#(or the one who does his role perfectly [and leaves you a note] but CLEARLY has no emotional bond with you and it hurts like he doesn't)

[afterthegreatunknown]

asoue au where gregor anwhistle is alive and the stepfather of fernald and fiona, part two:

all while hector and widdershins are living together in the hinterlands in peace (peaceful as it can be until a certain event), the organization is in disarray. a family is in disarray.

the organization knows ishmael is alive given gregor's testimony, but no one knows where he could be. all that they know from gregor is that he's out there in the ocean in a bathyscaphe. some speculate ishmael eventually died for one can't travel too far and too long in a bathyscaphe (it's not a submarine, after all), while other speculate given the man's character, found a way to survive.

gregor other's brother ike, and his wife josephine, are ridden with guilty for partly causing the death of frigga, and widdershins. never would they assume their warning would have lead to the frigga getting shot. they never thought gregor's volatility would have him killing widdershins without any hesitation. the two deaths had ike and josephine entering retirement in the organization, limiting their contact with gregor to letters, until they died by leeches. not together, but leeches did killed them both.

kit snicket, while not losing her reputation in the organization (as with the others involve), slowly loses her other relationships as a result of the fire, especially with regards to widdershins' death. she loses ike and josephine, for like the couple themselves, holds them partly responsible for widdershins' death. kit loses betrand and beatrice, for their involvement in the volatile fungus deportation project has her seeing them as accomplices. kit loses her twin, after he writes an article that blames the boy widdershins loved as his own, as the one who destroyed anwhistle aquatic, and as widdershins' killer.

gregor himself goes through the ringer. he is unable to regain funding for a second attempt of the volatile fungus deportation project. the organization doesn't want to deal with another schism within schism. while gregor was offered by the organization to work in other less deadly projects, he instead decided to take over as captain of the queequeg, for the organization plan to turn it into scrap metal.

gregor doesn't mourn the lost of his project. he only mourns his wife, and widdershins. especially widdershins. it's why gregor become a captain, to save the queequeg, the one thing left of widdershins.

everyone mourns over frigga, but not many mourn over widdershins. much of the organization pretends he never existed, partly due to his violent death is something they don't want to think about again, but mostly because they're finally able to remove the 'leech outsider' who 'wormed' his way into the organization.

and fernald is disguised by them all, especially by gregor.

fernald always respected gregor, but never liked him. gregor never did anything to earn the teenager's ire though, which is why he didn't make complaints or objected to his mother's decision to date him. but now though, fernald has every reason to spite the man.

gregor allowed mom to transform into a different woman, and let her die. she became a woman who cared for work, and only work. not her family, her two children. gregor killed widdershins, the man who took care of fernald as a child, who tutored fernald like a chaperone. fernald lost the man he saw as a brother, as family.

the lost of his mother and widdershins has fernald one night lashing out at gregor. fernald yells at gregor for everything, and without any interruptions. fernald was able to let his feelings out at long last. and at the end...gregor told fernald to get out. that to take his things, and to never come back. and fernald does so without hesitation, crying his eyes out a week later, realizing he doomed fiona, and himself. he cries in anger as he read a newspaper article that brought back widdershins into the world, at the cost of everything he holds dear.

and it's fernald's anger at gregor does he make the decision to switch sides. it came to be after kit went to fernald in hopes to calm him down from reading her brother's article. and she did so, sort of. fernald stop his crying, but he was still angry, and told kit he wanted to get back at gregor by doing the one thing that would make him upset.

kit in horror, reminded fernald that he ought to be careful in how to spite his stepfather, for the one person who would be disappointed by fernald's actions, would be widdershins. and fernald told kit that he's doing it because of widdershins, that if the man was alive, fernald wouldn't thinking it in the first place.

and kit, despite knowing it's the wrong decision, lets fernald go. kit recognizes she is unable to change the path he's going, but accepts it. all she can do is wish him good luck and tells him that the next time they meet, they will be enemies. and fernald tells kit thank you, and makes her promise to watch his sister, if she can. fernald fears fiona's life will not be easy under gregor's care.

fernald's fears while not correct, also isn't wrong. gregor takes care of fiona; he feeds her, provides her clothes, and make sure she gets the best education possible, but he makes no attempts to emotionally connect with her. gregor refers to fiona as his daughter, but one can tell he doesn't view her as such. they can tell by his voice, how hollow it is, how dull his eyes are as he speaks the word.

once fiona gets old enough, she learns of her mother. she learns from her father that her mother died in a fire, and he failed to save here. it was a fire that her brother fernald blames gregor for, and ran away from home because the grief overtook him, for seeing fiona had the boy being painfully reminded of that night.

fiona also learns, all by herself, that her father is hiding something. some things are more obvious than others. her father's attempt to hide his...disconnection with her, is one she noticed at five, after he didn't appear on her birthday, only sending a gift from the mail. from that day onward, fiona knows her father is a father in everything but spirit, acting the motions of a father, but not letting himself be one. fiona wishes he could call him anything but that, but she feels oblige. he is the only family she has left. she doesn't want to lose him.

another thing fiona learns over time, is that her father is lying about being a submarine captain. fiona after visiting a few submarines with kit snicket -kit is the only volunteer willing to take fiona to other organization submarines- sees how her father isn't as skilled at the controls, which has fiona deciding to learn how to be a captain. it's something fiona can see kit is happy about, knowing the queequeg is in good hands at long last.

fiona learns how her father was very likely a scientist, after one day at the bookstore, when he buys three expensive trace fossils books, and she buys her first mycology book. her father upon seeing her book, has a light in his eyes, and spirit in his voice as he tells fiona about mycology, and how it's a dangerous field to study in, and to take caution, almost as if he was speaking from experience.

most importantly, fiona after some digging of the library, learns of the person who was very likely, the true captain of the queequeg. she finds the hidden poetry books, improper and proper dieting books, and the works of herman melville. one work in particular, moby dick, looks like it was read many times. pages are ready to fall out, and there are light pencil underlines in certain passages and of certain names.

one name in particular stands out to fiona. queequeg. fiona, after finally finishing her reading of moby dick, sees why the reader like queequeg, enough to name a submarine after him.

and it's moby dick does fiona sees how her father was once truly happy. inside the book is a photograph tuck away. it's a photograph of her father smiling, alongside her uncle ike and aunt josephine, and two men she doesn't recognized. one man had the luck of being in the middle, and the photo was crease so many times, his face is now gone. the other man's face is clear as day, but there's nothing that gives away who he is. the only standout is that the man has a mustache, and it curls upward almost like a parenthesis.

fiona keeps that photograph on her, knowing well that her father will never look through the book again. it's hiding away for a reason, like another photograph that is of her family at lake lachrymose. fiona would like to give the photo to kit in hopes the woman would identity the unknown men, but kit was soon assigned to libraries, taxis, and the hotel denouement.

fiona never told anyone about the photo. not even as the baudelaires came aboard the queequeg, fiona couldn't find it in herself to tell her third cousins of it. third cousins who didn't know of her existence until now, and of her father. and fiona isn't shock that aunt josephine never talked about her extended family (uncle ike and aunt josephine stop communicating with her father when fiona was a toddler, for reasons she still doesn't understand).

fiona kept it to herself as they were in the grotto, discussing a letter by kit to her father, who is now confirm a scientist, and not a submarine captain at all. fiona kept it to herself as the children came back aboard to an empty submarine, with only a note from her father, her stepfather, that he must depart on a vfd escort mission, entrusting fiona to be the new captain.

fiona kept it to herself as she struggles between trying to get the queequeg moving or to go find a cure for sunny, who when inside the grotto, got infected by the mycelium. fiona kept the photograph hidden as she and the baudelaires were thrown into the brig by count olaf, and as fiona reunited with her brother. fiona didn't dare show fernald the photo right then and there, even after learning of the deceased captain widdershins, the true owner of the queequeg who fernald was blame for killing upon setting the anwhistle aquatic fire, even though fernald wasn't there at all.

everything she learned in the brig was too much to show the photo. fiona eventually showed the photo to the baudelaires, after they showed her the photo of her family. seeing that photo had fiona snapping, telling them that her stepfather never cared about her and her brother, that he was never happy with her, that he was happy when single, when the true captain of the queequeg was alive.

and showing the photo at last to the baudelaires gave a reaction fiona wasn't expecting. the baudelaires told her the man in the photograph, the one with the mustache, is still alive. that his name is veasna heng, and that he's in a self-sustaining hot air mobile home with hector, the village of fowl devotee's handyman, taking care of duncan and isadora quagmire.

hearing those words gave fiona pause. it was a pause that granted the baudelaires the chance to convince fiona to let them go, as well as giving her the fungus inside sunny's helmet. and fiona agreed, thanking them for everything, the good and the bad.

fiona, upon reuniting with fernald, shows him the photograph, and what the baudelaires told her. and with a smile on his face, fernald asked her if she would be okay with a change of plan; instead of finding gregor, they should find the man in the photo, widdershins.

and fiona, without any hesitation, agrees to the change. while the change plan still oddly enough, lead to them finding gregor, it was not him who they ran towards though.

they instead ran towards widdershins.

(funny thing is, fiona feel it's how it's supposed to be)

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #asoue au #fernald #hook handed man #fiona widdershins #kit snicket #gregor anwhistle #gregor lives au (fernald and fiona anwhistle au) #(which stepfather is worst?) #(the one who you know cares and love you but REALLY isn't cut out to be a parent he reads child reading books he collects them big time) #(or the one who does his role perfectly [and leaves you a note] but CLEARLY has no emotional bond with you and it hurts like he doesn't)

[bemysinphony]

My pretty girl

pairing: txt yeonjun x f!reader

genre: os, au, (very sweet) smut

summary: you're working on your insecurities about your body and your boyfriend has been playing a key role in it, helping in making you feel loved, comfortable, and grateful most of all.

warnings under the cut!

warnings: reader is insecure about her body – particularly her thighs, yj's lips have a central role in this 🤚, cunnilingus (ofc), fingering, pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, love), praising – yj's has a praising kink (ofc), both reader and yj's love language is words of affirmation <3

word count: 1,5k

notes: guess who's back with a fic!! unbelievable i know 🙃 this is very sweet and soft as always but also self-indulgent and vulnerable..where's my partner that's gonna love me, desire me and cherish me like yeonjun does with y/n?! 😓hope you enjoy <3

just a quick disclaimer that the third picture in the moodboard above is not the most fitting for reader's body type but it's the only one i could find that almost perfectly represented the image in my mind while i was writing, so i went for it 🙏

Your hands are on his shoulders, pushing him down until he sits on the edge of the bed. He immediately spreads his legs to make room for you and his hands caress your hips inviting you in. You take the opportunity instead to bring your knee to his crotch, applying a slight pressure. Slight, but enough to make him delightfully groan for you.

"I love your sounds" you whisper, teasingly tracing his collarbones with your fingertips, your other hand resting on his thigh to keep you balanced as you lean over him.

He's trying to calm down his already labored breath, his hungry gaze on your mouth further confirming his desires. His left hand reaches for your face, bringing you closer to him again. "You and your gorgeous lips...", with his thumb he brushes the skin.

"Yours are definitely prettier than mine" your eyebrows furrow, "I've nerver saw a man with lips this pretty in my life" you insist, caressing them too with the tips of your fingers, bewitched by their natural color and puffyness.

He blushes, even the tips of his ears are turning red. He hopes that the almost darkness of the room hides it but, as soon as your smile gets wider, he knows you definitely noticed. It's not his fault he loves praise so much, he really can't help it, it makes the butterflies in his stomach turn into a rousing tornado.

"Well, I don't agree with your first statement... but it feels good knowing you think that." He doesn't leave you time to complain, finally capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss.

Your hands slide up to his face, fingers playing with his velvety lobes turning him on even more while you bite and suck on his lips.

The urge to feel his skin on yours is growing by the second and he's clearly feeling the same way, confirming it by grabbing your hips to pull you forward. He's been trying not to seem as disperate as he in fact is, but he can't take it anymore. Turning your shared needs into words, he whispers, "I need you closer..."

"Me too..." you nod breathing heavily, "can I get rid of these?" you ask playing with the button of his pants.

"Yeah, please" he rises his hips to help you remove them, biting his lip when you graze his bulge.

Once he guides you to sit on his lap, the fabric of your dress rises, revealing most of your thighs in all their glory. They are so cute and soft that he'd like to bend over and pepper them with kisses right away. Instead he strokes them, triggering chills all over your back. "So pretty..."

Your cheeks heat up, embarrassed because you're still somewhat insicure of them, yet pleased he's able to help you feel more comfortable in your own skin. To thank him, you slowly start to roll your hips against his, making him unable to keep his moans from escaping his lips. He can't believe you're already making a whimpering mess out of him and nothing really happened yet. Moving on to cupping your ass cheeks and playing with the hems of your panties, he speaks his mind again: "I want to eat you out so bad... can I?"

Your heartbeat quickens, filling your ears and your chest, and you can feel it in your stomach as well, right were it meets the pulsations of your core.

"Please do it."

"Yeah?" He giggles at the urgency of your tone. "Are you comfortable with that?" He's surprised by how sure you are about it this time.

"Absolutely, yes, mmh mmh" you stroke the nape of his neck and give him a reassuring smile.

You're tired of shying away from something you want more than just from time to time. You saw and heard multiple times the way he feels about your body, you know it's all in your head, you want to stop depriving yourself of pleasure because of insecurities.

He gets up holding your legs - that immediately wrap around his waist - and gently lays your back on the mattress. "Tell me if you feel uncomfortable, alright? Anytime you can stop me" he makes sure, eyes looking straight into yours.

"Yeah" you nod and take a deep breath, "I promise".

He pushes the hem of the dress up to your lower stomach and starts peppering kisses all over it, making you giggle. Discending to the the front of your thighs, he leaves some kitten licks on the flush skin. "My pretty girl" he mutters against it.

You keep your hands over your mouth, losely closed in fists, hypnotised by the view of his plump lips coming in contact with your body. Your is heart in your throat, anticipating his next move.

When his eyes flutter open, he takes in your rosy cheeks and your sparkling eyes before staring into them again. "Are you okay with me going on?"

"I am" you breathly confirm, "one hundred percent."

"Good, just promise me you're going to let me hear all your lovely sounds too" he asks referencing your hands, shooting you a wink. A warm smile spreading in between your cheeks, you assure him you will.

He slowly slides your panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze. Once again the look he gifts you is eager, and it fills your chest with confidence. His hands are now sprawled on your thighs, gently spreading them apart. He wastes no time and lowers his face closer to your heat, his warm breath fanning over your glistening lips. He's only giving you some experimental licks but you're already blissfully moaning. "J-junnie give me more please, I need more" you beg him even though you know you don't have to get what you want: Yeonjun is always ready to fulfill your desires, no matter how small or big they are.

He looks up smirking before starting to give attention to your neglected bud above, alternatively sucking and drawing little circles with his skilled tongue. When he detaches his lips for a second to breathe, he notices you clenching and your arousal gushing out, and he can't help but growing harder in his boxers. "Fuck baby, you are so hot..."

"ah- I am actually... can you help me get out of this dress?" you jokingly answer surprising him.

"Sure" he chuckles moving closer to help you carefully pull it off your head. He's so glad you felt comfortable enough to wear it to dinner that night. You looked absolutely beautiful with the smooth fabric hugging your curves in all the right ways. That dress was basically made for you to wear, it would have been a shame for if to keep staying in your closet forever, waiting for the day you will finally wear it like you always dreamed of. The last thing he wanted though was for you to feel pressured: "trust me when i say you're breathtaking in it, but i don't want to you to force yourself to wear it if you don't feel like it, sweetheart", he told you the day you decided to try it once again while you where reorganising your closet. It took you some time to finally wear it in public, but the day came, and he was so glad he got to experience seeing your face light up with joy and relief when you looked at yourself in the mirror and liked how you looked. Step by step, day by day, you've come so far and he was so proud of you.

With the fabric gone, he happly admires the view in front of him: your hair scattered on the comforter framing your crimson cheeks, the delicate plush skin of your breasts gathered in your lovely lacy bra, your cute soft belly, the tender curve of your hips... no amount of "pretty, gorgeous, lovely, hot" is ever going to be enough to emphasize how beautiful you are to his eyes, so he decides to show you. He returns to his previous ministrations, dividing his attention to different parts of your body: his mouth on your core, his right fingers tickling your entrance - it doesn't take much before they slip inside hitting your velvety walls just right - while his left hand strokes your thigh, reaching to cup one of your breasts moments later.

All type of sounds can't stop falling out of your mouth, the pleasure spreading and reaching every single corner of your body. Every time he groans, the vibrations he produces brings you closer to the edge. Your heart is galloping in your ribcage, you ask yourself if he's able to hear it too.

"You taste so good sweetheart" he savours, "it's never enough".

As you come undone, your hands run to his, busy massaging your breasts, squeezing it while a trail of his repeated name - "jun, jun, jun, oh my god" - leaves your lips.

"My sweet baby, you did so good, look at you" he praises massaging your shaking hips. "Did you enjoy it?" despite the clear reaction of your body, he wanted to hear you say it.

"A lot...", you smile contently, "thank u love". You reach for his shoulders, inviting him to come closer and hug you, and when your arms fold around him, holding him tightly to your warm chest, he swears his heart could burst.

He looks up at you, his juicy lips glistening with traces of your arousal, looking incredibly inviting. He starts licking them and immediately catches the disappointed expression on your face: he rushes to your own mouth to share a kiss and let you taste yourself on his.

"Better?" he asks.

"Yeah" you answer.

You're smiling to yourself, asking how the hell were you so lucky to find someone that's truly head over heels for you, that makes you feel so loved and cherished and appreciated. You feel like crying with joy.

"Baby, is everything okay?" His tender voice asks. He noticed your glossy eyes.

"Yeah, i'm just thinking about how lucky i am... to have of you in my life", you say as if it was a stupid reaction he should pay no mind to, running your fingers over your eyelids to quickly chase the tears away. But he stops you, taking your face into his hands and stroking your cheeks lovingly. "Oh sweetheart... me too".

He starts planting a series of soft kisses all over them, letting your tears roll down freely. "You don't even imagine how happy and proud you make me."

feedback is always appreciated, thank u for reading!! <3

#txt smut #yeonjun smut #tomorrow x together smut #txt fanfic #yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun smut #txt x reader #one shot #soft smut #bunnywrites!!

[7-wonders]

Kiss With a Fist

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Normally, Dream is above mortals and their petty quarrels, but when one decides that he wants to play with fire, Dream is more than prepared to burn him. That is, until you have something to say about it.

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: I've wanted to write something about you pulling a Hob Gadling and fighting off someone wanting to attack Dream for a while now. Here it is. Basically you're a badass and you fight a drunk guy trying to pick a fight with Dream. Let me know your thoughts!

(Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns)

We begin…in the Waking World, which is not, in his opinion, an ideal place to be.

Though the Burgess lineage has been snuffed out and Dream of the Endless is far too powerful to ever find himself captured by a mortal again, he still feels a touch of trepidation upon his trips outside of his realm. How could he not, after one such visit went so spectacularly wrong and ended up with him trapped for over a century?

Having reminders of the good of humanity certainly helps ease his apprehension, which is why he typically finds himself with some sort of companion when he leaves the safety of the Dreaming. Most of the time, Matthew is a mere stone’s throw away at all times. If not Matthew, then Dream has increasingly found himself seeking the company of his friend, Hob Gadling.

You’re the most “human” of them all; though both Matthew and Hob were, at one point, completely and utterly mortal, that is no longer the case. You, however, are. He would argue that’s perhaps what makes you so fascinating, but he knows that’s not entirely true. There are a great many things that make you fascinating to him, and your mortality is probably the least of those.

It’s his predilection towards you that has landed him here in the first place, at what you called an “upscale bar” for a friend’s birthday party. To be fair to you, it’s not as if you hadn’t given Dream multiple opportunities to decline your invitation. You even bluntly told him, among other things, that it was almost certain he would not enjoy himself at a mortal event such as this and you were perfectly fine going by yourself.

But no, he had to insist that he would play the role of doting “boyfriend” (which he was, though he preferred terms to describe your relationship that sounded much less juvenile) and accompany you to this celebration. After two grueling hours, he can honestly say that he does not understand why anybody would torture themselves by willingly stepping foot into such an establishment. Between the bone-shaking bass of the music that is unnecessarily loud, the patrons whose wildly inappropriate, alcohol-steeped daydreams stick to Dream like molasses, and the harsh lighting that continues to change depending on the beat of whatever garish song is playing, he’s seen enough to last him five human lifetimes.

He tries to hide his disdain, knowing that you’re enjoying yourself and your night. ‘Tries’ being the key word here: after the fifth person who visibly jumps in fear when they see Dream’s piercing glower, it’s evident that this attempt is not working in the slightest. Whether you’ve finally noticed this or you just decide to take pity on him, he’s not sure.

Regardless, you lean into him and ask, “Are you doing okay?”

“I would like to get some air,” he says, being heard clearly by you despite not having to raise his voice above the music. He’s relieved when you nod; Dream was never a particularly social creature, but that desire for solace increased tenfold after he freed himself from his glass cage.

“We can head out, actually. I’ve socialized long enough.”

Dream could actually cheer at this. Since it would be entirely uncouth of him to do so, he continues to look nonchalant. “Do not feel that you need to end your night early on my account.”

“I’m not! I’m tired and I’d rather go home with you now. I’m gonna close my tab, if you wanna go wait outside for me!”

He very much wants to go wait outside for you, and with one last squeeze of your hand, he separates from you and leaves you to finish paying for your drinks.

There’s something inherently calming to Dream about the evening hours. It may be that the world seems to become more peaceful after the sun sets, or that the majority of dreamers enter his realm at this time. It could even be the fact that this is Mother Night’s domain, complicated as their relationship may be. Whatever the reason, Dream is particularly fond of this time of day, and he enjoys the sudden tranquility after such a hectic environment.

Unfortunately, said tranquility lasts only momentarily before a shadow crosses over towards Dream and he meets the bloodshot eyes of a mortal man. He’s average in every way, from the backwards cap to the scuffed shoes stained with unidentified liquids. A ‘frat boy,’ you would call him. Though the shadows warp behind him as he attempts to scare him off as he did to the others inside the bar, this man remains uncowed by his expression.

“Hey, I saw you earlier at the bar.” Dream scowls, for he did have an encounter with this particular human inside the establishment, and he did not enjoy one second of it. “Yeah, I offered to buy your girl a drink, didn’t I? Then you shoved your way in between us, which was rude. I was just trying to be friendly!”

“Silence, mortal.” He’s had enough of this conversation, if it can even be called that, and glances in the direction of the entrance to see if you’re making your exit. In the process, he sees the man’s expression morph into something ugly, something vengeful. He’s not sure why, considering he has not been insulted; after all, Dream simply called him what he is, which is a mortal. 

“The fuck did you just call me?”

Instead of actually bothering with a response, Dream attempts to move away from the wall in order to find you, having had enough of playing this game. The mortal man’s hand lands on his shoulder and stops him from achieving that goal. Dream simply glances at it, deciding that, actually, it has been a good while since he properly frightened a mortal in any realm.

“Why ya tryin’ to leave? I just wanted to have a friendly chat.” The man’s breath reeks of cheap alcohol, and Dream’s lip curls in disgust.

“No, I think not.”

“Hey!” Both heads snap towards the bar’s entrance, where you’re emerging from the door and marching closer towards them. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The mortal man smirks, finding amusement in the fact that you’re now involved. “Get outta here, bitch. This doesn’t concern you.”

Dream has half a mind to incite his nightmares on this boor of a man just for the crude insult (how dare he even think to disrespect the future consort of the Dreaming in such a way), but you’re speaking before he can properly make a decision. “Yeah it does. Leave him alone.”

The man smirks and rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to Dream. “What, you need your girlfriend to fight your battles for you?”

“I’m trying to protect you here,” you say with a laugh, knowing that Dream doesn’t need anyone to do anything for him. “Take your hand off of him and go.” 

As you walk past him, you knock your shoulder against the man’s, who goes stumbling back with his arms pinwheeling at his sides as he attempts to keep his balance. Either you’re stronger than you look, or the man is drunker than he lets on; Dream is willing to bet that it’s a combination of both.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, dude.” 

Gently, you grab Dream’s hand and pull him away from the wall. He allows you to do so–though he can deny it all he wants, he certainly doesn’t mind when you fuss over him. Sure enough, he watches as you scan him up and down for any sign of injury, seeming to forget that he cannot exactly be injured by a mere mortal.

“Are you okay?” 

Were they in private, Dream would laugh (he’s found himself doing a lot more of that lately–laughing) and assure you that nothing so paltry as a mortal attempting to provoke him had caused him any harm or upset. As it is, he simply nods, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it.

Unfortunately, mortal men seem to love violence. This should not be surprising, considering his brother is—was—Destruction, but it’s something that tends to slip his mind due to how little time he actually spends among them. When they are robbed of the opportunity to inflict said violence on their intended target, they become enraged. 

This is no different for this mortal man, whose face turns a surprising shade of red in anger. As Dream turns with you to leave, he allows his natural eyes to appear through the blue ones that he wears when in the Waking. Black pits appear in their place, the stars that are normally there completely snuffed out. Petty, but he cannot resist making the last move.

This works against his favor, however, when the mortal man takes a swing at Dream.

For an immortal, anthropomorphic personification, Dream has not found himself in many fights through his long life. He should rephrase that: he has not found himself in many street fights through his long life. Battles, he’s had his fair share. Glorious battles, either those like the Oldest Game where wit is the weapon or those where he was fighting for a purpose, be it love or honor or his realm. 

But battles are skilled; there’s an art to them, an understanding on each side of the formalities and the pomp and circumstance that goes into it all. Though they may be enemies, the foes carry with them a certain integrity that extends to the conflict. In fact, as far as Dream is aware, mortal military campaigns are fought a lot like this as well. Alleyway brawls most certainly do not carry any of this.

Humanity changed, as humanity is wont to do, in the century plus that Dream found himself a prisoner in an English countryside basement. However, the century of imprisonment had to align with one of the centuries that underwent the most societal change. Though Dream very much enjoys watching as humanity evolves, he enjoys watching it as it happens, not learning about it in retrospect. As a result, he has felt woefully behind when it comes to modern standards; a fact which the few mortals or former mortals he knows love to focus on. Not that he wants to sound every bit as old as he is, but before his imprisonment, ladies most certainly did not fight.

All of this is important knowledge to keep in mind for the coming events.

The man’s hit, meant for Dream, connects against your cheek as a result of you shoving Dream out of the way before he can truly process what’s about to happen. He wants to tell you to stop, wants to blow sand in the face of this man and follow through on his silent threat to give him his worst nightmares, but…something stops him. A not-unpleasant warmth in his stomach that begins to bloom as he watches you ball your hands into fists, obviously preparing to fight back against this man. 

A few bystanders audibly wince when you punch your adversary’s jaw, making his head snap back. Curses fall from his lips as he swings again, but you manage to grab a fistful of his shirt collar when you duck and his fist hits your forehead. This advantage means that this will be the last hit he gets on you. 

With a yank of the fabric, the shirt goes up over his head and serves both to blind him as well as to make it difficult for him to move away from you. He’s more focused on attempting to free himself from your hold than he is hitting you again, and when he finally does regain his sight, he sees your fist hurtling towards his face.

The last punch is a direct hit to the mortal’s nose, blood immediately beginning to drip down his face and onto the ground. Both the pain and the shock of it send him falling backwards onto the ground, where he groans pathetically and clutches at his wounded face. From above, you breathe heavily and shake out your dominant hand, a look of disgust on your face as you stare down at the enemy you’ve taken down with ease.

In all, the actual fight lasts less than half a minute. Dream, however, believes that he shall think of said fight for the rest of his eternal fight.

“Bitch,” the mortal spits out again, the insult the only weapon he has left in his arsenal.

“Don’t forget it, either.” You grab Dream’s hand again, this time pulling him away from the small crowd that’s beginning to form on the sidewalk. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here before someone calls the cops.”

Dream demeans himself and actually runs alongside you, but only until there are no more humans in sight. He pulls you to a stop then, taking his sand out of his coat and tossing a handful in the air. Between one blink and the next, he’s safely inside your Waking apartment with you. Shaking your head a couple of times to clear the double vision in your eyes, you finally look over at him.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think you’d get stuck dealing with some drunk idiot who–oof!” 

Dream cuts off your rambling by shoving you against the wall of your bedroom and proceeding to kiss you as though it’s been years since he last laid his lips against yours. You stiffen under him for a moment before your body goes lax, hands curling around the lapels of his coat as you lean into him and attempt to eliminate any modicum of space between your bodies. It’s only when he can hear you beginning to try and take desperate little pants in an attempt to get air into your lungs that he pulls his lips from you, though this doesn’t last for long.

“Do you have any idea,” he pauses to press another series of heated kisses to you, “what seeing you fight that man did to me?”

“...I’m confused. Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Dream scoffs. “How could I be mad, when you defended my honor in such a way. Me, who could have sent the mortal to the Nightmare Realm with barely a glance. I am more powerful than the gods themselves, yet you fought for me without so much as a second thought. No, I am not mad at you. I find myself rather infatuated with you at this moment, in fact.”

“As if you’re not infatuated with me all the time?” He silences your snark with more kissing, which you gladly accept for another few moments.

“Dream,” you finally mumble against his lips. 

When he doesn’t answer, you try again. 

“Morpheus.”

He still doesn’t answer, nor does he make any movement to let you know he even heard you. Finally, you push at his chest to get his attention. 

“While I’d love to continue doing this, my lip is split and it really hurts to kiss you right now.”

Dream steps away from you sheepishly. It’s not often that his control falters in such a way, and it only ever does so when he’s in your presence.

“I apologize,” he says remorsefully. If there’s one thing that Dream hates, it’s causing pain to those dearest to him, of which you are the most dear.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, you couldn’t have known it hurts. I should probably clean myself up, though.” He follows you into your bathroom, where you turn on the faucet and grab a clean cloth off of the towel rack.

“Allow me to help you with your wounds?” Dream asks.

Healing others is not one of his many powers, and you know that. Still, he wants to be of assistance, and so you point to the closet in the corner. “There’s a first aid kit on the bottom shelf of the closet, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing that?”

Dream hasn’t the faintest idea what a first aid kit actually is, but since he’s trying to be helpful, he simply goes off in the direction that you pointed him towards. When he comes back with the bright red bag (he knows enough from dreams to know that the white cross on the front means medical aid), you’re dabbing blood off of the back of your hand with a damp cloth.

“I did not realize that your hand was injured, as well,” Dream says.

“What can I say? Fucker had a hard head.”

He frowns. “I really wish that you would not use such crass language. It’s very unbecoming.”

“You love it and you know you do.”

Dream’s hands skim over the different medical supplies, unsure of what will help or hurt, or even what each item’s intended use is. This confusion must be rather obvious, for you simply have him hold the kit open as you grab whatever is needed and set it out on the counter next to you. He watches, silently and with utter fascination, while you grab a small cotton round and dab some sort of antibiotic on it before you begin to carefully apply it to your knuckles.

He takes this time to actually catalog the injuries you had sustained while fighting for him. In addition to the webbing of surface-level cuts on your knuckles, two wide bruises are already beginning to discolor your skin, one stretching along your cheekbone and the skin below your right eye and the other on your forehead up into your hairline. The ‘split lip’ as you called it, does look rather painful, and he feels bad to have exacerbated that pain. The skin is quite literally split down both your upper and lower lip, dark red blood pooling on the surface. It’s swollen, and another bruise forms on top of the swelling.

Again, Dream feels his heart, which does not work like that of a human’s, clench painfully. You’ve bled to protect him, injured yourself just to keep him safe. He does not know how he could ever repay you for such a kindness, though you’ll assuredly attempt to convince him that you don’t need any sort of repayment.

For Dream, this repayment starts by being the one to take care of you. Now that he’s watched you care for one wound, he can easily mimic your movements as he takes the washcloth you’re running under the tap water and gently presses it to your lip. You wince under his touch, but allow his hand to remain there.

“Where did you learn to fight in such a way?” Dream asks after you’ve nodded that enough time has passed for him to remove the cloth from your mouth.

You shrug. “I was bullied in middle school and it started to get kind of physical–nothing too bad, just mean girls shoving me around or stepping on my heels so that I’d trip and fall.” It sounds far worse than ‘nothing too bad,’ and Dream almost wants to ask you for the names of your childhood tormentors so that he may give them a taste of their own medicine. “Still, my dad wanted to teach me to defend myself, just in case it got any worse.”

“He taught a child to fight?” Dream scoffs in disbelief, one hand gently holding your chin in place while he uses the other to apply the antibiotic to your lips.

“I was twelve, first of all, and it’s not like he was encouraging me to go up to these girls and knock them out. It was a last-resort sort of thing,” you say when he’s finished tending to that cut.

His hand gently skims along the bruise on your cheek, and you can’t stop your reflexes as your hand darts out to grab at his wrist and stop him. He aborts what he was doing, instead grasping your own hand and pulling you to him as he just barely lays his lips on top of the bruise and lets them linger there. He can hear your breath catch in your lungs as he does so, and it makes him smirk just slightly.

When Dream finally pulls away, your body unconsciously tries to follow him as you mourn the loss of his closeness. He asks, “Might I continue to attend to you, my protector? My warrior?”

“Uh, um,” you stutter, trying desperately to remember how to speak. Dream finds it incredibly endearing. “The, uh, I have ice packs in the–in the freezer. For my face? They’re blue, and they should be stacked on top of each other.”

“Go lay down so that you may rest,” he commands. “I shall be back momentarily.”

You describe items well enough that finding whatever it is you request is an easy task, the ice packs being no different. Perhaps Hob Gadling was right to marvel over human inventions at most of the pair’s early meetings. There is something rather fascinating about the resourcefulness of creating something that can be kept cold specifically to help with injuries. 

When Dream returns to you, you’ve done as he asked as are laying against the pillows of your bed to rest. He’s unsure of how you apply said ice packs, and hands them to you instead and watches as you lay one on each bruise. Though you recoil from the cold at first, you soon sigh and relax under it. 

“Will you lay with me?” you ask. 

Dream is not one to turn you down for most things, and he especially will not deny you of this request. He wraps himself around you, black coat billowing out and covering both of you. He knows that it’s only your face that has sustained the brunt of your injuries, but he still tries to be cautious with you just in case.

It’s not exactly resting when you’re on your phone watching the videos that, while they make no sense to Dream, make you laugh, but you’re safe and in his arms, so he won’t say anything to you about the importance of proper rest. Instead, he allows himself to simply think. About you, about him, about this night.

“You need not have come to my defense,” he says suddenly upon remembering what it is he had wanted to say to you earlier, before he was overcome with the need to kiss you. Distantly, he’s reminded of the last time he said such a phrase, and his lips tilt up at the memory.

“Hmm?” You don’t quite know what he means, his statement coming from out of nowhere.

“I was in no danger, yet you so valiantly defended me from the mortal. Why?”

“Because he was going to hurt you.” You say it as if it’s the most obvious conclusion in the world. The sky is blue, water is wet, you fought the man because he was going to hurt Dream.

“He would not have gotten the chance.”

You sigh. “I know that you’re all-powerful and whatnot, but…when you love someone, sometimes that doesn’t matter. Someone was attempting to attack you, and so I decided that I wasn’t going to let them. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I very much would. However, it’s a little different for me than it is for you.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

He begins to uncharacteristically stammer in an attempt to explain himself. “No, that’s not–I would never–you–”

You cut him off with a laugh before he can make an even bigger fool of himself. “I’m just teasing you.”

“You are cruel to your monarch, my love.”

“Not my monarch, I’m afraid,” you say cheekily, a smile on your face. “Last I checked, I’m not one of your subjects.”

It will never cease to amaze Dream just how at peace he feels when in your presence. On the rare occasion that conversations start out serious, they devolve into something quaint and full of soft touches and teasing jokes at your hands. Even after he sees you into the Dreaming and has returned the now-melting ice packs to your freezer, he feels this way.

Suddenly, he’s struck with the ‘why’ of it all. He feels at home here. No, he feels at home with you. Being with you is like coming home after a long journey and getting to sleep in your bed again for the first time in months. You’re his comfort, his safe place.

Perhaps, in some cases, the Waking World is an ideal place to be.

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #the sandman #the sandman imagine

[noosayog]

[Jealousy] Atsumu is jealous of your relationship with your best friend

wc: 900

warnings/content: angst

noos’s notes: there might be a part 2 hehe EDIT all y'all hate reader so i had to change the summary 😭😭 

You have a really good friend. And Miya Atsumu is fully supportive of your friendships. If only your best friend wouldn’t look at you like that and treat Atsumu like this. 

It’s a Friday night and he was looking forward to having a relaxing dinner with you and your best friend with whom you had grown up with and always spoke very highly of. As your boyfriend, Atsumu thinks it perfectly normal to be nervous in the face of meeting someone very important to you. “He’s like a brother to me,” you had said. So Atsumu puts utmost importance on making a good impression. 

However, as Atsumu sits across the table from Kuroo Testuro, he knows the night won’t go as he hopes. Your tall, crafty, “like-a-brother” best friend instantly plucks the single drinks menu from the table and starts to point out the drinks he thinks you would like. You can’t decide between two options and before Atsumu can offer to share, Kuroo does. 

Appetizers and entrees go much the same way. You don’t seem to mind either that your best friend is very much taking his place, the role of the boyfriend, and you even have the audacity to laugh along. Dessert is the worst because Atsumu doesn’t like sweets and most definitely isn’t in the mood to play chivalrous boyfriend anymore. 

So when Kuroo says “let’s share the chocolate cake,” and you respond with, “‘Tsumu, do you want-,” Atsumu feels the need to make his dissatisfaction known. 

“No, thank you,” he responds tightly. 

“Really? We can share something if you don’t want the whole dessert.” You smile sweetly. 

“I’m fine.” 

Across the table, he sees Kuroo raise his eyebrows and curl one side of his lip up in an almost unnoticeable smirk. Atsumu bristles. 

You frown a bit now. “Are you sure? It says the chocolate cake uses dark chocolate so it’s-”

“I don’t want a chocolate cake. If ya want it so bad, why don’t ya just share with yer friend!” It felt like the restaurant was silent; that was how clearly he could hear his snappy tone. 

Your concerned expression morphs into something unreadable. “I was just going to say, so it’s not too sweet for you.” You turn back to Kuroo and say, “I think we’ll pass on dessert. Thanks for hanging out tonight, but we’re going to head out now.” You leave some bills on the table and storm out. 

The last thing Atsumu sees before he runs after you is the full-blown smirk on Kuroo’s face and a salute in a mocking goodbye gesture. 

– 

The second you both arrive home, you whirl on your heels to face Atsumu. “What was that all about?” 

“Don’t know what yer talking about.” 

You sigh and look away, visibly frustrated. With him? 

Somehow, this isn’t how he envisioned the conversation going. Sure, he shouldn’t have snapped at you, but he kind of expected you to be a bit more concerned about why he’s been so quiet all night. And he would be lying if he didn’t feel like you seemed to show much more care for Kuroo than you did him all night. 

So as a natural hothead must, he meets your tone. 

“Ya seemed happy sharing all yer food with him. He seems to know all about yer likes, huh?”

“Atsumu, I asked you multiple times if you’d like to share with me. You’re the one who’s said no every time I asked. What is up with you tonight?” 

“What is up with me? What is up with ya and yer friend? I’m surprised ya even noticed me with all the attention ya were paying yer friend.” He emphasizes the word like it’s dirty coming out of his mouth. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

Atsumu turns around and starts walking to the bedroom, leaving you behind in the entrance. “Ya must really enjoy that special treatment, huh?” He knows he’s just being jealous and nasty but he couldn’t stop himself. 

“What are you going on about, Atsumu? I’ve told you about him so many times, he’s a friend I grew up with. Of course, we’ve hung out and had meals together.” You’re throwing your hands up in the air in exasperation. 

“Well since yer so close, why don’t ya just go date him then?” With that last line, Atsumu goes into the bathroom and slams the door shut. 

He stares at himself in the mirror, processing what he just said to you, until he hears the front door slam shut. 

He scrambles to the entryway only to find your shoes gone and you nowhere to be found. 

Maybe this is better. You can both get some space to think about things for a night and you could make up in the morning. 

Not even a minute passes before Atsumu finds himself pacing the length of the apartment, regretting every word and wishing he apologized. Where were you going anyway? It was late at night. Spending the night at a friend’s maybe? Panic begins to settle in his chest when he thinks of the possibility that Kuroo could be that friend. Maybe he could still catch you if he takes the stairs. 

So Atsumu sprints down the stairs of your apartment building, two steps at a time, in hopes of catching you before it’s too late. He makes it out of the building in heavy frustrated pants, only to see you drive off in the passenger seat of a car he’s never seen before and a flash of the driver's black, messy hair.

#noos writes #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #hq angst #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu angst #atsumu miya angst

[it-happened-one-fic]

Because of You - Vil

Author's Notes: So, this isn't part of the Strictly NRC Dancing AU and I sincerely was not planning on posting this. I actually wrote this largely for myself for funsies, but I just kind of decided to post it today for unknown reasons. This probably isn't canon and is being posted pre-Diasomnia overblot. It's just a scenario I came up with while listening to "Because of You" by Paul Mottram. Reader is gender-neutral and I hope you can enjoy!

Type: Romantic/NOT canon-compliant/ gender-neutral reader/ does this count as drama??

Word count: 681

Vil felt his hands digging into the dirt, his manicured and perfectly polished nails becoming covered in grime and filth as he waged against the senselessness of this situation.

Because of you, he’d been reduced to this state. Because of you, Epel screamed and beat on the magical shields that surrounded NRC. Because of you, he was absorbed by a sense of helplessness, even though he’d already experienced a darkness so deep that it had almost consumed him. And because of you, that darkness hadn’t devoured him, and he was still here.

Vil shoved himself up, rising to his feet so that he could gaze through the green-tinged shield and into the school. He could clearly see the school’s towers, rising up towards the sky in a determined retaliation against the thorny vines that threatened to consume the entire building.

You were in there, somewhere. Alone with one of the world’s most powerful magicians, who was currently being consumed by the very darkest parts of his person.

You’d dealt overblots before. You’d defeated and thereby saved not just Vil, but also Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, and even Idia. All formidable opponents who, through your leadership, a ragtag group of students had defeated.

You’d gone from a magicless nobody who’d stumbled into a world that was not your own to becoming a hero of the school. You were one of the most famous students among the student body. But you still remained humble and had only one wish. To return to your home.

“Vil! Vil what do we do?!” Epel turned, facing his housewarden in desperate search of guidance. Vil found himself looking toward the first year who was one of your close friends and steeling himself for what was to come.

Vil was almost impressed that he was able to keep his voice level when responded, “We’ll do what we have to. We’re going to break through this shield and go in there and help Y/n.” 

Epel stared wide-eyed as his housewarden pulled out his magical pen and the gem began to glow a deep purple. “But what if we overuse our magic… What if-?”

“We don’t have time for ‘What if’s’ Epel. And I can assure you that everyone else will be doing the same.” Vil had no doubts that he wouldn’t be alone. You’d single-handedly won over the force that was your friends.

All the housewardens, vice housewardens, and numerous other students cared for your well-being or felt indebted to you. None of them would leave you to face that draconian man that you were no doubt up against.

Rook joined Vil’s side and soon Epel was there too, each with their pens out and ready to lash out to shatter the shield before them.

Vil was not trapped under any belief that he was a hero coming to save a helpless victim. Vil had never been a hero. He was a villain that tormented the heroes and was never on stage for the curtain to fall.

It was something that he’d loathed his entire life. Why him and not someone else? Why was he always given such a hated role?

But Vil found that he no longer cared. If he were to be a villain, then so be it. He would be a villain that Malleus Draconia wouldn’t soon forget, and he would be the villain that stole the draconic fae’s precious friend.

Because of you, he would become the very thing he abhorred… Just so he could see you take to the stage yet again. Just so he could see you safe once more.

The shield shuddered and Vil knew it wasn’t just the students of Pomefiore attacking. No, all those whose lives you'd touched were rallying to aid you. 

And Vil was one of them. Because he’d never been afraid of a little bit of hard work, and because of you.

Because of you, who’d stolen his heart with your giddy smiles. Because of you, who didn’t turn away when he was at his most hideous. Because of you, who accepted everything about him, no matter how unsightly or disgusting.

Because of you… who he loved.

#wooo! on a roll with Pomefiore boys today #I promise I like Vil a normal amount #Twisted wonderland imagines #Vil x reader #Vil schoenheit #Twisted wonderland x reader #gender-neutral reader #reader is prefect #non canon compliant #Diasomnia overblot #Because of you #Vil x y/n #Vil x you #Twisted wonderland x you #Twisted wonderland x y/n #Twst x reader #twst x you #twst x y/n #my writings #romantic #fanfiction #Disney #pomefiore #fanfic #oneshot

[shewholovestoread]

My Journey To You - Thoughts and Impressions Part 2 of 2 - The Characters

Part 1 HERE

The format of the post will be as follows:

1) Yun Wei Shan

2) Gong Zi Yu

3) Their Relationship

4) Shangguan Qian

5) Gong Shang Jue

6) Their relationship

Spoilers below, beware all who enter.

Yun Wei Shan:

On paper, Yun Wei Shan seems like a perfectly fine character, she's empathetic, kind in an unkind world and willing to go to extremes (even putting her life on the line) to protect those she loves and cares about. The problem is just that though, in a book, we would have access to her thoughts and her perspective which would make for interesting reading. But when viewed visually, it's not as compelling. Visually, you have a character who seems to have the range of 2 expressions and there's no sense of internal conflict. Take her 'allegiance' to Wufeng for instance. From the very beginning, we the audience, can tell that she's not truly aligned with them or their ideology. She doesn't agree with their methods and if not for her foster sister, Yun Que she would have quit long ago. Not even the poison that Wufeng uses to keep all their assassins in check, would stop her.

What I will commend her characters for is her innate kindness. She is kind in a world that should have snuffed that light out a long time ago and yet, it persisted. This was in no small part due to her bond with Yun Que. She wasn't simply a dorm-mate, a fellow assassin. She was a sister in every sense of the word. She had someone to care for and protect. Even her mentor, Han Ya Si, is not like the cold and unfeeling mentors we meet later. You can tell that he genuinely cares about those under him. For all intents and purposes, he raised these women since they were children and unlike the others, he doesn't view them as tools to be used and then discarded when no longer useful.

When she goes to the Gong Family as a prospective bride, we also know that Yun Que is dead, her one tangible tie to Wufeng is gone. She's now thrust into this family that Wufeng claims is their arch-nemesis but throughout the show, we never find out what her actual mission is, what is she after? Why was she sent? She's clearly not supposed to kill anyone. Evade discovery but then what? We never find out. But because she's not particularly loyal to Wufeng, there's never any sense of conflicting desire inside her. So in that sense, she becomes a very one-note-character.

In terms of character growth, there is very little. Throughout the series, her one desire for freedom which, in a sense she does achieve (if you ignore the last 5 minutes of the show) All her life, she's been told what to do and that love is a weakness. At the end, she chooses to stay with Gong Zi Yu and embraces her love for him and those around her.

Gong Zi Yu:

Gong Zi Yu is perhaps the weakest link among the four main leads. If Yun Wei Shan's growth seemed negligible, Zi Yu's felt unearned.

I understand what the writer and director were going for, they set him up as a contrast to the other clan warriors who are cold and calculative, he was warm and kind. He starts off the series as someone who doesn't much care for the Gong family traditions, preferring instead the company of courtesans, he likes poetry and music. However, with the sudden death of his father and brother, he's thrust back into the family and worse into the role of Sword Wielder (SW), the leader of the Gongs. To officially become the SW, he must pass 3 tests and this is where things become a little strange. He passes them with ease and it feels unearned because while others who trained their whole lives took considerably longer to pass those tests, he came in with essentially no training and aced.

Now, you can be special but the fact that you are "special" must be made noticeable in text, like foreshadow it, or leave subtle clues that hint at it. The show does none of this and instead just asks the audience to believe it. That is not how you write a compelling character.

He's also probably the least mature character in the show (and I'll get to big reveal in a bit) but his blatant disregard for the Gong family protocols more than once, illustrate his cavalier attitude. Another way of looking at this is that he breaks tradition because he wants to create a better world for the generations to follow but all of that gets negated at the end.

The big reveal at the end, where we realise that everything that happened since Yun Wei Shan's reveal as a Wufeng assassin, was his grand plan does not make sense one bit. It comes completely left of field with little to no set-up at all. There was no foreshadowing, no little seeds left by the writer/director, little things that the audience could notice upon rewatching the show. In their effort to be ‘unexpected’, they sacrificed coherent story-telling.

Even his relationship with Yun Wei Shan is boring. I get that it was meant to be sweet but sweet will only take you so far especially in a show where the tone is anything but that. I know we're meant to swoon because of how steadfast he is when it comes to her but there are times when it seems straight up stupid. She is an assassin who has infiltrated his family and her mission could possibly be to kill him or someone close to him. Unlike the audience, he doesn't know that she is kind and even if he sees it, how can he know that it's not a facade? This also makes it seem like their relationship has no stakes, like what could she possibly do to make him doubt her or vice-versa.

I know you could be thinking, "but this is a healthy relationship." Okay but how is it healthy? It would have been if they explicitly trusted each other and communicated (like a Dream of Splendor, now that was a healthy relationship) but Zi Yu and Yun Wei Shan don't do that either, at least she's not always honest. If we're meant to believe that they do indeed communicate, then we need to see it, you can't plug it in as an extension of a previous scene and call it a day.

One of the best ways of making a compelling couple is the push and pull of the relationship and this ship had all of the ingredients; The Assassin and The Target, both suspicious of each other but inexplicably drawn together, so much sexual tension and angst. Instead, all we got was bland love at first sight and then sticking through it.

Shangguan Qian:

Shangguan Qian is the other assassin sent by the Wufeng (why send only one when you can send two and double your chances of success) and her character is infinitely more delicious than Yun Wei Shan's.

Shangguan Qian is very hard to pin down and stays so till pretty much the end of the series. Her motives are complex and you can never tell just whose side she's on. I also love the way she gradually warms up to the Gong brothers. I think that Wufeng feeds it's assassins a lot of lies about the family and her being with them, i think starts to dispel some of the myths.

She is also set-up as a foil to Yun Wei Shan. Where Wei Shan is kind and straighforward, Shangguan Qian is cold and unpredictable. Her demeanour makes sense when you look at her relationship with her mentor, Han Ya Qi, who in contrast to Han Ya Si, does seem to view his pupils as expendable. He recognises, correctly, that the only person Shangguan Qian cares about her is herself and that's because of the world she was raised in, caught in a perpetual dance between survival and death, there was little time for luxuries like love.

But even here, the show and Shangguan Qian surprise us. At the end, we learn that Han Ya Qi did take steps to protect Shangguan Qian and when he is at death's doorstep, alone, she does come back for him and tries to save him. The Shangguan Qian we met at the beginning of the series, would have left him there to die without a backward glance. Her time with the Gongs and especially with Yun Wei Shan and Lady Wuji, gave her glimpse of what life could be like, it's subtle but it's there. Every time Wei Shan helps her without asking for anything in return, there's always a beat where you can tell that Shangguan Qian is wondering what her motives could be. She never trusts the other women fully, they are after all Wufeng assassins but I do believe, by the end of the series, her opinion of them is kinder at the very least.

I also loved how unapologetic Shangguan Qian is. She's not sitting there wringing her hands, fussing over things she has to do. To her knowledge, if she fails her mission, she dies. Her mentor doesn't seem to care beyond training her, she has no one to fall back on. She has a job to do and she's gonna do it to the best of her abilities.

I must also talk about the actress, Lu Yu Xiao, and her performance. Her character is someone who is always on alert, always plotting her next move, carefully observing those around her for weaknesses she can exploit. She goes from seductive to hurt to unaffected in a beat and conveys it all through her eyes and the minutest of facial expressions. Her performance is so understated and it's a pleasure to watch.

Gong Shang Jue:

Gong Shang Jue is the resident emo dude and he is easily one of the best characters in the show. He makes no bones about his opinion of Zi Yu and for the most part, his criticisms are on point. He is an also incredibly traumatised character, having lost his mother and younger brother during the previous Wufeng attack. His zeal, therefore, to find and root out any and all Wufeng assassins who could have infiltrated the family makes sense, he's already lost the people closest to him, he doesn't want to lose any more. He is so single-minded that he doesn't even spare his own prospective bride when he suspects her of being from Wufeng.

Unlike Zi Yu, Shang Jue realises why the Gongs put in the protocols that they did. At the beginning of the show, he is painted in a more antagonistic light (this is to land the big reveal at the end) but you can see that Shang Jue doesn't really care about power. His quest for position of SW, is more about keeping his family safe and he believes that he is the best candidate for that job.

His cold exterior only ever cracks when he's with his other brother Gong Yuan Zhi (he's the resident psychopath) With Yuan Zhi, you can see what Shang Jue could have been like, if not for the events of the past.

The relationship between Shang Jue and Shangguan Qian is a treat to watch. There was so much sexual tension between them, so much suppressed yearning, I loved it. Theirs was such a cat and mouse game with each constantly trying to outwit the other.

Is it a healthy relationship? Not really, he literally interrogates her and threatens to torture her even more if she doesn't talk. But he's not someone who is demonstrative of his emotions and feelings, like I don't think he knows how to open up. But with Shangguan Qian, his cold heart begins to thaw and you can see that in their interactions.

Every time, Shangguan Qian initiates physical intimacy or tries to, you can see the confusion on his face and the inner conflict. On the one hand, he doesn't fully trust her and is suspicious of her motives, but on the other, there is a part of him that genuinely likes and yearns for it. There are instances where he wants to reach out to her or touch her but always holds himself back.

Shangguan Qian is also only ever honest with Shang Jue, she tells him the truth and I think a lot of their later interactions (at least on her part) are largely genuine.

They are also unnervingly similar to each other, both owe their allegiance to something larger than themselves and are shaped by their trauma (Shangguan Qian with the loss of her entire family and Shang Jue with the death of his mother and brother) They are drawn to each other despite everything because they see that they are the only people who are capable of understanding exactly what the other is going through.

What differentiates them however, is that while Shang Jue is driven by loyalty, Shangguan Qian is driven by vengeance and therein lies their greatest obstacle, the one thing that neither is willing to compromise. They are so beautifully written and executed that, even knowing that it could never work out, they still make the audience root for them.

And yet, by the end of the show, they are both fundamentally different people. Shang Jue chooses to let her go when he finds out she's pregnant and instead of going back to Wufeng, Shangguan Qian chooses to stay in a small isolated house with azaleas planted around the house. She chooses to peace and safety for her unborn child over her thirst for revenge.

If there is to be a season 2, a Shangguan Qian and Shang Jue reunion is inevitable and I for one, would love to see how that unfolds...

#Shangguan Qian #gong shangjue #my journey to you #MJTY #mjty spoilers #yun weishan #gong ziyu #my journey to you characters #yun weishan x gong ziyu #Shangguan Qian x Shang Jue #cdrama #chinese drama #wuxia #yu shu xin #esther yu #zhang ling he #lu yu xiao #ryan cheng #cheng lei #lu yuxiao #character meta

[untitled-starwars-blog]

Just finished reading Padawan, by Kiersten White!

Overall, an enjoyable read! I definitely think Master & Apprentice was more my speed, but I suppose that's to be expected, since I'm not quite the target demographic for YA novels anymore.

Full thoughts below, for anyone who might be interested (and spoilers, of course, for anyone who hasn't read the book yet)!

First of all, the book in general definitely did have the writing style of a YA novel (which is exactly what one should expect from it, given that's what it is)! It's not necessarily a good or bad thing, just the way it's written. That difference in style was just very apparent to me, having started this book immediately after finishing Master & Apprentice!

I really liked the idea of Lenahra in general -- the concept of a living planet, with its own sort of manifestation of the Force, existing in a perfect symbiotic harmony. I liked how the animals as well as the planet itself could be friendly, indifferent, or hostile, depending on how somebody interacts with it.

I liked the Lenahrans as well, and while I wish the book had been able to flesh each of them out a bit more, it's understandable that it wasn't able to spend a lot of time on each of them individually. It did seem like their feelings towards Obi-Wan and their motivations shifted a bit quickly at times, but that's actually pretty understandable, given that they're a group of conflicted kids.

I always enjoy when Star Wars properties explore the relationship between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, and this book did touch a little bit on that -- although, moreso referencing and setting the stage for Master & Apprentice, which takes place somewhere about a year after Padawan, than actually making it a focus or treading any new ground. The focus of this story was definitely Obi-Wan, his insecurities, and his relationship with the Force.

I will say, there were two things that sort of stuck out to me as being a bit underwhelming, and could have used a bit more build-up: Obi-Wan's willingness to abandon being a Jedi so easily, and Loegrib being a bit of a one-dimensional villain.

Regarding Obi-Wan, it definitely feels like he gave up on the idea of being a Jedi pretty quickly. After only being away from the Temple for two days, he's already seriously considering just never going back, and feeling as though "still thinking of himself as a Padawan" is somehow not how he should be viewing himself. I understand that this is largely because of the struggles that he's going through, and I do really like when Star Wars properties address Obi-Wan's insecurities during his time as a Padawan! But after spending his entire life with the goal of being a Jedi, it seems to me like it might have been a bit more realistic for him to sort of develop this mindset over time with the Lenahrans, maybe with it sort of slowly integrating into how he thinks about his life going forward. Obi-Wan being uncertain about his role as a Jedi does make perfect sense for the personal journey he goes through in this book, but I just wish the build up to that point was a bit more gradual, is all.

As far as Loegrib, he was just a bit one-note. From the moment he shows up, it's pretty obvious what his deal is -- and even if you weren't able to guess yourself, the book cuts to his POV just a couple chapters after his introduction, outlining very clearly that he's a selfish person who only wants power, and doesn't care at all for his niece and nephew, to the point of being perfectly willing to murder them. Obi-Wan explains that his desire for the Power is what's driving him, which does make sense as a motive... but he just has no redeeming qualities whatsoever, to the point where he's almost cartoonishly evil as a villain. He serves his purpose in the story, but doesn't end up leaving much of an impression.

The brief inclusion of Dooku was intriguing, as is the information that he's welcome to come and go from the Temple as he pleases, despite having left the Order. Master & Apprentice did seem to imply that Qui-Gon has not really been in contact with Dooku since his departure (or at the very least, he "refrained from contacting him"), although it's possible that could be more of a recent development. Also, I'm not sure if this was intended... but, am I supposed to be suspicious that Dooku may have been Loegrib's unnamed financer? I was almost expecting some sort of hint towards that at the end, but that could very well just be me trying to connect dots that don't actually exist.

Dex's inclusion in the story was definitely a surprise! I mean, a Besalisk named Dex has got to be Dexter Jettster from Episode II, right? I guess he was a miner before he was a cook -- who knew?

So, my overall thoughts on the novel -- it was an enjoyable read, despite a few areas where I wish it had been able to take its time to develop things a bit further. The location and characters were engaging, and Obi-Wan's journey through dealing with his insecurities and wanting to know his role in the world is one that I'm sure many readers can find relatable. While I would personally say Master & Apprentice was a bit more my speed, I still did enjoy reading Padawan, and am looking forward to hopefully seeing more of Obi-Wan's time as an apprentice in the future!

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #books #padawan #kiersten white #master and apprentice #claudia gray #my thoughts #my post

[signalwatch]

Noir Watch: The File on Thelma Jordan (1950)

Watched:  05/15/2023

Format:  TCM

Viewing:  First

Director:  Robert Siodmak

What's not to like?  A Hal B. Wallis production, directed by Robert Siodmak, shot by George Barnes and starring Stanwyck.  No notes.  Well done.

The movie was written by a pair of women, one on story (Marty Holland) and one on script (Ketti Frings), who understand the assignment and put together characters in trouble before the action even starts.  

Wendell Corey plays an Assistant DA, an up-and-comer, whose wife has slotted him as caretaker and figurehead but who has made him a stranger in his own home by refusing to hear him on anything, but in the sweetest and dimmest way, all wrapped up with good intentions.   Meanwhile, Stanwyck - at the end of her rope - has moved in with her elderly aunt as a companion.  The two meet under boozy circumstances, and soon strike up an affair.

SPOILERS

In 1950 if two characters struck up an affair, there's a 90% chance they'll be dead or in jail or both by the end of the film.  This is Breen Office-time, and by policy, sins in movies needed to be punished.  

As a rule, I don't try to outguess movies anymore.  I take them at face value and try to understand not what I think the movie is, but what I think the movie-makers are trying to do - and *then* I'll loop back to what I think on top of it, because, and I know the internet will hate this: what I think about a movie is secondary.  Probably tertiary.

But.  Knowing the movie was made when it was and under what rules, it does limit possible avenues for the narrative.  

Corey discovers Stanwyck was married already, but the two are so in love, they plan to run off, seek divorces and marry.  But the night in question, Stanwyck's aunt gets spooked by noises in the house and then is killed by a burglar - in what is an amazing sequence film students would do well to review.  It's just wonderfully shot, leaving a trail of clues for the unpacking while aesthetically top notch.

Stanwyck calls Corey to come now, and - afraid her ex has stolen the jewels and she'll be implicated, makes a mess of the crime scene, and Corey just stands there, amazed at how she's basically set herself up to wind up in jail despite her innocence.

SPOILER SPOILERS

And here's the rub.  This is fundamentally a good movie, but you also know immediately - because of the movie punishment gods - that Stanwyck did kill her aunt and this is all a cover up.  If she's willing to cheat on her nowhere-in-sight abusive husband, she's also clearly capable of murder.  Thanks, Hayes Code!  

In the noiriest of noir moves, she gets Corey to prosecute her in court.  Corey is never suspected of any involvement despite evidence *someone* was there.

It's Stanwyck, so it's all utterly buyable and believable - from her seemingly innocent ensnarement of Corey to the slow unravelling of the plan.

Look, I genuinely liked the movie.  Everyone in it does a great job, including Corey's boss, the upright lawman.  If you aren't clocking what *has* to happen to satisfy the needs of censorship, this could have gone a lot of ways.  Stanwyck is appealing and terrific as ever, Corey shows why he was a thing until he wasn't, and Siodmak manages to put together a terrific film.  

Once you get over that, the unveiling and dealing with the consequences is solid stuff and Stanwyck gets some scenes that make for quality melodrama.  She's just a woman caught up in circumstances in some ways, but she also *did* shoot her aunt, so... a bit of a heel!  It's a great role and one that let's a female character be (a) a sort of femme fatale and (b) very, very smart except when she isn't.  

I admit that I also liked that they really did set up Corey to be a bit sympathetic in his dissatisfaction.  A perfectly lovely, sweet wife who can't begin to empathize with her husband and dismisses his expressed feelings as irrelevant.  Of course Corey is being a bit selfish, and of course he pays for his indiscretions, but you can also see how someone could start hating their homelife even when the one at home isn't a monster, just vapid.  Excellent nuance there.

Anyway, all around, I liked it.  I wish I'd watched it with Jamie instead of by myself.  I think she would have liked it, but I'll just watch it again some time.

https://ift.tt/kVFAX7N

from The Signal Watch https://ift.tt/G32usxo

#film noir #noir #noir alley #tcm #film review

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xvi.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: jk and oc :(

words: 5, 820

summary: a series of drabbles where you’re confused and jungkook’s confusing

a/n:

at the end of the chap!!!

“Babe, you better close your lips,” Yena nudges your shoulders when the two of you approach the football field with treats of your own.

“I’m not … drooling,” you reply lamely, fingers clutching the bag of food and refreshments tightly in your grasp as if it would run away.

“I wasn’t talking about your mouth,” she smirks.

Your head snaps towards her in a flush, ears immediately turning red when she resorts to snickering at your scandalised expression. You thwack her on her shoulder, flustered at the cackles she’s releasing. The food in your hands remains unscathed, purely because you spent a good amount of time preparing it for the boys—knowing that they were entering an important season for their football games.

From where the two of you were walking from, you had a decent view of the football team sprawled across the field, likely resting from one of their many intensive practices. You weren’t concerned with anyone else, and given Jungkook’s flashy hair colour—it was only natural that your eyes immediately fell onto his figure. It also just so happened that Jungkook decided to take his break—shirtless.

You shake your head to snap out of your daydream, fully aware of the way that Yena shoots you a knowing smirk.

“Okay, shut up before you blow my cover,” you hiss.

“You’re telling me that when your face screams I want to lick the sweat of Jungkook’s pectorals—!”

You’re about to drop the food aside, fully ready to attack Yena who looks all too pleased with her teasing, but another voice interjects before you can do any real harm to your friend.

“Is Yena harassing you?”

Yena snaps her head to the source of the voice and immediately narrows her eyes at the smirking figure.

“Oh shut the fuck up, Min,” she snaps.

“Was I talking to you?” He rolls his eyes before turning over to give you a smile, “Hey, ____. Here to feed the dogs?”

You snort, casting a sideways glance to Yena who’s equal parts fuming and red—and you’re definitely sure that it wasn’t because of her apparent anger. The lingering glance that Yoongi rests on her figure with a fond smile tells you enough, and you hide the grin that threatens to appear on your face as you return a kind one to Yoongi.

“Spot on. You’re here to cover their practices?” You make small talk as the three of you make your way towards the football team, most of them too immersed in whatever Namjoon was saying to take note of your approaching figures.

He lets out a deep sigh before nodding, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“You wanted coverage for next months paper, didn’t you?” He teasingly accuses.

You duck your head in embarrassment, remembering the meeting you had with the student reporter union and your exact words. You did need an article written on the football team’s practices for publicity purposes, and you briefly remembered Yoongi and Yena bumping heads on multiple occasions on who was to cover it. Clearly, Yoongi won—or more appropriately, Yena surrendered due to his ‘irritating’ personality.

“I did,” you smile apologetically, “Hopefully it isn’t that bad.”

“All he does is complain,” Yena mutters under her breath.

Yoongi raises a brow with an amused smirk on his face.

“I would’ve been complaining less if I had someone accompanying me,” he says pointedly.

You briefly note the flush on Yena’s cheeks before she grumbles something incoherent under her breath, shoving a fist into Yoongi’s arm in retaliation as he snickers at her reaction. You smile to yourself, eyes turning fond when you realise that Yoongi doesn’t back away even as she bites. All he does is let her have her way, patiently sticking by her side while he placates her growls.

You reach the circle where the footballers were gathered as you quietly tiptoed your way towards the bleachers, setting the food down and taking them out so they could dig in right after they were done. You brought enough for the entire team—but you were still worried since they were male athletes who definitely had an appetite for victory and your sandwiches. You hoped it’d suffice.

Just as you’ve settled down, Jimin spots you when his head snaps up, offering you a wide grin along with nudges to Namjoon and Taehyung’s shoulder. The rest of the team follow the direction of his eyes, and you turn red at the sudden attention of all the men on you as you offer a meek wave, avoiding any real eye contact.

“You came!” Jimin hops towards you, immediately dragging you into a hug as he nuzzles his sweaty forehead into your neck.

You grimace and push him away, scrunching your face at the wetness that sticks to your skin at his contact.

“Ew, you stink,” you whine.

He rolls his eyes before he digs through the food, showing his true intentions on why he came over in the first place.

“And you are an angel,” he coos, pinching your cheeks while you smacked his hand away.

“How was practice?” You hum for the sake of conversation while you watch the boy scarf down your sandwiches like a starved man.

He looks up with stuffed cheeks, pausing in his chomps, “Brufal.”

You offer him a sympathetic smile before squeezing his shoulder.

“All in good time, right?”

He swallows, rolling his eyes in response.

“Said every optimist ever. I just want this season to be over so I can go back to pigging out.”

You snort but you don’t deny his statement. You watch him while he continues to munch on his meal. Something was fulfilling about watching him enjoy your preparations, and you were definitely the type to enjoy taking care of your friends. You were usually the friend that provided advice and comforted people whenever they were faced with a particularly difficult time, and you’ve heard on several occasions from both Jimin, Taehyung—and even Jungkook; that you somehow knew what to do, and say, whenever they were faced with a problem.

It’s nice, to see Jimin happy, and you note to visit more during their practices with food.

“You’re too nice, do you know?” A voice interjects.

You look up from Jimin to see Namjoon walking towards you, with Jungkook and Taehyung trailing behind him. You flush ever so slightly because you briefly remember the last time you saw Jungkook and what happened. It’s been busy for the both of you so you weren’t able to see him much on campus either.

“Stop saying that,” you scowl, “And eat up before Jimin shovels everything down this throat.”

You thrust a wrapped sandwich into his chest that he receives with a dimpled grin. Namjoon wraps a loose arm around your shoulder as thanks and you still grimace at the sweat that lingers on your skin—but you realise that it’s an inevitable part of the role you took, so you sigh and accept it.

“Let’s get married if we both don’t by 35,” Taehyung suggests the moment he’s handed a sandwich of his own as you raise a brow at his proposition.

“So I can make you sandwiches?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Sounds pretty misogynistic to me,” you snort, “Make your own damn sandwiches.”

“But they’re not the same,” he whines, “It’s your essence that makes it taste so much better!”

You laugh at his desperate explanation and the wiggle of his eyebrows at his insinuation. You’re thankful he doesn’t smother you with his sweat and only grants you a grateful mumble of appreciation before he’s joining his other brain cell on the bleachers, immediately bickering away about whatever topic they decided on for the day.

When Jungkook comes up for his turn, you can’t keep eye contact. Especially when he’s still in his shirtless glory while he looks at you with those eyes of his, paired with his cheeky grin. He knows exactly what he’s doing and you hate him for it.

“Where’s my sandwich?” He asks, propping himself right in front of you, leaving you no space to breathe or to move away from him.

“There,” you point to the bag rather than handing him one like you did with the rest, “Help yourself.”

Jungkook pouts, tilting his head to the side as he chases your expression to search for your eyes. You’re still avoiding his gaze, and you feel like you’re beginning to perspire at the way he’s blatant with his ogling. The two of you were in public, and your friends have sat a few metres away from you with the rest of his football team lingering nearby and somehow the idea of people seeing the two of you so close gives you anxiety.

“You’re not going to give me one?” He asks.

“You have perfectly usable hands,” you gesture, and you immediately regret it because when you turn to look at him—his arms flex under the ministration when he cages you in with his body.

You let out a yelp, head immediately darting to the side to see whether or not anyone else was paying attention. But your friends are still caught in their own conversation, except Yena who somehow has a sixth sense for your embarrassment—and shoots the two of you a sleazy wink before tonguing the inside of her cheek.

Jungkook catches this, and you’re mortified to see the way his eyebrow raises at Yena’s gesture.

“You gossiping about me to your friend?” He teases.

You know exactly what he’s referring to. You scowl in response, sticking your nose up while you glance in the other direction; away from his smirk.

“Gossiping entails that whatever I said was negative. So, do what you want with that information,” you shrug.

Jungkook tuts, shaking his head before he lets out an amused chuckle.

“Always so bratty,” he sighs, “That smart mouth of yours loves to run itself, hm?” The shift to a much huskier tone stuns you into silence because he’s suddenly much closer, more insinuative and daring with the way he leans his face closer to yours until you’re finding it hard to breathe.

“We’re in public, Jeon,” you hiss.

He snickers, “No one cares except for you.”

“I’m not about to give everyone a free show,” you saw pointedly.

Jungkook smirks, “Who said anything about a show? Can’t I just have you close to me without it meaning anything else?”

You freeze. You know Jungkook doesn’t mean it that way, but you suppose it’s the remnants of insecurity that lingers deep in the back of your mind that makes your heart drop ever so slightly. You know how he feels; how his words are meant to be a light jibe towards you. But your collateral mind can only ask, what if?

As if Jungkook’s picked up on the reason for your silence, or perhaps he was just that good at reading you and your body language, he frowns—immediately reaching a hand to your shoulder and squeezing it to get your attention.

“Hey,” he says softly, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You feel bad that he has to clarify himself when you yourself wanted to have faith in him—you did. It was more so that you lacked that same faith in yourself. To be that someone to Jungkook even when he’s made it clear to you about he felt. But you knew Jungkook to be the type that jumped from one interest to another like he was flipping through a brochure, and you didn’t mean it maliciously either.

Jungkook just liked a lot of things and could do well in a lot of things too once his mind is set. You were just terrified if that’s all you were to him. A phase that he’s got to experience in his life because it was interesting to him now.

“Sorry,” you whisper, eyes darting to your feet, “I … I know. It’s just—I’m just overthinking. It’s dumb.”

He frowns, “If it’s bothering you it’s not dumb.”

You sigh.

“No, it is,” you emphasise, balling your fist by your side as he looks at you attentively. You hate yourself a little more for being so unsure. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that my mind just—it just thinks the worst of every situation. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook doesn’t seem to appreciate the way you’re continuously apologising or avoiding his gaze, so he takes it up himself to reach out his hands to tilt your chin upwards so that you’re looking at him. He’s always loved looking at you, whether you were studying, driving, or even just daydreaming—he loved your eyes and he’d spend most of his days just staring at you.

“I want you. I always want you,” he says and it both takes your breath away and makes your heart pound rapidly against your ribcage, “Everything that I do with you means the world to me. You mean the world to me and I don’t want to fuck this up. I fucked up once and I—I don’t want to mess this up either. So please, if you’re bothered—tell me. I want to know. I want to ease any of your worries now because I wasn’t able to do that before.”

Jungkook speaks so softly that you may have missed the sincerity and desperation laced in his tone, the hushed utterance of his truth that only you were meant to hear. He looks at you so tenderly, so authentically that you feel your heart constrict both in want and guilt. The reassuring grasp of one hand on your hip while the other rests under your chin forces you to acknowledge his sincerity—his want, and most importantly; him.

He notices it before you do, and his thumb wipes under your eyes when you feel the first teardrop. Your face morphs into a wide-eyed expression when you quickly swipe under your eyes to erase the evidence of your heart worn on your face. But Jungkook doesn’t allow you to get far, and he uses his strength to stop your wrists—forcing you to peer up at him with red-rimmed and freshly-swollen eyes.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs.

“Jungkook—” you protest, pushing his hands away but it only makes him clutch you tighter.

“Don’t,” he says firmly, “It’s okay. Just cry if you have to.”

Your face crumbles because Jungkook can be both strict but earnest at the same time. It was conflicting for you not because you didn’t know how you felt but because you cared too much about the prying eyes of others. Even now, when Jungkook only looks at you—your mind strays to the people that talk, to the people that stare and wonder. And you hate it.

“We’re in public, Jungkook,” you say softly through a shaky breath.

You put some distance between the two of you by taking a step back, and Jungkook notices. Of course, he does, especially when space he once felt warmth turns cold. He frowns because he would rather hold you close—show the world and everyone that he loved you. But your eyes stray away, darting everywhere but his face.

“I don’t care,” he huffs, “I want you.”

And no matter how many times he says it, the pessimistic side of you nags at your heart to keep it safe. To keep things under wraps so that you could avoid wandering or curious gaze; especially when anyone could see or say anything.

“I know,” you tell him.

Jungkook scoffs and your eyes shoot up when you realise that Jungkook’s annoyed. The tick in his jaw tells you enough, especially when he takes a step back—placing that distance between the two of you. It sucks when you’re on the receiving end of such coldness and you can’t imagine how Jungkook felt when you pushed him away.

“Do you?” He exasperates, “I’m patient. I am. I’ll wait for you; I told you that and I meant it,” he frowns, “But I just want to hold you. I wanted this for the longest of times and I don’t care where we are in this world because that’ll never make me stop wanting you. I want you when we’re apart, I want you when we’re together and I want you now. When will that be enough?”

Jungkook takes your breath away again, but for different reasons. This time, he sounds tired—desperate, almost. He rubs his hands across his face in frustration and you can tell he’s trying his best to level his breathing. You stand there silent, lips pursed as you mull over his words.

“It is enough,” you tell him, eyes peering up on your own; but this time Jungkook isn’t looking at you and it makes your heart clench. His eyebrows are furrowed and the only thing you can catch a glimpse of is the side of his face. “I just … people talk, Jungkook. I know you’re used to that but I’m not. I don’t like it when people are in my business.”

He scoffs, “And now it’s other people that are standing in between us?” Your eyes narrow at him but the clench of his jaw tells you that he’s not stepping down either, “I am, I’m used to people talking about me whether it be good or bad. And I know you don’t like it—I know,” he exasperates, “But when will we just be enough of a reason for you to take that leap of faith?”

“It’s not that easy—”

“Of course it isn’t!” He exclaims, “I’m not saying it is. I know I fucked up and it made things more complicated than they should be but I’m here now and I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to wait for you because I want to prove myself to you. But if all it takes is just people’s words to get in between us then I don’t know if it even matters anymore.”

You recoil at his words, eyes widening when he finally looks down at you. Jungkook doesn’t look angry. He looks tired, and he sounds tired. Your heart hurts because you don’t know how he feels when all this while you were within arms reaches but not quite. You had the reassurance from Jungkook and your friends that he wanted you—but somehow you couldn’t quite believe it. Was it your fault that you felt this way? Why did you feel this way?

“Jungkook …” you reach out to grab his arm, and he doesn’t push you away. But he doesn’t make an effort to hold your hand like he usually would and it made your stomach drop.

“I love you,” he whispers, “I can shout it on rooftops and announce it to the world if that’ll make you believe me. But when will my love be enough?”

“I want you too, Jungkook,” you reply, squeezing his arm tighter.

“Do you?” He sighs, “It’s hard for me too,” he says as his eyes flutter shut, “I can wait. But it hurts. It hurts because if you really wanted me then that’s all that should matter.”

“Wait, Jungkook—” you reach out to him when he pulls away from you and you feel your heart drop when he doesn’t look at you.

Maybe it was an act of desperation, or your mind telling you to not lose a good thing due to your rumination—but you use all the strength you have to tug him back to you because you couldn’t have Jungkook walk away from you. Not now, when your heart tells you to stop being afraid, to stop being stubborn.

“I need—” he begins with a sigh, but your eyebrows are furrowed in determination when you loop your arms around his neck to tug him down to your level.

And you kiss him.

You think it’s the first time that you’ve initiated a kiss, even when the two of you were messing around. It’d always been Jungkook who took the first step, an exception was your last interaction at your apartment. But if you looked harder, even through the hurt, Jungkook reached out first. Granted, it was never in the way that you wanted—but he always took the first leap, for you and the both of you.

When you kiss him, you feel him freeze under your hold, even when you press your lips harder against his. You don’t think about the consequences, you don’t think about your friends who are likely witnessing your first public display of affection with Jungkook, and you definitely don’t think about the way that the rest of his football teammates gawk at the two of you.

It feels scary—but right. And that’s all that should’ve mattered.

When you pull away, you’re breathing heavy, peering your eyes up to Jungkook who’s stunned to silence with a gape in his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt.

You briefly see from the corner of your eye the way that Yena is squeezing Yoongi’s arm who looks as surprised as the boy in front of you. You even see Namjoon, with a hint of a smile on his face even as he looks away. Your heart clenches in guilt, but you’ve spent far too long hurting yourself and Jungkook.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you into this,” Jungkook whispers, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

“You … you didn’t,” you assure him with a small smile before you nibble on your lips. “You’re right. This—us—it should’ve been enough for me.” You tell him as he observes you with gentle eyes, “And it is. It’s always been but I’ve always been afraid and honestly? I still am. I’m terrified because this is new for me and I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“I know,” he murmurs, pulling you closer as your arms still rest loosely around his neck, “I’m scared too. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

You turn a pretty shade of red when you duck your head to avoid his fond gaze. He chuckles when you do so, endeared by your embarrassment even if you were the one that reached out first—to proclaim your affection with your kiss.

But some moments don’t last forever, and they’re not meant to. So when a third party interjects and snaps you out of your little bubble with Jungkook, you freeze.

“You sure she isn’t a two-timer, Jeon?” Jeonghan, who you briefly remember seeing at some of the football games, interjects with a raised brow as he leans on the railings of the bleachers.

You still, immediately loosening your grip around Jungkook’s neck and he realises your hesitancy—sees the fear that erupts just when you found the courage to take that first step.

“What?” You whisper.

Jungkook shoots his teammate a blazing glare that you don’t catch because you’re too busy avoiding his gaze, the attention causing the heat to rise on your cheeks and the sweat to accumulate by your hairline and on your body.

“Dude—it’s not worth it,” he snorts, “What next? She sleeps her way through the entire team?”

Your face drops, and Jungkook finally lets go of you. Your eyes widen because you think for a second that he believes his teammate, that Jeonghan has managed to somehow lure his way into the depths of Jungkook’s mind to plant that seed of doubt within his already muddled mind.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Jungkook asks with a menacing glare.

You’re frozen, but Namjoon is quickly at your side—concern etched on his face after Yena noticed the tension arising from your corner. Jimin and Taehyung are right behind him, observing the situation as they see Jungkook’s chest heaving when he stares his teammate down.

“I’m just saying,” Jeonghan shrugs, shooting you a knowing glance, “Wasn’t she fucking captain?”

“Jeonghan,” Namjoon intervenes, voice stern.

“What?” He raises his hand in defence, “Weren’t you about to ask her out?”

You hate this. You hate the attention and hate how he speaks about you as if you weren’t standing there—mortified. You especially hate the way that the rest of the team filters where the tension begins to escalate. They’re curious, for sure—at how their captain and their best player is suddenly caught in this dilemma with Jeonghan as the instigator.

“That has nothing to do with you,” Namjoon narrows his eyes at him in response.

Jeonghan snorts, “Um. It kind of does. You bailed on us for her,” Jeonghan states pointedly, “And now she’s locking lips with the golden boy here. She played you, man.”

Before Namjoon can respond, Jungkook takes a threatening step towards Jeonghan as he basically towers over him. Your hair stands on your arms as you can more or less tell where this is going, especially with the way that Jungkook’s fists clench by his sides.

“Jungkook—” you squeak, hands reaching out to rest on his shoulder.

You snap out of it, purely because you know that Jungkook’s pissed. His ears are red and his jaw is clenched, and you don’t want to know what’ll happen if you remained stagnant any longer.

“Stay out of this,” he snaps.

You blink, and even Namjoon looks taken aback. Jimin has concern written all over his features as he steps forward, likely attempting to mitigate the situation.

“Jungkook, don’t be stupid,” Jimin berates.

Jungkook turns around and all you see behind his usual doe-eyed gaze is now a fire that burns and is threatening to blaze anything in its way. And right now, Jungkook’s glaring at Jimin like he’s a rock in his journey.

“You’re going to let him say that shit about her?” Jungkook snaps.

“What’s fighting him going to do?” Jimin exasperates, eyebrows furrowed, “Don’t dig yourself a deeper hole and calm the fuck down. We have a game in two weeks and starting something now won’t do any of us good.” He raises his voice towards the end as he glares at every single person who has so happened to crowd around the lot of you to see what was happening, “Did you not hear what I said? Mind your own fucking business!”

The rest of the team murmurs amongst themselves, not before shooting you a disparaging glance that makes you feel uneasy. You look away because that’s the best you could do, fingers resting limply by your sides while you shift behind Jimin as if he was able to protect you from the wandering stares.

It was your exact fear, and somehow fate seems to hate you with the way your dream-like state with Jungkook is immediately ruined with your fears being proven.

Taehyung and Yena are by your side, looking at you with worry as you avoid their gaze. Your mind is louder, though you catch the lecture that Jungkook’s getting from Jimin for almost fighting Jeonghan. Even if nothing happened—the indents of Jungkook’s fingernails on his palm proves enough of what could happen if it weren’t for Jimin, or Namjoon, intervening.

“God, he’s such a fucking asshole,” Yena grumbles, pulling you to her side as she rubs your shoulder soothingly.

You say nothing, and you briefly see Yoongi walking over; offering you an apologetic glance that you mildly acknowledge.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks softly.

You sigh, fiddling with your fingers as you look over your shoulders to see Jungkook already staring at you.

“I want to be,” you reply, “But I fucked things up.”

Yena frowns, “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true,” you exasperate, “If I hadn’t led Namjoon on or—if I just didn’t … if I just didn’t feel the way I did for Jungkook then—”

“And then what?” Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of your rambling as you turn around to see him furrowing his brows at you.

“Jungkook—” you reach out to him, again. He only flinches in response.

“If you didn’t feel the way you did for me and then what?” He whispers voice frustrated, “Then you’d get to protect yourself?”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says sternly, eyes warning.

He pays him no mind, however, as you continue to blink up at him.

“That’s not what I meant,” you defend.

“What do you mean, then?” Jungkook snaps, “Because five minutes ago we had this exact same conversation—and then you kissed me—and now it’s like we’re back to square one. So what do you actually mean because I can’t keep trying to come up with my own answers!”

“That’s what I mean, Jungkook!” you frown, gesturing your arms wildly towards the team who’s all grouped together a good distance from where you were, “That. People talking. God, I want you too but I can’t live with the constant hypotheticals of people wondering how the fuck you could ever be with someone that apparently slept with your captain.”

“I don’t care about what people say!” He says vehemently, stepping closer to you.

The rest of your friends observe silently as they all exchange looks, shifting away to give you some privacy. You were so confused, and tired—and you didn’t even care if you were in public anymore and that people could see the argument brewing between you and Jungkook.

“I know you don’t,” you snap, “But not everything is about how you feel, Jungkook. You can live your life because everyone’s going to be pointing figures at me. Not you. It’s because it’s my name that’s being thrown around like I’m some—like I’m some whore who can’t keep her legs closed and—”

“Don’t fucking say that,” Jungkook snarls.

“—it’s what people are saying!” You cry, “Jungkook. Just a month ago you were with Jennie and I was somehow with Namjoon. What … what will people think?”

“So that’s what you’re afraid of?” He laughs dryly.

“What—?”

“You’re afraid because of what other people may think?” He repeats your words back to you, standing closer as you shift back, eyes avoiding his heavy gaze.

“I’m scared of a lot of things, Jungkook,” you say softly.

“I want to be there for you,” he tells you, voice softer than the previous harsh tone he took, “Me risking my position on this team just now? Yeah, that’s what I would do to protect you. I know people will talk and I know it sucks because your name is thrown in the loop—but you have me. You have Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung and Yena. We all would do anything to protect you so why are you still so afraid?”

Jungkook’s beginning to sound more desperate, especially with the way he’s somehow clutching on your elbows as if you’d slip away.

“I”—what were you afraid of? You seemed to have all the answers earlier, and even after Jungkook’s pleas, you find yourself hesitating. The anxiety of people looking at the two of you and wondering how the hell could it work—or whether or not you were set on breaking Jungkook’s heart; and vice versa. You remember the names of people who’s ever questioned your friendship and if there was something more. You remember Sana, harmlessly saying that it seemed impossible for the two of you to be together.

The entire time, fear plagues your mind, and you can’t give Jungkook an answer because it’s more than just people. It was you. It was you being terrified that you weren’t enough and that he’d see how imperfect you were compared to the girl he thinks he loves. You weren’t the smart, independent girl that participated in every club on campus. You were … small. You were fragile and weak, and insecure.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he says defeatedly, resting his forehead on the crown of your head.

Your heart drops.

“Please don’t say that,” you croak.

You feel the lump in your throat grow, and when you look up—you see a pained expression painting Jungkook’s face.

“I don’t want to say that,” he whispers right before he reaches up to clutch your face in his hands, “But I think I need to.”

“You don’t!” You cry, your own arms reaching out to clutch at the collar of the fresh shirt he’s managed to throw on.

“This doesn’t change the fact that I love you,” he reminds you gently.

You hate that you’re crying. The hot, wet tears that flow down your cheeks is a reminder of your vulnerability. Of how much control Jungkook has over your feelings.

“Why does it sound like you’re breaking up with me,” you cry.

He smiles, soft and half-hearted as he pulls you into a hug.

“We aren’t together,” he reminds you. Your heart clenches because you could’ve been.

“I …” you want to say that you could be. You want to tell him that you want him. And you do. But your mouth doesn’t move when all you can hear is sobs escaping you.

“Think about it, okay?” He murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face so that you wouldn’t end up crying all over the strands of hair uncomfortably, “If you … if you’re still afraid. That’s okay. We can be friends, and I can pretend like this never happened. I’ll always respect your decision.”

“But …”

He shushes you gently, wiping at your tears.

“I told you. I’ll wait for you—but I can only do that if you want me to,” he says sadly, “I love you. I do. I spent the past seven years of my life loving you, but I need to know if you feel the same.”

“I do!” You immediately respond, eyes wide.

He shakes his head with a small laugh, “You may love me. But love isn’t always enough.”

His words are heartbreaking, and you feel yourself crumble all over again. But your mind isn’t clear and you’re overwhelmed with emotion. Jungkook’s still looking at you gently like he always had. But it seems different.

“Let me take you home first, yeah?” He whispers.

You stop his movements when he reaches out to pick at your belongings as you grab a hold of his hand.

He turns to look at you with a raised brow and you notice how tired and sunken his eyes look. Your heart clenches for the millionth time and you just want to—

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s funny that you’re the one asking that question. When weeks ago it was him in that same position. You realise how vulnerable Jungkook must’ve felt when he posed you with the same question because you feel the exact same. You feel like your heart is on the floor, exposed to everyone as they examine the ins and outs of your feelings.

Jungkook looks at you softly, before pulling you to his chest and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

And like always, Jungkook can’t say no to you.

a/n:

hi babes!!!! new chapter is up and oc and jk are :-(

im sorry for the angst!!!!! but things aren't always great between the two 🥺

i hope you enjoyed this chapter even tho yall may be cursing at me rn 🤣 but i do hope that you see oc's internal struggles with accepting everything and pursuing a potential relationship w jk despite her 'obvious' feelings towards him

as always, let me know what you think in my asks!!! love you all - and have a lovely day ahead of you ❤️

#bad boy good thing #bbgt #bts #bts fics #bts series #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook series

[roscgcld]

RYOMEN SUKUNA || pretty little thing

note: am I simping for volume 12 cover sukuna once more? ...yes, and am not afraid to admit that. that man can glare at me and i will apologise for gracing him with my unworthy self lmao. but i do enjoy this entire idea of super mean and evil sukuna and his cutesy lover that can do whatever she wants to him and he wouldn’t stop her - not like he wanted to anyway lmao 

pronouns: she/her

warning: mentions of murder and acts of murder as well, and if you squint a little there is mentions of minors, but it doesn’t play a big role in the story

The small group of sorcerers stood before the towering man, trying not to show the fear on their faces as they tried to look at the glowing red eyes head on. Sukuna was seated on his throne, two of his four arms resting on his while another was propping up his cheek; the other tapping his fingers on the plush fabric of his throne. He hated having his time wasted on useless things, and the socerers before him were starting to wear their welcome too thin.

Sighing tiredly, he tilted his head back, a sign that had the sorcerers tensing up. They knew that body language all too well - if they do not tell him what was the purpose of them coming all the way to him temple, and even daring to walk up to his alter will lead him to murdering them all in cold blood. 

He doesn’t care how important they are in the town, or in jujutsu world either - to him, he is the most important. And everyone else is beneath him.

Well, everyone but one person, that is.

As if the Gods took pity on them, the soft sound of delicate footprints came from somewhere beside the group, causing the group to stop their whispers between one another at the sound of soft footsteps. Within seconds a beautiful woman walked out from the shadows and into the main room of the temple, her kimono trailing behind her delicately. The beautiful crafted garment hung on her frame perfectly; not too tight where it left little to the imagination, yet not too loose to hide her beautiful figure underneath it either. It was clearly crafted by a master craftsman, and the fabrics it was made of show how expensive it must have been.

A hana kanzashi was delicately placed on her perfectly styled hair, a streams of flowers hang off the end of the pin, giving the woman a more mysterious look as the sunlight casted a shadow over half of her face. She gave the sorcerers no more than an uninterested glance, trying not to roll her eyes at the sight of the group of mostly men - the same group of elders in her town that were so willing to sacrifice young girls to the man before them in exchange for peace.

She would know - she was one of those sacrifices, after all. However, the difference between her and the others was that instead of being killed after their purpose was done, Sukuna was now wrapped around her finger tightly. She can’t be too proud of it either; she was equally as obsessed with him as he was with her, so the better word to describe it might be mutual pining.

Sukuna will never admit that though, claiming she is just a foolish woman he likes keeping around for food and a warm body. But if she tries to get up and leave, or if he knows people are even thinking about bringing her harm? The world would suffer through Hell like they’ve never seen before.

Speaking of the man - Sukuna’s ruby red eyes watched as the woman made her way towards him, carefully climbing the steps of his alter like it was her own home; a soft pout resting on her lips as she walks closer to him. He didn’t get the usual burst of annoyance when anyone dared to look at him in eyes, or the anger he’d feel of having someone even daring to take one step towards the direction of his throne. Yet all he felt was amusement as he shifted in his seat ever so slightly; watching how the woman just made her way towards him and sat down in his lap like it was her throne.

Which it was after all, and Sukuna will let her indulge herself in such a luxury. He loves to spoil her, letting her do as she pleases

“Yes, my beautiful flower?” He hums softly as the hand that was once tapping his fingers along his seat reached up, stroking the apple of her cheek delicately as he raised an eyebrow at her. At that moment he didn’t care who was in the room - all that mattered was her. And he has a gut feeling he knows why she is currently sporting that cute pout of hers, her arms crossed over her chest adorably. “You’re taking too long. I got cold.” 

Immediately a low chuckle rumble from somewhere in his chest as his other arm wrapped around her protectively, his tattoos a contrast against the unmasked skin of her bare thigh that was revealed by his simple action of pulling her closer. “We can’t have that now, can we?” He cooed ever so softly, something so foreign and so unheard of coming from a cold hearted killer that it scared the already terrified sorcerers even more. A few of them were even shaking at the sight of the woman, who was a mere girl when she was scarified, now perched in the lap of such a fearsome creature like she was a lazy house cat.

How can such a relation be so natural?

“What a pretty little thing she is, isn’t she?” Sukuna suddenly stated loudly, his ruby red eyes now dull and clearly showing his boredom as he turned to address the sorcerers before him once more. The woman from before just smiles softly as she curls up into his warmth, not caring about the others in the room; quietly purring at the feeling of a large hand stroking along her face delicately. An action that might seem hard for a man his size to achieve, yet he still somehow manages to treat her like fine china beneath his fingertips.

“I should thank you for being blind enough not to keep a beauty like this for yourselves, but it’s because of your blindness that landed her in my lap in the first place.” Sukuna continued into the silent room, the hand that was once cradling his cheek waved in the air lazily; a smirk tugging against his tattooed face. “All the ones you sent before as sacrifices were quite sad little things; blubbering and whining so much that I rather send their heads back to you so you can see just how pathetic they really were.” He sighs in annoyance, his face curling a little as he remembered all the past women he had.

Some were pretty, yes - but there was just something about them that just irked him. He didn’t know what it was; maybe it was their constant crying, or how they try to pretend to be head strong and threaten to kill him in his sleep. He just took what he wanted before slicing their head off just as he climaxes; not really caring for their own pleasure. It’s not his problem if they were satisfied or not.

However, when his little flower came, sniffling with tearful eyes at how she had been yanked away from her loving family; yet eyes curiously staring up at the man that she had heard so many stories about. There was just something in him that lets him know that she was the one. That she was the one that is going to scratch that insatiable itch that he has whenever he is sent a new sacrifice from the town that he is currently residing in. And he was right. “Yet, with that being said, that doesn’t mean I am not growing tired of your antics. Speak now before I make you.”

Immediately a few eyes glanced over at the woman in his lap, as if they were silently begging for her to lend them a hand. Yet this actual caused Sukuna to scowl as he looks over at the group, snapping his fingers to drag their attention back to him. “Who gave you the permission to turn your disgusting gazes at her? She can’t help miserable excuses like you lot anyway.” He scowls, his eyes narrowing in anger at how they thought they even worthy enough cast their dirty eyes on her, as if she would extend the olive branch to them after they’ve done.

Before he can do anything rash, the woman decided to step in, gently placing her warm hand against the exposed part of his chest from underneath the kimono he had worn. The feeling of the familiar touch caused him to sigh softly as he leans back into his throne once more, but he glared at them with the same intensity as before, watching them for a moment longer. “You know what? I think I know what to do with you lot. I mean, I hope you didn’t forget - you did make my little flower cry.” 

Just as he finished saying that, he gave them all a sadistic smile before he swiped his hand in the air leisurely. His other arms immediately wrapped around the woman, turning her face away from the scene before them as the sorcerers all started to be sliced up one by one by invisible blades, the sound of wails and body parts flying about as they landed on the ground in bloody heaps. A few. who watched their fellow comrades be sliced up in horror before they tried to run, turning and running towards the entrance as if they can escape their fate. 

They should know better than to try something so foolish.

“The clean up is going to be a pain, you know.” Y/N sighed softly as she looks up at her lover, knowing that he was shielding her from the horrors he had committed. If she was being honest, she had never seemed to fear how easily he dispose of others - whenever he does kill people, it usually leads to a much more wider and bigger picture at the end of the day. What she can’t stand though, is the mess he tends to leave behind. “The maids just cleaned the rugs too.”

“It’s their job, flower.” He just sighs and shifted her so she was straddling his lap leisurely, letting her hands rest against his warm chest as two of his arms wrapped around her waist. One of them rested against her cheek lovingly, letting her lean into his touch once more whilst his other hand went back to cupping his cheek in his hand. “You can still make it less dramatic, no?” She mumbles softly with a soft giggle, to which Sukuna just rolled his eyes at her comment. 

“Why make killing so dull? I enjoy the flare of dramatics, flower.”

With a fond roll of her eyes she just leans forward to press soft kisses along his face, knowing that he will not push her away; not when his arms tighten their own hold on her. “Whatever you say, my King.” She cooed at him quietly, still placing feather-like kisses against his face as he closes his eyes for a moment. Soon he grew bored of them, and with a firm hand on the back of her head, guiding her face down to his. He presses a passionate kiss against her as she smiles, her hands trailing up his chest before they found themselves wrapped around his neck where they belong.

Maybe it was an obsession, or maybe it really is fate - whatever the reason may be, he’s going to make sure that his little flower is safe and content. Even if it means killing an entire army of people at her command, or tearing out his heart for her if she so much so as asks.

He is her slave, and he doesn’t see a reason to fight against his faith.

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk imagine #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna imagine #ryomen sukuna imagines #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk ryomen sukuna #sukuna imagines #jjk sukuna x reader #jjk ryomen sukuna x reader

[norahastuff]

penny for your thoughts on salmondean codependency ?

Sure. Fair warning it’s long (was longer but I stopped myself.)

I think it’s complicated in a show that’s had so many different showrunners because they’ve all handled Sam and Dean’s relationship very differently. In Kripke’s era (s1-5) there was a romanticization of the bond. Sure there was a lot of in-depth exploration of how they wound up at the place they were at, spoiler alert: it was all because of John and his obsessive crusade to find the demon that killed his wife. That’s all he cared about and as a result, Sam and Dean had to be everything to each other. But Kripke had no intention of dismantling that at any point because he was (and always had been) writing a tragedy. Gamble continued that too. There was no room for anyone else in their lives and it would always just be the two of them against the world. So Cas had to go. Bobby had to go.

(Actually, it's funny because Gamble didn't intend this at the time, her plan was to kill Cas off, but by Edlund creating the masterpiece that is The Man Who Would Be King, he not only saved Cas from being seen as a villain, but he also deepened Dean and Cas' relationship in such a profound way and inextricably linked the two of them emotionally. And since Cas was eventually brought back, that laid the foundation for a lot of what their relationship would become.)

Up until this point, there hadn’t really been any significant dismantling of perhaps the more unhealthy parts of Sam and Dean’s relationship. Enter Carver. He stripped things down and started to explore what drove these characters. What they wanted and why they couldn’t have it. It starts with Dean being mad at Sam for not looking for him in purgatory, which sets up the whole speech in the s8 finale of Sam’s guilt about letting Dean down, but the thing is, Dean was never honest with Sam about his year away either. He never told Sam he could have gotten out much sooner if he hadn’t stayed to find Cas. I mean Dean had assumed Sam was up there alone doing God knows what to try to bring him back, and yet still he stayed in Purgatory because things were clear there. He needed Cas. Anyway, I just find that interesting, but Cas isn’t a victim of Sam and Dean’s relationship in s8.

Who gets the honour of being cast aside? That would be Benny and Amelia, two characters they introduced in s8 specifically to highlight that Sam and Dean’s relationship doesn’t allow for anyone else to be a significant part of their life. I mean that’s nothing new, we’ve watched that happen many times before. Lisa even said as much to Dean. The thing is this time? It’s framed as a truly sad thing. That moment at the end of 8x10 when Dean has just ended things with Benny and Sam leaves Amelia, and they’re sitting alone drinking beer and watching tv is such a hollow empty moment. This is not what they want. But it’s the way things have to be.

I’m actually fascinated by Sam and Dean’s conversation in the church in the s8 finale. Not so much Dean’s assertion that there is no one else he would put before Sam, but more so what provokes it, which is Sam saying “who are you going to turn to instead of me. Another angel? Another vampire?” See the thing is Dean saying he would always put Sam first is not news. We know this and it’s not really an unhealthy statement in itself either. A lot of people would put their sibling above anything else, not less a sibling who you raised and is the most important person to you. But in this context? After what Sam said? It just highlights how unhealthy they are if Sam believes that Dean having other people in his life means he doesn’t love him enough. That he’s a disappointment to him. That’s so profoundly fucked up.

(Note, Dean tells Sam that he killed Benny for him but he doesn’t say anything about Cas. I think like I said before, this is because Cas and Dean’s relationship has largely existed out of the Sam and Dean stuff up to this point - Sam and Cas don’t even really have much of a relationship yet besides both of their connections to Dean.)

And then from here, things start getting steadily worse. But we also keep being shown how bad they are. Dean lying to Sam, taking away his free will by letting Gadreel possess him. Dean sending Cas away, Kevin dying. It’s all awful. The whole “there ain’t no me if there ain’t no you line” from 9x01 isn’t really said by Dean, it’s Gadreel, but that is how Dean feels. He does think that’s all he’s good for. And over the season we’re shown how much of himself and what he truly wants he’s had to give up because of his ingrained “Save Sammy” and “Sammy comes first” mentality. It’s always been this way for him. In 9x07 we see that he had found a happy home, a good father figure, and his first love, a first love might I add that he had to leave behind with no real explanation because Sam needed him, and Sam comes first.

I mean just one episode earlier we had him rushing out the door elated about seeing Cas and spending time with him, only for their time together to come to sad and melancholic end when Dean once again leaves Cas behind without any real explanation, because despite what he wants Sammy comes first. What he wants doesn’t matter.

See I think after the Gadreel stuff comes out is where the narrative starts to get a little wonky for me. You can clearly see that this was intended to be a shorter story that they ended up stretching out to a much longer one because of renewals. There’s also the fact that this is a formula show so they can’t necessarily be separated for longer than an episode or two. S10 is a rough one to get through at times, I think the themes still mostly hold up but it’s a rough one to get through.

S10 highlights all the connections that Dean has, Cas, Charlie, Crowley even, but Sam doesn’t really have those bonds in the same way.  For Sam it’s just Dean, so he goes down a reckless destructive “do anything to save Dean!” path and so many innocents pay the price, and ultimately with the release of The Darkness, the whole world.

They skirted right up to the edge of exploring just how toxic and dangerous their relationship had become in the season 10 finale.

DEAN: I let Rudy die. How was that not evil? I know what I am, Sam. But who were you when you drove that man to sell his soul... Or when you bullied Charlie into getting herself killed? And to what end? A..a good end? A just end? To remove the Mark no matter what the consequences? Sam, how is that not evil? I have this thing on my arm, and you're willing to let the Darkness into the world.

I can’t say evil is the right word, they were never evil, but they were wilfully blind to everything and everyone else when it came to saving each other. S10 tested my love for the show because after watching it, because there was certainly a feeling that the two of them had become the villains of this story. And don’t get me wrong, I didn’t have a problem with that, it’s just after 2 seasons of this I can’t say I had a lot of faith that this was going to be properly addressed or if we were going to keep going in circles around it. Keep being shown, it’s bad and then nothing much being done to fix it. Your mileage may vary on how it was handled, but I think s11 did a relatively ok job considering it wasn’t the end of the story, and the show needed to keep going.

See from Dean’s side a lot of the codependency rests on 1. His father’s orders to always save Sammy 2. His low self-esteem where he sees himself as nothing but a blunt instrument. 3. His guilt at not being able to perfectly fulfil every familial role in Sam’s life 4. His belief that no one could choose to love him but family has to love you. 5. The unhealthy example of what it should look like to love someone that he got from John. You give up everything but them.

For Sam (and honestly it’s not as clear for me as Dean’s side is so feel free to correct me/disagree on this) 1. Everytime he’s tried to leave and create his own life it’s never ended well. 2. His guilt over wanting freedom and a normal life when he was younger (I’m referring specifically to Stanford era here) 3. His guilt over everything Dean has given up for him. 4. John. 5. Jess.

Ultimately it all comes down to isolation. They both had to be everything to each other, and the deeper they got into this fight, the more people that they lost, the tighter they clung to this notion of family and brothers. I think s11 (and 11x23 in particular) was an important turning point, both for Sam and Dean’s relationship, as well as for them as individuals. Because they weren’t alone there anymore. Cas was there. Sam let Dean walk to his death. Of course, it would devastate him, but he knew it was what had to be done. And he didn’t walk out of that bar and go back to the bunker alone. He had Cas, he had someone who cared about him and wanted to help him and talk to him. Sure Dean asked Cas to take care of Sam for him (you know after Cas offered to walk to his death with him) but Sam let him. He let him be there for him. We didn’t get to see much before the BMOL showed up and blasted Cas away, but still, we saw enough.

I think that’s a significant difference to note why their relationship was different in the Dabb era. It wasn’t just them anymore. Cas was an important member of their family and given a level of importance he’d never been given before and couldn’t have been when the story they were telling was of the dangers of their codependency. Mary was back. Eventually, Jack would become a part of their unit too. Just the two of them wasn’t enough for them anymore. This is made abundantly clear with all of Dean’s desperate attempts to get Cas to stay in s12, followed by his inability to keep going when they lose Cas and Mary in s13. Similarly, Sam really struggles when they lose Jack and fail to get Mary back later in the season.

Another big moment is Dean letting Sam go alone to lead the hunters against the BMOL in 12x22 while he stays back to try and reach Mary. Like he tells Mary, he’s had to be a brother, a father and a mother to Sam and he never stopped seeing him as his kid, but in that moment he makes a choice. He lets Sam take charge and he shows that he trusts him and believes in him. He knows he can handle it.

Sometimes it’s not even a character growth thing. Sometimes having other people there stops you from making destructive choices even though that’s still your first instinct. I’m thinking specifically of 13x21 after Sam was killed. Dean would have run headlong into that nest of vampires and got himself torn apart, but Cas was there to stop him. He was able to make him see reason.

Basically, I think that for a long time, they thought the only relationship they could have was each other, which then became a self-fulfilling prophecy because their desperate attempts to keep each other around led to them losing the people around them. They eventually started to learn that that wasn’t true, they could have more, they were allowed to want more, and that it wasn’t an either-or situation. Dean didn’t have to choose between Sam and Cas. They didn’t have to choose between each other or Jack. The same goes for Mary. Different relationships can coexist without threatening each other, and not say that their relationship in s12-15 was all smooth sailing, but it was certainly so very different from everything that came before.

(There’s maybe a point to be made about how they didn’t have anyone or anything in the finale and how that relates to the story we got, but honestly I have no idea what the intention was with any of the choices made in that episode so I’ll leave it at that for now.)

#asks #winchester brothers #my spn thoughts #long post for ts #Anonymous #spn meta

[winepresswrath]

I mean, if my response to my sibling showing very clear signs of trauma was to scream at them and hit them and throw them to the ground, even if they were hiding something from me, I wouldn't have much right to be surprised that they didn't trust me with sensitive information about them because they (correctly) assumed I would react badly lol

I really don't think that that's an assessment of Jiang Cheng's response to Wei Wuxian's behaviour that's reasonably supported by the text. For one thing, that fight happens after months if not years of lying. Jiang Cheng's initial response to Wei Wuxian showing up clearly traumatized is to tell him he's worried about him and ask if he's OK after he storms out of a party arranged in his honour. He then does his best to cover for Wei Wuxian when he does things like fail to show up at war meetings on time and follows him out the door to try to check in with him when he breezes out portentously, annoying all of the assorted Sect Leaders they need to trust and rely on in order to win a war.

Secondly, I think it's worth noting that Jiang Cheng is also a traumatized kid at this point in their relationship. I do not mean to imply that he's handling the situation perfectly or even well, but it makes a lot of sense to me that he doesn't have the experience or perspective to understand the source of Wei Wuxian's behaviour when he's mired in his own shit and when, again, Wei Wuxian has been lying to him since they reunited and functionally feeding him a lot of bad data about his goals and priorities. "You know when you ask me to do something it only makes me determined not to" is an actual thing Wei Wuxian says out loud to explain why he's planning on continuing being discourteous to their allies. I think it's pretty obvious that he doesn't believe him in the moment, but that's the kind of thing that can rattle around inside your head when you're looking for explanations as to why someone you care about is behaving as though they don't care very much about you.

Finally, the content of that fight isn't actually Jiang Cheng screaming at Wei Wuxian and throwing him to the ground. Wei Wuxian comes in and sees Jiang Cheng clearly upset, and makes a sincere effort at comforting him by offering to drink with him. He is clearly trying, but I do not know anyone who takes "here, I'll let you finish my drink," as a nice gesture in the wake of being ditched to finish a group project by yourself so someone else can head to the pub. Jiang Cheng then gets up to leave, and at this point says what he's actually upset about, which is Wei Wuxian breaking his promise. He doesn't do this in the nicest way! Jiang Cheng is not good at healthy communication and that plays a huge role in the breakdown of their relationship! But the behaviour he's taking issue with- that Wei Wuxian is constantly flaking and not offering any explanation aside from "I don't feel like it"- is legitimately upsetting and would be to most people.

Wei Wuxian then moves in for a combination hug-come on don't be mad. When he pushes Wei Wuxian, he is pushing him off of him because he doesn't want to brush the problem off or let it go, and he is not in a hugging kind of mood. He is then obviously surprised by Wei Wuxian falling, because if Wei Wuxian had a core the way Jiang Cheng thinks he does the amount of force Jiang Cheng used would not be enough to push him to the ground. That's why he says Wei Wuxian must be extremely drunk when he goes to help him up and also why he flashes back to that moment during the core reveal. It is actually a great example of how that lie is poisoning their relationship from both ends! Wei Wuxian feels (understandably) both hurt by the shove and by the reminder of why the shove can put him on the ground. Jiang Cheng has no idea what's going on and feels rejected by Wei Wuxian not even wanting to fight about it.

And all of this is kind of off to the side of my original point which is that if he really can't stand to tell Jiang Cheng the truth he also legit should not be entangled in Jiang Cheng's life to the extent that he is. That sucks and is miserable and unfair for everyone, but Jiang Cheng is not just Wei Wuxian's sibling! He's his sect leader and that's not a relationship that can function without Jiang Cheng having a basic idea of Wei Wuxian's capabilities, priorities and motives. Again, I don't think this at all makes Wei Wuxian a bad person or magically justifies Jiang Cheng's later bullshit, but they do not have a relationship where they love each other but live basically independent lives. They're (deliberately! By mutual choice!) tangled up enough in each other that that kind of secret keeping is going to fuck them both over at some point because as things stand everything Wei Wuxian does comes back on not only Jiang Cheng but the people they are both responsible for.

#Jiang Cheng #Wei Wuxian #I also just don't think the problem is at this point that Wei Wuxian thinks Jiang Cheng is going to #respond badly in a way that will hurt Wei Wuxian #he is mostly trying to prioritize Jiang Cheng's feelings #which is a sweet if fucked up impulse #but is very much poisoning both their personal and professional relationship #and (IMO) avoid a miserable conversation about both feelings and his current capabilities that he doesn't want to have with anyone #including yanli and lwj #and ok sorry for the essay but saying Jiang Cheng threw Wei Wuxian to the ground is approximately as dumb #as saying Wei Wuxian violated Jiang Cheng's boundaries with unwanted touching #they have a relationship where Wei Wuxian is allowed to go in for the side hug #even if Jiang Cheng is giving off fuck off don't touch me vibes #and a certain amount of physical scuffling and shoving is normal #the difference here is that Jiang Cheng can no longer judge the impact of his shoving #because he is missing key information about Wei Wuxian's physical capabilities #you know like a very obvious visual metaphor for the consequence of this ongoing deception and their mutual inability to talk out what #has been happening between them

[beauty-and-passion]

What Eurovision 2021 taught us

1. That a nice, enjoyable show was possible (even if 4 presenters are still too much)

Of course nothing can beat Love Love Peace Peace (even if Ja Ja Ding Dong does its best), but this year's intermissions were very enjoyable.

We expected something flashy and over the top because hey, The Netherlands. Sex, drugs, gays and all that jazz.

But instead Covid surprised us. And then The Netherlands surprised us even more, by making a very enjoyable show, despite the restrictions. My personal favourites were:

The water intermission of the first semi-final. I loved the mixed feelings, how water is both scary and respected, for being such a powerful, unstoppable force.

The rooftop concerts during the final. Social distancing? Sure, no problem, let's make the past winners sing on top of some roofs all over Rotterdam. That was pure genius, I loved it so much.

On the other hand, the presenters were basically all useless. We could've had just two of them instead of four. But hey, at least they weren't as cringy as the three scary ukranians from 2017 or the useless four ladies from Portugal. The true highlights of the show were the intermissions, the guests and especially the songs themselves and this is perfectly good for me.

________________________

2. That we can live in a world without boring ass ballads

I’ve never been so proud of the Eurovision public, especially during the second semifinal: that evening was PACKED with ballads. Boring ballad after boring ballad, with just a couple more funny songs in between.

The ballads were all left behind. Even the two Amen. And I love the irony we chose El Diablo and the finnish band for the final, but no Amen. No saints allowed, only the norwegian angel. As it always should be.

And so we had the best final I've seen since I started following Eurovision in 2014. Catchy songs, dance songs, upbeat songs. And power ballads. Yes, ballads can still have a place, but only if they're good.

Because yes, Switzerland and France were good. Very good. Just not as good as the ones the public wanted.

________________________

3. That we want Eurovision, not Englishvision

Every year, the same message blasts from all Europeans: send a song in your native language. This show is supposed to make other people from Europe (and the rest of the world) to know more about your own country, to enjoy its rhythm and to listen to something we don't usually hear. So why waste this huge opportunity, to bring a generic song in English?

Because the English song wins. Because we all understand English, so English has more chances.

Flash news: GUESS WHO WON THIS YEAR. No, it’s not the generic English song.

The public has been crystal clear, the final poll is even clearer: the top five includes an italian song, an ukraine song, two french songs and only one english song. We want different styles and rhythms, we want to listen to Europe.

So I want to give my full thank you to:

Albania: amazing song, great voice, wonderful language. Do it again.

Serbia: these ladies are fantastic, their song is great and they sang it in their language so I love them

Switzerland: thank you for leaving English to the side to give us some good french

Spain: the song wasn't as good as Universo, but it was in sexy spanish, so thank you for using it almost every year

Danemark: the song was terrible, but it was in your language and this alone deserves everything

France: I know we all make fun of you for being France, but your language is perfect for songs, so thank you for always using it

Ukraine: take note, Ukraine, because Europe is madly in love with your language and your rhythm

Italy: our language is beautiful, so thank you for delivering every year

While my biggest biases go to:

Greece: a generic pop song with no balkan rhythm and no greek either? An absolute shame, greek should always be used for songs.

Russia: russian language is very melodious and yes, we got something this year, but what about bringing a full russian song? We want it!

Germany: I may sound crazy, but I honestly think german language is good for songs. It's not like the mediterranean languages, but it still works. So please, do not be scared and show what you can do with it!

Scandinavian countries: why do you never want to bring your own language? Do it, don't be scared! Yes, Sweden, I'm talking with you: you still never tried to bring something in swedish, so do it.

________________________

4. That we don't want Americans to play with us

For reasons we still have to understand, Flo Rida was competing this year. And he was competing for San Marino, the smallest European country.

I'm pretty sure they took some time to explain to him what was going on, where he was, where San Marino is, wtf was happening, why there were sexy italians and ukranian witches and a norwegian angel and loads of beautiful women everywhere.

And I loved how we all send memes about this, about ahahah why is Flo Rida here, what if San Marino wins where would they host Eurovision, all while enjoying an actual catchy song.

And then, in the end, Flo Rida basically disappeared. Who remembers Flo Rida, when we got Ukraine, Italy, Finland, Iceland, and the UK? And Germany being wholesome? And the love story between Norway and Azerbaijan? We collectively forgot about him and I think it's very sexy from Europe to just say "nope" and push America away, even if for just one week.

And this isn't the first time: we basically showed Madonna in a corner in 2019, thanks to Mans, Eleni, Verka and Conchita. Once again, Europeans knows what they want: we don't want Americans. Australia can because they're like that little brother we took under our wing for no reason and now it's part of us. But not Americans.

The rest of the year is all yours, but one week is ours.

________________________

5. That we can lose like bosses

This year, the voting results have been absolutely insane and FOUR COUNTRIES got zero points from the public, while the UK got both zero points from the public AND the jury.

Don't get me wrong, the song was bad. And yes, Brexit played a role in this. And yes, hating England is Europe’s favourite sport.

But can we please all take a moment and appreciate how James Newman reacted? The public gave him a round of applause and he celebrated this achievement like a boss.

And he had all the reasons! He achieved something incredible, he unlocked something that this new voting system was supposed to never lead to. But he did it. So hats off to you, my boy: My Last Breath was better.

Germany is also used to the bottom of the chart, but this year I really thought Jendrik could have a chance to achieve a higher position. The song was funny, carefree, lively, the hand costume was the kind of trash we need and the message was nice as well. But he still got 3 points.

Despite that, Jendrik celebrated like a maniac and seeing his this happy made me happy as well. I really wish him the best.

________________________

6. That FUCK YOU JURY

Again, same message every year: the jury vote should be eliminated. It's a fucking farce and their votes have nothing to do with what the public want.

The jury focuses on the voices, except when they don't, and clearly giving points to your neighbours is because you like the song, not because they're your neighbours.

I usually make fun of Greece and Cyprus showing eternal love to each other, by giving 12 points to each other every year, but this time, it sounded even more stupid than usual. It really looked like a farce. Why should we see this farce? Why can't we just choose what the public wants? So at least we would blame ourselves for our shitty musical tastes.

Even if I'm pretty sure we all have great musical tastes. Let's not forget that in 2019 the public's winner was Norway, with a song that mixed english, a catchy rhythm and an amazing part in yoik language. Arcade is good as well, but we cannot deny the norwegian entry was a lot more interesting.

And this year, the public's taste was flawless:

Look at this beauty: italian glam rock, ukranian techno folk, french powerful ballad, finnish hard rock and whatever that thing was with Iceland.

There's variety, there's everything for everyone. And there are native languages. Italian, Ukranian, and French on top three, followed by English.

Moral of the story: the public is great and the jury should be abolished forever.

________________________

7. That Ukranian technofolk is all we needed in our lives

I didn’t see enough love for Go_A, so as italian, I think it's my sworn duty to give my appreciation to them and their amazing entry, because this band is awesome and Shum is currently on top of the Spotify top 50 - as it should be, because everyone should listen to it and join this slavic rave party.

I already liked their entry for 2020, Solovey. But I also liked My Last Breath from the UK and Universo from Spain. And this year they brought two of the worst songs. So I was very wary of Go_A.

But Shum is an absolute blast. Katerina Pavlenko's voice is unique and the song is even more, because based on ukranian folklore and traditional dances to summon the spirit of spring. They managed to teach something to all Europe in a three minute song and I think that’s incredibly sexy of them.

And so, I searched for other songs and OMG, I don’t know how it’s possible, but they are all great. Rano-Ranenko, Zhalmenina, Tanula, they all are perfect and I’m in love with this band.

And if all of this is not enough, THEY DID A COVER OF DANCING LASHA TUMBAI. The most iconic Eurovision song, sang by our god Verka. And this is the coolest, most badass cover ever in the whole universe. Please listen to it HERE everyone needs to hear this.

So thank you, Ukraine, for giving us Go_A. We all had a small empty place in our hearts and this place has ben perfectly filled by them.

And yif you think you don’t need ukranian technofolk, is only because you still haven’t listened to it. Please listen and enjoy Shum. You’re welcome.

________________________

8. That rock and roll never dies (and Italy’s well deserved victory)

The last time Italy won was in 19-fucking-90. 31 years ago. I was just born.

And now, they finally won again. And what a song! Despite being italian, I've never listened to Maneskin before, but oh damn, this song is good. Not all their songs are, but this one is. And also Morirò da re.

Their show was perfect as well. This post is really eye-opening about how well they put on their show. The use of the stage, the movements, everything has been part of a great performance, even their clothes. Damiano's voice never faltered, despite having an entire continent watching him. They handled the stage like bosses, despite being only in their twenties. And they gave us some good fucking rock.

And so the public said a loud "FUCK YOU" to the jury and chose its winners. The sassy, sexy italians.

And yes, I know that there has been a lot of petty polemics because those youngsters are having drugs!1!! as if they were a bunch of idiots who used drugs on international TV, with their manager sitting next to them.

Of course it was a pointless accusation and honestly I don't care if some people are sore losers. The drug results were negative anyway, what a shocker.

What we should truly think about is how strong the Maneskin's bladders are, because they spent the whole evening of the final drinking the entire alcohol supply of the Eurovision and, at the end, they were still happy and cool. Hats off to you, you sexy people.

This man is just iconic, why did I miss him before.

Also, have some more Maneskin. You know, as a treat.

________________________

9. That solidarity and wholesomeness are the biggest winners

It's just beautiful to see these nice people, from all over Europe, bonding, having fun, taking photos together and being friends.

The true winner of this, is probably Norway: Tix wanted to have a good time and he had a good time. The video of him vibing with Ukraine and Germany while listening Hard Rock Hallelujah is the best (HERE). His love story with Efendi from Azerbaijan is even better (please, check the video on his youtube channel, it's hilarious). I don't like his song, but he's a great guy and deserves everything.

The italian and finnish rock relationship is also great. Maneskin and Dark Sides found each other, considering they were the only two rock bands in the competition, so mutual appreciation was inevitable.

But Damiano is also a man of culture and he appreciates Ukraine's entry. And Ukraine appreciates both Finland and Italy. Is this what world peace looks like? Because I love it.

________________________

10. That Italians will be Europe's clowns again (and you're all allowed to make fun of us)

Beware, Europe: we Italians are messy and chaotic, our presenters don’t know a single word in English, we are homoerotic AND homophobic at the same time, our musical competitions are so fucking sloooow... let’s say next year’s Eurovision is going to be interesting.

And yes, you’re allowed to make fun of us. We don’t care, we won, so we deserve to be Europe’s clowns once again.

And I don’t know who the presenters will be (my bets are on everyone’s favourites: Fiorello, Amadeus and Malgioglio), I don’t know how we will ridicule ourselves once again, I don’t know where will we find the money to put on the show, I don’t know how ungodly long it will be... but I know that Mans Zelmerlow will be part of it. This man loves Eurovision just like all of us, so I can already see him packing his suitcase and planning his flight to Italy. Come to us, Mans, we will wait for you. We actually need an English presenter, so if you have nothing else to do...

#beauty talks about stuff #eurovision #eurovision 2021 #italy #ukraine #uk #maneskin #go_a #europe #I bet you all forgot again about san marino #and flo rida #why was he here #we might never know #uk stop being sore losers and take yourself less seriously #france you did great #but ukraine did better #go_a my beloved #thank you maneskin for delivering some good music #finland was awesome #some good rock heck yes #such good songs #thank you europe for giving us such amazing show #and now back to my regular scheduling

[thedeviljudges]

How do you interpret that last scene? I read it very much as a promise of a reunion/what's to come. How is it a goodbye?? They're not at the airport, they're at wherever Gaon's hearing was held, and like you pointed out, time has passed, so unless Yohan and Elijah were just chilling in motels for the past month and a half before jetting off to Switzerland, this is Yohan returning to Korea for Gaon's big moment/cos he can't keep away. That and their expressions, plus Gaon's realisation that (tbc)

nothing has changed (which would be a super downer way to end his arc if he truly was alone) doesn't suggest goodbye, but instead something more along the lines of a rejuvenation, a 'right, what's next?' or a 'I'll be seeing you.' I mean, Yohan clearly wanted Gaon to catch him, otherwise he wouldn't have stood directly behind him caressing his chair! Could just be wishful thinking but if I hadn't read comments saying so first, it would never have occurred to me that it was meant to be a goodbye.

i think the point of the scene is leaving it up to viewers discretion, but because most of us here are very lawful husbands-oriented, of course we refuse to see it as a goodbye. plus, i didn't take it as a goodbye while watching it personally.

i did miss the "a month later" notation when i first watched just because where i was watching with english subs, there was notes about where gaon and jinjoo were covering it up. so luckily someone pointed it out or i would've missed it.

i think that note about the month thing really says a lot in terms of how it's meant to be interpreted. so let me just go off about it because i'm feeling so many things still.

first, i think it truly shows that yohan still cares for gaon and always will no matter how much time passes between each other and they're not by each other's side. yohan purposefully flew back (i don't think they would've stayed in a hotel since all of yohan's and elijah's things were packed up and gone when gaon visited the house) just to see gaon. literally the singular reason was to push gaon into his role as a judge and support him giving his testimony—one that yohan made happen in the first place. why wouldn't he see out this plan in person, too? this might come across as yohan checking up on gaon before leaving again, and that's certainly the case, but it's not a goodbye. it's yohan popping in to check up on him, especially for the road gaon has ahead of him as a judge.

yohan didn't give gaon a proper goodbye either. he left the cards and the blueprint of the courtroom in his bedroom so gaon would find it and know that he's safe. he never actually said goodbye at the building as well, and it's similar to the theming of death where if a body isn't shown on screen, are they really dead? is it really goodbye if it's not uttered?

i've come to the conclusion that it feels more like "i'll see you around" for me - that gaon knows yohan is out there, and he's not gone for good. he blatantly "threatened" gaon and told him if he wasn't doing a good job, he'd be back. that means yohan is going to be watching over him in some capacity, and you're telling me that he's going to spend time doing that and not go see gaon at any point? why would yohan fuck himself over more like that? doesn't make sense. that's too much pining, and when has yohan ever sat back and did nothing about what he wants?

i think they both recognize that after all of the pain and suffering they've gone through, a brief separation is not just needed but probably a good thing - sort of like a breather to really settle down, work through their emotions, and also for gaon to give yohan and elijah a bit of time to work on their relationship without gaon in the mix for once. also for gaon to find his own way as a judge without yohan's influence as well.

so overall, no. to me it's not a goodbye. i can see them coming back together just a few months down the line because they need each other and all will be well. plus, gaon would be more than supportive of yohan and elijah staying in switzerland if it means she has a chance to go to physical therapy and heal. gaon knows how to be independent, and so does yohan. i think they're perfectly capable of maintaining a long distance relationship if it means elijah comes first. it's like one parent stays home while the other goes to work and/or travels. just like any other family.

it could also be reasonably explained that they did not go near one another due to the building they were in. i highly doubt that yohan wants people to know he’s alive. gaon wouldn’t jeopardize yohan again, and they most certainly do not want people questioning gaon after everything that just happened. he’s at a judicial reform meeting, and he blatantly told everyone that he still doesn’t agree with yohan’s way of justice. he’s not a criminal, and he’s not a hero.

then, we have the watch. the blatant watch that gaon never took off no matter his doubts about yohan. from the very beginning, it’s been there. and it will stay there as a reminder. fitting that isaac gave yohan his token of remembrance to do good in a necklace. and yohan gave his through a watch. yohan has the scar gaon gave him.

and finally, does this not look like one kang yohan who has something up his sleeve? where have we seen this blatant look before? especially as tempest plays as he walks away.

#x #the devil judge #gahan #lawful husbands #this was long and the last part about isaac and yohan's token.... i literally just figured that out damn #the devil judge meta

[rainguk]

perfect pitch | ksj

⁕ summary; your stand partner this year is, to put it simply, insufferable. with a rare sense of perfect pitch and a stunning face to boot, this boy's ego is absolutely off the charts... but you'd be lying if you said you didn't care about him anyway.

⁕ pairing; seokjin x reader

⁕ rating; pg-13

⁕ words; 3.9k

⁕ genre; crack, fluff - stand partners idiots to lovers (with a lil bit of enemies in there), high school au, orchestra au

⁕ warnings; swearing, threats but like nothing violent happens LOL, seokjin's sense of humor: there's like one mildly inappropriate joke (i'm sorry bach), super cliche rain scene i apologize

⁕ notes; this is based off of infuriatingly true events in my life because people with perfect pitch just LOVE flexing it like i'll drop my fork on the table and my friend's just like "oh wow that was a B flat" aaaaggghjsdjsdf anyways... i had a lot of fun writing this and i'm nearing the end of another longer fic i'm writing so please look forward to that :D hope you enjoy!!! + if you ever want me to tag you in my fics just let me know and i will <3 plus this is unedited and disgustingly cringy as it nears the end so read at your own risk

⁕ tags; @imdamconfused @sunghoonight-x @iminchaosnow

⁕ song; butter (bts)

masterlist

You’re teetering dangerously on the edge, a mere few seconds away from stabbing your stand partner in the eye with whatever you can use as a weapon.

“Hey, are you okay?” Seokjin cuts into your murderous thoughts, alarmed. “You look… truth be told, Y/N, you look like you want to kill someone.”

“If you don’t shut up about how flat my A is, that someone might just end up being you.”

“How romantic.”

Your bow slides off your violin with a cadence of squeaky notes. “Can you at least stop flirting with me while I’m trying to tune this thing?!”

He smiles, a bright, brilliant thing that shows off all his perfect teeth. You swallow, heart suddenly racing a thousand times faster; it’s no secret that Kim Seokjin is probably the biggest pain in the neck you’ve ever met, but it’s also true that he is insanely good-looking. And you’re not about to deny it.

“You like it, though.”

Well, shit.

“Not everyone’s head over heels in love with you,” you retort, trying desperately to throw him off your trail. You know what happens with popular kids like him; once it’s known that you have a soft spot for them, everyone pounces on you, bombarding you with questions and snide remarks and rumors.

Of course, it’s complicated — because how on earth could you want to rip off someone’s head and kiss them at the same time?

But you tell yourself that it’s only because he looks like that; not because he easily gets you to laugh like it’s nobody’s business, and certainly not because he looks out for you in the littlest ways; leaving his rosin out on the stand for you to use and lending you a pencil when you need one.

Kim Seokjin is an insufferable little shit, yes. But he’s a friendly insufferable little shit. And you would honestly be so down to hang out with him and get to know him better, save for one little thing that’s been getting in your way.

His perfect fucking pitch.

Being stand partners with someone naturally gifted with such a sense is both a blessing and a curse. Countless times, Seokjin has saved your ass from being questioned by Mrs. Choi by letting you know silently that you’re a little too sharp, or playing in the wrong key entirely. (That last one has happened before.) Sometimes you can’t hear Namjoon, the principal violinist, too well from where you’re seated, so you’ve relied on Seokjin on many occasions to tune your strings correctly.

However, it irks you equally as much when he uses it against you, stopping you mid-piece to let you know that your C# sounds more like a D to him. No one’s perfect, and certainly not you — but you try, and to be shot down every single time by someone who thinks it’s absolutely funny to watch you repeatedly attempt to fix your pitch issues is purely exhausting.

“Hey, Y/N—”

“What?” you demand, sighing as you turn to him.

“Wanna hear a joke?”

“No—”

“Why did Bach have twenty children?”

Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh my god—”

He continues anyway, ignoring your plea with that mischievous grin, “Because he had no organ stops!”

Seokjin is trying his best not to laugh at his own joke, shoulders shaking at the punch line. You can’t help it yourself, a giggle bursting out of your own chest as you cover your mouth.

“That was horrendous,” you tell him once you catch your breath again. “Absolutely terrible.”

“Oh, worry not,” he proclaims, smiling widely, “I can do far better.”

“Wait, no—”

“What tone does a piano falling down a mineshaft make?”

You furrow your brows, thinking. “I don’t know,” you shake your head after a few seconds. “What is it?”

“A flat minor.”

Your jaw drops open as you process it, and Seokjin just watches you in amusement. “You should be banned from making these kinds of jokes,” you tell him. “Seriously.”

“Admit it, I’m hilarious,” he counters. “I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

He did, you’ve got to acknowledge. He always does, in some way, now that you think about it. Whenever you end up coming to rehearsal in a bad mood, it’s always because of Seokjin that you leave the auditorium with a smile on your face.

The realization startles you like nothing else — you hadn’t known before that he played such a role in your daily life.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” he starts again, “We have a concert tonight.”

“Yeah…” You turn to him, eyebrow raised. “You forgot about the biggest performance of the year?”

Seokjin nods, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “Yeah. My bad. You’re coming, right?”

“Duh,” you reply, fishing a block of rosin out of your case. “It’s almost half of my grade; no way I can skip. Besides, I like performing.”

“You do?”

“What are you so surprised for?” you ask him playfully. “I do enjoy it. I might not be good — not as good as you — but I like it. I like playing together with everyone, being able to hear every other part fit in with mine perfectly.” You frown. “Now if you asked me to play solo, I wouldn’t do it for anything in the world. Ensemble performances are far better.”

“You’re good,” Seokjin says quietly, looking at you — it’s like he’s taking you in, letting his eyes linger on you for a little while longer. “Don’t think that you’re not. You sound nice, Y/N.”

You hold his gaze for several breathless seconds before scoffing, turning away. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!”

“I don’t need empty compliments fr—”

Your bickering is cut short by Mrs. Choi walking onstage, a stack of sheet music in her hand which is promptly handed to Namjoon for him to distribute to the entire orchestra. You don’t offer your usual smile when he gives you two, and it’s with an impassive expression that you hand the extra to your stand partner.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Maybe you’ve made it more awkward between you two — but what else could have happened? Had you been hoping he’d magically fall in love with you and kiss you and you would have gone on dates?

No, of course not. This is Kim Seokjin you’re talking about; and besides, no matter how much you manage to soften up to him one moment, he’ll immediately make you want to murder him the next.

“Hey, Y/N… um — your D is just, you know, a little bit sharp—”

“Kim Seokjin, I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You, my dear, are just overcomplicating this for yourself,” Taehyung declares after listening to you rant about your problematic stand partner over lunch. “What’s the issue? You like him — don’t you shake your head at me, Y/N, you’re as obvious as an open book — and he clearly likes you. Why don’t you just date him?”

“It’s not that simple,” you grumble, brutally stabbing another piece of chicken. “I can’t just walk up to him and ask him out, Tae. Plus, he doesn’t like me, he just likes flirting with everyone he lays his eyes on.”

“From what you’re telling me, it sure does sound like it.”

“Taehyung…”

“Come on, you can’t possibly be that clueless, Y/N.”

“No,” you insist. “He’s a pain in the ass, and he enjoys getting a rise out of me, and he flexes that dumb pitch power of his whenever he can.”

“But you like him...”

“You’re not helping!”

This is where Jimin decides to intervene, tired of your back and forth arguing. “She has a point, Tae. But,” he says to you. “He’s also right. You need to take some kind of action.”

“Yeah, but what?”

Taehyung claps his hands, a telltale sign of a new idea. “Flirt back!”

“Okay, absolutely not—”

Jimin grabs you suddenly, shaking your shoulders. “Wait, think about it!” he exclaims, eyes wide. “It can work! That way you can see if he actually does like you, and you won’t publicly embarrass yourself by confessing to him, either!”

“On second thought, I’d have preferred to see the public embarrassment—”

“Shut up, Tae, you’re just making her feel worse!”

That makes you laugh; contrary to Jimin’s statement, your best friends certainly have succeeded in making you feel just a little bit better.

“Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual,” you tease. “Maybe I owe him a dose, actually, because I’ve seen firsthand a particularly painful confession back in n—”

“Y/N! Don’t you dare bring that up!”

Amidst the chaos of Taehyung screeching while trying to attack you with a spoon and Jimin holding him back, someone taps on your shoulder lightly; a momentary distraction from this madness, if you will.

“Oh. You,” you respond when greeted with the gently smiling face of Kim Seokjin. “Did you need anything?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, instead showing you his closed fist. “Wanted to give you something.”

“If it’s another one of my strings that you’ve borrowed and also broken, then you can keep it, thanks.”

Seokjin shakes his head, chuckling. “Not that, Y/N. I always throw out the strings I break; don’t worry. I just thought you should have this.”

With that, he places a small wooden box on your lunch bag — at a closer look, you realize it’s a block of rosin. Brand new, too, by the looks of it — when you take off the bright blue lid, there are no scratches on the surface, no sign of wear and tear.

“For me?” You look at him, surprised to be met with a rather fond gaze you’re not used to. “Why?”

“Noticed the one you had was basically falling apart,” he says nonchalantly, attempting to mask the slight tremble in his voice and the blush on his cheeks. “I mean, come on — how are you gonna keep your bow in good shape with those tiny chunks of this stuff?”

“Oh,” is all you can reply, staring at the gleaming black cube in your hand. “I — thanks, I guess.”

“No problem.” He’s back to his bright, grinning self again, all self-confidence and smug smiles. “See you tomorrow,” he tells you, before waving to your friends. “Have a nice lunch, guys.”

It takes Jimin and Taehyung precisely fourteen seconds after Seokjin leaves for his own table to lose their shit.

“Was he looking out for you?”

“Did he actually just give you a new block of rosin?!”

“And you still don’t wanna date this guy?”

“You guys are violinists! Gifting each other supplies is basically your love language!”

You fidget with the rosin, smoothing your thumb over the lid. “No, that’s just how he is,” you defend. “He always lends me rosin when I need it.”

“And you always lend him extra strings,” Taehyung says, a teasing smile on his face. They’re kind of right, you realize when you think about it. Never has Seokjin actually given you a block to keep, and though you might be overestimating the significance of the gesture, it makes your heart flutter nonetheless.

“Okay, anyways,” Jimin changes the topic, “How are we feeling about tonight’s concert?”

“I think we’re in good shape,” you tell him. “We’ve got everything under control — Mrs. Choi was afraid the cellos would screw up their solo section, but they managed to pull it together today and they sounded great.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same,” Taehyung sighs. “Not when the tenors keep screwing up their long note—”

“That wasn’t me! That was Jeon Jungkook!”

“Yeah, sure—”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Come on, we are not arguing about this right now. I’m sure you guys will sound fine, you always do. Plus, Jeon has a really sweet voice.”

“I guess so,” Taehyung shrugs. “But I think the highlight of tonight is going to be Y/N getting to see her guy all dressed up,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No!” You exclaim a little too quickly, cheeks red. “Why would you say something like that?!”

“Because you’re whipped for him—”

“I am most certainly not—”

Jimin laughs out loud, almost toppling off of his chair. “You know, Y/N, we might have believed you if you weren’t redder than a fucking tomato right now—”

“PARK JIMIN! NOT YOU TOO!”

As luck would have it, you’re a solid ten minutes late.

Call time was at six o’clock, and here you are; slamming the car door shut as you wave a hasty goodbye to your father and run to the main entrance, all the while trying not to get drenched in the rain.

(Your folder and the music inside it are probably already soaked, but that’s an issue for another time.)

You hurry down the stairs, pushing the double doors open with a quick apology to Mrs. Choi, who gives you a stern look but says nothing else. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you slide into your seat, already unlatching your case.

“You’re late.”

You twist your neck to give your stand partner a blank stare. “I’m aware.”

“You look really nice,” he blurts out next, blinking faster than usual.

“Thanks?” You try and laugh it off, fastening your shoulder rest to the back of your violin. You’re not wearing anything fancy, just a flowy black dress with your hair tied back, but his remark renders you speechless for a split second “So do you.”

You manage to compliment him nonchalantly, but your heart is beating twice as fast, eyes admiring his parted, fluffy hair, the white dress shirt impeccable on his figure. And his lips…

Shit. You really are down bad, but you don’t have time to dwell on it — Mrs. Choi is starting the last piece already, and you’re scrambling to have your instrument ready by the time the first violins start with their little intro.

Seokjin laughs at you quietly, but inhales sharply when you start to rosin your bow hair. “You kept it,” he says softly, nodding at the block in your hands.

“Yeah,” you swallow, suddenly self-conscious. “I did.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

“I’m not that ungrateful,” you wrinkle your nose at him. “Of course I kept it, Seokjin.”

“Jin.”

“Huh?”

“Jin,” he repeats, flicking a strand of chestnut hair away from his eyes. “That’s what my friends call me.”

“Since when am I your friend?”

“Would you rather not be?”

“Would you rather be?”

Seokjin — Jin, rather — frowns down at you. “Stop asking questions to my questions!”

“You did it first!” you exclaim, laughing. “Hypocrite! Answer mine, then!”

He looks at you for a long moment, like he’s taking his sweet time choosing the right words to say to you. “Since now,” he decides finally, firmly. “You are now. I want you to be mine. My friend,” he clarifies, turning deep red as he says it.

“I thought you hated me,” you muse. “And I was pretty sure you thought I was the lamest kid ever because I couldn’t play a single thing right.”

“Of course not,” Jin shakes his head vehemently. “You’re cool, Y/N. A little tone deaf, but cool.”

“Take that back!”

“I’m sorry, it’s the truth,” he laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You send him your best glare, but contrary to your facial expression, it’s nice to laugh with him like this. You’ve been so caught up with telling yourself that you shouldn’t be feeling anything but annoyance when you’re around him that you ignored your blossoming feelings, and now they’ve fully bloomed, leaving no room for that initial irritation you so often experienced.

Friends. It’s not what you most want, but it’s something. You could get used to that.

The concert goes smoothly, and the choir performances were absolutely delightful to watch — but your father is late, again, which means you’re stuck waiting for him out in the rain that hasn’t let up for hours.

You’re about to call him for the fifth time in ten minutes when you hear a set of heavy footsteps behind you, running up the stairway. “Y/N!”

“Jin?” you ask, surprised by the boy making his way toward you, brown hair completely soaked. “What are you doing out here?”

“I lied,” he says breathlessly, like he’s in a rush, and if he doesn’t tell you now, he might never be able to. “I’m sorry, I — I lied, Y/N. I don’t want you to be my friend — God, I don’t think I could live with that. I want you to be more.”

“Jin—”

“I just,” he exhales forcefully, “I want to be able to take you out and hold your hand and hug you and kiss you—”

When your mind finally clears up, you don’t let him finish his sentence, instead grabbing his collar and yanking him down so you can press your lips to his in one swift motion. A quiet gasp leaves his mouth, but he quickly adjusts to the situation, hands dropping his violin so he can gently cradle your face, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. It’s all happening so fast that you barely even have time to think, to properly take it all in.

His lips are cold due to the nasty weather, and you’re both sopping wet — and this is most definitely the worst setting for this to have happened, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“That,” Jin breathes when you finally let him go, pupils dilated, “that was—”

“My first,” you finish. Your prior courage all gone, you’re a bit nervous now, too embarrassed by your bold move to even meet his eyes. What were you thinking? “I-I’m sorry...”

“Sorry?” Jin asks, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

“You know, because… of that.” You can barely speak up, cheeks burning. “I-I don’t know why I did that. Is this — is this a prank or something? Did you plan this? Was I just supposed to laugh it off and threaten to take your eye out with my bow instead?”

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, laughing. “Can’t you tell, Y/N?” He lowers his voice to a gentle whisper. “I like you, you idiot. Ever since you waltzed into the auditorium sophomore year and nearly broke your violin falling down the stairs, I never stopped thinking about you.”

“You… you like me?” you ask incredulously, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. “Like, for real? You’re not just pulling my leg like you usually love to do?”

“I meant what I said, Y/N,” he tells you softly, fingers intertwined with yours. His voice is genuine, soothing. “I want to do all those things with you, if you’ll let me.”

It takes you a while to reply, but when you do, your heart is pounding so loudly in your chest that you can barely hear yourself. “A-And if I said yes?”

A wide grin breaks out onto Jin’s face as he pulls you into a hug, both your instruments forgotten on the pavement and your head resting on his chest as he holds you close. A few days ago, you would have thought yourself a fool for even thinking that a day like this would ever come; yet here you are, all those daydreams come true.

It’s all so new to you, and you’ll most likely screw up along the way — multiple times. But hand in hand with Jin and his vexing ability to pick out a B from a B flat, things aren’t looking so bad.

You’ll work it out.

Hanging out with your friends is always a chaotic (but fun) occurrence — but when you add your boyfriend’s buddies into the mix, it all goes down to shit.

Actually, it’s all his fault, if you really think about it. Why on earth did he think challenging Taehyung to a baking competition was even remotely close to being a good idea?

“That’s so not fucking fair!” the aforementioned best friend cries, angrily shaking a spatula at a playfully grinning Jung Hoseok. “You can’t just hide the bag of flour! I fucking forgot to put it in!”

“Nothing we can do about it now, Tae,” Jimin sighs, massaging his forehead as the three of you stare at the burnt, soupy mass your team has created. “We fucking lost, that’s it.”

“So,” Jin smirks mischievously, nudging your elbow. “I guess Hoseok and I win this one, yeah?”

“Shut up,” you shove him back, though you’re grinning; a plate with a slice of his impeccably made cake in your hands and a fork lifted to your lips. “You’re good at this and you know it. I knew from the start that you were just trying to fuck around with Tae.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Your evil, demonic, deceptive, satanic boyfriend—”

“Nice vocabulary,” Hoseok comments without looking up, and you’re sure he’s on your best friend’s hit list at this point.

“Well — anyways, he’s out to get me,” Taehyung continues, frowning. “I feel attacked.”

“Yeah, okay, keep saying that several years from now when you’re sitting in a church and Y/N’s walking down the aisle,” Jimin says nonchalantly, causing you to choke on your cake in complete shock.

“What the heck — we’re literally eighteen! You can’t — you can’t just say things like that!” you exclaim indignantly, fork clattering against your empty plate. Jin grins widely all of a sudden, tapping your shoulder all of a sudden.

“Jagi.”

“Hmm?” You turn to him, momentarily forgetting how flustered Jimin’s comment made you feel.

“That was a really nice C# just now…”

Your mouth drops open as you gape at your boyfriend; part of you wants to cry and part of you wants to laugh. You knew when you agreed to make it official that somewhere along the line, you’d have to deal with these kinds of things, but now that it’s actually happening…

You turn to Jimin, patience already running thin from Jin’s antics (actually, you secretly love it, though you’ll never admit it to his face.)

“And you have the audacity to suggest that I’ll actually get married to this man?”

“Y/N? Honey, wake up. I… I just realized something.”

“Oh — Jin? What is it? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good. You know, I was thinking about it, and I realized that...” Your husband bites down on his lip hesitantly, glancing down at the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms.

“Yeah?” you press, curious.

“When Aera cries — you know, when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs,” he smiles fondly. “It’s always — she always cries in either F# or C#. It’s,” he looks like he’s nearing tears, “the D major key. Y/N, she literally cries in D major. I’m—”

You sigh, smiling amusedly to yourself as you snuggle up to him for extra warmth, holding your baby close. Leave it to none other than Kim Seokjin to analyze his daughter’s pitch — isn’t that part of the reason why you fell in love with him, anyway?

Life with Jin is many things — a chaotic mess that includes the constantly screaming light of your lives, three pandemoniac best friends, and far too many notes for you to keep track of. And though sometimes you want to chuck a blue-lidded block of rosin at his head to shut him up, you’re more than ready for it all.

— feedback/questions/just wanna chat?

thank you for reading perfect pitch! ♡

#applejinie #seokjin x reader #seokjin fluff #seokjin one shot #jin x reader #jin fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts one shot #rainguk #jin high school au #bts high school au #bts orchestra au #violinist!jin

[extremelyblackandwhite]

into the woods

PAIRING: alpha!bucky barnes x innocent omega!reader

WARNINGS: age gap (reader in her 20′s, bucky in his mid to late 30′s), smut, a/b/o dynamics

A/N: this has some acotar vibes because i was reading it while writing this but i hope you enjoy it. have fun xx

The High Lady of the North, is what they called her, or at least what they refered her. to whenever they spoke of her as seeing the daughter of one of the most powerful men in all the land was a rare sight. Those who knew her, knew her from her time at school and those who didn’t merely gossiped about her. They knew what she was, an omega, the first omega born in a family of alphas who had ruled over the land for centuries. Her birth had been celebrated as a gift to fertility yet, the most desired omega in all of the land was yet to participate in one of the Spring Celebrations where omegas going through their first heat would be chased by eager alphas into the woods. Y/N absolutely hated the mere idea of being thrown around like a piece of meat for alphas to go after and she was thankful that as years went by no sign of a heat was yet to come. Servants at the mansion would comment maybe she was an infertile omega while some commented she was merely buying her time. However, despite all those comments and all those titles thrown at her by people who did not know her, one person did know the reason why the omega High Lady was kept apart from everyone else. That person was James Barnes, Bucky for short. He, like everyone who surrounded her was an Alpha yet his task was merely to look after her whenever she wanted to venture around, not that she enjoyed to be out of her little walls for long.

He was quiet, a far cry from how loud every Alpha she knew was yet in his quietness and lonely demeanor, he had a power that kept everyone else at arms’ length. He wasn’t a brashy young Alpha who couldn’t control his nature, no, his inner wolf was always restrained with just enough of a facade that kekpt everyone else away. No one dared defy James Barnes unless they wanted to be beat to a pulp. That reputation had earned him a reputation which led to the job he had occupied for the past 3 years, starting during her 20th birthday. It hadn’t taken him too long to grow attached to her and her little quirks. Yet again, he was an alpha and she was an omega so he guessed biology played a role in it. 

She herself wasn’t much of a outgoing omega, instead keeping to herself with her piles of books and flowers. However, recently, she was even more hidden from everybody, staying in her room covered by her blankets and vanilla candles and god blessed anyone who attempted to bother her. As the days went by, it became perfectly clear to everyone what was happening; the 23 year old omega was starting her heat. 

     - I don’t need to be coddled! - she snapped at Bucky as he stood by her side. He wasn’t closer than he usually was, actually, he was even trying to keep his distance. Despite his control, he knew how strong first heats were and he knew how easily they could trigger a rut even in the most experienced Alpha. However, he couldn’t help but find it amusing how irritableshe was. 

     - I’m sorry, m’lady. - he chuckled. 

     - You find it funny? - she crossed her arms, cocking her head to the side in a menancing manner; yet, she merely looked like an upset child in that ridiculous periwinkle dress. - I’m to be bait for horny alphas and you think it’s funny. 

    - You’re being overdramatic, you’re not going to be bait. Everybody does it.

    - You didn’t do it.

    - I’m not an Omega. 

    - You didn’t join the other alphas either. - she noted, continuing her distance from him. - It’s sexist!

    - No one is going to touch you if you don’t allow it. You can’t force a mating bond onto someone, m’lady.

    - Call me m’lady one more time. - she rolled her eyes. 

    - Sorry, Y/N. - he smiled and she couldn’t help but forgive him and he couldn’t help but not take it seriously. He knew she wasn’t sleeping, way too overwealmed by pre-heat and preparations for it. Just last night he’d seen her carrying more pillows into her bedroom along with a full supply of food. - You still remember how to mask your scent?

    - Yes. 

    - Then they won’t even be able to detect you. They’re young alphas and will go for the omegas whose scent is stronger, you’ll most likely spend the night by yourself. 

The two continued to walk past the meadows, her eyes never leaving the woods close to her childhood home where she was certain to be thrown into the next night. She wondered if Bucky was right and that would be enough. Maybe he was right about forcing mating bonds but she knew they could force something else ... she wasn’t naive. 

    - You’ll be okay. - he reassured, noticing how lost in thought she was. - I’d never let them harm you.

    - You think I’ll smell bad? - she changed the topic.

    - No. - he chuckled at her question. - Omegas always smell sweet. Haven’t meet an Omega who didn’t. 

    - Even the one you brought to your room last week? - he had unbelievable control but he was still an Alpha and a very desirable one. While he’d gotten used to having a few ruts every year, lately it appeared as every month he was going into ruts and after an Alpha goes into rut, well, they need to mate. He expected her not to have noticed, her room was very far removed from everyone else’s, standing in the highest floor, far removed from every Alpha and Beta in the house. Yet, he should’ve known how attentive she was, how observant, how no detail went unnoticed. 

   - I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble.

   - You didn’t. - she didn’t look at him, continuing her walk around the gardens of the grounds she had grown up with. Roses of various colours were starting to bloom once again, creating a palette of soft hues which reminded her of soft spring paintings which hanged in the big halls of the old house. - They’re expecting me to find one, you know, a mate. They say they’re not but I know they are. 

   - Y/N ...

   - You could go. - she argued, the same thing she’d been trying to convince him for the past days. - If you go, no other Alpha will try to even go after me.

   - I’m too old for even participate in those things, besides you can take care off yourself. 

She decided not to rattle him, childish crushes set aside, she knew he could be the one to keep every other young and power hungry Alpha away from her but Bucky was a hard one to convice. He was in his mid thirties and despite his good looks, he remained unmated, mostly hanging around with Omegas and Betas whenever his ruts were particularly bad. Staff would tell her he probably had no mate due to his actions in the war years ago, but Y/N didn’t really believe them. Nevertheles, he remained set in stone in the idea of not even attending the event, always saying “An Omega’s first heat close is way too dangerous”. She’d always retort if it was dangerous then he should be the one to protect her, yet he shrugged it off. So, she was once again back in her own and as the hours passed faster and faster, she found herself staring at her own reflection dressed in white. The same features as her mother’s stared back at her, yet she was no Alpha woman and her own biology reminded her. Her skin was starting to boil hot, a reminder of what was yet to come. She hoped it wasn’t as bad, she hoped she could bathe in the river coursing through the woods for the evening.

She emerged from her house, walking up hill just to beginning of the the woods. Several other new omegas were around, much younger than her, eager to take this new step and find their omega. Y/N, on the other hand, felt like this was merely another joke from the world yelling in her face that she was an omega. She, the daughter of an Alpha leader, the lady who’d inherit all the estate including the woods, the High Lady of the North, was an omega. There was only one reason why they were excited about a heat, it meant she could produce children, alpha children to continue the bloodline. She was merely a dark weak branch in the tapestry of her family. Her eyes scanned the Alphas who were about to participate, no Bucky in sight. She didn’t know why she had hope he’d come. Part of her understood it was dangerous, after all Bucky was fresh out a rut, his rut having started around the time her pre heat started so it was no good to have him around. Nevertheless, she wanted him here. Her hands clutched the lotion Bucky had given him as she ran into the woods with the other omegas, their white dresses disappearing into the dark green. 

Bucky watched her from the crowd which had gathered to see the High Lady’s first attempt of a Spring cerimony. They clearly had nothing better to do, he thought to himself. How come her heat was that important? She was still a bright, intelligent woman who no question would well suceed her father as leader of the North court. 

     - You think she’ll come out mated? - one of the maids who’d come to see the spring cerimony asked.

     - Don’t think she wants to. - he commented, mostly out of politeness. The last thing he wanted was a rookie Alpha laying a claim on his omega. 

     - I surely hope so. We were so blessed when her pre-heat started so sudden 5 nights ago.

    - I thought it didn’t start up to 3 days ago. 

    - No, it was definetely 5 nights ago.

Shit.

Y/N continued to run through the woods, rubbing the lotion onto her scent glands in her wrists and junctures between the neck and shoulders. However, no matter how much her mind wanted to keep running, the heat was starting to overtake her and her legs were growing weaker and weaker until she tumbled onto the ground. Her head hit the ground, her eyes looking onto the stary sky as she heard the sounds of mating and footsteps. She just knew it was only a mere of time til someone found her and took her, but they only never be her alpha. No, it wasn’t the alpha she wanted. 

She clenched onto the locket which was the only relief against her own skin, praying she could gain some strength to get up and continue to run. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want any of the alphas she’d seen. They weren’t her alpha. They’re not alpha, her mind yelled at her. They’re not Bucky. 

The footsteps got louder and she reached for a sharp rock, preparing herself for whoever attempted to go after her. However, the person who emerged was someone who she had not expected. Standing away from her was Bucky, breath ragged and sweat covered forehead. Once his eyes set on her, his nostrils flared and he took a step back, faltering in his movements. 

    - Yo...you scared me. - she hiccuped, trying to move from the floor. 

    - Why aren’t you wearing the lotion, omega? - he’d never called her omega, he’d never dare to call his lady anything other than what she wished, yet Y/N couldn’t complain about being called omega by him.

    - I am. - ever the argumentative, she showed him the empty tin of lotion yet Bucky could still smell her, and how fucking sweet did she smell. - Bucky, I don’t feel good. 

     - Shit ... - he shut his eyes. Control yourself, he told himself over and over again, but her scent was just intoxicating. It filled every single sense, every crock of his brain, telling him to take her, to take his omega, the same omega that was laying on the ground. The omega whose mere pre-heat had trigged his rut.   

    - Bucky ... - she clenched her stomach. It was bad, very bad. Her skin felt like it was burning and her inner thighs were starting to get wet due to the slick which just kept appearing. She didn’t kknow what to do, no one had told her what a heat felt like, no one had told her how to calm down. Looking at Bucky only made it worse, her mind yelling at her to be near him but his eyes were clear, don’t get close. - Alpha, please. 

That name. Being called by his title by her of all people made him want to take her right there. No matter how hard he tried that’s all he could see in his head, making her feel better, knot her. 

    - It hurts. - she cried out. - I don’t know what to do.

She had heard from other maids who were omegas what to expect but she didn’t exactly know what to do. She was an omega in a family of Alphas; her father was an alpha, her mother was an alpha and so had their parents. She was the first omega to be born and it wasn’t her parents didn’t care about her they just didn’t know how to exactly raise an omega. It didn’t particularly help that she didn’t act like a stereotypical omega, or what an alpha family expected, so she was treated no different. Bucky also didn’t think her family talked much about mating; she was a high lady after all, the one who’d continue the family line. He wanted to help her, he really did but everytime he looked her, his inner wolf wanted nothing to but to lay his claim on her. 

His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of helping her clashing with doing what’s best for her. Bucky, an old alpha, definetely was not the best for her and he wasn’t fit to be the mate of the high lady, he wasn’t fit to be anyone’s alpha much less someone’s mate. 

    - I want it to stop. - she took him of his thoughts. In the absence of his attention, she’d managed to lean against a tree, her hands pulling at her dress, attempting to get some cold air.

    - Not gonna stop for three days. - his voice was lower and she couldn’t help but feel entranced by him. She’d never seen him like this, acting like a pure alpha whose voice dripped dominance. His eyes shut again as her smell surrounded him once more. God, why did she smell so good? 

    - Make it stop. - she begged him. Him, out of all alphas, some sons of high lords themselves and here he was, the lower of the lowest born alphas. - Alpha.

    - Don’t call me alpha. - he would lose it if she called him alpha even just one more time. He was barely keeping himself away from her, despite how much he wanted her. God, he wanted her. He’d always wanted her. The other alphas weren’t enough, no one would ever be enough for her. 

His mind race with ways to help her. He could always try to lead her out the woods through the other side and sneak her back into her nest so she could go through her heat away from any eager alphas; yet, he doubted she could walk much at this moment and carrying her was not an option, not when she’d be so close to him, her skin touching his would end it for him. Yet again, he’d rather be damned than not help his Y/N. He couldn’t bare having her go through this when she didn’t want to. She deserved better than this, she deserved all the choices that were offered to her ancestors, no matter what biology dictated. Bucky would rather watch the world burn than to let her go through this a second longer. 

With his mind set on taking her back to his bedroom, he told himself he could control himself. He was in his thirties, he’d had ruts before and he could conttrol himself. He took a deep breathe in before getting up and walking up to her. Her scent got stronger and stronger but his mind wanted her well, wanted her to be completely and fully happy. The alpha put his arms around her and picked her up, her legs dangling from the his arms. Intuitively, her nose rubbed against the scent gland on his neck. Her body slightly cooled down and she cuddled against him, happily surrounded by the scent of pinewood and ash dust. Despite her being much calmer, he himself could feel his blood boil. Her scent was starting to morph with his and all he could think about was her being absolutely owned by him. Yet, he had to keep those thoughts quiet. This was his lady after all and he owned her vasalage. 

The night had dawned in and the once familiar woods were dark, filled with noises he knew too well and the sound of the creek passing by. He held her close to him, attempting to make his way through the darkness and out of the woods. A sudden noise had him stopping in his tracks. She looked up at him, with those eyes which just screamed trust within him, and a feeling of overwhelming possesiveness took control of him. He held her tight against his chest as his eyes zoomed onto the figure which made their way straight at them. He knew him. He was the son of a lord ruling over the south and Bucky absolutely hated him. He’d heard way too much about the young alpha to want him to stay away from his omega. 

   - Evening, m’lady. - he looked at Y/N, completely ignoring Bucky. She rolled her eyes, gripping Bucky’s shirt as much she could. - Bought Barnes with you?

   - Move along, Michael. She’s not interested. 

   - I didn’t know you spoke for her now. - he took slow steps towards them, stalking them like a predator to a prey. - Unless you’re thinking about taking her just for yourself. 

   - Go away. - Y/N managed to speak through her heat, although even speaking made her uncomfortable. 

   - You stink, Barnes. - he snickered. - Yet again an omega in heat and an alpha in rut is never a good match is it?

   - It’s none of your business. 

   - If you change your mind m’lady, just let me know. - he winked at Y/N before disappearing into the greenery. 

Bucky’s eyes grew darker, his insticts taking more and more of his thought process. He wanted to hurt him for even daring looking into his omega’s way but her mewling had him back on his mission to take her back to her bedroom, back to her nest.

Y/N, however, had her eyes set on Bucky. Was he on his rut? He didn’t look like he was on a rut and she had grown up in an house of alphas. She knew what a rut looked like and she knew no omega wanted to be near an alpha in rut. But Bucky wasn’t acting domineering, he wasn’t angry, he wasn’t making advances, he was just stoic. Maybe she wasn’t enough of an omega for him, people always told her she wasn’t enough of an omega. She wasn’t enough for him. He probably looked at her like a silly rich omega and the mere thought of it made her heart ache.

   - What’s wrong? - he stepped outside the dense greenery, seeing her house in the horizon. 

   - Is Michael right? Are you on your rut? - Bucky was pensive for a while. He didn’t want to scare her but he also didn’t want to lie to her. - I thought your rut was finished.

   - Got triggered. - he replied. - I’m not gonna hurt you, I’d never hurt you.

   - Does it hurt? 

   - Not my first rut, sweetheart. 

   - Is it because I’m not a good omega? - he snapped his head towards her harshly. No, his mind yelled out, you’re my omega how could you not be the only thing in this whole world which was good and bright. - Am I just not enough?

   - What are you talking about, sweetheart? You’re being delirious.

   - I know how alphas act around omegas, any omega. - he grip grew loose on his shirt as she looked down, unable to look at him. - Am I just ... not enough?

   - Y/N ...

   - You don’t need to sugar coat it for me. Nobody wants me. My parents didn’t want an omega, no one wants me to rule and not even the type of person biology dictated would want me wants me. 

   - You think I don’t want you? - his eyes grew dark, the baby blues replaced by dark blue all consuming. - You’re all I fucking think about ever since I met you. Ruts without you are a fucking nightmare because all I keep thinking is to find you and mate you. You’re my only omega. 

   - Then why won’t you mate me?

   - I’m not good enough for you. 

   - You’re my alpha. It hurts whenever you bring another omega to your room because all I want to do is be your omega and now, now you’re pushing me away. You don’t want me just like everybody else.

   - Don’t you dare say that. - ever. - Don’t you dare ever tell me I don’t want you.

   - Then do something about it.

She was just being defiant now, a sparky little omega. One of the many qualities which he adored about her; yet again he loved everything about her. He knew she was his omega, she had triggered his rut way too easily and based on the timing of his last rut and her pre-heat it wasn’t stupid to assume he’d triggered hers. Nevertheless, he was not the right person for her. She already had a tough time trying to get people to take her seriously as high lady, if she sported his mark on her lovely neck, it’d only make it harder. He wasn’t a particularly good partner to have, much less for a high lady. Nevertheless, those words stroke a chord on him. How dare she think she was not enough? Looking back at her, he could see it clear as day, the heartbreak scetched onto her lovely features. His instincts finally got the upper hand over his better consciousness and suddenly his lips were on hers. Strawberry laced flavours had him growling for more, for her body yearning for him and then the innocent kiss started to descend as he tasted her skin. 

His touch was soft and rough at the same time yet all she could think of was of him, having him. Her alpha. Her skin grew hot and cold in waves, his touch alone making slick run down her legs. 

   - You want this, omega? - he nipped at her scent gland in her neck. - You gotta tell me.

   - Please, Alpha. 

She leet out a small moan as he pushed her dress up, his fingers wandering close to her core as his lips kissed her skin leisurely. She wanted him, she wanted him so badly. His knee lodged between her legs, close to her pulsating core as he laid her down on the grass. She looked tempting, like a gift wrapped in white tafeta. How could he say no to her? How could he say no to his omega? He looked at her with lust filled eyes, head cocked to the side before leaning down to place a slow kiss on her lips, his hand massaging her breast, thumb teasingly rubbing her pebbled nipple.

His other hand replaced the pressure from his knee against her core, finger separating her folds as he started to circle her clit, his kiss silencing all her slow and earning moans. Her nails digged on his shoulders as she attempted to mutter a faster between his long kisses.

   - Shush princess, alpha is going to make you feel all better. - his voice was low, almost mocking how yearning she was. 

   - I want you inside of me, please.

   - You don’t need to beg, omega mine. I’m all yours. 

His hand moved to hold her waist as he aligned his cock with her entrance. His eyes searched for hers, wanting to look at her before he did it yet as he looked into her eyes all he found was love and trust. Someone loved and trusted him. His omega loved and trust him and that was all he could ever want. He leaned in to kiss her again before fully slipping inside of her. He went slowly, watching the way her face contorted with pleasure just for him, listening to her little moans before he was fully sheathed inside of her. The two moaned in unison and he stilled, looking for any sign of discomfort in her face.

   - Move, alpha. Move. - she begged, nails dragging up and down his shoulders. 

   - Whatever you want, sweetheart. - he leaned to kiss her again as he started to move in and out of her. She moaned out a breathy moan, hands holding onto him as he moved to kiss her neck, her scent making him drunk with pleasure. 

She was filled with him and all that yearning only seemed to heighten everytime he moved. He was her alpha and she was happy being filled by him, being his. He nipped at her neck, continuing his movements so he could hear all those lovely moans. God, he was drunk on it, her scent and her moans. He moved his hand to feel himself against her stomach. God, she looked pretty, so owned. Those waves of heat were back again as she started to clench around his cock. His movements quickened as he let out a groan against her skin, his thrusts were no longer controlled and merely looking for release until she let out a high pitched moan. 

   - Fuck, omega. - he growled, before biting her skin as ropes and ropes of white painted her walls. His knot inflated, keeping them connected. He didn’t think he’d be able to ever leave her. - Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry.

   - You marked me. - she looked at him playfully, kissing down his jaw. - You’re stuck with me. 

   - I think it’s the other way around, m’lady.

   - High Lord James Barnes, it has a ring to it. 

   - Don’t say that. - he hide in the space between her neck and shoulder, licking the fresh mark on her neck. - I should take you back to your nest, sweetheart.

   - You’re joining me right?

   - A heat is three days, omega. We’re going to have fun. 

taglist: @kitty4860​

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