#also hopefully this goes without saying but absolutely no shade to the people who do think sweet requited tg is a real canon possibility

[tomwambsmilk]

This might be my most Controversial post and if you're someone who's genuinely rooting for tom and greg to have their happily ever after in canon then you might not want to read past this point. Just to be perfectly clear I do love tomgreg in both their canon and fanon forms and absolutely no shade to the unironic requited tomgreg truthers, you're the backbone of this fandom and I love your work etc. But. I'm still skeptical of an actual romantic relationship going canon and even more cynical about it actually ending well so, uh. Dead Dove Do Not Eat and all that

I think that Tom being unable to make a really definitive bold choice is intimately related to why I think canonical tomgreg would end in acrimonious divorce (at least with how the characters are at the end of season 3… obviously character development is real and could hypothetically shift the equation). Tom is the literal human embodiment of that fable about the kid who reaches into the cookie jar and gets a huge handful of cookies but then his hand get stuck and he can’t pull it out and he starts crying until someone explains to him that if he lets go all but one he’ll be able to get it out. Except he’s never realized that last part and he’s so afraid of ending up with no cookies at all that he can’t let them go and instead crushes them into dust and tries to eat the crumbs and goes “this is what I wanted actually. This is fine. This is what normal well-adjusted people do and I am Happy.”

It’s deeply rooted in fear and that’s because Tom’s other fatal flaw is being a little bit of a coward. I say this with utmost affection but he’s always hedging his bets and trying to make the safest choice. This is not always a bad thing, but sometimes you do have to make the bold choice just to learn things about yourself. (Or simply because it's the Morally Right Thing To Do but uh. We don't need to get into that right now re: Tom). You have to make a choice and sacrifice something in the process and that’s how you learn what will make you happy and what won’t. Except Tom is so afraid of being unhappy and making the wrong choice that he can never let himself do that, and that’s why he doesn’t really know who he is and what he wants and instead lets himself be defined by societal images of wealth and privilege. He likes expensive things because that’s what he’s supposed to like. He wants to be CEO because that’s what he’s supposed to want. I think if he actually became CEO he would be miserable, in part because of what he’d need to sacrifice to get there but also because being CEO means being bold and taking risks and I think that’s actually his own personal version of hell.

That’s part of why I’m skeptical of tomgreg going canon because I think leaving Shiv for Greg would be an incredibly bold move and I don’t think Tom’s capable of that. Maybe if his marriage fell apart Tom would go for Greg, but then I think he’d very quickly find himself in a “grass is greener” situation. I don’t think he would really actively choose Greg, internally, so much as stumble into that relationship because Greg is there and Greg is the person he’s closest to, and eventually this would eat away at him. That’s NOT to say Tom wouldn’t have very genuine feelings for Greg, but I think stumbling right from his failed marriage into a relationship with Greg would set the whole thing up to crumble and collapse, especially once the weight of Tom’s emotional baggage sets in. There’s going to be a part of him asking himself “do I really love Greg or was he just convenient,” and rather than making the decision to really commit to Greg and see if the relationship can work he’ll start developing an emotional affair with someone else without even realizing what he's doing, because the problem with really making the decision to try and commit to Greg wholeheartedly is what if it ends up being Shiv all over again? What if he decides to be vulnerable with Greg and open up to him and give Greg his emotional fidelity and Greg ends up letting him down?

And because he's incapable of having an emotionally honest conversation he just starts tallying everything Greg does in some mental T-chart of "he loves me/he loves me not". Meanwhile, I do think Greg would be largely taken in, at least initially, by the idea that Tom threw everything away for him and when he realizes that Tom's marriage to Shiv was going to crumble into dust on its own merits anyway he's going to start feeling like a consolation prize and start pulling away and that's going to make the whole situation worse. When the relationship finally breaks down it will be acrimonious because both of them are going to feel upset and betrayed and misled. And that doesn't even begin to factor in Tom's uglier possessive and abusive tendencies and the pressure that remaining at Waystar would put on the relationship and whatever unresolved issues Greg still has around his gay homewrecking dad. Theoretically, they could go to therapy and start working through this shit and improve as people and make it work but tbh I think that they're far more likely to cannibalize each other first and not in a romantic way.

I would love to see it though. I really would. It would be an absolute nightmare but it would be amazing television and I would eat that shit up. Jesse Armstrong are you listening to me. Jesse Armstrong answer my calls

[mikelogan]

Tagged by: @lesbianiconsteveharrington the true mvp

Fave color: blue, pretty much any shade. as a general rule, cool colors, not warm!

Currently reading: nothing, but I read Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica a couple days ago in three hours and it was pretty good!

Last song: currently listening to Lavender Haze (and Midnights 3AM version on repeat) by TSwizzle

Last series: The Patient on Hulu, easy 10/10. I’ve watched a shit load of TV in the last couple weeks so: The Devil in Ohio: 8/10, KinnPorsche: 9/10 (-1 because no KimChay reunion), The Watcher: 9/10, The Midnight Club: 6/10, and then all of Mike Flanagan’s other shows which are like 12/10s for me.

Last movie: The Shining. Watched it for the first time last night and I was pleasantly surprised at how much I liked it. It could have been like an hour shorter and I absolutely lost my shit laughing when they show Jack frozen bc meme, but I gave it 7/10 on IMDb

Currently working on: I have so many WIPs it’s disgusting, but here are just some of them:

1) My massive Ben x Perry fic that I’ll never shut up about. It starts in 1977 and goes from there and follows Ben and Perry’s lives if they met in college in CA when Perry’s a junior and Ben is a freshman. I usually go months without touching it despite thinking about it/them all the time, but just in the last couple weeks, I wrote about 8k words!

2) A second installment in what hopefully becomes a series for JDox daddy kink oops

3) A Ben x JD x Perry OT3 fic

4) A JDox fic with established JDox who’ve been having Problems and then JD gets hurt (wild idea, I know)

5) Another JDox fic with established JDox where JD gets hurt right before their wedding (yes i absolutely hate myself) 

6) literally a massive document with fic/oneshot ideas in various stages of planning from just an idea or quote to a nearly finished outline

Share 10 different favorite characters from ten different pieces of media in no particular order, then tag 10 people 🎥🎬📺:

1) Perry Cox, my beloved (Scrubs)

2) JD because he’s so flawed and fucked up but I see so much of myself in him and god I love that man (Scrubs)

3) Remus Lupin, absolute angel who has never done anything wrong (HP)

4) Elijah Mikaelson (The Vampire Diaries/The Originals) I will never get tired of him and his nobility also ELIJAH IS NOT A CUTLERY DRAWER

5) Ben Sullivan because actual golden retriever?? And like yes, my HCs that I treat as canon... aren’t canon, but I made him even better so deal with it (Scrubs)

6) Sirius Black because name a more tragic character i’ll go first (HP)

7) Carla Espinosa aka my wife but also momther. Carla gets like .5% of the recognition she deserves in the fandom and i literally love her so much (Scrubs)

8) Jordan “Godzilla” Sullivan bc her character is actually complex and she’s not just a heartless heart-eating demon, though she definitely sleeps upside down hanging from the ceiling wraaaaapped in a cocoon of her own wings (Scrubs)

9) Elena Gilbert bc I know she has her annoying moments, but at her core, she’s a girl who lost her entire family and did the best she could and who deserved so much better (The Vampire Diaries)

10) Can I just collectively say all the characters (not you, Bev Keane) from The Haunting of Hill House, The Haunting of Bly Manor, and Midnight Mass? Mike Flanagan, pay for my therapy

I tag: literally anyone bc I love doing these and seeing other people’s answers! so say I tagged you if you want to do it 😊

[yuzukult]

acquitted love || sjn & reader

title: acquitted love pairing: johnny suh x reader genre: fluff, angst, co-workers!au, lawyer!au, one-sided enemies to lovers word count: 8.7k warnings: some language/cursing, brief mentions of sex but there's no actual discussions or explicit conversations of the topic, but generally pg-13 prompt: you absolutely hate johnny suh. but when your boss pairs you two up together for one of the highest profile cases, you’re left working close with your enemy but he doesn’t seem to think that way of you. a/n: tada!! i wrote this for the @/ficscafe fic exchange event!! so @urlocalnctstan​ , hope you enjoy this !! i tried to write it according to what you put as your preferences, but honestly T_T it was so hard bc i was just not getting any ideas!! hopefully this is something you’d like :D enjoy !!

“God, isn’t he just… so attractive?”

Along with a click on your tongue, you feign a hit in Hyeri’s direction, whose reflexes have gotten so much faster in the past couple years of knowing you and it shows when she cowers underneath your arm. She gifts you that not-so-apologetic smile, full of mischievousness because she knows no matter how annoying she can be, you’ll still love her nonetheless.

“Why do you keep talking about Johnny? You know he’s banned as a topic of our conversations.”

Hyeri rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her white frilled blouse. You know that she doesn’t actually inhabit any romantic feelings for Johnny, but she has a problem of thinking without the usage of her brain when she sees a hot guy.

Not that you think Johnny is hot.

No.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t think he’s at least an ounce of smokin’ hot.” She’s unraveled her arms by now, poking your shoulder incessantly to grasp onto your attention as you're tapping on the buttons of the copier machine. “I bet if you asked him out, he’d say yes.”

You briefly glare at Hyeri. “You realize that he and I don’t get along, right? He keeps finding stupid loopholes in the system to win his cases. He thinks with his heart, not his head, and sometimes, with whatever that thing was in his pants.” And, not to mention that he walks out the court with that big grin stretched from cheek to cheek, giving the ‘good news’ to your well-respected boss (who you desperately seek the approval of but that’s a different story for another time). And every single time, she gives him that nod of appreciation, that ‘nod of approval’ if you will, when it should be given to you and not to some asshole who fucks his way to victory.

“But he’s so hot—”

You narrow your eyes at your friend, and with a stern voice, you call out, “Hyeri.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, though, he’s hella smart. He’s got a job here, and works under your boss. It’s Park, Kim & Associates—notice how Park is first, because she’s a fucking genius. She only picks the intelligent ones to work under her. Why do you think I’m still working for Mr. Kim?”

Park Seohyun and Kim Gonghyun—one of the biggest lawyers in the region, decided to join together to build their own law firm from the ground up. They were both highly respected in their field; Kim Gonghyun spent years of his life being mentored by one of the most famous judges, and as for Park Seohyun, she was, simply put, admirable because of the obstacles she has overcome to make her dreams of working in law to be real. Being a woman, young, and beautiful, she’s had her fair share of encounters with people who disregard her potential, that is until she met Gonghyun—who, admittingly is an old man who seems like he’d be traditional, sexist, even, but he proves to also make people realize how wrong they are with their impression of him.

But, as Mr. Kim is getting older, he’s gotten a bit… lazy.

In fact, he’s been slacking so much that he’s gotten a new rep in the office—if he was your direct supervisor, or your supervisor was under him, you were on the side of the office where all the easier, uncomplicated cases were assigned. Which meant that there was a slight possibility that your talents and skills weren’t as sharp and exceptional as you thought they were.

And well, Hyeri works directly underneath Mr. Kim.

Hyeri doesn’t want a heavy workload, despite the fact that there’s a plethora of files on her desk, stacked up one onto another as tall as her PC tower, and they were all open and closed cases—needless to say that she didn’t mind it.

“Okay, but you got offered a position under Seohyun. Do you really think you’re not wasting your potential?”

Hyeri scoffs. “Never. At least, not now. I’m still in my twenties, I’d like to enjoy my youth while I can, for your information.”

You quirk a brow. “And does any of that pertain fucking Johnny? The hot guy, so you claim?”

She immediately has her hand covering your mouth and you scowl. “Shhhhh, he works here!”

You bite the flesh of her hand and Hyeri instantly retracts. “You think I don’t know my archenemy works here? He sits directly across from my office—I get the best view of the guy and I’m not even one of his fangirls.”

“You’re not gonna be one of those girls who claim they’re different because they don’t like him but then end up falling for him anyway… are you?”

Your hand goes up and Hyeri crouches down.

“Stop it.”

“Seriously though! It’s the classic e2l love story,” she has her hands gesturing in front of her like she’s making an imaginary rainbow, “Two lawyers, constantly butting heads, accept each other’s differences and learn to love—“

“The fuck is an ‘e2l’?”

“Enemies to lovers.”

“Are you high? Stop spitting nonsense.” This time, you’re waving the stack of papers that finish printing in front of her face. “Meet me for lunch later. But if you keep talking about my archenemy and I falling in love, you can kiss a free meal goodbye.”

Hyeri gasps.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Maybe. Just maybe, Hyeri might be a tiny smidge right when she says Johnny is handsome. Just a bit though, because she can’t get credit for something like that.

He’s dyed his hair this shade of brunette that sort of reminds you of roasted chestnuts on a cold, winter day, sitting inside of a cooker outside of your childhood home, baking along with some sweet potatoes your mom had gotten from a farmer’s market nearby. Johnny has this focused gaze attached to the screen of his monitor; there’s a dip in the fronts of his brows, lips tightened into a straight line, and constant switching back and forth from the computer while taking notes down in a book that’s laid open in front of him.

You wonder what’s running through his mind, or well, you’re more interested in what files he has sprawled out on top of his desk.

Truthfully, if it hadn’t been obvious enough, you weren’t quite a fan of Johnny Suh and it’s mostly due to his work ethic. He’d been notorious for his reputation of sleeping around—especially with the opposing side—so it’s hard to convince yourself that he didn’t win the case because of his actual capabilities, but it’s because he pulled some strings.

And Johnny doesn’t put much effort into denying it either.

Albeit deep down, you were a teeny bit envious of his confidence. He struts around the courtroom with ease, and when he presents his position, there’s no staggering in his voice—it’s always crisp and clean, weighted with nothing but credence, and never straying from his initial perspective. It’s never a lack of poise, it’s consistently the look he goes for; from the hand gestures and the furrowed brows, to the rhetorical questions in the end of certain statements that has the speculators and jury sitting at the edge of their seat, Johnny had a talent for performing in the courtroom, but that doesn’t mean anything when the way he gets to the success isn’t ethical.

Just at that moment, his eyes lift from the screen and meet yours.

There isn’t any hesitation when you scramble to grab the remote controller, and the shades drop over the windows instantaneously.

“Fuck,” you mutter underneath your breath, tossing the remote onto your desk and shaking your hands after. What if he thought you were admiring him? Maybe he didn’t see. Yeah. It was for a brief second, and with how close your offices were to each other, it would be common to accidentally lock eyes… right?

Interrupting your thoughts, the office phone rings and it nearly startles the living soul out of you. But before you reach for it, your head tilts to the side curiously because the extension number is familiar—it’s Park Seohyun’s, your boss.

What could she be calling for?

You don’t remember fucking something up—but to be fair, half the times, you never really know if you’ve actually fucked up until someone with steaming ears and a crimson face comes storming in. So… did you do something good? Again, you don’t think that’s right either, because other people would’ve made comments about it.

Deciding to swallow your nerves, you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Seohyun never fails to be bubbly, and you could never mimic her energy. You definitely had to be born with that kind of enthusiasm. “I have a favor. Hop into my office.”

Leaned back in her leather swivel chair, she had her fingers laced with each other while resting over her stomach. Johnny stands beside you (and you do your best to not look directly at him, especially after that weird staring thing), and you both feel like kids being lectured by parents from how still you are. Her office is huge, probably the size of both yours and Johnny’s combined; with ceiling to floor windows, cases of books that line the perimeter, not to mention the humongous ass couch that practically covers the other half of the room, and her desk was so wide, you estimate about four monitors would fit on there with still additional space for work. That wasn’t even the best part—the view of the city looks almost like a generic lockscreen of a Windows computer, and you’re not even sure why she goes home at night when she basically has a penthouse here.

“As you know, I have a favor.”

“Right,” Johnny retorts, mostly as a filler in the awkward silence. “So… what’s the favor?”

She pulls a box from her purse; square, black and made from a leather material with a lock pad stitched into it, something you’ve never seen before, and she slides the passcode in, then it pops the lid open. A key (a… very small one) sits in the velvety cushion, with nothing else occupying the space with it, and it looks comical. She uses this to open the very top drawer of her desk, and as she pulls using the handle, there’s another box inside, but this time, metal instead of leather, but still black.

What the fuck?

It seems Johnny shares the same thoughts, because he sneaks a glance over at you.

“You see,” Seohyun begins, pressing on the digital keys of the box until there’s a beep at the end and the case hisses open. “There’s a lot of security for this. Which means you understand the importance of it.”

Then, she picks up four manila envelopes and lies on the surface of her wooden top desk. “I have a family emergency to attend to this upcoming week. I’m boarding a flight tonight. So I’m leaving the Hwang v. Yoon case to the two of you.”

“Fuck—”

“The what?”

You and Johnny are sputtering out of shock. The Hwang v. Yoon case is the biggest case that the firm is involved in currently, and the only people involved in it have been Seohyun and Gonghyun. It’s been on every social media platform you could think of; from Facebook to Twitter, TikTok to Instagram—there’s even this weird website for emo/grunge teens or strange kids that like writing fanfic called Tumblr, and whatever that is, it’s discussed on there too.

“What about Gonghyun?”

Seohyun scoffs, closing the drawer and dropping the key back into her special box. Where do you even get a box like that? “He can’t handle this alone. So I’m kicking him off until I come back. I thought about letting the two of you work with him, but his ego is so inflated, it’ll get in the way of our chances of winning. It’s easier if it was just me and him, but seeing that things at home aren’t well, I’m going to need you two to step up to the plate.”

The room goes quiet. The only sounds you hear are the muffled noises of a typical bustling office outside the thick walls of Seohyun’s office, and at first, excitement rushes through your blood because Seohyun thought of you taking over a special, high profile case.

Albeit, another realization gets soaked up, and it’s that Johnny also came to mind, and that because it’s such an important case, the two of you would be… working… many… hours… together.

Maybe you should back out of it—but then again, this is such a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Imagine winning this— it wouldn’t be good for just the law firm, it’d be good for you too. Your name, in articles on these big fancy news websites, perhaps even on new channels, talking about how you, this amazing lawyer, won the Hwang v. Yoon case.

But then you’re snapped back into reality when Johnny leans over to take the envelopes from Seohyun.

If your name is on those platforms, so is Johnny’s.

God, this guy just ruins everything, doesn’t he?

“We’ll take care of it, Seohyun. You can trust us,” he says assuringly, a smile tugging on each corner of his lips with that dazzling gaze. “We’ll be at our best.”

Kiss ass.

If you had the option, you wouldn’t be spending your Saturday night here at work, in one of those conference rooms with a long table in the middle, a big projector that displays on the wall, and a random black leather loveseat couch that lines the one corner in case there’s too many occupants.

Especially since the person who’s accompanying you is Johnny Suh.

There’s probably a lot of people who would kill to be in your position (Hyeri being one of them), but you dread it. Not to be that person, but what’s so special about him anyway? What? He’s tall, has some muscles, long luscious hair that he can slick back with that sultry stare—wait, what?

“Alright, moving on…” From what? You guys just started? It’d been clear with Seohyun that the mornings would be dedicated to other cases, but nights would be considered overtime and where you’d zoom in your focus on Ms. Hwang’s justice. “Let’s take a look at the facts here.”

Johnny slips off his blazer, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs as you’re seated in another, leaning back comfortably with an arm resting on the table. He loosens the first few buttons of his dress shirt before folding up the sleeves, and that’s when you notice a little thing in the inner crook of his elbow—is that a fucking sunflower? Is that what he uses to reel girls in? That he’s soft enough to have a pretty little flower etched onto his gentle, silky and supple—

“Okay,” he says, interjecting into your thoughts with a laser pointer in his hand. He taps on the space bar of his laptop that mirrors what’s on his screen, but then, that’s when you realize what’s on the slides.

There’s a collage of pictures, mostly street, casually walking themed ones, but the common factor was that they were of Yoon Changmin, the man you guys were up against. They were all paparazzi-like photos, which begs the question, how did he get pics like this, and why did he get them?

“What’s the point of this?” you ask, voice laced with nothing but suspicion.

“We gotta get into the mind of the enemy.” You wanna get into the mind of your enemy, too.

You gesture to the one image of Changmin with an arm around his girlfriend and a finger up his nose. “Seems like he’s trying to reach inside of his head instead of us. These are just everyday pictures, Johnny. What’s that going to do for us?”

“Well,” he begins, turning to look at the wall of ‘evidence’. “You see—wait, holy shit.”

Freezing in the midst of reaching for your coffee, your head jolts in the direction of your partner. “What? What is it?”

“Holy shit,” he exclaims, “Hoooooooooly shit. Why didn’t I see this before? This changes everything.”

Furrowing your brows, you’ve given up getting your drink and dropped your hands onto the table. “Tell me, what is it?”

“This is a game changer.”

“Johnny,” you call out sternly, and his eyes link with yours before he instantly points to a particular picture with his red laser pointer.

“Look at that.” There’s pride saturated in his words, but when you look at what he’s indicating, your body slouches in disappointment.

Why the hell was he directing your attention onto Changmin’s thighs? Surely, there’s no denying that they were attractive—you recall that his alibi was at the gym that very night of the crime.

“What? He’s guilty for showing off his toothpick legs?” They were lean, you never said they were muscular.

“No,” he retorts, slightly irritated by your response as he rolls his eyes. “Look at his pants.”

“Okay…”

“They’re jean shorts.”

There’s a pregnant pause, but the expression on your face is so loud it can’t be hidden.

Johnny continues, “That’s a fashion crime.” He says it as if it’s an obvious fact known by many. “Not to mention that it’s fucking raw hem. He should be arrested.”

Suddenly, your opinion of him thinking too much with his heart dissipates because it seems like he’s thinking out of his ass instead. Did he win those cases out of pity? How did this guy even pass the bar? How about law school? How the hell did he even get into law school?

“I don’t think—”

“Listen, alright, just hear me out,” he’s got the palms of his hands resting flat on the surface of the table, doing his best to gain your full undivided attention. “Only assholes wear jean shorts. They flaunt that shit around like they own the place, but they’re horrendous pieces of clothing that should not be on a male’s body. I don’t care what you say, what your opinion is, because that is a fact.”

Puffing your cheeks, you feel at a loss. If Johnny is who you had to get this done, it feels like you’re not going to be finding much evidence any time soon.

“Okay, if… if that’s how you want to play it, then show me the evidence—other than those 2012 cut off denim shorts.”

He reaches over to hit his space bar again, then with a wink and a slide change, he leans closer to you and says with that deep, honeyed voice, “Gladly.”

You hate admitting when you’re wrong.

Ironically, you concede and will confess when you actually are, but it doesn’t mean that you enjoy it. For example, when Hyeri claims that the intern Mark had a crush on you, you quickly waved her off, stating something along the lines of, “I’m too intimidating; there’s better chances of him being scared of me than ever finding me attractive.” And then a week later, you owed Hyeri free lunch at that hip ramen place downtown because Mark had approached your desk that very morning with a bouquet of red roses flowers for you, a cheeky grin glued to his face with pools of hearts in his eyes, and ready to ask you on a date because it was the day after his internship had ended. Naturally, it wasn’t fun rejecting that poor college boy.

But, you won’t say you find Johnny interesting or handsome. Or that there’s potential when it came to possibly (just barely the slightest smidge) that you’d ever consider asking Johnny out. He’s your enemy here, you’ve mentioned that a multitude of times, and you stand firm on that very declaration, despite the fact that sometimes when he gets too close, your breath gets caught in your throat and you feel like you can’t get whatever’s lodged in out.

Albeit it’s not the whole “you guys are gonna end up together” comment that Hyeri makes and resulting in you denying it afterwards, it’s that Johnny might… be a decent lawyer.

He’s not the best one you’ve seen; the stupid revelation he had on the first day working on the case about the jean shorts is evidence for it, but it’s the days following that were slowly changing your perspective on him.

When you said, “He thinks too much with his heart more than with his head,” it was 100% correct.

When meeting with potential witnesses, you recognized that Johnny empathizes with people often; when they cry and start panicking from being overwhelmed, he's quick on his feet to put an arm around them, share reassuring words, and have them back to normal in record’s time.

And, well… you? You’re the one making them cry in the first place.

You don’t want to fully take the blame for being the cause of their tears, but people need to hear what’s happening, and the very detail that they can’t even handle this information probably means they’re not worthwhile as a key witness.

Johnny, of course, thinks otherwise.

He believes that these people should have a voice (although you’ve alluded that they might be more useless than helpful), and putting them on the stand with Yoon Changmin there would change the view of the jury to supporting Hwang Naeri.

“Listen, if we get these people to sign the form, we’d get witnesses and it’ll help Naeri,” Johnny claims, frantically moving his arms annoyingly as he talks, trying his best to express the gravity of the situation, “and maybe, maybe, money wouldn’t be how Changmin wins, but how he loses. We can’t have another person with jean shorts walking on the streets of our city like this—they deserve to go to prison.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Why does this always revert back to the jean shorts?”

“It always has to do with jean shorts,” he snaps back matter-of-factly. “Any straight guy wearing jean shorts with that much goddamn confidence has done some wrong in their lives.”

“Right, but I’m pretty sure that the crimes he did are mainly the reason why he’s being prosecuted against.”

“Jean shorts are the windows to the soul.”

“I’m almost 100% sure that eyes are the windows to the soul, but whatever. If you genuinely believe that the women we met today would benefit our case, then… okay. Let’s bring them to the stand.”

On the contrary to you, Johnny doesn’t have a hard time convincing witnesses to testify. You see the way that he works; those kind eyes directed at the participants, the pools of chocolate were sweet, saturated in nothing but tenderness and warmth, then he does that weird thing where he reaches for their hands and cups them before the words that escapes from his lips are enough to swoon them to stand in front of a courtroom.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a method to his so-called madness.

Aggression and bluntness don’t work, it seems, because when you’re the one attempting to convince these people to go against the man that had done them wrong, they’re less willing to do it. Something about ‘moving on,’ and ‘not wanting to relive those memories again,’ but if it was you, you’d want justice. Then again, not everyone is like you, and not everyone thinks like you, and spending this abundance of time with Johnny is slowly getting you to ease into that perspective.

So… the initial impression you had of him may have been wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re developing some feelings for him, just as Hyeri predicted.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

His abrupt personal question is enough to have the coffee spill into your mouth to slide down the ‘wrong throat’ because you’re choking, hand on your chest as you’re tackling to regain your breath again and Johnny only stares in disbelief, blinking blankly. “Are… are you okay?”

You glare at him through a hooded gaze. “Well,” you clear your throat once more. “Now, I am.”

“Cool.” He nods, retracting his hand so he could rub your back soothingly, deciding it’s best to stay away. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Quirking a brow, your head tilts slightly in puzzlement. “Why are you asking this?”

Johnny shrugs. “Isn’t it weird that we’ve hung out with each other for a whole week—stayed here for nights and we both don’t know anything about each other?”

Tapping your fingers against the wooden top table, you sigh. Maybe he’s got a point; after all, “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,” right?

“No, I’m single.”

Johnny’s face suddenly brightens, ears perked, and his body straightens its posture in his seat at this revelation. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know that. You seemed busy in your personal life, so I, uh… was just wondering.” He looked anxious, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “I, um, I’m single too, by the way, in case you’re wondering.” You weren’t.

The plethora of cardboard and plastic boxes scattered across the table was a representation of the night. It’s been long, exhausting, and messy, mostly because it’s a Friday night, the hearing was on Monday, and the two of you were nowhere near close to having enough to present to the court. In fear of disappointing Seohyun, the two of you agreed to stay over the office for the weekend to cram work for the case. There’s no denying that the atmosphere is weirder on the weekends, especially since, well, no one really comes here on the weekends. Johnny had to use the bathroom earlier and ran into the cleaning lady and she nearly shit her pants because she didn’t think anyone was here, so she had music blasting in her headphones.

Johnny is… interesting. He makes you laugh—or well, want to laugh, but you don’t give him that sense of satisfaction—and he’s smart but in his own weird way. He’s not like the other lawyers you’ve met, or any of the law students you attended University with because he’s more lighthearted and free-spirited than the rest, taking life in strides instead of just overwhelming himself in the abundance of stress that work brings.

He’s entirely the opposite of you.

And maybe you could learn something from the guy, but there’s something in you that brews hatred toward him. Possibility that you resent how easy he makes being a lawyer seem when you’re struggling in your day-to-day life to make things work.

But it’s way too fucking hard when he’s just… like that.

Despite all of that, he’s very generous and kind toward you. On rough days, he delivers your coffee order, the one you always get because he remembers what you asked the intern to get for you the last time, and he’s good at identifying when you’re just having that kind of day. You eventually learn he has a photographic memory (fucking show off), so when he saw that crumpled napkin with scribbles of what you want in that dumb intern’s hand, it wasn’t hard to remember. Which, by the way, is how he’s able to get into the most prestigious school for undergrad, manage to pass the bar so easily, and get into law school effortlessly.

And knowing this information sort of angers you more.

You know this isn’t his fault—he’s been blessed with a trait that people desire, one that you also yearn for, but the lucky ones get handed a lot of things in life. You wonder if he’s the type of guy who wins girls easily after matching with them on dating sites because of this stupid ass ‘photographic memory.’ Does he sleep with them right after? Does it ever get serious?

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. You shouldn’t even let these strange thoughts haunt you, especially when you don’t even like him.

He’s a spoiled brat who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.

So you’re left counting the remaining days until the trial so you don’t ever have to work with Johnny Suh this closely again.

Okay, well, it’s evident that bad luck is glued to your side because after you win the Hwang v. Yoon case for your law firm with that asshole, Seohyun is so impressed. So goddamn impressed that she insists that all the high profile cases are to be given to both you and Johnny.

To work as a team.

Together.

Jesus, this is Hell for you.

Surely, the promotion and raise that came along with it was definitely a plus, but it has you wondering if it’s even worth it. He’s been your unspoken enemy since the first day, and although you think you’re pretty forthright about your hatred for this guy, he can’t seem to read social cues.

When you’re pushing the double doors into the conference room the two of you often spend working on cases in, you expect Johnny to be ready for another day. But strangely enough, Johnny doesn’t have his laptop out or any of the notebooks sprawled across the table.

“Um,” you slide the strap of your bag off your shoulder and onto the spare chair. “Did you come late or something?”

He takes in a deep breath like he’s been holding back something. “We need to talk.”

There’s worry inscribed into his features; from the crease in between his brows, to his pursed lips, and eyes soaked in concern, almost like he’s got bad news to share and it has your stomach in knots. Was it that the case was thrown out? It couldn’t be, right? You both worked hard, presented your stance to the point that the jury and the judge were in awe with your findings. Sure, you had to cover Johnny’s mouth right before he was about to go off in a tangent about jean shorts, but overall, it was a good win, a hard one to go back on and pull out the wrongs of it. So what was it?

“I’m quitting our partnership.”

You blink. “What?”

He gestures to the room with his hands as if there’s anything out to reference. “This thing. Our work. The big profile cases. The famous stuff. I told Seohyun that I won’t be doing it anymore and she can revoke the promotion and the raise.”

You’re still not catching on. “… Why?” Was it something you did? Yeah, you weren’t a big fan of Johnny either, but were you so bad that he decided to not go through with the raise because of you?

“Because,” he pushes his blazer back, hands sliding into the front pockets of his navy blue trousers. “There’s a policy put into place. Those who are on the same cases cannot have any personal relations with each other that extend past friendships.”

“We’re not even friends?” With confusion written across your face, your head tilts to the side. “I’m not… I’m not catching on here.”

“I like you.”

Startled, the words you want to say are stolen out of your mouth. You’re left with a mixture of perturbation and bewilderment, uncertain where to go from there because Johnny asked for the removal of both a promotion and additional money that could be so good for his career… and it’s all because he has a crush on you?

“You quit the best thing that could’ve happened to you because you like me?”

“Yeah,” Johnny states calmly, sucking in his cheeks for a brief moment. “Ain’t that romantic?”

You scoff. “No. Absolutely not. You’re insane! Why would you do yourself dirty like that? Use your head, Johnny, you’re constantly thinking with that stupid heart of yours, and hate to break it to you, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Combing your hair with your fingers, you let out a sigh. “Go ask Seohyun for the position back. Say you made a mistake and—”

“I’m not asking her for the position back.”

Johnny doesn’t make any sense to you. “What? Why wouldn’t you do that?

“Because,” he laughs in disbelief, not because he thinks you’re funny. “I’m not going to force myself to work with a girl that I keep falling for. That’s self-inflicting, you realize that, right? You’re amazing, but you can seriously be so dense sometimes.”

“I’m dense? You just told one of the best law firms in the city that you don’t want to work on the important cases anymore because you have a stupid crush on your partner!”

“If we were on a team with more people, maybe it’d be different. But it’s just us two. You think I won’t fall any harder? That’s not easy. Every time I see you working, I swear I could be hopelessly in love with you one day.”

Your heart stops for a second.

This is Johnny Suh you were talking about here. One of the claimed best lawyers in your office, one of the most intelligent people that Hyeri has ever met, and Seohyun evidently backs this up because she’s given him so much recognition for his work. He’s the guy who worked with you to win the Hwang v. Yoon case, he’s the one who brought up the stupid jean shorts that seemed so far-fetched at the time, but they were a crucial detail everyone missed—it so happened that when Changmin bought those dumb shorts, there was evidence of at least one of his crimes in that store from the security cameras.

Any cis-gendered male who wears jean shorts can’t be trusted, according to Johnny.

And candidly speaking? You couldn’t even deny that. Your past two ex-boyfriends both wore jean shorts and the one cheated on you and the other one was caught money laundering.

“Listen,” he begins, interrupting your foggy thoughts. “I’m not asking you to tell me you like me back. I’m telling you because you should know, and that I can’t go on any further without letting you know. I’ll, uh, be in my office. Seohyun said she’d find a replacement for me.”

Hyeri is his replacement.

She’s great company and does a good job of helping you with whatever you need, but that was just it. Hyeri followed you, she never led with you, just as Johnny does. Agreeing with everything you say, mindlessly trailing behind everything you do—Hyeri was smart, but she couldn’t figure out how to think for herself when it came to these bigger cases because she’s never been given such a responsibility. But you couldn’t even blame her because it’s what she was told to do under Gonghyun.

“You said that you think Maeri snatched the bracelet?”

“No, I said if you watched the security video that the jewelry store submitted, it clearly shows that Maeri snatched the bracelet. Not that I ‘think.’ The proof is right there, Hyeri.”

She nods, resuming back to her work on the computer. Truthfully, Hyeri felt more like an assistant than a co-worker, someone to bounce ideas off of and to see from a different perspective. And as much as you hated Johnny, he had decent points. He had ways of making you put yourself into the shoes of people you never thought you were; although the guy was obnoxious, at least he actually was… good at his job.

Deciding you can’t take it anymore when Hyeri asks for the tenth time that hour about your beliefs rather than her own, you abruptly stand from your seat.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” you reply shortly. “I’ll be back.”

It was just a spontaneous thought. It’s after hours, and although there are some people who stay behind to get some work done, you had your doubts that Johnny would still be here. He seems to have a better grip on that work/life balance thing people talked about (unlike yourself), but it didn’t hurt to check his office, right?

It’s a good thing you went with it. Because right across from yours, there’s Johnny.

There’s one single lamp that shines over the tabletop of his desk, and the other sources of light in his office are from his computer screen and the ones from the city skyline from behind him. It has him seemingly angelic like this, so serene, calm, and collected, only focused on what’s laid out in front of him. The sun has gone down, people have gone home, but Johnny remains, hardworking as always, despite your previous observations that he’s a lazy, unprofessional guy who gets everything handed down to him.

With a knock on his glass door, he flinches, head raising up and eyes meeting yours.

Were his eyes always this sparkly?

Opening the door, Johnny drops the pen in his hand and crosses his arms before leaning back in his seat. “What’s up?”

“You’re here late,” you state the obvious, and Johnny only nods in return, without a rebuttal in sight. “You aren’t normally here late. At least, before the Hwang v. Yoon case.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But Seohyun dropped something on my desk this morning. Wanted to work on it. What brings you here?”

Inhaling in a deep breath of courage, your hands bundle up into a fist by your side. “Please come back.”

Johnny raises a brow. “What?”

“Come back,” you reiterate, this time, it’s less tense and releases with ease. Caving in isn’t usually this effortless to you, but something about Johnny makes you feel… comfortable enough.“Come back and work with me again. Yes, I’m not supportive of how you do things—”

“Then let’s go out on a date.”

You freeze. Legs rooted into the floors of Johnny’s office, you’re left immobile and diffident on how to react next. It wasn’t what you were expecting, although you weren’t quite sure what you were hoping to anticipate, but it most definitely was not this.

“I—”

“I said my terms,” he retorts, shutting the book in front of him before shuffling up from his seat. He’s leaving, you realize, and Johnny’s ready to head home for the night and you’re not sure if you could handle an entire weekend with Hyeri here. “And, I meant what I said. One date, and if it really doesn’t work out, I’ll stay on the case.”

Chewing on your bottom lip anxiously, the next words that come out are out of character for you. “And… what if it does?”

A soft smile tugs from each corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll figure it out from there. Promise.”

This is… awkward. It shouldn’t be, but yet somehow, it remains awkward.

You’ve spent weeks with Johnny before, and those moments were in a room, in the middle of the night, and alone. Hours and hours were dedicated to work, yes, but it was just the two of you and nobody else.

So why is it so weird being in a five Michelin star restaurant with him?

Maybe it’s the atmosphere. The dim lights, the white clothed tables in lieu of the scratched up wooden one back at the law firm, and instead of leather seats, there’s a neutral beige chaise cushion for the dining chair, slightly less comfortable because it doesn’t recline like the one in your office. Instead of an array of photos and evidence disseminated in front of you, there’s a laminated menu with a multitude of options of what to have for dinner.

Johnny gets the steak with mashed potatoes and string beans, and you order something similar but seared salmon for the main protein. The waitress offers wine, babbling on about the age of the red, where the vineyard is located, and the dryness to sweetness—to be honest, you could care less; you’d rather have gin and sprite with a squirt of lime. A couple glasses of that and you can almost guarantee that the night would end with a deep slumber.

Oddly enough, Johnny seems nervous. Ever since he pulled up in his midnight black Audi in front of your apartment complex, he’s been acting strange. He keeps wiping his sweaty palms off the material of his trousers, occasionally swiping off the droplets that fall on the side of his face.

“Are you… okay?” you suddenly ask, adjusting your dress in your seat. Deciding to go with a black silk dress with a slit up the leg and your hair let down, it’s not a look you often sport but since you’re going on a date (one you haven’t been on in quite some time), you figured it would be nice to at least play the part.

“I’m, uh, honestly, I’ve never really asked a girl out before.”

You quirk a brow curiously. “What? You’re telling me you never asked a girl out before?”

He lets out a bashful laugh with a faint nod, making an attempt to swallow his nerves after. “Honestly, I’ve always been asked out and not the other way around. Not to sound like that guy, but I never really had to put effort into trying for girls. They kind of just…”

“—Throw themselves at you?”

He beams. “Yeah! Like that. I don’t really know how to react half the time, but it makes the whole dating scene a little bit easier.” Geez, he called you dense, but he’s over here acting clueless.

Either way, it feels like whatever opinion you had about Johnny remained true. He never had to try when it came to the dating scene, and you could only imagine what that means for work and the relationships he has with the women in your career field.

“Mm, does that usually happen with work too?”

Befuddled, Johnny leans back in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you’re poking the meat of your salmon that falls off easily. After the first initial bite, the fish practically melts on impact when it touches the tip of your tongue, smooth like butter and bursting with flavor that couldn’t be described by any common person because it wouldn’t do the salmon justice. Johnny seemed to put a lot into this date, and you’re left pondering what the point of this was. Did he actually like you, or was he trying to get into your head? “Just seems like you get a lot of special treatment.”

“Are you jealous?”

“In what way?” you snap back.

“Are you jealous of me because I’m getting this so-called special treatment that you think I’ve always had, or were you jealous of the girls that seemingly got my attention?”

You’re left without anything to say.

It was a good observation he made because truthfully, you never saw it like that.

In actuality, you often saw Johnny as your rival. He climbed the ladder in the field with ease, and it wasn’t hard to quickly blame his success on the fact that he was a guy in a male dominated industry, but the fact that there’s a possible interpretation for your hatred may be from these feelings you might’ve been harboring for him this entire time… that can’t be it… right?

“I mean, look at where you are now,” you begin, trying to defend yourself. It can’t be true that the reason you’ve been bitter about Johnny was because of the girls that got his attention, and one of them not being you. “You got a high position from—”

“—From hard work,” Johnny interjects with his brows furrowed. “I didn’t get to where I was because I slept around, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I knew you sort of always hated me, but I’ve always admired you. I like your work ethic, I like your style, even though we’re both on opposite spectrums, I like the way you think and I wanted to know what it was like being partners with you. Getting to be on that case with you showed me more than just who you were as a lawyer, but who you were as a person. I like you, but I’m trying to put my finger on why you hate me so much.”

“So you noticed.” Sucking in your cheeks, your eyes trail elsewhere—from the fork that lays beside your plate, to the glass filled halfway with wine, to the little candle that sits in between the two of you that flickers the way he has your heart when he expresses once more how he feels about you.

“Yeah, of course I noticed. If you like someone, it’s kind to miss details like that about them. So… you really hated me because you thought I slept my way to the top, huh?”

“I mean…” shoulders dropping in exasperation, you run your fingers through your disheveled hair. “All those rumors—”

“Again, they’re just rumors. I worked hard to get here, you know. And I’m kind of offended that you thought of me that way.”

You scoff. “They’re rumors, Johnny, it’s kind of hard to ignore all the office gossip when that’s all you hear. Plus, it wasn’t hard to believe either, with the whole flirtatious act whenever you encounter anyone who’s breathing and has a vagina.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“You need a book for dummies that elaborates on what’s flirting or not, because Johnny Suh, whatever it is you do with your body language in front of that chick who sits by the front door.”

“You mean Siwoo? The pregnant one who’s married to her highschool sweetheart? Also, how do you not know our receptionist’s name?”

You throw your arms into the air. “How am I supposed to know her name?”

He tilts his head to the side, genuinely baffled. “Do you… not talk to anyone outside of Hyeri?”

Your silence answers his question.

“I… honestly, I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should be honored. You think I didn’t earn anything that I have now, you think that everything I have was handed to me. On one hand, it’s flattering that you think my looks and my bedroom skills could do that but at the same time… I’m offended because you think I’m incapable.”

“I never said you were incapable—”

“But you implied it.”

Hands falling onto your lap, it’s your turn to gulp. His words come shooting at you, but you’re without a shield to protect yourself, and with the new experience of working with Johnny, there comes the realization at times that Johnny is a hard worker. There are some things that he says and does that aren’t like the people you’ve encountered, and being put on new cases with Hyeri only proved it. He’s thoughtful in the sense that whenever you’d bring up your stance on something, he challenges you with what the defense might counter.

Johnny makes you want to be better. Not just against him, but to brush off the dust on your skills and enter into the battlefield of a courtroom to showcase them.

“Well, if you’re staying silent, I just want to say that I tried,” the crinkle in between your brows makes another appearance because Johnny is great at leaving you stunned and confused. “I really like you. I love how your head works, and I wanna be with someone like that but I also can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

Why is it that when you’re in that conference room with him, you’re not afraid and never running out of things to say, but now you’re empty handed?

“I’ll pay for dinner. Grab you an Uber. I honestly thought I could overlook those things, and maybe your perspective for me has changed, but I could see it on your face. It’s the same.”

After that date with Johnny, his life turns back to normal.

Yours? Not so much.

Candidly speaking, part of you missed working with Johnny. You were wrong about him, so wrong, and even when you wanted to apologize at the dinner for what you thought of him, the pride in you was like a vicious plague that blackened your insides, preventing you from ever saying those words.

Oftentimes, you’d still be able to sneak a glimpse of him in his office with that same look on his face—full of concentration and nothing else in his mind other than the task at hand.

The cases you have with Hyeri entail a head like Johnny’s. Someone who could question you, to protest against your stance when there could be flaws in it. It feels like deja vu each time you think about it, each time you open a new case file and Hyeri sits there, perched in that seat beside yours, eyes sparkling with what you have in mind next, instead of what she has going on in hers.

Although you’ve tried convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, what you feel for Johnny is purely professional but when you see him standing by the water cooler with a couple of your coworkers, eyes mimicking the moon crescents in the skies, replicating the ways his lips curl in elation—it was beginning hard to believe that it was all platonic feelings.

So maybe you should be bold for once. Pull off that exterior that displays you as someone who isn’t just independent and assiduous, but someone who’s stubborn and aggressive in getting what they want—and not in a good way.

This time, you’ll show it in a good way.

Or at least, you’ll try.

Johnny is a routine kind-of-guy—he grabs an iced americano every morning at the coffee shop downstairs at the edge of the street, he does his daily 11:00AM drop-by at the water cooler to refill his Hydroflask (which was his prized possession, by the way), and parked in the same exact spot in the parking garage of your building, despite there being an abundance of places he could choose.

That’s why you decide to stand by his car after work that day. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands shaking because it’s your turn to feel anxious. That blazer that once fit so comfortably in the morning suddenly feels tight and hot in the afternoon, and the weather hasn’t even changed. Your bag slung over your shoulder weighs ten times heavier than an hour ago, and you can’t stop your jaw from tightening.

Before your thoughts could spiral off all the possibilities of what the outcome may be when you tell Johnny how you feel, he’s already standing there, feet away from you with that dip in the fronts of his brows that you want to smoothen out the crinkles of with the pad of your thumb.

“Hi,” you greet, faint and peculiarly different from your other approaches. “Um, I just… was waiting for you.”

“Hey,” Johnny says back, the first few buttons of his shirt already unraveled, his blazer hung over his forearm and the sleeves are rolled up. “I see that. What’s up with you?”

“Um,” your leg was jittery, hard to control so you spat everything you had to say out as fast as you could before he could see right through you. “I just wanted to apologize. For everything. You’re admirable, kind, and I wish I inhabited those same characteristics you have. I think professionally, you’ve got great ideas, one that could be implemented into mine and what we did together for that case was just… yeah. We could do something big if we put our heads together.”

Johnny nods in agreement. The relationship between you two work-wise was obvious, he knew that much. “And what about… outside of that?”

“I like you,” you choked, barely getting the words out. “More than just coworkers, um, I guess, more than friends but I’m not really sure since you walked out on our first date,” inhaling in a deep breath of courage, you continue on, “and I don’t know how you feel now after I’m standing before you like this, asking for another chance and that I’m sorry.”

He stares at you blankly, and it leaves you unsure whether or not he accepts your apology. “You know why we ended that date early.”

“Well,” you start again, “can we… start over and try again? I promise I won’t tempt you to end the date early this time.”

And with that, there’s the signature smile that Johnny sports that swoons girls, makes their knees weak, and heart clench but this time… it’s just for you.

“I’d really like that.”

[taizi]

the ship sways but the heart is steady

chapter one: the ship sways

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, lan zhan/wei ying word count: 2549 summary: Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying puts his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. To absolutely no one’s surprise except Wei Ying’s, his family goes with him. read on ao3

x

During family dinner, Wei Ying’s phone rings, cutting mother off mid-sentence.

Jiang Cheng cringes inwardly and his brother’s face goes two shades paler. They have guests over, so mother doesn’t do more than glare hatefully in Wei Ying’s direction.

She won’t make a scene in front of Yanli’s husband, or even Wei Ying’s fiancé—Jin Zixuan is everything Yu Ziyuan wants in a match for her daughter, and Lan Zhan’s family is one of the richest on the East Coast.

Lan Zhan is also willing to give as good as he gets. His eyes are already narrowing in mother’s direction, the tentative ceasefire of family dinner wobbling precariously beneath their feet as he perceives the great and unforgivable offense of insult to Wei Ying. A-Li resolutely tries to pick the conversation back up from where it lulled, with all the steely resolve of someone throwing herself into the path of a rampaging bull. Jin Zixuan has graduated from grimacing into his wineglass to gazing hopefully at the clock every three minutes.

Always willing to fall on the grenade, Wei Ying ducks his head meekly.

“Sorry, I thought I silenced it,” he says, the shape of a laugh in his voice even if he can’t manage to drag it all the way out. He’s rummaging his cellphone out of his pocket, presumably to turn it off as a gesture of good faith. “I’ll just…”

But his eyes catch on the screen, and something happens to his expression that Jiang Cheng has never seen before.

Wei Ying stands up, so abruptly his chair sails back with an awful screech, and excuses himself. Lan Zhan follows him out of the dining room without a single word or a backwards glance. That’s all it takes for mother to pick up a scathing tirade against Jiang Cheng’s good-for-nothing, ungrateful, waste-of-space brother.

He joins Jin Zixuan in watching the clock. Worry swims in the back of his mind like a school of startled fish.

#

Wei Ying’s apartment is really actually Lan Zhan’s apartment, but the two of them have been inseparable since they were fourteen, and it naturally followed that where one of them would live, so would the other. The place is ridiculous, modern and minimalist, and it would look like something out of a magazine if not for Wei Ying’s inevitable clutter. But even the stacks of books and magazines, and haphazard easels, and little jars of paints and loose brushes everywhere manage to make the place seem charming and lived-in instead of the horrible disaster tornado it rightly should be.

Jiang Cheng asked him once what the monthly rent was but Wei Ying looked so haunted by the question that Jiang Cheng decided he didn’t actually want to know.

They’re all crammed into the conversation pit, recovering from family dinner in the usual fashion. Jin Zixuan is much more likable when his tie is loose and he’s nursing a lukewarm beer.

A-Li is clinging to Jiang Cheng’s hand so hard he’s beginning to lose circulation but he’d sooner agree to amputate than he would shake her off.

“You’re on speaker, A-Qing,” Wei Ying says with mock-severity. “Keep it PG for the children in the room, please.”

“So Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are there?” Wen Qing asks rhetorically.

Jin Zixuan sighs but doesn’t rise to it. Jiang Cheng snaps, “Listen, assholes,” partly out of half-hearted irritation, and partly to hear Wen Qing sigh the way she does when she doesn’t want to reward someone with a real laugh.

“Yanli and Lan Zhan are here, too,” Wei Ying says cheerfully. His tone doesn’t match how worried his eyes are. “This is a family-only meeting. So tell us what those texts were about.”

Jiang Cheng realizes right away why Wei Ying bailed on dinner.

There was an apartment fire. The Wens lost everything. Wen Ning is in the hospital with smoke inhalation and second-degree burns because he ran in to make sure their neighbors got out safely. All of their savings are wrapped up in putting Wen Qing through medical school. She’s adrift now in a way that Jiang Cheng has never been.

“There’s... we have an old house, somewhere out in the country. It was sold to my grandparents cheap, but they never got around to renovating it. It’s not even livable, just bare bones.”

A-Li starts crying the second Wen Qing does.

“It’s too much,” Wen Qing forces out. “I can’t do this on my own.”

Wei Ying, to his credit, actually does hesitate. A whole five seconds. And then he says, “I thought you were supposed to be my smart friend. Who said you were doing this on your own?”

He says it as easily as if it was an absolute given that he would turn his whole life around and upside down for her. All she had to do was call.

#

There is a minor disagreement between Jiang Cheng’s siblings.

“A-Li,” Wei Ying says, holding both of her hands in both of his own and looking deeply, imploringly, into her eyes. “You’re way too pregnant to fly.”

Her face crinkles alarmingly, eyes already red and puffy from recent tears. Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan and Lan Zhan tense in exactly the same way, at the same time.

“I won’t have you going all the way to California by yourself,” Yanli says in her most eldest-sibling tone of voice. “I won’t have it, A-Ying.”

“I am a grown-up,” Wei Ying points out gently, with all the wisdom of his twenty-four years. “I pay bills and have a job I hate and everything. And I won’t be by myself, I’ll have A-Qing and A-Ning.”

“And me, obviously,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. Wei Ying whips around to stare at him.

“Oh,” Yanli says, a blanket of relief rolling across her face. “Oh, of course.”

“You can’t,” Wei Ying hisses at him, looking more panicked now than he has all night. “Your mother—”

“Okay, first of all, don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” Jiang Cheng bites back, prickly with worry for the Wens and worry for his idiot brother. “Secondly, you, going by yourself, is not an option. It’s off the table. It was never on the table. Stupid,” he adds, on principle.

Lan Zhan doesn’t contribute much to the conversation at this point but Jiang Cheng learned a long time ago that that doesn’t mean shit. Lan Zhan has more opinions than any three people combined, whether or not he chooses to voice them. There is no fucking way he doesn’t have thoughts about his fiance picking up and moving nearly three thousand miles away.

Maybe there’s some strange alternate timeline out there where he would be content to stay behind and let Wei Ying go off without him, but Jiang Cheng would bet his entire trust fund that that’s simply not happening here.

If ever there was a world where Wei Ying would be backed into a corner and forced to help the Wens alone, this world isn’t it.

#

There’s a minor disagreement between his siblings, and there’s a whole fucking nuclear fallout at home.

“I forbid it,” mother snaps. She’s livid, but she’s livid so much of the time that it started losing its edge a few years ago. “Absolutely not. I refuse to allow this family to lose face because you want to gallivant across the country for some charity case.”

Jiang Cheng sees it when Wei Ying’s posture changes. The dreamy raincloud gray of Wei Ying’s eyes hardens into heavy steel, and his spine stiffens, and his shoulders go back; the absolute opposite of his downcast self at dinner earlier. He’s willing to fight any impossible battle as long as it’s for someone else.

Jiang Cheng grew up looking up to him. He spent all of his formative years as Wei Ying’s little brother. That’s why he’s willing, too.

“The Wens aren’t a charity case,” he says. Not very loud, but he says it. It’s a lot more than he could have done when he was a kid.

“You don’t even know them! They’re just some random people on the Internet. They’re probably scamming you, and you’re both idiot enough to fall for it!”

That’s so untrue and unfair that Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how to argue for a moment. They’ve never met the Wens in person, but Wei Ying has been friends with them since he was ten. They mail each other presents for Christmas and birthdays. Jiang Cheng distinctly remembers calling Wen Qing for help with biochem homework, multiple times. Wen Ning always Skyped with Yanli when he was stuck on a recipe, the two of them cooking together from three time zones apart. They’re all tangled up in each other’s lives, comfortably, irrevocably.

Of course we know them, Jiang Cheng thinks, bewildered.

Out loud, he says, “They’re not scamming us. And we already told them we’re coming.”

Mother screeches and storms around the house and throws things, but she hasn’t actually hit either of them since they grew taller than her. She hasn’t been a source of real fear since Jiang Cheng started looking down at her instead of looking up. It’s mostly just miserable to be around her now.

He remembers that fear, though. It sticks to his body like a half-healed scar. It reminds him to flinch.

#

It’s early enough in the morning that it might as well still be nighttime when Jiang Cheng and his suitcases finally show up at Wei Ying’s building. He leaves his luggage in the lobby under the watchful gaze of the concierge and takes the private elevator up, keying in the code to his brother’s apartment.

The doors roll open to the living room. Lan Zhan is holding a tiny animal carrier in his hands, gazing at Wei Ying in an extremely gross and smitten way while Wei Ying discusses the upcoming trip with their pets. Pidan and Bao are not being particularly attentive, snuffling at his chin and chewing on a piece of his hair respectively.

“Diedie has decided to be stubborn and not listen to good sense,” Wei Ying is telling the rabbits seriously, “so you’re coming with me and ruining your life instead of being safe and comfortable here at home.”

“Baba is being dramatic,” Lan Zhan informs them in turn. “And also foolish, if he doesn’t realize that our home is wherever he goes.”

“This is the weirdest domestic scene I’ve ever walked into,” Jiang Cheng says loudly, since apparently the telltale ding of the elevator wasn’t enough to announce his presence. He has to interrupt before they do something horrible, like make out in front of him. It’s a constant fucking risk with these two. “Are we leaving or what?”

So the rabbits go into their crate with a frankly absurd amount of fanfare and Jiang Cheng helps wrestle the luggage downstairs. By then, the shuttle that Lan Zhan ordered is waiting for them at the curb.

He knows it isn’t going to be a vacation. Wei Ying’s friends are at rock-bottom, and Wei Ying has essentially put his life on hold to help them put theirs back together. It’s going to be hard work. It’s probably going to be painful, and a little bit scary.

Jiang Cheng is only involved because he chose to be, but it never occurs to him to choose anything else.

If this is where his brother is going, it’s probably the right place to go. And if it’s not, if the whole thing turns out to be a horrible mistake and he regrets all of it, then at least he’ll be in good company.

#

Wen Ning is out of the hospital by the time their plane lands, and he’s waiting with Wen Qing at the airport. Wei Ying, who by all accounts should feel as foggy and queasy as Jiang Cheng definitely does, drops his bags and sprints across the terminal towards them.

Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan follow at a more reasonable human pace, possibly in part to give the friends a few moments together. The busy airport traffic moves around them like a river flowing around a rock.

Wen Ning is sobbing, almost a full head taller than Wei Ying but buried against him like the little brother he is. Wen Qing is leaning quietly against the two of them with her eyes closed, as if filling her reserves and shoring up her strength.  

She’s the type of person who would be able to cow his mother with a single glance, Jiang Cheng thinks admiringly, and more efficiently than Lan Zhan ever could. She must have a spine built out of steel to be able to stand there without crumbling under the weight of what she’s lost.

And Wei Ying stands there holding them up, tireless and steady. He’s talking too quietly for Jiang Cheng to hear, saying something that makes Wen Ning nod against his shoulder. He’ll hold them up until the ground falls out from under his feet if he has to. Thankfully it’s more like three minutes.

Introductions aren’t necessary. They all just trade exhausted looks and move as a cohesive unit towards the doors.

Wen Ning starts to help with the bags, bandaged hands and all. Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng both snap at him before he can so much as touch a suitcase, and then he just waffles in place anxiously, like he doesn’t know how to person if he isn’t actively being helpful.

“Hold the kids,” Wei Ying says in the spirit of compromise, taking the pet crate from Lan Zhan and holding it out to Wen Ning instead.

Somehow, they shuffle everything out of the airport and into a rental car. Lan Zhan’s phone starts to blow up as soon as he turns airplane mode off, so he turns airplane mode back on and returns the phone to his pocket.

“My uncle has checked the credit card statement,” Lan Zhan says calmly. “My brother is handling it.”

“Poor Lan Huan,” Wei Ying murmurs.

“We have to call A-Li,” Jiang Cheng remembers with a jolt. He digs his own phone out. “She wanted us to call as soon as we landed.”

Everyone clusters in close for the FaceTime call with Yanli, who is tearful and hormonal and indignant about being left behind. Jiang Cheng begs her not to get into a fight with their mother over this. Yanli raises her chin and says, “We’ll see.”

It’s a very long drive to the estate. Wei Ying’s head sinks against Lan Zhan’s shoulder in an inevitable, unstoppable act of gravity. He falls asleep within minutes.

“You have to help me thank him,” Wen Qing says quietly, tapping anxious fingers against the steering wheel. “Help me figure out how to thank him.”

Jiang Cheng snorts, not unkindly. “What makes you think I know how?”

An entire childhood spent raising each other, protecting each other, annoying the shit out of each other, and there are still some things Jiang Cheng has no idea how to say to his brother in a way that he’ll understand. Like I’m sorry, and thank you.

Lan Zhan turns his head to the side, so that his cheek is pillowed against Wei Ying’s hair. Outside, the sprawling California countryside sprints past the windows, wild and golden under a relentless summer sun.

[lokis-little-kitten]

Teaching Assistant 1

Title: Teaching Assistant Writer: Lokis-Little-Kitten Pairing: LokixReader Rating: Mid Warning: spankings, mentioning of masturbation, ED, college, teacherxstudent Summary: You get a job as a teaching assistant for you professor Loki Laufeyson. Quickly the relationship takes a turn when Loki offers to teach you the robes of BDSM. 

You sit down and grab the books and notepad that you need for your class. The book- Mansfield Park- was absolutely amazing and you mourn the fact that this month is over and so this book. Professor Laufeyson- the Literature professor- always has you read one book per month and has you write an essay on it. 

Professor Laufeyson is definitely your favourite teacher here at Asgard University. He is the son of the dean, Odin Allfather, and brother of the next dean Professor Odinson. 

Professor Laufeyson is a strange one- you have to admit- but he has passion. He loves literature and that makes him a great teacher. He is stern though… You have never seen him laugh or even smile. He doesn’t allow you in without your book- not even to listen to his lecture- and holds the old fashion dear to his heart. He isn’t that old yet, however. Only twenty-something. Not much older than you-you believe. 

He is also very handsome. It may be unprofessional to think that of your professor but you can’t go around it. Raven black hair that barely reaches his shoulder is always combed back. Pale skin and piercing green eyes adore his skinny face and match his lean body perfectly. He always wears a suit- with tie!- while dominating the room. He is basically the wet dream of everyone. Handsome, smart, good family, money and secure job, what else more would- could- you ask for? 

You and your best friends always wonder how he would be in private. Would he be just as domineering or would he let go a bit? Be a playful gentle black lab? You just don’t know… 

When said best friend- Dimitri- walks in he smiles at you. ‘’There is my bestest friend of all time,’’ he chirps as he pulls you in a hug. ‘’Hey there baby,’’ you chuckle and hug him back. Dimitri is like family to you. You were removed from your home when you were only ten years old and went from foster family to foster family. Dimitri is here from America because he wanted to study in the UK. He rarely sees his useless parents as well and so you sought comfort in each other. 

Then Professor Laufeyson strides in. In a straight line he goes for the desk and lays his bag on the table. He pulls out Mansfield Park and his laptop. Next, he starts the beamer and connects his laptop to it so it shines on the white-board. The long coat slides from his shoulder and is then parked on the back of his chair. 

All of this takes him a while but everyone is quiet. The gaze of every student is focussed on the man in front of you. He then finally stops walking around and stares at you for a moment. 

‘’So,’’ his voice then echoes, ‘’I see you have made it to my class. Good, because today I have an announcement. Since the first month of this year is over I will need a teaching assistant. This will obviously be great on your resume, help your grades, give you time off school, count as volunteering this year and may even secure a job on this very university. If you are interested you will have to fill out a form that you can find in your email and send it to me before tomorrow. Next class I will announce who got the job.’’ 

A careful hand is raised in the first row. ‘’Miss Jobbs, what is it,’’ Loki asks coldly. ‘’How will this person be selected.’’ ‘’I will. Who I think is most fitting will get the job, simple. Any other questions?’’ His gaze scans the class until another hand rises. 

‘’Mister Fors?’’ Loki slightly turns towards the boy on the third row. ‘’Well… Will things like grades or attendance count in this progress?’’ ‘’Most certainly! Everything, mister Fors,’’ Loki spits out while leaning on his chair, ‘’will count in this choice. Now let’s continue but before that.’’ 

Suddenly his gaze falls onto you. ‘’Miss Y/L/N, does your sitting position enhance your academic performance?’’ You look at yourself. You have one foot folded under you and the other over your knee. It’s comfortable. 

‘’Yes?’’ Loki raises his brows. ‘’Very well then. Can I then assume you are able to tell me why Mansfield Park is such a brilliant but lesser-known novel from Miss Auston?’’ And so the class has started. 

Professor Laufeyson gives all of you some homework and Wuthering Heights to read at home but then lets you go. You’re relieved that there is a break after his class, it is always so intense that you're in dire need of it!

You sit down at a bench with a hot latte next to you. Dimitri sits down on the opposite site and gives you a smile. ‘’So… Teaching Assistant. Sounds good to me, what about you?’’ You nod and get your laptop. ‘’I think I will apply but I don’t  think he’ll choose me. I mean nor my attendance or grades are perfect and that is what he looks for… perfection,’’ you mumble while still clicking on the email. 

You open the form and read it through. Standard things. Class, name, age, major. You fill it in and send it to your teacher while chatting with Dimitri. ‘’The question is, however,’’ you smirk hitting the send button, ‘’will you apply?’’ Dimitri shrugs. ‘’Nah… I don’t need the extra work. I just want to relax.’’ You nod a little and open your drive.

You’re a bit of a writer and so do it in all of your spare time. You have written and ton of stories already. Passionate fighters, tearful expeditions and ‘written erotica’ you could better qualify under BDSM… You have a hidden soft spot for it. 

Never did you bring it up in any of your relationships or even to your friends. You never went to any forms to talk to other. You’re just you and you write about it in secret. 

Your secret… 

The week passes slowly as usual. You like going to school but sometimes you get sick and tired of the endless lecturing. Then the first class of this week with Professor Laufeyson rolls around. 

When you walk in you can feel the nervous atmosphere in the room. Most people want to know who got the assistant position. You too fidget with your rings while waiting for Laufeyson to walk in. 

‘’Hello class,’’ then echoes through the room accompanied by his heavy footsteps, ‘’good to see you all survived the four days without this class. ’’ 

He does his normal routine while letting everyone wait in excitement. He then casually starts his class. He explains a million things but not much sticks this week. He probably tells you half of the same things tomorrow anyways. He then finally finishes up. 

‘’I expect you to have one-fourth of your essay done on Thursday and then… What you- apparently- all have been waiting for this class. Who has the assistance position.’’ You are already talking yourself down. He won’t pick you… Why did you even apply with those grades? It’s pathetic. Hopefully, no one finds out. 

‘’Miss Y/L/N, you are the lucky girl that has the position from now on I expect you in my office in ten minutes to discuss everything.’’ Your eyes widen when he says it. You… Is he sure he means you? Maybe he just got the wrong name. He must have. 

The class start to empty out when you get out of shock and able to pick up your stuff. You quickly do and rush to the professor's office. You wait for it to be exactly ten minutes since he is very keen on punctuality. 

You knock once, twice… Answer. ‘’Come in!’’ You open the door and peer into his office. You had never been inside. It is beautifully old and cosy. The walls are wood panels with patterns in them. The floor is carpet which you didn’t expect but the grey-brown pattern compliments the room. 

On the left is his desk that is the same colour brown wood as the walls. The leather chair behind him is green just like all of the other accent colours in the room like the lamps. Everything metal is a golden shade while fabric is that same dark green. On the right side is a fireplace that burns softly with two bookcases on both sides. In the corners are green-brown chairs you can sit in and read. The office is perfect for Professor Laufeyson, undeniable.

‘’Miss Y/L/N, come sit,’’ he speaks pointing at the simple green brown chairs in front of his desk. ‘’Thank you,’’ you whisper while walking towards the left chair quietly. You feel like you’re not allowed to make any noise here. 

‘’I assume you were rather surprised when I said your name? It was written all over your face,’’ he mumbles while looking down on a paper with a red Sharpie in hand. ‘’Yes,’’ you breathe. ‘’Why is that?’’ He still doesn’t look up at you, almost ignoring you. 

‘’I’m not a perfect student I-’’ ‘’No your not that is why I chose you.’’ Finally, he looks up from his work. ‘’I think you have it in you to become a great student. Maybe one of the best I’ve had.’’ You furrow your brows. ‘’Well… thank you?’’ 

Professor Laufeyson puts away his marker and now gives you his full attention. ‘’Miss Y/L/N, the reason I asked you here was so we can discuss your duties as my assistant. You will be required in my office after your last class everyday, unless I dismiss you beforehand. Understood?’’ ‘’Yes.’’ 

‘’Good, most of it will be self-explanatory when it comes along but there are some things you need to know before we start all of this.’’ 

Half an hour later you finally leave his office. This guy really is intense. He asked you at least a million different questions, told you about him and the uni while also telling all of the rules. You were quick to get your notebook when he started to tell you the rules. Luckily he was so kind to repeat them every now and again so you could write them down.

He had you print your schedule as well so he could find you if he needed you when in class and so he knew when to expect you. He also had you print out some other things. Luckily there is a Bluetooth printer located in his office.

When you finally get home the only thing you want to do is write, eat and sleep. So that is what you do. You write a smut- BDSM- story because… why not and have dinner. You’ll print your story tomorrow, you tell yourself when you are ready to go to bed. 

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[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Alright alright alright

You’ve all been asking for it, so here it is! 

This will be (edit: HELLA) long and obviously spoiler-y, so everything is under a cut. 

Are you ready?

Before we get to it, I want to mention that for the sake of keeping things organized, I will NOT be talking about my AU (@ask-whitepearl-and-steven​) in this post. I want to just analyze the show as a viewer and a fan first. I’ll make a seperate post for AU-thoughts a bit later.

Without further ado:

EP 1: LITTLE HOMESCHOOL

This is a great way to open up the episode and show the changes through the lens of someone who has been a bit out of it for a while (we are all Cherry Quartz, fresh from the hiatus, aren’t we?) but I’m sorry, this post still takes the cake:

Okay, okay, back to the program.

“That used to be a loaded question...“

Right off the bat, Steven is SO much more confident about saying that he’s... HIMSELF! What a good feeling. I’m very proud of our boy. 

I love the name “Gemglyph” for the gem language! I’ll need to know who wrote these, though. And who the heck drew the diamonds? Hopefully it was BP. 

And I’m not the first one to point this out, but MORE ANIME REFERENCES!

Which can be seen as either a reference to the Chill Low-Fi Hiphop Beats to Study To OR Whisper of the Heart. 

And absolutely no one cares but something that caught my eye is the fact that they have an EARTH FLAG at Little Homeschool! How cool is that!

Earth 4ever!!! 

Off-note - I love how INVESTED they are in this conversation Pearl is having with Holo-Pearl.

Peak entertainment. 

I love Professor Amethyst and I love the random human who snuck in to apparently take lessons on Not Giving A Single Shit About Anything, Ever. 

And here we FINALLY are in the FUTURE

Where we FINALLY get Jasper as a functioning character

And 

She’s

SO DRAMATIC, I LOVE HER.

This is literally SO funny like she... she was just... laying on top of her house... under a blanket..... FOr WHAT? To stand up dramatically and throw it off when Steven inevitably paid a visit? 

Is that just what she dOES? 

“It’s FINE I don’t need any HELP, I’m FUNCTIONING, I’m just having a SELF CARE DAY OK”

Also I’m sorry but

Jasper: “It took forever to yank those puny green earthlings out of the ground.”

Steven: “You mean grass...?“

THIS. RIGHT HERE. is peak Jasper. 

It’s also curious how INVESTED Steven is in this:

“I’m TRYING to give you [a purpose]!“

Why are you... trying to do that, though? Isn’t the whole idea for gems to surpass their ‘purpose’ and just kinda... do whatever? Isn’t Jasper just kinda... doing whatever? 

I mean, sure, it’s not useful to anyone, but she seems relatively happy. Aside from. You know. The whole laying on rocks under blankets until she’s disturbed thing and-- okay, you’re right, maybe an intervention would be healthy. 

I’m not gonna talk at length about the rest of the episode - although I think it’s really good, I don’t know what I can say about it that hasn’t already been said. Jasper is definitely poking Steven’s buttons and rephrasing a LOT of what WHITE has said to Pink: “You surround yourself with inferior gems because it makes you feel better.”

And Steven REACTS to this. The taunt WORKS.

And yes, he gains some extra powers for it, but something tells me this AIN’T the only thing he will get. It feels like a two-edged sword. Like it’ll be his own downfall somehow....... maybe at the end of the series. 

Ashes to ashes.... hole to hole.

And oh wow I thought they were gonna bond but LMAO

“Consider your fight back there your first and ONLY lesson.“

Basically:

I love you Jasper.

EP 2: GUIDANCE

I LOVE YOU AMETHYST.

sHE’S doing SO much and she’s SO good at it!! Look at her!! Organizing stuff!!!! 

RUBIES IN SUNGLASSES. IN SQUARE SUNGLASSES. 

I need 20. 

And I also need 20 of Larimar because holy shit that’s hilarious. 

Larimar: “I want to hear the human screams forever.”

Steven: “Okay that’s kinda troubling.”

I love the reference to Monsters Inc here and I love the callback at the end of the episode when Larimar switches to Human Laughter to get her fill of that particular erm... need. 

And honestly the ensuing chaos is equally predictable and entertaining. 

I’m SO glad to know that Rubies are just... Like That and that actually Navy is not a deviation from the norm but rather a different flavor of the chaotic energy all Rubies naturally seem to possess. 

Amethyst is also super relatable:

“Ah yes, the fool comes crawling back. Come to beg for forgiveness, have you?”

In fact, the episode’s WHOLe HUMOUR is just very much My Brand

“Sometimes you save all the people but the rollercoaster still crashes into the ocean...... and that’s okay.”

Including the Running Gag that is Onion. Who... does not appear to have aged. At all. And that’s okay.

EP 3: ROSE BUDS

Okay where do I even begin with this one. Um.

I have to openly admit that I spent the majority of this episode wheezing with laughter. Let’s start with the Zoomans:

Who are CLEARLY STILL SUPER SALTY AT GREG ABOUT REJECTING THEM??? Which is hilarious. 

And also this paradise is fascinating in and of itself. 

But the next scene is basically where I started losing my shit.

Okay, okay, alright so. Uh. I have... a few questions.

Like Why. WHY. Does she look. SO MUCH like Rose? 

Clearly Rose Quartz differ in coloring and etc. But She literally looks. Like THE Rose. VERY explicitly. 

So here’s several options here:

1) Pink made Rose Quartz way before any of the Rebellion happened and Pearl just basically pigeonholed her into THIS specific Rose Quartz appearance because she (???) had a crush? Or somehow saw this specific Rose, thought ‘hot, i can make my sympathetic Diamond wear this exact costume and that would be EXCELLENT fanservice for ME’

2) Pink didn’t have any Rose Quartz until the Rebellion, and thereafter quickly decided ‘I need these gems as an alibi, so we’re just gonna make them” and she and Pearl basically inclubated Rose Quartz like a pokemon trainer hatching for a Shiny until they got one that looked Exactly Like That. 

3) There was no Thinking involved because this is Pink we’re talking about, and it was all just a huge coincidence for the sake of this Very Hilariously Uncomfortable Episode. 

While we ruminate on that, let’s look at some Relatable Reactions.

And here we have the holy trinity of “I have just seen the clone of my deceased parent/parental figure/lover.”

Featuring: Bonus ‘I’m Almost Over It’ Pearl

Also, I need y’all to make this into a meme:

For example:

Anyway, alright, alright. 

That relatable feel when your (hot) dead lesbian lover’s clone asks you if you’re okay after another one of the (less hot?) clones offers you a whole ass stick of butter to eat. 

And then you and your friends all hide in the bathroom to talk about your feelings:

Okay, the rest of the episode gives me FEELINGS and I love how hard Steven is trying, so I’ll just close it off with:

I LOVE THEM. Unironically, they are EVERYTHING I had hoped Rose Quartz would be. They’re SO MUCH like Rose herself - did she model her personality after them? Or are they just like her because she WAS like that, and they’re made from her essence? WHO KNOWS?! They’re adorable!

And the conflict between them and Steven is honestly so gooD! I don’t know if it’s completely relatable but I’m glad they ended up talking it out.

I wonder if we’ll ever see Her again... you know who I’m talkin’ about. 

Her....

I’m madly in love with Rose, ok, I don’t need a callout post. Just leave me be.

EP 4:  VOLLEYBALL

Alright, alright, alright.

OKAy,.... It’s fine. It’s FINE. I’m fINE. 

Confirmed: 8000 years. That’s. UH. A LOT? That puts our timelines quite a ways back. We kind of estimated as much, but still, it’s so jarring to think about. And PP is VERY casual about it. 

She’s also VERY casual about the injury.

“This is all Pink Diamond!”

It doesn’t seem like it bothers her to talk about it at all. She’s not even trying to keep it a secret. So I’m almost wondering - was there a connection to her being taken by White and the injury at all or not? 

She came to Steven to get healed - she clearly wants it gone. At the time she was injured, did Pink not even attempt to heal the injury? 

Follow up question: If she DID care, why didn’t she try to heal it?

Follow up to the follow up: Was it because she didn’t know she could? Or did she simply not have the time to (White removed her before she could)? 

When Steven goes pink, she gasps - but makes no further comment. It’s presumably because she’s seen this happen before. She doesn’t try to move away, weirdly enough - she asks him if everything is alright. Perhaps the context is too different for it to be triggering for her. Perhaps there’s more layers to it? HMMM. 

What follows is, perhaps, the SALTIEST we’ve seen Pearl since Greg rolled around.

“Did you come to compete?”

This is doubly curious to me because Crewniverse has previously explicitly stated that Pearl was NOT in love with Pink Diamond. She was in love with Rose. So if this is true, why would Pearl care about her place as Pink’s Pearl? She is supposed to be past all that, isn’t she? 

And yet as time goes on, the salinity grows exponentially. Alright, you two, I know you’re Pearls but tone it down with the sass. 

(Also, I’m sorry but I will NEVER call her Volleyball. That’s all. Bye.)

Also it’s worth noting that... PP is clearly VERY much in love with Pink.

This is, perhaps, where the lack of a grudge plays into it. She’s completely enamoured.

Moreover, she’s VERY casual about how she talks here. This isn’t exactly how one talks of their Diamond. This is how people talk about their romantic partners. She calls Pink silly, calls her ‘funny’. That’s not exactly a term of respect - it’s way more intimate than that. 

Also, did anyone else notice how, although CG Pearl’s gem is usually shaded in teal, it’s in Pink in this episode? VEEEERY subtle, Crew.

Also, we can’t quite see Pink Pearl’s expression fully here because her working eye isn’t visible, which makes it hard to get a read on things like

“I’m older than you.“ Is she just saying it casually? Or is she fully aware that she’s poking fun at CG Pearl? 

HI SHELL. ISN’T IT FUNNY HOW YOUR VOICE AND YOUR NAME ARE A SUBTLE NOD TO PORTAL, WHICH IS FORESHADOWING HOW BADLY THIS IS GONNA END. 

Meanwhile, Pearl continues to be in character.

“No need to be overly... attached.”

And this has nothing to do with anything but

she cute

Aaaand now it’s creepy again.

The rest of this is super important so let’s get to it:

“Oh, no. Pink did this.”

“What did you say?”

“It’s a funny story, really. Once, Pink got tired of asking Yellow and Blue for her own colony, so she went straight to White. Of course, White told her she wasn’t fit to run one... and well! That set her off.”

“Set her off? What are you talking about?”

“You remember how she was! With her destructive powers, throwing tantrums left and right! She had a scream that could crack the walls. She didn’t mean to hurt me! (giggle) I just happened to be standing too close to her that time and--”

And then Steven interrupts. 

We get more CG Pearl arguing for how wrong this image of Pink is to her. What CG Pearl knew was a totally different (or, well, same, but VERY changed) Pink. 

But what we have to prove our point is Steven himself. He rolls into the EXACT same state as Pink presumably did - and begins to over-use his powers. 

(This isn’t the first time we have seen him use this attack.)

The reactions from the Pearls are telling - this is clearly not Pink Pearl’s first rodeo with this type of Mood. 

And it’s important to note that Steven clearly didn’t direct any attack AT them. He simply yelled - and the whole dang place literally started to crack. There’s weight to the argument that possibly, Pink really DIDN’T mean to hurt her Pearl - that she was just collateral damage. 

Which doesn’t make it any better, obviously. Even if Pink had no direct intention of hurting her Pearl (and there are theories that Pink purposefully hit or threw Pink Pearl or somehow physically acted directly to damage her, which I was skeptical of) the result of it is still the same.

If you raise your voice and yell, even if you’re just yelling because YOU are hurt/have feelings, you might still hurt the people around you. If you throw a tantrum, even if your direct goal was just to let off some steam without aiming to harm anyone, whoever gets in your way is still the victim. 

And this is all very much On Brand for Pink’s timeline as we know it. We already knew this about her - we KNEW she tended to throw tantrums (like in the flashback on Jungle Moon) and that she was childish. The fact that she accidentally hurt her Pearl in the process because she had no self-control at that period in her life comes as no surprise. 

(Although it’s important to mention that perhaps hurting her own Pearl WAS the breaking point during which she finally realized how her emotional outbursts could have negative consequences on those around her.)

And this is a very beautiful message - even if Pink Pearl still doesn’t want to blame Pink for what was done to her (”But... she didn’t mean to!”) Pearl brings the point of it back around to her (”But you were still hurt!”) The point isn’t the person who did the hurting - the focus is on the victim and how they were affected. 

And the rest, I daresay, is history. 

I like the fact that they managed to still bring it back around to the main message: 

It isn’t about just “Pink was bad”. It’s about how she did bad things. And there were multiple sides to her - multiple stages. And the Pearls who knew her knew different sides of her - the side that didn’t know how to be a good person, who was selfish and childish and unrestrained... and  the side that was, arguable, too restrained. Who hated her own past, her own character and her own mistakes so much that she would rather bury them and keep secrets from everyone. 

And neither of those things were good, and neither were healthy, but they are a GREAT contrast to a GREAT character arc that is, arguably, still being unearthed. And we have so much more context for it all now. 

I, for one, can’t wait to see and discover more of Pink through Pink Pearl - no matter how ugly that side of her might be. I think it gives great perspective to her later growth. 

And if you ship the Pearls.. .well, I get why. 

Personally I’m not interested in it that way. Call me unromantic - I don’t think their relationship NEEDS to be shippy in order to be satisfyingly deep. I love the idea of them having a deep bond over this - a shared past, a shared experience, and gaining confidence through one another. 

Cheers and thanks for listening!

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

BTS at Golden Disc Awards 2021

by Admin 1

On the 9th and 10th of January 2021 BTS attended the Golden Disc Awards, and performed on the second day as well. Being there they won the Digital Bonsang for Dynamite on the 9th and the Bonsang, as well as the Album Daesang for Map of the Soul : 7, on the 10th. Amazing achievements which I sincerely congratulate them on.

When it comes to the performance, it was, most certainly, another amazing collection of stages bringing something new once more, even if they presented songs we’ve already seen at previous award shows this season. The opening came in form of Black Swan, though they didn’t sing any of it. It was more an intro showcasing the entrance of the members and highlighted Yoongi’s return to the stage, at least partially. 

The stage featured big metal winds, low lighting, and the members clad in black and white clothing including leather elbow length gloves for Namjoon and Yoongi, and pretty chockers for Taehyung and Jimin. The highlight though was Jungkook’s hair which isn’t dark anymore, but instead has been bleached and dyed a pretty blond. Personally I think it suits him pretty well. 

More below the cut since this is shaping up to be pretty long:

Next up was ON, which was powerful and fierce, though still missing Yoongi, which is all too understandable. Even though he can stand on stage again and hold his mic in his left hand (his surgery was on the left shoulder), it will still be a while until he’ll be able to dance with the members. ON has certainly grown a lot on me and I enjoy their performances of it immensely, and it was much the case this time as well.

The transition from ON to Life Goes On came in form of the stage being made to look like their individual rooms from BE which appeared on the digital walls around them. Their clothes were mostly comfy, though Jimin’s resembled their outfits from all the way back during I NEED U/RUN era. The transition/VCR like moment ended with the instrumental to We Are Bulletproof : The Eternal and the stage looking much the way the MV did with the whale swimming around them in an ocean of shades of purple, blue and pink.

For Life Goes On they had miniature versions of some of their most iconic MV sets on pedestals. It was a really cute idea and I enjoyed the execution a lot. The members seemed relaxed and enjoying themselves, Jimin and Taehyung even having their little moment of looking at each other twice, these moments certainly having become something I always kind of look forward to when it comes to LGO stages. 

Another tiny Jimin and Taehyung detail was Jimin sending a brief, barely noticeable (by the viewer) finger heart which I hadn’t even noticed until my fourth rewatch. It definitely fits with all these other small gestures we’ve seen from these two in recent months, like the finger hearts and kissy faces during their Lotte Family Concert performance of Boy with Luv or hugging each other on day 1 and doing a fun handshake and dance on day 2 during Dionysus at the MOTS ON:E concert visible only on one of the side cameras, not the main one.

The grand finale was the Slow Jam remix of Dynamite which worked perfectly with the chill out lounge/bar atmosphere created on stage fitting with the Great Gatsby theme. The members wore mostly suits in white, blue in Namjoon’s case, and a bright yellow when it comes to Taehyung, as well as Hoseok who had a white button down which Tae did not. While a normal person would look ridiculous in it, Taehyung looked absolutely stunning and made it more than work. After so many energetic performances of Dynamite since its release, seeing such a calm version was really nice and refreshing, showing how versatile BTS and their music are, how they can captivate an audience with fast songs made for big choreographies and stage productions, but also these slow, more chill types of tracks. A marvelous idea, truly.

There was also an encore stage where they sang ON again but this time along with Yoongi on stage which had some hilarious moments, especially Namjoon and Seokjin being silly waving their arms around while kneeling opposite each other on stage during Jungkook’s bridge. Cute.

Afterward the members were at something like a red carpet after interview where they took pictures with their awards (Jungkook and Taehyung even making their Bonsang and Daesang awards kiss much the way film director Bong Joon Ho made his two Oscars kiss last year) and were asked to do a relay of saying something to each other. 

All translations of their words are taken from Vernal_Bom on twitter.

J-hope to Jimin 

“I didn’t feel lonely in 2020 thanks to Jimin. Thank you for making me laugh. Give me happiness and laugh in 2021 as well.”  Jimin (turning to Namjoon): “It seems he can never live without me” 

Honestly the bond between Jimin and Hoseok is so cute and wonderful and you can see, and hear in their words, how important they are to each other, and how grateful Hobi is. We know the members were having a really hard time in 2020 so it doesn’t surprise me that Hobi would highlight the other members, or in this case Jimin, as one of the main reasons why he made it through it. After all we also know that those two made a song together which unfortunately didn’t make it onto BE. Hopefully we might get it one day at least as SoundCloud release, or perhaps on the next album instead.

Jimin to RM 

It was you who made us pull ourselves together to go through 2020. I am always grateful, and it’d be nice if you share you height a little with me in 2021, be healthy and happy. RM: Okay thank you

I love how Jimin used this (public) opportunity to tell/remind Namjoon of how important he was for them especially in 2020, as leader and surely also as friend, yet still also made a little joke to still keep the atmosphere light. After he was done speaking Jimin also hugged Namjoon, which showed once more how tiny he is in comparison.

RM to JK 

It’s finally today, Jungkook-si, in 10 years! You are Golden Maknae! The day that you will prove your nickname! You are proving it right now with your hair color, but in 2021, I hope the year will be filled with gold, like your nickname. Stay healthy. Let’s ‘Jje-kkit-up’ together this year too! (check it up.. the usual Namjoon saying lol)

It’s quite something to think about and realize, isn’t it, this year 10 years pass since Jungkook became a BigHit trainee and moved into their first dorm with Namjoon, Hoseok, Yoongi and Seokjin. I’m curious if Bangtan, as well as BigHit, have some kind of plan for JK specifically for this year that Namjoon chose to highlight his Golden Maknae nickname in such a way, or if it was more of a reminder to JK, that he’s so worthy despite how he doubts himself, and despite how he himself said he’s been going through tough times in 2020.

JK to V 

V hyung, when we were trainees we were getting along so well, (V: We are not now???) No!!! i didn’t mean it. You are becoming so much of an stand-up (reliable, I assume in this context) guy. Thank you for doing all the schedules with us.  jhope: who’s hyung here?

The bond these two share might just be one of the biggest mysteries and causes for conflicts and fights within the fandom, or particular parts of it. After their conversation In The SOOP, I’d like to believe they’ve figured out whatever issue might've arisen between them in the past, found a way to solve and move past it slowly, and rekindled their friendship once more. Seeing at how well they’ve been getting along (on camera) these past few months, I think it might've been so. It’s curious to me though that JK chose to say this instead of something more akin to what Jimin said to Namjoon, or Hoseok to Jimin.

V to Jin 

V: (turns to Jin)  Jin: This is too close V: I listened to Abyss and that makes my heart ache too... Jin: Thank you V: hyung, your song is so good. Make more songs in 2021, let Army and us listen to your song more. Jin: Okayokay  V: and I play game with you to relieve stress.... sorry for talking in ban-mal (informal form). —(also speaking in informal way) Jin: No no it was so fun V: I love you Jin: I love you too

I absolutely adore the bond these two share and I love that Tae chose to say what he did. We know Seokjin has been going through a hard time in 2020, that he dealt with something I’d call imposter syndrome, so I’m glad we got to know even more about how Tae was there for him, something we otherwise would’ve never known. Certain people try to portray Tae as the one member that is almost estranged from his other members, who barely has anything to do with the group outside of schedules, and yet it’s moments like this--as well as Seokjin telling us in his birthday vlive that Tae organized for everyone including his non-BTS friends to send Seokjin birthday wishes in video form to show him how loved and appreciated he is--are the proof that those people are wrong. Tae is very close with his members, and he’s the ambassador of OT7 or nothing, the members his closest friends and brothers, his found and chosen family.

Jin to Suga 

Jin: Yoongi ya, do it well. Suga: Okay.... Jin: Do well on your rehab, and...uh... let’s do well going forward. Suga: Okay.. I will...

These two are so close yet due to their introverted nature their interactions such as this one are just so hilarious and adorable at the same time. Their dynamic is wonderful and this just seems like peak Yoongi-Jin behavior.

Suga to j-hope 

SG: (unable to look into hobi’s eyes) Our hobi JH: Suga! SG: You did work hard in 2020 (evading eye contact) JH: hahhahahah and? SG: Let’s not fall sick in 2021, and hwaiting...  JH: “Hwaiting hyung, and take good care of your health!”

The saga of Yoongi being unable to look Hoseok in the eye continues and it’s just as precious as ever. They stood so close, and while Yoongi wasn’t able to look into Hoseok’s eyes, it’s funny how he was the one who initiated the whole “them standing so close together” thing. I love the difference between how Seokjin didn’t even try to make eye-contact while Hoseok playfully challenged Yoongi and tried to coax him into it anyway knowing it’ll make Yoongi laugh and smile. It’s such a Yoongi-Hoseok thing, I love it.

And with that, the award was over and now also my post. I hope you enjoyed reading it! :3

[hphm-stuff]

Hey! Could you please write something about Charlie? Maybe something about him bonding with Barnaby and Liz about creatures?

I absolutely love this! That’s adorable.

Characters: Charlie Weasley, Barnaby Lee, Liz Tuttle.

Warnings: None. Just lots of friendship fluff!!

Summary: Charlie hangs out with his friends and a Bowtruckle. They share what makes them like the little things so much, and Charlie gets a little deep with it.

Word count: 1.1k

Note: I've been writing for years and I don't think I've ever written anything platonic, but I enjoyed it a lot! Hopefully this is what you wanted, anon. Thanks for the request! I've also always sucked at endings, so bear with me!

Bonding and Bowtruckles

When Professor Kettleburn finally finished his lecture on Bowtruckles, Charlie Weasley was ecstatic. He had been standing out in the hot sun, trying to ignore the chatter of his fellow students, listening to the professor bleat on and on, wanting nothing more than to just spend some time with the creatures.

Charlie, when allowed to do so, slowly approached one of the little tree-dwellers. Bowtruckles were harmless, and he knew that, but he liked his eyes exactly where they were, and not on the ends of their sharp, spindly fingers. The creature showed no signs of being frightened by him, so Charlie moved to settle right in front of the little thing.

“Hey little guy,” Charlie cooed, extending a hand. The Bowtruckle clambered up onto the sleeve of his robe. Charlie reached into his pocket with his free hand, producing a small bag. It contained woodlice that he needed to keep the Bowtruckle happy. Charlie spent some time with his new friend, hardly noticing when a large shadow overtook the area he was sitting in. The sudden change from the warm sun to the slightly cooler shade made him lift his head.

Standing over Charlie were two of his classmates, Barnaby Lee and Liz Tuttle.Charlie was on friendly terms with the two of them, so he didn’t mind their sudden arrival.

Liz was incredibly shy, so it took Charlie by surprise when she spoke first. “Mind if we join you?”

Charlie offered them both a light smile and gave his head a shake. “Not at all.”

They joined him with the Bowtruckle, and once they sat with Charlie, the sun returned. They made friendly conversation for a few minutes, all the while the Bowtruckle shot nervous glances at both Barnaby and Liz. The poor creature had just gotten used to Charlie, and now there were more people surrounding it.

Barnaby reached into his pocket and produced a bag. It, like Charlie’s, contained woodlice. He took out a few and extended it to the Bowtruckle. The creature laid its beady little eyes on Barnaby for a moment before accepting his peace offering.

“See? We’re all friends here,” Barnaby said to the creature. His tone was soft and calming. Charlie wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Barnaby speak so gently. The Bowtruckle jumped from Charlie’s arm, onto Barnaby’s.

“Be careful with the little guy, Barnaby. Don’t squish him,” Liz warned gently.

The other Slytherin let out a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I’d never hurt this little guy.”

The creature settled itself on Barnaby’s shoulder. The already small creature was made to look even smaller when compared to the boy it was resting on. The three friends took a moment to admire the little creature.

"I've always liked creatures," Barnaby started, not taking his eyes off of the little Bowtruckle. "They can't talk."

"That's a good thing?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah. They can't say mean things to me like a lot of people do," he retorted, still regarding the creature. Barnaby scrunched up his face a little bit. "Except for Acromantulas. Those things can be rude."

Charlie and Liz had a little laugh about that. Barnaby cracked a half-smile. Liz watched the little creature for a moment before offering it some woodlice. It hopped off of Barnaby and scuttled toward Liz and hopped into her open hand. She grinned at the little thing. "I don't have to worry about what they're thinking about me. As long as I feed them, they're happy. I don't have to worry about making good conversation, either. I also like how you can bond with something that can't even speak to you, you know? Just pure affection."

Barnaby nodded his agreement. "I get that. I don't have to think too much before I talk to them. They can't judge me. Not to my face, at least. Who knows what goes on in those little minds?"

Charlie sat quietly, listening to his friends describe what it was about the creatures that made them like them so much. What was Charlie's reasoning? He got to spend some time with beings that couldn't talk back to him. That was nice. He could unload his issues and frustrations without any judgment or unwanted advice. That was also nice. He decided, in that moment, that what he really liked most about the creatures was the fact that he felt like he was making a difference to them, even just for a little while.

"I like feeling like I'm making a difference to something. My parents have six other kids. I feel like I can't impress them too much anymore. It doesn't take much to impress the creatures, really. I just... I feel important with them."

Barnaby and Liz looked up at Charlie after he spoke. Both of them held the same sympathetic look on their faces. He wasn't usually one for oversharing, but he couldn't stop the words before they came out. Charlie just rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me like that. I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine, Charlie."

He just shrugged his shoulders. Charlie knew that his parents loved him. He knew that they cared for him just as much as his other siblings, but he felt like the creatures needed him. He liked that feeling.

"Really, Liz. That sounded more dramatic than it was. I just like feeling important."

"You are important," Barnaby stated. He was still distracted by the little Bowtruckle, but spoke to his friends. "Everyone's important to someone, in some way. You're our friend, Charlie. We think you're important."

"Yeah," Liz agreed, "We care about you."

Charlie's cheeks burned a light red as he dropped his gaze to the ground. A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. "Thanks, guys."

The three friends continued to spend time with the Bowtruckle until the end of class. They stayed behind, helping Professor Kettleburn wrangle up all the little creatures. When all the Bowtruckles were accounted for, the three friends made their way back inside and toward the Great Hall for lunch.

"It's nice having people that understand why I love that class so much. I'm getting tired of people thinking I'm strange for it," Liz stated as they walked into the castle.

Charlie and Barnaby expressed their agreement. Charlie was just happy to know he had people who cared about him and wanted him around. The three friends settled down for lunch, chatting about the class they just had and looking forward to the next one that they were definitely going to spend together.

[keeper-not-hero]

MY THREE HUMANS AND MY THREE TROLLS ARE FINALLY DONE BEING THOUGHT ABOUT AND ARE NOW PLACED INTO THE WORLD FOR YOU TO ENJOY READING ABOUT, Massive post under read more!!!

[Obs: These ain’t kids. They’re all in their early 20’s tho.]

Gatolt Osbizb (name means nothing. = Muse of Doom.) - 

Looks: Hair that goes down to her shoulders, curly and surprisingly well groomed. Skin (and body) made up of tiny chunks stitched together. Fingers, hands, legs, slightly different shades of grey, with seams colored with the multitude of different blood types beneath. Blank eyes, shirt and pants. Simplistic dress code.

Personality: A hodgepodge of Troll flesh, bones, and a few cybernetic enhancements all stitched together into a singular being. Goldblood, purple blood, violet, and more. Both of her eyes are blank (though she can still see thanks to cyberoptics), and she is usually in at least a mild amount of pain due to the strain of her body barely being able to keep itself together. Despite all that, she tries to act cheery and tries to be the life of her friend circle, though not always with success. And besides, she rarely tries to mingle outside of it, feeling unwelcome in other circles.

Constantly requires maintenance which she usually does herself, and… fresh replacements. Her creator fucked up in making her, which means she is now slowly yet constantly rotting away, to the point every part of her body except the brain and enhancements are different than her first resurrection.  Her girlfriend, Bakhus, usually helps with gathering ‘replacements’. She feels like a burden due to her condition that sometimes leaves her bedridden for days, which makes her stay quiet and sometimes even enable her friends’ bad habits, because she doesn’t want to be a drag. Hates the fact her whole life revolves around her condition. Likes gardening and clockwork.

Bakhus Gredui (Greedy Bacchus / Dionysius. = Thief of Void)  - 

Looks: Hair that goes all the way to the floor and a few feet behind her, greasy, messy, and dragging food bits in it. Tank top with her sign (Sign of the Brazen) on it, suspenders and oversized clown pants. Juggalo make-up messy and somewhat faded, droopy yellow eyes, usually with a hunched stance. Very, very tall, and extremely strong - with some healthy weight to her body to go along with it.

Personality: A purple-blood that represses her kind and motherly urges under liters and liters of Faygo. A chef at heart and a great cook from years of experience, she constantly throws barbecues and small carnivals on her massive garden, which attracts lowblood and highblood alike. Her festivities have become small gathering spots for those who wish to mingle with the upper / lower classes despite their own status, and for spies of both the Condescension and those who oppose her. Bakhus is, of course, too busy grilling to mind that she has accidentally created the perfect neutral spot.

Despite her cooking prowess, the Faygo inhibits both her ability to feel much empathy or care about the taste of her food. Deliciously cooked and prepared meals placed near overly-sugary, soggy, Faygo-drenched pretzels. She carries a massive cookbook alongside her massive pot, which has recipes that certain blood types enjoy, and… recipes made out of said blood types. She has no qualms cooking violets and reds, and sometimes will go so far as to grab Faygo-drunk trolls in her cookout and take them inside to ‘rest’. They’re never seen again.

Also keeps a small spice garden. Gatolt usually takes care of it, with whatever isn’t used to cook as fertilizer. Occasionally, she sends the butchered corpses to Marciu. Who also happens to be Gatolt’s creator.

Marciu Shelli (Like, y’know. Mary Shelley. Frankenstein’s author. = Seer of Space)  - 

Looks: Short hair, think Eridan, but with no streak. Scrawny to a fault, and clearly underfed. Big scientist glasses with special prescription lenses, white lab robes that hide his starving figure and his left hand gloved with thick, hazmat-suit-like protection. The right one is a prosthetic, indigo tubes and wires trying to replicate the sensation of the original with… some success. Pointy nose, sharp teef.

Personality: Anxious, skittery and, quite frankly pitiful even for an indigo blood, Marciu spends most of his days either robbing graves for corpses or putting his ill-gotten gains to use in his laboratory. Deeply resentful of feelings he has about himself, he buries them deep within him and, to make sure no one can say he is valid or try to empathize with his pain, keeps pushing himself further and further down the hole until he pushes everyone away. Having lost a hand to a nasty accident involving a bone saw and a few too many of Bakhus’ spiked snacks, he also has a mechanical replacement.

A master of biomechanical engineering, he constantly creates half-troll, half-machine abominations to help him around the lab. Rotten servants just barely able to move their joints with hollow eyes and faces, mechanical hearts pumping blood and fuel throughout the system. Still, despite his best attempts at being as repugnant as possible, his friends still cling to him.

Except Gatolt. Gatolt has actively tried to kill him multiple times, being stopped only by Bakhus’ eternal kindness to the weirdo that occasionally gives her “aged” ingredients. Also, his human friends.

[Why does he have human friends? Idk, Pesterchum + machines or AU where humans and trolls live in the same world after a few Sburb/Sgrub/Swhatever versions playing out after homestuck and Lord English being gone.]

Bert Kairos (Albert Einstein and his whole relativity stuff + Kairos, a greek concept of time. = Mage of Time.)  - 

Looks: Very short and very curly hair. Dark skin, both legs missing, though one has a very unpolished, simplistic metal prosthetic to help him stand in one foot. Right arm missing too, half of a prosthetic attached to it,cut off at the elbow from an accident. Hasn’t bothered replacing it yet. Blouse with a robot symbol and shorts, chin stubble. Brown eyes.

Personality: A gentle soul who makes more time for everyone else than he ever did to himself. Spending literal days away from his parents’ home, staying in his makeshift workshop creating toys for the kids on his street and to help the people of his community. Lost both legs and an arm from accidents with heavy machinery and cars that he work repairing to make a living, usually for meager scraps out of the kindness of his own heart and the belief that it’s all part of a greater plan that he barely gets enough to survive, relying on crutches and Marciu’s prosthetics that often break because of even more accidents due to his very precarious working conditions.

He dreams of one day being able to inspire people, though. A big, endless machine of silly, simple delights. Not curing the world, not controlling the weather, a machine with the same utility as a painting. A machine that could cover the entire world in its width and length, proof that humanity can do anything if it just bands together. A wish that sometimes consumes his mind as he spends hours on end, instead of sleeping, building small moving pieces that will hopefully one day help fill this whole. This magnificent machine he will make to help mankind flourish through its artistic value, that they will sing his name in praise for generations, that mankind will be uplifted until we don’t need work, money, barriers, differences, just a homogenous mass streaking across the cosmos with machine brilliance. 

But, he has way too many people to take care of, so he never dabbles on it too much.

Andy Eissuh ( :) - Lord of Life) - 

Looks: Blonde hair tied in a manbun. Bushy stubble beard all over his face. Smuggest fucking grin you’ve ever seen. Blue eyes. Average height, an air of superiority that is as annoying as it is believable due to how he carries himself; like an untouchable douchebag. White tuxedo and business pants, y’know, like a doctor. Right? He’s even got the white cross! Yeah, sure, that sounds right. Like he cares about proper dress code for doctors.

Personality: A very, very, very bad doctor. A very bad doctor that has just enough good reputation and far too much money from their family to let their pretty much 100% patient loss rate slip without anyone being able to pry into it. Patient comes in, body bag goes out, and nothing ever leaves the hospital. The one time he actually saved someone was by accident, and it was a botched (and misdiagnosed by him) liver transplant where he accidentally removed the appendix instead of said liver, forgot to replace it, and the patient recovered in a short while with the help of the nurses from what he later learned was appendicitis.

Believing himself to be able to do no wrong, with a chirpy, colorful yet aggressively passive personality, he keeps his friend group around mostly to dispose of the bodies without many questions asked, and so he can feel better than the pathetic wretches he considers them. Completely blind to his irredeemably cruel medical malpractices, which he didn’t even study for, he simply bought his way into a degree because he “could feel it was my destiny.” Soft, sweet, and completely unhinged. Finding great joy preying upon the insecurities and naivete of his peers, which he feels is a breeding ground to use and abuse them for his own needs. Shoulda been smarter if you didn’t wanna get taken advantage of, duh!

Cain Pyrite (Cain the first sinner + Fool’s Gold. = Rogue of Light. ) -

Looks: Hair slightly above his shoulders, dark and greasy. Sickly pale skin, beeg librarian glasses. A nice fuzzy coat, plus shirt, plus jeans. Eye symbol on his coat. Looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks, which, yeah, is absolutely right. Gentle smile, though it occasionally cracks into a nervous attempt at hiding… something!

Personality: Dedicated to… no, OBSESSED with preserving occult and ancient knowledge. Scrolls from ancient alchemists, bones of kings, relics thought long since lost hidden on the back of his seemingly normal book shop. Spending most of his days with no clients, he occasionally gets someone who is aware of his darker inclinations. He is always happy to trade knowledge for knowledge and artifact for artifact.

Only, not always the originals. No. Never the originals. 

Always finding a way to spin a story and make sure that he can spot out any fakes, he builds his collection of convincing lies, and hidden truths. Friends with the others since grave-digging always inherits some fun and interesting things, and his appetite for the esoteric and forgotten is only comparable for his taste in interesting and unique foods.

[artificialqueens]

Ms. California - Chapter One (Crygi/Jankie) - Mik

AN: Hey guys! This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction (or fiction in general). I absolutely love the idea of these two together, so hopefully you all enjoy it! If you guys like it, I’m definitely hoping to write at least six more chapters.

Summary: Crystal moves to Los Angeles from Missouri and meets GiGi Goode, captain of the varsity cheer squad. Queue the 1990s lesbian high school AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

The first time Crystal sees GiGi is on her first day of senior year at Fairfax High School. She’s just moved from a small town in Missouri to Los Angeles with her family and starting over is daunting. 

The second she enters the campus, she feels intimidated - it’s at least three times the size of her high school back home. She knows nobody; she is completely and utterly alone amongst her peers, who seem to be mostly chatting amongst themselves in groups. It’s Crystal’s senior year and she knows she should be looking forward to all of the so-called “high school experiences” that are surely to come this year, but all she can think of is how much she wishes it were all over. 

Crystal looks down at the somewhat crumpled piece of paper in her hands, examining her schedule. It’s going to be a pretty simple year, she decides, after realizing she only has five classes, one of which is advanced drawing and painting. Crystal is an art kid through and through. She looks the part - always wearing quirky combinations of bright colors and unconventional, wacky patterns - acts the part, and has the talent to match her aesthetic. 

Crystal begins looking for her first period classroom - art, thankfully. An easy way to start the day, she thinks to herself. Although she can see her class is supposedly held in room A12, she can’t find the building for the life of her on the huge campus. She’s sure that she looks impossibly lost and frazzled, and she starts to panic as she notices that the hands on her watch are slowly ticking closer to eight.

Apparently, someone else notices her alarmed expression too. “Are you lost?” a voice calls out from behind Crystal. 

“Um… yeah, I think I am,” Crystal replies, turning around. When she sees the person the voice belongs to, her nerves override her brain. The girl has shoulder length blonde hair and the most strikingly blue eyes she’s seen. She’s dressed like someone out of the magazines Crystal used to read; a short red dress clings to her long legs and Crystal can’t help but notice the pair of blush pink heels she’s chosen to accessorize the outfit with. Crystal thinks that she belongs on a runway or a movie set or at a photoshoot, not on a high school campus. She’s tall, she’s thin, she has full, pillowy lips, and a cute button nose; a girl that looked like that wouldn’t have made a point of reaching out to a stranger at her old high school. 

“What classroom are you looking for?” the girl asks, approaching Crystal. 

“A12,” Crystal chirps, sure she’s sounding as nervous as she looks. 

“Oh, you’re an art kid. Well, it’s right up that flight of stars,” the blonde motions to her right. “Are you new?” “Is it that obvious?” Crystal jokes, trying to hide how flustered she is. “Just a bit,” the other girl cracks a smile. “I’m GiGi.”

“Crystal.” “Well, maybe I’ll see you around, Crystal.”

GiGi walks off, leaving a stunned Crystal in her wake. As soon as she can calm her thoughts, she walks towards the flight of stairs.

She makes it to her first period class with five minutes to spare, and upon realizing she’s the first student to enter the spacious classroom, she makes her way to the front. Crystal elects to sit front and center, deciding that if nothing else, it will make her noticeable to other students and hopefully help her make some friends.

Students start trickling in one by one and filling out the classroom. Most choose to sit as far back as they can, probably to avoid being called on or so they can text without being noticed. Crystal silently prays for someone to sit next to her so she doesn’t look like the loner new kid. 

Her wish is granted when a girl with long, black hair wearing a pair of glasses with thick frames elects to sit next to her. 

Crystal, being somewhat extroverted - and desperate to make friends at her new school - introduces herself. 

“Hey, I’m Crystal!”

“Jackie,” the girl smiles. “Nice to meet you,” she says, extending a hand. 

Crystal suppresses a smirk at the formality of the gesture; it’s endearing. 

“Nice to meet you, too! How long have you been taking art?” Crystal asks,

Their conversation is interrupted by their teacher - who introduces herself as Ms. Velour - beginning the class. Crystal and Jackie both listen attentively to the bald woman with bold make-up as she reviews the course syllabus. 

Ms. Velour suddenly stops her lecturing and Crystal hears the door to the classroom open and close in succession. She twists around, partially out of curiosity to see who’s coming in so late, and partially because every other student is too. 

It’s GiGi. 

She makes a beeline for the only open desk in the back right corner. 

“Ms. Goode, thank you for joining us,” Ms. Velour says in a somewhat annoyed tone. 

GiGi doesn’t answer, and when Crystal tries making eye contact, GiGi ignores her. 

First period flies by, and even though Crystal would have loved to catch up to GiGi after class, GiGi seems to have sped out of the classroom. Crystal finds out she and Jackie both have second period - AP English - together anyways, so the two make their way to the classroom across campus. 

“So, that GiGi girl…” Crystal asks her potential new friend in a somewhat questioning tone. 

“GiGi? Well, there’s a lot I could say but I guess I’ll just stick with the super simplified version of it. She’s a junior and the head of the varsity cheer squad, she’s the resident “cool girl”, if you know what I mean. I’ve had art with her every year, and she likes to pretend she’s above it all.”

“Above it all?” Crystal questions - that definitely wasn’t the feeling she got from GiGi earlier. 

“Oh yeah, definitely. I mean, she probably thinks of all of the art kids as weird losers. But she’s one of us - she just won’t acknowledge it or you you, unless she’s hurling insults at you with her posse of cheer girls.” 

Crystal refrains from commenting about her interaction with GiGi before the class. “Well, that sounds like something out of a bad 1980s high school movie,” Crystal laughs. 

“It kind of is - welcome to LA, Crystal,” Jackie jokes as the two walk into their second class. 

~

Crystal’s first day goes well, overall. She and Jackie are on the route to becoming fast friends, and the dark haired girl even offers to give her a ride home after class, which Crystal appreciates.

The next morning, Jackie picks Crystal up and introduces her to her friend, Jan. The two seem a bit touchy; there are many fleeting glances and subtle touches between them.

The trio arrive to school ten minutes early, after picking up coffee. Jan is bright and bubbly and kind and Crystal immediately adores her; much like herself and Jackie, they hit it off instantaneously. 

Jan hugs Jackie goodbye, and plants a kiss on her cheek, eliciting Jackie to turn a shade of light pink. 

Crystal doesn’t question it. 

“Jan’s really cool,” Crystal says to Jackie as they make their way to first period together. 

“Yeah, isn’t she?” Jackie grins. “We’ve known each other since middle school.”

“Those kinds of friendships are always the best, I had a few friends like that back home in Missouri,” Crystal recalls. 

“Oh, well… I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” Jackie stutters. 

“You seemed pretty close,” Crystal says, perplexed. 

“Uh, yeah, we are,” Jackie says expectantly. 

The pair are silent for thirty seconds as Crystal tries to understand what Jackie is insinuating. 

“Okay, I don’t get it,” Crystal admits. 

“We’re like, girlfriends,” Jackie half-whispers. “But you can’t say anything. Please do not say anything.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I should’ve picked up on that,” Crystal sighs internally at her own obliviousness. “And I won’t - your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you. I mean, it’s just a bit weird because Jan is on the cheer squad and if anyone finds out, she’ll basically become a pariah - both for being bisexual and for dating someone like me.”

“It’s Los Angeles and it’s 1994 - do people still really care about that here? And what do you mean, ‘someone like you’” Crystal asks, somewhat shocked. If there was one thing she was expecting to be different in Los Angeles, it was the sociocultural climate.

“Most of the kids at this school come from money - rich, white families. Republican families,” Jackie exhales. “Which also means they’re not too fond of me - an out-and-proud Persian lesbian.”

“That’s stupid,” Crystal states. 

“We can agree on that,” Jackie sighs. 

The pair sit down together, in the front of the classroom again, and talk about their art - what they like painting, their favorite painting music, their current works in progress.

Class starts and to Crystal’s dismay, she doesn’t see GiGi - until she hears the door quickly open and close fifteen minutes later.

GiGi arrives late again. This time there are no seats left in the back, and she’s forced to make her way to the front of the room. Crystal barely notices that someone is sitting beside her until the scent of Chanel perfume floods Crystal’s senses. 

Crystal is greeted with the same bright blue eyes she was previously entranced by. 

Disregarding a suspicious look from Jackie, Crystal smiles at GiGi.

“Hey! Thanks again for helping me get here the other day.”

GiGi, unlike the day before, gives her a tight-lipped smile. “No problem.”

“Your make-up looks really nice today!” Crystal continues on, admiring GiGi’s dark lips, sparkling magenta eyeshadow, and long eyelashes..

“Thanks.”

Crystal notices a difference in the GiGi she met and this GiGi - she knew it didn’t mean much because she’d barely interacted with the girl, but she feels strangely compelled to get to know her. There was something about her that was intoxicating. 

Before Crystal could continue talking, the teacher shoots her a look, effectively silencing her. 

~

Crystal is on her own after class; Jackie is meeting Jan to do god knows what. She decides to use Jackie’s lack of presence as an excuse to talk to GiGi again. 

Class ends and Crystal trails behind GiGi, who once again darts out of the door. 

“Hey, wait, GiGi!” Crystal yells, partially expecting the tall girl to continue walking quickly down the hill. 

She doesn’t. She spins around, and crosses her arms. “Yes?” “I need help finding my English classroom. Jackie showed me where it was yesterday, and I forgot.”

GiGi rolls her eyes; Crystal figures her feigned ignorance is fairly easy to see through. 

“You do? Again?” GiGi says in a monotone voice. 

“Okay, I’ll admit that was pretty lame,” Crystal tries to lighten the mood. “I don’t know, you seem really cool, and I guess I was wondering if you’d want to grab lunch today? I’m new, I don’t really have friends here yet.”

GiGi’s expression turns from annoyed to something resembling concern. Her eyes dart around before motioning for Crystal to follow her back up the hill, towards the secluded side of the art building. 

“I don’t know what Jackie told you about me, but I can’t be like that. Especially not with you.” 

Crystal arches an eyebrow. “I don’t get it.”

“Come on. Jan tells Jackie everything, don’t play dumb, please. Class starts in…” GiGi checks her pearl-colored watch, “five minutes and I don’t have time to spell it out for you, new girl.”

“I’m not,” Crystal shrugs. 

GiGi lets out a muffled groan. “Sure you’re not. Okay, well, why don’t you just ask Jackie about me, then?”

Crystal doesn’t want to admit that she already has. 

“Um… okay. So that’s a no for lunch then, I’m guessing?” Crystal asks. 

GiGi’s facial expression indicates that she, under her rock-hard exterior, genuinely does feel bad. She opens her mouth and pauses, as if she’s trying to figure out the right thing to say. 

“Not lunch… and not at school. What are you doing on Friday night?”

“Um, nothing probably. New kid syndrome,” Crystal jokes, trying to break the tension. 

“Ask Jackie for my number. If she doesn’t have it, Jan does.” 

GiGi is gone as soon as she finishes her sentence, and Crystal is confused. GiGi seems to have some connection to Jackie - Jackie hadn’t mentioned that in the slightest. Second, she seems to think that Crystal has some hidden motive, one completely unbeknownst to her. Crystal can’t even begin to fathom what’s going on in the blonde’s head. She just wants friends and GiGi seems nice - and she’s stunning. But that’s aside from the point. Crystal snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she needs to make it to AP English in less than three minutes.  

She lets it go, and sets off to her next class, intending to tell Jackie everything. GiGi perplexes her.

~

“She wants to what?!” Jackie exclaims once class is over. “She wants to hang out, outside of school, with you?!”

“Yeah, I mean, I think so. It seemed like she wanted to spend time with me,” Crystal says. “She also kind of made a comment about you and Jan - she knows you’re close with her. Does she know about you two?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I’m all for outing people, but I guess if she’s going to be so bold - GiGi and I had a thing during her freshman year - my sophomore year. She’s the only one who knows about Jan - they keep each other’s secret.”

“Wow,” Crystal mused. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“It’s all very dramatic,” Jackie sighs. “I don’t like GiGi very much - not anymore at least. She’s changed a lot. I mean, she won’t be seen with me because I’m out, even though I’m dating her best friend, and she was clearly ignoring you in front of everyone because you’re gay,” Jackie rambles.

“Oh, I’m not - I mean, I’m supportive of all of that but I’m like, I’m not gay,” Crystal says, turning bright red. 

“Oh,” Jackie looks confused. “But you’re going on Friday?”

“Yeah?” Crystal says inquisitively. 

“I mean, I don’t want to speak for GiGi, but if you asked her to get lunch, she probably thought you were trying to flirt. And I think suggesting Friday was her way of showing she is interested,” Jackie explains. 

Crystal realizes she’s a little bit oblivious; she’s embarrassed. Growing up in a small town in Missouri rendered her unable to read the situation; it’s not like gay people ever tried to secretly date there. She didn’t even know if gay people lived in Missouri.  

“Well, shit,” Crystal inhales deeply. 

“Are you gonna go?”

“Yeah, I mean… Maybe we can be friends, or something,” Crystal hopes aloud. “Oh, and on that note, I need GiGi’s number - she told me to ask you for it.”

[nightingiall]

head in the clouds: part i

Rory Bhatt hates lifeguarding, hates the Shack kids, and hates Niall Horan. All she wants is to have a peaceful summer minding her own business and hopefully be able to find some much needed inspiration so she can finally start sketching things that look good again. But Niall Horan appears, with that annoying grin and a problem on his hands, and of course that plan goes out the window. 

A story about tired lifeguards, a stolen cat, wild imaginations, and lots and lots of parties. 

There is not a cloud in sight today. 

The sky is endlessly blue, starting with a light, nearly white, color from the horizon that blends into the soft azure right over where Rory is sitting. It’s beautiful, she thinks, how one simple color can blend seamlessly into the gradients that make up that sea of vast nothingness above her. But today, she wishes that there was at least one cloud floating by. 

She sighs to herself, turning her gaze to the large resort pool in front of her, also a shade of blue, but one caused by the blue tiles at the bottom and not nature itself. There are two children near the shallow end bickering with each other. They couldn’t be more than five and three years old. The oldest, a girl, shoves the youngest, a boy, causing him to wail in the direction of a woman who is presumably their mother. When she doesn’t give him the attention, the boy turns back to the little girl, and even from the distance, Rory can see the angry flash in his eyes. She places her whistle between her lips, readying herself for what he might do next. 

Sure enough, he charges at the little girl, jumping on her with such force that her head gets submerged under the water. Rory’s whistle sounds off loudly, everyone’s head jerking towards her, and when they are assured her warning is not for them, they return to their poolside shenanigans. “No dunking!” Rory yells at the two children, removing her sunglasses so they can see her eyes trained on them. “This is your first warning!”

Their maybe-mother notices this exchange and quickly breaks them apart, dragging them towards the pool stairs and scolding them all the way. By the time Rory pushes her sunglasses back up her nose, they’re already walking towards a lounger where a man, presumably their father, is already watching them disapprovingly. 

“No drawings today?” comes a voice from beside her, and she turns towards it only to find blue eyes that are entirely too close for comfort. 

Niall Horan laughs when she flinches, and she rolls her eyes at the sound. But of course he cannot see that through her sunglasses, so he laughs even louder at her frown. He’s standing on one of the rungs of her lifeguard chair, his face level with hers, and she has half a mind to reach out to shove him off. 

She doesn’t.

“Not inspired,” is what she mumbles instead, turning her attention towards her sketchbook, which stares back at her, the open page unbearably blank. She brought her nice charcoal pencils with her today after waking up feeling like sketching the clouds. But when she looks up at the sky again, the endless chasm of blue taunts her. 

Niall Horan, for his part, simply grins in that wide, obnoxious way of his and hops off the rung to round the corner to the front of the lifeguard chair. He always offers a hand when she steps down and she never takes it, and the same thing happens today. She’s glaring at him now, as she always does when he does that, but she knows he can’t see it through her sunglasses. He must know it’s there though, because this exchange happens every single time, like clockwork. 

Literally. 

Niall has been behind her in the rotation for two whole weeks now, meaning he’s always the one nudge her out of this mind numbing job every twenty minutes when they have to move on to the next lifeguard chair. 

“Well I’m sure you’ll come up with something!” he says cheerfully, just as she’s about to turn away to head over to the next chair. She chances a glance at him just in time to see him swing himself up onto the seat she just vacated, his sunnies, as he calls them, falling back onto his face. She rolls her eyes again, wondering how he manages to make everything seem so effortless yet so insufferably annoying. 

She heads to her next post without another word. 

***

Rory cannot stand Niall Horan. 

She cannot stand him and his loud laugh and his annoying grin and his stupid jokes. She cannot stand him and the way he’s always peeking over her shoulder into her sketchbook and reaching out to trail his fingers along the pages, smearing her nice charcoal work that she’d meticulously smudge to her own liking. 

Rory cannot stand him but there are still 60 days left of summer and she has no choice but to deal with him. 

***

“You totally have a crush on him.” 

Gigi is laughing and Rory is glaring and this is nothing new for the two of them. 

Rory wonders how her roommate can be so cheery all the time. Her dark ringlets bounce with her giggles and her dark brown eyes glitter from the light hitting the tears that are starting to build up near her lashline. Leave it to Gigi to cry laughing at Rory’s expense. 

“I do not,” Rory bites out. The sheer insinuation is so annoying that she can feel an angry heat spreading across her cheeks. “I don’t like him. At all.” Gigi is still cackling, hand clutching her tummy as she bows over on their tiny kitchen table. “Gigi! I don’t!”

Her roommate, after wiping her laughter induced tears from her face and taking a deep breath to calm herself, simply smiles at her, watching her knowingly. “Wow,” is what she says, shaking her head slightly as she leans back into her seat, arms crossed over her chest. “You are in such denial.” 

Rory, for her part, attempts to send her as menacing a look as she can manage, because truthfully, she is absolutely fuming. Seething. Blindingly angry. All at the assertion that she could have a crush on the most annoying boy on the planet. “Gigi…” Her voice is dangerously low and measured. A warning for them to drop this subject before her anger gets out of hand. “I do not have a crush on Niall Horan.” 

There’s a tense silence as they both stare each other down. And, if anything, the way Gigi is calmly smiling at her only makes her more upset. Regardless, a truce is drawn when Gigi brings her mug to her lips, sipping slowly from her coffee and shrugging her shoulders, effectively letting the topic go. 

“So,” is what she says, all nonchalantly, as if they weren’t just having a heated conversation. “What are you wearing for the party this weekend?” 

Rory lets out a sigh of relief, gladly accepting this change in subject and having no interest in giving Gigi any reason to return to the previous topic. So they drink their coffee together and talk about this party. 

***

Rory has worked at The Hightstown Resort every summer since she was a sophomore in high school. 

It’s a tradition at this point, and she feels like it’s not summer unless she’s at Hightstown. It feels like home, familiar in a way she needs to feel grounded sometimes. And for all the crap she talks about it, she always looks forward to coming back and seeing all the knowing faces that played a part in the story of her youth. 

Her mom worked at Hightstown when she was younger too, so all the long-term staff knows who she and her family are. This is especially helpful after hours when she feels like having a midnight snack and the kitchen staffers will gladly let her into the pantry to choose whatever she wants. 

Of course she is not the only returning seasonal employee of Hightstown. Gigi has been her roommate for the past three summers, and there are a few other high school to college-aged people who call this place their summer home too. But Rory likes to think that the rest of the staff likes her best. 

Hightstown is a place that’s rife with tradition. For the seasonal kids, anyway. 

One of those rituals is the summer bash up at the Shacks. Rory has always wondered which snob named the most glorious and expensive staff quarters at the resort the Shacks. Perhaps they thought they were being clever, because there is nothing grungy or shack-like about it at all. There are hot tubs and private chefs and room service and, most importantly, an endless supply of hot water. 

Rory hates the Shack kids. 

Not because they can afford the luxurious accommodations. She has nothing against rich people. But she does have something against rude rich people. 

That fact doesn’t stop her from going to the summer bash, though. 

Gigi made her change her clothes twice so Rory walks into the party sporting her signature snarl because she’s annoyed and her best friend is too preoccupied with worrying over how she’s going to impress one of the Shack boys she has a crush on to notice. “Just because you had a bad experience with one of them doesn’t mean I will,” was what she huffed at her as they walked out of their suite. “Loosen up, Rory!”

Rory hasn’t spoken to her since. 

Now they’re in the Sunset Villa where the bash is always held and she’s long lost sight of her roommate. Somehow, Rory manages to find two people she can actually tolerate, standing near the makeshift bar area, and she heads straight towards them. 

“There she is!” is what Harry says when she smiles at them, throwing an arm over her shoulders to pull her into his side and she gladly reciprocates by slinging an arm around his waist. “I feel like I never see you anymore!”

“Yeah, Rors, where have you been hiding?” chimes in Leslie. Her long, dark hair is pulled up into what looks like a very intricate crown braid and Rory nearly gets distracted admiring it. 

She shrugs. “You know me. Not the social type.” They both frown at her because they know that a few years ago, that wouldn’t have been true at all. Rory was always the one dragging them to the parties and begging them to sneak off the grounds so they could go exploring. But she’s different now. The fact of it makes her heart twist strangely in her chest. So, she changes the subject. “Love your hair, Les! You need to teach me how to braid like that.” 

They launch into a conversation about hair while Harry goes to get them all drinks. Finally things are starting to feel normal. After the rough way summer ended last year, Rory wasn’t sure she even wanted to come back to Hightstown. But Harry and Leslie, because she’s known them forever, can always be counted on to pull her out of a funk. They all started working at the resort in the same year and have stuck together ever since. Lately, though, they haven’t been able to spend as much time together because of all of their different placements: Rory’s a lifeguard, Harry’s in the kitchen, and Leslie does all the kids programming. 

Harry comes back with beers and they catch up for a while. But somehow, the night transitions in such a way that they end up taking shots with some Shack kids, and then more beer, and then someone procures a joint from somewhere which they end up sharing on the back patio. By the time the night starts to wind down, Rory is pretty drunk and maybe a little high and she needs to get back to her room because she’s had enough of the socializing. 

She waves goodbye to Harry and Leslie, leaving with a promise that they’d catch up again soon. Despite technically being outside the entire time, as she walks back through the villa and out the front door, she finds that she can breathe better the further she walks from the party. The breeze feels cooler on her heated skin and her head clears a bit. She briefly wonders whether she should have gone to look for Gigi but figures that she’s probably having fun making out with her new Shack boy toy somewhere so she decides against it. She also may or may not still be upset with her. 

She’s halfway down the trail when she realizes that her head feels like it’s a disco ball spinning out of control, and before she knows it, she’s plopping down onto the curb rubbing her fingers against her temples as though that would help in quelling the beginnings of the headache she can feel coming. The night is quiet though, the air feeling all light and floaty around her, and she doesn’t mind relaxing here for a bit. The grass is soft against her hands as she leans back against it, her head lolling back until her eyes are trained towards the sky. 

The darkness is a stark contrast to the beautiful blue she had been staring at this morning while perched atop her lifeguard chair. There are definitely no clouds in the sky now, but the beautiful thing about Hightstown is that it’s so sequestered from the city that the stars seem to glow a bit brighter here. She smiles, admiring the way they twinkle, almost wishing she could reach up and pluck one right out of the sky to keep. 

“Rory?” comes a voice ahead of her, and when she rolls her head upright again to find its owner, she finds blue eyes that sort of glimmer just like the stars she was just looking at. 

Then she blinks a few times and realizes it’s just Niall Horan emerging from the darkness. 

Her smile falls, then she sighs. She may not like him, but she’s not a bitch, so she mumbles, “Hi, Horan,” in response. 

He’s dressed all nice, like a typical Shack boy: dark wash denim jacket with the sleeves cuffed to his elbows, slim fit t-shirt, and some jeans. With his dark hair, pale skin, and bright blue eyes, he reminds her of last summer. Reminds her of big brown eyes and a smile that can light up the whole resort. Reminds her of searing kisses and warm touches and giggling into a different denim jacket in some hidden away corner of the grounds 

He reminds her of a different Shack boy who broke her heart.

As Niall makes himself comfortable on the curb next to her, she vows to herself that she will not allow a repeat of last summer to happen. 

Just as a scowl is starting to form on her face, Niall turns to her, his own lips curling into that megawatt grin of his, and she has to stop herself from wincing because something about it makes her stomach turn. It reminds her too much of another her, in a different summer, where she might’ve been in this exact position with another boy who she didn’t know would rip her heart out of her chest and stomp all over it. 

“Were you just at the party?” he asks, voice all soft and sweet and lilted in that Irish accent of his. Ugh, she thinks, internally rolling her eyes, because she’s drunk and that accent just made her heart stop for a second and she hates herself for it. Hates him for it. 

She’s just about to say something snarky when she’s interrupted by a strange sound. It startles her for a moment. It sounded so nearby but her alcohol-muddled brain had been too distracted to determine what exactly it was. It happens again and Rory thinks that it sounds a lot like a cat meowing, which in itself is odd because Hightstown has a strict anti-pet policy. 

She looks around to find the source when her eyes land on a rather large duffel near Niall’s feet. She hadn’t noticed it before and when she looks up at him to ask him about it, she finds that his face is flushed a bright crimson, visible despite the fact that they’re sitting in the darkness. “Horan,” she says slowly because she’s slightly suspicious now. “What’s in that bag?”

He chuckles nervously which only makes her narrow her eyes at him. “Uhh,” he gets out as he rubs his hands on his jeans, and Rory would bet her life that it’s because they’re sweating. “Nothing.” 

He tries to move the duffel away discreetly but she notices. She couldn’t care less about what Niall Horan, of all people, was up to. But her interest is piqued now, so she can’t help the way she reaches over him to grab the bag. “You’re hiding something—”

“No!” He blocks her from being able to close her fingers around the strap, and when she looks at him again, there’s a bit of alarm swirling in his eyes. “I—uh...it’s nothing, I swear!”

Rory simply blinks at him. Honestly, the fact that he’s resisting only makes her more curious, so she says, “Niall Horan. What are you up to?”

She watches as he visibly gulps, chewing on his lips as he mulls it over. Finally, he takes a deep breath and says, “Okay. But if I show you then you have to promise not to say a word to anyone.” 

At that, she actually laughs and rolls her eyes because that’s so dramatic. But when he doesn’t even crack a smile, doesn't even try to defend himself, she realizes that he’s totally serious. So, to placate him, she goes, “Yeah, okay whatever.” 

He gives her a look and it looks a bit funny on him because she’s never seen him act in any way except obnoxiously bubbly all the time. “I mean it, Rory. Not a single soul.” 

She groans, rolling her eyes again because this is ridiculous and she’s beginning to wonder whether this back and forth is even worth seeing what’s in the duffel. “Okay, I promise! Unless it’s something illegal like drugs. Then I’m snitching.” It’s telling how drunk she is because she grins at him before her next words leave her mouth. “Unless you’re sharing.” 

Niall simply huffs, shaking his head. But he seems convinced enough because he reaches behind him for the bag and places it gently between them. He’s visibly nervous as he unzips it, constantly glancing up at her as if he’s afraid of how she might react. When the bag is finally open, he tosses the flap back and just looks at her. She shrugs him off, leaning over to peer inside. At first, she sees nothing interesting, but then, she catches movement and immediately recoils with a gasp. 

“What is that!” She knows she’s drunk but damn it seems a bit crazy for it to be what she thinks it is. 

Niall doesn’t have to reply to her because the creature is emerging from the bag. First, its head pops out, then, as if realizing it’s free from its confines, it attempts to step out before unceremoniously flopping over until it lands on the grass between them. It has muted orange fur with black stripes. Its eyes are pulled downwards, mouth—or snout?—curved in a way that resembles a frown. And it’s huge. Rory has never seen one that big and didn’t even know they were able to get to that size. 

“Whoa,” is what leaves her mouth as she stares dumbly at it. She almost wants to laugh. She has to be absolutely wasted because surely her eyes are deceiving her. “That is...a big cat.” Niall is grinning stupidly at her, reaching out to nuzzle the creature’s face. It purrs at his touch but its frown seems to remain intact. Rory tilts her head at it. “Actually...is it really a cat? And not like...a baby tiger or something?”

“Nah, he’s just a regular ol’ cat. Reckon he’s just a bit big-boned or something.” The creature—Rory thinks she’ll just call it a cat—putters towards her and she leans away from it slightly which makes Niall laugh. “Go on, pet him! Isn’t he a cute little fella!” Niall is absolutely beaming now and Rory huffs. She wouldn’t call that thing little, but she reaches out regardless, cautiously rubbing a finger on its head. The cat closes its eyes and purrs at her touch. “Awww,” Niall coos, reaching out too, “he likes you!” 

The shock is wearing off and her senses are finally coming back to her. “Uhhhh. Where did you even get this from? You know they’re not allowed on the grounds right?”

He shrugs, gently grabbing a hold of the cat and placing it back into the duffel. “Some lady left the poor little thing in her car out at valet. When she finally got back she got mad at him for leaping out.” Niall is looking at her all imploringly and all Rory can think about is how he really needs to stop calling that thing little. It is definitely not little. “She even raised her hand on him!” He huffs, getting all heated over it. “So,” he says matter of factly, “I saved him from her.”

Rory stares at him. “You stole a cat?”

He shakes his head at her. “No. I saved him.” He nuzzles the thing before apologizing to it softly as he closes the zipper again, leaving a small portion of it open, probably so it could breathe. “Besides, I’m sure the Dree-foos lady won’t miss him anyway.”

Now she’s gaping at him because she recognizes that name. She nearly hopes she misheard it because he’s in deep shit otherwise. “You stole Mrs. Dreyfuss’s cat?!” she asks in disbelief, eyes widened at him. All he does is shrug and she brings her hands to her mouth. “Horan!” she hisses, “don’t you know who she is?”

Niall gives her a look, reaching into the duffel to pet the stolen cat absentmindedly. “I don’t know? An animal abuser?”

Rory shakes her head, huffing exasperatedly. “No, dummy. She’s on the freakin’ board of directors!” She can see the exact moment the weight of this situation dawns on him, his eyes widening slightly. “If you get caught,” she says, because she feels like he needs to hear it verbalized too, “you’re not just getting fired. Dreyfuss will throw a fit and get the whole company in trouble.”

Silence engulfs them for a moment as Niall mulls over her words. “Damn,” is what he finally ends up saying, eyes glazed over in thought. Then, he turns to Rory, spirit all brightened now like he’s just gotten an idea. “Will you help me hide him from people?”

Rory makes an affronted sound because he is so delusional if he thinks she would ever do that. “Absolutely not! I am not getting fired over your stolen cat-tiger thing.” 

He frowns at her, and she ignores the little swoop her tummy gives. “Please? You know the grounds better than anyone.” 

She gets up from the curb, wobbling slightly because she’s still tipsy and this is all just ridiculous. “No,” she says firmly, turning around to face him only to realize that he’d gotten up too, the duffel now slung over his shoulder. But then, she feels bad because deep down, she knows he means no harm. Even if he’s being absolutely stupid. So she says, “I’ll walk you to the Shacks. But no more. I want nothing else to do with this.” 

He grins at her, thanking her profusely as she starts to lead him through the alleyways to the Shacks. And all she can think about the entire time they’re walking is that if she were sober, this would have never happened.

***

Rory thinks Niall Horan is way in over his head. 

She’s always been a dreamer, and her mom was always yelling at her to get her head out of the clouds, but no one, she thinks now, is more delusional than Niall Horan if he thinks he can just steal a gigantic cat and keep it safely in his suite at the Shacks. 

But she supposes he has 56 days left of summer to deal with that.

--

tell me what you think! :)

[thepeanutbutterwizard]

Ninjago/Avatar au Pt6

The second half of Book 2 (hopefully)

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5)

So Garm finally reads the letter from Wu. It starts off as a normal pseudo-journal entry, but after it mentions finding the Garms old armor, but no body, it turns into more of a normal letter. Wu says that he’s missed his brother since he was banished, and that he hopes that they’ll be able to see eachother again soon if Garm is alive, and ends with Wu saying that he normally burns the letters he writes to Garm, so that no-one else finds them, but that he feels hopeful that this one could actually get to him. It’s touching stuff.

Lloyd picks up earthbending almost immediately, unlike Aang. The element Lloyd is going to struggle to learn is fire (if you don’t count his airbending being self-taught. He picked up airbending really, really fast, but bc he’s been making stuff up and trying to do what Maya did with her waterbending [Maya’s had decades to hone her style tho, not just three-ish years, but he’s like someone learning ballet only from YouTube, for only a couple of months] since there are no more airbenders [or so they think, bc none of them saw Morro airbend at the North Pole]), and I’ll get into why that is when it comes up. They haven’t had Garm start to teach Lloyd any firebending bc they’re trying to go in the order as much as they can, but Garm has finally convinced Kai to learn more than just the basics, and he picks it up really quickly.

Meanwhile, Morro is taking care of an injured Wu (and accidentally making him suffer through poorly-made tea). Now, Morro is onboard with Wu wanting to leave the Fire Nation behind; unlike Zuko, Morro isn’t trying to win back the favor of some distant parent, the only family he’s ever known is Wu, and he’s not about to abandon Wu for a bunch of people who would probably kill him as soon as they could no matter what he did for them, and Harumi made it clear that no-one in the Fire Nation is going to be extending them any mercy.

Once Wu wakes up, Morro does yell at him for doing something as stupid as taking a hit from a well-trained firebender to protect a stranger (Wu hadn’t gotten around to telling Morro ‘hey, you know that guy with the big burn scar who’s traveling with the Avatar? That’s my dead-but-not-really-dead older brother. Pls stop trying to stab him’, and Morro wasn’t there when Garm revealed his identity in the North Pole), until Wu tells him that Garm is his brother. This leads to Morro yelling out ‘You mean to tell me that the Avatar is my cousin?!?!’ And that how Wu learns that Lloyd is Garms son (’wait, what?’ ‘Have you really gone this long without noticing that the Avatar calls your brother his dad?’ ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind, give me a break!’), and now he thinks that Garm and Maya are married with three kids, one of whom is the Avatar.

They make their way to Ba Sing Se, with the help of the White Lotus. Wu isn’t the leader of them (he isn’t super old in this au, imagine what he looked like in S9, with the mustache), but he is a fairly respected member. I still haven’t come up with a Jet character who would work, and I am open to suggestions. If I do find a good character, they will definitely throw hands with Morro (mb Shade? Just cut out the romance subplot in S1 and pick a couple of EM’s to be the other freedom fighters?). And yes, Wu does get his tea shop in the upper ring (Steep Wisdom), and Morro tries to be happy and supportive, but even though he is fine leaving the Fire Nation with Wu, it does still feel like he wasted years of his life, both in chasing the Avatar and just trying to prove himself to everyone back in the Palace, so he’s pretty grumpy.

Now back to Team Avatar: at Maya and Garms insistence the kids have been picking out their little mini-vacations. They know that they only have a limited amount of time before the comet arrives, but Garm and Maya want these kids to be able to be, y’know, kids, at least a little bit, in spite of the fact that they’re growing up in a war-torn world. Kai want’s to check out that glacier-spring place by the desert, it’s kinda underwhelming, but they get fruity drinks out of it. This whole time Kai and Cole have been getting closer to each other. Kai feels a little guilty, like he’s betraying Zane’s memory, but talking to Maya and Garm about it does help him start to feel better, and it helps his over-protectiveness start to abate a little.

Jay wants to pick a really cool mini-vacation to impress Nya, and he asks the people who are in the glacier place if there’s any place around those parts, and ends up learning that about a year ago some lady showed up saying something about a huge spirit library in the desert that she was looking for. They never saw her again after that, and figure that she must have died out in the desert. When pressed (and payed) one of the artistically inclined staff members roughly recreated the sketch of the library, and vaguely remembered the area on the map she said she was going to search, and with that Jay has his mini-vacation picked out.

They set off and find the library. Cole chooses to stay outside with Ultra (who can’t fit inside) bc he thinks they’ll be safer if the only earthbender stays outside incase something goes wrong, and if they need to get out of there fast he’d only slow them down with his legs. Everybody else heads into the library and meet Wan Chi Tong (did I spell that right? I’m too lazy to check), who agrees to let them use the library if they 1) don’t intend to use the contents of the library against anyone else and 2) contribute something to his library.

Lloyd and Nya both use their wanted posters (they both thought they were awesome [Lloyd bc he’s 13 and Nya bc you can’t convince me that Nya wouldn’t be thrilled to have a wanted poster bc she’s been fucking with a tyrannical regime] and incredibly accurate considering the art had to have been done by someone using other people’s descriptions, and they totally intend on framing and hanging at least a few of their posters up in their rooms when all this is over), Kai has a copy of a poem that Zane wrote for him, Garm has his brothers letter (he doesn’t want to give it up, but he has nothing else), Jay has a blueprint from one of his inventions, and Maya has a copy of a story in a series that Koko had brought back to the South Pole over the years. Wan Chi Tong comments that about a year ago a researcher had arrived and had offered him another part of the the same series. He mentions that they should be careful, as she never left, and has been primarily researching the Avatar.

Everyone has an idea of who this mysterious researcher could be (except Jay), but they decide to be cautious all the same, just incase she isn’t who they think she is. They all start discreetly searching for anything that could be used to help them fight the Fire Nation, and they end up finding and empty placard saying something about ‘the Darkest Day in Fire Nation History’, but when they go to check part of the section on Fire Nation (that library was enormous, y’all cannot tell me that Zhao was able to destroy absolutely everything that the library had on the Fire Nation. It could only have been the last few decades/mb centuries of Fire Nation history), as well as a campsite that was full of scrolls having to do with the Avatar and different bending techniques (and a few misc scrolls about random things like cooking, engineering, etc). As they’re poking around the campsite, who else comes around the corner but Koko!

She has her nose buried in a scroll as she’s walking, so she doesn’t notice them all until Lloyd happily calls out ‘Mom!’, and goes in for a hug. Koko drops the scroll and has a happy reunion with her son and husband, as well as with Maya, Kai, and Nya, and she and Jay are introduced to each other. Koko explains that she’s been able to stay in the library so long was bc she managed to get the fox assistants to like her enough to start bringing her food and water. She also explains that she’s been doing nonstop research into the Avatar State, the Air Nomads and airbending, and the Fire Nation (though she’s really quiet about that part so they don’t catch Wan Chi Tongs attention and ire) and shows them that planetarium thing and that she discovered the eclipse. (How did she make it out to the library without a flying companion or something? SHe’s just that much of a badass.)

Koko had been saving up supplies and charting a course out of the desert, and planning to leave the library as soon as she could, but now that they’ve showed up with Ultra she can just grab her things and go. Someone, probably Jay, gets a little too vocal about how they have a chance to beat the Fire Nation, and cue Wan Chi Tong sinking the library and trying to add them to his ‘collection of specimen’. Garm and Koko are a dynamic duo, with Garm distraction the angry spirit while Koko gathers all of her scrolls and supplies together while Maya gets the kids to the exit.

Meanwhile, Cole is holding up the library, and trying to help Ultra fend off the sandbenders that showed up to capture and sell the dragon. Cole is able to put up a bit more of a fight than Toph was (meaning that he was able to get one or two good hits in) bc being in the desert doesn’t impair his vision (the sand does tank his mobility just as much as it would anyone with prosthetic legs tho), but he isn’t able to stop them or even hold them off long enough for everyone else to get out. Cole, despite being initially afraid of the large dragon, had quickly grown to be one of Ultras favorite people in their group (like, third favorite. Kai will never admit that he’s jealous), and is pretty upset that he wasn’t able to save him. More on Ultra later.

So Lloyd is really upset about losing his companion, just as much as Aang was. He doesn’t act out (for lack of a better word) as intensely as Aang, since Ultra wasn’t the last thing he had left of his people like Appa was for Aang, but Lloyd is still rightfully pissed off. He takes off shakily on his glider, leaving everyone behind before trying to search for Ultra and the sandbenders, ignoring his families protests. Koko starts working on getting them out of the desert using the route she had plotted out (using the sun and shadows to orient them and get started in the right direction), and starts planing out how long her food and water (she had the good sense to bring those from the library) will last between all of them. The answer is: not long enough.

Kai (and mb Jay too) is the one who has the bright idea to drink the cactus juice, bc while Kai, like Sokka, (and Jay tbh) is smart enough to know that drinking a strange liquid out of an unfamiliar plant is a bad idea,but the fact that it is a stupid idea doesn’t stop him. Wait, y’know what? Jay definitely tries the cactus juice, but instead of acting as out-of-it and inebriated as Kai does, he acts like he does in S9, weirdly chill and disconnected from reality. He’s still tripping balls, but he’s reacting to it differently from Kai. Cole just ends up carrying Kai piggy-back, even though the sand makes it harder for him to move (he’s crushing, and he’s the only one [adults included] whose physically strong enough to carry him for long periods of time) (also Kai awkwardly and drunkenly flirts with him. Everyone pretends not to notice for Coles sake) and everyone else takes turns holding onto Jays wrist and leading him through the desert or else he would have wandered off and died.

Lloyd gets back to them, landing hard in the sand, holding back tears bc even though he’s upset and could use a good cry he knows that they need to conserve as much water as they can. He’s got his family there to comfort him (even if Kai and Jay are kinda incapacitated atm), which does help him a bit, but he’s still rightfully upset. They find the abandoned sandbender skipper thing, find the vulturewasp hive, and come across the sandbenders. Cole is able to pinpoint the sandbender (no idea who this guy would be, Ninjago character wise) who lead the others to take Ultra via his voice bc Cole a) was trained in a myriad of performing arts thanks to his father, primarily singing b) has perfect pitch and c) never forgets a voice bc of that.

Lloyd goes full Avatar State, but is comforted and calmed down by his parents while everyone else books it. The sandbenders tell them that they sold Ultra to some guys who were going to take him to Ba Sing Se, and then they take them out of the desert (with the sandbenders getting the Death Glare from all of Team Avatar the whole way. Koko totally punches the sandbender who lead the others to steal Ultra once they’re out of the desert.)

They make their way to Ba Sing Se on foot, with Lloyd trying to get a handle on his emotions (and worrying everyone in the process), and they run into a family with an expecting mother/wife (I am also taking suggestions for who these characters could be. I’m pretty tired while typing this so I can’t think of anyone) and try and get on a ferry to Ba Sing Se. Cole, whose father is well known and wealthy, uses that fact, his double amputee status (he ‘accidentally’ slips out of one of his prosthetics. Kai catches him before he hits the ground), and his acting skills to get them tickets without passports.

And we get best girl Pixal back! She helps Team Avatar help the pregnant family go through the Serpents Pass, and it goes pretty similar to cannon, except instead of a situation where Sokka is overprotective of Suki, Jay picks up on how much Pixal likes Nya, and sees that Nya, his crush, reciprocates those feelings, and gets a bit passive-aggressive w/everyone, but Pixal especially. It doesn’t last long, bc Jay is a hormonal teenager who realizes he’s being a dick fairly quickly, but it does help fizzle his crush on Nya a bit (sorry again to any hardcore Jaya shippers who were hoping for that in this au, but it’s really not my cup of tea).

They also help deliver the couples baby, but Maya and Koko are the ones helping take care of that. Team Avatar get to the outer wall, just to see a huge Fire Nation drill heading closer and closer to the wall, ready to start tearing through it...

[fbfh]

Light Up the Dark - Leo x reader [I]

genre: romance + action + enemies to lovers kinda

word count: 1.1k

au: none 

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: nah

warnings: a relationship is crumbling, catcalling/flirting, mild swearing (if you count “pissed”), brief mentions of decapitation and anthrax (will update chapter by chapter)

summary: Calypso ditches Jason and Leo when they’re sent to pick up a powerful demigod. Turns out the hot goth girl Leo spilled coffee all over is who they need to bring back to camp 

listen to: hard times - paramore

a/n: They kind of have a Beck and Jade thing going on thanks netflix also don’t quote me on this but hopefully I’ll be able to upload this fic once a week <3

characters (specifically Leo and any other potential love interests) are aged up to 18+ since eros is the god of love and sex

"...Hypnos recently woke her up, so we must send an extraction team immediately." Chiron looked at Leo sitting across from him, "I've heard good things of the demigod tracking device you've been working on. Would you like a chance to try it out?

Leo grinned excitedly.

“When do we leave? 

Chiron smiled.

“When can you be ready?” 

A few minutes later, Leo was filling Jason in.

“Child of Eros, apparently; really strong. Hypnos forgot about her and only just woke her up today, so I’m gonna need a driver. What do you say, man? You up for a mini quest?”

“I’m going too,” came a familiar voice behind him, “I’ve been dying to get out! Where are we going?” Calypso stood behind him, holding the diverse magazines she’d been inhaling since they got back. Travel, gossip rags, home improvement… you name it, she probably had at least one issue. 

“Portland, Maine,” Leo replied, “maybe while we’re there we can do something fun…” he trailed off, knowing not to get his hopes up.

“Absolutely,” she said, starting to flip through a travel issue about New England, “I want to see all the sights. If it’s open, I’m doing it.” 

Leo bit back a joke he knew she would get mad about, and tried not to feel disappointed. All he wanted was a concrete answer. Does she want to be his girlfriend or not? It’s been this way since they got back to camp and he- you know what? Not the time. 

“Anyway, I knew you had to man the getaway vehicle since you’re such a ‘responsible driver’ and don’t ‘hit mailboxes' like 'some people’” he laughed, referencing what Chiron had said the last time he’d broken (and fixed!) one of the camp vans. Jason smiled and agreed, asking when they’d leave.  

“Uh, how does 20 minutes sound?”   

You wake up disoriented and angry. You cringe as you try to stretch your stiff muscles. You’re bleary eyed. You reach for your phone to find out what time it is. Dead. Of course. You stand up, and pull on the denim jacket tossed next to the mattress on the floor you’d just woken up from. You brush some dust off the words “babes against bullshit” on the back. How long were you out? You shake the thought away. What you need now is caffeine. You pick up your purse, the one with the white studs, and start walking to the coffee shop a few blocks away. 

“God,” you shiver as the chilly, Maine May wind hits you. You’re glad you brought the jacket. You quickly realize your outfit isn’t suitable for the weather at all. You tug at the black cropped tank top, and smooth out the wrinkles from your skirt, reattaching one of the few polaroid pictures pinned to it. Your shoes may be heels, but at least they're not flip flops or something. As you make your way toward the coffee shop, you realize you don't have a lot of memories. You try to grab something from your past, but nothing’s coming. You feel the familiar headache of frustration build up and decide to worry about that later. You catch your reflection in the glass door and don’t recognize yourself for a few seconds. You still don’t, but you figure this must be you since no one else is around. Your hair has grown out long and unmanaged, the bottom part a faded shade of the color you’d most recently dyed it. You figured it could be pulled off as dip dye for now, but something had to be done. Your cheeks and lips are rosy from the long sleep, and makeup is smudged around your eyes. You rub a little of it off, trying to give it a somewhat intentional shape. You get your eyebrows back in order - they weren’t too bad, thank god - and push open the door. 

‘At least all that sleep cleared up my skin,’ you figure, finally entering. It’s pretty much empty besides a few guys staring at you from near the front counter. 

“Hey baby, you like hockey players?” one of the guys calls. 

“Not your baby.” you snap. 

“How bout I buy you a drink and we can change that?” 

You finally pass their table, pick up his drink, and drop it into the trash.

“What the-”

“You wanted to buy a new one, right?” 

You walk up to the barista to place your order. She’s wearing a shell necklace and a lot of bronzer, her hair has highlights a little too light, and she’s already glaring at you. 

Hockey Creep is her boyfriend, you realize, so now she’s blaming me instead of dumping him. Fun. You place your order, give her your name, and sit far away from Hockey Creep. A few minutes later, you hear her call, “Goth girl at table seven, your drink is ready!” with a passive aggressive little smile. You sigh and walk up to the counter. She hands you a solid black drink. You look back up at her. “Does this look like a latte to you?”

“Oh, I figured you’d want your coffee cold, dark, and bitter to match the rest of you,” she scrunches her nose, thinking it’s endearing (it’s not) and you glance at her name tag.

“You know, I see where you get your name, Mads. If my boyfriend would rather be with any rando over me, I’d be pissed.” She hesitates, then starts to sputter an attempt at a comeback. You cock an eyebrow and stare at her, unwavering. She cracks, grabbing the drink and muttering that she’ll fix that right away. 

You keep staring.

A minute later, you’re presented with the correct order. Her voice wavers as she wishes you a good day, and come back soon. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you say decisively without looking back. You’re pretty sure you hear her squeak. You enjoy the brief moment of satisfaction as you make your way to the door. You catch your reflection again, and all your problems flood back. You sigh in irritation. If one more thing goes wrong today, someone is getting decapitated, and it sure isn’t going to be you. You push open the door. Before you can look up, someone barrels into you, spilling your coffee all over you. You draw in a breath, dragging your eyes up to see who had slammed into you. Latino, dark messy hair, red hoodie, staring at you in awe. He's cute or whatever, but you're way too furious to consider getting his number. You wait a second for him to say something, do something, but he just kept staring. 

"I WILL MAKE YOU SNORT ANTHRAX!" You yell. Still nothing. You crush the cup and shove it down his shirt and scream in frustration as you storm off. 

Seriously, could this day get any worse?  

[dovechim]

Power Play (m)

⇥ written as part of the Lights, Camera, Action! pornstar collab ⇤

➾ 27.6k 

➾ warnings: degradation/ humiliation, unprotected sex, creampies, cum eating, thigh riding, ass play, spitting, mentions of religion (porn scene involving a Catholic priest and school girl- please skip over if this offends you!), mentions of impregnation

➾ a/n: thank you so much to my deli fairy @jimlingss for hearing me out when i was ranting about how hard it was to write this. you gave me so much inspiration and motivation to write, and this fic would not be here without you :D @parkmuse you are the absolute mvp for offering to beta read this monster. thank you for validating me when i needed it TT i know you’ll just nut over this so enjoy ;-) and of course!!!! @winetae I'm so happy and grateful to be a part of this collaboration 😭 im honoured to be able to fulfil your porn star dreams :”D 

happy valentine’s day 🌹❤️ 

please do check out the other lovely writers in the collab too!!

➾ summary: You know him as the A lister of all porn stars; a man who sits pretty in his place at the top of the food chain. But you also know him as the Park Jimin who single handedly humiliated you and ruined your own career as a rookie just starting out, the epitome of the biggest dick in the entire industry… and you’re not talking about his assets. But when Park Jimin comes to you, saying he’s in a slump that only you can get him out of and begs you to sign an exclusive contract with him; things get messy… in more ways than one.  

“Longer thrusts, we want to see that cock sliding in and out, and more power please,” the director calls out as Jimin grunts mid thrust. “And watch your expression! You look like you’re fucking a garbage disposal. Get it together, Park!”

Sweat is pouring down his face as he gathers the last bit of his strength to push his co-star’s legs up onto his shoulders. Below him is one of his fellow A listers, the hottest, most on demand porn star in the industry. Everything from Sana’s bouncing, voluptuous breasts to her tiny squeaks and moans should serve as motivation for him and help him to perform his best, but there’s somehow… something lacking.

He’d been wanting to work with Sana for the longest time ever, even his manager was enthusiastic about two top A-listers coming together (no pun intended), but looking down at her now, it’s blatantly obvious that he isn’t as physically attracted to her as he thought.

“Cut, makeup team please,” the director motions for a touchup to be done, and Jimin groans as he pauses his thrusts and a few stylists fuss with his hair and his face. The sweat is carefully sponged off his forehead, the shading on his abs touched up a little, and being in this position, with this many strangers crowding around him nearly makes him go soft inside Sana’s pussy.

“You okay?” Sana frowns in concern as she can feel him start to slide out of her, gripping him with her walls tighter.

Jimin brushes aside her concern with a nod, just as the director calls for them to resume, and he starts pumping his hips into her again, driving deep with every thrust. Something he’s doing must be right, since the director is calling for close up shots and urging him to go faster and harder.

“Money shot in two minutes, Park please get ready,” the script writer reminds him somewhere from behind, and he grunts low in his throat, reaching down to wrap his hands around Sana’s waist to pull her onto his cock more firmly. “When you’re ready, pull out till just the tip. We want a nice big creampie there, tell us if you need the backup…”

Jimin forces himself to go harder, feeling his balls tighten up as he tries to cum on command, something he’s never had trouble with since the beginning of his career. He’s practically built his entire reputation as a porn star on creampies and facials, not to mention he knows he looks like sin incarnate when he throws his head back while he cums.

“Oh fuck, yes,” Sana gasps under him, and when her walls flutter around him, it occurs to Jimin that she’s not acting right now, she’s actually about to cum around him. “Pl-lease cum inside me, I want your cum so bad, fill my pussy up.”

Her passionate moans make her scripted lines even more believable, this is why she’s an A-lister, because she actually enjoys having sex on camera. Hearing her beg for his cum is almost enough to push him over the edge, just almost. But today he needs just a little bit more, so he squeezes his eyes shut and calls to mind a random image from his wank bank.

The first thing that comes to mind is a red plaid skirt under him and his hands around a waist, translucent white shirt stretched tight over small, perky breasts. His gaze travels up to her neck, and just almost reaches her face before—

“Fuck,” Jimin swears under his breath, hopefully disguising it as a grunt of pleasure when he realises that he doesn’t have the money shot today, too distracted by the suddenness of that mental image. He makes a discreet gesture behind his back, hidden from the camera, and that’s when one of the assistants steps in with a tube in between his spread legs.

The tube goes below his cock and inserted shallowly unto Sana’s pussy, so when Jimin groans and jerks himself off with one hand, the assistant pumps the lube up into the tube, making it seem as if Jimin had just blown his load. He feels the lube surround the head of his cock as he attempts a few small thrusts to spread it around a little, make it more realistic, before pulling out.

The fake cum that drips from Sana’s pussy looks far too realistic, that even Jimin himself is amazed. He spreads her lips with both fingers to show the camera the thick white liquid leaking from her, playing with her clit and coating it with the mixture as he rubs her to a final orgasm that makes her walls clench around nothing, squeezing out even more of the fake cum onto the mattress.

And then he moves off the bed as the camera zooms in for the last frame as Sana spreads her legs wide to show off her creamed pussy, fingers dipping into the mess and then licking it clean with her tongue, giggling as she licks her lips.

“Cut!” The director draws the final scene to a close, and just in time too, because Jimin’s cock is going soft even though he didn’t even cum.

Sana flashes him a smile in thanks as she sits up to peer in between her legs, and a few assistants help her to clean up.  

“Hey, you okay?” Manager Sejin hurries over to bring him his robe and a wet wipe, and Jimin shrugs it on silently, swiping half-heartedly at his thighs just to go through the motion of it all before he ties his robe closed and runs a hand through his sweaty hair, adamantly turning his back towards the director who is still talking with a few set assistants and script writers.

Not a few minutes later, the director strides over with a few script writers and exchanges a few laughs and jokes with Sejin, and Jimin is forced to turn around as well.

“The famous Park Jimin, what a show stopper,” he grins, slapping Jimin on the shoulder a few times with a huge grin on his face, seemingly pleased with how the whole shoot went today. “I knew it was a good call casting you and Sana together. You both look like a real on-screen couple! Both hot as fuck with bodies to die for, now that’s what I call chemistry!”

Jimin can only manage a half-hearted smile, which the director is entirely smitten with as he makes promises with Sejin to be in touch for Jimin’s next project soon. If that’s what the director thinks is chemistry, then he hasn’t seen many movies. But then again, what counts as chemistry in the porn industry is totally different from Hollywood. Here, as long as you act like you’re having a good time, say your cheesy lines and cum on command, anything goes.

His teeth sink into his lower lip as he makes his way to the car, getting in without a single word. Fooling the director is one thing, but there’s one person he’ll never be able to fool, and that’s himself. Jimin has never felt as if he was on the verge of losing an erection during a scene. The first five minutes of the car ride is spent in silence as he reproaches himself over and over, and Sejin casts him a wary glance.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you? Blaming yourself over something that can’t be changed,” Sejin interrupts his thoughts.

“No, it’s just…” Jimin denies it, but gives in a second later. “I was struggling during that last scene. Like really, honestly struggling. I think I’m losing it.”

To admit it out loud might be the scariest thing he’s ever done in his entire life to date. Saying it out loud makes it seem all the more real, and although it might be childish, Jimin thinks that if he keeps all these thoughts buried away in the corners of his mind, then everything will be alright again. All his doubts and insecurities will turn out to be nothing but lies, and everything will be okay.

“I know. I saw,” Sejin says. “Everyone struggles once in a while. What’s important is that you pulled through.”

His sincere words somehow makes Jimin want to keep talking. “I think… I’m tired. Tired of fake cumming in girls, tired of slapping random asses every day. The director said we had fucking chemistry. Can you believe that? Sana and I wouldn’t last two seconds in a science lab.”

Sejin chuckles as Jimin gets himself all worked up, muttering under his breath. “People see what they want to see, kid.”

“Do you remember anything about a girl in a white shirt and red plaid skirt?” Jimin asks suddenly, and Sejin is somewhat derailed by the change in topic, but decides to go along with his plucky charge’s demands. “Maybe one of my ex co-stars?”

“Park, this is porn. Red plaid skirt is a porn category all on its own, you must have fucked at least a dozen girls in that get up. So you gotta be more specific,” Sejin says as he turns into Jimin’s driveway, bringing the car to a stop.

“Oh. Right.” Visibly disappointed, Jimin leans back in his seat for a moment before reaching for the seatbelt to unbuckle it. “Well, thanks for today, hyung. I’ll get going now—“

“Wait, Park, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for a while now,” Sejin turns to Jimin with a contemplative look on his face. “It’s about a new project I had in mind. I’ve been discussing this with a few people from the brand department, and I think it’ll get you out of your slump.”

“That’s what we thought about Sana, remember?” Jimin fidgets with the tie on his robe. “Who is it this time? Another blonde bombshell? We pretty much exhausted the entire A listers already, so I don’t see who else—“

“Except she’s not an A lister,” Sejin turns and rummages around the mess that is the backseat of his car for a few minutes before pulling out a tablet and unlocking it with a few swipes. “But she’s a rising star. A face you don’t really see that often in porn, and her concept is unique too.”

He clicks open a few folders and swipes through a few albums before he finds what he wants, handing the tablet to Jimin. “Here. This girl. I don’t think you’ve ever worked with her before, but—“

The tablet feels like stone in his hands as he stares at the image, and suddenly, he’s able to put a face to that girl in the white shirt and plaid skirt from earlier. This must be a slightly newer picture, since your hair looks different from how he remembers it. You’re wearing a white lace babydoll set, looking more innocent and pure than anything he’s ever seen in his entire life.

Jimin’s seen way too many girls in lingerie by now, such that he’s almost desensitized to it already. But there’s something different about this picture that makes his blood rush through his veins almost immediately. Unlike the hundreds of girls he’s seen, you’re more modestly covered in this picture, your breasts are fully covered in the delicate cloth, and Jimin has to tear his gaze away from it before his mouth starts to water, the lace allowing him peeks of your skin through the material. The way you’re seated on that chair—luscious thighs spread apart, your pussy just hidden from view—is the most provocative sight he’s ever seen. Your head is propped on your hand and you are looking somewhere off camera in a slightly bored expression, but it enraptures him nevertheless.

“As you can see, her concept isn’t about showing as much skin as possible. Her brand is pretty much the opposite of yours—softcore domination, that is—and since opposites attract, I was thinking a miniseries… that is, if you guys have the chemistry. If you really like her and you gusy can work well together…” Sejin glances over at Jimin to gauge his reaction, only to find him still staring at the picture on the screen with a laser like intensity. The tell-tale bulge in his dress pants makes Sejin burst out in laughter. “I’m guessing little Park approves? What’s with you, popping a boner just by seeing a girl in underwear?”

Jimin sends him a side eyed glare, hastily using the tablet to cover his lap as he mumbles defensively, “it’s leftover from the shoot just now.”

Sejin hits the steering wheel with a victorious fist. “I knew it! I knew you’d like her. When I first saw one of her videos a few days ago, I immediately thought of you. I don’t know why she looked so familiar, but I guess there aren’t many girls doing the modest concept these days—“

“You’re wrong, hyung,” Jimin interrupts before Sejin can get too carried away. “I haveworked with her before, five years ago.” Jimin’s memory is now crystal clear, he remembers that day as if it was yesterday.

“Really? You have?” Sejin frowns in confusion. “I think I’d remember a face like that…”

Jimin sighs as he tosses the tablet into the backseat in resignation. “Your project sounds great and all, but it’ll never work.”

“What? Why?” Sejin fumbles for the tablet again, struggling to understand Jimin’s sudden change in mood.

“Because she hates me to the core. There’s no way she’ll ever agree to work with me.”

“And that’s a wrap, thank you!” The slates clap one last time, and your co-star breaks character immediately to brush his thumb at the corner of your eye to make sure that one bit of cum doesn’t accidentally get inside. Inwardly your heart stops at his tender gesture, as if you hadn’t been on edge the whole scene.

Cha Eun Woo is one of the most handsome porn stars you’ve ever seen. His face is a work of the gods; when he smiles he is all shy boyish charm that has all his older female viewers quaking in their panties (you included), but when he clenches his jaw tight he is anything but a flower boy. You consider it a privilege to get to work with someone like him, and even though this scene isn’t exactly up your alley—bondage and face fucking—you’d do it all over again if it only meant getting to look at his beautiful face.

Eun Woo reaches for the restraints on your wrists and starts undoing them before his manager drapes a robe over him and tries to usher him away. Good looking and has manners? You need to get on that dick immediately, preferably not with a dozen cameras surrounding you.

He insists on undoing at least one side of your restraints before he allows himself to be dragged away by his manager who insists that he has another shoot to get to. He throws you an apologetic smile over his shoulder which you return as one of the set assistants helps you with your wrists and hands you a robe along with a wet wipe for your face. The back view of him isn’t too bad either, in fact it’s just as good as the front. You continue staring till it’s regrettably covered by his robe, and then you migrate your gaze down to his thighs.

You wish you’d written your number on the backs of those hard as steel thighs. Never mind that you don’t have a pen, there’s plenty of cum on your face for you to-

“Done ogling your co-star yet? Didn’t you get enough in the past four hours already?” You sigh in disappointment when your manager finally appears in your field of vision, blocking your view of Eun Woo’s thighs as she hands you a bottle of water.

Regrettably, you unscrew the cap and take a sip, following Wendy to the changing room. “Even a lifetime together with that man wouldn’t be enough.”

Before you enter the changing rooms, there is a flurry of activity behind you and a few screams here and there. You whip your head around, clutching your robe to your chest in terror as the most horrifying scenes cross your mind. Maybe you’ll be burnt alive before you can collect your day’s pay, resigned to a tragic death without ever having a chance to try that new all you can eat buffet. Or maybe it’s a gunman looking to shoot down the most attractive person in this set, and seeing as Eun Woo has left the building long ago-

“It’s Park Jimin, oh my god!!!” Wendy squeals in your ear, abruptly putting an end to your macabre imagination as she scurries towards the set, stopping halfway when she realises your expression has darkened over.

You can spot a gaggle of fangirls- mostly set assistants and even the director himself- crowding around him as he runs an unbothered hand through his silver hair, pushing his dark circle lenses further up his nose as he shoots them a polite smile. Jerk. Asshat. Pretentious bastard. Who the hell wears sunglasses indoors? You hope he trips an invisible crack on the floor and falls flat on his stupid face. Why would an A-lister like Park Jimin be here in the first place?

Just then, the man in question raises his head as if he’s looking for something, and while you can’t exactly be sure, you feel his gaze lock onto you, and you hurriedly turn away to the safety of the changing rooms.

You open your locker to start changing into your shirt dress, your robe half off your frame when you hear the door open. Thinking that it’s Wendy, you don’t bother to speed up your actions at all; she’s seen you naked plenty of times. Sometimes when she breaks into your house to wake you up for morning schedules you don’t even bother putting on clothes till the very last minute, so—

“I must say, you’re a lot hotter than I thought you’d be. You look like you’ve grown a cup size or two.”

The sound of a male voice makes your heart leap into your throat, and you drop everything you’re holding, but thankfully your robe remains clasped under your arms. Park Jimin lowers his sunglasses to the very end of his nose as his eyes linger on every bit of exposed skin, even tiptoeing to get a better look, the bastard.

“Long-time no see, hmm?”

He looks conspicuously out of place in his immaculately pressed dress pants and white silk shirt, arms folded against his chest with an amused look on his face as you scramble to cover yourself up as quickly as you can. Arming yourself with a glare, you turn around to face him fully, your back against the lockers and feeling as if you’re being cornered.

For the first time in five years, you come face to face with the source of all your misery. He looks just as cocky and suave as he did all those years ago when you were just a rookie starting out in the porn industry, fresh faced and hopeful, desperate to make a quick buck to pay off all your tuition fees.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” you deliberately force yourself to turn back to your locker, acting as if his gaze on your back doesn’t bother you in the least. “What are you doing here? It’s not your shoot.”

Jimin looks a little disappointed when you’re decent again. “Why so shy all of a sudden? It’s not like I don’t know what you look like under there. That video where you get titty fucked? They’ve definitely grown a cup or two since then.”

You cast a cursory glance towards the entrance of the changing room, wondering why Wendy isn’t storming in by now. Granted, people in the porn industry are a lot more relaxed when it comes to nudity and personal space. In fact, just last month, management proposed to merge both sexes’ changing rooms into one in favour of an onsite barista serving custom made coffee and drinks, and everyone jumped on that bandwagon like a man with blue balls at an orgy.

Thankfully some people still had brains enough to protest it and overturn that decision.

“As if you’ve ever seen any of my videos,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes, fumbling around for your underwear so that you can get the hell out of there as fast as you can, to spare yourself from any more humiliation in front of this man. “As if that tiny pea brain of yours could contemplate anyone else’s existence other than your own.”

“Ouch, that’s harsh,” Jimin pretends as if you shot him straight in the heart, and you honestly wish you had a gun just so you could. The world would be a much happier place without him.

Jimin bends down to pick something up from the ground, and you’re horrified when you realise that it’s your plain old white cotton bra, the ratty one that’s been in the wash one too many times and may or may not have its underwire poking out. He dangles it from his finger by the strap with an accompanying smirk on his face as he examines it thoroughly, eyes flitting towards your face every now and then.

“Looking for this? I was right. You did grow a cup size.”

You snatch it from him and decide to bite the bullet, shoving your robe off and pulling your shirt dress over your body as fast as you can. You can already feel him gearing up to make a greasy comment about your lack of underwear, but you stop him in his tracks as you slam the locker closed.

“Watch it, Park. My body’s only a free for all when the cameras are on. Apart from that, I charge by the minute.” You swing your tote bag over your shoulder and make a beeline for the doors, but Jimin isn’t letting you get away so easily.

“Then how about I film you with my phone? Does that count?” He grins cheerfully as he whips out his phone from his pocket, but all you see is just sleaze personified on his face. “I’ve never done amateur porn before, but I’d do anything to fuck that pussy of yours.”

The nerve of this guy. Just because he’s an A lister, he thinks he can just show up all willy nilly at someone else’s shoot, scare them while they’re half naked and say these kinds of disgusting, lewd things. Honestly, you have no idea why he’s even here at your shoot in the first place when he could be doing a number of other things instead. Namely, working out and ingesting copious amounts of protein, and also checking himself out in the mirror. You can’t say that you’re intimately familiar with his hobbies, but it seems about right for someone as vain and cocky as Park Jimin.

“In your dreams. Now if you don’t mind, I have other places to be.” You shut him down again as you head outside to look for Wendy’s car.

“I’m serious. I have a preposition for you.” Jimin stops you with a hand on your arm. “A mini-series with me.”

“Save it, Park. Why would I want to do a scene with you?” You wrinkle your nose at him as you unscrew the lid of a bottle of water to take a few sips. “Actually, scratch that. I’d love to do a scene with you. It could be the shortest shoot ever in the history of porn. A tiny dick like yours couldn’t last even an hour. We’d be done in thirty minutes!”

While you are exclaiming in glee to yourself, clapping your hands with mirth at the thought of poor little Park Jimin prematurely ejaculating all over himself while the rest of the set watches on in disappointment, you don’t notice his eyes narrow and his lips press together in a firm line. You’re all too absorbed in the fantasy of watching Park Jimin embarrass himself in front of you and a whole bunch of other people, instead of it being the other way around, for karma to kick his ass and give him what he deserves after all these years.

You turn back to him when a thought suddenly strikes you. “Hey, you were there watching me and Eun Woo today right?”

Jimin folds his arms across his chest, all traces of glee wiped clean from his face. “Yeah… why?”

“Did you see how long he lasted? He didn’t even need a fluffer in between scenes. He fucked me like a pro,” you sigh dreamily, unconsciously gripping the bottle tight as you call to mind how thick his cock was. “And he’s so good looking too. I heard he once sat on a nail and he didn’t even feel a thing. Can you imagine how fine that ass of his must be?”

“My ass is pretty great too…” Jimin mumbles in consternation. “Why won’t you do a scene with me? Look, if it matters that much to you, I’ll even sit on a nail too. I’ll sit on two nails. Just to prove it.”

You don’t hear him over the sound of your phone chiming with a text. Unlocking it to check your messages, you throw in a few random belongings from your locker into your bag and get ready to leave, but Jimin still has more to say.

“My team’s already done the market research and analysis, you’re just that tiny bit short of making it to A list. If we collaborate, I’m pretty sure you’ll sky rocket to fame—“

You shrug his hand away violently, turning to face him with the immense urge to slap him hard. “What if I don’t want to be an A lister? Ever thought of that, Park? I’m no longer a charity case for people like you who’ve had it smooth sailing all along to take pity on. I made it this far on my own merit alone, and I sure as hell don’t need your help now—“

“Is this because I turned you down that one time?”

For someone who hasn’t seen you in five years, Park Jimin sure knows you well enough to hit you where it still hurts. Before you can stop it, the memories of that terrible, awful day come filtering back in despite your feeble attempts to block it out.

“Who’s this?” Park Jimin wrinkled his nose as he glanced at your poor fitting outfit.

You were well aware that your attempt at a sexy schoolgirl outfit didn’t quite meet the mark- it had come out of your own closet after all- but still, there was no reason for him to be quite so harsh, and you were at a loss for words. “I-I’m—“

“Is this my co-star?” Clothed in his perfectly pressed suit with his hair perfectly coiffed and standing at the other end of the table, Jimin glanced off to the side at the camera crew in doubt. At their confirmation, Jimin turned back to you and broke out into laughter. “PD-nim, I know you were aiming for an innocent school girl getting punished, but isn’t this a little too much?”

The entire set went silent, all eyes were on you and Jimin as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Now that you looked down at yourself, you saw everything that was wrong- your skirt should have been a good three inches shorter, your blouse tighter, and you should have thrown on that pair of knee socks too-

“I-if there’s something wrong with my outfit, o-or my makeup, I’ll fix it real quick, I promise,” you were mumbling, tripping over your words in anxiety. You knew that this was your big break- appearing on screen with someone as famous as Park Jimin would give you the exposure you needed. More pragmatically, that day’s pay alone would be enough to pay off three months of rent that you’d been late on, and buy some much needed food other than instant noodles and bread and-

“This isn’t something that can be fixed with clothes or makeup,” Jimin shook his head as he turned away to walk off set. “PD-nim, I specifically requested a hot co-star right? Not her. She’s just too cute. No one would take her seriously. She looks like she belongs in a church choir! I’d feel like I was committing a cardinal sin. I don’t even think I could get it up!”

And you were left staring at his back as he walked away, pride wounded. You could hear some of the staff whispering amongst themselves, shooting you looks of pity. But the thought of the bills stacking up made you fight back tears and push yourself off the table as you ran after him.

“M-Mr Park, please, I really need this,” you hated the way your voice sounded, hated putting yourself at someone else’s mercy. But having this opportunity disappear right in front of your eyes made you desperate, you were already clutching at straws, right at the end of your rope, and this was all you had. “Just tell me what I need to change. I’ll do anything.”

“Nothing you do could make me want to fuck you.” Jimin shrugged out of your grip as he pushes back the sleeve of his blazer to reveal a gold Rolex on his wrist. He began to unbuckle the watch from his wrist. “Here. Take this. Compensation for your time.”

He threw the watch onto the ground carelessly as he walked away with his hands in his pockets.

You turn to face him fully, clenching your jaw as you force the remnants of the past back where they belong: out of sight and out of mind. “So what if it is? You think just because you’re an A lister everyone is dying to work with you? I wouldn’t work with Mr Four Inches even if you begged me to.”

How the tables have turned; if only someone had told you on that fateful day after Park Jimin left you in tears, that five years later he’d be crawling back and asking you to work with him. But revenge is sweet and a dish best served cold.

“Listen, back then I was an arrogant jerk, and I said things I shouldn’t have,” Jimin removes his sunglasses so that you can see his eyes now, and it actually looks as if the bastard is truly sorry. Too bad a mere apology won’t fix things now; neither will it negate all the hardship you went through just to make a name for yourself. “Just tell me what it’ll take for you to agree to work with me. I’m open to anything.”

You take a step closer to him, securing yourself a front row seat to the guilt and remorse that plays out on his face as he averts his gaze downwards. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for the past five years, even fantasised about it while going to bed hungry only to wake up at the crack of dawn the next morning to get to your shoot by yourself. This is the moment that makes all that suffering worth it.

“Nothing you do could make me want to fuck you.”

On days that you don’t have a schedule, your guilty pleasure is lying in bed doing nothing. Maybe scroll through some social media on your phone. Go back to sleep for a couple of hours. Nothing strenuous like getting out of bed even for food though. And besides, no one ever visits you other than your manager anyway.

So when your doorbell rings on your day off, you groan and push yourself out of bed, taking a whole five minutes just to muster the energy to get to your feet. Your body is still healing and recovering from your last session with Eun Woo—the script had called for some love bites and marks, and you have to let them fade a little before you can do your next shoot.

You stumble to the door and open it, only to find Park Jimin at your doorstep.

“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you know where I live?” You’re almost instantly awake now, fumbling for your phone. “Get the fuck out of here, or I’m calling the police.”

“Wait, please,” Jimin pushes against the door as you attempt to slam it in his face. “Just hear me out. Five minutes, that’s all. Please.”

Something about the tone of his voice makes you hesitate, and Jimin is able to shove the door open a little wider and wedge his body in between the small space. You’re pressed up intimately against him, much closer than you’d like to be, so you back away immediately just to put some distance in between you. You should have kicked this cocky bastard out when you had the chance.

To put aside his pride and humble himself, coming all the way to your doorstep to beg for you to hear him out takes more out of Jimin than he’d ever thought. But your moment of hesitation means a chance for him, and he’ll take it.

“The clock is ticking,” you show him the timer on your phone as you cross your arms.

Jimin almost laughs, he never thought you’d actually be timing him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, figuring that the simplest approach is the best one. “Look, I’m not going weave you a sob story about how much I’ve changed since then, since you most likely won’t buy it anyway. Instead of that, I’ll be honest with you. I’m in a slump.”

You snort with laughter as you cross your arms, leaning back against the counter. This isn’t all too bad, seeing Park Jimin get all desperate in front of you actually helps close those wounds a little. “The great Park Jimin, most sought after porn star in the entire industry, in a slump? Yeah, right. Tell that to your viewers, tell that to someone who actually cares.”

“It’s true,” Jimin insists, and he clenches his fists tight. As much as it hurts him to admit it, he knows this is the only way he’ll ever have a chance of getting through to you. “I know it may not seem like it but I… I’m just sick of fucking a random girl every day. Every shoot feels like a blur, and I’m just… not happy with my performance. If you watch any of my recent videos, I-“

“Watch your videos? Why would I want to watch someone with a tiny dick acting like he’s got it all?” You toss your hair over your shoulder as you walk towards the kitchen. Since you’re up, you might as well get something to eat. “Hey, I have a question. How does the cameraman manage to get a good shot with your big head in the way?”

Okay, he definitely deserves all this, but that doesn’t mean that your insults don’t hurt. Jimin follows a few steps behind you, casting a surreptitious glance downwards. Is his dick really that small? He knows he doesn’t conform to the porn industry norm of seven and up, but he knows he’s got a good girth, and none of his co-stars have ever complained about his size…

“Just… please. It’s not like you aren’t getting anything out of this either, you’ll get on the A list in no time-“

“Do you think that’s what I really want? To get on that fucking A list?” You shoot back at him, fury reignited once more at the mention of rankings. Someone like Park Jimin would never understand how hard you had to work just to get here. And why to be offered a leg up to ride on his coattails is all the more insulting. “Even if it meant more money, even if it meant more fame, I’d rather die than be on that list, if it’ll make me turn into someone like you, who looks down on others beneath them. Newsflash: not everyone is as obsessed with rankings as you are. Some of us are happy with things the way they are, if it’s enough to get by on, then that’s all I need.”

Jimin looks as if he’s been slapped, and his eyes dart around uncertainly, well aware of your indignance, but having no idea how to proceed from this point on. “I’m sorry if I made it sound like that. I was just trying to help you out too, but I-“

“Thanks, but I don’t need it,” you shove his chest, pointing to the door. “Get out of my sight.”

“I haven’t had an orgasm in ages, alright?” Jimin finally exhales in defeat, shoulders slumping as he admits the one thing that he hasn’t told anyone, not even his manager. “And you can laugh at me all you want, and I deserve it, but it’s hard to even get it up these days. There’s only so many pills you can take before it starts to fuck with your health, and if that snowballs, there goes my entire career, my everything-“

Jimin cuts himself off, turning to face you with an inscrutable look on his face.

His sudden confession has you stumped, and you struggle to find the right words as you stare at the man that has been the bane of your existence during the most difficult time of your life. Your first instinct is to mock him and gloat over his misfortune, but the man standing in front of you isn’t the Park Jimin that you know and hate- making fun of him now wouldn’t be morally right. You know of plenty of porn stars who’d been through the entire system and come out the other side worse for wear.

“So? What does that have to do with me? What makes you think I’m the miracle cure to all your problems?”

Jimin is encouraged when you don’t immediately chase him out or laugh at him. To think of how the tables have turned since five years ago makes him feel like an utter jerk- he hadn’t even given you the time of day back then. You’re a better person than he could ever be.

“I’m attracted to you. Physically, at the very least.” Jimin doesn’t have anything to lose now as he shrugs. He’s always been shameless to a large extent. “I popped a boner for the first time on my own when my manager showed me your photo.”

Now this is just plain ridiculous. Your eyes immediately drop to his crotch out of instinct, and the greasy little shit actually smirks. Before you can avert your gaze, he grabs his own dick through his dress pants, and your cheeks immediately heat up as you look away.

“And you expect me to believe that? Out of all the girls you’ve fucked, you’re not attracted to any single one of them, but you pop a tiny little boner for me?” You clear your throat hastily, trying to get your cheeks to cool down. It feels as if the room suddenly became a few degrees hotter, and-

“Why not? Is it that hard to believe?” Jimin shrugs as if it’s no big deal, leaning against your kitchen counter as he watches you gulp an entire glass of water.

“Listen, Park. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, or if this is just one of your tricks to humiliate me again-“

“I’ll prove it!” Jimin is at his wits end, the timer on your phone ran out what seemed like ages ago, and he’s getting kicked out any second now.

“Prove what?” You turn around, and nearly drop the glass you’re holding.

Park Jimin is most definitely not Mr Four Inches. His pants are bunched up around his thick thighs- you’re privy to the very intimate fact that Park Jimin likes to go commando when he wears dress pants- and his dick is standing straight at attention. Even though he must have only been half hard when he grabbed himself just a few minutes ago, right now he is sporting a full erection, and you can’t help but stare at his one-eyed monster with a horrified look on your face.

You’ve seen many dicks in porn while sucking and fucking your way to the top. Park Jimin’s dick should not have this effect on you. But for some reason you can’t take your eyes off it no matter how hard you try, you can’t meet his eyes. “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

This at least seems to shake his confidence a little. “Wh-what do you mean? If you’re talking about the underwear, it’s good for my balls-”

“How are you hard that fast? Just a second ago you were-“ you cut yourself off as you close your eyes, massaging your throbbing temples. It feels as if you’ve aged ten years since Park Jimin showed up at your house and flashed you his dick in your kitchen.

“This isn’t even my final form yet, if you show me your pussy I can-“

“Did you get a boner just from arguing with me? Wait, you know what, I don’t care. I really don’t care. Just get out. There are knives in this kitchen and I’m not afraid to use them. In fact, I have this special knife I like to use just for long things like pickles and sausages.”  You mime a chopping action while staring directly at his exposed dick, and Jimin winces, covering himself instinctively.

Grabbing him by his ear, you half drag him to the door, giving him almost no time to pull his pants up before you toss him out on his ass. Tomorrow you’re putting in a request to end your lease and shift somewhere into the corner of the city so he’ll never be able to harass you again.

That’s the last you’ll ever see of Park Jimin.

You must be drunk. You must be out of your mind.

At least one of the above is true, judging from the almost empty bottle of wine on the table, and if sitting in front of your computer browsing porn in your underwear is considered normal, then you can write off the second one.

But this still doesn’t account for the fact that you’re on Jimin’s homepage scrolling through his top ten most popular videos, learning from his bio the very precise measurements of his dick. And very bizarrely, the fact that he has an especially tiny pinky is… cute?

There must be a virus on your computer. How else would you explain the fact that your mouse is moving of its own volition towards the most popular video on his page and clicking on it? Someone must be controlling your computer from a remote location, forcing you to watch porn videos of this stupid punk who probably can’t even last more than a minute max-

No, no, you can’t do this. You close your eyes tightly as the video buffers. You’ve never seen a single video of his in your entire life, and you’d do anything to keep it that way. But then the sound of Jimin’s low grunts and whines forces your eyes open again, and you’re met with an intimate view of his spread legs as he wraps one hand around his cock. The sight of his precum dripping over his knuckles as he grips himself harder makes you squeeze your thighs together in response. From this perspective his balls look so tightly drawn and swollen, and your mouth waters at the prospect of taking them into your mouth, wondering how he tastes like.

There is a giggle from a girl offscreen, and Jimin looks off to the side with a smirk on his face, spreading his thick thighs wider and letting his cock fall against his abs with a heavy thump. “Your pussy looks so tight, you sure you can take me?”

The camera pans to his female co-star, and you recognise her to be Sana, top A-lister who has a body to die for. She giggles and spreads her lips, lowering herself down on Jimin’s cock as he hooks his arms under her knees. Sana leans back against Jimin’s chest as he begins to fuck into her roughly, her stuffed pussy front and center on camera as her breasts bounce and she screams and cries his name.

Your underwear is suspiciously wet, and you shift uncomfortably, unable to take your eyes off his cock, pumping in and out of her pussy. Sana is actually one of your role models, and you’ve seen enough of her videos to know when she’s putting on an act and when she’s truly screaming her head off from being dicked down so hard. They change positions several times, and it looks as if she manages to have an orgasm every single time.

You forward to the end, somehow curious to see Park Jimin’s famous money shot. The last thirty seconds of the video shows Jimin’s tip buried in her pussy as he jerks off furiously, sweat shining on his abs as he grunts. Sana is egging him on, asking him to cum inside her, and Jimin complies with a groan, giving a few thrusts with his hips as white liquid begins to seep out around Sana’s pussy. You recognise it immediately as the fake stuff even as Jimin thrusts a few times to make it more realistic, before pulling out. The camera switches angles to focus on his fingers that are pulling her lips apart, exposing her to the camera as he leisurely plays with the fake cum, licking his lips and following the stream of cum with his eyes as it drips from her.

The close up shot of his face doesn’t lie- Park Jimin is one hell of an actor. If he hadn’t told you he was struggling, you’d be entirely fooled by the way he’s kissing Sana’s inner thighs on-screen, post orgasm glow on his rosy cheeks as he praises her for taking his cum so well. Jimin’s face is lit up with reverence and fascination as he runs his fingers through her used cunt, spreading his cum around and using it to rub her clit. The camera then focuses on Sana’s face, gasping and writhing from Jimin’s fingers, but the sound of his voice telling her to cum like the dirty girl she is, suck up all his cum deep inside where it belongs, steals your attention.

You can’t help but start to fan yourself. The soothing lilt of Jimin’s baritone voice is enough to make you feel like he’s actually talking to you right through the screen. With Sana’s face cut off from the frame, it’s easy to just close your eyes and immerse yourself in his praise, like some kind of ASMR porn. Your panties are unbelievably sticky. Now you know just why Park Jimin is an A lister, not because of his good looks or just Lady Luck smiling down on him, or god forbid, his not-as-small-as-you-thought dick. He is truly talented, he works hard, and he knows he’s good at what he does.

As much as you hate to admit it. But you are a person who gives credit where credit is due.

If what he says is true- that partnering with you will go a long way in helping his performance- then you wonder just how well this man can fuck. But yet… collaborating with him would mean having to deal with his insufferable cockiness, not to mention that you’ve already seen enough of him to last a lifetime by now.

But the stickiness between your thighs that just begs for your attention conjures up the filthiest, nastiest thoughts of what it would be like for Jimin to actually say all those things to you. Since everyone says he’s just that good at his job, why shouldn’t you test him out for yourself to see if he really lives up to his name? It’ll be like test driving a car with no intention to buy it whatsoever. Or just going to the showroom for the free biscuits and coffee. No commitment, no getting involved, nothing.

Easy as pie.

A part of you hesitates as you reach for your phone, fingers hovering over the send button long after you’ve typed out your message. Indecision has always been your weak spot.

Oh fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? You hit the button and send the message to your manager before giving in to temptation and reaching for the rarely used vibrator that you stash away at the corner of your desk drawer.

Tell Park I’m in.

“Mr Park will see you now,” the receptionist gestures you toward a meeting room down the hallway, and you have to force yourself to aim a friendly smile at her instead of just turning right around and leaving immediately. 

After having been made to wait a good ten minutes past the agreed meeting time- you can see through the damn meeting room’s glass doors that Jimin is just twiddling his thumbs, doing absolutely nothing at all- you utterly regret your decision. You should never have agreed to work with this prideful asshole.

Park Jimin is absolutely obnoxious. You’ll bet a hundred bucks that he told the poor receptionist to quote that line from Fifty Shades. 

“Well well well… look who we have here,” Jimin grins smugly from his seat when you enter, legs spread wide so that your eyes are forced to take in the broad expanse of his well-muscled thighs and slowly travel up… up to-

Already beyond annoyed that you had to come all the way here- your number one rule when it comes to men and business is to let them come to you- you plop yourself down on the plush sofa, feeling out of place in your denim skirt and white shirt. Jimin, as usual, is dressed to the nines, white dress pants stretched tight over his thighs, and his light blue shirt draping slightly off one shoulder.

“What made you change your mind?” Jimin twirls a pen with interest as he crosses one leg over the other, nodding his thanks when a man clad in a full suit sets a tray with tea and coffee on the table. “Let me guess. I’ll bet it was my dick. It was, wasn’t it?”

This man is so full of himself, it makes your temples pound immediately. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to disagree entirely, even as you try not to gape at how luxurious Jimin’s label company is. This entire room alone is bigger than your company’s entire office, and you’ve most certainly never been served tea and biscuits at a contract negotiation before.

“I’m…” you fumble around for a plausible excuse to feed him even as you panic a little. “I’m adopting a cat!”

Jimin’s brows furrow in slight confusion. “O-ookay?”

You want to kick yourself. When you go home today, you need to write out a list of excuses to use in a pinch when cocky bastards ask if you like their dicks. Jimin looks amused as he raises his eyebrows, that stupid infuriating smirk telling you that he sees through your excuse as if it’s nothing but cling wrap. But you’ve made your bed. And now you have to lie in it. “A-and I figured the extra money couldn’t hurt.”

“How much money does one need to adopt a cat?” Jimin queries, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees now. The stupid little punk has a tiny smirk on his lips, but his eyes seem as if he is genuinely curious.

“It’s a… a very expensive cat, a purebred,” you say defensively. You’re just pulling all this out of your ass now, but you can’t, refuse to back down. “He’s gonna need lots of vet checks and toys and um… cat things.”

“Cat things. Right. Very expensive, those. I would know, since I know pussies very intimately.” Jimin nods, the corners of his lips twitching as he struggles to fight back a grin.

“You told her to say that, didn’t you,” you accuse him, desperate to change the subject. “On purpose, just to annoy me.” 

Jimin merely raises his brows, taking a slow sip of his tea and staring at you from over the rim of his cup. Stupid, cocky, obnoxious, handsome bastard. 

You roll your eyes and tilt your chin toward the reception. “’Mr Park will see you now’.”

Jimin’s eyes light up with mirth immediately as he sets his cup down, licking his lips, feigning innocence. Or ignorance. Or both. “I’m not sure what you mean by that... she is a receptionist, and that is her job, so I’m not sure why you’d think-”

“You were waiting in here doing nothing for ten minutes!” You finally explode, pointing a finger at him. “I fucking saw you through the glass door!”

Jimin seems to be utterly amused by your explosive anger, and he only shrugs nonchalantly. He has this stupid shit eating grin on his face as he revels in your irritation.

“Ah yes, that. I was meditating, you see. Very good way of calming the mind and the body,” Jimin is still grinning from ear to ear as he twiddles his thumbs. “Speaking of, you might want to try it yourself. Maybe you can get rid of some of that... pent up anger.” 

You are still fuming at him, grabbing a biscuit off the plate and popping it into your mouth, chewing silently for a few minutes as you continue to seethe. Jimin admits you look cute like this- cheeks puffed out from chewing- bickering with you is actually fun, and it’s entertaining to see how easily he can rile you up. 

Jimin silently praises himself for coming up with that idea, beyond pleased that Sandra came through as promised- if only he could have seen the look on your face when she said that to you. 

He clears his throat, resting his arms on his knees and lacing his fingers together. “Anyway, before you sign anything, I just wanted you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Immediately, you narrow your eyes in suspicion, turning your knees away from his lewd gaze as he eats up the expanse of your legs with his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sure you know by now, after much… research,” Jimin pauses to lick his lips- that bastard knows exactly what he’s insinuating- as he uncrosses his legs. “You’ll know all about my style, and I guess you could call it a brand that I made for myself. Mainly I do submissive and occasionally softcore dom-“

“Wait, what?” You nearly spit out your coffee. Images of your late night ‘research’ session assault you, and although you would never admit it, Park Jimin is anything but submissive and softcore dom. You remember being awed at his hidden strength as he tosses his girls around, bending them into positions that give the camera the best view, almost felt the stinging sensation of his spanks on your own ass, the sharp bite of his teeth sinking into your own skin, marking you all over. His girls end up thoroughly fucked and marked, and his trademark is that his videos always end with a leaking pussy. Jimin likes to play around with the cunts that he’s fucked, tongue lingering teasingly around his girls’ inner thighs, almost but never quite coming close to licking up the mess that he just made. The video would always cut to black in a very unsatisfying manner, and that’s how you found yourself clicking from one video to another in the hopes of finding one where he actually eats his own cum. Or the fake cum, that is.

“You? Submissive? Softcore?” You nearly snort with laughter. “Maybe in your next lifetime, Park-“

The shit eating grin that spreads across his face lets you know that you’ve been caught red handed. Park Jimin pushes himself off his seat to join you on the sofa, crowding into your space as he sits so close to you that his thigh brushes yours. One arm goes around the back of the sofa to curl around you, and the other casually rests on your bare knee. His agonizingly plump lips just brush against the shell of your ear. “Caught you, princess. Been watching my videos? No wonder you look like you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I wasn’t- I just…” words elude you for the nth time today, and a bubble of frustration rises in your chest. Just what is it about this man that makes you so tongue tied, when usually you have no problem saying whatever comes to mind?

“What if I told you I’ve watched every single one of your videos too?” Jimin’s lips ghost across your cheek, following your jawline. “And I like the ones where it’s just you on camera. Your lips sucking my cock, eyes tearing up because I’m fucking your mouth so good. Your pussy getting creamed and filled up so that it leaks everywhere. Your ass bouncing on my cock while you whine and moan because you’re just that. fucking. tight.”

You do all you can to keep your breathing level, even though your body reacts instinctively to his words just as it had the night before. The tone of his voice, the filth that spews from his sweet plush lips awakens your lust once more, lust that you spent the better part of last night trying to quench. The difference is, this time Park Jimin is actually here whispering these words into your ear and you can reach out and just-

His thigh feels like steel under your touch. You slide your fingers up till you almost reach the apex as his breaths on your neck cause your nipples to harden and ache for his tongue.

Abruptly, Jimin draws away with a satisfied smirk on his lips. “There. I think I gave you just a tiny little taste of the weeks to come hmm? Now, let’s go over the contract together, shall we?”

The contract ended up to be pretty standard, nothing you’ve never seen before, except for the exclusive part. You’re bound to Jimin for three shoots exclusively, and over the span of these shoots, you’re not allowed to take on any other projects, and neither is he. As for the actual script and content of each shoot, Jimin left it open to negotiation. But having spent the past few years doing every single porn cliché imaginable, you’re pretty much fresh out of ideas and don’t really mind leaving it up to Jimin, as long as he runs it through you for your approval first. A part of you is actually even a little curious to see what he can cook up that he hasn’t already done.

And with that, you’d just entered an exclusive contract with your nemesis, the man you swore you’d never fuck. He’d turned you down all those years ago and left you high and dry, what’s to say that he won’t do the same again this time? For years after you’d cringe at yourself when you look in the mirror, forced yourself to fight through the crippling panic attacks before every single shoot as his words come to mind again and again.

Everyone is their own worst critic, but your own self-degradation is only bolstered by the ghost of his words uttered when you were at your lowest. Even the memory of letting someone see you at your most desperate and dire causes a physical shudder to run through your body. Never again will you be in such a position.

But at least now if he decides to revert back to his arrogant self again, you’ll be protected by the contract you signed. You’ll make sure to sue his balls off.

When Jimin emails you the first script, you’re too shocked for words when you read through it. It’s nothing he’s ever done before, at least not from what you remember. The premise is you as a high end prostitute being rented out exclusively by CEO Jimin, only he’s found out that you’ve been seeing other customers behind his back. His lines are definitely not soft-core, nowhere near it. It is degrading, slightly humiliating, and there is plenty of name calling.

Just the thought of letting Jimin have the upper hand in this scene brings back all the unpleasant memories, and bile threatens to rise in your throat. It seems like he wasn’t joking when he said he likes to dominate his girls. You know you could always just write him back and tell him that it’s too much, too fast for you. While Jimin might be an insufferable bastard with the biggest ego you’ve ever seen, he isn’t unprofessional. He’ll change the script if you tell him to, no questions asked.

But a stubborn part of you is desperate to prove to him that the events of five years ago no longer hold any power over you. To show him, and maybe yourself too, that you’ve long ago moved on from it. You don’t want to run from it anymore, and the best way to do it would be to accept this script, willingly put yourself in a subservient position below the man who’d rejected and humiliated you all those years ago.

You sigh and reach for a bottle of wine before you read any further. Why can’t moving past trauma be as easy as finishing an entire bottle of wine by yourself?

Nursing a glass of wine, you read on. The kinks… oh god.  Spanking, for one. There’s also a part where you’re required to do a lapdance for him, accompanied with stripping. As you read through both your parts, you try and visualise the entire scene in your head. There’s no way you’ll be able to dance confidently, that’s for sure. The rest of it is a slight stretch, but for now that’s the only change you want to make, and you type back a brief line to Jimin.  

And then, there’s nothing left to do but search for strip tease videos and learn the heck out of them.

Doing a shoot with Park Jimin has its perks.

Proper make-up artists, for one. And an actual chair to sit in while your hair and makeup gets done professionally. There’s even a manicurist on call who gives you a quick touch up when she sees your bare nails. And the wardrobe… usually the lingerie that gets shoved at you is two sizes too small, scratchy and doesn’t fit well, and even once or twice looks like it hasn’t been washed. But today the stylists prepared a custom fit scarlet lace bralette that supports you just right, enhancing your natural cleavage and making you more confident than you’ve ever been about your tits. The lace of it just skims your waist, accentuating the petite curve of it, while the low rise panties come with matching garters. You’re also given a black lace see through cardigan to drape over your shoulders, and overall the entire outfit is very tasteful, very much your style of not exposing too much skin.

As you sit in the chair and go over the script one last time, you can’t help but feel the nerves right in the pit of your stomach. The makeup artists are working their magic on you, transforming you into an entirely different person altogether, so when you look at yourself in the mirror, it feels foreign. After they’re done, you ask to be left alone just for a moment so you can calm yourself down.

“Hey… how’re you doing?” Wendy approaches you and places her hands on your shoulders from behind. “Okay? Nervous?”

You put on a brave smile for her, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “No, not nervous. I mean, maybe a little.”

“It’s normal,” she reassures you, kneading your shoulders to get at the tense knots. “You’ve never done something so… intense. Actually, I was surprised you even accepted it in the first place.”

You give her a muted shrug as you focus on looking through your script. You haven’t seen Jimin since stepping on set, assuming that he is off somewhere also getting his hair and makeup done.

The director’s assistant pops her head in soon after to let you know that it’s time for the preliminary lighting checks. Placing your script on the table in front of you, you take a deep breath, meeting your own eyes in the mirror once more before sliding your feet into your four inch black heels that you’d been given and making your way to the main set area.

Today’s set is simple- what looks like the interior of a bachelor’s pad. The first scene takes place in the living room over the sofa, and you wait awkwardly by the side for the director’s cue. You notice Jimin laughing and joking with him from afar, giving him a brief side hug before he notices you staring at him and makes his way over.

“Morning,” your co-star greets you with a lazy half smile, and you wobble on your heels, nearly twisting an ankle. Irritated with yourself, you bite your lip hard.

Jimin reaches out to steady you with his hands on your waist through the flimsy material of your cardigan, and when he sees what you’re wearing, he raises an eyebrow in approval. He doesn’t take his hands off your waist, seeing it fit to pull you into his body so that you can feel his hips against yours. You can feel the ice cold metal of his rings on your skin, and it makes you shiver. Jimin doesn’t look all that different since he is wearing a suit, but his hair is slicked back and his makeup dark and smouldering. He exudes an aura of power and control.

“Morning,” you mutter back, taking a step away from him and averting your gaze to calm your racing heart.

Jimin lets you go with a chuckle, but then he glances down at your heels. “Are those bothering you? You should take them off if it’s uncomfortable.”

A little taken aback at his sudden concern, you glance down at your feet. “It’s fine. Maybe later, during the strip tease. For this scene I won’t really be standing much anyway.”

Jimin hums an agreement as he absent mindedly plays with his rings, briefly directing his attention to the set technicians as they adjust the lighting and check the camera angles. Having his eyes off you sets you at ease a little, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, causing Jimin to turn to you.

“You look a little tense,” he comments, noting your crossed arms and hunched shoulders. “Was there anything else you wanted me to change in the script? I’m still open to last minute changes. Don’t force yourself to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m serious about that, I’ll handle everything with the director, so don’t hesitate.”

At the mention of the director, you turn your head toward where he is currently surrounded by a few script writers. This director is known for being short tempered and very direct, although of course Jimin has an excellent relationship with him. The director probably doesn’t even know who you are, doesn’t care about a nobody like you.

“Nothing?” Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Last chance to cop out before you forget everything but my name.”

The bastard is grinning like a Cheshire cat now, and in spite of your nerves, it actually sets you at ease to see Jimin acting the way you’ve always known him to be.

“Please. I think it’s you who should be nervous,” you roll your eyes at him, glancing at his crotch pointedly. The material of his dress pants are dark so you can’t really tell if he’s hard or not. “Little Park up to the task today? Or maybe you need me to flash you first? Are you gonna cum once you see my tits?”

The back and forth banter feels familiar. It feels right.

“Are you offering a sneak peek? I’m not in a position to turn that down, although…” Jimin actually reaches forward to grab your hand and pull it to his crotch, and you gasp when you’re met with his semi-erect state. “I’ll make you eat your words today.”

The playful glint in his eyes makes you forget about everything you were nervous about.

“Maybe you should have written in some against the wall action,” you direct your gaze down to his covered thighs. “Your thighs and ass look like they need some work.”

Jimin just laughs as if the thought had never occured to him before. He does suppose his ass has got a little flat recently... and Jimin can think of more than one way to get his famous bubble butt back. One that involves you being naked, on his back while he does some squats.

“You’ll be seeing plenty of my ass and thighs, I assure you,” he lowers his voice as his lips brush against the shell of your ear. 

One of the assistant producers directs you on set, and you walk ahead of Jimin and take up your opening position against the back of the sofa. Jimin follows and crowds up against you, every inch of his body against yours as you spread your thighs to accommodate him. He presses his nose into the crook of your neck, his hand running up your side and lifting your cardigan so that your ass is exposed. He cups your cheek with his other hand, and up close like this, it’s actually quite magical to witness Park Jimin getting into character.

All traces of humour and boyish playfulness fades, and in its place is a poker face: eyes hard and unforgiving, jaw clenched with a muscle that jumps in his cheek. His grip around your waist is punishing and no doubt leaving finger marks, yet the way he strokes your cheek is completely opposite; a gentle caress with his thumb on your chin, playing with your bottom lip. Your heart skips a beat from how cold his gaze is. 

The director gives his approval for the cameras to start rolling. “Scene one, action!”

“My favourite whore,” Jimin mumbles with a slow smile, eyes dipping down to appreciate your cleavage from his vantage point. His hand leaves your cheek to tangle in your hair, giving it a few firm tugs as the camera focuses on your side profiles. “I’ve missed that mouth of yours around my cock so much.”

He reaches to push the lace cardigan off your shoulders, and it falls to your feet, exposing you to the camera and also to his gaze. Wearing a devious smirk, you let one bra strap fall off your shoulder. “I missed you too, Mr Park.”

“Oh really?” He comments with a raised eyebrow when the other strap falls down too, and you lean forward to show off your cleavage to the camera circling the both of you. “Then maybe you’d care to explain why one of my acquaintances just bragged to me mere hours ago about fucking that sweet pussy of yours?”

As the script calls, you freeze immediately in his gaze. But there is no need for you to put on any sort of pretense, because the look on Jimin’s face is enough to make your heart skip a few beats. He looks genuinely displeased, unimpressed with the little show you’re putting on for him that it makes you doubt if you’re doing a good job at playing the sultry prostitute or not.

He makes his way over to the couch, sitting with his thighs spread, motioning you to stand in between them.

“I-I wasn’t, Mr Park, I just-“

“Save it, dollface,” he waves your excuse away with a disappointed sigh. His eyes travel the length of your body passively. “The terms and conditions of being my whore were clear, were they not? Surely even a slut that’s as cock hungry as you would understand how many girls out there would kill to be my personal fuck toy. I don’t share my toys, and I don’t fuck sloppy seconds either.”

Jimin waits a beat or two before he continues, his voice now a low growl. “Take your panties off, turn around, and bend over. I want to see your pussy.”

Trembling in your heels, you do as he says, inching the lace fabric down over your hips as the camera relocates behind you. The humiliation that burns on your cheeks is real even though you keep reminding yourself that it’s just a scene. You bend over so that your chest touches your thighs, putting yourself fully on display for him. You can only imagine what kind of view the camera; and by extension, Jimin, is getting now.

“Spread your lips with your fingers. Let me see inside,” he demands, and you reach back to pull apart your already damp pussy lips with both hands.

“Look at that,” Jimin marvels. “Didn’t even bother to clean up before you came over to fuck me. What a fucking cumslut you are, you let him cum in your pussy? You think you could fool me? Make me take disgusting sloppy seconds?”

There is a hitch in your breath when Jimin goes slightly off script, mentioning cum that isn’t in your pussy. Thankfully you aren’t too far gone to think on your feet. “N-no Sir! I made him use a condom.”

A sudden sharp sting on your ass elicits a cry from you.

“It still doesn’t excuse your behaviour. In case you forgot, I’ll remind you again. Your. Pussy. Is. Mine.” Jimin punctuates each word with a slap, causing you to wobble on your heels as your walls clench around nothing. “Dripping for me already?”

You can feel your pussy start to drip down your inner thighs, and a blush heats up your cheeks involuntarily.

“Why don’t you get on my thigh and show me how sorry you are, and maybe I’ll consider letting you suck my cock. And lose the bra.”

Scrambling to kick off your underwear, you turn around to face Jimin again, and he is leaning back against the sofa, a proud smirk on his lips as he spreads his thighs invitingly. You manage to take a few steps towards him before Jimin grabs your waist and pulls you down, situating his firm, thick thigh right against your bare center. Embarrassingly, you can feel yourself start to soak through his dress pants almost immediately as he watches your chest heave with an unimpressed raise of his eyebrow.

Jimin tugs down the lace cups of your bra to expose your breasts, pinching your nipples harshly. “What’s a slut like you doing wearing underwear? Cumwhores like you should go around with a bare pussy, since you like cock so much, hmmm? Don’t you think?”

With his hands around your hips securing you on his lap, Jimin makes eye contact with you for a brief second to check your reaction. Imperceptibly, his thumb brushes against your skin softly, and the touch reassures you that it’s all just for the camera, and you relax slightly.

“Yes, sir,” you whisper as you arch your hips up, showing the camera your pussy and Jimin’s soaked lap.

“Good girl, now grind like you mean it,” Jimin spits onto your right nipple, watching perversely as his saliva drips over your erect bud, soaking the red lace.

With a moan, you begin to work your hips against his thigh, feeling his muscles tense to give you just the right amount of friction. Your clit rubs against him just right, and Jimin reaches down to spank your ass before he gropes it lewdly.

“That’s it… fuck, I knew a whore like you’d be good at this. Show me how much you want my cock. Look at your dirty pussy, you made such a mess of me.” He spreads your ass cheeks apart to show the camera your tight asshole, and you lift your hips for a moment to grant your poor clit some reprieve before you cum prematurely like a rookie. Jimin reprimands you with a sharp slap. “Did I say you could stop, whore?”

With a barely concealed whimper, you lower your cunt onto his thigh and start to grind again, but Jimin shoves you off roughly, and you land on the couch with your thighs spread, pussy already red and swollen. Jimin pushes himself to his feet with a disappointed sigh as he looks at you, utterly unimpressed as he delivers a spank to your clit, followed by three more. You sob and cry for mercy, thighs quivering as you jerk and wriggle on the couch, trying to close your legs.

“Keep your fucking legs spread, or I’ll have to tie you to a spreader bar,” Jimin growls as he digs his nails into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. His eyes are hard, cruel and cold as he spanks you a few more times. “Sluts like you should know how to keep their legs spread right?”

“Please, Sir, please,” you pant and whine, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes as he soothes the crescent shaped indents with a caress.

“Give me one reason why you deserve my cock. A dirty little whore like you who fucks every man she meets.” Jimin slaps your clit again before spitting at it in disgust. You can feel his saliva on your clit, dripping down over your slit. “That’s all you are; a desperate, cock hungry slut.”

“M-make it yours,” you gasp, thighs trembling in Jimin’s grasp even as your breath comes in uneven heaves, cheeks burning in humiliation that is all too real. “Make my cunt yours, Sir.”

“Should I?” Jimin pretends to consider for a moment, and the ice cold sensation of his rings against your skin are the only thing keeping you sane right now. Your cunt is throbbing, desperate for any kind of relief, you are covered in sweat, tears and Jimin’s spit, utterly wrecked and he hasn’t even taken off a single article of clothing yet. “We’ll see how well you suck cock, whore. Get up.” 

“And cut!” The director calls an end to the first scene, and Jimin immediately releases his grip on your thighs.

The director’s voice is like a wakeup call, and you take in the sight of the cameras and crew surrounding you with a renewed clarity. The cut came at a good time; for a moment there you almost forgot that this is merely a scene from a porn script, and it’s never happened to you before. Your breaths are coming in harsh pants and you recognise that you are about to hyperventilate if you don’t regulate your breathing soon.

You push yourself to a seating position and close your thighs, taking a moment to regain your senses as Jimin crouches in front of you. He is fussing with a tissue at your tearstained cheeks even though there are two make-up artists hovering behind him, and you are thrown off by this 180 degree change.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” Jimin frowns as he glances at your thighs. “I cut my nails this morning, but…”

“I’m fine,” your voice is wobbly as you push his hand away and get to your feet, stepping around him and letting the makeup artists do their thing. Letting your impeccable mask slide back into place as the tears are sponged off your face. A few swipes of a brush here and there, and they step back. And you are good as new. No sign whatsoever to indicate that you were this close to almost breaking into tears. 

Jimin is still way too close for comfort, you feel as if having him look at you up close like this is enough for him to realise how affected you were by that scene. And that’s not something you’re willing to divulge just yet.

Jimin looks as if he’s about to protest, but then the director cuts in, ordering everyone to move to the bedroom for the next scene. You start to walk towards the set, but Jimin stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Hey, look at me. Are you okay? I need to know before we go any further,” his grip on you is insistent as he pins you in place with his eyes. “This is a rough scene and I need you to tell me when you need a break or if it gets too much.”

Jimin is genuinely concerned as he searches your expression, refusing to relinquish his grip on you till you give him an answer. He doesn’t seem to care that the director is left waiting on the new set; all his attention is focused on you only.

“The dialogue was a little much,” you admit as you look away from him, crossing your arms over your naked chest self-consciously. The thought of admitting just how much it affected you nearly makes you sick to your stomach. “But it’s fine. I just need to get used to it.”

Jimin releases a breath as he nods to himself. “Good. And also- I should have asked you this earlier, but my partners and I have a signal we use for each other during scenes to act as a non-verbal safeword. Are you familiar with that kind of practice?”

You hesitate a little before answering, since it’s hard to reconcile this Jimin with the domineering, cold man just moments ago. Also, you’ve never done shoots that even came close to requiring such a protocol. “No. I can’t say I’m very familiar with that.”

“Just touch my earlobe once if you need to slow down. Twice to stop completely.” He says as he begins to lead you to the bedroom. “In my shoots, my girls have all the power. Just one word from them and everything stops. I’m serious, ______.”

Thrown off by how seriously he takes all this, you take a seat on the foot of the bed first. Hearing him refer to you as ‘his girl’ admittedly makes you a little giddy, and what makes it worse is when Jimin kneels down between your thighs with one hand stroking your knee, eyes fixed on you intently as he studies your expression. You’d never expected this degree of attention and concern from your co-star, but it seems as if your pre-conceived notions about Park Jimin may have been wrong.

You’re aware that every single pair of eyes in the room is on you, waiting for your signal to go ahead. Suddenly you don’t feel like the no-name extra on set any more like you’re used to. Even the director himself looks concerned as he strides over to check if everything is alright, calling over a few scriptwriters too. It’s clear that they are all waiting for your approval to go ahead, and you just barely hear Jimin’s voice when he checks in with you.

“Hey, you okay? Get her some water,” he says to an assistant, but you wave her away.

“I’m fine, it’s fine,” you scramble to reassure everybody. “We can continue, really. I’m good.”

“You sure?” Jimin confirms one last time, and you reply with a nod. Then, all the crew and the director return to their assigned spots, and you shift off the bed onto your knees to prepare for the next scene.

Jimin positions himself in front of you so that his crotch is directly at eye level, and you realise that he’s only half hard. It must have been all the delay in between scenes, but when you consider helping him out, Jimin looks down at you, and you can feel his eyes appraising every inch of your body.

“You look so good down there on your knees. Can I?” Jimin palms himself with one hand and the other reaches down, gently cupping your breast when you nod.

The cameras aren’t even rolling yet, and the director is busy checking some camera angle, so you whisper-hiss at Jimin, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” He shrugs nonchalantly, rolling a nipple between his fingers and tugging at it, letting it go to watch how your breast bounces. “I’m getting myself hard. Usually I’d sneak a pill right about now, but with you around I don’t think I need it. Maybe you’re my Viagra.”

“Gee, thanks, what an honour,” you grumble under your breath, but you can’t really complain because his warm hands feel quite nice on your skin. The air conditioning is ramped up on set, so your skin feels a little chilly, but Jimin continues to massage and tweak your nipples, and you can feel yourself start to drip onto the floor, shifting from your position to rub your thighs together.

His knowing, cocky grin irks the shit out of you as he switches to the other breast, abandoning his grip on his dick to push both tits together as he admires your cleavage. “Y’know, I think I’ll write in some titty fucking in the next one. What do you think about that?”

“Let’s see if you even have that much dick first,” you quip back at him just as the director calls for everyone to be on standby.

“Rolling for scene two, let’s go!”

Immediately Jimin’s face shuts down into a cold, sombre expression as he slaps your breasts hard. You feel the heavy weight of them swinging under his gaze as he buries one hand into the hair at the base of your neck as he tugs your head up to look at him.

“Take me out. No hands, use that filthy mouth of yours, whore,” Jimin’s voice is bone-chillingly sharp, and you rush to do as he says.

Undoing his dress pants and dragging down his zipper with your teeth is something you’re practically an expert at, having done it for practically every single shoot since you started porn. It’s part of the niche that you carved for yourself as the innocent, angel incarnate. You can tell that Jimin is slightly surprised at how fast you are and how easily you drag his pants down to reveal his fully hard cock by the slight widening of his eyes before he covers it up by slapping his cock against your cheek, leaving a sticky trail of precum.

You can see the pleasure in his face when he drags his cock all over your face, ruining your makeup as he slaps his cock against your cheek several times. You open your mouth for him, showing him your tongue as Jimin buries his cock into your mouth at an angle, pushing against the side of your mouth and thrusting a few times so that your cheek protrudes obscenely. Then he lies his dick on the centre of your face so that your mouth touches his balls and his tip is leaking onto your forehead, precum dripping down your skin. This is ultimate degradation, your face is used as nothing but a bed for his cock.

“Lick my balls like the cockslut you are. Don’t miss a single inch, bitch.”

You comply and lave his balls with your tongue reverently, taking them into your mouth as Jimin spreads his thighs for the camera to get a good view. You take one of them into your mouth and suck on it, wishing you could play with the other one with your hands. He feels big in your mouth, heavy on your tongue as you roll him around, coating his balls in saliva. Jimin pulls your head away and pushes his cockhead against your lips, demanding you to open up for him.

You part your lips and he slides in almost immediately, sinking all the way into your throat without a warning. He may not be as big as some of your other co-stars you’ve had before, but damn is he thick. Your eyes water immediately and you gag a little, to which Jimin grunts in approval as he strokes your cheek.

“Choking already? Shouldn’t a whore like you do better than that? Show me how well you can suck dick, I know you’re better than this.”

You glance up to meet Jimin’s eyes directly- with the camera focusing on your face, Jimin lets his stone cold expression loosen a little as he raises an eyebrow- issuing you a direct challenge. Somehow the mischievous spark in his eyes motivates you to reduce him to nothing but a whining, moaning mess just with your mouth, so you force down your gag reflex and start sucking him as if your life depends on it.

Spit and saliva is everywhere- all over his dick, covering your chin, dripping down to your breasts- but you don’t give in as you deepthroat him completely, swallowing a few times before pulling back and running your tongue along the veins of his cock. Jimin is so thick that your jaw actually starts to ache, but a tiny little flicker in his expression when you let his head touch the back of your throat spurs you on. Somewhere in the distance you can hear the director’s approval, but all you can concentrate on is the sloppy sounds emanating from your own mouth, and Jimin’s dark, heady gaze trained on you as he supports your head with his hand, gathering your hair into a messy ponytail.

He is biting his lip hard, a surefire sign that you’re affecting him at least a little bit. Jimin, for his part, is doing his best to fuck your throat evenly and keep his expression unreadable, but when your throat closes and grips his dick, he has to pull you off his cock before he loses his load way too early.

Jimin can see the look of triumph on your face as you pant for air, lipstick smeared around your lips and mascara running down your cheeks. He grips his dick at the base hard, breathing heavily for a few moments to regain control before he bends down to grab you by the waist, tossing you onto the bed.

“Arch for me,” Jimin whispers just under his breath, palm smoothing along the dip in your back. There is a grunt of approval when you push your ass out for his viewing pleasure. “I knew you were good with that mouth, but your punishment isn’t over yet, baby.”

A visible shudder runs throughout your entire frame at the unexpected nickname, exacerbated by the way Jimin strokes the small of your back almost reverently. He spreads your ass cheeks apart to appraise your most intimate parts, and he chuckles when he sees your dripping pussy.

“So here’s what’s going to happen next,” Jimin palms a handful of your ass as he strokes his dick with the other. “I’m going to spank this pretty ass, and you’re not allowed to make a single noise. If you do, there will be consequences.”

Your cheek against the mattress, ass up high for Jimin, you can feel yourself start to drip down your thigh. “Wh-what consequences, Sir?”

Jimin makes no answer, but suddenly you feel the blunt head of his cock against your unlubed asshole, and you pretend to whine and wriggle away from his grasp.

“No, Sir please, please not there,” you are struggling as Jimin grips your waist and pulls you against him just as the script calls for.

“It starts now, slut. Every little noise you make means one inch in your tight ass.” Jimin pulls your cheeks apart to see the head of his cock pressed against your asshole, and he delivers a slap to your right cheek before he leans down so that his tongue traces your earlobe. “I’ll go up to fifteen today, I think. And as much as I’d like to tear that pretty ass open… I’d advise you to keep quiet, dollface.”

Jimin has one hand on the base of his cock, the other alternating between your left and right cheeks, so that your skin burns a bright red with every strike. You can feel Jimin actually putting in his full effort with every slap, not the kind of half-hearted pretending that you’re used to with your co-stars. On his seventh slap you can’t help but cry out into the sheets, the burn on your skin radiating right down to your clit, and Jimin clucks his tongue in disappointment.

“We were so close too…” Jimin sighs as he taps his cock few times at your tight entrance, and you sob in response, clenching your muscles automatically. You can feel Jimin chuckle in amusement as he draws his cock away for a brief moment, and you hear him spit, before feeling a wet and warm substance drip down your asshole. He spreads it around a little with the head of his cock, and despite your scripted pleas and cries, Jimin pushes his cock into your barely lubed ass.

“How’s that feel, slut?” He murmurs as he caresses your bright red and sore ass.

All you have is his saliva and precum lubing you up, but it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. You can feel Jimin’s tender touches on your waist as his way of checking in with you, and the minute action sets you at ease even though you can’t see or touch him to activate your safeword.

“It-it hurts, Sir,” your voice is a low sob as you bury your cheek into the soft bedding, amidst all your arousal, it’s a wonder how you can still remember your lines.

“Then you’ll keep that slutty mouth of yours shut the next time,” Jimin responds with another strike, and this time he can feel the way your muscles clench around his cock, and he swears under his breath, grabbing a handful of your ass to keep him grounded. “Fuck, I can feel your tight little ass around my cock. What a disgusting whore you are, so desperate to get fucked up the ass, hmm?”

Jimin spits again, and his saliva lands right on his cock buried in your ass. He withdraws the tip just a little to work his spit into your ass, as he delivers more spanks. You manage to bite back your cries until the twelfth strike, where you barely whimper against the sheets, but Jimin’s keen ears pick it up. His hips work to drive his cock another inch into your ass, spreading your cheeks apart so that the camera captures every sordid detail.

His cock isn’t the biggest you’ve ever taken, but having him slowly go deeper into your ass like this somehow makes it feel as if he’s stretching you out so good. Your muscles are trembling and you can barely remember to keep your back arched for the camera and Jimin, but if he feels this big in your ass only two inches in, how is he going to feel when he’s balls deep? You clench involuntarily around him on that thought, and a part of you is tempted to just fuck the script and make him bury himself inside your ass fully.

Jimin completes the fifteen slaps sooner than you would have liked, and he rewards you with a kiss between your shoulder blades as he smooths his hands over your ass, pulling his dick out slowly to watch your ass gape for him and the camera.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Turn around and legs spread, whore, I want to fuck you now,” Jimin climbs onto the bed on his knees, hand on his cock guiding himself to your soaked entrance.

His hands grip the back of your knees, forcing your thighs apart for him as he sinks his cock into your pussy. The burn of his penetration nearly makes your eyes roll back into your head- the satisfying girth of him stretches you wide in ways that you’ve never felt before. Jimin works his way deep into your pussy with small strokes, finally bottoming out with your legs on his shoulders and his balls against your ass.

“How are you so fucking tight still? After fucking so many men,” Jimin grunts as he secures your thighs against his chest, leaning over your body and folding you in half. “How many cocks have you had other than mine? Answer me!”

His mouth is against your neck, teeth sinking into your flesh as he marks you. Between his deep thrusts hitting your cervix and his hands around your neck, the cold metal of his rings digging into your skin, it’s all you can do to summon your lines from the recesses of your memory. “Just o-one Sir, I swe-ar, please.”

“Stupid fucking whore,” he growls as he slaps your cheek hard. “How dare you fucking lie to me? Your slutty pussy needs to be stuffed with cock all the time, and you dare tell me you only fucked one other man? I’ll say it was at least five. Five cocks have been in this whore cunt. Tell me, did you make them take turns? Or did you get fucked by two dicks at once?”

“I di-didn’t, please, I’m sorry Sir,” your voice comes in sobs and whines. You scrabble for purchase against his still clothed torso, and you wish you could feel his heated skin under your fingers, mark him with your nails.

“Did you let them cum inside?” Jimin demands again, drawing back and pushing your thighs to your chest so that he can see his cock spreading your pussy lips apart, see your tiny little clit practically begging for attention. “Tell me!”

“No, I didn’t,” you answer him immediately, and something about the possessiveness of his voice seems a little too real, the jealous glint in his eyes that fuels his anger sends a very real thrill that sings through your veins. All you can see is his dark eyes as he fucks into you with his cock, and it is a gaze that is all-consuming, a gaze that makes you forget about all the cameras and the crew, erases them from the background until it is just you and him alone.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll fuck all their cum out of you,” Jimin holds your legs apart as he drives himself deeper into your cunt, stopping when he’s balls deep. “No one can ever fuck you as deep and hard as I can.”

The sounds of skin against skin resonates throughout the set, accompanied by your whines and sobs as Jimin sneaks a hand down to rub your clit even though it isn’t in the script. Caught unaware by his sudden move, it sends you over the edge as you orgasm around him, walls clenching deliciously and body contorting under his grip, screaming his name. He fucks you through your orgasm without missing a beat, and you moan and thrash under his grip from overstimulation, but Jimin only grips your waist with both hands.

“Take it, fucking take my cock, you whore,” he demands as sweat drips down his forehead. “I’m gonna cum so deep inside your pussy, and you’re taking every drop. After that you’re going to walk out of here with cum dripping down your thighs so that everyone knows what a cum slut you are. My favourite little cumslut.”

His thrusts are getting harder and sloppier as a few assistants crowd around behind him, ready to deliver the fake cumshot, but Jimin waves them away impatiently. He can feel his balls churning with the biggest load of his life, and with the camera trained on your bouncing tits, he glances at the director to let him know he’s ready. With the director’s go ahead, he skips to his final few lines just before he cums.

“You ready for my cum, slut? Say it, I want to hear you beg me to cum inside you.” Jimin slaps your cheek once with measured strength. “Fucking beg, or else I’ll finish all over your tits instead.”

“Fuck, no please, don’t cum on my tits,” your mouth is open, clinging on to Jimin’s shoulders as he fucks you into the bed, pounding your cunt with every last bit of strength he has. “In my pussy, please cum in my pussy. I want it, so fucking bad, please sir!”

Jimin is apparently pleased with your begging, and he rewards you with a rare smile, stroking your cheek to soothe the stinging slap he gave you earlier. “Good girl… that’s my cumslut.”

You glance down to where his cock is fucking in and out of your pussy, and Jimin focuses the rest of his attention to hitting you as deep as possible, throwing his head back and letting out a strangled moan as he cums deep inside you, filling you with warm, real cum for the first time in any of your shoots. The real stuff feels so good, so wet and messy, and Jimin’s cock twitching against your walls feels intimate as he thrusts to prolong his orgasm.

From your vantage point you have a front row seat to watch Park Jimin as he revels in his pleasure, and everything from his moans to the way he throws his head back is entirely intoxicating, and you find yourself squeezing your walls around him to prolong his pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s my whore,” he pants as he slowly comes back to his senses, allowing the camera to zoom in on your cunt as he slowly slips out of your used core.

Following the tradition of every one of his videos, Park Jimin gets on his elbows and spreads your pussy lips wide, showing off the globs of real cum that drip from your center as you squeeze your walls to make it even messier. He whispers praise against your skin as he dips two fingers into the unholy mess and coats your clit with it, rubbing you to a final orgasm that makes you whimper and moan, fingers clutching the sheets and hips bucking under his grasp.

“And that’s a cut! Well done everyone!” The director interrupts with a gleeful clapping of his hands, but to your surprise, Jimin doesn’t move from his position between your thighs, not even when his manager comes up behind him with his robe and a bottle of water.

He is still staring at his cum leaking in a steady stream from your pussy, running his fingers through it and playing with your folds with an intrigued look on his face. When you make a move to get up, he glances at you first, then at his manager.

“Hyung, just give me a minute?” Jimin directs this at Sejin, and the older man looks a little confused, but nods and turns away. Around the two of you, all the crew is starting to dismantle the equipment and hurrying around, but Jimin remains focused on you. “Can I?”

“C-can you… what?” Now that the scene is over and the cameras are off, it’s as if the spell has been broken, you are once again self-conscious and all too aware of how vulnerable you seem to be around this man. When Jimin dips his eyes to your pussy and back up to your eyes, your heart nearly stops in your chest. He can’t possibly be… why would he want to…?

“Can I?” Jimin strokes his thumbs against your inner thighs softly, placing a gentle kiss on one side as he licks his lips. “Please? I really want to.”

Breathless, you nod at him, afraid that one more word out of you will make Jimin realise exactly what he’s offering to do, and that he’ll snap out of his lust induced haze. And then gone will be that genuine smile that lights up his entire face, only to be replaced by the condescending smirk that you know all too well.

Jimin starts with wet kisses on both inner thighs, kissing his way to your soaked lips as he begins to gently lick up his spilled cum, gathering it with his fingers to make sure he gets every last drop. This is the scene that you’d been waiting for all this time, clicked through nearly a hundred of his videos in vain. But nothing could compare to seeing it live and up close in person like this. Watching him eat you out when there are no cameras around is strangely intimate, what’s even weirder is the way he maintains eye contact as he continues to suck at your clit, his own cum smeared around his lips as he eats your pussy as if it’s the best dessert in the world.

“Delicious,” he draws back and wipes the back of his mouth with his hand. “Your pussy tastes exactly like how I imagined it. Better with my cum too.”

You clear your throat, still a little sore from deepthroating him earlier as you awkwardly close your legs and scoot away from him, feeling a burning desire to get as far away from this damned man as you can before he sees right through you. “Do you do that with all your co-stars?”

“Would you be jealous if I did?” He shoots you a cocky little wink as he gets to his feet, reaching over to help you up from the bed with his hands around your waist, dipping down to inspect a few bruises on your neck with his fingers. His touches are so gentle and tender that they don’t hurt at all, but you brush him away.

“Jealous? Who? Me?” You laugh it off as Wendy hands you your robe and you snuggle into the warmth of it. As you hide your naked body from his view, your walls come back up, and the defensive mask slides back into place. “You wish, Park. Although I might have to be a little concerned, since fake cum tastes like shit.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know,” he shrugs. “I only eat the real stuff, and it wasn’t bad, for a first taste.”

Jimin lets his eyes linger on yours for a few moments to allow his words sink in before he turns away to pull on a pair of grey sweatpants and perhaps review the footage a little. “Rest well before next week.”

This is just ironic. Plain and simple, Park Jimin is trying to mess with you.

The second script is a cardinal sin. That’s all you can describe it as. Father Park Jimin with a Catholic schoolgirl confessing her sins in a confession booth.

You run your fingers through your hair in distress. Noting that the costume requirements are red plaid skirt and white shirt. As you read through the entire script, it is a short one, but still present are the elements of degradation and humiliation that require you to position yourself as subservient to the man who shattered your hopes and dreams all those years ago.

It must be a coincidence. There’s no way Park Jimin remembers exactly what he said to you all those years ago.

For you, it might have been a life or death experience that remains etched in your memory forever. But for him, it was just another day on another set humiliating some poor rookie. 

It’s fine. You did it once before and you survived. So who’s to say you won’t survive this one either? You are stubborn and obstinate, you refuse to write that damn email to Jimin and tell him you can’t do this. So you just have to pussy up and fucking commit to this, dammit. Just two more damn shoots.

You have to give it to him though, he is pretty creative as a scriptwriter himself. Or maybe these are just his lewd fantasises? 

Thankfully there’s nothing in this script that requires any preparation, other than learning your lines. Over the next few days as you go about your routine on none schedule days- working out at the gym, indulging in wine and movies, you can’t help but keep the pit of nerves at bay in your stomach. Acknowledging them would give it too much power over you.

When shoot day comes, you nervously change into the outfit provided for you once you reach on set. Donning these clothes bring with them a hoard of heart pounding memories and associations, and it’s all that you can do not to throw up right then and there. You are unusually sweaty as you sit in the chair for hair and makeup.

“Everything okay?” Your makeup artist checks in with you as she powders your nose for the third time. “Nervous?”

You pretend to laugh it off a little. “Yeah, a bit.”

“From what I heard, you and Jimin killed it last shoot,” she grins at you as she replaces the cap on one of her lip glosses. “Don’t need to sweat. Just keep doing whatever you did last time.”

You accept her encouragement with a strained smile even as you stare at yourself in the mirror. From your vantage point, it feels as if you have regressed to that shy, insecure girl from five years ago- you might as well be looking at her now. The same scared expression, except maybe the clothes are better fitting and you’ve definitely grown into your body a little.

“Ready?” The director’s assistant pops her head in with a smile. “We’re all set up and raring to go.”

Shakily, you get up from your chair and follow her with a wobble in your step and an uneven breath. The plaid skirt is tight around your waist and restricts your breathing a little, but you force it to the back of your mind as you see Jimin adjusting his robe. Today he has his hair in a deep side part off his forehead with circle glasses perched at the end of his nose. The rest of him is concealed in long priest robes, and when he spots you, his face lights up.

“______! What do you think of my outfit?” He flourishes his robes and raises his eyebrows. Typical of him to ask someone to tell him how good he looks. Park Jimin looks damn good alright, and he knows it, but it’s not enough unless someone compliments him.

“Very, um… sinful,” you offer him half-heartedly before turning away to let your stylist adjust your hair. You are not in the mood to jibe with him today, even less to stroke his ego.

“What did you think of the script? You didn’t reply to my email, and I realised I don’t have your phone number so I can’t contact you except through your manager, so…” Jimin frowns as he turns to face you. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

His comment catches you off guard. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“Me. Committing a cardinal sin. Like I said all those years ago,” Jimin casually turns to face the set, fluffing his hair with a careless hand. “I’m really getting my just desserts, aren’t I?”

A sharp intake of breath betrays your surprise, and you cross your arms tightly over your chest, wanting so badly to just disappear right at that moment. He remembers? He can’t have. Why would someone like Park Jimin remember some fleeting comment he made about not wanting to fuck a rookie? Sure, it may have cut deep for you, but surely for him it can’t have been that memorable. Is he doing all this just to mess with you? What could he possibly want?

“_____? Why aren’t you saying anything?” Jimin’s expression turns sombre as the cocky look on his face disappears. “Is it the script? Is it too much? I can change it if you need me to-“

“Is this some kind of joke?” You accuse him, deciding to just strike first with aggression rather than risk being ridiculed in front of the entire crew later. “Some kind of sick little torture to recreate… this? For your own twisted pleasure?”

Faced with your overly defensive posture reminds him that he’s not dealing with that girl from five years ago anymore. You have changed, the years hardening you over and coating you in a hard little shell that’s almost impossible to break through. Jimin almost wonders why you always immediately assume that everyone is out to belittle or hurt you, but then he realises with a guilty start that it’s partially his own fault.

Blame it all on the stupid arrogant jerk he was five years ago.

“No, it’s not a joke, and neither is it some petty revenge,” Jimin says as calmly as he can. “I don’t know if its sunken in by now, but I told you before that in my shoots, my girls have all the power. So yes, at surface level it may seem like I’m dominating and humiliating you, but what the camera doesn’t see is that you are the one who controls me. A single word from you and I stop.”

His breath is stuck somewhere in his chest. Never before has he felt so vulnerable in front of someone else. Not only do you seem to throw a wrench in the casual uninterested disposition he’s carved out for himself with it comes to his co-stars, there’s something about the way you truly hold his heart in the palm of your hand, even if you don’t know it yet.

Your eyes are brimming with disbelief, posture still defensive as the director calls for everyone to take their places. But you remain silent, thinking his words over as you heed the instructions given by the crew. Jimin follows you closely till you stop just outside the small wooden confession box.

His hands are slightly sweaty as he steps in front of you. Reaching out slowly, to gauge your reaction, Jimin gently places his hand on your chin to tilt your head up towards him. “I’ve always been a believer in actions speaking louder than words. I know you still think of me as that arrogant small dicked jerk who can’t think about anyone other than himself. But let me prove to you that I’ve changed. That’s why I wrote this scene. I want to show you that you are the one in control of me, not the other way around.”

Looking into your eyes, Jimin can see the residual fear and trauma leftover from that incident all those years ago. Silently he begs for a chance, knowing full well that you could just walk out right now and he can’t do a damn thing. Just one chance for him to remedy his mistakes and prove to you that he’s a changed man.

“Let’s get this over with,” you say as you turn and step inside the box, and Jimin lets out a sigh of relief as a staff member ushers him into the other side.

Your knees are shaking slightly as you perch on the chair inside the confession box. Separating you and Jimin is a mesh screen that obscures most of his features, and on the table in front of you are a few props- some candles, a rosary and a fake Bible that looks almost real.

“Scene one rolling in three, two, one… action!”

You pick up the rosary in front of you, feeling the beads with your fingers as you settle into your role, trying your best to drown out your obsessive thoughts and worries. The dark confession booth lends you some anonymity- you’re sure that the lighting has been purposely fixed so that the camera can only catch a glimpse of your silhouette.

“Father, forgive me, for I have sinned,” you recite your first line, clasping the rosary beads in your hands and bowing your head in repentance. “I have come here to confess, Father, to a terrible sin that has been occupying my mind and soul for the past few weeks.”

“Pray, tell my child. What is bothering you?” Jimin’s low, soothing voice comes from the other side. “The truth shall set you free.”

“In school, I can’t concentrate on the lessons, and in mass, my mind is always somewhere else… lately I’ve been feeling so restless, Father,” you sigh, resting your head in your hands. “My thoughts haven’t exactly been… pure.”

There is a brief noise from the other side, as if Jimin is shifting in his seat. “What kind of thoughts are you having? Child, if you do not come clean with me, I cannot cleanse you of your sins.”

You play it up for the camera as it focuses on your face, wearing an expression of conflict, embarrassment and distress all in one. This script that Jimin wrote really tests your acting abilities. “U-unholy ones, Father. They get worse at night, when it’s just me alone in my bed… I can’t help it, it just gets so unbearable…”

“Child, sins of the flesh are against the Holy Scripture,” Jimin clucks in disappointment, and you can feel his look of disapproval singe your skin directly, even though you can’t even see his face. “What do you do in your bed when you’re all alone? Are you engaging with these unholy thoughts? Come clean with your Father if you want absolution.”

“I…” you swallow hard in embarrassment, pressing your thighs tightly together as you tug your skirt down, playing the role of the innocent school girl. The skirt is barely long enough for you to sit on, so you can feel your ass, left bare by the thong you’re wearing underneath it, come into direct contact with the chair underneath you. “I… I touch myself, Father.”

Another sigh of disappointment from Jimin as you hear him flipping a few pages of the fake Bible. “You have to be more specific, my child. Where do you touch yourself? Tell me, or else I cannot help you, and you shall be damned to Hell.”

“M-my… I touch myself… down there,” you whimper, feeling yourself dampen against your thong as you start to grind into the chair, thighs parting sinfully as the camera relocates itself to between your legs. You give it a few glimpses of your covered core as your hips rotate slowly. “Please don’t make me say any more, Father… it’s so sinful, so embarrassing, and I…”

There is a slam on the other side as if Jimin has closed the Bible forcefully. “A sinful whore like you, embarrassed? I think not. Look at yourself. Confessing to your Father that you touch yourself, and you can’t even bring yourself to say the word ‘pussy’. You think you’re still an innocent little girl, but your actions tell me otherwise. Go on with your confession, slut. We’re not done yet.”

You whimper as your thong is getting more and more soaked, and your breasts are heaving against your tight shirt. “I… I think about it at school too, Father. At mass. I sneak out in the middle to rub myself in the toilet, and then I… I come back to mass. Sweaty and my fingers still sticky.”

“In school too?” Father Jimin’s voice is a low purr now that sends shockwaves all the way to your core, and you can’t help but rub yourself against the chair, legs parting all the way. To a certain extent, the embarrassment on your cheeks is real, for Jimin has yet to touch you or even see you to get you this worked up, and even though you despise it, his degrading and humiliating words only serve to spur you on and add to your performance.

He surely knows how to bring out the best of you.

“What about boys?” Father Jimin suddenly demands. “Do you have a boyfriend? Do you let him touch your sweet little pussy? Put his fingers inside you at mass while you recite the Holy Scripture? Rub your pretty little clit until your sinful mouth cries out? I bet a little slut like you wants all the cock she can get. Tell me, do you lift your little plaid skirt for any boy who passes by?”

Hearing the jealousy and possessiveness in his voice only sends a fresh wave of arousal to soak your panties, and at this point you’re pretty sure that the chair is wet too.

“No! No Father Jimin, no boys,” you beg and plead earnestly. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Jimin makes a low groan in his throat, a noise that makes your nipples ache. “Fuck, then you’re a tease. Nothing but a little cocktease. Look at you. Do you really think I don’t know you’re rubbing your little pussy against the chair while you confess your sins?”

You gasp in shock as the script calls for, hips immediately stilling. “Father Jimin, please, I can’t help myself.”

“If I have any say in it, your sweet pussy will remain pure and untouched except by the Father himself,” Jimin groans lowly from the other side, and you can hear his slight panting. “Tell me, my child. Do you want to receive forgiveness for your carnal sins?”

“Yes,” you gasp immediately, feeling your hips jerk and your clit catch deliciously against the chair through your soaked underwear. “Please, Father forgive me. For I have sinned.”

“Ask and you shall be rewarded, seek and you shall find,” Jimin says as he gets up from his chair. “Bend over the table for me, sweet child.”

Raising yourself on shaky legs, you prop the upper half of your body on the table, back arched as the camera relocates behind you to give Jimin time to cross over from his side of the confession booth. You can feel your thigh high socks rub against each other as your thighs chafe in your impatience.

“Look how slutty you are in your school uniform… fuck, boys would be all over this ass in an instant,” Jimin gives you a harsh spank to your right cheek, and you gasp and writhe under him. “In order for me to rid you of your sins, I have to thoroughly cleanse you here.”

His fingers massage your ass, splitting your cheeks open and revealing your most intimate places to him and the camera. Jimin runs his fingers along your inner thigh, just shy of your thigh high socks, up until he brushes against your swollen pussy lips. The crotch of your little white thong is soaked, and Jimin uses his fingers to push it into your pussy.

“That’s it, sweet child… show Father Jimin all your sins,” he massages your panties deeper into your pussy with two fingers. “Show Father Jimin how sweet your pussy looks when its stuffed.”

“Father,” you whine low in your throat, wiggling your ass against his thighs. To which he responds with a sharp spank on your left cheek that smarts.

“On your knees, harlot,” Father Jimin commands, pulling you off the table by your hair and taking a seat on your chair, spreading his legs. “I think you need a taste of the Holy Staff to cleanse that impure mouth of yours.” He parts his robes to reveal his dress pants, unzipping and revealing his cock, red and throbbing with precum already leaking out of it. “Time for Holy Communion, my sweet child. Open up wide and receive the gift of Christ.”

You feel the saltiness of his cock against your tongue as he slides in deep, spearing your throat open as he thrusts into your face. Jimin’s balls brush against your chin as you swallow him deep, tears springing to your eyes as he controls your movements with his hand buried in your hair. You are choking and gasping around his cock noisily, and Jimin just eats up every single sound as he continues to ravish your mouth mercilessly.

From his viewpoint, seeing you on your knees has Jimin confident enough that he can muster up two loads for this scene. He just wants to watch your mouth fill with his cum, watch you swallow every drop of his salty essence, and show him your empty mouth after that.

“Suck me, yes, good, just like that, harlot,” Jimin demands as he pushes you down on his cock. “Suck your Father and feel my cum fill your mouth. Swallow down my blessing, so that you may strive for the salvation and absolution that you so seek.”

He can feel you twitch in surprise at the sudden demand for you to swallow his cum, but you sink down on his cock readily, looking up at him with wide and innocent eyes that nearly makes him blow his load right then and there. He looks off to the side to the director to gain his approval before Jimin starts to thrust again, feeling his balls tighten. With a strangled groan, Jimin feels his cock swell in your perfect mouth between those red lips, and he unleashes a torrent of bitter, salty cum into your mouth, swearing as you suckle on his cock like an infant, coaxing every drop from him.

“Swallow every drop,” Jimin pulls away from your mouth, his spent length twitching. You flash him a naughty little smirk as you clean a drop of cum from your mouth salaciously, opening your mouth to show him the reservoir of cum inside before your throat swallows, and you show him your empty mouth.

“Enough, harlot,” he declares as he pulls you up. Jimin watches as you pant desperately for air, tear stained cheeks and precum staining your chin. “You have dabbled in impure and unholy thoughts, my child. Sins of the flesh must be purified, for your body is a gift from God and not a receptacle for lust. Your body must be kept pure and untouched except for the man God intends you to marry and have babies with.”

Jimin leans back, thighs spread as his eyes linger over your thighs. “Sweet child, have you followed the rules of the Catholic Church? Are you on birth control, or any form of contraception that isn’t allowed by the Church?”

“N-no, Father,” you whimper. “My body is pure and untouched, as nature intended it to be.”

A pleased yet somehow also wicked smile crosses his face, but vanishes just a second later. “Good, my child. Be seated on your Father’s lap.”

“And cut!” The director yells, and Jimin lets go of you immediately, his spent length limp against his inner thigh. You turn around to watch a stylist clean him up carefully, an odd sensation in your throat when you see how unbothered Jimin is as he lets random strangers touch his soft cock.

Jimin is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, his thick, plush lips parted and looking like the devil himself as he gulps down some water that someone hands him, running his hand through his sweat soaked hair. Droplets of water travel down his neck as he drinks carelessly from the bottle, and you can feel your core pulse painfully. He catches you looking at him as an assistant sponges his soft cock, and he raises his eyebrows before glancing down at his crotch.

You step outside to have a few breaths of fresh air.

Jimin looks over at you as his stylist removes his circle glasses for a polish. “Doing okay? First half was intense.”

In your mind’s eye you have no doubt that you look wrecked beyond belief. Cheeks flushed with arousal, nipples hard and straining against your thin shirt- they didn’t give you a bra today- and you try and tamp down your embarrassment, replacing it with professionalism instead as you give him a taciturn nod. “Was alright.”

Someone hands you a bottle of water and you gulp gratefully. You can feel the wet stickiness between your thighs start to drip, and hope to whatever deity residing above you that Jimin can’t smell it.

“You were doing great,” Jimin says unexpectedly, getting up and tucking himself back into his pants just for modesty’s sake, especially as he moves closer to you. “Really got me so fucking turned on without even seeing you.” With his nose and lips dangerously close to your neck, you can feel your heart pounding against your ribs. “Now I know why you’re so good at what you do. The innocent yet naughty thing really works for you.” Jimin gives you his greasy little smile that doesn’t make you feel as disgusted as you thought you would be and is almost… endearing?

And as a scriptwriter he knew perfectly well what kind of role would suit you. You didn’t see it before, but you’re able to show off your innocent charm in the best ways possible with this script, and Jimin as an actor complements you perfectly as well. 

As much as you try to deny it- you have to admit that this man turns you on. Park Jimin has this intriguing charisma with his offscreen personality that draws you in. Although it’s a whiplash from his cold, domineering onscreen persona, you can’t say that his dominance isn’t equally arousing either- it’s all just so confusing. You never thought you’d enjoy letting the most hated man in your life dominate you, but here you are, getting wet after a few insults from him.

“Can I kiss you?” He says suddenly, and you realise he’s been staring at your lips for a while. 

The question shocks you to your core, and you take a step back involuntarily but Jimin follows your body with his, his hand coming around your back, but not touching your skin. Around you, various crew are still running around changing the lighting and modifying the set and doing who knows what, so no one is paying any attention to the two of you. Jimin still holds your hand in his as he stands with his body mere inches away from yours. “Just once. Please.”

You realise you’ve never kissed any of your co-stars before, much less outside of a scene. Jimin looks at you so earnestly that you almost can’t recognise him as the man who so cruelly put you down all those years ago, nor can you reconcile it with your perception of him as a selfish, cold bastard. Your head dips ever so slightly, and Jimin grins as he leans in.

His lips are soft and pleasant against yours, a very relaxed kiss with him leading and his hand soft against your back. It seems to be over far too quickly though, for he pulls back with a genuine smile on his lips.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you that day in the locker room,” he admits as he glances away, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that you recognise as embarrassment.

The great Park Jimin, embarrassed? You must be seeing things. He grins at your expression and boldly takes your hand in his, pulling you to feel his crotch where his cock is hard, again. In a mere span of minutes, just from kissing you alone.

Your cheeks heat up, whether in embarrassment, arousal, or flattery, you have no idea. But Park Jimin doesn’t seem the least bit ashamed as he palms his cock with your hand over it, licking his sinful, thick lips as he admires the curve of your neck, the soft flesh that he wants to mark with his teeth.

“It… it wasn’t a bad kiss,” you begrudgingly allow him to grin at your half-hearted compliment. “Not the best, though.”

You feel Jimin chuckle briefly against your neck, his breath skimming your heated skin. “Playing hard to get. I love it. You’re better than Viagra for me, sweetheart.”

Before you can react to the tender nickname, the director calls for everyone to take their places, and you step away from him with your heart pounding, back into your side of the confession booth. Standing in front of the chair as per where you left off last time, you feel more than see Jimin follow you into your side now. His thighs brush against your ass as he sits down, getting his once again hard cock out of his pants before he places his hands on your waist. With your back to him it’s easier to calm your racing heart even as you prepare yourself for the next scene.

“It’s gonna get a little rough from here on, you know that right?” Jimin’s voice is a low murmur as you feel his hands on your waist soothingly. “Just remember you can tap out anytime. You have all the power.”

“Okay.” You turn your cheek to the side to get a glimpse of him smiling back at you. Once the director starts rolling, however, it disappears entirely into a cold mask again, and porn star actor Park Jimin is back.

You turn and step backwards, feeling his hands on your waist guiding you as you start to sit down. His cock brushes against your ass, and you whimper in fear as the script calls, struggling to stand up again.

“Shhhh, my child, do not be afraid, for your Father is here,” Jimin whispers, pulling you firmly down and spreading your thighs for the camera. His sticky cockhead brushes against your inner thighs, and you fight against his strength as Jimin seeks to impale your tiny virgin hole with his cock. “My beautiful child, cursed and sinful harlot, are you ready to receive your anointing? Are you ready for the Holy Spirit to enter your impure body and cleanse you from the inside out?”

Your pussy is still wet and dripping despite the cut, and you can almost feel Jimin smirk as he takes in the implications of this.

“Yes, Father Jimin please… please enter me,” your legs are trembling as Jimin slowly lowers you onto his cock, and the head of him breaches your entrance.

“Lower yourself fully, my child, and accept your position at the Lord’s feet where you belong,” Father Jimin pulls you to sit fully upon him, cock now buried deep in your supposedly virgin pussy as you cry out. He bends to gather your thighs in his grip, fully opening your legs and exposing your stuffed cunt to the camera, bidding you to rest your full weight upon him. “Recite your rosary, sweet child, and rejoice in your blessing.”

And then he begins to fuck up into your cunt with measured strokes, reciting a prayer under his breath as he does so. His hands grip your thighs apart and his thrusts are harsh, punishing against you as his cock bottoms out all the way to your womb.

“Fuck, this sweet pussy, meant to be used for your Father’s pleasure, meant to worship your Father’s cock with reverence,” Father Jimin pants as he watches his cock disappear into your pussy. “You won’t let any other boy touch it, will you my sweet? Only Father Jimin.”

“O-only Father Jimin,” you repeat after him as he fondles your clit with his expert fingers that makes you wail and thrash on top of him, the camera zooming in to capture your expression as your orgasm around him, switching to your pussy to focus on how it grips him like perfect velvet.

His thrusts are speeding up and getting sloppy now- you recognise the cadence of it as he races for his climax.

“Are you ready to receive your blessing, harlot?” Father Jimin growls as he tightens a hand around your throat, cutting off your air supply. “F-fuck, forgive me, God!” He groans loudly as his hips thrust a few more times and he is spilling into your depths, filling you up with his second load of the day, covering your cervix with his thick, warm anointment and blessing.

You can do nothing but writhe on his cock as your walls clench around him, feeling your womb swell with his gifts. He is still twitching and spurting inside you; it feels strangely intimate for him to hold you as he comes down from his high. Whether it’s because Park Jimin is the first man to ever cum inside you bare like this, or if it’s because of something else, you’ll never know. The camera focuses on his rapidly softening cock as it slips from your pussy, cream immediately leaking from your centre and dripping down your ass and inner thighs.

Jimin’s fingers skim down your body to play with the remnants of his offering left at your altar, and his other hand is over your lower belly suggestively. His fingers slide over your dripping slit, gathering up some of his cum mixed with your arousal as he brings it up to your clit, rubbing and pinching as you continue to leak his cum all over his softening cock that is resting against your inner thigh.

With a cry, you cum again, swollen cunt clenching around nothing and oozing more of his cum out. Jimin soothes you with a few kisses to your neck that feels oddly intimate, and are definitely not in the script as you come down from your high. 

His lips are poised close to your ear as he delivers the final lines of the scene. “My sweet child, I have a feeling you’ll be back here with another confession in 9 months. May your time away from me bear fruit.”

“CUT! Brilliant, amazing, I was blown away!” The director claps his hands as you sag against Jimin, thighs slipping off his frame. “Someone help them clean up, and it’s a wrap! Thank you!”

Jimin situates you more firmly on his lap so that you won’t fall off, carefully helping you stand up as his cum leaks from your centre. An assistant hands you a wet tissue and you take a few steps away from Jimin so you can clean yourself up, but he follows you, snatching the wet tissue from you and cleaning your inner thighs himself.

“Jimin, stop, I can do it myself,” you start to protest, but it seems like nothing can stand in the way of Jimin’s obsession with his cum on you. He purposely catches a glob of it on his finger and brings it to his mouth, making eye contact with you as he licks his finger sinfully.

“Any chance of doing a sequel with that?” Jimin grins perversely, pushing himself to stand as he hands the used wipe to an assistant. “The title can be, ‘Blessed with my Father’s Baby’. What do you think?”

“I’m not doing a pregnancy porn shoot with you, Park,” you roll your eyes and put on the robe your manager hands you. “If that’s the last script, consider me out. I’m breaking the contract.”

Even as you walk out with Jimin’s amused gaze still on your back, a thought occurs to you that this shoot wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. There was no signs of the panic attacks, traumatic memories and actual, real humiliation even though you spent most of the scene grovelling at Park Jimin’s feet, sucking his cock and being used thoroughly by him. In fact, as you walk away from the man himself, you start to realise that maybe he is right about this whole domination business—you had the upper hand all along.

The last scene is so unlike the previous two that you have to pause and make sure that the sender of the email is Park Jimin. After you confirmed it three times, you click back to the pdf file and read it through again, just to make sure you’re not seeing things.

A newly-wed couple on their wedding night, consummating their marriage for the first time.

You swallow hard, noting that there isn’t any of the dominance and humiliation that Jimin usually has in his scripts. Instead, it seems to require intimacy and chemistry between the two actors, seeing as there are barely any lines for you to memorise. All he’s given you is a brief premise and description of positions from start to finish, and at the end he put a director’s note that all of this is to be very loosely followed.

The premise of the script remains in your mind even as you go through your workouts at the gym. Sweat drips down your face as you increase the speed on the treadmill, wishing that life was as easy as just running away from all your problems like this.

Can you even act that well? Jimin seems to have too much faith in your acting skills, though you know that he probably has no problem mustering up the appropriate emotions for this scene. But you on the other hand… your feelings towards Jimin have been getting more and more confusing. If this goes on any longer, it’ll be hard for you to draw a firm line between the two of you, much less keep on convincing yourself that he is the selfish, proud and egotistical bastard you always thought he was.

Why does he have to write such a corny and awful script? This will really put your acting skills to the test. You swear at him under your breath as you punch the stop button on the treadmill, grabbing your towel and stepping off. Taking a swig of your water, you continue to curse his obnoxiously handsome face as you walk to the locker room—

“Did you just say my name?” A familiar voice startles you and you nearly drop your phone as you turn around.

Jimin has his silver hair slightly matted and damp, sticking to his forehead. He’s obviously here for a workout, dressed in a thin white shirt that is see through with his sweat, and some workout shorts that show off the thickness of his thighs. You’ve never seen him in anything but a suit or perfectly pressed dress pants, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander over how built his physique is. Slim, yet wiry, he is the epitome of sleek, elegant power as he pushes his sweaty hair off his forehead, giving you a glimpse of his firm biceps as he does so.

“Wh-when did you start coming to this gym?” You avert your gaze by taking a gulp of water.

“Since I heard you went here,” he grins shamelessly, stopping at the water cooler for a refill.

This is the first time you’ve interacted with him outside of a porn shoot, and even though you’ve practically seen his dick, had it inside you, done all sorts of sordid things with him— you feel awkward around him, especially when you think about the shoot you’ll have to do with him soon.

“I’ll um… see you tomorrow then. Ha-have a good workout,” you mumble under your breath, making a wide berth around him to head for the lockers and showers. The stutter in your voice makes you cringe.

“Hey— you didn’t get back to me about the script. Is it okay?” Jimin turns off the tap at the water cooler and follows you for a few steps.

You turn back to him and study his face carefully. He doesn’t seem to be teasing you or making fun of you, in fact he is completely serious. Should you be honest and tell him what you’re really worried about, or should you beat around the bush?

“… it’s a different script. Different from what you usually do,” you finally say.

Jimin shrugs, unperturbed. “Different, yes. But different is good, and I wanted to try something new since… since it’s with you. I thought since our last two shoots were more of my style, we could incorporate yours for the final one. So that there’s some kind of balance. Is there a problem? Or did you change your mind about that pregnancy shoot?”

His little teasing voice makes your cheeks heat up involuntarily. You are irritated with yourself, at how you always seem to be at a loss for words around him, at how he always affects you just so.

“It’s just… it’s very brief. I’m not sure I know how you want it to go.” You fret with your hands a little, avoiding eye contact with Jimin. “If there were more lines, more stage directions, more things like that. I’d feel more confident about doing it with you.”

“Ah, it’s about that,” Jimin makes a humming noise in his throat as he considers your words. “I purposely didn’t include many scripted lines because I thought it wouldn’t fit with how I envisioned this entire scene to go. In my mind I saw two lovers, passionate yet innocent, celebrating their love for the first time. Lines would make everything kind of awkward and artificial, don’t you think? We should let it flow naturally. Get into the mood and character with each other.”

While Jimin is speaking, you can sense that he really does have a passion for acting, and not just the scripted trash that porn actors usually dole out. You’ve witnessed his genuine talent when it comes to immersing himself in a scene, admired him for how he seems to have two sides to his personality, and how he can switch between his on and off screen persona so fluidly.

“I definitely won’t have a problem getting into character. I could help you if you need me to… but somehow I feel like you don’t.” His voice is a low baritone against the shell of your ear, and his words are suggestive. Jimin smiles confidently as he steps closer to you. “At least, I hope by now you don’t think I’m still that stuck up jerk.”

Jimin’s eyes are fixated on your forehead, and he’s so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. He reaches up to wipe a drop of sweat from your forehead, and then his thumb brushes against your cheek. “If you need more stage directions… then let me just say I think we’ll be doing a lot of kissing. A lot.”

He lets his hand drop as he meets your eyes again, waiting for your response as a he grins at you. Jimin drops his eyes to your lips as his tongue dips out to caress his own plush ones. You think back to the last time he kissed you in between scenes, and you can feel your traitorous heart skip a beat in your chest. It flusters you so much that you can only step away from him and throw a hasty goodbye over your shoulder as you flee.

“Last shoot of the contract!” Wendy sings as she brings you your iced coffee. “Are you relieved?”

The useless script sits in front of you as you take a sip from your drink absently. “Why would I be relieved?”

“You get paid after this, and they’ll be releasing the first film shortly after. And I thought you hated Park Jimin, so isn’t it a relief that you won’t have to work with him anymore?”

You consider her words carefully as a few stylists adjust your outfit, hair and makeup. Today you are wearing all white, a lace bralette that skims your waist and accentuates your breasts, along with a pair of matching panties and a garter set. Over it all you have a sheer lace cardigan that drapes over your shoulders. “I don’t exactly… hate him, I guess. He isn’t as bad as I thought he was.”

You set aside the script and take a few sips of your drink before handing it to Wendy, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you follow the assistant director’s cue to get ready on set. As usual, Jimin is already on set and mixing with the crew, but when he sees you, he comes over straightaway.

His eyes are taking you in from head to toe, and for once it’s his turn to be speechless. This is exactly what he fell for the moment Sejin hyung showed him your picture, an angel draped in white. For a moment Jimin actually lets himself believe that all of this is real, that you and him are actually newly-weds waiting to consummate your marriage... all for the sake of helping him get into character, of course. Not for anything else.

“You look beautiful,” he says honestly, nervously putting his hands in his pockets to keep him from running them through his hair and ruining his stylist’s hard work. “I’m a lucky man.”

Jimin is talking as if all of this is real, and it sets you on edge. This is dangerous. You should never have agreed to doing this script in the first place. Out of all the shoots you’ve done with him, you feel as if this is the most nerve wracking and outside your comfort zone you’ve ever been.

It’s all for the shoot, you remind yourself, forcing yourself to put aside your feelings and remain professional. All for the shoot, and nothing else. Since Jimin has a distinction between his on screen and off screen persona, you should have one too.

“Everyone on set, and initial positions please!” The director calls, and Jimin takes your hand in his, leading you to the door frame of the bedroom set they have today.

He pulls you in closer to him, arms around your waist so that your body is touching his intimately. Abruptly his legs give out and you fall into his lap, his arms around your waist and chest to chest with Park Jimin as he grins insufferably. 

You make a sound of protest even as you try to get off his lap- this position is far too intimate, you can feel the heat of his thighs against your core- but Jimin halts your movements with a pout. He nestles you comfortably straddling his hips, eyes glittering as he grins at you. 

“Jimin, filming hasn’t started yet-”

“I know, I know, get into the mood with me? C’mon, I promise it’ll help. We’re supposed to be married, you know.” He plays with a strand of your hair in his fingers, tucking it behind your ear. 

Reluctantly, you start to relax in his lap as you wait for the crew to get ready. Being on his lap like this isn’t all that bad. It isn’t awkward like you thought it would be. Jimin is holding your waist and humming in his throat as he leans in to smell your hair, his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. Each and every one of his actions is so natural and thoughtless that if you let yourself go for one moment- you could almost believe this is real and not reel. 

The thin layers of your lingerie do nothing to obscure how warm and firm he feels, and you can see Jimin admiring every inch of your body with unabashed hunger in his eyes, and another emotion that you can’t quite identify. Being this close to him has your heart rate and temperature sky rocketing, and you can feel him rapidly growing hard against your stomach. Jimin’s eyes are soft as he leans in to kiss you even before the director says anything else.

Surprisingly, the kiss settles your nerves rather than worsens them, and you feel yourself relaxing into his touch, closing your eyes and forgetting about everyone else other than the man kissing you right now. Jimin is soft and gentle with his touches, even more tender with his kisses today, and your head lolls to the side to give him more access when he starts to kiss down your neck, sucking along your collarbone and pushing your lace cardigan off your shoulder.

Belatedly you realise that filming must have already started— but then why didn’t you hear the director’s voice…? Jimin brings your attention back to him with his wet tongue on your chest, licking and suckling bruises into your skin.

“Can’t fucking believe you’re all mine,” he moans into your skin, sinking his teeth into the lace and pulling it away from your breast, only to let it snap back into place. “After all these years of running from me, finally, you’re here.”

A jolt runs through your frame as you take in his words; they sound way too specific to your situation. To hide your shock, you moan his name and play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Jimin, I—“

“I love you, so much,” Jimin interrupts you as he starts to undo your bra, his eyes bright and lips swollen. To you he looks exactly the same as five minutes ago, you really can’t tell if he’s acting or not. He didn’t But he must be acting— this is a scene, and there’s no way he’s actually in love with you… right?

“I love you too,” you whisper back as your breasts are bared to the camera and to Jimin’s reverent gaze. He takes them in his hands, one nipple in his mouth as he sucks on it, occasionally flicking it with his tongue.

“On the bed, baby. Let me love you like you deserve tonight.” Jimin helps you to lie down on the white canopy bed, and the camera shifts to take in an overhead shot of you on your back as Jimin positions himself between your legs.

From anyone else those lines would have sounded cheesy. Heck, if you knew they were scripted, you would have been struggling not to cringe right then and there. But somehow, knowing that Park Jimin is just throwing himself fully into his character, that he’s fully present with you in this scene makes it hyper realistic, such that if not for the cameras around you, you’d have trouble differentiating between real and reel.

Jimin starts from your bare breasts, kissing his way down your stomach till he reaches the tops of your thighs. This is a Jimin you’ve never seen before. He is soft, loving and looks as if he is content to spend the rest of his life between your thighs worshipping you.

“Wet already? And I haven’t even done much yet,” he smirks as he notices the wet spot on your panties, rubbing his thumb into it so that you can feel your own stickiness on your skin. The camera zooms in to capture the evidence of your arousal, and Jimin slowly starts to peel your panties off, his other hand on your inner thigh, spreading your legs for him as he sucks another bruise into your skin. “Gonna mark you and make you nice and pretty for me, hmmm?”

He spreads you with his thick fingers, examining your most intimate places with a reverent gaze that makes your cheeks heat up. Jimin glances at your reaction with a tiny little chuckle at how cute you are, then he teases you with little licks at your clit that have you mewling and whining under his touch.

“You just need your pussy to be eaten out real good, right baby? No one eats this pussy better than me. Tell me.” Jimin pauses with his lips shining from your arousal.

Being far too used to the dominant side of him, seeing needy little Jimin who aches for your praise nearly makes you cum all over his tongue right away.

“J-Jimin, you’re the only man who can eat me so good,” you weave your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as you beg for his tongue once more. “Please baby, I- I want to cum. Want your cock now.”

“Begging already?” He grins as he buries his face into your pussy, lewd little sucking sounds emanating as he tastes you from the inside out, tongue delving deep into your folds and spreading you apart for him. “My greedy girl. You’re so sweet, look at this pussy. Dripping so much, and it’s all for me. Can you cum like this for me first?”

Your hips are starting to arch off the bed with every lick and suck he gives you. Park Jimin truly is number one at pussy eating, and to have him praising you like this, calling you his while in between your thighs elicits a flutter in your stomach, a racing of your heart that you can’t seem to control. Jimin allows your hips to move freely, grinding into his face as you ride his tongue to your orgasm, thighs trembling and his name spilling from your lips as he licks every inch of your pussy.

“Jimin.” You whine needily and stretch out your arms for him, and Jimin chuckles as he crawls up the bed to meet your lips with his. You can taste yourself on his lips, but it doesn’t throw you off in the least as your tongues clash and moans spill from the both of you.

“Tell me I did well. Tell me how good I made you feel,” Jimin whispers against your neck. 

Your legs come up to circle his waist, cradling him intimately into your centre, and you can feel his hard cock rub against you. “So, so good, you made me feel so good baby,” your chest heaves as your arch your body into his. “The only man who can make me feel like that.” 

Jimin shifts back onto his knees to admire how fucked out you already look, hair spilling over the pillow and cheeks all flushed, lips swollen from his kisses. He places his hands behind your knees, pushing your thighs back to your chest to further expose your swollen pussy lips and your dripping center to him.

“Fuck, you look so fucking pretty like this,” Jimin caresses the lace garter on your thighs. “All spread out and dripping for me. Say what you want and I’ll give it to you, princess.”

His thumb caresses your clit lightly, and your thighs twitch, a whine spilling from your lips. “Your cock. I want your cock. Fuck me, please.”

“Such a sweet but dirty little mouth,” Jimin grins, satisfied as he reaches down to kiss you again, one hand on his cock and brushing his head against your lips. You can feel his sticky precum spread all over you as he thrusts forward with his fluid hips.

The first stretch of his cock makes you arch your back, and Jimin presses your thighs to your chest further, feeling you tighten around him. He continues to work his cock into your soaked depths, praising you for how tight and good you feel around him as he finally bottoms out. His lips are brushing against your collarbone as his cock grinds against your cervix, but the pain is a welcome one.

You brush a few strands of sweat soaked hair out of his eyes, watching his expression as he closes his eyes and withdraws from your clenching pussy. Today Jimin seems to be closer to the edge than usual even though you didn’t even suck him off, and he seems to be trying his best not to blow his load right now as he delivers hard thrusts into your pussy. He flashes you a shy little grin that makes your stomach flip as your eyes meet, and as you purse your lips to give him a tiny little kiss at the corner of his mouth, that’s when you realise it— you are actually in love with Park Jimin.

Somehow, somewhere along the lines, you stopped acting. Maybe it was never an act all along. But what about Jimin?

“So tight, so pretty, so wet for me,” Jimin grunts into your neck as his hips speed up, cock battering your pussy as you feel yourself dripping all around him, wetness coating his balls and his base. “I can’t wait to start a family with you. Like this. Just the two of us.”

The talk of starting a family once again reminds you that this is a shoot where you’re supposed to be newlyweds.

“Give it to me,” you stroke his cheek with your thumb, smiling up at him gently as he presses your thighs to your chest, grunting with the effort of fucking into you with his cock. “Want your baby.”

As you lock eyes with him, you realise that Jimin isn’t acting either. Unlike the previous shoots where the transition from his offscreen to onscreen persona was painfully obvious, this time Jimin’s face isn’t the cold mask he puts on during shoots. Park Jimin wears all his emotions on his face— and all this while you thought he was a heartless, cold bastard.

Then, it becomes painfully clear to you why he didn’t write any lines for the two of you, simply because they aren’t needed. This intimate gaze between the two of you says it all, and it conveys more than what a few lines ever could. You raise your head to meet his lips again, and the feeling of his cock thrusting in and out of your pussy slowly, his lips against yours and his tongue licking your bottom lip tenderly makes you feel as if you are really lovers.

“I can’t hold it much longer,” Jimin admits, pushing himself onto his knees and letting your legs stretch out to rest on his shoulders. From this here he can see every inch of your beautiful body, breasts bouncing with every thrust of his, and the way your pussy takes his cock so well.

“Cum for me?” You reach down to brush your fingers across his firm abdomen, walls starting to clench around his cock as Jimin circles his thumb around your clit. “Please?”

At the sound of your sweet begging, Jimin decides to throw all caution to the wind and chase his orgasm just how he’s dying to— pounding into your wet cunt with his cock and feeling you clench around him; your little whines and moans egging him on. A few more thrusts inside your warmth and he buries himself as deep as he can go, throwing his head back and exposing his pretty throat as he cums inside you.

The warmth of his cum seeps into your pussy as he fills you up to the brim, even more than he’s ever cum before. Even after he’s done spurting into your depths, Jimin continues to thrust lazily, fucking his cum deeper into you and chasing your lips with his. When his cock has softened too much for him to keep going, he pulls out and positions himself in between your thighs.

“You didn’t cum yet did you baby?”

“N-no, not yet, oh! Jimin, what are you—“ Even though this isn’t the first Jimin eats his cum from your used pussy, it never fails to bring a blush onto your cheeks, watching him slurp and kiss your lower lips messily with his semen all over his chin.

But he licks it all up like it’s the rarest delicacy in the entire world.

You’re so absorbed by his endearing little grin as he licks his plush lips that you almost don’t hear the director call cut.

“Park, _____, this may be your best work yet!” He is starstruck, eyes shining with admiration as he clasps his hands to his chest. “I could really feel all the emotion, for a moment I really believed that you were lovers! Well done, both of you. It’d be my pleasure to work with you again!”

You call out a thanks to the director as you start to get up from the bed, closing your thighs. But Jimin has his arms around your waist and stops you from getting up, pulling you closer into his side. Now, you feel as if it’s time to address the elephant in the room. There was a definite chemistry sparking in between the two of you just now, you’d be a fool to deny it.

“Jimin…”

“Shhh, just a while more. I’m tired.” Jimin whines, pressing a kiss to your lips to quiet you, and his casual yet intimate gesture despite the cameras being off only makes you melt even more. There is a comfortable silence between you for a moment.

“You weren’t acting just now, were you?” You reach out to pinch his cheek, and he grins shamelessly. “You wrote this last scene on purpose. Trying something new my ass.”

“Am I that obvious?” Jimin’s eyes light up with mischief. “But it wasn’t to annoy you this time. I just knew you’d fall in love with me once I made love to you.”

You place a hand on his chest and push him away slightly. “Excuse me? In love? Getting cocky now aren’t we, Mr Park?” 

Jimin doesn’t deny it as he buries his face into your neck, giggling. “Stop or I’ll get hard again.” 

“You get hard by hearing me call you Mr Park?” 

“Can we role-play Fifty Shades next?” Jimin asks. “I think I have a kink for Mr Park. I always wanted to be a rich CEO. Can I gag you with my tie?” 

“You kinky bastard,” you mutter under your breath even as a smile tugs at your lips. “But wait. Our contract is over.”

Jimin hums in thought as he kisses your shoulder. “I thought we could enter a different contract this time.”

“Different? Like how?”

“A more personal one, with no scripts involved. Still exclusive, though,” Jimin is grinning, the sneaky little punk.

“Oh really? What exactly does this contract entail?”

Jimin pretends to think for a while before he answers. “Roleplaying Fifty Shades with me, for one. I was thinking we could do a professor student one too. Oh and also, a nursemaid one. And last but not least... go on a date with me.”

He’s so sneaky that it makes you laugh. “Signed, sealed and delivered. But just so you know, I’m fucking your ass this time.”  

[greensaplinggrace]

Thank you for your perspective about the Emma scene! The cold mask you mentioned is spot on, & the sunglasses only helped emphasize this (The shades are a bit goofy, but obv Capcom just wanted to hide her face for the full reveal) If you play Leon's route in his OG outfit, then Ada is already in her dress w/o glasses, so you actually get to see her all micro-expressions in that scene. She stay fully composed until she hears the gunshot go off, then you can see she's visibly sad & sorry for Kendo

& for the comparison of Marvin as a guide for Leon, he tells Leon to not make his mistake and do not hesitate to take them out or run. (Marvin hesitates when Brad still shows a bit of humanity by saying "Sorry", which ultimately gets him bit & killed in the end), so who's to say had he lived to encounter Emma that he wouldn't hesitate to shoot her? If The Walking Dead taught us anything, it's that a fully turned zombie (even kids unfortunately) is a serious threat to actually living people

---

I’m glad you liked it! 😊 And yeah, replaying the game recently (and that scene over and over and over again for screenshots and video takes - yall have no idea) I’ve come to have a new appreciation for it. My first few playthroughs, the scene hardly registered to me, but re2 Ada has a strong set of micro-expressions that you can oftentimes even see beneath her ridiculous glasses. There are a few key points of that scene that are interesting to me - and maybe when I have more time I’ll go through a play by play with screenshots to form a full analysis - but my favorite part is when Ada threatens to shoot Emma. Because it’s cold. Like, ice cold. No voice inflections or hesitation. Nothing to indicate that she wouldn’t shoot her. And with Leon right there? Why would she say that?

Ada’s masks are truly interesting to break down, because she has a lot of them. What made Leon hesitant around her and what makes her presence discordant to the player is the fact that she switches masks in the re2 remake. Right in front of Leon on multiple occasions. She’s trying to put up a cold and efficient FBI front, but in a flash she’s switching to her ‘can i get you to do this for me’ puppy dog eyes seduction. And that isn’t even to mention the aloof uncaring persona in contrast with the both of those. She whips out the cold mask fast in this situation, and it’s jarring to the player. Because she’s been competent but involved Ada up until now, not cold and ruthless Ada. 

But she doesn’t shoot. She waits. It’s a threat, likely because they’re in a dangerous situation with a man who’s volatility she can’t pinpoint (parents will go to great lengths to protect their children, and he’s already pulled his gun on Leon without provocation). And when Leon asks her to lower her gun, she does with no complaint.

You’re right about her showing the most emotion when the gun goes off, but there are a few points before then that we see other breaks in her mask. Ugh XD, I really want to go through that scene again and take some screenshots. I’ll have to put that down on the event sheet for Ada Positivity Hours lmao.

Anyways, this was a ramble and I’m sorry for that 😅. I get into texty messes when I get passionate and then they stop making sense when I wear myself out typing them lolol. 

I also wanted to say that your point about Marvin is interesting, though. I have a hard time believing he could ever pull the trigger on a kid unless he absolutely had to, but he did go through a majorly traumatic event at the hands of his friends and workmates. We can’t really say because he isn’t there in the game, but at the same time I feel it safe to give my conclusion based on my interpretations of both Ada and Marvin’s characters: that neither of them would ever pull the trigger on Emma unless she was fully zombified and literally at their throats (and even then is iffy). 

But like, the sentiment that you’re forced to kill people you shouldn’t have to is a pretty big one in media with zombies. If we’re going to judge Ada for a threat she doesn’t even follow through with and likely never would have, I think we would have to judge other characters for going through the same thought processes on multiple occasions. This is a pretty big theme for zombie movies. It isn’t as if she was just suggesting killing an innocent out of the blue lol.

Anyways, again, thanks for the ask anon! You’ve given me a lot to think about. Hopefully this response is comprehensible XD.

[ravenclaw-reblogs]

All of the shades of pink asks!! (only if you want to though)

THANK YOU @thatsmartidiot24 💙💙💙

SORRY EVERYONE ELSE 🤦‍♂️

Champagne pink - If you became famous, what would you want your fans to love most about you? I suppose I'd like to be someone's inspiration, like to follow a dream ecs.

Pink lace - If you could ask one yes or no question and get a truthful answer, what would it be? Boring, but probably "is there life outside Earth?" just because it's a clear yes/no and that's all you really need.

Piggy pink - Do you trust your intuition? Has your intuition ever guided you to make good decisions? Trust it? Not at all. But I sometimes do things on a whim and they pay off in the long run.

Pale pink - What’s a smart choice you made recently that you felt good about? I've decided to try and motivate myself more.

Baby pink - What advice would you give your 10 year old self? I did this earlier but... 1) dont try so hard in school, 2) you're gay as fuck & 3) dont be afraid to smack a bitch.

Spanish pink - When was the last time you yelled at someone? "Yelled" is a bit far but this afternoon I tried (and failed) to stand up to my Mum...

Cameo pink - When do you think it is acceptable to lie? When it spares someones feelings without causing them further harm, and to prevent something terrible I guess?

Orchid pink - What is the biggest dealbreaker for you when it comes to relationships? I've never been in one, but I'd say being rude for no reason and gaslighting.

Fairy Tale - What is your favourite mythical creature? Kelpies sounds wonderful (the water horses right?) and dragons.

Cherry blossom pink - If you could pick any celebrity to be your guardian angel, who would it be? *desperately tries to think of an unproblematic celebrity* can you fuck your guardian angel? cos then that's a very different question...

Cotton candy - What was your last dream about? Pain Au Raisin. I'd had my first that day and dreamt about them, but in the dream I couldnt have one and cried 🤦‍♂️

Carnation pink - Congrats! You get to write direct and star in a film, about whatever you want! What’s the genre and what’s the soundtrack for the opening credits, the action or drama sequences, the climax of the film, and the closing credits? I love a good espionage/heist/something sneaky film, but also historical things so let's go for period with sneak, preferably set between 1920 and 1960 with the music of the time in the soundtrack.

Tickle me pink - Do you believe in karma? If so, how do you think it manifests, if not, why? I like to think what goes around comes around, but I dont really know what the 2nd part means...

Amaranth pink - Type the first 10 words that come to mind. That is anon’s fortune for next week! I CANT HANDLE THIS PRESSURE.

Charm pink - If you were a celebrity, would you read fanfiction about yourself? Who do you think people would ship you with? Maybe once or twice, gauge what the people think. Hopefully someone who isnt already in a relationship, since that sucks for them.

China pink - What is your favourite fairytale or myth? Ghosts sound fun. But just spirits who chose not to pass on, like actual people with actual sense, not women in black that stand in various corners intimidatingly for no apparent reason. (If you've seen BBC Ghosts, I absolutely love that idea)

Mimi Pink - If you could relive any moment in your past, what would it be and would you do anything different? My first (only, thanks COVID) dance comp, and I'd comb my fucking hair and actually dance well 🤦‍♂️ (nothing more frustrating that knowing you can do much better but you just... didnt)

Tango pink - What is your favourite food from your culture?  "culture" is pushing it, but Welsh cakes fucking slap just saying...

Congo pink - How are things better now than they were yesterday? I'm better mentally.

New York pink - Is there a book or film that’s your guilty pleasure? This whole fandom is my guilty pleasure, but also How To Train your Dragon, both the books and the films.

Queen pink - What advice would you give to yourself 8 years from now? How do I advise future me? I guess if I'm still as I am now, get help because it's not going away...

Mountbatten pink - If you could get any tattoo, disregarding pain or cost, what would you get? Colour tattoos are gorgeous, proper bright vibrant ones, and probably something natural like flowers or vines ecs...

Mexican pink - What is your favourite lyric from your favourite album? I don't listen to albums tbh...

Barbie pink - If you could make one extravagant purchase for yourself, what would you buy? The proper outfits for my dance comps, that costs WAY more than they should 😪

Fandango pink - What is the best lie you’ve ever pulled off? Pretending I was never given the homework probably. basic bitch...

Paradise pink - Is there a subject you could talk for hours about? I'm meant to write about it here, but I wont bore you, since I could talk for hours about ballroom and latin dancing and I wouldnt even know where to start...

Brink pink - Did something odd or uncanny happen to you today? I got two asks in the space of 10 minutes 😂

French pink - Do you believe in intuition as your brain figuring things out quickly or as the universe guiding you? I have no faith in my own brain so let's say the ✨universe✨

Bright pink - What is your dream outfit/fashion aesthetic? I absolutely love the dancesport outfits, they can be absolutely insane if you have the money (I know nothing about aesthetics so I'm saying that...)

Persian pink - What quality in people do you gravitate towards? They pay you attention before you pay it to them, sometimes.

Rose Pink - Do you think it’s better to forgive and forget, or do you think holding onto anger is important? I'm useless at holding on to anger, so the former for me.

Ultra pink - How are things better now than they were six months ago? Not the best of years to be asking this 😂 but I didnt have to sit my final GCSEs so that's nice...

Shocking pink - What pisses you off the most? People having opinions on things they know nothing about.

Rose Pompadour - What is your favourite name from your culture’s language?  Again, "culture" is pushing it, but I love the names Owen (from Owain, I think) and Seren (meaning "star" in Welsh).

If you read this far, I implore you to get a hobby. Why is it so much fun to answer random questions about yourself?! 😂💙