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tealfloyd · 1 year

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LOOKING GREAT IN A DAY OF HAVOC

“If MC’s going to die, at least she would do it with style~”

SUMMARY: After a stressing week of homework, MC has to spend her free day with every dorm; to top it off, she drinks Grim’s unknown potion (Everyone x Fem!Reader).

WARNINGS: Death mentions but as a joke (?) There’s not really anything triggering, I think.

CONTENT: MC changes her dress everytime she enters a dorm. Wedding mentions in Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Scarabia and Diasomnia. Every outfit is inspired on the villain except Scarabia. WORDS: 6K+

A/N: I’m glad some of you actually liked this concept, I’m not really good describing dresses and anything regarding clothes if I’m being honest, but I tried my best.

Now onto the fic~

It's six in the morning and you already feel tired, groggily standing up to overcome the busy day you have ahead.

Last week you had to do a lot, and when I say a lot is a lot, of homework; so much that you had barely seen yourself in the mirror (Vil gasped at that because your hair was starting to look like a bird’s nest).

Because of that, the time you usually spent with your friends decreased greatly, the only interaction that you had with them being a quick greeting; and sometimes your overworked mind didn't process the 'hi, MC' they were pronouncing.

When you had free time to spend with them (mostly half an hour or less), they asked you if you wanted to participate in some of their activities. Absentmindedly, you agreed to it, scribbling down on your paper without actually knowing what you were saying yes to, only saying the day you would be free.

That day has come, and it’s stuffed to the brim with different events featuring every dorm.

It was a miracle that the hours didn't collide, and it’s not like you could cancel; you have seen how eager they were when you said yes, and you didn't want to disappoint them.

Once you showered you walked down the stairs, heading to the kitchen so you could get a boosting drink, not really thinking about taking breakfast when the first thing on the list was assisting to Heartslabyul's tea party.

You saw a glass of juice sitting on the top glass of the fridge, and you decided to give it a try, because what’s the worst that could happen?

It tasted bitter, and you frowned at the flavour, gagging while placing the now empty cup on the countertop, almost letting it drop when a yell came out of nowhere.

“Henchman! What are ya' doing!?” Grim hurried over to your side, recognizing the singular vase you were previously holding.

“Ah, drinking juice?” You sent him a confused look while washing the cup. “You made it? You could have added more sugar to it...”

“That wasn't juice MC!” Now you’re confused.

“What—?”

“That was my credit potion for Crewel's class!”

Oh, oh.

You dropped the cup in horror and shock, being at a loss of words.

“Why the hell would you put an unknown potion in the fridge!?” You started to drink water, hoping that would ease the effects of whatever you just drank.

“I suppose I may have forgot to take it out... But that doesn't matter! Now I don't have anything to present!” You stood there, ominously glaring at him. Grim really has to be grateful that looks can't kill.

“Grim, what was the potion for?” Your tone causes him to have shivers down his spine,

having a murderous aura along with piercing and threatening eyes.

“Ah, well, I... Really don't know...” He muttered the last part, but it was still heard by you, only increasing your rage.

“You don't know!?” You calmed yourself down after seeing Grim at the verge of tears, taking deep breaths. “Okay, if it's for a Crewel's class it can't be poison, but you made it so that means... It can be poison."

You started to walk towards the front door, turning your head at him before exiting through it. “We will deal with this later, that is if I'm not dead. For the meantime, I expect this place to be completely clean when I come back."

Certainly, it's the greatest day of your whole life, and probably your last.

HEARTSLABYUL’S FORMAL GUEST

A ball gown. Hollow to floor with large, black sleeves. Uncovered shoulders blades lead to puffy forearms, made with a very soft material. It had a smooth lace tracing the neckline, and also a corset, which was perfectly adjusted. The wide skirt was the main attraction, waving at the minimum movement. The colours resembled those of Heartslabyul; the red, black and white harmonizing beautifully, looking like a dress a Queen would wear. A royal bun, loose but not enough that it would look messy. A few strands of hair were placed on both sides of your hair, topping it with a small crown.

Heartslabyul was trying something new. A breakfast tea party, clearly following the strict rules so that it would be a meeting worth of the Queen of Hearts; and you, obviously.

Ace and Deuce pestered asked you for the whole week, insisting that you should come and even giving you a fancy invitation with Riddle’s neat handwriting on it, stating: “You are formally invited to partake in the Breakfast's Tea Party of Heartslabyul, the next Saturday at 8:00AM."

The duo had barely seen you the whole weekend, and they were with you in the same classes, so imagine the time you spent with the others.

They saw the chance of talking to you in the lunch, thing you were doing outside of the cafeteria so you could get more work done in peace. Not that you can really be in peace when being friends of these two dorks, who whined about you not loving them anymore.

You chuckled at the setup, and you asked what they wanted. A couple of seconds after the question, Ace shoved the letter on your face, telling you the contents before you even read it.

You said yes, it wasn't like you could refuse anyways, and some Trey's goods would cheer you up after so much work.

At your agreement they swore they could cry from excitement.

Got to say that when you passed through the portal, you didn't expect a wear such a fancy dress out of nowhere as the result of Grim's potion.

Riddle is so red you start to think he's sick. It's like he created a whole new shade when he saw you approaching the table, registering seconds later that you weren't wearing your usual clothes. After that, he's a complete mess. He is trying his best to not stutter or flinch whenever you try to engage a conversation, finding the tablecloth more interesting not really, but he doesn't want you to laugh at him because of his state. He also feels a bit conflicted, since the gown reminds him of his mother; his not so happy memories cross his mind, until, by accident, he sees you smiling at him. And his mind wanders to the thought of you using a wedding dress, and at that moment he realises he spilled his tea (which was thankfully warm) on his hand.

Trey is acting like his normal self. He actually seemed to be the only one who wasn't freaking out, but don't be mistaken; if you inspect his face, you can see a slight blush and a loving gaze directed at you. We can say that out of the five boys, he is the one more capable of holding a regular conversation, after all, he’s Heartslabyul mediator. He is even bold enough to lightly tease you about wearing such a formal attire to a tea party, yet he loves that you showed up like this, thinking that you planned it when we both know that wasn't the case.

Cater is taking pictures so fast that his phone can't register them all. His storage is suffering from the number of selfies and photos he has of you, just from today. But can you blame him? He wants to preserve this moment, only posting a few ones so everyone can see how amazing you are. He would probably, probably delete them from his Magicam if you asked, but there is no way he would delete all of the other ones. How can he erase such precious memories? He would have to be insane to do that!

Ace is that kindergarten kid who has a crush on you. We all know that, yes, but it can't be ignored. Actually, he can't be ignored, since he's messing with your bun and your crown, even putting in on himself. He only stops when you get too annoyed or when Riddle scolds him. Don't have too much faith though, there's no way to stop him; he's a force of nature, the force that wouldn't stop until you pay him attention.

Deuce stops functioning. His brain cells are working so hard to try to maintain a normal interaction with you, but eventually they just give up, leading you to snap your fingers in order to get a reaction. He can't believe he lived long enough to see this part of you, and curiously, he has the same train of thought as Riddle; your dress could be a wedding dress, it just needs to be painted white- And, he’s out.

When you realised what you were wearing, you let out a huge sigh of relief, thinking that this were the effects of the potion and not a horrible death, so at least you get to live another day in this twisted wonderland.

You didn't really care about the dress. Sure, you thought it was beautiful, but it was just a dress, right?

No, it’s not just a dress.

You wondered if the potion had a different effect when suddenly everyone got quiet, and then, boom, five flustered boys at your service.

You couldn't explain the situation because some of them were too busy surrounding you or stop functioning, so you told them what happened around an hour later when they calmed down.

In general, we have four boys who're blushing so hard it rivals Riddle's hair, and one boy who doesn't make it that obvious.

Overall, pretty great experience, you got to eat good food and it was a pretty interesting sight.

SAVANACLAW’S NEW APPRENTICE

A large, sheath dress. Ruffles adorned the hem while the shades transitioned towards the waist, where a lace was tied up, matching the initial colours and patterns, making it a subtle but elegant detail. It was of a soft yellow with some gold motifs, which you thought resembled the Afterglow Savannah, were spread all-over, giving light to a majestic dress. Two braids, which interlaced to create the illusion of a crown; speaking of it, you also had some light, golden feathers tightly adjusted so they wouldn't fall off, the main ornament being a crown with a rose gold jewel.

You complained to Jack one day after a Spelldrive practice in Vargas class, saying that you wished you could be better at it so the others would stop laughing at you, clearly meaning it as a joke.

Well, Jack took it seriously. He went to Leona and asked if you could be part of the Spelldrive training one day, and the lion actually thought about it, thinking about how he hadn't seen you the whole week, so spending some time with you would be nice.

Jack came to you when you were walking to your dorm, being extremely careful because you were holding a huge stack of books, necessary for your notes.

He immediately retrieved the majority of them from you, taking this chance at talking to you to ask if you wanted to join the Spelldrive training at Savannaclaw one day.

You said yes, saying that you could do it the next Saturday, though you had to admit you were confused at the sudden request, and you must have made a frown because Jack told you what you said before.

You laugh at his thoughtfulness, lightly teasing him about it, and he just shrugs it off, with red ears and a happy, waging tail.

And now you are wondering if you should cancel it because how the hell are you going to practice with such a dress?

Leona's first thought when he saw you was that he passed out while sleeping. He took a short nap while waiting for you to arrive, opening his eyes when he heard your greeting, about to affectionately grumble. Instead, he was found staring at you, cheeks starting to become red when realising the kind of accessory you were wearing. He doesn't really focus on the dress, but on your hair, the style and the crown normally used by brides in his home place. He snaps from his trance fairly quickly, and the only thing that gives him away is his faint blush and the way he avoids looking at you for too long, almost telling you that you look on it, but it turns into a teasing comment. Well, it's the thought what counts.

Ruggie dropped his shopping bags, too stunned to take into account that he had eggs there. He went to Sam's earlier that morning, since he had some discounts, smiling to himself at the cheap shopping session, before he heard you calling him. He didn't look at you at first, but when he did, holy mother of Pearl... The rustling of the bag and the crashing of the eggs colliding with the floor was all the sound he processed. He also knows about the hairstyle and the ornament, blushing deeper when you ask him if he's okay. He laughs in embarrassment while answering that he is fine as fine as someone with a huge crush on you can be.

Jack is trying so hard to not be flustered. And if he didn't have a tail it would've worked, because its speed could rival that of Sonic the opm one or the Sega one, take your pick. Because he’s a runner, he has great control over his heart rate, so he can actually talk to you and be calm, or at least for him it seems like it. He doesn't know about the hairstyle, but he does know about the eye-catching thing on your head. He told you that you looked great, also asking why you're wearing that when it was supposed to be a practice session, but he is not complaining.

You had to apologise and explain the reasoning of your clothes. You heard Leona grumble something about taking care of Grim, while Ruggie and Jack shook their heads in disappointment and disbelief.

Safe to say that you didn't make any major efforts while being there. They refused to let you practice in that dress, only doing basic stretching standing up and correcting your position. Other than that, nothing.

It's not that they didn't want you to practice with them, but if you dress was damaged during the process, dear Sevens, they wouldn't forgive themselves.

So, you passed the remaining hour in the bench, watching them as they explained the basics and doing short demonstrations, paying full attention as that was the only thing you could do.

Once the time was done, you bid them goodbye, thanking them for the help as you promised that the next time you would come back with better clothes.

The next time.

They can't help but think of the sight of you in a large, divine wedding dress, and Leona is contemplating the idea of getting you one.

OCTAVINELLE’S UNFORTUNATE TASTE-TESTER

A mermaid-shaped dress. A long skirt made its way to the floor, a silky and shiny fabric layering over it so it wouldn't look plain. It was mainly black, but it had a gradient shade of marine dark blue and purple in the top and the hem, contrasting greatly with the translucent, white scarf that was situated over your shoulders. Soft curls. The volume of your hair increased, outlining the sea-themed hair pins that were placed at one side, giving an elegant air to the look.

These guys were sly. They asked you when you were at the lounge, drinking a little bit more of Jade's tea as you kept writing, not noticing the thoughtful stare that Azul was sending you, nodding at the twins as they approached you.

Your workflow was disrupted when you heard Floyd's loud sigh, as well as Jade's, and you raised an eyebrow at the sudden action.

They both complained very loudly that you were forgetting them, Floyd literally draping over you as crocodile tears invaded his eyes.

You sighed too, telling them that you're sorry so they would drop the theatrics, asking what you can do to make it better, all while continuing typing, a difficult task when you have such a tall boy hugging you.

Azul coughs, and you shift your attention to him. He says that you can do them all a favour, and you're already expecting the worse the moment you see his mischievous smile, along with those of the twins.

He mentioned having some menu ideas, but he needed a loyal customer to try them out, obviously talking about you, and you had no other option than to accept, doing a small pout as you said the day.

Maybe you were supposed to die today either way.

Azul is ready to welcome you with his perfect smile (which he definitely practiced just for this situation), only for this façade to break when he saw you so... Elegant. He quickly tries to hide it, but there's no use when Jade and Floyd saw the whole thing, and he knows he would never hear the end of it after this. He acts all gentlemanly, but that's just because he tries to be prepared for every situation he could get flustered around you, and let's just say that is not working. He is capable of hold a normal conversation most of the time, so cooperate with him, he might even give you a free meal as payment.

Jade is staring, and you don't know how to feel about it. He knows how to hide his feelings better than Azul when it comes to you, so he doesn't really have anything that makes it obvious about his crush on you. He offers you his arm, asking about the reasoning of your really fancy attire, and his curiosity and interest just sparks when you told him what happened that morning. My, are you really that unaware of your surroundings? Then he supposes he has to stay with you for a few days to make sure you don't endanger yourself further.

Floyd doesn't even notice it at first. The one and only thing that Floyd makes when he sees you is making a bee line, running, towards you so he can tackle you into one of his affectionate squeezes. He's too busy cooing at you and being happy about you showing up that he fails to register the gorgeous gown you just appeared with. In all honesty, he doesn't care. I mean, sure, he thinks you look amazing on it, but he's interested by your personality and actions more. Yet this certainly serves as a boost for his attention, so I’m just going to say that you have to be prepared.

You mentally cursed at this dorm's design, because it was nearly impossible for you to escape in this dress, and before you could even think about trying it, you felt yourself being lifted several inches from the floor while hearing Floyd's happy noises.

You didn't even have to walk as he was carrying you the entire time, shifting to a bridal style when Jade told him that it wasn't very proper of him to carry you as if you were a sack of potatoes.

Azul stood next to you, making sure that the food was of your taste and that you seemed happy with it, trying to set you free from the taller twin's grasp, who utterly refused as he hugged you tighter.

It made the eating aspect more difficult, but your worries vanished when tasting the first plate; a delighted gasp leaving your lips as you continued eating, hearing a relieved exhale from Azul and a small giggle from Jade.

Most of the plates presented to you were pretty good, and you hummed contently when drinking a vase of water, checking the hour on your phone.

Oh no.

Excusing yourself, you managed to set free from Floyd's grasp, thanking them for the delicious food and stating which ones were your favourites, hurriedly leaving as if you were Cinderella when the clock strikes midnight.

Well, it wasn't midnight, but it was midday, and that meant that you had to soothe the clingy boy to let you, promising him that you would be with him the next day, and with that, you set you path towards Scarabia.

SCARABIA’S RECENT TRAINEE

A low riding red harem pants and a black off the shoulder top, connecting both garments with translucent stripes, which graded from black to red to make sure that it made sense. Everything was covered with golden chains with some intricate jewels, tinkling at the contact. The pants had a black fire design at the bottom, looking a lot like the original Scarabia uniforms. Low ponytail. It was held up by two golden bands, ending in a small swirl. The main accessory being a golden headband with a sapphire embellished to it.

Kalim was known for being happy most of the time. Most of the time. The poor boy thought you were mad at him when you barely paid him any attention in the span of that long, long week.

It went to the point in which he thought you would forgive him for whatever misdeed he had done by buying you anything that reminded him of you, and there was nothing that Jamil could do to stop him.

You visited Scarabia one day, Jamil's suggestion of helping you with some history questions had you walking there; you certainly didn’t expect to see what a surprise a huge stack of gifts, neatly piled up in the dorm's living room.

You had to reassure Kalim that you weren't mad at him, just overworked, and his face bright up once again, happily hugging you.

He told you that Jamil will be helping him with some dance moves, and the latter was forced to cover Kalim's mouth, but it was too late; the box had been opened, and so did your curiosity.

You accepted, telling them that you would be free the next day (aka, the infamous Saturday), much to Jamil's dismay. He exhaled, hiding his flushed face in his hoodie while thinking of the fact that you would practice with him.

Kalim is confused, but is a good type of confused; he doesn't know why you're using this outfit, in fact, he didn’t even realise that you weren’t using different clothes in the first place: he tends to have tunnel vision when he spots you, slowly dissipating after some seconds and that’s when he takes notice of the outfit, and then, he remains quiet. And that’s starting to worry you because is weird that Kalim isn’t talking about his excitement and being around you like a puppy. You went up to him and he stutters about how beautiful you look; sweet things you would expect from a boy like him. Though he has to ask where did you get the traditional headband that engaged woman use in his land.

You can’t even see Jamil’s face at first, his hoodie hiding his flushed face as soon as he saw you. That way he can actually talk to you, instead of being a literal rock, because he doesn’t want you to see him in such a state, with pink cheeks and a love-struck gaze. He does tell you that you look good, in a very… Jamil way; suddenly asking why you’re wearing that, muttering a: ‘It looks good on you’, regretting it almost immediately because now you’re asking him if you heard correctly. He cuts you off and says that you all have to start stretching, ears burning in embarrassment.

After explaining the story, you saw a completely worried Jamil, who scolds you about your reckless reasoning of drinking something that was obviously suspicious, all while Kalim is trying to calm him down.

You apologise while laughing, the fact that he’s concerned about you touches your heart and he stops at that, announcing that all of you had to stretch in order to maintain his composure.

The practice was fun; they taught you some of the traditional moves of the Scalding Sands and it was entertaining hearing all the jingles coming from your outfit, not noticing the mesmerizing stare that the boys were sending you.

You were there for approximately one hour, and that’s when you get a text from Vil.

You groaned, saving your phone, muttering a small: ‘Sorry, I have to go’.

Telling them you should do this other day, you left. When you did though, dear Kalim was starting to search similar clothes that he thought you would look great in, and surprisingly enough, Jamil didn’t stop him, curiosity getting the best out of him.

POMEFIORE’S UNEXPECTED MODEL

An A-line gown. This one was larger than the others, bringing along a long cape with it. The plan palette contrasting the golden glitter on the hem of the cape, a black and smooth surface that you could see through it, but just at the end. The main colours were a dark shade of purple for the dress and black for everything else, with some glances of gold in the accessories, but that was it. A loose braided crown, with a real one over it; the beautiful yet simple design being a delight to the eye, as well as the rubies adorning it.

Epel begged (and when I say he begged was that he was on his knees, looking like he was praying) for you to come with him at the modelling session that Vil will have for him.

You were there, baffled at this out of nowhere action, and in the heat of the moment (mostly to make the boy stand up) you agreed.

This time though, you couldn’t choose a date, because it was programmed from the start, so at least you’re thankful your mind didn’t mess up this one.

You haven’t had the experience of being with the Vil Schoenheit in a clothes trying affair, but it was definitely something that was worth trying, regardless if the experience itself was good or bad.

He thanked you, quickly standing up fixing his uniform so Vil wouldn’t scold him, unaware that Rook was hearing the conversation, animatedly walking towards his dorm leader so he could break the news to him.

When he heard this, he brainstormed ideas and even considered getting you a Pomefiore uniform, thinking of ways to convince you to use it.

Vil’s face betrays him as he shows his astounded expression. It seems like he underestimated your fashion choices, but he’s puzzled because, MC? Why use such an elegant gown when you’re going to a clothes trial? Once he understands what happened though, his faith on you faded a little bit, but don’t worry MC, he will make sure you know how to compliment your natural beauty. He’s inspecting the dress as you stand there, getting dizzy for all the turns he was making you do. Letting a hum of approval, he mentions something about buying you both matching outfits- Scratch that, he decided he would make them himself.

Rook is kneeling before you, literally. He always praises you for everything you do and everything you wear, and this isn’t the exception. He takes your hand so gently, afraid that you would be scared by his antics, but he smiles against the soft skin of your palm when you tilt your head, looking adorably confused. It didn’t last long as Vil retrieved you from his grasp, annoyed. He chuckled at that, thinking about how to take care that his Trickster didn’t accidentally poison herself.

Epel has his mouth shaped like a ‘o’. He’s the first to ask, very loudly may I add, why the hell are you wearing that, but like, more soft since he was talking to you. After the story time, he lets out a small apology after Vil chided about manners with guests, his agitation quickly becoming embarrassment as he actually takes a good look at the costume; he needs a couple minutes to recover from the sudden shock, so don’t be harsh on him, it’s just that he’s passing through a lot of mixed feelings right now.

The truth is that you didn’t get to try any clothes on during your whole stance in Pomefiore; mostly because Vil was too busy checking the entire thing and Rook was by your side, making his job more difficult. Epel, as I said, is perplexed; should he feel relieved because Vil is focusing on you, or should he be mad that Vil is focusing on you? He doesn’t know.

Vil, being Vil, found a few errors in your unplanned dress, bringing a notebook with him so he could write things that he wanted to apply on the designs of the new one, and you get to see him do one of his rare, pure smiles out of giddiness.

He also inspected your hair, and as he did that, Rook approached to tell you one and another time that you were beautiful; that no one in earth could rival your ethereal being and you were worried what Vil would have to say about that.

Nevertheless, he hummed in response, and you were ecstatic.

Poor Epel tried to make a casual chat, but he was so nervous that his accent slipped and he had to endure a few minutes of Vil’s scolding, quietly thanking you for being there as you distracted him with a detail on your cape, and once again his attention was on you.

When the time was over, your legs and feet were sore after all the standing, thankful for the next event as it meant that you would get to sit down for the next hour.

You excused yourself, and what a shame that you didn’t see the guys pout as you crossed the door, as they were absolutely gold.

IGNIHYDE’S GAMING ROUGH DIAMOND

A short dress. From the largest we pass to the shortest, just a little bit up the knees; a robe cape that had a skull pin on the left part attached to it covering most part of it so the length wasn’t noticeable. In the end it had a cloudy texture and it looked like a goddess garment, creating the illusion as if you were walking on air. Apart from that, all the set was black, with some blue flames on it, which alluded to Hades powers. A Dutch braid. This one was also similar to a crown, but it seemed much bigger, the strands that came out of it perking up, tinted of an enticing shade of blue.

Idia was sulking the whole week. Only because you didn’t have time to play with him and he had to face the villains completely alone, as he was reminded during a cut scene of your charming laughter when you lost; something he never really understood, but it was cute nonetheless.

Ortho tried to convince him into going to Ramshackle, but just when it seemed like he was actually going, he curled up into a ball in his bed and refused to move.

The younger Shroud knocked on your door one afternoon, giving you a quick greeting as he asked you if you could come to Idia’s gaming session the Saturday.

You couldn’t refuse to Ortho, so you happily complied, wondering if he already knew that that day was your free day.

Idia let out a high pitched scream at the news; he hoped that he wouldn’t make fun of himself while being with you, something that was only possible if you were next to him, for real.

Hades better help him out to not die of shame.

Idia passes out. The only reason he wasn’t hurt when he woke up was because you managed to catch him on time, resting his head on your lap. He opened his eyes a few minutes later, meeting your concerned ones as you asked him if he was okay, and his hair combusted into pink flames at the heart-warming sight. He has already done the only thing he feared the most: embarrassing himself in front of you. He stands up so fast because of the adrenaline, trying to overcome the mortifying scene by making a teasing comment about your dress, and he ends up redder after your sincere thanks. You’re going to be the death of him, maybe quite literally.

The reason the session took longer to start was because both you and Ortho were trying to get Idia back to his senses, as he passed from a living dead state to a pink candle.

Somehow he calmed down, only looking at his phone because if he saw you he was sure he would pass out again, sighing in defeat at the recent memory.

Even after the awkward situation, the playing went smooth. You were pretty good in this game, a RPG with some rhythm elements added to it, along with the OP cards that you gained while spending your goods at the gacha some weeks ago.

You needed more practice, but the talent was there, and just when you were getting comfortable your phone played a catchy ringtone, indicating an upcoming phone call.

You didn’t have time to say ‘hello’ as Sebek was screaming at your unpunctuality, claiming that his young master had been sad for the past 10 minutes.

Exiting the game, you expressed your gratitude for letting them stay at your dorm, and Idia muttered: ‘You’re welcome to come whenever you want though’.

You compromised to play another game later on, and for the first time in the afternoon, Idia, willingly, exchanged looks with you, promptly regretting.

You left before he could pass out, and he would be forever grateful for that.

DIASOMNIA’S HUMAN PROFESSOR

A trumpet dress. It had a long tail, but it wasn’t longer than the Pomefiore one; either way, this gave more of a…Goth vibe, slightly damaged at the ends. The full circle cloak helped cover the bare shoulders, a little heavy since it was made of a thick fabric, yet it truly increased the royalty aura that you were exuding. It was mainly black, with the sparks being of a raven purple; the flashiest colour being the neon green situated on some details of the dress, along with the cord that maintained the cape secured around your form. Feather cut hairstyle. It didn’t have accessories, nor braids or any ties, the only thing over your head being two black horns that were glued on it; smaller than Malleus horns that is.

This time you weren’t the one being the guest or being taught something; you were the teacher. And it started when you were taking a break from the overwhelming study that you’ve been doing since the week started.

Malleus always strolls there at night, waiting for you, and when you didn’t come to visit, he was enraged; the anger becoming sadness when he thought that you were mad at him, or even worse, you didn’t want to be his friend anymore.

Because the two of you were in different years, the probability of spotting you down the hallway was very low, now add to the problem that you were passing most of your time in the library, the Mostro Lounge or your dorm; now that reduces the chances to zero.

Lilia tried to cheer him up, as well as Silver, and when Sebek knew about this he explained that you were busy with your homework, and that eased him up a little.

But just a little; Malleus is very possessive and he needs to see you to make sure you are okay, so he knocks the door one night, hearing the light creaking of the wood as it opened to reveal you.

He tried to refrain himself, but at the end, he ended up hugging you. It was comforting; you didn’t push him away and you stayed there, in silence, until you broke the ice by asking if he wanted you to pass by Diasomnia tomorrow.

He smiled, saying that it would be a pleasure to receive you in his dorm.

And that’s how you scheduled the plan, leaving it for last because the other things were already timed, reserving it for casual talking about your world and human customs.

Malleus takes your hand, gets down on one knee and is preparing his words to get you engaged to him, no jokes here. However, before he can say the magical words, Lilia awkwardly laughs and cuts him off, distracting you so he can say that it’s maybe a little too early for him to marry you. He strongly disagrees, but he does gain some awareness when told that that could ruin your friendship, so he accepts, defeated. But that is not going to ruin his mood; you being there, talking to him and happily telling some stories of your world is enough for now.

Lilia is delighted, his laughter echoing through the room after Malleus tried to wed you. The style of this dress really has a resemblance with those of the Briar Valley, but it’s very unique, and maybe it’s because you’re wearing it. Even though he stopped Malleus from proposing, his mind can’t help but think about you in a traditional wedding dress of his hometown. He wonders if he can get you to use it one day, yet it stops there when he hears you cackling because of some funny anecdote that you were telling. It’s better to cherish the present, he thinks.

Silver is awoken up suddenly because of Sebek’s scream at the action of his young lord. He takes a moment to process the scene as he opens his eyes, ready to defend his soon to be king, and that’s when he sees him kneeling in front of you; noting the kind of clothes you are wearing, his cheeks burning ever so slightly. When the commotion was over, he sat next to you, and he tried to stay awake, he really did, but the soothing tone of your voice relaxed him to the point where he places his head on top of yours, quiet snores leaving his mouth.

Sebek thinks you are really going to marry his young lord. If Lilia didn’t stop him, he would; out of anger at you for seducing his master, or jealousy because he liked you too? We would never know, but what I do know is that if it was the latter, he will feel remorseful of his feelings, mostly when he realised that you didn’t even planned to come like this at first. He shuts up for a second, mind rebooting because wow, human? Tell him why are you such a beauty?

Lilia took advantage when Sebek quiet down, hurriedly sitting you in the sofa while asking some questions about your universe.

That made way for everyone’s curiosity (except Silver, he was busy sleeping on top of your head) to perk up, the air being filled with different questions about the place where you came from.

Malleus asked about the wedding customs, mostly human ones, and Lilia was surprised, to say the least, when you responded every one without suspecting a thing. How oblivious can you be?

Lilia wanted to know some recipes, and you told him some that you thought they all would enjoy; but there’s no limits to Lilia’s menacing cooking, even if he doesn’t have to use the stove or the oven he still will manage to make horrible meals, so you were very careful with your words. A futile attempt for sure, but let’s continue.

Sebek asked about the royalty and everything regarding the upper class, since he was curious that in a world with no magic, people still obeyed humans with no magical abilities. Less to say that you don’t actually know how to respond that.

It was getting late, and you noticed that the time was almost up, so you excused yourself with the same manners as before; thanking and promising to meet them next time, walking back to Ramshackle.

At the end, Grim hadn’t done much, only a couple things were cleaned and he was sleeping soundly on the sofa with tuna cans surrounding him. You sighed at it, sitting down in the couch with your pyjamas on, softly caressing the fur of the creature.

Your phone started to beep, messages popping up on the screen of everyone you just saw today, and you chuckled at that, starting to respond to every single one of them.

Maybe the fancy clothes were gone, but the havoc will still continue.

THE END~

DON'T REPOST.

EVERY CHARACTER BELONGS TO DISNEY AND YANA TOBOSO, AND I DON'T TAKE CREDIT FOR THEM.

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harrywavycurly · 2 months

Text

It’s Tradition, an Eddie Munson Blurb💚

A/N: I love the movie Leap Year and this has been sitting in my mind all day so enjoy✨

“Neither of you are Irish.” You ignore Steve’s comment as you dig around in your dresser in search of a very important box.

“You don’t have to be Irish to take part in this tradition Steve.” You respond making him just roll his eyes as he gets comfortable on the edge of your bed. “I know it’s in here somewhere.” You mumble to yourself as you feel around in the back of the drawer that holds your undergarments.

“This has the potential to end badly you know that right?” You let out a huff as you stand up and turn so you can face your bestfriend as he grabs your stuffed rabbit that you’ve have since middle school and begins messing with its floppy ears.

“I’m aware this could end with me on the floor of your bedroom crying my eyes out but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Steve lets out a sigh of defeat before tossing your rabbit to the side so he can stand up.

“Well if you’re going to propose to someone you can’t do it looking like shit so come on,” you smile as he walks past you and into your closet. “We’ve got work to do.” You go back to digging around in your underwear drawer in search of the box that holds a special ring while Steve busies himself with finding you an outfit.

“You look great.” Steve gives you a reassuring smile a few hours later as he puts his car in park in front of Eddie Munson’s trailer. “If it goes south just call me and I’ll meet you at the corner okay?” You just nod as you try to calm your nerves.

“Thanks Steve.” You lean over and give his cheek a sweet kiss before you get out of the car.

“Good luck!” He shouts before he pulls away as you turn and head for the front door of Eddie’s house.

“You can do this.” You whisper to yourself as you walk up the creaky steps of his porch. “The worst thing he can say is no.” You add as you smooth out the shirt Steve picked for you that has green hearts all over it, you reach down and feel for the box inside the side pocket of the black vest he picked because he said it went with the black jeans you had already had your mind set on wearing. “Should I knock or ring the doorbell?” You ask yourself as you finally reach his front door.

“You know how I feel about knocking and no one has ever used the doorbell.” You jump at the sound of Eddie’s voice making him laugh as he gets up off the beat up couch he keeps on his porch.

“It’s for strangers who don’t know to just walk in.” You explain as you watch him smile as he takes a few steps closer to you.

“Exactly.” You smile back at him as he stands just a foot in front of you. “Not to be an asshole but did we have plans today that I forgot about?” You can’t help but laugh at how he’s rubbing at the back of his neck with one of his hands as he asks letting you in on the fact he’s embarrassed at the idea of forgetting plans he made with you.

“Can’t I just come surprise one of my friends with the pleasure of my company?” This makes him laugh as he pulls you in for a hug.

“Wayne’s gonna be pissed he missed you.” He mumbles into your hair as you wrap your arms around him to make the hug last a few moments longer. “Wanna come inside or did you need to finish the conversation you were having with yourself first?” He teases as he pulls away allowing him to see you roll your eyes.

“Actually there is something I’d like to say before we go in.” Eddie just nods in response as you drop your arms from around him and take a step backwards making him raise an eyebrow. “Uhm well,” you clear your throat as you reach into your vest pocket and pull out the ring box. “So today is uh Leap Day and I’m not sure if you know this but in Ireland it’s a day that-”

“What’s that? What are you doing?”

“Don’t interrupt please.” You state as you slowly get down on one knee in front of Eddie making his eyes go as wide as they can without being painful. “Uh so like I was saying today women are uhm allowed to propose to their boyfriends or whomever it’s a tradition so I figured I’d take this as an opportunity to tell you that I’m in love with you.” You let out a shaky breath as you finally look up at Eddie with the ring box open in your hands. “I’ve loved you for a while now…I can tell you the exact moment if you want? It was last year when we went to see the new Scream movie and you held my hand the whole time and fed me popcorn because I was too afraid to open my eyes…that sounds dumb saying it out loud but that’s just when I knew the feeling in my chest wasn’t going away and it wasn’t just a crush because you’re cute and nice it was…something more and I know this is an absurd thing to ask because we haven’t even been on a date or discussed how we feel about each other…but I was just wondering if you’d maybe wanna marry me?” Yours hands are shaking as you reach your arms out so he can get a better look at the shiny gold band inside the old beat up box.

“Holy shit.” Is all he can say as he looks at the ring and then looks at you and that’s the moment he watches your eyes get glossy as they fill with tears. “I uhm-”

“I’m such an idiot.” Your words are rushed as you lowers your arms and stand up. “I’m sorry just act like this didn’t happen.” You close the ring box but before you can put it back in your pocket and turn away you feel a hand on your wrist.

“I’ll marry you.” Your mouth drops open as Eddie gently takes the box out of your trembling hands. “I’m in love with you too.” You look up at him as he looks down at the ring in the box. “I uh have loved you ever since you spilled ice cream in the back of my van last summer and somehow in the process of cleaning it you just made it worst and it still smells like mint mixed with bleach when it gets hot.” You smile at the memory because he just spent the whole time laughing at your sad attempts to clean the mess. “I’ve always known you were perfect for me because you’re awesomely weird and I know you’re a little quirky but I never imagined you to be the getting on one knee on my front porch asking me to marry you because of an Irish tradition kinda quirky but…I love it….I love you.”You feel the tears running down your face as Eddie hands you the gold band and places the ring box in the back pocket of his jeans.

“You’ll marry me?” You ask making Eddie just chuckle as he nods his head. “Like for real? Or are you just saying that so I’ll stop crying because honestly I’m not sure when these tears are going to stop so you can say no if you want.”Eddie playfully rolls his eyes as he gently places both hands on your cheeks so he can cup your face and before another word can come out of your mouth his lips are on yours in a sweet kiss.

“This is the part where you put the ring on my finger.” He jokes as he pulls away and drops his right hand from your face. You smile and sniffle a little bit as you slowly slide the gold band onto his ring finger.

“Does this mean you take my last name?” Eddie just laughs as he pulls you in for another kiss but this time you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you.

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bootybest · 5 months

Text

Cole’s Cavern

You were walking down the hall, on your way out of school when Cole stops you in the hallway. He was a popular dude in the wrestling team who won almost every match.

“I’ll give you $20 if you beat me in a match” He says cockily. “What if I lose?” You reply. “Then you lose. You don’t owe me a dime.” He winks at you and it’s hard not to accept his offer. You needed some money and worst case scenario you lose a wrestling match.

You follow Cole into the school’s gym and set down your backpack. You walk over to the wrestling mat setup in the middle and start to stretch

Cole is on the other side, already in position to start. You finish your stretches and also get into position. It’s a little awkward since Cole’s wearing his singlet while you’re just in some casual clothes

“Ready?” He asks you. You nod your head and he starts to count down.

Go!

Cole runs at you and immediately pushes you to the ground. He smiles as he holds you down for a couple seconds, then declares his victory. You couldn’t even put up a fight, he’s much stronger and faster than you.

“Alright, time for your side of the bet.” He starts to chuckle as he rearranges so that he’s stomach down kn the mat, and grabs your head with his thighs. You’re confused and try to escape, but he has you tight

“And for the fun part.” He laugh as he starts to unzip his singlet, revealing his nasty, sweaty butt. You try even harder to escape, but it’s useless.

Cole starts to lower your head into his crack slowly. The smell starts to hit you and you gag slightly. Cole just chuckles as your face gets closer and closer. Soon, the tip of your nose is touching his cheeks

Suddenly, he slams your face deep into his ass and laughs as he twists his hips left to right, sinking your nose even deeper. “How’s it smell? But it’s great since I haven’t showered since the last tournament.” You start to cough at his raw smell alone

“Just wait little dude, it’s gonna get a whole lot worse.” He chuckles and you can heart his stomach start to rumble. He twists your head as deep as it can go into his ass, and then-

BRRRRRRPPPPPPOO

He sighs in relief as he crushes your head with his legs. The smell is absolutely horrible and you immediately start to gag. You push back against him, but his legs hold you in place. It starts to get hotter in his crack “Oh no buddy, you’re not leaving here for a while.”

FFFFRRRRRTTTTT

Another fart hits you straight in the face. You feel your eyes start to water and you don’t know how much longer you can last. You start to claw at his chest, but he uses his hands to hold your arms down. “Double trouble for trying to escape bro.”

BBBBBRRRRRTTTTT

FFFRRRRRRPPPP

You start to get light headed from the fumes, and your mind starts racing. You try to figure a way out, but get distracted when a smell starts to hit your nose. It’s worse than anything from today and you realize he’s releasing a long SBD up your nose. You struggle to keep your eyes open until- “Lick my hole or it’s gonna get a lot worse” You’re shocked by his words and refuse. “You asked for it bro.”

BBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTPPPPPPPP

A powerful fart vibrates the tip of your nose, and you think it lasts 20 seconds. You refuse to stick your tongue out and he starts to countdown. “Come on bro, you’re not gonna like what’s next if you don’t. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1… Alright man, your funeral.”

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTT

A minute long fart comes from his ass and straight into your nose. You start to pass out halfway through but he continues. He keeps you in his cavern for a couple minutes, letting go of his gas. He groans and uses his hands to shake your head in his ass. He sighs as he stands up and takes off his singlet, stuffing it in your mouth. He chuckles as he takes a picture on your phone. He leaves you a text

“Meet me here every Friday until you win a match. Or else..”

You dread going to school for the rest of the year

#gay fart #gay #fart #eproctophilia

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newtonsheffield · 2 years

Note

Hello Molly,

Respectfully, I need the 27 dresses au. Please and thank you.

Respectfully, I might as well.

But imagine how stupid Kate would feel. Because she was already mortified that she'd stood outside her sister's wedding and admitted to the shameful, ugly truth that a tiny part of her is Jealous of Edwina, barely 22 married to her childhood sweetheart. The boy next door.

And there she is, 28, and nothing to show for it. And the worst part is, she knows it's her fault. She's too...harsh. She's exacting, and unforgiving when people don't behave the way she expected them to and she tells herself that it's fine that she's alone.

"Katie, I just want you to be happy." Mary hums too often, kissing the top of her head.

"I am happy, Mum. Some people jus don't find someone and that's... that's okay."

But she does still believe in love, it's just obviously not going to happen for her which is why she doesn't mind helping other people on their wedding days.

And she just... she just feels stupid because for just a moment she thought there was something between her and Anthony. She'd thought there had been something in his eyes when their lips had met in the low light filtering through the window in his bedroom. She'd thought there'd been something between them when he'd groaned as her stomach growled.

"Stay right here, I'm getting breakfast." And their lips had met again for a long moment and her stomach had fluttered just like it had a million times in the last month as he'd winked at her, ducking his head back into his bedroom. "Don't move!"

She'd sighed as she'd fallen back against his sheets a stupid smile on her face, until her phone had rung. Mama Mary flashing across the screen.

"Mum, before you yell at me for leaving early: I'm not dead."

"I'm not calling about that, darling, though I'm glad to hear it." And Mary's voice put her immediately on edge, the slightly wary tine of it. "Katie, I'm so sorry, have you seen Anthony's article?"

And her heart stops, panic already clawing at her chest, her voice cracking as she says "No."

And her fingers feel numb as she searches for it, her stomach dropping when she's sees a picture of herself, taken weeks ago on one of those afternoons she'd found herself alone with Anthony and the mood had slipped, as the questions had become less about Edwina and Matt, more about her, his eyes widening in delight as she'd found the closet packed with Bridesmaids dresses.

"Oh, I'm going to require a Katie Kat Fashion show."

"Do I have a choice in this?"

"Absolutely not. This one that looks like something Queen Victoria would have worn first, thank you!"

"This was from a Jane Austen themed wedding, thank you, and I assure you, it looks great on me!" She'd huffed, trying to close the doors desperately.

He'd sidestepped her, grinning delightedly, "Well, I'd love to have evidence of that. Fashion Show! fashion show!"

And if she was honest with herself she hadn't done it to prove him wrong at all, she'd done it because of the way her stomach had lurched at the way he grinned handsomely down at her with his hair falling in his eyes.

And now the picture of her, wearing the green dress he'd said Let me guess, a come as an 80's appetiser wedding and you chose stuffed olive was under the headline

27 Dresses and still Never the Bride

And she'd thought she'd stopped doing this. Expecting too much from people and being disappointed when it didn't work out. But the second she sees the article, she knows she hadn't really. Because Anthony Bridgerton's just broken whatever she had left.

And when her assistant clears her throat on Monday morning and says "Anthony Bridgerton is outside, he's insisting he see you."

Kate stares down at her desk for a long moment before she clears her throat, "No, thank you, Sophie. If you could just have security see him out."

And three days later a box is delivered to her office, and she stares perplexed down at it as it rustles before she opens it hesitantly and a tiny puppy is staring back at her, it's paws up on the edge before it clambers over on it's short little legs to get to her, her eyes pricking with tears as she remembered the day they'd been in the park, and she'd told him how she'd wanted a dog for the longest time, chickening out because she was waiting for her life to start, it felt like. A note attached to the lid that reads

You said no one would ever love you, and I know that isn't true but this little guy can keep you company until you find the one.

And she snatches the puppy up in her arms, and takes off running.

#27 dresses au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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heykoonsy · 16 days

Text

Word Count: 2.3k+

Pairing: Husk x Angel Dust (HuskerDust/AngelHusk), slight Angel Dust x OC

Summary: “Give him everything but your ass.” Angel Dust was tasked with one job: convince the investor to subsidize Valentino’s agency. Angel was more of a closer to Valentino, enticing the wealthier of his associates into funding projects for him. However, this latest pitch didn’t go as planned and Angel’s hubris prevented him from seeing the potential drawbacks of a one night stand with someone Valentino marked. In this slow burn love story, Angel must confront the worst parts of himself if he is going to win back his career.

Content Warnings: Rated 18+ for foul language and mature themes

Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoy the last chapter of Blacklist. This might just be my favorite story I've ever written. Thank you to all who read it!

Angel watched as Cherri attempted to tie a cherry stem in a knot with her tongue. He couldn’t help but laugh as she struggled. When she was done, she opened her mouth, revealing a haphazardly tied stem.

“Ah-dah,” Cherri said, which bounced the cherry stem just enough to untwist it. “Fuck,” she slammed her fist down on the bar.

“You almost had it,” he chuckled, stuffing his face with whatever hors devours the imp passing them was carrying upon his platter.

Cherri huffed, “My tongue hurts, how did you get so good at that?”

Angel beamed, “Practice makes perfect,” he said happily.

Angel looked over at Cherri as she slid her drink towards her. The two of them were seated at the bar–getting some much needed one-on-one time. Angel looked towards the myriad of other guests invited to this years AVN Award Ceremony. Everywhere he looked, he saw skinema royalty. Some of the sinners Valentino could only dream of working with were in this room.

Angel had been getting tapped on the shoulder all night with sinners eager to introduce themselves. At first, Angel entertained them, taking plenty of selfies and schmoozing, but after a while it got old. Now, if someone broke free from the party to come and butter Angel up, they each took a shot.

Angel supposed that he should feel bad about missing out on such a great opportunity to rub elbows with some of the industry's best producers, writers and actors. But if he were honest, doing shots and snacking on over-hyped garlic bread with Cherri was the most fun he’d had in weeks. So schmoozing be damned–he was going to hang out with his friend tonight.

He glanced over at Cherri, who was busy digging for another cherry stem out of her cocktail. She confessed that she just bought the dress she had on. It was a wine red cocktail dress with an asymmetrical neckline that hung over her left shoulder. The bodice was skin-tight, showing off her plump curves. And how could he fail to mention the high-low cut of the skirt which tapered off right above her knees. Angel gawked at her when she first showed up at the hotel. She’d spun in a circle, strappy red heels clacking in the lobby.

The moment was punctuated by Husk looking over as they admired each other’s outfits telling them to get out. Angel pushed Cherri towards the door, looking over his shoulder as he blew Husk a kiss goodbye. Angel reveled in the small smile he gave him before he turned his back to him.

“Oop, we might need more shots,” Cherri said, putting her hand on Angel’s to alert him. “Three o’ clock.”

“As far as parties go,” he heard a deep voice say over the crowd, “I think I’d rather be invited to this one.”

Angel looked over, recognizing the actor immediately. “Too stuffy ova there for ya?” Angel asked, crossing his legs at the knee as he turned himself towards them. “Cherri, this is Vandal.”

Cherri nodded in greeting before hailing the bartender for another round of shots.

“Nice to meet you,” Vandal nodded back at her. Then his eyes turned toward Angel, “Looks like we’ve both been nominated for Best Male Performer,” he said, his eyebrows moving up and down.

“We sure have,” Angel said, his eyes fixating on Vandal’s red suit. “Two years in a row for some of us.”

Vandal shrugged, “It might just be my year this time,” he said. “This is your first nomination right? What do you think?” He gestured to the room behind them.

Angel looked around, humoring him. He glanced around toward the venue, which had been upstaged suiting an award ceremony that had been running for forty years strong. The guests in the center of the room were having no trouble conversing, all dressed in gorgeous gowns and suits. There were imps running underfoot, carrying large trays of cocktails and snacks before the ceremony began.

“Well, the cocktails suck,” Angel whispered, covering his mouth so only Vandal and Cherri could hear. “But the company is great.”

Cherri laughed at that and in a few moments, she slid over Angel’s shot to him.

“I’m glad to hear,” Vandal smirked. “Speaking of company, I heard Valentino–

Angel put his hand up, “Look Vandal, it’s kind of just us girls tonight, so…” Angel trailed off.

Vandal nodded, “Oh yes, of course.”

Vandal made himself scarce and Cherri waited until he was out of range to punch Angel on the shoulder.

“What was that for?” Angel asked, rubbing his arm.

“This is a big opportunity for you,” Cherri said, handing him a shot. “If you want to go over there, don’t let me stop you.”

Angel grabbed the shot and smiled. “I’m good,” Angel said.

Cherri shook her head, “Well, if you’re not going to work, you could at least get somebody’s phone number. That guy was totally flirting with you.”

Angel raised his eyebrows–though he wasn’t shocked by what she said. Vandal was indeed laying it on pretty thick. Angel played with the straw of his cocktail, swirling the ice in the glass in a circle. “That would help Spitzers and Jullien,” Angel said, “but I’m kind of seein’ somebody right now.”

Cherri nearly broke her neck looking over at Angel as he slammed his shot.

“What?”

“Ladies and gentleman, please find your way to the auditorium, the ceremony will be commencing shortly.”

Angel waved off the driver of the cab and stepped towards the hotel. He skipped the smoke break he desperately needed and went inside, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked over towards Husk, who leaned over the bar as soon as he caught a glimpse of him. Angel smiled, his eyes softening at the sight of him. He took a seat on his stool and crossed his legs at the ankle.

“How was it?” Husk asked, getting right to the point as usual.

Angel smiled widely, taking a moment to clear his throat. Then, in one swift motion, Angel slammed his award for Best Male Performer down on the bar. “It was fucking amazing,” Angel squealed.

Husk palmed the award, turning it over in his hand and admiring the craftsmanship.

“Do you know what this means? Spitzers and Jullien will have investors banging on their doors for weeks!” Angel cheered.

“What are we celebratin’ with?” Husk asked, holding two bottles up for Angel to choose from.

“Ooh, the left one–and I want–

“Somethin’ fruity, I know,” Husk said, waving him off.

Husk made quick work of the cocktail, throwing some peach schnapps and puree into the blender. Then, he poured the puree into two waiting champagne flutes and topped it off with the sparkling wine Angel chose. He topped off his creations with a cherry and then slid one of the champagne flutes towards Angel.

“One peach bellini,” Husk said matter-of-factly.

Angel inspected the drink, smiling at the color. He pressed his glass to Husk’s and took a sip and was delighted at the fresh taste. “That hits the spot,” he smacked his lips. “It was like pullin’ teeth at the bar, we just switched to shots after the ceremony.”

“Tell me about it,” Husk prompted, sampling the bellini as he stood behind the bar.

Angel put his glass down, “Anyone who’s anyone was there, Husky. I’m talking Tredd, October Govern, Desperatta,” Angel counted on one hand.

“I don’t know who any of those people are,” Husk deadpanned.

“Three words. Porn…Star…Royalty. Tredd and October were nominated–and Desperatta basically discovered Brut. Did you know that in an interview he thanked Desperatta officially citing her as his biggest inspiration?” Angel said excitedly. “It’s the whole reason Val wanted to work with him!”

Husk chuckled, “Look at you rubbin’ elbows with the big dogs.”

“Oh, actually, Cherri and I just hung out the whole time,” Angel waved him off. “We got interrupted so much we turned it into a drinking game.”

Husk shook his head, “A whole party in your honor and you ignore all the guests.”

“Somebody had to teach Cherri how to tie a cherry stem in a knot.”

“So you just…drank?”

“I didn’t just drink,” Angel rolled his eyes, “I broke my fair share of hearts tonight, y’know.”

“Oh yeah?” Husk said, leaning up against the opposite side of the bar.

Angel nodded, “Everybody wanted a piece of me tonight.” He sipped his bellini, smiling to himself, “they just fell apart after I said I was taken.”

Angel looked up at Husk, gauging his response. All Angel saw was a shit-eating smirk on Husk’s face as he looked at the floor.

“Is that so?” Was all Husk said, following Angel’s lead and sipping his cocktail. “Just who is this guy?”

“Well, he’s about yae high,” Angel said, measuring his height with his hand. “Probably born with a scowl. Terrible posture.”

Husk crossed his arms over his chest, “Uh huh,” he said, unimpressed.

“Yeah, just like that,” Angel commented on his pose. “He makes the best drinks I’ve ever tasted though, and he makes me laugh.”

Angel’s eyes flicked up at Husk, who was smiling to himself.

“He always makes my day better…” Angel trailed off, swirling his glass. “I really like him.” Angel said finally.

Husk looked up, their eyes meeting. It didn’t take long at all for him to close the distance between them. He stroked Angel’s chin softly, slowly bringing their lips together. Angel stuck out his tongue, tasting peaches on Husk’s bottom lip. He snickered, kissing him nice and slow–until Husk pulled himself away. Angel huffed in his absence, following Husk as he leaned his elbows on the bar.

“I can’t go around kissin’ somebody’s boyfriend,” Husk said with a smirk.

Angel made a face, “You could use some practice,” he stated, lifting the cherry out of his bellini.

Husk smirked, “I’m smelling a challenge.”

Angel lowered his eyelids, “I bet you I can tie this cherry stem in a knot faster than you.”

Husk fished his cherry out of his drink as well, chomping off the cherry quick. “You’re on,” he said, chewing quickly.

“Good, winner gets to order around the loser,” Angel said, chomping his own cherry. “Ready?”

Husk nodded, and with that, they popped the cherry stems in their mouths. Angel twisted his tongue around either side of his mouth, all while keeping his eyes glued to Husk. Angel watched as the cherry stem poked out slightly from his mouth as he attempted to hold it into place with his teeth. Angel exhaled through his nose, trying to expel any laughter before Husk caught on.

Then, once Angel pressed his tongue against his teeth, he made a noise in his throat. His fingers went to his lips and–Angel revealed a perfectly knotted cherry stem.

“Read it and weep, bitch,” Angel gloated.

Husk spit out his cherry stem onto the bar, revealing that it was nearly split in half from him chewing on it. Angel laughed, taking in his pitiful attempt.

“How did you do that so fast?” Husk asked, exasperatedly.

“Practice,” Angel said smugly.

Husk sighed, crossing his arms. “A win’s a win, what do you want?”

Angel sighed contentedly, “How nice of you to ask, Husky.” He clasped his hands together, making goo-goo eyes at him. “I want you to admit you like me.”

Husk raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? That’s all?”

“I don’t hear you confessing,” Angel sang, a devious expression spreading across his face.

Husk rolled his eyes, “Alright.” Husk stood straight in front of Angel and sighed.

Angel prepared himself, sitting up straight and smiling widely. He looked at Husk with rapt attention, never wavering from his eyes. He signaled Husk to proceed.

“Angel,” he said after a moment, “I like you.”

Angel clapped his hands together. “It’s so nice of you to admit it, after all this time.”

Husk shook his head, “Yeah yeah,” he said dismissing him. “There’s gotta be a secret to that.”

Angel nodded his head, “You caught on quick,” he said, beckoning him closer.

Husk leaned into him, waiting for Angel to go on.

“You see, the secret to tying a cherry stem…” Angel trailed off, grabbing Husk’s untied stem and popping it in his mouth. He twirled it around his mouth for a few seconds before reaching his hand up and taking it from between his teeth. “Not putting the stem in your mouth.”

Husk stood there as Angel revealed his sleight of hand, watching closely as Angel tucked the tied cherry stem into his hand as he “pulled it out of his mouth”. Angel smiled wickedly as the realization hit Husk.

“I can’t wait to visit Bess and Belise, they’ll be so excited to hear the good news,” Angel said wistfully. “When’s our next date, Husky?” Angel raised his eyebrows repeatedly, taunting him.

Husk pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, like he was trying to dispel a headache–but all he could do was laugh. “You’re gettin’ better,” Husk admitted, smiling at Angel.

Angel grabbed his bellini and took a hearty sip, “I learned from the best.”

He looked toward Husk, who was following Angel’s lead and sipping his drink. He was smiling to himself–in fact, they both were. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, which was interrupted by Angel’s cell phone going off. He quickly palmed it and looked at the screen. Spitzers was calling. Angel stared at his phone as it buzzed.

“You gonna take that?” Husk asked.

“Nah,” Angel said as he silenced it. “I’ll call him tomorrow, I’m celebratin’ with you tonight.”

Husk came closer, resting his elbows on the bar again. In one quick movement, he wove their fingers together, interlocking them as he raised Angel’s palm off the bar. Angel watched as Husk brought his lips to the back of his hand and placed a gentle kiss there.

Angel polished off his bellini and slid over his champagne flute, “Make me a bay breeze next?” Angel asked, lowering his upper body onto the bar.

“Only if you make me a Manhattan,” Husk said, turning to grab the coconut rum.

[ PREVIOUS ] [ MASTERLIST ]

#Blacklist #hazbin hotel fanfic #Hazbin Hotel #Angel Dust #Husk #AngelHusk #HuskerDust

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cutthroatchorus · 1 year

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i’m kind of dying to know what made jc penney so bad?? i’ve never had the pleasure of working retail tho

Ooooh well!! This is going to be long.

Let's start with a post I wrote about it, a year after I quit:

That post mainly talks about the most egregious shit that went on during my time there. I'm gonna put the rest under a readmore.

Like I mentioned, I've worked a hell of a lot of retail, and I'd never worked under such a dogshit management team... and I've had a manager who accused me of stealing a videogame prior to its release date ($5k fine at the time!) and sexually assaulted me when I put in my two weeks' notice.

Another manager (different job) would steal money from the safe, and then at the end of the shift, he'd make whoever was working that night "make up the difference" of the "lost" money. (This is super illegal btw! At least in the US)

You know the expression "I wouldn't piss on them if they were on fire"? I would rather work for one of those guys again, than waste my sacred urine putting out the flames on one of my former JCP managers. Because I KNOW how to deal with sex pests and thieves. Hell, I got the second guy fired, and I was only 21 years old at the time!

But the unique combination of incompetence, malice, backstabbing, and exploitation on display in that particular store? I only dealt with it for as long as I did by completely numbing myself out, and I lost a lot of myself in the process.

JCP was also the worst place I had worked in terms of all the shit I had to push on people at point of sale. Pretty much every retail job ever is going to involve pushing some sort of promotion on customers. Loyalty program signups, add-on sales, customer satisfaction surveys, or the dreaded... credit cards.

Retail credit cards are bad. They're just bad! Unless you shop at a specific store a LOT, they're probably not worth it. So having a set goal of getting X number of people per month to attempt to open a line of credit with terrible interest rates — and btw if you don't meet that goal enough months in a row, you get "corrective action" — feels bad!

But it wasn't just the credit card. I had to ALSO push the loyalty program. ALSO push the survey. ALSO push these weird gift card promotions, where I was supposed to convince someone to spend $X on gift cards and pay for their stuff that way, because you know what people love? Making their checkout process take three times longer than it should.

It made every customer interaction feel completely scripted from start to finish. Part of why I used to like retail was talking to people. I met so many cool people at most of my retail jobs! Not so, with JCP. By the time I quit, I had reached a point where I was physically angry anytime people talked to me outside of work. I didn't want to talk at all. Ever.

(Which also ties back to what I said about losing parts of myself because of this job. And as you can imagine, this was GREAT for my relationships at the time)

Ultimately, though, it didn't matter much because the customers also sucked shit. I'm sure a lot of them would have been cool and interesting had I encountered them in a different setting. But I think there is something about "non-essential" retail that makes people behave with a certain kind of callous entitlement. People NEED clothing, yes, but I wouldn't call 2 for $25 men's flannel shirts a "need" in the same way that, you know. Food is.

I had a woman argue with me about coupons not working on Nike products while my coworker was having a fucking grand mal seizure on the floor behind me because of COURSE I had to keep ringing people out while that happened.

One time I went to clear out the fitting room and picked up a garment that someone had ejaculated into and stuffed underneath the bench.

There was a guy where I don't even remember what he wanted or what he was saying, he was just so relentlessly aggressive over the phone that I had a panic attack in the back office.

So as far as what made JC Penney so bad... everything, pretty much.

#asks #retail hell #long post

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 2 years

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Camilo sneaking into the opposite genders locker room like pepa did story? He can shape shift so he probably wouldn't even get caught

I strayed so far from the original plan on this- but lowkey I really liked what I came

(Note-this will NOT be too much like Pepa's fic. This will be pg-13 at best, just some mischief. Why? Because the guy is 16, chill)

Now Camilo got along great with his classmates. Like, not to brag, but he was pretty much THE guy around school. And he loved everyone too, for the most part, especially his guy buddies. Don't get him wrong, guys were cute. Like, real cute. They were dumb, they were loud, they smelled nice-but Camilo was never satisfied with just one thing. He wanted to know about girls. I mean, he knew a lot about girls in general, living with seven of them, but when Amanda turned up absent, he decided now was as good of a time as any. So instead of getting in line with the other boys after their game, he snuck in with the girl's pack. His boys would lie and say he was with them the whole time, if worst came to worst.

He didn't know what to expect. But the girl's locker room was surprisingly the same. More quiet, and a bit more clean, but definitely pretty similar. He kept himself hidden for the most part, wanting to oberve more than anything.

"Oh my god, Maria STUFFS."

Now he wasn't one to judge, being a shape-shifting guy, but more girls in the class stuffed their bras than he thought. He didn't have too much to focus on that though, he was too distracted by their bodies. Now he didn't mean it in a pervy way, but rather, in fascination. Sure, some boys were smaller and less hairy than others, but these girls were so...pretty. Smooth looking skin, such pretty hair, and he wasn't gonna lie, he even liked the way their underwear looked. It wasn't so plan jane like guy's underwear. Theirs were so pretty, some with ribbons, some with lace.

Camilo just had the worst case of gender envy, honestly.

Apparently he was too into their looks, that he totally forgot about hiding. Josefina poked her head in his direction, looking pleased as punch.

"Amanda! I thought you weren't gonna be here! What happened to your dad?"

Well shit. Camilo was happy he had voices on lockdown, but that did almost nothing with this story he had no idea about. He cleared his throat, and joined the small group of girls, trying to not stare at their cute under clothes.

"I uh. Can't say yet. But I felt bad for leaving you guys, so I decided to come back!"

He tried not to freeze up as Josefina and Teresa gave him a good hug on each side. Oh WOW this hug was way different than a hug from guys. It wasn't as rough or as awkward (teenage boys were NOT good with their feelings, unlike him). It was firm, it was soft, and it didn't smell like just sweat. Smelled like flowers and lipgloss, and just a HINT of sweat.

"Aw, girly, that's so sweet!"

"So we finally gonna talk about boys then? You've been dodging your super obvious crush!"

Call it the gossip part of him, but he was definitely interested in their words, and not just because they wore their underclothes look GOOD (sometimes the clothes wore the person, he knew the difference).

"Depends, which one? We got variety at this school!"

The girls laughed at him, all while they continued to get out of their gym clothes and fix up their hair.

"I thought you had a thing for Miguel! Who else is there?"

Camilo got comfortable in his seat, absolutely ready for these gossipy bitches. He knew these girls fairly well, but guys tended to not gossip with girls. At least, about fellow guys.

"Oh screw Miguel, he's about as interesting as dirt. You guys want someone FINE- you want Raoul. This guy has a tattoo, right at his hip dip, you can see it just poking out of his towel!"

"No WAY, how do you KNOW that?!"

Camilo put his finger over his lip, signaling he doesn't kiss and tell, before noticing Camila. Camila was SUPER pretty, if a bit anti social. He shouldn't have said anything, but he couldn't help himself.

"Mija-that color does not go with your skintone."

She paused to look at him, and Camila frowned.

"But I like beige?"

"It's not an ugly color, just not for you. Here, may I?"

Camila nodded, and Camilo just went for it. He stole lipstick from the girl next to her, and gently held onto Camila's face as he applied a good, bright pink color. He added a bit of blush to her cheeks, gave her brows a quick brush, and just like that, instant improvement. He held the mirror to her face, and she gasped in surprise.

"Oh my god- how'd you do that so fast?!"

"You have LOADS of natural beauty, Camila, you just need to highlight your features! You have perfect cheeks, your eyebrows are to die for, and your lips are like, perfect. You always wear beige and it's like, people can't see it!"

Camila apparently just now realized Camilo was touching her bottom lip, and she exploded in color, before thanking him (a bit loudly), and taking her things as she quickly left. Ah, a gay panic, he was familiar with it, and it looked SO cute when girls did it. Josefina raised a brow at him, clearly confused.

"You didn't know how to apply eyeliner yesterday, what's up with you?"

"Oh uh. I'm just full of surprises. You could ask more questions, or you could let me give you a boho crown and see how it frames your face."

The girls shared glances at each other, before she clapped her hands excitedly.

"Do my hair!!"

-----------------------

The time you got in between PE and lunch was only twenty minutes. And spending time in the girl's locker room was the shortest, wildest twenty minutes of his life. The tea he spilled, the hair and makeup he did, the panties he had seen. It. Was. Everything. He almost didn't want it to end.

"See you tomorrow girls!"

He waved off his gal pals as the bell dismissed them. Ugh, they were just so pretty, so sweet and good to him. He really wished they would trust him like that WITHOUT him pretending to be someone else, but hey, story of his life. Once he knew it was safe, he transformed back into himself, joining the pack of the boys. Eduardo raised a brow at Camilo as he leaned against his shoulder. Guy was pretty much used to Camilo touching him whenever he felt like.

"Where have YOU been? Hitting on the lunch ladies?"

"Hey, that's how I get two helpings, first of all. Second, nope. I went to forbidden territory. The girl's locker room."

He had SO many eyes on him in a second. The boys crowded him, and the stupid looks on their faces reminded him just WHY he liked boys. Easy to impress and coax attention out of.

"You went to the girl's locker room?! You snuck in?!"

"Better. I just walked right in. Or should I say...Amanda did."

They got it immediately, muttering against themselves, as if Camilo learned the secret to life.

"Dude, how much did you see?!"

Camilo left them hanging, just for a second, before grinning.

"Every. Single. Thing."

He wasn't admiring girls in the same way they were, but even he had to admit, women were gorgeous and alluring enough to deserve such awe.

"You gotta tell us! We gotta know who has what chest!"

Camilo shrugged, starting to walk away, and of course, they followed.

"I dunno. I'm a little too hungry to remember."

"We'll buy you lunch! As much as you want!"

Camilo turned to the group, thinking carefully, before gesturing to Raoul.

"Buy me lunch, and gimme your shirt."

He obeyed automatically, only raising a brow as soon as he handed him his shirt.

"But I'm three sizes bigger than you."

"And don't you just hold those sizes well, papi chulo~...alright, walk and talk with me, boys. Raoul, in front, I want a view."

Camilo could complain that being different people got him different treatment. But he could NOT complain that being himself was pretty damn great.

#not transformers #encanto #suggestive ish #asks #seriously #Camilo loves guys and gals #but guys are just so easy to play with #while he just #admires the shit out of girls #honestly if Camilo could he'd just adore both of them all day #and yeah lowkey he REALLY feels comfortable in girl clothes whenever he turns into them

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draconikia · 2 months

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bryce is preparing for a date. danika hates her date nights. and worst of all, she’d introduced them. all in a fit of, i’m tired of hearing your vibrator all night long, she’d just shoved bryce and reid redner together. in her defense, she’d thought bryce would get bored maybe two dates in. it isn’t like she’s had such a great time, and the prep time before each date is getting shorter and shorter.

its pack night so while danika would usually have aux duty at least to distract her, tonight she had nothing but her mangy wolves. but even pack nights began to feel empty without bryce, she was as much a member of danika’s pack as any of the shifters. and - the things she’d been researching toyed in the back of her mind. the arbitrary differences in species, the original immigrants to this land — everything the asteri took from them.

it was enough distraction that she missed the first part of what her best friend said, and caught only the last — sprawled out on bryce’s bed in a rather dominant position - she smirked.

‘ come on bryce, you know you’d rather get your ass kicked at twister by me than mediocre sex and fancy fish paste on glorified triscuts. ‘

of course she’s jealous, the person she loves the most chooses to spend what is normally a group bonding time, with a date she doesn’t even like. and, danika has heard in flaming descriptors, just how lackluster reid really is. to the point it’s hard to look at him when she shows up to work.

‘ you never used to skip pack night! who else is gonna help me hoard the stuffed crust cheese pizza from byron’s truffle shaving tendencies. and there’s so much cold beer that our fridge is gonna break down — and and i’ll go pick up that stupid fancy ice cream you like — ‘

bryce has never responded well to the alpha demand that danika can’t quite help but put in her pleas, so she disguises it. with bribery. there’s nothing wrong with sweetening the deal - good leaders have to adapt. and bryce? bryce doesn’t even know how essential her position in the pack is, how vital her well being and presence are to danika.

danika who still chooses her time to proclaim her love with great care. danika who takes bryce down paths of destruction just so there’s no risk of her doing it on her own. danika who currently wears bryce’s old shirt that hangs down to her mid thigh with a pair of indecently short running shorts. bare feet propped on bruce’s headboard as she makes a picture of what she hopes comes off as innocent friendship.

‘ i’ll tell redner its pack business! or your evil overlord boss needed you to do some research — or or the hairball from the bathtub became sentient and crawled out of the drain to get us and we’re in full scale battle mode —‘

❛ if i didn't know any better, i'd say you were jealous. ❜ // bryce && danika // @wyrdbones

#danika fendyr // interaction #answered // feel free to turn into threads if inspiration strikes #wyrdbones #vibrates #and so it begins

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vodika-vibes · 9 months

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(They do feel very different, especially know that we’re bringing out the differences in the different scenarios. I hope this helps you write them easier for your full fics about them 😊 Same situations bring out very different traits. Like how weddings and funerals can bring out the best and worst in people. I’ve seen a lot of that, for sure. It’s kinda fascinating to me how even people with similar personalities and environments can react so differently to things. I could do without the drama in my own family, though.)

["It's survivor's guilt," his smile is small, and slightly bitter, "You'll learn to manage it, I promise." He stands and grabs one of the pillows, "I took this out of your room...sorry, I should have asked, but I thought you'd like something comfortable." He carefully slides the pillow under your head, and then sits back down.

He sheepishly sets the rough looking bear on the bed next to you, "It's not very good! I'm not much of a craft person, but I thought you might appreciate it, and the blacks were going to get tossed anyway-" he trails off, "you...really like it." He sounds awed at that. "It doesn't even really look like a bear."]

I frown sadly. “I wish I didn’t have to… oh stars, you must feel this way so much!” I slowly, carefully lift one hand to reach to him but only get part way before the pain causes me to stop with a gasp. “I’m glad you took the pillow. That’s so much better.” I say after a minute. I take a deep breath and try to relax.

I reach the short distance to take the bear and bring it closer to me in a small hug. “I love it! You made it, so I love it and I’ll treasure it forever!” I smile wide and give the stuffed animal another small squeeze. “Now I can have you with me even when you’re not there!” I say enthusiastically. “Oh! Can you lean in closer? I need to tell you something.” I whisper like a conspiracy with a grin on my face.

(Xyn, you’re so great 🫠)

-💋 anon

Yeah, real world family drama is the worst. We ended up not going to my cousin's wedding last week because of drama between my mom and my aunt. And I just had to switch back to my phone, so sorry if there are any typos.

"You learn to manage it, or at least I did." Xyn admits with a small shrug, "our training was...well, it was bad to put it mildly. Without going into too much detail we had to learn." A small smile crosses his face, "I'm glad the pillow helps, though."

"I'm glad you like it, though I'm not sure a stuffed bear is a proper replacement for me," he offers with a nervous smile, even as he leans closer to you at your request, "Did you need something?"

#star wars #tcw #clone oc #oc: xyn #answered asks

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lemondropdancer · 3 years

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Grounding Techniques

Mental Distraction Techniques

Pick a category of objects and try to think of as many objects as possible that fit within that category (e.g., types of dogs, cities, types of trees, crayon colors, sports)

Pick a letter and think of emotionally positive or neutral words that begin with that letter

Pick a color and look for things of that color. Notice differences in their exact shades

Say or think the alphabet backwards or alternate letters and numbers (A1, B2, C3, D4, etc)

Count backwards from 100 by 3s, 6s, or 7s or count up by prime numbers or perfect squares

Play "fizz-buzz" with yourself. Begin counting to 100 (or over!), but replace any number that contains the number 5 or is a multiple of 5 with the word "fizz" and any number that contains the number 7 or is a multiple of 7 with the word "buzz." For example, 1-15 would be "1, 2, 3, 4, fizz, 6, buzz, 8, 9, fizz, 11, 12, 13, buzz, fizz." When you mess up, compliment yourself and start over

Think of the words to your favorite song or poem or think of facts related to a specific theme

Pick a word or your name and see how many other words you can make from the letters in it

Describe an every day event or process in great detail, listing all of the steps in order and as thoroughly as possible (e.g., how to cook a meal, how to get from your house to your place of work or school, how to do your favorite dance)

Read something technical or meant for children or read words backwards to focus on the process of reading and not the words

Watch a children's television show or movie or watch cute or funny videos on Youtube; it might help to have a playlist already prepared for this

Look at a current news article that is not likely to be upsetting or distressing

Distract yourself with Tetris, Solitaire, Sudoku, word searches, or other puzzle games

Reorientation Techniques

Say or think to yourself: "My name is _________. I am safe right now. I am _____ years old. I am currently at _____________. The date is _____________. If I need help, I am with ________/can call _________. Everything is going to be alright."

List reaffirming statements ("I am fine. Everything is going to be okay. I am strong. I can handle this.")

Ask yourself where you are, what day of the week it is, what day of the month it is, what month it is, what year it is, what season it is, how old you are, and other present-focused questions

Notice things in your surroundings that indicate to you that you're safe or that you're in the present (e.g., locks on your door, electronics that didn't exist when you were younger, the presence of trusted people, a phone so that you can call for help if you need it)

Describe your surroundings in detail, including sights (objects, textures, shapes, colors), sounds, smells, and temperature

Name five things that you see, four that you feel, three that you hear, and two that you smell or taste, and then name one good thing that you like about yourself

Pick four or five brightly colored objects that are easily visible and move your focus between them. Be sure to vary the order of your gaze and concentrate briefly on each one before moving to the next

Think about a fun time that you recently had with a friend or call that friend and ask them to talk about it with you

Sensory-Based Grounding Techniques

Run cool or warm (but not too cold or hot) water over your hands or take a cool or warm bath or shower

Spritz your face (with eyes closed), neck, arms, and hands with a fine water mist

Spray yourself with your favorite perfume and focus on the scent

Feel the weight of your body in your chair or on the floor and the weight of your clothing on your skin

Touch and hold objects around you. Compare the feel, weight, temperature, textures, colors, and materials

Keep a small object with you to touch or play with when you get triggered. Good examples include a smooth stone, a fidget toy, jewelry, or a tiny plushy

Bite into a lemon, orange, or lime, suck on a sour or minty candy or an ice cube, chew cinnamon-flavored gum, or put a few drops of Tabasco sauce on your tongue. Notice the flavor, scent, and texture

Eat something or drink warm tea, coffee, or hot chocolate, and describe to yourself the taste and texture in great detail

Place a cool wash cloth on your face or hold something cold like a can of soda

Listen to soothing or familiar music. If possible, dance to it

Hum, sing, recite poetry, or make up a silly poem or story as you go

Pick up a book and read the first paragraph out loud

Hug another person (if interpersonal touch isn't a trigger). Pay attention to your own pressure and the physical sensations of doing so

Hug a tree! Register the smells of being outside, the wind, and the sights around you

Movement-Based Grounding Techniques

Breathe deeply and slowly and count your breaths

Grab tightly onto your chair or press your feet against the ground as firmly as you can

Rub your palms and clap your hands or wiggle your toes within your socks. Pay attention to the physical sensation of doing so

Stretch out your arms or legs, roll your head on your neck, or clench and unclench your fists

Stomp your feet, walk around, run, jump, ride a bike, do jumping jacks, or do yoga

While walking, notice each footstep and say to yourself "right" and "left" to correspond with the foot currently moving

Squeeze a pillow, stuffed animal, or ball

If you have a soft pet (dog or cat), brush its fur and stroke it. If you don't, brush your own hair slowly and without pulling too much

Color in an adult coloring book, finger paint, or draw anything that comes to mind without worrying about quality

Write whatever comes to mind even if it's nonsense. Try not to write about whatever is upsetting you until you're more capable of doing so without increasing the upset

Write a list of things that make you happy or look for cheerful pictures to make into a collage

Pop bubble wrap or blow and pop actual bubbles

Dig in the dirt or garden, jump on a pile of leaves, or splash around in puddles or mud

Rip up paper or stomp on aluminum cans to crush them

Imagery Techniques

Picture yourself breathing in relaxation, calm, positive feelings, or strength. Picture yourself breathing out whatever is upsetting you. It may help to pair this with imagery of breathing in soothing colors (usually blue, purple, or green) and out more intense colors (usually red or black)

If you need to relax, envision a soothing white or golden light slowly moving up your body, warming and relaxing every part of you that it touches. You can also think of it as protecting you from negativity or from harm

If the problem is intense or uncomfortable emotions, physical sensations, or memories, picture them being surrounded and neutralized by a bright and healing light, temporarily placed in a mental box to be stored for later, or dialed back by an internal controller of intensity

If you have a clear mental picture of what's upsetting you, mentally change it to something silly or harmless. If you're a fan of Harry Potter, cast a mental "riddikulus" to banish the negativity

Picture yourself calm, focused, and able to tackle whatever problems you're facing. Focus on how that would feel in the moment. What would your expression and posture be like? Make whatever changes you need to in order to make your reality reflect your goal

How to Make a Grounding Box

Get a box or basket

Personalize and decorate it with construction paper, wrapping paper, ribbon, stickers, drawings, paint, photographs, glitter, sequins, or anything else that you like

Keep within it:

A list of grounding techniques that you know work for you

A list of positive affirmations and happy memories

A list of the contact information of trusted friends or family who are willing to help and support you

Small sensory objects such as: scented candles, perfumes, or lotions; hard candies or gum; soft fabrics, a stress ball, a stuffed animal, or a fidget toy; happy pictures of you with friends; a CD with relaxing music or meditation tracks. Try to cover all of the senses

A list of possible distractions such as books to read or movies to watch

Small portable distractions such as a pack of playing cards, a small game, or a joke book

A list of comforting things to do such as taking a bubble bath, snuggling up in bed, or meditating

A small journal or notebook

In the Case of a Flashback

Tell yourself that you are having a flashback and are safe now

Remind yourself that the worst is over, and you survived it. What you're feeling now is just a reminder of that trauma and does not fit the present moment

Remind yourself of when and where you are, who you're currently with, and who you can contact if you need help (use the reorientation-focused grounding techniques)

Breathe deeply and slowly. Count your breathes and make sure that you're getting enough air

Use other mental, sensory, movement, and imagery techniques in order to distract yourself, calm yourself, and reorient yourself within the present

If possible or necessary, go somewhere where you can be alone or with a close friend, where you will feel safe, or where you feel protected or shielded

If there is anyone who you can trust or who will support you, reach out to them, let them know what happened, and let them know what you need, what would be best for you, or what they could do to help

Be gentle with yourself and take the time to really recover. If what helps you to recover is to color, take a bubble bath, hug a stuffed animal, or watch a children's movie and if it would not be disruptive to do such things at that point in time, embrace those options whole-heartedly

If possible, note or write down what triggered the flashback, what techniques you tried to use to disrupt the flashback, and what techniques helped

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fannish-karmiya · 3 years

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Wei Wuxian’s Position in the Jiang Household

Fandom tends to mischaracterise Wei Wuxian’s position in the Jiang family greatly. A lot of people project more modern ideas about adoption onto his relationship with the Jiang siblings, and write as if he really is their sibling and only Yu Ziyuan’s abusive nature gets in the way of their bond.

This strikes me as a bit misguided. While adoption was practised in ancient China, it was mainly for the purpose of obtaining a male heir in the absence of one, or obtaining more daughters to marry off for alliances. Jiang Fengmian had no reason to adopt Wei Wuxian into the main family, and he didn’t. Wei Wuxian’s position in the household is far more nebulous than that, and honestly it’s hard to find an exact corollary, in Chinese history or in any culture, precisely because it was so messy and ill-defined.

A Companion to Upper Class Children

Wei Wuxian is the son of a servant of Yunmeng Jiang; it’s notable that Wei Changze is always referred to this way, rather than as a disciple. Wei Changze wound up leaving the sect in order to marry Cangse Sanren, and Jiang Fengmian considered them dear enough friends that when he heard they passed away, he spent years searching for their orphaned son. He wound up finding Wei Wuxian on the streets of Yiling and brought him home as his ward.

Wei WuXian was taken home by Jiang FengMian when he was nine.

Most memories from back then were already blurred. Yet, Jin Ling’s mother, Jiang YanLi, remembered all of them, and even told him quite a few.

She said that, after his father heard of the news that his parents both died in battle, he had always dedicated himself to finding the child that these past friends had left behind. After searching for a while, he finally found the child in Yiling.

(Chapter 24, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s clear from the start that beyond this sense of obligation to his old friends, Jiang Fengmian also had a role set out for Wei Wuxian: he wanted him to be a companion to his children, and Jiang Cheng in particular.

He encourages a friendship between them, insisting on a sleepover between the two a week into Wei Wuxian’s stay.

On the second day, Jiang Cheng’s puppies were given to someone else.

This angered Jiang Cheng so much that he threw a big tantrum. No matter how much Jiang FengMian comforted him gently, telling him that they should ‘be good friends’, he refused to talk to Wei WuXian. Quite a few days later, Jiang Cheng’s attitude softened. Jiang FengMian wanted to strike while the iron was still hot, so he told Wei WuXian to sleep in the same room as him, hoping that they’d grow fonder of each other.

[...]

That night, Jiang Cheng locked Wei WuXian outside his room, refusing to let him in.

[...]

Wei WuXian waited outside for a long time. When the door opened, before the joy could spread onto his face, he was bombarded with a pile of things being thrown out. The door banged shut again.

Jiang Cheng told him from inside, “Go sleep somewhere else! This is my room! You’re even gonna steal my room?!”

[...]

Standing outside, as Wei WuXian heard that dogs would come bite him, fear immediately bubbled within him. Twisting his fingers, he hurried, “I’ll go, I’ll go. Don’t call the dogs!”

Dragging behind him the sheets and blanket that were thrown outside, he ran out the hall. Having only arrived at Lotus Pier for a short period of time, he didn’t dare jump around yet. Every day, he obediently holed up in the places that Jiang FengMian told him to stay at. He didn’t even know where his room was, much less have the courage to knock on other people’s doors, scared that it’d disturb someone’s dreams.

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

After Jiang Cheng is worried about getting in trouble, he goes to Jiang Yanli for help, and she searches for Wei Wuxian.

But this was the first pair of shoes that Jiang FengMian bought him. Wei WuXian was too embarrassed to make him go out of his way to buy another pair, and so he said that they weren’t too big. Jiang YanLi helped him into his shoe and pressed the hollow tip, “It is a bit big. I’ll fix it for you when we get back.”

Hearing this, Wei WuXian felt somewhat uneasy, as if he did something wrong again.

Living in other people’s homes, the worst that could happen was to make trouble for the hosts.

Jiang YanLi put him onto her back and began to walk back, wobbling in her steps as she spoke, “A-Ying, no matter what A-Cheng said to you, don’t bother about him. He doesn’t have a good temper, so he’s always home playing with himself. Those puppies were his favorites. Dad sent them away, and so he’s feeling upset. He’s actually really happy that somebody’s here to be with him.”

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

Later, Wei Wuxian offers to cover for him, saying simply that he ran outside by himself because he was scared. In this one case it feels like a genuine instance of children showing solidarity and covering for each other’s little misbehaviours. But it also follows a pattern of Wei Wuxian doing this and making excuses, time and time again, for Jiang Cheng. I wonder if on some level, he already knew that his role in the household was in part to be a companion-servant to Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian normally never puts up with people treating him poorly or being arrogant; he constantly bites his tongue when Jiang Cheng does so around him. While they study at Cloud Recesses, Jiang Cheng frequently insults Wei Wuxian, who always just smiles and laughs it off.

Jiang Cheng humphed, “Him? He wakes at nine in the morning and sleeps at one during the night. When he wakes up, he doesn’t practice his sword or meditate; he goes boating, swims around, picks lotus seedpods, and hunts for pheasants.”

Wei WuXian replied, “No matter how much pheasants I hunt, I’m still number one.”

(Chapter 13, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng scolded with a darkened expression, “What are you proud of?! What is there to be proud of with this?! Do you think that it’s a glorious thing to be told by someone to get lost? You bring so much shame upon our sect!”

(Chapter 16, Exiled Rebels translation)

We never see Wei Wuxian excusing this sort of behaviour from any other character; he has no problem scolding Jin Ling for his arrogant attitude and telling him that he shouldn’t be imitating his uncle, after all! It’s only where Jiang Cheng is concerned that he does this, and honestly, even then he seems to be quite aware that Jiang Cheng’s behaviour is wrong; he simply accepts on some level that it’s his role in the household to put up with it.

He actually does, very gently, try to guide Jiang Cheng at times. In Lotus Seed Pods, for example, he tries to give Jiang Cheng advice on how to flirt with some of the maidens in Yunmeng and make friends:

Wei WuXian threw the seed pods toward the shore. It was a far distance, but they landed lightly in the women’s hands. He grabbed a few more and stuffed them into Jiang Cheng’s arms, shoving, “What are you doing, just standing there? Hurry up.”

After a few shoves, Jiang Cheng could only accept them, “Hurry up and do what?”

Wei WuXian, “You ate the watermelon too, so you also have to return the gift, don’t you? Here, here, don’t be embarrassed. Start throwing, start throwing.”

Jiang Cheng snorted again, “You must be joking. What’s there to be embarrassed about?” Whatever he said, however, even after all of the shidi began to throw seed pods, he still didn’t start to move. Wei WuXian urged, “Then throw some! If you throw some this time, next time you can ask them if the seed pods tasted good, and you’ll be able to make conversation again!”

[...]

Jiang Cheng was just about to throw one when he realized how shameless it was the moment he heard it. He peeled a seed pod and ate it by himself.

[...]

After a while of laughter, he turned around and looked at Jiang Cheng, who was sitting at the front of the boat eating seed pods with a long face. His smile gradually disappeared as he sighed, “Well, what an unteachable child.”

Jiang Cheng fumed, “So what if I want to eat alone?”

Wei WuXian, “Look at you, Jiang Cheng. Nevermind. You’re hopeless. Just wait to eat alone your whole life!”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

He even sighs rather disappointedly when Jiang Cheng refuses to take the hint; he knows that Jiang Cheng’s sullen behaviour is going to make him miserable down the line, but all of his gentle efforts to nudge him in a better direction have failed.

He also speaks with great awareness of Jiang Cheng’s flaws after the fight in the ancestral hall:

Wei WuXian reached out with one hand and massaged his chest, as if trying to break up the pent-up feeling inside his heart. A moment later, he blurted, “I knew Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have let us go so easily. That brat… How could this be?!”

[...]

Wei WuXian’s eyelids throbbed, “Every one of them. The brat’s been like this ever since he was young.He’ll say anything when he’s angry, no matter how bad it is. He gives up on all grace and discipline whatsoever. As long as it’d annoy whomever he’s against, he’d say it no matter what terrible insults he uses. After all these years, he hasn’t gotten better at all. Please don’t take it to heart.”

(Chapter 90, Exiled Rebels translation)

This is so interesting to me, because it really makes it clear that Wei Wuxian has always been aware of these flaws of Jiang Cheng’s. He hasn’t been viewing him through rose-coloured lenses or making excuses for him because he’s ‘family’. He puts up with Jiang Cheng’s behaviour because being his companion is one of his duties in the Jiang household. It may never have been directly stated, but there seems to be some unspoken understanding to this effect.

I honestly don’t know if there is any official role in history (in any culture, not just China) which perfectly correlates to this. In China a lady’s maid was expected to also be a close friend and companion to her mistress (in canon, see Bicao to Qin-furen and Yinzhu and Jinzhu to Yu-furen). In Europe an upper class woman would hire a lady’s companion, a woman from the lower fringes of the gentry who would serve as her companion in exchange for financial support.

I don’t know of any version of this role which involves two men. In general, this sort of role existed because upper class women were confined to the household by and large, and had very limited social spheres. Men, meanwhile, had much greater ability to meet with their peers and make friends. I almost feel like Wei Wuxian wound up being shoved into this role simply because even as a child Jiang Cheng was so unsociable that Jiang Fengmian didn’t know what else to do!

Wei Wuxian also at least once steps in and starts a fight in place of Jiang Cheng (essentially taking the fall for him). He does this when Jin Zixuan speaks disparagingly of Jiang Yanli at Cloud Recesses:

Jin ZiXuan asked in reply, “Why don’t you ask me how on Earth can I be satisfied with her?”

Jiang Cheng instantly stood up.

Pushing him to the side, Wei WuXian walked in front of him and sneered, “You sure think that you’re pretty satisfying, don’t you? Where did you get the guts to be all choosy here?”

[...]

Wei WuXian sighed, “… It’d be nice if shijie came. It’s fortunate that you didn’t hit him.”

Jiang Cheng, “I was going to. If you didn’t push me, the other side of Jin ZiXuan’s face would also be ruined.”

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s also very notable that Wei Wuxian is never shown having friends outside of Jiang Cheng’s social circle, despite what an outgoing and friendly person he is. Any time he expresses interest in someone for himself, as with Lan Wangji, Jiang Cheng tries to nip it in the bud. Being unable to deter Wei Wuxian from Lan Wangji directly, Jiang Cheng instead tries to drive a wedge between them, constantly telling Wei Wuxian that Lan Wangji hates him.

“Yeah,” Nie HuaiSang spoke, “It looks like he really hates you, Wei-xiong. Lan WangJi usually… No, he never does something so impolite.”

Wei WuXian, “He hates me already? I wanted to apologize to him.”

Jiang Cheng sneered, “Apologizing now? Too late! Like his uncle, he surely thinks that you are evil and unruly to the core, and didn’t bother to pay you any attention.”

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng pulled him even closer, “It’s not as if you’re familiar with him! Don’t you see how much he hates you? You’re going to carry him? He probably doesn’t even want you a step closer to him.”

(Chapter 52, Exiled Rebels translation)

He even directly orders Wei Wuxian not to invite Lan Wangji to come visit him at Lotus Pier during the Lotus Seed Pod extra.

Wei WuXian, “Why are you so upset? My watermelon almost flew away! I was just being polite. Of course he wouldn’t come. Have you ever heard of him go anywhere by himself to have fun?”

Jiang Cheng had on a stern expression, “Let’s make this clear. I don’t want him to come, anyhow. Don’t invite him.”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s not only Lan Wangji he tries to steer Wei Wuxian away from; he also interrupts his conversation with Wen Ning at the archery competition:

Wen QiongLin was probably one of Wen Clan’s disciples furthest in bloodline. His status was neither high nor low, yet his personality was timid. He didn’t dare do anything and even his speech stuttered. Through much practice, he had finally conjured up the courage to enter the competition, but he blew it because he was too nervous. If he didn’t receive the right guidance, perhaps the boy would hide his true self more and more from now on and never dare to perform in front of other people again. Wei WuXian encouraged him a couple of times and touched on a few areas of growth, correcting some miniscule problems that he had when he was shooting in the garden. Wen QiongLin listened so attentively that he didn’t even turn his eyes away, nodding uncontrollably.

Jiang Cheng, “Where did you find so much nonsense? The competition is starting soon. Get into the arena right now!”

Wei WuXian spoke to Wen QiongLin in a serious tone, “I’ll be off to the competition now. Later, you can see how I shoot when I’m in the arena…”

Jiang Cheng dragged him away, short of patience. He spat as he dragged, “See how you shoot? Do you think that you’re a model or something?!”

(Chapter 59, Exiled Rebels translation)

Even when it comes to Wei Wuxian’s friendly flirtation with Mianmian, Jiang Cheng has something to say and tries to deter him from her:

Jiang Cheng, “The one that MianMian gave you? I didn’t.”

Wei WuXian exclaimed his regret, “I’ll find her for another one later.”

Jiang Cheng frowned, “You’re at it again. You don’t really like her, do you? The girl does look fine, but it’s obvious that she doesn’t have much background. Maybe she isn’t even a disciple. She seems like the daughter of a servant.”

Wei WuXian, “What’s wrong with servants? I’m also the son of a servant, aren’t I?”

Jiang Cheng, “How can you compare to her? Whose servant is like you, having your master peel lotus seeds for you and boil you soup. I didn’t even get to have some!”

(Chapter 56, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng really does seem to view Wei Wuxian in a very proprietary light; he’s not allowed to have any friendships which don’t exist under Jiang Cheng’s direct control.

The idea that Wei Wuxian was meant to be Jiang Cheng’s servant-friend is reinforced at its darkest when Lotus Pier falls: both Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian’s last words to Wei Wuxian are an instruction to protect Jiang Cheng.

One hand holding him, Madam Yu grabbed Wei WuXian’s lapels with her other hand as though to strangle him to death. She spoke through clenched teeth, “… You damn little brat! I hate you! I hate you more than anything else! Look at what our sect has gone through for your sake!”

[...]

Madam Yu, “Don’t make such a fuss. It’ll loosen up when you’re somewhere safe. If anyone attacks you on the journey, it’ll protect you as well. Don’t come back. Go to Meishan straight away and find your sister!”

After she finished, she turned to Wei WuXian and pointed at him, “Wei Ying! Listen to me! Protect Jiang Cheng, protect him even if you die, do you understand?!”

[...]

Jiang FengMian stared into his eyes. Suddenly, he reached out. Only after pausing in the air did he finally touch Jiang Cheng’s head, slowly, “A-Cheng, be well.”

Wei WuXian, “Uncle Jiang, if anything happens to you, he won’t be well.”

Jiang FengMian turned his eyes to him, “A-Ying, A-Cheng… you must look after him.”

(Chapter 58, Exiled Rebels translation)

Even Jiang Fengmian, who supposedly favoured Wei Wuxian, only gives him instructions as pertains to his own son; he doesn’t spare a single last word for Wei Wuxian himself.

A Lower Status Family Member

It wasn’t uncommon throughout human history, across many cultures, for wealthy families to take in relatives who were orphaned or had otherwise fallen on hard times. They tended to have a lower status than the main family; they lived with them and were still a part of their social sphere, but were not quite equal, either. The English term for this is ‘poor relation’.

Obviously, Wei Wuxian isn’t actually a blood relative at all. But his position in the Jiang household definitely has some similarities. He lives in the main house, eats meals with the family, attends school with the son... He is even on some conditional levels accepted into the gentry of cultivation society. But he isn’t a full equal member of the family, either.

The fact that he’s Jiang Fengmian’s ward, not a blood relative or adopted into the main family, puts him at even more of a disadvantage. It seems that Jiang Fengmian paid for all of Wei Wuxian’s expenses:

Wei WuXian took a bite, “Back then, I didn’t even have to pay when I ate at the dock. I grabbed whatever I wanted, ate whatever I wanted; ran after I grabbed, walked as I ate. A month later, the vendor would get the reimbursement from Uncle Jiang.”

(Chapter 86, Exiled Rebels translation)

While this is a bit of conjecture, I gather that he was given access to family money as if he was part of the clan, and could just charge Yunmeng Jiang whenever he shopped in Lotus Pier. Which is great so long as Wei Wuxian is accepted in Yunmeng Jiang...but as we see during the Burial Mounds settlement period, the moment that acceptance fades, Wei Wuxian is left out in the cold without a single coin. And because he isn’t a member of the family, it’s a far easier matter for him to be thrown aside, as he was when Jiang Cheng grew angry with him over his decision to protect the Wens.

Of course, Chinese families traditionally did share their wealth, and still do nowadays. Ideally, in a loving family, this is a positive and means they all support each other; but when that isn’t the case, it leaves the victims of abuse vulnerable.

In Wei Wuxian’s case, he has some of the benefits of being a member of the Jiang clan, without ever actually being a member. He can be cast aside at any time, and he is never afforded the same respect by wider cultivation society which an inner clan member would have.

I don’t believe the novel ever directly addresses Wei Wuxian’s acceptance into the guest lectures at Cloud Recesses in this light, but the donghua actually has a very interesting little exchange about it which takes place between Nie Huaisang and a relative of his:

“Wei-xiong is just a disciple from Yunmeng. Why could he come to Gusu to study?”

“Wei-xiong is the son of Jiang-zongzhu’s old friend. He has been treated as their own son.”

“Oh, I see. That explains why they don’t look like master and servant, they seem like brothers.”

(MDZS Donghua, Episode 3, Guodong Subs)

Wei Wuxian was only allowed to attend these lectures, which seem to mainly be for sect heirs and inner clan members, on the grace of being Jiang Fengmian’s ward (and probably to accompany Jiang Cheng). While this exchange is not from the book, we never do see or hear about any of the other students being outer disciples rather than members of the main clan. Here’s what the novel had to say about it:

In that year, aside from the YunmengJiang Sect, there were also the young masters from other clans, sent to study here from parents who heard of the reputation. The young masters were all around fifteen or sixteen. Because the sects all knew the others, although they weren’t close, they had seen others’ faces before. It was widely known that, although Wei WuXian’s surname was not Jiang, he was the leading disciple of the sect leader of the YunmengJiang Sect—Jiang FengMian, and also the son of his friend who had passed away. In fact, the sect leader regarded him as his own child. This, along with how youths were not as concerned with status and ancestry as elders, they were soon friends. Only a few sentences passed, and everyone started to call others older brothers or younger brothers.

(Chapter 13, Exiled Rebels translation)

And Wei Wuxian isn’t treated as an equal at school, either; when he and his friends get up to mischief, he’s frequently the only one punished. Nie Huaisang even notes that Lan Qiren seems to be far harder on him than the other students:

Nie HuaiSang spoke, “Why does it seem like old man Lan is especially strict towards you? He always directs his scoldings at you.”

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

And we see Wei Wuxian being the sole one punished out of a group taken for granted by his friends multiple times:

As a result of cheating notes flying everywhere in the air, Lan WangJi suddenly attacked during the test, and caught a few initiators of the commotion. Lan QiRen exploded with anger, writing letters to the prominent clans to tell on them. He loathed Wei WuXian—in the beginning, although these disciples could hardly sit still, at least nobody started anything, and their buttocks were able to stick to their legs. However, now that Wei Ying came, the originally spineless brats were influenced by his encouragement, venturing out at night and drinking alcohol however they pleased. The unhealthy practices grew greater and greater. As he had expected, Wei Ying was one of the biggest threats to humanity!

Jiang FengMian replied, “Ying has always been like this. Please take care to discipline him, Mr. Lan.”

And so, Wei WuXian was punished again.

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

The boys were all cheating, but Wei Wuxian is the one punished most severely. This happens when he's caught sneaking alcohol, too (though to be fair to Lan Wangji, he probably was only punishing him, and himself alongside him, for being outside after curfew when he threw them off the wall).

Of course, Jiang Cheng didn’t dare to say that Wei WuXian was at fault. Thinking back, it was them who urged Wei WuXian to buy liquor. Each and every one of them should have been punished. He could only speak in a vague way, “It’s fine, it’s fine; it’s not that serious! He can walk. Wei WuXian, why are you still up there?!”

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s not entirely unreasonable for the one who gets caught to take the punishment (what’s he going to do, rat his friends out?) but their ready acceptance of this does fit into a pattern.

Jiang Cheng’s top was tied at his waist. Hearing his mother’s chastise, he hastily put it over his head. Madam Yu scolded again, “And you boys! Can’t you see that A-Li’s here? Who taught you brats to dress like this in front of a girl!?”

Of course, it was needless to think who led the group. Thus, Madam Yu’s next sentence, as usual, was “Wei Ying! Do you want to die!?”

[...]

He could still feel some pain in his back, so he tossed the paddles to someone else, sat down, and felt the stinging piece of flesh, “How unfair. Nobody else was wearing anything, but why was I the only one who got scolded and beaten up?”

Jiang Cheng, “Because you hurt the eye the most with no clothes on, for sure.”

[...]

Everyone nodded. Wei WuXian, “Thanks for the praise, you guys. I’m even starting to feel some goose bumps.”

The shidi, “You’re welcome, Da-Shixiong. You protect us every single time. You deserve even more!”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

While we know that Yu Ziyuan is an abusive person in general, she abuses Wei Wuxian far more harshly than anyone else, even the outer disciples. It’s made clear to us in Lotus Seed Pods that she whips him regularly over minor infractions:

Madam Yu was even angrier, “How dare you run! Come back right now and kneel!” As she spoke, she let loose her whip with a flip of her wrist. Wei WuXian felt a searing pain slash across his back. He loudly exclaimed, “Ow!” And almost tripped on the ground.

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

And that his back is heavily scarred from it:

He felt his back, covered in scars both old and new, and still couldn’t hold back the question he’d be thinking about, “How awfully unfair. Why is it that I’m the only one who gets beaten up, whenever something happens?”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

Rumours about this even made it outside of Lotus Pier; during their visit to the ancestral hall years later, Lan Wangji even states that he heard about some of it:

Lan WangJi had on an expression of understanding, “Kneeling as punishment?”

Wei WuXian mused, “How did you know? That’s right. Madam Yu punished me almost every day.”

Lan WangJi nodded, “I have heard of a few things.”

Wei WuXian, “It’s so famous that even people outside Yunmeng, even you Gusu people know—how could it be ‘a few things’? But, to be honest, in all these years, I’ve never seen a second woman whose temper was as bad as Madam Yu’s. She told me to go to the ancestral hall and kneel no matter how small the matter was. Hahaha…”

(Chapter 87, Exiled Rebels translation)

Wei Wuxian’s lower social standing is definitely a part of why Yu Ziyuan is able to abuse him so terribly and receive little to no censure for it. Everyone at Lotus Pier simply takes it for granted, with the exception of Jiang Yanli who at least does try to deflect her mother when she is angry with Wei Wuxian:

Yet, all of a sudden, someone’s quiet voice drifted by Madam Yu’s ear, “Mom, do you want to eat some watermelon…”

[...]

Jiang YanLi almost cried from her mother’s pinching, mumbling, “Mom, A-Xian and the others were hiding here to relieve the heat and I came here on my own. Don’t blame them… Do… Do you want some watermelon… I don’t know who gave them to us, but it’s really sweet. Eating watermelon in the summer is great for cooling down and quenching thirst. I’ll cut them for you…”

(Chapter 125, Lotus Seed Pod, Exiled Rebels translation)

She both tries to deflect her mother from her anger, and also outright states that Wei Wuxian and the other boys weren’t at fault. Jiang Yanli seems to be the only one at Lotus Pier who ever does this.

After the war, Wei Wuxian attends social events at Jiang Cheng’s side but is never quite treated as an equal, either. See how at the Flower Banquet, Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue greet Jiang Cheng but not him:

Suddenly, a voice spoke, “Sect Leader Nie, Sect Leader Lan.”

Hearing the familiar voice, Wei WuXian’s heart jumped. Nie MingJue turned around again. Jiang Cheng came over, dressed in purple, hand on his sword.

And the person standing beside Jiang Cheng was none other than Wei WuXian himself.

He saw himself walk with hands behind his back, wearing all black. A flute in the shade of ink stuck to his waist, hanging down with crimson colored tassels. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jiang Cheng, he nodded in this direction to show respect. Attitude slightly arrogant, he took on a profound, disdainful appearance. As Wei WuXian saw the stance of his younger self, the root of his teeth even cringed in soreness. He felt that he really was pretentious, and itched to just beat the hell out of himself.

Lan WangJi also saw Wei WuXian, who stood beside Jiang Cheng. The tip of his brows twitched ever so slightly. Soon afterward, his light-colored eyes returned to where they were, still looking forward in that composed way. Jiang Cheng and Nie MingJue nodded at each other with grave faces. Neither had anything unnecessary to say. After a hasty greeting, the two walked their separate ways. Wei WuXian saw his black-clothed self glance around as he finally saw Lan WangJi. He looked as if he was about to speak before Jiang Cheng came over and stood to his side.

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

They then proceed to talk about him and his lack of a sword behind his back, never having said a word to Wei Wuxian himself:

Nie MingJue’s gaze turned over again, “Why does Wei Ying not carry his sword?”

Carrying one’s sword was like wearing formal attire. In such gatherings, it was a non-negligible indication of etiquette. Those from prominent sects saw it as especially important. Lan WangJi responded in a lukewarm tone, “He had probably forgotten.”

Ning MingJue raised a brow, “He can even forget something like this?”

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

At Phoenix Mountain it also seems that Wei Wuxian is conditionally a member of the gentry, but not treated like an equal. Sometimes there are these more cheerful interactions:

Holding the flower, Lan WangJi seemed to be quite cold. His tone seemed cold as well, “Was it you?”

Wei WuXian immediately denied it, “No, it wasn’t.”

The maidens beside him spoke at once, “Don’t believe him. It was him!”

Wei WuXian, “How could you treat a good person like this? I’m getting angry!”

Giggling, the maidens pulled their reins and went to the formations of their own sects. Lan WangJi lowered the hand that he held the flower with and shook his head. Jiang Cheng spoke, “ZeWu-Jun, HanGuang-Jun, apologies. Don’t pay attention to him.”

Lan XiChen smiled, “That is fine. I will thank Young Master Wei’s kindness behind the flower in place of WangJi.”

(Chapter 69, Exiled Rebels translation)

But then he will be publicly disparaged and it is readily accepted by others. Jin Zixun first starts an argument with him by criticising Wei Wuxian for fighting Jin Zixuan, then turns the topic to Wei Wuxian’s having taken a third of the prey in the hunt.

Jin ZiXun, “Wei, just what what do you mean by going against ZiXuan so many times?”

[...]

Jin ZiXun sneered, “How is it presumptuous? How is any part of you not presumptuous? Today, in such an important hunt involving all of the sects, you really showed off your abilities, didn’t you? One third of the prey have been taken by you. You sure feel pleased, don’t you?”

[...]

He mocked, “But it’s only natural that you don’t think you’re in the wrong. It’s not the first time that Young Master Wei has disregarded the rules. You didn’t wear your sword in both last time’s flower banquet and this time’s hunt. It’s such a grand event, and you care nothing for courtesy. In what regard to you hold us, the people who are present with you?”

[...]

No disciple had ever dared say such lofty words in front of so many people. A moment later, as Jin ZiXun finally regained his composure, he yelled, “Wei WuXian! You’re only the son of a servant—how dare you be so bold!!!”

(Chapters 69-70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Naturally, Jin Zixun is able to weasel out of giving an apology, even though Jiang Yanli demands one. And guess who also takes a third of the prey, but this time without any censure?

Jin GuangYao, “In reality, not only did Young Master Wei keep a third of the prey to himself, our eldest brother has eliminated over half of the fays and the monsters as well.”

Hearing this, Lan XiChen laughed, “That is how Brother is like, after all.”

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Never a Brother

As I’ve already mentioned, Wei Wuxian was never adopted by Jiang Fengmian, or adopted into the clan in general in even a distant way. And this nebulous ‘we’re letting you live with the main family as a charity, but you aren’t really one of us’ attitude also reflects in his relationship with Jiang Yanli.

I’ve already discussed how Wei Wuxian was more like a companion servant to Jiang Cheng than a brother. It’s also worth noting quickly that neither of them ever refers to the other as a brother. Wei Wuxian refers to Jiang Cheng as his shidi a few times, and Jiang Cheng never even refers to him as his shixiong (because Jiang Cheng views him as his servant, not as even a martial brother, I’d argue).

Only one member of the Jiang family ever does use familial terms to refer to Wei Wuxian: his shijie, Jiang Yanli. At Phoenix Mountain, when Wei Wuxian is being insulted by Jin Zixun, Jiang Yanli stands up and defends him, and states clearly that she considers Wei Wuxian a little brother:

The people who gathered around Jin ZiXun had on the same dark faces as he did. Yet, taking into consideration Jiang YanLi’s background, they didn’t dare talk back to her directly.

Jiang YanLi added, “Besides, hunting is hunting, so why bring the matter of discipline to the table? A-Xian is a disciple of the YunmengJiang Sect. He grew up with my brother and I, and so he’s as close as a brother is to me. Calling him the ‘son of a servant’—I’m sorry, but I won’t accept this. And thus…”

She straightened her back and raised her voice, “I hope that Young Master Jin ZiXun would apologize to Wei WuXian of the YunmengJiang Sect!”

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

It doesn’t come through in the Exiled Rebels translation, but she actually refers to Wei Wuxian as her didi in this scene, not her shidi. She’s trying to draw a line and state that Wei Wuxian is a part of the family. However, no one takes her seriously, and shortly afterwards we see Jin-furen insisting that Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian shouldn’t be walking alone together because it would be inappropriate.

Jiang YanLi whispered, “That’s not necessary. I’d like to have a few words with A-Xian. He can walk me back.”

Madam Jin raised her brows, looking Wei WuXian up and down. Her gaze was somewhat cautious, as if she was feeling displeased, “A young man and a young woman—you two can’t stick together all the time if nobody else is present.”

Jiang YanLi, “A-Xian is my younger brother.”

[...]

Wei WuXian lowered his head, “Excuse my absence, Madam Jin.”

He and Jiang YanLi bowed at the same time. As they turned around to leave, Madam Jin grabbed Jiang YanLi’s hand and refused to let her leave.

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jin Zixuan also never treats Wei Wuxian the way one might a brother who is still angered with him over his past dismissive treatment of his sister. For example, see their argument at the Flower Banquet:

Before he could see how Lan WangJi reacted, a series of clamor suddenly came from the other end of the base. Wei WuXian heard his own raging shout, “Jin ZiXuan! Don’t you forget about what things you said and what things you did? What do you mean by this, now?!”

Wei WuXian remembered. So it was this time!

On the other side, Jin ZiXuan also fumed, “I was asking Sect Leader Jiang, not you! The one I was asking about was also Maiden Jiang. How is that related to you?!”

[...]

Jin ZiXuan, “Sect Leader Jiang—this is our sect’s flower banquet, and this is your sect’s person! Are you going to look after him or not?!”

[...]

...Jiang Cheng’s voice came, “Wei WuXian, you can just shut your mouth. Young Master Jin, I’m sorry. My sister is doing quite well. Thank you for your concern. We can talk about this next time.”

Wei WuXian laughed coldly, “Next time? There is no next time! Whether or not she’s doing well isn’t any of his business, either! Who does he think he is?”

He turned around and started to leave. Jiang Cheng shouted, “Get back here! Where are you going?”

Wei WuXian waved his hands, “Anywhere is fine! Just don’t let me see that face of his. I never wanted to come, anyway. You can deal with whatever’s here yourself.”

Having been abandoned by Wei WuXian, Jiang Cheng’s face immediately clouded over.

[...]

Jiang Cheng stowed away the clouds on his face, “Don’t mind him. Look at how impolite he is. He’s used to such rude behavior at home.”

He then began to converse with Jin ZiXuan.

(Chapter 49, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jiang Cheng also quietly dismisses the notion of Wei Wuxian as a brother in relation to Jiang Yanli; when they visit to show him her wedding dress and she asks for a courtesy name, Jiang Cheng specifically says:

Jiang Cheng, “The courtesy name of my unborn nephew.”

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Not our nephew, mine.

Even the disastrous invitation to Jin Ling’s one month celebration is framed as a favour to an old shidi, not a family member:

Jin ZiXun, “Since you’ve heard it from him already, you should know that I can’t wait. Don’t tell me that you’ll disregard your brother’s life for the sake of Sister-in-Law’s shidi?!”

Jin ZiXuan, “You clearly know that I’m not that kind of person! He might not necessarily be the one who cursed you with Hundred Holes either. Why are you so rash? I was the one who invited Wei WuXian to A-Ling’s full-month celebration anyways. If this is the way you do things, where does that leave me? Where does it leave my wife?”

Jin ZiXun raised his voice, “It’s best if he doesn’t attend! What does Wei WuXian think he is—does he deserve to attend our sect’s banquet? Whoever touches him gets nothing but a splash of black! ZiXuan, when you invited him, weren’t you worried that you, Sister-in-Law and A-Ling would receive an irremovable stain for the rest of your lives?!”

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s clear that not only does wider society not consider Wei Wuxian and the Jiangs siblings...they themselves don’t, either. Wei Wuxian, after all, readily accepts that his relationship with them is over after he leaves the sect:

Before they parted, Jiang Cheng spoke, “We won’t see you off. It wouldn’t be good if someone saw us.”

Wei WuXian nodded. He understood that it wasn’t easy for the Jiang siblings to have come out here. If someone else saw them, all those things they did for the public to believe would be wasted. He spoke, “We’ll go first.”

[...]

He turned around, knowing that it’d be a long time before he’d get to see the people he was familiar with again.

But… right now, wasn’t he on his way to seeing people he was familiar with as well?

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Cast Aside

The way cultivation society treats Wei Wuxian when he is not with the Jiangs is also very revealing. Any level of respect he is given is contingent on his position in the Jiang household, and when they aren’t around that minimal respect fades away. Look at how disrespectfully he is treated when he approaches Jin Zixun to ask for Wen Ning’s location.

Wei WuXian didn’t make small talk either, getting straight to the point, “No thanks. I don’t.” He nodded slightly at Jin ZiXun, “Young Master Jin, could I please have a word with you?”

Jin ZiXun, “If you have anything to say, come after our banquet is over.”

In reality, he didn’t want to talk to Wei WuXian at all. Wei WuXian could see this as well, “How long do I have to wait?”

Jin ZiXun, “Probably around six to eight hours. Or maybe ten to twelve. Or until tomorrow.”

Wei WuXian, “I’m afraid I can’t wait for that long.”

Jin ZiXun’s voice was arrogant, “You’ll have to wait even if you can’t.”

Jin GuangYao, “Young Master Wei, what do you need ZiXun for? Is it a pressing matter?”

Wei WuXian, “Pressing indeed. It allows for no delay.”

[...]

Jin ZiXun, “Wei WuXian, what do you mean? You came for him? You aren’t standing up for a Wen-dog, are you?”

Wei WuXian wore a broad grin, “Since when is it your business whether I’d like to stand up for him or cut his head off? Just give him to me!”

At the last sentence, the grin on his face vanished. His tone turned cold as well. It was clear that he had lost his patience. Many of the people within Glamor Hal shivered in fear. Jin ZiXun felt his scalp tingle as well. Yet, his anger soon soared. He shouted, “Wei WuXian, you are too bold! Did the LanlingJin Sect invite you today? And you dare run wild here. Do you really think that you’re invincible, that nobody has the courage to confront you? Do you want to overturn the Heavens?”

Wei WuXian smiled, “You’re comparing yourself to the Heavens? Excuse my language, but your face is a little too thick, isn’t it?”

[...]

Just as he was about to rebut, sitting on the foremost seat, Jin GuangShan spoke up.

His voice seemed kind, “It’s not anything too important anyways. You youngsters, why lose your tempers over such a thing? However, Young Master Wei, let me be fair here. Barging in when the LanlingJin Sect is holding a private banquet is indeed inappropriate.”

To say that Jin GuangShan didn’t mind what happened at Phoenix Mountain would be impossible. This was also why he only smiled when Jin ZiXun bickered with Wei WuXian but didn’t stop them, and only spoke up when Jin ZiXun was at the disadvantage.

Wei WuXian nodded, “Sect Leader Jin, it was never my intention to disturb your private banquet. My apologies. However, the whereabouts of the people whom Young Master Jin took are still unclear. Just a moment of delay, and it might be too late. One of the group had once saved me before. I will definitely not sit back and watch. Please do not feel pressured. I will make amends for this at a later date.”

[...]

After a few laughs, he continued, “Sect Leader Jin, let me ask you something else. Do you think that, because the QishanWen Sect is gone, the LanlingJin Sect has all right to replace it?”

All was silent within Glamor Hall.

Wei WuXian added, “Everything has to be given to you? Everyone has to listen to you? Looking at how the LanlingJin Sect does things, I almost thought that it was the QishanWen Sect’s empire all over again.”

[...]

A guest cultivator on his right shouted, “Wei WuXian! Watch your words!”

Wei WuXian, “Did I say something wrong? Forcing living people to be bait and beating them up whenever they refused to obey—is this any different from what the QishanWen Sect does?”

Another guest cultivator stood up, “Of course it’s different. The Wen-dogs did all kinds of evil. To arrive at such an end is only karma for them. We only avenged a tooth for a tooth, letting them taste the fruit that they themselves had sown. What’s wrong with this?”

Wei WuXian, “Take revenge on the ones who bite you. Wen Ning’s branch doesn’t have much blood on their hands. Don’t tell me that you find them guilty by association?”

Another person spoke, “Young Master Wei, is it that they don’t have much blood on their hands just because you say so? These are only your one-sided words. Where’s the evidence?”

[...]

Jin GuangShan stood up as well, his face a mixture of shock, anger, fear, and hatred, “Wei WuXian! Just because… Sect Leader Jiang isn’t here doesn’t mean you can be so reckless!”

Wei WuXian’s voice was harsh, “Do you think that I wouldn’t be reckless if he were here? If I wanted to kill someone, who could stop me, and who would dare stop me?!”

[...]

“Young Master Wei really is too impulsive. How could he speak in such a way in front of so many sects?”

Lan WangJi spoke coldly, “Was he wrong?”

Jin GuangYao paused almost unnoticeably. He immediately laughed, “Haha. Yes, he’s right. But it’s because he’s right that he can’t say it in front of them, correct?”

Lan XiChen seemed as if he was deep in thought, “Young Master Wei’s heart really has changed.”

(Chapter 72, Exiled Rebels translation)

The only person at this banquet who speaks to Wei Wuxian respectfully is Jin Guangyao, a consummate manipulator who is also of a lower social status. Everyone else speaks to him dismissively, refusing to respect his request for Wen Ning’s location even though he states that Wen Ning helped him during the war. Wei Wuxian is extremely polite at the beginning of this conversation, and only slowly begins to lose his temper when Jin Zixun speaks rudely and Jin Guangshan decides to bring up the matter of the Yinhufu (Wei Wuxian is right in suspecting him of wanting to replace Qishan Wen, of course, and that it’s very bold of them to think they have the right to a spiritual tool of his just because...they’re rich?).

When the sects meet at Koi Tower to discuss the breakout at Qiongqi Path, no one considers Wei Wuxian as an independent agent who they might actually want to meet and negotiate with themselves. He is a wayward servant of Yunmeng Jiang who the sect leader has failed to keep in hand.

Jiang Cheng only spoke after a few moments, “What he did was indeed a bit too much. Sect Leader Jin, I apologize to you in place of him. If there’s any way at all to help the situation, please let me know. I’ll definitely compensate for things however I can.”

[...]

Jin GuangShan, “Sect Leader Jiang, Wei Ying is your right-hand man. You value him a lot. All of us know this. However, on the other hand, it’s hard to tell whether or not he actually respects you. In any case, I’ve been a sect leader for so many years and I’ve never seen the servant of any sect dare be so arrogant, so proud. Have you heard what they say outside? Things like how during the Sunshot Campaign the victories of the YunmengJiang Sect were all because of Wei WuXian alone—what nonsense!”

[...]

Lan WangJi sat with his back straight, speaking in a tone of absolute tranquility, “I did not hear Wei Ying say this. I did not hear him express the slightest disrespect towards Sect Leader Jiang either.”

[...]

The good thing was that, not long after he felt awkward, Jin GuangYao came to save the day, exclaiming, “Really? That day, Young Master Wei busted into Koi Tower with such force. He said too many things, one more shocking than the next. Perhaps he said a few things that were along those lines. I can’t remember them either.”

[...]

Jin GuangShan followed the transition, “That’s right. Anyhow, his attitude has always been arrogant.”

One of the sect leaders added, “To be honest, I’ve wanted to say this since a long time ago. Although Wei WuXian did a few things during the Sunshot Campaign, there are many guest cultivators who did more than him. I’ve never seen anyone as full of themselves as him. Excuse my bluntness, but he’s the son of a servant. How could the son of a servant be so arrogant?”

[...]

“In the beginning, Sect Leader Jin asked Wei Ying for the Tiger Seal with nothing but good intentions, worried that he wouldn’t be able to control it and lead to a disaster. He, however, used his own yardstick to measure another’s intents. Did he think that everyone is after his treasure? What a joke. In terms of treasures, is there any sect that doesn’t hold a few treasures?”

“I knew that something would eventually happen if he continued on the ghostly path—look! His killing intents are being revealed already. Killing indiscriminately those from our side just because of a few Wen-dogs…”

[...]

Jin GuangShan continued, “Sect Leader Jiang, you’re not like your father. It’s just been a couple of years since the reestablishment of the YunmengJiang Sect, precisely when you should be displaying your power. And he doesn’t even know to avoid suspicions. What would the Jiang Sect’s new disciples think if they saw him? Don’t tell me you’d let them see him as their role model and look down on you?”

He spoke one sentence after another, striking the iron while it was still hot. Jiang Cheng spoke slowly, “Sect Leader Jin, that’s enough. I’ll go to Burial Mound and deal with this.”

Jin GuangShan felt satisfied, speaking in a sincere tone, “That’s the spirit. Sect Leader Jiang, there are some things, some people that you shouldn’t put up with.”

(Chapter 73, Exiled Rebels translation)

This is very reminiscent of the way that Jin Zixuan would often turn around and say, ‘Why aren’t you controlling your servant?’ to Jiang Cheng whenever he had a dispute with Wei Wuxian over his treatment of Jiang Yanli.

When Jiang Cheng goes to the Burial Mounds and Wei Wuxian defects from Yunmeng Jiang in order to help the sect save face, Jiang Cheng treats this as a personal betrayal. He not only challenges Wei Wuxian to a duel but then announces that Wei Wuxian has betrayed Yunmeng Jiang and declared himself the enemy of cultivation society:

After the fight, Jiang Cheng told the outside that Wei WuXian defected from the sect and was an enemy to the entire cultivation world. The YunmengJiang Sect had already cast him out. From then on, no ties remained between them—a clear line was drawn. Henceforth, no matter what he did, they’d have nothing to do with the YunmengJiang Sect!

(Chapter 73, Exiled Rebels translation)

“Wei Wuxian has betrayed the sect, and publicly regards all cultivation sects as enemy! Yunmeng Jiang Sect hereby expels him, breaking all ties with him and drawing a clear line between us. Henceforth, no matter what this person does, it will have nothing to do with Yunmeng Jiang Sect!”

(Modao Zushi Radio Drama, Season 3 Episode 5, Suibian Subs)

Naturally, no one ever questions this or wants to hear Wei Wuxian’s side of the story. Jiang Cheng is a sect leader and Wei Wuxian his servant, and that is all cultivation society needs to know.

In Conclusion

Wei Wuxian was never really part of the Jiang family. The wider social view was that he was a servant who was lucky to be taken in by the family and allowed to live in the main house alongside the sect leader’s children. He’s accepted into cultivation society conditionally, but only as someone who remains a rank below everyone else.

This attitude isn’t just the wider social view which the family themselves disregard; they all play into it. Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Cheng both actively enforce it, Jiang Fengmian passively enforces it, and Jiang Yanli tries but fails to break through the social barriers between them.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #modao zushi

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finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

Can you write something about when Harry and Y/N broke up but fans speculate that they got back together and they did get back together. They broke over something stupid, please. You don’t have to do this exactly it can be something like that.

let’s see how this turns out! hope it’s what you wished for?!

The last few months had been rough.

What had started as rumours of a breakup between everyones favourite couple, you and Harry, had turned into an actual breakup.

It had started by Harry spending more time with Olivia, due to press for Don’t Worry Darling. They were always hanging out with each other, even when there was no publicity stunt telling them to. You found it appropriate at first, wanting the movie to gain some form of reputation, but after a while you believed it turned South. It was becoming a definite friendship and not just because they had to. It was the way that Harry would bring Olivia over for dinner without checking with you first, or taking the dog for a walk with her not you, or even staying longer out on stunts than they needed to just because they wanted to.

So you challenged Harry on it. Hell, even the tabloids were challenging you both - claiming Harry had split from you for Olivia. You made him question whether he thought his actions were irresponsible and appropriate or not, to which he thought there was nothing wrong and thought you were being irrational. You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, only to find him later on the phone speaking to Olivia about how crazy you’d been acting about it all. So you showed him crazy and walked out.

Until today.

For over a half a year your sister had her wedding planned and Harry was supposed to be your guest. You were nervous about turning up without him, because your family were very judgy. Your sister couldnt help being the smarter and the prettier one, but she also didn’t have to parade it around so everyone knew of it. Your mum and dad thought you a disappointment for the longest time, but once you’d gotten a job and had moved out they were a bit more loving over you. Still didn’t hide the fact they desperately hoped for you to have a relationship. It wasn’t that you were bringing Harry along to prove that someone loved you, but more to prove that they would never fully be satisfied whether you had a boyfriend or not. There would always be a podium stand slightly lower for you to stand on.

However, they didn’t know about the breakup.

“Y/N, nice to see you. Where’s Harry?” Another guest asked you, relatives of your mum. It was the same question over and over again, no one really caring about how you are but instead whether you’re in a positive relationship.

“Oh um I think he’s just running a bit late.” Was your chosen answer to respond to said question. It was repetitive, but it kept people off your back.

The wedding was completely beautiful. It was in a beautiful church and was decorated to perfection. The theme was white and royal blue, something your sister had always dreamed of. Children played amongst the pews and family relatives mumbled to each other about gossip. There was still a heavy sadness to the event. Maybe it was because your sister hadn’t asked you to be a bridesmaid - instead, choosing her best friends instead - or maybe it was because you missed Harry so much.

He’d fucked up. He really had, but it didn’t take away that burning passion for him that spread like a wildfire in your belly. You missed him. You still loved him. Worst of all, you had to pretend everything was all alright in front of your family when actually you were breaking apart inside.

Harry hadn’t messaged saying that he was or wasn’t coming, but after everything that had happened you were confident he was going to be a no show, and you would be the embarrassment of the family once again. Your relationship had been very private and exclusive, but Harry’s fans were so investigative you wouldn’t be surprised if they knew that you’d broken up and were aware that you were at a wedding today without him. Neither of you had made a public statement about your breakup, but neither of your wanted to damage each other even more. Fans suspected though and rumours travel fast.

“Y/N how are you doing? How’s Harry?” Another aunt came and asked you, this time with your mother in tow.

“Oh he’s great, yes.” You smiled forcefully, not actually having a clue how your ex-boyfriend was doing. You didn’t keep up with his social media because you were afraid of what you might find.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Your aunt asked.

“He’s late, apparently.” Your mother answered for you, sneeringly. “You’ll be made a fool of if he’s a no show Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I hope everything goes well for you both.” Your aunt kindly said, before waiting for your mum to say something nice too. That was a mistake though.

“Well it’s unlikely she’ll find someone again!” Your mother laughed and pulled your aunt away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows and let your heart sink low.

What were you thinking, letting Harry go like that? Your mum was right, you were never going to find anyone else again. You were so lucky with Harry. He was so kind and so patient with you, but obviously he’d run out of steam towards the end. It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always been told you’re a mighty handful and you need a lot of work put into looking after you, so you understand why you were probably too much for Harry. The showbiz life had never really been something you’d completely submerged yourself into, whereas you guess for Olivia it was rooted in her from birth. She understood Harry’s world the same way he did hers. They would match perfectly for each other, if that’s what they wanted.

You watched the room continue as usual, but you couldn’t keep yourself here. There was too much sadness welling deep within you that you wanted to just run and then keep running. So you did, only to get as far as the bench in the front courtyard. The outside felt calmer and more freeing than inside, you sat and absorbed it for a while, not realising that you were crying until your pretty multicoloured dress had grown darker with a pool of your tears.

“Shit.” You tried rubbing the tears out, but only made you cry a little harder. You thought about your makeup running and tried to compose yourself, fanning your face to calm it down from the heat now.

“And here I was thinking weddings were supposed to be happy.”

You stopped fanning your face to look at him. You couldn’t believe he was standing there, dressed in a beautiful white suit and salmon pink shirt underneath to compliment the colours of your dress - the outfit that you’d helped him pick out over a year ago. He’d remembered. He trusted that you’d still be wearing this dress. He was a sight alright. A vision of beauty and love.

“Harry?” You questioned, wiping your under eyes to clear away any running mascara, not quite believing he was standing there.

“So what was it? Bad music playing? No vodka? Or maybe there’s nowhere for you to escape to go read the book I know you have stuffed away in your clutch bag.” He stood at a distance from you, hands in his trouser pockets, to make sure you were comfortable.

“I brought vodka instead of the book.” You chuckled, reaching into your clutch to prove it to him.

“Lucky for you, i’ve come to save the day.” Harry reached to the inside of his blazer pocket and pulled out a Kindle. You’d always been debating whether or not to buy one, because the feeling of having a book to turn its’ physical pages is a feeling second to none. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Harry handed it out to you and you stood up to reach for it hesitantly. Harry assured you that it was okay and that you’d been reading too many books if you thought it was a trap of some sort.

“Thank you, Harry.” You spoke sincerely. You stroked your thumb over the cover and turned the case lid over to start up the screen. The screen lit up and it was set to a picture of your favourite quote, annotated just as you would have in your own book. You chuckled and let a few tears drop from the kindness of all of this.

“And then…” Harry unlocked the Kindle with your birthday as the password, before clicking on the library so you could discover what was waiting for you on your virtual shelves. Harry had downloaded all your most favourite books, whilst also downloading the ones he knew had been on your to-be-read list. He’d even added a few of his favourite books too, just because you liked reading his recommendations.

You smiled, but felt so lost.

“W-why are you here, H?” You asked, closing the lid and bravely looking up into his enchanting eyes. You had to control yourself not to comment on how wondrous they looked.

“To save the day.” He chuckled in repeat, until he knew you weren’t taking that for an answer. “Because I fucked up. Big league time.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your shoes to see that they weren’t that far apart at all. He was so close to you, yet he wasn’t yours to catch.

“And i’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out of that door. The promotion shit with Olivia? Done. I’ve finished. I explained that the movie isn’t as important to me as you. You,” Harry paused to breathe out, and took the risk of guiding your jaw up to meet your gaze with his soft hand, “you are real Y/N. You’re so important and key to my life and it bloody terrified me, still does actually, to think that you make me feel this way. I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, a home. A life. I was so worried I would screw it all up, though, to the point where I did screw it all up. I lost you and so I lost me. It’s selfish of me to ask whether any part of your heart still wants me, but—”

“Yes.” You quickly interjected before he could say something he’d later regret. “There is, yes.”

“R-really?” He stumbled over his response, not expecting you to react so soon but his words had got to you. His feelings were vulnerable and raw and it reminded you of how much you love him and feel safe with him.

“Why? Would you like me to say different.” You teased.

“No,” Harry rushed, stepping closer towards you, “God now. Stay, please. Forever, if you’ll have me?”

“I can deal with forever.” You leaned up to where his lips were, craving the taste of them against yours so badly. “Can I?” You looked between his lips and his eyes, watching his eyes coo in admiration of you. His arms snaked around your neck and cupped the back of your head, resting his ringed fingers against your skin delicately.

“You don’t have to ask, angel.” And with that you didn’t hesitate to reclaim your clips on his. He tasted as sweet and as soft as you could remember. The hint of mint sweets he kept in his car could be tasted all over his mouth, and he could no doubt taste the vodka on yours. He took no time in rushing to have his tongue exploring your mouth once mouth, biting on your lip when he got the chance to. He wanted you to remember this moment and how much love he has for you, and always will. Just as you do for him.

Hesitantly pulling away you smiled at him cheekily, feeling so much lighter and happier to have him here. With you in his arms so expertly.

“What?” He asked, leaving a quick kiss to your nose, inhaling his scent as he did.

“Just can’t believe you’re here.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into your touch so comfortably. He had missed you so damn much, and it showed.

“Let you down once before and I wasn’t going to do it again.”

“So you’d have shown up even if I hadn’t?”

“Not happily, but yes.” He laughed thinking about it.

“Why?” You laughed with him.

“I’ve got to make my impression on your family somehow. Need to remind some of them how amazing and beautiful their special Y/N L/N is.”

“Some are going to need a lot more persuading than others.” You sighed, side-frowning over your words.

“No offence, but anyone who doesn’t treat you as a fucking diamond doesn’t deserve you and should watch out for kick up their backside from me.” You laughed over his empty threat and buried your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat and rumble of laughter that came from within. This moment alone felt like home. Safe and warm.

“I love you, H.”

“Bloody love you too.”

Harry ended up returning to the wedding with you, much to your mothers surprise, and you both enjoyed the celebrations together. You shut yourselves out from everybody and just danced, talked and drank the night away.

You were so in love.

Later, photos got leaked of the wedding and it showed you and Harry dancing away in one of the backgrounds of the photos. It was supposed to be a shot of just the bride and groom, but you two have managed to get caught in it. You looked so caught up in each other that you still weren’t even aware the photo had been taken. You and Harry had determinedly avoided the camera all night, exactly for this reason, but a part of you was kind of happy that this one photo got leaked, because it showed the world that Harry was yours and you were his. It showed that you were together, or back-together as addressed by some FBI fans, and that you were stronger for it.

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Text

*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*

summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer

content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed!

word count: 5.4k

A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best.

request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌

can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?

masterlist

"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him.

"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't.

"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh.

it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals.

"you should bring one of your other friends."

"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world.

"I thought that was just me." he says.

"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."

you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.

"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?"

Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep.

you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up.

he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't.

you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.

eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other.

"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open.

"yeah?"

"go to bed."

"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift.

"I could hear your breathing change."

"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds.

"I wanted to say goodnight."

it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.

"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound.

"now I can't because you made it weird."

"how did I make it weird?"

"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.

"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?"

"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated.

"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.

a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."

"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours.

he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do.

Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship.

the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing.

which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs.

as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate.

you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge.

your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart.

you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it.

you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over.

you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again.

you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing.

you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest.

...

Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things.

he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath.

every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars.

truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most.

there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle.

after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out.

and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull.

he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate.

"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head.

he definitely has a concussion.

"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway.

"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun."

Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold.

he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor.

he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious.

he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know.

Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank.

it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.

"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"

...

you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key.

"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could.

"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called.

of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.

when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed.

"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.

"hi."

"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here.

"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me."

you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second.

"Y/N, I'm really fine."

"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed.

"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully.

"sounds like a nightmare."

"it is." he cracks up.

"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?"

"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too."

"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm.

"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."

"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter.

"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her."

"oof." you wince.

"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"

"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did.

"yeah." he avoids your gaze.

"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard.

"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares.

you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder.

Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret.

"you already said that."

"shut up."

"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks.

"whatever. you care about me, too."

he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you."

your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"

"mhmm." he hums.

"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas.

"I'd hope not."

"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud.

"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you.

"were you thinking about anything in particular?"

"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.

"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care.

"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you."

"like?" now you're intrigued.

"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down.

"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?"

Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um."

you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be.

"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you."

it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal.

"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed.

"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you."

it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more.

your heart swells.

"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder.

"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way.

when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look.

"I'm in love with you, too."

his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"

"yes." you nod.

he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable.

"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it.

"I'd say so, yeah."

he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9.

"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly.

you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead.

there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before.

never like this.

one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his.

the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact.

you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans.

"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in.

"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection.

"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you."

"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer."

his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you.

soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other.

"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast.

you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material.

your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god."

you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too.

Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now.

"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow.

you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.

"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..."

you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.

he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth.

before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans.

"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down.

"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."

he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully.

"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like."

"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop."

"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines.

"mhmm."

"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something."

"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers.

"I'm a virgin." you say.

Spencer frowns. "really?"

"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful."

"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"

"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry.

"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence.

"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?"

"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency.

"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts.

"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands.

"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face.

"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you.

you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back.

"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting.

"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly.

"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop."

"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort.

"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.

he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock.

his hand finds your ass, squeezes it.

"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin.

"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect."

you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum."

Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too."

you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement.

"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan.

"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high.

it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions.

you collapse fully, him still inside.

neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it.

"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out.

"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird.

"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy.

"we should try multiple times."

he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?"

he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?"

"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate.

"yeah."

“good.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm @xoxomgg

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #baby spence #mgg #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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missgeniality · 3 years

Text

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

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