in your shoulders eases a fraction with each step. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make Jungkook feel like he’s done something right.

Finally, you stop outside a plain white door and push it open, gesturing for him to enter first. Jungkook steps inside, taking in the small, functional office. It’s sparsely decorated, just a desk, a chair, and a curtained-off area in the corner that seems to serve as a makeshift changing room or whatever. You follow him in, shutting the door behind you, and hand him what looks like a folded jet suit.

“This is your new gear,” you hold it out to him, again not meeting his eyes. “Try it on.”

Jungkook takes the suit, the smooth, high-tech fabric cool against his hands even where you were holding it seconds ago. “Here?” he asks dumbly, glancing around. He’s not shy, exactly, but stripping down in front of you doesn’t sit right with him. 

You raise an eyebrow, the faintest hint of exasperation creeping into your expression. “There’s a changing area,” you nod towards the curtain. “Use it.”

“Right. Of course.” Jungkook wants to slap himself twice for good measure, just because he saw that area himself.

Quickly, he ducks behind the curtain, grateful for the small reprieve. As he pulls off his uniform and steps into the jet suit, he can’t help but wonder why you seem so tense today. It’s not just the soldiers’ comments, he’s seen you handle far worse without batting an eye. No, this is something deeper, something that has your hands shaking and your voice just a touch too steady.

By the time he finishes zipping up the suit, he’s more confused than ever. He steps out from behind the curtain, and you turn to face him, your eyes flicking over him in a quick, professional assessment.

“How does it feel?”

Jungkook shrugs, rolling his shoulders. “Tight, but not uncomfortable.”

You nod, stepping closer to adjust a strap on his arm. Jungkook swears he stops breathing for a moment, the proximity doing things to his heart rate that he’d rather not admit, thankful he’s not connected to the heart monitor this time.

He watches you as you work, the way your brow furrows slightly in concentration, the soft brush of your fingers against his sleeve. And then it happens!

Your mouth twitches. Just the faintest hint of a smile, barely there and gone in an instant, but Jungkook sees it. And it wrecks him.

Oh, he’s done for. Absolutely done for. That tiny twitch of your lips? It’s enough to send his brain spiralling into a mess of thoughts he has no business thinking.

You’re human. You can smile.

He doesn’t know why that thought hits him so hard, but it does. You’ve always been so composed, so insanely unreadable, that seeing even the smallest crack in your armour feels monumental. He wants to see it again, wants to say something clever or stupid or anything, really, to make it happen, but the words stick in his throat.

“Good fit,” you agree, stepping back. “You’ll need to wear it during all training exercises from now on.”

Jungkook nods, trying to focus on your words instead of the way his heart is doing somersaults. “Understood.”

You turn away, picking up your tablet, and Jungkook’s eyes follow you. He notices the way your hands are still trembling slightly, the way you keep glancing at the door as if expecting someone to barge in. And suddenly, it clicks.

You’re scared. Not of him, he’s pretty sure you’re incapable of fearing him, even if you probably should be after the way he’s been staring, but of the soldiers. Of this place. Of what your job forces you to do.

He remembers the way Bong looked at you after the taser incident, the barely concealed fury in his eyes. You’re not just some outsider; you’re a decision-maker. You hold people’s futures in your hands, and not everyone takes that well.

Jungkook feels a pang of compassion, realising how isolating that must be. No wonder you keep everyone at arm’s length, crafting an untouchable facade day in and day out.  

“Is that all for today?” he tries, his voice softer than he intends, though he can’t help himself. 

You glance at him, surprised, as if you weren’t expecting him to speak. “For now,” your tone’s still cautious but Jungkook now understands. “There’s a briefing tomorrow morning. Be on time.”

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t move to leave. He hesitates, debating whether to say what’s on his mind, but the words tumble out before he can stop them.

“For what it’s worth,” he starts, meeting your gaze, “you’re doing a good job.”

Your hands and eyes still slightly, and for a moment, you just stare at him. Then, without a word, you turn back to your tablet, but Jungkook doesn’t miss the way your grip on it loosens, doesn’t miss the way your lips twitch again, just a little.

As he leaves your office, he can’t help but smile to himself too. Maybe he’s starting to figure you out, and he’s down bad for it. 

The day after, you've brought Jungkook before the g-force machine, all sleek steel and imposing mechanics, like something out of a crazed sci-fi movie. Jungkook stares at it, his confidence wobbling slightly for the first time since he started his military service. He’s usually game for anything, but this? This looks like a whole different beast.

The control panel operator, a man who introduces himself simply as Sergeant Kim, gestures for Jungkook to step forward. “We’ll be running a standard g-force tolerance test today,” he explains calmly, though Jungkook's anything but. “You’ll be in the centrifuge, and it’ll spin progressively faster. The goal is to sustain 9 Gs. You’ll need to practice the anti-G straining manoeuvre, tensing your leg and abdominal muscles to keep blood flow to your brain. And don’t forget to inhale sharply every five seconds to stabilise.”

Jungkook nods, trying to keep his nerves in check. He knows what’s coming, he’s read about it, watched the videos instructed. But none of that preparation stops his palms from sweating as he climbs into the contraption.

As he settles into the cockpit-like seat, strapping himself in, he sneaks a glance at you before the door closes in his face. You’re standing off to the side with your tablet, your face, as always, composed, but there’s something in your eyes, noticeable even in this distance. Concern? Maybe curiosity? That ridiculous thought makes his poor heart do a little flip.

“Private Jeon, are you ready?” Sergeant Kim’s voice crackles through the comms.

“Ready,” Jungkook replies, his voice steadier than he actually feels.

The machine comes to life shortly after, and Jungkook grips the armrests as the centrifuge begins its slow but steady rotation. At first, it’s almost pleasant, like being on an amusement park ride. But then the speed picks up, and the pressure in his chest starts to build.

“Three Gs,” Kim announces. “Remember to breathe, sharp inhales every five seconds. And start engaging those muscles.”

Jungkook complies, tightening his legs and core as instructed. He inhales sharply, counting in his head to five, then inhales again. It’s manageable, for now.

“Six Gs.”

Now it’s not so manageable. The weight on his chest feels like someone’s parked a truck on him, and his vision starts to darken at the edges, fearing he might loose consciousness any second. It’s getting impossible to breathe, but he forces himself to stick to the rhythm. Inhale, hold for five, inhale and repeat.

“Good. Keep it up, Private. We’re going to eight Gs.”

Eight Gs feels like he’s being flattened by the universe. Every muscle in his body screams as he fights to keep the blood from pooling in his legs. His fingers dig into the armrests even more, not the least bit fazed bye the prospect of pulling a nail, and he can barely hear Kim over the deafening roaring of his blood in his ears.

“Nine Gs,” Kim announces, and Jungkook swears he’s going to pass out. His breaths are shallow now, too shallow, the strain overwhelming. He forgets to inhale on time, and suddenly the world starts to go black.

“Jungkook, inhale.”

It’s your voice. Clear, steady, crackling through the comms like a lifeline he needed. His body reacts before his brain does, taking in a sharp, desperate breath. The darkness recedes, and somehow, miraculously, he holds on.

“Test complete,” Kim announces, the centrifuge slowing with each spin until it stops and Jungkook’s free to leave this deathtrap. “Well done, Private Jeon.”

Jungkook can barely process the words. His body feels like jelly, and his mind is a swimmy, disoriented mess. But he hears the applause from Kim and a few blurred others in the control room. Then you step closer, your voice soft as you search his eyes, “Congratulations, Private Jeon. You did it.”

He manages a weak smile, the sound of your approval somehow wiggling through the fog in his head. And then, he remembers, because protocol demands it, he salutes sluggishly to Commander Kang, who’s watching from the observation deck.

“Impressive, Private Jeon,” Kang confirms with a nod.

Jungkook barely registers the compliment. All he knows is that his heart is racing, not from the test, but from the way your eyes linger on him for just a second longer, a little softer than usual. 

“Follow me,” you instruct him after bowing to the observation deck, gesturing for Jungkook to come with you.

He stumbles after you, his legs and mind feeling like rubber, partly from the adrenaline, partly from the fact that you just saved his ass in there. You lead him back to your office without a word and when you shut the door behind you, Jungkook finally lets himself relax. Well, until you grab a bin from under your desk and thrust it into his hands.

“Uh, what’s this for?” he asks, confused.

“You’re running on adrenaline,” you explain, your tone matter-of-factly but laced with humour. “It’s going to crash. Give it a few seconds.”

“I think I’m fine—”

You hold up a hand, cutting him off. “I’m going to count down from five. Trust me.”

He blinks at you but nods, too dazed to argue.

“Five,” you begin, calm, expectant.

“Four.”

His stomach flips.

“Three.”

His head feels too light, almost floaty.

“Two.”

His vision tilts.

“One.”

And then it hits. A wave of nausea so intense that he doesn’t even have time to protest before he’s heaving into the bin.

You’re by his side in an instant, one hand on his back, the other steadying his hand over the bin. “There you go,” you coo softly, your touch surprisingly soothing. “Just let it out.”

Jungkook hates this, hates feeling weak, hates the thought of you seeing him like this. But your voice is so calm, so reassuring, that he can’t bring himself to care as much as he normally would.

When it’s over, he slumps back into the chair you pull up for him, wiping his mouth with the tissue you hand him. “That… was brutal,” he mutters, his voice hoarse from all the heaving.

You smile, the first real smile this time. “Welcome to special forces training.”

Jungkook laughs weakly, shaking his head. “Is it always like this?”

“Not always,” you muse, though your tone’s too teasing for his liking. “Sometimes it’s worse.”

He groans, but there’s no real heat behind it. Despite everything, he feels better. Like he’s actually flying. Like he’s touching the sky. And he knows it’s not just the fading adrenaline talking. It’s you.

You, with your stoic face and calming voice. You, who stepped in when he needed it most. You, who smiled at him like he wasn’t just another soldier to be measured and assessed.

As he gazes into your smiling face, still feeling like crap but somehow grateful for it, a realisation forces down on him like 9 G.

He’s truly falling for you.

Jungkook stands in the hallway outside your office, his hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly as if he’s shielding himself from the possibility of rejection before it’s even happened. His thoughts are a mess ever since he first saw you, an ongoing tug-of-war between his nerves and his determination. He paces a little, then stops, running a hand through his short hair, the frustration about its length momentarily distracting him but not for long enough. 

“Get a grip man,” he mutters under his breath but his nerves, nor his heart, won’t calm down.

It’s been weeks since you started working together more closely, weeks of seeing the real you, the quiet strength behind your professional mask, the flashes of humour you try to hide, the empathy you can’t quite suppress even when you think no one’s watching. He’s caught himself admiring you more times than he can count, and now it’s all he thinks about.

But this isn’t just a crush, he tells himself. This is so much more. You’re different. Special. And he knows he can’t let this opportunity slip by, not when he might regret it for the rest of his life.

Of course, there’s the little matter of protocol, of the fact that you hold a position of authority in a place where strict boundaries are enforced. But you're not exactly part of the military, and Jungkook knows his service is limited too. If he doesn’t act now, he might never get another chance.

But what if you say no? His brain goes into overdrive, showing him a list of reasons why this could go horribly wrong. He imagines you laughing at him, rejecting him outright, maybe even avoiding him after this. Maybe even snitching on him, causing his removal from the special forces and being assigned to latrine duty permanently. 

Then he shakes his head. No. Stop overthinking. He’s Jeon Jungkook. An idol. A soldier. He’s faced grueling special forces training, survived G-forces that would knock most people out, and tackled challenges that seemed impossible. Surely asking you out can’t be harder than that.

“Just do it,” he preps himself, and before he can second-guess himself again, he steps up to your door and knocks.

“Come in,” your voice calls from inside, calm, angelic, and professional as always.

Jungkook takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, straightening his shoulders for some much needed confidence. 

You’re seated at your desk, as usual, your tablet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. And as you glance up, clearly surprised to see him, you set the tablet and coffee down. “Private Jeon. What can I do for you?”

He hesitates for a split second, then, after an internal nod, takes his chances. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You nod, waiting expectantly. “Go on.”

Jungkook shifts on his feet, his nerves bubbling up again, but he forces himself to push through. “I was wondering if you’d… like to go out with me sometime.”

You cock a brow, and for a brief moment, he sees the cracks in your mask, the genuine surprise, the uncertainty. But then it’s back, your professional demeanour snapping into place like a rubber band.

“I appreciate the… sentiment,” you try carefully, “but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jungkook doesn’t back down. “Why not?”

You sigh, standing up but toying with the things scattered on your desk. “Because it’s unprofessional. And temporary. My contract here has an end date, Private Jeon. I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“Exactly,” he counters, stepping closer. “That’s why I can’t let this go. I don’t want to regret not saying anything.”

You shake your head, moving towards the door. “It’s not that simple. You don’t understand—”

“I do,” Jungkook interrupts, maybe too desperate but he doesn’t care. “My service ends too. This isn’t temporary for me.”

That makes you pause, your hand hovering over the doorknob. “What are you saying?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his heart pounding so violently he can’t even hear his own voice. “I’m saying, I don’t want to date just for the sake of it. I date for the future, not just the moment.”

You turn to face him fully now, your expression conflicted, mask slipping just a bit. “Do you even realise what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” he confirms without hesitation. “I know exactly what I’m saying. And I know it sounds crazy, but I’m serious about this. About you.”

Your eyes search his face, looking for… what? Truth? Sincerity? Whatever it is, he hopes you find it, because he’s never been more honest in his life.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, though your voice lacks conviction.

“Maybe,” Jungkook admits with a small smile. “But that doesn’t make it any less real.”

You sigh, glancing away, clearly wrestling with yourself. For a long moment, the room is silent except for the faint buzz of the air conditioning, but then, eventually, you look back at him.

“Alright,” you sigh finally, holding one slender finger up. “One chance. But if this doesn’t work, we go back to normal. Agreed?”

Jungkook grins, his heart soaring. “Agreed.”

You nod, reaching for the door. “Good. Now get out of my office before I change my mind.”

He chuckles, saluting playfully. “Yes, ma’am.”

As you leave with that tiny smile of yours, Jungkook stays behind for a moment, letting the reality of what just happened sink in. Then, unable to contain his excitement, he pumps his fist in the air, a triumphant smile lighting up his face.

“Fuck yeah,” he cheers quietly, still grinning like the fool he is. 

Life's good as Jungkook lies sprawled on your bed, head propped on your favourite pillow as the opening credits of some drama flicker on the TV screen. The colourful glow of the screen illuminates your beautiful face as you settle beside him, legs tucked under the shared blanket as you lie down with your head on his chest. It’s quiet, comfortable, the kind of peaceful he’s come to associate with you, and his mind drifts back to the first date that really started it all.

He still can’t believe you said yes. The memory of that first date plays in his head like a highlight reel, vivid and heartwarming to its core. You’d chosen a small, unassuming café, your idea, of course, something low-key, hidden even, and away from the base and any other prying eyes.

Jungkook had been nervous in a way he hadn’t been since debut, trying too hard to appear relaxed even if he was anything but. But you’d arrived looking effortlessly stunning in a casual outfit that still screamed you from miles away, smiling shyly as if you weren’t used to being off-duty.

From the moment you sat across from him, every doubt he ever had melted away. Conversation natural, only punctuated by your quick wit and his occasional stumbles when your laughter made him forget whatever point he was trying to make, he fell faster and harder.

By the end of the evening, he’d been so sure of one thing: you were the girl of his dreams. Not the fantasy he’d had growing up, full of vague ideals and superficial notions, but the ultimate, real thing. Someone who made him feel seen, loved, and inexplicably lighter all at once.

And he’d been right. You didn’t just help him fly in the military; you helped him soar emotionally too. For someone who’s spent years chasing perfection and pushing limits, you make him feel like it’s okay to just be. That’s why he can’t stop himself from smiling as he watches you now, your focus on the screen but your hand resting comfortably over his heart like it belongs there.

He’s been thinking about the future more often lately, imagining what it might look like when his service ends and he’s back to being “Jungkook of BTS”. The idea doesn’t scare him the way it might have before, but instead, it excites him, because he can picture you there with him, cheering him and the other members on, teasing him when he’s too nervous or too sure of himself, and being the calm to his chaotic lifestyle. 

Jungkook can see late nights at home, your laughter not only ringing in your shared space but his heart too, and maybe someday a little one running around. Maybe even two. Or three. The thought makes his soul sing, and he has to shake his head to stop himself from grinning too widely.

The days following that first date weren’t much different on the surface. Everything on base stayed the same, orders were followed, routines were maintained, but the stolen moments with you were like a secret sea in the desert. Whenever you were alone, professionalism would snap away, and you’d be kissing and giggling like teenagers sneaking behind the school. 

Jungkook’s favourite memory is when you’d pulled him into a supply closet under the pretense of finding something and kissed him until he couldn’t think straight, only for both of you to dissolve into laughter when someone, well, commander Kang walked past, oblivious.

And now, here he is with you, on his day off, not with his family or the boys but with you, learning more about you in your own space. 

Your apartment is a reflection of you, organised yet cosy, filled with small details that hint at your interests. He’s noticed the stack of random books on your desk, the playlist of songs you probably don’t realise he’s memorised by now, and the way your kitchen counter has an odd mix of military-grade efficiency and homely touches like the mismatched mugs.

You shift beside him, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You’re staring,” you state without looking away from the screen.

He chuckles softly. “Can’t help it. You’re prettier than the drama.”

You’d roll your eyes if you were the type for that, but you’ve told him it’s something you detest to your core. To you, it means not taking the other person seriously and visually dismissing them, something you find deeply disrespectful. So, you just smile that unique smile of yours, nudging him with your shoulder. “Focus. You might miss something important.”

“Doubt it,” he teases. “It’s just another love triangle, isn’t it?”

“It’s about more than that,” you argue, turning your head to him now with mock indignation. “There’s depth here. Themes of loyalty, sacrifice, and the human condition.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “And yet, the lead guy’s about to confess his undying love in the middle of a crowded park. Very original.”

“Alright, Mr. Cynic,” you pout, sitting up straighter. “You’ve got a point there.”

Jungkook cocks a brow at you, nibbling on his lip as he contemplates your words and decides to backtrack a bit. “What’s wrong with a public proposal? It’s romantic.”

“You’re right, it’s cliché.”

“Not if it’s done right.”

You scoff. “There’s no ‘right’ way to embarrass someone in front of a hundred strangers.”

Jungkook grins, sensing a debate. “Okay, hear me out. A public proposal is the ultimate love confession. It’s like shouting to the world, ‘This is my person, and I’m not afraid to show it’. It’s bold, it’s heartfelt, and it’s memorable.”

“It’s pressure,” you counter. “And what if the answer’s no? You’ve just humiliated both of you for no reason.”

“But what if the answer’s yes?” he leans closer, willing his eyes to gleam a bit more for you to fall into his trap. “Then you’ve just created a moment neither of you will ever forget.”

You tilt your head, considering him, eyes switching between his and his lips. “You’re really into this idea, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip for good measure. “Not saying I’d do it, but I get the appeal.”

“You’d definitely do it,” you reply, smirking now, transfixed by his lips like he is by yours. “You’re exactly the type to go all out with a flash mob or something ridiculous.”

He laughs, raising his eyes to yours and his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, you got me. But only if I knew the person would say yes.”

“Safe bet,” you muse.

“Always,” Jungkook agrees softly. He’s looking at you in that way that makes your cheeks heat up, but he senses immediately that you refuse to let him win this round.

“Well,” you continue, turning back to the screen, “good thing I’ll never have to worry about it. I prefer my proposals private, thank you very much.”

“We’ll see,” he murmurs under his breath, grinning when you shoot him a playful glare.

While you’re both silently watching the last minutes of the drama, Jungkook can’t help but picture his future with you, stuck on the image of you in a white dress, of you carrying his children. It’s absurd this early in your relationship, but seeing as he’s had a dry spell for the last few years and you’re now lying beside him, he can’t do anything about the blood rushing to certain parts of his body.

Your body’s so warm against his, leg leisurely draped over his, tiny hand mindlessly tracing his pecs and abs, that it takes all his willpower to stop his cock from twitching even more.

Do you feel the same? You haven’t been intimate up to this point, though your chemistry is undeniable, the pull he feels surely not one-sided. As he strains his neck just a little, trying to sneak a peek at your face, he sees you biting your lips with hooded eyes. Then he feels your thigh clench ever so slightly against his, and he knows you’re struggling too, causing his heart to start beating a little faster, his cock to grow a little harder.

Jungkook lets his free hand wander to yours on his chest, caressing his way up your arm until he reaches your jaw, tilting your head to press the most tender kiss he’s ever shared with you onto your plush lips. He lets himself savour your taste, gently pushing you fully on top of him, hands settling on your ass cheeks as he gets lost in you.

There’s no hesitation in the way you grind your clothed cunt against him, no restraint in the feathery moans that echo from your lips to his. If there’s something Jungkook could wish for, it would be to make love to you seven days a week for the rest of his life.

Your name leaves his parted lips in a husky breath as you trail open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck, his hands sliding up under your shirt, pulling it off and discarding it somewhere on the bed.

Jungkook takes a moment to drink you in, just a short while, before grabbing you tenderly by the neck, pulling you down, and capturing your lips again as he rolls you both over, his shirt gone not long after.

Every time your eyes meet his, peeking through your thick lashes, his heart flips, reminding him how deeply you’ve ingrained yourself in him. Even though he wants to have every inch of you, touch every millimetre of your smooth skin, he settles for your lips for now.

Trousers off, you both help each other out of your underwear with tender touches, staying close, connected by shared breath, unable to separate even for a second. Jungkook’s so smitten, it should be embarrassing, but it’s anything but, not when your eyes mirror exactly what he’s feeling.

Helping you lie down on the mattress, Jungkook kisses his way down your body, over the valley of your breasts to your most sensitive spot, letting his nose brush over your clit, Jungkook takes a whiff, then licks the first stripe up your slit. The taste of you is the best he’s ever had, leaving every favourite food of his far behind as he gets lost between your legs.

Moan after breathy moan fills the room, each one enchanting, making him unable to stop, unable to slow down as he dives deeper, pushing his tongue further into your hot, fluttering walls, wanting more, needing more.

When your delicate fingers brush over his head, gently pressing him closer as your hips lift and stutter with your first orgasm, Jungkook feels like the luckiest man in the universe, lapping up your release like the dessert it is.

He doesn’t mind that his face is smeared with your juices, doesn’t care that he’s out of breath. Fingers caressing your sides, kneading your breasts lightly before settling his elbows beside your head, he kisses your dry lips and sucking your tongue.

He’s rather surprised that, despite your obviously petite frame, you’re able to twist your thighs against his body and send him falling over, straddled by you so quickly he gets a brief whiplash.

Jungkook would have never thought of you as dominant in bed, but as he gazes at you, absolutely fascinated to the point of shock, it becomes clear to him very quickly that you’re not dominant at all, but just intent on making him feel good as well.

The beautiful smile he’s learned to love from the bottom of his heart doesn’t compare to the light, shy blush coating your cheeks, your hands trailing along his body as you slowly lean down to kiss the shock off his face. He’s been kissed before, though nothing compares to this, nothing compares to your kisses, filled to the brim with adoration he can only drown in.

It overwhelms him; you overwhelm him in the best way possible, and he needs to speak his mind, needs to let you know, because he’s done wasting time when it comes to you.

Lifting your head, dwarfed in the size of his hands, he locks eyes with your glassy ones, letting his tattooed thumb trail over your rosy cheekbone as he confesses, “I love you.”

It should have felt difficult to voice, to admit, but he doesn’t feel scared, doesn’t fear rejection even for a split second. And when your eyes light up even more, brighter than when you were coming undone minutes ago, Jungkook knows he’s finally found peace.

“I love you too, Jungkook.”

Sealed by a kiss, he presses your small frame against his, not caring that the head of his cock gets squished between your bodies. Eventually, you break free, just a little, making him feel cold in an instant even though you’re still here, still touching.

“Let me make you feel good,” you husk against his pec, toying with your tongue on his nipple, sucking, blowing, circling it until you’re satisfied with the soft moans escaping Jungkook’s lips and his hips buckling instinctively.

Never has he felt this cared for, never has anyone given him this attention, this love, and he reckons he’s nowhere near done falling deeper in love with you. Especially as you slowly crawl back, inch by inch, your warm hands trailing along his body, your mouth imprinting the feeling of your lips on his skin to the point where he’ll never be able to forget.

When you take, or rather, try to take his big cock into your hand, your eyes glittering in wonder as you realise you need both hands to even come close to giving him proper satisfaction, Jungkook thinks he might unload right there and then. But he forces his orgasm down, forces himself to let it drag out even if it takes hours, just to enjoy this moment.

“Oh god,” you moan almost inaudibly around his cock as you first take him into your mouth, eyes rolling back as if his precum tastes like pure honey, making him twitch against your throat.

And while he knows you don’t like to roll your eyes at him, in this moment, seeing this sight of you, Jungkook would take any eye roll like a trophy. Saliva doesn’t take long to drip down, coating not only his cock but your hands too, pooling at the base of his cock and balls as you give him your all.

Feeling higher than he’s ever felt before, his hands tangle at the back of your head, pushing just a bit more but never too much, your moans around his cock vibrating in sync with his own. And while he desperately wants to finish, wants to let go and bask in everything you are, he knows he needs to fully connect with you.

So, it’s the only sane action that he gently removes your head from him, lips leaving his cock with a satisfied pop. You’re undeniably beautiful, you always were, but seeing your glassy, slightly fucked-out eyes, lips beautifully swollen, and a light sheen of sweat coating your entire body, you look like a fairy granting him his last wish.

“Come here,” Jungkook guides you to him, and you fall into his arms as if compelled by a spell, though he reckons he’s just the same.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself, doesn’t know how to not kiss you stupid, or kiss himself stupid, but he doesn’t seem to have the will to question it any longer. Especially when your hand leaves his short hair, aimlessly reaching for the nightstand and conjuring a condom from the top drawer.

Jungkook takes the cue, blindly accepting the condom from your tender fingers, only checking briefly that it’s the right size, he rolls you both over, rips the packet open, and in no time secures the latex around his still-leaking cock. As your hands caress his arms and abs, your eyes locked onto his, it’s not the sight of your naked body beneath him that makes him want to cry. No, it’s your ethereal face and the look in your eyes that undoes him so gracefully. 

“Jungkook?” Your voice is as soft as ever, no tremble present, which makes him so proud. Proud that he’s obviously made you feel absolutely safe, safe in the way you make him feel too.

“Yes, love?”

The nickname makes you smile lovingly, clearly even more whipped for him as you suppress a giggle.

“I really love you,” you breathe, mesmerised to the point where Jungkook’s almost afraid you’re more in love with him than he is with you. Not that it matters, if he’s being honest.

“I love you more.”

The twitch of your brow makes him snicker, causing you to giggle as well. Jungkook captures your lips with a broad smile of his own, aligning his cock with your tiny hole, he pushes his hips in soft, careful rhythms until he’s fully nestled in your warmth. And as you, after a short breath, start to buck your hips against him, it’s his sign to get going, stroking his cock repeatedly against your tight walls. The wet squelches and your tiny cries of ecstasy are music to his ears, heart, and soul.

“Ah, Jungkook, god, there.”

He feels it, doesn’t need you to tell him. He can feel your walls clamp down on him. Still, he keeps going, needs to, both for your sake and his own.

“Come for me, love. Show me how good I make you feel,” he grunts in your ear, drowning in the scent of your hair as he keeps his pace strong and steady.

When you shatter beneath him, nails digging into the strained muscles of his back, Jungkook keeps going. He focuses, restrains himself, riding out your orgasm until your grip loosens around his frame.

“More?” he kisses our lips briefly, though they’re now only loosely parted.

“Yes.”

The moan that escapes your mouth is rather forced, but your eyes are still hungry.

So, Jungkook slips out, settling beside you and gently turning you onto your side as well, pulling you back against his chest. Lifting your leg over his, he pushes his cock back inside you from behind, thrusting into your dripping cunt without mercy while his hand finds your neck and jaw, tilting your head slightly so he can pamper you with kisses.

“Jungk-o-o-o-k,” you mewl as his other hand trails down to your clit, circling it in perfect rhythm with his thrusts.

“Yeah? Feels good?”

“So good. So good, Jungkook.”

And he feels the same, fantastic even, savouring every moment as he gradually builds his own orgasm.

“One more, love, hm?”

Jungkook drinks in the sight of you, your tits bouncing lightly, your eyes rolling back every few seconds, your tiny hands gripping his veiny arm, nails digging into his tattoos as you moan over and over again.

“Yes,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for him to let himself go too, letting his mind and body rise higher as he flies over the clouds with you right by his side.

“Fuck, ___, love, fuck,” he pants. Your walls haven’t stopped spasming around him for minutes, and his thrusts turn erratic as you both come together in a grand finale, gripping each other like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded on Earth.

The orgasm lasts far longer than Jungkook ever expected, though he wouldn’t trade even a second of it, not when you’re this perfect and he feels the same for you.

But eventually, even though he’s touched the sky with you, you both have to come back down. And as reluctant as he is to pull out, getting rid of the condom right after, it’s you he turns to, and always will.

Especially when the giggles you let out as he carries you to the shower are everything he needs for the rest of his life and beyond.

a/n 2: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

All Rights Reserved © @runariya 2024

permanent taglist: @runariyaluvr , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @blueofocean, @https-mei, @xsyruhh , @nemelkawar , @joonlover1207 , @elinaki92

[onlyangel4]

off limits. ls18. smau.

lance stroll x alonso!reader

going to visit your uncle at work suddenly gets a whole lot more exciting when you meet his teammate

faceclaim: blanca padilla

y/nalonso posted a story

written: going somewhere very exciting today

y/nalonso posted a story tagging fernandoalo_oficial

written: that's right i'm meeting with uncle nando ahead of the spainish gp !

fernandoalo_oficial posted a story tagging y/nalonso

written: every home gp i am reminded of how grown up she is

f1updates

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 23,283 others

f1updates: fernando and his niece y/n have arrived at the paddock for media day, y/n alonso is a model and she has been unable to attend the spainish gp ever since fernando re-joined the grid due to scheduling issues. we are so glad to see her back

view all 2,019 comments

user1: omg she is so pretty

user2: fr real she is going to be turning some heads

user3: this makes me feel so old i remember her from when she was 11 with braces in the paddock

user4: they are icons

astonmartinupdates

liked by user5, user6, user7 and 25,284 others

astonmartinupdates: in case you missed it the funniest thing just happened. aston martin were on stage doing a Q and A with fans when lance pointed to this girl in the crowd and said "what about you pretty girl got any questions?" and she gagged him by replying, "not really i tend to just ask uncle nando any questions i have about racing" and lance's face fell

this man managed to pick y/n alonso out in the crowd and then flirt with her in front of her uncle and his TEAMMATE. he is never going to live this one down

view all 5,283 comments

user5: no nando turning to lance and saying "hold on playboy that girl is off limits" had me dying

user6: i mean i can't blame him she is stunning

user7: i just know fernando proper shouted at him after that

user8: did anyone notice how y/n was blushing a little because girl same

y/nalonso posted a story

written: team colours for race day

fernandoalo_oficial replied to this story: the hotel i booked for you said you didn't check in is everything okay?

y/nalonso: yeah don't worry about me uncle nando i got drunk with flavy last night and stayed with her

lancestroll replied to your story: i think i should change careers and become a professional photographer

y/nalonso: is that so

lancestroll: maybe i just got lucky taking a picture of the prettiest girl

y/nalonso posted a story

written: oh how i have missed this

y/nalonso

liked by flavy.barla, lancestroll, fernandoalo_oficial and 583,383 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial. lancestroll.

y/nalonso: had the best time back in the paddock for the first time in six years

view all 56,283 comments

flavy.barla: loved seeing you pretty girl

y/nalonso: was a much needed catch up

fernandoalo_oficial: you are going to need to come back soon

y/nalonso: i am planning on it

lancestroll: it was lovely meeting you y/n

y/nalonso: thank you for making sure i didn't get lost in the paddock

user9: the lance tag and comment, get in there lad

lancestroll posted a story

written: first half of the season done, bring on summer break

y/ninsta posted a story

written: date night

fernandoalo_oficial replied to this story: a date, with who

y/nalonso: you don't know him

lancestroll replied to this story: i am so fucking lucky

lancestroll posted a story

y/nalonso posted a story

lancestroll

liked by y/nalonso, fernandoalo_oficial, estebanocon and 1,002,283 others

tagged: y/nalonso

lancestroll: summer break with you is worth remembering

view all 82,192 comments

y/nalonso: i love you so much

lancestroll: i love you too, even if you have a scary uncle

fernandoalo_oficial: if you hurt her, i hurt you

lancestroll: yes sir

user10: i wish i was there when fernando found out about this

user11: this is such a hot couple

user12: i love them so much already

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

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[multipleoccupancy]

He nodded his confirmation that Violet or Mauve had indeed broken the nurses' nose. It was a strange pride and worry thinking that she was indeed perhaps too brave. "I worry what she will get herself into." After her stint with the Cowboy she had come back more aware and skilled then even himself but she still didn't understand the psychological cost, that horrible toll that she should not have been paying yet. "I don't think there's anything that will scare her off of this life." He let out a low and worry filled breath, he'd suffered because of Delta Green, he understood just how much only that night but what would they do to Violet?

"You're still cool," Theo insisted, "if she knew the sorts you had to handle and put back into line, she'd see you were the coolest person in The Program." He managed a small flash of a smile but it couldn't stick. His eyes drifting back to the orchid again as he thought about how cruel it had all been in the past, Samantha was much better, agents were more fortunate than they truly understood. With his failure to stand, Theo pulled the blanket over the back of his shoulders and stayed settled sitting up. Letting Samantha look through the file with no worries, there wasn't anything in work he wouldn't show or tell her.

"He's not going to come easy," Theo pointed out for 'Tony'. He suspected he already knew he was after him and had decided to run. He hoped into the sewers, such cultist scum belonged there. He puffed out a breath and wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, more afraid of his failure in the moment before Samantha reassured him that Davidson wouldn't be able to send him back to a similar ward and that he was apparently one of the best agents, a small but welcomed compliment, believing it was through their teamwork he had lasted that long as it was.

"He's seen Violet," he realised with Davidson, it might have been decades ago and he might have had as much recollection of Violet's face as Theo had until last night but he had not been on medication nor had he gone through shock therapy, he could very easily remember her face. "He pretended that he would get her out of the ward to keep me sweet." His nose scrunched up but he was quick to open his eyes again in case he slipped back into the ward by accident, worried about reliving that threat all over again. Too raw in the moment to think about but Davidson was haunting his thoughts too, he was upset and angry.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"Well, I think it's a good thing," she replied with a little smile. There was no undoing what Sloane had done when he had exposed Violet to the paranormal. And there was no getting rid of that clingy Great Old One. Violet was going to need all the bravery she could get, and if she was just like her dad, then she was all set. Her smile widened when Killian went on to describe all the things Violet had done in the ward.

"She broke his nose?" A little chuckle left her lips, but she was clearly impressed. "I can't say that I'm surprised, considering she shot Sloane. There's not much that seems to scare her." Which of course was why Killian was so worried about his daughter. Being brave was good, being reckless was more concerning. Not to mention the fact that her craftiness and fearlessness had already piqued the interest of Delta Green.

Samantha shook her head with another chuckle. "For now, maybe. Then she'll become a teenager and think I'm the lamest person ever. If she only knew how cool I used to be." Not that Samantha wanted to get back on the field. The only thing that made her hesitate, sometimes, was Killian. She was worried about him, today more than ever, and she hated that she wasn't out there with him.

She nodded and went to retrieve the file, noticing too late that Killian had tried to stand up. She couldn't help him up, but maybe it was best he stayed on the floor for now. She picked up the file and sat back down next to him. "You've already done a great job," she praised, flipping through the file, "you've gathered a lot of valuable information."

A frown troubled her usually cheerful features. Yes she knew. She knew all the horrible, despicable things Agent Davidson had done to get Killian to join the Program. "He can't do that," she assured him, "the ward is closed, and you're one of the best agents Delta Green has. Not to mention the FBI. Besides, I'll shoot him if he even tries something like that." Samantha was not usually one to use threats of violence, but if there was one man she wouldn't hesitate to shoot, it was Agent Davidson.

[lilacxquartz]

from the shadows;

mr. gap x gn!reader

plot: your existence brings something out in mr. gap that he doesn’t quite yet understand — themes: yandere-lite, romance, one shot, gender neutral insert — w.c: 1k

ao3 • masterlist

No matter where you walked and no matter where your footsteps landed; if there was a nook, crevice, or opening of any kind, then Mr. Gap would always be there, watching, lurking, and studying you with his complete and utter attention.

Newcomers seldom arrived within the apartments, after all, and there was something surely intriguing about you in a way that made it difficult for him to ignore you. Ever curious about the world around him, Mr. Gap latched onto you like a moth to a flame, following the pretty light all over the area that threatened to light up his whole world.

Indeed, it was all a curious little investment, especially with how you ignored his playful jabs and odd requests, but then you unexpectedly got closer to him than he had ever anticipated in you doing so, stirring a strange new feeling up in his very core. He blinked and stared at you in stunned silence, opening up his mouth to protest, only to be met with muffled silence as you sought to hide from the strange wandering red man. Such help with storing you away made him feel useful and he wanted nothing more than that feeling to continue, feeding an addictive sort of sense of incentive to chase and explore (and dare he even think, to keep).

His breath locked in the back of his throat as you nestled together with him in the dark, huddled up to press against his body, feeling the weight of your form rest against his own. For a brief moment, he wanted to not let go, the prospect of upcoming loneliness an almost daunting one to bear.

Reluctantly however letting you go, he kept on your tail just in case beyond that point, conducting his own personal research of sorts to figure out just who exactly was interested in you—other than him, because, just who exactly was Mr. Scarletta and what did he want with you?

No such answers ever came however and the only method that seemed to work was by helping you hide, so that’s what he offered from time and time, again and again. On occasion, you would see red and he would show up at the most opportune moments as a friendly face in the dark, ready to dim the lights and plunge Mr. Scarletta into the blinding dark, keeping you close whenever he could.

(Finding it all the more difficult to let go with every passing interaction, at that.)

The final straw was when you had frustrated him just enough for him to simply, just… snap. He wanted to joke around with you, to mess with you and even show off, but you never quite gave him what he truly wanted. Never a heart or a hand or a leg or anything at all, just a place to hide, and then off you went.

(But not anymore.)

You tried to leave, to go and look for the way out just as you had always meant to do, but then you couldn’t.

Choosing his words carefully, he asked you not for a single part, but for something whole instead, gambling everything he had on you to hopefully misunderstand his request, because that way you would surely give in (and so that his rule of legend could successfully activate, thereby tricking you into cooperating with him).

With a determined tone, he looked you dead in the eyes and chanced a proposition, “Give me your… ####?”

You tilted your head, looking at him head-on in the dark, feeling the pressure to leave without the means of doing so. Some sort of unseen force locked you into place, forcing you to stay and answer the question he had posed, and just as he had hoped, you successfully misunderstood the context of the question, correctly guaranteeing your eternal place in the shadows with him at your side.

All of a sudden, you could no longer pass through the long and winding corridors, feeling a longing sort of confinement within the walls. Those intricate long-winding perpetual void-like paths now appeared to be visible in your eyes as clear as day. You were again, left stunned as you considered what exactly he had obtained from you, wondering if he asked for your whole body this time—if he had cursed you, or even tricked you, or something similar of the sort—finding that he had saved you from that strange red man instead.

“Thank you,” you tried to say, watching with slight confusion as he turned his nose away from you, refusing the blush that otherwise crept over his ashen face, suddenly acting indifferent, and yet, when you continued to speak again, informing him that he helped, he couldn’t help but melt away on the spot, letting his guard down at long last.

Feeling emboldened by his own misunderstood resolve, he pointed at your lips and asked for something else, “Can I have your… lips?”

“Yes…?” you warily replied, half expecting him to bite them off.

Instead, just as he heard you, he leaned in close to press them against his own, resisting a nibble just because you likely wouldn’t like that (and would probably scold him, much to his concern), finding that he actually quite enjoyed the exchange.

Stepping back for a beat, the hallways bled a crimson red again, and not even letting you process what had happened, he yanked your hand forward at the right moment, sending you flying forward within his reach, racing to show you all sorts of secrets that not even the longest-staying residents knew of.

You followed along, both fascinated and unnerved, yet curious all at the same time.

What an oddity you had found yourself involved with.

But you couldn’t help but wonder at the same time… would he actually help you leave, or would he, blinded by his own affections, keep you in the dark with him, forever instead?

You had a feeling that your mission to find the exit was over as a result, ready to explore all of the strange places that Mr. Gap would surely lead you off to.

(And to your surprise, you didn’t mind a single bit.)

[saras-almanac]

So I’ve been sitting on my feelings about the BuckTommy breakup and handling of it for a while, trying to get my thoughts in order. And after a while of thinking on it—and the recent Lou interview dropping making me feel like my feelings are valid—kind of made me want to just blurt them all out and hope for the best. So this is that.

Ultimately the entire handling of the BuckTommy breakup feels cruel. And not just cruel in an intentional way, but cruel in a casually, not even given any thought cruelty, which is worse sometimes. And to be honest, I think that’s part of why I’ve been struggling with it so much. (That and the echoes of Magicians season 4, which if you know you know).

What I mean by cruelty is just the lack of any real effort or care put into this storyline, one that they had previously been handled with so much care and concern and were praised (rightly so) for at the time. It’s the way they introduce this Tommy as Abby’s ex thing, which makes hardly any sense at all, but also feels cruel in the intention of laughing at the invisible string of fate theory between them. It’s they way that they’re 6 months anniversary and not only have they not talked about this, but Buck (Evan Buckley) didn’t get him a gift that feels cruel because that feels so wildly out of character for him. It’s the way they had the break up play into some bisexual stereotypes at best and inherently biphobic at worst by having Maddie suggest Abby turned him gay or that Buck needs to “explore” things to figure out what he wants or that Buck “Doesn’t know what pond to jump back into” of it all. (Not to mention the comments from OS about wanting Buck to fuck—which I’m not getting into because I didn’t read it and as a bisexual woman, don’t feel the need to go and try to find something that might upset me more.)

All those reasons are why the breakup itself is cruel to the characters, but it’s also cruel to those of us watching, and especially to anyone and everyone who loved and/or related to the character of Tommy, who we see walk away much much worse off than when we found him. It’s the way the story (intentionally or not) is framing it like a romcom break up – make up – pining storyline which they apparently are not doing according to interviews. It’s the way they didn’t give any sort of closure to Tommy for the character or for the audience.

There’s a reason that people lose themselves in stories—it’s because they follow certain rules and contracts. It’s expected that stories do not match up to real life because while things don’t have bigger meanings in life or they don’t work out according to plan, in stories, everything happens for a reason. Because that’s the whole point of what you’re consuming. And along with that, emotional moments are meant to feel cathartic in a way, at least eventually, because you were able to see the bigger picture, to feel the finality to things, and to really understand what’s being said and what’s happening. This breakup does none of that and actually seems to have been included and rushed for shock value and that to me, is just shitty, lazy writing.

If you were going to break them up and have no desire for any sort of reunion or closure, why not make it intentional? Tommy could be the one who wants marriage and kids and settling down and Buck internally freaks out because theoretically he wants that but maybe it’s too soon and as much as Tommy loves Buck, he’s not going to wait around and hope that Buck feels the same for him because he’s been hurt too many times like that. Or Tommy could be leaving for another state because he’s no longer going to be a firefighter or needs to go for family reasons or gets a job at a different station that he applied for ages ago and he has everything all set up and isn’t going to ask Buck to leave his entire life for Tommy, so they decide to breakup even if it hurts both of them. In either of those cases, it’s sad and devastating, but at least there would be some closure to it and understanding of it for both the characters and the audience and some peace knowing that at least these two are going to be moving toward happiness in whatever way that means for them.

Instead, what we have, is a hail-mary last-second breakup that comes out of nowhere and feels abrupt and crappy in the way we leave Tommy specifically because we might never see him again. And that is the crux of the issue. Because the way this was written, the understanding is that they are going to get back together or reunion or at least have that final closure conversation—because that’s what happens in stories. We see this type of surprise breakups, breakups where they issue is they love each other too much and are afraid to go further (Athena/Bobby and Maddie/Chimney to name two examples we saw in universe) only to eventually fight to be together and realize that if they don’t take a chance they might never know how amazing it is. So the fact that it’s set up to follow this same path while nearly every interview is telling the opposite, again demonstrates that casual cruelty as well as an inherent failure on the writing. If you have to go in interview and explain what it is you wrote or are telling, then you have failed as a writer. It’s really as simple as that.

This breakup doesn’t feel set up or foreshadowed, it just feels like they added it on because they didn’t want to do anything more with it? And that feels incredibly crappy as a decision to so many people who related to Buck and Tommy and them coming out later in life and all those other things. I’m rambling and on my phone and feeling a lot of things that I can’t fully express right now, but the long and short of it: If this was always intended to be the final time we see Tommy, this breakup is even crueler than intended.

[poisonsage808]

Rescue

Scar x Reader

warnings: language, choking, ooc? WE DON’T KNOW HIM AND IT’S A CRIME I DID MY BEST

“You saved me,” you whispered, your voice hoarse and your throat irritated with you for speaking after all that smoke you inhaled.

Scar just shook his head.

His brows were pulled together as they usually were, making him look angry— as he usually did. Ekko could make him grin, though, and some of the children. When they weren’t trying to “borrow” the hoverboards, that is.

Scar had been here longer, he was the lieutenant of the Firelights for fucks sake, but you both knew rules and risks. Every time your team went on a mission there was a chance someone might not come back, and those chances only got higher with every success. He knew the risks of turning around after the grenades came to life.

Ekko’s blend was his own creation, designed to destroy only shimmer. Even the ones you used on people were only for detaining, not killing. So when they turned and saw black smoke spewing from the broken window of the airship, it was an enormous sign something went awry. Awful as they may be, the Firelights didn’t celebrate the deaths of their enemies. On the way to the rendezvous point Ekko called out his headcount to no one, it seemed, because Scar wasn’t there to hear it like he should’ve been.

Even from miles away he heard you gagging and coughing. For a moment Scar thought he heard the rapid thump thump thump of your heartbeat. He later realized it was his own. The mask did fuck all to help him see with the thick, black cloud. He relied solely on your fading sounds to guide him. You were smart, crawling in your attempt to find the exit. In one fluid movement, he chucked a grenade at the opposite wall and snatched your body off the ground. Crystals erupted and made the wall easier to smash through. The newer and bigger hole allowed the smoke to escape in heaps, hopefully saving a few more lives.

Scar’s hands trembled at the memory. Angry, he was always so angry. Every time he looked at you and saw your busted eye, thought about how terrified and lost you must have felt, shit, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. At least you looked better now than when he handed you off to the medics. He had visited every day since then and had no intention of stopping. He crossed his arms to stop the tremors.

You managed a weak, and rather pathetic, smile for your knight in dark armor. One minute he’s afraid you won’t make it and the next you’re sitting in front of him, bruised and chipper. It’s endearing. It’s twisting his heart in opposite directions.

“Thanks anyways.”

Truly, Scar would have done it for anyone here.

Still, he couldn’t deny that you were a special case. Your thanks meant more to him than you knew. Perhaps… this petrifying occasion could be the wake up call he didn’t know he needed.

~

come hangout with us and talk about arcane (and more!) on [discord]

[mugiwara-lucy]

Yes guys! This goes out to the 15 million jokers that decided to stay home with cost Kamala Harris the election!

No we just won’t be having Trump for four years BUT his little dick eaters are going to make SURE that everyone that’s NOT a Christian Rich White MALE (to all you dumbass Karens they only see you as an incubator ESPECIALLY if you’re a white woman.). Case in point, this bill if passed will let Trump’s dick riders go after any establishment that he deems “terroristic”. Case in point?

Those Elon and Vivek fuckers are planning on going after PLANNED PARENTHOOD:

Because MAGA sure loves them forced births 🖕 For those misled, Planned Parenthood does NOT just cover abortions like the MAGAts like to lie.

It gives AFFORDABLE healthcare to women who can’t afford doctors because doctors are expensive AF.

I’ve been there a couple of times.

And the fact that these mother fuckers want to ruin it in the name of Christianity is just…

PLEASE contact your representatives and ask them to vote NO on this.

Nonprofits like them ARE THE REASON we have civil rights and liberties in the first place.

HR 9495 is going back up for voting. All non-profit orgs are in danger.

The Committee on Rules is meeting at 1600 EST on 18 Nov 2024. The agenda includes HR 9495.

If this bill passes, the Secretary of the Treasury would have the power to strip any non-profit group of it's tax-exempt status with no due process.

If you are part of the fandom community and you are in America, please contact your reps and ask them to vote NO on HR 9495.

[abyssalzones]

okay randomly pulling this one out of my head because I've been trying to figure out how the hell I want to say it for a while: what's crazy about the new wave of gf fans is that I've seen the sentiment (though I also saw it once or twice back in 2016) that shipping bill with ford is "saving" people from the alternative of the most popular bill ship being That Which We No Longer Mention By Name and I have to say that this literally only checks out if your entire understanding of why pedophilia is bad is because It Just Is, rather than the fact that a child by definition cannot consent and the power dynamics at play mean it is always a form of abuse, it's an adult exercising control over a child. like it's the abuse itself that's bad. so by that logic I have to assume people are either 1. choosing to ignore the fact that within canon, ford was coerced/straight up lied to and then had his consent violated repeatedly, Or 2. insisting that this is all okay because ford is an adult. who consented at one point in time (under dire circumstances) (it wasn't even his idea??) even though he revoked that consent later and it was ignored. like it's fascinating to me how bill refers to ford as. hang on actually so you know I'm not just making this shit up

he quite literally calls him a child here (from the website) while explaining Why he went after ford and the thing is you see it reflected perfectly in his behavior: he calls him 'kid' even when he's in his 60's to taunt him, he makes him get rid of a beloved pet he doesn't approve of, he unquestionably acts as a mentor more than a friend on equal standing, fucking etc. point being I think gravity falls does something a lot of stories don't even when they try to cover this type of subject matter where they make it obvious that being a victim of abuse isn't a matter of age or intelligence. abusive people will look for vulnerability in Anyone and I really don't think there's a hard moral line here.

I think the point of what I'm trying to say is that if one is okay and the other isn't: uh. why? what does it say when an almost identical if not more insidious* narrative about a character being abused is okay because it has a more "acceptable" veneer of sex appeal?

*"more" is subjective here, personally I think ford being written as a victim is more obvious/intentional than the stuff going on with dipper because in his case they were in a relationship ("relationship" in big quotes) for multiple years which adds layers to it. both are bad obviously but I think what gets implied in ford's story is worse on purpose. okay back to studying bye

[sevs-corner]

The Tf 141: Mafia AU! guys take you out for a picnic because you’ve been overworked (by Nonno and Nonna)

I’ll be doing these for a bit ‘cause of my busy week lol, hopefully my weekend lets up :<< Masterlist here !

They noticed your workload becoming worse than ever

Well with the nearing holidays, the bakery always got extra busy with fulfilling orders and the place becoming packed daily at all hours of the day

And you, as their sole employee, is completely spoofed

If there even was a time they could catch you resting, it would be during the supposed “smoke break” (you just pet the milky the cat by the alleyway)

And their hearts would just ache, seeing you knocked out cold and slumped against the dirty, moldy concrete with a hand unconsciously still petting the cat on your lap

So they took it up with management (basically took them an Ace Attorney court case debate level to get you free for a week) and ended up with getting you a free day or two at best

The fact that you even had one, already made you happy and hug them real tight, appreciative kisses on their cheeks all around

Yeah….they should’ve argued with management for more rest hours now.

Especially when they see you come out with the prettiest summer outfit ever

“Bro…” Soap looks to Ghost who as equally stunned whereas Gaz takes the opportunity and swoops in, easily complimenting you

“Lookin’ fresh outta’ the oven, sweetheart!”

Gaz exclaims, cupping your cheeks and placing light feathered kisses on them

You giggle, pushing him away by the shoulder with an embarrassed, “shut your trap, you cheeky twat!”

He doesn’t let up and keeps cooing at you, whispering sweet little things only for you to hear and it makes you quite red at his endless barrage— so you whine for the others to save you

“Guys!!!” Their whispering stops as their attention goes to you, “Stopppp Gazzzz!”

You could see them smirk in amusement, Soap coming in close with a chuckle, leaning on Gaz’s shoulder making him halt for a moment

“Oh don’t stop on my account mate,” his smirk widens as much as your eyes widen, “go on— I think the lil’ munchkin can handle it.”

If your glare could shoot lasers, you swore you would slice this man straight down the middle without mercy

Seeing said pointed glare, the man bellows and pulls Gaz away, not wanting to tempt fate with you at the helm

“Alright, break it up,” Ghost steps in too, now holding you back by encircling his arms around your waist so you wouldn’t be able to chase after Gaz (but he just wanted to hold you close really, the sap)

You look up at Ghost, head laying on his chest and he looks down at your playful pout, a grin reflecting off his visage

“You’re adorable, ya’ know that?” He mumbles and you pinch his arm to let you go

“You keep actin’ cute with me,” you leave his arms then look back at him, “and you lose your pookie privileges!”

He pouts at this, both at you leaving and the potential of losing his rights

“Price you have to back me up!” You begged to the last sane man in the group but he does he smile

“Always.”

But then he grabs you by the waist and easily carries you in his arms— they are just doing too much for your heart

“Let’s go on then?”

The guys agree while you, yeah… you couldn’t even reply, not when you were squeezed against the hard chest of Price

They prepared this outing extra special for you, taking full opportunity to pamper you as much as they can

From day to night you will treated like royalty! (Well as best as their ruffians selves can provide really)

But, to you, its more than enough

Their commitment already says a lot of how they want to show how much they care for you

And that, is enough— you’re thankful for the little things, and that’s what mattered more

So you show your appreciation by reciprocating their affection and dedication

Once you guys finally manage to get to the park, you argued less about helping and let them do want they wanted

Set up the blanket for you all, set the food, take you by the riverside to say hi’s and hello’s to “Quaker flakes” and the rest of its honking family

You let Soap sit you on his lap as he fed you happily and share treats like ice creams and drinks

You let Gaz take you on a bike ride, with you gripping onto him for dear life (you know he intentionally makes you feel out of balance so you would grip him tighter)

You let Soap play with you in the leaves, crunching them underneath your boot and diving into piles of them

You let Gaz serenade you, strumming a quiet song by a secluded garden area which you know now is his favorite place in the world

You let Ghost push you on the swings and catch you when you throw yourself off of it, carefully cradling you in his arms

You let Price to take you out on a boat ride, with him rowing and taking the best pictures he could with you as the main focus and the scenery just complimenting you

You let Ghost massage your aching legs, with him carefully soothing those tense areas with both his hands and lips

You let Price stargaze with you, sharing a cup of joe in between you as you share a coat, with it buttoned up in front you— enclosing it and forcing the distance between you to be shorter

You let this day go by without much worry and let it end on a sweet note with all four of them together at your apartment

But they were hesitant to leave, scared to see you revert back to your ways of over exerting yourself so they stayed

You let them stay

And to be honest, you’d let them in again and again (even in your heart and soul)

The night grew old and so did you all five, weary from the day of exciting activities yet anxious for returning to your usual lives tomorrow

So you make the last moments memorable

Soft thank you’s and cuddles were shared

And from that the day on, you swore to do good by them the next time you would have a day off <3

A/N: short fluffy blurb for the boiyos

Taglist!✨

@accidental-obsessionist

[hoonieyun]

together again

together again

pairing: sim jake x reader “y/n”

genre: angst, exes to lovers

warnings: not a lot really but please let me know if i miss one, mentions of death, car accident, profanity, reader has/had amnesia, 18+

summary: your sister gets a call from the principal to pick up her daughter after an altercation with another student. unable to because of work, she asks you to pick up your niece and when you do, you meet an old face. one you hadn’t seen in years and one you definitely have tried to forget. among the memories you’ve forgotten, you wish you had forgotten him.

word count: 8517

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

your phone rings, jolting you out of your sleep. your sister’s contact appears on your phone and you bring it to your ear as you press the green accept button. “it’s 8am why are you calling me?” you say, voice hoarse. “what? y/n, its 10am are you still in bed? ugh, that doesn’t matter. jiheon got into a fight at school, can you pick her up please?” your sister asks. “i’d pick her up but i’m about to enter a conference, please, i’ll owe you one!” she says before ending the call, not giving you a chance to even answer. it wasn’t like you weren’t going to pick her up, you loved your niece and would do anything for her. 

you quickly freshened up, changing into new clothes and putting your hair back into a clip. the drive to your niece’s school wasn’t too long. it was only 10 minutes away. when you got there, some students were playing in the courtyard. you made your way to the office, “hi, i’m y/n. i’m jiheon’s aunt, her mom asked me to come pick her up. is everything alright?” you ask the lady at the front desk. “miss park? are you jiheon’s mom?” a man in a suit who you assumed was the principal approached you. “no, i’m her aunt. her mom is at an important conference right now so she asked me to look after jiheon, is everything okay?” you asked once again, worried that you hadn’t seen your niece but had already asked for her a few times. 

“auntie y/n!” jiheon shouts. you peer behind the principal and see jiheon running towards you. she crashes into you with a hug, her small figure only reaching to your waist. you kneel down to her level, “hey dear, is everything ok? are you hurt?” you ask her and she just looks down while nodding. clearly she had been affected in some way and you wanted to know what was going on. 

“what happened? all i know is that jiheon got into a fight? what is that about?” you say while softly pulling your niece behind you. “well, she pushed another student off of a swing.” the man explains. “he started it! he was calling me names!” jiheon shouts from behind you, causing you to further put her behind you to shield her away. 

“so she was defending herself. case closed, the other student should be punished- wait he? you pushed a boy off a swing?” you ask your niece and she nods. you mouth the word “nice!” and give her a high five before turning back to the principal. “we have a no violence policy here at Bright Spring Academy. jiheon will have to come in on a saturday for disciplinary training for the rest of the month.”

“what?!” you and your niece both yell in disbelief. this moment reminded you of when you would constantly get in trouble in school back when you were younger. at some point your parents made you switch schools 3 times in one year because of how much trouble you were getting into. 

“that’s ridiculous! and what punishment is the other student going to get-” you ask but are cut off by another man running into the office. “principal lim! is leehan okay?” he asks, completely ignoring your presence and shoving past you to get to the principal. a little boy runs from the same direction jiheon had previously appeared from and ran up to the man. “uncle!” he yells and the man kneels down to the boy's level to receive his hug. he softly rubs the back of the boy’s head, “you alright bud?” he asks, his strong australian accent giving you deja vu.  

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you and jake were walking in a park hand in hand when he spotted a stray dog limping on the side of the street. jake quickly looks both ways before crossing the street, dragging you along as your hand was still in his. 

he kneels down to the small dog, petting him softly; “you alright bud?” he asks the dog. the dog releases a small whimper before it cuddles up to jake’s hand.  

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“jake?!” you say in disbelief. “yeah?” he says before looking up at whoever called his name. when jake finally lets go of his nephew and looks up at you with his big puppy eyes, it's like he’s hit with a truck. he hasn’t seen you in years, the shock of seeing you out of nowhere causing him to lose balance and stumble onto the floor. “uncle!” leehan says, his small hands trying his best to help his uncle back on his feet. jake gets back on his feet, dusting himself off, and running his hand through his hair. 

“y/n… what are you doing?” he asks, voice trembling a bit but his eyes says that he’s happy to see you. “leaving.” you say while grabbing your niece's hand and making your way to the exit. “don’t forget about saturday disciplinary classes!” principal lim says. “jiheon won’t be attending unless he’s there too.” you say, gesturing to jake’s nephew; and with that the two of you head to your car. “thanks auntie… i’m sorry.” jiheon says, causing you to whip your head around to face your niece. 

once again, knelt in front of your 8 year old niece. you softly brush away her hair that has landed in front of her face. she was looking down, embarrassment and shame was spread across her tiny face. “hey…” you say while grabbing her chin to look at you. “never. apologize. okay?” emphasizing each word. “you did the right thing.” you say, making sure that your niece knew that you meant every word. “but mom says violence isn’t the answer.” she says, now fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “please, your mom and i used to beat up boys in school if they looked at us weird.” you say and her eyes light up at your words. “really?” she says and you nod. grabbing her hand once again as you approach your car. “yeah, but don’t tell her i said that. it’s good you defend yourself from a bully, that’s what matters.” you explain as you unlock your car and open the door to the back seat. you help jiheon get into your car, sliding her backpack off and putting it onto the seat next to her. you help buckle her seatbelt when someone calls out to you. 

“y/n!” you turn your head around, the sun in your eyes but you could clearly see who called after you. you see jake running up to you so you quickly close the door, “give me a sec sweetie, ok?” you say and jiheon just nods. 

“what the hell do you want?” you ask and jake quickly cover’s his nephews ears. “language!” he whisper yells, you mutter a small sorry. “when did you get back?” jake asks, hands still covering the small boy’s ear standing in front of him. you always imagined jake would be a good father. you often talked about a life where you had a family and grew old together. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“so how many kids do you want?” you ask him, playing with his hands as you both laid on your bed in your dorm. “hmm, 5?” jake says and it surprises you so much you begin to cough. “woah, baby you okay?” he says while laughing.

“jaeyun? five?!” you ask him and he just nods at you with a silly smile and his puppy eyes. you shake your head at him and smile back. “i don’t know if i can handle five kids.” you say half jokingly. he grabs your head and brings it to his lips, softly placing a kiss onto them. “don’t worry, i’ll take care of you and all the kiddos. i’d make sure to give all of them equal attention and to love all of you with all my heart!” he says, rubbing your tummy and giving it a kiss as if there was already a child growing inside of you. “but…” jake says with a pause. 

“i’d be happy with anything, just as long as you’re by my side.” 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“like… four months ago. jake what do you want?” you ask, finally giving him his answer but not without asking a question of your own. jake stutters, trying to come up with an answer but to his dismay he isn’t really able to form one. not because he didn’t have an answer, but because he was too stunned and didn’t know how to answer it without crumbling. “i just-” he begins but cuts himself off. no answer leaving his lips. 

“bye jake.” you say as you begin to turn around. “why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, desperation dripping from his words like he was begging you for an explanation when you clearly didn’t owe him one. “i have no obligation to you jake. we haven’t been together for 6 years.” you say before finally turning around and getting inside of your car. 

“who is that auntie?” jiheon asks as she played with the hem of her sweater. “just some weirdo, you ready kiddo?” you ask her and she yells in excitement. you begin to back your car up but jake was slightly in the way. you didn’t like jake but you weren’t about to commit a crime and run him over with your car. you honk the horn causing jake and his nephew to jump, moving out of your way so you could leave the parking lot. once you had finished backing out, you sped off back to your sister’s house, exhausted by the interactions you had today and it wasn’t even 1PM. 

jake watched you drive off, disappointment lingering in his head at how that went. for the last 6 years he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. he even would write a script in his head how he would talk to you when he sees you again for the first time in a while. needless to say, this wasn’t how he expected it to go. he combs his hand through his hair with a big sigh, “uncle can we go now? i’m hungry.” leehan says, tugging on his uncle’s jacket. “right! yeah, sorry bud. come on.” jake says as he grabs his nephew’s backpack as they make their way to his car. only parked a few spots away from where your car was. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you were helping your sister set the dinner table, trying to figure out the best way to bring up the jake fiasco earlier in the day when your niece randomly blurts it out, “auntie almost punched a guy at school today.” she says nonchalantly. your sister’s face contorts into a puzzled expression while you stare at your niece like she had just betrayed you. “jiheon! i did not!” you say with a scoff, slightly laughing. “jiheon, go upstairs really quick. i’ll call you down when dinner is ready.” your sister says as she stirs the soup on the stove. 

jiheon gets up from her spot at the kitchen counter in one of the stools and walks up the stairs to her room but not before you tickle her for her betrayal, resulting in her shrieking followed by a giggle as she runs up the stairs. “so what was that about?” your sister inquires. 

“nothing…” you say with a side eye, hoping your sister would take your side instead of believing her 8 year old daughter. “y/n…” she says like your mom used to say when she would warn you. “okay!” you say, throwing your hands up in defeat. “i didn’t punch a guy okay! but… i did run into jake…” you say, whispering the last part. “you what?” she asks, unclear what she heard. “iranintojakeattheschool.” you say, blending all the words together with the speed that they left your mouth. “y/n!” your sister says, an irritated expression spread across her face. “i ran into jake! gosh! must i talk about that man!” you say, slumping into a seat at the dinner table. head resting on your hand as you propped it up on the table. a pout visible on your face. “oh… jake you say..?” your sister says, slowly turning away from you to return to stirring the soup on the stove. “yes… what?” you ask, now concerned because of her reaction. 

“oh, nothing.” she says with an awkward chuckle. you stand up from the table and get closer to her. “joy, what??” you ask her, now wanting an answer out of her. sure jake was your ex boyfriend but her reaction read as something else. not the reaction you were expecting

from your older sister when you bring up an ex. “jiheon! honey, dinner’s ready!” your sister yells out, trying to change the subject. “joy!” you say, swatting your hand at her but she was too far. before you know it, jiheon is rushing back downstairs with a piece of paper in her hand. “this isn’t done.” you mouth to your sister before you grab some glasses from the kitchen counter to bring to the table. 

you’re setting the glasses down at their respective places when jiheon hands you the piece of paper. “what’s this jiji?” you ask, using the nickname you gave her. “open it!” she says as she rocks back and forth on her heels and toes. you unfolded the paper and inside there was a heart and two stick figures you assumed was you and your niece, and the words “i’m sorry” written in the heart. 

“aww, jiji i wasn’t actually mad! don’t worry, i forgive you!” you tell her, reassuring your niece that she shouldn’t feel bad and that you were only joking around. she gives you a tight hug and the three of you have dinner. 

ever since you moved back to korea, you had been living with your sister and her daughter. your sister’s husband worked overseas for your parent’s company while your sister helped manage the branch in south korea now that your parents were getting too old to be constantly working. your brother in law was a good man, but you could see that his family missed him. 

your sister was kind enough to let you live with her instead of making you find an overpriced condo somewhere in the city. ever since the accident it has been hard for you to be alone, so being with them made things a lot easier for you when you came back to korea. 

when you were 23, you were in a car accident that should’ve killed you. you broke several bones and had several cuts and bruises scattered across your skin; you were in such critical condition that the hospital at one point started preparing your family for preparations for your death, but life had other plans. instead of leaving this earth, you were in a coma for 8 months. after close monitoring and intensive care, the doctor’s taking care of you were surprised that you had opened your eyes one day. 

you were now 28, almost 29 when you moved back to korea. your mother stayed by your side throughout your whole recovery in america, never leaving your side, she was like your guardian angel. when you woke up from your coma, the doctor’s diagnosed you with amnesia, which they expected with the amount of damage and trauma your body and mind went through. it took a year and a half for most of your memories to come back, however, the events of that night, so traumatic, never returned. to which you’re grateful for. even today, you have a hard time forming coherent and structured memories that stick in your mind unless a specific instance sticks in your brain. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you’re washing the dishes in the kitchen when joy slips the last of the dishes into the sink, “really?” you said with a stoic expression. it was just like when you were younger, sliding plates into the sink while the other was already washing dishes to avoid having to wash your own. the two of you laugh it off as your sister gives you a small hug. “thanks for picking up jiheon.” she says, giving your shoulders a squeeze before letting go. 

“i don’t know what i’m going to do with her. her behavior has been so different lately…” your sister says, leaning on the kitchen counter. “what do you mean? she seems fine to me.” you respond, eyes focused on cleaning the dishes in the sink. “what? she literally got into a fight today.” your sister reminds you. “no, she didn’t! the boy was bullying her and she defended herself, what about that is her getting into a fight?” you retort and your sister rolls her eyes at your response, like she expected that from you. 

“violence isn’t the answer y/n. you, of all people should know that that behavior isn’t good.” she says, causing you to scoff at her. “oh, don’t give me that bullshit joy. i turned out fine. you need to prioritize your daughter’s safety and well being instead of being too focused on this behavior of hers.” you say, putting air quotes around “behavior”; soap suds flying into the air at your motion. 

“she’s clearly not doing well because of a bully and instead of automatically thinking she’s the problem because she pushed some kid in self defense, maybe you need to focus on your daughter’s mental health.” you say, unloading onto your sister, disappointed in her for not seeing the bigger picture. “this has clearly been happening for too long and she had been bottling it inside until she had enough and finally stood up for herself.” you say, giving your sister a quick glance, her gaze glued to the tile floor of the kitchen. 

“you can’t punish your daughter because she got into a fight, if you can even call it that. you need to let her understand that bullying isn’t okay and if she needs to defend herself, then she should.” by the end of your speech your sister’s face had turned a shade of red. 

whenever your sister knew she was in the wrong, her face would gradually turn red. it was then that you knew that she understood what you’re saying so you didn’t need to say more. “go easy on her, she’s so young and she just wants you to feel like you’re on her side. we were just like that when we were her age.” you say softly, putting the last of the clean dishes on the drying rack. you quickly dry your hands on a rag before walking over to your sister. 

“okay?” you ask, looking into her eyes. “yes, ugh i hate when you’re right.” she says with a smile while pulling you in for another hug. “it happens more often than you think.” you say with a chuckle and she pushes you away in response. “that was a good speech, it’s like mom’s spirit transferred into you for a second.” your sister says. your mom was always the more tender and understanding one of your parents. although your dad wasn’t necessarily strict or intense, his ways of showing affection were limited, and his way of raising you and your sister was focused on making sure you put in the effort to achieve your dreams through hard work. 

“so what are you gonna do about the jake thing?” your sister asks, tiptoeing around the topic. “nothing. i haven’t seen since i was like 22 and i have no plans of seeing him again.” you say with a shrug before you made your way to your room. the basement that your sister had renovated to be livable for you. a spacious open area that had enough so that you didn’t feel like you were too crammed. it was like having a studio of your own. 

what you were unaware of was that you would be seeing jake more often than you thought. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

the next day, when you’re casually shopping for a bit of groceries to make dinner for your mom as she was visiting you two, you run into jake at the market. he’s in the ramen aisle, sifting through the various ramen flavors. he hadn’t changed one bit, he still loved ramen. 

you were about to turn around and leave when he glances at you, calling your name. you stop in your tracks like you’ve been caught. “bye jake.” you quickly say, not even bothering to look back at him and just making your way to another section of the store. far, far away from the ramen aisle. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you next saw jake at a cafe. you had just finished your morning run, something you picked up in physical therapy when you were in recovery. it had helped a lot with your mobility and was some sort of therapy for you. once your body recovered enough, you picked up running every morning. 

you had stopped by a coffee shop to grab a latte for you and your sister, and a hot chocolate for your niece when you almost crash into jake as you’re exiting. “woah!” he says as he catches you, his hand softly landing around your waist as you grip the tray of drinks with both hands. 

“y/n?” he asks and you just release yourself from his grip, jake throwing his arms up in defeat by your actions. 

“bye jake.” you say and leave. jake awkwardly looks around, feeling like the whole coffee shop was staring at him and indeed they were. so he shyly smiles at everyone with an apologetic hand gesture to the patrons as he makes his way to the counter. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you’re on an evening run in the park when a dog runs up to you. stopping to kneel down and pet the cute dog, you’re unsure of where she came from or who her owner was. that was until a familiar australian accent calls for her, “layla! i told you to stop running after people.” jake says, causing you to roll your eyes. you stand with your hands on your hips and lean to the side as you watch jake jog after his dog. 

“come here girl.” he says and layla runs back to him. jake was about to start a conversation with you but before he can say anything you return back to your run. “bye jake.” you say as your run passed him. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

when you see jake for the 4th time in just a week, you snap at him. you’re dropping off your niece at school for her saturday disciplinary class and of course jake is there to drop off his nephew. 

you rush back to your car when jake runs after you. “y/n, please!” he says, pleading that you would just talk to him. “what jake?! what could you possibly want?” you say, frantically throwing your arms up, irritation clearly running through your face. 

“i just wanna talk… please?” he asks softly, a bit hurt at your reaction. he didn’t think he had done anything wrong and he fully wasn’t sure why you were so angry or hostile towards him. you close your eyes to calm down a bit before you answer him, “fine.” you say calmly. a smile crawls onto jake’s face, ecstatic that you finally agreed to speak with him. you exchange numbers and jake texts you the address with a heart emoji. “cut it out.” you say bluntly and jake obliges. “ok, sorry. please drive safe.” he says, almost hinting at your accident years ago. a wound you weren’t ready to open up with jake. 

you didn’t notice, however, that when jake gave you his number to put in yours, he didn’t ask for yours. jake, although you haven’t been together for sometime, still kept your number in his phone saved under “y/n” with a pink heart and ring emoji. he hadn’t even changed your contact photo. it was a picture of you at the beach. it was his favorite photo of you and his favorite memory. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you had arrived at the cafe, “cafe chaconne” in cursive written above the glass doors. jake was patiently waiting for you at the entrance, eyes lighting up and lips widening into a smile when he spotted you exiting your car and walking towards him. 

“m’lady.” jake says while opening the door with a curtsy. you narrow your eyes at him and he straightens up and clears his throat. “sorry.” he mumbles and watches you enter, not seeing the smile on your face. jake releases a big sigh and prepares himself for this moment he didn’t realize he was waiting for. 

the two of you quickly put in an order with the younger barista at the counter, jake fighting you on the bill and insisting to pay for your drink. a normal banter between the two of you when you were dating, a wave of deja vu hitting you as a short memory flashes in your mind. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“hi, can we get the bill please?” jake asks the waitress and she looks at jake with a confused expression. “sir your meal has been paid for already.” she kindly informs your boyfriend and now it’s jake’s turn to return the confused expression. when jake is too confused to speak, the waitress walks away after saying her goodbyes. 

jake is still confused but his face changes when his eyes land on you. a shit-eating grin on your face as you smile at jake’s reaction. he soon realizes you’re the one who covered the bill and had beaten him to it. 

“why do you always fight me on the bill?” jake says with a pout and you just shrug and stick you’re tongue out at him. 

“you’re just my little princess.” you say and blow a kiss his way. jake at first rolls his eyes but pretends to catch the kiss and places it inside of his jacket. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“y/n? you alright?” jake says, knocking you out of your thoughts as you realize you’ve just been standing absentmindedly in the middle of the cafe. the two of you walk to a small table just big enough for the two of you and the silence is a bit awkward. 

“you brought me here, so what do you want?” you say, your tone is a bit more sharp than you intended but you could tell jake wasn’t phased as it seemed like he was glad you broke the silence. “right!” jake says, almost jumping out of his seat at the sound of your voice. he clears his throat before speaking. 

“sooo… how are you?” jake asks, testing the waters, unsure of how to start the conversation; trying to tiptoe around the touchy subject and tension between the two of you. “is that really what you wanted to ask me?” you respond and before jake can reply, the barista brings the two of you your drinks. you both thank her and as you take a sip of your hot chocolate, “i miss you y/n.” jake says, causing you to choke on your drink and jake’s eyes widen at your reaction. 

“sorry, the drink is really hot.” you say trying to play it off so it didn’t hurt his feelings and jake gives you a small tight-lipped smile. he knows that his statement was abrupt and by your reaction it definitely caught you off guard but he took no offense to it all. deciding that just getting it out of the way would be the best even if you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. those four words were something that had been eating at him since the last time he saw you and he had no way of telling you until now. 

“um, jake. i don’t know what to say-” you respond but jake softly puts his hand over yours. letting you know that you didn’t have to feel the same way but that he just wanted to you know that. “it’s alright. just know that i’ve never stopped thinking about you.” jake says and you close your eyes. trying to hold yourself together, surprised that this was making you more emotional than you thought it would, unsure of what to say or feel. 

“please, tell me about you. how’ve you been? i wanna know everything.” jake says and you slowly fill him in on your life. only the parts that you were willing to share, omitting all of the traumatic things that happened during your healing journey and focusing on the brighter side but jake brings up the accident and at first you were reluctant but figured that jake deserved to know the full truth. 

“after the accident i was in a coma and after 8 months i somehow woke up. then my parents moved me to the states for better medical treatment. something about knowing a doctor there that specializes in physical therapy i don’t even know but i wasn’t necessarily in the position to question it.” you explain, jake nodding as he actively listened to you, a part of him wanting to hug and console you as you spoke after seeing tears well in your eyes. you had hoped that jake didn’t notice so you wiped them away and kept talking. you explained how after the accident, you were in a coma for about 8 months and miraculously lived through it. 

“i was in the states until just a few months ago. i actually fully healed last year but didn’t decide to come back until recently.” you finish and jake is just nodding. at this point he was half listening and the other half was scanning your face. you were still as beautiful as jake remembered but he could tell some parts of you were different. you had a different aura to you and jake couldn’t blame you. what you went through was tragic and traumatic and he couldn’t imagine just how much pain and ache it caused you. he doesn’t realize a small tear is rolling down his cheek until you point it out.

“jake are you crying?” you ask and he snaps out of his thoughts. this time it was his turn to wipe the tears from his eyes and act like they weren’t there. “i’m really sorry you went through all of that, y/n.” jake says and you could tell he was being genuine. you mutter a small thank you before taking a sip of your drink. confusion brewing inside of you as you begin to feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. feelings that you only ever felt with jake. 

“i had amnesia for a while. if i’m being honest i can’t even remember what it was like because the more i remembered old memories and made new ones, it filtered out me not remembering anything at all.” you explained, half unsure if what you said even makes sense but due to jake’s nod you assumed that it did. “i don’t even remember the night i got into the accident-” you begin to say. 

“i’m really sorry!” jake says abruptly, interrupting you just as you were about to finish what you were saying. it was like he needed to get his apology out of his system despite having just apologized a few moments ago. like this apology was for something specific rather than a general condolscenes. “you don’t have to be sorry jake. it’s not your fault.” you say, comforting him because clearly he was feeling a strong bowt of emotion from hearing what happened to you. 

“but you should feel sorry for never reaching out to me…” you say quietly but to jake it was loud and clear. “why did you come see me… at all?” you ask, this was a question that had been weighing on you for sometime. when your memories of jake came back, that was one of the first things you thought of, but ever since that day you had never received an answer. maybe now you would. 

jake opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. like he was thinking of the correct thing to say but nothing leaves his lips besides another apology. jake drops his head, embarrassed at his weakness and for not telling you what you needed to hear. you were so tired of hearing sorries and apologies. none of that was going to bring you back together and no apology was going to fix the irrepairable damage that night did to you. but you couldn’t blame jake for that, you’d never blame jake for what happened that night. 

you sigh as you stand up, jake’s eyes following you as you sling your bag over your shoulder and fix your coat. “thanks for the drink jake. i’ll see you around, i guess.” you say and before jake can even respond or react, you’re walking away from and out the door. “god, i’m so stupid.” jake says as he once again drops his head in embarrassment. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you weren’t sure where you were going but you soon found yourself walking along han river. the weather was fairly chilly but your coat provided enough warmth that allowed you to enjoy the air without feeling cold. you find an open spot on the grassy fields that ran alongside han river, the field was filled with families and couples on picnic blankets enjoying food and drinks and the company of their loved ones. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“i could totally fall asleep here.” you say as you lay down on the blanket that jake had laid out on the grass. the two of you were on a date at han river for your birthday, the weather was perfect for a picnic so he had planned the whole thing, all you needed to do was show up. 

“yeah? you wanna take a nap? we totally can!” jake says, encouraging your idea but you laugh it off. wanting to enjoy the day that jake had planned for you as you watched him unpack a basket, laying out all of your favorite food and snacks onto the blanket.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

you’re sat on the plush grass when your eyes start to feel heavy, slowly sliding down onto your back and carefully placing your head onto your arm as a makeshift pillow; drifting off to sleep in the middle of the field with the soothing sounds of han river like a lullaby. the cold night wind whips past your sleeping figure and the cold chill wakes you from your slumber. blinking your eyes a few times, your gaze lands on the stars that are shining in the dark sky and you soon realize that you had been sleeping in the middle of the park.

no other soul was present and although you were a bit fearful that you were alone in the dark at night, your fears were easily brushed away knowing that there wasn’t anyone that could harm you. you pull yourself off the ground and dust your clothes off before heading to your car and back home. 

the drive back to your sister’s house wasn’t long but the sleepiness was holding onto you as you drove, fighting off the heaviness in your eyes by blinking rapidly and turning up the music from the radio. thankfully, you weren’t asleep for too long and still had enough time in the night to freshen up before bed, thankful that you didn’t ruin your sleep. 

pulling into the driveway, you see an unfamiliar car parked in front of the garage, however, you know you’ve seen it somewhere but due to your sleepy nature it was a bit hard to wrap your brain around where you had seen the car before. you trudged towards the front door after parking your car and just as you’re pushing the door open, you hear your sister arguing with someone in the dining room. you instantly run over to see what all the commotion was and find your sister facing a man whose back is facing you. 

he slowly turns around after hearing your footsteps and it turns out to be jake. that’s where you knew where the car is from, you saw his car at your niece’s school, you saw his car at the store, and at the cafe. 

“what the fuck is going on?” you ask, irritation in your voice as you look at your sister and jake. why the hell was jake in your sister’s house and why were they arguing?

“tell her, joy…” jake says slowly, averting his gaze to your sister and onto the floor when your sister doesn’t immediately oblige. “yn, look…” she says, approaching and you can’t help but feel nervous as she steps closer to you. joy holds your hands in hers. “y/n… listen to me, ok?” she begins and you can’t help but grow more anxious the longer she stretches out what she’s going to say to you.

“when you got into the accident-” she continues but jake cuts her off. “it was my fault.” he abruptly says and your eyes slightly twitch at his confession. “what’s your fault..?” you ask, unsure if you want to know the answer to your question. “the accident… it happened because of me, ok?” jake confesses and you’re struggling to understand what he could even mean by that.

how could jake be responsible for your accident and you not know a single thing about it…

you force them to continue and to not leave out any details. 

“the night of the accident, before you got into your car in the rain and crashed… we got into a fight. it all happened so fast but you stormed out of our apartment and drove off before i could even stop you…” jake recalls and your brain starts to swell as you’re gaining all this new information about the traumatic time in your life. 

“jake ran to the hospital as fast he could when i called him-” joy begins to say but you interrupt her. “wait… you were the cause of my accident and you didn’t try to reach out… not once?” you ask jake, confusion turning into anger as more questions brew inside of your head. “you knew… this whole time? since it happened and up until now? you even tried to find your way back into my life and you knew this whole time and witheld this information from me?” you scoff, absolute shock in your voice at the audacity of jake and quite frankly also your sister. 

“y/n, please. mom and dad didn’t let him see you. they refused… they didn’t want him anywhere near you after he explained to them what happened.” your sister further explains but it doesn’t fix anything. 

jake let you leave that night and didn’t even fight to get you back. you left that night but he was the one who abandoned you. 

“you’re both despicable!” you shout, cheeks burning red and veins purtruding on your forehead and neck. “i don’t care what mom and dad think, you, BOTH of you, should’ve never hid this from me…” you say with more anger and as you take a step closer, a wave of nausea washes over you; causing you to stumble. 

your body suddenly feels heavy at your feet but your head is light. in a motion to grab your temble, your legs suddenly give out from underneath you and you start to fall; luckily, jake was fast enough to catch you. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

“baby, they hate me! you know this, you can see the way they treat me!” jake says. the two of you were having your monthly argument about your parents and how they’ve never liked him. jake was a good guy, he was ambitious, smart, caring, and loving. everything you wanted and admired about him but your parents only saw the lack of digits in his bank account. 

jake wasn’t well off but he took care of himself and his family back home. your parents never approved of your relationship and when he tried to get their blessing for your hand in marriage, they threw a fit. going as far as to ruin the surprise for you and tell you that you’re forbidden to wed jake and that they’d never approve of it. 

which only caused you to question their thinking as you knew nothing about wedding, leading to jake’s proposal being spoiled but him not wanting to explain to you the full scope of the issue. 

jake wanted your parents blessing for your hand in marriage but they wouldn’t allow it; jake however, had too much pride in himself to face you and ask you to make a decision. either spend the rest of your life with him or choose the path your parents want for you if it meant he would no longer be in the picture. or was he afraid..? 

afraid that if he was to ask you this question, there wouldn’t be any doubt or second thought in your mind to leave him because your parents said so. 

that’s where you were now, you were trying to get jake to talk to you about why he all of a sudden was so upset over an ordeal with your parents you barely even knew about, but he was too stubborn and would tiptoe around what he really wants to say… until it came out of his mouth in the worst way possible. 

“fine! whatever, if you want to be your parent’s little robot for the rest of your life rather than to be happy, then go right ahead. be my guest!” jake says, throwing his hands in the air in frustration and betrayal even if you hadn’t even made any decision yet and had no clue where any of this was coming from. you were, however, hurt. hurt that jake would say something like this to you knowing your history with your parents.

“is that how you really feel?” you ask, your voice low as you bite your bottom lip in an attempt to fight off tears. jake doesn’t respond, not because he has nothing to say, but because he’s afraid that he’ll say the wrong thing. 

but you take his silence as a yes. resulting in you storming out of your apartment with jake and to your car, waiting to cry until you get inside the car and drive off. you weren’t sure where you were going but the tears obstructing your vision wasn’t helping the fact that it was suddenly raining an intense amount compared to just moments ago. 

you didn’t even have enough time to react before a bright light quickly approaches your vision paired with rapid honking and your memory goes black. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

as you make impact with the car in your dream, you’re jolted awake with a gasp. you’re laying on the couch while joy and jake are intently watching you from across the couch. they both jump to your side when you wake up, asking if you’re okay, and although you’re still quite upst at them, you choose to accept their acts of care and comfort because you know they truly do care for you. 

“i’m fine… i just had a really intense dream.” you say as you continue to explain what happened. as you unravel the emotional events of your dream, jake explains to you that it wasn’t a dream and that was what happened the night you got into an accident. swallowing the dryness in your throat, you ask jake if he can give you and your sister a moment. 

he slowly glances between the two of you before heading off somewhere, “you can wait in my room, jake.” you say and you watch him head down the stairs to where your bedroom is in the basement. 

“what… is happening..?” you ask and she looks at you like you’re a wounded bird. your sister sighs before she unloads everything onto you, explaining the events of your accident up until your recovery, filling in the missing pieces of your mind. 

she explains that your parents never liked jake and with him being the cause of the accident, your parents double downed and refused to let him see you. using that as a reason to fuel their hatred for jake, the accident acting as a mask to hide their real reason for their distaste of jake; because he didn’t come from a rich family like you.

the news weighed heavy on your heart, not knowing the sorrow that jake was going through while you were also going through something traumatic. you wished jake was there by your side because it would’ve made everything so much easier. having jake by your side always made things easier for you…

you quickly thanked your sister and gave her a hug before going to find jake in your room. walking down the short stairs felt like eternity as you think about everything that happened. you held so much hatred for jake because he wasn’t there for you but it wasn’t even his fault. you find jake standing by your bed, holding a photo in his hands, “hi, jake.” you say, slightly startling him. 

“y/n!! sorry, i didn’t mean to snoop.” he says before setting down the photo where it originally was. it was a photo of you on your birthday, a photo that jake took.”its okay… um.” you begin to say, unsure of what you even want to say to him. “wait… let me go first.” jake says and he takes your silence as a yes before continuing. 

“i know that you probably hate me for keeping this from you, but please don’t hate your sister. she was only doing what your parents asked. it was my fault you ran out and drove in the rain that night. i’m sorry for causing you so much hurt and pain and im so sorry for not taking responsibility for it. i wish i could go back to that night and stop you from leaving. i really fucking wish i tried harder…” jake says, biting back tears. 

walking over to jake and gently taking his hands in yours while placing another on his cheek; you wipe away a single tear that had broke loose from his lashes. “it’s not your fault jake. please don’t blame yourself…” you say but he disagrees. explaining that none of this would’ve happened if he just chose not to fight or if he stopped you from leaving. “jake, there was no way any of us could’ve known that i would get into an accident that night…” you continue. “the only thing i care about is that i’m alive… and got to see you again.” jake’s eyes met yours when he heard your confession. a sliver of hope brewing inside of him as he believes this could lead to what he’s been wanting to go back to for years. 

“but jake… why did you let my parents stop you? couldn’t you have visited when they were there? or tried to see me?” you ask and jakes eyes melt at your question. “y/n, i did. i wrote you a letter everyday and whenever i tried to visit you, security that your parents hired stopped me…” he explains and your heart breaks even more at the idea that your parents hated him so much they wouldn’t even let you see him, going as far as to hire a security guard to stop jake. 

you endlessly apologize to jake, tears now running down your eyes as you wrap your arms around him, crying into his chest as he softly rubs your back. “don’t apologize, my love.” he says and your heart instantly flutters at the petname. “can we start over?” you ask, looking up at him and a smile spreads across his face. it’s kind of like you already had a do over a life anyways after waking up from your coma so what’s the difference with starting over with jake. “of course, my love.” he says and you hug one another tightly; not wanting to let go. 

jake eventually goes home even though you begged him to say. the only reason you let him leave was because he said he promised to watch a movie with his nephew but he promised to come back tomorrow to take you on your “second first date”. you smiled at his words as you walk him to his car. “thank you for giving me another chance.” jake says. you lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek, “thank you for not giving up on me.” you say before turning on your heel and walking back inside, not seeing jake’s cheeks turn a bright red from your small kiss. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

the next morning, you woke up with a smile on your face as you prepared for your date with jake. after getting ready and putting on a dress in jake’s favorite color, you head upstairs to find your sister in the living room with a box. she’s rummaging inside of it and when she notices your presence, her eyes light up. 

“y/n!” she says, waving you over to come closer. “these are all the letters that jake wrote you when you were in the coma.” she says and your mouth falls slightly open, “i would steal them before mom or dad found it and kept them. i forgot about them until last night.” she says andyou just give her a tight hug. in this box were hundreds of letters and jakes days without you. as you began to read them, you found yourself laughing and crying. some letters were emotional with jake writing about the pain of being away from you and not being able to apologize or even get to apologize.

other letters were short and lighthearted where jake would just write about his day and what he ate. often it would just be ramen, his favorite. 

you were crying as you read each letter and before you knew it, jake was texting you to say that he was outside; ready to pick you up for your date. 

as you walked outside, trying to hide that you were previously crying, jake gives you a small kiss on the cheek, “hey… have you been crying?” he asks and you reassure him that you’re okay. “okay, love. ready for our second first date?” he asks and you nod eagerly, a smile on your face that he hasn’t seen in years and a smile that you haven’t genuinely shown in just as long, maybe even longer.  you didn’t know that you could ever feel so happy or feel loved again like before the accident, but getting back together with jake helped you put together your memories again, it was like everything came together like a scrapbook. torn and ripped pages, dried out flowers, and memories that apart don’t mean a lot but when put together, everything makes sense… and with jake by your side; you were finally together again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

[ibaimendi]

Okay, so: this is a copyright thing so I want to write a little more about it. This is all accurate but there’s more!

So: yeah, the court ruled that only humans can hold copyrights, but (as prev mentioned) it’s not just about animals. You also can’t copyright a work, for instance, that you claim was dictated to you by a spirit or a god. Works that were randomly or automatically generated *without* the use of AI also don’t get copyright. Anyway, the reasoning behind this is important: Only humans can hold copyrights, because in the US, the purpose of copyright is (ostensibly) to incentivize people to create new works. (Obviously there are problems with this theory, but it’s the go-to in making arguments about copyright under US laws.)

But that’s not the only reason that AI works aren’t eligible for copyright! People who see a use for AI will argue that AI is a mechanical tool that the author is using to create their own work, like a camera. Photographs are definitely copyrightable, despite being created with the aid of a machine. What’s the difference?

WELL, it turns out that the difference is the idea/expression dichotomy. You can only copyright expressions, not ideas. So let’s say there was a beautiful tree in a park in your town and lots of artists came to make art of it. Photograph, paintings, poems, etc. It’s a great tree. Copyright doesn’t prevent this! The first artist who made a picture of the tree holds copyright in their picture, but not in the idea of portraying this tree. And if you look at all the portrayals of the tree, they will be similar in some ways (they’re all inspired by the same thing, after all), but they will also be different, because they were created by many different artists with different styles, techniques, and even mistakes. Each artist holds copyright in the things that make their version of the tree unique. So some elements can be copyrighted and some can’t.

Now, let’s say an AI “knew” about the tree and I asked the AI to produce a picture of that tree in the fall in an Impressionist style. It would produce a picture. BUT all the things that make that picture special came from the AI (or more accurately, from things that were fed into the AI during its training). All I came up with is the idea, which isn’t copyrightable. So I wouldn’t get the copyright (I didn’t add anything original to this work), and the AI also wouldn’t get the copyright (it can’t hold copyright). The picture is uncopyrightable.

But it’s also kind of broad to say that AI-generated works can’t be copyrighted at all. Copyright usually has more nuance than that. For instance, you know Raymond vs Feist, the phone book case? A phone book can’t be copyrighted, because no creativity went into it. Information was taken and organized in a completely standardized and conventional way. So, we might say that phone books can’t be copyrighted, and that lists in general are more difficult to copyright, but there *can* be creativity in a list if the elements are selected and arranged in a creative way. So a normal phone book probably doesn’t get a copyright, but John Hodgman’s list of hobo names does, because he made up all those names and he organized them in the way he thought would be funniest.

Similarly, if an artist (and this post is mostly about visual arts, but other media work similarly) took a bunch of images that were created by AI, and selected, combined, and arranged them in an interesting and original way to make some kind of artistic point or other, there could be some copyright in that work. But, importantly, the copyright would apply only to the selection and arrangement, not to the AI-generated images themselves.

This really makes the Studios costing themselves even more money (and getting more unions involved) by prolonging the strike for the promise of free ai labor even more fucking funny. you dumb fucking bastards lol

[destielnoirbang]

Who Framed Sam Winchester?

By queerwerewolf | @queerwolf79 Art by anyrei | @anyreiart

Coming to Ao3 on 12/27/2024

Rated Explicit | 29,180 words | No Archive Warnings Apply

Down-on-his-luck private eye Cas Novak gets hired by Angelic Studios president, Nick Vaught, to investigate a scandal involving an infamous literary character (Lit), Dean Winchester, and Vaught’s primary nemesis, Fergus Crowley. A devilish producer and prop designer who has his hands in every movie studio in Los Angeles. Crowley’s prop factory shares a wall with Lit Town, and worse yet, he owns the contract for every Lit. Every contract, that is, except for brothers Sam and Dean Winchester from the Supernatural book series. When Crowley is found murdered, Sam Winchester becomes the primary suspect and goes on the run. The villainous Judge Edlund vows to catch and destroy Sam, having discovered a means of killing Lits with a substance known only as “Pulp”. Desperate to prove his brother’s innocence, Dean demands Cas help him find his brother before the Judge does. Despite vowing to never work with another Lit after his twin brother's murder, Cas agrees. With a contentious start to their working relationship, Dean Winchester and Cas Novak begin to uncover an ever growing nefarious plot. Can Cas and Dean put a stop to this evil ploy? And more importantly, will their attraction to each other get in the way of saving the day?

[Keep reading for a sneak preview!]

“Cigars? Cigarettes?”

When I turned, it was to come face to face with Dorian Gray. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t aged a day in about a decade or so. Now whether that was because he was a Lit, or that damned portrait… His cobalt blue eyes rivaled my own, although, if I’m honest, his were always prettier. His curly blonde hair was coifed in a pompadour and his scarlet lips were curled in a hungry smile. He was dressed in a form-fitting pair of charcoal pants and an even tighter black t-shirt that left little to the queer imagination, carrying a tray of different smokes.

“Dorian, what are you doing here?”

With a wistful, overly dramatic sigh, Dorian pouted his plush lips and said, “Work’s been slow for those of us with a little more… culture.” Which meant with how many contemporary novels were capturing the attention of audiences, any Lits from the 19th century or earlier had to get creative to make a living. This suited Dorian, considering his nature. “But I’m still exquisitely tragic.”

With a soft laugh, I nodded, reveling in his beauty for a moment, although I was far too old for him now. “Yeah, you are.”

The lights started to dim and a spotlight shined on the closed curtains. I caught Crowley in my peripheral vision, straightening his tie and sitting upright. He even pulled out a small bottle of cologne, spraying it against his neck. It reeked of licorice and cloves, the breath of a child that got into his father’s cigarette case.

I turned to Dorian with a bemused expression. “What’s with him?”

Dorian smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle on his pants with a shrug. “Oh, Mr. Crowley never misses a night when Dean performs.”

“Got a thing for Lits, huh?”

At that, Dorian gave me a pointed look. “If I recall, you did as well at one point.”

I cleared my throat and grabbed my drink, gulping down half of it at the implication, feeling a warmth at the memories that comment conjured. The crowd grew silent and the band could be heard from the pit, warming up their instruments. Then a familiar intro began, an infamously upbeat Cole Porter song that had been slowed down from a jazzy little jaunt to something sedated, steady, and sentimental. Just as a soft beat began, the curtains jostled and a leg popped out, bent at the knee in skin tight purple pants.

“We’re all alone… No chaperone… Can get our number… the world’s in slumber… ” A sultry, deep voice sang in a pleasant register, masterfully turning jazz to a ballad. The curtains parted and revealed one of the most breathtaking creatures I had ever seen in my life.

“Let’s misbehave…”