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dear-mrs-otome · 1 year

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Silvio Ricci - Main Story - Chp 12

Standard Disclaimer: I do this for fun. I don’t, and never would, claim to be proficient at JP. There will be mistakes herein. There will be dialogue I choose to smooth out or change, because it feels choppy just straight translating. There will be the occasional snarky aside and irreverence and just plain summarizing. If you’re looking for 100% pure accuracy, without commentary or localizing, this is not for you. If you don’t mind that…then proceed, and I hope you enjoy! And please, support your local localizer (they make this stuff look easy) and Cybird by playing the games and routes when they come to English.

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Keith’s given Emma a surprise apology gift - but it’s one she never would have expected to create such a disaster...

In a modiste’s shop Rio is flabbergasted by Silvio’s gaudy taste, a dismay that Silvio fails to understand, claiming that every woman likes this kinda stuff.

“Please, do not lump Emma in with ‘every’ woman!” Rio protests, adding that the women Silvio’s referring to probably aren’t even that ‘normal’ either.

“You tryin’ to pick a fight, asshole?” Silvio growls, and Rio’s more than ready to rumble before Emma herself has to step in and defuse the situation, pleading with them both for calm.

She's despairing to herself how the two of them together just can’t seem to not be at each other’s throats. They’re practically ready to come to blows right here in the middle of this shop Silvio’s suggested.

The poor clerk on duty even is bewildered, and the whole scene has Emma chagrined. But she gets, kinda of, what Rio is trying to say. The dress that Silvio’s trying to push her towards sparkles and glitters so brightly she could be mistake for a star in it. It looks like the sort of dress some sort of high-stepping noblewoman would love…but it doesn’t feel like something she herself could wear.

It’s a gorgeous dress, one she’s sure must cost another fortune.

“Woman, hurry and change,” Silvio orders her.

She waffles, before speaking up. “I’d like it if you let me choose for myself…”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Why not?!” she exclaims, and Silvio replies that if he lets her pick the dress, she’ll be concerned first and foremost with the price, and choosing something plain will defeat the entire purpose of this.

He never planned on letting her choose, it seems, and she’s dismayed to realize he’s so easily predicted her.

Rio, however, quickly jumps to her defense and points out that Emma has her own tastes and preferences, as he picks up a much more modest dress trimmed with delicate lace that Emma finds the most appealing of what’s in the shop.

“Seems plain,” Silvio scoffs.

Rio counters that it’s not always about what something costs - you have to keep the person it’s for in mind when you’re choosing clothes…an assertion that Silvio greets with a silent scowl.

Emma hastily jumps in and tells Silvio that it’s not that the dress bothers her, it’s just that she doesn’t feel like showy clothes suit her well.

Silvio mocks her for being a shabby sort of woman, which she takes affront to, but he shrugs the whole thing off and instructs her to go get changed - surprising Emma with his apparent willingness to concede to the dress Rio’s picked out. Silvio says it doesn’t matter all that much in the end, it’ll be find just as long as she doesn’t look like some commoner since the auction they’re attending has a dress code at the venue.

She’s appalled, because she hadn’t even considered that, and as Rio has the clerk prepare the fitting room he mentions how it was a bit unexpected that Keith’s ‘apology’ gift was an invitation to an auction.

She thinks back to how Keith had asked if she was interested in such a thing, and she had admitted she didn’t really have a lot of experience with such things…but Rhodolite is a country with a lot of appreciation for art so they go hand in hand. And she’d been very curious to go just to spectate at least.

Rhodolite has countless artisans, from painters to sculptors, writers, craftsmen, instrument makers, metalworkers, and many more who all make unique items. Because of this it’s easier to hold auctions to put artists and buyers in contact and they’ve become quite common in the country…or so it says in the guidebook to Rhodolite she’d read in her efforts to be a good hostess to Silvio.

But despite having been born and raised in Rhodolite herself, she’d never been to an auction or any of these places where the wealthy rub elbows. It was the sort of thing she’d like to experience for herself at least once in her life.

A satisfied Keith had said that if she was even remotely curious about auctions he thought she’d have a good time, and since this one is invitation-only it’s even more exclusive than usual. There are supposed to be many rare things, a veritable treasure trove of jewels there, and since she seems to like gems and jewelry, he imagined she’d enjoy just having the chance to see them all.

Confused, Emma asked if she’d ever said that she liked that sort of thing, and Keith had told her no - but he’d heard from Silvio the other day that he had given Emma jewelry. “And since you seem to be wearing it even now, I thought you liked that…”

It made sense then, and she had realized that Prince Keith had had no idea that Silvio had been forcing her to wear the collar.

“Am I perhaps wrong?” Keith had asked her, hesitantly, and she hastily assured him that she found jewelry beautiful and interesting. Conjuring up a white lie about her interest in the subject to mollify his anxious expression. But they were rather fun to look at, she admitted to herself, and she had asked him if she could indeed have an invitation after all.

Back in the moment, she’s looking forward to getting to experience an auction for the first time. She looks over at Silvio, he of the crossed arms and sour face right now, and he catches her look.

“...What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she hastily answers. In truth, she’s still in disbelief that Silvio’s attending the auction with them at all.

He had seemed surprised when she’d told him of the invitation she’d received from Keith and how she had planned to attend tomorrow with Rio, and asked if he knew of it - surely he would, given how it’s been billed as a ‘treasure trove of gems’.

It had been a casual mention, brought up in their chatting, but for some reason Silvio had paused his drinking and frowned in silence.

“..Why that auction, of all things?” he’d asked, seemingly to himself.

When she had tried to ask what he meant by that, Silvio had waved it off - before abruptly declaring that he would go with her.

Both she and Rio had been taken aback (Rio especially displeased) but Silvio had chided them not to look so disgruntled by the idea. “Neither you nor the dog have ever gone to an auction. I’ll go along and you’ll be thanking me for it.”

“Are you maybe...worried about me?” Emma had ventured.

But Silvio had scoffed at the very idea of worrying over her. “I’ve just been meaning to make an appearance at the auction house for awhile now. I’ll take advantage of this opportunity and join you guys.”

Which is how Emma made plans to attend the auction with both Rio and Silvio, and how they had ended up on a detour here at the clothiers, with Silvio declaring they first had to do something about Emma’s blah appearance.

If she’s being honest with herself, it’s actually reassuring to have Silvio along…but she can’t help wondering - what was the reason for his frown when she first mentioned the auction?

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Some time later, with Silvio having bought her the dress Rio had suggested, she’s put together like a proper noblewoman and they head directly to the auction venue. She’s blown away by the upper-crust atmosphere, which isn’t quite up to the levels of luxury seen at the court but is certainly nothing to sneeze at. Emma’s taking it all in, wide-eyed, as the auctioneer talks up a stunning piece of jewelry, and she thinks that Keith was right about this being something worht seeing.

The items on display for auction are gathered up on the stage, all jewelry and adornments of the sort Silvio would wear, beautiful works of art in and of themselves. Aloud, she says how she’s not exactly some expert on jewelry and gems but even from here she can tell how gorgeous these pieces are.

Silvio agrees that everything is top notch here, only for Rio to point out that he hasn’t bought a thing despite that.

“I don’t feel like it,” Silvio says dismissively.

“That’s a surprise. I thought you liked jewelry…” Emma says.

“I don’t particularly. It’s just that my position doesn’t allow for me to dress poorly,” he replies. “Wear something of value, and you’re seen as a person of value. And conversely, wear poor things and you’re seen as a person of no consequence. That’s just how it goes.”

She supposes that makes some sense - that for Silvio, jewelry is merely a tool to better himself. It might not be something he actually loves.

Silvio says that even if the stuff here is superb, he doesn’t feel like buying it. He praises the settings the gems are placed in, the precious metalwork that frames them, and Emma is confused. Asking if that isn’t a good thing that they’re exquisite? Silvio agrees that it is, and normally he’d probably buy all of this up…if not for the whole thing with that eyepatch bastard.

Eyepatch bastard? She’s wondering if he’s talking about Gilbert, and why his name has suddenly entered the conversation.

Rio, however, seems to understand something she doesn’t, and he looks pensive. “I see. The fact that everything is of such high quality makes no sense.”

“What do you mean?” Emma asks.

“Because this is Rhodolite, right? We don’t have as many mines as other countries,” Rio explains, going on to add how Rhodolite basically can’t be picky as to what gems it cuts and shapes and sets into pieces. “Didn’t Silvio just say how all the gems are of the highest quality? That’d be impossible here in Rhodolite.”

The implications of what they’re saying starts to sink in for her, as Silvio tells her how even in Benitoite, where they have access to all the trade and passage of goods, wouldn’t allow for an auction like this made up of only the best of the best.

“There’s only one country on the continent capable of it…” Rio says.

Ores…mines. A country of ore and military might.

Silvio covers her mouth with his hand, before she can say the name of the country that comes to mind. “Absolutely not another word on this. Just have fun for the moment and enjoy the rare gems.”

After that, she sees countless jewels that are enchantingly beautiful…but she can’t quell the unrest in her heart. When the auction comes to a close, servants at the venue escort Silvio and them to the lounge, since the head of the auction house seemed to want to greet him.

“Here.” Silvio surprises her by tossing her the ‘featured item’ of the auction, which he’d been idly toying with.

“Don’t do that!” she exclaims. “That little doggie is worth a fortune!”

“The stone’s sturdy. It’s not gonna break if you drop it,” he grins.

That’s not exactly the issue here, she thinks, as she look over what he’s given her. It’s a statue of a little dog, carved from an enormous, palm-sized gemstone. The jewel pup’s little head wears a crown of pure gold, and it’s so glittering and beautiful she can’t help being fascinated. Even to her untrained eye, it’s clearly wonderfully made, and she’s enchanted by the color, quality, and how stinking cute it is.

Silvio explains that he bought it just to sort of check things out, and it's definitely top tier stuff - much to Emma's internal dismay that he just bought the premiere item on a whim.

But that's not the real issue here. "Trading with the countries that produce this ore is supposed to be forbidden," Emma notes.

"Right? Rhodolite banned all Obsidian goods from entering this country ten years ago," Silvio agrees. "The same goes for us in Benitoite, as allies."

She thinks on the Bloodstained Rose Day ten years ago, the Obsidian invasion that led to so many Rhodolite deaths, and how relations between the two countries had been severed that day. “So if everything at this auction is from Obsidian…”

“It’s certainly illegal,” Rio agrees, noting that profits from the auction are probably going straight to Obsidian too.

Emma wasn’t personally affected by the Bloodstained Rose Day, but that doesn’t make it any easier for her to stomach the origin of these jewels - there’s no forgiving Obsidian’s tyranny.

Rio points out that there’s something even more serious than the fact that this is Obsidian material being sold here - the organizer of the auction is a wealthy Benitoite merchant. Silvio doesn’t seem surprised to find out that Rio had checked things out before coming, and Rio agrees that he couldn’t let his mistress go somewhere without knowing more about it…although Emma was totally clueless that he’d been poking into it.

“Benitoite citizens distributing Obsidian gems…just like how Silvio had suggested the possibility of alliance with Obsidian, there’s a chance some people already are working together without our knowledge,” Rio surmises.

“What, seriously?” Emma’s aghast, and turns to look at Silvio reflexively.

He leans back in his chair and snorts. “What of it?”

“You’re not going to do anything about this auction, are you?” Rio accuses.

“Obviously. What’s the upside for me if I do?” Silvio retorts on a smirk. “All that matters is that the Benitoite folks are coming out ahead in their business dealings.”

Silvio’s an ally that judges things by worth, she knows. If he’s aware the auction is illegal, and makes no move to stop it, that’s because he sees more benefit in the Obsidian ore. Which means that although she and Rio are both doing their best to impress Silvio with Rhodolite’s worth, it’s still not enough.

She hugs the little statue tightly, and Rio puts a hand on her shoulder. Aloud he draws the line between money that flows into Obsidian supporting its war efforts against Rhodolite…and how much he can’t stand the idea of that.

He turns a direct gaze on Silvio. “Now that I know about the auction, I’ll work with the other princes. I’m not about to let Emma’s smile fade.”

She’s heartened to have his unwavering support, Rio helping her work through difficult times together as he always has.

Silvio challenges Rio to go ahead and try, if he thinks he can - but he knows there’s only so much a coward can accomplish. But an undaunted Rio just tells him that he’s unbeatable when he’s with Emma…much to Silvio’s displeased silence.

Just as Silvio’s clicked his tongue with disgust, a knock comes at the door. “Pardon the interruption,” the head of the auction house calls as he enters, making further apologies.

Silvio waves them off, and bluntly asks the man what he wants from him. The manager tells Silvio he has something he’d like to show him…and he suggests that Silvio bring the young lady along with him as well.

Emma realizes he means her, and she wonders if the man has some special items that’s difficult to put a price tag on.

“Show me,” Silvio orders him, standing from his chair to follow the man.

Rio and Emma move to follow as well, but the manager shakes his head at Rio. “Apologies, butler, but would you mind waiting here for them? What I’m about to show them is too special for any servant’s eyes.”

Now Emma’s really wondering what the heck he’s planning to show them, as she exchanges looks with Rio. At her assurance she’ll be fine, he bids her go, and she follows Silvio and the manager from the room.

Once gone, Rio surveys the room, and aloud he observes that he understands - the real focus here isn’t Silvio or Emma. It’s him.

As if in reply, the door opens on a laughing Gilbert. “Right on the mark.”

The click of his cane echoes through the room as he enters, and the air goes tense. He explains to a wary Rio how he’s gone to lengths to get Rio alone, where they can’t be spied on…and taps his cane once more. “I have a very special tale to tell you.”

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For reference - you don't receive this intimacy item until chp 17 but I'm sure it's the same pupper statue Silvio gives Emma here:

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<< Chp 11 | Chp 13 >> (TBC)

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Taglist (let me know if you want added or removed!) :

@violettduchess @brightvalkyrie @pkmnmstrchf @nikiotome @faeriesplaygames @curious-skybunny @strawberryxlove @rikumorimachisgirl @sallylovessweets @wordycheeseblob

#spoiler #spoilers #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri spoilers #ikepri silvio main story #mrs o's translations of dubious quality #mrs o loves salty seadogs

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curious-zigzagoon · 10 months

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I want to know you. Pt. 2

Simon Riley x gender neutral reader

Warnings: none

(Your code name is fennec, like the fox :))

Summery: well you definitely got to know Simon better.

Would have written some more I think just didn’t know what to add, also didn’t wanna make it too long. But yeah I hope you like pt. 2 let me know your thoughts. (Respectfully please <3) (also I kinda proofread so plz ignore any errors)

Over the last few days he’s warmed up to me more. Following me closely wherever I go. Recently I’ve noticed this book he’s been reading in his spare time. “Ghost.” He cut me off. “I said you can call me Simon.” He said in a stern voice. “I’m sorry but I only know Ghost. Not Simon, remember?” “Right.” He groaned. “So Ghost, what are you reading?” “Oh umm East of Eden.” He stated in a low tone. I came closer to him and sat myself on the floor next to his chair. He looked nervous but pleased. “Read me something.” He looked down at me and I could see a small smile form under his mask, which made me smile. “Okay.” He opened the book up and seemed to search for a page he favored. He started. “A man, after he has brushed off the dust and chips of his life, will only have left only the hard, clean questions: was it good or was it evil? Have I done well-or ill?” I took it in for a moment, that And his deep, sultry voice. I don’t know him well but I will admit he is very attractive, at least what I have seen of him. “That’s beautiful Ghost. I suppose that is the question people need to ask themselves at the end of the day, especially people like us.” He looked down at me with his full undivided attention. “Yes, I wonder that sometimes, i'd like to think I’m doing the right thing, but who knows.”

Clearly this is something he thinks about. I can see it in his eyes that this question puzzles him and makes him think. For someone who wears a mask all the time, he still doesn’t seem to know that the eyes are the window to the soul.

During our days we spent countless hours tracking this ‘super important’ target, which he was but the way ghost talked about it while we were working made me laugh a little sometimes. He gets really hyper focused.

“Why are you giggling fennec? You need to be paying attention.” Ghost scolded.

“I’m sorry I am, it’s just funny watching you work sometimes it’s kinda cute.” I smiled.

“What?” The absolutely dumbfounded look he had on his face made me giggle.

“Will you please knock it off.” He said sternly.

“Yes I will, I’m sorry.” I smiled again trying to be serious. He turned his face away from me and started looking at the map on his little tablet, but I could see a small grin forming under his mask. It was pretty cute.

We did eventually find what we were looking for, this targets house. It took longer than we anticipated to find but we did. At this point we were ready to leave. I was hungry and tired, and ghost well he was being grumpy. That’s usually how he gets when he’s frustrated or tired. Something I had to get used to.

Later that night after dinner we had an actual conversation. Something I was NOT used to yet with him. At least when we weren’t working that is.

I sat down on the somewhat dusty old couch that was there, Simon sat across from me while he was working, trying to find some things out on our target. “Anything interesting?” I asked. He looked over at me. “No, not really.” “Damn.” I sighed. “Well why don’t you take a break then, there’s old movies down here and a tv. I was gonna watch one, do you want to?” He thought for a second. “Okay.” Is all he said. “You wanna pick one?” I asked. “No, you pick one.” He said, eyes never leaving me. Did I not notice this before? Has he always looked at me this much? “Okay.” I said standing and approaching the tv stand. I sat myself on my knees to look through the movies. As I sorted through them I could feel his gaze on me. Then I stopped at one movie. I held it up to him. “Ghostbusters?” I asked, smiling. He looked at the movie then at me. “Any reason in particular you picked this one?” He asked. “Uh no? I just like this movie.” I smiled again. “Fine.” Is all he said. I put the movie into the dvd player and sat myself down on the couch. Then I looked over at him still in the chair. “Why don’t you sit on the couch with me, so you can see the tv better.” He looked at me for a moment, and stood up. “Okay.” Is he nervous? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him nervous for anything. I watched as he approached the couch and sat down as far away as possible from me. So bold to confess, but too scared to sit next to me. He’s clueless. I just decided to start the movie and leave it be. After a while I scooted closer to him very slowly. I don’t wanna spook him, like a stray cat. Thankfully he didn’t really seem to notice or care. But eventually I was getting pretty tired. Sleep hit me hard. Id imagine I’ve been sleeping for awhile because when I opened my eyes again the credits were playing. I was laying on something, and that something was definitely ghost. I looked up and he was just staring at me, he quickly looked away and was still. “Oh shit I’m sorry Simon…” I caught myself preparing for him to scold me. But he didn't, he just sat still, saying nothing. I looked up at him, and smiled. “Oh that’s right I can call you that now.” He just nodded, still avoiding eye contact. I think was embarrassed that he got caught. I decided not to sit up. I just watched him for a moment and he finally looked down at me. He relaxed a bit when he did. I just looked into his eyes for a moment reading him so clearly. I could see just a hint of blush on his face that wasn’t covered by his mask. “ I wonder what’s hiding under there sometimes.” I touched his mask. He jerked back slightly. I pulled my hand away. His eyes softened. “Maybe one day you’ll know.” He said softly. I smiled. “I hope so.” I sat up slowly. “I really do wonder what you look like.” “Why?” He asked. “We’ll who wouldn’t Simon. There could be so many things hidden under that mask, and only you really know.” “Yes, I do. It’s nothing impressive.” “I might think it is. You could be the best looking man I’ve ever seen.” “Or the ugliest.” He said in a low tone. “I highly doubt that treasures are hidden for a reason.” “What do you think that reason is?” He asked. “People often take for granted what they didn’t have to work hard for to find.” “And you think that applies to me?” “I mean I guess so. You're like a locked box with an unknown key, so tangible but hard to get to. I think if I ever get to see who you really are in full that’s something I won’t take for granted.” He sat silently for a moment, his eyes softly looking at me. “I hope that’s how you really feel if you do ever find out.” “I think I will Simon.” We sat there quietly for a few minutes. Just taking in each other’s company. Before my drowsy mind started to hit me again. “ I think I need to go to bed Simon.” I said while stretching. “Yes, get good rest.” He stood up and held out his hand to me. I grabbed it and he pulled me up so I was standing right in front of him. He just stood there for a second looking at me, before letting my hand go. “Goodnight.” I smiled. “Goodnight Y/N.”

Over the rest of our stay he opened up a lot. He’s kind, and gentle when he wants to be. He tries but I think opening up still makes him nervous.

“So Simon, how do you like your tea?” He walked up behind me, his head peeking over my shoulder. “Lemon and honey, please.” He turned to walk away from me but I grabbed his hand to pull him back. “Show me how much so I don’t fuck it up in the future.” ‘In the future?’ He thought. “Alright.” I sat myself up on the counter next to the cups while I watched. “Only a little bit of honey, too much will ruin the flavor, same goes for the lemon,alright?” “Mhm, got it.” I hummed. I watched as he mixed in the slightest bit of honey, and just a tad of lemon juice.

When he was done he went to walk over to his chair to continue reading his book. “Wait Simon.” He stopped and turned back in my direction. “Yes?” I could see his brow rise from under his mask. “ I think I’ve made a decision.” He loomed a little closer and set his mug back down on the counter. “I’ve gotten to know you a lot better over the past few weeks, and we’re returning back to base tomorrow.” “Yes we are.” He came even closer. “And there’s a few more things I want to know about you before we go.” I said in a soft voice “Mhmmm.” “So I’m giving myself to you.” I say reaching my hand out to him. He grabbed my hand and moved so he was standing right between my legs. I came closer to his face and slowly lifted the bottom of his mask to reveal his lips. I pulled him in for a kiss and he practically melted into me. He placed his hands on my thighs and squeezed them. I pulled away slowly before the kiss could progress. I could see the desire and need in his eyes, I could see it since he confessed but it was very prominent now. “There’s one more thing I want to know before we continue.” He nodded slowly. I placed a finger under his mask. He grabbed my wrist like he was going to pull away but he didn’t. “This, I want to know. I want to see. I won’t tell anyone, I promise you.” I could see his thoughts rolling around in his head before his attention returned to me. “Okay.” He looked afraid, but he was trusting me to do this. I took my time removing the mask. My excitement was building, I let him see my face long ago before he even confessed, but I had yet to see his. When I removed the mask I was in awe, he was so beautiful. He looked worried, maybe he thought I was disappointed. I traced my hands over the scars on his face, his eyes fell shut. “You are so handsome Simon.” He opened his eyes again looking so surprised. He hastily lifted me off the counter, slung me over his shoulder. “Hey where are you taking me?” I squealed. “My bed.” He said firmly. “What?” “There’s some more things I wanna know about you too.” He teased. It made me blush. “Oh, okay…” I trailed off. I didn’t even know how to answer that.

#ghost x reader #cod fic #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley x y/n #call of duty fic #ghost call of duty

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bourbon-ontherocks · 10 months

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this is the depressing ask. beware. 😂

first I want to thank the writers for so helpful reminding us of 305 with the line about naked suspects. clearly, morgane wasn’t there to witness adam’s frightful interrogation because she’d have eviscerated him then and there (that’s what I like to think, at least).

bref. the ending. are we really doing this? I feel like this conversation’s been had a thousand times before yet the show doesn’t seem to have heard any of it. or doesn’t care. (I’ll let you list off the reasons why it’s an awful twist, if you feel up to it, because I’m frankly too tired for that)

I hate the way they showed a sonogram as if to hammer home she’s carrying a child, not a fetus, when it's the other way round. I hate the mamma mia montage, as if figuring out whose genes are involved is the priority. I hate the 306 retcon, get this shit away from me, both their drinks were spiked. I hate that we’re supposed to believe none of these grown adults (the ones who weren’t drugged, at least) considered protection. especially morgane--she’s had DREAMS about this, ffs, there’s no way that wouldn’t cross her mind. I hate the ramifications of every single way this could go down (too long to expound but you get me). I hate that there’s even a shred of doubt about how this will go down. I hate that they served us some watered-down so-called feminist juice for a whole season and still decided to use morgane’s body as an open ground for drama.

given the way they’ve addressed the question in the ep, I’m very pessimistic about s4. Idk about you but my only solace is knowing it’s out of our hands, anyway, so I don’t have to waste my energy trying to change anybody’s mind.

thanks for sticking along on this ride. wouldn't have had it any other way. and good luck for the year ahead of us, everybody. the only way out is through! 🤞

Nodding along at everything you said because yeah, and also while I liked Adam's line about naked suspects, your point about Morgane finding out about it just gave me a fantastic idea to add to my WIP, so thank you for that!

Now for the ending.

I think there are two main points to distinguish here because obviously, my personal distaste for pregnancy and baby storylines makes the idea of Morgane bearing a fourth child everything I don't want to see. BUT, had the circumstances been wildly different, I could have come to terms with it and accepted it, as in "Yeah I don't like this turn of events but I can get over it because it makes sense narratively and serves an interesting purpose". What actually makes this finale awful are the circumstances of this pregnancy, and now we're getting to the essay-ish part of this post where I'll try to explain

Why HPI finale is lazy, infuriating, and profoundly anti-feminist

Just like you point out, this mamma mia scenario was already explored in… well… mamma mia, plus countless other stories, zero originality here, I expected better from HPI tbh. And I read just yesterday an interview with the producer saying "Season 4 be like, we're looking for a baby daddy instead of a murderer lolilol", yea guess what, I DON'T CARE. For a while after watching the episode, I dared to hope that the montage in the end was purposefully misleading, that soon Morgane would come to her senses and remember that she did use protection with at least Timothée and David, because I 100% agree with you, it's ridiculous to make us believe that none of these people ever had a thought about contraception. Timothée even said "We're not trying yet", which means he kinda knows how not to try, no? And also I can accept the idea that Morgane isn't on any kind of birth control because it happens (some women react badly to pills and IUDs, etc), but she was with Ludo for half a season so they must have used condoms, she has to know and think about it (and like you said, she's DREAMED of it, and explicitly said that SHE DIDN'T WANT A FOURTH KID - I'll get to that later because it makes me fume). Besides, she's had three kids already, she knows how this all works. So yeah, it's lazy and implausible.

What I find particularly infuriating in this 3-baby-daddies plotline is also the deeply misogynistic trope of seeing a female character unable to enjoy an unapologetic sex life with multiple partners without getting punished by the script with an unwanted pregnancy. This is the literal definition of slut-shaming by the way. I was going to say that I didn't see where you found feminist vibes in the show, but then I remembered how much I loved the way Morgane expresses her feminity, her desire, and her sexuality, and…. yea, this is exactly the point I'm trying to make (also I loved seeing childfree, 40+ characters who were thriving but that's another discussion I guess). Seeing that we're still there in 2023 legitimately makes me sick.

Speaking of misogynistic tropes… I guess the ONE detail that really makes me want to throw spears at the writers is the sixteen weeks' mention. By purposefully making her too far in her pregnancy for abortion, they robbed her of having a choice. I mean, they could have got her two months pregnant, and then for some bad (imo) reasons she'd have decided to keep the baby, it would have made no difference for what's coming next. I wouldn't have loved it, sure, but it would have been fine by me because at least it'd have been her decision. Here she's just subjected to the plot, and like you said, her body is used as a narrative tool, and it feels like a slap in the face. Not to mention that even here they fucked up the timeline, because she fucked Timothée, David, and Adam in the span of like 4 days, right? Literally the day after the LSD adventures she and Adam decide to wait for three months, and the montage insists on how on the schedule they are. And I'd say that 307-308 happen within a week maximum because Redbone's not one to wait three weeks for his money lol. So 3 months is 12, 13 weeks at most, which means that in the end, Morgane is 14 weeks pregnant AT BEST (which makes her still eligible for abortion, mhhhh, see where I'm going with this? 🤔), and not 16. The only valid explanation would be that it's Timothée's baby and that she was already pregnant when she had her other encounters, but since the show seems to go in another direction, then it means that they purposefully fucked up the numbers so that she CANNOT consider abortion, which is the most dehumanizing, disempowering thing you can do to a female character.

They're literally forcing a pregnancy on her, and I want to throw up every time I think about it.

Speaking of which. Morgnane's already had three kids. Also, she told us in season 2 about her first-trimester symptoms. And she's supposed to be smart, hell that's the WHOLE point of the show. So there's no way she wouldn't have noticed that she was pregnant again, unless she denied her pregnancy (which would explain her total absence of symptoms, incredulity at the hospital, and possibly the fact that her brain erased her sexytimes with Adam). Now pregnancy denial is one of my greatest fears in life, so I can hear that this was particularly triggering for me specifically, but still, this is an incredibly traumatic experience to throw at her, and a source of huge emotional distress. SHE STATED SHE DIDN'T WANT A FOURTH KID FOR FUCK'S SAFE AND YOU ARE FORCING HER TO GET ONE WHEN SHE'S AT HER LOWEST, AND YOU'RE EXPECTING US TO FIND THIS FUNNY??????? I mean just go sell potatoes and stop writing shows because this is an insult to the art of writing.

😠🔪😭

Sorry I need a minute to have a good cry and yell at the abyss.

Okay, I'll just close the 16-week essay by saying that I entirely blame Audrey Fleurot for this, and this is what I base my theory on:

I mean, cool bro if it worked for you (except it didn't, do you want to talk again about your post-partum? Is that what you're planning for Morgane?) and I get that acting can be a therapy in some way, but this is getting way too close to the target, just get the fuck out of the writing room if that's what you're going to come up with, PLEASE.

I'm not sure where you see a 306 retcon though, for me it's pretty clear they were both under the influence, had sex, and blacked out about it (which as @earanie and @hemerae-ramblings pointed out, is highly unrealistic since memory losses are NOT a side-effect of LSD, but I can hear the argument of denial here). But speaking of 306, the finale completely doomed this episode for me, because in retrospect it feels like a giant set-up. The LSD scene is ONLY here to make it possible for Adam to have unprotected sex (side point here, I'm actually not mad they hooked up, even though it's kind of frustrating to see it happen this way, because I find the "offscreen banging reveal" a hilarious yet underused trope, and also I like the messiness), and while this last point is in a way funny, the worst part is the three months window at the end, which has in fact NOTHING to do with Adam sorting his feelings or whatever but is only here to forbid the possibility of abortion for Morgane, and this makes me want to stab people multiple times.

Also, one last thing that I find absolutely disgusting is the fact that Morgane and Adam (presumably) conceived a baby against their will (there's a whole other discussion to have about consent here but I won't go there for today) while solving a case about a BABY BORN FROM RAPE. I mean, can you make it more icky than that? Do the writers even acknowledge the irony of this? Do they even care? This baby is doomed by the narrative from the fertilization stage, and we're supposed to enjoy it as a comedy?

And now I assume we'll get to watch a forced coming together between Adam and Morgane due to the circumstances, which means that even if they end up together we'll never know if they actually wanted it? What a way to kill a ship, man, I've seen shows pretty efficient at ship-sinking but this has to be in the top three.

(somehow there's a wild irony in the fact that both the showrunners and the main cast have been saying on repeat from season 1 that they didn't want to make that disappointing season that ruins most shows, and yet they managed to spectacularly fuck-up and promise the worst season ever, and they're already paying for it audience-wise...)

See, all of this is the silver lining I'm holding onto for now, in the hope of a miscarriage (which would also be incredibly traumatic for Morgane, and still an objectified-by-the-plot scenario, but at this point our options are limited. Also for now the showrunners are only mentioning the pregnancy but not the baby so maybe there's a tiny chance she actually doesn't have it), because there's no way anyone could rejoice from this. And if she does have this baby, and if it's Adam's, then I'll officially change their shipname from Brosse Adam to Brosse & Rachel, and this will probably be my last contribution to this fandom. Hated this in Friends, will hate it in HPI.

I'm not pessimistic about season 4, anon, I just don't want to consider it at all. Obviously, I'm ready to withdraw everything I said here if they choose the only acceptable outcome (abortion) and actually make an extremely powerful narrative and political statement about it, but I know it's off the table. Having to endure such a plotline in 2023, at a time when women's right to dispose of their own bodies is threatened everywhere in the world, is a very painful punch in the face, and I sincerely hope they'll get a ton of backlash on social media for this. I just saw this morning that the airing of 308 had the lowest audience numbers ever in the show's history, and I can't say that it makes me unhappy.

(I was lowkey hoping for a cancellation at this point, even though I know the chances weren't great, but I found out today that the show was officially renewed so we won't even get the solace of knowing they can't do any further damage... Eh 🤷‍♀️)

Finally, the thing that saddens me the most isn't even what they did to Morgane and to the show, it's what they did to our community as a result. I have been alone in this fandom for almost a year, and it was incredibly frustrating. And then people joined, created content, interacted, had fun, and we had such an amazing time together, writing, giffing, vidding, sharing theories, jokes, and thoughts. I've met some incredible, witty people, some of them I dare to call friends. And now it feels like everything is falling apart. Friends are leaving, or considering to. Group chats have turned into support groups. The writers didn't only ruin the show, they took away the enjoyment we gathered from it, and it sickens me. Personally, I've had a very rough first semester of 2023, and this community is what has kept me afloat. It's made me smile and laugh in times of sadness, it's given me a shiny, quirky escape that I'll never be grateful enough for. And to witness it all collapsing really hurts. I do hope it's just a bump in the road, that we'll come back eventually, sticking together and collectively despising canon, ignoring it by ferociously writing AUs, and roasting the timeline, and making Daphné-centered vids, but I'm not even sure myself where I stand regarding my own involvement in this fandom. Nothing else to say, I just miss what we had, that's all 😢

Now that I'm thinking about it, "J'avais tellement envie que ça marche entre nous" is exactly how I feel about canon right now. You know when I said that getting into a new hyperfixation felt like falling in love? Well, this shitty ending feels like getting ugly dumped.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, anon, and thank you for sticking with me too. It's too early to say if this is officially the end of Julia's adventures with the HPI anon or not, but please know that I've loved every second of the ride and that I will never forget it 🥲

😘🥃👻

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haruniki · 1 year

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When We Meet Again, Be There

a/n: my ao3 link for this fic I wrote is this !! I’m kinda proud of this one!! So I hope it’s good and atleast decent. Please ignore all oocness and inaccuracies lol

When We Meet Again, Be There

EiMiko Angst

Early mornings used to be calming. The low chill that came from the winds and purple hues that light the sky as the sun had begun to rise. How beautiful the colors were years ago, now they were just a memory of someone from so long ago. Though time for the fox should be nothing, she’s lived through countless centuries and those went by in a snap of her fingers. But that was all before.. Before her beloved archon locked herself away.

Miko had spent many years waiting for Ei to make an appearance again when she first disappeared. After waiting everyday at the entrance of the shrine for over a few years, she realized that she wouldn’t be coming back anytime.

When you slowly lose hope that someone will come back, you begin to wonder if things change, if feelings change.

When a hundred years passed and there was no return of Ei, Miko tried to move on. There was plenty of women in Inazuma. There was the lovely lady that came all the way over from Watatsumi Island that would often come by and express quite the interest in Miko, often offering her to come join her for tea in the place she was staying in the nearby village. Of course, Yae never thought of actually agreeing.

“Though maybe this once would be fine. It would just be one time and she is quite pretty..”

Miko shakes her head, trying to shake the thought away. The thought lingers and she has been awfully alone, perhaps the one time she should indulge a little. Even if she’s suppose to be eternity’s servant, Miko is unable to serve eternity if that eternity doesn’t wish to see her.

When the lady from Watatsumi Island comes by the shrine again, Miko agrees to accompany her. The lady smiles at the acceptance and has Miko meet her down at the entrance of the shrine. Miko nods, almost a bit too excited but who could blame for it? An evening with someone, someone who wasn’t so bad looking and seemed just as interested in her as she was.

“Just for the evening, just for the night..” The repetitive thought reminded Miko, but would it be so bad if she repetitively saw the lady for evenings when she felt oh so alone. Surely it would be fine to do so.

Of course that thought seemed to diminish when the lady led Miko to her temporary stay in the nearby village. Holding Miko’s arm, talking and joking as she entered the quaint village home. The tea tasted delightful, and the woman smelled and looked quite pretty. Surely, this was fine and would be okay, just for a moment at least.

Months go by and having frequent meetings with the lady have made Miko slightly better. Though the ache in her heart still remained, like the sting from a shock of electricity. The Watatsumi lady must have realized it as well, seeing as though their last meeting was cut quite short. Upon returning to the shrine, a letter was presented to Miko. A very familiar emblem etched on the paper and the wax seal. And a message requesting her appearance to be made in shogunate’s castle.

A rush of awe and excitement seemed to rush through Miko. Did Ei finally return? Oh how Miko hopes. There’s no explanation Miko can think of other than her beloved archon wishing to see her.

With the pittering of her heart, she sets out to meet her archon. There wasn’t a specific time just a brief message that said that Yae Miko of the Narukami Shrine was needed by the Shogunate. So surely the time didn’t matter, and it wouldn’t be so bad to see Ei sooner than time permitted if there was a scheduled time she was needed.

Guards allowed her in with little hesitation and she found herself to be quite quick up the stairs. Perhaps she should slow down, just a little. A little more of a dignified walk would be expected of her.

Entering the halls, there’s slight differences but it stills familiar and all the same to Miko. The purple banners seem to be new, much different from the prior century. The adoring gold threading and impressive craftsmanship of them.

Footsteps, heeled shoes to be precise and a slightly familiar scent. But something odd, off about the smell and the way the shoes click to the floor and an odd smell comes off with the familiar scent.

“Miko..” That voice is so familiar, yet… it’s wrong. It’s hollow sounding and not at all what Miko had hoped to hear after so long. Turning around she’s met with a breathtaking sight, her beloved archon but it was all wrong. She looked like Ei, sounded, and even smelled like her, but it wasn’t her.

“Miko, it’s wonderful to see you again. I must apologize for my absences, I know that you must have missed me.” Her ear twitched, she missed her yes, but not whoever this imposter was.

“Of course, it’s been far too long..Ei. I’m glad to see you back and well I presume? You look just as stunning as ever.” Miko smiles, even if this Ei is fake she was still a lovely sight to see. The same looks and everything, minus the hollowness of the fake and the eyes, the eyes didn’t look the same as the real Ei’s. Perhaps just a misfortune in the light, or the fact that it seemed to just be a puppet. Ei had one before this one, but Miko never paid it any mind.

“If you follow me, we can sit together and have some tea. And converse with each other.” The lack of warmth in the voice or compassion almost drove Miko into a pout. No embrace or anything for this heartwarming reunion. This fake truly isn’t like Ei at all, the real would have given her the much longed for reunion she wanted, right?

The area where Miko was led was the same one where Ei and herself would sit and drink tea and eat delicious sweets long before her initial disappearance from the world. The fake Ei sits down on one of the cushions and gestures over to the other cushion. Tea was already waiting for the two. Taking her place, she looks at the other. Studying the face to see if something was wrong. Why would Ei send a puppet of herself to meet her? Why not come to see her on her own? Did she fear that Miko would be mad at her or did she just want to make a fool out of her? Whatever the case, this whole charade was starting to annoy her.

“Weather has been nice of late hasn’t it? I noticed this morning that the wind changed making the cherry blossoms from the shrine fall towards the upper areas of the city. It made me think of you. The pink petals flutter across the ground and around the statue at the base towards the Kujou clan.” The puppet rattles on, looking in Miko’s direction. Not showing even a sign of joy, it truly wasn’t her at all. Not even a shimmer of her true essence could be seen.

“I know you’re not the real Ei. I could tell by the way your voice sounds so different than hers and the way you smell is slightly off. I had hoped that maybe it was my memory being wrong, but I know my memory is excellent. I can retell 500 years of occurrences that happened without a single wrong in my retelling, so the only explanation was that you were another fake.”

The puppet, interrupted in the middle of her sentences, closes her mouth. It was odd, the puppet didn’t quite know what to say. It took a moment before she said anything.

“It seems that I couldn’t fool you. Everyone else seemed to be fine and assumed nothing was amiss whenever I showed up. One of my commands was to also talk with you and see how you were doing.” The puppet stares at the cup of tea, watching as the steam slowly rises. A small tsk is let out by Miko.

How cruel of Ei to pull this joke on her. Was this little joke supposed to be payback for all the years of Miko’s teasing and playing little pranks on her? It wasn’t nice to have the roles reversed, especially after disappearing without a word. How would Ei like it if she pulled a similar stunt?

“I should’ve known it was too good to be true. Why didn’t she come here herself? Is this supposed to be some sort of reward for being patient, hmm? Or perhaps a cruel joke?” As annoyed as Miko was, she should have been nice in her wording. Perhaps just a tad bit nicer, but with how angry Miko was getting it was a bit hard controlling her attitude.The puppet shifted looking up at Miko, in thought. She clearly didn't have a response for those questions.

“The Real Ei will no longer be in appearance. To preserve Eternity, she has decide to stay in her own plane of living. I will serve as the Raiden Shogun and protect all that lies in the nation no matter what happens. I was also sent to regain a relationship with you to hopefully reconcile a relationship.” While the words said had some form of emotion, the puppet made no such expression. Miko brows furrowed, Ei is what? To preserve Eternity she’s hiding away? Hiding away from her people? From those who care about her? From Miko? How inconsiderate of Ei to do, absolutely cruel and hurtful.

“I see, so this was all just some cruel joke. I should’ve known..” A small laugh leaves Miko's lips, the whole situation was laughable. Why would Ei wait 100 years to see her? Or come see her at all after 100 years. Love surely was a cruel thing.

“It seems that you can still talk to Ei, right? So tell her this for me, would you? That the next time “we” meet, be there. Or don’t ask to see me at all. That’s all” The puppet says nothing as she watches Miko stand and walk away. Perhaps she should have stopped Miko from walking away, should have said that Ei does harbor feelings of love for the convoy and wants to be with her now. But for some reason she doesn’t budge, not so much as a muscle moves. Eternity truly is far too cruel a faith.

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin impact angst #genshin impact eimiko #genshin eimiko #eimiko #genshin ei #genshin impact raiden ei #genshin impact raiden shogun #genshin impact yae miko #genshin yae miko #yae miko #yae miko x ei #eimiko angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons

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papabearbobbynash · 10 months

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Btw since 911 is on hiatus I decided to catch up on all the other shows I've been neglecting and the first one was Grey's anatomy.

I stopped in the first part of S17 because the whole C0V1D storyline was too overwhelming) and now I decided to catch up with the latest 2 seasons.

I do have a bunch of opinions about the characters, but I will be talking about Amelia because honestly she has been my point of interest in Grey's since season 14. Actually It's kinda funny how my two current favorite characters (Bobby from 911 and Amelia from Grey's) are addicted in recovery (Richard could be there too if the writers didn't make his sobriety a comedic relief sometimes. At least Amelia's sobriety is taken seriously in my opinion)

So talking as someone who loved Amelink in S15-16 and got really sad over how they ended, it's beyond me how it's obvious Amelia is miserable through season 17 dealing with that domestic life. It's so obvious and yet people still chose to completely ignore that when blaming her for how her relationship with Link ended.

"It was the healthiest relationship she had and she ruined it"

Okay, at some point it really was the healthiest relationship (S15-17) she ever had, but it wasn't anymore. That happens, things change. It wasn't helathy anymore the moment she began to feel miserable and wish to drink every night and hide all that feeling from Link, because she knew he loved that domestic life of a house full of kids they were obligated to have due the lockdown. Then the whole part with Link proposing countless times even when Amelia let it very clear she did not want to marry, didn't really help. Like Instead of getting a clue on why he got the first "no" and even bother to ask the reasons, Link just kept proposing hoping she would have changed her mind, even proposing into someone's else marriage ceremony (???).

Also if we're being honest it's not a secret Amelia never wanted that that life for herself as she ran from her fiance in L.A and she ran from Owen because of that "house full of kids" matter. She did co-parented Leo and Betty after her divorce with Owen, what helped her to mature enough by the time she gave birth to Scout, but being able to handle that life isn't the same of wanting that life again.

If we are being frank Scout was completely an "accident" and neither Amelia or Link had any views of being such a serious couple until her pregnancy, they basically only got really together because of Scout. So, they didn't even have the time to figure out what they wanted individually before getting together, and then living together is what really played the effect of them diverging in their views of what they wanted for their life.

Amelia could have communicated better her reasons ofc, but if we think about it she chose to cut it off the relationship instead of deluding Link into "playing a role" in a life she realized she didn't want for herself, and there is no wrong on that. She chose to let him go so he could live that life with someone else.

As Amelia answered perfectly to Jo's (not very appropriate) question of "how do you let go from perfect (Link)?"

Link wasn't perfect for her.

Then we have the whole thing with Kai... Honestly I'm still fomenting my full thoughts on it, I do love the NB representation and definitely didn't like they broke up in S19, but I can't say I'm not appreciating Amelia having sometime alone.

She jumped from Owen to Link and then to Kai with no breath between each relationship at all so it's probably the first time in a while her character is alone out of a romantic relationship and I'm appreciating that fact because it opens space for her to grow more like she has been growing since S14, but I do hope Kai come back at some point.

#grey's anatomy #amelia shepherd #definitely not tagging the ships because I'm sure this ain't exactly a popular opinion #not 911 content

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slightlymore · 1 year

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omg hello first things first i just wanna say i have probably read if i lose my mind countless of times since i love it so much!

i really love the way u write the story from the plot, characters, pacing, everything! it made me crave more of your similar haechan works and saw that u dropped ur newest death of peace of mind AND OH MY GOSH I JUST FINISHED READING IT JUST NOW AND INITIALLY GOT SO EXCITED WHEN I SAW IT'S FOR THE ONE'S WHO LOVE DREAM SORTER HAECHAN!

thank you thank you so much for writing this! ♡♡♡ AAAAAA I JUST REALLY ENJOYED READING IT AND I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE NEXT PART 😭

with that being said, although i am a bit familiar with miyazaki or tim burton films, i still have yet to completely immerse myself in watching them sooooooo i am quite curious where you get these specific ideas and inspirations (like dream sorter and soulmate train conductor) from hehe since it's so interesting to incorporate those seemingly mundane type of things irl (like dreams and trains) into a magic core concept love story! like were those ideas garnered from the concept of the films themselves or did you add anything from your end for a little ✨pizzazz✨?

omg i hope my last ramble made at least any sense since i really don't know much about miyazaki and tim burton films 😅

anyway, thank you so much again and i hope you have a great week ahead! ♡♡♡

hello!!!!!! thank you so so so much for sending this! I'm so glad you loved the stories!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

dream sorter came to me when I saw those pictures of bell boy haechan in the hotel and i was like yo imagine a hotel you stay in and you fall in love with him but it sounded so boring just like that so I was like well all those colours and the eerie vibes reminds me of something more magical so I was like DREAMS, and that's how it came around hehehe also teddy bear the song really added to it because the main lines haechan sing are let's meet in our dreams and I was like YOOOO bet let's

the train one is when 2 days ago I saw this tik tok on my fyp of an account doing magical scenarios and they were like imagine you go on a train and it brings you to different magical places and you meet your soulmate there and I was like HUHHH so I made up the idea of this world where you must go on this train to meet your soulmate but again having yn meet the soulmate there and that's it sounded boring so I was like TRAIN CONDUCTOR and then the imagery just came to me, steam train, late Victorian era/industrial revolution, nice dresses and little spring and summery towns like a ghibli film BUT also the lack of time in the train, curtains on the windows at all times, basically sentient train, little magical happenings, it also feels like some kind of eerie dream which recalls burton

as you perhaps noticed, in both stories the reader falls in love with background people or people who organise the magical world and I really like this idea. instead of falling in love with another dreamer in your dreams you fall in love with the sorter of them, and instead of finding your soulmate in another passenger you find it in the conductor. there's something curious and powerful about this

when it comes to the miyazaki and tim burton tags i basically use them mostly to kinda explain to people what the vibe of the fics are and nothing from the actual plot of the films. the magic in these particular fics is not explained in depth (as it is for example in my demon Haechan series), it's taken for granted, like it's just there, mostly how it happened in miyazakis and burton's films, and it's just eerie and weird, nothing more. I've also only seen a few of the movies and that's it but they have a very specific vibe to them. miyazaki has these gorgeous lands and flowers and little towns and steam boats and trains and planes and burton has these eerie and borderline creepy imagery. in both of their works the stories are gorgeous but also kinda tragic somehow and the weirdnesses the characters encounter are seen as normal (marrying a skeleton, howls whole persona and walking house, talking animals, a town in which people find normal seeing a boy with scissors for hands etc) merging them together I feel like they describe the dream sorter haechan fic and the conductor fic well

#sam answers

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ingravinoveritas · 2 years

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Hello, I've just read your answer to the anon asking about stereotypes, and I guess I just wanted to let you know that comparing you having autism and noticing the signs on other people don't equal to having a "gaydar" at all, in my opinion at least. Not only are mental illness and sexuality completely different things, I also don't think it's possible for someone outside of the queer community to make accurate assumptions like that. I kinda know where you were going with that answer, I just really didn't get that one.

Hello, Anon. I have to admit, your message took me a bit of time to process, for a variety of reasons. I think there have been a few misunderstandings here, so I’d like to address those.

First, I realize some folks may not know much about autism, but autism is actually not a mental illness. This is not me attempting to stigmatize mental illness, especially because I know the experience of it is different for every person, but I felt the need to clarify. Autism is a disability, but it is also the lens through which I view the world--it’s a part, but not all of, who I am.

Second, I actually was not comparing autism to sexuality, but instead trying to illustrate how it can be possible to pick up on someone being a member of your community, and how there’s no reason that can’t also apply to sexuality. I’ve heard from a lot of folks within the queer community who do feel “gaydar” (or “bi-dar”) is a thing, and have described picking up on the energy that someone gives off. I think that’s just part of human nature, something that develops as we figure out who we’re attracted to and who might be attracted to us.

Of course, no one is going to be 100% accurate all of the time in that regard, whether they’re inside or outside the community. But what’s interesting is that I have seen countless people (on my blog and elsewhere, both inside and outside the queer community) comment on how both Michael and David give off “strong bi vibes,” so I can tell you that this particular perception of David’s energy isn’t just coming from me, and has been a perception people have had for a very long time now.

I hope this helps to clear things up a bit. I know how easy it is to misunderstand things and be misunderstood on social media, but hopefully this better illustrates where I’m coming from and why I responded to that other Anon the way I did. And if any of my followers have thoughts on this, please do feel free to chime in on the comments on this post!

#anonymous #reply post #off-topic #sexuality #autism #i actually probably could've written more because there is so much to unpack #but i didn't want to clog up everyone's dash #trying to provide a balanced perspective #but also...yikes @ some of this #discourse #personal post

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squidkidnerd · 12 days

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Operation Atlantis Notes - "An Inkling of the Past" (chapter 9)

Oh boy, this was a chapter. What can I say, this is basically like the semifinale of part 1. I've been pretty excited to get to this chapter, because it's the first time the darker elements I've been teasing since the beginning really come into focus. So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. And hey, I'm really on a roll now! I only posted last chapter a little over a month ago!

Now, I say I enjoyed this chapter, but really all the scenes got a major rewrite except for the turfing scene. That's okay, though, because I think my first draft was kinda just me writing to get it all out and hey. You can't edit a blank page. It's just interesting, because I usually finish my draft and send it right off to my betas, but this time I did some rewriting first. But, hey, it's here now.

The Title: Woohoo, the first time I'm actually talking about the titles! Not sure if I've mentioned it before, but I really like chapter titles. They add such flavor and character to a fic that I adore. For Operation Atlantis, it's hard to pin down what they actually represent as a whole, but it's a... certain vibe, for sure. This one is one of my favorites because of the double meaning ("inkling" as a hint but also "inkling" as in a literal inkling). Splatoon loves it puns and double meanings, so I'm glad I got to honor the series and put one here.

Opening poem: So... if you read this and were like "Hey, this seems familiar..." that's because it is. It is literally a mem cake poem from OE copy and pasted straight from the wiki. The reason for this is, well, I simply couldn't write anything better. It so perfectly encapsulates the themes of this chapter and I LOVE the line "But is our fate to spray this hate?" It so perfectly encapsulates Three and Eight and why their ship is so compelling to me. Because, well, is it? Are the destined to be like Cuttlefish, Octavio, and countless other octolings and inklings and repeat the cycle of the past? Or, can they break free from it? Only time will tell...

The Nightmare™: This scene was fun to write. I really enjoyed referencing Inner Agent 3, and timing the beats of the fight to Calamari Inkantation worked really well. I think it's interesting, because the Inkantation has become a very clear ongoing symbol by now. In most cases it represents freedom and hope, but here, it's almost menacing. Up until this point, Eight has remained very separated from the Octarians vs. Inklings conflict that drove her down to Atlantis in the first place—she's read about it, but reading about something is nowhere near the same from directly experiencing it herself. She learns that brutally well in this chapter.

Flawed mentor figures: This is something I've quite enjoyed exploring in Operation Atlantis as a whole. Oftentimes in media, mentors seem infallible to their mentees, being infinitely wiser and more experienced. However, in both these scenes with Eight and Iso Padre as well as Three and Cuttlefish (well, more so the Three and Cuttlefish scene later on, but), we see that neither of them are perfect at all. Both, actually, make a similar mistake—they ignore Three and Eight's feelings. For Iso Padre, it's definitely less intentional, but still. Just something interesting I wanted to point out.

Three and Viktor: Oh look, it's Viktor! I gotta admit, this scene is here purely for future plot reasons and not much else. At least I got to introduce Three to Brellas? Idk. Also, more exploration of Three using turf as a coping mechanism! It makes sense, you know, because it's familiar to her in a place where everything else is unfamiliar. So, yeah.

The Incident™: Oh boy. This scene is something we've been building up to for a while, starting all the way back in chapter 6... maybe even earlier. And I've gotta be honest, it perfectly encapsulates Three and Eight's relationship at this point at the story. They're friends, but both of them are ignoring and even refusing to acknowledge the dirty laundry between them... but the thing about dirty laundry is you have to wash it or else it'll start to stink. And that's exactly what happens here. Eight might not realize it, but deep down there's a part of her that's scared of Three. And Three well... she's a scary person to Eight. Both of them are forced to realize this. I also really enjoyed calling back to the first scene with the ink colors and also with Eight's hands—in the first scene, she hallucinates that there's blood and orange ink on them, and here, there actually is. Cool.

"She's not my enemy": This was a satisfying scene to write. Three's done a lot of growing in the past 9 chapters, from assuming all octolings are her enemies to realizing there's a bigger threat and then... now, this. She already told Eight this in chapter 8, but what makes so special here is that she's telling it to Cuttlefish, the man who instilled that idea in her in the first place. It's the first time she's telling him "No, you're wrong." So, for that reason, I like this scene. Three is finally calling him out on his bullshit! Somewhat! As soon as Cuttlefish (basically) threatens her, she backs down because well, she's scared that he might end up being right. But still, I'm proud of you, bestie. One step at a time.

"Do you know what it feels like to forget?": Another banger of a scene, this time from Eight. And well... what is there to say about this? We've been building up to it since the beginning. So far, Eight's arc has all been about finding her identity and asserting herself as a person, and well... here's the ultimate form of that. She's making a choice not for anyone else but herself. How will it go? We'll just have to see next chapter!

So yeah. To close out, I just want to mention something briefly about Side Order and its lore about sanitization and Eight's amnesia: I'm ignoring it. It's not canon to this AU. I've thought up something different a long time ago, and this already isn't canon compliant so I'm not changing it. Just wanted to clear that up officially.

Anyways... chapter 9! I can't believe we're here, honestly. Working on this fic over the past year or two has been rough, but I'm trucking along slowly but surely. Speaking of slowly but surely... after chapter 10, this fic will be going on hiatus. This is for several reason, the most major of which is that I'm burnt out and need to regain my motivation by working on other things. Those other "things" include Side Order fics! Yay! But rest assured, I will return to Operation Atlantis eventually. I really want to finish this story, and that's exactly why I'm going to take this hiatus. The last thing I want is to become so burnt out that I don't even want to continue anymore. So yeah. The hiatus doesn't have a set length yet, but probably to the end of the summer, if not longer. Not sure yet. But rest assured, neither me nor this fic is going anywhere!

And that's all. Happy Springfest!

#ari's updates #writing notes #operation atlantis writing notes #chapter 9

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notbeena · 2 years

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"so... what do you do when you're anxious?" he asked curiously, his eyes following her every move.

She took a deep breath and smiled, she didn't have to think of an answer, she knew it, she did it but talking about it to another human being was too much of a risk. It was like giving them power over something even you don't have any control on.

"it's not something I would want you to know"

"why?" he cried impatiently.

"it's too much, I hate being vulnerable around people. You know it's like.. they kinda take advantage of vulnerability and you're left heartbroken yet you can't do anything about it because you dug your own grave", she smiled as if talking about it didn't hurt her enough.

"okay.. so you wanna gatekeep", he remarked grinning

She laughed standing at the edge of the bed he was sitting on "interesting choice of words."

He pulled her close and held her gently, "how about you open just a crack of your window and let me take a peek so I'd know how to take better care of you" his voice was calm and faint almost like how you talked to a frightened child.

"so you wanna take care of me.." she said in a hushed tone, looked away towards the window like she was deliberating whether it was a good thing or not.

He kept admiring her - how the lines on her forehead wrinkled when she thought too hard, how her eyes moved from one object to another, how her breathing changed it's pace.

She took a long breath before saying, "so here goes nothing.." met his eyes and said smiling, "so when there are countless thoughts running in my head that won't let me sleep and my chest feels like it's carrying the weight of the world, I like to think" she halted and she looked down "of you"

"I mean it's not in a way that you would come and save me or anything. It's like I lay down and think you're next to me. I look towards my right, close my eyes and imagine you lying by my side. You look at me and smile. That's it, that does the work." she continued hesitatingly.

The silence between them started to creep her so she defended further, "Please don't think I expect anything from you. It was not meant to startle you or put you on spot. I can take care of myself very well on my own."

She was still looking down too afraid to read his truth. He caressed her cheeks and held her chin up so he could meet her eyes, he wanted her to know that he means every word he was about to say.

"this hesitance, I get it.. but you do know that you breathe life into me? the least I can do is stay to your right and smile when you feel that all the lines in your world are blurred and there is no space left in between the sky and earth because it was taken by your heart so your soul feels crushed in the midst of this chaos.. I will be there for you, next to you if that will help you untangle the knot of chaos that has found a home in you. I am not going anywhere, not now, not ever."

That!! that conversation would have been great for her, but it was as real as the monsters under her bed - it only existed in her mind. So she laid there staring at the ceiling wondering if there was ever a possibility that he would follow her in the state of unreality that she created so fondly.

There was no point to it though, she knew it well that her romanticism has broken her heart more times than he ever will. Only if there was a way to measure the love you have for someone then she'd know what to do about her heart that fills up every time their eyes meet.

He was like morning dew bound to disappear as the sun rose, something so fresh, so hopeful would leave the minute her darkness fades. It was as difficult to accept as her realisation that love for her is the rope she ties around her neck hoping it would not strangle her to death even if her feet deserts the ground beneath her.

Unfortunately she had to grin and bear it because she couldn't bare it all to him. He wouldn't know an ounce of truth and she will move on as if he never existed.

- 2 am conversations (an excerpt from my incomplete dairy)

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sweet-demiboi · 3 years

Note

Well. Mhmmm, I was thinking of being the other King of Asgard and maybe also a God? (maybe the God of Knolagde). And maybe the Avengers need help so Thor asks his Husband😜 and that of course, means that the Avengers will meet him and maybe kinda fangirl? Oooh I'm so stupid, I forgot to ask, do we need to describe our personality? Cause if so I'm rather shy.

Also feel free to message if you need any clarifications.

Thanks!

Thor x Male!Reader

Plot: Requested

Warnings: Hm... bad English? A bit angst, but really not much

.............................................................................................................................

You were having trouble in your mind. You sat outside in the beautiful gardens of Asgard's palace, admiring the beauty of the nature around you. But it wasn't able to clear your mind of the concerned thoughts you were thinking about for the past days now.

Thor had promised to inform you about everything that was happening in his life on Midgard but he had neither sent a message nor had he visited Asgard by himself. You were seriously concerned about your husband.

You got up from the chair you were sitting on before and started walking around the gardens. No other god or goddess disturbed you as they could clearly see that you were trying to focus on your problems.

At least that was something you could do really well, after all you were the god of knowledge and wisdom. Different scenarios played in your imagination and you didn't notice the person standing next to you until they laid a hand on your shoulder.

Your head went straight up and in the matter of just a few seconds, you had pulled out your dagger and were putting it against the intruders throat.

"Whoa, keep calm, (Y/N)!", Thor laughed with raised hands. You sank your weapon and looked at him with an accusing look in the eyes. "Why didn't you tell me about your days? I was concerned.", you asked with crossed arms.

Thor smiled but looked a bit defeated at the same time "I am sorry, my love, but I wasn't able to send you a message. The mission we're working on right now is quite hard.", he stepped closer to you and took your hands in his own, big and warm ones. His blue eyes had a pleading look in them "I should have told you about it earlier, I'm sorry." A small smile spread on his lips as well as on your own.

"I'm still mad.", you informed him "But not as mad as before." Of course your husband could've handle the situation otherwise but everyone made mistakes sometimes although Thor didn't want to hear that. You decided that you had forgiven him, but wouldn't tell him now.

"So, why are you here?", you asked "Obviously something's up." The god of thunder smiled, you knew that he loved it, when you acted smart "I need your help with that mission I was talking about before." You nodded slightly and and started slowly walking with his hand in yours. "Tell me about it.", you demanded, so he told you:

"Hydra is active again, it's a terror-group, which managed to hide from us for quite some time now, but we managed to get a few hints from some... shady people. If we could crack the code they gave us, we could handle them! This coded message can tell us their location! But sadly... we couldn't crack it until now."

"That means you want me to help you with that message?", you understood. Thor nodded "You're the god of knowledge and wisdom!", he took both of your hands in his and stood before you, excited and with pleading eyes "Please! Please, (Y/N), help me!" You smirked slightly and whispered: "Of course."

Thor smiled brightly, cupped your cheeks and kissed you pasionately on the lips. Oh boy, how you had missed that! His warm lips on yours, his body pressed against your own and rising together in that bubble of love for each other. His tongue found its way into your mouth and played eagerly with your own. You slung your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself.

You looked deeply into each others eyes after this kiss. "Let's do that code!", you whispered against his now swollen lips, which showed you a big smile now.

.............................................................................................................................

Over all this excitement you had forgotten that you were rather shy towards new people, so you grabbed the hand of your husband while Heimdall was bringing you to earth. Thor's thumb brushed slightly over the back of your hand, calming you a little bit.

Suddenly you stood on the top of the Avengers tower, Thor had already told you about. The outlook you had over New York was stunning and something you had never seen before. "It's beautiful, isn't it?", Thor asked next to you and you were only able to nod. He closed your mouth with putting a finger under your chin, smirking when you blushed slightly.

"Oh, Thor, you're here again!", a man with sunglasses and an expensive looking suit walked over to you. It had to be Tony Stark, who your husband had also talked about. "And you must be his charming, smart husband he always talks about!", he gifted you a smile and put out his hand for you to shake it.

"That's right, Tony Stark.", you shook his hand a bit nervously, but he didn't seem to notice. "I guess Thor already told you about our problem?"

"I wouldn't be here, if he had not.", you answered and Tony laughed, already guiding you inside. You weren't pleased by seeing even more people in the conference-room, where you had just walked in. The looks were on you, the other Avengers seemed interested in your presence and someone was walking towards you.

"Hello, my name is Steve Rogers.", he shook your hand "Thank you for the cooperation.", he acted a bit nervous himself, but you just smiled and introduced yourself too.

"Where's this code I'm here for?", you asked. A red-haired woman in a black suit came to you and gave you a piece of old-looking paper. "We tried to figure it out with countless programs, but nothing worked.", she had a slight russian accent, and looked you up and down.

You took the paper out of her hand and looked briefly at it "No wonder, I don't think any computer or even program was invented in the time this language was spoken, Ms Romanoff."

"Wait a moment, it's a language?", a man, Clint Barton, asked with crossed arms. "How could you figure that out so fast?", another one interfered, who had to be Sam Wilson. "The structure and signs in the text are similar to old-greek although it's way older. It might be an old japanese text, as there are still some people who can translate it. Give me an hour and you'll have a translation."

The group was starring at you with surprised looks, which made you a bit uncomfortable, so you looked over to your husband, searching for help. Thor came right next to you and requested the others to get out that you could concentrate. "Can we keep him?", Bucky mouthed to Thor, who rolled his eyes smilingly, but you felt very flattered as Thor had told you that the 'man with a metal arm' wasn't trusting people fastly.

"They already like you.", Thor commented, when everyone had gotten out of the room. "Looks like so... it's calming that I'm not the only one who is nervous." Your husband laughed a little and caressed your cheek. "I wish you good luck with the code.", you smirked "I don't need luck." Thor smirked back "Have fun." He kissed you softly and left the room too.

You weren't mad anymore. How could you? You loved him.

I found time a bit earlier! :D Hope you enjoy it, @marilynmonroefanfics

#thor x male reader #thor x male!reader #requested #fluff #marvel #the avengers #mcu #gay #loveislove

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missgeniality · 3 years

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A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

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q-card · 2 years

Text

ALRIGHT picard season 2 starts tomorrow which means it’s Emo Boy Hours™ and i’m about to get sappy on you

i created this blog 7 years ago because at the time there were like 3 other active q/picard shippers on the internet, and the only fic i could find was from the 90s and early 2000s. the portmanteau “qcard” wasn’t even the popular shipname it is today

but i wanted to spread the qcard insanity, and i remember that the first few months after i created the blog i would get a lot of messages from people who’d be like “wow i never thought of them that way but now that you mention it it does kinda make sense”. more and more people started interacting with my posts, so i decided to host a q/picard fanwork event, and from there i feel like all the qcard shippers who’d previously been doing their thing alone + the new shippers got together and we had ourselves a neat little fandom!

i met so many amazing people thanks to qcard. two of my best friends in the world, actually, + countless others that i adore.

the qcard craze really reached its peak these past 2-3 years, and i couldn’t be happier! so many trekkies are now qcard shippers (or at the very least they think it’s an interesting dynamic) and 7 years after falling for them myself, i get to see them together again on screen. i never, ever thought this day would come

not to be dramatic, but Q and Picard saved my fucking life. i watched tng at a very difficult time in my life and qcard was a constant source of comfort to me. it kept me going. they also taught me so much about myself, things i wouldn’t have admitted, the kind of introspection i can only seem to do through fictional characters. they both mean so much to me, and getting to see them again, together, after all this time... it does things to me

i know it might not be everything i hope it’ll be. i know the writers might fuck up, there might be some disappointments, expectatons that won’t be met, but... no matter what happens, tomorrow we get to see q and picard together on screen. fuck. tomorrow we get to see q and picard together on screen

#felt sappy might delete later #not but you guys... YOU GUYS #i love them so much :')#qcard #picard season 2 #st: picard season 2 #personal #shut up selma

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smallraindrops-blog · 3 years

Note

Hi, just a heads up my ask is kinda specific and I apologize in advance. Could you do Hypnos x male reader, but the reader is the adopted son of Achilles and Patroclus. He’s usually dazed thinking about when he was alive and dwells on what happened when he was. Hypnos gets really excited when Hades sends for Thanatos to go get him from Elysium (currently stays in elysium with Patroclus) cause that means he gets to see him and watch him train. If you want to reject this, that’s okay, I get it.

Hey anon, sorry for the long wait and no worries about the specification. I actually found it kinda helpful. I just hope i got close to what you were looking for!

Wake me from this dreaming

Word count: 3.8

Hypnos x male! reader

Warning: violence, no kissing, some sexual/romance tension, flashback to death and war. No beta.

Just as quick extra note, this is not how real life ptsd works and any fighting advice is just off of Google, please understand that every thing is fictional.

It was the screaming that you remembered the most.

Achilles hunched over Patroclus' body, broken and bloodied. Screaming an inhuman sound that echoed in your head.

You knew you would carry that sound with you beyond your dying breath.

You should be screaming too you think but all you can do is tightened the hold on your spear.

Someone had to pay.

You thought Elysium was beautiful. Or at least you did whenever you were able to force yourself out of the memories long enough.

Patroclus' voice was usually enough to pull you out. You blinked down at him, "Forgive me, Pa. I didn't hear you."

He waved a hand to the shade that stood before you, their spear at ready. "Another fool seeking glory."

You looked toward the warrior, "I guess I can't ask you to come back another time, can I?"

You stepped forward and Patroclus called out, "Mind your footwork. You were sloppy last time."

Countless Shades had seeked you out for the chance to earn the glory of beating the son of Achilles and Patroclus.

You slammed the bottom of the spear into the ground and walked to the shade without any weapons.

You smirked slightly at the nervous look the shade gave you.

And this fool before you was another thing to take down. And just like all the ones before them, it took a single hit.

You watched dispassionately as the shade fell apart before your eyes. But for a few moments you didn't see the shade but of the every soul you took laid before your vision. And the roaring of a crowd in your ears. You looked down at your fist and you could have sworn you saw it covered in blood.

"Y/n. Y/n." A hand touched your shoulder and you jerked around only to have your wrist caught by Patroclus.

You blinked, before you remembered exactly where you were. "I'm sorry. I-"

"Silence." Patroclus said gently. "Even after all this time?"

You didn't say anything for a moment. "Not all of it." You told him.

Just the worst of it.

Patroclus frowned and looked like he was about to say something when black smoke appeared.

You stared at the god that floated before you.

"Lord Hades had sent for you, Y/N." The god told you. You tried to remember what his name was.

"Why?" You asked.

The god gave you a disapproving glare. Thanatos, you suddenly remembered. You have seen him before...

"Do you need to know why Lord Hades sent for you?"

"Y/N, the god asked you a question." Patroclus shook you carefully. You blinked and pushed the call of the past away.

"A reason would be nice, yes."

"He wishes to speak to you. That is all the reasons you need."

You looked toward Patroclus, "Are you okay with me going?"

"Go. Tell Achilles I expect an explanation soon."

And with that you nodded, "Very well. Take me to Lord Hades."

You weren't sure what to make of the house as Thanatos led you through a hallway. It felt like You were inside a living thing but none of the walls or floors moved.

What you did notice though was another god following behind you just down the end of the hallway. You turned your head around and saw a head full of white curls peeked around the corner, you couldn't quite see their face. A hand stuck out to waved excitedly at you.

You stared, not quite sure what make of the strange being or day you were having.

Thanatos snapped,"Hypnos, I know you have work to do. Leave now."

Hypnos ducked away, only to peek around again after a few seconds.

What an odd creature.

Thanatos opened the wide double door, "This is Lord Hades' private study so mind your manners." He warned as the door closed behind you.

You walked forward to the looming desk in the dark room. It looked just the one you passed with a long line of shades awaiting for Hades to appear.

Achilles stood before it and you could feel his rage coming off of him. When you saw him this angry when you both were alive, it usually meant some people were going to lose their heads. It was a rare sight now to see him almost shaking in rage.

It was all the warning you needed.

Hades looked up from your father and smiled.

It wasn't a kind one.

"Lord Hades, thank you for welcoming me to your home." You glanced over to Achilles, "Father."

You hoped he heard the unspoken words. His blue eyes met your and you almost frowned at the guilt you saw there.

"Now, Achilles, will you explain the situation to your son or shall I?" Hades asked, sounding pleased with himself.

You kept your face blank, not giving away the worries you felt. Achilles took a deep breath before turning to you.

"Lord Hades wants us to make a decision. To keep Patroclus in Elysium, I will be 'retiring' and you will have my current job."

"Or?" You asked. Achilles's mouth tightens, "Or Patroclus will be kicked out of Elysium along with you, and I will not be allowed again to have any contact."

So no decisions, just threats. What did Achilles do to make Lord Hades change the deal?

You looked at Achilles then to Lord Hades. "It would be an honor to serve the house, Lord Hades but may I make a request?"

"Oh? What request is that?" Hades glowered at you but you kept your blank face even if you wanted to personally slam your spear between his eyes.

"My father, Achilles will have his retirement in Elysium along with my other father, Patroclus." You paused, "And the retirement is permanent."

Achilles whipped his head and hissed, "Lad, what do you think you're doing? That was already part of the deal, don't waste it."

"Done." Hades said, "lucky for you, Achilles. Y/N is more like Patroclus, he is able to actually think ahead. You didn't even ask where I was sending you for your retirement. You are both dismissed."

Achilles opened his mouth to argue but you placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He glared at you but kept his mouth shut.

"Of course, thank you, lord Hades." You tugged your father to follow you out. As you followed your father down the hallways, you looked over to him.

"Pa is going to be furious." You told him mildly. Achilles just groaned.

You met Hypnos, the odd little creature that followed you around, on the first day of your duty. Even if the first hour was Hypnos just peeking around the corner.

"I've heard of you, even all the way down here." Hypnos told you when he finally found his courage. He was floating but you see the excitement in his body, if he was on his feets, he would be rocking on his heels.

With his curls and his big golden eyes, he reminded you of those too pretty boys that rich politicians would bring along to watch fights while leaving the wives at home.

He leaned forward, his hand resting under his chin. His golden eyes watching your face with a curious look.

"Y/N, the Greek hero who took out monsters in a single strike, was able to hold off Ares and is the son of Achilles and Patroclus. Both great warriors in their own right." He smiled. "Is it true by the way?"

For a moment, all you saw was Ares' mad eyes staring down at you and the taste of blood in your mouth. Everything else had faded away, the sand and screaming of dying men echoed and all you knew is blood and blood and blood and blood -

“Y/N?” Hypnos’ voice, confused and almost too soft, pulled you out.

"Yes. I fought him.” And you said nothing else and stared at the wall. You didn’t realize the memories had taken you for a trip. Normally, only your fathers' voices were able to pull you back.

"You must tell me how!" He filled in your vision, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“No.” You said bluntly. "I'm busy." And you're too attractive for someone so irritating, you thought.

“But-“ Hypnos pouted and you had made yourself look away before you got caught staring at his mouth.

"Hypnos, don't bother him. It is still his first day." Prince Zagreus spoke from behind Hypnos.

Hypnos spun away from you and floated around Zagreus. "Oooh, so how did you die this time? Did a chariot run you over again?"

Zagreus gave a strained smile in greeting. "Forgive Hypnos, I think he forgot his manners when he heard you were joining us in the house."

You shook your head, "It's perfectly fine, your highness." You stared at the prince, the whole reason you were even here was because he looped your father into helping with his runaway attempts.

Zagreus nodded, his face polite but nervous. "Achilles told me I should train with you. That you are actually better at fighting than he is."

"Only in hand to hand combat, otherwise, if you give my father a spear he would win every time." You told him, trying to push away the memories but you could already smell the sharp tang of blood.

"He fought a tribe of centaurs when he was a mere child, Zagreus and he won!" Hypnos gushed, "And he took down Ares!"

You shook your head slightly and the smell of blood went away. Hypnos did it again.

How odd.

Hypnos used Zagreus' head as an armrest much to the latter's displeasure. Zagreus shook him off as he asked, "You killed Ares?"

"No, just knock him out long enough to let my men escape." You left it at that. Ares was more monster than god, and you would rather not revisit those nightmares.

"Zagreus if you like, I can train you later. It would be interesting to see how different our training might be." You said, hoping they would take the hint.

Zagreus nodded, "Of course, I will come find you later."

Zagreus moved to leave but upon seeing that Hypnos wasn't going to leave, grabbed Hypnos' by his cape and pulled him away.

"Come on, Hypnos. I think you do even less work than I do, and I don't even work anymore." Zagreus said pleasantly but an undercurrent of a warning.

You didn't hear Hypnos' response beyond an offended gasp.

You shook your head, no wonder Achilles only wanted quiet when he came to see you and Patroclus.

Of course when it was time for Zagreus' training with you, Hypnos followed along. You thought about kicking him out but knew he would sneak back in later. You know because this wasn't the first time you trained Zagreus and nothing else seemed to work.

Also for some reason, this god ended up being a grounding point for you. You didn't want to admit it but it made being in the house bearable and not a daily fight to stay in the presence. Not that you needed his help.

You pointed toward Zagreus to the middle of the room and turned to Hypnos who beamed up at you. "You. Corner. If I hear one peek from you…" You warned.

Hypnos held his hands and floated silently to the corner. You ignored how Hypnos' eyes followed you around the room. Hypnos wasn't the first fan boy you had and as long you don't feed the attention seeking, he will get bored sooner or later.

Zagreus was a good student. Mostly. But you could tell your father was more careful with him than he was with you.

You shook your head and held up an open hand, "Hit me again."

Zagreus swung a fist into your hand, only to hit the side of your palm. "Alright, step back."

You crossed your arms, "You need to be more intentional in your hits. You're creating more work for yourself. And you won't always have that sword on you."

Zagreus frowned, "I'm fighting monsters down there, not humans. If I don't have a weapon, they're not going down."

"Like I said you won't always have a weapon in you. Lord Hades took away my father, and that was your best tool. What are you going to do if he takes away your weapons and you can't get them back?"

You raised a brow and asked "Are you going to stay down here and obey like a good little boy?"

And you could tell you stuck a nerve at the scowl Zagreus gave you. Hypnos made a mocking sound and Zagreus whipped his head around to glare at Hypnos.

You mentally sighed, your father got soft over the years. Just for arguing back, Achilles would have You running laps from sunup to sundown while carrying bags of feed.

"Here, let's wrap up with a quick brush up for your next lesson." You said, not bothering to comfort him. The sooner you can break Zagreus out of your father's soft training, the better. "Do you know all the weak points of a body?"

Before Zagreus could respond, Hypnos butted in. "Oooh, I do! Eyes and groin!"

You took a breath when suddenly an idea came to you. You turned to the god, "Hypnos, since you're so eager, come on over here."

Hypnos looked at Zagreus who shrugged then back to you. "Okay." He dragged out the word with suspicion in his tone.

"Well?" You asked, keeping your tone friendly with a smile on your face. You waited until Hypnos got close enough to grab his shoulders and forced him to stand on his feet.

You grabbed his face with a hand, squishing his cheeks. He made a squeaky sound and you bit back a smirk. A little humiliation should be enough to get Hypnos to stay away and you can focus on what you came here to do. The only reason you bothered with helping Zagreus was because your father asked you too.

"Pay attention, I expect you to remember this for your next lesson." You told Zagreus.

"Hypnos got two right, but he forgot about the nose and honestly, almost anything you will ever fight will have a weakness here." You tapped Hypnos between his eyes which made him blinked. "Hit here or here if you can get a good upward swing ," you tapped the tip of Hypnos' nose, "With preciseness you won't need much force and you save energy as well."

Next You turned his head toward you and could see the start of a flush. Good, it was working.

You pointed to the area between the ear and jaw, "This won't kill but it will make your opponent dizzy and that could buy the second you need to finish them."

You went on listing other parts of the body for Zagreus and Hypnos obediently went along with it. Moving his arm and lifting a leg up.

"And lastly, the groin like Hypnos said earlier but I doubt I need to go in depth about that area." You finished as you let Hypnos go.

"Got it?" You asked.

"Yes, sir." Zagreus smirked at his friend's misfortune.

`Hypnos just stayed silent, flushed to his hairline.

You were sure you wouldn't see Hypnos for a while but the little god surprised you. Just a day after the training, he seeked you out.

"Achilles didn't teach you how to fight, did he?" Hypnos asked. His dark circles were deeper than normal and you got the feeling he didn't get much rest.

"What makes you say that?" You asked, actually curious about Hypnos' thought process.

"I mean, you're unusually strong and you seem to have, let's say, a more ruthless fighting style than your father does. Not bad, mind you, just different." Hypnos shrugged, "I've seen him train Zagreus. And it's just different."

You thought about bushing him off, but something about how tired he looked made you speak up. "You're right. Kinda. He wasn't my first teacher. I was sold as a child for a fighting ring. And they usually don't let the loser live." You tighten your hold the spear, to ward off the memories.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I couldn't imagine." Hypnos said. "I didn't mean to bring up any bad memories."

You blinked several times, "You didn't."

But the look on Hypnos' face told you he didn't believe you.

Screaming. Inhuman mad screaming.

Patroclus' body broken on the ground and Achilles stared past You even as you tried to talk to him.

You felt like you lost both of your fathers as you trailed behind Achilles on his warpath.

Hands wet with blood and you think you should be screaming too but Patroclus was broken and gone and the screaming never stopped-

"Y/N. Hey, Y/N." Hypnos stood in front of you, his big golden eyes concerned. For a moment, you weren't standing in the East wing with Hypnos.

But a burning city and people running and crying. And Hypnos stood in the middle of it.

What was the little god doing here?

“Y/N!”

You blinked and you were back in the east wing, no smoke or no fire or crying followed.

“Hypnos?” You realized you had a tight grip on Hypnos’ arm as if you wanted to yank him out of the memories.

You let go. “I-i my apologies, Hypnos. I-“

“Wowie, that must have been a bad one huh?” Hypnos didn’t look upset and you frowned at him. “Are you not…?” You trailed off, not sure what to say.

“No.” Hypnos said softly. “I know the story about how you… Died and what happened to your head.” Hypnos waved a hand toward his own head, trying to make his point clear. “I guess what I’m saying is no, I’m not upset or mad or whatever. I just wanna know if you’re okay.”

You said nothing for several moments, looking at Hypnos’s kind face and realized to your great shame exactly how little you understood Hypnos and his intentions.

“Yes, thank you.” You told him softly.

You tapped your foot as you waited on Zagreus to show up. You have been in the house for several months now and Zagreus didn't always show up for training especially since he was getting closer to the surface.

Hypnos floated lazily around the room, waiting for you to look away so he could touch one of the weapons. Normally Skully was here to chase him off but apparently not even Skully wanted to show up.

After a few more minutes and warning Hypnos off on touching the spear, you got tired of waiting for Zagreus.

"Come on, Hypnos I think his highness must be on one of his attempts." You told him.

"Wait, wait or you could train me!" Hypnos circled you. He gave you the puppy dog eyes and you shook your head.

"Please. I've been so good when you're training Zagreus! Just one time." Hypnos begged.

And of course, you gave in.

"Alright. On your feet."

You chuckled at Hypnos' cheering.

Hypnos was… You didn't know what he was. After the day of failed attempts of embarrassment, Hypnos stuck around. He would follow you around like a lost puppy whenever he could.

You knew he was lonely, quietly trying to repair the broken bonds with his family. That he had near encyclopedia knowledge about Greek Heroes and monsters, even about your own fathers'. That he loved sweets but would eat raw honey every time if given the chance.

And the fact that just like your fathers, he was able to pull you back into the now.

He was...

Friend, you think firmly, he had become a friend.

“Can I ask you something? Like super personal?” Hypnos said out of the blue one day. You raised an eyebrow, “I have never known a personal question to stop you before but sure, you can ask me.”

“Why haven’t you drunk from the river Lethe? Wouldn’t it help?” Hypnos said, biting a thumbnail.

Oh. No wonder he was nervous.

“I don’t want to forget. I need to remember as much as I can.” You told him gently. Hypnos tilted his head, confusion on his face.

“If I forget, I won’t be the same person. You can’t forget without losing a part of yourself and I want to keep all of me. The bad and good.” You tried to explain, feeling like you sound like a cheesy philosopher.

“Oh. I think I get it.” Hypnos said. His smile was small but warm. Blood and darkness, you had gotten soft. You couldn’t stop the bust of fondness that your chest and you already looked like a fool so why not go farther?

“Like you, I wouldn’t want to forget you, Hypnos.” You said, a blush forming on your cheeks.

Hypnos blinked as if he didn’t understand what you just said but you saw a blush form on his own cheeks.

“I wouldn’t want to forget you too, Y/N.”

Part two

#hypnos x reader #hades hypnos #requests

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