#and they’ll always be like ‘ur not my second choice!’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wttcsms · 1 year

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Hihi i saw ur request box was open & i just couldnt resist! A big confession to make here, uhh ive been such a big fan of u and yr writings and also u were the v first fanfic blog i came across a couple years ago so yea, u literally open my third eye to a whole new world of fics👉👈 🥺

i feel like you havent written angst in a while–and bc i miss ur angsty haikyuu fics– sooo could i request post-breakup college!au with atsumu or iwai (honestly anyone who'd best fit the scenario cuz i trust ur characterization👌) abt the aftermath of the breakup, them seeing us on campus and unconsciously following us with their eyes, reschin to help out on instinct only to realize theyre no longer together, thinking about what could've been just reminisce reminisce

ahhhh im sry honestly dont know how to expand more on the idea

thank you for stealing my ficvirginity😃

pairing atsumu miya x f!reader word count 2.1k content contains exes still in love, college!au, mutual pining author's notes hi <3 i remember you (eycee, right?). don't be a stranger! you can always dm me and say hello :) thank you for the constant support. not sure if this fic is angsty enough, but i wanted yours to be the first req i do <3

“Hi, welcome in! Let me know if— Oh.”

Your voice falters, recognition and maybe even something similar to embarrassment flits across your face, and a split second later, you go back to smiling like nothing’s wrong. Like the two of you haven’t spent the better half of this month actively avoiding each other at all costs, even though the sprawling acres of the University of Tokyo suddenly feels too small. The entirety of Japan has felt too small ever since it became his mission to never cross paths with you ever again.

This mission of his started just a little over two weeks ago, on the very same day you decide to use his heart as your own punching bag. The worst part of it all, though, is the fact that he doesn’t even hold any type of contempt for you. It’s a cruel sort of joke; sometimes, Atsumu Miya feels like everything bad that happens to him is just some sort of sick punchline in a sitcom instead of real life.

Usually, when girlfriends find out their high school sweetheart is going to be a wildly successful (and rich) professional athlete, they’ll do anything in their power to hang onto him.

You decided to snip the invisible string tying the two of you together, and you did it so effortlessly, so quickly, that Atsumu had to make sure that he hadn’t been imagining the last four years of your relationship.

He’s got his hands shoved in his pockets, and he’s torn between staring at you like a total creep or looking at everything in the campus bookstore but you. He settles for the former, scared that this will be his last opportunity to really look at you.

Neither of you is saying anything. It’s a Saturday and so no one else is even in the bookstore this morning, and Atsumu wants to say something, anything, but he’s never been that great at carefully picking his words, and he’s scared out of his mind that he’ll say something stupid and prove once and for all that you had been right to break up with him. Better yet, he wants you to say something. He wants you to give him a better explanation instead of the bullshit you told him in his apartment.

We just want different things.

What does that even mean? He thinks he would have shouted out that question, if only your little break up speech hadn’t caught him so off guard. Different things? The two of you wanted different things? Sure, Atsumu likes to sleep in a freezing cold apartment, and you need the room to actually be at a reasonable temperature. And maybe Atsumu has a penchant for overly fried, greasy foods when all you want (and deserve) is a fancy dinner. Maybe Atsumu wants to be at a sports store instead of browsing aisle after aisle in Sephora, but he doubts these different wants have accumulated so much that you felt you had no choice but to break his heart.

“Hey, Miya.” You say it softly, dropping the perky customer service voice you greeted him with before you turned around and realized who he was. And he flinches. He fucking visibly cringes at the way you speak to him, walking on eggshells and going back to formalities like he’s barely above a stranger to you.

Miya.

(Did you know that he wanted to make that your last name?

Do you know that he still does, even now?)

“Hey,” he replies back, curling his fingers into fists inside his pocket. He thinks his voice comes out all scratchy, like how it always sounds when you don’t use your voice nearly enough. He clears his throat awkwardly. Everything feels awkward; everything feels wrong. He says “hey”, but what he really means to say is please don’t call me Miya; you know the color of my toothbrush, you don’t have to call me Miya.

“Were you looking for something?”

You.

Subconsciously, Atsumu finds himself seeking you out. He walks by another girl on campus and almost breaks his neck with the speed he turns around to catch a whiff of the perfume wafting from her body because he swears it’s the same fragrance you favor. He walks by the building that houses all the classrooms for your specific major, even though it’s located on the opposite side of his own classes because he secretly hopes against all hope that he’ll run into you, and you’ll see him and fall in love with him again. He goes to the same restaurants the two of you frequently ate at together, and he orders your usual because you can never finish your entire meal and always have him finish off the leftovers for you (and the food is always good, but somehow it doesn’t taste the same when your utensils haven’t touched it first). And he doesn’t even need to be here, doesn’t even care enough about his stupid class to go out of his way to buy the study guide, but he knows you’ve started picking up the weekend shifts at the campus bookstore, and suddenly, he cares enough about passing to get the damn study guide.

He shrugs. “Just some stupid workbook to study for an upcoming exam, but it’s not that serious.”

“Oh. Is Dr. Furata giving you a hard time again?”

“How do you do that?” Atsumu blurts out, wanting to kick himself for giving too much of himself away. You already own every centimeter of his heart and maybe his soul. You don’t need anything else from him; he’s almost certain there’s nothing left for him to give you, but he can’t help but impulsively ask the damn question that’s been running through his mind ever since you left him behind.

Did you know that when you’re confused, your brows furrow together, and you get this adorable, endearing crinkle in between them? Do you know that he still finds that same expression as cute as he did when you still called yourself his girlfriend?

“What are you talking about?”

How can you just stand there and act like you never crushed his heart? How do you wake up in the morning and not feel like your life is missing something important, like you’ll never feel whole again? How can you keep him wrapped around your finger, and then have the audacity to not even realize it? How did you let him go so quickly?

Practicing caution, he swallows hard before clarifying, “How do you know everything?” Because if you can act like he’s just a polite acquaintance, like he’s nothing more than another fellow classmate, he can try to play pretend too. He can act like there’s not enough history between the two of you to fill up every damn textbook in this stupid store. “Yeah, Dr. Furata’s been on everyone’s ass. Somethin’ about midterm grades being worth a quarter of our overall grade.”

“Believe me, you’re not the first victim of Dr. Furata’s to come wandering in the store. I think I have a few more of the workbooks he suggested in stock. Let me go check.”

It’s instinct at this point for Atsumu to just follow you. If he uses his imagination, it’s almost like he’s back to browsing in a makeup store, walking aimlessly in every aisle, following you loyally because he’s happy to have you lead the way and he doesn’t care where he ends up, so long as you’re there with him.

But this isn’t an afternoon date with you. This is him following a bookstore employee. After you find that study guide, which is really nothing more than his flimsy excuse for seeking you out, you’re going to ask him “card or cash?”, ring him up at the register, and he’s going to walk out that door and have to act like he’s still not in love with you. All the while, you’re doing fine. You’re fine right now, and you’re going to be fine when he leaves, and you’re probably going to be fine, five years down the line, when you’re happy with someone else and Atsumu is alone because in this little hypothetical, he still hasn’t gotten over you.

He is trailing behind you in this bookstore, and your back is facing him, and he’s panicking because he doesn’t think he’s capable of not loving you.

Just two weeks ago, you knew him better than anyone else in the world, maybe even better than Osamu, perhaps even better than he knows himself. Now, you just give him a polite smile as you grab the small stool to reach the books located at the very top of the shelf.

“God, I hate the way we organize everything in the store.” You say, lightheartedly complaining. He knows you do. He knows because he’s known you for nearly a decade. The two of you have grown up together. You made this same complaint sprawled out on the couch in his apartment.

When he doesn’t reply, you look down to see if something’s the matter, only to do it too quickly that you find yourself losing your balance. Before you can come crashing to the floor, Atsumu is quick to catch you, and you pretend that his protective embrace isn’t comforting. You pretend not to notice that he’s wearing the cologne you bought him for Christmas last year, and you continue to pretend that you don’t miss him at all, that you don’t still love him.

And for a second, the two of you both pretend that you’re still with each other. That it’s perfectly okay to savor this intimate moment, that his arms wrapped around your body right now isn’t awkward in the slightest. He’s staring at you with a sort of starstruck, boylike wonder, and it’s so familiar, so sweet, because it’s the way he always used to look at you. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something, and—

The loud ring! interrupts whatever moment the two of you are sharing, and you nearly jump out of his arms. You hear the distinct footsteps of another student, and you adjust your shirt before remembering where the two of you are — what the two of you are. Not a couple. Barely even friends. Just a bookstore employee and a student that needs a book. That’s all the two of you are allowed to be.

“I should probably go check up front and make sure they don’t need any help.” You tell him, biting down on your lip. “Anyway, did you need anything else, or would you like me to check you out right now?”

He blinks a few times, as if still in a daze. “Uh, yeah, sure.” The tips of his ears are flushed a light pink. “Y-yeah, I’m done here.”

The two of you practically race each other to the front of the store, and you step behind the counter to scan his workbook. He drums his fingers, looking around the store. When he’s nervous, he likes to be moving. You know this.

Just looking for an excuse to use his hands, Atsumu mindlessly picks a pack of gum off a nearby rack and slides it towards you so you can also scan it. You know you shouldn’t say it. You know it’s supposed to be a clean break. Instead, you tell him,

“Actually, if you want, I have the fruit variety flavor.”

“Huh?” This catches his attention.

You reach into one of the boxes that have just been shipped to the store, rummaging through a tiny one before revealing a shiny, new package of gum, this one advertising all the flavors based on tropical fruits. “Would you rather have this one?”

“Oh, yeah!” As if truly forgetting what the two of you actually are (exes, strangers with too much history, two people still pretending like they’re not in love), his eyes light up. “How did you kno—” He doesn’t finish the question. He knows the answer to the question.

You’re quick to finish ringing him up, the “polite strangers” illusion being completely shattered. It’s obvious, really, that there are always going to be parts of Atsumu that still live deep inside of you. You can only hope that this isn’t the case for him.

You hand him the bag, and when he grabs it from you, your fingers just barely graze each other’s. Atsumu is scared — scared that this might be the last time he ever feels your touch.

And because you’re a glutton for punishment, you find yourself telling him,

“Don’t be a stranger.”

You can’t tell who’s more devastated: you or him.

#atsumu miya x reader #miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #hq angst #one shot #drabble #imagine #haikyuu fanfiction #wttcsms writing warmups #this fic is so taylor coded btw #'please don't ever become a stranger's whose laugh i could recognize anywhere'#< that's literally reader n atsumu rn #wanted to leave it vague but #reader breaks up w atsumu bc they're both going in diff directions in life and she doesn't want to 'hold him back'#EVEN THOUGH ATSUMU WOULD REARRANGE HIS WHOLE LIFE FOR HER AND FOLLOW HER ANYWHERE #but she wants him to do whatever HE wants

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luckyqueenreign · 1 year

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Hey bestie!

Just wanted to give my humble opinion on the start of this new season lol.

I’m not too mad (yet) but I have to admit they are making it EXTREMELY HARD for me to stick with my LI because I can’t kind of get around the whole Ivy thing but I kind of feel like they keep making him mess up a tad too much (especially with the Amelia kiss). I have the feeling they’ll milk it until they can and honestly I just think I’ll switch route lol. As of right now I’m on a Jamal route and he is so cute and sweet but like stop making him mess up!!! Or I’ll just get sick of it. Won’t lie tho I have been flirty with Ozzy lol

BESTIE YES. they are making it SO HARD to wanna stick with ur original LI. the second we got the pop up that we couldnt have Ozzy now but he could become available later I immediately knew I was going to go for him. (I love a route where characters try to ignore their feelings 😭) but I was cool with sticking with Lewie for a bit to 1. try out the route for a replay but also 2. bc he was actually being so genuinely cute that I was like ohhh this is going to be interesting later when I need to make a choice between Ozzy and Lewie. AND NOW??? im like FB PLS STOP TRYING TO RUIN HIM!! if it were one or two things that seemed off, I could ignore it. but its literally multiple things every week now. even if fb fully intends for him, Jamal and Ryan to be the super loyal route that will always pick mc, they've made the route so shady I will never fully trust them.

#litg #litg ask #love island the game

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delcakoo · 2 years

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omg im so sorry hello same person w the soulmate au riki request😭 anywayss

for the string idea, the string is ig magical and its js binding them/forever connecting them to their soulmate. this string lengthens and shortens according to their distance from e/o its not js one length(basically its not constricting). they can be continents away from the other or a foot away, point is they’ll always be connected by the string no matter the distance(also the string never breaks) and technically u can always find e/o if u follow the string(unless ofc theyre in a diff country). i js added the fact that only soulmates of the same pair sees theyre own string bc the thought of having so many strings lowkey bothers me LOL. also i looked it up and apparently its an ancient japanese myth that soulmates’ pinkies are bound to the string.

for the timer one, i left smthin out last time and i think thats what made it confusing i finally remembered the word for it is “counter” (this one counts up) so along side the timer/countdown that measures how much longer till u meet that person(ex: 00:10:59[days:hours:mins]) theres a counter on the side that tells u how many times youve already been within a 5 foot radius of eachother. like maybe when u were babies u were put along side the other in the nursery and that counts as 1 or u passed e/o on the street, 2. the point is that these counts make it frustrating bc ur like “wth ive been around them ___ many times i still dk who it is” but the timer doesnt actually go off until you’ve OFFICIALLY met. the timer may come close to 0 but it doesn’t actually notify u until uve actually spoken to eachother. what i mean w “the timer fluctuates” is that maybe for example u pass e/o on the street it comes close to 1 second when ur right next to eachother but it never touches 0 and once u get away from eachother again the time goes back up. until uve exchanged words w/ the other/officially met thats when the timer hits 0 forever and thats when ur body ig gets some feeling like “oh thats my soulmate, the person who just said excuse me” or wtv.

js making sure yk: im not making u do both in one au its js a choice im giving u to choose which one u like better😭 so sorry the last one was confusing i hope this makes more sense. tbh if u like a different soulmate bond (maybe the ability to write on ur skin and the same thing appears on them IDK) feel free to do what u want. these 2 are js ones that interested me. the whole point is that the two characters js need to be linked somehow. tysm goodluck😭🫶🏼

OH GOSH, i feel really stupid rn UHHH OKOK THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME SOME MORE DETAIL!! im not quite sure if i’ll be able to do this BUT IF I DO, it’s going to take a while and end up being pretty long so. BE PATIENT WITH ME DJNDKSHn i’ll see what i can do 😎 THANK U FOR REQUESTING AGAIN LOVE

#delcakoo #delcakoo requests #IF I WERE TO DO THIS #i’d probably add my own twists on the ability #just to make it easier for my dumb brain #💀

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m1ckeyb3rry · 15 days

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LMAOOO you know it o7 Im also fluent in typos so I just automatically read through them as I read

So real I think the most annoying thing for me is the differences in romanization LMAO I discovered it through the webcomic first and then I was sent an unofficial translation (lowk it might be the same one you read) and immediately forgot the names of everyone because the spelling threw me off so bad LMAOOO and then my friend was like “ykw I’ll just write it all out for you” but fr the entire story and develop is CRAZY

Wait PAUSE yukis the oldest after aiku??? No way…although now I kinda see/get it (I’m laughing I can see Niko hiding in a bush tailing yuki and his hair blends in…or imagine aiku SPECIFICALLY is like hide in this bush ur hairs perfect for it)

REALLLL LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK!!! It’s literally just because he seems super tough and also is fucking BUILT but otherwise those dudebros do not even compare to our respectful man Barou…

LMAOO my go to example of white haired fav is Inumaki from jjk…I guess it’s more like off-white haired characters? Because now that I think it’s not usually the pure white characters (like not gojo LOL) I’m trying to think of more examples but I’ve suddenly forgot everything else even though I’ve had this convo multiple times with some friends oops (I’ll admit Shinahs also my fav but kijas second LMAO) I’m ngl I feel like I haven’t seen enough content that has prominent enough characters who are like Karasu so maybe that’s why I’ve never found a trend for characters like him?? Or maybe I’m just blanking now but this is a long analysis session for another time

I JUST SAW IT I saw the nagi one first and fr thought “no way that’s so on brand” and then I realized it said WAS and kept scrolling but FRR I think by now we can just default to assuming we mean not the typical fanon standard because they’re lowk all ass takes…but yeah I was just about to ask if that meant chigiri long fic LOLLL guys Mira rarepair…chigimira….lowk I can also kinda see it….you could try going for another matchup (or a few and see what the general consensus is if there is one) or imagine a tiktok magically appears on your fyp in your time of need HAHA

LMAOOO I’m ngl that’s not a bad idea just to get people to stop harassing or just bugging you….but then again there’s some people who are still really persistent regardless it’s fr a dilemma

LOL wait that’d be a little funny like imagine they see aikus face and colors and they read the entire thing thinking “wait the reader didn’t even talk to aiku once”

BAROU NATION RISE but manifesting a fire edit gets on your fyp LOL I was just thinking though majority of the remaining character requests you have minus Nagi don’t have a very large pool of edits…trust I’m sure something will come up though…or maybe this’ll be a bfb situation perhaps

No those were my exact thoughts like they’re all so interesting…even aikus LMAO that I couldn’t choose like atp I was ready to make a poll for my poll response choices

ON FIELD ISAGI MOMENT I should use that phrase more often but I see that happening to like almost every poll I come across it’s actually kinda crazy…I wonder if it’s fr just something people treat as a running joke and do to just shit on people smh

There’s too many itoshi fans fr I am very impressed that Karasu remained second though!!! Karasu nation fr rising though I saw that ask while scrolling to read our convo guys this is kinda crazy!!!

Forgot to mention earlier too but I found some more kiyora voicelines that I’ll send in via a separate ask so it’s not buried in here

- Karasu anon

no literally differences in translations always piss me off that’s why it’s so hard to read manhwa because they’ll change shit from chapter to chapter 😭 like the main character’s name will literally change in between scenes or smth…i think another thing is in the novel they use the full name (so like kim dokja or han sooyoung) when referring to characters but in the webcomic they don’t?? like it’s just dokja or wtvr and it felt v weird to me i did not enjoy it plus from what i remember of the webcomic it doesn’t feel as deep as the novel because you’re not literally in the main character’s head which is so integral to the plot!! ofc no hate to people who like the webcomic but truly it was not for me

YESS i’m pretty sure yuki’s the oldest of at least the relevant og bllkers!! since barou has a june bday, shidou is july, and karasu is august (and the rest aren’t 18 yet) meanwhile yuki is may i think?? LMAOOO NO BECAUSE IMAGINE AIKU MAKING NIKO “HACK THE MAINFRAME” (request to follow reader on insta) and it’s like niko typing furiously and then she accepts his request and he’s like “i’m in” all serious and stuff 😭 niko and aiku number one oaeu duo like one thing abt them they will get it done every time 🤩 very much so cousin energy there…yk like the one cousin you only meet at the family reunions once every five years but your vibes are insanely matched so you always get along crazy well…that’s oaeu aiku and niko

barou is a sweetheart at his core that’s what they conveniently miss!! if anything they should be glazing kaiser (tbf a lot of them do) he actually kinda gives dude bro energy…especially in those glasses i just know bro is in comments sections being all “erm actually” and having ness like his comments to hype him up

okay honestly i looked at panels of nagi and shinah side by side and uhhh yeah…i do have a bit of a type…it’s either pale messy wavy haired soft eyes or it’s dark haired sassy jewel eyes (like shinah and nagi vs megumi and karasu) LMAOO tbh my second fav was hak especially because the bodyguard trope is my absolute fav (to be a princess guarded by a handsome man who’s in love with you but you’re royalty and engaged so he can’t do anything about it except defend you even/especially if it kills him 😩) but kija is a king as well!! tbh i also liked jaeha a lot honestly they all slay

HAHAHA I SAW THE NAGI AND I WAS LIKE WOAH?? very real but at the same time even when i’m writing for nagi i tend to make the reader character a lot softer than me…in the sense that she almost ends up taking on that reo-like role of rlly looking out for nagi?? not to that extent but definitely still way more than i personally would ever do for ANY man 😭 the exception is peregrine reader because she’s on a diff level entirely but her nagi is also kinda different than canon nagi because (crazy spoilers for peregrine ahead because i need to talk abt it with someone even though i haven’t written for it in ages) he realizes while they’re dating in high school that he doesn’t care that being with her is a hassle because he loves her so much he wants to be with her anyways…very diff from the typical “oh reader is the only person nagi doesn’t find a hassle so he loves her 🤩” trope ik but it just felt better/more equal to me…it’s not her making his life easier so he stays with her out of convenience it’s him actively choosing her despite it being out of his comfort zone 🥹 for example one of the things that’s kind of being hinted at in peregrine is the whole hakuho scholar thing which is how reader gets to go to college in america but one of the big reveals is that she actually wouldn’t have made it because only the top two students get it and the top two were reo and nagi 😰 and nagi needed it because he got invited to play for some fancy european team (reo didn’t hence why he went to college w reader as well) but couldn’t really afford to go so he also needed that scholarship to be able to live an easy life like he wanted/planned…however he realizes how important leaving japan is to reader so even though he doesn’t want her to go and needs the scholarship he purposefully fails his exams so she can be the number two student thereby dooming himself to playing for a random japanese team and actually having to work hard 😕 and then the reason he quits soccer (the scene in the first chapter where he doesn’t score the goal) is because he realizes he doesn’t care about playing soccer anymore and just wants to be with the reader even though she’s in literally another country (and then he finds out she’s engaged EEK) so he gives up his career for even a CHANCE at seeing her again because his team would never let him go if he doesn’t straight up fail and quit and become useless…and then it turns out she’s going to marry kira so it didn’t matter…UFNFMSKXJDKSM SORRY peregrine rant i actually think abt that version of nagi so often like THAT’S who i mean when i say i would marry him!! yes he’s still lazy and goofy and emotionally stupid (my fav scene that i’m yet to write for the fic is when reader is about to leave for her flight to america and there’s a thunderstorm and instead of…yk…CALLING her or smth nagi literally BIKES across the city at top speed and almost dies just so he can tell her not to leave him [she still leaves him] because he could never ask that of her before as he didn’t even know he cared that much) but at the end of the day he is also a d1 piner in his own way 😭 that was a lot but anyways long story short nagimira with a strictly canonical interpretation of nagi would not work in the slightest but nagi with a little bit of miraverse zest is def a strong contender for number one bf award

HAHA honestly i can see chigiri as well!! we actually do have quite a lot in common plus we are both so slay we would be a very cunty couple 🤩 okay wait i just remembered this because of the entire peregrine rant i went on but after i posted one of the chapters where chigiri is being a bestie someone sent me an ask basically thanking me because i’m the first person who hasn’t made chigiri annoying in my fic HAHAHAHA i was like uhhh thanks i feel like i wrote him pretty normally though?? so miraverse chigiri is fandom approved ✅ idk if i could do a long fic for him though ngl as much as i love him he gives very strong platonic soulmate vibes for me 😩 but who knows tik tok always comes through so maybe i’ll be inspired

no yeah some people will start prodding the story…imagine i just pull out manga panels of karasu or smth i wonder what they would do 😭 and HAHA FR “wait why did aiku spend the whole fic trying to get her w someone else??”

BAROU NATION LET’S GO to be honest it’s more audios than videos that get me going…for example the kiyora fic was inspired the arctic monkeys audio in that one nagi and isagi edit i have saved so even though the video itself had nothing to do w him i was still able to get to work because of that!! so tik tok will definitely still clutch up at LEAST for the to be determined longfic SKFHSJSBA

YES KARASU NATION i think this blog is probably followed by like every karasu fan which is why he got so many votes 😭 no complaints though i love that man fr…and yeah people will always act the fool online i’m afraid 😓 HAHA itoshism is too strong though i fear 😩💔 also OOH more kiyora!! that’s so fun hehe i look forward to reading them

#answered asks

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harrypotterbrainworms · 4 years

Text

Found Family

Summary: “hi! I hope u r having a great day!💛 I was the one who request the ron x trans male reader and I have to say that I loved it! it was beautiful! if u are ok with it can I request one about how the weasley family would react about the reader first vacations after the transition? fluff please? a george x trans male reader pleaseI love ur fics! thanks for reading!” (request)

Pairing: George Weasley x Trans Male Reader

Key: (Y/N)- your name

Word Count: 1812

(A/N): Took a while to get this done, but I really like it and it was very sweet.

“Oh my god, they’re gonna hate me. My hair is too shaggy, it got too shaggy, didn’t it? My face, oh no. I look nothing like I did. My voice, my face, me.” (Y/N) moved uncomfortably running his hands through his hair every second he could. He felt as nervous as he did at the beginning of the year.

“It’s gonna be fine, love. They already love you, I promise they’ll just love you harder, knowing them.” George Weasley, his beloved boyfriend, grabbed his hands holding them gently in his hands with a sweet smile on his face.

“But-“

“No butts, but mine, my dear.” George replied pointing at the beautifully round mother who came running toward them, one hand carrying a bag of lunch for the car ride home and the other ready to pinch any one of her kid’s faces.

“Here goes nothing.” (Y/N) sucked in a long breath and exhaled with a huge smile on his face. He was happy to see his basically second mother, but more nervous by the seconds that passed.

“Oh my boys! It’s been so long since I’ve seen your beautiful faces” She kissed each of the kids except (Y/N). The anxiety really started to build up when she turned around to face the twins not even acknowledging his presence. He was starting to spiral fast, quickly grabbing Geogre’s hand for support.

“Fred. George. I didn’t get many complaints. Good job.” She said sterningly, a cautious finger pointed at them as she looked around for someone, oh no, (Y/N) thought. She didn’t get the 20 letters he’d sent or maybe she’d make him stop dating George. No way this was gonna work.

“Thanks, mum” The twins sighed with a slight smirk on both their faces, even with the instant hurricane (Y/N) was pulled in, he wondered what they were planning.

“Well who’s this?” Molly asked, turning to (Y/N). His nerves hit an all time high and his heart stopped for a moment.

“It’s-uh-“ He stuttered out, of course she didn’t know who he was. He was so different, he felt like running away at this point.

“I’m just messing with you, deary! We missed you so much (Y/N)” She laughed giving him a huge hug and a pat on the back. He laughed nervously and steadied himself again. Her “pats” were devilishly strong.

“I missed you too, Mrs Weasley” (Y/N) said self-consciously, he wasn’t usually so formal with her. He’d known her for years now, but it felt like he was presenting a completely new version of himself.

“Don’t be so formal, my dear. Molly will do just fine, now boys and Ginny. We have a long trip and a lot of food to eat” She was smiling wide as she helped (Y/N) pull his trunk up from the ground.

The car ride was long and tiring as usual as he watched London pass and the country come into view. He was especially nervous about tonight’s big dinner. George squeezed his hand and smiled as they both looked on to the unfolding countryside.

“It’s gonna be great. Dad is gonna get drunk and we’re gonna laugh. Just like old times” He tried to cheer his boyfriend up, but it weighed on his heart more.

“Just like old times.” A phrase he didn’t particularly enjoy in his life right now.

Arthur Weasley loved winter, especially when he was downing glass after glass of fire whiskey as he tried to make jokes and fork at his meal. He stood up suddenly and everyone knew what was coming-

“A toast! I would like to make a toast” He shouted a little too loudly as he brought his glass up to the air.

“Oh no. Dad’s drunk toast.” Fred huffed out nudging George’s who was too busy dazzling (Y/N) for the 10th time that day.

“Oh Merlin.” He whispered back and mentally buckled up for the ride.

“To this wonderful family, a wonderful evening and most importantly to this lovely gentleman for coming!” Arthur pointed not so subtly at (Y/N), a deep crimson starting to appear on his face.

“Cheers!” The twins chanted in unison, egging their father on. Trying to length the speech as much as they could for entertainment of course.

“And might I add! To my lovely wife and her big beautiful bosom-“ Mr. Weasley was about to go on about his beautiful wife’s beautiful bosom, but was thankfully interrupted by Molly spitting out her drink as he was pulled back into his seat.

“Arthur.”

“Ham. Her big beautiful ham, always the best cooking in this house of course.” He added from his seat raising his glass once more, everyone raising their own glasses to toast Molly’s “ham”.

“This family” George whispered into (Y/N)’s ear causing him to giggle as he was clinking glasses with the room full of people.

He sighed in bed as he rolled over to look at George who was actually reading for once, but he suspected it was for prank research. He kissed forehead lightly and grabbed his night robe.

“I’m going to get some water”

“Cool, love you”

“Love you too, idiot” He sighed and walked down the rickety stairs of the burrow finding him and George were probably the only ones awake at this hour. He didn’t really need a glass of water, just a quiet moment alone as he watched the snow fall from the kitchen window.

In his silent moment he must’ve lost track of everything in existence because he barely heard Molly coming down the stairs and sitting in the chair besides him.

“Hello, dear. Can’t sleep?” She spoke up making him jump.

“Yeah.”

“Let me make you some hot chocolate” She pushed herself up from the chair and pulled out a pot and ingredients.

“That’s oka-“ He tried to answer, but it wasn’t really a choice. He didn’t really mind. It was just about 2am and he didn’t want to cause her any troubles.

“Nonsense, we’re having hot chocolate” As she filled a pot with some milk, cocoa and sugar. He liked that she didn’t really use magic when cooking, it reminded him of home. Finishing their drink she placed two mugs on the table and sat beside him once again, staring into the window with him.

He sipped on his warm drink a little awkwardly, he wanted to ask what was plaguing his mind. He just never knew when was the right time, he took another sip and sighed.

“Um- Mrs- I mean Molly. You don’t think it’s weird?” He asked quickly before his courage faded.

“What is, deary?” Molly said absentmindedly, looking at him a little puzzled. He darted his eyes back and forth before looking down at himself and she then understood.

“Oh. Not at all, dear. I’ve known many young wizards such as yourself, very upright young men” She smiled warmly at him, his eyes widened a bit in hope and excitement.

“Really?” He said, a question no one really needed to answer. He knew the answer now.

“Of course. I’ve been around, my dear. Meet a lot of people” She put her hand on his and he choked up a bit.

“So you-“

“Yes, dear. Family is family. I would accept you in any form and way no matter what. You’re a Weasley and I’m proud of you” She knew what he needed, she had. He looked at her with so much love in his heart as his eyes started to well up.

She immediately put their mugs down and embraced him tightly as he silently sobbed into her clothing.

“Oh my, dear. It’s okay, you always have a place at this table” She hushed him as she rubbed circles around his back.

“Thank you, Molly” He said, looking up at her and she just smiled sweetly.

“You don’t need to thank me. It’s what a mother does, I have your back and every one of my children’s back.”

“Of course you do” He laughed a little and really let his thoughts ease up as he embraced him.

“Now, finish that hot chocolate and get to bed. I bet George is very worried about you right now” She said snuffing a bit as she stroked his hair as he continued to cry a bit. He gained composure and nodded into her.

“Yeah” He said, muffled by her nightgown.

“You’re a fine young man, my dear. George is lucky to have you, you keep those hooligans in check and most importantly. You love him and he loves you very much” He looked up at her pulling away from the hug, he swore he could see a few tear drops threatening to fall.

He took one last sip of the now room temperature drink and hugged Molly again, she gave him a kiss on forehead and sent him on his way.

He climbed up the stairs, his anxieties in the back of his mind as he rode his new found rush of happiness all the way back to George’s room.

“You smell like hot chocolate- oh no. Did mum talk to you? I hope she didn’t say anything weird, that woman is mad” George said as (Y/N) entered his room, but when he looked up from his copy of “Inconvenience Creation”, he saw the happiest smile on his boyfriend’s face. His heart felt warm and full, he was glad it went well.

“No actually. She said she was proud of me” (Y/N) smiled as he sat on the side of the bed, staring into space.

“Woah. She never says that to me, it’s worse than I thought. She’s replacing me with a better son” He teased and pulled his boyfriend into the bed with him, putting his book down. He breathed in his scent, his mum’s hot chocolate.

“Must’ve been some talk” He yawned and hugged his waist.

“Just don’t replace me anytime soon” He teased further earning a scoff and an eye roll.

“Shut up, asshole.” (Y/N) hit his arm and held his face up, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“I told you they would still love you.” He smirked at him reaching up to give him a soft kiss on the lips, but yawned mid kiss making (Y/N) laugh.

“I shouldn't have expected any different” (Y/N) pushed his hair out of face with a huge smile on his lips as he pulled the duvet over them.

“Damn right.” Geogre replied tiredly.

“I love you” He planted another kiss on his forehead, hugging him tight as he rubbed his boyfriend’s hand on his chest softly.

“Mhm. Me too” He snuggled his face into (Y/N)’s neck, he just stroked George’s hair until he heard soft snores coming from his boyfriend. He sighed happy and exhausted as he slowly fell asleep himself.

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the-ghost-king · 3 years

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love seeing ur tags on my posts it means i get to think 🥰🥰 anyway mostly agree but at least to me nico’s constant need to prove himself is a sign of feeling like he’s not worth other people’s time and effort and he has to MAKE himself worth it. he does all he can in the hopes that people will notice him and tell him that he’s good enough because he relies on the approval of people he loves. he thinks love is something conditional for him and that he always has to be earning it because he doesn’t have enough worth to have it just granted to him. again this is more my own interpretation of his character and possibly a bit of projection

(Post)

I will not fail to acknowledge that I might also be projecting somewhat onto Nico, what is media but self reflection? I think there's a couple ways you can see Nico that are canonically "correct"

What I personally think happened with Nico is that he was aware he was worth more than the treatment he was receiving, but because so much rejection occurred he eventually just assumed he was the problem. There's things on this I would rewrite now but it holds up okay in what I'm about to try and explain.

The thing about being rejected is that the first time you argue it's the other person. And the second time you'll argue it's still them. If you're still arguing it's other people the third time, maybe but it's thin ice... But eventually you just have to accept that you're at fault.

I think this is something that really describes Nico. He is never able to nestle himself in the comfort of sameness after a certain point. He is not given authority in his own story in the beginning, he is thrust into solitude, he is told he is a monster already and if not then he has no choice but to become one.

And he takes this blame upon himself, believing that it's him who has to prove himself. He doesn't acknowledge that maybe other people have their own biases against him, he says "I have to prove them wrong," and then does his best.

It's important to note that Nico is definitely grappling with Childhood Emotional Neglect, he's in a broken situation- and he recognizes that nobody wants him around, and that he's just more stress for an already stressed group of people, so he just backs down and starts to figure stuff out for himself. We see him accept some help and friendship from The Stolls in TTC but eventually he stops doing this at some point.

His leave from camp and time with Minos is when he is used:

you unknowingly wear your heart on your sleeve and people will see this and take advantage of your trusting nature and unconditional love and they’ll never really love you they’ll just see you as an easy tool to be manipulated and used how they see fit and you won’t recognize that this is a bad thing because you don’t believe you’re worth anything more than this

This is something I would say is very true about this time period of Nico's life. Minos emotionally exploits Nico, emotional neglect and abuse (possibly physical abuse, who knows) are defining characteristics of their interactions. Nico talks about how Minos will just randomly leave him for extremely long periods with no assistance, and about how when he's around he's always telling Nico to try harder, to do better, do more. Note the time he tells Nico "you have no power over me", he's definitely holding things over Nico's head. I don't think it's wrong to assume comfort is a part of that, Nico is alone all the time at this point, and I'm sure he's starved for touch, and support, and connection- and he will take whatever he can get whether or not it is good or right.

At first he doesn't do anything against this, and it might be because he was so starved for attention that he was willing to endure abuse to receive somewhat a consistent form of it. I also think there's some evidence that points to the idea Nico was getting something from Minos, training and similar stuff, it's possible he was willing to form and upkeep a toxic relationship with him in order to gain experience.

However, I do disagree with "and you won’t recognize that this is a bad thing because you don’t believe you’re worth anything more than this" because Nico does realize eventually that his situation isn't sustainable and that he has to do something- so he takes his narrative back into his own hands:

“Minos laughed. "You have no power over me. I am the god of spirits! The ghost king!" "No." Nico drew his sword. "I am.” (X)

So Nico, if he ever thought he was worth the treatment of being used for someone elses personal gain, he definitely overcomes some of it here, if not all of it. Nico is manipulated and used for Minos's personal gain, but he recognizes that it's not sustainable and makes a stand for himself. And this is the first time in the series where Nico truly is able to take control of his own narrative, everything before this moment is Nico being forced, or Nico with something looming over him, Nico crowning himself is him claiming his story.

So let's consider Hades in all of this, I don't think Hades manipulated Nico to the extent Minos did- but nonetheless, he did manipulate and abuse him, and this hurt Nico more than when Minos did it. Again, in the situation with Hades this is also true, "you unknowingly wear your heart on your sleeve and people will see this and take advantage of your trusting nature and unconditional love and they’ll never really love you they’ll just see you as an easy tool to be manipulated and used how they see fit and you won’t recognize that this is a bad thing". By the time Nico and Hades truly start interacting, we see that Nico's heart hasn't been fully removed from his sleeve, but it may have been lightened.

Here's the thing about the way Nico approached Hades, it's not naïve to trust family. The text in multiple places implies that Hades was around for at least a handful of years when Nico was a kid, it's not unlikely that Nico may have taken naps on his shoulder, held his hand to cross the street, maybe called him "Papa", "Dad", or "Tata" (Italian, English, old Greek). It makes sense that Nico goes to him, what doesn't make sense to Nico at first is that Hades would manipulate him. Unlike many of the other demigods, Nico knows he was a choice, and that at some point he was something wanted, so he expects some level of okay treatment from Hades. Hades loved his mother, and Hades if not wanting of Nico would have wanted Maria's wishes fulfilled, and Nico probably remembers Hades treating him warmly- or at least not harshly. The way Nico went to Hades makes sense, he wasn't expecting open arms surely, but he also wasn't expecting abuse.

Hades emotionally exploits Nico by using information about Maria, what would a little boy want more than the safety of his mother? He's so starved for human contact, who ever held him more than his mother? Who ever loved him more than her? Once Nico delivers Percy to Hades, his father crushes him, not only by harming Percy but by exploiting Nico's trust through Nico's mother- one of the things he's most desperate for.

We see Nico's heart come off his sleeve at this point, maybe not fully, but enough to where a stranger couldn't recognize it at first glance, and in a way where he has the means to hide it from most.

Except we don't see much of this, because the series is narrated by Percy- and Nico can't hide his heart from Percy.

Almost everything Nico does, everything he tries to do, is for Percy. Nico is so desperate for contact that he is pliant, but in Percy's hands Nico actually wants that contact, he's not interested in imitations of love or substitutes- he's looking for the real thing.

And Mr. Oblivious does-Annabeth-like-me Jackson isn't in any headspace to realize that a boy might like him, let alone Nico. This concern that Nico will join Luke, isn't entirely because Percy is misreading signals, but it's definitely part of it. Nico likes Percy so much that at one point he is willing to go to Tartarus if not entirely for him, then partially for him.

If Percy had realized, and rejected Nico- maybe he would have joined Luke, or at least he definitely would have been more likely to. The perception of Nico we get in PJO from Percy is unreliable, because Percy looks at Nico through the lenses of a concerned older brother, and Percy feels guilty in some way for the situation Nico is in. This gives not only a skewed, but slightly falsified narrative of who Nico is.

The original post of mine I linked, although yes, I would like to rewrite aspects of it now it holds up in the sense that Nico is always trying to prove himself, and this is a bit different than being a puppet. Nico is so starved that it is present in everything, @/arabnico gets it right:

nico’s longing is just so raw it consumes him whole and he cannot hide it at all because it reflects in absolutely everything he does and is nico’s just the means of the way for them and he settles for being it because he doesn’t think he can be much better or even deserves to it is sometting so twisted because nico has this innate utalitarian desire to be useful and to do something and to do the right thing but in the game of things he’s reduced to that puppet in the hands of fate and deities millennia older than him that see a wounded wandering soul doomed to be forever alone by a destiny so cruel it keeps him on his knees

Nico, in PJO especially, has little control over his own narrative. His mother is killed in punishment for his father's "wrongs", Nico is forced to endure this. Bianca grows tired of caring for Nico and leaves him behind, this is not Nico's fault but Nico is forced to endure the consequences of her actions. Bianca's fate is decided on a quest Nico isn't even able to go on, he is forced to endure the results. Nico then breaks the cycle, declaring himself The Ghost King, and dethroning Minos. Nico is forced to endure Hades's manipulation only because he did not see it coming, this wasn't an aspect in which Nico didn't have his narrative (he had already taken ownership of his narrative) but a blind spot in his rational.

The place where we vary is why Nico behaves this way, we can agree that it's because he's starving for human connection- but you believe it's because he has no confidence he is willing to submit himself, while I see his submission as an act of desperation.

Personally, I think to argue that Nico is like this as a result of lack of confidence does a disservice to his narrative (obviously it's fine to view him however you wish, and I wish you all the fun in doing so!). To boil this down to starvation and lack of confidence removes some level of Nico's autonomy in his own life, but also strips him of one of his strongest characteristics- those qualities of him which are like Orpheus.

Nico willing to go to the ends of the earth for love is not a weakness but a strength, his ability to carry on beyond the point in which he needs a rest is not a weakness but a sign of strength. His ability to go to the ends of the earth to right wrongs, and to show his love:

"... Cupid struck, slapping Nico sideways into a granite pedestal. Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work- a quest that never ends. It demands everything from you- especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards."

Cupid is explaining Nico's idea of love in this scene, we see Jason say he prefers Piper's idea of love- but Nico only knows love in the way cupid describes, working desperately for a few moments with Bianca, working just to hear any scrap of information about his mother, always trying to prove himself to Percy- to overcome the way he feels about Percy (and boys in general).

Nico has only known love as something you walk to the ends of the Earth for, but he never stops fighting to be loved and acknowledged. Lesser men would give up and lay down, accept they are unworthy, but Nico keeps pushing to be acknowledged and accepted- to be recognized and loved without having to walk to the end of the Earth, but Nico knows he has to walk to that edge and face it before unconditional love will come to him.

To imply that Nico seeks love the way he does because he's unconfident in his ability to receive love ignores the idea that he's had his life forced into this position because of the fates. It loses acknowledgment to the strength it takes to pick yourself up and walk to the end of the Earth time and time again, because if he was unconfident then he would eventually lay down and accept he shouldn't be loved ever again.

I don't think confidence doesn't play into this at all though, it definitely has some impact on Nico, he does view himself as inherently less (he is overly self sacrificial- think Tartarus :/), and he does try to remove himself from others:

You yourself said: you blame yourself for the way people have hurt you, taken advantage of you, and abandoned you. they exploit your love and your naïveté time and time again. you tell yourself, surely, there must be something wrong with you. because—you are convinced—that people are good. “if they hurt me, it is because i am flawed. it is because i am weak. people will always hurt me—even people i love. it’s an inevitable truth for me.” (X)

And this connects to what I said: "The thing about being rejected is that the first time you argue it's the other person. And the second time you'll argue it's still them. If you're still arguing it's other people the third time, maybe but it's thin ice... But eventually you just have to accept that you're at fault."

I do think there's a reason Nico makes himself so "utilitarian", because he hasn't been handed unconditional love since Bianca. But again we disagree on the why, I see Nico's behavior in his utilitarian example of love as caring, the way more people should be in love. Too many people see love as something given without restraint, and yeah, love should be unconditional but in order for love to be unconditional you have to do the work to lay good foundation. To be utilitarian in loving is not an act of weakness, or a symbol of lack of confidence, it is a showcase of more care in love than most have to offer. We care for things, and place value on them determined by how much love and care goes into those things.

I also don't see Nico's self blaming for what happened as flawed, it's logical in his situation, and a common result of CEN. This self blame shows care and kindness, and this coincides with Nico's arcs, "If I am bad, how do I improve? If I have no choice but to be evil, how do I still be good?". Nico is always fighting not to be recognized for good or bad, but to be recognized for what he is.

Trust is not naivety either, the only reason Nico is regarded as naïve is because of the extreme circumstances of his life. People shouldn't have to expect abuse from people who are supposed to love them, people should have to accept abuse in order to receive love. If Nico's life had turned out different, his naivety wouldn't be viewed as a weakness but a strength- a kindness.

We're not actually viewing Nico all that different, there's this space where his character blurs together, and it becomes an individual duty to determine at what point a flaw becomes a strength, and a strength a flaw. Nico's stubbornness is a flaw if we're thinking about grudges, but it's a strength in his work ethic. Nico's ability to stand on his own is a strength in terms of questing, but it's a flaw when it prevents him from experiencing love in fullness.

#asks #gayleafpool #idk the ending of this is shit but idk how to close ends so hopefully you understand anyhow #also i don't want this to come off as there's a right and wrong way to view something because that's not true #i was just trying to elaborate further on why i view nico a certain way #i can definitely see why you view him how you do #i think we're both definitely projecting a bit because we're both right in a flawed wya #*way #but what is the human mind but flawed?#uhh to tag or not to tag?#i'll tag #nico di angelo #pjo #long post

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.3k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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banner designer @jamaisjoons | many thanks to @joonsrack for her translations and @jooneggs for beta reading

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: just a heads-up, there is French in this chapter. it isn’t translated because y/n does not speak French and thus has no clue wtf goes On BUT if you want the goss, feel free to use google translate or ur Local Translation Engine. explicitly sexual content, cursing, voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, spanking, dom!jimin obv, sub!reader, public (not sex-sex but sexytimes in public), shoe kink, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, use of safeword, teasing, bondage, gagging, use of sex toys, fingering, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, overstimulation, crying during sex, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, a sexy sliver of aftercare before yn zonks it

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week One only. Vote here. Multiple votes are allowed but please do not spam the voting as this is an overall audience pick. I’m very excited to see what the results will be ! Voting is closed! Thank you for participating!

DAY SIX

You wake up early in the morning to a sore throat. Though the arm that rests heavy on your waist and the breath that tickles the nape of your neck tempt you back to sleep, you can’t even swallow without wincing, and the only solution is a cool drink and some pain meds.

Namjoon doesn’t react when you slip out from under him, sliding your pillow under his arm. He simply lets out a satisfied hum and curls it closer to him. Still, you dress in breathy silence, tiptoeing out and leaving the door open a crack for your return.

Downstairs, the blinking numbers on the microwave read shortly before 6am and you groan. The chance of you getting any more sleep after this was slim.

You pour some water and swallow some basic pain meds with a sigh. If you were honest, quiet moments like this were rare. Past the glass sliding door which leads to the outdoor dining area, you can see glints of reddy golds and flaming orange, pooling between trees to warm the concrete patio. This villa was truly beautiful, and you knew you’d never stay in a place like it again. Not only the house itself but the company you shared was invaluable. All the guys had such a personality to them, and you were surprised at how quicky you’d grown accustomed to them all. Fond, too.

Yoongi’s thoughtfulness, Jungkook’s energy, Jin’s stability. Taehyung who was so giving and Hoseok who never let the mood falter. And more recently, Namjoon becoming more confident and Jimin revealing flecks of heart behind the stone facade. Everyone brought something to the villa that made it a truly magical place. You feel like you’d be happy even without the mind-blowing sex. As the elimination day draws painfully close, your stomach turns with the thought of turning someone away. Of removing them when they’d only just gotten settled. The Lady was the hardest job in the game in many ways.

Finishing your glass, you set it in the sink with a wet clink and roll your shoulders, arching your back as the last of your sleep leaves you in a final yawn. You turn to leave, squeaking when you’re met with a solid body coming out of nowhere.

“Woah- Jimin?” The last person you expected to be up so early, you cringe as your voice raises in disbelief.

The man in question grins, eyes twinkling even in the relative darkness of pre-dawn. “Going so soon?”

“I-” You find yourself at a loss of words, feeling caught somehow, and you clear your still-aching throat. “What are you doing up?”

“Looking for you, little mouse. Or did you forget I’m next in line?” He speaks as light and melodic as a music box, but his lips are twisted in a grin as his eyes roam over you, wearing the same clothes as last night. “Has our Namjoonie finally popped his cherry?”

The way he plays with every syllable has you feeling so vulnerable, so under his control, and your gaze falters, looking instead at his odd attire. Like he’d gotten up in a hurry, he’s wearing a mix of pyjamas and clothes. His legs are tightly clad in glossy faux leather, blacker than black, and his top half is a silk pyjama top, sinful red trimmed with black, and with only a single button done up in the middle of his torso, exposing his lower stomach and the top of his chest. You suck in a breath at the expanse of skin, and what looks like the black sliver of a...tattoo?

“Cat got your tongue?” he questions, drawing your eyes back up as he licks his top lip slowly, purposefully.

“It’s none of your business,” you reply, cursing the way your voice catches throatily, clearly affected by him. “And if you’re going to take your turn, can we at least go somewhere a little more comfortable? It’s six in the fucking morning.”

Like a switch is flipped, his face darkens, the humour gone. You swallow the lump in your throat as Jimin’s mouth sours into a scowl, but you can’t deny the heat that pools between your legs at it too. “I knew it,” he announces, voice acidic.

“Knew what?” Your fate sealed, a streak of confidence rises within you. You’d ruffled him. And every part of you is screaming to make him react again.

His eyes are molten power as they focus on you. “Five days and you’ve already become a spoilt brat.”

Your mouth drops open. “Fuck you! It’s your job to fuck me.”

“Why should I fuck you when you haven’t done a thing to earn it?” Jimin takes a step forward and reflexively you back up. “You’re an ungrateful cockhungry slut, little mouse. If you want me, beg for it.” He takes another step and again, you shuffle back, heart picking up.

“I shouldn’t have to beg,” you counter, though your voice isn’t as firm as before. Jimin simply raises a brow, continuing to walk you further into the kitchen until your lower back strikes the countertop. You swallow again, wishing you weren’t so easily affected. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll just send you home.”

“You could,” he gives dismissively, lips twitching into a sneer at his following words, “but I don’t think you will. I don’t believe you’d send me home if I didn’t fuck you. Because you want to know how it feels.”

You bite your tongue, glaring up at him, at the way he’s so indifferent about it. “Fine. Then fuck me.”

Jimin tuts reproachfully, his arms leaning forward to prop himself up on the bench behind you, caging you in. Your heart stops beating, the throb felt between your legs instead as he’s close enough to touch, his mouth close enough to kiss, not that you’d dare. “That isn’t begging,” he whispers in disapproval.

“I don’t beg,” you insist, even as your hands clench, fighting the urge to touch him.

Suddenly, the shadow over his face disappears, and he pushes up, creating some distance between you again. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” he says airily, causing you to frown in confusion. “We aren’t at the begging stage yet. You know what you need first?”

You stare at him blankly, giving him a shake of your head.

Jimin grins, and you swear you see his eyes flash. “Punishment.”

“You can’t be serious,” you breathe, though instead of sounding offended as you intend, you just sound needy. Fuck Park Jimin and his iron grip on your arousal.

His grin broadens like the Chesire Cat. “You’ve been very bad, little mouse. You’ve been demanding and impatient, you’ve used vulgar language and I seem to recall the night you interrupted my sleep because of how loud you were next door. I can’t let it slide,” he divulges with a solemn shake of his head, like your poor behaviour pains him, “I just can’t.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say with a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t punish me like a child.”

“And that will be another one,” Jimin says instead, perfectly calm, rich blue hair catching the light as the sun continues to rise just outside.

“Another what?” you fire back, beginning to tire of so much talk and so little action.

“Another spank,” he deadpans. Were it anyone else, any other situation, perhaps you would’ve laughed at it. Instead, you stare wide-eyed at the stoicism on his face. “That makes it five for swearing to me in this conversation alone, four for being impatient, and five for keeping me up that second night. Should we round it up to twenty?”

You stay silent for a moment, desperately trying to process it. You shake your head slowly. “You can’t make me,” you point out.

“Of course I can’t,” Jimin gives with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair as if to demonstrate how calm he is. Your eyes are magnetised by the silver rings that glint on his fingers, unable to keep yourself from imagining how they might feel on you. “You can always use your safeword, and I’ll respect it,” he continues. “But I doubt it. Whether you like to admit it, little mouse, you want this. You think I haven’t worked out that you a little pain with your pleasure?” He stands back, just a step, but the extra distance makes you feel suddenly unanchored, and you hate it. “I’m going to give you three seconds to turn around and bend over. If you don’t, I’ll walk away and you get nothing. If you take your punishment like a good girl, then we can talk.”

You huff, pressing your lips - and thighs - together in an effort to stay strong.

“One,” Jimin begins, eyes alight with bemusement. You don’t move, just sighing in annoyance again. “Two.”

Your incisors are clamped on your tongue so tightly you can almost taste blood as you glare intensely at his mouth. He draws it out cheekily, letting you wait painstakingly as he wets his lips and finally opens his mouth, the pink of his tongue pressing against his teeth as he-

Before you can process it, you’re flipping yourself around and pressing your upper chest against the counter, eyes squeezed shut in humiliation as Jimin begins to chuckle.

It’s far too loud for the stillness of the early morning, and you muffle a sob in your forearm - not regret, but neediness. A week he’d deprived you, and the smug fucker was right: you’d take what you could get, and love it too. Blessedly, he doesn’t seem to notice the sound, the air filled instead with his triumphant peal of laughter at seeing you presenting yourself to him just like he knew you would.

“Oh, little mouse,” he coos. “What would the others think if they saw you like this, hm? Bent over for me in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could walk in.”

You take in an unsteady breath, feeling your pulse race with excitement as his fingertips - still cold from the morning air - slip under your waistband, as he painstakingly slides it down, revealing your ass. You let out a small whimper when the toe of his shoe catches your ankle, pushing to widen your legs apart. You bite your lip, cheeks heating, core heating even more.

Jimin runs his palms flat over your bare ass and you hiss through your nose at how icy his rings feel. While his hands are smaller than those of other guys of the house, you feel no less under their control, shivering at the contact. “Was it twenty we agreed upon?” His tone is light, playful. He knows he’s got you, and one final burst of defiance bubbles up through your chest.

“Fuck you,” you spit. “Does that make it twenty-one?”

You’re jumping before you even feel the lacing of fire on your right cheek or hear the smack that echos in the room. You choke on a moan, unable to deny how the pain settles into a low-burning pleasure that adds to the wetness between your thighs.

From behind you, you hear Jimin sigh heavily and quickly, like he’s trying to calm himself. “I want you to count them,” he instructs, and you flinch as his hand comes down on you again, but this time his slaps are weak, light swats that warm your skin to prepare it. “Twenty starting now. Understood?”

You bite your lip, but pull yourself up a little to free your face, propping yourself up with your elbows. You feel so vulnerable like this, just your ass bared, legs spread and at his mercy, but all you can think of is feeling his hand on you again. Blearily, you nod, and a pleased hum comes from his throat, barely audible.

Jimin makes you wait for it, holding the silence so that your ears strain, fighting the urge to glance ba-

You jerk with a shallow cry as your other cheek stings with his smack, core clenching. “One,” you announce quietly. With every moment of sunrise, the room gets lighter and lighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the thought of someone walking in on the two of you. Was that dread in your stomach or excitement?

He doesn’t speak, only smoothing the skin to cool it before laying another blow, waiting for you to call out a shaky “two.” He’s wearing at least three rings, and you can feel them, more unforgiving than his flesh and painfully ice cold. You wonder in the back of your mind if they’ll leave marks. You can’t help but hope they do.

You’ve made it to eight strikes before your knees begin to shake slightly. Every lick of pain simultaneously hurts more on the raw skin of your ass, but pools as liquid pleasure between your legs faster as you grow accustomed to it. Your pussy aches for contact, and you arch your back after the ninth spank falls, presenting yourself to him even more in the hopes that he’ll be tempted, but Jimin just tuts in disapproval.

“Look at you, little mouse. Soaking after a few spanks. You love this, don’t you? No part of you can deny it anymore.” You pant and bite down hard on your lip, wanting so bad to beg for it. Still, you refuse. Jimin just hums at your attempt at stoic silence, amused more than anything. “Almost halfway. It’ll be over so soon, don’t you think? We should make the most of this.”

You frown at his words, more so when you feel the heat of his body leave you. You crane your neck automatically, spine lifting to stand, but his voice freezes you.

“Fucking face the front and keep position,” he seethes, “I never said you could move.”

You sink back down, widening your legs and lowering your chest so it rests on the edge of the countertop, eyes locked onto the splashback in front of you. With ears straining, you shudder at the sound of a drawer sliding smoothly open, and the various clinks and thuds that follow as he rummages. Once the drawer shuts again and Jimin returns, you can barely breathe, goosebumps breaking out on your thighs and arms.

He pats something against you, then slowly runs it over the heated skin of your ass, the slight friction making you hiss. “Do you know what this is? Feel it.” He continues to brush it around slowly, and you wrack your mind. It’s not metal or plastic - the texture is a little too rough and it isn’t as cold as his rings were. You hiss when you feel it dip down between your thighs, too low to touch you were you need it most. The shape is a tall oval, flat on one side but concave on the other, and you let out a low moan, back arching lower as you work it out. Jimin laughs, bringing it back up to tap it teasingly on your cheek. “I think you do,” he remarks. “Shall we continue?”

You bite your lip but it can’t fully cover the needy moan that spills out. He’s really about to spank you with a wooden spoon, and you’re really dripping for it. “Ye-yes,” you gasp out, a cry ripped from your throat at the first hit. It’s far sharper on your skin than his hand, whistling through the air and landing with a resounding smack. The sting lasts longer too, almost like you can feel the exact outline of the spoon on your skin. “Fuck, ten.”

When Jimin speaks again, his voice is rich with sadistic amusement. “Do you like it, little mouse? You should see yourself. The outline of the spoon just now, the marks from my rings-” he drags a single nail down one of the aforementioned marks, and you keen, the raw pain sent straight to your core, “you mark so beautifully for me. This perky little ass of yours is so red, you know? Should we make it even redder?”

Without waiting for your answer, he lands three smacks in quick succession - right, left, right again. Your body’s instinct takes over and you pull your body forward, tucking your ass in as if to escape it, even as your core throbs with need and your nipples press stiffly against your shirt.

Jimin won’t have it, though, and you moan in a low keen as he wraps an arm low over your hips and tugs you back down, pressing the middle of your back with the fist and clenches the spoon so that you arch beneath it, dropping down that hand to run his knuckles lightly over your abused skin. “Shh,” he hushes firmly, “we aren’t done here yet. If it’s too much for you, you know what to say.”

Your heart warms at his reminder of your safeword, but you have no intention of using it, already melting under the additional physical contact. Instead, you lean back into his grip, presenting yourself for more.

You sense rather than see his grin, but it makes you shiver nonetheless as the amused breath escapes his nose, his cool fingers running over your flesh, thumb and pointer as the rest wrap around the stem of the wooden spoon. “Are you gonna count them then, little mouse?”

Your mouth drops open to answer, but you pause, having to really think back. “Mm, uh, twelve? Eleven?”

Jimin chuckles, returning to those light teasing pats of the wooden spoon, just to make your thighs shake. “Thirteen, actually,” he reveals in a rakish tone. “If you wanted more, you just had to ask.”

Before your brain can process a retort, the spoon comes down again, an audible thwack that jiggles the flesh of your ass with the force of it, and you keen, knees buckling for just a moment. The contrast of intense stimulation of the fiery skin on your ass and the complete neglect of your needy core is infuriating but addictive nonetheless. “Fuck, Jimin, fo-fourteen.”

You automatically suck in a breath in the sudden lull as Jimin rears his hand back, but the quiet reveals a different noise, the laughing and joking and thud-thud-thud of people coming down the stairs, and you’re choking on the air in your lungs, freezing as two familiar faces round the corner and come to a halt as they witness the scene you’re in.

Your legs shiver but your core throbs still as Jungkook and Taehyung watch you wide-eyed, eyes dancing in unision from Jimin, to you, to your ass and the spoon in Jimin’s hand. The cheeks of your face are somehow hotter and redder than the others, but regardless you stay frozen in position, waiting for someone else to make a move.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, the only one of you four unbothered. “She has six hits left, boys,” he offers up, patting your hip like you’re a ride to have a go on. “Any takers?”

Taehyung steps forward first, Jungkook’s mouth still hanging low. As you watch his slender fingers wrap around the handle of the wooden spoon, you shiver, and he chuckles at your reaction.

“You know,” he muses casually, replacing Jimin behind you as the older man steps away to lean against the bench beside you, “I think I’m starting to warm up to this whole situation, petal. Where else would I get to walk in on a sight like this? And Jimin-hyung is so generous to let us help out. Thank him, Y/n.”

A breath rushes out of your throat, one you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Humiliation rushes through you, but it’s cloudy with arousal, and your tongue is loose with it. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“Good girl,” Taehyung coos shortly, and that’s the only warning before he’s swatting you harshly with the flat back of the spoon, and you let out a strangled moan. Your ass won’t stop stinging between hits, but you obediently call out ”fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,” until you only have three to go.

Taehyung relinquishes his turn reluctantly to Jungkook; the youngest contestant in the house eying you up strangely, almost like he can read and understand the pleasure in the welts on your ass and the tremble of your knee. Almost like he’s been where you are, or somewhere close. Judging by the apparent variety of his streams, you don’t doubt it.

Like Jungkook’s testing the waters, his first hit is the weakest, barely making you flinch. You exhale lowly in disappointment. “Eighteen,” you say, swallowing down the drool that threatens to gather.

Before any more land, you instead feel fingers at your hairline, brushing back strands that have covered your face. Small but strong points of pressure light up on your jaw as Jimin pulls your chin to look up at him, his eyes swirling with deep satisfaction.

“I wanna see the look on your face,” he announces quietly. “I want our Jungkookie to make these last two hurt. Will you take it for me?”

His voice brooks no disagreement, still dripping with authority and control, but you know that he’s once more giving you an out should you wish to use your safeword, so you nod shakily, eyes fluttering. “Please.” You’ve still received no friction - or contact at all - on your pussy, and you feel yourself going crazy. The pain is addictive, licks of pleasure that seep into your veins after every spank, but you can’t handle how you drip down your own thighs, soaking your panties even as they rest hooked just above your knees. Two more hits and you’d finally get what you needed.

You haven’t seen Jimin’s face this close, and certainly not seen his eyes in such intense detail before, and instead of anticipating the next hit you find yourself blinking up at him dazedly. His hair, the deep glossy navy that you’d never seen on somebody before, is swooped gracefully over his brow, which is still a natural black, and below it his eyes are molten with lust and satisfaction, watching your face intently. His hands are hot on your face, the rings cool points of unforgiving contact, and you can’t help but wonder if the plush pillows of his lips are warm like his hands or cool like his rings. They’d feel softer against yo-

“Fu-fuck!” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as two sharp hits strike you not on the already-red skin of your ass, but the tops of your thighs instead, just below the swell of flesh. It’s more painful than you’d expect, but you’re so turned on that your mind just screams better and more. Caught up in it, you belatedly gasp out a “nineteen, twen’y,” and feel yourself sink against the countertop, held up by Jimin’s hands on your face and jaw.

“Little mouse,” his voice calls out, and your brows knit together as you struggle to decipher his tone. “Little mouse.”

You force your eyes open, breathing heavily through your mouth as everything except the burn below and Jimin above fade away. “Jimin,” you whisper, lips barely moving.

His give a twitch, pleased. It warms your heart to see the flicker of approval. “What do you say, hm?”

You don’t even think, but your body knows the answer. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“I’m not the only one,” he remarks, though a pleased grin is evident on his face and in his voice.

Truthfully, you’d almost forgotten the others, but as you thank them, eyes still locked on Jimin, you feel your toes curl at the realisation that you’re surrounded by three extremely attractive men. Men that are all here to-

The dopey smile of anticipation is struck from your face when Jimin abruptly lets go of you, pushing off the countertop. You stumble, catching your legs under you and fumbling to pull up your jeans reflexively. “Where are you-?”

You jump at the dull clang of the wooden spoon being tossed in the sink, Jungkook’s hand free as Jimin discards the tool. You watch openmouthed, panties and jeans barely on as the former rest uncomfortably soaked against your core, as the eldest of the three rolls his shoulders and sighs happily. “So, boys; should we make some omellettes for breakfast? I feel like cracking a few eggs.”

Taehyung grins and Jungkook’s gaze slides to you in uncertainty but the two agree, casually retrieving ingredients and utensils like you aren’t sitting there with a stinging ass and your jeans unbuttoned.

“Jimin,” you mumble dumbly, and to your surprise he acknowledges you this time, walking over to stand in front of you with a congenial smile.

“You’re done here, Y/n,” he announces. Unabashedly, his hands slip down and begin to fully slide your panties and jeans up, fingers slipping up the zip and buttoning them closed. “You didn’t want to beg, and I’m not going to make you. You took your punishment, so why don’t you toodle along? I’m sure one of us will call for you when breakfast is ready.”

Your mouth drops open, the final lusty haze of the scene evaporating fast enough to leave you reeling. “Are you serious? You aren’t going to do anything?”

Jimin’s eyebrows lower intently, voice hushing like he’s sharing a secret, even though Taehyung and Jungkook are right behind him in earshot. “Oh, little mouse. You know exactly what to do to get what you want.”

He waits expectantly, but your eyes dart past his shoulders to the other two boys. Begging was one thing, but in front of the others? You fight a pout, hoping your face looks angry rather than put out. “You’re an asshole, and I’m voting you out.”

His grin broadens, wolfish. “Well then,” he remarks with an unbothered lift of a brow, “I better hurry up and make these omelettes before I get sent home, now, shouldn’t I?”

And with that, he turns his back to you and begins chatting to his friends. You stay for one more moment of shocked silence, but soon turn tail, stomping back up the stairs with the wet fabric of your panties pressing coldly against you.

---

When you peek your head in the door, Namjoon is still asleep, so you quickly duck back into your room and change into some fresh clothes and underwear before going back in, content to chill on his armchair until he wakes.

You’d told him you would stay, and the way the fabric of your leggings rubs against your sore ass when you sit only reminds you of the fact that you’d been gone longer than anticipated already. He looks peaceful, though, clearly quite content with the pillow you’d left him with. Namjoon’s mouth is parted slightly, slack and half-pressed into his own pillow. He clutches yours with both arms, snuffling or grunting in his sleep every few moments.

You’re happy with just scrolling through your phone aimlessly for the half hour or so it takes before he wakes, back arching and neck cracking as he stretches. A beam broadens on your face at the dazed slow blink and wide yawn that he emits. “Sleep well?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He pats the pillow and mattress beside him in confusion, sitting up to stare at you with a squint. “You stayed?”

“I said I would,” you dismiss, a single thread of guilt wrapping around your heart at the memory of where you’d just came from. “I woke up a bit early and needed a drink. Sore throat.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen dramatically, the concern on his face ringed by a mess of tanged purple hair. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve asked…”

“You’re fine, Namjoonie,” you murmur. “I was actually wondering if you’d want to-”

You break off to the sound of what is undoubtably Jungkook belting out his lungs from downstairs, announcing breakfast is ready. Namjoon lights up, kicking the blankets off in a rush to get out of bed. “I’m starving,” he chimes, getting dressed without a shred of the self-consciousness you’d witnessed the night before. Hunger has seemingly stolen all his brainpower, and you follow his eager slipstream as he rushes down the stairs noisily, thumping into the kitchen.

Both your heart and your core throb in disappointment, your opportunity for morning sex lost by the offer of a hot meal. Your mood sours even further when you come face-to-face with the three youngest serving up omelettes, Jimin smiling brilliantly, still dressed in a barely-buttoned silk pyjama shirt and some black glossy pants.

He barely spares you a glance, even as he sits almost directly across from you. You take a seat between Namjoon and Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin on the other side and the heads of the table kept by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You have to admit that the wafting smells of cooked egg, cheese and various spices have your stomach grumbling, so you vow to ignore the unsatisfied heat between your legs and the smug man across from you and tuck in, your knife cutting through the omelette like butter. It’s delicious, and clearly everyone at the table shares the same sentiment, moans of surprised enjoyment filling the air.

“I’m impressed, Jimin,” Yoongi admits, “the first time I’ve even seen you awake for breakfast and you make us this. It’s fantastic.”

His voice is melodic, teasing at your eyes even as you avoid looking at him. “Thanks, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin replies warmly, “I was actually taught the recipe from one of my good friends who works as a chef in France.”

Hoseok isn’t impressed, and the way he scrunches his face up in annoyance makes you suppress a grin. “Let me guess, Remy the rat? If we dig around in that hair of yours will we find him tugging you around?”

Jimin ignores him coolly, knife twirling deftly around his fingers. “I haven’t seen Victor in several years, but his cooking lessons have always stuck with me. Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai qui tu es.”

“You are what you eat,” Namjoon muses, shoveling a wobbling stack of egg into his mouth.

Your eyebrows lift, turning to him with shock. “You speak French?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin straighten in interest at the man directly across from him, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice, cheeks bulging as he hurriedly tries to finish his mouthful. “Took it as an elective in university,” he explains once he’s done, “never actually been to France, though.” He turns to Jimin finally, eyes shining with the spark of curiosity that always seemed to smoulder there. “What’s it like?”

“C’est incroyable,” Jimin enunciates, the French dripping off his tongue like sparkling water. “Tu devrais y aller un jour. Mon ami a un appartement à Paris avec une chambre d’amis dans laquelle je séjourne des fois.”

Namjoon gasps, and you glance around the table, everyone bar the two of them looking totally confused. “Avec vue sur la Tour Eiffel?” The only indication it’s a question is the way his pitch rises, but the rest is incomprehensible to you, so you just return to your omelette, content to watch the conversation play out like a foreign movie without subtitles. Body language and tone being your only clues.

“Bien sûr,” Jimin replies easily, his head tipping to the side, eyes burning as he stares at the older man, “mais on pourrait peut-être parler de choses plus excitantes que cela? As-tu apprécié la compagnie de Y/N dans ton lit hier soir?”

You straighten up as you hear your name, glaring at Jimin in suspicion. You’d never regretted picking Spanish in high school instead of French more. Namjoon, interestingly, seems equally ruffled by Jimin’s comments. “That’s really none of your busi-”

“Tu vas me parler en Français, Namjoon, ou je vais commencer à te poser des questions en Anglais. Qu’est-ce que t’en dit? The choice is yours.” Jimin’s voice turns sharp, spitting out the syllables like jabs. The choice? In unison, everyone at the table turns to Namjoon in question as the academic flushes.

“Fine,” he says shortly in English, before switching back to French. “On n’est pas vraiment... allés jusqu’au bout. J’allais lui proposer ce matin, mais tu nous a appelés pour le déjeuner. .”

Jimin’s mouth curls slowly, deviously, making Namjoon swallow. You feel your own cheeks heat at the thought that they were very likely speaking about you. “Is that so?” Jimin asks in English, head tipping slowly. He takes a single bite of his breakfast, making Namjoon shift awkwardly in his seat at the wait. “Well; I do apologise for interrupting.” You look up between the two of them. Was he referring to him spanking you that morning? Or him calling you down just when you were going to make a move? Jimin isn’t done, sliding down in his seat just slightly, so he’s leaning back. “Laisse-moi me faire pardonner.”

Namjoon’s brows knit and his mouth opens to reply, but suddenly he goes ramrod stiff, eyes flying wide open. “Wh-what are you-?” His chest heaves once, his throat bobbing as he swallows down the rest of his sentence.

You frown, glancing down to see the shiny tip of Jimin’s shoe pressed firmly against Namjoon’s crotch, shifting back and forth. You look away, hoping to avoid attracting more attention to Namjoon’s predicament, but you can’t deny the hot rush of heat between your own thighs at the thought of Jimin getting Namjoon off at the breakfast table with just the sole of his shoe. You finish off the last of your omelette bitterly, hating the way that your mind wishes you were in Namjoon’s seat right now.

Like nothing’s happening, Jimin continues to converse with his elder, the others at the table seemingly none the wiser. “Ce n’est peut-être pas une une chatte bien chaude et humide, mais tu es un bon garçon, n’est-ce pas? Tu vas prendre ce que je te donne, non?”

“Jimin,” Namjoon croaks out, voice surprisingly steady even as it’s low with arousal, “i-is there any more batter left? I’d love another omelette.”

Jungkook pipes up, finally hearing enough English to be able to contribute. “There’s not much left, but I was actually thinking I kinda feel like some hash browns and bacon, so we could go for round two if anyone else is up for it?”

Yoongi and Jin, like they’ve been awakened with the promise of more food, drag their chairs back simultaneously to stand. “I don’t trust you with frying bacon, Jungkook,” Jin answers from beside you with a small grin, “let hyungs help.”

Half the table files away, Hoseok also joining those in the kitchen, probably because he’s hoping for some taste-testing, and you’re left with Taehyung being the only unaware party, on his phone as he mindlessly sips away at a glass of juice.

“Regarde-moi ça,” Jimin announces with melodic glee. “il y a moins de regards sur toi maintenant. Les autres sont dans la cuisine, Taehyung ne nous prête pas attention, et Y/N sait déjà ce qui est entrain de se passer; regarde-la.”

You glance up at your name but Taehyung doesn’t even react, mouth slightly open as he focuses on the video he’s watching silently, pinky finger tapping at the condensation on the glass absentmindedly.

Namjoon turns to face you, before glancing down at the shoe which rocks faster and broader between his legs, his cock tented and leaking a small wet patch in his trousers. He knows you know. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Jimin overtakes deftly, making Namjoon hunch over the table as the jerking of his shoe against Namjoon’s clothed cock speed up. Even as Jimin’s eyes are on you, he addresses the older man in lush French. “Est-ce que tu vas venir comme ça, hm? Crois-tu pouvoir rester silencieux?”

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat stemming from between your legs as you wish you could’ve felt some contact from Jimin instead. Even just the sole of his shoe would be better than nothing, but it seems that Namjoon doesn’t share the sentiment, as his hand shoves at Jimin’s foot. “Rouge,” he gasps out lowly, and Jimin recoils like he’s been shot.

Sitting upright, feet to himself again, Jimin’s eyes widen at the word. Even with the little to no French knowledge you have, you can guess the meaning. Red. Namjoon used the safeword. “I’m so sorry,” Jimin croaks, and you’re startled at the vulnerability and genuine apology in his voice, “are you not-?”

“Juste parce que je suis techniquement vièrge, ça ne fait pas de moi un soumis,” Namjoon explains with a rueful smile. You wish he would’ve spoke in English, but his light tone at least reassures you that he isn’t mad or hurt or upset. He mostly just seems a little embarrassed and overwhelmed.

“Can we stop speaking in baguette?” Taehyung pipes up miserably, putting his phone away. “Oui, oui. Mercy. Oh reservoir. Anything more complex than that and you’ve got me lost.”

Namjoon frowns, bewildered. “Do you mean merci and au revoir?”

“Do I?” Taehyung questions rhetorically, eyes dazed. Namjoon just shrugs hopelessly, but that seems enough for the black-haired boy. He cheers up a bit and, glancing at Namjoon’s hunched figure, lets out a short sigh. “You look tense, hyung. Do you need some help relaxing?”

Jimin bites his lip with guilt, and you hate the way you’re drawn to that pillow of flesh, so pink against the white of his teeth. What you wouldn’t give to lean over there and see what it felt like to kiss him.

Namjoon, however, seems less concerned with Jimin. You get the idea that perhaps he’s not one to have a short temper or hold grudges. “It’s okay, I think I might have a quick shower upstairs before the second lot of breakfast is finished.” Displaying his characteristic shyness, Namjoon makes an awkward yet completely unsuccessful attempt to leave the room without revealing his tented crotch.

Taehyung’s eyes follow it out until Namjoon’s out of sight, his mouth hung open. After a moment’s thought, brows knitted tightly together, Taehyung turns back to the two of you at the table. “Do you think he’s turned on by food or something? He did seem pre-tty eager to chow down that omelette. I should go ask him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin sinks his face into his hands as Taehyung scrambles after Namjoon, and you honestly don’t blame him.

You manage to make it to late afternoon before you encounter Jimin again. After the meal, he speaks quietly to Jin and the two disappear into the private rec room. For you as well, the day is spent inside, Jungkook asking for your assistance in spotting him at the indoor gym, mostly so he can explain to you and Hoseok the extremely elaborate plot of his latest anime show while he lifts weights. You and Hoseok, completely lost, ended up spending hours there trying to understand all the character arcs and plot twists and backstories, eventually moving up to Jungkook’s room so he could show you the first few episodes. By the time he let you go, you made your way downstairs with a bag of laundry, having almost spent a full week in the villa.

Unlike most of the house, the laundry feels very basic and surburban: a front-loader, a dryer and a sink with some cabinets are really the only pieces of furniture, so you perch on the dryer as you wash, and the washer as you dry your load of clothes.

Letting the regular thump of the drying machine lull you into a sleepy daze, you’re too zoned out on your phone to notice someone approaching until fingers wrap around your phone, pushing it down away from your face.

Jimin’s still hasn’t changed out of his red pyjama shirt, and as you sit up ramrod straight and focus onto him, you admire the way the lapels lay open to expose his collarbones. “Fancy seeing you here,” he announces with a grin, eyes raking over you as you sit atop the washing machine.

“What a coincidence,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what would that be, little mouse?”

You fight the urge to press your legs together at the petname, Jimin’s eyes intelligent and self-satisfied as they watch you. “Coming here to seduce me.”

Jimin laughs, and your cheeks flush hot at the sound, his head tipping back to expose a graceful neck. “Oh, Y/n, don’t think so highly of yourself. I’m just here to do my laundry.”

Dubious, you keep your legs dangling over the side and your arms crossed as you look down. True enough, a basket of washing rests and his feet, and you wait bitterly as he brushes your legs wider so that he can turn on the machine, selecting the right settings and pouring in a scoop of detergent. You keep a stoic silence, biting down on your tongue at his actions, but he doesn’t seem to care about your eyes on him.

In fact, he appears to openly thrive on it, sinking into a crouch in front of the machine and blinking up at you innocently, his face in front of your aching crotch. Refusing to give in, you press your lips together while he opens the door and deposits his clothes, socks, underwear, everything he’s been wearing the past few days. Once he’s done, you feel yourself relax a bit, but then he lets out a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose I should wash these too,” he muses, fingering at the bottom edge of his shirt, and your mouth goes dry. That fucker. He doesn’t even look at you as he undresses, but the smirk on his lips speaks volumes.

Your hips long to writhe, but you force yourself still as he unbuttons his shirt, opening it up and chucking it in casually, running a hand over his now-naked chest, quite literally rubbing it in. The most skin you’ve seen on him yet, you allow yourself to drink in the sight. He’s more muscular than you’d expect, though it’s all lean muscle, graceful yet speaking to a corded strength.

Even though you know it’s coming, there’s nothing that can prepare you for the obscene sight of him pulling down the zipper of his black patent leather pants, revealing equally black boxers. He’s not hard, not even the slightest hint of a chub, and the thought infuriates you that he could make you so needy without even getting aroused himself, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

As he lowers his pants down, his thighs are revealed in all their glory, the thickest part of him. They flex as he lifts each leg, tugging off the pants fully and tossing them in. Though you hadn’t noticed before, now is the first time you’ve seen him without his shoes on, and you marvel at the fact that he loses none of his power like this, that it really comes from within, from his piercing gaze, knowing smile and confident posture. Chucking them in the washing machine too, he pauses for a moment, lip tugged up in a smirk, before his ringed fingers find the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Startled, a breathy, “Jimin,” falls from your lips unbidden, barely audible.

“Hm?” Jimin has no regard for modesty as he bares himself fully, cock twitching as you stare, wide-eyed. “What’s the problem, little mouse? This is a shared facility.” He chucks the slip of light fabric amongst the rest of his clothes and shuts the lid, pressing start. A gasp escapes you as the machine kicks into gear, already beginning to shudder and rock under you, sending vibrations to your needy core.

As you stare, Jimin stands in front of you, resting a hand on the edge of the machine, right between your splayed legs. His dick is slowly plumping up, the man completely unbothered as he lowers his free hand to press at the skin around it, sighing.

Your fingers clench into fists as your arms remain crossed, pussy thriving and dripping with the pleasure after so long, but cursing that his hand is so close yet so far to your clothed cunt. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you spit, leaning back and tipping your head up to stare stubbornly at the ceiling. The image of him, his naked body is still seared onto your eyelids and you let out a huff. “You have no shame.”

“Shame never seemed like a particularly useful quality to have.”

“I’m not giving you what you want,” you insist, voice trembling slightly - though you blame the steady jarring of the washing machine that runs from your core all the way up to your teeth.

“Then I could say the same to you,” you hear Jimin reply easily, before letting out a suspiciously low groan.

Your head shoots down and you gawk at the way he grasps himself, fully hard now, and runs the crook of his pointer finger over his weeping head. His cock is gorgeous, the hair above trimmed neatly and the tip arcing towards the ceiling, towards your shocked stare as he smears the glistening precum around his head, hissing at the coolness of his rings on the heated skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you utter in complete bewilderment. “This isn’t washing your laundry!”

Jimin hums, head tipped back and eyes slipping shut in indulgence. “I can leave to jerk off alone if that makes you more comfortable?”

You fall silent, eyes locked onto his languid strokes. That isn’t what you want at all, and he knows it. “Jimin,” you murmur lowly, captivated by the slow drags of his hand on his cock, rings glinting wetly. He makes a noise of response, almost lost in the mechanical whirring and thudding of the washing machine that stirs in your loins. Your voice is barely louder than his. “Jimin, why are you making this so difficult?”

His head tips back down, lips parted and eyes lidded. “Oh, little mouse,” he sighs, “do you wish you could touch? Do you wish I was inside you?”

You glance again at his hand, resting mere centimetres away from your core. “You know I do,” you admit in a small voice.

“Then beg,” he replies simply, hand slowly picking up speed on his dick. “The only thing that’s keeping you horny and unsatisfied is yourself. You could’ve cum three times already if you knew what was good for you.”

You sigh, licking your lips needily. A light ding echoes in the room; your washing has finished in the dryer. You ignore it. “Please, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes open fully, locking on you with a smirk. “Closer,” he answers, teeth exposed as he grins just slightly. Still, though, he continues to stroke himself, even going so far as to take a half step forward to rest the underside of his cock against the washing machine, groaning at the vibrations.

You huff when you realise he isn’t going to speak further. “You do realise I could just go get myself off, right? You don’t have all the power here.”

You know you’ve said the wrong thing when his cheeks lift, lips spread wide in a teasing sneer. “We both know that’s not quite true. Perhaps I don’t have all the power, but a little birdie told me that you’re no longer allowed to put your hand in your own pants. I don’t suppose that rings a bell?”

He knows about Hoseok’s deal. Perhaps they all do. In an effort to wipe the smug look off his face, you scoff, spreading your legs wider in a show of relaxation. “Well then, I guess I might as well go upstairs and ask Hoseok to fuck me. I bet he’d do a better job than-”

Like lightening, his hand leaves his own cock and lashes out, fisting your shirt in his hands and tugging you forward, hard enough that you have to quickly uncross your arms and grab onto him to stop your foreheads from knocking together. You gasp at the fiery look on his face, his voice a sharp growl. “If you think he can fuck you half as good as I can, you’re dreaming.”

“Wha-?” you make out, so close that your breath ruffles the wisp of hair that swoops over his brow.

Just as quick as he grabbed you, Jimin lets go, stepping away. “Your laundry is ready,” he announces lowly. “You’ll be waiting outside my bedroom door in two hour’s time or you won’t get anything at all. Clear?”

Startled, you nod, jumping down off the mid-cycle washing machine, your legs feeling wobbly with the sudden withdrawal of vibrations. Grabbing your washing out of the dryer, you rush out the room with one last glance at him before the door slams and locks behind you. All is silent in the hallway as you ascend the stairs, but internally you scream with excitement.

Two hours drags and stretches and then snaps, everything too slow and then too fast until you’re knocking on Jimin’s door, stomach swirling sickly with anticipation.

He takes his sweet time answering, heightening your heart rate, but by the time he does it takes your breath away. He’s in a different pair of black pants, jeans that are skinny enough to make his legs seem a million miles long. His chest is fully covered this time, but it’s a transparent white mesh singlet, a white pressed blouse with gold buttons and cufflinks unbuttoned at the top to expose it. His lips, plush as ever, are covered in a sheer gloss that glints in the light and his eyes are intense in the frame of thick lashes and a hint of shadow on the lids, warm and smokey. As usual, he’s laden with jewellery, his classic silver rings paired with a pair of thin dangling chains from his lobes that sway hypnotically when he tilts his head in greeting.

You, too, had dressed for the occasion, seeking out your prettiest pair of lingerie - a black lace set with embroidered vines and buds around the hems and cups. The only thing you’re wearing on top is a black silk robe tied lazily around your waist. Thanking your lucky stars nobody had wandered into the upstairs hallway while you were waiting, you step inside, the thick carpet under your bare feet muffling your steps.

Jimin is back in shoes, and you bite your lip when you recognise them as the ones he’d worn at breakfast just that morning. It feels like days ago, your heightened arousal the whole day stretching time into an eternity.

“Kneel,” he instructs shortly, pointing at the carpet in front of him. For a moment you hesitate, but you'd gotten so far and it would be foolish to test your luck and risk getting thrown out with nothing yet again. Besides, part of you wants to see what he'll do when you're actually good for him. You kneel.

His room is perhaps one of the largest excluding yours. His bathroom door is shut, but even just the bedroom has room for a queen bed, two nightstands, a dresser and a chest at the foot of the bed which you're facing. You wonder idly if he'd paid the staff off for the biggest room, but before you can ponder much more he steps in front of you, his crotch right at your eye-level. You glance up him, sucking in a breath at how perfect he looks glancing down at you.

You lick your lips in anticipation, and it draws his attention. "This pretty little mouth of yours," he muses, reaching out to run his fingers over your lips, tugging down the flesh to watch it bounce back. Your chest puffs in pride, mouth practically watering at the thought of sucking him off. You part your lips when he presses on the seam, and his first two fingers delve into your mouth, slowly thrusting so that the pads run along your tongue, making you drool around his digits. You widen your jaw obediently, eyes pleading. But his face changes, then, a frown clouding his features. "More trouble than it's worth," he decides stiffly, and suddenly your mouth is empty, Jimin wiping your saliva off on your cheek before he turns his back to you, opening the chest.

Your mouth stays slack and open, but for a different reason. From what you can see, the wooden box is filled with toys, slips of fabric and leather, metal chains, everything. Suddenly, something catches your attention. At the bottom right corner, the initial PJM have been gracefully engraved, painted in with a glossy black ink. This is his, you realise, what he uses for his shoots. You feel your panties dampening between your legs as he rifles around.

When he turns back around, you recoil slightly, recognising the buckled contraption he comes up with. A ball gag. He smiles wickedly at your reaction, standing over you and running his hand through your hair, combing it back from your face. "This is a good thing, little mouse," he explains, tapping your lips twice to indicate to widen your jaw. You obey in a daze, feeling the sphere of unforgiving black plastic fill the front half of your mouth, your teeth keeping it in place. "Now you won't be tempted to run your mouth. Isn't that thoughtful of me?" You glare up at him as the straps wrap around your skull, his deft fingers tightening the buckle just enough so you can't spit the ball out. Your breath comes through your nose now, huffing at him.

He chuckles, crouching in front of you. It's overwhelming, suddenly having his face so close again. The perfect swells of his cheekbones, the sculpted brows and intelligent eyes so intensely locked onto yours. "You can't speak now, little mouse. So your safeword is going to be non-verbal. Click your fingers once for yellow, and over and over as much as you can for red. Okay? Click now so I know you can do it."

You click your fingers, feeling your chest ease slightly with the reinforcement of your safety net. The moment you're done, however, that warm concern vanishes, and he straightens up, turning away from you yet again.

"You're lucky," his voice announces, leaning over to dig in his box of tricks, "normally I'm not so generous. Normally I wouldn't let you cum until you'd well and truly earned it. But those cries of yours on the Monday night..." He trails off, spinning back on his feet to face you, a pair of leather cuffs in his hand, unconnected with heavy duty silver loops dangling from them. His eyes pierce you with a hint of vulnerability that you don't think he even realises he's showing. "You drive me crazy, Y/n. I want to hear you cum over and over and over again for me."

No matter how much your chest rises and falls, you feel breathless, eyes wide. Unable to verbally respond - though you don't even know what you'd say - you just give him a pleading gaze, hips rocking against the bottoms of your feet in search of friction.

He lets out a breath, stepping forward. "Take off your robe," he instructs with a rough voice. Your fingers fumble with the slack knot, hurriedly shedding it and tossing it away, leaving yourself in just the lingerie. "Fuck," he says with a breathy chuckle, "you're gonna be the death of me, little mouse. Wrists."

You clench your teeth around the ball gag in a keen at his words, lifting your arms up to reach him.

One at a time, he fits on the leather cuffs. They're relatively wide, though not too thick, and once he does up the buckle on each one you feel your eyes flutter. Something you'd never felt before but it's divine, the way they wrap so snugly around your wrists, not only a physical anchor, but a reminder that you're his, letting out a low moan when he slips a finger in one of the silver loops, tugging to ensure the fit.

Jimin's lip twitches at your reaction, and instead of telling you to stand, he uses the hoops, pulling your wrists up by the cuffs until you stand to ease the pressure, stumbling slightly as you get off your knees without your hands to assist. He leads you to the head of the bed, where you see the two chains that wrap around the bars of the headboard.

"On," he instructs, letting go so you can clamber up, sitting as you await further instruction. "On your back, darling," he coos, pressing at your shoulder so your head rests back onto the pillow. Automatically, you lift your arms, pulling a smile from his lips as he loops the chains through the silver hoops of your cuffs, spreading your arms wide apart, knuckles brushing against the wood of the headboard.

"Don't go anywhere," he remarks teasingly before leaving you, retrieving a few things from the chest. You tug slightly at one of your cuffs, testing it, and muffle a groan at the feeling of being trapped, tied down and at his mercy.

When he returns, his hands are full, and he tosses the fruits of his labour on the bed beside your torso, getting up on the bed to sit between your legs. You gasp when he tugs your ankles firmly, making you slip down so that your arms are straight, less room to struggle. This way, too, you can barely crane your head up, chest blocking your few of the toys he's brought over.

"Now," he says with a patient sigh, fingering the hem of your panties, "let's get rid of these, mm?" You lift your hips obediently when he goes to slip them down, curling your toes at the sudden cool air on your pussy. "Fuck, look at you," he gushes lowly, his fingers running up and down your slit so light you can barely feel them, making you whimper. "So fucking wet, little mouse. I haven't even touched you."

You lift your head to moan at him, trying to get out your plea, though your words are unrecognisable through the ball gag.

He pouts teasingly, rubbing the flat of his palm over you, slicking up his hand. "Oh, poor baby. The mean old Jiminie kept teasing her, did he? Baby just wants to cum?"

You groan, eyes scrunching shut as you nod your head. Even the simple touch of his hand between your legs is so good you could cry.

You tremble when you feel two fingers slip inside your wetness, a tight fit but one that lets him in so smoothly with how much you're soaked for him. He finds your g-spot with an almost supernatural ease, rubbing at it with the pads of his two fingers, curling inside you. You let out a strangled groan which makes him chuckle.

"I'm being generous now, aren't I? Say thank you, Y/n."

You sob. He knows full well you can't speak, but you obey nonetheless, letting out an unintelligible garble of your thanks.

"Good girl," he coos, and your legs fall apart wider in bliss as he begins an indulgent pace, the cool bands of his rings when they plunge inside you addictive. The second his thumb lifts up and begins rubbing at your clit, you're already on the edge from being deprived so long, and you cum almost immediately, shuddering around his fingers at the deep but powerful satisfaction.

You come down from your high relatively quickly, but he's already slipped his hand out, and you glance down in confusion, only to choke on a moan when you see him, tongue poking out slightly in focus as he uses your own slick to lube up a dildo, a powder pink silicone one that's roughly the shape of a cock, but far smoother, getting wider at the bottom for a place to hold it.

Once he's done, almost without acknowledging you, he grips your knee, making it bend and your leg lift higher up the bed, spreading you wider open for him, the other one still flat on the mattress, splayed wide.

"That was your warm-up, little mouse, I hope you enjoyed it," Jimin remarks with a grin, and you breathe heavy around the gag, back arching as he presses the head of the dildo into you.

It's far wider than his two fingers, and the stretch dumbs you, making your mind slow to a halt to appreciate every inch that fills you, dragging against your sensitised g-spot. Jimin's knuckles bump your clit when he bottoms out, and you shiver, the dildo so deep inside you.

"Let's get started, shall we?" he declares rhetorically with a wolfish grin, and once again your eyes squeeze shut when he begins a bruising pace, every strike spearing you open and making your eyes water. Your spine hitches as you writhe beneath him, but his grip on your bent leg is too strong, and no matter how hard you clench he drives the dildo so fully inside you that your mouth is slack, wide enough that your teeth don't even clamp around the ball on your tongue. With an open mouth, more sound comes through, and you hear the room filling with the wet sound of him fucking you with the dildo, but also your own moans and hiccuped screams.

He fucks you to the edge faster than you can comprehend. There's so much pleasure on every stroke, and he's using so much speed that it feels like you can't take it, like you might explode, but still he pins you down, letting you yank at the cuffs that bind you as you're forced to cum violently around it, thigh muscles clenching as you try to clamp your legs around the intrusion.

"Fuck, that's it, don't stop cumming," you hear him growl, and you sob with pleasure as your orgasm morphs quickly into oversensitivity, but Jimin never lets up for a second.

Your eyes water, tears slipping down over your temples as he continues to fuck you, and suddenly you no longer feel his hand on your leg, it flopping down weakly as fingers tap over your hand.

"Don't forget the signal," he instructs as you sob and writhe, "I'm not fucking stopping without it."

It takes you a moment to process that he's asking about the safeword, but as overwhelmed as you are, you don't want him to stop. "Hngingn," you cry, his name coming out jumbled through the ball gag, and your legs automatically lock around his hand, seeking to stop the roughly thrusting dildo, but his spare hand just rips your legs away, one of his jean-clad knees pinning down your shin and your screams reach a new pitch when you feel fingers strumming at your clit, the pleasure like a million needles, making your hands fist.

After an eternity of going crazy with overstimulation, you pass a bend. The pain turns back into pleasure, and you settle, going quiet and shifting slightly to seek it out, eyes rolling at the rhythmic rocking of your hips as he fucks you with the dildo.

"That's it," Jimin guides, breathless with exertion, "I want you to cum again, little mouse. Clench tight for me."

You do as he says, eyes so blurry you can't even see anything but the patch of blue in your vision, his head bobbing slightly as he speaks.

Without thinking, you follow his instructions, and like clockwork a third orgasm rips through you, taking you by surprise as the extra pressure of the dildo on your g-spot plunges you over the edge. You hadn't even realised you were close, but clearly Jimin had, and you tremble beneath him, letting the waves of pleasure flood to every corner and crevice of your body, your fists tightening and your toes curling. You weep openly at how good it feels, whimpering when his fingers on your clit stop and the dildo slows, slipping out of you one last time with a slick noise.

You're sweating, twitching, trembling, but still you manage to blink away your tears and focus on him blearily as you feel him removing the ball gag from around your head, fingers gentle as they massage your jaw slightly, letting you close it and lick your lips, feeling the ache.

"Did so well," he praises, and you pant happily, a lazy smile stretching out on your face as your tears begin to dry. The sound of a zip makes you frown, so you glance down to see Jimin already fisting his own cock, just as red and needy as the last time you'd seen it. You whimper as he shuffles forward, lifting your legs up into the air to spread you wide for him.

Almost forgetting you can speak now, you whimper wordlessly for a few moments, before making out a weak, "Jimin," tone pleading.

"Shh," he coos, his cockhead tapping at your drenched entrance, making you shiver. "One more, little mouse."

"I can't," you sob, chest hitching as he slips into you, just bigger than the dildo. You let out a reedy cry at how he strikes you're abused g-spot, and his fingers massage the backs of your thighs soothingly.

"You can," Jimin insists, fucking into you slowly, making you hiss every time, "just one more for me. You have your word."

You sob at the overstimulating madness as his pace picks up, driving so intensely inside of you, but you don't use the safeword. There's a kind of euphoria bliss to being stretched to your limits, pushed so far, and you trust him to take care of you, want to do a good job for him.

So you shake your head, moans blending into cries blending into whimpers. "Fuh-fuck," you gasp as once more sharp stimulation turns warm again, and you near a fourth orgasm. You shiver under Jimin, his thrusts so deft and powerful, jerking your body in rhythm. "I ca- I can't cum again," you admit shakily, "'s too much, Jimin, I can't take it!"

Jimin grunts with the force of his thrusts, but his hands are gentle as they keep your legs spread. "You're almost there, little mouse, you're doing so well."

Your back arches violently when he drops one of your legs to rub at your clit, fresh tears streaming into your hairline. "Fuck, oh god, I'm gonna- fuck!"

You stream as your final orgasm takes you like a train, and a feeling you've never experienced rushes through you as you squirt, thighs clamping iron tight around his hips as he curses at the sight and spills into your trembling body.

Even in the throes of his own orgasm, you feel Jimin's hands pass up and begin releasing you from the headboard, your arms falling limply as he cups your face, barely even rocking into you as every slight movement plunges you into oversensitivity.

You gasp, trying to catch your breath with closed eyes as this thumbs brush away your tears, his cum hot inside you.

"God, Y/n, you were amazing, did so well for me," he confesses lowly in your ear, and you let out a whimper as he presses a single kiss to your cheek, the most tender he's been with you so far.

"Did well," you repeat mindlessly, "Jiminnie."

"You did," he promises, and you hiss as he pulls himself out of you carefully, the feeling of his seed mixed with your own cum flooding out down onto the sheets. "God, look at you," Jimin muses under his breath, surely not meant for you to hear.

Barely conscious, your eyes flutter, and the last thing you remember seeing is him stripping off his expensive white cotton blouse, cleaning you up with it so gently that you barely feel the sting on your clit.

FAN FAVOURITE

TAGLIST

Okay real talk doing 5 ppl per comment takes fucking AGES so imma just try 45 since last time 50 didn’t work.

@agustdpeach @tinysweetscrown @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @saikokirastuff @kim-ji-woo-hoo

@starryskyslove @taemetiger @wildly-lost-lantern @mini-coop25 @bbbrats

@crafty-babe @megahwn @sope-and-shine @kuppyjiminie @igot7-penta-seo

@brooklyn11208 @taetaehooray @heathenssss @ironicarmy @mykingdomismyheaven

@franklytae @ddaenggtan @scribbleseas @ex-silent-reader @lovelysky15

@0nlyours0 @houseofarmanto @xddaengx @bucky-thorin-winchester @joonadore

@shi-tmp3 @latina-army @djasheyash99 @yeontanie21 @chogiyeol-utopia

@swanqook @parksfilter @jungtaeyoongles @lilylovsu @kaitlynmarie1120

@karma299 @tearkth @hjordan1994 @bangtan-dreamland @sarcasmflowsinmyveins

The rest will be in the comments!

Unable to tag @risefallrise @btsphdotcom @kitty-queen-13 @stardust-and-ashes@crazykpopaddict @positivelyjada @paradisetaemin @awixxx @litty-dumb @passionate-love-57911 @sweeneyblue1 @carrooooooooo @purplepearl07

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suicidalcoolkid · 3 years

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yk not all people understand how it is to be addict or suicidal, they say “don’t do it. calm down” and thats it.they really think its that easy to fucking flip ur fingers and calm down. to fucking take deep breath and thats it. thats all it takes for me to stop thinking about ending it. they think its easy its not fucking easy. its not FUCKING easy to fight urself every single second of every fucking day to delay whatever the fuck u want. u tell yourself not today! just dont do it, not today. maybe tomorrow might be different and guess what? sometimes it is. sometimes tomorrows bright and shiny, happy and bubbly. just don’t lose focus on that stupid good shit happening tomorrow. not even for a second or there it is, darkness its gonna cover u up like always. will slap u and remind u how alone u are. how unloved u feel, how u have this fucking void,nothing seems to fill…but if u get high ohh that two faced bastard! u get high u feel void filling up doesn’t matter with what, point is that its filling up and u don’t feel so empty anymore. now u can take breaths take them! 1..2..3…inhale deeply…hold….hold…hold..exhale. good job. feels good doesn’t it? do u feel ur heartbeat going much slower than normal? ofc u do.listen to it, its getting slower just few more seconds and u feel like its gonna stop and everythings gonna be fine,it’ll be over. that fucking “high” looking in ur eyes and promising that it’ll be okay. that you won’t feel a thing and then boom there it is ur emptiness its back and u know u didn’t die. thats when u realize u won’t die because ure born to suffer. but its okay. calm down..don’t do it…control yourself.. none of these shit helps and theres no hope u keep living ur miserable life cus if u die they’ll get hurt..LOL who the fuck believes? i’m fucking piece of shit no one would miss me. my mom looking in my eyes and saying how much she loathes me. i know everyone would be much better off without me. but they make u feel even worse telling u that you’re selfish and if u do something ‘stupid’ you’ll kill them too. no one tries to understand how hard it is to even take every step how fucking hard it is to look in the mirror see urself and every fucking time think that u dont even deserve to be standing there and there u are. between choices. stay alive be miserable and keep being disappointment for everyone. or do it and end ur suffer become selfish bitch who made others ‘grief’. what a great options huh? what the fuck was i born for? why why what did i do so wrong i just wanna close my eyes and not open them ever again. i wanna find peace. i can’t take it anymore.it hurts like hell.

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shima-draws · 4 years

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Tell us abt the story, Shima. I would D I E for your stories (also, an ATS game would make my entire LIFE I would be so broke on it)

[[Anonymous said: hey- hey shima.... what;s ur new story about?]]

uwu

So this is based off of Arthurian lore and has some elements of it but it’s mostly (?) original!

It starts out in a normal high school setting, centered around these two kids named Elin and Niro. Niro’s had a life of total misfortune—his parents died when he was little and there was nobody else to take him in, so he was forced into foster care, and has switched schools so often that he never really got to make any permanent friendships. He’s a quiet guy, sort of weighed down by all of the loss he’s experienced, so that sort of makes him a mysterious and attractive sort of person, which gains him immediate popularity as the school’s handsome new kid. (He’s in his senior year, now, and has been at this school for almost the full year.) Despite his withdrawn personality Niro actually gets along well with his peers, but mostly because he’s a very agreeable sort of person that just goes along with what he’s told to do to fit in. He’s just going through the motions at this point, trying to survive and figure out what he wants to do in life. It isn’t really working out too well because Niro has major depression so every day is a struggle, but his current “guardian” at the foster home he’s staying in helps a lot with that, and Niro views her as sort of a mother figure to him, and it’s soft :’)

Elin, on the other hand, is the school’s laughingstock, and gets picked on a LOT by his classmates. He never fights back and tries to stay out of everybody’s way, so people think him even weirder because of it. He rarely talks and is always found with his nose stuck in a book, which has also labeled him as a major geek, so you can bet he gets targeted a lot because of this;;

Unfortunately, the kids that Niro’s friends with are the group that picks on Elin the most, and it always makes Niro uncomfortable but he’s too hesitant to really speak up about it, especially since Elin just. Sort of takes it and never outwardly complains. It’s basically just Niro making excuses to himself, and whenever he DOES try to talk his buddies out of it they’re like come on man we’re just joking around it’s not a big deal. So that sucks. One day when Niro’s walking to school he notices he’s being followed by a weirdly dressed girl. Eventually she corners him and she’s like “Merlin’s been taking too long to find you so I took things into my own hands since we’re running out of time” and Niro’s like ???? Excuse me? But she doesn’t explain and literally yanks him into a portal and that’s that. LMAO

When they emerge, the girl introduces herself as Lunete, and reveals that she’s taken Niro to the world of Avilion, in the kingdom of starlight called Inlustria. Niro’s still processing that he’s been pulled into another world entirely when Lunete begins to escort him to the castle, and pretty much dumps the world’s lore and his Destiny™️ on him on the way.

Rest is under the cut to save space because it is loooong lol

Lunete explains that there have always been two central figures in Inlustria, for many centuries across many generations. Those figures are Merlin, the wizard, and Arthur, the king meant to wield the holy sword and unify the five kingdoms on the continent together. Currently there are two Merlins, with the second being younger and newer to the position, still in training. However, she adds that this particular Merlin is the most powerful they’ve ever seen in the long history of Merlins to exist, and that he’s basically a child prodigy. It is Merlin’s task to watch over, guide and protect Arthur, so that peace can remain and the cycle can continue anew. The current Arthur is sadly old and very ill, practically on his deathbed, so the process of choosing a new Arthur to replace him had to be rushed.

Lunete then tells Niro that the Arthurs are chosen by fate before birth and are always humans from the other world. Arthurs are always loyal, confident and kindhearted, so there’s never a chance of an Arthur going astray (unless their Merlin purposefully leads them down that path). Niro’s like why are you telling me all this and Lunete goes well isn’t it obvious? Why else would I be telling you. And then Niro realizes that he has been chosen as the new Arthur, and immediately goes into panic mode. Lunete apologizes for the abrupt introduction and Avilion crash course lol but she says that usually it’s the Merlin’s job to remain in the human world, scout out the new Arthur, and bring them to Avilion, since they’re naturally drawn to them by their magic. But this Merlin is particularly stubborn and wants nothing to do with Arthur or his born duty to essentially serve the king, so he’s been stalling on locating him out of sheer spite.

Lunete and Niro arrive at the castle and she leads him into the grand library, where Merlins usually spend most of their time. Niro is shocked to find out that Elin is Merlin, and Elin immediately goes “You have GOT to be kidding me” when he realizes that the new Arthur—who he has to spend the rest of his life with btw—is Niro.

Niro’s even more shocked to find out that Elin is a completely different person than how he is at school. Elin is witty, arrogant and very sassy, and constantly throws shade at Niro for doing nothing while he was being bullied. (Niro then accuses Elin for not standing up for himself when he’s CLEARLY capable of it with both his silver tongue and his knack for magic, but Elin explains that it’s a rule for Merlins not to make a big presence of themselves in the human world. Then Niro feels very guilty.) Elin swears off of accepting Niro as the new Arthur and says he can protect the kingdom all on his own.

Naturally Niro is very reluctant to take on the position of Arthur and become the ruler of an entire kingdom, but Lunete tells him he doesn’t really have a choice, and that all Arthurs fall into the role eventually, so it will be something he’ll automatically adapt to because he’s The Chosen One and it’s meant to be. Niro continuously tries to reach out to Merlin, but he’s notoriously stubborn and refuses to acknowledge Niro.

Eventually Lunete lets slip that Merlin had a complicated history with another human in his childhood that ended...not so well (and no it’s not Esca lol), hence his general distaste towards the other world and humans in general. Ofc that’s not all Merlin is hiding, there’s another enormous secret he doesn’t want coming into the light. And you bet Niro’s going to discover them all ;)

So yeah there’s obviously a lot more that goes on after that—Niro trains to fit into the Arthur role (with a lot of sexy swordfighting training montages), Merlin eventually accepts him and they grow closer (yes. In that way ;D), Merlin shows off how skilled he is with his magic and Niro goes oh no I think I might be in love with him, there’s trouble with the northern kingdom they’re trying to deal with involving a new villain that’s popped up, Niro gets to meet a king from the southern kingdom who sort of becomes his father figure/mentor so that’s cool? Niro finds out exactly what sins Merlin committed in the past, and that past sadly catches up with him and nearly ruins everything so that’s fun. Niro finds out some shit and almost abandons his role as Arthur but eventually returns to Inlustria and obtains Excalibur to save Merlin’s ass, etc. etc. I think after the “main” story ends I’m going to send them out to sea so they can go on an epic magic pirate adventure, because when Niro was a kid he was super into pirates and treasure hunting and the ocean, he was never really a “magic and kingdoms” type of guy which is super ironic. Merlin’s excited about traveling but it turns out he’s really seasick and it’s hilarious. Somewhere down the line they’ll probably find out why there’s always been a “Merlin” and “Arthur” role in their kingdom as well. So LOTS of fun stuff is in store! And my brain hasn’t been shutting up about lore and worldbuilding for this story ever since I came up with it >;)

#I STILL DON'T HAVE A NAME FOR THIS YET SO.#And now you guys can send me asks about this ;))))))#Shima answers questions #Long post #Shima's OCs #Anyway yeah there's a LOT going into this but that's just the basic plot #Esca is involved in a big way but I won't say how yet ;)

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dingletragedy · 4 years

Note

kiss on the neck/back kiss? for the prompt list? i love ur writing so much!!!

here have a kiss on the back and the neck and a whole bunch if friends to lovers feelings!!! thank you sm ni, i really hope you enjoy x

say it first - ao3 link

“So, how's Walford treating you? Are you coping without the obviously better Highway brother?”

“Well,” Ben starts, smirk already plastered on his face, avoiding the seriousness of Callum’s eye no wonder. “My Dad is still Phil Mitchell, my brother is still Ian Beale and, oh, the obviously worst Highway brother is still my neighbour. So yeah, coping just fine.”

“And I’m still your best friend in the world, right?” Callum asks tentatively, ignoring Ben’s dramatics. He meets Callum’s eyes again, so open and trusting, lashes all spindly and soft in the fading light.

“You’re more than that Cal,” Ben whispers soft as he shifts, rolling onto his side, back facing Callum now. “You’re the spice to my girls.”

For a moment, Callum thinks that’s it, another day gone, another wave of secrets and feelings swallowed. But then Ben’s hand brushes his stomach, fingers in search of Callum’s wrist laid there. His fingers wrap around the spot in which the watch Ben brought him for his eighteenth birthday usually occupies, and he pulls Callum’s arm to loop around his stomach.

Calum shifts himself too then, he’s laying firmly on his side, knees bumping the back of Ben’s shins for an awkward moment before they figure it out, Ben’s foot falls to brush between Callum’s legs. Callum curls the fingers of his free hand gently into the sheets and tries to breathe. They’re so much closer, now, touching here-and-here-and-here.

“Ben,” Callum hums, a soft puff of laughter leaving his mouth, one of almost wonder. “That is simultaneously the cheesiest, weirdest and most you thing you’ve ever said.”

“Shut up,” Ben laughs, shoving an elbow behind and into Callum’s stomach. Callum just rolls closer now, wriggling in the sheets until they finally settle again. Ben’s fingers are resting in the cup of Callum’s palm, and each time he shifts the soft drag of his thumb, it makes Callum’s chest clench up. “I don’t care, anyway. You’re my very best friend and I don’t want to go home.”

“Stay, then,” Callum says, however superfluous a thing to say it may be. “Stay another week at least.”

“I can’t,” Ben sighs, sighs right against Callum’s hand that he's brought up to his own, parted mouth. “I have to go home.”

Home can be here. Right here with me, that spot in my chest. Callum can’t say it, he won’t. He isn’t cruel enough to.

But it’s been so long, and he thought he was doing a good job of convincing himself during their time apart that this is the way everyone feels when they go months without seeing their best friends, or that he was too attached, and once he settled where he is, he’d be fine with the distance and their strictly friendship.

Only here, the two of them alone in Callum’s tiny halls room, with the rest of the world on pause, he knows he’s lying to himself for ever thinking he’d get over somebody like Ben just like that.

“I’ve had the best time with you being here, y'know?” Callum says, softer now. He’s taken too long to say anything. He’s just watching Ben idly from behind, their hands knocking and fingers brushing where they're laid over Ben's heart. “Thank you for coming. I know you had to save a lot of money for your train ticket and all that.”

“Don’t be daft, there’s nothing I’d rather spend my money on,” Ben says. “Not even a new car.”

In the dark, all Callum can make out is the slope of Ben’s shoulders, and the slow rise and fall of his chest. He shifts himself down the pillow, hiding his own face and stretching smile that’s found its way there. Ben makes him feel so vulnerable sometimes, even if he doesn't mean to.

He lets his eyes close, edges of weariness starting to creep in now. It’s still raining outside, sparse taps on the window. He can hear Ben breathing, and he almost considers holding his own breath just to listen to it a little better, to memorise the pattern so he can match it when he has to be on his own again.

It’s been three months since he moved, three crazy, stressful, terrifyingly wonderful months, and God, Callum thinks, maybe he made the wrong choice applying for a university nearly two hundred miles away, after all.

Some days he wakes up and he goes for a walk because staying in bed thinking about a boy hundreds of miles away won’t ever do him any good.

But now that boy is here, lying just across the sheets. And he’s leaving tomorrow night. Gone again, just like that. He just wants to know, somehow, someway, that they’ll always see each other again. Always be each other’s everything.

(He can’t waste another chance.)

“Ben,” Callum whispers, but Ben's suspiciously quiet now, finger relaxed between Callum’s,pulse slow. It’s so late, he knows, and Ben’s tired enough as it is from the journey up here, but the thought of missing a moment awake together is terrifying for so many reasons.

(He won’t waste another chance.)

“Mm,” Ben hums, breathing shifting.

The rain is picking up again. Outside, a lone car sweeps down the street, a brief flash of yellow light that jumps in through the window like a spike in a pulse, sudden and bright.

“I really missed you,” Callum admits, the vulnerability of nighttime and tiredness cracking him open, turned inside out like a raw nerve. “Like, so bloody much.”

For months he’s been pinning up pictures on the walls and scrolling aimlessly through his phone and wondering if this is really it, if he’s been destined to just love Ben forever, from anywhere, any distance. Destined to hope they might one day feel that way, too.

“Don’t make me cry,” Ben says teasing, voice muffled against the pillow. Callum can almost see the smirk pulling at his lips, shy and beautiful. But there’s something else laced in Ben’s voice, something tight and gruff, Callum recognises it instantly, it’s that voice he always puts on when he doesn’t want Callum to see him upset. “I never knew I could miss a person like I miss you.”

It’s so much, and Callum just has to be a little closer, and closer still. He has to let himself tip forward so his forehead rests between Ben’s shoulder, the expanse of his back warm and familiar.

There's a stillness then, Callum’s eyes falling closed, lashes falling soft over secret freckles. They’re touching here-and-here-and-here and Callum’s Spotify plays I think I'm lost without you, I just feel crushed without you. And then, then there’s a moment, a breathy noise of anticipation, a soft brush of a foot and a wave of coconut shampoo, before finally, and gently there’s a press of cracked lips to the soft of a boys skin.

It’s barely a whisper of a touch, but Callum hears Ben inhale, feels him tense as his lips softly brush his back.

Callum pulls back in a second, this terrible feeling flushing down his entire body like a rush of ice water.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he babbles, too loud in their little bubble. Ben, I–I didn’t mean to–”

“Cal,” Ben says, hoarse, and he turns in an instance. Body flushing impossibly closer to Callum’s as Callum’s arm falls from Ben’s stomach. His hand finds Callum’s cheek, hot to the touch, then slips back into his hair. “Come here, yeah?”

“Ben—”

“Sh,” Ben whispers, and Callum feels the warmth against his bottom lip, this barely-there buzz. “Just—just come here.”

Ben’s eyes flick down to his lips, backlit by a blue and silver glow. Callum’s stomach is flurried and warm with want, little embers flaking down his chest to his toes. He feels fuzzy, like he’s wading through a dream.

This time, when Callum leans towards, his lips meet something different, something new entirely. Their mouths touch molten and soft, yet cautious, Callum’s bottom lip caught wetly between Ben’s. His fingers gradually start to twist in Callum’s hair, pulling him closer and closer.

“Ben,” Callum breathes between kisses, trying to ground himself. He finds Ben’s hip, feels brave enough to slip his thumb under his joggers and touch his skin, and that alone is enough of a spark to catch the bed up in a gulf of flames. At that, Ben’s fingers curl at the back of Callum’s head, and Callum back into the pillows, urging Ben to follow.

“How long?” Ben says as they part to breathe, just to breathe, their faces still pressed up close.

“So long,” Callum says thickly, body shifting up when Ben kisses him firmly, thumb against Callum’s jaw to part his mouth. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben breathes past his lips, muffled by another kiss. “‘For all my talents and knowledge, I’m so fucking clueless.”

“Shut up,” Callum whisper-hushes him, tries to pull him closer again, but Ben shakes his head lightly and just stares down at Callum in the dark, fingers in his hair. “Ben, it’s fine.”

“Why’d it take you leaving Walford to make me realise I don’t wanna be without you,” Ben says tightly, shaking his head at himself. “We could have–”

“No. Don’t do that, okay? It doesn’t matter because we’re together now, yeah?” Callum says, because he’s spent enough time worrying about it for the both of them. Back in the now, their mouths are both shiny, bodies slotted so warm and close, and all Callum wants to think about is this. Them. Together. Comfortable and close in each other’s company after so long apart.

“Okay,” Ben whispers, the words lost against Callum’s jaw, wet kisses to his neck, back up to his waiting mouth. “Now stop talking and kiss me some more.”

He blinks up at Ben, notices that syrupy grin slowly pulling up at his cheeks, and it’s enough to dissipate the small knot of sadness that’s trying to grow in Callum’s chest, that knowing feeling that it’s going to hurt even more saying goodbye to Ben this time than it did the last.

“Sure,” he says, drawing a lazy circle against the side of Ben’s hip with light fingers. “I mean, if you really want me to.”

“Think I do,” Ben hums, smug, their noses bumping, and it’s such a soft gesture that has Callum melting back a little more into the pillows. “Think you’ve got some lost time to make up for.”

“You think so?”

“Just maybe,” Ben says, and he laughs when Ben nips gently at his neck, fingers tucking into his sides.

They stare at each other for a moment, and Callum just lets it rush over him, lets himself go. He tells himself to stop thinking, to stop worrying, to put himself in the here and now; not tomorrow, not when they have to say goodbye, when he knows he’ll cry at the train station, when he’ll miss Ben so much it’ll make his heart ache.

Right now he’s got to let himself be happy. Ben's mouth twitches, eyes resting gently and Callum knows that he’s happy, too.

When he slowly opens his eyes, flickering madly over Callum's own, his voice is barely there. “Is it too soon to say that I love you?”

Every single nerve ending in Callum’s body lights up, blood pulsing through him in a mad rush, a mad scramble, to process the sudden bang in front of his vision, like fireworks. He shakes his head vigorously and kisses Ben hard.

“No,” he breathes, and he feels like he’s about to cry again.

“I think I do,” Ben says. “No. I know, I know I love you.”

“I love you too,” Callum chokes out. “Ben, I love you so much."

#this is what i've spent my whole friday night doing please like it #ben x callum #ballum #eastenders #mywords #fic #oceandawning

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howtosingit · 4 years

Note

if ur ok with it can u break down the tarlos huggggg in the lst ep after tk tells evy1 abt his addiction? bc that gd huggggggg i wanna no every thing u think abt it i live for ur love for tarlos theyre just so so cuteeeee

IF I’M OKAY WITH IT?! Anon, I feel like I have been waiting my entire life for this ask. I could literally talk about this hug for the rest of my existence. I would talk about this hug every second of every day if I could and never get tired or bored. This hug has owned my entire heart from the moment that it happened and I can never get enough of it. Brace yourself for this essay, and remember that you asked for it...

Okay, so before I get to the actual hug, I want to talk for a minute about why I love it so much and also how fantastic the scene is that comes before it. I’ll try to keep both of those brief (LOL). If you want to skip to the hug breakdown, I’ll give the sections titles.

Why I Love This Hug

So, why do I love this hug so much? Honestly, because I never in a million years thought we’d get something like it, and it was a big turning point for me.

I have not been quiet about how disappointing I think season 1 was. Too much Owen being Owen, too much Iris plot (which never interested me for even a single moment, unfortunately), not enough of the other characters - specifically the characters of color - and definitely not enough Tarlos.

Following episode 3, the show established a really frustrating pattern with Tarlos: they either never interacted with one another, or there was a moment of them at the end of an episode where they were in the same place physically but never spoke directly to one another. Frustration doesn’t even begin to describe the Tarlos talking drought between episodes 3 and 10 - and honestly? It’s bad writing. To focus on a ship for 3 episodes, giving them a lot of different nuances and conflict, and then do absolutely nothing with it? Stupid. So, going into the finale, my expectations were low. At that point, I was literally tuning in just to catch a glimpse of Carlos, with the expectation that that was all I would get. I really didn’t think I was going to watch the show after season 1.

When the finale started with a Tarlos scene, I was honestly very surprised. But, then, of course, it was a “break up” scene, and I was like... well. So much for that. See, I fully expected, based on the trend throughout the later half of the season, that that would be the only Tarlos scene we would get, and that that is how they would end season 1.

But when that camera cut to Carlos Reyes walking through the station door looking like a modern-day motherf*cking Prince Charming? I cried. I’m not ashamed to admit that. And then WHEN WE GOT THE HUG?! I can honestly still feel my heart pounding in my chest.

The finale didn’t fix everything for me; they still barely talk in their final two scenes. It’s not all perfect. But this hug, this small moment? THAT. IS. PERFECTION. (And I’m gonna go on and on about why in just a minute!)

Framing the Hug

I just want to take another moment here to chat about the entire fire station scene with TK and the team/Carlos because there’s a lot that informs why this hug is so freaking incredible. It has everything to do with the directing choices that were made - and boy were they good ones!

We all probably remember how the scene starts: extreme close-ups on TK as he sits waiting for the crew to come back. He’s anxious and possibly having a mild panic attack, and the camera is used to create that moment. Certain shots are out of focus, the shots that are focused are zoomed in to his mouth/hands/eyes, the sound is distorted, his breathing is isolated. It’s all super effective.

So the observations that I make about this brief moment are: TK is stationary, the camera is basically attacking him. And TK is alone. Pretend for a moment that the camera is a character. The camera won’t leave him alone. No one is there to help him. His anxiety grows.

(Even when the team joins him, the camera stays pretty close to him, except for one moment where it backs off but then approaches again. It continues to invade his personal space and his personal moments with his friends and his dad.)

Now, compare that to how the scene ends: TK walks away from the camera, the camera doesn’t follow him. It gives him space. His interaction with Carlos happens in the distance. If the camera is a character, TK defeated that character. He leaves it there, it no longer threatens him. I just really like that visual storytelling; that through the 4 minute scene, TK not only faces his demons, speaks his truth, and conquers his anxiety but he beats the camera and goes off to hug Carlos untethered. (He even bounces towards him, but we’ll get to that in a minute.) That doesn’t really have anything to do with the hug specifically, but I thought it was interesting anyway.

The other comparison that I want to make is a simple one, but it’s another reason why I love the hug: TK initiates it. He doesn’t initiate the group hug with his team (he actually almost says “we don’t have to do that” when Mateo moves towards him), though he obviously enjoys it. Owen initiates their hug, flinging himself at his son, and TK obviously appreciates it.

But the Carlos hug? TK approaches him, TK raises his arm to wrap around Carlos’s neck.

Okay, now to finally answer the original ask...

LET’S HUG IT OUT: THE BREAKDOWN THAT WAS ASKED FOR

youtube

First, can I just say from his first appearance to the end of this scene, Carlos is there for 20 seconds total and I am about to write a whole-ass essay about those 20 seconds?! I’m literal trash.

Okay, so Carlos appears looking like a fucking snack. He’s changed since the bus accident, looking like someone’s hot date, and I think we know whose... Owen is basically like “well this is unexpected” and honestly, same sir. TK is adorable and noncommittal, but clearly not surprised to see Carlos there. We’ve missed a moment between them since TK was sent to the hospital and Carlos called him impressive, that’s for sure.

So when TK starts to walk towards him, the camera refocuses on Carlos and we see this adorable freaking look on his face that clearly says “how did it go?” or “all went well?” or something to that effect. I think Carlos knew what TK was doing at the station and he knew that it was a big deal for him, and I love that even before they are next to each other, he’s checking in to see how it went. He’s invested in TK’s well-being - as always - and he’s there to support him, both physically and emotionally. I COULD SCREAM.

In response to Carlos’s silent questioning, TK throws his head back and sighs. Like I said before, he seems to bounce towards Carlos, his body is pretty loose - his arms are swinging back and forth. This is a guy who just took a load off, and he’s relieved about having done so. The smile that Carlos gives him in answer says that he’s relieved too - that it went so well, that TK seems lighter. He might even be relieved that TK is being so much more open with him, clearly showing him his emotions. Their body language for this entire moment is very open, neither of them seem closed off. It truly does feel like, for the first time, they are meeting each other on equal footing, with all of their cards on the table before them. It’s such a different moment for them, certainly different than their body language during the boba date earlier in the episode.

I would be an absolute idiot if I did not pause and remark here how INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT IT IS that TK is the one that approaches Carlos. I’m not the first person to notice and say this, but Carlos “I hate being the one doing the chasing” Reyes stops just inside the door. He lets TK walk towards him. It’s such an interesting, nonverbal conversation between them. In this action, Carlos is saying “I’m here, but I’m still not going to force anything. You said you wanted space, so I’m giving it to you.” Sure, he comes to the station - but I would pay good money to bet that TK invited him there following some kind of conversation about what he was doing there - but he stays at the door. He’s cautious, but open. He wants something more with TK, but he’s not going to throw himself into it just to get hurt again. So, he waits. AND TK COMES TO HIM. TK leaves his own space and enters his. TK takes the final step. TK closes the gap. TK makes the big move, and they’re finally both right in front of each other, on the same wavelength. The find that solid ground from which they’ll build their relationship together. ISN’T IT JUST BEAUTIFUL?!

Seriously, kudos to Bradley Buecker for directing this episode with multiple levels of storytelling at play. It’s really great stuff.

OKAY, there’s a little Owen and Michelle moment, but then the camera finds Tarlos again.

TK is standing in front of Carlos, they’re completely fixated on one another, their body language is just so fucking casual and comfortable I cannot stand it. See, the other hugs were all pretty intense: the team piles on top of TK, burying him, and Owen practically throws himself at TK, it’s a fairly hard hug for a man with an injured shoulder. But this hug? NOPE.

It’s so soft. It’s so gentle. TK raises his arm like he just can’t not wrap it around Carlos’s neck, like it’s the only way to be as close as possible to him and being as close as possible to him is all he wants in that moment.

What I really love about this hug is that it feels like two people who hug not because the moment is demanding it, not because they’re reuniting after a long time apart, not because they’re in a heightened state of emotion.

These two hug like it’s just what they do, what they always want to be doing, like they don’t know how not to do it. The whole thing reads like “Hi, I’m TK and my arms belong around Carlos” and “Hi, I’m Carlos, and my arms belong around TK, what else would I be doing with them?” (It’s also the vibe I get from the club scene where they wrap their arms around each other.)

IT’S INTIMACY, Y’ALL.

Look, to be a Tarlos fan, I think you have to be willing to look at the relationship on two different levels, right? One is what they verbalize to each other, which is admittedly very little (season 2, come through). The other is the story that they tell through their body language. These two have seemingly always been on the same page physically. It just comes naturally to them, from the minute they first dance to their obviously very pleasing sex scene to the way they flirt in the bar to the club to Carlos at TK’s bedside.

Their chemistry is made clear through how they physically relate to each other, and never is that more clear than in this hug that LITERALLY LASTS 2 SECONDS BUT CONTAINS MULTITUDES.

Okay, back to it... so TK strolls towards Carlos, Carlos waits for him - they symbolism is making me scream - TK raises his arm, it’s all super casual...

And then he just kind of literally falls into Carlos’s body, and Carlos basically just catches him. HOW BEAUTIFUL IS THAT.

They don’t even speak but because they’ve had a nonverbal conversation with just those looks that I talked about, there’s just this understanding that TK needs to just collapse a little bit and he never for one second doubts that Carlos will hold him up. THAT’S JUST WHAT THEY DO.

OKAY OKAY OKAY now we’re going to break this down from head to toe.

Like, the way that their heads just rest against each other, TK pressing close - I can almost imagine that he breathes in the scent of Carlos’s shampoo, his nose is pressed right there in his curls. AND JUST IMAGINE HIS SMILE, I BET IT’S BLINDING.

I love that their heads kind of curve around each other kind of, perfectly Yin and Yang - like, from above they would totally look like that symbol.

MY FAVORITE PART OF THE ENTIRE THING: CARLOS FREAKING REYES NUZZLING INTO TYLER KENNEDY STRAND’S NECK, LIKE HE JUST SHOVES HIS FACE RIGHT IN THERE

THE NECK KISS MADE ME SCREAM SO FUCKING LOUD THE FIRST TIME I SAW IT I COULD NOT HANDLE IT

First, it’s our first kiss since episode 2.

Second, THE INTIMACY OF PRESSING A KISS TO SOMEONE’S NECK - LIKE THAT IS SUCH A SOFT PART OF YOUR BODY, THERE ARE TENDONS THERE, YOU CAN FEEL SOMEONE’S PULSE THERE - LIKE OH MY GOD

Nothing screams “I want to know every part of this man on a deep, committed level” than a fucking neck kiss, and Carlos Reyes just... he fucking does it.

Okay but he really does bury his whole face in there like he wants to keep it there forever, I have truly never seen something so soft in my entire life.

I’m so in love with them I could puke.

But like, that’s why this moment means so much to me, because I really do think that it’s a solidifying moment for both of them.

For TK, it’s a “It’s okay if I stumble or fall because this man will catch me or help me up” thing

For Carlos, it’s “he wants me, he wants this, he’s taking literal steps towards this thing between us, and he encourages me to sink into him, he wants me to do that, he really wants this”

Like, fuck.

Moving down... we gotta appreciate Carlos being mindful of TK’s shoulder, unlike literally everyone else who has hugged him. Like, he doesn’t even go anywhere near those stitches because there’s no fucking way he’s going to watch TK bleed out for the third time, nope.

And the way that Carlos just slides his arms around TK’s waist, pressing his palms into his lower back?!

I think there’s a whole like, thing, where when a person’s hands are flat and open they’re like, open and vulnerable. So there’s just something about the way that Carlos presses both of his open palms against TK’s back that feels so open and vulnerable and honest to me.

Also, the way that he literally covers as much of TK’s back with his hands as possible? He doesn’t place his hands on top of one another, he stacks them along TK’s spine - he completely covers the entirety of his lower back. That’s a really vulnerable part of the human body, and Carlos instinctively protects it. AND TK LET’S HIM.

Okay, finally, down to their feet: TK really does collapse against Carlos, throwing himself on top of him and trusting that Carlos will keep him upright. All of his weight shifts to that forward momentum, he even goes up on the toes of his right foot. Carlos plants his feet, and as TK sways into him, he wraps him in his arms and gently centers them so that they don’t tip over to the ground.

He literally re-balances them. The two of them together find a balance with one another during this TWO-SECOND HUG. They shift, they steady themselves, they sink into one another.

It’s literally symbolic of them both being completely, 100%, without question, ready for the next phase of their relationship together.

They keep each other standing, and that’s fucking true love, y’all.

I honestly cannot wait for season 2. This hug and the final scene on the hood of Carlos’s car - with TK again making the move to embrace their relationship by physically reaching into Carlos’s space for his hand and dragging it into his own space, firmly opening the door to his heart to let him inside, while also settling Carlos’s hand between his own to let him know that he’s willing to protect him and his heart too - makes me believe that we are in for some truly wonderful romance with these boys.

My heart will not stop screaming about it.

#anonymous #asks #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #911 lone star #that finale hug is the very definition of love #and I have a lot of feelings about it #thank you so much for sending this ask #I loved getting to rewatch this 3-second hug about a billion times to overanalyze it #best night I've had in a long time #holy shit this is almost 3K... for a 3-second hug... I’m literally trash #brian breakdowns #brian being tarlos trash

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catcze · 3 years

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Hewo Catteeee~! This is onae anon again, and I just wanna say I am very close to that guaranteed Kazuha! Just 20 more wishes, I hope I get him! (Thanks for sharing btw)

Oh and people are discouraging me :|

I’ve been scrolling through suggestions channel in a server and people were telling me to not waste my efforts on kazuha…. The YouTube posts too!!! T*T

I hope you’re doing well~

- Onae anon

(P.S. I just realised that I didn’t follow you earlier…. Anyways, can I be ur one of your anonsss???? ^^)

Omg sorry I saw this a little late, but that's great!! OMg I hope you get him soon!!

Also, uh, regarding what you said abt people discouraging you abt rolling for Kazuha,,, So I kinda got carried away a bit, talking about how his kit works and how he is no way a waste;; so I just put it under the cut bc its kinda long kajsnd

But!! You totally shouldn't listen to them my love >:( roll for the characters you like and play them how you want to!! It's your game, so you should enjoy it!!

Also yes!! You can totally be one of my anons <33

Okayy, so for one, I think why people are underestimating Kazuha ––and this was brought up by people before–– is because he's more of a support/ sub DPS, kind of like Albedo (who people also underestimated and skipped, and are now regretting doing so.) Kazuha isn't meant to be a big damage dealer like Hu Tao, Xiao, or even Eula. His kit is optimized to play with a team that makes use of Elemental Mastery–– his C6 is the constellation that gives Kazuha more damage-dealing potential (and even then, it's not such a big jump) but to be honest, you can build him as a damage dealer even if he's C0, or just about any other role you'd like.

Unless you invest in him as your main damage dealer, his natural damage output alone isn't game-breaking, but if you put him in the right team with the right characters, he can literally fuck shit up. But if you invest into him in whatever role you'd like (as a sub DPS, support, burst unit, or a main DPS), Kazuha is honestly such a good character to use. Tbh I've been playing him ever since I got him yesterday, and I love him so much. Kazuha literally helped carry my team through Abyss 11, and if I build the rest of my characters a bit more, I'm sure that he'd be such a good asset on abyss 12 too. I've seen someone on twitter clear Abyss 12-1 (the one with the two big geovishaps) in 44 seconds because of Kazuha.

A lot of people compare him to Venti, and I can see why, but Kazuha and Venti's kit isn't as similar as people think it is tbh. Uh, I'm not gonna get into that bc this is long already, but Kazuha is genuinely a really good unit, whether as a damage dealer, support, or a burst unit, and the main reason why people don't like him is, frankly, a lot of youtubers and online suggestions aren't very fond of support units–– it always takes time for the masses to warm up to them. People didn't like Zhongli until he got his buffs, but now people are so desperate to get their hands on his shield. And Albedo? So far, he earned the lowest revenue during his banner at only 9(?) million from mobile players, in comparison to Zhongli's 16(?) mil, but now so many comments under anything the official accounts post has people begging for an Albedo re-run.

Listen, DPS units are good, okay, I'm not saying they're not, but most DPS characters are going to get powercrept one day. Mhy is always coming out with newer DPS charas with bigger multipliers and more optimized skills. Older DPS charas aren't as popular anymore (which, imo, is really unfair and not a wise choice since they still do a shitload of damage, but I digress) but if you look at it, support characters don't get replaced so easily. Like, think about it, Venti was the first ever limited 5 star that was released, right? And today, nearly a whole year, he's still regarded as one of the best characters in the game. Bennett and Sucrose are 4 star characters, but in those youtube vids, odds are they'll use their bursts to one-shot the bosses. And Mona, usually, is built more as a support than a DPS, but she's so integral to one-shot teams.

My point is, support characters are really, really valuable. Unfortunately, it takes people so long to see this–– usually, the characters' banners end by the time their potential is recognized. They're so overlooked just because they can't pop big numbers on their own, or because the character's builds are usually shit in their trials and give a bad impression, but one day people are going to regret not pulling for Kazuha dude.

Uh, TL;DR Kazuha is really really good, and I'm so passionate about the fact that people can't see that yet. Support units are very good, are are essential to make sure that your main damage dealer does big numbers, though you can run him as a damage dealer if you want to!! Point is, don't listen to other people and play him if you want to play him. Every character is a good character. Fuck the meta and tier lists, and those youtubers who discourage pulling for Kazuha just because they want clicks on their video. People who overlook pulling him now are going to be begging for his re-run one day.

#pls why did i type a whole wall of text I––#Please I'm just so mad that Kazuha has been out for such a short time and people are saying he's not worth it #Like tf??? Bruh I've been playing Kazuha as a DPS so far and he's fucking shit up and im on WL 7 right now #ugh I just really really hate the meta aspect and those tier lists fuck #Kisses from Catte 🦩#Onae anon #Playing Genshin w/ Catte 🦩#The loml can fuck shit up at C0 with whatever role you assign to him and he just gets better with cons tbh

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kakashibestie · 4 years

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u posted about this in july but anyway,,, research tips? how do u research? any resources ?? /// bye i love researching but i want to get better at it!!

HII!!! omg anon thank u for this ask like truly, my fondness of research + my adhd literally go hand in hand and i have no idea of how i’d do it if i was neurotypical so that’s a good thing to take into account when using tips from other ppl, the learning process is just about as personal as it gets and you do have to tailor it to ur own needs in order for it to be effective...bc let’s face it research can be tedious and boring if not carried out properly so yeah, i’ll list what i feel are the most crucial things to pay attention to when doing research below:

find a topic and narrow it down. let’s say you want to learn about idk dog breeds. good starting point, but there’s a shit ton of information on dog breeds available out there so your topic needs to be narrowed down in order for ur research to be successful. think wh questions: where? (e.g. dog breeds in mexico) when? (this is mostly useful for research involving numbered amounts, e.g. gun violence related deaths in the us in 2019 or about past events e.g. popular dog breeds in the 1950s) how? qualifiers!!! (e.g. best dog breeds for children, or maybe most popular dog breeds in the world, or even top dog breeds in mexico) the entire point of this is to make your research easier. the more specific your questions, the more specific the answers you’ll get.

give it purpose. this is like. the backbone of any good research imo. no matter how serious. asking yourself the following questions might help give purpose to your research: what do you want to learn about it? why do you want to learn about it?

keywords are your best friends when googling. im literally having vivid flasbacks to the zillion times my mom would ask me to help her google stuff because she wasn’t finding what she wanted. she’d type in stuff like CUTE FACEBOOK POSTS ABOUT REFORESTATION or other rly long questions typed in as if she was actually speaking to someone when google is...a website. so if you have a question popping up in your head think of a way to word it using only keywords. if i googled “naruto episode where naruto and sasuke fight again” it’ll eventually show me the episode i want but if i googled “naruto vs sasuke second fight episode number” i bet my ass it’d show it right away!!! using keywords will save you both time and effort when conducting literally ANY type of research and it’ll most likely lead you to more accurate results, while also polishing ur summarizing/logical thinking skills!!!!

MIND YOUR SOURCES!!! this is to ensure the information you’re gathering is reliable. for academic research my prof would always recommend websites ending in .edu .org and .gov...newspapers are good sometimes but u do have to be aware of the particular newspaper’s background so as to identify any possible biased opinions that might affect the objectiveness of your research.

CROSS CHECK YOUR INFORMATION. this one’s also viiiiiiital, and it goes hand in hand with getting ur info from reliable sources, esp. when carrying out important research or if your topic actually matters to you...you might look something up and find an article from a news outlet confirming it, but if you look it up again and not find any other sources talking about it then you should go back to ur base questions/main topic and figure out what to change in order to get the info you need, although most of the time, if only ONE outlet/website/paper’s talking about a particular topic or event it’s either incredibly recent or fake!

read read read, write write write. research will not only help you learn about various topics but it’ll also help you develop and nourish your comprehensive reading skills!!! this is particularly important in academic research because you’ll most likely encounter a GAZILLION papers/journals/articles about your topic of choice, and yes they’ll contain the information you need but it’s imperative u use ur reading comprehension skills to filter out things in order to get just what you need. the writing of course comes after the gathering, i often copy paste excerpts from sources i think might be useful later on, and even if i end up entirely rewriting the sentences, it’s still super helpful to have little passages handy in case i get lost along the way.

be mindful of ur time... if you’re at school/work and are given a deadline to meet, try ur best to organize yourself in a way that allows the process to be as smooth as possible, or else you’ll end up like me throughout most of my hs years up all night doing research at like 3am and finishing ur paper literally minutes before the deadline when you had...days or even WEEKS to do it the right way. self imposed deadlines for non-academic/professional research DO NOT WORK for me but you might find out they work for you so i’d say go ahead and give it a try!

HAVE FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the most important point of it All. there’s always a way to have fun while conducting research...put on your favorite music while googling shit...add fun little colors to your google doc titles before formatting it to turn it in...of course it’s easier to have fun doing research when said research is about a FUN topic...but ive done research on literally The Most Boring shit imaginable and i can tell you i’ve found a way to make it at least bearable...hell...even fun.

i hope this was helpful and if any mutuals/followers have any additions u think might be useful dont hesitate to send em in or add them to this answer!!! much love <3

#long post #most of this i extracted from this handbook our research prof gave us in law school but i leFT IT AT MOM'S DSKFJHFJKSFH #reference #anonymous #answered

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creepyoldbeejfics · 4 years

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Hello my lovely, I loved ur Dewey puppy fic so so much🥺 could we maybe get a soft fluffy Dewey request where the both of you are kinda sick with flu and you both just wanna take care of one another🥰 if you don’t feel like doing it or you have too many requests then please down worry!! I mist really loved ur writing💜

Yes!! I don’t get many requests so it’s fine!! This sounds like a really cute idea!!

Sorry this took so long by the way! I got really busy :\ I hope you like it!!!

Sick Together (Dewey Finn x Reader)

The early sunlight pours into your bedroom and you can hear birds chirping from the outside. You try to move so you can get out of bed and see the beautiful outdoors, but you can’t. Your body and head are dizzy and your whole room is spinning. Your throat is as dry and scorching as a desert and you can’t breathe through your nose. You groan in pain, or at least attempt to, with only a whine coming out at first that turned into silence.

You roll over, lazily grabbing your phone, squeezing your eyes shut to prepare yourself for the brightness from the screen. But to your luck, the brightness on your phone screen was at its lowest. You looked to see a text from Dewey that read: “Good morning beautiful ;)”. You smiled and blushed opening it to text back: “Good morning bby, how are you?” You turn it off leaving it on the charger, rolling back over to rest your eyes a little more.

Once you feel like you’re strong enough, you push yourself up and out of bed. You stumble over to the window looking out, squinting your eyes from the light. You looked at the time to see that it was 6:50 am and decided to make your way to the kitchen. You didn’t have an appetite, but figured that since you didn’t feel good, you might as well drink some water. As you poured yourself a glass, you noticed how freezing you were since you had left your bed. You walk over to the thermostat to see it at 65° F, remembering that you typically leave it cold at night to save energy since you’re not using that room then. You turn it up to around 70° hoping that maybe that was the reason why you were cold, although it felt like it was in the 40’s. You shivered, walking back to your glass of water and taking a sip. You immediately put the glass down and grabbed at your neck in pain. The water had felt like knives being dragged from inside your throat.

You knew you had to drink water to help you feel better, but you were dreading the pain you’d receive as you’d drink it so you decided that you’d watch TV to distract yourself. You grabbed a thick fluffy blanket and wrapped it around yourself and turned on the TV. Throughout watching and reluctantly drinking your water, you kept coughing. Your throat felt worse and scratchier than ever.

After you finished your glass of water, which took you a span of an hour to drink due to the pain, you got up to check the thermostat since you were still freezing. It was at 69°. You rolled your eyes, quickly walking to the bathroom and opening a drawer to pull out a thermometer. You scanned your forehead with it, looking at it to see that your temperature’s at 100.5° F. ‘Great. I‘m sick,’ you thought. You walked back into the living room falling back on the couch and surrounding yourself in your thick, warm blanket.

About 15 minutes later you were fast asleep. You were turning uncomfortably in your sleep opening your eyes slowly to see a figure above you looking down at you from behind the couch. You got up immediately slapping them in the face.

“Ow!! What was that for??”

You recognized the voice immediately. “I’m so sorry Dewey, oh my God!” You run around the couch to hug him, but stop yourself, leaving his accepting, open arms empty. “I thought you were an intruder,” you explained breathing heavily, grabbing the couch to hold yourself up, as you had gotten up too fast.

“It’s okay, I’m just glad to know you’re okay,” Dewey said smiling in relief.

“Wait, what? Why wouldn’t I be okay?” You asked raising an eyebrow.

“I texted you about an hour ago and you didn’t answer so I called you and you never answered and I was starting to worry that something happened to you so I came over as quickly as possible to check on you.” He rambled.

“An hour? That’s not that long. I just left my phone in bedroom. But thanks for caring about me so much,” you said grinning. “Wait, what time is it?”

Dewey lifted his wrist to check his watch, “8:15, why?”

“What?? Shouldn’t you be at school?!” You asked worriedly.

“They’ll be ok if I’m a little late. Besides, I’m always late.”

You giggled, “I don’t think that’s something you should be proud of.”

He shrugged it off, “Yeah, well, I should probably get going.” He stepped towards you with open arms. You leaned in to hug him, but stopped half way realizing the condition you were in. “Ah, um... we don’t have time, you should get going,” you coughed which ended up turning into a small coughing fit.

“You okay?” He asked tilting his head a bit.

“I’m fine,” you coughed again, your throat sounding hoarse. “Hair in my throat.”

“Oh, could I get you some water?” He offered, heading towards the fridge.

“Dewey!!” You blurted. “I’m fine! Stop worrying about me and get out of here.”

“Okay, okay!” He chuckled heading towards you to give you a hug. “That’s not necessary,” you said quickly, trying to back up, but it was too late. He stepped back immediately. “Your arms are on fire.”

“I worked out this morning,” you answered quickly.

“Then why did you have a blanket wrapped around you?” He questioned suspiciously.

“Because I get cold... after... work outs...” you responded unsure.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know, crazy right? I mean I could do about-,” you stopped as he took the back of his hand and held it against your forehead. “What are you doing??” You smacked his hand away.

“You’re burning up,” he responded, ignoring your question and quickly running to your bathroom and coming back scanning your forehead with your thermometer.

“Hey! What makes you think you can just,” he cut you off. “101,” he said studying it. “You have a fever,” he looked at you with a look in his eyes that only you could understand.

“What? Ha ha! Nooo... That thermometer’s really old!! It doesn’t work anymore!” You frantically explained, coughing a bit afterwards. Crap. He looked at you, not believing you for one second. “I thought you looked pale...” He immediately picked you up princess style carrying you towards the couch.

“No, no! No! Dewey!” You whined. “Don’t! I’m fine!”

Without responding, he layed you down gently on the couch, taking the blanket and covering you with it. Grabbing your empty cup, he went over to the fridge and refilled it again. “No, please Dewey! You have to go to school! I can take care of myself.”

Still, no response as he put your cup on the coffee table next to you. He went back into the kitchen, pulling his phone out of his pocket and lifting it up to his ear. You threw an arm over the top of the couch to hoist yourself up. “Dewey! No, what are you thinking!!” You scolded in a harsh whisper. “Yes, hi I’m not feeling well today, so if it’s alright with you I’m going to stay home today to rest up.” He said in a fake groggy voice into the phone. “Sorry this is so last minute.” He fake coughed into the phone. You rolled your eyes and laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to find one,” he assured. Some silence. “Okay, thank you. You too. Bye.”

“Dewey, you idiot! I’m a grown adult! I can take care of myself! Go to school for crying out loud!!” You scolded him, coughing.

“Save your voice, sweetheart. Have you eaten today? Would you like chicken noodle soup or maybe fruit? Ice cream? It helps scratchy throat and coughing. At least it does for me.”

You pouted, mad that he wasn’t going to school and the fact that you were only slightly sick, yet he still stayed to make sure you felt better. Don’t get me wrong, you loved how caring he was being and it was super sweet and flattering, but you’re a grown adult and you’re capable of taking care of yourself.

“Okay, I’ll get you all of the above,” he said with raised eyebrows, smiling.

“No! No. Ugghh... I’ll just have some fruit.”

“Good choice,” he winked. You rolled your eyes, blushing at how annoying, yet caring he was.

A few minutes later he brings you a bowl of assorted fruits. He hands it to you, grinning down at you.

“What?”

“I love taking care of you,” he leaned foward, kissing you on the head.

“Don’t! I mean that’s very sweet of you, babe, but I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Hey. Don’t worry about me okay?” He said caressing your cheek. You smiled at his touch, leaning into his hand a bit. “Besides, I don’t get sick.”

‘Yeah, right,’ you thought to yourself. Dewey walked over and grabbed the remote. “You wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure, but you’re sitting over there so I didn’t get you sick,” you lazily gesture to the chair next to the couch. You start coughing again.

“What movie do you want to watch?" He asked, ignoring what you said.

“Uhh any movie’s fine with me.”

“Okay, how about Me Before You?” He asked looking at you with a gentle smile.

“Sure, that’s fine,” you say wrapping the blanket around you tighter.

As the movie begins to play, Dewey walks over to the edge of the couch, climbing in behind you. “Dewey, no, I told you to sit on the chair!”

“Too late now. And I told you I don’t get sick,” He assured you. “Deweyyy,” you groaned. “Shhh! The movie’s starting.”

Throughout the movie, Dewey had his arm wrapped around your waist, and would occasionally run his fingers through your hair, which of course, lulled you to sleep. Halfway through the movie, yes you had fallen asleep in the beginning of the movie, you were woken by Dewey coughing. At first you dismissed it thinking he probably just swallowed the wrong way, but he kept coughing every now and then. You could tell he was trying to hide it and cough as softly as possible, probably to prevent himself from waking you up. Well, too late.

“You don’t get sick, huh?”

“Oh you’re awake. I don’t, I just swallowed the wrong way,” he said coughing once again.

“Dewey, you’ve been coughing for the past twenty minutes.”

“Y/N, I’m fine.”

“Ok, sure,” you said yawning.

You fell back asleep, but continued to shiver throughout the rest of the movie. Later, you woke up, noticing the TV was turned off and your chills were gone. Instead, you were really warm. Not hot, but just warm. But instead of you being the source of the heat, you noticed the source was actually behind you. You sat up slowly so you wouldn’t wake your boyfriend up. You looked at him noticing his face was flushed, so you brought the back of your hand to his forehead. Getting up from the couch, you stumble to the kitchen where the thermometer was. You checked his temperature, and sure enough it was a fever. Grabbing a towel, you ran some cool water and dampened it and put it over Dewey’s forehead. As you figured would happen, he woke up.

“What...?” He asked dazed and confused. He reached for the towel on his forehead, but you grabbed his hand bringing it back down.

“Don’t. You have a fever. This will help bring your temperature back down.”

“No, don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself. Go back to sleep, Y/N,” he said in a tired voice.

“Babe. Let me help take care of you,” you said sweetly, looking down at him with tired eyes.

“No, it’s- I’m fine, just sleep now please,” he mumbled, eyes closed.

“I think you’re the one who needs sleep now,” you giggled weakly.

“And water...?”

“Of course, honeydew.” You got up, filling a cup with water. You walked back to the couch to see Dewey sitting up this time.

“Here you go, baby,” you smiled, handing him the water.

“Thanks,” he said, tiredly grabbing the cup and drinking it. He coughed a bit after a couple sips.

“Do you have a sore throat?” You queried.

“No, it’s just a bit scratchy. Do you have one?”

You nodded. At that, Dewey got up, walking to the bathroom. He came back out with a bag of watermelon flavored cough drops, handing you a couple. “Aww, thank you baby.” You popped one into your mouth, smiling at the sweet flavor, but also grabbing at your throat when you swallowed.

“I know it won’t make your sore throat go away, but it’ll at least soothe it for a while,” he said wrapping his arm around you. You leaned your head into him.

“Okay, wait. How did I even get sick already? Doesn’t it take a couple days until you start showing symptoms?” He asked rubbing his head.

“Well we went on that date a couple nights ago, so you probably got it then and didn’t start showing symptoms until now.”

“So I guess it wouldn’t have mattered if I cuddled with you anyway,” he said smirking.

“Look I’m not a doctor, it’s just a guess,” you stated.

“Well it doesn’t matter now.”

“Yeah, you’re right. At least now we can both take care of each other,” you said softly.

“No, I can take care of myself. Just let me take care of you.”

“Dewey. It’s okay to let people you love take care of you. I’m okay. It’s just a cold. Let’s both work as a team and take care of each other, okay? Besides, the past other times you’ve been sick you would be whining and groaning on the couch like it’s your last day on earth,” you said giggling.

“Stop talking, your sore throat’s gonna get worse,” he responded quickly.

“You’re not even going to respond to that part? You’re not gonna defend yourself? Or admit? Ohhh, or are you just ignoring that part because you know that it’s true,” you teased.

“This is the first time we‘ve both been sick at the same time. You are my top priority and I don’t need you to waste energy caring for me. Now go to sleep. It’s 12 in the morning.”

You giggled again, “Okay, okay.”

He held you tight, and you could feel him grinning at the back of your neck. You smiled as well, nestling back into him and putting your hands over his hands. All of a sudden you felt a small gentle kiss at the back of your neck.

“I love you,” he whispered gently.

“I love you too.”

Later that night, you wake up to teeth chattering very loudly behind you as well as Dewey’s body shaking. You were sweaty as hell, but you got up to grab your fluffiest, thickest blanket and layed it on top of him. You liked being cuddled so you grabbed his right arm pulling it gently over you. You felt his hand go over your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome,” you whispered back.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Not entirely,” you said unsure. “I’m still feeling weak and tired and my throat is still sore.”

“You should drink some water while you’re up,” he advised.

“You should too,” you said grabbing his water, gently patting him to sit up.

He sat up reluctantly taking the water from your hands and pointing to your water as he sipped from his. You grabbed yours and whinced after swallowing the water that felt like knives.

“Aww, my poor baby,” Dewey rubbed your back gently, looking at you pitifully.

You put your drink down, weakly laughing, which turned into a small coughing fit. He grabbed your waist pulling you towards him so he could be close to you.

“Have you been having trouble sleeping tonight?” He asked quietly.

“A little bit, but it’s okay.”

“Maybe I can help...” he responded, brushing your hair and massaging your scalp with his fingers. You were immediately in heaven, and within five minutes, you fell asleep. He fell asleep as well, and the two of you somewhat comfortably slept the night away.

You woke up first, noticing that your sore throat is almost gone, and you could finally breathe through your nose again. You still felt a bit weak and your head hurt, but that didn’t stop you from making breakfast for your sleepy boyfriend.

Once you made it to the kitchen, you started right away on making an omelet. After you finished making it, you brought it over into the living room, where Dewey was fast asleep. You ran your hands through his scalp softly, and you noticed a smile grow on his face.

“Mmm that smells good,” he mumbled rubbing his face. He looked at what you made for him, and then up at you.

“What about you?” He asked, not taking the dish.

“I’m going to make my breakfast as soon as you take what I made for you.”

“Okay,” he said smiling up at you. “Thank you.”

You smiled back, blushing even. You went and made yourself an omelette and came back to sit next to him.

“Are you feeling any better?” Dewey asked.

“I am actually,” you responded. “Just a little bit though.”

“That’s good to hear,” he grinned and continued to eat his omelette.

“Yeah, how about you? Your voice sounds better.”

“I feel a bit better, but still feel weak and cold. Which is weird because I never get cold,” he said frowning.

“Yeah, I’m the one who’s typically cold and comes running to you for warmth,” you giggled. Dewey shook his head smiling, and then stopping to look at you.

“What?”

“It’s just... I really appreciate you being here to take care of me and cheer me up,” he explained staring at you lovingly, “I only wish I could’ve done the same for you.”

“Dewey, what are you talking about? Of course you did!”

“I know, I guess I’m just mad that I got sick because I wanted to take care of you the whole time.”

“Aww, Dewey! It’s okay, baby!” You assured wrapping your arms around him. “I think it was more fun getting to take care of each other. And it’s important to in all aspects of dating. It’s not one sided. We’re both supposed to be here for each other through anything,” you told him, ending it with a kiss on the cheek.

He blushed, grinning, “You know what? You’re right. I’m glad we both got to take care of each other. And I’m glad I got to spend my sick day with you.”

#school of rock bway #school of rock broadway #school of rock musical #school of rock #school of rock fanfiction #dewey finn #dewey finn fanfiction #dewey finn x reader

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rotworld · 4 years

Text

Seven Years of Bad Luck

a kind anon said:

oooh im not the anon who asked abt ur hxh ocs BUT i did just start watching the show recently and would be very interested if you did post more about them! i love ur character designs for them too hehe

and i appreciate that more than i can say! this is a teeny bit old (about as old as the art lol) but i tried to tidy it up a bit. this is some of that elusive “personal oc writing” that i generally don’t post lol but if you like my writing and you like hxh, you might like this.

in which illumi zoldyck gets cursed on a job and has no choice but to visit one of the worst-reviewed exorcists in the hunter association.

->featuring illumi/oc. contains mild gore.

It’s a messy killing, leaving Illumi knee-deep in carnage and disappointment. There was an error in the assignment details he received, perhaps clerical, perhaps wilfully negligent, and someone will be getting fined, fired or executed for this. The bottom line is that the target wasn’t supposed to be a nen-user. Deliberate concealment to avoid the extra fee, or genuine ignorance? It’s difficult to say. The job is done, of course, but it brings no satisfaction. He’s spent a shameful amount of time, effort and nen here, and the result is an insult to the Zoldyck name.

The foyer of his target’s home is nothing short of a bloodbath. Every inch of lace, every porcelain and gilded surface, every fine velvet sheet and curtain is stained with dripping crescents of arterial spray. Inexcusably sloppy. It drips steadily down the floral wallpaper and cools on Illumi’s skin. None of it is his, but the perfectionist in him is seething.

It’s always civilians who refuse to die with dignity. Not martial artists, not seasoned criminals, not even other assassins, because a professional knows when they’ve met their match. But civilians? They’ll writhe and scream and do all manner of ugly, desperate things when met with their own mortality. Illumi has been offered all manner of goods and services in exchange for human life; family heirlooms. Deeds to land. The names and addresses of business rivals. None the least bit enticing. Worst of all, they’ll keep getting back up no matter what’s done to them.

The legs have to go first, he’s learned. The quicker he can sever tendons, the better. Otherwise, things like this happen. He frowns at the red spatters staining his shoes. He clicks his tongue at the dead woman sprawled in the foyer. “This didn’t have to be such a mess,” he tells her. Predictably, she does not reply.

An employer’s motives are never relevant. Illumi usually refrains from curious musings, but jobs like this one sometimes conjure stray thoughts. The target had been Ecila Hargraves, a middle-aged woman, sickly, wealthy and paranoid. She had been an eccentric who kept thousands of mirrors, dozens in each room and lining each hallway, smooth panels of glass observing all the goings on in her estate. Most dismissed it as vanity but Illumi suspects something purposeful in their number and positioning. Ecila had been latent, after all, her aura nodes half-open. She’d sensed him coming, though too late to do much about it.

Illumi retrieves his needles from the human pincushion of a corpse. He doesn’t spare her a second glance except to check her pulse and pupils for any lingering signs of life. Nothing. Time to report back and go home. The Zoldyck personal transmitter lights up with a soft electronic beep when he presses the button on top. Illumi waits, glancing to the side and finding his reflection gazing back from a tall, wall-mounted mirror. He sees blood caked in his hair and frowns, pinching a drying clot between his fingers.

As he’s looking at it, the mirror cracks. A jagged line cuts across his reflection’s face. Illumi glances back at the target, but she hasn’t moved. Something in the air shifts.

His father’s voice comes through the transmitter, gruff and distracted. “Hm? Illumi?”

“Job’s finished,” Illumi says, or starts to say. He gets a prickling feeling in his throat and coughs, startled by the sudden stinging sensation and the taste of blood. He spits up a mouthful of glass shards into his palm, slick with saliva and a faint, cloudy red. Illumi lets them slip between his fingers and they tinkle like broken bells across the marble floor, vanishing into light. “Huh,” he says.

“What’s the matter?”

“Slight problem,” Illumi says. His voice catches at another painful itch in his windpipe. Something snags on the soft inner lining of his throat. He coughs up more glass. He can feel the sharp press of it under his skin, in his stomach, gathering in his lungs like icicles on a roof. Breathing becomes an agonizing chore.

“I thought the job was done,” Silva says, but the confusion in his voice quickly hardens to a stern sort of concern. “How long has it been since you killed the target?”

“About four minutes. She’s definitely dead.” He’s been counting. He always does, just in case. It’s important with nen-users, even the informally trained, to check for vitals several times within the first four minutes to ensure a shielding technique isn’t in use to feign death. Another sharp prickling feeling makes him cough again, the sound harsh and wet as he dislodges a tangle of glass and shredded tissue.

“Tell me exactly what you’re experiencing right now.”

Illumi glances down at himself, assessing his condition. “Chest pain, moderate to severe. I’m breaking out in a cold sweat, and now I’m coughing up glass.” He has to pause when he feels another jagged shape coming up his throat. When he holds the glass up to inspect, it starts to fade in his palm. “Conjured, by the looks of it. It doesn’t hold its shape long. I’m certain no one else is in the house, though.”

“It must be a post-mortem nen technique. You’ve been cursed,” Silva says gravely. Illumi can just make out the faint sound of his father’s footsteps echoing down the long, dark halls of the Zoldyck manor with a hurriedness he doesn’t often hear. “Your condition is going to deteriorate too quickly for you to make it home. There are several exorcists I can send to you, but they’re not close to your position and you need treatment immediately. See if you can find one in the area before then.”

Illumi recognizes the order in his father’s tone. He says, “Understood,” or tries to. The word breaks apart on more glass and he coughs into his hand. He’s never been cursed before, but he recognizes the signs he’s read about; the disharmony of his nen, the gradual erosion of his aura from the inside-out, an unnerving coldness creeping up from the pit of his stomach. If he isn’t already bleeding internally, it’s only a matter of time.

He can’t die here, not like this. Not even in combat but choking on his own blood from a latent nen-user’s last act of defiance. That would set a terrible example for Killua. He consults the Hunter Association Affiliates Database on his phone and filters for exorcist services, his fingers starting to shake involuntarily. He has to widen the search radius a couple times but one finally shows up within the city limits. The reviews left by other hunters, however, give him pause.

“Cured, but fucked me up for a few days. Avoid at all costs. 1/5”

—Mizaistom

“A reliable option in life or death situations. Bedside manner could be improved. 3/5”

—Satotz

“Sent a student here to teach him not to get cursed again, worked like a charm. Would not recommend to colleagues. 2/5”

—Morel

“Pretty sure I got exorcised in a pawn shop parking lot. Exorcist didn’t have any painkillers. So excruciatingly painful I briefly lost consciousness and was left on the pavement to wake up by myself when someone almost hit me with their car. 5/5”

—Ging

“Will not kill you, but will make you wish you had died. 2/5"

—Kite

Illumi would like to weigh his options but he doesn’t have many. The curse is progressing quickly. There’s glass in his lungs and every breath takes like rust, and the next closest exorcist is in another town. Even an inefficient exorcist could buy him some time, so he makes his decision, tells his father not to bother sending anyone, and starts moving.

He keeps his stride slow and natural to ease the burden on his lungs, but the prickling burn of nen glass builds with each passing second. It feels like he’s swallowed hot coals and a handful of his own needles by the time he’s navigated the zigzagging streets. A makeshift settlement of tin roof shanties and bender tents stretches along the banks of a river. The location marker on his GPS nearly overlaps with the dot indicating his destination. Illumi approaches a local, a bearded man in a ratty coat, and says, “I’m looking for the exorcist.”

“Here for the witch herself, eh?” the man says sourly. “I’d keep your distance, friend, she’s more trouble than—”

Illumi flicks his wrist and lodges five needles in the man’s face, making him gargle in pain as he clutches at his distorting flesh. “Where’s the exorcist?” he asks. A shaky fingers points further down the riverbank.

“T...tent,” the man tells him, voice thick with pain and the contortion of his mouth. “In the...the tent with all the creepy shit out front. Can’t miss it.” Intensive childhood training to boost Illumi’s pain tolerance is the only reason he’s still on his feet. He picks up the pace.

The exorcist’s tent is a foreboding sight, a patchwork of mismatched fabric in many shades of red. There are ritual implements out on display, an incense burner giving off pale, sweet smoke and various personal belongings carelessly lying about, but Illumi doesn’t have time to look around. His ears are filling with static and his vision is narrowing to a small tunnel as the curtain of unconsciousness begins to close in around him. He rips the tent flap out of the way and steps inside.

“Oh dear!” comes a gasp of surprise. The exorcist is a young woman and she regards him with shock, a straw doll clutched in her hands. “Dear, oh dear,” she murmurs, slinking closer. “You look terrible. Come in, let’s have a look at you.”

There’s a black cloth stretched across the ground, stained with discolored splotches of what Illumi recognizes as dried blood. A wide circle with runic inscriptions is stitched into the fabric in stark white thread, and she gestures for him to step inside. When he passes her, he feels her nen; irregular, thick and clotted as though diseased. It’s not flowing normally.

“Oh dear,” the exorcist seems to say over and over, staring openly at him like a new, exciting toy. She’s fortunate that Illumi is on death’s door and riddling her with his needles would drastically limit her exorcism capabilities. “Your aura is rotting. Does it hurt?”

“Quite a bit,” Illumi says blandly.

She steps into the circle with him and it’s only now, with the sudden flare of her nen, that he really looks at her. Defensive reflex. Nobody gets this close to him without a proper assessment. Illumi has seen exorcists before. The Zoldyck family has a roster of the most notable and talented on their payroll. He’s seen them scurry through the halls in their elaborate ritual garb with their tools of the trade since he was just a boy. He’s never seen one like her.

She’s dressed asymmetrically, one sleeve long and billowing, the other rolled up to her shoulder. Her left hand is gloved and the right covered in black velvet that exposes only her middle fingers. Her nen only seeps from where her skin is uncovered, and Illumi frowns when she misinterprets his curious stare and smiles like she’s flattered. Green hair and red eyes—striking and familiar somehow, but Illumi can’t quite place it.

“Do you remember much about the person who cursed you?” she asks.

“They were latent,” Illumi says. “A conjurer, if I had to guess.” He coughs and there’s more blood than glass now, streaming through his fingers. He lowers his hand to show her and she makes a thoughtful sound.

“Oh dear,” she says, fiddling with the doll in her hands. Illumi sees more of them scattered around the tent with nails driven through them, dressed in small clothes with their little mouths stitched shut. The one she’s holding is plain and featureless, but he sees cloudy nen leak from the exposed middle finger of her right hand and slowly engulf the small figure. She conjures a replica of Illumi’s clothing and long black strands of stringy doll hair.

Illumi wants to ask if she’s going to get on with it, but he’s cut off by a sharp pain just beneath his sternum. The glass is growing, getting caught in his windpipe and slicing up his insides. Illumi’s vision blurs but he thinks he sees the exorcist smiling. Faintly, he’s aware of touch—a hand on his shoulder, fingers clamped down in a firm and bruising grip. he feels that strange, unnerving aura caressing him, and then an explosion of pain.

It feels like he’s been turned inside out, his delicate, vulnerable parts raked by sharp sensation. His aura is split apart in ways he didn’t think possible, and it’s like dying, like a training exercise where he had to escape a burning building with his hands tied and his nen sealed, and it almost killed him, all that smoke and burning in his lungs. Breathing and blinking and being, everything is agony. He’s too hot and too cold all at once. The pain is enough to elicit a flinch, something he hasn’t done since childhood.

Illumi’s nen is ripped out of him in raw, tangled knots where it’s been infected. He can see it, the dark, heavy swirl of nen dancing along the exorcist’s bare fingertips. She took off her glove at some point, let it fall to the floor, and she shivers as the curse ripples around her fingers, guided by the flick of her wrist into the doll. Wordlessly, she drives a nail through the center of Illumi’s straw effigy, and just like that, it’s over. The pain stops. The glass vanishes all at once. Illumi’s nen smooths into its natural flow and he takes his first deep breath without being sliced apart from the inside.

“Oh dear,” the exorcist says breathlessly. She wobbles, her knees shaking as she bends to pick up her discarded glove. “Feeling better?” she asks. Illumi glances at the doll she’s clutching, his tiny double that frowns back at him with its thin, threaded mouth.

“I’ve never seen an exorcism like that,” he says. “It’s in there now? Will it dissolve on its own?”

“Of course not,” the exorcist says, smiling. “I was careful to extract it intact. It should hold its shape perfectly, even in a new host. Ah, you probably want something for the pain, right? I can’t imagine all that glass felt nice.” She takes a step and immediately pitches forward, falling face-first. Illumi catches her with an arm around her waist. “Awfully kind of you,” she says slyly.

“It’s nothing personal,” Illumi says. “Good exorcists are worth their weight in gold. You just demonstrated your value.” Mother’s exact words. There had been a curse that nearly killed his father when Illumi was young, and they’d paid the exorcist who saved him enough to buy a small country. “You should know your limits better. You’re drained. I’m surprised you’re still conscious.”

“That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’” she muses. She lets him help her over to a cushioned seat against one of the fabric walls of her tent.

“Stay here,” he says. “I don’t need painkillers, just something for the bleeding in my throat. Just tell me where you keep it.”

“There’s ingestible clotroot in the jar by the birdcage.” There is, indeed, a birdcage at the back of the tent, and another straw effigy inside, this one with a cloth wrapped tightly around its head. Illumi wonders what isn’t crammed in here somewhere. He’s rummaging through the exorcist’s haphazardly scattered and unlabeled herbal supplies when he hears her say, “What’s your name?”

“Illumi Zoldyck,” he says.

There’s a long pause. “Those zoldycks?” she asks carefully.

“Yep.” The clotroot is wedged beneath a pile of glass vials and jars. He strips the leafy herb down to its small, bitter core and bites down. The taste is nauseating but it soothes the ache and heals the lacerations quickly. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to kill you. I really did just need an exorcism,” he says mildly. “Honestly, it’s your lucky day. I’ll pay you double for seeing me on such short notice.”

“That’s very generous, but…” She trails off. Illumi turns and finds her peering up at him through her lashes. “You’ll only have to pay me half if you let me keep it.”

“Keep what?”

“Your curse,” she purrs.

Illumi blinks, staring at her, and then at his smaller double on the floor. “What are you going to do with it?”

Her smile widens. “Whatever I want.”

“Hm. I don’t really care, I guess.”

She claps her hands together. “Perfect, thank you! It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Zoldyck. I’m Porpora, by the way.”

Illumi didn’t ask and doesn’t care. He’s looking up rates for airship tickets and moving to leave, but she stops him with a protesting sound.

“You’re leaving already?” she says.

Illumi stares back at her. “Yes? Why would I stay?” Ah, he realizes, she probably wants to make sure she gets paid. “You’re listed in the Hunter Affiliate’s Database, aren’t you? I’ll send payment directly to your account.”

“I appreciate it, of course, but…” She hesitates. “Well, where are you off to?”

So she wants to make small talk. Illumi dislikes extended conversation with non-family, but the Zoldycks are not known for shunning those who are useful. He indulges her, saying, “A hotel for a few hours, just to clean up, and then home. I just finished a job and I need to report back to the client.” And then, as he’s been taught for the purpose of easing targets into a false sense of security, he asks about her. “What are you doing out here, living in a tent? I thought exorcism was lucrative.”

“Surprised?” she says, beaming. “The money is decent, I just don’t see the point in spending it on a house or apartment. I grew up like this, going from place to place. I can’t imagine being tied down to anywhere in particular.”

“Ah,” he says.

Finally, her smile falls. “Not the talkative type, are you? Well, I won’t keep you. Just be careful. Take some time off work, if you can. A week should do it to make sure you’re all healed up.”

Illumi nods, perfectly content to disregard the advice. A week is ridiculous. He’ll be back in the field tomorrow once he’s had a checkup at home. He pays her—double, like he first promised. He has no use for a wandering exorcist but he was taught better than to undervalue their services.

“Take care,” she tells him, lifting the little doll’s arm so his straw double waves. “Hopefully, you won’t need to see me ever again.”

“Hopefully,” Illumi agrees.

#rotpeach writes #fanfiction #hxh #illumi #oc #this was intended to be the first chapter of a longer story #hisoka features prominently as his usual terrible self #weirdly enough i actually have some new content on the way and its all dead by daylight #two months ago i was like lol look at silly old me writing for a game i dont play #now im a claudette main

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