#so i know the fact he does that is important

[loreandletters]

The most important fact is that Jake’s is fine. He is a-okay with being left in a haunted cemetery. All alone. In the middle of the night. He’s also pretty poor, and since fear is costly, being fine and being is his only option. 

Ghosts? Psha! Try looking at his bills, those are scary. Eyeless ghouls? Good thing it doesn’t cost much to scribble out a talisman or sprinkle some salt. Some wannabe witches trying to summon the devil? Not on his fucking watch! Those candles leave a mess, don’t they know that?

People look down on cleaning, but doesn’t anyone realize that the sanitation department runs the world? Garbage men keep the streets clean, ushers man the stores, and Jake weeds and washes graves. What better honor is there than guarding the deceased from moss and mold? No better money too.

Jake’s lamp flickers as he pulls up another weed. 

“Money, money, money,” Jake sings, forcing himself not to rush, “must be funny, in a rich man’s world.”

The grave is illuminated poorly, the mossed over letters just barely spelling out ‘here lies Jasmine Helma, the sweetest wife a man could ask for.’ It’s also just barely enough to see the half-screaming ghostly face sticking out of the stone. Jake hums patiently, plucking more weeds that are growing at the foot of the grave.

80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year. Jake chants, the mantra beating religiously within his cranium. The numbers aren’t exactly accurate, but what rich man counts pennies? (he also heard somewhere that rhymes help ward off misfortune) 80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year.

Yeah, he hasn’t been here more than six months, so what? He makes it a year, that’s a six figure salary! All for picking weeds and scrubbing stone (along with the occasional security). He doesn’t need a degree or some nepotism (both of which he doesn’t have), just a spine of steel. Honestly, he doesn’t have that either, but for 160k he does. He’ll fucking sprout wings and fly if they asked him to.

….Jake’s really poor.

Not for long though, he promised himself.

“I’ll kill you!” the ghoulish face shrieked, mouth cranked inhumanly wide, unmoving yet still speaking, “you cheating manwhore! I’ll kill you!”

“I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay,” Jake sings. Ghosts like these forget they’re dead, and only repeat what the last thing they said before they died. It happens the longer they stick around. Their looks fade, their voices lose any recognizable lilt, leaving them with a dragging, wretched voice that is indistinguishable from any other ghost. 

“I’ll kill you! You cheating manwhore! I’ll kill you!”

 “Ain’t that sad?” Jake wasn’t shivering out of fear, he was just cold. Who cared if she was screaming? That wouldn't pay his rent, picking these weeds would. 

“I’ll kill you!”

“And still there never seems to be, a single penny left for me,” Jake fixed his flickering lamp, hand dipping into the bucket of soap and water to fetch the sponge.

“You cheating manwhore!”

“That’s too bad.” Jake began to scrub. He scrubbed around the headstone, around the ghost, and when he was done, everything but that one spot was sparkling clean. The night chilled his drying hands but Jake muscled on. 80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year.

“Cleaning again, Jacob dear?”

“If I got me a wealthy man, I wouldn’t have to work at all,” James' voice immediately became louder, singing now ringing across the graveyard, “I’d fool around and have a ball!”

The floating annoyance chuckled, “if that’s a yes to my offer, I’m afraid you’ll have to be more clear.”

It was a month ago now that he’d chased off the amateur witches. They were ambitious kids, and like all kids, stupid. Breaking into a graveyard to play with powers beyond their control, who does that? Without Jake they likely would have died. Unfortunately, they were skilled idiots. Skilled enough to summon something, just not a demon. Jake isn’t a witch so he can’t say what exactly, only that it isn’t one of hells many soldiers. That’s why the thing calls him by a fake name. He may not know much, but he isn’t stupid enough to be giving out his real name to anyone who asks. For some reason It’s stuck in the graveyard, and because Jake’s only job is to clean the graveyard not fix the graveyard, that isn’t his problem. It’s just another thing he needs to ignore.

“Money, money, money, must be funny, in a rich man’s world!” Jake has been singing this song for the past hour, stuck on a couple verses because he doesn’t actually know the whole thing, and he’s too scared right now to think of another. He’s fine though! Don’t lose it now, Jake. Remember, 80 bucks an hour, 160,000 a year - keep your eyes on the prize!

The next grave has a ghoul hiding behind it, the monstrous thing shivering as it tries to take refuge in the shadow of the headstone. They’re relatively harmless so long as you don’t start chasing them. Just to be sure, he has a shitty talisman that he’d haggaled a priest for, though to be honest he probably shouldn’t have bothered. They tend to feed on happier victims. 

It’s their form that unnerves most people; twig like limbs, far too long for the small torso they’re connected to, with muscles all distorted and twisted. Freaks folks out. Luckily, they're more shadow than physical, so he doesn't worry about stepping on them. He begins his process again, picking weeds and trashing rubbish. Must have been the teenagers again. Don’t they have anything better to do with their time?

“Money, money, money,” Jake sings, loud as he can. The not-demon thing trails behind him. 

“Oh Jacob, I could give you money and so much more,” the being takes on a young man's form tonight, chest exposed by an open shirt, the body underneath toned, skin shining in the moonlight as It lays back in the air. Confident in the image It’s made, as if Jake will fall over at the sight alone. “All you have to do is ask.”

Thick manicured hands run across the shapeshifted body in a lustful fashion. Tonight, the face is sharp and beautiful, wet lips and curly hair, with green eyes as sparkling as gems. There’s a pout on his lips. Last shift the thing had taken on a woman, and before that a large wolf, and before that, a cripple - anything to pull his heartstrings. Friendship, romance, companionship - what will it take for Jake to say yes? There’s only one answer, of course.

Money. Money is why he’s here. Best part? This job will get him all his desires without asking him for his soul. He’ll pay off his debts, his rent, his brother's medical bills and he’ll get to be alive to enjoy it. 

So, Jake grits his teeth and bears it. The ghosts, the ghouls, the not-demon; just sings, scrubbing at a leisure pace so that maybe he can get an extra hour on his shift tonight. I mean, c’mon, it’s 80 an hour. Wouldn’t you? 

You've been hired to clean a graveyard every night for 80 bucks an hour. Its haunted. And by god you are going to make that 80 bucks an hour

[heavyhitterheaux]

Hello

See Me Through You Series

You had me at hello

Synopsis: The day that you met the love of your life and didn't realize it until almost a year later

Series Masterlist

Stepping onto the sidewalk as you had just left the building where your journalism class had just ended, your phone suddenly vibrated in your back pocket. It took you a minute to grab it, seeing as both of your hands were occupied at the moment. Doing a balancing act with your purse, backpack, keys and your binder that contained your notes, but was too big to fit in your backpack, you finally had a free hand.

Pulling it out of your back pocket, you saw it was your younger twin brother by three minutes Ja'Marr calling on facetime and took no hesitation to answer it. This was his fifth call to you today and knew that about four more would come your way and the worst part about it was that it wasn't even noon.

Not that you were upset about it. If your little brother called and needed you, he always became the priority and everything would be dropped at that very moment.

“What does your ugly ass want?” You asked him as his face came into view. He promptly rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth before saying anything. You could tell that he was in the gym and was probably waiting on you to get there since you had promised to work out with him.

“If I'm ugly, so are you because we're twins, stupid!”

“No, that's what mom and dad tell you but they actually found you in a dumpster and felt sorry for you and took you in.” You told him as you laughed and started to make your way back to your car to head to your apartment that was off campus.

It was only a few miles down the road which you were thankful for and the good part is that you could also drive home to see your parents on the weekends if you wanted to.

You were relieved when Ja'Marr decided to attend LSU with you because the two of you had never been apart in your entire lives. Deep down you knew that you would have eventually adjusted to him not being at the same college as you, but also glad that you didn't have to go that route.

“Y/N!”

“Just kidding! What do you need assistance with, little one?”

“Little one? I'm 6’1 and you are BARELY 5 feet on a good day. Try again.”

You were suddenly taken aback as you saw someone come into the frame behind him and did a double take once you recognized who it was.

Growing up in a sports filled household, college football as well as the NFL was not foreign to you. You watched both of them and knew players as well as their stats forwards and backwards. So to your surprise, you were actually seeing him in real time. You heard of the transfer happening, but it was different seeing him right in front of you.

So the rumors were true, he was really here.

Joe Burrow

Who used to play for Ohio State apparently was now playing for LSU.

“Ja'Marr, I will hang up. State your business or move on.”

“I thought you were supposed to meet me at the gym to work out AND bring my headphones that I know for a fact you stole.”

“YOU CAN'T PROVE IT!”

“Hmm, funny. I recall you asking me to use them last week and I haven't seen them since.”

“I threw them away.”

“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DEMAND ON STRESSING ME OUT? And I have someone here I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

“Will you just hurry up and get here and stop arguing with me!? I can pick your ass up and throw you across the room.”

“Hmm, sounds like a threat. I'm calling mommy. Bye.”

“Uh hold on, WAIT! DON'T CALL HER!”

Click.

Once back in your apartment, you quickly changed into your pink and black Fabletics workout set with your matching HOKAS and went on the search not only for Ja'Marr's headphones, but also yours. Since he let you borrow his, you didn’t bother trying to find yours even though you know you should have.

The both of you worked out with each other several times a week and it was important seeing as he played football and you were on the gymnastics team with your best friend, Erin.

Putting your curly hair into a high bun since you didn’t have time to straighten it this morning, you grabbed your wallet, water bottle, and keys before making your way back down to your car and heading to the gym.

Walking inside, you spotted him along with Joe in the corner next to the weight rack and promptly came up behind him and attempted to pick him up as you saw Joe's face giving a small smirk because of the gesture. You admit that you didn't realize how tall Joe actually was and you noticed that he was taller than Ja'Marr when they stood next to one another.

“HEY! Oh, it's just you. Joe, my big little sister by three minutes and she will never let you forget it, Y/N and Y/N this is Joe. And you are never going to be able to pick me up.” He told you while patting the top of your head as you were now trying to pick up his left leg.

“Just you watch. It's going to happen one day when you least expect it. Anyway, Hi Joe, and Ja'Marr you should know better. I already know who you are.” You told him and he looked a little confused before greeting you.

“Hey, you do gymnastics right? I saw you compete over the summer.”

You smiled before nodding, taken aback that he knew who you were also. Not a lot of attention was put on gymnastics unless it was during the Olympics. Your goal was to go to Tokyo in 2020.

“Didn't take you for a gymnastics type of guy.” You replied while attempting to fix your hair that had now fallen out of the bun you put it in. You blamed it on not being tight enough the first time.

“It's entertaining to watch.”

“Hmm, because of the outfits?” You asked as you were trying to feel him out and you could've swore you heard Ja'Marr mutter something under his breath.

“No, I just think it's insane how you can do all those different types of exercises and routines just like it's nothing. You can literally visualize where you're going to land before it happens.”

“It's the same with football when you think about it. You're a quarterback so I can imagine that before you decide where you're going to throw and who you're going to throw to what the end result will be.”

“Something like that.”

“Stop interrogating the man! Sports journalism is her major and she thinks she's smart. So she of course knows all of the players and their stats. I’m convinced she’s going to start memorizing playbooks and try to get on the field with us.” Ja'Marr said as he turned to Joe and you pinched his arm resulting in a yelp as Joe let out a small laugh.

“I'm smarter than your dumbass. That's for sure and are we going to work out or stand here all day? Besides I wasn't interrogating. You can't get to know someone unless you talk to them and ask questions.” You told him as you gave him his headphones.

“I'm ignoring you and what are we working on today?”

“Hmm full body I guess. I already did my legs, back, shoulders and arms this week.” You answered as you shrugged and put in your headphones. Flipping through your phone, you tried to find the perfect playlist in order to get through the workout and hopefully finish strong.

You usually hated working out with Ja’Marr since he would always want to add on something extra at the end of it when you were ready to go home and crawl into the bed.

Joe and Ja’Marr quickly agreed and it was decided that the three of you would warm up by running on the treadmill for three miles before going back to the weight rack.

On your second mile, your music was suddenly cut off by your phone ringing. Looking down you saw that it was Trevor, your boyfriend of one year who happened to play baseball at LSU and that was one of your primary reasons for going there. Also having your brother there was a plus.

Deep down you knew that your brother didn’t like him, but to you he was the best thing since sliced bread and could do no wrong in your eyes. But what you didn’t notice was Ja’Marr glancing over at your phone and seeing it was him and rolling his eyes.

You simply finished out your third mile before going to call him back leaving Ja’Marr there along with Joe who had turned down the speed to a brisk walk as he had done the same.

“I fucking hate her boyfriend.”

“Wait, what? He’s here too?” Joe asked as he was looking around.

“No, I saw that he called her and I’m guessing that she went to go and call him back. I can’t fucking stand him and she could do so much better. But she’s happy and the last thing I want to do is ruin that for her. He honestly treats her like shit from what I’ve seen, but I guess she doesn't see it that way.” He confessed as Joe had his eyes on you as you were standing in the corner. He figured that you were on facetime by the way you were holding it and making gestures with your hands.

“But he makes sure to never do that shit in front of me because I will take his ass down. I’m always going to protect my sister. I honestly wish that she was with someone who respected her and didn’t take her for granted like his ass does. She is honestly the sweetest most generous person despite how much we might bicker and she doesn’t deserve someone who takes her for granted. But you'll eventually be able to see how sweet she is for yourself. She literally lives up under me. When you see me, nine times out of ten she’s not too far behind.”

It was at that moment, you walked back over to them and Ja’Marr could tell that you were visibly upset.

“Pebbles, what’s wrong?” Ja’Marr asked but you simply waved him off.

Ever since you two were about six months old, your aunt on your mother's side started to call the two of you Pebbles and Bam Bam and the nicknames had stuck. It also was no coincidence since your mom used to love watching the Flintstones when she was small just like you and Ja’Marr did.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Let’s hurry up and get this done.” You responded as you felt tears forming in your eyes and you did your best to quickly wipe them away.

“You aren't fine so don't stand up here and lie to me. Did he upset you?”

Joe could now see that he was visibly upset which was in turn making you more upset.

“Don't worry about it, I just want to get this done so I can go back to my apartment and study.”

“If you need me to kick his ass, I stay ready.”

“JA'MARR! NO!”

“And Joe will back me up too. You should see how much he can bench press. No one will know.”

“I… I appreciate both of you very much for offering even though you literally just threw Joe in there without giving him a say in the matter, but I promise I'm good.”

“I'm here for assistance if needed.” Joe said and that put a small smile on your face.

“Yeah about that, show me how much you can bench press.”

“Oh lord, Joe you got her started. Now her competitive ass is going to see if she can beat you. She might be small, but don't let that fool you. She also eats like a grown ass man.”

“Bam Bam, keep talking and I will throw that 60 pound dumbbell at your head.”

The workout was winding down and you wanted to work on your pull ups a little bit more since the upper body was your weakest area. You stood in front of the pull up bar and noticed that Ja'Marr was in the middle of his set, so the only other option was to ask Joe for help to reach the bar since there was no way in the world that you would be able to get up there on your own. But he beat you to it as he walked over to you.

“Need some help?”

“Hmm, definitely yes since there is no way in the world I'll be able to reach it by myself.” You replied as you both laughed.

“I got you. Jump up and I'll lift you the rest of the way.”

Nodding your head, you turned around and felt Joe's light touch on both of your sides. You couldn't quite explain it, but when his hands made contact with your skin, the feeling that it gave you felt unreal. Almost if it was something out of a movie. Shaking it out of your mind, you focused on the task in front of you as you jumped up.

As promised Joe helped you the rest of the way and stepped back once he saw that you were hanging onto the bar.

“Do you mind just standing there to spot me? Pull ups aren't my strongest thing.”

“Yeah, I'll be right here. Go ahead, you think you can do twenty?”

“Hmm, let's find out. I think I can.”

Fifteen of them came with ease and when you started to struggle, you once again felt Joe's hands on your waist and he helped you do the rest of them. You let go of the bar with him then catching you and placing you on your feet.

“Thank you for that.” You told him and you received a cheeky smile in return.

“Any time.”

“By the end of the semester, my plan is to be able to bench press the same weight or more weight than you.” You playfully told him and the smile that he had before became wider.

“I'd love to see that, princess. So let's put some money on it.”

“How much? 50?” You asked not really knowing how much he was willing to put up.

“Nah, you can do better than that.”

“Okay, 500.” You said as you shrugged.

“Damn, I didn't think you would go that high, but okay. Ja'Marr also mentioned to me that since you're the oldest, what you say usually goes between the two of you.”

“He's teaching you well.”

“Hmm, we'll see if that holds up between the two of us.”

“Looks like we just have to see then, won't we Burrow?”

The next day, you found yourself yawning at five in the morning absentmindedly taking small bites of your protein bar as you began to stretch with Erin coming over to sit next to you.

You hated that you had gymnastics practice so early in the day, making all of your classes be in the afternoon or late at night. The campus itself was huge and you didn't always necessarily feel completely safe when you had to walk back to your car late at night.

“So, did you break up with Trevor yet?” She asked as she began to stretch her arms.

“Uh? Good morning to you too, Erin.”

“Good morning, now did you two break up yet?”

“No, Erin.”

She sighed before rolling her eyes and looking at you in disbelief.

“Nobody likes him! Dump his ass! And I don't like the way he treats you. Truth be told, I've never liked him.”

“But I like him!” You exclaimed and she gave you a blank stare.

“Yeah, only you and his bald headed mother. You could do so much better. Oh! Who did you meet yesterday when you went to workout with Ja’Marr? I guess you fell asleep and never read my text.”

“Joe Burrow. He plays quarterback.”

“Oohh, he's cute! I heard about him transferring here. Break up with Trevor and date him! There, problem solved.”

“ERIN!”

“What? You have addressed me by my name a lot this morning. I like my plan and I think it'll work. Besides, he's a sucky ass baseball player. My goal is to get my best friend to become a WAG and being with him is not going to get you very far. He didn't even get a scholarship here. He was a walk-on!”

“I have literally only met that man one time and yeah I've said your name a lot because how do you wake up this unhinged!?”

“So? Love at first sight is an actual thing. I wasn't there, but I know it happened. And it's been that way since we were three.”

“And he did help me with my pull ups yesterday.” You told her as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I'm going to start planning the wedding when we leave. My class doesn't start until one today.” She replied as she smiled at you.

“I…-”

“What are you two going on about over here?” Your other friend Alisha asked as she sat her bag down to the left of her.

“Y/N is getting married to Joe Burrow! We have to start planning!”

“Erin, shut up!”

“Oh, but he's cute. Do you know if he has any brothers?” Alisha replied as she sat down on the other side of you.

“I.. don't but I will find out for you.”

“And slip them my number while we're at it.”

“He helped her during their workout yesterday. At this point, we can say it was their first date.”

“Erin telling everyone's business as usual.”

“Hey! I'm just good at storytelling! And he had the perfect view of your ass if he helped you with your pull ups now that I think about it.”

“Sometimes I honestly cannot believe you're my best friend.” You said as you couldn't contain your laughter anymore.

“And you aren't getting rid of me any time soon.”

Gymnastics practice was always long and draining so you knew what to expect every time. They typically lasted for three hours and when you were finished, you either got breakfast on campus or went back to your apartment to make something as Ja'Marr would also be blowing up your phone to feed him even though he was on an entire meal plan just like you were.

After taking a shower and throwing on some leggings along with an LSU sweatshirt and your converses, you started to walk out the building with Erin since Alisha had to hurry up to get to her class on time, when you spotted Joe.

Of course, Erin noticed too and squealed.

“Ooh, there goes your man!”

“Erin, be quiet! I don't want him to hear you! You are too loud for it to be eight in the morning!”

“Why not? And I'm always loud. I'm responsible for this love connection and I'm going to be the maid of honor. He NEEDS to know me.”

Joe had turned around and once he spotted you began making his way over.

“Oh shit, here comes your husband!”

“I hate you. I hate you so much right now.”

“You'll get over it.” Erin said as she smiled.

“Morning princess. Just got out of practice?” He asked as he came up to both of you.

“Morning and yes. Now I'm going to stuff my face. Oh Joe, this is my best friend Erin.”

“Hey Erin, pleasure to meet you.”

“You too and the pleasure is all mine.” She said and you couldn't help but laugh quietly to yourself.

“I was actually going to get food if the two of you wanted to come with me.”

“Y/N will go! I have class but she is free ALL MORNING. So I'm going to go and Y/N, I'll text you later. Have fun you two.” Erin practically yelled and you looked at her as if she was crazy.

“And then there were two. Where did you want to go to eat?” Joe asked as Erin had started to walk away.

“You're from Ohio, so you need to get a taste of some good southern cooking that makes you feel like you have just gained ten pounds.”

“Lead the way.”

“We're going on a little adventure off campus, my car is just over there. I think you'll like it.”

Less than a mile from campus was Louie's Cafe that had amazing breakfast as well as brunch foods. Anything that you could possibly think of they served.

On the ride over, the two of you just made small talk and when both of you had placed your orders for your food, you wanted to see how he was feeling for his first game that he would be playing in on Sunday because you already knew Ja'Marr was a nervous wreck.

“How are we feeling about Sunday? You nervous?” You asked as you took a small sip of orange juice.

“A little bit and I can admit it. I mean I played when I was in Ohio, but I was the backup. Now I'm actually starting. A lot of pressure on my shoulders and I feel like I have something to prove. I want them to be able to see that they made the right choice.” Joe told you and you were clinging to every word.

“But that's so exciting! What made you transfer here though out of all places?”

“I didn't want to be sitting on a bench for four years. I wanted to be able to play. I know that I'm good, but I just need a chance to show it.”

“Hmm, I do love a man with confidence. Well I'm very excited for you and my brother. I hate how you guys aren't playing here, but I'll make sure I'm watching.”

“Always confident, never cocky. And I'll try to get my first win as a starting quarterback for you.” He responded as he gave you a small smile.

“I can't wait to see it happen so once you get back here, we can celebrate. I can cook, so I can make you something.”

“I've been craving something my mom makes all the time, Snickers Salad.” Joe replied and you looked at him confused.

“Um? Is that an Ohio thing? Because I have no idea what that is.”

Joe nodded as he laughed and your waiter had set your plates down on the table in front of you.

“It is, but I can always text you the ingredients you need to make it. I figured you could do it justice since Ja'Marr never stops talking about how well you cook.”

“You need my number to be able to do that.” You Cheekily said, but he fired right back.

“Mine is in yours, already. I put mine in when we first got here since I want to be able to see more of these special spots you know about.” Joe confidently told you as he was pouring syrup on his banana pecan pancakes that had been recommended by you.

“I've literally only known you now for about 36 hours and I can say that I like being around you.”

“Good, because I like being around you too.”

Just then your phone rang and of course it was no one other than Ja'Marr.

“Pebbles! Are you at Louie's Cafe!?!? And you didn't take me!? I checked your location! I'm hungry too!”

“I took Joe instead because he doesn't get on my nerves like you do.” You told him as you stabbed your eggs.

“WAIT, you took Joe!?!?”

“Yes, say hi. You're on speaker.”

“Hey Ja'Marr.” Joe said as he was trying not to laugh.

“Joe, just make sure my sister gets me something to go. I'm about to starve messing with her ass.”

“I got you.”

“Bye, baby brother.”

“Wait! I didn't give you my order!”

“Text it to me, bye.”

Once you hung up and placed your phone back on the table, you looked back up at Joe to see him staring at you.

“When do you have class?”

“Not until one.”

“You want to do some more exploring with me? I feel that it's now my obligation as your unofficial tour guide.”

“I get to be around a pretty girl so I'm all for it.”

“Joe, you do know that I have a boyfriend right?” You asked as your face heated up.

“Someone as pretty as you, I'm not surprised. But what does that have to do with me?” He asked as he winked at you.

This is the first time in your life that you were speechless.

[tritoch]

the warrior of light as a game-breaking force of violence

there's a moment, relatively early in dawntrail, that establishes succinctly how out of place the warrior of light (as the savior of eorzea and main character of four successive final fantasy game plots) is in what is essentially the story of fresh new final fantasy protagonist wuk lamat. and it sets up quite nicely how the framework of fantasy video game conflict pulls the warrior of light forever towards violence as the expansion goes on.

spoilers through 7.0 follow

consider wuk lamat's kidnapping and rescue. bakool ja ja holds his blade to wuk lamat's throat, taunting you. his lackeys line up against your party in neat little ranks suspiciously reminiscent of a classic final fantasy encounter screen.

and it simply does not matter to the warrior of light. you stride right through their combat setup because you are beyond that by now. the warrior of light has absolutely no respect for the "we are about to do ATB combat" lineup. the camera even jumps the line for you in one continuous rotating shot, crossing the axis of action as though to emphasize through the disruption of visual convention how far outside the game's boundaries you are.

this is how far you are above the problems of dawntrail's first half. you cannot even be bound by the normal rules of cinematography and video game combat. everyone else here lined up for a good old-fashioned scrap and the warrior of light said haha nope actually. i'm going to stroll through here like a god of war astride this tiny battlefield. your henchmen cannot even raise a hand to me. i don't even have to engage in violence directly anymore. my mere presence is enough.

in fact, not only can bakool ja ja's henchmen not raise a hand to you, he's not even worthy of your direct intervention. he kidnaps wuk lamat and steals her keystones and frees valigarmanda and kidnaps hunmu rruk and none of it warrants the warrior of light so much as raising a finger. he's wuk lamat's recurring villain, that's not your problem. you're just here to take in the scenery.

zoraal ja spends his whole life aspiring to be thought of as his father's equal and a worthy successor to the dawnservant as the "resilient son." all it takes for gulool ja ja to acknowledge you as a warrior on his level is like a five minute sparring match. the acknowledgement from gulool ja ja that zoraal ja hungered for his whole life and would eventually go full cyborg supervillain to get via regicide is something the warrior of light receives casually in a throwaway line after their level 93 solo duty on the way to more important plot conversations.

it really seems for a second, in the first half of dawntrail, like you are strong enough and the problems simple enough for this to be a clean and easy adventure. bakool ja ja? power of friendship'd. mamook? successfully reintegrated, no worries about the crimes against humanity. rite of succession? handily won. nothing can stop you. even duty finder queue times have been conquered: you can do all your duties with trusts now.

all of which only makes it better when the second half has sphene ask you and wuk lamat directly: could your strength have been enough to save alexandria? could you have found a different way?

i know some people get very annoyed we don't intervene in the gulool ja ja fight. now personally i think if you see arthur and mordred squaring up it's rude to intervene, but beyond that, it simply wouldn't have mattered. by the time zoraal ja's forces arrived in tuliyollal, alexandria and tural were already on a collision course and doomed to conflict. your hands alone could never have averted this conflict. sphene was always bound to do what she did—and certainly a gulool ja ja without his reason would not be any more inclined to peace than wuk lamat and koana were.

there's a great little moment just before living memory where estinien, champion at reading the room, is like "okay so if thancred and i stay here that frees up you up, aibou, to do what you do best and save the world and have epic fights. woo!!!" and immediately afterwards you basically have to apologize to alisaie because part of the sort of unspoken premise of this whole trip in the first place was that you were, finally, not going to plunge into mortal peril to save the world. you were finally going to take it easy. you were finally done with that. and she has to sort of ruefully be like nah it's fine bro. i was trying to get you to take it easy and not do insane risky world-saving violence. but y'know these things (interdimensional invasions) happen.

by the time you reach the very last trial, all pretense that the warrior of light could have ever been beyond these problems has vanished. you were, very emphatically, not strong enough to hold onto all that was dear without sacrifice. gulool ja and otis and cahciua died. yyasulani was irreversibly changed, physically colonized and culturally decimated by another dimension. you systematically shut down each part of living memory, and all its friendly, charming, loving ghosts, with your own hands. with your own clicks.

not even the vaunted strength of the warrior of light is enough to overcome sphene's inexorable logic of conflict. and so, in the end, she plucks you out of the crowd and says, explicitly for reasons of your strength, that you are going to have to do a boss fight now. you are going to have to kill her and you are going to have to do it in a proper 8-on-1 trial, and she forces you to affirmatively state that you understand you're going to kill her.

did you think you were above it all? did you think you could get away from here with your weapon undrawn, with your hands clean? that for you and you alone the logic of conflict comes undone? wrong. wrong. wrong.

your strength cannot redeem you, says sphene. your friends cannot make these sacrifices for you. if you would play the hero then you must play the hero. no half-measures.

back to the duty finder with ye.

[senmiyaazx]

Can you do reader that has SH scars or Them finding out that reader SH's

With Sol & Hyugo..!

But it's ok if you don't do it since its a sensitive topic!

tw: sensitive topics, self harm

a/n: can't decide which format i want to use for these kind of requests. thank you for the request <3

important note: if you're struggling with sh, please tell someone you trust or seek help. i do not know you, but i know that you are not alone in this. i hope things get better for everyone who's reading this:)

SOL:

Reader still does sh:

Oh, he's worried. Extremely worried. How could he not notice all this time? How could he not notice his darling was in pain? He feels horrible. Whether he discovers it accidentally or not, rest assured he won't pressure you into anything. He'll listen to your story and problems when you're comfortable and ready. He'll pull you into a hug while holding back tears. He's been through some shit and he knows how it feels. But he never wants to see it happen to you. If you're doing this because of someone, Sol will make sure they're taken care of. You don't have to worry <3 If it's because of something else and more personal, it's okay. He'll be with you till the end of time. From now on, he makes it his mission to watch over you more closely whenever he can, no matter how unethical. He's more subtle this time, though. He doesn't need you stressing even more.

He's still worried. And also a little upset. That was from a long time, wasn't it? You didn't know him back then. He wonders if he could've comforted you out of it, held you in his arms while you weeped. If only he could turn back time... Alas, there's other things to worry about. He's glad to hear that you're recovering, and you promised to never do it again. He'll help you on your journey. Sol isn't the most mentally stable himself, so I don't think he'll be much help either lol but for you? He's searching and making lists of healthy coping mechanisms he can give you. Thinks your scars are beautiful. He hated how it was made, but now it has faded and all that remains is the symbol of your strength and the fact you've made it this far despite being in an extremely tough situation. He'll kiss you on the forehead and tell you how proud he is. How happy he is.

Reader has sh scars (recovering):

HYUGO:

Reader still does sh:

He's very mysterious. I find it hard to write for him. Hyugo feels a mix of emotions wash over him when he discovers it. Shock, sadness and anger. Shocked, because like Sol, he couldn't believe he didn't notice anything until now. Sadness, because he couldn't imagine the pain you went through to resort to such thing. Anger, at himself and anyone or anything that caused you pain. He knows he can't use jokes or happy things to lighten up the mood like he usually does. Instead, he gently guides you to his arms and wraps you in a warm embrace. He'll whisper comforting words while you tell him things that have bothered you and asked you to promise him you'll never hurt yourself again and in return, he'll help you heal. You're hesitant. You didn't want to feel indebted to him, but he insisted. His determination made you embarrassed so you agreed. Since then, he's been extra caring (but not overbearing) to you and made sure to check in on you every chance he gets. If somehow he doesn't get to see you for the entire day, he'll call you in the middle of the night to ask about your day and it ends up being a long session of late night talks. Or he could just knock on your door and you'd let him in anyway. He knows he can't entirely prevent bad things from happening, but he can help lessen it for you. He'll be your sunshine, where you'll never feel miserable again under his bright smile. Of course, you do the same for him. You help each other out in your own ways eventually

Reader has sh scars (recovering):

When he first saw it, he didn't overreact or give a strong reaction. He smiles softly and grabs your hand, praising you for getting through your problems and even start to recover. It's something not many people are strong enough to do especially in your situation, but you did. And he makes sure to emphasize that. You guys end up sharing each other's experiences and stories (mostly you, he's still secretive and doesn't want to reveal anything bad) and find things you two relate to. He's overall a chill guy to have around. He won't make a big deal out of it if you don't and it's honestly really comforting. You don't notice it but he's secretly a little more cautious and gentle with you. He makes sure nothing hurts you again.

[lemon-russ]

More lore for my insane porn.

Why am I doing this? Does human pet smut need a backstory? If there were a merciful god, wouldn't I be stopped? Some things are never answered. The important thing is I am having fun ✨

Mortarion x F!Reader (prequel 2? Part 3??)

Previous || Next

CW: None for this specific thing. Many for the first one. Many for the future of whatever this is.

TAGS (no one participated in the prayer circle to stop me so it continues): @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye @lisikk @moodymisty

“Go on, pick.”

Mortarion holds you out at arms length, pointing you at a display of items in colors you couldn’t name, so bright and varied it made your head start to swim.

“Pick?” You parrot, “pick… what? What are they?”

You hear a small huff behind you. “They’re toys. Weren’t you saying you were bored?”

It had been boring. After a week of toting you around, quizzing you on your world, crops, government systems, and various other minutia, you found out that your world did in fact have a ruler, unbeknownst to a simple farmer like yourself, and had happily agreed to join the imperium of man, as it was apparently called.

All Mortarion asked for in payment was you.

“You entertain me.” Was all he had offered as explanation.

And thus you had been stuck in his quarters for two weeks, losing your mind at the lack of work to do. You’d taken up trying to draw, but that only entertained so long. You tried to read, but you were barely literate in your own tongue, let alone what your master called “high gothic”. What use did a farmer have for reading? You’d tried to clean up, but there was barely anything in the room to tidy.

You refocus on the colorful display, reaching out to touch one of the bright objects. ”It’s really soft...” You say, picking up one of the toys. It vaguely looks like some sort of animal, furry with stylized ears, but beyond that you can’t imagine a use for the thing.

“How is it a toy?” You ask, turning to try and look at your new masters face over your shoulder.

He frowns slightly. “What were toys on your planet?”

“Wooden blocks, mostly. Or the Hoop game.” You say, then add with a fond smile, “and dolls, made of water-reeds.”

He sighs. “Well, think of these as the… reed dolls. They are stuffed animals, you’re supposed to find them pleasant.”

You look back to the unnaturally bright creature in your hands. “what color is this?”

You yelp as you are dropped to your feet, stumbling a little.

Mortarion turns you around by the shoulder, face grimacing in disbelief. “I don't enjoy being teased.” He huffs.

You frown. “What-”

“You know purple.” He snaps, but it sounds less angry and more desperate. “You cannot tell me you don't know the color purple.”

You look at the thing in your hands. If you absolutely had to answer, life or death, what color it was, you'd only be able to say not red but not blue.

You look back up to see mortarion's face more stern. “your planet was quite brown and hazy, I suppose.” He said. “I can… understand that.” For a moment you see something flicker behind his gaze, but it is gone before you can guess it.

You tilt your head in a little confusion, intending to ask what he meant, but are turned back to the display instead. Mortarion leans over you to start pointing at the soft creatures.

“Purple.” He says, pointing at the one you held. “Pink, blue, orange…”

You pout. “I know blue-” you point at the pointy eared alien toy, “That's not blue. Blue has more grey in it.”

He sighs. “No, your rivers were not blue, they were just the only thing on that forsaken dirt ball that had a slight hint of blue in it. This is blue.” he says, picking up the bright, smiling creature and handing it to you.

Suddenly, you're being hoisted again, and tucked under the massive man's arm. “you're getting those two, I have chosen for you.” he grumbles. You think you catch him grumble something about doesn't know purple under his breath.

He forces you to pick out a blanket as well, as you'd been complaining about being chilly sleeping on the floor at night. That was true, but you more mean that it is a hard, metal floor, and wanted a bed. You had asked for some straw to weave yourself a proper mattress, but only got an annoyed look in response. He tossed you a pillow to sleep atop instead.

You chose a blanket in pink. You know pink too, but this one is an almost pastel, dusty version that you've never seen in nature. It was pleasant, and didn't hurt your eyes like the other new colors. Plus, it was quilted and full of feathers. He didn’t seem to mind buying something so lavish, so you figure you may as well be comfortable.

When you're finished shopping, Mortarion opens the large satchel he'd taken you out of his room in. You frown, looking up over the toys and blankets in your arms.

“Can't I just walk in…?” You ask.

He presses his mouth to a line. “No.”

You mimic the expression. “I promise I won't try to run again…” you say, referring to the ill fated attempt you'd made to avoid going into the belly of the flying beast when he'd first taken you.

He rolls his eyes. “No. In. And be quiet. I don't want my sons to see you.”

You sigh, shuffling up to the large bag and tossing your new toys inside first. “Can't you just tell them I am some sort of field hand?”

He shakes the bag opening at you. “No. We don't have those, and I don't want them getting strange ideas. In.”

“Stranger than this…?” You mumble to yourself as you crawl into the bag, curling up and situating yourself.

He peers down at you through the opening. “Don't talk back. And there's nothing strange about having a….” He glances away and back quickly, frowning. “A personal serf.”

Your scrunch your brow. “Serf…? But I don't do anything-”

Your words are cut off as he cinches the bag closed and hoists you up, making you squeak in surprise and have to scramble to reposition yourself where you can breathe.

“I said, don't talk back.” He grumbles, setting off on a quick pace that makes you jostle and swing as he walks.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (5)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 5.8k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: mature language, mentions of an injury, jungkook is drowning in the sea of denial, heavy angst, misunderstandings, disagreements

A/N: well, i don't have much to say about this chapter. however, i am making a taglist, so please let me know if you want to be added <3 thank u for making it this far into the series, stay tuned for more !!

part 5: gears and vines of tension

You absently twirl the ramen in your bowl, your chopsticks moving in slow, deliberate circles as a heavy sigh slips past your lips. The warm steam rises from the broth, but it does little to soothe the tight knot forming in your chest.

Just an hour ago, the townhall meeting about the town fair ended, and now you find yourself seated at a small booth in a Japanese restaurant just around the corner, surrounded by your friends who, as usual, are keenly aware of what's going on in your mind..

You try to focus on the food, the familiar scent of miso and soy sauce, but your mind keeps drifting back to one thought: Jungkook. The idea of working with him for the fair that is set to happen two months from now, has lodged itself in your brain, and you can’t shake it off. Of all the people in this town, it had to be him, the one person who managed to make your blood boil with nothing more than a glance.

It's almost amusingly comical, if it weren’t so frustrating. The universe, it seems, has a twisted sense of humor, and today, it has decided that you must work side-by-side with him, out of all people.

The sheer irony of it... the fact that you, someone who prides yourself on peace, order, and avoiding conflict at all costs, are now paired with Jungkook for something as important as the town fair. It gnaws at you.

You feel your grip on the chopsticks tighten, the wood digging into your palms as you try to concentrate on anything other than the growing sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape the reality that you’ll have to spend an extended period of time with him, and that thought alone is enough to make you want to scream.

From across the table, your friends are watching you with knowing glances, their eyes flickering back and forth between you and the others. They know exactly what’s going on in your mind, and judging by the subtle smirks on their faces, they’re enjoying this more than they probably should.

Taehyung leans forward, a grin spreading across his face as he watches you with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Teaming up with Jungkook for the fair? Oh, this is gonna be good.” he teases, the amusement practically oozing from his words. His grin grows wider as he waits for your response, clearly relishing your discomfort.

Seokjin chimes in next, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d have to cooperate with the infamous biker boy. What’s next? You two finally getting along?” His eyebrows rise dramatically as he leans back, laughing.

You slump further into your chair, your fingers still gripping the chopsticks so tightly that you feel like you might snap them in half. A tired sigh escapes your lips. “I highly doubt it.” you mutter under your breath, your frustration clear in your tone.

“It’s bad enough I’m stuck with him for the fair, but do I have to hear this from you guys too?” You look up at your friends, meeting their teasing eyes with a halfhearted glare, but it’s impossible to stay mad at them for long. They’re enjoying this too much, and you can’t help but feel like the punchline of some inside joke.

“Come on, Y/N...” Namjoon says, his voice soft and rational, like he’s trying to calm you down. “You two have history, right? Maybe this is a good chance to... I don’t know, put the past behind you??” he suggests.

You shake your head almost immediately, a quiet laugh escaping you. “It’s not that simple.” you reply quickly, the words tumbling out without thinking.

“We don’t get along, Joon. This isn’t some... rom-com where we magically start clicking after a few awkward encounters. This is real life. And in real life, I can’t just forget about everything that’s happened between us.” you pause, taking a deep breath.

“Sure, sure,” Juwon adds with a teasing smile, her tone a little too playful. “Just don’t kill him before the fair is over, okay?” She laughs, but there’s an edge of genuine curiosity in her voice. She's not sure whether you’re joking or not.

You roll your eyes, half-annoyed and half-amused. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” you reply dryly, your voice thick with sarcasm. But even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your thoughts slipping into darker territory.

The teasing continues as your friends rally around you, throwing playful jabs and remarks that only seem to make things worse. It’s hard to stay angry at them when they genuinely believe there’s some kind of positive outcome buried somewhere in this mess.

They see the potential for you and Jungkook to patch things up, and while part of you knows they mean well, another part of you can’t shake the nagging feeling that this situation is just a train wreck waiting to happen.

You might not be as optimistic as they are, but they’re all so convinced something good could come out of this, and it makes your frustration feel even more intense.

//

Jungkook, on the other hand, feels just as conflicted, though he’d never admit it. The whole town fair situation is just another annoying obstacle in his otherwise meticulously curated routine.

He’s not keen on the idea of working with you, at all. In fact, the very thought gnaws at him, like a thorn embedded deep inside, constantly prodding at his sense of control.

He’s already juggling a whirlwind of emotions—feelings he doesn’t fully understand, confusions he’s too afraid to face. And if that wasn’t difficult enough already, now he has to stick by you and actually work with you. All those stolen glances, those subtle moments of help, the cold silences... it all amounts to this, and he has no idea how to deal with it.

Even though both of you haven’t fought in a while, the tension still hangs thick in the air when you're in the same vicinity. It’s so glaringly obvious, like a dark cloud that refuses to dissipate.

The truth is, Jungkook has grown to admire you from a distance, but that only makes the situation more complicated. His feelings for you are a constant ache in his chest, something he can’t quite untangle. And now, here he is, stuck with you in a situation that feels like the last thing he wants.

But no matter how much he wishes it weren’t true, when Mr. Kwon’s words echo in his mind, he knows there’s no escaping it. The town fair is something both of you will have to navigate together, whether you guys like it or not.

Still, that doesn’t mean his friends are going to let him off the hook so easily.

“Seems like you have no choice but to get along with Y/N, huh?” Yoongi’s voice is low, almost teasing, but Jungkook can hear the hidden challenge beneath the surface. It’s a comment that cuts deeper than he wants to admit.

Jungkook scowls, his fingers tightening around the soda can he’d just grabbed, the metal crinkling under his grip. “Shut up, hyung.” he mutters through clenched teeth, the words more defensive than he intended. "I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but we’re just going to work together, and that's it." he states, trying and failing to keep his voice neutral. The words taste like ash in his mouth.

“Yeah, sure.” Hoseok adds, leaning in with that familiar, mischievous grin of his. “Just working. The way you look at her says otherwise, though.” His tone is light, but it’s clear he’s enjoying Jungkook’s discomfort a little too much.

“Shut up.” Jungkook snaps, his irritation flaring. He can’t stand their constant teasing, the way they poke at something he’s not ready to face. It’s as though they can see right through him, and it makes him want to retreat even further into himself. And since, he’s been avoiding you... avoiding everything about you like it’s some kind of plague, having to confront it head-on seems impossible.

Jimin, however, is the one who really gets under his skin. “I’ve noticed all those lingering looks you give her. I get it... you’re still holding on to something. But come on, man. It’s been ages. Just face it and talk to her.”

“That’s none of your business.” Jungkook growls, his voice low and thick with frustration. His temper is a simmering volcano, and it doesn’t take much for it to erupt. He hates that they can see through him so easily, as if every thought, every feeling, is written on his face.

And worst of all, he doesn’t want to think about you. Not now, not ever. But there you are, constantly in the back of his mind, disrupting his every thought.

“Maybe this is your chance to… fix things.” Yoongi muses, his voice taking on an almost knowing tone, like he understands something Jungkook isn’t ready to admit to himself.

Jungkook remains silent, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turn white. His jaw is set in a firm line, but inside, he feels a stirring unease. Fix things? With you? No, that’s not what he wants. Not at all.

But something about the space you’ve left in his life lately, the absence of your presence,,, it’s bothering him more than it should. It feels... wrong. And he can’t figure out why.

The emptiness in his chest is growing, and it’s eating away at him. He tries to ignore it, to shove it back down where it belongs, but the truth keeps creeping up on him and he’s not ready to face this. Not yet.

//

When the meetings finally start, you and Jungkook sit across from each other, a few feet apart, neither of you daring to breach the silence in the community center. The air between the two of you feels charged, thick with tension, like an invisible wall keeping you at arm's length.

Each glance, each shift of position, carries an unspoken weight, and even the faint sound of your breathing feels too loud. Every word spoken feels like an effort, a conscious choice to avoid snapping, but it’s almost impossible not to.

The first task at hand is the layout. You, the florist, are in charge of the decoration, but you know full well that it’s a collaborative effort, especially with Jungkook needing to ensure the space is functional. You’ve done this before, worked under pressure, but with him? It feels different. The stakes are higher, the frustration more palpable.

“So..." you start, forcing your voice to remain steady and calm, even as the anticipation lingers in your chest. “We need to figure out where the booths will be placed. The flower arrangements need to complement the flow of traffic, and we can’t block the stage view.” You turn to him, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before quickly averting your eyes, as though the intensity of the connection might shatter the thin facade you’ve managed to maintain.

Jungkook, however, seems unfazed. His eyes flicker briefly towards you, but it’s clear his attention is elsewhere. “Fine.” he mutters flatly, his voice devoid of any real emotion. He scrolls through his phone as if he’s in a different world entirely. “Tell me where to put the tents.” he says.

You feel a flicker of irritation at his nonchalant response, but you force yourself to stay composed. “It’s not that simple.” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. “You have to work with the dimensions. The booths need to be spaced properly to avoid crowding. Otherwise, the flow will be a mess.” you explain.

He hums in acknowledgment, but his focus never leaves the screen of his phone, his posture relaxed, almost too casual. He gives you nothing to go on, no acknowledgment that he’s actually listening, and yet, he doesn’t argue.

He’s making an effort, or so it seems, but the effort feels as half-hearted as his tone. You lay out the details of the booth placement, watching as his eyes dart back to his phone, the quick flicks of his thumb on the screen like a rhythm you’ve grown all too familiar with. It’s frustrating, to say the least.

Still, he doesn’t outright ignore you. That’s something, right? A small victory, perhaps, but not enough to quell the simmering unease that’s growing within you. He’s pretending not to care, pretending like this is just another mundane task in his life. And maybe, in his mind, it is. But in yours? It’s so much more than that.

//

The following days unfold in a similar pattern. The meetings don't happen every single day. Maybe just two to three times a week. Whenever you sit down to discuss, you both speak in clipped tones, each of you trying to push your own agenda without crossing the invisible line into conflict.

It’s a game of subtle manipulations, of measuring your words carefully so as not to give anything away. Jungkook does his best to remain distant, as if he’s above it all... his expressions impassive, his body language indifferent. It’s the perfect mask, and he wears it well, making it nearly impossible to gauge what he’s really thinking.

And yet, despite the stone-cold exterior, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more beneath the surface. You catch the fleeting glances he throws your way when he thinks you’re not looking, the slight tension in his shoulders when you speak, and the subtle shift in his tone when he responds.

He’s trying to remain uninterested, trying to pretend he doesn’t care. But the little cracks in his armor? They don't fully hide from you.

However, neither of you is willing to make the first move. The walls you’ve both built around yourselves remain as sturdy as ever. The resentment, though unspoken, hangs in the air, a silent presence that neither of you dares to address. The past still looms large between you, an unspoken history that neither of you is ready to confront.

And so, you continue to go through the motions, working side by side but never truly together. The tension remains thick, like a fog you can’t see through, and the distance between you only seems to grow with each passing day.

For Jungkook, the real battle wasn’t the fair planning... it was you.

Every time your voice echoed in his ears, or your eyes briefly met his, it felt like a thousand invisible threads tangled around his chest, pulling him in every direction at once.

He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t. He tried so hard to stay indifferent, to bury it all beneath layers of cold indifference, but no matter how hard he fought, you had a way of slipping past his defenses.

The harder he tried to focus on the task at hand like the booths, the layout, the logistics, the more you seemed to invade his thoughts. It was maddening, the way you lingered in his mind even when he tried to distract himself.

The sound of your voice, the soft rhythm in your words, the way your eyes sparkled when you were engaged in something you loved... everything about you pulled at him, and he hated it.

He hated how easily he found himself drawn to you, despite everything. Despite the history between you, despite the distance he worked so hard to maintain. He had a job to do. He wasn’t here for this. He wasn’t here for you.

But it didn’t stop him from noticing.

He would notice the way your hair fell in soft waves, catching the light just enough to make it look like something from a dream.

He would notice the curve of your smile as you spoke to your friends sometimes, right before looking at him as he waits for you to head towards the community center together, and the way your smile instantly drops when you spot him makes his chest tighten in ways he didn’t know how to explain.

He would notice how your fingers gently caressed the petals of the flowers you arranged, each movement graceful and deliberate, like everything you touched turned into something beautiful.

It was all so distracting. And in that distraction, Jungkook found himself irritated by his own reaction. He hated how you made his heart race with the simplest of gestures, how his breath hitched when your gaze lingered on him a fraction longer than necessary.

He hated how much you affected him, how your presence seemed to make everything else fade away, as if the world revolved around you and him, suspended in the space between words.

He tried to shut it out. He tried so hard to ignore the flutter in his chest, to keep his focus sharp and steady, but each time you spoke, each time you glanced his way, it became harder. He tried to play it cool, tried to act like none of it mattered, but the truth was... it did matter. It mattered more than he wanted it to.

He despised how beautiful you were, how effortlessly you seemed to captivate every room you entered, how every little thing you did seemed to leave an imprint on his soul. You were the storm he couldn’t weather, the fire he couldn’t outrun, and he hated that he couldn’t escape it.

Every glance, every moment of interaction, felt like a slow burn, a tension he couldn’t release no matter how hard he tried. And the worst part? He couldn’t even find it in himself to want to escape it anymore.

Maybe, deep down, he didn’t want to. Maybe he was tired of pretending that it didn’t matter, tired of trying to push down the feelings that seemed to bubble up from the depths of his chest, no matter how hard he fought them.

There were nights when he would lay awake, the weight of the day pressing down on him, and he could still hear your voice echoing in his mind, still see the way your eyes flickered with a hint of something... something he couldn’t quite place. Something that made him think maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the only one feeling this tension.

But he never asked. He couldn’t. He didn’t know how to start.

So instead, he buried it, deep down where it could fester. He buried the way his heart seemed to beat a little faster when you walked into the room, and the way his thoughts would drift to you even when he tried to focus on something else.

He buried the guilt of knowing he was avoiding it, of knowing that he was pushing away something that, in some twisted way, he was beginning to want more than anything else.

Because, no matter how much he tried to pretend he didn’t care, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it was all just a fleeting distraction, he was lying to himself.

He cared. More than he should. And it terrified him.

//

The days continue to blur into one another, each meeting a subtle repetition of the last. But as time passes, you both start to find a rhythm. The awkward silences between you become less frequent, and though the tension never fully dissipates, it becomes something more manageable.

Now, with only one month left for the town fair, your tasks seemed to intertwine more seamlessly, and while Jungkook still maintains that nonchalant, almost aloof demeanor, there’s a strange sense of understanding that develops between you two. It’s not friendly, but it’s cooperative, a balance struck somewhere between resentment and reluctant teamwork.

You start to notice the little changes. The way Jungkook no longer scrolls through his phone during every conversation, or how he no longer avoids your gaze completely. He still doesn’t speak much, but when he does, his tone is less dismissive, more practical, like he’s acknowledging that you’re both in this together, for better or for worse.

You can’t quite tell if he’s faking it or if something is actually shifting beneath the surface, but it doesn’t matter. You focus on the work, pushing through the awkwardness because at least, for now, the process is getting done.

As the days progress, there’s a certain ease in the way you both begin to collaborate. You don’t always agree, and you still bicker over details... where exactly the tents should be placed, what color scheme will work best with the space, and how to arrange the flower displays.

But the exchanges are less sharp, less pointed. It’s as if the constant friction between you has smoothed out into something more tolerable.

You start to enjoy the process in small ways, even though Jungkook remains stoic through it all. The occasional glance exchanged across the table, the rare, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment when you make a valid point... those moments feel like victories.

And just when you start to think that maybe this partnership, while not ideal, could work out after all... just when the days seem to stretch into a predictable rhythm and the weight of the past starts to seem less suffocating, you're pulled out of your trance as you glance up at Jungkook who barges into the community center, his shoulders harshly pushing the door open.

Today, you and Jungkook were supposed to sit with Mr. Kwon and a few other committee members to discuss the progress of your planning and work. They're all seated around the table as they watch Jungkook walk inside.

There’s something off about him today. His usual confident stride is replaced by a more cautious pace, and the first thing you notice is the bruise on his cheek... a faint purple mark that looks like it’s only just begun to heal.

Your gaze travels down, noticing the bandages wrapped around his knuckles. For a split second, your stomach churns. You want to ask, to understand, but before you can even take a breath, he’s sitting down without a word, his usual aloofness firmly in place.

You saw him two days ago, and he was completely fine so you look at him, wondering what exactly happened between the interval.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, though you can feel the tension in the air between you. It’s as if the bruise on his face, the bandages on his hands, are somehow adding to the already thick layer of silence between the two of you. His presence fills the room, but in a way that feels more distant than ever.

You’re suddenly acutely aware of the tightness in your chest, the way your heart begins to race, but you force yourself to push those thoughts aside. It’s none of your business, you remind yourself. He’s clearly not in the mood to talk, and you have no right to pry into his life. Your ego keeps you silent, your lips pressed together as you try to focus on the meeting at hand.

The conversation begins, and for a moment, the work distracts you from the storm of emotions swirling inside. But the normal rhythm of the meeting is shattered when a disagreement arises.

It starts with something small... where to position the flowers around the booths, which side will get the best sunlight. The back-and-forth is nothing new, but today, it feels different. Jungkook’s voice is sharper than usual, his irritation more obvious.

“No, it’s wrong.” he snaps, his tone clipped and harsh as he shoots down your suggestion. “I don’t care what you think, it’s just not going to work.” he spits out.

You feel your frustration rising, the familiar tension between you flaring up once again. But this time, it’s worse. Usually it's just the two of you, but today you have spectators. His words hit a nerve, and before you can stop yourself, you shoot back, your voice laced with annoyance. “You don’t have to be so rude about it.”

Jungkook doesn’t back down. His eyes flash with a sudden intensity, his jaw clenching as he leans forward, almost daring you to push him further. “If you stopped pretending to know what you’re doing and actually listened to someone who does, maybe you wouldn’t be so completely useless.”

The words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, everything goes silent in the room. You feel your blood run cold as the sting of his words sinks in. There’s a moment of disbelief, followed by a sharp surge of anger.

You didn’t expect him to snap like that, especially not in front of everyone. But the truth is, you don’t care about the others in the room right now. All you care about is the unbearable pain in your chest that his words have left behind.

Without thinking, you stand up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor, the noise cutting through the tense silence. You don’t even spare him a glance as you turn to leave, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

Every step feels like it’s pulling you further away from the meeting, from him, and from the tight knot of emotions you’ve been trying to ignore for so long. The door slams behind you with a resounding finality.

Mr. Kwon and the others in the room are left in stunned silence, but Jungkook doesn’t move. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t say a word. He just sits there, staring at the empty space where you had been, the tension now painfully thick enough to cut with a knife.

He doesn’t know what’s worse... the physical pain in his body from the fight with the rival gang he just had before coming here, or the way his words just pushed you further away. But he’s not ready to admit that. Not to anyone. Not even to himself.

"Well..." Mr. Kwon starts, carefully eyeing Jungkook as he glances at the other members. " A little bit of a disagreement, I suppose." he breathes out.

"Let's talk about this calmly in the next meeting." he finally says, after a few seconds as the others silently agree with him. He stands up, softly patting Jungkook on the shoulder, before he exits the community center with the others.

It’s clear that something has shifted. And whatever fragile understanding you had begun to build between the two of you, now seems like a distant memory, lost in the wake of that one, harsh moment. Jungkook doesn’t know how to fix it, but somehow, he knows he’ll have to face it. Eventually.

//

The moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting its silvery glow across the empty streets below. Jungkook walks towards his shop, hands buried deep in his pockets, but there’s no warmth in the gesture. His body moves, but his mind churns, restless, unwilling to give him the peace he so desperately craves.

The meeting replays in his mind over and over, each iteration like a fresh stab to his chest. He can’t forget the sharpness of his words, the way they cut into you, when he knew better than anyone that you did absolutely nothing to deserve it.

A long, heavy sigh escapes him, but it offers no relief. The tension in his shoulders feels like an unshakeable weight, a burden he can’t cast aside. It wasn’t your fault, none of it.

You had no part in the chaos of his morning... a rush of irate customers, a critical delivery gone wrong, and an absurd brawl with a rival biker gang over something that, in hindsight, seemed like pure stupidity.

Yet, somehow, you ended up on the receiving end of all his frustration, a target for everything he’d been bottling up. Guilt gnaws at him as he walks, the sharp taste of regret lingering on his tongue.

Passing your shop, a soft, golden light spills from the glass door. His steps falter, a flicker of curiosity cutting through the wall his pride has built. It's late, and yet you're still here. He pauses for a moment, unsure, torn between his ego and the pull of something deeper. And then, against all reason, he steps closer, pressing his face to the cool glass, eyes narrowing to catch a glimpse.

The sight of you makes something tighten in his chest. Your back is facing him, but your shoulders tremble, faintly at first, but enough to set his pulse racing. His breath catches, and then the realization hits him like a punch. You’re crying.

His heart slams against his ribs, the sight of your silent sorrow unraveling him in ways he can't fully understand. His legs go weak, and the weight of his regret threatens to crush him. He's the cause of your tears, the reason for this moment of pain.

He stands frozen, torn between guilt and fear... fear that his presence will only make things worse. But the guilt surges, a relentless tide that drowns everything else.

His knees threaten to give away under the pressure of his own actions, and for a fleeting moment, he considers turning away, disappearing into the night. But the ache in his chest keeps him rooted to the spot.

Finally, he exhales, slow and deliberate, and pushes the door open, the soft chime of the bell echoing in the stillness. For a heartbeat, he wonders if you’ll hear it, if you’ll acknowledge his presence.

He steps inside, quiet, careful, as though every movement might break something more fragile than glass. The door closes gently behind him, and he moves closer, inching towards you, but the distance between you both feels like an entire universe.

The words he wants to say get caught in his throat. He doesn’t know if any of them will ever be enough. “Y/N…” His voice cracks, quieter than he intended, raw with the weight of unspoken regret.

You don’t turn around. You don’t flinch. The silence stretches between you like an impassable chasm, and the space feels impossibly wide. His chest tightens further as he watches your back, every muscle in his body aching with the need to fix this, to make it right. But he doesn’t know how.

“Y/N, I…” He swallows, fumbling for words, but none come. He knows an apology won’t undo the damage, but it’s the only thing he has left to offer. “I’m sorry. I...I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I shouldn’t have—”

His words fall short as he sees your shoulders tremble harder, your body shaking with the weight of everything you’ve been holding in. You turn slightly, enough for him to catch the tear tracks on your face, and the sight of them, the way your pain is laid bare before him, pierces him in ways he can’t explain.

“I didn’t mean to … to snap at you like that…” His voice falters, breaking under the strain. He knows it’s too late for his apologies to fix anything. You’ve already heard too much of it, seen too much of his anger.

You wipe your eyes hastily, trying to erase the evidence of your tears, but when you face him fully, there’s nothing but raw pain in your gaze. “No, Jungkook,” you cut him off, your voice trembling with anger but steady, unwavering. “You DON’T get to do this.”

He instinctively steps forward, his hand reaching out, but you step back, sharp and defensive.

“You don’t get to come in here now, after everything, and act like you can fix this with a half-hearted apology!” Your voice rises, shaking with emotion, and the dam finally breaks. “I don’t NEED your apology. I don’t WANT your apology!”

The words hit him like a physical blow, but he doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t try to stop you. He just stands there, feeling the weight of every word, every accusation, land deep in his chest.

“You made me feel small, Jungkook,” you continue, your voice cracking as tears brim in your eyes again. “Ever since you moved next door, that’s ALL you’ve been doing. It’s like you go out of your way to make my life miserable. Everything you say, everything you do, it makes me feel like I’m constantly losing control over the one thing I’ve built with my own hands. Like me and my shop have always been a joke to you.” You pause, breath hitching as you try to steady yourself.

Jungkook knows exactly where this is coming from. He’s the cause of every inch of this. He feels it in his gut, the crushing weight of his mistakes, and he knows he has no right to defend himself. All he can do is stand there and listen.

“You don’t care. You treat me like crap... like I’m just some part of your day that you can lash out at whenever it suits you.” you spit, your voice trembling with fury. “In your world, it’s always about you. Your thoughts, your problems, your emotions... it’s like nothing else... like no else... exists. You never stop to think about how your words affect anyone else. You never stop to think about how your words affect me.”

Your chest heaves with each word, your voice raw with hurt. And as the weight of your anger presses down on him, Jungkook feels a heavy suffocating knot coil in his stomach. This is all his fault.

“You think I don’t have enough to deal with already?” you continue, voice breaking as your tears spill again. “That I need to be the punching bag for your anger? You don’t get to treat me like that, Jungkook. You have no right to make me feel like I’m the problem when you’re the one who’s always pushing people away.”

The words echo in the empty space between you, a finality that’s impossible to ignore. Jungkook stands there, silent, broken. Each word feels like a strike, each accusation hitting him harder than the last. “Every time I think we’re okay, every time I think we can coexist in peace, you give me a million reasons to prove me wrong. You make me feel so fucking stupid for even thinking we could be friends.”

You run your hands through your hair, tears falling like rain as you try to catch your breath, but it’s hard. The storm inside you isn’t over.

A few moments pass in silence, but it’s deafening, suffocating. You close your eyes, letting out a long, strained sigh. “I’ve had enough.” you whisper, voice raw and exhausted. “I can’t do this anymore... Not with you. Just... just get out, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t move. He can’t. He stands there, paralyzed by the weight of his own guilt. No words come, because he knows that nothing he could say will make things better.

You turn away, your shoulders shaking with the weight of everything you’ve just said, and as you walk further away from him, Jungkook knows he’s lost more than just your trust tonight. He reluctantly steps back, still watching you as he moves towards the door. He knows it won't change anything but before he leaves, he still says it. "I'm sorry."

<- part 4 // part 6 ->

series masterlist

taglist: @kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 (let me know if u wanted to be added !!)

[barnacles34]

Steamy Mornings and Massages (Winter x Male OC)

7k words

Tags: smut, fluff, office sex, office massage, soulmates, romance, very love-heavy

Chapter 1: The Day After

"Let's just stay here," Minjeong murmured, pressing soft kisses to the crown of Junho's head. The morning alarm had shattered what his typically precise mind had categorized as Optimal Comfort Configuration™, but neither of them had moved to silence it[1].

His face remained buried in the crook of her neck, accepting what his mind reluctantly acknowledged as the only form of comfort he'd ever truly wanted. "Well, my secretary," he rumbled against her skin, the possessive pronoun carrying new weight in the morning light, "on a very important day, doesn't want to go to work?" Despite his words, his arms tightened incrementally around her waist, betraying his own reluctance.

Minjeong's embrace constricted in response, her Busan accent thick with morning warmth. "What are you going to do? Fire me?" Despite the implied challenge, she still continued to press soft kisses on his forehead. He tightened his embrace further, relishing in the warmth of Minjeong.

The challenge in her voice activated something primal in his executive functioning. His teeth grazed her neck in warning, hovering over precisely the spot that would make any low-necked blouse useless to wear for the following days. "Maybe," he murmured, his hand sliding to the small of her back with deliberate intent, dangerously close to the curve of her backside, "I'll fire you and keep you here, all day long, so that you belong only to me."

"That's..." her breath hitched as his hand dropped lower, "...rather unprofessional of you."

He lifted his head just enough to fix her with that boardroom stare that never failed to make her pulse race. "Says the woman currently preventing her CEO from attending his meetings." Her CEO? Something warm raced inside of her—she thought, her ceo? And this time, she wrapped her arms tighter—however much her thin arms could tighten; nevertheless, an affectionate hug.

"I prefer to think of it as optimizing your morning routine," she countered, though her professional efficiency was somewhat undermined by the way she melted under his touch, furthermore when he traced the curves of her backside. "Some things are more important than the Zhang Corp merger."

His laugh vibrated against her throat. "Careful, Secretary Kim. That sounds dangerously close to insubordination."

"And what does the CEO do with insubordinate employees?" The question emerged soft and weaker than intended as his mouth traced a deliberate path along her collar, trying her most obnoxiously.

"That depends," he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made her breath catch. "Are they all as beautiful as you when they disobey direct orders?"

She attempted to maintain her composure, though her hands betrayed her by pulling him closer. "I wouldn't know. I've never seen you like this with other employees[2]."

"No," he agreed, suddenly serious as he raised his head to meet her gaze. "You haven't. You won't."

The intensity in his eyes made her throat tight. "Promise?"

Instead of answering, he caught her mouth in a kiss that effectively ended all discussion of work protocols and proper business conduct[3]. The morning sun painted complex equations of light across their entangled forms, but for once, neither of them was counting the minutes.

—

[1] The first recorded instance of CEO Kim's morning alarm continuing past its initial 0.3-second alert phase, a fact that would require significant updates to the home automation system's behavioral prediction models.

[2] The security system's emotion recognition protocols flagged this moment for what its algorithms could only classify as "Unprecedented Display of Executive Vulnerability."

[3] Later analysis would suggest that certain forms of insubordination yielded surprisingly positive results in terms of overall company morale, though these findings were kept strictly off the official record.

—

"You haven't eaten properly in days," Minjeong observed softly, her fingers tracing the subtle tension in his shoulders that most wouldn't notice. But she wasn't most people—she'd spent months learning to read the microscopic signs of his stress levels[4].

"I've been eating," he defended, though his attempt at authority was somewhat undermined by the way he instinctively relaxed under her touch.

"Coffee and quarterly reports don't count as meals," she countered, continuing her gentle exploration of his shoulder muscles. "I've watched you skip lunch three times this week alone."

He lifted his head to study her face, finding that mix of strength and tenderness that had first undone him. "You keep track of my meals?"

"I keep track of everything about you," she admitted, not backing down from his intense gaze. "Someone has to notice when you forget to take care of yourself."

His hand curved around the nape of her neck, thumb brushing her pulse point. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Consider it an extension of my secretarial duties," she murmured, then gasped softly as he tightened his grip in warning.

"There's nothing secretarial about the way you take care of me," he corrected, voice low and dangerous. "Is there, Minjeong-ah?"

The informal address, rarely used, made her breath catch. "No," she agreed quietly. "There isn't."

He studied her for a long moment, his analytical mind cataloging the flush in her cheeks, the slight quickening of her breath, the way she yielded to his touch while somehow maintaining that core of quiet strength[5]. "You're dangerous," he finally said, “dangerously beautiful, so beautiful,” then a kiss on the side of her neck which, eventually, will turn into a hickey and Minjeong hadn’t the power to resist her CEO’s advances anymore.

"Me?" She replied, out of breath, tremored, brilliantly transformed by her smile—the type of smile men fight wars for, the type of smile sinewy sociopathic CEOs would drop down for. "I'm just trying to make sure Korea's most brilliant CEO—I mean, my CEO, remembers to eat breakfast." Her small hand collected the waves of his hair, the aroma of the shampoo she recommended wafted in the air.

“Minjeong, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Is that a problem?” She pulled back her hand along his scalp, gathering hair, then trailing all down his nape, to his back: the type of affection that says, even if you were insane, I’d still be crazy about you.

Instead of answering directly, he pressed his lips to her forehead, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth—a calculated sequence of kisses that made her melt further into his embrace. "The only problem," he murmured against her skin, "is that you're making it very difficult to want to leave this bed."

—

[4] Her observation logs, never shared but meticulously maintained, included such details as the precise angle of his jaw when overwhelmed, the subtle shift in his typing rhythm when stressed, and the exact tone of voice that meant he'd skipped meals.

[5] The home automation system's behavioral analysis protocols struggled to categorize this new dynamic, where authority and surrender seemed to flow both ways simultaneously.

—

"Three days," Minjeong continued, her fingers finding the knots in his shoulders with practiced ease. "You've had that tension here since the Singapore deal started falling apart." The morning light caught the subtle furrow in his brow as he processed her words, realizing she'd been tracking his stress levels without him noticing. Her touch was methodical yet tender, each pressure point targeted with the same precision she applied to his scheduling.

"I didn't think anyone had noticed," he admitted, then caught her knowing smile. "Except you."

"I always notice," she replied simply. "Like how you've been drinking twice your usual coffee intake, or how your left eye twitches slightly when the board sends those passive-aggressive emails." Her hands moved lower, finding another point of tension. "You hide it well, but not from me."

He caught her wrist, bringing it to his lips. "It becomes…oddly weird when I see you do the things I usually do." The tease in his voice was softened by the way he pressed kisses to her fingertips.

"Consider it preventive maintenance," she countered, not backing down despite Junho trying to hide his habits under the rug, not backing down despite the heat in his gaze. "Someone needs to monitor your functionality levels[6]."

"Functionality levels?" His laugh rumbled against her skin as he shifted to hover over her. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive performance metrics'?" She managed to keep her voice steady even as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "I have spreadsheets..."

"Of course you do," he murmured, teeth grazing her collarbone in retaliation. "My perfectly thorough secretary, tracking every detail."

"Not just details," she breathed, hands sliding up his chest. "I know when you skip lunch to avoid the board members. When you stay late reviewing reports that could wait until morning. When you need..." she paused as his hand curved possessively around her hip, "...someone to remind you that you're human."

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Junho lifted his head to study her face, finding that unique blend of submission and strength that had first undone his carefully constructed defenses[7]. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Someone has to." Her smile carried traces of Busan sunshine. "Besides, I'm uniquely qualified."

"How so, Minjeong-ah?” Another tease. 

“Because you love me.” Minjeong stated, matter of factly. And this time, Junho seized her tight, trapping her under him, seizing her two thin wrists. Then, pressed a deep kiss onto Minjeong’s delicate lips. After a while, he released himself from the kiss, the kiss that Minjeong reluctantly let go of—her lips pointing outwards like a duck as he left. Finally, he said, “That’s right, I love you.”

Her stomach stirred with butterflies and more.

—

[6] Her personal files, never shared but meticulously maintained, included detailed protocols for managing various levels of CEO stress responses, from subtle intervention to direct action.

[7] The exact moment of this defensive breach had been logged by the building's security systems, though the footage was classified under "Executive Privacy Protocols."

—

Minjeong lingered in bed, her heart performing calculations that had nothing to do with quarterly reports. The smart home system's sensors detected her elevated pulse rate, though no algorithm could properly quantify the joy radiating from her smile[8]. She stretched luxuriously against Egyptian cotton sheets that still held traces of his warmth, letting herself marvel at the reality of being here, in his space, surrounded by evidence of Junho.

Her mind couldn't help but catalog the endearing chaos around her—academic journals scattered across surfaces, a tablet displaying economic projections that had clearly been reviewed at 3 AM, several coffee cups in various states of abandonment. The morning light revealed what darkness and desire had hidden the night before: Junho's private space was a fascinating contradiction to his public persona, a detail she filed away with all her other precious observations of him.

Rising with practiced grace, she padded across cold hardwood floors, her bare feet gliding across the floor. His dress shirt from the previous night—the one that had hung open as they'd discovered more interesting uses for his mahogany desk—called to her like a siren song. She slipped it on, the fabric carrying traces of his unisex cologne and something uniquely him that made her stomach flutter[9].

Junho emerged from his ensuite bathroom to find her like this: drowning in his shirt, examining his space with that careful attention she brought to everything concerning him. His breath caught audibly.

"That's mine," he noted, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that never failed to make her pulse race.

She turned to face him, letting the hem of his shirt brush against her thighs. "Really? I think it’s mine."

—

[8] The home automation system logged this moment as: "Secondary User Biometrics Indicating Unprecedented Levels of Serotonin. CEO Response: Highly Favorable."

[9] Security footage would later reveal this as the exact moment CEO Kim's usually impeccable morning routine experienced a critical efficiency failure, though no one questioned why that particular shirt never made it to the dry cleaners.

—

"You know," Junho mused against her neck, his hands tracing idle patterns on her thighs, "for someone so concerned about my eating habits, you're being very distracting in my kitchen."

"Me?" Minjeong's attempt at innocence was undermined by the way her fingers kept playing with his hair. "I'm trying to feed you."

"Wearing my shirt. Sitting on my counter." His smile carried equal parts mischief and heat as he pulled back to look at her. "I'm starting to think this is corporate sabotage, Secretary Kim."

She tried to maintain her professional expression, though her lips twitched. "I would never compromise company productivity, 사장님."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow, fingers sliding deliberately higher under his shirt. "Then explain why Korea's most efficient CEO is currently contemplating skipping his 9 AM."

"Poor executive guidance?" she suggested, then squeaked as he nipped her earlobe in retaliation. "I mean... clearly you need better supervision."

"Is that your professional opinion?" His laugh was warm against her skin. "And I suppose you're volunteering for the position?"

"Well," she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently, "I do have extensive experience in handling difficult executives."

He lifted his head, eyes dancing. "Difficult?"

"Demanding," she amended, then added with deliberate sweetness, "High-maintenance?"

"You," he declared, catching her wrists and pinning them behind her back with one hand, "are getting dangerously bold with your performance reviews[12]."

Her answering smile was pure sunshine. "Does that mean I'm not getting that raise?"

"Oh, I'll give you a raise," he promised, his free hand sliding up her spine as he pressed closer. "Right after we discuss your insubordination."

"I have a presentation prepared," she managed, though her breath hitched as his mouth found that sensitive spot behind her ear. "Complete with charts on CEO stubbornness metrics..."

"Using company resources for personal research?" His mock disapproval was somewhat undermined by the way he couldn't stop smiling against her skin. "That's a serious violation of corporate policy."

"And what's the penalty for that?" She arched into his touch, shameless. "More overtime with my boss?"

"Definitely." He captured her mouth in a kiss that tasted like laughter and promise. "Starting now[13]."

—

[12] The home automation system registered this interaction as a significant deviation from standard performance review protocols, though it noted remarkable improvements in overall satisfaction metrics.

[13] Later analysis of the kitchen's usage patterns would reveal this as the morning the coffee maker recorded its latest ever first brew, a delay that would become surprisingly routine.

—

"We're going to be late," Minjeong observed, though she made no move to leave her perch on the counter as Junho's hands mapped new territories beneath his borrowed shirt. The morning sun painted gold across his shoulders, and she couldn't resist tracing the light with her fingers.

"Concerned about punctuality now?" His smile was wicked against her collar. "After deliberately sabotaging your CEO's morning routine?"

"I would never," she protested, then gasped as his teeth found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I'm simply... optimizing your schedule."

"Is that what we're calling it?" His laugh vibrated through both their bodies as he pressed closer, effectively trapping her against the granite. "And how does this particular optimization benefit the company?"

Her fingers curled into his hair as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "Improved executive mood... increased satisfaction metrics... better work-life balance..."

"Very thorough analysis," he approved, his hand sliding higher up her thigh. "Though I think we need more data points[14]."

"준호야..." Her professional composure cracked entirely as his fingers found bare skin. "The Zhang Corp meeting..."

"Can wait." He lifted his head to meet her gaze, his smile carrying that perfect blend of authority and affection that never failed to undo her. "I'm conducting important research."

"On what?" She managed to arch an eyebrow despite her rapidly dissolving coherence. "How to make your secretary lose her mind?"

"Girlfriend," he corrected, voice dropping to that dangerous register as his thumb traced patterns on her inner thigh. "And I believe we were discussing your performance review[15]."

Jun abruptly stopped their performance review midway because the deal was on the line and time was running short. Minjeong was reminded of this painfully by how Jun pulled away from the kiss—she was pouty about it until they reached the office, when her damascus-like resolve kicks in.

—

[14] The kitchen's environmental sensors registered multiple instances of what could only be classified as "Critical Protocol Deviations," though these readings were automatically archived under "Executive Privacy Settings."

[15] HR would later note a curious correlation between the CEO's improved mood and these new "morning performance evaluations," though no one dared to investigate further.

—

Chapter 2: The Meeting

The Zhang Corp representatives sat across the mahogany conference table, their expressions carefully neutral as they reviewed the merger proposals. Minjeong maintained her perfect professional facade, though her pulse quickened every time Junho's hand brushed hers as she passed him documents[1].

"The third quarter projections," she murmured, leaning close enough that his cologne made her thoughts stray to their morning activities. His finger tapped twice against the paper—their private signal that he needed a moment to compose himself.

"As you can see," Junho addressed the room with that commanding presence that made board members squirm, though Minjeong could detect the slight roughness in his voice that hadn't been there before their morning 'delay', "our integration timeline is aggressive but achievable."

She took her seat beside him, crossing her legs in a way that made his pen pause fractionally on the contract. Two could play at this game of professional torture. His response was to rest his hand on her thigh under the table, hidden from view but commanding enough to make her breath catch[2].

"Secretary Kim," he said smoothly, his thumb tracing dangerous patterns against her skin, "would you pull up the logistics breakdown?"

"Of course, 사장님." She managed to keep her voice steady as she reached for her tablet, though her free hand found his wrist under the table, her fingers curling around it in what could have been either submission or warning.

The meeting proceeded with perfect corporate efficiency, though the undercurrent of tension between CEO and secretary created what the room's environmental sensors could only classify as "Critical Atmospheric Pressure"[3].

—

[1] The conference room's biometric scanners noted elevated heart rates in both CEO and secretary, though this data was diplomatically omitted from official meeting records.

[2] Security footage would later require careful editing to maintain professional appearances, particularly regarding certain "under-table activities."

[3] The Zhang Corp representatives would later confess to the fact that they could tell what was happening, no amount of demure leg-crossing could hide it. Though, they ignored it in order to get that deal (which was integral to them).

—

The private office door clicked shut behind them, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across imported marble floors. Junho rolled his shoulders, tension evident in his posture despite the meeting's success[4].

"Come here," Minjeong said softly, recognizing the signs of his post-negotiation stress. She guided him to his leather chair, her hands already moving to his shoulders. "You get so tense during these meetings." Instead of standing behind him and the chair, she stood in front, impending a mount to get ‘better access’ to his shoulders.

"Keeping my hands to myself requires considerable effort," he admitted, then groaned softly as her fingers found a particularly tight knot. "Especially when you keep giving me those looks."

"What looks?" Her innocent tone was betrayed by the way her hands slid lower, tracing patterns down his upper chest. "I was being perfectly professional."

He caught her wrist, tugging her to face him. "Professional? Is that what you call that thing you did with your pen?"

"Taking notes?" She smiled down at him, letting her fingers trail along his tie. "I'm very thorough in my documentation."

"Very thorough," he agreed, pulling her into his lap with practiced ease. "Though I noticed some interesting gaps in the meeting minutes."

"Oh?" Her hands returned to his shoulders, kneading the tension even as she shifted closer. "Like what?"

"Like how many times you deliberately brushed against me," his voice dropped lower as her fingers worked their magic, "or how your skirt kept riding up when you reached for files[5]."

"Maybe," she breathed, her ministrations becoming less therapeutic and more intentional, "your secretary just needs better supervision."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Is that what you need, Secretary Kim?"

Instead of answering, she pressed a kiss to that spot below his ear that always made him growl. His hands tightened on her hips in warning, but she didn't stop her exploration of his neck, her fingers still working the tension from his shoulders even as she created a different kind of pressure entirely.

"The door," he managed, though his hands were already sliding under her blouse.

"Locked," she murmured against his skin. "I'm very efficient."

"My perfect secretary," he agreed.

—

[4] The office's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Post-Meeting Stress Relief Protocol: Executive Override Engaged."

[5] The meeting's official minutes would maintain strict professional standards, though certain observations were kept in much more private records.

—

"You're still tense," Minjeong observed, her fingers tracing new patterns down his spine. The afternoon light painted gold across his desk, where various merger documents lay forgotten. "Let me take care of you properly."

She slid from his lap, moving behind his chair with practiced grace. Her hands returned to his shoulders, this time with more purposeful intent. Junho's head fell back as she worked a particularly tight knot, a sound escaping him that had nothing to do with professional conduct[7].

"That noise," she murmured, leaning close enough that her breath teased his ear, "is definitely not going in the meeting minutes."

His laugh turned into another groan as her thumbs hit a sensitive spot. "Keeping secrets from the board, Secretary Kim?"

"Only the interesting ones," she admitted, her hands sliding lower, tracing the muscles of his back through his expensive shirt. "Like how my very commanding CEO turns to putty when I do this..."

His hand shot up to catch her wrist in warning. "Careful," his voice carried that dangerous edge that made her stomach flip. "You're getting bold with your observations."

"Just maintaining detailed records," she breathed, not backing down despite his grip. "For example, when I press here..." Her free hand found another knot, making him inhale sharply. "Your left eye twitches slightly. And when I do this..." She leaned forward, letting her lips brush his neck. "Your pulse jumps exactly like it did during the merger talks[8]."

The chair spun suddenly, Junho pulling her back into his lap with decisive force. "You," he growled, hands spanning her waist, "are playing a dangerous game."

Her smile was pure innocence, though her fingers were already working his tie loose. "I'm simply being thorough in my duties, 사장님."

"Your duties," he repeated, watching her with dark amusement as she stripped his tie with expert efficiency. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive stress relief'?" She gasped as his teeth found her collar. "Or maybe 'personnel management'?"

His laugh vibrated against her skin. "I prefer," he murmured, hands sliding deliberately up her thighs, "when you stop talking altogether[9]."

—

[7] The office's audio sensors temporarily malfunctioned during this period, a technical glitch that occurred with suspicious regularity during certain "private meetings."

[8] Her personal files contained extensive documentation of CEO behavioral patterns, though certain observations were encrypted under "Private Research: Ongoing."

[9] The afternoon's remaining meetings would require creative rescheduling, though no one questioned why the CEO's mood had improved so dramatically.

—

"You missed a spot," Minjeong murmured against his mouth, her fingers finding another knot of tension in his shoulders even as she shifted closer in his lap. The leather chair creaked softly beneath them, a sound that would forever carry new associations in both their minds[10].

"Did I?" His hands slid higher beneath her skirt, mapping territories that were becoming dangerously familiar for office hours. "Or are you just making excuses to keep touching your CEO?"

She pulled back just enough to give him that look—the one that somehow managed to be both defiant and yielding. "I take my responsibilities very seriously, 사장님."

"I've noticed," he growled, catching her wrist as she tried to maintain the pretense of massage. "Like how seriously you took those meeting notes earlier. Very... thorough."

Her laugh caught in her throat as his lips found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I was documenting important observations."

"Such as?" His teeth grazed her pulse point, making her grip his shoulders for balance.

"Such as," she managed, though her professional tone wavered as his hands grew bolder, "how the great Kim Junho gets distracted when I cross my legs. How your voice drops exactly half an octave when you're trying not to react to me. How you tap your pen twice when you're thinking about—"

He silenced her with a kiss that effectively derailed all attempts at analysis[11]. When he finally pulled back, her dazed expression made him smirk. "Any other observations to record, Secretary Kim?"

“I must’ve forgotten, I usually remember better when you kiss me.” She hinted, and he obliged, letting his lips connect yet again with Minjeong. This time, the endless teasing reached a breaking point that both of them coalesced to at the same time.

He tightly grasped her backside then pulled her up from the executive chair to the executive table. Wherein, she was splayed across the wide table. “We really have to ban tables when we’re around each other.” She joked. 

“That’d be a terrible idea.”

“How so?”

“Where else could I splay you across like this, then explore you, centimeter-by-centimeter?”

“Hmm…” she hummed, pleased, "Yeah?"

“Yeah.”

“Then come here, my ceo.”

“My beautiful secretary, whatever shall I do with you?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you find out?” She pulled as tight as she could, locking her arms around his neck.

He obliged, meeting lips with her once again. He felt the softness of her face as he explored deeper into the kiss, forgetting time and everything except what was being shared between them. Journeying his hands further, entangling it into the silken strands of his lover as he deepened the kiss, and she replied with a deep sigh—trembling with a mix of her high register. 

“You’re such a good woman for me, Minjeong.” He said before nipping at her lower lip, catching it softly between his teeth with a teasing tug, Minjeong let out a breathless laugh, “you’re devouring me, Junho.” Regardless, he dug deeper, letting his entire body shift into Minjeong’s malleable, petite body—letting his hand explore more of her silken strands, almost saying, yes Minjeong, that is my purpose: to devour you.

Now, instead of every 5 seconds, Minjeong’s soft moans that only served to goad Junho on were musically released into his ears every second. Precautiously, she asked, “how good is the soundproofing in your private room-ah!”

“Not good enough to hide your moans, dear.” He replied, his voice like rough gravel. Her eyes widened suddenly from the need to hide her moans. Yet he dug deeper, letting his loin rub against her wet bottom, daring her moan out loud.

Despite all the regulations, the possible condemnation, their passions only grew more. Mouths moving in sync, gazes meeting momentarily, it wasn’t just kissing anymore—it was a language. The type of language where Minjeong coalesced to his dangerous games and learned to enjoy it, almost as much as him.

“Junho, seriously, I don’t want to be seen as-”

“Minjeong-ah, I don’t give a single fuck if my employees hear you and I.” The teeth that so brazenly tugged on her lower lips trailed down her neck, tracing the soft tendons.

Whispering, in a verbose way, “And as you are my secretary, my extension, my life-line, you’ll follow. Me.” And as Minjeong was getting battered by the gravel-slung voice of Junho—she hadn’t noticed how her blouse was opened, bra pushed down to reveal the breasts that he was so infatuated with—only until she felt the torsion of her nipple.

“Ngh!”

“I love that, Minjeong, scream out. I’ll fuck you until the entire floor hears you call my name.”

And another wet mewl that inspired his further deviance.

Feeling the soft suction of his mouth on her neck, she deduced that it could only mean one thing: another hickey just placed above the collar of her blouse, the same sort of hickey that the Zhang corp executives couldn’t keep their eyes off of—any justification in their minds that it was a skin discoloration was debilitated by how intensely Minjeong and Junho shared those deadly glances, likely to jump on each other as soon as they left—and they were right.

“Junho—ngh!”

“Louder.” He replied, testing her, “fucking. Louder.” Then he pressed deeper, grinding his rough textured pants on the creamy soft bottom of Minjeong.

“Please Junho, seriously.” Was all that she could get out of her bated breaths, her deep moans.

Then suddenly, he stopped, caressing the softness of her cheeks with his, back-handed, knuckles.

“You look so beautiful when you’re all tired and exhausted, did I tell you that before?” Letting the tune of his voice marinate with Minjeong (who was recovering from how hot and bothered she was just a second ago).

However good his intentions were, he wasn’t perfect. The way Minjeong’s body looked splayed against the messy paperwork, her blonde hair all frizzy and stuck to the desk, how her chest went in-and-out catching all the breath she lost—all of it made it impossible for him to resist anymore.

He pounced on her again, connecting lips against her wet, trembling lips that nonetheless accepted him so openly, like a warm cup of milk tea on a winter morning. That momentary pause had changed everything, Minjeong—now fully conquered by him—was begging for that penetrative action that he would give out so liberally to her.

“Naughty woman, bad secretary, what else?”

“Junho’s toy.” 

“Fuck.” And in a flash, his belt flew off, then in another flash, his pants fell down. 

“Tented much?” She was truly in no position to tease: a strategic error.

He grinned at the statement, finally, teasingly, let his underwear fall inch-by-inch. 

Simultaneously, she bunched up her legs then pulled off her panty that revealed the color combinations that he would die for. Though before he could look for longer, she crossed her shins—hiding the cause of Junho’s demise behind her thin legs.

They shared a giggle before Jun hugged her soft body.

“I will penetrate you in this office.”

“Yes. It appears so.”

“No, like, do you consent?”

“Idiot..” Minjeong pulled him in for another kiss. Which, coincidentally, made his tip graze her engorged and swollen core, Minjeong almost came instantaneously from that alone.

And he could tell, laughing, “Seriously, Minjeong?”

“It’s your fault, you trained me like this.”

“This is like our 3rd time.” He said, as if to brush it off.

“This is my 3rd time.” 

And Minjeong would be certainly hurt by the thought that Junho’s partners before her made it more than his 3rd time for him—some of them, the girlfriends, she saw. 

He caught on the clues before it was too late, “Minjeong, not to compare, but who else have I been so crazy about? Who else did I track for every minute of the day? Who else did I let in my home (his girlfriends didn’t, actually, get to enter his home)? Who else would make me lose composure when they’re out of my sight-line?”

Letting his forehead touch against hers, he could feel her heart rend and beat and do all sorts of bothered gymnastics.

“It’s always been about you, Minjeong. You are the brilliance of my life, the expansion of a born star—bright from millions of light years away.”

And she needn’t say anything or reply. Absolving him by wrapping her arms tighter around his nape, then holding up her head to desperately kiss Junho again and again.

In between all the kisses, he penetrated Minjeong. His length, constricted against her core, travelled softly—wringing out all sorts of noises. Her swollen pussy wrapped around him gently but tight. “I love you, Minjeong.” Was the last thing said before Minjeong’s eyes went into the back of her head—a cute habit—before she orgasmed and creamed all over.

As per her request, Junho didn’t stop. He let his hips move as slow as he could possibly go before it could be called torture. During all this, Minjeong grabbed for stability as she was getting fucked through her orgasm, feeling that intense thrusting from the love of her life as she covered his length in more of her slick.

“Oh f-” He covered her mouth this time, respecting her wish to stay at least a little lowkey in the office, whatever the hell that meant right now. Then, shallow thrusts turned into slow thrusts all the way to the hilt, getting Minjeong to scrunch her face in pleasure, eyebrows knitted in the highest pleasure, her mouth agape with strands of her saliva connecting the roof of her mouth to her tongue.

“I love you, Minjeong. Fuck. This is insane, having sex with you in my office.”

“Ngh~ I - I love you so much,” was all that she could get across before succumbing to her dopamine receptors—eyes joining the back her head. Junho connected lips with her again, letting her legs lock around his waist, then rubbing his pelvis against her engorged core, clitoris and all.

After Minjeong finally got used to the familiar motions, he grasped her thin waist, almost wrapping his two hands around the entire circumference of her tight waist. Then their eyes met momentarily, Junho had the I am going to fuck you through this desk eyes whilst Minjeong had the prey eyes that relentlessly coalesced to him. Though, before he could go wild, he brushed off the stray hairs stuck to her forehead, gave a reaffirming kiss on her forehead before pumping all the way in.

The small of her back surrendered to his tight grip, bending against the pushes and pulls. Her legs tightened the lock around his waist—almost painfully tight, but that didn’t matter to him, who’d get to pummel her soft pussy.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he planted his body against Minjeong’s, pinning her two thin wrists against the stable table.

“You’re fucking me so good, Junho,” Minjeong replied, her rare use of the curse made him chuckle by the side of her head. 

“That’s right, baby,” Junho bear-hugged Minjeong, only thrusting deeper and deeper, pelvis rubbing against hers, to make her cum again.

“NGHHH~!” The abrupt moan startled him and herself—however, they didn’t care as much about the employees anymore after indulging in each other’s bodies. Instead of stopping or evaluating the situation—as the rationalists would do—they dug deeper into each other, trying to carve each other with their soft and swollen lips.

Suddenly, he lifted Winter and turned her over. Bending her back against the table before dipping his cock into her pussy again. This time, the entrance was entranced with the soft, tight, wet feeling that he was fully obsessed with. This time, he had more ready access to her soft ass that was so soft and supple that he had to relieve it of its aesthetic beauty: with some redness spread across her ass.

“Oh my god!” Winter squeaked as she reacted against the heavy-handed slap against her ass, loving it, spreading—overflowing—his length with her slick.

Leaning over, he held Minjeong’s chin for the last stretch, considerably slowing down and enjoying each other’s presence.

“How much do you bet the coworkers will give us bad looks?”

“The female workers already give me horrible ones.” She said whilst her chin was held stable by his hand, still moaning against the soft thrusts.

“Hmm, broad generalization. How do you know this?”

“That hickey that you gave that was far too purple and far too above the collar of my blouse.”

“No long-necked turtleneck?”

“No, that’d ruin the point, I wanted to show off the gift my Junho-ssi gave.” That was the moment when he moaned hard, pressing deep inside Winter before releasing all his seed—the seed that Winter felt bounce against her cervix, making her moan out and squeal happily.

“God. Minjeong, you will be my demise.” He sighed before Winter turned around and kissed him, “as long as I get to stay with you, through demise and all,” she said between the kisses.

—

[10] The office furniture procurement department would later note an unusual request for "enhanced stability features" in executive seating, though they wisely chose not to inquire further.

[11] The building's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Critical Temperature Fluctuation - Executive Override Protocol Engaged."

—

Evening painted Seoul's skyline in shades of amber and gold, the office gradually emptying as another corporate day drew to a close. Only the executive floor maintained signs of life, though its usual efficiency had given way to something far more intimate[12].

"We should go home," Minjeong murmured against Junho's shoulder, though she made no move to leave her position in his lap. His shirt had long since been unbuttoned, her blouse delightfully rumpled, both their professional facades thoroughly compromised.

"Should we?" His fingers traced lazy patterns up her spine, his other hand still possessively curved around her hip. "I rather like having my secretary exactly where she is."

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, finding that unique blend of authority and affection that never failed to make her heart race. "Your secretary has plans for you."

"Oh?" His interest visibly peaked. "More performance reviews?"

"Better." She smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm cooking you dinner. Besides, breakfast was skipped."

The surprise in his expression made her laugh softly. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," she interrupted, then added with deliberate sweetness, "Unless my CEO is refusing a direct offer from his girlfriend?"

His hands tightened on her waist. "Using that title to manipulate me now?"

"Is it working?" She bit her lip, watching his eyes darken at the gesture.

Instead of answering, he pulled her into a kiss that suggested dinner might be delayed[13]. When they finally broke apart, his smile carried dangerous promise. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours," she decided, fingers playing with his collar. "Your kitchen needs christening properly."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Just the kitchen?"

"We'll see how dinner goes," she teased, then squeaked as he stood suddenly, lifting her with him. "준호야!"

"Efficient time management," he explained, setting her on her feet but keeping her close. "The sooner we leave..."

She pressed against him, deliberate and knowing. "The sooner you can help me... cook?"

"Among other things," he agreed, already reaching for his jacket. The predatory grace in his movements suggested cooking might not be the evening's primary activity[14].

—

[12] Security logs would note this as the third consecutive evening of "Extended Executive Hours," though the actual nature of these extensions remained diplomatically unrecorded.

[13] The office's automated systems began learning to expect these end-of-day delays, adjusting power consumption accordingly.

[14] The kitchen's motion sensors would later flag unusually high activity levels, though whether any actual cooking occurred remained a matter of some debate.

Fin

I fixed some stuff that I executed poorly before, like the crazy amount of math references; which, in foresight, was far too much.

I really had to get this out quickly. Now, I think it's a good idea to not expect anything from me for an entire month (hopefully not).

hope u enjoyed.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Mouth to Meat

Cannibal Yakuza Sukuna X [Retracted] F!Reader (AO3)

A/N: This one-shot is inspired by an amazing fic idea shared by @sukuna-ryo. Thank you so much for letting me explore this concept! Your creativity brought this to life, and I hope I did it justice. 💕

Chapter 1 - The Price of Curiosity (Ao3)

GIF by feitanporter

Summery: Dr. Y/N L/N is tasked with profiling Ryomen Sukuna, a feared yakuza boss known for his violent tendencies and taste for human flesh. Through a series of therapy sessions, she gains his trust—or so it seems. But Sukuna isn’t the only predator in the room. Behind Y/N’s professional demeanor hides a secret far darker than even Sukuna’s sins. When the masks drop, it’s clear: monsters don’t always look like him.

Tags: Sukuna x Reader Cannibalism Yakuza AU Dark Psychology Slow Reveal Manipulation Monster x Monster Energy Gritty, morally ambiguous character studies

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence Implied cannibalism Moral ambiguity (everyone’s awful) Mentions of child endangerment

Please read tags/warnings as this will get dark!

The room smelled faintly of metal and antiseptic, overpowered by the stink of Sukuna’s restraints. He leaned back in his chair, chains rattling against the bolted-down table, lips curved into an irritated smirk. Another day, another self-important idiot thinking they could peel back the layers of Ryomen Sukuna like some common criminal.

When the door opened, his curiosity barely flickered. Until she walked in.

Unlike the usual parade of interrogators or officials, she carried herself with a casual confidence. No clipboard. No body armor. Just a slim file in her hand and eyes sharp enough to cut glass.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sukuna,” she said as she sat across from him, her tone light, unbothered.

His gaze dragged over her like a predator sizing up prey. “And you are?”

“Dr. Y/N L/N. Forensic psychologist. I’m here to evaluate you.”

He chuckled, low and mocking. “Oh, they sent another one. Let me guess—you’re going to crack open my head and figure out what makes me tick?”

Her lips twitched, almost a smile. “Something like that.”

Leaning forward, Sukuna rested his chin on his palm, the chains clinking with the movement. “Tell me, Doc, what’s the diagnosis so far?”

“You’re impatient,” she said easily. “And maybe a little bored.”

For the first time in years, Sukuna’s smirk faltered—just a hair. “Keep talking.”

She set the file down, not even opening it. “You’re not here because of some uncontrollable bloodlust, are you? You’re not a mindless killer. Every choice you make has purpose. Even your cannibalistic tendencies—they’re calculated.”

His grin widened, shark-like. “You’ve done your homework.”

“I have,” she replied, leaning forward slightly. Her voice dropped, just enough to draw him in. “I know you don’t just eat to survive or for power. You do it to send a message. To dehumanize your victims.”

“Or to elevate myself,” he shot back, amused. “It’s not about dehumanization, Doctor. It’s about taking what others won’t. What they can’t.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. “And what does that give you?”

“Dominance.” His tone was smug, matter-of-fact. “In every way that matters.”

There was a pause, the kind that should have made anyone squirm. But Y/N met his gaze without flinching.

“Does it ever get old?” she asked softly.

The question caught him off guard, though he didn’t let it show. “You’d be surprised, Doc. The taste of fear? That never gets old.”

She leaned back, as if satisfied, and tapped a finger on the edge of the table. “You fascinate me, Sukuna. You don’t just kill—you savor it. I’ve seen your records. You’re… meticulous.”

“You sound impressed,” he teased, voice low and dangerous.

“Maybe I am.” Her smile was small but sharp. “Or maybe I see potential.”

His laughter echoed through the room, rich and feral. “Potential for what? Rehabilitation?”

“Something like that,” she said cryptically. .

.

The sessions continued daily. Y/N’s approach was unorthodox—no lectures, no moralistic speeches. She asked questions that dug deep, steering the conversations toward his cannibalistic acts. Why this victim, why that moment? What did he feel when he consumed them?

Sukuna, for once, played along, curious to see how far she’d go. She didn’t flinch at his answers, no matter how grotesque. If anything, she seemed intrigued, even... amused.

“You’re not like the others,” he said one day, eyes narrowing as she scribbled something in her notes.

“Is that a compliment?”

“An observation.”

Her smile was polite, but her eyes betrayed something darker. “Maybe we’re not so different.” .

The room was quiet after Y/N left for the day. Sukuna leaned back, replaying their conversation. She was digging for something, and he wasn’t sure what. Not fear. Not control. Something deeper.

His tongue clicked against his teeth as he mulled it over.

.

Meanwhile, Y/N stepped into her dimly lit apartment, setting her bag down by the door. She pulled off her coat, revealing the faintest smear of something dark—something red—on the cuff of her sleeve.

In the kitchen, she opened her fridge. Rows of vacuum-sealed packages lined the shelves, each labeled with dates and initials. She reached for one, her fingers brushing the plastic before pulling it out.

“Meticulous,” she murmured, her smile stretching wide as she placed the package on the counter. A butcher’s knife gleamed under the fluorescent light.

As she sliced into the flesh, her mind wandered to the child she had rescued from an alley once, its tiny body trembling with gratitude. The memory turned deliciously dark as she savored the look of dawning horror on its face when it realized not every woman was as kind as its mother. Y/N reveled in the bitter taste of fear—fear that lingered, even after the flesh was cooked.

She set the knife down, adjusting the heat on the stove to a low simmer. A small smile tugged at her lips, wicked and sharp. “He thinks he’s a monster,” she murmured, almost lovingly. “He has no idea.”

.

Back in the cell, Sukuna’s smirk returned. His instincts screamed that Y/N L/N was far more dangerous than she appeared.

And for the first time in years, he wasn’t bored.

A/N: Thank you for reading! 💀✨ I had way too much fun diving into the twisted dynamic between Sukuna and Y/N. What did you think of their little “therapy session”? Who do you think is the real monster here? 👀 I’d love to hear your thoughts, theories, or even just your favorite line! Drop a comment and let me know if you’d like more stories like this—or if you think Sukuna ever stood a chance. 😉 Your feedback means the world and keeps me inspired! 💬🖤

Chapter 2 - Flesh and Stone (Final Chapter) (Tumblr/AO3)

All Works Masterlist

[ghouljams]

heya ghoul! feel free to ignore this if it’s too personal, but you���ve mentioned having a partner (i think? my apologies if im wrong). i guess my question is: does your partner know about your hard kinks? as you might have guessed from the fact that im on your blog i really like some hard kinks but i cant imagine how i would ever broach that with a future partner. if they do, how did that conversation go?

—signed, a chronically shy and single but still kinky anon

I do have a partner! Mr. Ghoul is lovely and an absolute darling to date. He's a good boy.

Just ripping the bandaid off: yeah he knows about the kinks I want to play with.

Notice I said "want to play with" and not "all my kinks." He does know about pretty much all my kinks even the hard ones but I like to make the distinction with him what I actually want to try out and what is just fantasy.

Talking about kink with my partner is actually super embarrassing for me lol I'm always so nervous he's going to think I'm weird but he always just asks questions about what parts I like and if I'd wanna try it out some time. Honestly it's easier talking about the hard kinks than the relatively vanilla ones. Also we don't overlap with our kinks and Mr. Ghoul is not that kinky, which is honestly? Great.

Being able to make a space in conversation of "I just want to talk about this I'm not asking to act on it right now" makes talking about kink way easier. And the fact that we don't overlap much means there's not a "let's do that right now" threat to talking about kink. We can actually sit and talk about what we're into and how we want to execute it.

Honestly talking about hard kink with your partner and having them ask questions really helps you get to the bottom of "which parts do I actually want to try?" When I broached cnc with my partner he asked if I wanted him to "rape" me and I sort of had to sit and be like "actually I just want you to chase me and pin me down" so we do that. It can be embarrassing to talk about but it's also important, and you really do just sorta have to rip the bandaid off while talking about sex.

Idk it's not always sexy talking about kink, sometimes you're just talking about it.

[hello-sweetheart]

Fame and Fortune

Do you dream of glory? Crowds of thousands all adoring beneath you. The roaring cheers echoing in the arena. Countless of small white lights held up like beacons creating a sea of waving stars all for you. Breathless exhilaration has your chest heaving, skin glistening and damn. To feel like a god: never ending, eternal.

What would you be willing to do to get it?

What are you willing to sacrifice for fame?

Who are you prepared to lose?

Could the love of millions be worth the love of one?

——

[Backstage: Corroded Coffin Global Tour-Los Angeles, Ca]

Eddie is pacing, more than just pre-show nerves numb his hands. His cigarette burns quickly, ash falling on the carpeted floor, but no amount of nicotine filled lungs will fix this. Gareth, his drummer and long time friend, is watching him pace, eyes pleading.

“Is it worth it, Eddie?

We all got what we wanted; why are we miserable? You can’t lie to me, we all feel it. I see it in everyone, even you! You haven’t been the same since—“ He receives a withering glare from the frontman and sighs, speaking softer.

“I miss mom and my little sister. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them… I’m no longer drawn in her crayon family portraits, did you know that? Does Anne even remember me, anymore?

How can you keep going like this and expect us to do the same? I’m grateful—I really am—for you. You got us where we are now, a fantasy that we never even dreamed would become reality. It was amazing, I’m glad I got to experience it all with you, but I’m tired. I’m so tired guys.

I just want to go home.”

The long drag he takes burns his throat,

“Look, we’re all tired, I get it. Really, I do, this tour has been… particularly grueling I’ll admit, but come on. This is our last show, the big finale! We’ll give them all we got and then we’ll be able to take a break to freshen up before doing what we do best: creating kick ass music.

Like always. You’ll feel better after this, we always do after the last show—“

Gareth cuts him off, his patience clearly stretched thin.

“No, Eddie, listen to me! It’s different this time. I’m happy with the money we’ve made, we all have enough to live comfortably and I’ve been thinking that, you know, it’s time to settle down. I can’t do that if I’m always working. This, the band, it doesn’t… it doesn’t make me happy anymore.”

Jeff stands and his imposing figure makes Eddie pause from wearing a path into the floor.

“He’s not the only one, man. Im sorry, but its killing me. We don’t expect you to give it up either, you can keep the band name, find new members, keep signing… But for us? We can’t keep going, man. This is the end of the line.”

‘Not him too. Fuck. Fuck!’

“No! What am I—I’ve given up too much for this, you can’t just, fucking, bail on me!” This band, playing with his friends, it’s become his entire world. He’s lost too much to get here.

“Woah, woah, hey! No one fucking told you to and you know it. We’ve always had your back no matter what, but anything you chose to do is on you. Not us. The least you could do is extend us the same fucking curtesy and respect the fact that we’re fucking done with this bullshit.”

His gaze is venom as he looks at band, Grant and ‘Freak’ silent but agreeing with the rest. They refuse to meet his gaze.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” He turns and leaves. They’ll be starting in 15 minutes.

Fucking cowards. Ungrateful bastards.

A memory plays in his head. Brief and intrusive. The voice of someone long gone from his life rings in his mind.

“I’ve missed you, Ed. Are you done at the studio, yet? When are you coming home?”

“Steve, this is important. You know this. I’ll be pulling a few more all nighters here—this album has to be perfect, baby.”

A crackling sigh is barely audible through the phone.

“I know, I know. I’m just being selfish. I’m sorry. Miss waking up to you next to me.”

“Miss you too, baby. You’re my world you know. Love you more than anything.”

“More than music?” It’s a timid question.

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he’s the only one to laugh into the receiver.

“Right… night, Eddie.”

“Wait, Stev—“ fuck. It was only joke. Whatever, he’ll apologize tomorrow.

Right now, he has music history in the making.

[lily-is-a-gooner]

Lily faked an Amber Alert for attention

So in Lily's most recent stream (Earlier today, November 24th 2024), at approximately 9:03 PM AST, Lily Orchard got an Amber Alert on her phone while on stream and proceeded to have a full-blown meltdown over it, screaming and raving about how terrible they are for the psychological damage they inflict on her, even saying they trigger her PTSD. Here's the thing, there was No. Fucking. Amber Alert.

I know this is fake because there is no fucking evidence of an Amber Alert being sent out in Halifax (the area where Lily lives) since November 22nd, the very same day as the day she complained about an Amber Alert on her tumblr. Nova scotia does not get Amber Alerts often. There was a reported test on November 20th, and the aforementioned incident on the 22nd but as far as I can gather, there were no other incidents throughout all of 2024. Having 3 different EAS alarm events within 5 days, 2 of them being Amber Alerts is very very improbable, but I can go deeper. You see there's a certain little Demonic man who just so happens to live in Halifax and be surrounded by other people who also in fact live in Halifax. According to himself and two people he reportedly asked, none of them got any sort of EAS alert today. How curious!

Why did she do this? I believe it's as simple as her farming for attention and validation for how triggering EAS alerts supposedly are for her.

Here's the full clip followed by a hodgepodge of evidence and credits to our beloved demon man below the break

From November 22nd, same day of the actual Amber Alert that went out in Halifax.

Granted, none of the government official accounts I have found mention any missing person on the 22nd, but given how there are several news articles, reddit posts, and firsthand accounts, it's absolutely confirmed that there was an Alert on the 22nd, but there is no post ANYWHERE about a missing person or any other EAS alert being sent out on the 24th.

Little bonus from our beloved molecule-sized Haligonian man poking his head out of Lily-retirement for us that I think is noteworthy enough to include:

Big props to Crim @crimsonender for providing several invaluable fact checking and information for this. Very important considering he is coming from the perspective of a Halifax local, go send him your support and watch his petscop stream and other non-Lily-centered content pls and thank u.

[newkatzkafe2023]

How would the monkeys be as dads?

I think I answered this before, but let me see🤔

(Lmk Wukong) He's the goofy dad that makes silly mistakes for the entertainment of his cubs. Like seriously they know he's not that bright and for that they think he's funny. They to can see the space between his two eyes but your cubs would love him so much and know they can relie on him😁.

(MKR Wukong) He's the scary dad, he just has that mean mug on him but his cubs don't ever consider him a threat. In fact your cubs could not be safer with him because he wants to love and protect them. Not to mention behaves like a tsudere all the time so now only are you his weak spot but now his kids are too😖.

(HIB Wukong) He's the over-protective dad like seriously he the type to babu proof the house before you both considered children. He's tends to act ridiculous but at the same time, that just shows he loves and cares that his cubs are safe and healthy. Considering he loses everything constantly he might be over protective of you too😣.

(NR Wukong) the dad that tells dad jokes every second of every day like seriously. It's so bad that even Li would faceplam at the stuff he said. The children would either laugh or groan at his jokes or antics, but he never takes it to heart, and it's always all in good fun. Their are also times when he teaches very important life lessons, so the cubs would often go to him for advice before they will always trust what he would suggest🤣.

(Netflix Wukong) HE'S THE FUN DAD ALL THE WAY, THEIR IS NO CHANGING MY MIND🤩. Wukong loves to get in on the action of his children, joining them on their adventures and playing games all the time. He could be bone tired from his long day but can always muster up the energy to keep up with the cubs🥳.

(BMW Wukong) The father who loves to tell their stories about their prime days. Wukong is full of stories considering his immortality, so every day and night, he has a new story to tell, and the kids are always excited. Now, he tends to repeat certain stories that are his favorite, and interesting enough, his favorite story to tell is about how he met you😍.

(Destined one) Now he's the strict but loving father, he let's his kids have freedom in their lives, but only if they follow the ground rules. He's also not the type to take it easy on their training, but he makes sure that they know that every he does is out of his love for them. I also see him being the ask your mom type of dad, too, especially when he knows you said no already. 😬

Feel Free to Reblog👨

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/767420735500271616/so-the-thing-with-content-is-that-is-literally?source=share

The thing that makes the jellyfish hat content is that it is an object containing paper mache, fabric, cardboard, and the assorted accoutrements of jellyfish hat-making (the optional but popular add-ons go listed here in your head).

and implies that the container is more relevant in this specific context than the thing contained

No. that's not an implication. That's a thing you're making up in order to have an excuse to get angry about someone using a word you don't like, but it's not true. If I say, "I dumped open the contents of the box onto the floor", it is very easily discerned by most readers I am looking for something specific that is within the contents of that box. It is insanity to insist that the word content = the container being the most important thing on Earth. If I write "he opened the small box, revealing its' content: a single, small wedding ring" and you think the box is the focus, I just flat-out don't know what to tell you.

Setting that aside: holy shit, please calm down. I'm a bit busy with organizing resources for my local trans community at the moment but I promise you, there are worse problems than someone using a word you don't like. There was an election this year - don't know if you noticed - that impacts real people. Looking at all your anon and off-anon replies, the thing I keep thinking is, "Holy shit, who fucking cares? There are actual issues going on in the world right now!"

The fact that something I sent in during a ten minute snack break at work and quickly forgot about lives rent-free in your head to this degree days after it was said is highly, highly concerning. I cannot convey enough to you how much I did not mean to set off an episode in you, and at the same time, I am also very genuine when I say this may be a hill you're willing to die on, but it's not a hill I'm willing to kill you on. I kill people on important hills and jellyfish hats ain't it, chief.

It's wild to spend my time IRL trying to help people figure out what to do if our state makes it illegal for them to get HRT in-state and then pull up my phone and see someone this pressed about the word "content". Surely your life also has an important issue you could spend time on? No one is having a particularly good time right now. Maybe focus on a thing with literally any relevance to your quality of life whatsoever? I know that sounds glib. However, having had manic episodes where one thing someone said to me sent me over the edge, I'm not being glib. I really mean it when I say that redirecting your focus onto something important helps snap you out of it. It's how I got myself out of it before I was able to get medicated for my Bipolar Disorder. I take zero joy in seeing someone forth at the mouth because one person said one word and that made them spiral. I really do apologize, and I can see that this panic is a very real, valid emotion on your end. But 'valid' here is used only in the sense of 'I believe you when you say you feel panicked', not 'the panic is a logical, proportionate response to the trigger'. (As a side note, after this many anon and off-anon messages indicating fixation and extreme emotional overinvestment, I don't want anyone saying I misused the word trigger. This is not a proportionate response to someone using one word you dislike.)

The jellyfish hat contains materials needed to construct a hat. It doesn't need ads or legal agreements in order to contain cardboard, paper mache, etc. You are trying to make a mountain out of a molehill. Likely, you are taking your anger at something that actually matters and redirecting it onto this, a thing that does not matter. I'm not saying that in judgment - we all do it - but I am not going to be replying to this further. You may have a desire to use other people's words as an excuse to spiral but you'll have to find someone else to use the reason you're losing your shit.

The hat contains the materials needed to construct a hat. It's not that deep.

--

[realitythroughthelensoffiction]

Good Omens: on fate and reality

In season 1 of Good Omens, The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch play a vital role in helping to avert the Apocalypse. Anathema dedicated her life to understanding Agnes's prophecies and thereby helping to fulfill them. But in the final episode of season 1, when the package with the follow-up collection of prophecies arrives, she decides to burn them, because she does no longer want to live her life according to the writings of her ancestor.

This is interpreted by many as Anathema taking her fate in her own hands instead of subjugating herself to something that was foretold. But the fact that she burns the prophecies instead of studying them does not necessarily mean that she changed her fate. It is entirely possible that her life will still take the road that Agnes foresaw for her. Agnes probably even predicted the burning of the new prophecies.

The only difference is that now, Anathema knows that all the decisions she makes are of her own free will, while otherwise she would have always wondered what she did because she wanted it and what she did only because Agnes had prophesied it.

A further indication that people acting according to their free will does not contradict the idea of fate is God's Ineffable Plan itself. At the end of season 1, when the Apocalypse has just been averted, Crowley asks Aziraphale: "What if the Allmighty planned it like this all along? From the very beginning?" Aziraphale agrees that this might very well be possible.

So even though all the people involved made their own free choices, they could still have been acting according to a plan God laid out very long ago.

Conclusion No. 1: Free will and fate are not mutually exclusive.

However, it seems that some things can be altered. Adam as the Antichrist has the power to bend reality. He uses it to change the fact that Satan is his father and to bring back people from the dead, for example Lesley. When Aziraphale expresses doubt about Mr. Young really being Adam's father, Crowley says: "It is. It is now. And it always was. He did it."

So Adam did not only change reality for the present and the future, but also for the past. He was able to make things that had already happened undone.

Conclusion No. 2: In the Good Omens universe, reality can be altered, even retroactively.

And the ability to change reality does not seem to be limited to Adam. Another example, as Goldfarb Styrt (cf. p. 127; cited below) points out, is Crowley being able to get himself and his Bentley through the burning M25, while Hastur gets discorporated. Crowley simply imagines that everything is fine, and by imagining it, it becomes real. Goldfarb Styrt (cf. p. 123, pp. 126-127; cited below) also suggests that it might be the individual's interpretation of reality that matters.

That sounds really fitting to me. Because the Bentley is burning, no matter how Crowley imagines otherwise, and it explodes as soon as Crowley isn't concentrating on keeping it together anymore. And, as @indigovigilance mentions in this post, the people who witnessed the incidents during the attempted Armageddon, like Atlantis rising from the sea, still remember them, even after Adam undid everything again.

But Crowley and the humans interpret the aforementioned events in a different way than you would expect, and their interpretations have an impact.

In any case, reality and the ways in which it can be altered are important themes in season 1 of Good Omens. And season 2 contains hints that they might play a big role in the finale as well. The most prominent example of these hints is the recurring mention of the Book of Life.

I will go into more detail about the Book of Life in my next post, but the important bit for now is that by erasing someone's name from it, you create a version of reality in which "they will never have existed". So the Book of Life is another tool to effectively alter reality.

Conclusion No. 3: Reality and the possibilities to alter it are important themes in Good Omens and will be relevant to plot of the finale.

That's it for now. What are your thoughts on fate and reality in Good Omens?

Work cited: Goldfarb Styrt, Philip: Sola Fide. Ineffability, Good Omens, and the Reformation. In: Giannini, Erin and Taylor, Amanda (Eds.): Deciphering Good Omens. Nice and Accurate Essays on the Novel and Television Series, pp. 120-132.

@kimberleyjean

[delumineight]

i’m in tears 4000 reblogs… this is tumblr i would be so embarrassed of that i don’t even tell anyone in real life that i use this app. that aside im gonna skip that second paragraph because everything else is going to answer that. i’m assuming you’ve been here a while so i know changing your opinion won’t work too well, but you’re looking at this all so one dimensionally.

first off, that happens in year six. there is no “year seven.” and i am glad that you’re bringing up hermione’s faults because usually it’s all about ron! i just don’t think you’re familiar with Being In Love and to be honest i don’t care if hermione beats up on ron. he doesn’t either!!! am i supposed to hate women hit men? no. why would i? that’s praxis. when hermione jokes about it in the next book, he laughs. and if she did it then, he definitely would have deserved it if we’re going to be honest. ron probably likes her for any of the following and perhaps more: she is funny believe it or not, her vindication, the fact that she rides so hard for him and harry, how she cares about him, how she’s kind enough to want to kill some random chickens for them on the horcrux hunt, how insanely passionate she is about everything, and probably so much more that i don’t care to list or think of.

when harry’s away they could be doing anything. hogwarts is a big school. they canonically go to the library a few times, play wizards chess as you’ve mentioned, and do some homework/studying (much to ron’s dismay, i’ll admit). the book is told from harry’s perspective. we aren’t supposed to know what ron and hermione are doing 24/7 and that’s part of it all. this is where you use something called your imagination. they’re prefects together. which means that they spent hours walking around the school alone together. probably just chatting about whatever or even in silence, which can sometimes be so much more intimate than a chat.

ron’s opinion on house-elves doesn’t just change randomly throughout deathly hallows. the two elves in this book are insanely important to the plot, defeating voldemort, and the trio’s survival if you’ve forgot. kreature tells them about the locket and the story of how it originally was removed from the cave. dobby dies for them and saves hermione from being raped by greyback. the reason for the kiss is so big because it does in fact show that ron is growing up and changing, because they are children for the entire series minus a few months during deathly hallows.

and are you serious about this one? why didn’t they tell harry? dude, they didn’t tell each other for seven years and he was, i dunno, the center of a fucking war by the time they realised that they liked each other for real??? like, again, seriously?

they have “no development” in the epilogue because you’ve skipped 19 years and it’s like six pages long and not about them. it’s about harry’s gay son who is scared of being a slytherin, not ron or hermione or rose or hugo. they’re just little figurines in the background of harry’s small dilemma with his son that only have a few lines of small talk with their best friend/in law.

also, acting like ron and hermione’s relationship was out of no where just proves that you probably haven’t read the first two or three books in a while. some venture to say that seed was planted during the first book when ron sarcastically calls hermione “a lovely, sweet tempered girl” or the wingardium leviosa scene or when he beats her at wizard’s chess and it’s the first thing she’s ever lost at. jkr herself said once that they were meant to be a bit “love at first sight”-y (they’re 11 so i’m not 100% a fan of that) but if you can’t see it when he nearly jumps draco malfoy in chamber of secrets for wishing hermione dead or when he keeps looking sadly at her empty seat while she’s petrified you’re being purposefully dense.

if you’d like to try some more arguments please go ahead, but make them harder. this was entirely too easy and elementary. i could’ve given these same answers when i was thirteen.

“I used to ship Harry and Hermione together but that was back when I was 12 years old. Now, I’ve grown up and realized that Ron and Hermione make much more sense together and are good together” is a sure-fire way to tell me you didn’t “grow up”.

[cynassa]

Hi!! would you mind elaborating on the lobotomy and Jason is trans metaphor? 👀 I'm very interested

Hallo! I'm so sorry this is so late and still incoherent but i prommy it is less incoherent than a week ago when I first started writing it in between three microecon assignments SO:

Content warning: talk of abuse, conversion therapy, homelessness, not pleasant about Bruce Wayne

Most of the time I have to say about my headcanons that I don't know where they come from, but with Jason-is-trans, i know EXACTLY where it's from:

"No one's son" – welllllll, there’s a thought. (I know that’s not how Winick intended it, but forget that.)

Now, I'm not sorted on whether he's a man or woman or non-binary or whatever, but I do think this is an important part of who he is. We all focus a lot on what Jason wanted from his father, but it IS important that at some point in this entire mess, he also decided that he's okay with not having parents, and that we basically see him completely reinventing himself.

The rest of it is honestly just vibes. Three specific things stand out to me:

Jason outgrowing the Robin costume/choosing his own identity: this very strongly reads to me as the trans child choosing their own identity while their parent(s) memorialise the child they thought they had. Jason has (both literally) outgrown the costumes his foster father put him in, including the one that Bruce has memorialised forever. He’s about a foot too tall and too big for them, but also he does not want to be Robin anymore. His antipathy to a new Robin would also take on interesting new dimensions if he felt forced to be a certain type of boy in order to be in that costume, and he didn’t want, in fact, to be that type of boy, or a boy at all. Or even if he was okay, at that time, but found after some years that no, actually, this isn’t what he wants to be, and he’s angry then, because people shouldn’t be forced to be a certain type of boy? Anyway, it would be delicious angst-fest but that’s not what I’m writing right now.

All of the bits where Bruce is still mourning Jason when Jason is literally right there: This is so so so on-the-nose for a certain type of parent when their kids tell them they’re trans. Jason is alive, but he’s not Jason, and he’s alive but he’s not the Jason that Bruce imagined he would be, or he’s alive but does he have to be this way, or maybe he isn’t alive really, because how could this be Jason. And all the while Jason is standing there being like ‘I’m alive, my death isn’t the most important thing about me, that isn’t why we see things differently’ while Bruce just keeps insisting that if Jason isn’t exactly the type of man Bruce wants him to be, then Jason doesn’t have the right to exist in Gotham (in comic book terms, this might mean he doesn’t exist at all, as many characters don’t ‘make it’ in solo runs outside of the core stories.) Does that make Jason trans? Not in text! But the metaphor stands.

Forcible medicalisation - In multiple situations, Jason has reacted to his trauma in reasonable (note I do not say pleasant) terms seeing as he’s in a comic book where aliens, demigods, and supervillains are an everyday thing and people keep coming back from the dead. And in response to his trauma he’s been forcibly medicalised for it. Of course there’s the battle for the cowl thing where he was shoved into Arkham. But the most recent being *DRUMROLL* Bruce injecting him (yes I know it wasn’t Bruce-Bruce, but like, he agreed to killing Jason just a few issues later, so I’m not applauding him as father of the year just yet) with something that literally forcibly changes him back to what Bruce thinks he should be. I’m likening it to like conversion therapy.

So I think Jason being trans would be an amazing metaphor for how he’s not the person he used to be, and also he’s not the person that people say he used to be, and how even now that he’s right there, people keep making up a version of him in their minds and never really engaging with who he is. I mean, clearly some of it is just the medium. Jason gets to be competent (sometimes) but never win, because he wouldn’t fit his ‘role’ in the comic books otherwise. But if we’re taking a Watsonian view then it is impossible that Jason is not winning sometimes, because if he were that useless then the Bats wouldn’t engage with him. They do engage with him because he’s dangerous at least some of the time.

Anyway that’s my essay on how I think Jason deserves to be the cool queer cousin who only comes to family events when he thinks there’s going to be a disaster he can laugh at while sipping his cocktails. He can wear his little outfits and keep people guessing on his pronouns (he hands out knives as gifts to anyone who guesses okay).

Thank you so so much @bestangelofall for letting me talk about my favorite Jay headcanon!!