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spacedace · 29 days

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Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

#dpxdc #jazz fen #jason todd #social worker jazz #social worker jazz fenton #anger management ship #anger management #pre anger management #jason todd x jazz fenton #i don't know why i keep writing scenes where Jazz writes resumes to apply to work for crime bosses but it just feels right in my soul okay #the real reason Jason wears a full face helmet is so people can't tell when he utterly fails to hide his emotions about something #the idea of social worker jazz working in crime alley has completely consumed me mind body and soul

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ineffable-suffering · 6 months

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INEFFABLE META MASTERPOST

Because I'm slowly losing count and need to organize. So, here's all my self-written metas or ones that I reblogged with my own added theories and commentary! In rainbow colours, naturally.

1 – Aziraphale, I love you. But you lied. And here's why. My most lengthy and proudest meta about the Final Fifteen and why I think Aziraphale lied on purpose. (Also: The absolute darling @esthermitchell-author bravely fought their way through it and wrote up some more interesting points and different takes on what I came up with. If you want to go down a S2 rabbit hole with us, go read it here.)

2 – Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator (links below) A three-part meta in which I try to analyse and explain that all of the minisodes in Season 2 are not objective narrations but actually Aziraphale's memories.

Part 1: The Story of Job

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

3 – The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie A meta in which I go into unnecessarily great detail about how the Whickber Street Meeting Cotillion Ball was meant to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley.

4 – Crowley & Aziraphale were never free (reblog) A reblog of @baggvinshield's post in which I explain why miscommunication is the single biggest ineffable enemy in Season 2.

5 – In Defense of Aziraphale (double reblog) A double try at explaining why I think Aziraphale's POV in the Final Fifteen is just as horrible as Crowley's and why I don't think him "choosing" to go back to Heaven was the only point of his character journey.

6 – The Art of Miscommunication: Ineffable Edition A meta in which i once again explain why miscommunication is the single biggest ineffable enemy in Season 2.

7– Season 2 Bookshop Shot Meta A meta where I briefly loose my mind because of a single bookshop frame in Season 2.

8 – What if it wasn't Aziraphale and Crowley who performed the 25 Lazarii miracle? A mini-meta in which I propose the theory that Jimbriel helped with the miracle to hide himself away from Heaven & Hell.

9 – Things in Good Omens Season 2 I still find weird (reblog) A reblog of @ok-sims and many other great OPs' thoughts on the weird loose strings in Season 2 and what unanswered questions I still have myself.

10 – The Deleted Bookshop Scene (reblog) A reblog of @skirtdyke's video and @i-only-ever-asked-questions' smart thoughts on it, with my own overly-excited 'what that could have meant for the "It's too late" line'-theroy.

11 – The Bentley Handle Easter Egg A meta I can proudly say has been liked by none other than Mr. Neil Gaiman himself about Crowley's Bentley handle that might have existed before the Bentley ever did.

12 – The F*cking Eccles Cakes A meta where I briefly loose my mind because of a pastry. (Addendum: People said very smart things in the comments of the post!)

14 – Re: "You go too fast for me, Crowley" A meta in which I make myself sad by connecting that infamous line to Aziraphale assuming Crowley wanted the Holy Water as a suicide pill.

13 – Trauma-Dumping on your plants: The Anthony J. Crowley Chronicles A meta on why Crowley treats his plants the way that he does.

14 – Demonic Mental Health Awareness Post In which I talk about why I want to get Crowley a therapy voucher.

15 – The Curious Incident of The Flaming Sword in Good Omens A meta on why the Flaming Sword has no deeper meaning. Or does it? (Updated: here's a reblog from @queerfables who did a wonderfully exellent job at calmly explaining all the swordy questions I was yelling about! Consider this meta solved.)

16 – Ceci n'est pas une plume A meta in which I'm a bit of a nerd for language and also explain why learning French and magic the human way says so much about Aziraphale as a character.

17 – The meaning of "I forgive you" A meta in which I explain what both "I forgive you"s mean and why Aziraphale will always fight for what is right until he wins. Also, the lovely @sharksbeerr translated it to Chinese on Weibo!

18 – Memory, or the lack thereof, in Season 2 A little reblog on how memory is a big and unresolved, leaky-bucket theme in Season 2.

Addendum:

The one non-spoiler-y ask I could come up with about S2 that was actually answered by Neil, yay!

Also, this wholesome little post I added to that Mr. Gaiman also reblogged. :‘)

*** This is a work in progress and will get updated every time I post a new meta! ***

#good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens s2 #my own meta #good omens season 1 #meta masterpost #ineffable-suffering

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anipgarden · 11 months

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Un-Actions, or Restriction of Activities

This is my first post in a series I’ll be making on how to increase biodiversity on a budget! I’m not an expert--just an enthusiast--but I hope something you find here helps!

There’s a good handful of ways you can help increase biodiversity in your yard that don’t require buying things--in fact, these may actually help you save money in the long run! They may seem small and simple, but every bit counts! Whether you can do these in totality, or just limit how often you do these actions, it’ll make a difference.

Not Mowing, or Mowing Less Often

Turf grass lawns are considered a monoculture, meaning they don’t provide much opportunity for insects to find habitat--so few other creatures find them enjoyable either. An expanse of turf grass is, in many ways, a barren wasteland in the eyes of wildlife--too exposed to cross, with few to no opportunities for food or shelter, leaving them exposed to blazing hot sun, freezing cold, or any predators that may be lurking nearby. A place to be avoided. The simple act of letting your grass grow unbothered gives a chance for wildflowers to grow, and for your grass to grow taller--providing more habitat for insects, which then provides more habitat to birds and other creatures that feed on said insects. Wildlife want nothing more than to skirt by unnoticed, so even leaving the grass tall along the edges of a fence or yard can help a little. Even restricting mowing to every other week, or at a higher blade setting, can be a huge help. If HOAs or city ordinances are fussy about lawn length in the front yard, you can likely still keep grass higher in the backyard. Or, you can create a ‘feature’ where grass is allowed to grow long in a specific area. If it looks purposeful, people are more likely to accept it. Not mowing under trees or close to shrubs not only leaves space for wildflowers to grow, but also means you don’t have to deal with mowing over bumpy roots and other difficulties. Cutting different areas at different times can be an option for letting grass grow long in some areas while still having available places for play and entertainment. I’ve seen some people plant flower bulbs when pulling up weeds, so in the future they'll bloom in early spring before mowing is usually necessary. This could be another fun way of adding biodiversity to a lawn without--or before you--begin mowing in spring.

Not worrying about mowing, or doing it less often, saves you in time, money, and energy. You won’t have to buy as much gasoline for your mower, and Saturday afternoons can be free to be enjoyed in other ways aside from being sticky and sweaty and covered in grass stains. In addition, you’ll likely be lowering your own carbon emissions!

If you do have to mow your lawn, I’ve got ways you can use your grass clippings to boost biodiversity later in the post series!

Not using pesticides, herbicides, fungicides, etc.

One of the next-biggest non-actions you can do asides from not mowing is using fewer fewer to no herbicides, fungicides, and pesticides in your yard. This’ll easily allow for more biodiversity. Allowing more insects and a wide array of plants to thrive will feed back into the entire food chain in your area. In addition, these types of chemicals have been tied to algae blooms, death of beneficial insects, harm to birds, fish, and even humans. Soil is supposed to be full of fungi, especially fungal mycelium that essentially acts as a network for plants to communicate, share nutrients, and support each other--fungicide kills that, and typically makes all other lawn problems even worse in a negative feedback loop. It may take awhile to see the benefits of avoiding these chemicals, but once you see it, it really is astounding.

However! I can’t lie and say that there haven’t been points where I needed to use pesticides at some points in my gardening journey. In these cases, try to use products that are organic--like diatomaceous earth, neem oil, etc--and use them accurately, correctly, and sparingly. Follow instructions on how to apply them safely and responsibly--for example, on non-windy days and during times when bees and other pollinators aren’t likely to be out and about. With some pests (read: oleander aphids, in my experience), a simple jetstream of water is enough to force them off the plant where they’ll be too weak to get back. Eventually, you should have a balanced enough ecosystem that no one insect pest causes a major issue with the work you’re doing to boost biodiversity.

If you can bear to, try handling pests manually. Squishing pest bugs in your hand is a pretty foolproof way to get rid of some problems, or spraying them with a mix of soap and water can do the trick on some insects. Alternatively, picking them off your plants and into a bucket of soapy water is also a valid option. You’ve heard of baptism by fire, now get ready for… baptism by soap?

But also! Try reconsidering what you consider a pest! Tomato hornworms are hated by gardeners, for devouring the foliage of beloved tomato, pepper, and potato plants. But killing the tomato and tobacco hornworm means getting rid of sphinx moths, also known as hummingbird or hawk moths! Hawk moths are vital to the survival of many native plants, and are sometimes even the only species that pollinates them. If you can bear to, consider sacrificing a few tomato plants, or growing a few extras, so we can continue having these beautiful moths for years to come. After all, they may not even do significant damage to the plants!

With that in mind, be friendly to your natural pest managers! Lacewings, ladybugs, praying mantises, wasps, birds, bats, and more will help manage pest populations in your environment! Encourage them by planting things they like, providing habitat, and leaving them be to do their work! Avoiding pesticides helps make your garden a livable environment for them, too!

Letting Weeds Grow

Many of the plants we know as 'weeds' are actually secondary succession species and native wildflowers. Milkweed was regarded as a noxious, annoying weed for a long time, and now people are actively trying to plant them after learning about the important role they play in our environments! Weeds are adapted to take over areas that have been cleared out of other plants after a disaster, so they're doing much of the initial work in making a habitat for other creatures. In fact, many of them will simply die back as the environment repairs itself.

An important thing to note is to please make sure that your ‘weeds’ are not invasive species. Work on learning how to identify native and invasive species in your area, and pull out what’s harmful to leave room for what’s good!

Don’t Rake (Or At Least Don’t Bag Your Leaves)

Many insects overwinter in piles of leaves that we often rake away and bag up in the fall and winter. By doing this, we are actively throwing away the biodiversity of our neighborhoods! If you can, leave the leaves where they fall!

If you do need to rake, put the leaves in places wildlife can still access it instead of bagging it up. Move your leaves into garden beds to serve as mulch, or along the edge of fences to rest while keeping egg cases and hiding bugs intact and free to release come spring.

Leave Snags Where They Are

Snags are dead trees/dead branches on living trees. They provide an important wildlife habitat--many birds nest in them, or use them to seek cover from rain, and many insects will also live in snags (making them an additional food source for birds and other creatures). Tree cavities are used as nests by hundreds of bird species in the US, and many mammals use them as well, such as bats, squirrels, raccoons, and sometimes even bears. Some trees form cavities while they’re still alive, but in conifers they’re more likely to form after death. Crevices between the trunk of a dead tree and its peeling bark provide sun protection for bats and amphibians, and leafless branches make great perching areas for birds of prey to hunt from above. The decaying wood is home to insects and fungi, who then feed birds, mammals, amphibians, and reptiles. Do check on the snags regularly to ensure they don’t serve a threat to any nearby structures, but whenever possible, leave them be!

Keep Your Cat Inside

If you have an outdoor cat, consider making the adjustments to have it be an indoor cat. If you have an indoor cat, keep it as an indoor cat. Free ranging cats impact biodiversity through predation, fear effects, competition for resources, disease, and more. Keeping little Mittens inside does a lot more to help than it may seem from the outside.

That’s the end of this post! My next one’s gonna be on things you can add to your space that aren’t directly related to growing plants. For now, I hope this advice helps! Feel free to reply with any questions, success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in!

#biodiversity #solarpunk #gardening #outdoor gardening #lawn culture #anti lawn culture #environmental stewardship #(i think that counts)#ani rambles #out of queue #the biodiversity saga #I know I said this in the masterpost already but another reminder some people aren't in a position to do all or some or even any of this #i have so far been unsuccessful in convincing my parents to not mow or rake because we live in an HOA neighborhood #but do what you can/are able to! it'll help!

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horrendoushag · 9 months

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just went into the danny phantom main tag for the first time in a while and found a ton of dpxdc prompts flooding it. didn't realize it was still such a big issue. so,

hey guys this is your reminder to ONLY tag your danny phantom/dc crossovers as #DPXDC, no other fandoms

I know you want people from the dp and dc fandoms to be able to find your crossover stuff. I relate. but to the multitude of people who want plain danny phantom content or aren't interested in dc, finding dc crossover after dc crossover is just annoying. we don't want to have to dig. we are going to scroll straight past your dpxdc prompts and art and fics. tagging only for the crossover is unusual, yeah, but this crossover is so big it is literally its own fandom. and as relatively large as the dpxdc fandom is, I'm pretty sure the danny phantom fandom is bigger. thus, we do not want a bunch of posts from a different fandom in our tag. people who want dpxdc can go out of their way to find it by way of the tag I thought we'd established months ago. if you want to tag it as danny phantom or dc or whatever for the purpose of organizing your blog, just reblog the post with the tags added.

I love dpxdc crossovers. I was reading one right before I started making this post. but when I go to the danny phantom tag, I want to see mainly danny phantom content. now when I try to do that, I find a whole lot of not-that. I just searched 'danny phantom', and of the top dp posts, 26 out of 48 were dpxdc. clicked on the danny phantom tag and 12 out of the first 14 top posts were also dpxdc. much of this was not tagged with the proper DPXDC tag. the issue appears to be far less severe for the dc fandom, but it's still a bit irritating.

again, I love this crossover. I don't want to blacklist the multitude of tags it uses, because I like seeing it on my dash occasionally. but if this keeps up, I honestly might.

it's DPXDC, no spaces, DP comes first, DC comes second.

#danny phantom #dc #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #<- those last three tags were all incorrect #just making sure this reaches y'all #sorry to be pushy but seriously.#other crossovers are fine #it's just that this one is flooding the tag #it's not even like a flash flood it's a full on tsunami

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fanartandfanfiction · 7 months

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Sick

Inspired by @ellivenollivander and @damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog

Ominis is sick and you’ve stepped in to take care of him.

Word count: 1773 SFW, just some cute fluff

—————————————

“ACHOO!” Ominis sneezed into the sleeve of his robe.

“Watch it, mate! You nearly sneezed on me!” Sebastian grumbled.

“I’m sorry, it’s not like I could SEE YOU.”

“Why don’t you just give up and go see Nurse Blainey?”

“I don’t NEED to see nurse Blainey. I’m not-“ his sentence was cut off with another sneeze.

“At least go to bed. I’ll tell your professors you’re sick. Everyone would much prefer you keep your germs to yourself.”

“I feel like I should sneeze on you on purpose now.” Ominis grumbled. Though going back to bed did sound pretty great, since navigating without sight was its own challenge, and adding dizziness to the mix wasn’t helping.

He went back to his dorm and flopped down on his bed. He didn’t even bother changing out of his school clothes. He coughed into his pillow and drifted off to sleep.

Some time later, he was woken to the sound of a knock. “It’s open!” He shouted, though slightly muffled.

“Ominis? It’s me.” You said as you cracked open the door.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” He sat up and sniffed.

“Sebastian said you were sick. I’m here to help.”

Ominis smiled sweetly at you. “Thank you, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” He stood up from his bed and stumbled. You grabbed onto him to steady him.

“Ominis! You’re burning up!” You pressed your hand to his forehead. He jumped at the unexpected touch, but then leaned into your hand.

“Am I? Because frankly it feels like I’m in a refrigerator.”

“You need to get back in bed. Do you want to change into pajamas? I can step out.”

“Sure.” Ominis stepped toward his dresser and staggered again.

“Ok, change of plans. Sit down, I’ll get them.” You led him to the bed and sat him down in the side. You went over to his dresser and opened a drawer, your cheeks coloring a bit as you looked at his underwear.

“Third drawer.” He grumbled. You opened the third drawer and chuckled.

“What?”

“This is the most neatly organized pajama drawer I’ve ever seen. I don’t know why I’m surprised.” You pulled out a soft T-shirt (that you kind of wanted to steal) and plaid green pajama pants. “Alright, here we go.” You reached for his shirt button and he jumped.

“What are you doing?!”

“Unbuttoning your shirt?” You reached for it again.

His eyes widened. “You are NOT changing my clothes. I’ll do it.” He stood up and stumbled, clutching his head. “Ugh, my ears are ringing and I’m terribly dizzy.” He attempted to unbutton his shirt and his hands were shaking. He hoped you would attribute it to being sick, and not the idea of you undressing him.

“That’s what I’m here for. Now, let me help you.”

Ominis’ cheeks were tinted pink as you began unbuttoning his shirt. You slid it off his shoulders, briefly admiring his chiseled abdomen. You knew he was fit, but DAMN.

“Are you done staring?” He smirked.

“Sorry. Put your arms up.” He sighed and put his arms up, and you tugged the shirt on over his head. “Alright, um, what about pants?”

“I’m not letting you take my pants off!” This was embarrassing enough.

“Sit on the edge of the bed. I’ll step out, just give a shout when you’re done.” You placed the pajama pants in his hand and left the room. You leaned against the door and exhaled. You thought you’d done well at hiding your crush on your friend, but now that you knew what he looked like without a shirt on, it was going to be much more difficult.

“Alright, you can come back.”

You entered and smiled at Ominis in his pajamas. You hadn’t thought he could get any cuter. You were wrong. “Ok, mister. Into bed with you.”

“You don’t have to speak to me like a child.” He grumbled. You helped him under the covers and he was shivering.

“I made a stop by the hospital wing on my way here. This will help with the fever.” You pressed a vial into his hand. He downed it and made a face. “Fair warning, it’ll make you drowsy. Nurse Blainey said you might feel a bit funny too, it’s pretty strong.”

“I feel fine. My tongue is fuzzy.” He began sticking out his tongue and touching it.

“Oh dear. Maybe you should get some rest. I’ll leave you alone.”

“You’re leaving?” He said, looking like a scared child.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to stay with you or not.”

“I don’t want to be by myself.” He pouted.

“That’s fine.” You smiled. “I suppose I can conjure a chair.”

“Will you sit with me?” He patted the bed. He looked adorable, and you just wanted to hug him.

“Of course.” You walked over to his bed and sat beside him.

“I’m f-freezing.” His teeth were chattering.

“Come here, I’ve got you.” You reached for him and he leaned away.

“I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Don’t worry, I rarely get sick. Your fever will come down soon. In the meantime, you can share my body heat.” You reached for him and this time he let you pull him over. You blushed as his head rested on your chest. His body was shaking and you held him tightly.

“I feel awful.” He whined.

“I know.” You began stroking his hair and he sighed contendedly. If it weren’t for the damn flu, this was heaven. He could hear your heart beating, and it soothed him, as well as the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. Your hand felt wonderful as you stroked his hair.

He couldn’t remember a single time in his life he’d been comforted like this. If you got sick at the Gaunt house, you were quarantined to your room and fended for yourself. His father had been furious once when he caught the flu from Ominis. He shuddered as he remembered his harsh punishment.

“Are you still cold?” You asked. You pulled the covers tighter around him and rested your head on his. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

He snuggled tighter against you. He felt so safe, so loved…

Come to think of it, you were one of the only people that touched him. He preferred it that way, but didn’t mind one bit when you’d take his hand to lead him somewhere or bump his leg under the table to wake him up during history of magic. There was something so wonderful about your touch. It would be easy to get addicted to.

At some point he drifted off to sleep, waking to the feeling of a cool rag on his forehead. Why was he so hot?

“Your fever is coming down. The cool washcloth should help.” You’d been leaning over him and began to walk away. He let out a small whimpering sound that broke your heart. “I’m right here.” You ran your fingers through his hair.

“Don’t leave.” He whined.

“I’m not.”

“You did!” He pouted. You smiled at his pouty demeanor. You walked back around to the other side of the bed and got in it again.

Ominis immediately scooted over to cuddle you again. “Will you rub my head again?”

“Of course.” You began working your fingers through his hair again and he sighed.

“Promise you won’t leave”

“I won’t.” You smiled down at him. Ominis surprised you by wrapping both arms around you and pulling you close. The poor boy was miserable.

You hated to wake him up, he was sleeping so peacefully, but it was lunchtime and he needed to eat.

“Ominis.” You whispered softly and stroked his hair. “Wake up, Omi.”

He grumbled in response and buried his head in your chest.

“You need to eat and stay hydrated.”

“Not hungry.” He mumbled.

“That’s too bad. Sebastian is bringing us lunch.”

“Stay with me until he gets here.”

“I will.” You looked down and saw a wide grin on his face. “Why are you smiling?”

“I like it when you take care of me. No one has ever done that.”

It broke your heart, thinking of your own mother caring for you when you were sick. You couldn’t imagine never having anyone take care of you.

“You deserve to be taken care of.”

Ominis got very still and you wondered if he’d fallen asleep again. Then you felt a tear drop on your arm. “Omi?”

“Say it again.”

You hugged him tightly. “You deserve to be taken care of.”

You felt more tears hit your arm and you wanted to kiss them away. “Ominis. Look at me.”

“I’d love to, but I can’t.” He smirked.

“So sick and still so much attitude.” You chuckled. He looked up at you and you touched his cheek. “You deserve to be taken care of. You deserve to be loved. You deserve all the happiness in the world, Ominis, and if I could give it to you, I would.”

His expression was hard to read and you were afraid you’d overstepped. Then he smiled. “You already give me so much happiness. More than I ever expected to have.”

“Really?”

Ominis sniffed and sat up. “Perhaps this isn’t the best time but that cold medicine has made me feel a bit brave. I am hopelessly in love with you, Y/n. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable but I can’t keep it hidden any longer. I-“

You cut off his words with a kiss. He kissed you back at first, then shoved you back. “What are you doing, you maniac?! You’ll most definitely get the flu if you kiss me!”

“Oh well. We can be sick together.” You kissed him again, then held him to you.

“Am I interrupting?” Sebastian asked from the doorway.

“Yes.” Ominis grumbled.

“Merlin, if both of you get sick, don’t expect me to coddle you.”

“Oh good, you brought lunch! Come here, Sebastian, let me give you a thank you hug.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, we can all be sick together!”

“Keep your germs to yourself!” Sebastian shouted as you chased after him. Ominis smiled to himself as he heard your laughter. Perhaps this flu was the best thing to happen to him.

-two days later-

You blew your nose while Ominis ran his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry, love.”

“Don’t be, I’d do it again!” You grinned as he kissed your forehead.

“I hate both of you.” Sebastian grumbled from his own bed.

“Someone is a grumpy patient.” You gave him a teasing smile.

“Oh, bite me.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #fanfic #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #ominis x reader #ominis x you #ominis hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt fluff #ominis gaunt hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt fic #ominis gaunt fanfiction

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daegustae · 10 months

Text

champagne problems | jeon jungkook

pairing ; groom!jungkook x wedding planner!reader.

genre ; smut, angst | one-shot

summary ; the story we won’t tell is my greatest fantasy

word count ; 4.1k

chapter warnings ; infidelity, smut (18+), oral (f. receiving), bigdick!jungkook, multiple s3x positions, explicit language, creampie, unprotected s3x (yall know better), slight cockwarming, mentions of illness | plot twist at the end dont k!ll me pls

a/n ; this was inspired by champagne problems obv AND the apartment we won’t share by niki jhsdjds IDK I WAS JUST LISTENING TO IT AND THEN BAM HERE COMES THIS AU . this is not edited.

¯¨’*·~-.¸¸,.-~*’ •·.·´¯`·.·• `·.¸¸.·´´¯`··._.· •´`·..íì..·´`•

“Nothing?” Hobi shakes his head no, pouting as he watches the screen in front of him waiting for a miracle to happen. You look at the letters written on your wall Garam Event Management Studios. It was your dream to have a business like this. An organizer for different types of events. At first, your business was doing exceptional, always fully-booked, never having a free day but better than you’re experiencing right now. Dry and dull. You even had to let go of some of your employees considering that you won’t be able to pay them due to this crisis.

“We won’t last a month” you sigh your head in frustration, thinking about what went wrong in your business. You can’t help but be in denial, this crisis started when your father purposely embarrassed you at that one dinner party, claiming that your business will eventually close down so people shouldn’t bother to get your services. His reason? Because you refused to work at his company where you’ll be the next CEO. To be fair, you were tired of being ordered around and being an office slave.

But humiliating you that night was uncalled for. Especially everything that happened before that confrontation.

“We just have to boost our ads, we used to be in-demand.” used to.

“I’m sorry Hobi, this was because of me.” he frowns, looking at your slump figure on the couch.

“You have nothing to be sorry for” you look at him giving him a pout, suppressing the tears that are threatening to come out.

“Thank you for sticking with me” he nods standing up from his table as he makes his way to you giving you the tightest hug. You are honestly thankful of Hobi, he’s your best friend and out of all people he was the first one to support you with your business, even dropping his corporate job to join you as a full time event coordinator.

“We’ll be fine, it's winter season, who wants a wedding during winter?” you laugh giving him a smack on his head before a ding sound comes out of his computer. You both pull out of the hug looking at each other with wide eyes, scrambling on the couch to stand up and read the letters on his screen.

“We got an appointment” you both scream jumping in excitement.

“We got this” you nod, doing your celebratory handshake before dashing to your own table, ready to contact the services you will need. Hobi focuses on the person who’s making an appointment.

Hobi sighs, you look at him puzzled, reading his face who’s hard to determine at this very moment. You look at him raising your eyebrows as your smile fades. “We got an appointment but it’s your choice if you want it or not.”

“Of course I want it! We can’t choose our customers, we're in a crisis.” you say matter of factly.

“Even if it’s your ex’s wedding?” he says slowly, waiting for your reaction.

“Of course, this is business, nothing personal.” you clear your throat, biting your tongue and proceeding to scroll through your desktop.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure there will be more cus-”

“Hobi, it’s fine. Plus this is good for our business, we’ll get exposure and such.” you give him a reassuring smile. It’s not time to be selfish. It’s been 9 months since that dinner party, you’re pretty sure everyone has moved on from it already, and yet you still remember the atmosphere that day.

“It’s his fiance that booked the appointment, by the way.” fiance you shouldn’t feel bitter hearing that, but somehow there’s a small part of you that aches for the future you planned, aches for him. “She said she chose us because she was a guest to this wedding once, and fell in love with us” Hobi chuckles “And the wedding’s in three days” he adds

“What?” that’s a small amount of time to prepare.

“And she can’t find anyone else to do it because it’s too little time” you sigh you either accept this or you’ll close down this business.

“We have to make this work Hobi, this is our last shot.” you say truthfully he nods looking at you with concern.

“Let's do this yeah?”

“Stop fiddling with your pants Hobi” you scold giving him a scowl as you watch him straighten up on his seat. You’re currently in your studio, waiting for your clients to discuss what they want for the wedding.

“I can’t help it, it’s been too long since we last saw him” you nod agreeing, smacking his hands that continue to fiddle with everything he touches.

“Are you the ex?” you whisper-yell wincing as you feel your head throbbing. Hobi looks at you with concern before you shrug him off.

“Funny” you laugh as he rolls his eyes, freezing as the door inside your office opens. Revealing a beautiful woman, and a familiar figure following him. Way too familiar.

“Our couple! Future Mrs. Jeon?” Hobi greets her and nods, giving you both a genuine smile. You stand up from your seat, reaching out to shake her hand in which she excitedly accepts before extending your hand to the man beside her.

“Jungkook” you greet

“y/n” he reaches out for your hand, his warmth engulfing your whole body.

“You know each other?” she gushes

“She was a friend” Jungkook says a friend you nod in agreement. Sitting on the chair and preparing the papers you will need.

“That’s good then! You both can talk about the wedding for tomorrow no? I have to prepare for my dress-fitting and such.” You look at Hobi asking for help in which he understands, changing the subject.

“Let’s talk about that later, okay so here’s the initial plan we prepared for you both based on what we talked about yesterday . You can choose which you prefer, and you can also change anything, just tell us and we’ll continue from there.” they both nod, you can’t help but feel the burning glaze of Jungkook, you look at him, your eyes meeting each other as Hobi proceeds to explain everything.

It’s been so long since you last saw him, nothing changed. He still has the same doe eyes, lip ring, and that mole on his neck. Nothing changed except his heart. You look away, nodding at whatever Hobi’s saying, this is gonna be a long day.

“Well we’ll see you on your wedding day?” You tell Hana she nods giving you her bright smile, no wonder he fell in love with her. Her smile is contagious and she seems really kind. You’re happy for both of them.

“Yes! I’m trusting everything to you, for the rest of the plans you can meet up with my husband. I’m really sorry I won’t be there”

“Of course, and no it’s fine. Just rest before your wedding day”

“I’ll see you guys soon” she says excitedly giving you and Hobi a hug, Jungkook waving his hands to the both of you as they walk outside.

You sigh in relief, closing your eyes as you lean your head on the table. Feeling yourself getting drowsy.

“You okay?”

“Mmm just nauseous”

“I still think you need to tell him the reason you know” you look up at Hobi, frowning at him.

“Doesn’t matter anymore, his wedding is in two days” You stand up kneeling in front of Hobi who has his head low.

“Still it’s unfair” you shake your head laughing lightly, he looks like a child right now

“Some things are better left unsaid, I’m okay really. And I chose this path, remember?” you can’t help but feel your heart swells, it’s good to know that someone still cares about you.

“I have to talk to our techs, and be on the reception to check the updated stuff tomorrow” you bite your lip, that means it’s just going to be you and Jungkook tomorrow. “Will you be okay alone?”

“Of course! Just business, nothing personal". Clapping your hands feels like you're convincing yourself more than hobi, ruffling Hobi’s hair as you stand up checking the needed items for the wedding so you can present it to Jungkook tomorrow.

“And we have this voice message thing booth, where your guests can leave their wishes through this analog phone which is perfect for your wedding theme.” You’re currently at your office as you explain to Jungkook, he listens to you intently, watching in awe as you present him with all the details for his wedding.

“That’s beautiful, you’re good at this” you chuckle with his compliment shaking your head as you list a few things on the paper.

“Thank you, you convinced me to do it” you smile at the memory, you’ve always wanted a job like this, designing and organizing things. At first you were hesitant about it, but when you told Jungkook what you really wanted, he was there to support and encourage you all the way. He even helped you in naming your studio, suggesting Garam which means river. And with a river, you can’t touch the same water twice, it keeps flowing, reminding us that life is fleeting and we should value every second of it. Which by the way is connected with your job, helping every client to remember and enjoy their special day that will pass by eventually.

“I’m glad you still continue” he states as you look at him in the eyes nodding. “I’m sorry”

“For what” you stand up, compiling all the papers as Jungkook watches you leave your seat.

“My fiance is a huge fan of yours, she really wanted you to be our coordinator” you stop at your tracks looking at Jungkook as you shrug.

“I’m thankful for that Kook, nothing to be sorry for” his heart skips a beat, the nickname you gave him to him before feels like a knife jabbing through his chest. He shouldn’t feel this way.

“I waited for you, you know” you take a deep breath, watching Jungkook make his way to where you are standing.

“I’m sorry” you tell him sincerely “I’m just glad you found what you deserve” he nods taking a step forward, reaching out as he puts his hands on your hips. Leaning your forehead to his.

“What are you doing?” you know this is wrong, but you didn’t fight back, feeling the familiar warmth pulse through your whole body. “We shouldn't” you whisper to his lips.

“We shouldn’t” he repeats before he’s pulling away from you. You watch him clear his throat nodding his head as he makes his way to the door. You didn’t dare to look at him turning your back away from him waiting for the sound of your door opening and closing.

You gasp as you feel your body getting spinned. Before you know it, Jungkook’s lips are on yours. Kissing each other like there’s no tomorrow, pulling away to catch your breath only to put your lips on his again. His lips taste like poison, it burns you. Your hands wander each other’s bodies, exploring and holding each other like there’s no tomorrow. Because there isn’t.

You find yourself on fours on the couch with Jungkook, moaning as you feel him lick your pussy, eating you out with no mercy. “F-fuck”

“Are you still on the pill?” he asks from behind you, you nod watching his dick slap his stomach. “Good”

You feel his length enter inside you, both of you moaning in unison as he penetrates your walls. You clench your jaw at the foreign feeling. It’s been so long since he’s been inside you, you forgot how big and long he is.

“So tight princess, relax” he soothes you by kissing your neck to your shoulders. Tracing your spine as you arch your back. He starts thrusting inside, holding on to your hips for leverage. He feels your walls tighten, as he hits the spot he has always known.

“P-please” you have no idea what you’re begging for, but Jungkook knows you. He pounds inside you leaning his body on yours as you feel his weight on your back, only adding to the pleasure.

“You close?” you cry in pleasure, Jungkook lifts your body as he sits up without pulling out of you, making you put all your weight on his chest.

“Spread your legs” you do as he says, spreading your legs as he continues to thrusts inside you, this position sending you into a frenzy. You can’t help but look down, watching your pussy swallow him deliciously. He growls as you bounce, meeting his hips to get you there.

“I’m cumming” your legs shake as Jungkook repeatedly hits your spot. Putting all your weight on him this time as he massages your breast with his left hand, the other rubbing your pussy. You feel his breath on your shoulder, tilting your head on the side to chase his lips. Your pussy clenches as you feel your orgasm, breathing heavily with Jungkook’s cock still inside you.

“Good girl” he praises, he lays your body on the couch, watching you in your pleasure state, before he’s spreading your legs again. Lining up his length to show you deep he’s gonna be inside you. He spread your remains on his dick, rubbing it before slapping his dick on your sensitive pussy.

You wince making him chuckle. “Take all of me yeah?”

He inserts his throbbing length inside you once again, but this time slower. And intimate. Watching your face turns into pleasure as he brushes the hair on your face with his fingers. He takes his time this time, thrusting inside you slowly, but harder.

You look at his face, rubbing your thumb on his eyebrow as it furrows. You don’t say anything to each other, just feeling each other’s warmth. He kisses your lips delicately, holding your body close to his. You put your arms on his shoulder to his back, nails scratching softly that will be there until tomorrow.

“Almost there” he whispers, you can’t help but bite his shoulder feeling yourself release again. He kisses your forehead, his thrust becoming erratic until he’s cumming inside you. You both quiver with pleasure.He didn’t pull out after that, laying on your body instead. His head on your shoulder as you both breathe heavily.

You gently run your fingers to his hair, you feel him sighs in contentment as you feel your tears flow on your cheek feeling the coldness of his ring on your skin. Even if Jungkook notices your tears, he doesn't say anything, only holding you tighter. You stay just like that, holding and feeling the warmth of each other. Because maybe you both know that this will be the last time you’ll see each other. You both know the consequences and you’ll both suffer from it. Greatly.

You both know this is goodbye.

It isn’t long before you're both putting your clothes back on, without words. Before you’re clearing your throat. Shame and guilt both eating you alive already.

“Let’s pretend this didn’t happen”

“Like how you pretended I didn’t propose to you that night?” he says sarcastically, you can feel the bitterness of his words. You stand frozen. Not knowing what to say. Getting a flashback of that night.

“Can you at least tell me the reason? I deserve that”

“It was for all of this, you know that.” the lie sits like a venom on your tongue

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” you’re now both facing each other. His eyes meet your glistening ones.

“I’m not telling you to accept that, but that’s the truth, nothing else.”

“You could’ve just told me you wanted this career so bad, I wouldn’t have made you choose. I would have supported you.” you can feel the pain lacing his voice, and you can’t help but let your tears run down your cheeks.

“I know” you sob, Jungkook wants to hold you, but he stops himself from doing so. 9 months and you’re both still a mess. Maybe this was the closure you needed, but not the closure he wanted. He thinks about all the things you could’ve been if you only told him the truth. He can’t help but be offended, you really thought he won’t support you with what you wanted? All those years together and yet you thought so little of him.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You already did” he pauses, shaking his head, chuckling as he finds himself crying as well “The moment you started thinking I would stop you from chasing your dreams” he adds im sorry im sorry. You know no words will ever heal him from the pain you’ve caused. So you shut your mouth watching him leave before stopping to his tracks. Looking back at you one last time.

“Do you regret it? Leaving me?” he asks genuinely. Jungkook needs to hear it from you, so he can move on and stop living with the what if’s. He needs to hear it so he can wake up tomorrow without doubts about his future.

“No” you say without hesitating, staring at his eyes so you can deliver your point.

“Okay” he nods, shutting the door behind him as you fall down on your knees. Clutching your chest as you feel it aches.

“I’m sorry” the doctor looks at you with pity. You nod not knowing how to react.

“How long do I have?”

“12 months based on the size of tumor in your brain” you look at his eyes, hoping that he would be lying and this is a joke. But his eyes have no hint as such. “There’s a treatment but it’s not guaranteed you will live.” so it’s either you die slowly with the treatment or still die without it, except you’ll live shorter. Which is worse?

You chuckle weakly, so many thoughts running in your mind, how could this be? Why does it have to be you? What will happen to those who you will leave behind?

Jungkook. If you tell him your illness, he would stay and be there for you. But you can’t let him witness you die slowly and suffer for the rest of his life. It will be too selfish for you to deny him the bright future he deserves. You can’t scar him and leave a painful permanent mark.

You’d rather him hate you than suffer loving you.

That night you and Jungkook were invited to a dinner party, and you were planning on breaking up with him for whatever reason you come up with. The guilt eating you alive as he intertwined his finger with yours. Constantly kissing your temples.

That same night, he was on his knees, asking for your hand around your family, friends and colleagues. You dreamt of this day, and you would have said yes if it weren’t for the news you received that morning. You remember the atmosphere that night, it was heavy. Too heavy that you feel like falling down to your knees. But most of all, you remember the confusion and pain written on Jungkook’s face that night, watching you shake your head and run away from the scene.

That very night, your father talks about the business you were starting. Slandering it so the attention won’t be with the failed proposal but your failure as his daughter who refused to take over the company. Your father did all that to save himself from embarrassment. That very night, you lost the remaining care your father had for you.

That night, you lost your bestfriend, your anchor, the love of your life.

That night, your world crumbled down into pieces.

You look around your office, tracing pictures of past events you had on the wall. You started this career because you wanted it, and you had Jungkook’s support. You still continue to do it because it gives you the comfort to plan for other’s future that you won’t have and experience in this lifetime.

“Don’t be nervous, just enjoy this moment.” you tell Hana, patting her on the shoulder as she nods. She’s the most beautiful bride you’ve ever met. The kindest too. She engulfs you into a hug and squeezes your body.

“Thank you for everything.” you can’t help but feel guilty, she trusted you. And you fucked his fiance the day before your wedding. And you know karma has bitten you in the ass once you're 6 ft underground.

“I’m sorry” you whisper sincerely, rubbing her back. As if she would know what you did. she gasps, pulling away from the hug before she’s pinching your sides.

“Everything is beautiful, what are you sorry for.” she giggles. Your conversation has died down when the door opens revealing Hobi in a suit.

“Ladies, we’re about to start” he announces, the bridesmaids stand up, shuffling to their feet as they get out of the room to prepare. “y/n, check on our groom one last time please” you gulp doing as he says. Hobi doesn’t know what happened between you and Jungkook yesterday, and you don’t want him to know. Not today, at least.

“Let me fix that for you” you tell from the doorway, watching Jungkook jump in surprise as he tries to fix his tie.

“Please” you give each other a small smile, so many words left unsaid. And that’s for the better.

“I love her y/n.” He says suddenly, you stop fixing his tie for a moment, good before continuing your actions.

“I know, don’t worry I won’t tell. We’ll pretend it never happened.” you pat his shoulder, distancing from him.

“I really love her, she’s helped me get back up after everything. I will tell her about what happened last night, someday. I don’t want to lose her, I can’t.” you nod understandingly, knowing he’s telling the truth because he used to talk about you like that before.

“I’m happy for you Jungkook” you tell him honestly, this is what you’ve always wanted. At first, you thought you would feel jealousy and pain when you accepted this event. But now, you only feel happiness for the both of them, not even a small part of you feels bitter about this. Just genuine joy and pure contentment knowing Jungkook’s in good hands.

“Thank you.” You both sniff, laughing as you witness each other be a mess. Crying of joy this time.

“Jungkook you’re ruining your makeup”

“Stop making me cry then.”

“I will.”

- The huge doors open, revealing Jungkook waiting at the altar and for a moment you had a glance of the future that you could have had. You wait for the bride to get to the end of the hall before making your way to Hobi who’s busy ordering the staff.

“Hey”

“Hey, you look pale.”

“I’m sick, remember” you say matter-of-factly. Hobi only scowls at you. “Think you can handle everything else here?”

“Of course, is there something wrong?”

“Just tired” he observes your face, before nodding in understandment. Lately, you’ve been experiencing the symptoms, at first it was gradual but you feel it progress every day. One symptom at time, then all of it sometimes.

“You need help? I can drive you home” you smack his arm scolding him.

“They need an expert to stay here. Thank you Hobi” you both share your handshakes, giggling as you wave goodbye. Making one last stop before leaving, you find yourself in front of the voicemail booth. Picking up the phone with the label groom.

“Hey Kook, um, it’s me y/n” You take a deep breath, suddenly feeling awkward talking on the phone with no one on the other line.

“I just wanna say I’m happy that you found love because you’re a wonderful being, and you deserve nothing but happiness and more. I know you will be a great husband, and a loving father because I learned how to love unconditionally from you and I will always be grateful for that. You asked me before if I regret leaving you. Honestly, I don’t don’t regret any of it. I guess the only regret I have is making you wait longer when you could have had all of this sooner. Thank you for everything and I hope you can forgive me someday.”

Here’s to the future

#jjk angst #bts fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jjk smut #Smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #bts #bts imagines #jjk imagines #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios

321 notes · View notes

lattaeyongs · 2 years

Text

reunion (ml)

original gif

↳ pairing: mark lee x reader

↳ word count: 7.4k

↳ genre: barista!reader, exes to lovers!au, angst, fluff, smut

↳ summary: suddenly mark lee, your high school ex-boyfriend, is back in your life, and you’re not so sure that it’s a bad thing.

↳ warnings: contains explicit sexual content (oral, unprotected sex – please use a condom or birth control! stay safe!). read at your own risk.

“Order 68!” You say openly to the entire coffee shop, plopping the drink on the granite front counter.

There are a few more customers ordering their drinks, so you find yourself standing by the large coffee machine on the counter, waiting for a drink to pour into the cup placed under the spout.

You’re handed a few more orders by your friend and coworker Giselle who is standing by the cash register. Espresso, two shots of milk, and two cappuccinos. “So how was your date with Sicheng?” Your friend asks while customers who ordered drinks move to the other side of the counter, waiting for their drink to be served.

“It was good.” You say vaguely as you set down the order before clicking a few buttons on the coffee machine. “We had dinner, and he dropped me back home.”

“Are you guys gonna go on another date?” Giselle asks curiously, her tone struggling to stay casual as anticipation danced in her eyes. You purposely don’t answer for a while, pretending to be engrossed in your work. However, Giselle continues to wait as you make the last orders, standing by the credit card swiper just in case any other customers show up. But once you put the last customer’s drink on the counter, you have no more excuses to not answer. Letting the side of your arm brush against the front counter, you lean against it a little, shrugging your shoulders.

“Probably not. He was nice and everything, but he didn’t seem my type.” Giselle groans.

“Y/N! I thought Sicheng would be the perfect guy! He’s smart and funny and his parents are loaded,” she added subtly at the end.

“Just because I looked at him for more than two seconds at your sister’s wedding doesn’t mean that I want to date him,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at your friend. “And besides,” you start again. “I’m trying to focus on my degree right now.”

Giselle is silent for a little bit, pursing her lips. “Other than dates here and there, I’ve never seen you in a serious relationship.”

“What’s wrong with being single?” You ask, your shoulders lifted up.

“Everything!” You snort at your friend, who is obviously more sarcastic than she sounds, but Giselle only comes closer to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. Her eyes are rounder this time, serious. “Y/N, you know what you told me two Fridays ago?”

“What?” You ask. You don’t remember.

“You said that once you got off of work, you were going to organize all your albums. I’ve been to your place, and that’s a lot. I don’t want you wasting Friday nights by yourself. You deserve an awesome guy. I just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks for your concern,” you tell your friend. “I’m happy with just working and going to college. It would also make me happy if you butt out of my love life,” you deadpan at the end, smiling.

“Fine,” Giselle says reluctantly. You laugh at your friend’s pouting face before picking up a rag to scrub counters since there’s no one else standing in line for a drink. But when you hear footsteps approaching, you and Giselle look up. It’s a boy around college age, who places his drink on the front counter. “Excuse me? The lid of my coffee cup is broken. Can I get a new one,” he shows you both the lid on his cup, a large tear in the side that would impede it from doing its job. Giselle looks to the spot where the complementary lids for coffee cups are and notices that they aren't any more lids.

“There are some more in the storage room. It might take a while, so I’ll bring it to your table,” Giselle responds. The boy nods, leaving. “I’ll be back,” she says to you, and you say a quick ‘alright’ before moving a few steps to the computer that registers orders and the card swiper. So far, you haven’t heard the little bell sound from the door of the coffee shop, so you’re pretty sure that no one is coming in. Taking a long look around at people busily on their phones and laptops most probably completing a last-minute assignment or others just here with their friends for a quick caffeine shot, you settle on your conclusion, tapping your fingers against the counter as you stare at the floor, humming quietly to yourself as you think about what you’re going to do after you get off of work today.

This is your second year working at this coffee shop. You decided to attend a local college only twenty minutes away from your home to stay close to family, and you’re living at home to limit the expensive dorm costs and accumulating debt that many of your friends complain about. After settling into college, you took a job at this coffee shop in the center of your town to get a head start at paying your minimal education costs and met Giselle, a community college graduate who’s earning money to get a four-year degree.

Your tapping is interrupted when you hear someone; you didn’t even realize that the bell went off.

“Excuse me?” you hear. That voice… it’s familiar, one that you haven’t heard in a long time, yet it’s one that you could pick out of anywhere. Looking up, you see someone you never thought you would see again.

It’s Mark Lee, your high school ex-boyfriend.

“M-Mark?” You sputter. You couldn’t believe it. But there he is, standing right in front of you in the flesh. You almost want to pinch yourself.

Only marginal things have changed about Mark’s appearance since high school; his hair is slightly grown out and he has a light tan. Right now, he’s wearing a t-shirt and some sweatpants, his earbuds hanging on his neck as if he came back from the gym or a jog, the latter being the most likely case because when you were dating, it was a part of his routine to go on a jog every single day.

“Y/N,” he says, smiling. “It’s good to see you.”

“Y-You too,” you stammer.

“I didn’t know you worked here now. How have you been?” Mark continues the conversation. Finding a pen on the counter, you’re glad you have something to fidget with.

“Well, I do,” you chortle. “And I’m good, I guess. Just working and school,” you respond curtly. “You?”

“The same.” His response is nonchalant, It’s pretty damn obvious how awkward it is. With neither of you saying anything for a little bit, you both let the light chatter of those at tables do the talking for you.

“Would you like a drink?” You ask politely.

Mark’s eyes widen, suddenly realizing why he’s here. “Oh, right,” he says bashfully. “One ice americano, please.” Ah, Mark’s favorite drink; back when you were dating, he liked to tease you by saying that it was 100% coffee compared to the sugary macchiatos or lattes you would order. With a small smile, you punch some keys on the computer by the register, you select Mark’s order on the screen. “That would be $3.49 with tax,” you say, looking up.

His hair brushed back, he pulls out his wallet to get his credit card. Swiping it across the scanner, a satisfying ‘ding’ sounds, recognizing that his payment was accepted. “Thanks,” he says a bit quietly. He stands there awkwardly for a few more seconds as if he wanted to say something else, but he just nods, seating himself on one of the barstools next to the counter you worked at; it’s practically empty most likely due to many preferring to set up their laptops or talk on the phone or with friends without the baristas overhearing them. Or alternatively, they would stand by the serving counter, which they thought would help make their drink faster.

Quietly, you move a few steps to the coffee machine, pushing your tongue against the side of your cheek, an old habit of yours that springs up when you’re nervous. Hoping that he doesn’t notice, you look from the cup in your hand to Mark, taking a glance at him as quickly as possible, but it seems like he’s trying the same. For a moment, both of you lock eyes, and it’s almost like you can’t pry your gaze away from him until you finally force yourself to, looking back to the coffee machine to fill some espresso shots on top of the ice and coffee.

Sealing the cup with a lid, you put the drink in front of Mark.

“Uh, here’s your drink, I guess,” you say a little more awkwardly than you intended to.

“Thanks,” Mark smiles. He continues to sit at his barstool, and with the lack of customers ordering right now, you decide to busy yourself out of your awkwardness, going to an obscure corner to get a broom, as far away from Mark as you can be. After taking a few sips, Mark’s gaze lands on you, and as you start sweeping, he begins talking.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he says. He leaves his drink, which he took a few sips of, on the counter, heading down the hallway beside your counter to the men’s bathroom.

Once Mark is out of sight, you hear another voice. “So I’m assuming you guys know each other,” Giselle says, leaning her weight onto one leg. She is standing a few feet away from you, coming out of a shadow. You almost drop your broom when you hear her.

“How long have you been standing there?” You ask, practically jumping out of your skin.

“Long enough to see some of the interaction between you two. From the way your movements were so stilted and how you stammered a lot, you definitely didn’t expect to see him, and by how uncomfortable you looked, he was probably someone you knew intimately…” Giselle trails off, her eyes widening, a gasp on her lips. “Is that an ex?” She looks excited.

“How did you get that from a one-minute interaction?”

“I’m a psych major, remember? Major deduction skills,” she says, pointing at her brain dramatically. You exhale loudly, almost snorting before she continues. “So answer my question. Is he an ex?”

“Yeah,” you say simply. Giselle’s look is curious, so you continue. “He was my high school boyfriend. We mutually broke up before college,” you say, your words meshed together stiltedly.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Don’t be.”

Back in high school, you and Mark were almost inseparable, to the point that your high school friends would lightly joke that he was attached to your hip or something. You were always laughing together, at one of the corny jokes or when walking together after classes, going to the same diner and ordering the same thing, and even… skipping classes to be together (you would only skip when it was a concept you knew you didn’t need the teacher’s help on).

But then all that changed.

Mark, when you were sitting together at lunch senior year, casually mentioned that he got into his dream college; it’s a posh school that has a prestigious music program, which would support his dreams of being a songwriter one day. He looked so conflicted when he broke the news to you because well… the school is on the other side of the country. You made it pretty clear that you wanted to stay close to home where it’s more affordable. In-state schools were on Mark’s list too since he wasn’t sure if he would get into his dream school, but after this discovery, he didn’t need those admissions.

You would have been a horrible girlfriend if you told him not to go, and eventually after much thought and coaxing from you that you would be fine, Mark accepted the admission. You said that your relationship could work as a long-distance one. However, during the summer, you changed your mind. A long-distance relationship is too much work, and many of them fail anyway. You wanted your boyfriend to be by your side, to touch him, to hold him. You didn’t think you could handle being apart. Mark eventually said that he was feeling the same thing and added that this was for the best.

By the way Giselle looks, it’s like there are wheels in her brain that are turning.

“So are you over him?” She asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It was a while ago.” You didn’t mean to sound as defensive as you did, and it looks like Giselle is surprised at your reply too.

“Just asking,” she says, looking at her nails. “Was he your last boyfriend?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with anyth – oh,” you say, tilting your head up. Giselle nods. You’re pretty sure that you know what she’s thinking.

“I can assure you that he’s not the reason I’m not dating. Remember that piece of paper I get after finishing college?” You joke at the end.

Your question is more rhetorical, but Giselle has almost no time to respond when Mark comes back. Taking his drink, he looks like he is thinking hard about something.

“Uh Y/N,” Mark starts off shyly, his eyebrows knit with concentration; a blooming red blush emerges on his cheeks as he grips his drink. “A-are you on your break right now?” he musters out.

“As of now, I’m not,” you say.

“Oh, well…” he trails off, his facial expression still nervous, his eyes darting. “I was wondering if you wanted to sit with me. Like-like maybe at one of those tables?” He cocks his head to a free table at the corner of this little cafe. Looking from Giselle to Mark a few times, you notice your friend’s encouraging expression.

“Uh, o-of course,” you stumble out. “Just give me a minute, I need to clock out for my lunch break. I’ll meet you at your table.” Mark nods acknowledging what you said. Watching Mark walk away, you inhale sharply.

“Can you cover for me?” You ask.

“Yeah,” she smiles. You look a little hesitant to leave from behind the counter to Mark, a boy you haven’t seen in two years, but Giselle practically shoos you away. “Go, reconnect, have fun!” Raising an eyebrow, she has a mischievous look on her face. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll be meeting him again as a boyfriend.”

“I told you. Over him.”

“Right,” Giselle says. She leans against the counter a little bit before talking again. “The thing with mutual exes is that you didn’t break up because you didn’t like each other anymore but because of circumstances. Maybe there are feelings still there.” Snorting, you finally leave the counter, telling your manager about your lunch break before making it to the table Mark is sitting at.

The cushy part of the seat deflates as you sit down. For a few moments, it’s silence with you fidgeting with the hem of your uniform and Mark observing the floor intently. You would have maybe expected to see him sometime around the breaks when everyone in your graduating class would be ditching their dorms and apartments to visit their family, but the closest break is a month away. You decide to address the elephant in the room.

“So what brings you back home? Why would you want to leave a university a few minutes away from the beach to come back to our boring old city?” You joke.

“Well, you know, homesickness,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I tried to forget about it because the music program is so good, but eventually my grades started falling. So I’m gonna transfer to a school here.” You nod at this.

“Oh, what school?” You ask.

“That’s the thing,” he chuckles softly. “I’m not sure.”

“That’s very un-Mark of you, the same guy that makes to-do lists for everything.” Your brow is arched non-threateningly. Mark was always a stickler for to-do lists and agendas, which was against the typical “creative” nature expected from a boy who wants to pursue professional songwriting.

He smiles at you. “I’m trying to take a break from college right now. A gap semester.”

“That sounds good,” you say after a few moments, unsure of what else to say. When neither of you says anything, the awkwardness appears again. It seems like you two are having a competition about who can steal the most glimpses at the other without them noticing.

“So what about you? How’s college for you?” Mark asks, sipping what’s left of his coffee.

“Oh, you know.” You shrug your shoulders. “It’s just college. Classes, assignments, studying, exams.”

“You still live at home?” He asks.

“Yeah. I’m not living for the concept of paying the government for the next ten years of my life just to live in a dorm.” You snort. None of the scholarships (minus sports scholarships) you applied for were enough to pay for room and board.

“Smart. My debt is probably through the roof right now.”

“How are your parents doing?” You ask, changing the subject. While dating Mark, you had an affinity for Mrs. Lee, who was the number one supporter of your and Mark’s relationship and even described you as the perfect girl for her son.

“Dad’s in Cancun, and I just had lunch with mom yesterday.” You nod. Mark’s parents are divorced, with the divorce in tenth grade being messy; there were those nights where Mark would sneak into your room because he couldn’t stand the fighting anymore, and you would fall asleep next to each other. Ah, the days when you and Mark were inseparable.

“Cool. Where did you go?” You ask.

“Some new Chinese place. It’s next to that Five and Below?”

“Ah,” you say, nodding slightly, remembering that the restaurant opened only a few weeks ago.

Suddenly, Mark’s eyes widen.

“Oh, how rude of me!” he exclaims. You look confused at the sudden rise in his voice before he continues again. “I didn’t even offer to get you anything!” Mark remarks, putting a hand to his forehead. You try to wave him off.

“Don’t worry it’s not that big of a deal, I don’t really want anything right now,” you say, but Mark doesn’t look like he’s listening to you. He rises, moving back to the counter where Giselle is standing. You follow him, wading through the maze of tables, chairs, and customers as you continue to reassure him that you don’t need anything; you stop talking when you realize that he’s already whipped out his credit card, swiping it on the credit card scanner.

“You still like caramel macchiatos right?” Giselle looks like she’s breathing in the entire situation as she waits for your answer.

“Yeah.”

After the general pleasantries were exhausted and the awkwardness faded away between you and Mark, you had a good time together – a good enough time where you even lost track of time; one of the other baristas who clocked in later had to tell you that your thirty-minute lunch break was over. So when you stood up and told Mark that it was nice catching up with him, he told you to wait. He said that it would be nice to hang out at a place where you didn’t have to clock in and out. So you set another time to be at the Chinese restaurant he was talking about since it’s on your drive home from work, and despite being close to it, you’ve never been to it due to being busy all the time.

You know that it would be a direct violation of the best friend code to not tell Giselle that you’re seeing Mark again, but right now, you wanted to keep this whole thing lowkey, and Giselle… she’s not lowkey. You bet if you told her, she would log on to Canva, and start making the wedding invitations.

So now you’re in Mark’s car after he insisted on driving you home instead of letting you call an Uber, which you have been doing the past week since your car is in the shop after the “check engine” light appeared. After much back and forth and insisting that you’re fine, you finally give in. His car is a used jeep that he got on his sixteenth birthday, and it looks almost the same as the day he left for college. When you climbed into the car at first, you noticed a stain on the floor mat near the passenger seat where you spilled a soft drink and the driver’s side window being slightly unrolled, for it can’t completely close for some reason.

Sitting in the passenger seat, it’s like you’re transported to high school again, to all the times you and Mark would parade around in this car to get snow cones in the summer or go to the festive Christmas marts in the winter.

Mark draws you back to the present.

“Wow. Construction here is actually finished,” he says. You look out the window to see a large road, one of the bigger roads in your city. It started off as a small local road, but since a lot of the city grew around it, it became more used, and traffic was unbearable. So, somewhat counterintuitively, construction began on and off, slowly enlarging the road until construction finally finished once and for all a few months ago, the road being as large as it is allowed to be under state provisions.

“Yeah,” you acknowledge. You look out the window, watching the glow of city buildings in the distance, and all is quiet between you and Mark until you suddenly, very loudly, sneeze.

“Bless you,” Mark says.

“Do you have a tissue?”

“Yeah. I think there should be some in the passenger compartment.” You look where Mark told you, lifting open the top of the compartment in front of you. What you find are a few tissues in a package like Mark said, but then you see something else unexpected.

“Dior’s ‘La Vie en Rose?’” You ask, taking the perfume bottle out of the compartment. You used to leave a bunch of random stuff in Mark’s car in the past, but you don’t ever recall having this perfume.

“Oh, that’s uh…” Mark trails off awkwardly. He doesn’t respond for a while, his gaze focused on the road. “My girlfriend’s. Well, ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh,” you say flatly. You’re about to put it back where you found it until Mark takes a hand off the wheel, waving at you.

“Don’t put it back. Just leave it in the cup holder so I can finally remember to throw it out.” He snickers. You do what he says. Afterward, you bring your hands to your lap, looking from Mark to your side of the dashboard.

“How long has it been in there?” Your voice is quiet as you ask this.

“Maybe a few months,” he says. You nod at this slowly, continuing to steal glances at Mark as he drives. Mark’s gaze slowly tilts from the road to you, and a smile begins to form on his face. “And you want to know more.”

“I do not! I’m not nosy like that,” you say, crossing your arms indignantly. To say that you weren’t at all interested would be a lie, though. Mark sees through this and laughs.

“Come on, Y/N, we all want to know about our exes’ relationships to see if they’re doing better than us.” You shrug your shoulders in an attempt to remain casual, but the embarrassment heating your cheeks tells another story. “It’s alright Y/N. I wanted to know about your exes too.”

You smile at Mark, at how he always tries to make you feel better. “So where did you meet your ex-girlfriend?”

“I knew her through a couple of friends. We hit it off and started dating. We only dated for a few months.”

“Oh,” you say, simply. For a period of time, Mark had moved on. So why are you slightly disappointed?

Neither you nor Mark says anything for a while before he continues. “During most of the relationship, I wasn’t that happy. And after that girl, I didn’t date much.”

You nod at this. “What about you?” Mark asks. “Anyone notable?” Mark, as well, is trying to remain casual as he drives.

“I don’t have an official ex. I mean, I’ve been on dates by myself and even ones that my friends have set me up on, but I don’t know,” you shrug your shoulders. “I guess college is stressful and it’s too much work for a relationship. I’m trying to focus on studies.” It’s Mark’s turn to nod as he drives. He turns into your neighborhood as if on reflex, still remembering exactly where you lived. But a few houses down is the house.

The house is a house that’s been on the market for at least as long as you remember (probably from the rumors of it being haunted), and unlike a lot of things that Mark has seen in the town, it hasn’t changed since the “for sale” sign is still planted on the front yard. Seeing this place, Mark comes to a halt.

“Do you want to go in? For old time’s sake?”

“Sure,” you say. Mark takes the keys out of the ignition, hopping out of the jeep. You do the same as well, coming out of the car, and Mark receives you, the two of you walking around the house to the back door, where you used to enter.

“Hairpin?” He asks, holding out a hand. You reach for one in your hair, realizing that you’re not wearing one before reaching into your pocket, practically a junk drawer of odd little trinkets that you’re too lazy to drop in your purse.

Handing him a brown bobby pin, you let Mark work his magic. Picking locks was something Mark learned from his brother who is five years his senior which became handy when you two would sneak out here.

When your parents finally caught on to Mark staying in your room at night, they said it couldn’t happen. It wasn’t that they didn’t like Mark – they made it pretty clear that out of all the high school boys who could date their daughter, Mark is probably the best they’ll get. But, it was just that they weren’t comfortable with you and Mark in your bedroom alone at night doing God knows what under their roof. Even though you told your parents that it was mostly harmless, just making out at the most, they still didn’t budge.

It was actually your idea to come to this house since you didn’t want to sneak out too far and get in trouble if you came back home too late. You didn’t fear ghosts, for they are dead. What could they do? Knock some books off the shelf and write your name in blood? However, you certainly feared your parents, who are very much alive. You haven’t been here since senior year, only driving past this house when going to work or college. So when Mark opens the door, you’re flooded with memories. All of the times where Mark would bring his guitar from home and play a song he was working on. The times when neither of you would turn on the lights after the sun had gone way down, leaning in to make out. The times when Mark’s head would be on your chest while comfortable silence persisted between you two.

The time when Mark took your virginity.

The model furniture in the house has not changed a bit. You look at the striped couch, to the tousled pillow that seemed sat on.

“So there was a showing of this house a few hours earlier,” Mark says.

“And there isn’t gonna be a showing at,” you stop, checking your watch. “9 PM.”

“Which means we have the house to ourselves.” As if you’re being pulled by a foreign force, you and Mark make your way into the master bedroom.

“Remember when we used to make out in this room?” You ask. You look up at Mark, your gaze lingering on his lips. Mark certainly looks manlier than he was in high school, the baby fat on his cheeks long gone, yet there’s still the same boy you fell in love with, the sweet boy that wouldn’t hesitate to rub your shoulders when you were stressed out, the soft boy with the contagious laugh.

It seems like Mark has the same idea.

“Yeah, a little like this?” He leans in, his lips landing on yours. They taste like the same chapstick he used in high school, and you smile into the kiss, your movements languid as Mark nibbles on the delicate skin of your lips. Both of you take your time, neither of you moving away until Mark pulls away, a loud ‘pop’ sounding between you two. Your lips feel cold without his.

Mark’s face is still close to yours as you feel his warm breath on your nose. You have so many words to say, so many thoughts bouncing about in your head, but none of them come out.

“You know why I came home?” He suddenly asks.

“Homesickness?” You answer breathlessly, recalling what he said at the coffee shop.

“Yeah,” he settles with his response for a few seconds before inhaling sharply. “Partly.” He separates from you, so you can see his eyes, that large doe-like gaze that hinted at the seriousness of what he’s going to say.

“For a while, I missed our boring city. The duck pond, the movie theater, the snow cone shop. College didn’t seem right. There was something missing, something important in my life.” He stops. “You. All the things I missed in our town were because you were in them. Remember when we would feed the ducks? Or watch a movie in the theater?”

“Yeah,” you say. Ah, sweet memories. You always feel slightly empty going to those places. Mark continues.

“I thought once I got settled into college, I would forget about you. But that felt impossible. I went to party after party, and my grades started falling, yet I was doing well enough to still pass my classes until the end of last semester. The counselor told me I had to redo statistics, poetry analysis, and music history, three out of my four classes. That’s when I decided that I needed to stop avoiding the problem and face it head-first. I landed here two weeks ago and went to your house. Your mom told me that I could find you at the coffee shop.”

Mark is silent, his lips pursing into a fine line as he tries to unlatch the tough words stuck in his throat.

“I still love you. You are my home.” he chokes out.

Stunned is an understatement. Shocked out of your damn mind sounds more like what you’re feeling right now.

You’re silent, and Mark’s look is that of nervousness about what you’re going to say back. He’s internally screaming at himself. Did he really bare his soul to you after not contacting you for almost two years, just showing up out of the blue wanting to embed himself back into your life? It sounds ridiculous thinking about it now compared to when he was packing his stuff from his dorm.

He’s interrupted in his thoughts when you start speaking.

“If you missed me, then why didn’t you call me?” You ask.

Mark sighs, running a nervous hand through his hair. “There were times I had your contact pulled up on my phone, debating whether to call you.” Mark stops for a few moments, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. “But I always thought against it. I thought that maybe you moved on. You know the worst thing would be to call you and tell you I miss you while you’re on a date or something.” Mark has a sheepish look just describing this scenario, and this attempt at dramatic irony as humor doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You smile.

“When my mom divorced my dad, she said that he was always holding her back. I didn’t want to do the same thing to you.”

Silence is all that’s between you both now. This confession echoes in your mind, your expression remaining blank as Mark’s words bounce against the walls of your brain. When you look at Mark, his gaze is disappointed. “I shouldn’t have come back. What the hell made me think that you would take me back? This whole thing was stupid. Bye Y/N.” He turns around to leave the master bedroom, but something stops him.

Your hand on his wrist. You look up at him, the bouncing words in your head starting to condense into something you can say. Your voice is quiet, contemplative.

“For the first few months when college started, I wondered if I made the right decision. I thought maybe we should have tried to do a long-distance relationship.” You pause, studying Mark’s reaction, which is only a look of anticipation for your words. You lick your lips, starting once more. “But I always thought that missing you would fade away. That I would be able to go to the places that we went together without feeling a pang of sadness.”

“Date after date I went on, I always found the slightest faults in every guy I met with. His nose is too big, his voice is annoying, he’s too tall. I always compared them to you.” Damn it, Giselle was right. You’re not over Mark. You were using college and work as an excuse to forget about your feelings.

Feelings that Mark’s return sparked in you.

Feelings that you’ve let float to the top of your mind now that you know Mark feels the same way about you.

“I still have feelings for you too,” You say finally. Your gazes lock.

Leaning closer to Mark, you mumbled against his lips. “I love you too.”

Once again, your lips touch, his hand reaching for your jaw. But this kiss definitely does not feel the same as the one you shared previously. The first one was shy, and gentlemanly whereas this one… not so much. It’s needy, one where you want Mark in you.

Mark Lee took your virginity after prom junior year, taking you to this house when making out in his car got very heated. You weren’t ready to go home to your parents and brother so you snuck into this house, ready for more.

Right now, you’re in the same position, as if you’re the same person you were all those years ago. Mark’s lips travel from your soft ones, wandering to your neck. He repositions his hands around your waist, trailing down to your bottom to give your butt a quick squeeze, and you whimper softly at Mark’s lips, how they sucked at your skin long enough for you to feel pleasure rushing through your veins before he nips it gently.

This rhythm of sucking and nipping drives you crazy, and after waiting for Mark to make the next move, you decide that he isn’t going fast enough when you weakly try to take off his shirt. He finds your hands and puts them inside of his own. Against your neck, he mumbles, “Patience is a virtue, baby.”

At this, you let Mark hold you, leading you to the king-size bed in the center of the room. You’re under him, his knee finding its place in between your legs, close to your throbbing pussy. Mark takes a good look at you under him. His hands move from bottom-up, from the bottom of your waist, up your tummy, against your breasts until he stops at your collarbone.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters. He readjusts himself so his face is closer to yours, his lips only a hair’s distance away. His dick rubs against your leg, and you gasp at this. His hands now wander under your top, gently moving over the skin of your abdomen. He inches slowly to the center of your bra, brushing it.

As his hands shy away from under your shirt, you only grip his wrist.

“Now. Please,” you beg.

“Alright.” He smiles. “I don’t let pretty girls wait too long.” He drags the blouse off of you, revealing you in a white bra. He quickly strips off your pants, tossing them haphazardly on the floor by the bed. Mark is staring at you, his deep brown pools of eyes racking your figure in just your bra and underwear.

“Stop looking and do me,” you whine, trying to curl up in a ball. Mark comes closer to you faster than you can think, holding both of your hands down.

“Let me just look, baby. You have no idea how much I missed this.” The heat in your cheeks seems to overtake your face at Mark’s gazing. It’s like he’s voraciously gulping the sight of you, the deep brown pools called his eyes in wonder at your figure. Finally, he unzips his pants.

But as he tries to pull down his zipper, it remains stubbornly in place. You titter at the sight.

“Need a little help with that?” You ask mischievously. You sit upright, watching Mark on his knees as he tries to unzip his pants.

“I think the zipper is stuck,” he says, a little flustered.

“Here, let me.” Looking down, you notice how the zipper was stuck to a piece of fabric that was a part of the jeans. You cut your nails a few days ago, so you were going to have to use a bit of out-of-the-box thinking to fix this problem…

Immediately, you lean down and bite against the fabric, holding it in place as you pull the zipper, and the zip comes gliding down.

“Now that I know what your mouth is capable of…” He doesn’t continue his sentence, letting you fill in the gaps mentally. You roll your eyes, smiling.

“You naughty boy.” Your eyebrows dance on your face.

Pulling down Mark’s underwear reveals his erected cock, aroused from activity with you. Leaning in on all fours, you wrap your lips around it, softly nibbling the delicate skin. Mark moans loudly at this action, you feel fluid enter your mouth, swallowing it.

“You always looked nice like this, sucking my cock,” Mark softly smirks at you, your eyes wide, as if they’re filled with innocence while you look up at him. He pets your hair, the strands airy and soft from the clementine shampoo you used yesterday. Once you’re done, you giggle, looking up at Mark once again. He takes his thumb and wipes the corner of your lip.

“Good job kitten,” he says. His voice is breathy, seductive as you pant.

“Are you ready for me now?” He asks. You nod vigorously. You don’t have time to take another breath when Mark pushes you against the headboard of the luxurious bed. He strips the remaining clothing off of you, your bra and underwear being thrown aside to the flood. His lips find their way to your neck, and you giggle at this.

“You just love my neck, do you?” You ask slyly.

“Give me a break. I haven’t felt this neck in two years.” You eventually slump against the headboard, your head slipping downwards from the large, mahogany piece of wood, now resting on the pillow as Mark’s lips make the arduous journey from your neck to your chest, his hands cupping your delicate breasts until his lips meet your nipples, delicately sucking the little buds. This sends chills down your bare back, that of exhilaration at how forbidden this sex was – this abandoned house was probably going to be checked by the realtor tomorrow morning, and they’ll probably notice that this house had some unexpected guests. But you don’t care because your thoughts are full of want: you want Mark Lee so bad. Even after two years of not contacting each other, he’s still capable of creating butterflies in your stomach.

Mark moves from one nipple to the other before moving down your abdomen, down your smooth tummy, still warm from the heat your shirt provided.

Mark skips from your stomach, his lips meeting your thighs instead. His lips are now at your inner thigh, pressing loud smooches against your hot skin. Again, with his pattern of sucking and letting go, licking and breathing over the soft pools of his saliva that stood on your skin that brought chills to your body, an art that Mark has mastered that makes you want him even more. Your legs swish in the air, due to the ticklishness of his kisses.

“Easy there tiger. I’ll come in, I promise.” He softly kisses your thigh, his hands holding open your thighs. This whole thing drives you crazy; you hate how you feel like jelly under Mark, how he’s managed to break down all your defenses, yet you absolutely adore it, secretly wanting to feel this way for a long time.

A loud scream rips from your throat when Mark’s fingers – what you recognized as his index and middle finger – reach inside of your vagina.

“God, you’re so loud, your parents probably heard you,” he jokes.

“Shut up and do me,” you whine. Mark binds down your wrists with both of his hands.

“Alright bossy,” he smirks. “You really want me to do you?”

You know you misstepped when Mark pulls out his hand and instead shoves his dick inside. You pant loudly, gasping for breath at this. You feel your walls closing in, spreading pleasure through your veins as you feel his dick. You moan loudly.

You start to wildly thrash as Mark comes closer to you, his chest pressing against yours, his lips leaving whispers of kisses along your jawline as he moves around, shaking in you. You feel you’re not sane anymore, that everything is just an illusion compared to the pleasure Mark was putting in you.

“Come on angel, say it, say my name,” he coaxes you as you continue to moan.

“M-Mar-Mar-” you manage to stumble out. Words didn’t make sense in your head anymore, just feelings, emotions, images. Quite literally, Mark was fucking the brains out of you, and you were enjoying every second of it.

“Sorry sugarplum, that’s not good enough. You know how many times I dreamed of you being under me, screaming my name in college?” He asks. Your brain is too fried to answer.

“Well, I’ll spoil it for you. A lot. It’s our first time in two years, make it count, honey.” He says simply. You’re feeling obedient now as Mark pulls out, his cum dripping on the bed and yours falling out of your vagina, mingling with his. He pushes in once more, shaking himself inside of you. The minimal light outside shines onto your cheeks, making you look like a literal angel to Mark, possibly one that fell from grace considering the position he has you in. Nonetheless, you’re his angel that fell from grace, all his, no one else’s…

“I’ll tell you again,” he says. “Say my name.”

After a few moments, you can’t handle Mark in you, how your walls so easily wrap around him as if to trap him forever, to keep him with you. Your head is throbbing with the pleasure felt in your clit, and finally, you say something other than loud moans or whimpers.

“Mark!” You roared.

“There you go. You see?” He asks, a sparkle in his eye. He pulls out, leaving you dripping. “Was that so hard to ask?”

“Yes,” you say playfully.

“Now one more step,” he says. “Cum for me angel.” He smiles sweetly. He knows you through and through, what you like, what makes you tick, what makes you cum.

Massaging your waist, he places his head on your breasts, gently nibbling at your body. This brings you to otherworldly levels of serotonin, and you feel something eject out of you.

“There you go.” Mark watches as you slightly twitch as the cum spills from you. You’re breathing heavily, and Mark looks at you with a loving gaze. He leans in for one kiss, two kisses, a few more actually as his lips slip on and off of your soft mouth.

“You did well angel,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You say to him. Love wasn’t the only thing you felt for the boy in front of you. He’s a multitude of other things for you. A best friend that tells you the hard truth when you need it, a confidant that would never judge despite what you told him, a caregiver when you need it.

“Mark,” you say suddenly. He looks at you as if you’re the only thing in this world. He’s all ears.

“You’re my home too.”

tagging: @infnteen

a/n: special thanks to my lovely friend @peachjaem00 for beta-reading this fic for me! let me know what you think, and as always, thank you for stopping by!

#repost bc the tags suck #nct #mark lee #nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #mark lee fluff #nct scenarios #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct 127 fluff

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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

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fellow organism hello [A wheel of cheese has been added to your inventory.] friend. what do u think of the idea of manipulative(ish) reader and a yandere konig? Like- civvie reader is full on well-aware they've got a very capable murderer (with lots of money) in love with them so they'd just take full advantage of that. "oh my goodddddd i hate this coworker so muchhh" - konig took care of it first thing "[sigh] [just stares at something at the store longingly before walking away]" - and before you know it, bam! that plush or jewelry or whatever you were staring is on your bed also also ...what are konig's thoughts on a not-so-innocent reader who's just desensitized with everything? like the violent gory shit- and reader is just like "...i'm really too tired for this, i can't be arsed to care" and walks away instead of the reaction of screaming their head off like he'd expect them to?

Konig and his own little-miss-psychological-terror. He would obey almost every of your whim unless it makes him feel jealous or if you're actively trying to get him to let you go to do something on your own. More under the cut!

Konig would love to kill for you - he would also love to kill for you and make you see how he is doing it. Our man has a passion for blood and a passion for you - so if you're not just alright with a person dying in front of you, but would also actively want it...Konig turns those hunts into bloody tributes to you, his perfect, adorable, precious death goddess that would pout if blood gets on her shiny new shoes, so she would have to ask her hubby for a new ones( He isn't born wealthy or has an enormous amount of wealth, but he has accumulated almost all of his, pretty extensive, salary over the years in service + he still has his army payments, so he is fine with spending it all on you. Some expensive lip oil that you saw on social media and immediately wanted to buy, but it's like 50 euros? He already bought it. New shoes, new dress, some jewelry that you really liked? Check under your pillow! Konig isn't really okay with going out in all of those expensive stores - he feels pretty much out of place, especially in makeup or lingerie departments, so the trips with him are usually short and very purposeful. You get in, you buy the whole stand, and you get out before the shopping assistants at Sephora start to annoy him out too much. Because of this, he would encourage online shopping - come on, Liebe, you can get everything from your silly little stores online! And he won't have to contemplate killing a dude in Victoria Secret because he was staring at you for 0.5 seconds! The second part.......reader who is just kinda...over it. Whether it's trauma (I look at my war experience eheh......) or just how she is, Konig is a bit worried at first. Are you sure you aren't scared?? Are you really alright? Do you want his therapist's number?? He would learn to enjoy your calmness about this stuff eventually, you don't cry or freak out when he is taking out the guy who hit on you, but he is still determined to make you rest so good and take off you, so your emotions would come back. He doesn't want his darling to be tired(

#konig x reader #cod #yandere konig #konig

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venualesyne · 10 months

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BEEN AWAY.

a miguel o’hara x reader one shot.

warnings ;; breeding kink, lactation kink (a lil bit), reader is black and pregnant. this wasn’t proof read.

being married to miguel o’hara took a lot of patience. he would be gone all day, leaving you to your own devices as you watched your children and did the required chores. you wanted him to always be able to come back to a clean house and a warm meal.

no matter where he is or what he’s doing, miguel o’hara always found his way back to you. just in time for dinner, familial bonding, and to read his children to sleep. and on the rare occasion, find himself engulfing your small body. his hands shielding your hardened belly, protecting the small baby inside your womb.

it had been two nights in a row where the routine was different. you had already took his place and read your children to sleep. and when they asked where he was, you responded as softly as possible. telling them that papi was just really busy and that he’d come back to the four if you soon. you started to feel melancholy with your husband being absent for two days. no calls, no texts, nothing. it wasn’t like he was committing infidelity, he was just busy being nueva york’s spider-man alongside having to run an entire organization full of spider people. so, you never complained to him when he came home after a few days of not speaking to you. you didn’t want to add more stress to him and so you stayed out of the way. you usually stayed seen and not heard most days to make it easier on him.

until tonight.

the front door cracked open, heavy footsteps meeting the marble in the foyer. you were in the kitchen, standing over the sink and washing the dishes. your braids weren’t tied yet and you had a pink and white moomoo on. miguel liked when you wore those because “they left your body to his imagination.” as the footsteps became louder and closer to you, you halted your movements.

“hermosa? por que no duermes?” miguel spoke, breaking the silence as he made his way over to you. his large arms began to slither themselves around your waist. you didn’t respond and instead continued the wash the plate you had in your hand. you couldn’t sleep because you were worried about him and you wanted to close the house down before you decided to rest.

“…estás enfadado conmigo?” he asked, kissing the back of your neck. you weren’t really mad at him, you were just mad in general. your body craved him and you felt lonely. you sighed and hesitantly nodded. feeling the movement, he stopped.

“is it because i’m not here?” he whispered against your neck, his breath warm and comforting.

“mhm.”

“i’m sorry, mami. you know i don’t do it on purpose. i’ve just been b-“

you cut him off, shutting your eyes and resting your wrists against the edge of the sink. “i know, miguel. i know you’ve been busy. i know you’re not purposely staying away from home.” you began to rinse the dishes.

he fell silent.

“what can i do to make it better, mi princesita?”

you thought for a moment. what you really wanted was for him to rip your dress off and shove your head against the counter and absolutely obliterate your pussy. but you also wanted him to lay you flat against the dining table and lick you dry.

you stayed silent and put away the clean dishes.

“mami, por favor.” he sighed.

“move, miguel. you’re in my way.” you got out of his grip and began to walk away, drying your hands off.

his brows furrowed as he grabbed you and gently shoved you against the counter, casing you in between his body. “who are you talking to?”

“you.”

he looked you up and down and shook his head with a chuckle. he leaned down to your ear and moved his hand to your throat, squeezing the sides gently.

“i see what you’re trying to do. it’s not going to work tonight, mami. use your words if you want me to fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

you whimpered and squeezed your thighs, grabbing onto his wrist. “miguel-“

“cmon, baby.” he squeezed more firmly, adding his knee into the mix by pressing it against your channel.

“want you to fuck me.” you whimpered out, pressing your clit against his knee.

“hm.”

he released you from his grip, only to pick you up and make his way out of the kitchen. he began to make his way upstairs to your shared bedroom.

“are they asleep?” he whispered as he walked down the hallway, arriving to the bedroom door.

“they would have made it known if they weren’t.” you responded with a giggle.

he chuckled and opened the door, walking in as he sat you on your feet. he shut the door and locked it, turning on a small lamp. he made his way over to you and kissed you, moving his hands to your plush ass. he ruffed the bottom of your dress to your hips as he started to pull it off of you. you lifted your arms to help him get it over your head.

he threw it to the ground and looked at your bare body, sliding his hands along the curvatures of your waist and hips, then to your stomach.

“you look so good with my babies in you, mi muñecita. so soft and pretty. all for me, huh?” he asked as he started to take off his top and pants.

“mhm mhm.” you responded, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him undressing himself all for you. once he was in the same state as you. he began to kiss you again, backing you towards the bed. he picked you up and sat back on the bed, resting you on top of him.

while kissing you, he started to line himself up with your opening which led to you letting out small gasps in his mouth. he began to slide you down onto him, keeping your lips against his. you briefly pulled away, whimpering.

“so big, miggy.” you whined, holding onto his broad shoulders.

“i know, baby.” he grunted in response, feeling the way your sweet pussy was borderline suffocating his flush dick.

with every slide he was spewing out praises, both in his mother tongue and english.

“fuck. you’re so tight, pretty mama.”

“muy caliente por mi, mami.”

“treat me so well.”

“mi pequeña perfecto esposa.”

arriving at the base of his length, he began to bounce you up and down, thrusting into you simultaneously. being pregnant, he didn’t want you to have to over exert yourself, especially during sex. he was able to do enough work for the both of you, so why force you to make you ride him?

you let out soft mewls of pleasure, throwing your head back slightly and dropping your jaw. miguel took this as an invitation to begin attacking your throat with his teeth. leaving bite marks, kisses, and hickies alongside your jaw and throat.

your tits bounced with every thrust and bounce you received, it was all fun until you began to feel liquid drip down your body. miguel stopped and pulled away from your neck slightly, looking down at the creamy liquid dripping down the two of you.

“did you pump, cariño?” he asked, cutting into the silence.

you began to feel embarrassment and you shook your head, “i’m sorry, i was gonna do it after i washed the dishes and then you came home and then i-“

“shh shh shh, you have nothing to apologize for, mamacita. let me help you.” he said with a smirk.

as he began to bounce you up and down, his lips wrapped themselves around your tense nipple. he began to suck it, which allowed you to release your milk. you let out soft whimpers and whines, scratching his back due to the overstimulation he was giving you.

when he switched to the other one and quickened his pace, it became all too much and you squirted all over his lap. he hummed in satisfaction as he continued with his thrusts, using one of his hands to play with the engorged bud in between your thighs.

when he pulled away from your nipple to kiss you, he licked his lips.

“makin’ me wanna put another one in you.”

art by shuploc

venua le syne. 2023

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spiderman #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x black!reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fluff #— ONE SHOT ❥

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botanicalsword · 1 year

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What does your Solar Return Chart look like?

I just wanted to check in and jot down some personal observations notes for my Solar Return chart.

How are you feeling so far? ♡

❥❥❥❥

Instagram : @le.sinex

♡̆̈

Self-love is a journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance. Embrace the process and be kind to yourself.

ʕ·͡ˑ·ཻʔ♥︎

Venus in 1H - I used to place a strong focus on my appearance, constantly checking myself in the mirror. However, this was not due to an obsession with my own body. Instead, I checked for any transformative changes in order to feel more confident and beautiful.

North Node in 1H - Improve overall well-being and learning to love and accept yourself for who you are. By focusing on your own personal growth and development, you can cultivate a sense of self-love that will radiate outwards and positively impact all areas of your life.

Jupiter in 6H - I was making a career change or upgrading my skills, I aim to learn new things and challenge myself. Seeking out mentors can provide valuable guidance and support as I navigate my new career path.

Sun in 12H - Personality transitions: I have been craving more knowledge and wisdom from books and online resources. However, I feel that there is not enough time to absorb all of this knowledge. As a result, I am searching for more channels to obtain the information I seek.

Moon in 1H - I was in a state of longing for something new and exciting to come into my life; a desire for recognition and the opportunity to make a name for myself. I had been feeling restless and unsure for a while, but determined to make a change. I was craving something different and wanted to reach my goals, but wasn't sure how.

Chiron in 12H - I was struggling with substance abuse, which had been affecting my daily life for quite some time. I knew that I needed to seek help for my mental health issues, which were related to trauma that I had experienced in the past. I understood that this was going to be a challenging journey, but I was determined to take the necessary steps to improve my well-being.

12H stellium - I stayed in a lot and enjoyed my own solitude, detoxing from social media and even taking a break from my network connections. Read a lot of spiritually oriented and self-help books.

Moon in 12H - My depression was a terrifying experience. I felt trapped in hopelessness and despair. The sadness and emptiness were unrelenting, and there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Coping was a struggle, and at times, the darkness consumed me. It was difficult, but I am grateful for the lessons and strength gained.

Pluto in 10H - Struggle to work: too much distractions When become interested in learning about a subject or a new way of organizing information, may experience an intense focus and drive to learn.

Saturn/Moon aspect - I was more sensitive to feedback from teachers or people you admire and respect. I attempted to draw a line to limit myself.

Venus/Saturn aspect - I need to reevaluate my core values in order to better determine how to invest my time and energy in others, including potentially cutting off unnecessary relationships.

Ascendent in Libra - delighted to be surrounded by friends who respect each other's personal space, which makes for a great social circle.

North node/MC aspect - I was experiencing some difficulties with working on publicity and reputation. My lack of experience is making it difficult to develop an effective strategy for promoting my brand and building a positive reputation.

Mars trine moon - experiencing positive outcomes and making progress towards your goals - have the added benefit of feeling emotionally supported by the important people in your life such as friends, family, and colleagues.

❥❥❥❥

This is just my personal take from what I've seen and been through.

Masterlist @botanicalsword

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myuiis · 4 months

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sally park: a missed opportunity

this is probably going to rot in drafts for a WHILE but i needed to scream into the void about this so let me rant to YOU (yes, you) about how ptj fucked up sally park's writing and purpose in the story so much that she is now just a bundle of missed opportunities. the same could also be said about other characters like crystal choi, luah lim, etc. but i just reread hunt for hostel and i have a lot of insane thoughts that need to be screamed about.

as a character who was the center of attention during her introduction arc, she has been reduced to simply an eli enabler and warren's love interest, who gets about 3 panels to really shine, and then is demoted back into window dressing.

warning: mild eli hate ahead but i do NOT hate eli, i just hate ptj for making everything hostel related eli-centric, when sally is arguably just as important.

so. lets start at the beginning.

from the very beginning, the eli jang arc was told from sally's perspective especially based off the narration, and her character during the majority of the eli jang arc BANGED. initially introduced as a classic demure, feminine savior figure for bad boy warren in the first chapter of the eli jang arc, it's then shown that she isn't as naive or one-dimensional as she may seem.

in fact, shes shown to be fiercely independent and self-sufficient, learning to live by herself and deal with her own problems without anyone helping her, while simultaneously grappling with her grandmother blaming her over her dad's death (side note this plotline, which could've added so much depth to her story was NEVER picked up again)

on my first read of the eli jang arc, this sequence actually punched me in the gut and sally became an instant fav

but i digress. continuing back to the main point, sally was a tremendously well written character (or as good as we're gonna' get when it comes to female characters by ptj) in the eli jang arc, whether it be her narration (scenes like "sometimes i think if i hadn't introduced them to eli back then, our story wouldn't have been such a tragedy"), or her actual actions in the story.

she was integral to the story. in fact, i would say that she was MORE central to the heart and soul of hostel than eli jang was (at first, before she got butchered by ptj and forgotten about) because it was HER that was providing for her family with HER own money, until eli stepped in months later. she was the one that everyone wanted to assist and protect because she was who was holding everyone together through her sacrifice and love.

LOOK AT HER!!! just LOOK AT HER!!! she is so noble and tragic and she does everything for the sake of her family, including starving herself! she is so tremendously loving and sacrifices so much for her family, which is why everyone unites around her to help her!

in fact, the reason warren, eli, and others devolve into crime and stealing is to help her get more money for food, as they can't bear to see her starve herself. while this does come off a little bit white knight-ey (oh a big strong man has to save the sweet damsel), the point is that she has this kind of power over the people around her through her genuine leadership skills

not only that, but she was actually also the one who came up with the idea of using their old building to provide for more homeless kids, showing that she really should be credited with the creation and management of the runaway fams, far more than she is in the story.

even though, immediately after, its shown that she didn't think enough about the financials of the situation, and eli gets his time to shine by coming up with the point organization stuff, the way its framed portrays both sally's idea and eli's financial proposal of the financial system as equally important things. this scene makes me think that, at the very least, sally and eli's importance should be on equal footing: sally is the passion, the heart, the core, while eli is the figurehead, the brains, the fighter.

in summary, sally was the person who united the original hostel A through her leadership, kindness, and sacrifice, and had so much soft power over everyone that the entirety of her family would do anything to help her. she also came up with the idea of helping runaway families, demonstrating her kindness and generosity.

not only that, she was still actively managing the runaway families and making money while eli fucked off to j high to become a barber, allowing her to get closer to the runaway fams and inspire them with her leadership.

with all that said, it's clear that sally should be a three-dimensional girlboss who uses her charisma and good personality to gain soft power and lead the people around her as one of the figureheads and hearts of the hostel crew, right?

well. no.

after the eli jang arc, she becomes close to useless.

i dont remember much of 2A outside of the big deal stuff, but what i do remember is that sally does nothing, wins a singular rock-papers-scissors game, and then becomes a damsel in distress again that warren needs to save and gets to show off his cool fighting skills in the process. (this may not be accurate, feel free to correct me if im wrong)

but my BIGGEST gripe is the hunt for hostel arc. the hunt for hostel arc was very much centered around eli, warren, and even jerry, more than it was sally, despite how much of an integral role she played in the formation of hostel. during the entire arc, she does basically nothing but watch on the sidelines

... and then ptj pulls this on us. they all unite because they admire and love eli jang so much? only eli jang? not warren chae, gangdong's mighty? not max and derek, the two uncles? not sally park, THE big mama?

i cannot emphasize how ironic it is that sally, the big mama, quite literally gave birth to the idea of the runaway fams, and yet nobody mentions her again afterwards, and only ever eli jang. like... what did eli ever do for you? give you a shitty haircut?

and when warren and eli leave, i FINALLY thought that ptj was going to give sally a moment to shine and show her by herself again, like she was all that time ago, and how she figures out how to save her family despite being unable to fight...

but no. we get this sick ass panel and then she is completely irrelevant again

the next example of the sally erasure comes when eugene is talking to eli about him joining workers. he tries to convince eli that this is the ONLY thing that he can do to protect his family, and that, now that he's here and so is warren, hostel is weak and helpless because the MEN that get everything done aren't there anymore and "oh no, what can sally park and the girls do?"

like fym "what can they do"?! sally is a LEADER and she has POWER and INFLUENCE (or at least, she should). but no, the narrative doesn't prove him wrong, and sally does next to nothing in the narrative.

i cannot emphasize how much more of a leader figure she is than eli btw. she took all the runaway kids under her wing. it was her idea to build an organization for these kids in the first place. she was the one singlehandedly raising money for all 7 high schoolers in her family before eli stepped in. she STARVED HERSELF and CUT HER OWN FINGERS trying to make food for her family. she was THE big mama. EVERYONE wanted to protect her and respect and love her. and yet ELI is the main character of hostel that is oh so important and that everyone will unite under????

"oh no without you how will anything get done, eli jang?" stfu

and even when she does do things, later on, it's really more of an excuse for vasco to shine. while she was the one to get heather's mom to forgive eli, as well as the one that got vasco to save eli in the first place, 1) her major role in this part of the story is entirely sidelined and given no narrative weight outside of being the reason that eli's healing arc can happen and 2) the only agency we've ever seen her having since hostel arc is in relation to eli. she only ever acts on her own to save eli. she PROBABLY did stuff outside of that to help hostel, but that is entirely offscreen and not focused on at all, so her leadership and agency when it comes to things outside of a MAN are ignored.

in chapter 478, i thought that she was once again given a brief moment to shine when she looked sad and all wondering what they would do once they didn't have the income workers supplied them with, and i was hoping that she'd get a chance to creatively problem solve around it to show a good character moment for her and the rest of hostel... but who am i kidding this is ptj of course he wouldnt do that. nah, it was just a scene so that vasco could introduce jay again and be like "hey guys jay is actually relevant to the story and he's a nice person, just so you guys dont forget that he's still there! and also ignore this deus ex machina ass solution to a conflict that could've been a really interesting character study!!"

so yeah. that's basically it. in conclusion, i think sally park is a HUGE missed opportunity for ptj to finally write a good female character. kind, compassionate, charismatic, smart, sally's got it all. however, just because she is a soft character doesn't mean that she's a pushover and she held tremendous power and authority because of everything she did for her family. however, ptj decides to do nothing with her and turn her into an eli enabler and a warren love interest instead, ignoring her leadership skills and influence.

and once again, no hate to eli, warren, jerry, jay, or any of the other character i just shat on to make a point!! i like all of them, but i just think that sally's character assassination to allow them to shine was an infuriating decision on ptj's part

#lookism #lookism manhwa #eli jang #jang hyun #eli lookism #warren chae #chae wonseok #jerry kwon #kwon jitae #sally park #lookism rant #literature analysis #(?) kinda #hostel #lookism webtoon #jay hong #hong jaeyeol #i hate how ptj treats his female characters #women deserve better

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