#oh bless that sweet pigeon's heart
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Hi, how about oblivious farmer? Like half the town is in love with them and they give them hints they don't see. The farmer treats them as good friends and says they want to be friends with them forever lol. It would also be nice to see them compete with each other a bit (Especially Alex vs Sam, because I like them the most. But my character probably won't get involved with anyone because I'm a little afraid of them having kids. Of course I like kids and would be nice having children, but I just i heard that in sdv they are creepy and people turn them into birds, i'm a bit worried…so story almost taken out of my character's life in stardew valley). Sorry for writing so much and have a nice day
Thank you so much for your ask, dear anon!
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Oh Yoba, bless the heart of the oblivious Farmer. And bless the patience of all the bachelors and bachelorettes who are trying their best to make almost obvious hints to win the interest of the young and chaotic Farmer of the whole Valley. But the real chaos began when word got out that Farmer so-and-so didn't mind dating both guys and ladies. That is, the bachelors began their competition for the Farmer's heart, not realizing that the bachelorettes were also determined to win the Farmer for themselves. Moreover, each was for himself, and one individual has to have as many as 11 potential competitors.
Some left the "game" as soon as it started, not believing that they would have any chance (Penny, Shane, Maru and Sebastian), some began to show "aggressive" friendship to Farmer, almost sticking to them like a faithful dog that would bark and cackle at the sight of outsiders (Alex, Abigail Sam), while others did not employ any tactics, considering sincerity and friendship to be the key to winning hearts (Harvey and Emily). Some decided to go for the sly, and with the help of not too damaging friendship and mental health gossip cleverly push the competitors away from Farmer and win themselves over (Haley). And it also happens that some people were so caught up in the battle for young Farmer's heart that they didn't notice how they fell in love with each other (Elliott/Leah).
The married and adult residents of the Valley looked on in total shock. Someone, namely the parents of some of the bachelors (those same Jodi, Robin and Caroline) also tried to hint to Farmer that their son/daughter really liked them. Someone (Lewis) tried to talk sense into the love-crazed youngsters by nagging them to stop their "loving advances". The children (Jas, Vincent, and Leo) looked on with incomprehension, believing it was "just another grown-up fad" that they, alas, could not yet comprehend. How the others (Marnie, Willy, and Gus) laughed heartily at the whole thing, and how George grumbled at home because all that "love cacophony" kept him from watching TV. Also laughing heartily, the old adventurers (Marlon and Gil) genuinely didn't understand how their young Guild member could calculate sophisticated tactics against dangerous monsters, but can't figure out when someone is flirting with them (they even made a bet who would win, just for fun). Rasmodius shook his head and asked the Farmer if they had knocked over the love potion.
What's funny is that in the end the Farmer's choice fell on Krobus. Because they're a sweet, kind, cool monster, and they smell like licorice. Who would have thought that happiness can be found in stinking sewer drains. Although, given that diamonds or gold ore are found in some garbage cans of the residents of Stardew Valley, there is nothing to be surprised at all...
PS: Also yeah, you're right. Sometime, children in this game looks like a nightmare fuel 😅 And the fact than you can rid of them by turning them into pigeon... Oy vey.
#stardew valley#sdv#sdv headcanons#thanks for asking!#sdv community#sdv farmer#sdv abigail#sdv emily#sdv penny#sdv maru#sdv haley#sdv leah#sdv elliott#sdv shane#sdv sam#sdv sebastian#sdv alex#sdv harvey#sdv robin#sdv caroline#sdv jodi#sdv marlon#sdv gil#sdv gus#sdv krobus#sdv marnie#sdv lewis#sdv george#sdv willy#sdv wizard
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Went thru another one of Mr. Keith’s journals, this one from 1866-69 when he’s second mate (later first) on the whale ship Cape Horn Pigeon. Every journal entry is addressed to his wife (who was also on his mind on other voyages prior to his marrying her). The thought of her dominates the pages more than anything else, and is a very personal insight into the mind of a man who chose to make the sea his living, for all its distance.
“All day on deck today and have been as homesick as a dog all day. To Night I have got all night to sleep in. I have been fitting the Main Top Gallant brace blocks on the mizzen took down the double ones And put up single ones. Last Night I was dreaming of you I woke up Some time in the night and kissed your picture and went to sleep Again and went to dreaming again of you. This is all I can say to you To night in this book but I am going to write some in your letter. So thousands of sweet kisses to you darling Sarah Good Night.”
More entries under the cut for length.
He was homesick and lovesick often, thinking his shipmates wouldn’t understand.
“There has been a lot of ships in sight to day all of them with the exception of One was bound to England and she was going to America and Oh Sarah Darling how I thought of you. How I wish I was on board of her Bound to see my lovly Companion. I could have cryed but these hard Hearted sailors who have no wives and home would laugh at me.”
Every aspect of his daily life reflected back to how she was faring, from being thankful she didn’t have to drink the ship’s stagnant water, to how he entertained himself and others on deck.
“This forenoon was very unpleasant for it rained until Twelve O clock and I did not change my clothes until after dinner I got wet through by being out in the rain washing my clothes. This Afternoon has been pleasant and my men have been getting out Fresh water to drink and such water, Sarah I am glad you do not have to drink it. I have got all night to sleep in. I have just come down from the deck where I have been playing the Accordion and thinking of you. I always feel sadest when I Sing or play. Darling girl a pleasant night to you dream dear Girl of your Marshall who at the time you dream will be thinking of you Sweet one I must say again Good Night Sarah Dear.”
He often made note of his dreams that swung between the erotic, the homesick, and the anxious, and often a mix of the three. Here was one about getting caught with a Different Sarah.
“This has been a nice day Sarah not a breath of air Stirring I have been on deck all day and felt some better than I did yesterday but far from being well. I have set up the Head rigging to day. Last night I dreampt I was at home and in some strange house standing in the door way you came Out and passed me. I asked you where you were going. You Said after water. After you left me Sarah Munroe came Up to me and asked me if I wanted to see some thing. I told her yes. She open her dress in front and showed Me her bubies she asked me if they looked pretty I told her yes. I asked her to let me feel of them. She said yes. I asked her to let me kiss them she said yes but don’t let Sarah Pope see you just as I was in the act you came in sight and caught me and Oh what a blessing you gave me. Sarah I will tell you more bye and bye. I must Close by saying many kisses to you Good Night Darling Wife.”
For whatever other women were in his mind during the voyage, he made a point to mention that the dreams turned back to her.
“Had a quear dream a regular sailors dream which is always About the women. delacacy prompts me from writing the Most of it but the last of it was about you. I met you and you asked me where I was going I told you to the barbers to shave all of. I thought you kissed me and asked me not to shave off my mostash. I told you I would not But you said it was twelve O clock and I had better go to bed I said all right you know I never refused to go to bed with you in my life. I must say Good Night Darling Sarah.”
Sometimes the dreams were influenced by anxieties met in life. When he didn’t receive an expected letter from her (which hardly reflects on whether or not she wrote him—receiving letters aboard vessels was a long and uncertain process), he had a dream mixed with both his doubt of her life ashore but also his hopes.
“This has been a nice day Sarah and I have been to work very hard but that did not take my mind up so but what I felt bad on account of not getting a letter from you. You will not neglect me again so will you Sarah. Last night I dreampt I got home and I Came into the kitchen and saw your mother (and my Mother) sitting there by herself. I asked her where Sarah was She said you were in your room taking care of the Baby. I asked her whose baby it was. She said it was mine. Then I came in and saw you sitting down with a pretty Little cherub in your lap and it looked so good to me I asked you whose it was you said it belongs to me. And out of a joke I told you it never was mine. When you came up to me and cryed and kissed me and said it belonged to me. So Sarah after you have slighted me you see you have a space in my dreams of pleasure still.”
Eventually he did receive word from her, and learned that his dream proved true.
“This has been a pleasant day Sarah and This morning when I got up that island was in sight what Held your letters for me. At Twelve O Clock the capt went on Shore and at 5 he came of and had Two letters for me. One from you and one from Aurelia. The one from you was No 1. Sarah I must bid you pleasant dreams with your little baby for it was tonight I first learned that you were going to have one.”
In addition to homesickness, he often mentioned physical sickness, usually pains in his side. His health issues and day dreaming led to friction with the captain.
“It has been a nice day today but I have been sick all day and this noon. I could not eat my dinner and I stopped on deck while the rest got their dinner. I sat close to the door on a chest and I heard the old curse say there is a man on board this ship that wishes himself At home I wish he was there. When he came up I pitched up to him and I gave him enough of it. What is more he could not stop me. Last night I was very sick in the night and I wanted to make water. I had a bottle in my bearth and did not feel like going on deck so I used it for that Purpose and this morning I forgot to throw it over board. This fore noon the Old Hog went into my room to look for some Screws and he saw the bottle he smelt of it and Accused me of taking something to make me sick. Oh Sarah that most killed me. I have cryed all the afternoon just on that account. And he went as far as to tell me I hold my Wife too well he said he thought you were in my mind most of the time and that I wanted to see you so much that I was making my self sick to get home. And what do you think I called him. A god damned fool and a liar.
At one point he seems to consider his sickness to be pregnancy sympathy pains.
“This has been a pleasant day Sarah but I have been feeling very bad bordering onto sickness and a very bad pain in my side but I do not think it strange as you are about to have a child. I think I have been sick enough over one child. Oh Sarah Darling how I do and have pitied you for my suffering has been nothing compared with yours but I hope on this pleasant day they are all over. And I hope you will not have an other one while I go to sea. I must bid you good night my dearest angel Good Night.”
His dreams now often featured the baby as well, and again was a mix of hope and anxiety.
“Oh if I could see my Wife to night I would not feel as I do now but that is impossible. Last night I drempt I was at home and met you in the street and kissed you and I thought you kissed me but you done it in such a way I thought you did not care much about me, for you kissed me quick and turned away from me. I asked you what you had named it (the Baby) and you told me its name was Hannah Rachel Keith. Then you said to me I hope you like the name. I thought I was with you until bed time and we started to go to bed and just as we were going into the bed room I woke up and found myself on board the Cape Horn Pigeon a long way from my darling Sarah. Sarah kiss Hannah Rachel for me and I will bid you both good night.
He later learns from a letter that the baby was named Susie Rachel. When whales were captured, he always thought of them in terms of dresses for his wife and things for his baby.
“It has blown most a gale to day Sarah and I have been to the Mast head seven hours where the wind could Blow through me. But it was not for pleasure that I done it. It was to look for whales that we might catch them what I could earn something for my wife and child but could not see any thing. And the wind has blown my eyes almost out of my head. But I feel that was done for a good cause Sarah. I can not say much to night but nevertheless I love you as Fondly as before and shall continue to do so as long as we are permitted to live. Darling Sarah kiss that sweet babe for me and I must bid good night to those who alone I ask to live for. Ten thousand kisses to you Sweet Sarah.”
At one instance he wrote, ‘I am wet through with oil Sarah at the presant time But I know you would not disown me if you saw me now.’ It was his life, and it was through that life that he saw his ability to provide for a family, however distant they may be. In this frame of mind, one more to close:
“We are boiling our whales Sarah and I am covered with oil but it makes the money come and it is all for you. I could live in oil for your sake. I must close and go on deck until 1 O clock at night. Kiss my babe for me. Good night Sarah.”
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Hotwave Frying down the sidewalk Charlie slipped and cooked his knee Such a Southern simmer This Summer's come to be. Hot enough Ol' Charlie? Heart-bless your burning feet But as you stand there talking Your shoes are fusing to the street. Let's find shade in Piedmont Park We'll feed pigeons as we roast Toss them sweet, soft breadcrumbs 'Til we notice that they're toast. Oh Charlie don't be sulky Autumn's breeze is coming soon What's that you say my friend? Can it be? It's only June! Nevermind my humid prince This heat won't beat you down You'll be the King of Summer yet You just need an ice cream crown! A crown of cones to beat the heat All fine flavors cold and sweet And one thing more you'll find it neat Yes, Charlie-boy, it is my treat! ___ By Doodleslice 2015-06-15 #poem #heatwave #atlanta #icecream #doodleslice (at Centennial Olympic Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ce1CrMIumoG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )
Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.
That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on.
pairing. jjk x f!reader.
genre + rating. idiots to lovers. fluff, angst, smut. the holy trifecta, babies! explicit, obviously.
tags / warnings. mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).
wc. 12.2k of nonsense. pure nonsense, i tells ya.
beta reader(s). @hobi-gif did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her. i love you both sm!!! ✨💜
author note. the long-awaited fic is here!! i really hope you enjoy it. if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something? i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot. anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you! stay safe and happy and healthy!
He’s a sucker. That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him. It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard.
His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove. Sometimes, she’s by herself; often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste. They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique. Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be. You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit.
“He has no idea.” It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts. “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”
How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder. How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair? It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie.
(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”. Her words, not yours.)
You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else. Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention. Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him. Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.
You’d never expected him to be like this.
Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face.
Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.
“He’s cute,” she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does. She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough. Zero tact, though. Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble. You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.
You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested. “Who?”
There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags. (God, what awful taste.) There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best. (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)
“Him.”
Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction. You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place. Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on. When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.
You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes. He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW. Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress is.
But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect. It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.
“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?” He upspeaks. It’s stupidly adorable.
Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first. A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect. “What’s the item and the name it’s under?” You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.
“Oh, it’s under mine. Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”
You’re floored. This is Jeon Jungkook? This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger? You’ve got to be kidding.
You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face. It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers. “I’ll grab it! The Box bag in cloud, right?”
Jungkook can only nod dumbly. He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends. He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance. It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears. There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.
It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.
“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend? I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.” Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off. “She said she was leaving on Friday.” Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made. “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”
It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall. You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.
You do feel bad. Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this. For hurting this stranger. (At least he knew?)
“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality. He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip. He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet.
If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off. Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in. (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.) As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth. “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend. Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”
Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid. Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours. Poor guy.
“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”
Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say. Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation. “Oh, maybe. I’m sorry.” The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t. That’s a thing, right? Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?
God, you’re an altruist.
“It’s fine.” When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not. You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word. (You won’t.)
“Here it is!” Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands. If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing. You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand. He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.
Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying. You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.
He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.
By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found. Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start. Well then.
“I guess we’ll have to call him,” you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands. It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card. The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.
Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently. You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.
Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder. It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum. (You either, but still.)
“So… what was that about?”
You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers. “What?”
“You know— that!” She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago. “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”
“Scared of the truth,” you correct.
You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response. There it is.
“What?” There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable.
“What?” It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery. You can read every emotion that runs through her expression: shock, displeasure, confusion.
She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth. (She really does remind you of your little sister.) “So, you told him?”
You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder. You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now. There was no way he didn’t.
“I pointed out a few conflicting facts. That’s all.” You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done. You’d want to know if you were him. Consider it an act of goodwill.
The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind. What’s done is done. Now he knows, or something close to it. The chips would simply fall where they were meant to.
You have to admit - you’re rooting for him.
Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift. She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway. Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding. It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship.
It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening.
She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter. “You have to call him.”
You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression. “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.” You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person. Sensible.
As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.
You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front. You suppose it’s your responsibility now. You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell.
The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker. “Hello?”
“Jungkook?”
There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?” Upspeaking again. How cute.
“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.” You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter. “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”
“O-oh, uh—“ It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable. “Thanks. I didn’t even notice. Um, I can come pick it up today?” There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back. “Is that okay?”
Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out. He truly was a sucker.
“That’s fine. We’re open until six tonight.”
“I’ll be there before dinner.” As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough. “Before six, I mean. Um, is around five-thirty okay?”
You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation. Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation. “Of course. We’ll see you then.”
He hangs up immediately.
The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last. It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest. You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.
As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon. You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.
Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.
How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday. Somehow, you like it more. The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair. It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person. (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)
At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him. Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.
“O-oh. It’s you.” The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified. “I m-mean, just—” He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again. “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.” Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.
“That’s right,” you say evenly, expression neutral. It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.
The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary. Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room. You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.
He’s so awkward.
(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)
“So, um, my wallet?” He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store. You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.
“Right here.”
Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again. He makes the same trip twice more. “Can I have it?” To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed. He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress. Good job, you think.
“Of course.” You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter. Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip. You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything. (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment. Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)
This time, he closes the distance with three long strides. It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended. Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact. “May I have it, please?”
You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand. You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable. Is he going to say thank you? Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?
Neither, it seems. “Why did you do it?” There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.
“Do it?” You know what he means. You ask anyway.
“Why did you tell me?” Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you. You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him; it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side. For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.
Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies. It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his. “I thought you deserved to know.”
“But why?”
“What do you mean?”
It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror. He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.
You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head. It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.
“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.
You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.
He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin. (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes. Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)
“Excuse me.” For once, he doesn’t sutter. The lisp doesn’t present itself, either. Was this the same Jungkook? You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.
There he is.
“Yes, Jungkook?” He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name. How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit? It makes no sense to you.
“Can we talk?” The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no. You’ll still mess with him a bit though.
“We are talking.”
He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly. It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.
“I mean like— talk talk.” The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else. His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.
“Sure, we can talk talk.”
“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”
You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“W-what? No!” Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears. “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”
“I’m kidding. Let’s go.”
You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance. He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow. Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.
“So, what do you want to talk about?” It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down. His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving. You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie. It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall. “Jungkook?”
He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly. “Huh?”
“What did you want to talk about?”
“Um—” He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence. There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking. “—m-me?”
Brows furrow then amusement spills out. “You want to talk about… you?”
“That sounds bad.” The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.
“It’s fine. We’ll talk at dinner.”
He nods. You think it means thank you.
Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy. Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.
It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.
“What did you want to eat?” He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden. Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure. (You have a feeling it’s the former.)
“Whatever.” Everything here is incredible. You really don’t mind.
Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place. His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel. You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish.
When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections. Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.
“So?” You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.
He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute. “So?”
“What did you want to talk about?” If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often. As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper.
“Oh.” Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth. He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle. You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting. He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.
You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.
“I wanted to say thank you.”
It’s not the answer you’d expected. It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline. “What?”
He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot. You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip. Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.
“Thank you.” It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.
You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you. You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel. Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you. You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.
You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.
The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable. A little different, sure, but altogether nice. Like dining with an old friend.
You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake. You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water. “You’re welcome, I guess.”
Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not. His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does. (Seriously, how big are his eyes?) You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth. Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.
“What?” He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.
“What?” You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.
“Y-you’re staring at me.”
“You’re sitting in front of me.”
The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out. It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent. Oh?
“You don’t have to stare.” Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.
You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare. “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?” The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.
“That’s not my name.” The bite disappears past his teeth. You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.
“Sorry— Jungkook. Does my staring bother you?”
It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do. Juvenile in a way but enticing in another. You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.
“It’s rude,” he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.
“Maybe I’m just rude.”
He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down. (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.) “You’re not.”
You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation. He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations. He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.
It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea. Anything to busy his hands, you think.
“You don’t know that,” you finally return, after what seems like too long.
“I do.” He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact. “You care about people. You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone. You want to do what’s right. Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”
For once, you’re at a loss for words. Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.
How the tables have turned.
He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey. He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts. He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up. He decorates his apartment with the most random things: limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates. He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.
He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years. All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on. (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.) He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his). He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.
“I just… don’t like wasting my time,” he insists from behind his coffee cup.
“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”
Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable.
“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.” It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap. It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now. He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had. Youngin is good for him, though. You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.
“You say that a lot.”
“I mean it when I say it.”
He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips. When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone. “Girls are scary.”
You laugh. Cackle, really. You can’t help it. He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon. He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak. He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says. (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)
“Heights are scary. Death is scary. Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”
“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”
“Don’t interrupt.” He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest. From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture; from him, it’s patient. “Girls aren’t scary. Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.”
“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”
You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good. Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags. Like he’s living life in greyscale.
“Well, that’s what you have me for.”
The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze. Instead, he laughs. “I’m not hopeless.”
“Oh, but you are.” You’re adamant, insistent. He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft. An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.
You want to protect him, teach him to fly. Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.
You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes. He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it. He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.
“Fine,” he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long. It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused. It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.
“You won’t regret it.”
Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days. You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.
It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.
He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse. If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton. He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew). He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.
The girls would probably still love it. (It’s easy to love him.)
“What do you think?” It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso. It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm.
It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him. He wants great.
You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for. To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings. “Not bad…”
You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.
Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is.
How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence? (You wish you were joking.) It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.
“This one?” He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face. Medium-weight cashmere. Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist. It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.
“Look at you go,” you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels. “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”
Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law. You suppose it is.
“Thanks, ____,.” He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.
Your response is a shrug. “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.” You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates. You know there’ll be something good on the menu.
He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist. You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him. Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink. Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.
Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch. That was a viable plan, right?
You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other. “Hey! You’re leaving already?” It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone. It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.
There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes. For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes. “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.” A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.
Flowers, huh? Well, that’s certainly something new. Good for him, you think.
“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.” It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words. “She’s special.”
Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her. Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes). Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date. It’s a big deal.
“Yeah—“ Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky. “I guess she is.”
You smile fondly, like a proud mother. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
“I will,” he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.
You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place. It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look. “What?”
“Where are you going?”
“Leaving?”
“Why?”
Wasn’t that the million dollar question?
You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever). It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you. He’s going on a second date, after all. Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant. You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.
But it’s fine. Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine. The two of you are friends. You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come. Baby boy was growing up.
“Y’know.” You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment. It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.
“I know?” He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.
You wiggle your hand dismissively. “Second date and all that.”
Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on. It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots. “Just stick around. I’ll drive you home when I get back.”
It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him. “Fine. I’ll stay.”
He beams, caught halfway out the door. “Tell me to break a leg.”
“Go break her back,” you retort to the sound of his laughter.
You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake. It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.
It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook. This can only mean one thing.
from jeon jungkook: Hey.
from jeon jungkook: I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight.
from jeon jungkook: If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning.
from jeon jungkook: Please don’t be mad.
Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date. It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing. (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)
to jeon jungkook: i officially hate you
The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops. Of course. He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions. (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)
to jeon jungkook: it’s fine! have fun!
to jeon jungkook: turn her world upside down 😏
He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up. Good, you think. About time he finds someone nice. You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.
Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.
He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact. He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic.
“I want you to meet her,” he mumbles, like that makes it better. As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.
“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over. (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.) You repeat yourself.
“It’s not… weird.” But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is. Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately. “She wants to meet you too.”
(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)
You somehow highly doubt that. No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman. It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set. Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise. It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch. (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)
“What does she even know about me?”
“That we’re friends.” His vague response speaks volumes. The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery. When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway. “That I really value your opinion.”
You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.
“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!” Of course. It’s obvious. She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that. (He is.) “I’m not coming to dinner.”
“You’re already in the car,” he reasons.
You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve. Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.
“I just won’t go in.”
“____,.” When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him. Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal. Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.
“No.”
“____,,” he repeats, almost pleading. You can’t look at him. You won’t. The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.
You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause.
“Fine.” You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off. You’re not actually mad. Just worried. You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand. It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person. You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.
Jungkook knows that. Should, anyway. You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.
When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it. He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line. (Truthfully, it’s your fault. All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)
You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.
“You’re paying for my dinner.”
“Of course.”
How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat? How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?
Answer: you’ve lost count.
Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.
“What’re you doing here?” At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness. Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.
Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really). “C-can I come in?”
You don’t budge. It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired. So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance. He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin. You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.
(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)
You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day. “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”
“Please let me in,” the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well. Everywhere but your eyes.
“Fine,” you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold. You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else. If you had to guess, it’s her perfume. It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses. You don’t know if you like it.
Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.
You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter. You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.
You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare. “So?”
“W-what?”
It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning. Something’s happened. Must have. There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.
“What’s going on?” You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him. He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.
(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)
“What do you mean?”
The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression. He’s stalling, you can tell. You hate when he does this. You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small. “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced. What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”
He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.
It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges. You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual. Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned. (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)
With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.
He nods once - a small up and down of his head.
“So.” You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves. You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest. He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs. Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.
“I couldn’t do it.” The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said. Couldn’t do… it?
You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.
When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look. It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.
“You didn’t ask her?” It explodes out, a question that demands an answer.
He’s staring past your head, unblinking. You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp. “I c-couldn’t. It was just…” The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.
“Just what?”
“Just—” There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot. He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise. He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket. “It didn’t feel right.”
What did that even mean? Feel right?
Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete. It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down. Didn’t he understand that? Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?
You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.
“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’” You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window. “You like her, don’t you?”
You expect him to nod immediately. He doesn’t.
“Jungkook.”
“Yeah?”
“You like her, right?”
“I think so.”
You want to tear your own hair out. Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there. “So, you like her.” It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way; you don’t mean it in any way but supportive. You just want him to be happy. “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”
“She’s not you.”
He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer. But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise. Hope, maybe? Fear?
“What?” You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.
The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight. He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer. (It won’t.)
“Don’t say things like that.”
It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest. His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair. He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer. Bambi, through and through.
“You asked why I didn’t do it,” he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.
“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.” It’s cruel. “You’re making a bad choice. You’re into this girl. Don’t be dumb.”
His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements. “I’m not dumb.” There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask. It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.
He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.
When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.
“Okay. Spill.”
Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question. You can’t blame her. You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.
All because of a doe-eyed idiot.
“What?” It’s less snark, more sigh. You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.
“What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter. “You’ve been in a bad mood all week. I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.” She’s right, of course. You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what. “Did something happen?”
You grit your teeth. An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.
“____,” she tries again, concerned.
“Nothing happened.”
“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!” She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly. “You look like hell—”
“Thanks.”
“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough. So just tell me?”
You hate that she’s right. It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload. (Maybe it’d be helpful. Probably. But you’ve never found comfort in other people. At least, not like this.)
“Yejin.” Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on. “It’s fine. Really.” You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile. “I just need to get some sleep.” And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.
Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.
The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action. It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.
(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)
“You’re here.” You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater. He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.
“Y-you asked,” he mutters, refusing to meet your stare. At least, you think he’s refusing. It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes. It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away. It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.
“Will you come in?” You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated. He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding. “I won’t bite.”
You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.
“So.” This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him. He hums a noise but offers nothing further.
This is how it’ll be then. Fine. If he wants to be this way.
“You like me.”
He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go. He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth. “I— I don’t— I didn’t say that.”
If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.
“Tell me why.”
The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now. Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.
“W-what?”
“Tell me.” You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round. “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters. What have I got that she doesn’t?”
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”
The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. You think he might say no, outright refuse. You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.
“You’re funny. You’re honest. You speak your mind.” You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people. He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him. “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t. You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”
For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen. As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.
“I don’t—”
“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.” He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again. “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”
There’s something thick in your throat.
“You make me want to try.” He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it. “Y-you make things not so scary.”
It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you. He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.
“You know what I need, even before I know myself. You make me laugh.” He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.” You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit. Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.
You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs. Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.
When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words. They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism. “I can’t.”
As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention. “Can’t or won’t?”
“I—”
“I’m not asking for the world here. Just a chance.” He’s got a peculiar look on his face. “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”
“Excuse me?”
All of a sudden, he’s close. Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be. There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down. The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.
“You kind of ruined my life. I think this makes us fair.”
You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense. You’d ruined his life? (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.) You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.
Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.
“I’m kidding.”
It feels like whiplash. You’ve created a monster.
“But you do owe me, I think. So why not?”
You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.
Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing. He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams.
He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out. He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed. He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money. He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.
You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him). If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either. Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.
(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge. He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)
“Open it,” he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.
You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you. You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom. “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”
Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff. It’s adorable.
“Just open it.”
You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends. You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head. You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.
Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.
You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups. Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.
Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together. Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects. Surely there’s more to this. Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?
“Do you like it?” You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.
“What is it?”
“It’s a playsuit.”
“A playsuit?” You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in. Would it even fit? Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.
He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns. “Will you wear it?”
It fits you better than you’d expected. Or at least, you think it does. If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim.
The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal. He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.
“S-so wet,” he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds. The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs. He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick. “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.
“Use your words, gorgeous.” As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.
The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck. He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.
“What did I say?”
Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob. Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh. He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.
When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be. The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.
“You like this, don’t you?” His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy. “You like what I’m doing?”
“Y-yes,” you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts. The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin. Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.
“Good girl.” Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips. You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall. Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips. “Such a good girl for me. My perfect girl.”
Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.
“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she? Wants me to fill her up?”
He’s teasing you, the bastard. Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate. It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest. Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.
“Say it. Say you want me.”
You do, without hesitation, without fear. You know he’ll catch you. “I want you.”
He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same. Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.
Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm. The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.
“B-be mine,” he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer. Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.
“I am. I am. I am,” you chant, tears welling along your lash line. They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.
They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you. It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you.
It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much. Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.
You’re his and he’s always been yours.
tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings @veronawrites @notmontae97 @papillonsgf i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e
#goldenclosetnet#magicshopnet#ficswithluv#thebtswritersclub#networkbangtan#heartsforbts#bts#bts au#bts imagine#bts fic#bts oneshot#bts angst#bts smut#bts jungkook#jeon jeongguk#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook au#jungkook imagine#jungkook fic#jungkook oneshot#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#work.zip#oneshot.zip#devil.doc#jungkook.doc
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Can we have a hundred day celebration for Shuilan in renouncement? Would love to see Wangxian happily showing off their baby and the everyone being KO’d by her cuteness.
If anyone had told Wei Wuxian what his future would hold five years ago, he would have laughed at the impossibility, and then dug a hole for himself in his favorite radish patch until Wen Qing came along to fetch him.
How strange it would have sounded to the Yiling Laozu holding court in the Burial Mounds, scraping by on thin luobo stew and the odd egg from market to feed A-Yuan, that one day a child of his would receive the blessings of all the Lan sect the moment she came into the world, and again thrice over at her hundred-day feast! It scarcely seems real to him now, after more than a year as Lan Zhan’s husband and the Lan Clan’s Xinhua-jun, and the sight of his richly dressed reflection in the looking glass bewilders him so much that he scarcely registers it when Lan Zhan materializes behind him with A-Lan in his arms.
“A-Lan looks so sweet, Lan Zhan,” he laughs, when his husband reaches out to touch his elbow--in a gesture that means come back, xingan, for I am here beside you, and you need never want for anything again. “She’s sparkling almost as much as you are.”
Lan Zhan dressed the baby in a tiny, glittering robe covered with beaded flowers, and whenever the light falls upon her little body, A-Lan glows like a moonlit pearl: so cool and soft and calm that Wei Wuxian can scarcely look away from her, even after the hundred-day feast is well underway in the banquet hall. He and Lan Zhan hold the seats of honor today, rather than Lan Xichen, and Xiao-Yu sits close beside them with his fluffy hair tied up into two pigtails.
“May I hold her, Hanguang-jun?” a kindly matron from the Cheng sect asks. Lan Zhan nods, and Lan-bao is swiftly transferred into Cheng-er-furen’s arms: puzzled by her sudden ascent, certainly, but happy enough to blink her big eyes up at Second Lady Cheng and coo like a roosting pigeon.
“Oh,” Cheng-er-furen gasps, as A-Lan kicks her tiny feet in their pink satin shoes. “Xinhua-jun, she’s beautiful.”
Wei Wuxian feels his heart quiver in his breast. “They say that one beauty recognizes another,” he says gravely, laughing out loud when Lady Cheng’s cheeks flush red. “Lan-bao can already tell, Lan Zhan, don’t you think?”
Lan Zhan presses his lips together and refuses to answer, but Wei Wuxian can see them twitching up at the corners. “That means he agrees with me,” he teases, as Cheng-furen slips a red packet into Xiao-Yu’s hands and kisses the toe of A-Lan’s little sock. “Don’t you, xingan?”
Lady Cheng rolls her eyes at their flirting and passes down the line with a smile, yielding her place to the next guest before going to find a seat at the banquet table.
“Ah, Wei-xiong,” the next well-wisher sighs, snapping open his favorite fan and holding it out to the baby. “A-Lan’s gathered quite a crowd today, hasn’t she?”
“Well, we did limit the full-moon ceremony to only our friends and family,” Wei Wuxian points out. As far as social events go, A-Lan’s full moon was one of the most exclusive gatherings of the year, open to members of the Lan sect and only by invitation to guests outside the Cloud Recesses; Ouyang Zizhen was generally envied as the sole attendee unconnected to Wei Wuxian by sect or familial ties, though he would have been invited anyway as Ouyang-zongzhu’s heir. “Lan Zhan was worried that we might fall ill during the monsoon season, so of course we had to invite everyone now that the weather’s turned warm again.”
Huaisang gives a meditative nod and lets A-Lan chew on the handle of his fan. “Lan-bao doesn’t have any teeth,” he yawns, when Wei Wuxian stares at the fan in disbelief and tries to pull it out of the baby’s mouth. “She can gum on my fan all she wants, I doubt she can put a dent in it.”
But the fan loses its charm before long, and A-Lan starts fussing in her blue satin wrap and refuses to settle until Wei Wuxian picks her up. The next group of guests offers their good-wishes one by one, leaving behind gifts like red packets and jade pendants and enough books to set up a new wing in the Library Pavilion; and a little while later, a shy two-year-old wanders up with his mother and presents a clumsily-carved dizi, just the right size for a toddler about as old as he is.
“I married out of the Cloud Recesses, so I live with my husband in Caiyi now,” the mother explains, as her son looks into Lan-bao’s crib with big eyes and makes soft cooing sounds in a clear attempt to play with her. “He runs a woodworking shop, so when we heard about the invitation to Lan-xiao-guniang’s hundred-day, Fang’er asked him to help carve a dizi for her.”
Wei Wuxian is so thoroughly charmed that he promises to stop by the woodworking shop later in the month, and present little Lan Fang--who seems to have taken his mother’s name, to retain his connection to her sect--with a learning dizi of his own.
“You can never begin too early,” Lan Zhan offers, catching Xiao-Yu by the sleeve to stop him from feeding his spicy peanut snacks to Lan Fang. “Does he prefer the flute above other instruments, furen? If so, he could come to the Cloud Recesses to study alongside Xiao-Yu when Wei Ying starts his music lessons.”
Wei Wuxian flinches, wondering if Lan Zhan has lost his senses--because what good mother would send her son to learn the dizi from the infamous Yiling Patriarch, even if he had been redeemed in the eyes of the gentry by his marriage to Lan Wangji? But Lan Fang’s mother is already nodding, looking fondly at Xiao-Yu as he offers Fang’er a bite of tangyuan, and the look in her eyes when she turns to Wei Wuxian is full of nothing but happiness.
“Xiao-Fang doesn’t get along very well with the children in Caiyi,” she sighs. “But he’ll surely come to study here one day, so if I could send him and know that Xiao-Yu-gongzi would look out for him--”
“Xiao-Yu will!” A-Yu exclaims, grabbing Lan Fang’s hand. “He’ll be A-Yu’s shidi!”
Lan Fang is more interested in doting on A-Lan, but Xiao-Yu is delighted by the prospect of having a junior sect brother, and tells the next ten people in line that he has become a shixiong now.
All in all, A-Lan’s hundred-day feast goes off without a hitch, and Wei Wuxian is nearly in tears at the sweetness of it all by the time Jiang Cheng arrives with a set of silver baby jewelry.
“A-Cheng, you shouldn’t have,” he chuckles, ducking his head so that Lan Zhan can pat his eyes with a cool handkerchief. “Lan-bao has enough jewelry for a new set every day, by now!”
“This isn’t just any set of jewelry,” Jiang Cheng informs him, motioning his head disciple to come forward and open the flat jewel-cases to reveal necklaces, bangles, ankle-bracelets and a longevity lock encrusted with silver beads.
Upon closer inspection, Wei Wuxian discovers that each tiny bead is a miniature clarity bell, etched with the Jiang sect lotus blossom and reinforced with so many protective charms that the collected set must have cost a small fortune.
“Didi,” Wei Wuxian begins, trying in vain to swallow the lump in his throat. “This, this is--”
“She won’t be able to wear these for long, but you could get them disassembled and extended with plain silver when she’s older,” his brother interrupts. “But A-Shuai says you should put them into storage when A-Lan gets older, because heaven knows I can’t afford another set.”
Lan Zhan frowns. “Why would we need another set?”
Jiang Cheng fixes him with a pointed stare, and Wei Wuxian feels his cheeks turn crimson when he finally gets the hint.
(Three years later, A-Lan’s hundred-day clarity jewels are passed down to a newborn baby sister, and no one is more pleased than her adoring jiujiu when Wei Chunyang wears them at her own full moon celebration.)
#wangxian#the untamed#mo dao zu shi#wangxian arranged marriage au#renouncement verse#my fic#RENOUNCEMENT VERSE IS BACK#baby!!!!#wei shuilan
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Thoughts on Glaciator 2
- I love how chat is like ???? Thanks????
- immediately ladybug is shutting it DOWN
- so this is legit like how it was in prime queen how neither of them were comfortable at all with the forcing of them being a couple
- "but what the heart had forgotten, the ice-cream remembers" okay...
- in the trash you go kitty
- she defeated it off screen 😂 like in timetagger accept she did this alone. It really puts forth the idea in Chat's head that he isn't needed though :/
- damn Ladybug. Saying André was wrong was what happened in the original glaciator. Though I do understand her anger with the tabloids just digging into their lives, it's not fair. I guess it's also a bitter pill because she feels she can't be with anyone due to being lady ug and the guardian
- okay that was a pretty good cut scene. Just seeing through Chat's eyes as well is just 👌😌
- he was pushy about the story? I mean yeah just now he did joke to listen to Andre but he was also shocked and uncomfortable about it all as well
- okay you did kinda push it there
- "I get it you're sick of me expressing my affection over and over like a broken record" why do I also feel its him also saying about how he feels she is not needing him.
- I really appreciate that he is aware though and does talk about it and says he will refrain.
- "I have so much love in my heart that I can't control" it's similar to marinette, but she stumbles instead because she thinks too much.
- that is sweet though that they did communicate like this. He can be a little too much sometimes but the thing is, is she often engages in it as well... when it comes to things like flirting
- awww Adrien, well done though.
- so does she think Alya sent them out? Because I mean similar photos were used in prime queen, but this never says explicitly that alya was the one who made them public but its insinuated, but why would Alya do that?
- marinette is not a happy bunny, she's just revving herself up though! My girl, you can just change the channel
- awww kagami!!!! She still cares bless her. As we saw in Ootygami
- she even offers to help
- dang he's real upset. Are you upset moreso with the fact that you have to keep these feelings to yourself yet again because all you want is to be loved as yourself?
- oof knife to the heart
- disappointment and guilt... but why those emotions he should never have to feel guilty about how he feels? Disappointment I get because he's told himself not to engage but babes shouldn't feel guilty for loving someone
- but he didn't deakumatize the akuma??
- I knew he wouldn't akumatize Adrien. Despite him treating adrien like a pile of shit, he has always stood by not akumatizing him
- visual pollution😂😂 now you understand how adrien feels about his face being plastered legitimately everywhere
- girl that's sweet you wanna go cheer him up but it's not necessary to turf through your weird up presents
- just casually strolls past even though its legitimately for adrien 😂
- the fucking hamsters again 😂
- you want to do some pottery Adrien? I mean fair dos. Pottery is fun
- why are you WASTING a perfectly good Potters wheel???
- "ending up in the trash, I see" what like he was? Discarded?
- adrien ain't taking no shit from you Gabriel
- "if that were to happen I would do it father" but he doesn't. He never has because funnily enough whenever we have seen him try Gabriel is never there or is curt.
- plagg you absolute savage
- kagami saying adrien has lost his shine
-kagami is also getting her own back with marinette for putting words in her mouth during Mr pigeon 72
- practising confessing to someone who has no romantic interest in you is a good start. But isn't that a trope that usually develops into a romance? Because practising a confession which is nerve-wracking and embarrassing is a sign that you trust the person you are trialling it with which often contrats the trust and truth of the person you admire at that point in time. Oh well
- dang, how many had he cataclysmed?
- omg that pun 😂 "we won't stop until we've deleted all traces of my love for ladybug" "all the SIGNS???"
- cat on the rooftop is normal?
- "minou, minou, minou!!!!" Omg I can't belive she did that
- oh dear.
- his laugh omg
- serious face 😂
- "it never hurts to be interested in others from time to time" marintte, your ladybug irrationality is showing
- pffttt he is definitely messing now 😂😂
- he should be an actor, more specifically for doing Shakespeare plays
- my dude even improvises
- they're on the same wavelength of going to see a movie though... that's kinda sweet
- why didn't they go by his stick? Oh well
- awww look at her face, she's so proud of him ^-^
- now look at his face...
- they make each other laugh... my heart just can't handle this
- pffttt both are unumused that it's just continued romance despite going for the one that sounded like it would avoid romance
- sworn enemies? Is this a dig at marichat being that side of the love square that aren't meant to have feelings for one another and yet...
- running theme of reality being trickier than fantasy. Nothing is by script and life is unpredictable. Nice
- the cataclysm is in your heart :/// he knows that all too well
- freaking hamsters 😂
- pffttt they don't give a shit 😂
- his stick is also an umbrella? Once again he is an asset of insurmountable amounts
- awww bless him. He's scared he's not good enough :/
- "She doesn't hate you" "She threw me in a rubbish bin" *pat pat* "you're a good kitty everything will be fine" omg 😂 that exchange 😂😂
- my dude you are reading surface level, but then again it always says a lot that you say this because it means that there is something more there between them. He still shouldn't be this invested 😂
- "once we have a taste we can't resist them"!!!!! What was I saying about Dearest Family????
- girl don't look at him like that if you have "no feelings for him"
- hehe
- so it does end up falling from the sky😂 brilliant
- pfftttt both of them have a go at the wheel😂😂😂 "pass me the wheel" and I was fully expecting it to be a steering wheel that is easy to disconnect and change for some reason 😅
- she's so smug in the drivers seat 😂😂😂
- that was so quick...
- yaaayyy she realised it was too OTT. Speak from the heart, girl
- "I judged you badly, I found you pretentious and superficial. And I got to know you better, I saw who you truly were inside. Someone gentle, honest and generous" why do I feel like this also applies now to ladynoir.
- awwww his face though. He just is in awe of her and then is just soft
- Kagami getting life advice from manga😂 girl, if I couldn't love you more.
-yes!!! Please spend more time with marinette and friends!!!!
- she's so shocked, bless her
- "marinette opened my eyes. With her I play the role of chat noir, maybe if I show ladybug who I truly am she will fall in live with me" so is he saying as chat noir he does forcefully go OTT with the declarations, so he will just be himself from now on? I mean yeah that will make marinette fall for chat noir as its what made her fall for adrien in the first place.
- I like how the end card has it so marichat has their backs to each other? Like they have each others back then they are looking at who they love respectfully, same with then Adrien and ladybug. Also is that to mimic a sunset background?
- this episode makes Hack-san even more interesting with him being annoyed ladybug didn't tell him, but also that end scene where ladybug means everything to him.
- Good fun episode. Love me some marichat and boy were we fed.
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🌃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 || 𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠
☆ han jisung x fem! reader ☆
☆ GENRE: college au, best friends to lovers au, fluff
☆ SUMMARY: There’s only one thing that can help your stressed out mind when you have a week left to finish the most important assignment for your art class of them all, and that is the honey voice of your best friend. What a shame he’s too shy to sing sometimes.
☆ WORDS: 5k
☆ WARNINGS: swearing and that is it me thinks
You hear the silent melody coming from your best friend sitting on the other side of the couch, quiet hums gradually flowing into coherent words as he mindlessly scrolls through social media on his phone, his low singing filling your empty living room as you take your eyes off your phone and watch him.
He looks casual, just like always. The army-green hoodie looks about two times his size enveloping his body, the hood thrown over his head to hide his messy hair, sweatpants hiding a little bit of his foot as well as if to make him look extra tiny today. The song coming out of his mouth sounds similar, yet it still sounds new to you when you catch him randomly singing during the day on times when he forgets he doesn't want anyone to hear.
"It cannot wait, I'm yours-" his head snaps up to meet your eyes, immediately shutting up and looking back to his phone screen.
"No, why'd you stop?" you whine, pouting. His voice is good. Too good, for never getting singing lessons and basically not even trying while he sings.
"'Cause it sounds bad," he mutters, furrowing his brows.
"It doesn't." you firmly say, desperate to make your best friend believe your words in order to hear him sing more often. For some reason, his singing always managed to bring a sense of comfort into your heart. It felt like the sunlight shining at you in the cold days of winter, sweet and soothing for your freezing heart.
"Yeah, right," his cheeks flash pink, rolling his eyes.
"You hear me singing all the time and I sound like a dying racoon, I really don't understand why you're so shy about it when you sound like angels coming down to earth to bless us all," you giggle, poking his sides.
He laughs softly at your compliment, shaking his head. This was how it usually went.
He started singing out of the blue, you stopped everything you were doing just to listen to him, then he realised you became too quiet and stopped in the very second.
"I wish you sang more. I like your voice," you point out, watching him flash an even deeper shade of pink as he shyly giggles at your confession.
"Sorry to break it to you, but I won't," he shakes his head in disapproval. It annoyed you, how he just never seemed to believe your words.
"But why? You never believe me when I tell you you sound good," you pout, furrowing your eyebrows and throwing your fists in the air in a sense of frustration.
"And that, my dear, is called not believing in yourself." he giggles, making you roll your eyes.
"I don't get it," you sigh, standing up and moving to the kitchen, "anyways, I am on my way to paint the rest of the assignment I have for my art class, so if you don't want to sing me something, at least put some music on," you yell white putting your empty mug into the sink.
As you walk back to the living room with your art supplies you managed to snatch from the desk where you put them before, you hear the familiar sound of your bluetooth speaker turning on, making you sigh. And that's for your daily dose of Han Jisung's singing. You sit cross-legged at the ground, taking your paint brushes into your hand, hearing the song he decided to put on playing from the speaker. You recognise it being the one he was humming to himself just a few minutes ago, smiling.
"What is the theme anyway?" he asks, genuinely curious.
"Nature," you roll your eyes, not really interested in painting trees the tiniest bit, but having to do it anyway, because you can’t just paint whatever you want and get away with it in your art class.
"So like, trees and stuff?" he teases you, knowing damn well how much you don't like the particular assignment in the first place.
"Trees, mountains, butterflies…" you ironically smile, blobbing a whole lot of green paint onto your palette, grunting, "and I wanted to be chosen for the showcase this year, but I guess we'll have to wait until the theme is not about rocks and rivers." you scoff.
"Oh please, you'll do great anyway," encourages you Jisung, "you can paint well even if it's just trees and mountains."
"I'm not Bob Ross, Jisung." you mutter, hating the way the green paint looks on the canvas in the first place.
"Yes you are," he giggles, "you paint just like him."
"Tells me the one who sounds like Mariah Carey but tries to act like he can't sing," you tease back, enjoying the way his eyebrows furrow at your comment.
"I can't do whistle notes yet," he smirks.
The car rides with Jisung were probably your most favorite. It wasn't for the fact that he doesn't drive too fast like most of your friends do, since as he said, he doesn't trust himself to slow down if he strats, but truth be told, that was also one of the reasons. But the main reason is, that you always get to hear him singing along to the radio, even if it's kind of difficult to hear over the loud music and the original singer. That doesn’t matter, though, because even the tiniest sign of him singing around you made you happy.
He doesn't seem to care as he yells the words to Riptide by Vance Joy on the top of his lungs, sounding like the song belongs to him, parking the car in the almost empty parking lot at Michael's craft store.
"No problem. What even happened, anyway?" he furrows his brows at you, confused on why you suddenly hit him up out of the blue in the evening as you swore on your life you couldn't hang out because you have to finish that disgusting assignment for your art class.
"Thanks." you smile at him as you ubuckle your seat-belt and open the door to his car.
"I fucked up on the painting and now I need to buy some new canvases," you grunt, rolling your eyes, "and green paint. A whole lot of green paint."
He snickers a little as he walks by your side, quickly turning around to lock his car and bringing his attention back to you, "I am sure it wasn't even that bad in the first place and you're just over-reacting."
"Yes it was, Jisung, you didn't see the disaster that painting became. I wanted to paint a bear and it looked like a degenerated pine tree." you blurb out, frustrated, as you take the shopping cart to your hands only for it to be snatched by the hands of your best friend helping you.
"Well, you could always say you wanted to be a little abstract," he grins at you.
"Yeah, sure. Miss Kim would absolutely kill me and I wouldn't get to the showcase this year again. Why am I majoring in art in the first place when I can't even get to the school's art showcase? That prick Minho got in three times already and he said he doesn't even like art in the first place!" you say, gritting your teeth.
"Why is he majoring in art, then?" asks Jisung, confused.
"Because he wanted a degree and he said it was the easiest major to pick," you roll your eyes.
"Well, I mean that is kind of smart, I should have picked that instead of business-"
"Jisung, you can't draw." you laugh.
"And? We were all born to express, not to impress," he waves his arms in the air, grinning. You laugh at his expression, facepalming as you reach for three containers of green paint from the counter and throwing it into the cart.
"If this is not enough of green paint, I swear to god I will kick something-"
"Hey! Peace. Think of the pigeons. Rainbows. Sunshine," he recitates, motioning you to breathe deeply to calm down your nerves, giggling in the process.
"Fuck the pigeons! I tried to paint one yesterday and it turned into a fucking rock in the air!" you throw a fit, making him shush you as a few people turn around to see your distressed state.
"Calm down, woman," he says, putting an arm on your back, gently pushing you to the cashier, "it's just a painting. You'll do great, don't worry. You're just stressing too much."
You grunt as you see another ruined canvas, throwing the brush onto the ground, muttering a quiet swear as you notice the paint on the floor, quickly taking a tissue and wiping it off.
"What's gotten into you? It's okay," sweetly says Jisung, once again sitting at your sofa and watching over you as you try to paint your assignment again.
"It looks bad! Just look at it! I have a week left and I already ruined three canvases, at this rate, I won't be able to even finish it, I can only dream of getting to the showcase," you mourn, throwing yourself to the ground and hiding your face in your hands.
"You just have to take it easy, you're pressuring yourself too much-"
"I've heard that already." you cut him off, growling.
You lay there for a while, breathing heavily, collecting your thoughts. Once you manage to calm down, you sit up and look at your best friend watching over you on the sofa, sighing. "I'm sorry. I'm just stressed out. I didn't mean to snap at you."
"It's okay." he nods, seeing you taking the brush into your hand again and trying to fix the blob of paint that was supposed to look like a squirrel, much reminding you of your dear best friend sitting next to you.
You feel a gentle grip on your hand after a few seconds, taking the brush out of it and putting it to the table. You furrow your brows and look at him, confused on why he is suddenly stopping you from your work, the contact of his skin on yours surprising you a little.
"We're done with painting today." he sternly says, stopping you.
"Ji, I have a week left to-"
"That's a lot of time! Stand up, we're having a karaoke night." he grins at you, pulling you up to your feet, as he takes his phone laying on the sofa into his hands and connects it to the bluetooth speaker.
"I have no time to have a karaoke night Jisung, what even is that-"
"Pick a song. Any song. We're about to sing our hearts out tonight and my mission won't be considered successful until your neighbours come to complain," he grins, giving the phone into your hand with his spotify app open already.
You look at him dead serious for a moment before sighing and looking through his embarrassingly long spotify playlist called ‘bops only’. "Fine," you sigh, "but just this once. And if they call the police on us, you're paying the fine for disturbing the silent hours."
"I didn't say anything about that-"
"Blah blah blah, I can't hear you!" you giggle, putting on I will survive by Gloria Gaynor on full volume to cut him off, throwing the phone back onto the sofa as you prepare for your singing solo.
You sneak your arms around his neck, dancing and laughing in the process as you loudly scream the lyrics into his face. He smiles at the sight, content with the fact that he managed to cheer you up so quickly, putting his arms on your hips as he jumps up and down, joining you in singing once the song hits the chorus.
And just this once, as his arms steadily hold your body and you throw a tantrum in your living room, he doesn't even care that you hear him sing as he knows you like to hear his voice. Maybe, just maybe, that was the reason why he suggested a karaoke night to cheer you up in the first place anyway.
"What do you mean you're not gonna be here on my birthday?" you pout from the ground, focused on the canvas right in front of you.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? But my mum really needs me to come help her with the atic, and you know how she gets when I refuse to come home at least once a month even though I constantly tell her I don't have the time to travel for 45 minutes just so she can see my face once in a while…" sighs Jisung, laying on your sofa so his head is now facing the same way yours does, and that is, your half-empty canvas.
"I know, I know. But does it really have to be on my birthday? You're going to be away for three days, and the showcase is on Friday…" you mumble, "if I get there, of course." you sigh.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles, sounding genuinely concerned. It was currently Monday and your birthday was on Thursday, which meant you had four days to finish your art piece to submit it on the exact day of your birthday to see if your teacher accepts it for the showcase of the following day. And you're not even halfway done with your work! To be exact, you feel like you're gonna fail and to not have your best friend by your side to help you through your stress, you truly feel like you'll go insane.
"I know," you sigh, "it's okay. I guess I'll just… manage, somehow." you scoff.
"You can always celebrate with that friend from your art class, and we'll celebrate together on Saturday, when I come back. What was that kid's name again?" he furrows his brows at you, turning your way to see your focused face.
"You mean Hyunjin? No, thank you. He'd just want me to get drunk and I really don't need that the day before the showcase," you mumble, painting the leaves of the tree carefully, focusing on every single detail. Jisung always adored your talent. Everything you ever drew was a masterpiece in his eyes. He even kept the notes you gave to him in high school once when he was sick and you managed to take notes for him as well when you shared a Chemistry class, sneaking a few doodles on the sides when you got bored of listening to the teacher, "but that will come handy when I don't get in again, so I'll consider it." you roll your eyes.
"You will get in." he reassures you again, finding your eyes.
"I doubt that," you bitterly laugh.
"Ugh, stop that already," he grunts, focusing on the canvas again, feeling relaxed just at watching you do your magic, but you throw the paintbrush on the table again at that exact moment and run your hands through your hair in frustration.
"What?"
"It looks like shit. Again." you exclaim.
His eyes go wide at the sentence, disbelief washing over him. Did you really think that?
"What the fuck? It doesn't! It looks amazing, trust me," he says, reaching his arms to you, taking you by the shoulder from his position on the sofa.
"I am so stressed Jisung, I feel like I'm about to go insane." you whisper, sighing.
You don't have to say more for Jisung to stand up from his position on the sofa only to sit on the ground behind you, sneaking his arms around your middle and bringing you close to him, gently rocking you in your position on the floor. You feel his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as he quickly pecks your cheek and settles his head back onto your shoulder.
You hear him softly singing into your ear, the words filling your insides with gold as his voice feels like honey, calming you down from the storm happening inside of you like a brim of light.
"And I see colors in a different way, you make what doesn't matter fade to grey, life is good and that's the way it should be," he sings softly, a wide smile appearing on your features with every next word.
His voice calms your nerves as you slowly relax in his hold, your bodies gently rocking to the rhythm of the song as it slowly ends and his voice grows quieter.
He hated singing in front of people.
But to see you smile, he would go as far as overcoming his biggest fears. Because when you need him, he will always be there.
"Jisung, I have no time for this, I already told you I need to finish the assignment-" you mumble as you sit in his car, his smiling face looking at you from the driver's seat.
"I'm leaving tomorrow morning and I can't have you painting for more than an hour today because I feel like you'll break down if you do, so let's go. And you're already in the car, so there's no escape anyway." he explains, waiting for you to buckle in your seatbelt.
You just sigh and look out the window, biting down on your lip. If he keeps distracting you this much, you'll never finish the assignment.
You hear him softly singing along with the radio, careful not to disturb him in fear of making him stop, smiling to yourself as you let him drive you to an unfamiliar place in the middle of the night. You count the lampposts, the habit you grew to have since you were little, before they disappear and you're on a road shadowed by tall trees, the headlights of Jisung's car being the only thing illuminating the road.
You recognise you're going up a hill, looking over at him, seeing him focused on the road.
As you reach the top, Jisung stops the car and gets out, you follow him as he waits for you by the door to the passenger’s side.
As soon as you look around, you're amazed by the sight in front of you. You have a view of the city far, far away in the distance as you see the dell illuminated by the subtle glow of the moon sitting up in the starry sky. You watch the sight with an open mouth, awe washing over you as you just can't keep your eyes off the landscape in front of you.
"Wow," you breathe out.
You feel his hand gripping yours as he leads you to the edge of the hill, sitting at the giant rock there, pulling you down next to him as you watch the nature breathe in front of you. His hand doesn't leave yours as he speaks up after a while.
"You like it?" he asks, quiet enough to not disturb the atmosphere.
"Yeah," you whisper. You see him moving closer to you from the corner of your eye, his head leaning on your shoulder as he enjoys your presence.
"I wanted to show you this before I go, so you have a moment to breathe for a second before you throw yourself into the stress again," he mumbles, gently playing with the fingers of your hand.
"Thank you," you speak, breathing in the chilly air of the forest.
You stay like that for a while, just gazing over the beauty of it all, making you feel like the time stopped for the two of you only as you enjoy the seconds that pass. The full moon watches over the two of you, captivating you as you look at it with a feeling of delight. You hear his gentle voice in your ear again, singing softly and beautifully, sounding magical at the top of the hill, once again filling your ears with melody as your insides tingle.
"Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars, and let me see what spring is like on a-Jupiter and Mars," he sings, voice tender and sweet, slowing down the tempo of the song on purpose.
"In other words, baby, kiss me," he sings softly, voice fading as his eyes move to your lips, the silence of the hill and the light breeze tickling your skin.
You feel your eyes wandering to his lips, nervously licking yours in the process. You see him hesitantly move closer to you, stopping halfway to see if you pull away, taking his other hand and resting it on your cheek. His breath fans your face as he moves even closer, nudging your nose with his, eyes gazing to yours, your trembling fingers squeezing his hand as if to tell him to go ahead, fluttering your eyelids close.
Once the moment finally comes and his shy lips press to yours, you feel yourself responding immediately, moving with him as the familiar feeling of the sun in your stomach greets you with full force, your other hand going up to rest on his neck.
When he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, you can't help but smile. His soft giggle fills your ears like music, your lips meeting his in a soft, quick peck in the instance.
"In other words, hold my hand," he continues, softly squeezing your hand resting in his lap, making you look at him, locking your eyes with his as he stares at you, gaze full of stars.
Han Jisung's always been your best friend. But perhaps tonight, you finally understood the fact that life feels sweet as honey anytime he's around you.
In other words, you love him.
You toss and turn in your bed, tears silently falling down your cheeks on a Wednesday night. Jisung's left this morning and you didn't even finish doing your assignment. You had the whole day for it today without anyone bothering you, but turns out, you managed to hate the painting you did anyway.
It just didn't look good in your eyes. It looked gross. Horrible. When you compare yourself to the other people in your class, you feel like your art is worthless. It always somehow managed to look bad. And everybody knew.
You were the only one who wasn’t good enough to get into the annual art showcase in your three years of college.
Did you even improve at all?
You turn around in your bed, seeing your phone light up with a new notification, opening it and wiping your tears away in the process so you can see though your blurry eyes.
'How did the assignment go?' there states, Jisung's name appearing on the message app, your insides automatically calming down a little at the thought of your best friend.
'Don't even ask', you shoot him a reply, sighing deeply to stop the salty tears from falling.
'It's okay, baby' he replies instantly, your heart racing at the nickname appearing on your screen, bitterly laughing at yourself for acting like a schoolgirl when it comes to Jisung. When did your feelings even grow into something more in the first place? It seemed like it was that way from the start. Perhaps you were just too oblivious to notice.
'It's not. Didn't even finish it. Kicked it when I fucked up again and just gave up.' you type, already friends with the feeling of defeat and failure you've been feeling since the evening.
He doesn't respond for a while, making you think he fell asleep with the phone in his hand again, turning around in your bed to put the phone back onto your bedside table to try to fall asleep on your own as well, when a new message lights up your screen.
You see a voice memo appearing in your messages with Jisung, your heart thumping at the image of hearing his voice this late in the evening, quickly pressing the play button and listening to what he had to say.
"Hi, umm- I've never actually done this before, but I know you're probably feeling like shit right now and I need you to know that you are not a failure, because I know you feel like one right now," you giggle a little at the accuracy, his low voice making you feel things you didn’t even know you could feel before, "anyways, I need you to be kind to yourself tonight. And since I know you like it when I sing, here's a little something…" he mumbles into the phone, making your heart race.
"Here goes nothing," he softly laughs, and clears his throat, beginning to sing, "Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you," his voice feels soft through the speaker, your eyes welling up with tears again, but this time, they're of appreciation and pure love for the boy laying in his bed 45 minutes away from you, because you know just how nervous he must have felt to sing into his phone just for you.
"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?" he finishes, his voice fading away, your insides melting. How did you get so lucky?
"And now go to sleep. It's your birthday tomorrow, we don’t want you to feel sad on your special day. Good night, baby." he sounds, the nickname bringing another set of butterflies into your stomach.
You wish you could do as he told you. But at that exact moment, you bring yourself to try again, you make yourself stand up from your bed and move to your living room as you take a new canvas with you, inspiration kicking you with full force, taking tubes of paint and a paintbrush into your hand as you begin to work on your assignment, trying again just one last time.
You stand in front of your painting, watching over it with proud eyes. The chatter of people around you is only a background noise in your ears as you smile brightly at the assignment you finished just the time the clock striked midnight on Wednesday.
"Yaaah y/n, it looks so good," you hear the voice of Lee Minho call next to you, patting your shoulder.
You grin and turn to look at him, gratitude washing over you upon hearing the compliment. "Thanks."
"I wondered when you're finally going to be on a showcase, I don't understand why neither of your previous assignments made it," he mutters, shaking his head, "but this looks great. It's original." he nods.
"Thank you, Minho," you only smile wider, the pride in you growing minute by minute, "yours looks great too, by the way. I like the colors."
"Really? I hate it. I never hated a theme more than this," he huffs, "who the fuck thinks nature is entertaining to paint?"
"I know, right? I had four mental breakdowns over it," you laugh, now that the suffering is finally over and you can breathe freely.
"Did you use reference for this?" he asks suddenly, pointing to the painting hanging on the middle of the wall.
"No, I did it from memory…" you mumble, sighing.
You watch Minho's eyes shifting somewhere behind you, grinning widely at something that caught his eye, prompting you to look that way only to be left in a state of absolute shock.
The talking of the people filling the showcase gradually stops as they see Han Jisung holding a plate of a strawberry cheesecake with a single candle stuck to the middle of it, moving slowly not to make the light flicker die down, the grinning face of Hwang Hyunjin following his steps with a bottle on champagne in his hands doing grimaces at you from afar as a honey voice calls through the room.
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear y/n," he looks at you, eyes big and full of love, as he finally reaches your figure in the middle of the room,
"Happy birthday to you!" he finishes, your soft giggles cutting through the hall as you move to blow out the candle and gaze onto the face of your best friend.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were coming in the evening!" you yell, throwing yourself into his arms. It was only three days, but you already missed him too much.
"I escaped," he laughs, his whole body shaking in the process as you pull away after a second, "I'm joking. I couldn't stay with my mother knowing I'm gonna miss your first ever showcase."
You smile warmly at him, the people around you disappearing in the moment, only his figure standing out to you in the haze as he hesitantly moves over and locks your lips in a quick kiss.
You ignore the howling of Lee Minho coming from your left and the loud 'Finally!!' from the lips of Hwang Hyunjin to your right as Jisung turns to your painting, smiling widely at the sight.
"It looks so real," he mumbles in awe, noticing the way his insides turn into a puddle of sweet joy as he recognises the night view of the dell he showed you on the night of your first kiss, instantly realising the way you must have painted it after he sent you the voice memo to sing you to sleep on the Wednesday night.
"You inspired me," you grin brightly.
"Don't say that." he shyly looks down on his feet.
"But it's true." you prompt.
He smiles lightly, shaking his head before locking your eyes again.
"I just realised I left your gift at home. Look at me, wishing you happy birthday a day later and not even bringing you a gift to make up for it…" he mutters, stepping closer to you and putting an arm around your shoulder in the process.
"That's okay," you say, and you really mean it. You are the happiest you've ever been right now, feeling accomplished and with him by your side. You don’t need any other gift.
"Well, I have one thing in my mind that can count as a gift, though," he smirks.
"And that is?"
"I can finally be your boyfriend. I mean, isn't that the best gift you’ve ever gotten?" he grins, prompting you to elbow him lightly in the ribs as you burst into a fit of laughter.
"You're such a dork, I swear to god…"
"But I am your dork, right?"
You sigh, playfully rolling your eyes. "Yes, Jisung. You are my dork. Only mine."
#districtninewriters#kafenetwork#stayverse#stayracha#kpopscape#stayhavennet#stray kids imagine#stray kids au#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids fluff#stray kids best friends to lovers au#han jisung imagine#han jisung au#han jisung fanfiction#han jisung fluff#han jisung best friends to lovers au
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Thoughts and Reactions to Truth!
Just going to go straight into it because this episode is huge!
I really like how at the end of a season and the beginning of another, we see the same scene that leads us out of one and into another.
Gabriel fixes the Miraculous and ohhh poor Dusuu thought it was all a dream, being in evil hands. So in a way, the Miraculous being damaged may have been a blessing for her. Dx Too bad it couldn't have been fixed after Marinette got it back :/
But at least Nooroo isn't alone right? Legit only positive I can get from this. ;-;
Tikki and her little hats omg it's so cuuuute! I wonder if she makes her little clothes, too awww
But the other Kwami's are almost like siblings to Tikki if you think about it. Now Tikki has to share things with them all as they cause chaos all around when she's so used to her quiet life alone with Marinette. Even for a Kwami, that must be hard to adjust to.
Okay so it's almost Prince Ali's birthday that Paris is going to celebrate. Interesting! I'd really like to see him back and a storyline with that. :O
Marinette holding something, clearly, that the girls can't see over video chat. Talking to what appears to be herself, reacting to what someone's saying from different sides of her room. Camera flashes going off. And then her phone getting yeeted at her all on a video call with her friends when she's supposed to be alone...considering they're all going to have Kwami's and learn some things later as they become heroes, I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if they think back to this scene someday!
OH WAIT spoiler for the upcoming episode Gang of Secrets!!! Fair warning.
What if this episode with the plushies she said she's going to make, is one of if not the reason they go over and are looking around her room? Because she's been acting sus and they want to know what's going on. Especially after what happens later in the episode with Luka.
Okay, back to the episode itself.
Her friends observation: You're acting way weirder than normal.... IS ADRIEN AT YOUR PLACE?!
I mean, fair point. xD But the thing is, whenever Marinette tends to act weirder or say/do things that Alya and the girls don't understand, it's almost always connected to her being Ladybug/Guardian. Even Lila. If she wasn't Ladybug and dealt with her so much as her, she wouldn't know a lot of things that made her not trust Lila to begin with. So Marinette has to overcompensate to try to hide everything or can't explain her thoughts or feelings about certain situations, so Alya always just assumes her behavior has something to do with Adrien. It really sucks but at the same time, what else is she going to think?
These Kwami are a lot of trouble. xD Now she's even more frazzled, so she calls Luka Adrien. More than once.
I've done this where I call my siblings the wrong name more of than I'd like so I can't fault her for it. Her mind's probably a mess, poor girl. Dx
"I'm sorry it's just that I cheated on you!" BIG OOF. But this gives me Kim Possible vibes when Ron assumed Kim didn't want him anymore and told her he was cheating on her when he meant to say he was cheating to be on the football team so he could be more worthy of her when he thought she wanted to "trade up" her boyfriend.
Our poor Marinette! So frazzled she can't remember when her dates are, when they've been rescheduled. She can't remember her patrols with Chat Noir which are really important. She's getting to the point where it's going to be a wonder she can even function. Dx
"But Marinette and I are such a big fan of his" wow this sure hits different. The way they kept quizzing each other to finish the sentence with Jagged Stone trivia was pretty cute.
Luka having her finish the line with "Kiss me" that she screamed to the entire theater made me choke on my cake.
"Well, if that's what you want."
Smooth.
"I think, yes. I want to."
But you know, it gets interrupted by an akuma attack of course because that's just the way things work! :D
And wouldn't you know it, it's Mr. Pigeon. AGAIN. Totally worth interrupting the moment lol
Ladybug can't pick and choose, however, so here comes the sequence where she's constantly running off and he starts doubting her.
Notice the parallel when Marinette started to like Luka after Adrien could never show up to things? Now Marinette's having trouble showing up and Luka's having issues with it.
The second Chat Noir started to sneak up on Ladybug, we all knew he was going to get flipped. But it's so adorable and funny at the same time I love it x333
And that whole scene there of Ladynoir. Obviously it's a Lukanette-centered episode but the Ladynoir in this episode! So good!
And you know, it's interesting. First time we see Adrien this episode is for FIVE whole seconds! And the way it abruptly cut off as he opened the car door... yeah you know what, Lies is going to be Adrien's POV or something of this same day. It has to be. He has 2 total scenes one of them is 5 seconds and the other one is 2 seconds. Crazy. We got about 7 seconds of Adrien's face today woo!
But ugh here's where we get hurt Luka ;-; "A girl, who as always, isn't here." Ouch.
The fact that if Marinette said she loved Adrien still, he'd understand and he'd get it is so sweet, and so sad that it's not even because of that, it's because she's Ladybug and the Guardian and she can't say a thing about it to him at all, that he can't accept.
It's the one thing he couldn't deal with that's the issue and that really sucks.
AND THIS MOMENT RIGHT HERE HAD ME GASPING AND HURTING FOR LUKA. IT'S THE MOMENT HIS HEART BROKE
But also really guys, did you notice his eyes are different now? Almost like a blue diamond look or something.
Luka trying to fight it, trying to tell Hawk Moth that the truth needs to be willingly told, not forced. But stupid Hawk Moth's able to get him to hold on anyway and gets akumatized.
But not before he told Marinette to run. Which was such an awwww moment. x33
I mean, this is definitely getting a bit close to Chat Blanc territory if you ask me.
New transformation music is pretty good! I like it.
Also can we just appreciate that instead of trying to track down Marinette to get the truth from her, he's instead asking all her friends and family, pretty much any source besides her?
AND ROSE'S RESPONSE
"Marinette has no secrets because she's the most honest girl in the world!" She thinks so highly of her and it's just so beautiful. Nobody would blame her for these secrets if they only knew either. But awwwwww I love this scene!!
And here's the big reveal! (no not that one)
Jagged Stone is Luka and Juleka's father. 😮
Thomas today tweeted that Luka and Juleka are twins. Which would have to be fairly obvious after this reveal. There's no way that Jagged, who says he'd be a lame dad and left because he wasn't cut out for it, would have Luka with Anarka, then stay long enough to also have Juleka.
I also totally forgot that in the French version, Jagged has an American accent when he speaks. XDD
Just the fact that even WITH his truth powers, he asked his mother TWICE who his father was. Both times she said Jagged Stone. He still didn't believe it until he went to Jagged himself omg. This poor poor boy.
Luka: 😱*gasp*
Marinette: 😲 *gasp*
Adrien: 😮
WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY OMG. LIKE I'M WATCHING A TELENOVELA OR SOMETHING. THEY EVEN ZOOMED IN ON THEIR REACTIONS I CAN'T
And then Luka just yeets his dad because he wasn't ever there for him.
I honestly did not expect Luka having dad issues to ever be a thing in this show, even though I knew he wasn't around.
So like... when everything's worked out with Marinette and Adrien in the end, will Luka and Adrien end up becoming friends and bonding over things, like the whole daddy issues thing...?
Are we really supposed to believe she has no feelings for Chat Noir? I mean really, look at this.
"I can't imagine what your daily life must look like"
... is she really actually being the one to bring up something about his secret identity? With that face? 😲
Their flirty banter that at this point I don't even think they realize it is, and those soft looks I just... My top ship is Ladynoir and I was not expecting any significant moments of theirs but I got it anyway. Just watching their scenes, I kept going "See, this is why they're meant for each other." My heart is happy despite all the Luka pain! It's helping me cope with it, okay?
"When you're ready, I'll be here for you, Marinette." Awww so they're telling us Lukanette is on hold here. Not a guarantee, but at least on hold. He's an option for her later. So now the Adrienette vs. Lukanette for S4 we heard about awhile back makes sense now. Later on this season, probably when things calm down and she gets the hang of things, she'll be in a better position to be with someone. And by then, Adrien will probably realize and understand his feelings for Marinette. So then she'll be in a position to choose between them.
Now we know where Luka gets his ability to turn emotions into great songs. That's adorable! Father-son bonding! Gabriel needs to take notes when a man who was never in his son's life as more than his idol has the ability to try to be there, but Gabriel can't.
Ugh our poor Marinette, probably thinking she's going to be alone for a very long time just because of a supervillain. That's so wrong she has to feel like this. If you notice, Hawk Moth's akumatizations help people patch up relationships so much of the time as a weird unexpected result of an akuma attack. And yet, he does nothing but hurt Marinette and at times Adrien, the most when he akumatizes people.
He makes me so angry! But I'm too tired for a rant about that.
At least the Kwami hugs at the end helped a teeny bit anyway! c:
#ml#miraculous ladybug#ml season 4 spoilers#ml spoilers season 4#ml spoilers#truth spoilers#ladynoir#lukanette#miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir#truth reaction#truth thoughts
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A Little Piece of You
Oh shit, haha! Forgot to put a preview here. Hi! I’m alive! Have been busy writing for my other WIPs but wanted to get this out here bc I love you guys and also this was a cute af soulmate au. Thanks to @insanemarshmallow for the wonderful explanation of this chibi soulmate AU! Also god bless the settphel pairing of league of legends. It gave me the right amount of inspiration for a cute and angtsy oneshot :D
For a child, it's a wondrous thought the one of knowing you would one day find a soulmate. Even more so when you constantly saw it everywhere you went. People going about their lives with cute tiny versions of that one person that belonged with them and whom they were to spend the rest of their lives with. It was a fairytale on its own. One that became yours to live once you turned eighteen and that little piece of them came to you. It was a strange thing to see it happen, but just as great as you thought it'd be when a tiny version of your soulmate hatched from its egg. It had been born alongside you, a reminder that you, too, had someone waiting for you once you grew. You took care of that egg when young knowing how precious it was after hearing so many stories of happily ever afters. And now you finally had it. Alive.
The first thing that came out of the shell when it broke were red feathers. They poked out somewhat matted and ruffled as it finally emerged and huge amber eyes met yours. His tiny hands ruffled his dark blonde hair back. Chills ran down him as he shook himself out of his stupor and traveled from his head all the way to his toes and tiny wings, sprouting at the end like a blown-up balloon. He was adorable. And the first and only thing he said was his name: Keigo. Finally, you had your very own soulmate!
But...the experience of having a soulmate was tiring to say the least.
You didn't know if it was just Keigo, but taking care of this particular red bird was a full-time job. Quirks were already a problem to deal with in and of themselves. But that the small part of your soulmate's soul could readily use those wings of his to fly all around your house was a bigger problem in itself. When you got him at first you thought about keeping him in a cage whenever you had to go out and couldn't take him with you. The first few times, though, you noted how sad he was when you came home. The way he clung to you every time you let him out and how those massive tears welled up in his eyes broke you inside. You threw that cage away after a week of having it. Having no place to keep him however meant that you needed to teach him to be careful. If Keigo wanted to be free, he needed to be careful lest he be taken away or hurt. Little Keigo didn't take that lesson fully to heart until after a little incident with a cat. After that, he would stay close to you whenever you took him outside with you. It took almost a full year to get used to him, but once you did, it was like you two had been together for your whole life.
Little Keigo was fun to be around with, always enjoying the things you did with him. His taste for chicken got you to learn plenty of new recipes. He slept soundly with you, his little hands always cradling your thumb when he slept in the palm of your hand. And those feathers. You kind of figured what his Quirk was simply by the way he would control all those feathers on his crimson wings. Thing was that he would try to help you at times with things a little too heavy for him which was both worrying and sweet in equal measures.
Sadly not everything was nice. Not long after he was born did you notice that he began showing signs of pain. Always different places but very visibly hurting. Like someone was hitting or hurting him somehow. You knew the wounds wouldn't show, but seeing him always tired and in pain for days on end would cause your heart to ache to no end. There were also times when his feathers would simply fall with no explanation. It wasn't him controlling them either. They would simply fall and turn a dark brown like petals falling from flowers. And in a way, it was, because when that happened, it would take several days for new ones to grow. Although you were saddened that he was grumpy and glum from being unable to fly, a part of you was also glad. Only when his feathers fell like that did he ever seem to take any breaks and rest.
'It's your soulmate,' your mother said when you asked her. 'He's reacting to the soul bond between them. There's nothing you can do except wait it out with him.'
And it's exactly what you did. You never questioned it nor chastised him. You knew it wouldn't serve any purpose. Instead, you took care that Keigo wouldn't suffer anymore from your end than his counterpart was already going through. It still hurt though, seeing him hurting. But what stung your heart the most was the way that sometimes tears would just spring from him out of the blue. It happened during the middle of the night almost always and when that crying woke you up, it tore at your heart that you could do nothing more than hold him close and soothe that tiny part of his soul.
A couple more years went by like that—sometimes painfully, most rather joyfully—until you figured it out.
It was during dinnertime. Now that you were out of home and living by yourselves in a little apartment close to campus, it was usually spent doing exactly that, eating. But that particular day, Keigo wanted to watch TV. It's not something you did often. You were what they called a country bumpkin through and through. Though you had the resources, you seldom were on the web unless necessary for a task. You had a TV when you lived with your folks but aside from watching cartoons every now and then you never really paid it any attention. The one you had in your tiny apartment was one that had been left behind by the previous tenant. Just a small box with antennas that worked only when it wanted. Complying with his request, you somehow made it work, having it close enough for him to watch while you both ate. And it was while chewing through a serving of yakitori, you saw him.
Keigo. A much, much bigger version. And he was saving people and beating villains on network television. To say you almost choked to death would be an understatement. Keigo—your cute, little Keigo—was the Number Three Hero in all of Japan. The hero known as Hawks. Disbelief was what struck you first and hard. But the more your little Keigo, that little piece of him that resembled the hero to a T, pointed at the flickering screen with a larger than life smile on his face, the more you knew there was no denying the truth. But how? How had you missed such a huge thing for so long? Sure your upbringing explained it a bit. That your parents weren't big hero fans in general also added to it. But that could only hide everything for a little while. Maybe the first year. But for the last four?
God, you seriously needed to see an eye doctor from how damn blind you were.
You were still baffled as could be when you and Kei went out to the convenience store if only to get your mind out of things. But there was no time for you to space out when, out of the blue, Keigo suddenly perked up and flew away from his perch on your shoulder. Utterly freaking out when it was this late at night, you chased after the fast little pigeon, turning corner after corner and getting more lost the longer you did. You dodged some random people who were on their late night stroll or going back home from work apologizing all the way as you chased after that little red fluff of feathers as quick as you could. Finally, when he was getting too far, you shouted his name in an attempt to get him to slow down. He turned a corner, you did too—and crashed right into someone.
A hand firmly grasped your arm to stop you from falling back almost instantly. You hurriedly apologized not wanting to lose Keigo. But when the person spoke up, you froze in your tracks.
"Y/n?"
Almost instantly, your head snapped upward and met amber eyes. Rather familiar ones at that with those delineations on those eyes. The name spilled from little lips almost instantly without you even noticing.
"Keigo?"
A soft glow took both of your attentions and made you face to the side were a couple of little things were floating in midair. It was your little Keigo and in his arms...a tiny version of you. Both were giddily giggling as he spun them in midair with his wings. The glow that caught your sight had been the one they were emanating as they danced. A glow that, like you'd been told by your mother long ago, meant that you and your soulmate had finally found one another and were truly bonded. Out of breath as you were, it took you a second to finally turn back to the man before you. 'Keigo,' you reminded yourself. Before you could say anything, he let out a hearty laughter that reached his eyes as he took off the baseball cap he had on letting windswept blonde tresses fall over his face. Curious how on him it was a rather handsome look instead of cute.
"Who would've thought, huh?" As he laughed again, he reached out his hand to the two tiny versions of yourselves. Your little Keigo brought themselves back to the palm of his hand, the two holding hands and bumping their foreheads against each other like little doves. "Y'know, I always thought the little you was cute. Never thought you'd be this lovely in real life."
"T-Thank you." Dumb, yes, but you had no idea what else to say. Your brain was fried after all these surprises in less than 24 hours! The No.3 hero—your soulmate—was before you, and it was far more than you could take at the moment. When you noticed him staring, it finally brought back some of that notorious self-consciousness of yours as you fidgeted in your own shoes. "S-Sorry! It's a bit of a shock to find you, well, here. Now. And god, I can't believe this is happening now when I just found out about you."
Those amber eyes grew a bit quizzical at her statement. "What do you mean?" You were embarrassed to admit that you barely had put two and two together about his identity which got another laugh from him. "Honestly, not surprising." He reached up to ruffle the little you's head lovingly as a tender smile came to his face. "You never liked watching TV or playing with my phone. I always carry a book with me because you like to read so much. I never thought it'd take this long to find each other."
"How long have you been a hero?" you asked, curious.
"Since I was eighteen."
Oh. That explained so much. Yet nothing at all at the same time. Wanting to start things again, you cleared your throat and stood in front of him as your little Keigo returned to your side, sitting on your shoulder with a proud grin. "H-How about we start again? I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you, Kiego-san."
Keigo chuckled as the little you returned to the safety of his shirt pocket, peeking out from under the flap with as wide a smile as his. "It's nice to meet you, too, y/n."
#bnha imagine#bnha oneshot#hawks bnha#hawks#bnha keigo takami#keigo takami#takami keigo#keigo takami x y/n#keigo takami x reader#hawks x reader#hawks x y/n#bnha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#mha
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POVERTY AND DEVASTATION
I always remember what it’s like to be in a state of poverty and devastation, and to let go of the past.
I have composed, written and published several poems on these.
Here are three of my personal favorites.
THE OLD HOMETOWN - by J. P. Lee
Fair land of glory loveliest song of the morn
Smiling parks red roses set among thorns
Eager are the pigtailed gals busy to pick
Gallant swains fall in line ready quick
Gay day begins with a warm cheerful visit
Butterflies flapping, floating in their flit
Love songs from the robins for one and all
Joy of my youth ever pleasing as I recall
Blooms linger when seasons cause delay
Young hearts learn patience to wait and stay.
Innocence and ease enrich my simple life
Nature overriding all hardship and strife
Simple folks endear fine humble happiness
My daily loitering brings surpassing gladness
Pausing to admire the glory of dawn
Watching the deer with her little fawn
Grazing on tapestry green along the slope
While bees and grasshoppers shyly elope
I dream of the maiden I secretly love
Like cooing doves wooing in their cove
Crossing a quiet brook to watch her charm
Yonder fence lies her cultivated rainbow farm.
I bless the approaching brilliance of day
When all around me freely lend a play
Contentment fills my soul and cheers my heart
A pastime frolicking joyfully, never to part
Simple pleasures and joys in sweet succession come
Dancing pairs bring sweet memories to beds at home
Peaceful dreams follow when the day is done
Alas! These lovely charms are past and gone.
LEAVING FOR GREENER PASTURE
- by J. P. Lee
To greener pasture thy children flee
From the womb of Mother Earth set free
Relentless weather turns thy greens to yellow
No standing ovation, no cheer, from grass to fellow
Freedom stings not numbing thy pain
New owners destroying thy smiling plain
Thy glassy brooks no longer reflect
Mossy paths mirroring a land neglect
Collapsed greenery make nests for charging ants
From afar comes the loud cry of thy vagrants.
Wealth accumulates while thy land decays
Dry wind carries its stink day after day
Peasantry once boldly gay now in great despair
Stripped off its pride to breathe its own foul air.
Times have altered thy once compassionate train
Rolling swiftly only to dispossess thy grain
Thy packed lawn of fond cheering crowd
Now empty without the sportsmen's shout
Devoid of the peaceful scene that once delights
Even the polo ponies in their thunderous flights.
Staring across the sea standing on its weary shore
In hopes for better as generous provisions come no more.
Bitter sweet is the approaching sense of dreaded hour
To please or confront the tyrant in his rigorous power.
Covering the solitary rounds in wandering
Hopping along thy rugged path, staggering
Awakened remembrance roams thy ruins again
Captures my heart but changing the times in vain.
In all my loiterings on thy plains, Mother Care
I now see the gifts of griefs I have to bear
Give me my final hope in one Almighty I can trust
No memory, no understanding only doing thy will I must
That I may come home to write my story
Around a fireplace to tell all of your history
On all that I have seen, learned or have ever knew
That I may return, be buried where I'll be reborn in you.
THE NEW LAND - by J. P. Lee
Is this what we are told - a new found joy?
Not splendor but a treacherous decoy?
Groups cramped in pigeon holes on a stand
Large families packed in a home without a land
Hoisted home up in the sky swiftly built
No warm blankets just share a family quilt
Good Heaven! Greater sorrow newly imposed
Work! Native walks are as yet to be proposed
O Fair Land, why hast thou caused us to leave
To this distant land unknown, far more aggrieved?
Do thou, sweet Mother, weep in vain
Thine fair tribes now add on to thy pain?
Thine children knock at doors for bread
Chilling bones in hunger desperation led
Good neighbors forced to sell their daughters
Not through any faults of theirs that they should falter
Bless me - why, had we brothers any sister
Our decision would not have been better
Painful to watch sweet little girls in tears
Pretty innocents in their helpless years
I weep as I watch them in their charms,
Shaking wildly in their fathers' arms
Grieving mothers kiss their mindless babes
Strike their breasts looking skyward sadly in gapes
I see the fairies and nymphs degraded
In my dreams I see my heaven has faded
These are the hard truth in times of shame
Best to forget, nothing to share, no one to blame.
In the city their statesmen talk as their ale goes round
Laughing cheering with haughty looks profound
Such luxury migrants can ill afford
Even simple pleasures dismiss accord
Wealthy men arrive from world around
Suits and hats stunning ladies surround
A wanton wealth designed in tempting display
Painful truth in my mind I mindlessly survey
For I am sickened by this man-made pleasure
Toiling in the distrusting hearts of false leisure
Accumulated wealth stored in pride
Buy a lass to play as an obedient bride
Repossess the cuddly space of the poor
For their horses, hounds and more
Lawful acquisition to rob the timid folks
Stealing their meals of oats and yolks
Dressing up their females well adorned
To reign secured while simple folks mourn
Statesmen to their sons divide the wealth acquired
To their siblings, wives, married relatives
as required.
Beating my chest in bitter sweet memory
recall
In senses with unfailing truth reveal it all
Oh past the plain the surging joy prevail
That which I have loved can never fail
That broken teacups I have taken with me
Stirs my will daily sipping my humble tea
No tales no news from barbers or farmers
It's fine - all return at meals as we gather
No theatre, no ballad, no talent time
Everything comes handy in sublime
Make our own feathered balls and stuff
Marbles rolling, guessing games and bluff
Obscure yet it sinks deep in our souls and hearts
Those simple treasures, everlasting will not part
My vacant mind frolicking in the pond
Caress my soul, my spirit neatly bond
Contented on my stool writing my poetry
Pass my time in imagined peasantry
Raise my native strength for greater gain
Instead of indulging in pitiful afflicted pain
Plant my seeds, pull out the weeds annoy
With compliments from God, my daily joy.
©Johnny J P Lee
18 February 2021
Photos Credit J. P. Lee
#instruth#instruthpoems#13cupsofteareblog#gececi 0671#giberrish#followcb#frankl410#acrobat888#warxpunkxmonk#the subservient human#tanou123#smittenbypoetry#writerscreeds#poetryportal#sarah irura#writtenconsiderstions#angiessong67blog#ambroseharte#a peace follower#goodbye#devastation#poverty#leaving home#to greener pasture#farewell#driven away#painful memories#no where to go#delimma
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Fate/hollow ataraxia Part 3 - Chibi is Justice (Phase 3)
Lmao, I love how Avenger thought the way Bazett died against Assassin was so hilarious. It seems she's pretty numb towards the repetitive resurrections now though. Avenger is right though, Bazett is so violent lmao, she solves everything so practically and violently, it's pretty hilarious, especially when she got impatient at Avenger taking too long to unlock the gate to a Master's (looks like Rin's) house so she just broke in loll. It's pretty cute how Avenger protected her from the milk trap lmao. I wonder if the world Bazett is in, and the world Shirou and them are in aren't connected yet? It seems kinda connected since Shirou and Saber supposedly saw stuff like the house where those randoms died, and they saw the place where Bazett resurrects, but considering the fact that even though they both patrol around at night, yet haven't seen each other, do we need to get through a bit more things for it all to escalate?
I'm not sure if Avenger is the same Avenger that was supposed to be born in Heaven's Feel and whether his story is the same since he just kinda tells Bazett that Angra Mainyu isn't his real name because a friend sacrificed his life to save him, so he kinda just took the friend's name and repaid the world with it, so his hero name is basically honouring his friend whilst he's lost his identity. Anyway, lmao at Bazett telling him her background as if she's sharing her practical work experience lol. Her story in a sense is similar to the Matou since she's from an elite family that retained their unique power but lost influence as an important family, so she kinda tries to prove herself within the Magic Association even though they don't care or like her because their traditions and families are so ingrained, there's no place for anything else to shake the balance. It's funny how Avenger justifies it that he's right that she's technically 30+ (she's 23 lol) because she never really had a childhood so she's been an adult most her life lol.
Ohh so the reason why Shirou could never really "progress" was because of his lack of training. He hasn't done any sort of magic and training in so long! Aww the little kid Saber was watching playing soccer looks like a mini Shirou haha! Lmao when she threw the ball into the goal and everyone was stunned hahaha. HAHAHA, Saber kicked the ball and it broke🤣 so cute how Shirou fixed the ball for them. Wow, they've really upped their game for this fandisk! The battle sequence between Shirou + Saber against Archer was so fluent and cool! I really loved how Shirou was able to think of a pretty good plan of getting Saber to Archer super fast using his last Command Spell, so that she can cut him down right after he shoots his arrow and won't have time to react against her attack. It all looked really good too! I'm also really glad that Shirou was able to use his skills again. It's really been a while! However, when Saber asked if this was really all right, I wasn't really sure. Like, obviously they had no choice since Archer was out to kill them, but at the same time, if Archer was so ready to kill them, there must be something big going on that they're not aware of.
Okay, I legit died laughing when the mini game to defeat Illya and her castle came up lmaooo. It was so hilarious!! The chibi characters are so cute and lmaoo at Saber saying food names when she fights. Legit died when I used Excalibur and she said chashu men/noodles hahahahah, I couldn't concentrate on fighting hahahah. I love how Caster uses Assassin to fight, and it was so funny when Rider rode her Griffon because it looked like some chibi horse hahahaha. I loved the mini game, it was absolutely great. I want to play it again now lmao. Illya losing and then pressing a red button to destroy everything was such a funny finale hahaha. I love seeing the Taiga Dojo Taiga lmao. The quizzes are pretty funny lolll! I love the night quiz where Taiga wants to be the main heroine of Fate so bad lmaooo. Oh, and Sella giving Shirou a storeroom to sleep in was hilarious, poor Shirou🤣 HAHAHA at Sakura getting petrified when Saber told her that Servants don't get fat from eating etc, especially since Sakura tries hard to maintain her weight and everything hahaha. I loved how Rider had to drag the Sakura who turned into a rock away lolll. It was so funny when Sakura called Rider a traitor since she never told her that her body won't change no matter how much they eat🤣🤣 Sakura is so cute, her and Shirou fighting over who should bath first was cute, but when he pushed her in and she started going crazy with her delusions thinking that they were going to bathe together in their swimsuits was just hilarious🤣 Saber being scared of sinking in the water was pretty cute, lmao when she was dashing through the water though hahaha. Never thought she would be able to walk on water because she had the blessing of lake fairies lol. Aww it was so cute how Saber sunk into the water when Shirou said her body shape was nice and everything hahaha. Also lmao at Archer and Lancer invading their little picnic at the poolside and stealing their food lolll. I never really thought about it, but hearing Archer complain/give tips on how Shirou can improve his cooking is kinda cute and funny at the same time since he would know best what he needs to improve on🤣 Anyway, I love it when Saber is such a sore loser that she forces Shirou into competing with her (in this case, swimming) until she wins and is satisfied with her wins hahaha. She's so proud of winning after it all too lmao.
Whoa, I didn't expect the H-scenes in Eclipse, I was so shocked lmao, I had to look behind my shoulder to make sure no one saw me because it was so sudden hahaha! Anyway, I've never been a fan of the Fate H-scenes so yeah, this wasn't any better imo. Lmao, I love how Himuro is so interested in Mitsuzuri's love life and wants to know who her boyfriend is, she's so weirdly obstinate, it's kinda funny🤣 I'll admit that I'm definitely warming up to the trio of Himuro, Makidera and Yukika now haha. It's so stupid yet hilarious how they're so insistent on finding out who Mitsuzuri's dating lol. They've got some crazy dedication haha, legit died when Taiga started thinking Shirou was becoming more and more of a player with all these girls lol. Honestly I know Minori (Mitsuzuri's younger brother) doesn't mean harm, but he really gets out of hand when it comes to his dislike for Shirou. Anyway, I'm glad Himuro dragged him away lol, and with that, I think I kinda like the idea of Minori and Himuro together hahahah. Lmao at the Mitsuzuri dating thing was actually because she was desperately looking for someone to be her boyfriend to win the bet with Rin, so she told her brother to disguise and pretend to be her boyfriend, that is pretty embarrassing hahaha.
LMAO at Archer and Lancer having a fishing battle or something, it's hilarious how petty Archer seems towards Lancer hahaha. Omggg Saegusa can see Kojirou and they're so cute and friendly together!? It's such a random match but I love them. They have such a peaceful atmosphere. LMAOOO when Shirou bluntly asked Illya if he could use her castle dining room for a dinner date and Illya thought it was her and there were like pigeons flying in the background, and then Shirou says for Sakura and she sulks in her chibi sketch form hahahahaha. I nearly died from laughter with that transition.
Awwww! Sakura in the pink evening dress with ribbons on her hair (kinda like Rin) is so cutee! The dress in itself is kinda ugly tbh but Sakura is adorable. Awww Shirou in a tuxedo is pretty cute too! Anyway, I honestly think it's so sweet of Shirou to have granted Sakura's wish for a fancy dinner like this. Like sure, he really didn't do much besides have the guts to ask Illya for help, but the fact that he remembered her wish and did what he could to grant it was sweet enough. The way Shirou accepts everything about Sakura including all her flaws, and saying all that in his own clumsy way makes my heart so warm. Hearing Illya talk about some memories of Kiritsugu fondly makes me happy that there were at least a few memories they were able to cherish together. Seeing Illya so happy and excited to play and talk with Shirou always makes my heart so warm tbh. The CG of Shirou and Illya sharing a bed together is so heartwarming, I love it. She never got to see Kiritsugu ever again, but at least Illya now has Shirou who will always dote on her and do his best to protect her. Tbh, in the beginning, I really didn't like Illya and always thought there's no way I'll like this murderous little girl, but omg she's invaded my heart so much, I love her, and her relationship with Shirou. Sella and Liz interactions are so funny, I love how Liz is just outing her to Shirou about how Sella is afraid of ghosts lmao. HAHAHA, I loved how Shirou got so scared of whatever he saw in the wine cellar, he ran out and pulled Sella along with him, and described it to her when she told him not to hahaha. The funniest thing was that it was actually Liz with a halberd lmao, that is definitely scary😂 It's interesting to know that Liz is actually the Dress of Heaven to kinda complete Illya, I'm not sure if I forgot that or if it was never mentioned, but now it's kinda understandable why Liz is a guess a bit more different compared to Sella who is basically full maid. Lmao, the more Sella and Liz appear, the more I love them. It was so funny when Liz gave him that possibly 200 years old card that is most likely cursed and then laughed as she left hahahaha. Omgg, it's so funny but I never really thought that Sella, Liz and even Illya drive to and from the castle!! Lmao when Shirou asked Illya if she drove a Bersercar HAHAHA😂😂😂😂 To be fair, that's what I would have assumed😂
Archer saving the kitten stuck on top of a tree and then going on a long ass rant about heroes of justice was hilarious. But, I have to say, the things he said were pretty interesting and right to an extent, especially the idea of heroes stunting the growth of people like this kitten who will start to always think that someone like a hero will save them so they don't need to think about saving themselves. Anyway, now that Gilgamesh isn't in a "serious" game as he says, his silliness and ridiculousness is so much more funny. I love how careless he is to get caught up in crap but be too prideful to ask for help hahahah. And it was so funny when Rider dragged Saber away calling them losers for their masters' affections since Shirou and Sakura are going to the pool together and she doesn't want to interfere even though she probably wants to join lol. Aww Sakura in her swimsuit is cute. Okay, I change my mind, her side angle is hot hahahha. I can understand why Shirou was so stunned hahahah. HAHAHA, I nearly died of laughter when Sakura told Shirou she's not good at backstroke, and he said that would be awesome hahahahaha, he's a pervert🤣🤣 Omg that underwater kiss though! Shirou was being silly as usual, trying too hard to make Sakura happy and staying underwater past his limits, so she gave him "air" through the kiss haha, Shirou is lucky~ LMAO when Rider and Saber popped up at the pool hahahaha. Omg Rider's swimsuit is hot though, I love it. Sakura and Shirou holding hands back home is so adorableeee, I wish their date lasted longer~~ Aww Saber being fascinated by the penguin shaved ice machine is so cute! To be fair, I've always been interested in those too, they're so adorable! I would eat shaved ice just to play with it loll. Well, Bazett's "Noble Phantasm"-like thing is pretty much a cheat if you can negate Saber's Excalibur. But I wonder why everything keeps repeating itself? Oh, and I died when Shirou and Shinji had a "duel" at the harbour LOL, it was so random but hilarious hahahah.
Anyway, yayyy, I'm finally up to the next phase lol! Sure took me a while to finish this one up, I got distracted by so many things hahaha. But yeah, even though I take a long time to get through this game, I honestly really love it whenever I take the time out to read it. The slice of life shenanigans are the best way to brighten up my life lmao, they're all so funny!! I love how this phase really developed Liz and Sella, they're so much more likeable than I initially thought haha. All the swimming pool shenanigans were so funny and nice too. I'm definitely loving Sakura much more than before haha, and Saber has such a special place in my heart now, she's so silly lolll. I really hope to see Rin soon though!
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"Soaked in the ink of my soul, my heart just writes soothing artistry on the parchment of your mind.. tunes of melody flowing with each word freely, encompassing this screen with the blood of my forever in silence. It's a library hall's emptiness within me, each step echoing through me like thunder.. booming like a heartbeat of words waterfalling from my lips if I were to speak, yet I don't. I tattoo my thoughts across the webs of nowhere on an empty page, an empty chapter.. one more sentence, words unheard. When all of these words run short of languages and the books hollow from termite unoriginality, a softness like a cacophony of ocean waves pervade on trembling lips of the goddess eternal.. there is change coming she whispers on the wind, chaaaaange it trickles through to my heart. I hear no words, but feel them I can't deny.. so deeply embedded at the core of my ink stain fingertips wet with my own chunky blood on my hands, every foul word uttered a scar on my heart like a billion black holes soaking of reverse everything leaving me withered and wilted. Jilted. I felt it. The words were rough, my voice was too, in an absurd way I think I was thinking of you.. I wanted to hang onto old hopes, nope, those are broken ropes that she would not let me hang myself with. Shit, this was it.. it was my complex death, my my dying breath for the life that comes next. No, my body was alive.. my soul parched for love, this death was a blessing from above halos, hands, crowns of thorns, or horns. This was it, this was standing at the precipice looking back at my life and it burned my mind, sear and charr it did as I died that night inside.. a lot of the old parts of me at least, the darker parts of the beauty and the beast. I rose out of my hollow grave, no longer slave to an old way of thinking.. no more drinking, thinking, rinky dink thoughts mocked and stinky had wrought me hopeless as I boasted of mine, I think, new flesh.. but this goddess above Ra she was no dummy, had no flaws like Jaws, ra ra ra to my test that comes next.. for if I fail it, I don't think she would hate me but it would mean the end. Darkness upon my toy journey throughout time, so while I was in that grave.. I dug deep for a bigger set of my balls and crawled from the black casket hat of dastardly has been been and began to fall, to me it was my knees but I was standing in the trees as they swayed and behaved in so many ways that they felt alive.. time had just stopped ticking like a ticking time bomb on reverse as I I slipped back through the gentle universe. I crawled from the hearse no worse for the wear, all fear gone, no longer scared.. but an awareness of everything near, it was all so very clear. I had but not many years to live but not many lived or lived not high then it's goodbye, no more tears left to cry tonight I.. I had to make a choice, to speak up now or forever hold my peace this sweet release, oh that time was sweet. The words started their falling and crawling forth into the world like little messengers of love.. yes, doves, pigeon toed love, enough to heal a whole world hot on the trail of destruction cause they could not function. Strange, I know.. but forth does flow a life changed by life for life with life, so does life love me.. I will love life for eternity."
Remember to smile today even at the behest at such strange poetry, it may not mean any thing to you but it does to me.. it symbolizes the things that I need to do to achieve all my dreams, pay no mind to this. It was for me, haha - eUë, nobody'll read this stupid shizz anyways..
#change of plans#winds of change#be the change#change#dream come true#true colors#true love#true#true beauty#sad but true#truelove#self love#self loathing#poetry#spilled poetry#poet#poetscommunity#poets on tumblr#poem#daily poem#life#life quote of the day#life quotes#storytelling#spilled words#spilled ink#spilled thoughts#spilled writing#quoteofthenight#writerscreed
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( TEASER / devil in a new suit. )
Money’s something that makes the world go around. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag. You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.
That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash. You simply can’t let it go on.
pairing. jjk x f!reader.
genre + rating. a nice balance of fluff and angst (gasp?!). smut at some point, certainly... this teaser is family-friendly, though. 😇
tags / warnings. mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole. y’know - the usual.
wc. 1.1k for this teaser. undetermined full story.
beta reader(s). i forced @hobi-gif and @snackhobi to read this over cause they are my hope and joy, but this is... just word vomit tbh.
author note. this idea came to me in the shower and now i’m obsessed with it. i hope you like it as much as i do!
He’s a sucker. That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him. It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard.
His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove. Sometimes, she’s by herself; often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste. They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique. Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be. You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit.
“He has no idea.” It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts. “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”
How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder. How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair? It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie.
(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”. Her words, not yours.)
You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else. Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention. Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him. Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.
You’d never expected him to be like this.
Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face.
Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work, like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back for months and months.
“He’s cute,” she really badly whispers, voice carrying because it always does. She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough. Zero tact, though. Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble. You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.
You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested.�� “Who?”
There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags. (God, what awful taste.) There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best. (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)
“Him.”
Yejin all but points at him, jerking her chin in his direction. You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place. Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on. When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.
You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes. He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW. Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him well to the point you wonder who his seamstress is.
But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect. It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.
“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?” He upspeaks. It’s stupidly adorable.
Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first. A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect. “What’s the item and the name it’s under?” You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.
“Oh, it’s under mine. Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”
You’re floored. This is Jeon Jungkook? This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot that’s wrapped around Barbie’s finger? You’ve got to be kidding.
You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face. It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers. “I’ll grab it! The Box bag in cloud, right?”
Jungkook can only nod dumbly. He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends. He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance. It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears. There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.
It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.
“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend? I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.” Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off. “She said she was leaving on Friday.” Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made. “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”
It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall. You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.
You do feel bad. Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this. For hurting this stranger. (At least he knew?)
“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.” Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality. He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip. He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet.
tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle
#goldenclosetnet#magicshopnet#ficswithluv#thebtswritersclub#networkbangtan#heartsforbts#bts#bts au#bts imagine#bts fic#bts oneshot#bts fluff#bts angst#bts jungkook#jeon jeongguk#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook au#jungkook imagine#jungkook fic#jungkook oneshot#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook scenario#teaser.zip#work.zip#jungkook.doc
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May we have a recap, please? :)
**spoilers for panic at the art show and home for the holidays**
OK people. I actually don’t have a ton of commentary on these two so I’m gonna try and keep it (relatively) short and sweet [Edit from Future Me: Failed Step 1].
Also, iirc, this is the week Dropout starts streaming new Fantasy High eps on Wednesdays which is very dope and I am very excited for. I probably won’t do full on recaps like I do for normal eps because, lbr, I don’t strictly have the time to be recapping these eps at all and it’s pure stubbornness that keeps me from making wiser time management decisions. But, rest assured, if I have an Opinion, you will hear it whether you want to or not.
Anyway, on with the show.
Last recap, I mentioned that this ep was giving me Aelwen house party vibes and now it reminds me of that ep in another way: Everyone rolled like TRASH almost the entire ep. It was so frustrating! They barely got any hits in until like halfway through the ep.
(Aw man, I just realized I’m gonna have to remember which spelling of Aelwen is correct again now that FH is coming back.)
I love how Murph is immediately like, “I need to make sure my wife doesn’t die during this fight avenging her fictional husband.”
Isabella also has Aelwen’s trick of poofing around the battlefield which is annoying as hell (ha) for the group.
Siobhan hilariously casts fear on Priya just to be spiteful. I thought she was doing it to help the evac process but no. It was a purely spiteful action. Bless.
When Kug turns into an ape he, of course, turns into *the* NY ape, King Kong.
“I roll a nat 20 on an epic shit.”
When Brennan was describing Kingston’s spectral New Yorker Guardians I was already thinking about that one part of Spiderman 2 (the OG Toby Mac version) and then he straight up said, “You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us,” and I lost it.
“Deny the stairs the pleasure of my feet.” Emily is a poet.
I want to know what makes a pigeon spicy more than anything.
The fact that Brennan killed Ox AGAIN and then immediately looked into the camera and let the audience know the dog was fine because he clearly Oracle stared into the future between eps and saw the entire internet sharpening their pitchforks was so funny.
About midway through the ep, Pete tries and fails to send Isabella back to hell and Isabella starts monologing about her plans and connection with Robert Moses (she stole the list from Santa and is/was gonna marry Moses apparently). I wonder if Brennan was like, “These players are for sure gonna murder her without getting any useful info out of her unless she goes full Bond Villain right now.”
And, proving my point, Emily immediately does 56 points of damage, royally f-ing Isabella up.
This is a really civilian heavy fight which feels weird in a way the FH fights never did. Like, these aren’t even civilians who live in an adventuring town in a fantasy world. These are just normal ass civilians in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Pete fails a wild magic roll after failing to teleport into the building and then gets a choice of getting really strong (which prob would have let him bust down the door) or to teleport in (which is what he does and exactly what he wanted). Very clutch when the dice rolls play into the story like that.
Kingston lightning bolts Isabella’s hair off which is just malicious but also totally called for.
On her next turn, Sophie gets hurt on purpose to get low enough to activate her ring, lets her hair burn for long enough to shorten it to a cute bob, insults Isabella, then knocks her tf out.
I love that Emily took one of her teeth (a seemingly crazy move) and when called out by Lou was like, “It’s a link to Robert Moses” (a completely reasonable answer). That’s the Axford one-two punch.
I didn’t mention it before but, Willie the golem is here, first immobile but then brought back by Misty. Post fight, he says he was somehow brought here by one of the evil factions of the city and says they’ll talk about it later. Also, Misty makes out with him (DON’T KINKSHAME HER).
With a high insight roll, Kingston is able to deduce that the group was ambushed (though not by Priya) and that their victory was a really important one for the fate of the city.
(Sidenote: The amount that Pete is Over Priya in this ep is so funny.)
Back at Wally’s (which is where Kug is now staying) Wally has gotten Kug a dog bed to sleep in and fancy charcuterie cheese because he and Ricky are the only pure-hearted people in NYC.
At the same time, Pete and Kingston have a very sweet heart to heart and then settle down at Kingston’s place to chill and listen to jazz. Idk how else we expected this to resolve, considering this is a Brennan Lee Mulligan DM’d show where the sacred pillars are Teamwork, Friendship, Communication, and Making up an NPC on the Fly Because One of Your PC’s Decided to do an Insane Thing.
Next up is the Christmas ep and Brennan, Emily, and Zac are in sweaters for the occasion.
Well,actually it’s the 21st and Emily immediately clocks that that’s the solstice.
Are cookies the good carb?/Absolutely not. But have fun with your life. (I love Ricky’s soft jock energy.)
“I run deliveries,” Pete says to Kingston’s parents, not technically lying but also not being completely truthful. Misty would be proud.
Going over to Misty, it seems pretty clear at this point (and it’s confirmed in the promo for next ep) that Misty’s fairy business is some kind of de-aging/reincarnation for herself. I wonder how many of these she’s done so far. She said she’s been around for, what? 200, 300 years? Assuming she’s been doing then reincarnations at about 65-70 years old and she reincarnates to around 25? Maybe 6 times? Idk. Just spitballing.
Saucer of milk to keep the faeries from stealing her (non-existing) children. Faerie lore is wild y'all.
Did you take another level of warlock?/Yeah bitch.
The fact that since Sophie has joined a monastery, she’s only taken Warlock levels and no Monk levels is very funny from a story perspective. It’s like, she finally comes to this sacred place to be trained to her full potential and she’s just spending what should be her sparring time playing with her cat in exchange for spells. Wild.
Emily’s cat-like, self-satisfied grin when Brennan is like, “So you just jerry-rigged yourself clairvoyance powers, huh?” is so good.
And she did it on the fly because Emily Axford is winning D&D. There are no points but she’s winning.
So, uh, Emily does, two things, very in character right after the other:
Thing number one: She send her unseen servant to spy on her family. Her dad seems hardline, “F, Dale. Whatever. Family first. She needs to get over it.” On the other side of the spectrum is her mom who is very upset about the whole affair with her siblings falling in the middle.
The second thing she does, very casually I might add, is have her unseen servant BURN DOWN HER HOUSE SO SHE CAN COMMIT INSURANCE FRAUD.
EMILY
Everyone loses their minds and rightfully so. What a wild-ass swing that no one could have seen coming. I love it.
“I look in my backpack which is now my home[…]"
I almost forgot that Ricky was a fire fighter who would not abide that nonsense until Brennan decided to cut to him.
Ricky just dolphin swims across the Hudson in 2.5 mins to go put out the fire that Sophie set. Amazing.
Ally mocking Emily/Sophie: Truthfully, I don’t know what happened.
"I love John McClane, because he loves his wife.” WALLY
Wally: Oh we’re gonna tell a lie on Christmas.
“This is what winning looks like.”
I would really like to know what trace stuff what on the drugs Pete got from 7 but Ally rolled too low to figure it out.
“I disassociate fully."
Well it took him a long ass time but glad to have Pete on the selling drugs to kids is bad train. Choo-choo, dude.
7 saying you can hack in real life in reference to his AK-47 has the same energy as Hardison using the word hack in literally any semi-weird episode of Leverage.
SOCIAL MEDIA IS VOLUNTARY PANOPTICON
So Kug goes with Wally to David’s house disguised as a dog and, despite that, blurts out that he’s his dad immediately. Well, he tries to. The Umbral Arcana stops him, unfortunately.
"I lick my son’s face.” KUUUUG.
Sophie showing up with a raw goose and hellish rebuking it is so metal and it’s a shame no one got to appreciate it.
Me when Sophie’s Mom changes into black top in solidarity for Sophie’s mourning: F EVERY OTHER NON-SOPHIE BICICLETA. I RESPECT YOU.
Kingston is hustling very hard to get his man Pete a job which is a very Kingston move. That’s how guys like that show affection.
Didn’t mention it before but Kingston’s parents and Mom specifically adopting Pete is very cute.
Sidenote: Idk what 7 was talking about Pete trying to stay low profile. He wears a cowboy hat (now a ZEBRA STRIPED one, courtesy of Kingston). I think the subtlety train has sailed my guy.
Esther shows up at the firehouse, carrying presents for her mom and grandma and looking for Ricky. The says that she’s kinda dealing with something and it feels good to be around him (beat) magically speaking. Sure. I’m gonna keep my Hercules soundtrack on hand just in case anyway.
I think Ricky is the only person who, with no pretense, could give his crush a sexy calendar featuring him.
Anyway, turns out Esther’s mom and grandma are the furies of Tompkins Square and she’s fated to join them or something.
Esther causally: I defy you, I defy the prophecy.
The fury thing would explain why Esther’s mom would have cursed Kug. They are famously magical punishers.
Ricky is a magically certified Good Boy but we been knew.
Zac’s restraint to respect Esther’s personal boundaries in lieu of getting a lore drop to stay true to Ricky’s character is amazing. Mad props.
So we slide over to Misty’s Christmas party which Stephen Sondhein is attending and him having a character card kinda killed me.
There’s a post on tumblr somewhere about playing faerie incapability for impoliteness against a vampires need to be invited in and that’s what I thought about when Moses and his vamp friends showed up at Misty’s house.
Robert tries to talk Misty into striking a deal with him for protection from Titania. She’s very much not having it.
“You know Robert, I love a comedy and I love a farce. I’d like to remind you of who it is that started this and it’s not me and it’s not my friends but I can assure you Robert Moses that we will be the ones to end it if you do not. Do you understand me?” Damn. That’s a mic drop from Misty.
[As I’m editing this, I’m realizing I somehow lost a BIG chunk of text. I’m not gonna write it all up again but the Cliffnotes are as follows:
Between the Solstice and Christmas, the gang goes Grand Central Station to see the clockwork gnomes that live there because trouble is apparently afoot. Some size changing nonsense happens and Pete shoots a dog (with mini bullets, the dog is fine). Lou is enchanted even though Kingston is not (a common theme with him). Ally and Emily are on the same nonsense wavelength (as usual).
There are dope magical dragon trains under Grand Central Station that go to the shadow realm which is a place I’d like to know about. Kingston has never seen these trains before even though you’d really think he would have.
Murph says Gnome Rights which is wild if you know what Naddpod is like.
Anyway, the high priestess of the gnomes passed out the other day and they figure out it was due to pixie magic which is suspicious. They also know they pixies have access to a “time stone” which leads me to believe that it’s Brennan and not Aguefort who thinks that Chronomancy is the most powerful magic of all.
Sophie and Jackson go to Dale’s grave on Christmas. Jackson explains that the Order of the Concrete Fist is basically a literal school of hard knocks. A counterbalance to all the reach for the stars dreaminess that comes with NYC.
Dale was their chosen one who was supposed to stop the monastery from falling when some unspecified badness crossed over to this side, but when he went to the place where he was supposed to get guidance, there was no one there (clearly tying in to what Dale said to Sophie last time they talked. I wonder what she needs to get to the top of? Empire State maybe?).
Watching Murph watching Emily, his real life spouse, play at grief for her fictional husband and do some truly insane things is so funny because you can clearly see him thinking, “I am married to this woman,” which, in fairness, is probably the main thing he’s thinking when he’s playing D&D with Emily.
I’m probably missing something but that’s all I remember. Back to post-Christmas!]
So it’s opening night at Misty’s show and, somehow, Ricky’s first show ever.
I love that Don Confetti is there because of Siobhan’s offhanded comment for a handful of eps ago about him being a supporter of the arts.
Anyway, everything is going great until the second act when Titania busts in through the mirror which is *not* is storage as Misty requested but on stage. It’s a theater fight, y'all! And not the West Side Story kind although if that doesn’t come up I will be very surprised.
“Let’s kill Titania!” –Misty in the promo
Just going straight to 11, huh Misty?
See y'all then!
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All V Poems
William Blake, A Dream
Once a dream did weave a shade
O'er my angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.
Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangle spray,
All heart-broke, I heard her say:
'Oh my children! do they cry,
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see,
Now return and weep for me.'
Pitying, I dropped a tear:
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied, 'What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?
'I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle's hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home!'
William Blake, Proverbs of Hell
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead.
The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.
Prudence is a rich ugly old maid courted by Incapacity.
He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence. The cut worm forgives the plow.
Dip him in the river who loves water. A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.
He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.
Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
The busy bee has no time for sorrow.
The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure.
All wholsom food is caught without a net or a trap.
Bring out number weight & measure in a year of dearth.
No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.
A dead body, revenges not injuries.
The most sublime act is to set another before you.
If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.
Folly is the cloke of knavery. Shame is Prides cloke.
Prisons are built with stones of Law, Brothels with bricks of Religion.
The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.
The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.
The nakedness of woman is the work of God.
Excess of sorrow laughs.
Excess of joy weeps.
The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man.
The fox condemns the trap, not himself.
Joys impregnate.
Sorrows bring forth.
Let man wear the fell of the lion, woman the fleece of the sheep.
The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.
The selfish smiling fool, & the sullen frowning fool, shall be both thought wise, that they may be a rod.
What is now proved was once, only imagin’d.
The rat, the mouse, the fox, the rabbit: watch the roots; the lion, the tyger, the horse, the elephant, watch the fruits.
The cistern contains; the fountain overflows.
One thought, fills immensity.
Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you.
Every thing possible to be believ’d is an image of truth.
The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow.
The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion.
Think in the morning.
Act in the noon.
Eat in the evening.
Sleep in the night.
He who has suffer’d you to impose on him knows you.
As the plow follows words, so God rewards prayers.
The tygers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.
Expect poison from the standing water.
You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.
Listen to the fools reproach! it is a kingly title!
The eyes of fire, the nostrils of air, the mouth of water, the beard of earth.
The weak in courage is strong in cunning.
The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey.
The thankful reciever bears a plentiful harvest.
If others had not been foolish, we should be so.
The soul of sweet delight, can never be defil’d.
When thou seest an Eagle, thou seest a portion of Genius, lift up thy head!
As the catterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.
To create a little flower is the labour of ages.
Damn, braces: Bless relaxes.
The best wine is the oldest, the best water the newest.
Prayers plow not! Praises reap not!
Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!
The head Sublime, the heart Pathos, the genitals Beauty, the hands & feet Proportion.
As the air to a bird of the sea to a fish, so is contempt to the contemptible.
The crow wish’d every thing was black, the owl, that every thing was white.
Exuberance is Beauty.
If the lion was advised by the fox, he would be cunning.
Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.
Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires.
Where man is not nature is barren.
Truth can never be told so as to be understood, and not be believ’d.
Enough! or Too much!
William Black, Earth’s Answer
Earth rais'd up her head,
From the darkness dread & drear.
Her light fled:
Stony dread!
And her locks cover'd with grey despair.
Prison'd on watry shore
Starry Jealousy does keep my den
Cold and hoar
Weeping o'er
I hear the Father of the ancient men
Selfish father of men
Cruel, jealous, selfish fear
Can delight
Chain'd in night
The virgins of youth and morning bear.
Does spring hide its joy
When buds and blossoms grow?
Does the sower?
Sow by night?
Or the plowman in darkness plow?
Break this heavy chain,
That does freeze my bones around
Selfish! vain!
Eternal bane!
That free Love with bondage bound.
William Blake, Love and Harmony Combine
LOVE and harmony combine
And around our souls entwine,
While thy branches mix with mine
And our roots together join.
Joys upon our branches sit,
Chirping loud and singing sweet;
Like gentle streams beneath our feet,
Innocence and virtue meet.
Thou the golden fruit dost bear,
I am clad in flowers fair;
Thy sweet boughs perfume the air,
And the turtle buildeth there.
There she sits and feeds her young;
Sweet I hear her mournful song;
And thy lovely leaves among,
There is Love: I hear his tongue.
There his charmed nest he doth lay,
There he sleeps the night away,
There he sports along the day,
And doth among our branches play.
William Blake, Songs of Innocence, “Infant Joy”
I have no name
I am but two days old.—
What shall I call thee?
I happy am
Joy is my name,—
Sweet joy befall thee!
Pretty joy!
Sweet joy but two days old,
Sweet joy I call thee;
Thou dost smile.
I sing the while
Sweet joy befall thee.
William Blake, Poetical Sketches
Oft when the summer sleeps among the trees,
Whispering faint murmurs to the scanty breeze,
I walk the village round; if at her side
A youth doth walk in stolen joy and pride,
I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe,
That made my love so high and me so low.
O should she e'er prove false, his limbs I'd tear
And throw all pity on the burning air;
I'd curse bright fortune for my mixed lot,
And then I'd die in peace, and be forgot.
TO THE MUSES.
WHETHER on Ida's shady brow
Or in the chambers of the East,
The chambers of the Sun, that now
From ancient melody have ceased;
Whether in heaven ye wander fair
Or the green corners of the earth,
Or the blue regions of the air,
Where the melodious winds have birth;
Whether on crystal rocks ye rove,
Beneath the bosom of the sea
Wandering in many a coral grove,
Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry!
William Blake, Auguries of Innocence
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing
A Cherubim does cease to sing
The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul
The wild deer, wandring here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care
The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity
He who torments the Chafers Sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envys Foot
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent
It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine
The Babe is more than swadling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity
This is caught by Females bright
And returnd to its own delight
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mockd in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
Nought can Deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
Theyd immediately Go out
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate
The Harlots cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
Dance before dead Englands Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day
#v#dmc5 v#devil may cry 5 v#v devil may cry 5#devil may cry 5#devil may cry#v devil may cry#poems#poetry#william blake#william blake poems#dmc fandom
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Three Sunrises
Commission made by the wonderfully supportive @dizzy-tx.
The Pitch: Clumsy blushy MC+ blushy awkward Hadrian combo. Featuring Aura, the perky sweetheart with a fondness for animals, and Hadrian.
Fluff so sweet it will rot your teeth.
2.8k words
Hadrian was sure he would die any moment now.
It had seemed like such a good idea at first. They had three days before the ship was to leave arbor. Three days in this remote outpost, with barely enough size to be called a village, in a tiny island right in the middle of the Mediterranean sea.
Three full days Hadrian would get to spend with you. And even if just walking through the peaceful Greek gardens alongside you, or sit by a rock near the cliffs, in quiet company. Even if all you both did was listen for the twentieth time to that old bent woman go on a maddened rant about pigeons, and Hadrian would be blessed to hear your snorting laughter once again and witness your reddening cheeks, and...
Even if doing any of these again was enough to bring a nervous flutter to his chest, and a hopeful pressure on his stomach, and slip his lips wide in the kind of smile Alessa always deemed foolish, he had gone and suggested you two sparred in the mornings.
And now here you stand, long wavy blond hair tied high in your head, exposing the fair, elegant lines of your throat. Wearing a sleeveless shirt much too thin for his sanity, and light leggings and small feet bare. Looking up at him with bright green eyes and a grin on your red, full lips, and Hadrian just now realizes his mistake.
Much too late.
Oh Lord thou in Heaven.
"I'm sorry, I'm late, I had to brush Billy's mane. It was full of twigs and leaves. I have no idea where he ran off to, but well..." you sigh lightly, your grin morphing to a tender smile like it always does whenever you mention your horse. It's something Hadrian is fond about you.
Your devotion to that stubborn animal. "Well, you know how he is," you laugh and walk closer. His own green eyes, deeper than yours, darker, are instantly drawn to your neck. A few golden locks had come apart from the leather tie and clang to your skin.
Gold in the morning sun. Radiant. He ignored the tingle in his fingers that long to tuck them into place.
Oh, this has been a very, very bad idea.
"But here I am, ready for anything you deem to-" your feet get tangled in one another, and next thing Hadrian knows, he's diving forth to catch your smaller body within the safety of his arms. Your head hits his chest, nose clashing in what can only be painfully against his collarbone, and his hands grab hold of your upper arms to steady your wavering legs.
"Aura!" he calls, staring worriedly down at you. Your forehead is red, and you're blinking away the instant tears that have risen to your eyes. You bring a hand to your nose, and his brow lowers.
You are amazing with your daggers. Fast and precise. Deadly when needed be. But somehow, you managed to simultaneously be the most clumsy person he has ever met. Hadrian has watched you trip, stumble, stagger and clash far too many times to count.
It made his heart leap every time. It kept him up at night. He knows all it takes is one wrong move, one wrong turn. And you could be taken away from him, just like so many others.
It made him never want to leave your side.
"I- thank you," you say, your eyes suddenly too big, and Hadrian's hands fly away from your touch when he spots a red hue tinging your cheekbones. By God, but are you beautiful.
He swallows. "Of course," he says, bobbing his head up and down, feeling like the biggest fool in the world. What is he supposed to do with his hands? Hadrian clutches his cross, its holy shape grounding. Good Lord, he could feel his ears warming.
You were staring down at your feet, lightly biting your lower lip. His eyes can't help but trace the movement. He gulps, and suddenly, the air is much too warm.
A silence falls between you. Something that seems to be happening with more and more frequency. These charged silences, stretching and long. Awkward and clumsy and inexperienced. And so terribly exciting.
At last, Hadrian coughs, and your eyes fly up, back to his own. He flushes harder but strengths his resolve. "Well, uh. Let's start, maybe?" he asks you, unsheathing his sword, pushing all stray thoughts away.
They would seize this three days to hopefully work on improving your balance. And he would focus on what mattered: Increasing your odds of survival.
You nod back, face settling into a hard line. Focused. Hadrian did [not] think of how adorable it made you look. You spin your daggers between clever fingers and bounce on your toes. "I'm ready," you say, and leap towards him, and this time, your step stays true.
Chest heaving, brow drenched in sweat, and shirt clinging uncomfortably to his back. His arms are tired from holding his greatsword, but a wide smile brightens his face. Hadrian lifts a hand when the sun is almost at its peak and straightens up. "I think that's enough for today," he says, and laughs from deep in his belly when you deflate so suddenly, you almost fall to the ground.
"Oh, good," you say, breathing erratically, skin red from exercise, but your smile is as wide as his. "Any minute now, and I would have fainted. And then you, Hadrian, would have to be forced to call for help and I'd thus soiled the good Company's name in this tiny, little island."
He laughs again, eyes crinkling at the corners, as the both of you begin to walk side by side towards the old lodge you're staying in. Eager for a bath. "Oh no, I'd tell them you collapsed protecting the coast from scary pirates," he teases back and takes delight in how your eyes shine at him. "They'd be forced to treat you as a hero instead."
You smile, shaking your head, and his heart leaps at the sigh. Hadrian loves your smile. He wishes he could always make you smile. "That would just inflate my remarkably overblown ego."
Your feet pause by the stairs that lead to your room, slim hand on top of the balustrade. Hadrian turns serious. "Aura, you were great today," he says in a low tone, pride blooming in his chest. "Same time tomorrow?"
Your green eyes freeze on his face for a moment, but before Hadrian can question it, you're breaking eye contact and staring down at your feet instead. That same pretty red on your lovely cheeks. His neck heats. You bite your lip, Hadrian's knees falter.
"I-" you hesitate and then peak up at him from beneath your lashes, and he's honestly surprised his heart doesn't just tear open a hole in his chest with how fast it's beating. "I would like that, Hadrian," you say in a low voice, tone shy.
He will never tire to hear his name on your lips. "Right," he nods. Scratches the back of his neck. You smile at him, tentatively, and he takes one stumbling step back. "Right. Tomorrow, then. I, uh. Goodbye."
And then, he's turning away. Walking as fast as he can, cursing his dumb, foolish tongue and his awkwardness and thinking only of your shy, gentle smile.
Oh Lord. But I will not survive this.
(...)
Here is morning one! Two more to go 👀 The full commission is available on Ko-fi for one-time supporters (this includes those who have requested a commission or donated!) or monthly subscribers!
The Commission
This one was honestly a blast to write. My pen was just flying over the paper. I hope you like it, Dizzy! 🖤
Do you want to request a commission yourself? Or are just feeling generous? Here is the link to the Ko-fi (◠‿◠✿)
#ohh boy I went over the wordcount again lmaoo#cannot help myself#really hope you like it dizzy#once again you gave me pretty much all the freedom to write what I want and it can be so scary not to know what you LIKE#ko-fi commissions#commissions#Hadrian#The Golden Rose
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