#but i just keep seing the 'its too competitive now take' and i just feel like thats so wrong!!!

[patchesjam]

yes please !

okay this one is on the competitiveness of the event. ive touched on this before but it feels like to me noxcrew are stuck between it being a competitive event and just for fun - with teams and players probably attempting to be more competitive while the new games and alterations to existing ones are leading it for more fun.

and the competitive people arent enjoyign the gimmicky games and the changes as much, while the for-fun players dont enjoy the amount of prep the competitive players do.

another point i see a lot of people raise is 'increasing competitiveness of the event' <- i actually really disagree that this is happening, and i instead feel like it's increasingly less competitive between players.

My problem with the event atm is that currently only about ~4 people (prupled, ant, FBM, hannah) rly rly care to win, but they care so much and they put in so much effort it's very disproportionate to everyone else playing, and just makes it predictable and a bit boring with them all high up on leaderboards every time.

Compared to a year or so ago, when i think on average more people put in more effort (think of the then playing 8 s-tiers who would all put in a fair amount of effort plus ant + 5up + fundy + hbomb + cpk + krtzy +punz , etc. etc.) so the overall competitiveness was perhaps higher back then, but there was less difference between the most competitive and the more chilled players <- which is really the big issue here.

#i think current s tiers #sapnap illumin.a petzah fruit krtzy and jojo #have all said theyre no longer playing as competitively and wont vod review or try quite as much #sorry this is a bit of a word vomit #but i just keep seing the 'its too competitive now take' and i just feel like thats so wrong!!! #its not competitiveness its the difference in capability and knowedge from top to bottom in both teams and individuals that makes it worse

[beabnormal24]

Hi, hello, it’s me again here.

So, of course my competitive butt had to take my own comment about Yuki/Alex as a challenge and now I have 12k or more of a draft.

But I don’t know if I’m doing it correctly, I NEED HELP (also mental help, possibly). I was mostly inspired by AJR’s song ‘Turning out’, which I highly recommend because it’s A MASTERPIECE.

The general idea is: Yuki finds a stray puppy during a storm and he brings it to the prt clinic at the ground floor of his apartment complex where Alex has just started working.

They start to get to know each other but Yuki is still nit sure if he actually likes Alex or if he sees him as a best friend, since he’s never cared about actually getting into a relationship so he had never actually looked at the difference between love and in love.

But it’s also a big period of his life because both Charles and Pierre have moved out of the apartment that they used to all (as in Yuki, Pierre and Charles) live in during university because they have started working and have decided to move in either their respective partners.

Charles is already engaged with Carlos (of course there’s Charlos, it’s my fic) and Pierre hints at proposing to George (I don’t know where this ship came from in my mind but I wanted it, so I wrote about it), and Yuki is starting to feel lonely. [also, other side-couples are Sewis and Landoscar]

He has the company of a puppy called Kuri (because it’s Japanese for chestnut, and I imagine Yuki with a poodle with chestnut fur) and Alexander Albon, funny and tall and easygoing but he doesn’t know what it means to him.

So, lots of introspection as it’s common in my fics and fluff because Yalex has to be a comfort ship, sorry. (And I’m also planning on smut, hehe)

Anyway, here is a little snippet, let me know what you think about it (keep in mind that I am NOT British and I do NOT have a beta reader):

—

Karma may be a little fickle tonight, but it certainly pulls him to its side when the heavy rain turns into a light drizzle halfway through his way back to his apartment complex – which isn’t a long journey, per se, but Yuki surely isn’t one to look into a gifted horse’s mouth.

So, by the time he has reached the closed doors of the vet clinic, he is shivering much less than before and the biting cold in his bones has turned into an uncomfortable chill shiver running down his spine from time to time.

What is annoying is the hair plastered down to his eyes dripping wet and the fact that he can’t even try and move a few strands out because his arms are already stuffed full of the sleeping body of a tiny, harmed puppy.

Good God.

The doors stay closed when he finds a sheltered place under the brick's roof of the entrance, but Yuki knows for a fact that Sebastian is never able to leave this place until it’s ten in the evening, because there’s always some animal staying the night after an operation, and he would probably rather close the clinic for good instead of leaving them alone for more than eight hours.

Yuki had never got it, honestly, the sleep and the warm comfort of his bed seems like a much better prospect than staying around sleeping animals in pain, but now that he’s looking at the limp tiny thing in his arms, he may start to understand.

“Sebastian!” he calls out, reaching with his pinky finger to the doorbell. He cries his name a bunch of times, because the rain is starting to fall again and his voice might get covered soon enough, and there’s no way that Yuki is going to wait for him to close everything up – that might take hours, the puppy may be hurting too much by then. “Sebastian, please, it’s an emergency” he must sound like a possessed man, and the lady on the first floor will probably have something to complain about in their next condominium meeting. But she always talks too loudly on her phone on Sunday mornings when Yuki is trying to sleep away a tremendous hangover, so she can honestly go fuck herself – respectfully.

It still takes a few more minutes and a few more desperate calls for the door to open and the dim yellow light of the waiting room to seep on the steps. Yuki slips inside without even waiting for it to open completely, clutching the jacket close to his chest and exhaling deeply through his nose when the warmth of the air-conditioned room finally engulfs him. The puppy sighs against his chest, so it must appreciate the change in temperature, too.

“See, I told you buddy I would get you safe. Yuki always keeps his promises” he says softly, shuffling the bundle of leather closer to his face. The puppy smells pretty bad, a mix of blood and dumpsters rubbish from London neighborhoods, but its tiny eyes are staring back at him all lucid and wide and full of fondness, like it can actually feel love for him, and Yuki can’t even consider the possibility of getting it too far away from his nose.

Yuki may have just fallen in love, too. But it also might be the adrenaline of acting like a freaking hero in a rainstorm when he can barely reach the top cupboard of his kitchen with the help of a stepladder.

But Disney never made a movie about short heroes; he never had a figure to look up to during his childhood.

“Now Sebastian here will take really good care of you, yes? He won’t ever hurt you. Right Seb-” Yuki stops in his tracks when his gaze meets a pair of brown eyes that definitely do not belong to Sebastian, especially with the way he almost has to bend his neck in half to actually look at the face in front of him and not at the expanse of a broad chest hugged by a plain blue polo.

This is not Sebastian’s chest and not Sebastian’s hair and definitely not Sebastian’s lips and definitely definitely not Sebastian’s white coat. Oh.

“You’re not Sebastian” Yuki says dumbly.

Surely enough, there’s a tall lanky guy standing in front of the now closed door, looking only slightly stunned at Yuki’s sudden outburst, like it’s normal to have someone barging inside a vet clinic at half past nine on a Thursday night in the middle of yet another London’s rainy day.

Oh god, but what if this guy is the one who actually barged in? What if Yuki has just uncovered a burglar? But would a burglar open the door for him?

The guy stares at Yuki in silence for two long seconds before he starts patting his abdomen, pretending to check his whole appearance. “Oh, fuck I’m not Sebastian!” the guy exclaims, looking frantically at his fingers, clenching and unclenching his fists like he’s trying to make out the shape of them.

Yuki snorts, shaking his head. This guy could never be a burglar even if his life depended on it, it seems. Besides, he might be slim enough to pass through anything, but he’s still too tall to go unnoticed.

“No, I’m not Sebastian” tall guy says, chuckling to himself. “I’m Alex. You almost made me have an existential crisis right then and there.”

“Identity theft is not a joke”

Alex raises an amused eyebrow at him, like he’s trying to make out the space where Yuki fits in his vision, and he smiles, wide and bright with big teeth and all. “You’re a cultured man, Yuki.”

Yuki furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “How do you know my name?” He asks, looking at the puppy in his arms to make sure- oh, right. “Oh”

Alex laughs again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He must have a tendency for it or maybe it’s just Yuki who looks funny in general. A lot of people have told him that in the past and he still doesn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing.

“You’re funny” Alex states, like it’s some kind of irrefutable axiom. He clasps his hands, taking a few steps forward to start inspecting the bundle between Yuki’s arms. “I heard there was an emergency.”

Instinctively, Yuki clutches the jacket closer, one finger gently caressing the single dot of white in the middle of the beige fur of his head. The puppy yelps softly, snuggling its little nose towards Yuki’s chest, and his heart swells like a balloon.

“Yeah, I really need Sebastian” Yuki says, “I mean, this little thing is hurt, and it really needs a vet.”

“Well, then, it’s a good coincidence I work here, no?” Alex smiles wide, teeth showing between his lips.

Yuki blinks at him. “Uh, no you don’t?” He says but it sounds more like a question than a statement. But, to be fair, he lives above the place, and he has known everyone around here for ages, he would’ve surely remembered someone as tall as this Alex, with such bright dyed hair and this adorable smile-

“Uh, yes I do?” Alex says back, grinning. “I mean, just since this morning. But officially I work here.”

“I’ve never seen you around. And I live here” Yuki says defensively, trying his very best to show at least a smidge of self-consciousness even though he will probably give up pretty easily if Alex keeps staring at him like this – big eyes, big smile, hair that look incredibly morbid.

He hasn’t seen a new face in a while, more so belonging to a cute guy, and there’s still a beer slowly swimming in his stomach, so he should be justified.

“I moved recently” Alex explains, not giving much information away to satiate Yuki’s curiosity. He arches an eyebrow, finally touching the sides of the jacket hanging from Yuki’s arms. Yuki lets him just because he doesn’t really know what to do anymore, and if the guy is really a vet as he’s claiming to be, then he should trust him more than himself.

It definitely is not because his brain is slowly turning to mush at their proximity.

“Now, let’s see what we have here” Alex says, carefully taking the jacket from his arms.

The puppy goes willingly without even whimpering once, instead snuggling happily as it’s deposited against the chest of a new stranger. Traitor, Yuki thinks, though he would probably react the same in its place.

“Hi little baby. How cute are we? So much” Alex coos gently, caressing with his index finger the same spot Yuki had been gently scraping earlier. The puppy gives another satisfied yelp. “Oh, are we hurt? Poor little thing. But now Alex will take good care of you, alright?”

Yuki just stands there looking at the interaction with his hands to the sides, suddenly feeling too empty after so long of hanging desperately on to the tiny animal. But it’s incredibly adorable and endearing the way Alex keeps comforting it, as if it can actually understand what he’s saying, its tiny tail wiggling against the jacket when he manages to scratch a good spot behind his ears.

The puppy must sense that Alex is a good person, and Yuki may be a little dramatic most of the time, but he probably trusts the puppy more than himself. Especially if it’s about a cute guy talking with a high-pitched voice to an adorable animal in pain.

“Now Alex will take you to the other room and we’ll check everything, yeah?” He looks at Yuki then, eyeing him up and down, probably taking in his conditions.

Only then Yuki realizes what he must look like, with his hair flat over his head, raindrops still sliding down his nose, the simple white T-shirt he had been wearing under the jacket now completely soaked, tight against his chest. His shoes make a weird squelching sound when he takes a step forward, his socks clinging uncomfortably to his toes and his pants scratching against his probably already bruised knees.

Fuck, he wanted to wear them for work, there’s no way he’ll wash them in time.

“Uh, sorry?” He mumbles, painfully aware of the puddle he has formed under his feet. He grips at the hem of his T-shirt, uselessly trying to straighten it out and immediately regretting it when his palms leave sticky red handprints in their wakes. Yeah, no, there’s no way this is recoverable.

Alex doesn’t seem angry about it, and as his gaze falls to the stained fabric, he frowns, concerned.

“It’s the puppy’s” Yuki says, cringing at the feeling of blood against his skin.

Oh God, it’s the puppy’s blood. A puppy’s blood is staining his clothes and his hands and he’s going to puke, isn’t he? Or worse, what if this cute guy thinks he hurt it? What if this cute guy thinks he is an attempted murderer? A murderer of puppies?

Yuki is honestly afraid of his own shadow most of the time, and he still sleeps with his night light on when there’s too many thunders outside, but how can he convince Alex of that without embarrassing himself even further?

To his delight, Alex smiles at him, shaking his head with a twinge of fondness that makes Yuki’s cheeks feel incredibly warm for the way he’s still shivering from the cold. “Come on, then” Alex says, turning around “You can clean up and dry off in front of the radiator.”

Yuki doesn’t have to be told twice.

#f1 #ao3 fanfic #fluff #carlos sainz #lando norris #alex albon #charles leclerc #f1 2023 #yuki tsunoda #yalex #sewis #formula 1 #oscar piastri #charlos #george russell #pierre gasly #gierre #i think? #alexander albon #alpha tauri #williams racing #ao3 #ao3 writer #pls help

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Crocoduel

When you stop and think about it, this episode is really just the world's most intense custody battle.

Let's get into the thirteenth (chronologically the twelfth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Crocoduel

We start off with the band Kitty Section (composed of Luka, his timid sister Juleka, her “best friend” Rose, and Ivan) performing a concert for the super amazing Zoe and all the peons beneath her greatness (Alya, Alix, Nino, and Mylene). Luka notes its been a while since Marinette came to the Liberty. Because I guess even the show wants to forget the events of “Sole Crusher”.

Luka is still upset that Marinette hasn't wanted to be around him since their breakup, so after he walks away, the others scheme to force them to spend time together.

Yep, even though they promised to back off in “Gang of Secrets”, Marinette's friends are once again trying to meddle in Marinette's personal life as well as Luka's this time. Because it's not like they can understand how hard it is for two exes to remain friends after a breakup and give them their space, right? They plan to invite Marinette to Luka and Juleka's birthday party while reminding the audience that they're twins.

YES. THEY HAVE ALWAYS BEEN TWINS. ASTRUC HAS NEVER SAID OTHERWISE OR CONTRADICTED THIS STATEMENT IN THE PAST.

LUKA WAS NEVER TWO YEARS OLDER THAN JULEKA, JUST LIKE THERE WAS NEVER A WAR IN BA SING SE.

In all seriousness, I do feel like I was a little hard on Astruc for this. Compared to other things he's made canon on Twitter, this is fairly minor, and we only knew Luka was the older brother at first through a tweet. And considering the other retcon we'll see in the very next scene, this isn't as big of a deal as I made it initially.

Alya invites Marinette to the party, but she easily deduces that it's a trap. Alya then tries to convince Marinette to talk to Luka.

Uh... since when? When did Marinette lose all romantic feelings for Luka? The whole point of the breakup in “Truth” was to show that she couldn't pursue a romantic relationship with Luka because of her duties as Ladybug. She never showed any signs of not loving him, which made the breakup all the more tragic. Yeah, “Mr. Pigeon 72” was an excuse for her to go back to loving Adrien because the writers don't know how to write anything else, but it didn't mean she stopped loving Luka. You know, it's almost like the writers want to make sure the audience knows Lukanette will never happen and the sacred Love Square is the only way Marinette will ever feel love for someone else.

Alya still forces Marinette to go, making her ask Juleka if Luka won't be there. Some people have gone down on Marinette for this, but she does later acknowledge how wrong this was to ask, and apologizes to Juleka for trying to force her to do something she didn't want to do. If only Marinette's friends learned the same lesson.

Juleka goes to tell Luka about the party, but hesitates to tell Luka he can't go there. While he knows Juleka is hiding something, Luka is distracted by the sudden arrival of his father who he loves despite abandoning him for his entire life, Jagged Stone. However, Luka and Juleka's mother, the anarchy-loving Anarka isn't happy that much like his sperm when the condom broke, Jagged came in without her permission.

At the day of the party, Marinette panics as soon as she sees Luka, who in turn realizes she didn't want to see him. Rather than comfort Juleka who just ran away crying, the others comfort Luka, preventing him from being akumatized by Shadowmoth, though he still keeps his Akuma around just to be safe. Marinette apologizes to Juleka before Shadowmoth can akumatize her too (even though she got a Magical Charm in “Guiltrip” so it wouldn't work either way). Then Shadowmoth tries to akumatize one of the guests as they find out Jagged (who just arrived) is Luka's father, but since they're dumb teenagers who don't know Jagged was winning awards and being celebrated as a rock icon while Anarka was working two jobs and struggling to make enough money for rent, they think it's awesome. Very confusing day for Shadowmoth, isn't it?

Marinette also finds out Jagged is Juleka's father and finds out Juleka worries Jagged loves Luka more since they share more interests, which she thinks is true when Jagged gives Luka a guitar case and instructs her to not tell his sister. Marinette tries to call out Jagged for neglecting Juleka over Luka even though Jagged was more of a father to his pet crocodile than either of his biological children, but it's obviously a gift for Juleka, the first bass guitar Jagged ever owned, which calms her down. Funny how nobody acknowledges how Jagged practically abandoned his family, isn't it? Sure, it looks like he's trying to make up for it, but he just acts like he's always been Luka and Juleka's dad and they don't have any problems with their father literally never being in their lives until now.

Jagged's gift to Luka is a record of the first record he made in his band with Anarka before they broke up, Crododuel, but Anarka is naturally pissed he wants to give that to Luka. Jagged and Anarka argue over which one was the Yoko Ono in their relationship while they both grab the record, which Shadowmoth uses to akumatize the two as it breaks, turning them back into Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock respectively, Shadowmoth labeling them as Crocoduel.

Unlike the other team Akumas like the Punishers or the Gang of Secrets, Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock care more about fighting each other than working together, and they see getting Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous as a competition to help prove who was right in their argument. It's a pretty interesting gimmick, though I don't get how Shadowmoth thinks this will help him and not ignore Ladybug and Cat Noir while they fight.

Alya provides a distraction to help Marinette transform, and after we get Adrien's single scene to remind the audience he's still a main character, he transforms into Cat Noir. The two heroes give chase, but then Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock decide to take their fight to above the clouds.

Yeah, it's not like you have a form that specifically allows you two to fly, right?

All they had to say was that Marinette was still making more potions for that form, and it would have been better than ignoring the fact that they can fly.

Much like the hotel room during the night Luka and Juleka were conceived, the crossfire from Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock's fight starts to damage the area around them. Ladybug and Cat Noir get Luka and Juleka to safety, and Luka tells them about what's happening, while Ladybug spouts the lesson about people needing to talk even though they don't love each other anymore, reflecting the situation the writers retconned her into learning.

Ladybug summons her Lucky Charm, a roll of scotch tape, and comes up with an idea that involves Juleka. She takes her away into an alleyway and gives her the Tiger Miraculous. The tiger Kwami, Roarr, demands Juleka show some courage, so Juleka yells in her face. Unfortunately, as much as I want to show this scene, the subs I got don't really match up, so I can't really give some screenshots of it. So I guess you can watch this scene from Full Metal Jacket instead to get the gist of things.

So Juleka takes the Tiger Miraculous and transforms into Purple Tigress.

I think the suit has a pretty good design. I like the striped pattern with the gold highlights around the black stripes, and think the color scheme is visually pleasing, especially the hair. I wouldn't call it one of my favorite hero suits, but I still like the way it looks.

Cat Noir launches Ladybug and Purple Tigress into the air where they split up to steal both halves of the record, but when they break them, no Akuma comes out. It turns out that since the record was broken while Jagged and Anarka were akumatized, they need to put it together again before breaking it in order to free the Akuma.

Purple Tigresse goes to distract Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock with her power, Collision, which she uses to KNOCK CAPTAIN HARDROCK'S SHIP ABOVE THE CLOUDS, TAKING GUITAR VILLAIN WITH HER.

Why the hell did it take four seasons to break this Miraculous out if it gives the user the ability to go Super Saiyan on the enemy? I think Cat Noir's expression after seeing the power in action says it all.

Cat Noir Cataclysms the record (because a record is just so hard to break without using the power of destruction, isn't it?), Ladybug de-evilizes the Akuma, uses Miraculous Ladybug to fix everything, Jagged and Anarka somehow weren't killed by their own daughter, the three heroes pound it, and Ladybug gives two Magical Charms to Jagged and Anarka.

Back at the Liberty, Juleka tells the two to forget what caused them to break up and just apologize while they ignore the past, proving the writers really don't get how hard it is to move on from tough events in life. And despite building it up for the entire episode, Marinette and Luka talk in the final thirty seconds of the episode and just agree to be friends, meaning once again, Luka was sidelined in what should have been a focus episode for him.

Aside from the way Jagged and Anarka's relationship was portrayed coupled with the retcons surrounding Luka, this episode was alright in my opinion. Guitar Villain and Captain Hardrock are some of my favorite Akumas, so I thought it was nice to see them again, even if we didn't get to see their powers at full potential. I also thought this was a really good episode for Juleka, as I felt like the hero debut really helped her grow as a person and didn't just feel like she was given a Miraculous because the plot said so. She wanted to help her parents, and using the Tiger gave her the courage to symbolically speak out while potentially launching them into the stratosphere.

But the biggest problem to me has to be the way Jagged is portrayed in the episode. Just like with “Truth”, the idea of Jagged being a terrible parent is just swept under the rug and everyone just accepts the fact that Jagged is Luka and Juleka's dad very well. Despite the idea leading to some interesting drama in a show that's no stranger to family drama, they don't really do much with the whole “Jagged abandoning Anarka” thing. Aside from a brief interaction between Luka and Jagged while the former was akumatized into Truth, nobody is really angry at Jagged. Nobody really feels angry at Jagged for what he did, despite the drama being the main focus behind the episode that also had the Lukanette breakup. You would think this would at least lead to some tension between his family, but nothing really comes from it other than an argument that was pretty much played for laughs. But considering this show has a history of teaching kids to love their parents no matter how cruel they are to them, I'm not entirely surprised.

Overall, it's just a decent, albeit forgettable episode. If the writing with Jagged was different, it could have been a lot better in my opinion.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #thomas astruc #thomas astruc salt #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #juleka couffaine #purple tigress #tigresse pourpre #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #hawk moth #shadowmoth #shadow moth #alya cesaire #rena rouge #rena furtive #nino lahiffe #carapace #mylene haprele #polymouse #alix kubdel #bunnix #bunnyx #zoe lee

[thatslikely]

Seasons- G.W. Headcannons

dating George Weasley through the seasons

Warnings: mentions of food, but it's all fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: just thought it would be fun! Let me know if you want this for any other characters!

George Taglist: @hufflepuff5972

if you want to be added to the taglist, reply to this post, send me an ask, or dm me!

I recommend listening to this playlist while reading for the best experience!

----

Winter

On the first snowfall of the season, you two definitely built an adorable little snowman, complete with coal eyes (you probably stole Ron's scarf for his neck). You told George about the muggle story Frosty the Snowman, and he tried to find a spell to recreate Frosty.

The next day, you two gradually started amassing a large snowman army. Inevitably, in the middle of construction, George betrayed you with an icy snowball to your back.

Naturally, this incited a five day-long snowball war that increasingly got more and more intense. George was surprisingly good at building sturdy snow forts, so you never really stood a chance against his defences. He could have probably constructed a 7 foot tall barricade in a matter of minutes!

Even if you two are locked in battle, he'll always take time to admire the way the white snowflakes rest in your hair so beautifully, as well as the fiery determination behind your eyes.

Fiesty battles aside, George always made sure that you were warm and cozy after a long day in the cold, making homemade hot cocoa using Molly's famous recipe.

One day, long after the ‘Snow Skirmish’, you convince him to go ice skating with you; he absolutely fell in love with it. For a while, he had to hold onto your arms for balance, which led to a lot of falls considering he's a giant compared to you.

Eventually he got the hang of it and you taught him how to play muggle hockey, which he picked up quite quickly. He eventually got all the Weasleys hooked, and they held weekly tournaments. You were always George's favorite cheerleader.

If he ever became a little too cocky, he'd fall face-first onto the hard ice, which always brought a small smile to your face. He always laughed with you, too.

On snowless days, however, you two went on 'expeditions', which entailed peaceful walks through the woods, hand-knitted gloves intertwined.

You'd always keep your eyes peeled for birds or foxes, and occasionally he swore he saw a yeti. You were surprised he never got Fred to dress up in a yeti suit, at least not yet.

Spring

One word: picnics.

You spent the majority of springtime down at the Burrow, enjoying the pleasant spring weather. There were huge multicolored flower fields surrounding George's childhood home, making it even more fitting for the season.

Some days, he'd take you down to the creek past the Burrow, and the two of you would stand ankle-deep in the cool, flowing water. Sometimes, if he was feeling a bit mischievious, he’d splash you with some of the refreshing water, you quickly returning the favor.

Occasionally, he'd try to catch a little leaping frog, holding it carefully in his big palms. He was enchanted by the tiny creature, and without fail, he always begged you to let him keep it.

"But Terrance needs a home! We can make him a terrarium and everything! Please?"

Some days, he'd take you up to the Tree, which laid on a soft, grassy hill in the middle of a luscious yellow flower field. A single tire swing hung from its burly and ancient branches.

Often times, he'd sit at the base of the trunk, either dozing off or humming a song from his youth. If you chose to sit with him, however, he'd braid your hair perfectly and pick some colorful flowers to accent it.

"My little Angel, you look so pretty with flowers in your hair."

You'd always pick some petals for his ginger mop, too.

"Now we're matching, Georgie. Daffodils compliment your hair beautifully."

He loved to push you in the tire swing. He was far too big to fit in it now, to your dismay, but he was perfectly satisfied pushing you back and forth in it. It almost reminded him of rocking a baby cradle.

On rainy days, he'd fetch old rain boots from the attic. He'd always wear Bill's old pair, you wearing his'. The area around the small creek was all muddy, and you can't tell me he wouldn't make mud pies. Even if he's way too old for them.

"Darling, would you care for a pie?"

"And what does it taste like, exactly?"

"It's my signature flavor, mud!"

Summer

I firmly believe George is a good cook. He just is (see my chef!George fic for elabroation).

One sweltering day, you and him went out to the gardens and pick ripe, ruby-red strawberries to chop up and make into homemade strawberry ice cream.

His ice cream would surpass Fortescue's by a lot. Like it's scary. From then on, he made it every Saturday morning, even on chilly winter days.

Sometimes he'd turn adventurous and try some new flavors, which were normally pretty good, until he got a little too creative and made caramel watermelon ice cream. From then on, he stuck with the classics.

In the evenings, a small bonfire was lit and all the Weasleys spent the night drinking and dancing. Bill held a guitar concert, George and Arthur grilled up some hot dogs (which were juicy and delcious), Fred set off some fireworks, and Ginny held fiercely competitive broom races.

When everyone went inside, exhausted, you and George stayed outside, listening to the crickets chirping and admiring the clear, country sky. He pointed out his favorite constellations to you, reenacting the myths behind them with you as his co-actor (you can't tell me we wouldn't let you fake-stab him and he'd fall to the grass super dramatically).

Beach days: a must have.

George would definitely wear red/maroon swim trunks, and there would always be a white stripe of sunscreen on his freckled nose, even after he furiously rubbed it in.

He'd always love the bathing suit you sported, whether it was a gingham bikini or a gorgeous silver one piece. He loved you so much, you never felt self conscious around him.

He'd take you to a secret, tucked-away beach, and you two would spend the day building elaborate sand castles, burying you deep in the sand, and searching for pretty sea shells and sand dollars.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mister? You can’t just leave me buried under the san like this!”

“Someone’ll find you eventually. I just want all the icecream for myself, what can I say? Oh fine, I’ll dig you up, darling.”

Autumn

Autumn at the Burrow was like nothing else. There was always a seemingly endless supply of pumpkin juice and apple juice on tap, and traditions were ampted up to the max.

Pumpkin carving was taken very seriously, and you and George were no exceptions. You and him were never artsy per se, but you always tried your hardest together to crave an intricately designed pumpkin. It always turned out pretty decent, to your surprise.

George and Fred would constantly wear scary masks and hide around he Burrow, or plant fake spiders in the cupboards in hopes of scaring Ron. It always worked.

Since the weather was so nice and chilly, he'd always go around the woods with you collecting a pile of some good sticks for a tree fort. He always carried the branches, and you collected the prettiest orange leaves you could find, for a collage or scrapbook.

All fall, he worked on building a small, secluded tree fort, which was definitely worth it in the end. You two stayed up late into the night, telling ghost stories, kissing, or inviting the whole Weasley clan for a good old fashioned game of Truth or Dare.

As for Halloween, you guys already know he goes overboard. He decorated every inch of every wall with black and orange streamers, fake cobwebs, and little baby pumpkins. It was always really sweet; he'd always wear a proud grin after the whole house was adorned to his liking.

For costumes, I'm 99% sure that you two would always do pun-y couple costumes think him dressing up as a cereal box and you as a killer, or him as a ghost and you a pepper).

You two would also 100% go to a costume store, and buy as much cheap hair gel as you could, all so you two could make each spiky Mohawks (you'd never admit it to George, but he pulled them off).

One time, he let you take him to a muggle farm for the day. You decided it would be fun to do a corn maze. The both of you got lost for three hours. From then on, he just stuck with hay rides.

Spending time with George was always fun, year-round.

#george weasley #george weasley headcanon #george weasley headcanons #geroge weasley #george weasley x y/n #fred and george #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george fic recs #fred and george weasley #george weasley x you #george weasley x any house #george weasley blurb #george weasley drabble #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #fred and goerge weasley #george weasley hc #george weasley imagine #george weasley one shot #george weasley reader insert #weasley wizard wheezes #the weasley twins #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harrypotter #harry potter fic #hp

[testingcheats0n]

Detroit Become Human AU where:

-> Tommy is an up-and-coming livestreamer of the retro game Minecraft- forming part of a fledgling community of all-human players of the game. His growth is slow but steady and he has a future in a genre that had fallen out of fashion with the rise of the newest and more immersive VR games on the market. People love to see an actual human that could make mistakes and win against another fellow human fairly. The nostalgia it brought to some people is also undeniably at play.

It's worth noting that Tommy is a very lonely kid, with a non-existent social life since he and his family had to move to America after his father struck a lucrative business deal with his brilliant protege.

-> Wilbur, Tommy's older brother and only guardian after their father, Phil, dedicated his life to the creation of androids with his young but brilliant pupil Elijah Kamski, is a simple busker. It's hard to find a job at 24 with no previous experience or further education, he had to take care of Tommy, after all. True, their economic troubles never ended, and he could barely provide for Tommy, but at least they had each other, even if Wilbur was off to the streets of Detroit more often than not. He has no idea of his younger brother's blooming career in the gaming industry and is very worried about his future. The solution? A very suspicious android his best friend Schlatt offers for very cheap.

-> Phil Watson is a household name together with Elijah Kamski's, they created one of humanity's greatest tools, after all. Nothing suspicious here, they're definitely not hiding any potential deviancies from the code! In any case, his family never saw a dime of the frankly insane amount of money piling up in his bank account. He has an old phone he carries in his pocket every day with Wilbur's phone number, but he never dares to call it despite RN800, his assistant's, insistence that he was only making his own life harder. He is going to dial that phone number someday. Surely.

-> TU880 is an android from an old companion/educational line, discontinued after a few notable bugs and glitches in their core programming. Nothing serious, or life-threatening, but many customers have complained about disturbing behavior that falls straight into the uncanny valley- he's too human. Schlatt, his previous owner, refuses to disclose where he got TU880 from, nor does he have any legal documentation to prove he is his owner. Wilbur, desperate to find a solution for Tommy's perceived loneliness pays the fifty bucks his old pal asks for the android without asking any questions. It's weird for an adult to go around with a teen model created to counsel adolescents and help them with their homework. TU880 had problems with reading his grocery list, anyway.

-> Tommy is a bit weirded out, he thrives in an internet community which openly despises anything android, but his good friend Technoblade has plenty of useful advice, from maitenance to behavior. TU880 is odd, which he discards as kinks and bugs of the older models, but they get along nicely once TU880's programming kicks in. He likes to help Tommy edit his videos and speak about the problems of adolescence, he is oddly fond of bees or anything small and defenceless and likes to tell his 'dreams' of scientists in labcoats and other kids like him stuck in experiments. Tommy listens with half an ear, TU880 is his friend, after all. He thinks nothing of it.

-> It all becomes a bit too much when TU880 accidentally appears on camera during one of Tommy's streams. People assume he's Tommy's brother, and insist on getting an introduction. TU880 is ecstatic, but from what Tommy's told him, revealing his artificial status might harm his friend's career so he greets the chat as Toby, Tommy's older brother. The community goes wild and Tommy has to pretend that TU880 is his brother (which isn't that terrible per-se) and not the house assistant who has a complete psychological profile of him.

-> TU880 begins to feel strange, both regarding Tommy and his own place in the household. Calling Tommy hus brother is easy as calculus and makes his thirium pump skip a few beats, but he's not sure if he should be getting this attached. He's sure he is malfunctioning in some way, but Schlatt always assured him that he is fine. He thinks nothing of it and instead continues to watch over Tommy.

-> Minecraft is fun, and he eventually gets his own account on Wilbur's old (read: ancient) laptop despite possessing an internal processor powerful enough to play the game at its maximum capacity in his mind, and probably in a 3D holoprojector. At this point, he's in too deep and the friends he's making would certainly ask questions if he were to disappear. He has the opportunity to talk about anything at all to his growing audience, and the community is very welcoming in general once one integrates into their culture. He still doesn't feel it's fair to participate in the tournaments and all the other official competitions. People find it odd, but they assume he's not very good at PVP so no one tends to comment on it for now. It's okay though, he and his new friend Ranboo act as commentators during the events and everyone thinks they're pretty funny.

-> Ranboo is fun to be around. He just gets TU880- or as the internet knows him as, Tubbo. They click easily, sometimes the other boy seems just as confused about other people's reactions and behavior as Tubbo is (despite his in-depth knowledge of psychology. He's not quite connected to Cyberlife's database anymore and his learning algorithm is outdated at best.) and they like to spend their afternoons with Tommy, watching movies. The game overtakes their lives and they spend a lot of time playing privately with the best strategies Tubbo's advanced algorithms and Ranboo's sheer brilliancy can create. That's how they meet their friend Fundy, who is more than happy to keep their Technical Minecraft server a secret, as long as he gets to do his own thing with coding and they test it.

-> Tommy is just happy that he can use the cool farms for his own grinding.

-> Technoblade is Tommy's mysterious internet friend and fellow growing streamer. Everyone is sure that he's an android infiltrating the budding community, but after several years of isolated incidents, investigations, and online scandals no one was able to prove anything. Technoblade just never dies. (Tommy is 50% sure his friend is really an android, the older man simply refuses to comment). It is possible to spend months farming digital potatoes, people are just mean and want drama. Technoblade is just vibing. Incidentally, he's also the first one to figure out that Ranboo and Tubbo are androids. He is also the first one to figure out they're deviants. He doesn't mention it until much later though.

-> Jack and Niki Manifold have successfully founded their own mechanic business for android repairs. Cyberlife mumbled and grumbled at the siblings' repair shop, but in the end it was good for PR so they let them be. Tommy and Wilbur become their friends as TU880's frequent malfunctions inevitably bring the pair to the cheapest android repair service in the city. TU880 can't complain, Niki is sweet to him and understands what is wrong with him just by his description, since his diagnostics aren't working entirely and each an every single one of Jack's repairs last loner than every other mechanic he's been to.

-> Gradually, Tommy's fame becomes apparent, and Wilbur has the time to actually rest and spend time with his brother. He's just happy that they can be together. A weight is lifted off his shoulders and for the first time ever he feels like his little family has a future. Not even once does it pass through his mind that TU880 isn't acting like a typical android- he avoided the things on principle. Once, TU880 calls him his brother and he cries.

-> Sam is Cyberlife's very own private investigator. He is in charge of researching and turning in possible deviants that might help the company with developing a solution for the rising problem. In particular, he's been after the trail of a specific line of androids, the first one released by Kamski and Watson dubbed as TU. According to his investigations the line might have contained the code responsible for deviancy. Further research indicated that Kamski's code was based on a group project from the Dutch university for cibernetics.

-> Fundy is just a 21 y/o with a Twitch account and a passing interest in coding. Nothing serious, nothing suspicious. He absolutely wasn't part of the early AI coding trials that Kamski would later on use as the basis for his own code. If someone asks, he has no idea what ra9 means. He is almost sure that his friends are androids, the thought makes him very happy.

-> Puffy is Phil's new psychologist. Need I say more? Eventual Hurt/comfort baby!!!

#dream smp #detroid become human #crossover/au #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #wilbur soot #dream smp au

[hologramcowboy]

Ok, just came here to vent.

I know we all love Jensen a little bit at least, regardless what he has done in the past.

But yesterday takes the cake *literally*.

Now we have clear examples of performative activism in play....when they want to.

I am so disappointed that all of this attention he (Jensen) had yesterday with all the boosting from almost every SM and didn't even consider doing AT MOST 1 post for support of Ukraine, or a story, anything. I know he's having fun and all, it's ok to enjoy the B-day as much as you can given the circumstances, BUT, your influence helps a ton to give a bigger beacon of light to those that need support who are struggling with this invasion right now , that have lost families, homes, ENTIRE CITIES, and may potentially trigger an even bigger war.

Use your influence man...

And don't get me started on Danneel. Ho ho boy. I'm so disappointed. Not only she hasn't posted about Ukraine in A WHOLE WEEK, but hasn't posted ANYTHING about the current Texas political situation either, given that she STILL lives there with Jensen & her kids. Keep in mind also that she usually used to post on her birthday about charities and to donate, but I'm shocked she hasn't posted anything about what's happening right now. Not even in her stories!

Especially now, being the wife of the most anticipated actors to appear in The Boys this year!

Meanwhile, Bri atleast posted about it in HER stories.

Danneel, GIRL, YOU HAVE MORE BOOST THAT EVER BEFORE, USE IT DAMMIT!

With Gen, I also got really disappointed too, because she literally posted about a book recommendation after talking about Ukraine instead of doing it in 2 different posts. That was distasteful man...

Meanwhile, Jared. JARED of all people. The one who is everyone's punching bag right now, POSTED ABOUT SUPPORT FOR UKRAINE CHARITY **even if its Stands which I have a dislike for, but 100% of the proceeds go to the support efforts with its really good**

So yea, it's ...been a week. I'm sorry that this may seem entitled but so much to post about other situations that need aid but in the end, nothing on these situations, and if some do, they do it waaay too tone deaf.

You can post this with anti tags or fucking whatever, I don't care! We are in a world situation that some people are taking kinda lightly and this time IT ISN'T TO BE TAKEN LIGHTLY. Again sorry, I needed to vent.

Much Love to all the Europeans & Ukrainians out there <3

Danneel doesn't have the platform you think she has, Anon. Plus she only uses her "influence" (Jensen's) when it serves her directly. She's proved this time and time again so I'm not surprised she hasn't yet posted, I think she's realized people see through her sad act and this is definitely not the moment to famewhore which is all she knows how to do. As for celebs not posting, I think some people have a very hard time facing harsh realities and this means there may be a delay in reaction or an avoidance all together. Jensen for example never posted about his manager committing suicide recently. People need to remember posting on social media is not about getting praise like what Danneel does, it's about putting the spotlight on the issues and creating links so that people can easily reach required platforms to donate or get involved whichever way they can. That's what matters the most. I feel like Danneel and her stans seem to think doing good is a competition for attention and praise. It's scary that people can view things that way because it means they are completely disconnected from empathy and are merely going through the motions. Fully agree with you on the fact that Jensen could have opted to act like a leader of his fans and he could have pointed them in some good directions to help others but alas, he preferred to post about a tacky festival and make it all about himself. There's nothing wrong with that per se, it's just that the timing is completely insensitive and he lost an important opportunity to bring impact. This is exactly why he needs a coach, he's clueless.

#jensen critical #anti danneel

[angelamelamela]

"So(u)da"

Kazuichi Souda

warnings: sexual tones,teasing, reader is ticklish, unedited, and Byakuya

pairings: Kazuichi Souda x GN!Reader

“Ah!~”

“How does this feel? Oh! This spot is sensitive too huh!”

“Not there!”

You and Kazuichi have been play-fighting for the past 20 minutes now, and the pink haired boy has completely taken control over this competition the moment he oh so accidentally brushed his fingers to your side and you unintentionally let a laugh slip out.

This all started when you kept teasing the poor boy for the entire day. Letting your occasional touches on him linger for too long, placing your hand dangerously high up his thigh during lunch, the surprise kisses on his cheek, and those goddamn thigh highs! There was no way you didn’t know what you were doing.

And so, the moment the both of you stepped foot into his dorm, he immediately pinned you down on the bed as an attempt to assert his dominance. But we both know this boy is a bottom deep down inside.

You somehow ended back up on top, taking the control back in your hands. But not until he accidentally figured out that you were ticklish. Which brings us to the current situation.

“Ahahahahah! I ca- I can’t anymore! Ah!”

Kazuichi ceased tickling you, finally deciding to grant you some rest after all the torture he just put you through.

He slowly layed on top of you, relaxing as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You smile and begin to stroke his head. His face becomes almost as pink as his hair when he felt your fingers gently brush through his locks. Even though the both of you have been dating as far back as middle school, Kazuichi sometimes still gets flustered at the tiniest affection.

You both relax in each others arms, relishing in this rare occurrence ever since you were both scouted as ultimates for Hope’s Peak. Being students at the said school wasn’t that stressful per se, since the teachers don’t really care what the students do in their free time as long as they keep improving and maintaining their talent. But the both of you don’t have a single class together(Much to Kazuichi’s disappointment).

Kazuichi began placing small affectionate kisses all over your neck in a small burst of confidence, wrapping his arms around your waist. This time it was your turn to blush.

You slightly pull on his hair when you felt his sharp teeth graze upon a particularly sensitive part on your neck. And it didn’t go unnoticed.

He froze for a moment, before gently sinking his teeth on the same spot once again, almost as if experimenting.

You accidentally release a small whimper, intensifying your blush ten-fold.

The mechanic began nipping and sucking on the same spot, enjoying all the small noises you were making.

You didn’t know if it was just you or if the room was getting a tad bit hotter. You pull on his hair a bit harder, which encouraged Kazuichi to intensify his ministrations on your neck.

This was out of character for him, you thought. He was always too flustered to take any sort of initiative. Which is why you almost always ended up on top.

But hey, you were definitely not complaining.

Kazuichi’s hands began to wander lower down your body until they reached your thighs, placing his hands underneath them and pushing you higher up the bed. Your legs almost automatically wrapped themselves around his waist.

You pretend to coo, teasing him.

“Awh, my little bottom boy is growing up~”

He hisses in embarrassment, hovering his fingers on top of your sides as if threatening that he’ll start tickling you again if you don’t shut up.

Just as his lips inch down from its place on your collarbone down to the start of the curve of your exposed cleavage, his phone interrupted the both of you with a very loud ring, jolting you out of the small trance-like state you were submerged in.

You scowled when Kazuichi pulled away from you to read the countless messages on his phone. Giving him the ‘don’t-you-fuckin-dip-in-the-middle-of-sexy-time’ glare. He smiled in apology.

“I’m sorry babe, Nagito somehow broke the vending machine and made all of the soda cans inside the thing explode. And now fanta is flooding the entire first floor of Hope’s Peak, some of it got on Byakuya’s pants and now he’s practically rapping all kinds of threats(https://youtu.be/HlQqfct8SzI) towards everyone and even got guards to prevent all of them from going home until the vending machine gets fixed and he gets new Gucci pants…” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

You cross your arms, “Byakuya can wait!”

“That’s just cruel to the others babe-”

“Ugh fine…”

“I’ll come back and we’ll finish this later, okay?” he dips down to place a kiss on your forehead, making his way to the door to put his shoes on. A small smile rose to his face when he saw you crossing your arms with an adorable pout, scrolling through your phone.

Once he opens his door to leave, he turns towards you.

“Hey,”

You look at him from behind your phone, still with a small frown on your face.

“I love you.”

Your movements halt as you were caught off guard, it’s not like you both have not said the phrase to each other before, you just didn’t say it that often since you both mostly show your affection through your actions.

You blush heavy, biting your lip to keep a smile from arising to your face as you look away. “Y-yeah yeah…”

The mechanic clicked his tongue in faux annoyance, slightly pouting.

“Heeeeeey. Say it back, dummy”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Fine, fine”

You swing your feet off the bed to completely turn your body towards him. “I love you too. Soda man.”

#Kazuichi Souda x Reader #danganronpa x reader #dr x reader #reader insert #Kokichi's poor fanta #not a request

[mae-gi-writes]

Last Minute Love | Eric (The Boyz)

Requested by anon! It’s only on the eve of Eric’s departure that you realize you have feelings for him.

genre: friends to lovers au, fluff

-----

It was somewhat of a miracle that you'd managed to catch Eric just before his flight to Los Angeles. With his busy schedule going back and forth between places, he had accustomed himself to life on the road, to a home that moved each and every single time depending on which country he was touring.

And seeing him happy had never made you happier.

When he'd called you up a few weeks ago to announce - in his flurry of excitement - that he was finally visiting home, you couldn't help the squeal that fell out of your mouth, excitement bubbling up from your throat as your mind races to the countless amount of time you'e have to spend with him. A few special days that you'd hold on to in his absence.

The weeks had flown. It was impossible to discern where the time had gone, but every day since Eric's arrival had been complete bliss. Small trips to the bubble tea shop by the corner, chatting too loudly in the movie theatre, pillow fights amidst video game competitions... you had appreciated them all and yet, it didn't feel enough. It never felt enough where Eric was concerned.

Needless to say, the eve of his departure had done nothing to mend the slow tear of stitches holding your heart together. As you sat together with your group of friends on the beach where you had built a small campfire, your shoulders gently brushing Eric's every time he moved, you were greatly aware of the incessant tingling up and down your arms and his scent -- a mixture of freshly washed sheets tinged with a sweeter indescribable smell -- that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. It was one that you'd miss dearly once he was gone and almost out of instinct, you couldn't help yourself from snuggling a little closer.

He probably felt your inner turmoil, for he laid a hand behind your back, leaning into you so that his chest pressed against your shoulder blade. You pinked, hoping that the darkness wouldn't give way to the rush of heat spreading across your cheeks, before you felt the softest caress down your backside.

In truth, Eric had been a little flirtier than usual this time. His teasing had been a little more playful, his grin a little more charming, the look in his eyes filled with a tenderness that wasn't there before. Though you were confused at his intentions, you had allowed yourself to ease into the banter, flirting back and forth until it was clear that there was something between you two.

"Do you know when's your next break?" One of your friends asked as he tipped back his beer.

Eric shook his head, "can't say. I'll be completely swamped with promotions and prepping our comeback when I return."

"Don't forget us once you make a name for yourself," another friend joked.

"I might if you keep pestering me to hook you up with celebrities," Eric shoots back with a grin.

"Seriously Ryan, you gotta play within your own league..."

You couldn't, for the life of you, focus as the conversation moved away to another topic, suddenly overwhelmed by a clog of emotion in your throat. Not knowing when you'll see Eric next was a thought that made something in your heart squeeze in pain.

"Y/N?" Eric's soft alto brought you out of your bubble, fluttering your eyes up to meet his, "you okay?"

"Fine," you muttered and looked down so that you could blink away the tears rapidly accumulating at the corner of your eyes.

His hand, warm and big and soothing, rubbed at your back comfortingly.

Clamping your teeth down onto your lower lip, you only nestled a little closer to him in response. He shifted then, turning his head until his lips brushed against your temple as goosebumps ran along your arms at his touch. It wasn't a kiss per se, just a tentative brush or skin against skin. You shivered though, not used to Eric being so affectionate.

Maybe it was something to do with the night itself, you somehow felt a little more comfortable to show him that you were going to miss him deeply.

"I'm going to miss you," your words were softer than a whisper itself. You were surprised that they reached Eric's ears, who curled his arm around your waist to hug you close.

"I'm never too far," he mumbled against your temple, before leaning away slightly to catch your gaze, "you know that, right?"

"It's not the same."

"I know," and then he tugged you closer still, not caring about the curious eyes following his every move, the diminishing distance between your bodies that would probably entice a few rounds of mischievous comments the day after.

The walk back to your house had been different. It had felt different, even when you were usually so comfortable in his presence. His hand would keep brushing against yours as you chatted quietly into the night, until his fingers finally laced themselves with yours before squeezing softly, a tender reminder that he was still here, right now at this very moment.

Your head tilted up towards his, a silent question swimming in your dark pupils that he answered with a question of his own as he held your gaze with an intensity that rendered you weak at the knees.

"What time's your flight tomorrow?" You asked once you had reached your front door.

Eric's eyes were darker than night, the moon dancing across the planes of his face as he murmured, "seven in the evening."

"I'll be there."

"You better," he chuckled while playing with your fingers. Silence enveloped you soon after, broken only by the hum of cicadas and the gentle howl of a cooling breeze.

"So, I guess that's my cue to go to bed," you tried joking, except that your chuckles came out empty, almost like someone had just gutted you in the stomach.

"Y/N, I--" Eric's hand suddenly latched onto your wrist, pulling you into him and gazing at you with soft orbs, "I'm glad we got to hang out a lot."

"Me too," a smile graces your face, "me too, Eric."

"I wish I could've stayed longer."

"Then stay," you stepped closer to him.

Eric laughed, breaths intermingling as he dipped his head to gaze at you, "I wish."

Though you weren't sure who moved first, no sooner were you thinking of ways to make this last longer that his arms had already woven around your middle, caging you in a hug that you didn't hesitate to reciprocate for fear that he might just disappear at any given moment. His nose brushed along your cheek and as you tilted your head upwards, your breath stilled at the closeness between your bodies, time stopping on its axis as you spared a glance at his lips before quickly flitting your eyes back up to his face.

You wondered briefly what it would feel like, to kiss him.

But as far as friendship went, your cowardliness had made you retract from his hold with a promise that you'd see him off tomorrow at the edge of your mouth. Regret sat in the pit of your stomach as scenarios vividly haunted your mind that night, but you did your best to bat them away as you knew that it wouldn't bring you anything to dwell on what hadn’t happened.

"Got everything?" You asked once you'd arrived at the security gates, eyes scanning his belongings one last time so as to ignore the quench of tension in your abdomen.

"Think so," Eric threw you a small smile and your insides tingled. A knot formed in your stomach. 

Your other friends were already taking turns bidding him a goodbye, hugs and laughter being shared as they made Eric promise to come back as soon as he possibly could. And then it was your turn, the moment that you'd claimed to be mentally prepared for no matter what happened. 

As Eric turned to you, your friends backed away to give you some privacy after sending you mischievous smirks, and it reassured you that they understood the inner turmoil bubbling in your stomach even when you were bound to get an earful from them as soon as you'd leave the airport.

"Well, I guess this is it," Eric's words were enough to bring tears to the corner of your eyes. You looked away, fisting your hands on your shirt to grasp for some kind of emotional restraint. 

He probably saw it, for his face softened. He reached for your arm, "come here."

And you did. You allowed yourself to get a whiff of him and allowed yourself to feel his warmth, his heartbeat against yours one last time while tears gently fell down your cheeks and stained his shirt wet.

"Keep in touch, okay?" Your words came out choked, lips trembling when you tilted your face up to look at him while trying to trace his features into memory.

He nodded and leaned down to press the softest of kisses on your cheek. Your heart stuttered, your body reacting on its own as you returned the kiss to his cheek but only reaching his jaw.

Eric's inhale was poignant. A few beats of silence passed as your gazes locked. His hand unconsciously reached up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing over your lower lip.

Swallowing hard, you were about to break away before it got too intimate when he dipped his head so that his mouth was a hair's distance away from yours.

Time stopped. Warm chocolate met dark maroon. You bit onto your lower lip, heard Eric swallow.

Oh fuck it, your mind screamed. 

Your body closed the distance between your lips to kiss him fully on the mouth.

It was short, a mere peck, and when you pulled away Eric didn't waste time to press a hand to your back to tug you in once more. His mouth pressed another kiss and almost instantly you turned as pliant as a leaf in his arms, lips moving against his as though it was the most natural thing to do with someone you had never even considered more than a friend.

Only when you parted did he allow himself to murmur out a soft, "wow."

A soft trickle of laughter erupted from your chest despite the serious situation, "what?"

He answered by cupping your cheeks, pulling you in for another kiss that caused butterflies to flutter through your stomach and tickle your heart with ecstasy.

"Wait for me?" He whispered against your mouth. His thumb traced patterns along your cheek. Yours bunched onto his shirt, desperate for this moment to last forever.

You dipped your head into a nod, "I will," you bit your lip, "if you'll come back to me."

"I'll always come back for you," Eric murmured before giving you one last final hug as another kiss imprinted on your forehead, a final goodbye with the promise that you would see more of him in the coming future.

You knew he'd come back. And one day, it would be for good.

#eric sohn #eric #tbz eric #eric imagines #eric scenarios #eric imagine #eric au #eric drabble #eric fanfiction #eric fanfic #tbz eric imagine #tbz eric imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz imagine #tbz imagines #tbz drabbles #tbz fanfic #the boyz #the boyz imagine #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz drabble #fluff #the boyz fluff #the boyz au #the boyz fanfic #the boyz soft hours #airport au #friends to lovers au #deobi drabbles

[djarinispunk]

Beautiful, Dirty, Rich - Loki Laufeyson Mafia AU

Chapter Three - Cruel Intentions 

Walking into the crowded ballroom, Loki couldn't help but wonder what had become of the company. After the sight of the girl on the floor in the hallway, he was concerned just who was being allowed to live comfortably in the association he worked so hard for. Soon it would all change.

"I'd recognise that hair anywhere, Loki Laufeyson." Loki turned to see the face behind the voice, smirking when he saw the face of Charles Buckley.

"Charlie, its been a while." the two embraced, truly Loki was glad to see a familiar face among all the partygoers.

"And whose fault is that?" Charlie smirked with his words. The two retired to the far side of the room, away from prying eyes.

"I had business to attend to." Loki said bluntly, scanning the room. One thing he hadn't missed when away was the pompous side of the Mafia; the parties, the social climbing, the nature of it all was boring to him. At least when he was away he could get away with not attending. Now not so much with his father breathing down his neck.

"Still slaving away for your old man?" Charlie joked, although the humour was lost on Loki as he shot him a glare.

"I have to be prepared for when I take over." Loki said with a hardened voice, to which Charlie only nodded. Loki did a double take when he saw the familiar greying hair, excusing himself from Charlie with a strained voice, "I'll catch up with you later Charles."

Loki made his way to his father, keeping his head down to avoid the unnecessary small talk from members who only seemed to want to talk about how he'd 'grown up' since they last saw him. Of course he had, it had been five years since he even set foot in New York, he wasn't he boy he used to be.

"Father." Loki spoke through a dry throat, it wasn't that he was nervous per se, he rarely got nervous. He just always dreaded conversations with his father, he had a way of making him feel weak, and that was one thing Loki made sure he wasn't — not anymore.

Laufey turned around, his eyebrow arching at the sight of his son, "Loki, glad you could make it." his voice was smooth as he spoke, taking in his sons appearance.

"Of course."

Laufey took a glance around the room before speaking again, "There is something of importance that I need to discuss with you."

Loki's ears seemed to prick up at the statement, staring at his father with a furrowed brow, "What?"

Laufey shook his head as if that answered Loki's question. Only speaking when Loki gave him a glare, "Later, Loki. Enjoy the party."

And with that his father waltzed away in his regal glory; as if the world revolved around him. In a way it did. In a way Laufey was the sun and his minions orbiting around him were the inferior planets.

Still reeling from his fathers words, Loki took to the bar. He didn't want to become sloppy, he only wanted to take the pressure away that was constantly buzzing at his cranium. He felt significantly less tense upon throwing back a third glass of Whiskey. He noticed a presence sidle up beside him, he relaxed upon seeing it was only Charlie.

"You look tense" Loki commented, taking in the way his friend's teeth were grinding.

Charlie shook his head, knocking back a shot of a clear liquid, "It's nothing, lets just say I will never understand the opposite sex."

Loki smirked slightly, "I should have known."

The two men gathered their drinks to turn and face the room. the party was still very much in full effect, if not more so than before. Loki's eyes narrowed however, at the sight of his father with a new companion.

"Charlie," Loki got his slightly inebriated friends attention, "What do you know about that?" he pointed to where his father was discussing something with the man to his left. The two looked deep in conversation, prompting Loki's interest to pique.

"Oh, that's Alexander Ellison." Charlie spoke, gesturing to the bartender for a refill, Loki rolled his eyes in response.

"Yes I am aware of that Charles," the venom in his voice caused Charlie to refrain from drinking, setting the glass down against the wooden bar.

Charlie sighed, "Whilst you were away Ellison seemed to work his way up the rankings, and your father seemed to enjoy having someone to do his bitch work for him."

"What exactly are you saying Charles." Loki snapped, eyes zeroing in on the man laughing beside his father.

"Its not my place to say, its all just rumours."

Loki shot him a glare, he wouldn't be able to get out of this one.

Charlie took a moment to readjust his tie, clearing his throat before speaking, "There are rumours among the caporegime that he is in the running to become Laufey's underboss."

Loki tried to keep his composure, but he found himself speechless. How could his father do this, it was always said Loki would be the one to serve as underboss. His veins burned with anger, this couldn't be right.

But then, why else would his father want to talk to him later?

Loki's nostrils flared with rage the longer he stared at the man — Alexander. Of course, the second Loki was out of the picture his father would go behind his back. He should've seen this coming. He cursed himself for being so foolish. He held his drink with an iron grip, trying desperately not to just shoot the man only a few feet away from him. Oh what Loki would give to watch the blood pour from his skull, him — his competition. He vowed he wouldn't give Laufey the chance to undermine him. Loki needed a plan, one to get rid of Alexander Ellison.

"I see." was all Loki said, taking another sip from his glass.

Charlie had nothing to respond, he was just glad Loki didn't take his anger out on the messenger. Instead, the pair remained silent, watching the party unfold before their eyes.

It was then as if Loki felt a shift in the room, his eyes moved on their own accord, only stopping when they reached their destination. He was only slightly surprised to see the same girl who had made a fool of herself earlier crossing the room. His eyes remained glued on her as she seemed to assess her surroundings, seeking refuge in a friendly face much like he had when he first entered. He smirked slightly when he saw her fail to conceal a grimace.

He knew the feeling all too well.

It was only when Loki saw the direction in which se was heading that the cogs really began turning in his head. The man — Alexander, embraced her, kissing her cheeks. Trophy wife was his first thought but the greeting between them was too awkward. He beckoned Charlie once more.

"Who is she?" he asked, nodding towards the three.

"Her?" Loki only nodded, eyes still fixed on the girl. "That's Ellison's daughter, she's recently come back from Paris, studying or..something, I cant remember."

"How do you know this?"

"Her best friend, Sophia is my.." Charlie began but Loki spared him the awkward fumbling, he didn't care about Charlies relationships.

"I see." Loki said, a smirk curling onto his face. His mind was running rampage with the new information. The daughter of his competition, it was almost too easy.

Corruption was arguably one of Loki's greatest skills, and he knew how to use it to his advantage. A pawn in his game is what he needed, and with you, he had it.

He thanked the gods above at the timing of his father calling him over. Loki put aside his anger for him, he'd come back to it later. For now he was focused on you, he crossed the room to join his father.

"This is my son, Loki." he heard his father speak as he joined the three. The look that crossed your face didn't surprise him, a mixture of shock and annoyance. He couldn't really blame you after your meeting earlier. He didn't think too much of it, he knew ways to make you talk.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Loki took your hand, placing a chaste kiss against the soft skin. He then eyed you up and down. Having you as a part of his game was fun as it was, but it certainly helped that you looked the way you did.

You were beautiful, there was no denying that.

You offered him only a nod in return, mouth still twisted in displeasure. Loki kept his eyes fixed on you, watching as you failed to maintain the contact. It was fun to watch you squirm.

"Loki, I haven't seen you for some time." your father's hand distracted Loki from you, he shook it, albeit with some reluctance.

"And you are?" Loki knew the quip would get him in trouble, but it was worth it to catch the slight smirk you wore upon seeing your father's face drop.

Laufey cleared his throat, "Loki, this is Alexander Ellison, I trust you simply couldn't place the face to the name, correct?" to anyone else the tone of Laufey's voice was smooth, but Loki caught the hidden threat behind his words.

"Ah yes Alexander, I've heard great things about you during my absence." Loki spoke, watching the way the man wore a wounded expression. One thing all men in the mafia shared was their inflated ego's, and it was fun to bruise your fathers.

"I hope it would not be uncouth for me to ask for your daughter to join me for a drink? Purely to welcome her back to New York." Loki watched as your eyes shot to his own, a look of discontent painted across your features.

Alexander seemed to forget you were even to his side, he only offered a nod, placing a hand on your back to gesture for you to join Loki. The hand of your father was quickly replaced by Loki's, but not for long as you instantly shimmied away from then contact when you were out of sight from your father. Together the two of you made your way to the bar.

"What would you like to drink?" Loki asked, watching as you settled into the stool.

"I don't want a drink, and I don't want to sit with you." you spoke, facing forwards, not wanting to even give Loki the satisfaction of looking at him.

"So why did you agree to?"

You scoffed, "I didn't agree, my father did."

"Is there a difference?"

You gave him an incredulous look, "Yes? In case you forgot, let me remind you of how you acted like an asshole within the first minute of meeting me."

"Ah yes, I should apologise for that, it was rude of me." Loki rested an arm on the table to get a better view of you.

You sighed, finally turning to look at Loki, "I don't know what you think you're going to achieve by trying to flirt but I can promise you now, nothing is going to happen."

Loki's eyebrow arched at your words, a wave of rejection rolling off of him, "You think I'm flirting?" his voice was smooth as honey, eyes glistening with mischief, "Don't flatter yourself, like I said, I'm merely welcoming you back to New York."

"How do you know I've been away?" you replied, eyes narrowing the more Loki spoke.

"I know everything darling."

Everything about Loki was smug; his words, his body language, everything about him was a performance.

A performance you didn't want to get involved with.

"Whatever Loki, you don't scare me." you sighed, turning back to face forward, you couldn't stand how attractive he was even when he was being a dick.

Loki rose to his feet, bending a few inches so that his mouth was mere millimetres away from your ear. You couldn't hide the way you froze at his proximity.

"Oh but you should be scared of me, I have a feeling were gong to be seeing a lot more of each other. I think it would be wise for you to put aside your reluctance towards me," he pulled away momentarily to reach for a flute of champagne sitting on a silver tray, placing the drink directly in front of you.

"Enjoy the rest of your night, darling."

@cynic-spirit :)

#Loki Laufeyson #loki #loki x you #tom hiddleston #thor #mcu #marvel #romance #fanfic #thor ragnorak #loki laufeyson x reader #loki of asgard

[aureumjeon]

while you’re at it (m) || pjm

pairing; poolboy!jimin x noona!reader.

genre; smut, fluff, tiny angst.

summary; After finalizing your divorce papers, there was still one thing that had to be taken care of. That stupid swimming pool. Over there course of a few days, you ended up harboring feelings for one of your pool boys. Will things go as planned? Or will everything be flushed down the drain? 

warnings; brief mentions of divorce, infidelity and toxic relationship, sub!jimin, dom!reader, barely there bondage, exhibitionism, female masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (both receiving), body worship, tit fucking, noona kink, praise kink(its jimin ofc), mild degradation, impreg kink, its basically jimin being a whiny soft baby for noona, unprotected sex, multiple orgasm, creampies, cum eating

word count;  11K+ (this was supposed to be around 7-8K only, iduno what happened really)

a/n; ahhhhhh! three minutes late but who careeees. im done, i want to sleep. the smut feels so rushed butill fix it... eventually... lmao, unedited as hell, dont mind the errors... will fix someday.  bye

@m0chilattae @ruinedbyjin <33 

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Breaking away and cutting ties from your previous and definitely toxic marriage was the best decision you've made bar none. You could no longer stomach the abuse that your now ex-husband had put you through. It was a complete and utter living hell being bound to a man who wasn't who you initially thought he was. Having him crossed out of your life (legally, too) made it a million times easier. It has been exactly seven weeks since you chucked out all of his belongings through the front door. No regrets. And you still didn't want to take notice of the huge elephant in the room — or in the backyard per se. There it sat in the middle of the unkempt grassy area surrounded by leaves and trash, in all of its filthy, disgusting, bacteria and algae infested glory. Your dreaded swimming pool.

You had put-off cleaning it the first week after your separation, saying you're too busy doing this or too preoccupied taking care of that. When in all honesty, you just didn't want to deal with it. You had no goddamn idea how to maintain it. Heck, you didn't even know how to swim. Wonwoo was the main reason why the two of you bought a house that came with it after your wedding. He said he wanted to keep his hobby of swimming alive, understandable since that's where it all began. The two of you met at a university swim meet. You were the designated journalist for that event, assigned to interview all the winners after the competition for the school's paper. Wonwoo bagged the gold medal for the two hundred-meter freestyle, and you interviewed interviewed him and that's where it took off. Everything was running smoothly. One by one every item on your life's checklist got checked-off. After five years of dating, he proposed. A year later you got married and purchased a house together and planned on having children. You even put-off your job as a columnist writer for a high-end magazine company to play out the role of a perfect wife who'd soon take care of her children. You had the ideal life with the ideal husband in an ideal house that any married woman could wish for. You had everything, and in your own little world it was perfect. Until two years into your marriage, everything went into turmoil. Wonwoo suddenly grew cold and insensitive. He didn't answer your calls and text messages whenever he was away. He didn't make love to you the way he used to during your honeymoon phase. And sometimes he would just downright refuse, saying he's too tired and that he wants to sleep instead. You endured and tolerated his behavior for another year, giving him a chance to change his ways. But we all know what happens to second chances, they're wasted. One day, Jihyo sent you a picture of Wonwoo sucking faces with a female swim trainer at the city's public pool. You could not believe it at first, you refused to. Until she sent another image, this one clear as day. It was Wonwoo, positively Wonwoo. You called your older brother Yoongi and told him everything that had happened starting from the day your relationship spiraled into disaster. Like any brother would be; he was furious. He didn't kill the guy though, only gave him a black eye and a broken nose before you threw his belongings out on the pavement. To cut the story short, you found love beside a swimming pool and ultimately gotten your heart broken because of it. When people fall out of love, heart breaks are inevitable. All the more reason as to why you just shoved the idea of cleaning the pool under the rug like small particles of dust and dirt. You just wanted to forget about it, pretend like it didn't exist. If you could only haul that thing out of the ground and throw it out like you did to him, it'd be more painless for you. You took your phone out of your handbag and texted Namjoon. You asked if he still had the number to that all around cleaning service, to which he did, thank god. After saving the number, you called it immediately. Wanting no time to be wasted. "Hello, Good morning! This is Mr. Park of Mr. Park's Cleaning Service, how can we help you?" The bubbly old man chanted his spiel. "Ah, yes, um. This is Y/n Y/l/n, I was wondering if I can avail your services?" "Of course, ma'am!" He chimed, the sound of rustling papers can be heard in the background "What will we have the pleasure of cleaning for you, Ms. Y/l/n?" His tone never changed, still enthusiastic. "Well I have this pool..." You replied quite hesitantly, "And It's been sitting here uncleaned for almost two months." You let out a breathy laugh, fairly embarrassed at your confession. "No problem, Ms. Y/l/n! We've handled worse cases. Two months is nothing! Is it just the pool or would you like us to give your whole yard a fixer-upper?" You sighed in relief. "Y-yes, that would be great! My backyard could use the help, too." "Alrighty then! You don't need to worry about anything! Can I get your contact number and full address Ms. Y/l/n?" Mr. Park sounded like a charming old man, he never judged or asked unnecessary questions, only the ones that needed to be answered. "My number's xxx-xxx-xx and my full address is xxx street, corner xxx at xxx village. When can I expect you to visit, Mr. Park?" "I'll get the boys ready and will be there in about an hour or two to check on the conditions and come up with the most effective strategy. The duration of the process usually takes about three days to a week depending on the situation. It's always better to asses the area first. We'll do the best we can do, Ms. Y/l/n!" You can hear the smile in his voice, never have you encountered someone who's this passionate about his job as much as Mr. Park. "Great! That sounds excellent! Thank you so much Mr. Park! I'll see you later!" "Thank you, too, Ms. Y/l/n! Good bye!" The call ended and you checked the clock. It was a quarter to nine, still a lot of time left before they arrive. You decided to tidy up the place, picking up dirty laundry, washing the dishes, and anything that demanded to be put in its proper place. You accomplished everything in under an hour and decided to lounge around on your couch, still in your black silk nightwear dress that rested a good five inches above your knee. To be fair, you did wake up too early for your liking, and it made you thrice as sluggish than usual. 'Only ten minutes' you reminded yourself because you still needed to shower. Your eyelids felt heavy and the softness of the pillow you were resting your head on didn't help either. 'five more minutes, then it's time to shower, I swear.' Things didn't always go according to plan, of course. You fell asleep.

++

Your little nap was interrupted by the sound of your doorbell ringing multiple times, "Ms. Y/l/n?! Is anybody home? This is Mr.Park's Cleaning Service." The man on the other side of the door yelled. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. You scramble about you couch only to fall on the floor with a loud thud, "W-wait! Just a minute!" You squealed, heading out to the nearest bathroom to grab your bathrobe and wrap it around your frame. You chugged down and gargled a cup full of mouthwash before spitting it out. "Shit..." You hissed, taming out the fly-aways of your hair and tying it up in a loose bun. Your bangs rested messily on your forehead but you didn't have the pleasure of curling it. So you opted for just sweeping it to the side, making yourself more presentable. "I'm coming!" You yelped, treading to your front door and opening it. The three boys who stood at your doorstep gave you a courteous ninety degree bow. They were wearing those baggy grey work jumpsuits but the sleeveless kind. The boys looked fairly young, with glowing skin and youthful dispositions. They moved back to their upright position and the one in the center greeted, "Good day Ms.---" his eyes widened like saucers, he looked like he had encountered a ghost, and suddenly you were extremely conscious about your disheveled appearance, tucking in stray hairs that dangled around the frame of your face behind your ears. "Ms--" he knew what he wanted to say, it was waiting for its turn to spill out from his suddenly parched mouth. But he couldn't because he was too awe struck at the image of this lovely woman standing before him. They'd done this job a couple hundred times and it was all professional, but this was the first time his heart was completely enamored by a female client. His tongue was undoubtedly caught at the back of his throat and an elbow to his rib by his friend snapped him out of it and transferred him back to reality. "Y/l/n.." He continued, shades of pink trickling his face. "My name is Park Jimin..." "You're Mr. Park?" You giggled, the way your cheeks rounded when you smile matched with your cute dimple almost sent him into the ER due to a cardiac arrest, "You sounded older on the phone." "Uh.. That was my father. I'm just Jimin." He smiled, flustered like a little boy confessing his love for his crush. You beamed at him once more after discovering his name, eyes twinkling more that ever and he caught that. He freaking caught the way your eyes glimmered at him. "If you're just Jimin, then I'm just Y/n." What the hell was that?! You internally screamed at your choice of words, pulling out the non-existent life plug in your head because you wanted to shrivel up like a dehydrated grape desiring to be a raisin and just die. "O-okay, Ms. Y/n.." the way your name rolled so sweetly out of his lips made you shudder, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long, long time spark a flame in the deepest pit of your stomach. You shouldn't be experiencing this urgent sense of infatuation towards a person you only just met, not to mention to someone this young. You reckoned that he was likely five or six years your junior, probably even more. It was a weird sensation. You had no idea where it came from but you were kinda skeptical about the concept of it and where it might lead. Did you hate it? I mean, no, not at all. Were you confused? Most definitely. "This is Jungkook," he gestured to the lad on his left. Jet-black hair, doe eyes, piercings and tattoos, okaaay he's attractive "and this is Taehyung." Your gaze moved to the left, honey brown hair, sultry stare, sharp nose and a chiseled jaw, woah he's attractive too. No wonder Mr. Park's acquiring all the deals in town! His cleaning team is total eye candy. "My dad-- I mean Mr. Park's rheumatoid started acting up a little while ago, that's why he wasn't able to come with us. I hope that's alright with you, Ms. Y/n." There it is again, he said your name again but his voice a little softer this time. He was hoping his father's absence wouldn’t upset you too much. And didn't leave a bad first impression on you. Your name slipping past his lips sent another shock wave throughout your body, faintly stirring up your insides. It took you a good second to reply because you were too busy staring at the way his tongue prodded out of mouth to wet his pink and plump lips. Shit “I-it’s fine..” You gulped, drifting your gaze to your backyard assuming he didn’t see what you just did. “I hope your father feels well soon.” You stepped back a few feet letting the boys with their big tool kits in hand enter. “May we look at the pool, Ms. Y/l/n?” The black haired boy spoke, opening his box of tools and pulling out a smaller black container. “Taehyung and I will do the water testing and everything else while Jimin-hyung here will walk you through the whole process.” “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish!” Taehyung beamed, boxy smile and all. They all did what they said they’d do. Jungkook and Taehyung were handling all sorts of gadgets and gizmo to test the pH balance, chlorine levels and whatever they need to test. Jimin explained everything in meticulous detail, from the tools that they were using to how they’d clean it. You tried listening intently. You really did! But the addictive saccharine tone of his voice had gotten you too worked up. “And that’s about it,” Jimin happily concluded. “We can start cleaning tomorrow if it’s okay with you,” “Y/n?” He asked reluctantly, watching you stare vacuously at him. “Ah-- Yes. You guys can start tomorrow.” You smiled, flustered and red on the face. He was worried for a moment, he thought you found everything he said was boring. Because all honestly, he knew it was. Jimin dropped out of college to support his father with their family business, being the sole son and successor. It was a gamble, most of his friends would say. "Why'd you give up having an education?" or "What if it goes bankrupt?". Those words were frequently thrown around, but he stuck to his gut. Jimin never wanted anything more than maintaining his father's legacy alive. The one that his father and late-mother created and grew from the ground up. "Great! Kook, Tae, how's everything going?" He hollered to his friends who were still tinkering with their devices at the edge of the pool. "Will be done soon! Give us a minute," Taehyung replied, signaling a thumbs-up to his hyung. "Ahhh! That reminds me," You teetered blithely straight to your equally neglected shed that Wonwoo kept all his tools in. "If you need any tools, feel free to--" You tried to pry the door handle open but it wouldn't budge. "Let me get that for you, Ms. Y/n." Jimin insisted, worrying you might hurt yourself. "I'm okay," You assured the boy, solidifying your grip on the handle, and giving one last firm pull that just might do the trick. Jimin was right. Because the moment you exerted more effort into opening the door, the slim strip of metal that was affixed on the wooden surface snapped off and sent you stumbling back a few steps. You shielded your eyes with your hand and just when you thought your sorry ass was about to hit the grass, you felt something or someone, cradle your fall. A small groan from behind startled you, "W-what?" You removed your hands from your face and saw Jimin lying beneath you, hold on to you by your waist."Oh shit!" You shrieked, promptly scooting away from his lap to check if he's hurt somewhere. "J-jimin! Are you okay?!" concern laced your voice. You scanned every inch of his body for any cuts or bruises. While your face unintentionally came too close to his, he felt your warm minty breath dancing on the tip of his cupid's bow, tickling his lips that were mere centimeters away from yours. And the way his left cheek was conveniently purchased in your hand made him feel the heat blossom under his skin, and presumably creep up to his ears too. Wide-eyed and totally red in the face, Jimin hurriedly stood up from where he was planted, not forgetting to help you as well stand up as well. “I’m fine, Ms. Y/n. You don’t have to worry about--” Before the boy could barely finish his sentence, you were already pulling him by the wrist and ushering him back inside the house. He was trying so hard to resist the blush that had been wanting to be set free. “Jungkook, Taehyung!” You waved, calling out their attention. “You can come inside if you’re finished. I’ll tend to Jimin and see if he has any injuries.” “Yes ma’am!” The two boys chuckled, giving Jimin a playful smirk. “Sit down. I’ll go get my first aid kit.” You spoke before scooting towards the direction of your bathroom. The moment you’ve found yourself looking in the mirror in what seems to be the safest place you could’ve been at this moment, you allow all the accumulated steam out. “F-fuck.” You breathe out a sigh of relief. Finally being able to inhale and exhale enough air with your lungs. Every single moment with Jimin feels like there’s something constricting your chest, blocking all possible airways and cutting off the oxygen in your body. “Get it together, Y/n” You scold yourself, looking at the reflection in the bathroom mirror “You are an adult. An adult who will not let a young man fracture the little sanity you have left.” 

On your tiptoes, you reached for the small plastic box on the shelf of your bathroom, taking one last determined look in the mirror and declaring, “You got this.”  With that, you step out of the enclosed space with your recovered confidence, not looking back. And there he is again, puppy dog eyes lighting up when he saw your figure reappear in his line of vision. “Ms. Y/n.” He smiled, and there you knew how truly fucked up you were. “God, give please give me the strength.”  You chanted in your head, “I got the first aid kit. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Was all that you could say. 

++

It has been exactly five days, eight hours and forty-five minutes since Jimin started working on your backyard. Why do you know that? Well, that boy with those galaxies induced eyes, impossible plump lips and unbelievable muscular body had been lurking and finding his way through the deep recesses of your mind, desperately searching for that imaginary finish line.

Every cell in your body was hyper-aware of your surroundings whenever he was near. You’d get chills when you feel his hot breath fanning against the skin of your nape when he’s behind you asking for some kind of permission. A jolt would run down your spine when he says your name like it’s the only name he’d known besides his. And the way an innocent stare from him would ignite a flame in your core, burning like coal inside a furnace during those cold winter nights. You know of his presence; you know how he makes you feel even when you don’t want it and that scares you.

And now you’re here with your overly eager friend who's  ready to lay down all her life savings and then some, just to see you finally get laid after that hideous tragedy.

“Gosh, what do I do?” You groaned, massaging your temples. The headache that you experienced the first time you encountered the boy only tripled in magnitude. It was like the soft tissues of your brain decided that it would be best to act like tectonic plates and tear each other apart. No matter how many pain killers you’ve ingested or how early you slept at night, it always comes back the next day, with a vengeance.

“Give in,” she shrugged, taking a sip from her warm cup of tea. “you’ve got nothing to lose.”

“The only thing I’m losing right now is my sanity.” You grovelled, wanting to pull out all of your hair from its follicles. “I–” You sighed, voice cracking and tear attempting to fall.“I honestly don’t know what to do.”

She offered you a sympathetic look, consoling you with a hand gently stroking your back. “I know, hun. Wonwoo was a douche bag and your divorce was the absolute worst. But… Look at the bright side,” She nudged you on the shoulder and points a finger westward.

“Now that he’s out of the picture, you’re a free woman now, y/n.” Your friend stated as-a-matter-of-fact, wriggling her perfectly done brows at you. She was right, though. There was nothing holding you back except yourself. The two of you looked beyond the glass sliding doors of your patio and watched the group of young men pull every bone and flex every inch of muscles in their bodies trying to make your backyard look like the way it was before.

“I don’t see anything wrong with flirting with your pool boy now that the ring on you finger is gone,” a small tug of her lips went unseen by you as your gaze was still attached to the blond haired boy whose dusting of sweat seemed to reflect and shimmer under the blazing sunlight like those vampire characters from that teen movie. God, how can someone look that ethereal while raking up the pile leaves in your backyard?

“While you’re at it, seeing that you’re too invested in watching him, play with piles of dead leaves,” your head snapped toward her direction as your cheeks turned pink from embarrassment, “might as well fuck him too.” she grins from ear to ear. 

++

Day eight came faster than you had imagined. The boiling of your insides has simmered down immensely since you've accepted all your feelings like the grown adult that you are. You didn't confess, though, there will be a time for that. Also, you can say you've gotten used to Jimin's presence in the short time you've spent with him. He was kind, sweet, caring and considerate to you 24/7 and you've considered every bit of it endearing. You friend was right. "Give in," she says, so you did and you hope everything will eventually fall into place at the right time. Like usual, jimin and his bunch were outside. They were eighty percent done with the pool and all that's left was the landscaping. One by one, bags of dirt, rocks, sand and all the likes were carried by unfamiliar faces to the back yard through your house. Trails of sand were left on the floor akin to a snail's. "We're really sorry for the mess, miss y/n. Don't worry, we'll clean it up." A new face stood beside Jimin. This one looked more mature than the three boys you're already acquainted with. This was your first time seeing him. Raven hair, brown eyes, a attractive face and shoulders broader than the horizon. Wow. Mr. Park's boys just keep getting hotter and hotter. But there's something oddly familiar about him. Maybe you've met him before? Casually crossed paths as strangers? You can't quite wrap a finger around it. "Y/n, this is Jin-hyung." The fair-haired boy stated. "He's Jungkook's older brother." You gasp, finally it connects "R-really?! No wonder you looked familiar!" You heard the boisterous laugh of the younger brother draw closer and then draped an arm around his brother's shoulder. You habitually thought Jungkook was the tallest in the bunch but now that you've seen his older brother and the way he stands a good two or three inches taller says otherwise. "Sooo, who's more good looking, Noona?" Jungkook asked cheerfully, arching his brows as if coaxing you to choose him. "Hmmm..." You hummed dramatically, crossing your arms with one hand cupping your chin. "I really can't say, Jungkook. Your hyung's pretty handsome." You teased. "Nooooona~!" The youngest whined, flailing his arms around like a child. If you hadn't known their ages, you'd assume that Jungkook's an eighteen year old boy with a baby's face attached to an adult man's body. +Flashback+ You learned that over the course of yesterday's dinner. That day marked the seventh day since the boys worked on you backyard. You decided to treat them to a special samgyupsal dinner since they had been working so hard all day and all afternoon. It was a quarter to five, and the boys were about to call it a day when you call them over enthusiastically. Gesturing them to come inside "Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook!" Their mouths hung wide open when their eyes met with the dining table. A dazzling array of meats, soups, vegetables and side dishes were gloriously scattered on the surface. "Wow, Ms. Y/n!" Taehyung beamed, his boxy smile seemed like it was engraved on his face. "What's the occasion?” "Well, since you boys have been working so hard I decided to arrange a little party for you guys. It's the least I can do." You smile. Taehyung and Jungkook looked like they were about to combust. The fragrance of the food delighted their every senses. You hear a faint growl in the background. "Sorry. That was me." Jungkook confessed, his stomach was now hungrier than before. You all laugh. "What are you waiting for? Dig in!" It was like a gun was shot and the race to eat the most food began. You watched them eat heartily, wishing that you had done this sooner to express your gratitude for all the effort the exert. "Aren't you gonna eat, y/n?" You were startled by Jimin voice. You turn to him and receive the look of concern on his face. "I've had my fair share while cooking, if I eat more I feel like I'll throw up." You softly giggled, a shade of pink dusting your cheeks. "And this is all for you." For every little thing he does whether it was deliberately or not, Jimin feels like he's simply digging his own grave. The sound of metal rutting against soil, just a few more digs and he's sure he'll be six feet under. "Ms. Y/n, Ms. Y/n!" Jungkook called, outstretching his hand like a student asking for his teacher's attention. "Yes, Jungkook? Oh, and you can call me y/n, by the way. No need for 'miss'." Jungkook scratched the back of his neck before answering, "Uhm, I dont think I'm in the position to call you that, ms. Y/n " "What about noona?" Taehyung who sits across Jungkook suggested. "Ms. Y/n really been nice to us, like a big sister. Always making sure we're okay." Sister. You practically forgot about your age gap with these kids. With the five-year difference for Jimin and Taehyung, seven for Jungkook, you really felt like an older sister. It wasn't bad, it was lovely actually. Knowing they see you more than just an ordinary client pinched at your heart. And you perceive them as little brother's you never had. One of them, you wished went beyond that. "Yeah!" The black haired boy exclaimed,"Can we call you noona, ms. y/n???" Jungkook looked like a dog, with his eyes all round and tail raised and wagging about. It must feel so great to be young. "Of-- Of course! You can call me noona!" The two boys cheered in unison. The only one quiet was jimin who sat parallel to you. 

"Are you okay jimin?" You asked meekly. "I'm fine." He didn't sound like he was fine. "Is there something wrong?" "Ahh, I--" he was stuttering, "Is it okay if I call you y/n instead?" Your eyes widened, you haven't even drank anything alcohol but your face already feels hotter. "S-sure, Jimin." You tried to change the topic by standing up walking over to the refrigerator. "Since all of you are of legal age." You gradually push open metal door and pull out bottles of soju. "You're the best, noona!" The youngest howled, eager to get his hands on the alcoholic drink. "Just promise me you guys won't drink too much. You still have work tomorrow" Like twins, Jungkook and Taehyung held their hands over their heart and recited, "We promise, noona!" With the magic liquid, conversation started flowing more naturally. You promised not to drink but they insisted, nothing worse than your friends peer-pressuring you. "So, noona, where do you work?" Taehyung questioned. He probably noticed you were always at home. "I'm a writer for Seoul Life Magazine, but I do all my work here at home. I rarely have to go to the office." "Really???!!!" His eyes blew up, Taehyung told you he was a fashion design graduate. You expected this reaction from him so you felt pride in telling him where you work. "Wow, noona!" Jungkook said, "My dad said only those who were absolutely good got to work there." "Stop flattering me," You shyly dismiss his praise. "I was an intern there during my concluding year of college. I worked for about three or four years before I got married." Taehyung did a spit take, spraying water all over poor Jungkook who almost choked on a lettuce leaf. Jimin just sat there, watching you laugh at the two comical boys. He didn't know how to react, his hands suddenly went clammy and he couldn't stop shaking his leg under the table. "M-married?" Jungkook said, still not believing what he's hearing "w-where the h-husband?" He felt out of breath due to that damn piece of leaf. "Are you really married, noona?" Taehyung poked, looking at your ringless finger. "I was," Your smile grew weaker, talking about something it always felt weighty. But they deserved to know, they're helping you heal by dealing with something you'd rather not face. "We got divorced." The room went silent. The sound of the crickets outside and leaves swaying with the wind that were previous white noise behind your chattering and laughter seemed like the were obscenely amplified by huge bass speakers. "Can I ask why, noo--" "Jungkook!" Jimin scolded his junior, and this was the first time you've heard/seen him raise his voice to anyone. "Apologize." He stated sternly, not breaking eye contact with Jungkook. "I'm sorry, noona." His head hung low, hair covering his eyes. "J-jimin, I'm sure Jungkook didn't meant to." You reached out to to hold his hand that was resting on the table. "I'm not mad or upset." You looked over Jungkook's direction and continued, "It's okay, I promise." Jimin squeezed your hand tighter, comforting you. "You don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable, y/n." "Y-yeah, noona." Taehyung added, "You don't have to. It's none of our business." Jungkook sat still, eyes glassy and mouth pouty. He absolutely looked like a puppy that had been punished for chewing up its human's shoe. "It's alright," You giggle, extremely touched. "It's been months, I can talk about it." "We met during sophomore year. I was a journalist for the university paper and he was on the swim team." The three boys listened intently, like toddlers during story time. "After five years of dating, he proposed. We got married a year later and moved in here. That," you pointed to the pool outside "belongs to him." "It was his idea to get a house with one, I agreed of course. Only two years after getting married, I found out he was cheating on me." Jimin's features softened at your words. He knows it wasn't easy for anyone to talk about their past heartbreak and traumas. He made sure you weren't alone, he took his free hand and placed it over your hand that he was already holding with the other. He held it tight. "It broke my heart, I really thought he was the one, you know? Almost eight years together thrown in the garbage disposal and shredded to pieces." "He doesn't deserve you, noona." Jungkook finally spoke. "He was an asshole and he doesnt deserve you." "Yeah!" Taehyung agreed, "I kinda don't want to finish the work now." Out of nowhere, you burst out laughing. An invisible weight, sort of a thick blanket was lifted and the atmosphere brightened. "No, no, no!" You can't stop your laughter at this point, what Taehyung said tickled a funny bone. "I still plan on living here, Taehyung! Even if I dislike the pool, it's still part of this home. And the make over was sort of a therapy, you know. Out with the old, in with the new, right?" You ended it with a smile, lips curved beautifully. It was a smile Jimin has seen never seen before. It was light and airy, bright and transparent. There was no pain or distress, just carefreeness. He wished you would smile like this more often, and he also wished he'd someday be the reason for it.

++

"Just kidding, Jungkook! You're the most handsome." You assured the boy, patting his back. "Sorry, Jin. Your brother's grown on me." "Kook one, Jin zero." The youngest boast over to his brother. "Alright, alright!" Jin interrupted, "Unlike you, some of us need to work. How 'bout you and Taehyung get the transport van back to the office and let Jimin, Hoseok, Yugyeom and I get things done, yeah?" Jungkook clicked his tongue, "Whatever." Their sibling banter has got you missing your brother, mentally reminding yourself to call him later. "Hey, Yugs." You hear Jungkook faintly speak. Two more new faces stood beside Jin. "This is Hoseok and Yugyeom. We'll be responsible for landscaping." Another attractive guy with a million-dollar smile on his face and a tall man with the physique of a runway model. Curse, Mr. Park!! Where does he get all these boys?! "Thank you for having us!" The pair recited. "Oh, no! Thank you for helping out with the renovation." "Ms. Y/n, The boys and I will be outside. We'll be mapping out a plan for the design," Jin announced. "Oh, sure." You answer back, "Take all the time that you need." "Great! We'll report to you once we've finished the draft design. So you can the necessary make changes and adjustments." He beamed, walking towards the back yard. Jimin stood silently beside you, "You do landscaping?" You randomly asked, seeing that Jimin was the only one left from their bunch. Jungkook and Taehyung had long gone. "No," he chuckled, "I just need to watch over these guys. Make sure everything goes well." "That's nice, you're very involved with the work you do." His cheeks blossomed pink, he didn't expect a compliment since he was just doing his job. "I try." He shyly replied, bowing then heading for the glass door. "If you need me, I'll be outside." You waved him goodbye and went about your own business. There were still some articles in your workload that needed to be finished and those emails weren't gonna answer themselves. ++ By the time you were done, it was half past two in the afternoon. You noticed as the days progressed, so did the temperature. You check your phone, only to see that today is the hottest reading yet. Since everything has been taken care of, you decided to take a shower. Appreciating the cold refreshing water on you warm skin. After that, you put on your favorite robe and wrapped it around your damp body. As you were about to step out of the bathroom, you noticed Jimin leaning against one of the pillars of your patio, shirtless. Have your eyes been deceived? They say that seeing believes, but you didn't expect Jimin to be this fit. You offered yourself some slack, since the only part of Jimin body's you've oh so graciously seen are his muscular arms. It wasn't as big as those of a body builder, but the amount of muscle in them has already got you mouth watering. But being blessed with the site of his bare skin and taut abdominal muscles has got you feeling wetter than being in the shower. You couldn't keep your gaze off of him. It was an image that you want to engrave at the back of your head. Your eyes roamed his entire body. Face, neck, shoulders, chest and abs. You wanted to memorize every detail. Every mole, every freckle, every scar that adorned his ivory skin. Just as you were taking your time scanning his entire figure, you were startled when you saw him looking at you staring at him. Your heart began to race inside your chest and you almost forgot you were standing in the middle of your house with only a robe covering your very naked body. You scanned around the area of the yard and Jin and the others we're not in plain sight. You assumed they were working on the farthest side of the lot, where your small garden used to be before you abandoned it all together with the pool. You lock eyes with Jimin again, but this time there was something odd at the way he ogles at you. His gaze was lustful and burning with flames devouring your entirety. His were pupils blown out at the display of your skin. He looked pained, his teeth biting harshly at his bottom lip as if he wanted to draw blood. At that point it dawned on you. You know why he seemed so agitated, squirming in his seat. He wanted to see more, see more of you. A wave of unknown confidence washed over you. You didn't know where the hell it came from. Maybe it was from his deadly stare, maybe it was just you. Either way, you were so totally taking advantage of it. Without breaking eye contact, you found purchase at the same seat from which you watched the boys worked while having a chat with your friend. Sensually lifting the hem of your robe up your thighs and spreading your legs open for Jimin to see. "F-fuck," He groaned, hands balling into fists. He glimpsed over to the other men who were still occupied with what they were accomplishing. His attention was back on you, giving you a small nod. The fervor that coursed through your body was incomparable to anything you've experienced before. The Adrenaline was starting to kick in, and you felt hot-blooded. You temperature went up ten degrees higher and you felt delirious. You knew there was a possibility that you were gonna get caught, but screw it. You've never felt like this in your whole twenty-nine year of life. You're gonna enjoy it, basked in it. Jimin's eyes were plastered at your dripping core, lump in his throat and completely mesmerized at its beauty. Your juices sinfully coating you slit. He swore if there wasn't anybody else around, he would have ravished you pussy like an animal. Since you're out here giving him a show that he'll never forget, might as well savour it. He thought things couldn't get any better with you sex on display for him, you open up your legs even more in a whole new different angle. Putting all those gymnastics training to good use. He can virtually see your pink walls with the position your in. He couldn't stop imagining him burying his hard cock inside your tight cunt. Sucking him in when every thrust he made. You left hand slithered its way down to your soaked core, playfully stroking your folds. If Jimin was beside you, he could no doubt hear the way your cream coated skin squelched with every motion you made. Your idle hand managed to loosen the knot of your robe, allowing it fall from your shoulders exposing your round, supple breasts. Nipples instantly hardening at the sudden exposure to the air. Shit, he'd kill just to have his lips around those perky little nipples, sucking on then voraciously until you moan out his name. You could not take all this self-teasing anymore. Jimin's eyes gauges out of its socket as you dip a finger into your damp hole. Jimin thought the heat from the sun was bearable. He'd worked for long hours under it and never complain. But this, you fingering yourself with one hand while the other pulls and twists on your abused nipple was unbearable! The ache between his legs was excruciating he had to casually palm himself. Slightly shifting and bending this leg so that he wasn't noticeable. Another finger goes in, and he's cupping himself harder. He observed your face contort with pleasure at the way you're plunging and curling your two fingers inside of you. Your arousal spilling at the edge of you battered hole, streaming down and accumulating just above your puckered hole. That should be him, he mumbled to himself. Your slender fingers wouldn't be able to satisfy you, unlike his throbbing cock caged inside his boxers, wanting to be set free. Jimin's practically squeezing his dick at this point now, he just wants nothing but to release his ropes cum on you breast while you pleasure yourself. You felt your walls clench around your digits, signalling you that you were nearing climax. You gotta make this quick, Jin, Hoseok or Yugyeom can walk in on you anytime. Adding one last finger, hoping the stretch will help you jump over the edge, you pummeled your cunt with all the strength that you had left. A small moan left your lips and your release came squirting. Coating the marble floor beneath you. Jimim was just as wrecked as you were. His chest was heaving heavily up and down. The only difference was you reached climax, and he didn't, he couldn't. You were steadying you breathing just when you hear Jin yell, "Yo! Jimin! I need you to--" his voice was getting louder and closer. Wide-eyed, you look at Jimin. Mouthing him "Do something!" While you pull yourself together and grab a piece of tissue to wipe your juices off the floor. When you looked up, Jimim wasn't there anymore. He somehow managed to stop Jin from coming any closer to the house from how faintly you hear his voice outside. You sighed and went back to your room. “We’ve done everything we could do today, Ms. Y/n,” Jin happily announces, standing in front of you with his million dollar smile adorning his equally valued face. “We’ll continue everything tomorrow!” “G-great!’ You croaked, substantially tilting your head to see what’s going on behind the tall man’s back. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Jimin. “Ms. Y/n?” he waved his hand in your face, snapping you out of it. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” You barely reply. Before he could turn his back on you, you managed to pull on his sleeve. “W-where’s Jimin by the way?” He looked surprised, pondering why you’re asking for the boy. “He went back first,” Jin witnessed your facial expression drop, “He said he wasn’t feeling too good.” “O-oh,” you frowned once more, your browns knitting together at the center of your forehead. “Please tell him to get well soon.” “Of course,” He bowed and bid farewell.

++

Tomorrow comes and Jimin was nowhere to be seen. Jin said Jimin was still feeling under the weather and took the whole day off from work. While that may seem plausible, it didn’t sit well in your gut. You felt like there was something off with Jimin. Never has he been absent since the first day he worked for you. What is that little stunt you pulled off yesterday, you thought to yourself. Were you really that repulsive to the point that it had gotten him sick? Did you ruin your chances of having something more than just a short time fling with the most charming boy you’ve ever met? What if he never wanted to see you anymore, what would you do then. Those kinds of thoughts were inevitable, of course. It was all you could think of the entire day. So that night, you decided to send him a text message, the first one too. From you: Hi Jimin. Jin told me that you fell ill. Try not to over work yourself next time. I hope you get well soon. -yn Jimin stared stupidly at the screen. Thinking of what to reply or if he should reply at all. Several words typed then deleted. He genuinely didn’t know what to say to you. He was ashamed of what he’s shown and with his lack of self-control. He felt appalled with himself.  How could he disrespect you like that? You were a client. A client and worker relationship weren’t prohibited, not at all. It was just his work ethics that wanted everything to be strictly professional, he knew how important your role is to their business. The last thing he wanted was to tarnish what his father built from the ground up with a scandal. So he decided to not let his personal life get involved with his work life. It just makes things complicated, like it is right now. The ‘can’t go to work, feeling sick’ wasn’t wholly a lie. The pain wasn’t physical, it was abstract. And no medicine can induce the pain go away, until he saw your following message. From you: Also, I wanted to talk to you about something. It doesn’t have to be right away, you should rest first and get your health back up. Just message me whenever. Goodnight, Jimin. 

There really was no way out, huh. The next day comes and still no Jimin. That was when you confirmed it. You’ve completely and utterly ruined everything. He did not reply to your messages and didn't even want to see your face. It felt like the ground underneath you cracked opened and devoured you whole. That was the very first time in your life that you’ve acted so venturesomely, look what is has cost you. You blame yourself because there was no one else you could point a finger at. Things wouldn't end up the way they are now if you just stayed in your fucking lane. All of this was your fault. You looked back at all the events that happened to you and realized, maybe it was inevitably your fault. Wonwoo wouldn’t have you left if he saw a reason not to. Jimin wouldn’t be ignoring you if he had a reason no to. The course of the entire day was spent with you cooped up inside your room, wallowing away in your own self-pity. You politely told Jin that you needed some time to be alone and he can decide whatever is best for the landscaping. It was around seven in the evening, Jin bid farewell and suggested that if you needed anything, you could call him up. That was extremely thoughtful of him, you think. Another hour passed and the doorbell rings. You weren't expecting anyone though, so you were quite puzzled as to who it might be. The front door open and you see Jimin. He was wearing a navy blue dress shirt that was folded up to his elbows, wow. Sleek black slacks for pants that cinched his slim waist and leather dress shoes to put everything together. What's the occasion, you thought. "Oh, Jimin" you hid the nervous of your voice by pulling him into a hug "I-its good to see you again, what brings you here? Are you feeling better?" "Ah, yes. I'm sorry for being absent these past few days." His head was hanging low and his eyes were looking elsewhere just to avoid yours. "I wanted to apologize." He finally looked at you with his brown orbs that were displaying sincerity. You ushered him to come inside and take a seat on your couch. "Apologize?" You asked, a little bit perplexed "For what exactly?" "For what I did," his voice grew feebler "I shouldn't have done what I did. I shouldn't have disrespected you like that. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you just because I felt the heat of that moment. I'm sorry, y/n. I swear I'm better than that." "Oh, Jimin." You smiled tenderly, cupping his plump cheeks with your hand. "I think it's the other way around. I should be the one apologizing. Back then, I couldn't control myself when I should have. After seeing you, all the emotions I've put aside unexpectedly erupted." With your unoccupied hand, you tightly held his. "The truth is, you really have grown on me in all the best way possible. Initially, I thought it was just the backlash of my divorce egging me. I thought maybe my mind was looking for a rebound to dull the ache. But..."  Your eyes started becoming glassy. You felt him clutch you hand tighten spurring you to continue "I think that's not it. I know it isn't. You've been nothing but a blessing to me, Jimin. An absolute angel. You're sweet, kind, caring, understanding, ugh--" You mocked frustratingly, letting out a small giggle. "You're perfect. I couldn't see anyone that wouldn't fall for you like I have." Jimin's face reflected what he felt at that moment, relief. This wasn't what he was expecting, hence why he averted the confrontation as best as he could. You were the one who was perfect and completely out of his league. You were a beautiful and capable independent woman that any man would kill for. Your ex-husband was beyond stupid to play with your feelings like he did, he knows. But if it wasn't for your ex's stupidity, he wouldn't be here facing the only woman he'd want to be with for the rest of his life. "I thought you wouldn't like me since I was older--." "Stop." He interrupted, stroking his fingers through your locks while gazing at your gorgeous features. The staring contest ended with the both of you smacking lips, eager to taste what has been endured for so long. Impatient longing was evident in every kiss, lick, bite and tug.  You kissed him so fervently that his back was digging against the backrest of the sofa. One of your legs seemed to have a mind of its own and positioned itself to straddle him. "Are you sure you want me?" You queried the boy beneath you, your tone much mischievous from before, it was like there was a flipped switch somewhere. The noticeable change in the atmosphere has got him simply nodding, excited to know there was this side of you that he has not witnessed before. He watched you as you steadily unravel your blouse's satin belt and started to gently caress his wrist. "Would you mind if I tie up these pretty hands of yours?" You hummed, pulling on his hand up to you face and sucking on his middle finger and ring finger. The sensation of your wet mouth around his digits caused his brain to send signals down there. He could already feel himself get rock hard inside his jeans, thinking about how tight your mouth would be if he shoved his dick down you throat. But he'll save that for another day because right now he just wants to let you do what you want to do with him. Right now, he is yours for the taking. You urged him to lean a little closer to you. His face now between the valley of your breast as you meticulously tie his hands behind his back. You pushed him back to his previous position and inquired, "Do you want me to cover your eyes as well?" He shook his head in protest and said, "N-no. I want to see you." There was a pause as he manages to catch his breath, "I-I wanna see you while you make me feel good." You nodded, brushing his hair out of his sweat slicked forehead. From his head, your hand slid lazily down to his neck, to his chest, to his stomach and finally to the growing bulge inside his pants. You palm him unhurriedly, taking your time. Tracing your fingertips over the curve of his caged penis. "Y-y/n.." Jimin griped, observing your hand press against his erection. Somehow enduring the excruciating pain, your teasing had sown. "Can I ask you one last favor?" You purred, peppering his neck with kisses and sucking purple bruises here and there. "W-what is it?" he managed to reply, reveling in the way your teeth nipped against his delicate skin. "Call me noona," Jimin was silent, somewhat waiting for an explanation. When you told him the first time, he met you that he can call you by your first made him feel special because only he could do that. The other workers call you 'Miss' and Jungkook and Taehyung declared you as 'our noona'. "N-noona-" Jimin whined, bucking his hips harder against you hand. He saw your pupils dilate as the word escaped your lips, inflaming something inside you. "Jimin," you growled, squeezing his around his girth ferociously. Buttons were unfastened one after the other, exposing his refined chest and taut muscles. Out of nowhere, you felt raunchy. The tips of your fingernail slowly dragged themselves across his torso, leaving streaks of red in its track. He flung his head back, enjoying the sting that danced on his skin. Jimin squirmed as he felt your weight suddenly leave his lap. His neck snapped back to your direction and damn, what a sight to see. You tucked between his legs and unzipping his pants exposing his angry red-tipped cock oozing out beads of pre-cum. He smirked as he saw you involuntary lick your lips. "You like what you see, noona?" "God, yes." You exhaled, wrapping both your hands around his shaft not because you wanted to, but because it was necessary. Your tiny, little hand could barely encompass his circumference. "Noona's gonna me you feel good, baby." You felt Jimin's dick twitch by the given pet name. "Noona," he groaned, thrusting his member in your grip just to feel any sort of friction. Sensually, you undid your bloused and hurled it somewhere on the floor followed by your bra, exposing your bare chest to the boy. Jimin jerked in his seat, wanting to grab and knead you breast with his own hands. It looked even better up close. The skin smooth and flawless, nipples pert and hard due to the frosty air. "Fuck" he hissed through his teeth, if he could get his mouth on those buds he'd suck them dry and pull it between his teeth making you cry out. "Behave." You scolded him, eyes staring daggers. He stayed in place once again, not wanting to vex you in any way. 

You ran the flat of you tongue on the underside of his length, feeling his skin pulse at contact. Salaciously making your way to its head, you began circling his narrow slit with the tip of your tongue. Feeble moans were the only things escaping his pretty mouth. You seized this moment to swallow him whole down to the hilt, fighting your gag reflex. Your mouth has never felt this stuffed as you moan in satisfaction. Jimin felt the vibration of your throat around his cock, tightening around it. You languidly started bobbing your head up and down, bottoming out with every stroke. With a lewd pop, you tried pulling your mouth off his cock. Strings of saliva dribbled from your lips connecting to his tip. You push yourself up slight and proceeded painting your nipples with the concoction of you saliva and his pre-cum that was coating the tip of his penis. "How does this feel?" You cooed, sandwiching his hard member between your two breasts, erotically pumping the tender flesh up and down his length. "So so gooood, noona" Jimin wheezed blissfully. The sensation of his cock wholly enveloped by your soft mounds is inclining him over the edge. "Noona," he wailed shutting his eyes, the urgency of wanting to release washing over him. By the look of things, you guess he's close. You quicken the pace, feeling the skin of you breast chafe due to friction but you don't care. You clamped your hand on your boobs harder to tighten its hold around his cock and pump faster and faster and faster until he's cumming on you tits. "Shit, noona," Jimin stressed, his breaths labored. You watched as his chest heaved up and down, supplying him with the oxygen he needs after such an intense climax. "Oh no. Look at the mess you made, Jimin." You shook your head, pointing to your breast painted with his milky liquid. "I don't like messes," You sing-song, pushing yourself back up to straddle him once more. You clasped your finger under his chin and commanded, "clean it." His heart stammered in his chest. This is it. This is what he desired. Your perky nipples snug between his lips while your back arches in euphoria. He aggressively lapped up his juices from the skin of your chest with his tongue, leaving no trace of the substance behind. Up and down, left and right, there was no area left untouched by his wet greedy muscles. If he could only see the contorted position he put himself in just to taste you. He doesn't give a shit anymore, he'll gladly eat his cum out of you asshole if you asked. He obscenely sucked you left nipple first, earning the tiniest moan from you. Alternating between light nips and starved slurps, abusing your bud. He then moves to your right nipple, the more sensitive one that has you immediately grinding your clothed core against his semi-hard on. "Let me make you feel good, noona." He desperately whined, concealing his face in the nook of your neck inhaling your fragrant scent. You quirked a brow and asked while weaving you digits through his sweat-damped hair. "What does my baby have in mind?" "Let me.." he croaked. "Louder. I can't hear you." "Let me eat you out, noona. Let me make you feel good." He begged with pleading eyes , fidgeting his hands that were behind his back, trying to untie the belt that was restraining him. "I can make you--" "If you take those off I am kicking you out." You threateningly glared at him, voice deadly like venom. Jimin was scared shitless. He could do nothing but sit silently and obey. "I-I'm sorry, noona. I didn't mean to make you mad." This boy. It may seem like you're the one in control but it is you who are actually wrapped around his little finger. Giving in to what he wants. "It's okay, baby." you massaged his tensed shoulders, soothing him down. "I'll still let you eat me out if you promise not to take off your restraint." You sounded so sweet, the exact opposite of what you were minutes ago. Not wanting to piss you off more, Jimin nodded. You helped him lay down the sofa, propping his head underneath a throw pillow. You stepped to the side and shimmied your pants off. His eyes trailed the article of clothing peeling off your body. When the pair of jeans were long gone, his gaze was attached to your still clothed core. A small wet patch sticking to your folds in the middle was visible. You prop a leg over him, climbing on top of his chest, finding purchase when his face is below your pussy. He could smell the scent of you arousal. Filling up his nostrils and intoxicating his entire nervous system like it's some kind of poison. This by far was the best angle he's seen you in. Seeing it up close, he wished he could at least touch you… You moved into a considerably better position, if you buck your hips the slightest bit, if will directly collide with his mouth. "This what you want baby boy?" You teased, lowering you center on the tip of his nose. Overpowering him even more. "Yes, yes, yes!" He cries out, "I want nothing but your pussy, noona!" You snickered at how desperate he has become, "Who knew you were such a little bitch, Jimin. Loving the way you hands are tied up and thirsting over my pussy." "Yes! I want to taste you, noona. I want to make you feel good until you're squirting all over my face like you did before on the floor. Then I'll eat you up so good, so clean." "Good boy." You thrummed, ultimately taking off your underwear. Letting him marvel at the sight of your woman hood. Clean Shaven, baby smooth, and tulip pink. Without warning, you hastily maneuver yourself, grinding your core against his face. "Put your filthy mouth to good use and make me cum." The sounds he was making were borderline pornographic as hell. His slurps and moans blessing your ears, making your insides rut. He'd occasionally prod his muscles inside your hole then flick on your clit relentlessly. The tensed coil finally snapped and you chase you high by grinding against his face. He's devouring you out like a man starved, sucking out and drinking all the juice your pussy was providing him. Wanting nothing but to be selfish, and have you for himself. He licked you clean, not wasting a single drop of your delicious cum. "I didn't know you were such a disgusting slut for pussy, Jimin." "I, I only want your pussy noona… no one else's." He confessed. "On your knees." You demand. "H-huh?" "I said on you knees. You slut." Jimin dropped down on the floor waiting for your next command like the slut he is. "Tell me how much you want to fuck me." "I-I.." He stuttered with his words, and it made you infuriated. "I said. Tell me how much you want to fuck this tight pussy of mine."  You bellowed, your words bouncing off the walls of your living you. "I want to fuck you so much, noona! I want to bury my cock so deep inside your pussy until I reach your cervix then I'll fuck you some more. I want nothing but to fill you up with my seed and put a baby in you, noona! I'll fuck you so good that you'll want to you pussy filled by me every day!" He cried, plunging his head on the floor in a begging for your life bow. "Please, please, please!" Jimin was hysterical at this point, screaming and begging you to let him fuck you. "Noona, please. I'll fuck you so good that you'll forget about all your problems." You shiver at his submission and once again, he's got you eating at the palm of his hands. You freed his wrist and he lunges at you, hustling you up against the wall. "Noona," he breathed in the smell of your shampoo, steadying his hands on your hips fingers digging into your skin. "You don't know how much I wanted to put my hands on you. I can't take it anymore, noona."  he pressed his erection against your slick folds "I need to be inside you." "Then show noona what that dirty cock can do." you smirked, challenging the boy. He gripped both of your thighs and carried you to the dinner table. Laying you down before spreading your legs open for him. He aligned his cock to your entrance, pushing gradually, inch by inch until he bottomed out. The stretch was incredible, you were already dripping wet but there was still the sting that lingered from his size. Your walls were trying resisting the force, convulsing around his length spontaneously. "You're tighter than I've imagined, noona." You did kegels around him, eliciting a sharp groan from the boy. "Fuck, Noona. You were made for my cock." You hummed in agreement, relishing the sensation of him pushing in and out of your tight hole. "Baby.." You moaned wantonly, elevating you butt so that he could have a better angle while penetrating you ruthlessly. "Your thick long cock is the best I've ever had. Better than my ex-husband's pathetic excuse for a dick." His ego doubled at your praise, pride blooming in his chest. "More, noona.. please tell me how great my cock is for you.." "Ahhh-- ahh. Jimin!" You bit your lip, clenching around him. "You're taking remarkably good care of noona. Fucking your noona so good. I love your cock so much. I want you to fill me up with you cum. Yeah? Hmmmm. Make your noona the happiest by cumming inside my pussy." There was the push he needed, he was plunging further into you. He felt the barrier of your cervix and broken through it before spilling all his seed into your womb. You quickly followed when you felt the warmth of his juices flowing into you. Your velvet walls convulsed around his cock, milking him for all his worth. Silence fell on the both of you, only the south of your panting and harsh breath resonated. You supported yourself up with you elbows as Jimin pull out his now flaccid penis. You felt the trickle of both of your releases slobber out of your sore hole. "Baby, do noona a favor and clean up the mess you've made with your mouth." Jimin without hesitation obeyed and dove right in. Making sure to get every last drop of yours and his cum with his tongue. He lifted his head, mouth glistening from your juices. You pulled him closer to pet his held. "You were such a good boy for noona. Bring me to bed." He obliged, carrying you bridal style to your room. His muscles rippling under your stripped body. "Noona?" He questioned while his face was still cuddling your tummy. "Hmm?" "Did I make you feel good?" You lifted up his face and said, "You made me feel so good, baby." You assured, loving the way his eyes turn into crescent moons endearing when he smiles. "Can we do that again? But this time I want the blindfolds." He flashed a cheeky grin. You smirked at his innocence, placing a kiss on his temple. "Of course, baby. We have all the time in the world." ++ The sound of knocking on your front door wakes you up, seems like this is will be a regular thing now. You managed to put on an oversized shirt and underwear on before heading to the source of the noise. You opened the doors at was bet by Jungkook and Taehyung. "Good morning, boys." You yawned, gesturing them to come in. "Uhm. Good morning, noona" Jungkook croaked, pushing his senior to speak on his behalf. "See, we haven't heard from Jimin since last night so uh-- it's just jungkook and I that'll be finishing up work today." Taehyung stated. "About that…." 

You heard the door of your room creak open and out comes Jimin with nothing but this boxers on and hickeys all over his neck and chest. The two boys looked at each other dumbfoundedly and once they've put two and two together, huge grins were plastered on their faces. End

tell me what u think pls 

#ksmutclub #btsguild #bangtanarmynet #magicshopnet #jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #bts writing #kpop writing #sub!jimin #sub!bts #jimin scenario #jimin imagine #d/s themes #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan fic #jungkook #jhope #taehyung #namjoon

[jeannereames]

Hi, I'm curious about the incident with the Pages, what exactly happened with that? Was Alexander not exactly a "kid" person and the pages didn't really bond with him? It seems extreme for them to want him dead. I thought of Alexander as a people person who wanted to be liked. He seemed to care about his brother, even with his disability. Maybe that's just Renault's influence since her books portrayed Alexander as compassionate and empathetic. I think you'd provide a better take on it, thanks!

What happened with the Pages or, as Beth likes to refer to them (accurately) the King’s Youths* had nothing to do with Alexander’s feelings towards kids or even teenagers. It had to do with timē, or public honor. I’ve written before about the importance of timē in Macedonian politics, particularly with regard to Pausanias’s murder of Philip.

Before I go further, however, I want to point to an excellent article by senior Macedoniast Elizabeth D. Carney, “The Role of the Basilikoi Paides at the Macedonian Court,” in Macedonian Legacies, Howe and Reames, eds., (2008), 145-64** Beth doesn’t just write about Olympias and Macedonian Women. She frequently deals with Macedonian court politics, and that’s what this article addresses. The incident with the Pages is examined in detail, and she comes to somewhat different conclusions about the complexities of it than she did in her earlier “Regicide in Macedonia,” although the latter should be read by anyone wanting to understand why Pausanias killed Philip (see linked post above).

Much of what follows summarizes Beth’s article, but read the whole thing as she explores a number of intriguing issues surrounding the Pages. (Beth is a good writer, clear, unlike some.)

Back to timē. One of the (many) jobs of the King’s Youths involved attending the king on hunts.

Also, a critical ritual that marked the movement from boyhood to manhood in Macedonian society was a hunt wherein the boy was expected to spear a boar (very dangerous prey) without nets (to hold it). If you read Dancing with the Lion: Becoming, Alexander undergoes that very ritual in chapter 3.

Anyway, most Macedonians would have undergone this rite-of-passage in their mid/late teens, possibly early 20s. Much is made of the fact Kassandros hadn’t, even though he was in his 30s. It was seen as a lack of courage (and thus manliness: andreia).

Furthermore, there was a Persian tradition that nobody in the royal hunting party could strike at an animal until the king had. To anticipate the king was a serious affront. Persians were all about rank and status.

Macedonians didn’t really have rules, per se, but something similar seems to have been assumed (unless the king intended somebody else to be chief hunter). In Macedonian hunts, competition was very much the name of the game, and “helping” the king wasn’t appreciated. Lysimachos found that out the hard way. That Krateros had the gall not just to save Alexander from a lion, but commemorate it in an ex-voto, is notable, although it was actually Krateros’s son who commissioned the statue group (c. 320 BCE) memorializing his father’s bravery … after both his father and Alexander were dead. By choosing that event of many in his father’s career, what do you think is the message sent? Not just his father’s ties to Megalexandros, but that Alexander wouldn’t be Alexander without Krateros. Perhaps it was his son’s way to hit back at Alexander’s own elevation of Hephaistion (his dad’s chief rival) to semi-divine status as a hero.

Another bit of background, Alexander had been trucking around Asia for about six years by the time this occurred. He was getting reinforcements for troops, but it’s not clear he was getting other reinforcements: e.g., new Basilikoi Paides. Hatzopoulos has theorized not, or if he did, it was early in the campaign, when he sent back Koinos and Meleager along with the newlyweds to Macedonia for a “break” in the winter of 334/3, to make new little Macedonians. They returned with reinforcements. So, maybe we can shave off a year. Still, and assuming Hammond is right that boys were King’s Youths only between about 14 and 18, these “boys” were getting a bit long in the tooth, even the youngest being past the 4-year appointment.

A lot of focus is spent on the conspiracy, Kallisthenes as their stoic-ish teacher, and fluffed up speeches (written by Curitus) about freedom and tyranny… It comes off very Romanized. I won’t go into Kallisthenes, but he reminds me a bit of some US Senators (Ben Sasse): a lot of hot air about principles while kissing ass with his votes. In Kallisthenes’s case, kissing ass with his glowing, propagandic history written for the Greeks. Even his own uncle (Aristotle) thought he didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. (Yeah…don’t think much of the guy; can you tell?)

What people have forgotten about—but Beth discusses—is the lead up to the conspiracy. What prompted it?

A hunt gone wrong prompted it. Hermolaos stepped between the king and his quarry, to spear the boar for himself. One source says he did it because he thought the king in trouble, but the other doesn’t give that as a motivation.

A-ha! Did you just say that in your head? You should have. 😊

The fallout: a furious Alexander had Hermolaos not only flogged, but also took away his horse. (Kinda like Dad taking the keys to your car.)

Now, flogging wasn’t that shocking (horrible as it sounds) in Greek and Macedonian society. “Spare the rod and spoil the child” is a saying they’d condone. Normally it was reserved for slaves and children (and women). The King’s Youths were a little old for it but…it’s the king. Curtius specifically states that the Basilikoi Paides performed jobs that were normally slaves’ duty, but being for the king, it became an honor. Plus most of these teens would age out c. 18 into another unit, probably the Hypaspists (Pezhetairoi under Philip) or the Companion Cavalry.

But—if Hatzopoulos is right—these young men may have been some years past 18, which would make a flogging especially humiliating. Even if they weren’t, and Alexander had been getting new Basilikoi Paides post-Gaugamela as well as new troops, Hermolaos was still a touchy teen punished like a “little boy” or a slave for just trying to spear his boar and be a man!

In punishing Hermolaos for insulting Alexander’s timē, Alexander, in turn, insulted his. Alexander no doubt saw it as a breach of discipline and decorum, as well as a slap at his own courage and prowess in the hunt. But to Hermolaos, it was, as Beth points out, “emasculating.”

Keep in mind: these are young men, even if late teens/early twenties. Everything’s a crisis. They’re also the sons of the top tier Macedonian elite, so very tetchy about their honor. And the Basilikoi Paides would have been an absolute stew of competition and testosterone poisoning.

I can just imagine a background to this of his mates teasing him, “When ya gonna get your boar, Hermolaos?” “You too much of a white-belly to face down a boar, Hermolaos?” Etc. Maybe he really did think, for a moment, Alexander was in danger AND this would be his chance! He could protect his king (his job as a Page) AND win his manhood! Two birds with one spear!

Except it didn’t turn out like that.

Smarting from more than the flogging, he would have complained to his friends in the unit, and griping grew legs and became a conspiracy. As Beth points out, they may even have heard fathers and uncles complaining about Alexander’s “Persianizing,” but they only complained. The boys, spurred by youth and Kallisthenes’s attempts to cover his ass-kissing with a pretense of philosophy, imagined themselves—especially Hermolaos and his lover Sostratos—as the new Harmodaios and Aristogeiton. (And yeah, I bet some clever soul pointed out the similarities between Hermolaos’s name and Harmadaios’s.)

So what is usually seen as an event all about Alexander’s increasing Persianizing and tyranny really gives us a peek into the pressure cooker that was Elite Life at the Macedonian court. Now you understand why I keep comparing these guys to a pack of sharks.

More on the Pages, Companions, Somatophylakes at the court....

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

(**) The link above takes you to academia-edu where you can obtain a free download not only of that article, but the entire festschrift in honor of Gene. Tim (Howe) and I have made it free in PDF form and very cheap in paper form at Amazon. It’s basically sold at printing cost and a few pennies. All proceeds from paper copies go to the subvention fund of the Association of Ancient Historians, which provides financial assistance to grad students and junior scholars to attend annual meetings. Tim and I get nothing. (You will also help us shaft the dirty dog who bought Regina from its original owner and shafted us by printing and selling copies but giving us no royalties [like we got much anyway]. Academic karma.)

(*) While Beth’s translation of “King’s Youths” is more accurate, I decided not to use it in Dancing with the Lion because it falls awkwardly on the ear, and most people familiar with the court are already familiar with the Pages. That said, I agree with her that “pages” is misleading, causing most to envision pre-pubescent boys after the medieval fashion, whereas these guys are closer to squires.

#Royal Pages #Basilikoi Paides #Pages' Conspiracy #Hermalaos's Conspiracy #Hermalaos #Sostratos #Alexander the Great #Elizabeth Carney #Classics #ancient macedonia #Ancient Greece #Macedonian court #asks #Macedonian Royal Pages #Kallisthenes #Callisthenes #Krateros #Craterus

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Happy | Poe Dameron

✦ pairing — Poe Dameron x Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 3.6k

✦ request — can I request one where reader used to date Ben in secret and then she joins the resistance and starts dating Poe? And then Rey brings Ben back to the resistance instead of him dying in tros and tried to get her back so poe gets jealous but she cant forgive ben and doesn’t love him anymore?

✦ warnings — angst, jealousy, fluff, sexual innuendos.

✦ gif credit

☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎

You felt someone’s stare, heavy and piercing from afar. Unable to turn around for you were speaking to General Organa, you rolled your healthy shoulder.

“Who’s that?” Rey asked, pointing at the bandaged arm Poe had just observed.

He instinctively smiled. “That’s (Y/N), our only diplomat left.”

Rey hummed, watching you with more attention now. Your form was unmistakable, your profile hadn’t changed much although your mannerisms had — you stood with your head held up high now, with an amazing posture if she may say so herself.

“She could help us!”

“She already does,” he pointed out. “She’s been part of The Resistance for years now.”

“No, no. I’ve seen Kylo’s mind, she’s always there. They love each other deeply. Poe,” Rey turned really serious, “she could end this war and bring him to the light.”

He still remembered the first time he saw you, no long after he joined and was made Commander. Poe had been pacing, impatient to get some news already, in Leia’s office.

You had arrived, annoyed, and snapping at your protocol droid for not shutting up. Then he had ruined it furthermore by ogling at you and blocking your way into the room.

In his defense, the General hadn’t told him the diplomat would stunt him with their beauty. She had scolded him for not letting you in, stifling a laugh when he took a chair out for you to sit.

Poe was captivated by you when he heard you complain about The New Republic. They were refusing to see The First Order as a threat which you qualified as moronic and delusional — he agreed wholeheartedly.

The admission of having insulted someone had never been so attractive to him until Leia asked you if the reason why Lonno Desa refused to maintain talks with you was that you insulted him and you admitted, “not to his face.”

As Snap liked to say, he was smitten. Poe Dameron, the best pilot in the galaxy and the biggest flirt in the system, was smitten for someone who had turned him down on several occasions.

He knew he wasn’t entitled to anything — hell, he appreciated that you hadn’t led him on! But hearing you say you weren’t the relationship type broke his heart. It felt extremely personal, almost like an attack on his ability to be the right person for someone.

And now Rey was telling him you were in love with someone else.

Fuck.

Leia was against the idea of telling you about it, you had the right to continue your life the way you liked it. The more Rey insisted that you weren’t happy without Ren, the worse Poe’s chest tightened.

Then you entered the room, asking if you could help with anything and he lost it. Poe stormed out of there, glaring at anyone who tried to approach him as he made his way across the hangar. He didn’t know why he was so angry, but he felt as though rage was consuming him. His skin was hot, breath ragged.

Wandering around the jungle had always calmed him. It reminded him of home, of those afternoons he spent with his mom, learning how to pilot from the best. He missed her the most when he lost control of his emotions, when he felt again like that little boy scared of his parents never coming back.

He had experienced a similar fear hours before. You were only alive because you left Hosnian Prime earlier than you should have had. And now his newest friend was unconscious in the infirmary while you were talked into going back to your ex-boyfriend.

He had been sure you liked him, there was no other explanation for the way you stared at him and your gentle tone when you spoke to him. Poe had accepted your friendship gladly, he loved spending time with you whenever the two of you were available and seeing the worry leave your features when he came back from a mission. But friends didn’t stare longingly at each other from across every room, friends were never asked how long had they been dating when one reminded the other they needed to eat or get some sleep.

Confusion and anger were a bad combination, and there he was drowning in both of them.

“That was a little rude, Commander.”

Poe jumped to his feet upon hearing your voice. You looked at your surroundings, making sure there wasn’t a creature lurking in.

The aliveness of D’Qar terrified you, how untamed it was in competition to back in Chandrila where the gentle sounds of the lake made calm reign over the chaos of its citizens. You didn’t dislike it per se, but it was a taste you were still in the process of acquiring.

“I just needed some fresh air,” he explained, sitting back on the thick log. You were still staring at the tree to your right, presumably in thought.

“You know,” you mused, “I used to say that when I was a teen. I would visit Lake Sah'ot, sit in front of it, and stare at the crystal clear water with the excuse that I needed fresh air.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re not a better liar than teenage me, and she was embarrassingly bad.”

“I feel furious,” he confessed. “I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I wanted to calm down.”

His confession prompted you to take your eyes off the greenery to look at him. Poe’s head hung down as he fixed his eyes on his boots.

“You’re alive, Poe. That’s normal.”

“The reason behind it is the problem.”

“Fix it.”

He didn’t have to gaze at you to know you had said it with a shrug. You always made things sound easy, maybe it was how used you were to convince people to do what you deemed appropriate.

“Can I ask you something?”

You stepped closer to him, taking a seat on the same lodge he was resting on. “Anything.”

“Are you in love with Kylo Ren?”

A long sigh escaped you. “I’ve never met him.”

“Rey said you knew him as a teen.”

“He wasn’t Kylo Ren back then,” you clarified. The distinction was important for you, for your morals, for your pride, for your heart.

Laying on the grass, hand laced with his, you had asked Ben, “will you miss me?” with the hopes the inquiry would make him change his mind. You knew it wasn’t an easy thing to do, that he actually wanted to stay home, but every option you had given him he had ignored.

You were ready to leave your life behind for him. He had the force and you, what else could he need? The Galaxy was so vast you were sure the two of you could find the perfect planet to hide.

Ben however didn’t answer the question, deflecting by reminding you it wasn’t his choice. There was a wave of underlying anger in his tone that scared you, it had never sounded so deep.

Seeing him leave had been heartbreaking. His promise of keeping contact with you had been the only flickering hope you had, one that never ignited back.

You knew you had lost him no longer after. Oh, teenage love, naive and raw with no way to break the inevitable fall. His promise had never meant to be kept, but you had found said truth too many sleepless nights later, eyes brimmed with tears and disappointment in yourself bubbling up inside your chest.

When Leia gave you the news of his new identity, you didn’t know how to react. One thing was being left behind and another was your first love giving in to what his family had been fighting against for years. Ben betrayed everything he had sworn to love, destroying lives and dreams as mere collateral damage.

“Just… answer the question. Please.”

“I am not.”

“She said you’re not happy.”

She was right, you weren’t. You were fighting against everything you were feeling, things you had once assumed you had already experienced.

It had been cruel, you had wondered if the stars hated you, if there was something in you that had pushed Ben to choose the dark side. And when you started to think you would never go through that anguish again, you met Poe.

There were differences, he would never fall to the dark side, you were sure of that, Poe would rather die than give in to the wishes of an oppressing organization. But you were still you, the first relationship you had was an utter disaster and every time you had tried with someone else hadn’t been too contrasting.

Rejecting him had been painful from the beginning. Having a man so handsome and charming, so brave and dedicated, interested in you after having to put up with the worst kind of men you could ever imagine to exist, sounded too good to be true.

Poe never tried to pressure you into accepting to date him. He would ask if you had changed your mind when he caught you staring for too long. You had wanted to say yes really badly, but it wasn’t right — you weren’t ready to experience heartbreak again, to ruin another person.

You felt lonely, of course you did. Every time you saw him you wondered how it would be like to wake up beside him, hold his hand and play with his curls, to be held by him, to be his and for him to be yours.

“Are you happy?”

Poe turned to his left, where you were sitting. Shaking his head, he said, “I don’t think anyone is happy when we’re at war.”

You had to agree with that. “Then why would my unhappiness be caused by an ex-lover?”

“Rey—“

Interrupting him, you told him something you hadn’t planned to, “I know what she saw, but she only saw his version — mine’s different. I am not suffering because of him.”

“I’m jealous.”

“I know.”

“Is it bad that I want you to suffer for me?”

The question sounded cruel which he hadn’t intended. He just wanted to be in your mind like you were in his. He wanted you to have vivid dreams about him and to fantasize of him only to become disappointed because you didn’t have him. He wanted you to want to have him, that was all.

“You know I already do.”

But Poe didn’t know anything anymore. He wouldn’t hold against you a past relationship, what kind of person did that? But he did hold against you the adamancy on pushing him away when now you said to be suffering because of him.

“Do I?” He cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve turned me down hundreds of times.”

You nodded, wetting your lips. “And it makes me suffer. Those two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” he huffed.

Resting your hand on his shoulder, you leaned forward. As you left a kiss on his cheek, you murmured an apology. Poe turned his face, lips brushing yours as his eyelashes batted against yours — you didn’t move, staring at him while trying to fight the urge to kiss him.

It was a battle you would have never won, first because you didn’t want to and second of all because Poe knew you well enough to know you were about to pull away so he kissed you before you could do it.

To his delight, you kissed back immediately. His arm snaked around your middle, pulling you flush on his side while his free hand held your face. Sliding your healthy hand toward his farthest shoulder, you tilted your head to kiss him deeper.

Slowly, you parted from him, breathing in his own harsh breath as he inhaled and exhaled on your face. You expected Poe to say something, but he only kissed you again.

“This is the worst moment to say this,” you mumbled against his lips, “but I have to make a holo call in a few minutes.”

He whined. “Will you pay attention to me later?” His lips caressed yours as he said it.

You gave him another kiss, short and sweet. “We’ll see.”

With another whine, he stood up, his arm still around you as you did the same. The two of you walked in silence toward the base, him finding adorable how weary you were of your surroundings.

Rey tried to talk to you again, you could see the desperation in her eyes. Poe tightened his arm on your waist, but you slid off his grasp momentarily. Assuring him you wouldn’t take too long, you pulled Rey to the side.

Giving explanations wasn’t something you were used to, but this was a war we were talking about. So you told her your reasons behind not getting near Kylo, and although disappointed she respected them.

☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎

You ran into his arms, forgetting his rank and the fact that you weren’t alone. Poe buried his face in the crook of your neck, hugging you the tightest he had ever done.

Keeping the tears in was a challenge. You had thought you wouldn’t see him again for a moment, that you would have to live without his stupid jokes and his bright smile. You wouldn’t have been able to take it.

But he was there, kissing your forehead and reminding you everything would be okay from now on. The First Order was gone and Palpatine was dead.

You assumed Rey was staring, the intensity of the first time she looked at you almost made you part from Poe and ask what was wrong. Almost. Poe didn’t let you move, trapping you into his arms.

Complaining would be foolish, his hugs were your favorite. Everything about Poe could be cataloged as your favorite, from his kisses to his sense of duty.

You only parted from Poe to hug Finn who reminded you he was there too by kissing your hair. You had grown to see him as a brother in the past year, to proudly watch his progress and his now unwavering belief in the cause.

As you moved to then hug Rey, you froze. Beside her, the face you had expected to never see again smiled softly at you.

Frowning, you cleared your throat to politely say, “I’m sorry for your loss, Ren.”

Kylo opened his mouth to thank you, until he realized you hadn’t called him by his name. “It’s Ben, actually.”

“Noted.”

Finn shrugged when you stared at him in search for an explanation, Poe didn’t even meet your eyes. Your boyfriend started cleaning BB-8 in the middle of the hangar, humming as the droid beeped quietly.

The consequent three days felt way longer, you had assumed a week and a half passed due to how exhausted you were. Poe was constantly in a bad mood, fighting with Rey over little things and ranting about it to you.

His attitude made you regret giving up your individual quarters at times. You loved sharing everything with him and wouldn’t change him for the entire galaxy, but you were really, reaaaaaaally tired.

“Babe,” you interrupted his complaining. “Why don’t you take a day off? Just one.”

He frantically shook his head, as if the idea of having a good night of sleep was heinous. “There are a lot of things to do, darling. And not enough time.”

“We’re not at war anymore,” you reminded him.

Something crossed his eyes. Poe rolled on the bed to lay on his side, draping his arm over your belly to pull you closer. “Why don’t we talk about something else, gorgeous?”

Facing him, you felt the frustration leave your system. Poe always looked at you with too much devotion, his expression was neutral yet his eyes were shining — you had never seen anything prettier.

☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎

Waking up next to him was a dream all on itself, his messy curls brushing your arm and his warm body burning yours up — both literally and metaphorically.

Never had you felt more at peace nor happier than in Poe’s arms. At times you felt as though nothing else but him existed — you were positive the past year or so would have been unbearable without him. He was everything you had, and for once it was enough — every fear and insecurity had slowly been erased, between a few fights due to his recklessness and your stubbornness but nothing a long conversation wouldn’t fix.

All those doubts of losing his valuable friendship vanished a few months into the relationship. Now your conversations were longer, intimacy functioned at every level, his jokes were funnier and dirtier. You were happy, Poe made you happy.

You would have loved to stay in bed cuddling, but between your duties and his, It didn’t sound realistic. Soon you would be able to, if everything went according to plan and the survivors from The New Republic accepted to hear him and Finn out; you weren’t sure what their entire plan was made of, but you trusted them.

Rey and Rose joined you for lunch, exchanging looks every few minutes. The dining hall was almost empty, you didn’t have any excuse to ignore their antics.

“Is there something you need to tell me?”

Biting her bottom lip, Rey nodded. “I talked to Finn, but… look, Poe is taking it a little too far.”

“A little too far with what?”

Rose started playing with her glass, avoiding looking at either you or Rey in case the topic sparked a fight. She hated being in the middle, and as much as she understood you often took Poe’s side because he was your boyfriend, she was on Rey’s side this time.

Poe smiled brightly as you walked toward him, angling his arm for you to fit against his side. Not wanting to cause a scene, you hugged him by the waist with an arm and whispered in his ear that you needed to talk to him.

You followed him to his and Finn’s office, keeping your mouth shut although you were about to lose control.

He took his jacket off, reaching for your hips. You placed your hands on his chest, he looked as good as ever, but you weren’t there to fuck him.

You went straight to the point, “Why did you make Ben a janitor?”

Oh, so he was Ben again, huh. Poe shrugged. “He has to start somewhere.”

“Poe…”

He removed his hands off your hips, opting for crossing his arms against his chest. “Why do you care so much?”

Sliding your hands down his torso to free them from the tight grip of his forearms, you deadpanned, “Because there are protocols for these kinds of situations.”

“He’s a war criminal.”

“And there’s a protocol for that,” you repeated, lifting your eyebrows.

His first mistake was stuttering, “T—the protocol can’t be followed right now.” His second mistake was forgetting you knew more about those things than him. “When we re-establish the New Republic—“

“Do you really want to make those mistakes again?”

“No, and that’s not the point, you know it.”

“You’re being petty, that’s the point.”

“He should be punished.”

“Punished by cleaning the base, that will teach him!”

“Keeps him busy.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s Leia’s son.”

“And your ex-boyfriend,” Poe gritted. There it was, the real problem. He had seen the idiot, trying to spark conversation with you and asking about your family.

How dare he ask when you had lost many loved ones because of him? And why weren’t you furious?

Pursing your lips as your shoulders dropped, you grabbed him by the neck. “I don’t care about him, we’ve talked about that.”

“What if he wins you back?” Poe wondered out loud, not really meaning to do it.

Dropping your hands to his forearms, you made him uncross his arms. Guiding his palms to your back, not withdrawing yours until his touch turned firm, you leaned forward.

You found astounding how often you regretted not having started dating him earlier but this time was different, it wasn’t only regret but shame. If you had, he wouldn’t be so stressed and in consequence you wouldn’t have to put up with people telling you to calm him down or talk him out of things.

“I love you.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “Only you.”

Closing his eyes, he leaned into your touch. “I don’t want to lose you, much less to him.”

You kissed him. “You won’t.”

“Never, ever?”

“Nope,” you popped the p. “You’re stuck with me, General.”

You knew what being called by his rank did to him. Poe smirked, kissing you more heavily than you had kissed him as he turned both of you around, trapping you between his torso and the desk.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth only for you to suck on it, moaning as his hands came up to cup your breasts. His fingers worked quickly in undoing the buttons of your shirt as he dragged his lips down to your neck, sucking gently on your skin.

The doors slid open. “Hey, P— oh, man, not again!”

You turned your head to the side while Poe lifted his face off your chest in order to look at the doorway, where an annoyed Finn was glaring at both of you. Poe blocked the view as you buttoned your shirt back up, asking Finn if he needed anything.

“For you two to not have sex there, first of all. It’s my desk too!”

You gave Finn a sheepish smile before half-heartedly apologizing. “I will leave you two to talk about important matters.”

As you left the office, you could hear Poe complaining about Finn’s awful timing.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size fanfiction #poe dameron #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x plus size reader

[bigskydreaming]

Height discourse confuses me so much, because I, a 4'9 21-year-old Asian perceives anyone taller as tall. But reading international posts saying 5'6 is small makes me double-take, like, "Wut?"

LOL, ahh yes, the infamous “How Tall IS Dick Grayson Actually” discourse. I feel you. And I can definitely see how it would be bemusing as hell given your perspective, lmao.

And I mean, its definitely up there on the list of “Things I Can’t Believe There’s Actually Discourse About” buuuuuut I’m not really judging because I know damn well there’s a fuckton of shit I’ve Discoursed about on pretty much everyone else’s “Things I Can’t Believe There’s Actually Discourse About” list. 

*Shrugs* But I also do get why it exists, if you scratch beneath the surface - as is often true of a lot of seemingly inane discourses. Its not really about height so much as it is about the why’s of writers specifying certain heights for him, and stereotypes associated with height.

On the one hand, you’ve got the fans who look at writers who make a point of writing Dick as particularly short, or the shortest of the Batfam once all of them are adults, and think: this is because of fandom’s fixation with writing Dick as effeminate or the least ‘manly’ of the Batfam, and thus I dislike it and do not trust this writer’s take on him.

Then on the other hand, you have the fans who look at objections like this and think: this is because of bullshit fostered by the toxic masculinity and sexism that’s so present in society, even women can be guilty of perpetuating the idea that there’s anything TO object about there, that a man being effeminate or less ‘manly’ than his brothers is some kind of insult or slight against him in the first place.

But then go back to the first hand.....

And on the one hand, of those fans, you’ve got the fans that don’t actually think there’s anything insulting about a man being effeminate or less manly themselves, but given that the bullshit fostered by the toxic masculinity and sexism in society is so everpresent, even women can be guilty of perpetuating the idea that ‘shorter = weaker’ etc, etc.......its not him being written as short that’s objectionable to them, its what they believe the writer is implying by making that distinction that they’re objecting to, like that it reads to them as though its being used as a smokescreen to create associations in readers’ minds, with the idea of him being weaker or softer or whatever the fuck compared to his brothers, without those writers actually having to SAY what they’re getting at there and spell it out. Plausible deniability kinda thing.

And then on the other hand, you have those fans who object to writing Dick as short because they actually DO buy into that bullshit and they ARE simply objecting to the idea itself because of toxic masculinity and sexism and etc etc.

But then go back to the original second hand.....

And on the one hand THERE, you have the fans whose responses to people objecting about writing Dick as short are based on exactly what they say they are......pointing out that its only objectionable if its viewed as insulting and the only reasons its viewed as insulting are toxic masculinity and sexism which they’re calling out as being perpetuated here.

And on the other hand there, you have those fans who DO buy into the associations between ‘shorter = weaker’ and actually ARE writing things that way with the intent of hoping to form that association in the minds of any readers who similarly buy into those lines of thought or are susceptible to it......and are simply using ‘arent you the REAL misogynist here for thinking shorter equals more feminine which equals weaker or frail or whatever’ arguments that are simply typical flipping the script tactics and hiding behind buzzwords they don’t actually believe in themselves but know are effective in getting people to back down, etc, etc. The plausible deniability thing.

And I’ve been out of hands here for awhile now, obviously, but you get what I mean. Round and round and round it goes, with the true point always hidden juuuuuuust beneath the surface, and more than a little tedious to have all unpacked and catalogued like here, which is a major factor in why so many people rarely dig beneath the surface of a seemingly inane discourse to get at what people are REALLY arguing about but nobody wants to ‘lose ground on’ by being the first to admit to.

As for me, again, this really isn’t a dicourse that I spend much time on because I’d rather cut straight to the point of an argument in general, and this isn’t an discourse that’s particularly amenable to people doing that, obviously. 

And also, I honestly just don’t care that much. LOL. Yeah, I often read works where Dick is singled out as being distinctively shorter and feel an author is trying to ‘imply’ something and its the implications of that which are the source of any ‘Not Good, Scoob’ feelings rather than because I agree with what’s trying to be implied. But y’know......when an author IS playing that game and they actually do buy into toxic and sexist stereotypes.....I mean, there’s literally always other indications of this in their work, giving them away all over the place. So there’s honestly never really a time when his height itself is actually what that hinges upon, y’know?

So my big takeaway from all of this is: headcanon and write Dick as whatever damn height you feel like and if you want to imply something about him just fucking say it directly and if you want to accuse someone of something just fucking call it out directly.

*points to the above unpacking of this particular discourse and how fucking tedious and unnecessary so much of it is and all just because people won’t just say what they actually came to say or lay claim to what they actually said*

ANYWAY.

Personally, regardless of how Dick is written in a fic, I will always headcanon him as somewhere between 5′10″ and 6′1″ for reasons that are entirely irrelevant and meaningless to anyone but me, pretty much. LOL.

In my head, Dick obviously has to be that height because he’s walked a runway as a model before. That’s it. That’s the whole reason my mind automatically goes to that span when picturing him or reading something about him.

(As most people who have followed me for a bit know, I spent a number of years working in the TV industry. There were a couple years there where I did a little bit of print modeling too, nothing major at all, but enough to know that the fashion industry has a Very Definitive Thing about male runway models and height: If you are a male runway model, you are between 5′10″ and 6′1″. If you are not between 5′10″ and 6′1″, you are not a male runway model and you never will be. Its a Thing. And not one the industry is shy about. 

Because of the fact that the fashion industry is mostly centered around women models with name recognition, and very few men who model have star power specifically in terms of modeling, rather than because of crossover/overlap with acting, there’s a major difference in how designers tend to approach designing for models. Most designers designing runway looks for women do so with specific models already in mind. Most designers designing runway looks for men do so without specific models in mind because there simply aren’t enough male models with the kind of branding/name recognition that does a designer any good. 

So designers literally JUST design runway looks for men in that height range, and anyone outside that range would require tailoring that could feasibly throw off an entire runway look. So they just don’t do it, to the point that an agent or manager sending them someone outside that height range to consider for a job means that agent’s not getting called back, because they just gave themselves away as a clear amateur by not knowing better.

Of course, keep in mind that my experiences with modeling are based on the industry re: ten years ago, so it could be that things have changed in this regard since. But that was the status quo then.)

So yeah. Dick Grayson walked a runway for Cheyenne Freemont, thus in my mind he’s obviously between 5′10″ and 6′1″ lolol, because any up and coming designer trying to make a name for herself would absolutely know better than to send out someone shorter than that and still think anyone in the industry would take her seriously.

LOL. I told you it was inane. But in my defense, plenty of people headcanon that Dick HAS to be small because he’s a gymnast, and uh.....that is not how that works. Anyone can be an amazing gymnast, its just that smaller body types lend themselves to gymnastics better than bigger, bulkier bodies. And thus the competition oriented gymnastics SPORT heavily favors cultivating and training gymnasts on the smaller side, because coaches and endorsers are looking for literally any advantage possible.

(Being shorter means you have a lower center of gravity which is a help when balancing, or stabilizing yourself. Its easier for a shorter gymnast to keep their balance or to stick a landing. But it doesn’t become impossible just because someone’s hit six feet tall. It HELPS to be shorter. It doesn’t determine whether or not you can do a trick at all, much like being short and having a lower center of gravity by no means GUARANTEES you have good balance.)

And of course, though Dick excels at a ton of gymnastics, he is not and never has been a gymnast per se....he’s an acrobat. From a family of acrobats. Who have been doing this as a family business generationally, thus.....why would they have future height requirements when training their son in the family business? And being from a family of acrobats doesn’t ensure you’re going to be short, if your family members are not already short to begin with. Evolution does not give a fuck about future employment opportunities when selecting which gene sequences to flip on while in utero.

The correlation is ‘most gymnasts who excel at gymnastics feats are small,’ not ‘to excel at gymastic feats, you must be small.’

I am absolutely and completely just rambling now and have been for awhile so I’m gonna go beat up my insomnia until it caves and lets me go the fuck to sleep.

[vincentmacmillan]

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[veiledpeaches]

chance encounters | part i: what secrets we keep

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible. 

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 3k

thank you @seasonblues, you’re an inspiration to me.

She has just clocked into the office when she spots Doyoung at his desk, typing away furiously at his screen. This morning he has the blinds around his office up, such that anyone entering the office can see the faint glow of the computer screen reflected on Doyoung’s countenance. She guesses that he would be leaving the office earlier today, since he’s dressed a bit more casually, electing for his fringe to fall loosely onto the tip of his eyebrows instead of its usual comma hairstyle, his pressed white button-down free of its tie. His lips are moving, presumably mouthing the words presented on his screen while his eyebrows are slightly furrowed in thought.

As she gets to her desk, she lets her leather satchel, plump with files, fall onto her chair before walking towards the Managing Editor’s office.

“Haewon!” Doyoung’s face lights up as he meets her gaze, a childish and toothy grin forming on his face as he takes the cup of coffee from her. “I have excellent news for you.”

“Morning boss,” she laughs, “aren’t you leaving tomorrow? I thought you were on leave today.”

Doyoung hums dismissively, taking a sip of his coffee. “They like it, the Evergreen winner. They liked his work.”

The Evergreen Writers’ Competition was a local youth creative writing competition that was also a popular event that publishers looked into to discover aspiring and potential young writers. Haewon had been promoting the recent winner’s work to Doyoung relentlessly for the past few weeks. Even though Doyoung had been generally unconvinced of the commercial potential of the novel, he had submitted her proposal of it to Headquarters for their consideration under Haewon’s ceaseless endorsement.

“They’re publishing it?” Haewon presses her hands together with glee, “They liked it?”

“They liked it so much they want me to bring both the original and revised manuscript when I leave tomorrow. Oh, I’ll need the cover artwork too. They’re planning on translating and pushing it out to the American audience.” Doyoung smiles knowingly.

“I told you it was good!”

There is a hint of a smile at Doyoung’s lips, “I have to admit I couldn’t put it down the whole time, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. But-” he pauses, “you need to admit the writing isn’t spectacular. The emotions are too raw, and his diction is unrefined-”

“These are things we can change with copyediting boss,” Haewon emphasizes, “with proofreading. We can make it better. But the world building is immaculate. It’s an incredible piece of work for a seventeen-year-old.”

Doyoung narrows his eyes, a smirk peeking from his lips. “Are you sure this has nothing to do with the way he looks?”

“Boss!” Haewon is scandalized, “he’s seventeen!”

“When I googled about him, I knew at once why Marketing said he would be good for press,” he laughs. “He looks more like he should be scoring on a game or scoring dates than scoring at a budding writers’ competition.”

While Doyoung has maintained a more professional relationship with her through the three years she has worked as his assistant, there are moments like these where Doyoung’s cheeky side slips through the cracks, reminding her of why she was so drawn to him from the very start. How effortless his humor is, how playful he actually is. The small crinkles that form at the corner of his eyes when his face breaks into a laugh. How wide his eyes get and how dramatic his gestures become when he’s talking about things he loves outside of work, like a drama he’d just started on, or the current political climate. The way he bends over her desk to explain to her about target readership in different export markets. And more than that. How much he loves reading, and his job, even on days he can’t agree with the directors. How he throws a disdainful expression at her when he overhears colleagues making sexist comments. How he tells her he’s trying to become a better listener, whether people need that or not. How convinced he is of his rightness and proud he is of his work, but not in the least satisfied with it. How attentive he is to every detail, whether it’s about Accounting’s expenditure records or about how her eyes remain a bit watery for the rest of the day after she receives a call from her mother.

Haewon rolls her eyes, but her smile is unwavering. “I’ll go prepare the documents you need now, boss.”

He nods and turns to his phone in his hand, and she’s about to turn and exit his office, when he speaks again, this time gentler, “oh by the way, Inhee told me you haven’t RSVP’d yet.”

He looks up from his phone, and then back at it again, his smile uneasy – a classic Doyoung gesture when he needed to ask about something he didn’t really want to. As if he needed to check his guest list again. “Would you be busy that day? I don’t recall you telling me you had to be out of town.”

She’s about to speak, when a breathless Lee Donghyuck appears out of the blue, rushing to Doyoung and sighing emphatically about this month’s sales numbers. She smiles and nods, exiting his office with a promise of talking later.

It’s just after lunch and well into Haewon’s food coma when her desk phone rings, startling her from a well-deserved but secret post-lunch doze.

“Dam-il Publishing, this is Haewon speaking.”

“Haewon!” The excited whisper is characteristic only of Nakamoto Yuta, whose wide-eyed gaze Haewon meets as she averts her eyes towards the Designers side of the office. “It’s me, it’s me!”

“Oh Yuta, that reminds me, I’ll need the proposed artwork for Cho Young Jun’s novel.”

“Cho Young Jun? The bald guy?”

“No! The prodigy! The Evergreen winner! I need it by today, Doyoung’s flying to New York tomorrow-”

“Oh, I’ve completed that weeks ago, I’ll email it over later whatever – listen, I heard what Doyoung asked you about just now. About the wedding.”

Haewon flinches, then realizes what Yuta would probably be thinking, and a small sigh of relief leaves her. “You mean Donghyuck told you.”

“I heard, Donghyuck told me – what does it matter… Is it because of the program? Did you get in?”

General nosiness aside, Yuta’s actually one of the few colleagues (other than Doyoung) whose company Haewon really enjoys. Which is why Haewon had told him about an application she made months ago, to pursue a master’s program in Literary Arts at Brown University. Needless to say, she had earned Yuta’s immediate and fervent support, knowing that studying English Literature instead of Creative Writing for her bachelor’s had been a cop-out on Haewon’s part and a regret she had drunkenly let slip to him at an informal company gathering.

She’d always wanted to study Creative Writing, and while she didn’t exactly need that master’s degree to become a writer per se, she really hopes to further her studies in fiction writing.

“No Yuta, I haven’t received news yet.”

“Shouldn’t you know by now?” Yuta has always been straightforward, “besides, why’re you keeping it a secret? You should just tell Doyoung; you’re so close, he’ll be happy for you. You shouldn’t have to feel guilty about taking your shot.”

The reality is, the situation is a lot more complicated than Yuta’s understanding. There’s the thing with leaving the company in the midst of this busy period when Doyoung needs his assistant, but there’s also the other thing, the bigger issue at stake. That Haewon is in love with Doyoung and might not necessarily want to see him walk down the aisle with a woman who isn’t her.

“It’s not that simple – besides, he’s been swamped ever since the acquisition.”

Dam-il Publishing Co. was a small local publishing company with a focus in Korean language fiction novels, until its recent acquisition by the large multinational New York-based Bertsman Publishing House. Despite the acquisition, Bertsman had allowed Dam-il to retain its name, knowing that it is an emerging trusted brand among aspiring and established writers, and a known publishing company in many Korean households. However, the acquisition had also brought Bertsman employees into the office, and the number of people were far too many for Doyoung to handle at the start.

Doyoung is also, generally, a less trusting person when it comes to work ethics. While he greatly appreciates his Dam-il subordinates and their efficiency, he has less to say about their Bertsman counterparts – in Yuta’s words, Doyoung finds them “fucking lazy”. Haewon has always been his key go-to person to check on their progress in their projects, and he relies on her effortlessly and wholeheartedly.

Doyoung is… something else. According to their mutual friend Johnny, Doyoung had majored in Finance in college, done inexplicably well and had received an offer from one of the big four financial consulting companies even before graduation. However, as Doyoung had told him upon graduation, that wasn’t the life he was after. He loved books and wanted to make a career out of it, so he started working for Dam-il as an Acquisitions Editor’s assistant right after graduation against the heed of his professors and university friends. He was, to say the least, smart and a fast learner, quickly making his way up the company ladder and was handed the highest rank of Managing Editor in just nine years (a fact that somehow only made Doyoung more attractive to Haewon).

Thanks to his work ethic and Dam-il’s excellent sales numbers, he’s now the Bertsman CEO Fulworth’s most trusted Managing Editor – something Johnny loves teasing him about.  

Yuta sighs into the phone, lifting her from her stupor against the quiet backdrop of a whirring air-conditioner and a bubbling coffee machine.

“Well nevertheless, you need to tell him soon, Haewon – especially if you can’t go to his wedding.”

Johnny is sitting in front of their living room window by the time Haewon reaches home. She’s completely exhausted, her cranberry lipstick visible only on the outer reaches of her mouth and her eyeliner leaving small charcoal patches beneath her lower lashes. It’s ten in the evening on a Friday night, but surprisingly Johnny is at home sipping red wine, his eyes relaxed and shut. His other hand gestures wildly and somewhat pretentiously like an overexcited conductor to what Haewon recognizes as the last line of Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got The World On A String.

“You’re home early,” Haewon comments.

Johnny swings around in his chair. “Haewonnie, I feel like I’ve gotten old,” he pouts dramatically, even though, Haewon thinks, his bright, enthusiastic puppy-like expression definitely begs to differ.

“Mark asked me after work if I wanted to hit a bar downtown with the kids tonight – but I actually feel drained. I had to say no.” The slightly annoying and yet endearing pout hasn’t left his face.

Just as Doyoung is Fulworth’s golden boy, Mark Lee is Johnny’s – constantly trailing after him at his company. Despite being almost thirty-two years old and the head of his department, Johnny loves hanging out with the young employees and interns, determined to keep his youthfulness in check.

Haewon grew up in the same neighborhood as Johnny back in Chicago, where Johnny was popular among the Asian kids as the kind older brother to them, fending off bullies on their behalf and bringing them to bookstores and ice-skating rings and bowling alleys. When he turned fifteen, Johnny moved back to South Korea to attend high school – a decision that surprised everyone in the neighborhood. But Johnny has always done what Johnny wants and exceled in every situation, so his parents agreed. While Haewon did not consider herself particularly close to Johnny when they were younger, Johnny has always been generous with his concern for others. When he found out from his mother that she was planning a move to Korea three years ago, he reached out to her and offered to share his apartment with her.

(“The rent is too expensive anyway,” Johnny had insisted, but Haewon knew even then that he could definitely afford it given his salary.)

Johnny is… pretty much Haewon’s lifesaver. Even before she came to Korea, Johnny had everything arranged for her. Understanding that she had majored in English Literature and loved books, he hooked her up with a publishing job at Dam-il under Doyoung, a deed Haewon has always been insanely grateful for. And while she had been shy and quiet upon her arrival to Korea, his cheerful demeanor, along with his puppy-like enthusiasm and child-like laughter had been more than enough to draw Haewon out of her shell. Even though she had been depressed and lost in life, Johnny had been by her side, cheering her up and restoring her usual happy glow.

Unsurprisingly, Johnny is the director of the product design department for a leading technology conglomerate. Unlike Doyoung, Johnny actually enjoys the ‘hustler’ lifestyle of ‘work hard, play hard’.

They met in college where they were both in the Business faculty. Despite being inherently different, the two became close quickly, bonding over a shared distaste for unnecessary societal expectations and parochial attitudes stereotypical of elitists in their country. While growing up abroad made Johnny more open-minded and gentler with the people he met, Doyoung’s open-mindedness is the culmination of years of observing people and their idiosyncrasies. The tough experiences of witnessing school bullying and students’ imploding from academic stress fueled a quiet and righteous, vaguely Robin Hood-like, anger towards societal insularity, that is now characteristic of Kim Doyoung.

“You’re not old – besides, who wants to go to a bar when you can drink in the comfort of your own home?”

“I want to! Haewon-ah, you’re acting too old for your age-”

Her phone rings, interrupting Johnny’s nagging monologue. She glances at the caller ID before picking up quickly.

“Hey boss, what’s up?” In the background, she can hear Johnny making a chant out of the words ‘is it Doyoung?’, leaning out of his seat to peer over eagerly. She nods, and a huge grin spreads over his face.

“So sorry to disturb you this late, but it’s kind of an emergency- is that Johnny?”

It takes a moment for Haewon to realize, but Johnny has since progressed from his ‘is it Doyoung’ song to a strange jingle that sounds like ‘my friend Kim Doyoung, my brother Kim Doyoung, my love Kim Doyoung’ to the tune of a lullaby. “Yeah it is, he’s lying spread-eagled on the ground now and crying out your name in despair-”

Doyoung laughs, breathlessly and colorfully, sounding like a musical instrument of his own and making Haewon smile as she walks into her room and away from Johnny’s antics.

“Say hi to him for me. Okay so,” his voice turns serious, “do you have Cho Young Jun’s file?”

“Yeah I have it with me right now, it’s in my bag.”

“Oh thank God,” Doyoung heaves a sigh of relief, “sorry, I might need you to bring it to the airport tomorrow. I need his personal particulars and the signed hard copy of his indemnity form.”

“No apologies needed boss – but, so urgently?”

“Yeah,” Doyoung sounds frustrated, and Haewon can almost picture him running his fingers through his hair, a gesture not in the least unattractive to her. “Well he’s still considered a minor, so royalties will probably go directly to his guardian for safekeeping. And… They want him to do press.”

“Okay, so I’ll reach out to our usual media and PR agencies – what does that have to do with-”

“No…” Doyoung sighs, “American press; talk shows, interviews – things like that.”

“He’s seventeen.” Haewon raises an eyebrow, “he’s totally unprepared for that kind of thing. Plus, his English isn’t fluent, last time I checked.”

Johnny has since entered her room and conjured the most dramatically shocked expression Haewon has ever seen, as if Doyoung had informed her that Cho Young Jun would be going into prostitution instead of doing press. She glares at him as she listens to Doyoung’s instructions, ending the call with a, “okay sure, I’ll bring them for you tomorrow. Good night boss.”

Johnny smirks as she finishes the call, “ooh boss. Kinky. Me likey.”

Johnny is the only person privy to Haewon’s admittedly rather long term ‘crush’ on Doyoung, catching on rather quickly since they met and letting her down gently with “he’s attached, Haewonnie”. In fact, it’s been three years since Johnny has shared that piece of information with her, but Haewon is unfortunately still hopelessly in love with Doyoung.

Ever the best friend, while Johnny has told her that he’s worried about her pertaining to this, he manages to make the situation more light-hearted effortlessly. In fact, he sometimes cracks jokes at her expense to her privately and not unkindly, while knowing when to offer her a shoulder to cry on.

“You’ve heard me call him boss a thousand times,” she rolls her eyes, pushing him out of her room to rest for the night, “also, you’re driving me to the airport tomorrow.”

Johnny drums his fingers against the steering wheel, his cheeks puffing up as he waits for Haewon’s text to get to his car at the pick-up point. They had left the house at eight in the morning to catch Doyoung at the airport just in time before his flight, and Johnny really needs to catch up on sleep once they get home. He is absentmindedly humming to Alicia Keys’ If I Ain’t Got You on the radio, when Haewon clumsily gets into his car.

“Johnny-” At once, he realizes she’s ashen pale, her lips quivering.

“What’s wrong, Haewon? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“John, I just… I just saw…”

“What?” He starts the car and begins the route home when Haewon’s next words make him pull up at the side of the road in shock.

“Inhee’s cheating on Doyoung…”

xx

w/n: this fic will be updated regularly until its resolution, look out for an update every Thursday at 9pm KST. 

talk to me!! here 

#nct imagines #doyoung imagines #johnny imagines #doyoung scenarios #johnny scenarios #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #nct scenarios #nct #doyoung #johnny #nct fanfiction #doyoung fanfiction #johnny fanfiction #nct au #chance encounters #my work

[ocular-intercourse]

every once in a while, i am remembered that i should probably nail down what exactly is in the realm of possibilities with the enhancements in the gyoverse

is the process government regulated, or more of a talent thing, the way anybody can learn how to draw with enough patience? I think it’s a mixture of both, people are not forbidden to gain certain abilities, you literally can’t keep it from happening, those are just things that can develop naturally when a person has the right mindset, but it’s also a dangerous process if certain levels are reached and things go wrong, so the government tries to keep certain levels.. I guess certified? At the very least registered. If you gain a certain amount of power you will be observed.

So there are two areas of use: personal & professional life.

In personal life a person can develop certain helpful abilities, imagine a fisherman training himself without trying to a point of being able to sense the location of fishes in the water. It’s very close to people in our world who just get very very skilled in their labor and get the ability to do specific things simply by experience (the way people in food stores can eyeball the weight of a specific item and be 100% right). Those are not particularly ‘powerful’ per se, more little every day helpers that might not even entirely get recognized as an enhancement. A lot of these abilities are inherited, but that might be less of a genetic thing and more grounded in the upbringing, environment, and education, one person teaching their skills and experiences to the next generation and them developing these enhancements themselves.

Then there’s professional life especially in jobs that are highly competitive, because everybody wants to be the best they can be in their field so naturally they would use any tools they can get their hands on. The biggest example of course is the army. The country with the strongest soldiers wins, so there have been raised standards and whoever cannot reach them loses by default. Hence the imperial army usually weeding out people with insufficient talent for the enhancements (thembo supreme raime being an exception). A whole nation selecting and breeding for the ultimate warriors at all times. There have been certain Levels established, a class of soldiers with Level A, Level B, Level C (those are not the actual names I’m still workshopping here), each with stronger abilities than the last. I imagine there are tests, either on set dates, or evaluations a person can apply for, to be moved to the next class (and get more pay and status). These Levels of evaluating a person’s capabilities can vary from job to job. A soldier with Level B would probably score lower in a scientific, research-based field, it’s all depending on how good you are at the enhancements that are useful for your job. (Army standard’s being pretty much universally accepted as the most powerful and useful skillsets and therefore valued the most)

Now this feels like a JRPG leveling system. My character’s skillset scores are Army Level C, Medicine Level A and Barter Level B+. (Now I’m picturing Trading Cards with your favorite Soldiers. Noor has one and every skill is at S cause propaganda. Gyo’s is a lot of S with worse scores in anything communicative, also S+ in immortality)

But what are the basic and less basic abilities a soldier can gain?

At base level are physical enhancements. More stamina, more strength, more agility, general healthiness (better immune system, faster gradual healing).

Followed by your base senses of smell, taste, sight, hearing and feeling. Later Levels of this ability include higher control, shutting down some senses or enhancing only one.

A little bit more difficult are things that need tighter control. The ability to influence your digestion, your blood flow, your oxygen intake. You can go longer on less food and air, you can slow your bleeding down, or trigger adrenaline rushes at will.

The next step is adding supernatural senses. The ability to feel the presence of other people, even at a distance and out of sight. The more trained you are in this area the better the feel is you get on the person and their intent. You cannot read minds, but you can certainly feel anger or admiration, general feelings or moods.

The next step is learning how to hide these things in yourself. These can cancel each other out depending on who is involved. A person that is good at hiding their intent can not hide it as well if the other person is better at seeing people’s intent than they are at hiding it.

The next step would be considered elemental magic by most standards. You can create a spark of flame, a bit of fluid, a gust of wind. These will most likely not be impressive flame thrower like attacks or anything, but can be practical here or there.

Also magical but more difficult, and mostly requires the student of this direction to split from developing other enhancements to concentrate solely on this area to be effective: healing magic. Gyo for example has mostly ignored healing magic, he can keep wounds shut enough to keep someone from losing blood but he cannot close them entirely, while Noor chose to stop their studies of techniques that would help in fights to focus on learning how to heal and nurture (it’s not only wounds, they can also relieve pain and control infections and other things). To be skilled in both is incredibly difficult and I don’t think it is currently seen. Something must be put on hold to learn other powerful things, so you have to pick and chose what you want to be proficient in. It is also an ability you can only use on others and not yourself, so most soldiers (at least those that get to this point and are therefore most likely power hungry in some way) chose to ignore it for something that helps themselves rather than others.

A similar direction but removed from regular healing magic because that focuses on healing other people while this is entirely self-focused: the next level of the control over your own body, the ability to sustain the body without meeting nutritional needs or rest. Beginners of this Level can go several days without sleep or rest, depending on a.. let’s say amount of ‘spiritual’ energy they have gathered before. They are, in that moment, basically feeding their body’s needs from this energy. The better you are at this, the longer you can go. This Level is only reached by those soldiers, that are willing to focus as much on their intellectual studies as they do on physical training. Many talented soldiers who exceed in fights get frustrated by these requirements. The ultimate Level of Control over your own body is the step Gyo has reached where he entirely halted all aging and is practically immortal, if not killed or dying of an illness. I imagine it has a lot to do with gathering such a vast amount of energy, that you can feed on it indefinitely, because you have learned to gain the energy quicker than you deplete it. There are earlier levels of this ability when you learn how to stretch less energy and slow down your aging instead of halting it completely. (many ppl in or out of the army will try to gain some bits of this ability to prolong their lives, everybody wants to squeeze a bit more out of it if they can) There are varying degrees of aging speed depending on the person’s skill level and energy intake.

The problem, aside from many people not having the mental or physical requirements to begin with, and the fortitude, discipline and patience to stick with it, is that said energy is also extremely volatile. People who begin gathering it often get overwhelmed by moodswings, the energy wanting to get out and presenting itself in any way that is currently available for it to be released by, whether that is physical or psychological. In higher concentrations the amount of energy can be literally corroding if your body and mind are not prepared to handle it. People carrying a large amount of energy can be caught in a bad moment and lose the ability to contain the energy, often with catastrophic consequences, definitely for the person themselves, sometimes for their surroundings too. People on Gyo’s Level are basically walking nukes, he could take out a small town if he ever lost it. Key to get to where Gyo is, is a strong enough anchor, a feeling or a motivation that drives you that is enough to sustain your willpower. (While in universe the idea is more philosophical, trained soldiers being told “think of something that motivates you”, this is more literal than they think. Gyo’s current anchor is wrath, that is why his sword which is known for its gruesome owners, attached itself to him. You could see the wrath as a fingerprint scan, if he did not have it, the sword would not work for him. A person’s anchor can also switch, which Gyo’s will, eventually, to his need to protect, and it will cause trouble with his sword and I assume some of the ways his other abilities have worked for him in the past)

The different Levels soldiers can be classified as are defined by a combination of these abilities, since each of them have multiple levels (from lesser to higher control over your body, stronger elemental magic and so on). So, to reach Level A you need Skill A Ability Score 1, Skill B Ability Score 1, Skill C Ability Score 1 while reaching a higher Level requirement might look more like Skill A Ability Score 2 Skill B Ability Score 3 Skill C Ability Score 6. So, a test that would allow you to reach the next Level would test how high your Ability Scores in each Skill are and see where that lands you. So even if your Levels are Skill A Ability Score 6 and Skill B Ability Score 6 if you do not have Ability Score 6 in Skill C you will not reach that higher Level. Gyo probably has all Skills maxed out (except healing but that one is counted separately since the army knows most soldiers will not reach high Ability Scores here).

But like I said, this Grade System is army specific. In another job field requirements might look more for skills that help you read and retain information faster, or specialize in reading other people and putting pleasant emotions out there to influence others.

This also explains Raime’s situation. While they are, from birth on, unable to gain these things that count as army recognized enhancements, they have an ability more on par with those private uses that develop naturally through talent and repetition. They DO technically have enhancements, but they are exclusively social, enhanced emotional intelligence if you will. The ability to read people, not the way the army enhancement works where it is basically a  supernatural sense you gain, but more through being able to instinctively read faces and voices and putting together what that means rather than sensing it. 

I don’t think this is entirely a class system based on your Level of enhancements, but typically people with enhancements are respected more, more so if they are high skilled in ‘popular’ fields (a soldier Level A will be more respected than a Scientist Level A). There is definitely a certain pressure to gain certain Levels, especially in higher society. If a first born noble does not gain high army Levels they are considered shameful.

#ocs #gyo #noor #raime #gyoverse