#the better i can focus on creating the Thing instead of how to create the Thing

[bt-tarot]

Hi 💕, could you make Bangchan's ideal type? Please

Hi! Yes💞

VII of Wands, Queen of Swords Rev., Page of Swords

He likes someone he needs to fight for, either because is a person that needs time to open up or because he wants to prove them how serious he is and would show them how better he is than their other suitors (in the first stages of the relationship, of course). He likes the chase. Maybe someone a little closed off who he can help open up little by little. I’m getting onion-like(?), like someone who has many stories and layers and he just keeps getting interested the more he gets to know them. I think he would like a slow burn type of romance. Someone who has boundaries and respect his boundaries as well.

I think he would like someone witty who just gets him. He would love someone who can just get his references without explaining too much and have that kind of inexplicable connection. I’m getting that he likes people who appear harsh at first but are actually nice and it’s just their facade. Maybe someone who focus on work the most and likes to do many things to keep their head busy. I’m getting bossy baddie who gets the work done and has a sharp tongue.

With the page of swords I think he would like someone who is naturally very curious and mature but with a childlike spirit. It’s a little contradicting but he wants someone he can have fun with but also who knows when to be serious and read the room. He wants someone who is excited about the future and whom he can share ideas with. His ideal type is someone who can show him another side of the world, who can expand his mind and show him different ways of create, communicate and see life. Maybe someone who can make a team with him and be happy together.

The Glow Rev., The Wave, The Create

His ideal type is people who shine quietly. I’m getting Kuronuma Sawako vibes in the way they present, like someone who has more than what people think and who has an unexpected way of standout. Someone flexible and adaptable, resilient and who goes with the flow. Someone who rides the wave instead of running from it. And again, someone creative, could work in the music field or related, but I’m getting that it doesn’t matter if they don’t work in the arts or the industry, he would like at least someone open minded, who creates too (even if it’s not their source of income) and willing to understand his job and respect it.♠︎

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

That last part… I understand what he meant in the sense that sometimes people look down at artists and don’t really believe that we’re doing a respectable career. I don’t know if he gets that on a daily basis, especially now that skz is much bigger, but yeah, he wants someone who respects his career and how much he sacrificed for it.

He stressed so much that part and gave me so many examples of people speaking nonsense, I’m like “I get it, Chan, chill”.

I hope he gets his sunshine baddie who gives off black cat energy and is actually a softie. And respect him and his job.

Thank you for asking!🦇♡

[thediktatortot]

I need to figure out how to study comic paneling? Not that I don't understand how it works, but I'm having a hard time conceptualizing my own ideas into a panel. I've decided that writing a story just isn't going to be feasible for me long term, but drawing one is. I've never tried to make a comic, but hey, I'm only 32.

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[navybrat817]

All Dressed Up

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky visits a gallery to support his best friend and unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: First meeting, mild dirty thoughts, instacrush, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Okay, lovelies. A new AU. I'm sorry. @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline @whisperlullaby @sgt-seabass @vesearlee , I feel like you all either heard me screech, encouraged, or helped me, and I appreciate you. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo and divider by the incredible @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t dress up for most people since it wasn’t his style. He would do so for any of his brothers though, especially Steve. His best friend since childhood, and his club’s president, he always had a love and talent for drawing and painting. And after working his ass off on his exhibit it would’ve been a crime for the vice president not to show up.

Steve promised if there was ever a day when Bucky’s writing became published he’d be by his side to celebrate too. As much as they liked to give each other shit sometimes about art and how they created it, the support was there through and through. The only catch for tonight was that he had to dress nicely to get into the gallery. So, instead of the usual leather jacket or vest he wore and jeans, he went with a plain black suit and white button up shirt.

He refused to wear a tie since it wasn’t a wedding. He had to draw a line somewhere. No one paid him any mind though as they walked around the gallery, and he was more than fine with that. This wasn’t his night.

“You should be proud, punk,” Bucky said, looking over the art lining the large wall, each piece crafted with care.

“I am proud, jerk,” Steve smiled. He hadn’t worn a tie either, and it made Bucky feel a little better. “And you know you don’t have to stay the whole time.”

Bucky knew that. He also knew members and prospects would be trickling in and out throughout the evening. “Not needed at the bar tonight, so I can stay as long as I want. But I might cut out early since I see your face enough between that and the club.”

Steve chuckled. “Still haven’t sold the place, huh?”

The brunette sighed. It wasn’t the first time Steve asked if he was going to sell the bar to focus more on writing. “Where the hell would you all hang out if I sold the place?” He liked the bar. It wasn’t just a great hangout for the club, but for his other regulars, too.

“There are other bars,” Steve teased. He said that, but he loved the bar, too. “You know I just want you to-”

“Follow my compass. I know. You’ve said that so many…” He stopped talking when he saw an unexpected angel walk into the room.

Well, angel was the word that came to mind since you were wearing a white dress and the light over your head illuminated you like a halo. But as his eyes swept over you, he wondered if there was a bit of a devil in you. He wouldn’t mind bringing that side out of you if you gave him the chance.

And here he used to think love at first sight was bullshit.

“Hey. Do you know her?” Bucky subtly nodded in your direction as you spoke to another woman, jealousy flaring up for a second at the thought of his best friend knowing you and not telling him. And if you knew Steve, that was that before things even started. While the blonde didn’t have much game growing up, he came into his own after his growth spurt, and everyone adored or wanted him.

Steve shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said, making Bucky’s shoulders slump in relief before his friend scrutinized him. “Jesus, are you eye fucking her? You are, aren’t you?”

Bucky wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “And I’ll keep doing it ‘til she looks at me,” he replied, wishing you’d at least spare him a glance and get a look at him in his nice suit. Maybe you weren’t into guys with tattoos and piercings, but he was certain he could change your mind if that was the case.

“How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?” Steve asked. “Just introduce yourself like a gentleman and see where that goes.”

“A couple of months? Something like that.” Tearing his gaze away to glance at his inked hands, he chuckled. “You think I’m a gentleman?”

He could be dangerous and downright dirty when the occasion called for it, but just because he rode a motorcycle and covered himself in tattoos and piercings didn’t mean he treated others poorly. He was raised better than that. Even with his ex-girlfriends, things never ended because he didn’t treat them well. They just weren’t the one.

“We both know you are. Sometimes,” Steve answered, smirking as a beat passed. “And she’s looking your way.”

Bucky’s head snapped up to find you looking right at him with a curious stare. You had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Which was nothing compared to your smile. It was like watching the sun slowly rise to meet the day.

Fuck, he was being sappy. You ruined him with a single stare, and he wanted to ruin you in return. Make it so you wouldn’t want another man.

You whispered something to the woman beside you before she nudged you forward and he realized Steve pushed him to move, too. It only took three more steps before he was right in front of you, the gentle smell of your sweet perfume filling his nostrils. Need slammed into his body as you smiled again, and he actually felt the blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils widened.

If Steve thought he was eye fucking you before…

“Hey,” he said, his voice raspier than usual.

“Hi,” you said. It was a voice he could listen to for hours and he wondered what it would sound like when you said his name.

“I’m Bucky.” He took a smaller step closer, trying his damnedest to block out any other man around him so you’d keep those pretty eyes on him.

You introduced yourself, too, and it was a name he would never forget. “I like your tattoos,” you added almost shyly. Almost.

If he had his way, you’d see the rest of them soon enough. “Thanks,” he smiled, holding one hand up to show you. “Dressed like this, I bet you think I’m part of the mob.” After getting dressed and adding the gold jewelry, even he thought for a split second he looked like a mobster.

“Are you or is that information I can’t be privy to?” you asked, making him chuckle. You didn’t skip a beat, and he liked that.

“Not part of the mob, but I am part of a motorcycle club,” he replied. He wore his patch with pride and that didn’t seem to scare you, which was good. “I also own a bar.” He didn’t know why added that part. You didn’t ask and he didn’t want to brag, but there he was.

“So, you ride a motorcycle, and you own a bar?” You glanced back at your friend to ask her, “Do you mind if I…”

“I’m good. You two talk,” your friend smiled, giving Bucky an encouraging wink. He looked back to find that Steve walked away, too.

You smiled as you faced Bucky again. “Well, I’m happy to hear more about either of those things if you have time.”

“Yeah.” A lopsided smile appeared before he could stop it. “I got time,” he said. All the time in the world.

Over the next hour, the two of you stayed close together and talked in between looking at Steve’s pieces. He told you he was there to support Steve and talked a little bit more about the bar he owned. A hole in the wall kind of place he fixed up. While he wasn’t a big drinker, he loved making them for his regulars, and his profession allowed him to get away with all the tattoos.

“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” you smiled before it faltered. “If that’s okay.”

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but his heart raced, and he wanted to see you smile again. “I’ll hold you to that,” he teased. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

You told him that you were a blood bank nurse and still fairly new to the area. While you didn’t have too many friends nearby, you liked your neighborhood and the one friend you had made invited you to the gallery since she was an art enthusiast. You also let it slip that you were single upon your move here, which he was happy to hear since he was, too, but he didn’t miss the note of sadness in your voice.

He could help fix it if you were lonely.

“I’m not seeing anyone either,” he stated.

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t have an old lady?” His eyes went right to your lip when he bit it. “That is the correct term of endearment, right?”

“That’s right,” he said, his eyes soft. “Both of those things are right.”

You bit your lip again and he wasn’t sure if you were purposely trying to entice him, but now he wanted to bite your lip. “So, do you do anything for fun outside of riding and work?”

He almost groaned when you said “riding” and he had to shake his head to keep his mind from drifting. He couldn’t think of you being on his bike with your arms wrapped tight around him or you riding him or anything like that. “Well…”

He explained that he wrote a bit in his spare time outside of work and the club. It was a hobby mostly, but it would be a dream come true to get his work out there one day. If not, that was okay, too, because he had a decent life and didn’t need much. His bike, his brothers.

But to have an old lady…

“Maybe I could read…” you frowned when you saw the time. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. I should get going,” you said, disappointment filling both of you.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. The two of you were having a nice talk, and he hadn’t had a chance to ask about your hobbies yet. “It’s still kinda early. Do you really have to go?” he asked, realizing just how desperate he sounded. God, if the prospects could hear him right now… He just didn’t want the night to end.

“Yeah, I do. I’m actually working a blood drive tomorrow and could use the rest,” you said, smiling sadly. He felt like an ass for asking you to stay when you had work to do. “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about it, but you’re welcome to stop by if you want to donate. I always have this fear that people won’t show, which I realize sounds ridiculous.”

Bucky mentally kicked his ass for not knowing about a local blood drive. He was usually more on top of those sorts of things. “Where’s it at?” You gave the location and time, which was all he needed. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

And every single club member would be there, too, if they knew what was good for them.

“Really?” you smiled, your hand bumping his when you turned to face him. “You’ll go?”

He let his fingers brush yours and he smiled to himself when he felt the light shiver. “Of course, doll.”

“Doll?” you giggled. He hoped he didn’t offend you. “I hope you show,” you added in a small voice, your gaze focused on the ground.

Frowning a bit, he wondered if you didn’t believe him. Did someone let you down before? “If I say I’ll be there…” He lifted your chin, so you’d look into his eyes. He needed you to see the truth in them. “I’ll be there.”

You exhaled, staring deeply into his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you whispered.

He grudgingly released you, knowing he had to. Besides, if he kept touching you, there was a good chance he’d pin you against the wall and show you what a work of art you were. “Good night,” he whispered, watching you go back to your friend. She linked her arm with yours as you glanced back, keeping your eyes on Bucky until you were out of sight.

He exhaled, mentally kicking his ass again. Why the fuck didn’t he ask for your number? You two hit it off, and you wanted to see him at least in some capacity beyond the blood drive, right?

Steve made a beeline for him as he stayed rooted to the spot. “It looks like you two hit it off. You know you didn’t even say hi to Chris or Sam or-”

“We’re going to a blood drive tomorrow,” he cut in. He hoped people would show, but he gave you his word he’d be there, and the club was all about giving back to the community.

The blonde’s eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Blood drive. Tomorrow. Everyone,” he said, giving his friend a hard stare. “You’re the president. Make it happen.”

“You’re the vice president, which means you supervise plans for club events or gatherings. That includes last minute things,” he pointed out, his eyebrows shooting up as Bucky got his phone out and typed quickly. “You’re serious about this?”

“Is it too much to say, ‘You better fucking be there or you’ll pay for it later’?”

The blonde grinned. A shit-eating, knowing grin, and he wanted to smack him. “This is all for her, isn’t it?”

Bucky sighed. He hadn't expected to meet someone so perfect tonight. “She’s a nurse and I wanna help. Besides, it’s good for the community and you’re all about that shit.” And he had to make a better impression after not asking for your number. “Will you at least promise you’ll be there?”

“To watch my whipped best friend fawn over a pretty nurse? Hell yeah.”

“Beautiful,” he corrected him. “She’s beautiful.”

And while Bucky would fawn over you tomorrow, he also hoped he’d get your number.

So, what do we think so far? Part of this writing style was slightly different for me, but I like how it turned out! I still need to give this reader a nickname and the AU a name, but this is a start. I can't wait for the whole club to show up at the blood drive. I also have something silly and cute planned for these two. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[harmoonix]

Christmas Observations

🎄 One thing I observed at Aries placements is that they don't like it when the people around them are slow. They like everything to be fast and easy

🎄 Moon in earth signs gives me the vibes of a person nurturing everyone around them. That person who takes care of you when you are at your lowest

🎄 Capricorn houses may also indicate an area in your life where you need to finish something.

1st house - finishing topics about finding yourself

8th house - finishing topics on finding your inner power and rebirth after a painful situation

2nd house - finish financial debt. Never ask for money from others be independent

12th house - ending a karmic cycle that involves healing/subconscious trauma

6th house - focus on yourself, finish being critical about your needs

7th house - finish a karmic relationship/healing after a painful breakup

🎄 Capricorn/Aries/Scorpio and Sagittarius Sun/Rising/Venus are giving untamed energy. Is it not easy to make them follow you or to change them

🎄 Leo, Libra and Pisces placements can give you beautiful face features, eyes, lips, even hair, nose, etc

🎄 The Chiron sign in your parents birth chart can indicate what pain or wounds they have in this life and how it can manifest

🎄 If you have Pluto aspecting Mercury, sometimes you can regret the words you say to others because they tend to be quite painful/straightforward with their words

🎄 Cancer and Scorpio in the 7th house are big indicators that you want your partner to take care of you/to be nurtured, and to be understood emotionally

🎄 Leo/Sun in your 7th house can indicate you desire to be seen by your partner. People can overshadow you and you sometimes may not get the attention you need

🎄 Chrion x Venus aspects can often indicate the person who is hurt romantically/hurt in a relationship/love. Also someone who has a hard time to understand love

🎄 12th & 6th house placements can put so much pressure on your mental health, especially if Pluto/Neptune or Saturn are involved

🎄People who have stellium in the 8th house often experience deja-vu moments, can also be triggers from the past or from bad people

🎄 If you have a high aspected Neptune in your chart, people can suck the energy out of you. People can feed with your energy, and you can become drained

🎄 9th house placements are very wise when considering decisions in their life. They will think 100% with their brain instead of heart. They can also be guided by older people

🎄 Capricorn Placements Sun/Moon/Rising like to be independent from a young age. They don't really like to rely on others and prefer to do it themselves alone.

🎄2nd house Venus can do well financially. They can be blessed with both beauty and money, but also beauty in their words/inside and out

🎄 Aquarius in your 7th house can indicate getting with a partner who is highly independent and friendly. You can have many things in common yet be so different

🎄 Moon x Moon synastry is not for the weak!! ESPECIALLY IF IS IN HARSH ASPECTS!! You won't do well in understanding each other fulfilments in a relationship

🎄 If your moon makes an opposite aspect with another moon (ex cancer x capricorn moon), you can expect a lot from the other person to not understand your emotions/how you feel

🎄 If you have high Saturn aspects in your chart, life gets better once you get older. You can feel like living in hell while you're younger, but it gets better with the years

🎄 You can indimidate others once your Lilith makes an aspect with their sun or rising. They will feel also more curious about you

🎄 Venus in Fire signs can get more into situationships than real relationships, is ride or die with them. And they need 100000 years to think if they want a relationship or not. Once you're in a relationship with a fire Venus, they will change their energy in a more passionate/romantic one

🎄 Pisces/Neptune in your 7th house, what I love about these placements is that they create such strong bonds with their partners. Something that can last a lifetime

🎄 Mercury x Pluto aspects natives are good liars,they have a very mischievous energy surrounding them. Like a fox, which is very a unpredictable animal

🎄 Neptune x Mars natives can often have fights with their inner demons. Wanting to live in your own reality but being forced to live on earth

🎄Mercury ruled moon (Gemini, Virgo) can become quite anxious when they don't have a 2nd plan for a situation. Everything needs to be planned and calculated before

🎄 Aries/Mars in your 7th house can be an indicator for wanting to have a passionate & succeeding partner. Like you want someone who will never leave your side

🎄 Your moon sign can also tell you lots of things about how your mother felt when she was pregnant/before the time you were born, if she was anxious/scared, excited, and so on

An early Christmas post 🎄🎄 enjoy!! Happy holidays to everyone 🥳🎄 by @harmoonix 💋🥳

[richarlotte]

more tips to become that girl?

From most important to least important, here’s a list of what you should be focusing on building: your identity, your beliefs and values, your behavior and mindset, your skills and capabilities, and your environment and friend groups. I think you should progress through this list in order, focusing on yourself first and then outside factors like the city you live in and your relationships.

Who is the next level me? Give her a name of her own and take your time creating your vision and your future.

What does she identify with? Find what she relates to.

How does she view herself? Slowly build her image up.

How do others view her? Choose how she presents herself and her views to her friends and to the world.

It’s important that you focus on slowly building your identity first instead of changing your environment, because while your environment does matter, you can't build yourself and your whole life around a time and place that will change regardless of whether you want it to or not. The focus should be on planning it all out.

You should be journaling at least a page every day and taking note of how you feel so you can look back and see what felt wrong or what felt right and choose how to carry on. Part of actively improving yourself and your situation is being able to look back and reference when things were bad so that you can be sure to do better and so you can learn from your mistakes.

Consider a digital detox once you've gathered your inspiration. it's healthy to step away from influencers and social media mavens, and in an era where we're constantly being influenced and advertised to, it's good to take some time away from IG to clear your mind and give yourself a completely fresh start.

[sakuravalenp]

Don't eat anything else - Part 3 - DP X DC

Previous part

Next part

Masterpost

Sam had somehow fallen asleep after hours of rolling in her bed, so of course, when her phone started ringing, she was just about ready to send the thing flying across the room. She covered her ears with her pillow, hoping the thing would shut up soon enough, and cursed her past self for leaving the phone in her desk instead of plugging it to the socket that was just behind her bed. She could have already shut the thing off then, but no, she’ll have to get out of bed to do it. She was going to maul whoever decided it was a good idea to call in the middle of the night.

With a resigned huff, she got out of bed and went to the desk, stumbling over the chair because of course she hadn’t pushed it back into the space the desk left for it, and snatched the phone roughly, pulling the charger and making her pencil case fall off the desk. The clattering sounds let her know she had also left that open. She groans, and squints at her phone screen, her eyes complaining at the sudden light, she takes a look at the insistent caller: Tucker. She answers while letting herself fall into the chair.

“Tucker, it’s like two am. You better be dying, or I swear to the ancients I’m throwing your beloved PDA into a natural portal to never be seen again!”

“Check the Phantom chat.” Sam blinked. She was expecting some sort of dramatic response. Then her mind caught up to what her friend had just asked.

“Did Danny text anything!?” The call was already being placed on speaker as she took her phone off her ear and started looking for their chat server.

“You’ll have to check yourself, it’s a full text wall, I’ve just read like- the first paragraph. Just- check it out and call me back when you’ve read it all.”

Sam frowned at the beep of the call being ended. She had never hated so much that their server took so long to load. She understood why; a hidden server that went through the infinite realms? Tucker was a genius for creating it. Still, in times like this the waiting was excruciating.

Danny didn’t tell them anything about his life with Vlad. She would say it screamed red flags, but it was Vlad. The moment the man had gotten custody of Danny all the fire alarms were going off in Sam’s head, and they hadn’t stopped since.

They tried not to push much at the start. The Fentons and Jazz’s death was too fresh, so they just checked in, asking how things were going, trying not to prod. But weeks turned to months, and they hadn’t been able to see Danny, and he was not telling them anything.

They had been keeping tabs of what they could get. Danny checked in at least once a day, until he didn’t. There would be days without response, and then Danny would check in again with some vague excuse. When that became common enough, Danny stopped making up excuses and just directly checking in without explaining the absence.

His texts were useless to understand his situation, other than he was well enough to text them, so their next focus was his public appearance. There weren’t a lot of those, but they would be happy with any scraps they could get. 

Vlad had taken Danny to more than a couple of galas and some political events, proudly flaunting his heir, and yet, there were barely any photos of Danny at said events. It was up in the air whether it was due to Vlad avoiding the pictures getting out or due to how difficult it was to get a clear photo of Danny.

Nevertheless, the few pictures they did get weren’t great. He looked emaciated, lost so much weight, lost any brightness in his eyes. Still, Sam had almost cried from relief the first time they got a picture. The mind can be cruel when there's nothing to hold it back, and Sam had about a thousand terrible thoughts of what Vlad could be doing to Danny. At least he was in one piece. 

Her phone vibrated, letting her know the server had finally loaded. There was a bubble beside the Phantom group chat letting her know there were new texts. She pressed on the group chat and was indeed greeted by a wall of text. She scrolled back to find the beginning.

Hey guys, you’ll probably won’t see this until tomorrow but I needed to write this right away before I started doubting. Not that that’s really a choice at this point, not when the Waynes already left with those notes.

The Waynes? Oh, yeah, Danny had mentioned Vlad had invited them to dinner once. First visitors they would be getting. Sam had idly wondered if she would have gotten a chance to see Danny if her parents were more influential. She had never wished for her parents to be richer before. 

So anyway, the Waynes visiting kind of changed things here a bit. I may not have been really honest about how things were going here with Vlad. Though, you probably already knew that, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I can tell you guys. I just don’t think I can get myself to tell you, and I’m so sorry, because you’re always there and deserve the truth, but I can’t. So, let’s just leave as things hadn’t been great, and Vlad was more of a monster than we ever thought he could be. 

Sam didn’t like that, it was terribly vague. What had Vlad done to Danny that he didn’t feel he could tell them? Sure they had been dealing with Danny’s silence, but now he was straight up telling them he couldn’t get himself to talk about it. The fact that he couldn’t even explain what Vlad had done meant it was probably worse than what she imagined.

They’d faced their fair share of horrors over the years while combating the rogues, and there had never been a problem verbalizing it. Something horrible had happened. Sam was going to kill Vlad. She didn’t care what the full story was, if it was bad enough that Danny actively refused to tell them, it was bad enough to revoke Vlad’s right to existence. 

The thing is, I can’t keep this up. The Wayne’s came in, and Vlad's plans for dinner made me realize I couldn’t let this keep going. I managed to sneak a note to Timothy Drake-Wayne. Everyone knows the Waynes have connections to the Justice league.

Sam frowned. The Justice League had been shining for their absence from everything involving Amity. That absence still burned like acid. They’d begged for help. Pleaded. Amity had become a warzone more than once, and no one had come. Would they really show up just because the Waynes got involved?

I know they hadn’t been answering our calls, but now it affected the Waynes. Again, I can’t explain how it affected them, but I’m pretty sure the Waynes will make sure the Justice League gets involved. I had to tell them that Vlad isn’t human. It would only end in an apocalypse if they came looking for Vlad without being prepared. They’ll look for you guys. I told them you had the means to combat him. 

Oh shit. Was she really meeting with the Justice League? In friendly terms? After all the ignored calls, Sam had swore it would be on sight if she ever met the assholes. And if they really showed up just because the Waynes were the ones to call, Sam wasn’t sure if she could keep it civil.

I didn’t reveal myself to the Waynes, I don’t know what the Justice League stand on ghosts is, all this is already a big risk, the GIW are bad enough on their own, there’s no way we would survive the Justice League hunting us, but Vlad needs to be stopped. I need you guys to give them what they need to not be possessed, and the ectoguns that I modified, maybe an ectoshield. Nothing more, they have a good history with non-humans, but I don’t know if we can trust them to not start a hunting campaign after Vlad. Try making it clear that this is a Vlad problem, not a ghost problem. I’m sorry I’m leaving everything to you guys, I can’t do anything from this side.

Her breath trembled. If the Waynes were really able to convince the Justice league to finally intervene, they might have days. She and Tucker needed to prep everything.

Ghost attacks had become rare since the portal was destroyed, but sometimes ghosts still came through naturally forming ones. There couldn’t be a ghost attack while the Justice League was there. Not when they needed to convince them that Vlad was the exception, not the rule.

They needed to get the gear and figure out how to lie to the Justice League convincingly enough that they wouldn’t turn every ghost into collateral damage.

Because Vlad might be the monster. But the League could still be the executioners.

Still, despite all the anxiety running through her veins, Sam felt hopeful. Danny had reached for help, after months of silence he had finally reached for help, and for once there seemed to be a chance they'd see Danny again. 

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

They couldn’t continue reading the paper right away. There was no way to do it. Cass was more sensitive to people's deaths than anyone else in her family, and Bruce had focused on supporting her so he wouldn’t have to think about what he had just eaten. He had helped Cass to the bathroom like he hadn’t vomited as well. Tim had mumbled something about needing a shower, a really long shower, and left. Jason had forgotten the pretender had been bathed in that cursed soup.

He did think about taking the paper and finishing reading it himself, but green edged his vision, rage bursting under the skin, and he needed an outlet, which he didn’t have here. The punch he had thrown onto the wall had already left a mark, and this was a house they rented as Waynes, he couldn’t just trash it all.

He had worked through some breathing exercises Dick had introduced to him. He’ll never tell Dick, but they did work somewhat. It wasn’t really a surprise, Jason knew Dick had anger issues. The bastard seemed like the perfect young adult holding it together these days, but Jason was there for his teenage rebellion, and that was supposedly an improvement from how he had been as Robin. So of course the breathing exercises helped, but it wasn’t enough.

He felt like giving the wall another punch from the frustration, but he had been trying to “redirect his anger” in less violent ways lately, and this was the kind of situation where it would be better to clear his head instead of exploding. He could save the explosion for when they had that reprobate on their hands. 

His phone was pinging and Jason knew it was probably the rest of the family asking for an update. The sudden silence probably got them worried the supposed poison had been something serious, and as the only one in commission at the moment, he should be the one reporting, but he was pretty sure he would crack his phone if he used it right then. His helmet took his attention where it resided on the desk, and he made a decision.

You’re not supposed to ride while you're angry, that’s how accidents happen, but that didn’t apply to people like him. Red Hood spent most of the night in his motorcycle while absolutely furious; they knew how to ride without becoming a public safety issue. 

He grabbed his helmet and screamed before putting it on. “You better don’t read the damn note before I’m back!” And then he was on the road once again. 

He rode around the small city, making the same circle over and over again at maximum speed. Harsh changes in direction that made the adrenaline pump in his veins. It was a good outlet. At some point the green receded enough for him to think clearer. He lowered the speed a bit, and connected his helmet to the comms. The questioning screams from everyone on comms came instantly.

“Shut the fuck up. I can’t understand a single thing you are saying.” As expected, that didn’t have any effect, but a minute later the line went dead silent. Babs must have muted everyone's lines. 

“Hood, what’s the situation? Did the antidote work without problem?” Babs asked.

Jason almost laughed. Antidote. They wished it had just been some stupid poison. “It wasn’t poison, or drugs, Batman and Orphan are… physically fine.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jason could hear the crackle of a line joining the comms again. “What does that mean Todd?” Damian finally asked.

Jason could feel the rage try to creep back at the thought of what really was in the food, he pushed it back. He didn’t want to really talk about what really was in the food. Another crackle. “Little wing? What was in the food?” 

Jason sighed. Why should he be the only one in commission to report back? No, he was glad to not have been anywhere close to that hideous concoction that didn’t have a right to be called food. He turned the speed back up.

“Apparently, Vlad Masters is a cannibal. One in the habit of sharing his taste with others.” The silence in the other line was about what he expected, so was the new explosion of voices that came afterward. 

Yeah, no. Report given. They could deal with the news themselves. Jason disconnected from comms and started riding back to the house. Checking the time on the edge of his helmet screen, he saw he had been riding for quite some time. How has two hours already passed? 

He left the motorcycle in the garage. There was no one there, so Jason wandered inside. He found Tim was sitting on the sofa with his laptop in the living room, the note folded beside him. Bruce sat on a chair beside him still looking pained. Jason talked from the door.

“Did you actually wait for me?”

Tim shrugged and without taking his eye off. “Figured it would be better to read once we were all here.”

“Where’s Cass?” He asked, walking to the opposite side of the couch.

“She asked to be filled in later.” Bruce answered. “It’s better we read the rest of the note already. I can’t imagine what else Danny would like us to know.”

Tim sighed, like someone had asked him to be the one to read the letter instead of him being the one to take it upon himself. He took the note, unfolding it again, and Jason could see he was making an effort to ignore the first line.

“I don’t know who the victims are, or where Vlad gets them, but they’re recently deceased. So somewhere there must be people disappearing constantly. It may not be the same place all the time, or it may not even be the same city. Vlad isn’t human.”

“Fucking great. Just what we were missing. What is it this time? A vampire? He definitely has the aesthetic going for him.” The pretender glared at him for the interruption, but Jason thinks the situation fully justifies his reaction.

Bruce sighed. “Language. Please, go on, Tim.”

“He’s a kind of ghost.” Tim raised an eyebrow but continued reading. “I know it may be hard to believe for outsiders, but ghosts are pretty much a common occurrence in Amity Park.”

“I thought that was just a tourist trap.” Jason commented, which gained him another glare from Tim. Jason didn’t bother to acknowledge it, though, inside, he was quite enjoying getting the little shit annoyed.

Tim huffed, and lowered the note a bit before commenting. “There are quite a few claims of ghost sightings, but we couldn’t find any proof of them when we took a look at Amity while searching for a house to rent.” He turned to the computer and started typing something.

“Even then, those reports were not of great importance, mentions of seeing a figure for a couple a seconds in the corner of a room, of a shadow following them around the city, or a pale little kid running around in the cemetery.” Bruce added. “The whole city works around the theme.The biggest school is called Casper High, and most attractions are named after ghost-related puns. We concluded it was, in fact, a tourist trap.”

“So what, the kid is imagining his guardian isn’t human? Making things up to cope with the fact that he is a cannibal? That-”

“Um. Bruce, you might want to see this.” Tim interrupted him.

His eyes were wide, scanning quickly through a webpage. Jason moved close to see the screen, and so did Bruce, standing up from his chair to lean over the back of the sofa. Tim started reading titles while he passed the mouse over them. 

“Octo-Ghost Assists Kindergarten Party and Almost Becomes The Birthday Girl's Pet. First Ghost Attack of the Week in Casper High, Red huntress Captures It Before It Can Disrupt Class. Ghost Known as Lunch Lady Visits Local Restaurant and Asks for a Cooking Battle With the Owner: See the Unexpected Results. Don’t You Miss When Ghosts Would Interrupt Class at Least Once a Day? A ranting blog by Phan_number1. None of this existed when we were checking Amity!”

“How is that even possible? The Batcomputer should have pinged something if there was anything blocking the information,” Bruce says in what sounded like a monotone voice, but any of his kids could tell he’s alarmed by the fact that so much information was successfully hidden from the Batcomputer. “Try sending a link to Babs.”

Tim goes ahead to do that with the ranting blog, but honestly, Jason couldn’t care less if the oh-so-great Batcomputer missed this.

“So the kid isn’t making things up, great. Can you both have your freak-out about the information blockage after we finish reading the note?” If Tim were a super, Jason would have a hole on his front, he’s sure of it.

Babs: Why are you sending me a recipe for making ghost-themed pie?

Tim looks at the message in disbelief, and clicks on the link he had sent. The ranting blog opens, no pie recipe to be seen. Tim takes a screenshot and tries sending it, but a warning message appears, saying the file is corrupted. He tries to send an image of his gallery, it goes without any problems.

“This is weird. It’s not like any kind of blockage we had seen before. It even redirects links to a page that matches the city's theme.”

“Try sending the image through the Bat server.” Bruce says with a voice that it was more serious than Jason expected, which makes him glance back at the man. 

Bruce is glaring at the computer with a dark expression. Realization hits Tim, and he quickly tries to send the image through the Bat server. It goes through, and even Jason feels relieved at the received checkmark. 

“Okay… okay. So they’re monitoring private conversations, but the Bat server is still safe.” Tim murmurs. Then goes ahead and tries sending the link once more, with a message saying it should open the website shown in the image. 

Oracle: All that link opens is the pie recipe Red Robin. If this is some kind of joke, you know the Bat server is not for that.

Tim rolls his eyes at the response and starts writing down a response, explaining the situation to Babs.

“The link must be blocked by IP Address. Tell her to try using a residential proxy.”

“Already on it.”

Jason hates when the old man understands more about technology than he does. Damn his time in the grave. He had been working on getting up to date, and he can do some basic hacking and whatnot. Enough that he doesn’t need external help for every little thing. But he’s still so far behind. 

Oracle: I’m in. You’re also seeing all these things about ghosts?

Red Robin: Yes. 

Red Robin: Somehow they have the city under a blockage that the Batcomputer wasn’t able to detect.

“Okay. Babs can take care of investigating that. We have a note to finish reading, remember?” Jason says, reaching for the paper Tim had left beside the computer, which Tim promptly snatches back. “Hey!”

“You won’t read it outloud for everyone.”

“According to whom!?”

“Kids…” Bruce sighed, “Continue reading, please, Tim.”

The little shit looked smug for a second before going back to the note.

“Please understand that in general ghosts aren’t bad, it’s just Vlad. But ghosts are powerful, and Vlad is really powerful. This can’t be resolved through normal means. I know the Waynes have contact with the Justice League, so I ask you to please get in contact with them, and don’t get anymore involved. I doubt the Justice league is equipped for the type of ghosts we have in Amity park. My friends Samantha Mason and Tucker Foley know where to find specialized weaponry and protective devices. Please, convince the Justice League to go for them first, it would be a disaster if one of the Justice League was overshadowed by Vlad.” That’s where the letter ended.

“Overshadow?” Bruce echoed.

Tim wasted no time putting the word into Google, which, now that Jason noticed, was decorated with little ghosts. Did Amity have its own Google doodle? The definition of the word popped like any other word would, and Jason wondered if that was something else that was blocked outside the city.

“It seems to be how Amity Parkers refer to possession.” Tim said after skimming the definition.

“What do we know about Samantha Mason and Tucker Foley?” Bruce asked, already in work mode.

“Not much, outside of being known friends of Danny. The Masons are a well positioned family in Amity; they’re new money. Izzy Manson, Samantha's great grandfather, invented a machine that twirled cellophane around deli toothpicks, the patent and inheritance placed the family where it is today. Pamela Manson owns a jewelry brand that’s grown in popularity in the Midwestern elite, while Jeremy Manson is a real estate developer. They often attend galas in Wisconsin, and sometimes in other big cities. Samantha Mason is a known teen activist, and has had her fair share of incidents at galas.” Tim said, as he opened the report he had made before coming to Amity.

“Incidents?” Jason asked.

“She has a sharp tongue and doesn’t seem interested in keeping appearances. It’s well known she isn’t fond of the styles her mother gives her for the galas. In any photo she posted on her personal accounts in the last two years, she has a gothic aesthetic.”

“Ah.”

“There’s less about Tucker Foley. His mother, Angela Foley, works as a chef at a local restaurant called “A Ghost's Secret Recipe.” His father, Maurice Foley, is an IT technician for the city government. Tucker seems to take after his father in his interest in technology, and has a history of winning local programming contests.”

“There’s nothing that really screams “I know how to fight ghosts and have ghost weaponry” is there?” Jason comments.

“Well, this is the information we have while searching with the city's information being blocked. Search for Daniel Fenton on the web,” Bruce says, and when Tim enters the name, a lot of news articles come to light. “We should have suspected something when there weren’t a lot of news articles talking about an explosion taking the life of a whole family.” Tim nods to that.

Jason frowns at the screen. “Are you seeing these titles? Local ghost hunters die from mysterious explosions? Something tells me that the access to weaponry has more to do with Danny’s parents than anything about Samantha and Tucker.” 

“What did we have about the Fentons from the investigation in Gotham?”

“They were supposedly part of the tourist industry, “entertaining tourists with street shows about ghost hunting.” We were literally blocked from one of the most important details of Danny’s life.” Tim groaned. 

Bruce sighed. “Let’s try getting some sleep. We’ll try meeting Samantha and Tucker tomorrow in the late afternoon.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Late afternoon?”

“They’re teenagers. I would prefer to interrupt their class time or disturb them too late. They might not even know we plan to meet with them.”

Tim nodded, already starting with the new background check. “I doubt Masters lets Danny have his own phone.”

Jason unceremoniously closed Tims laptop, putting it aside and carrying the kid in a firefighter carry.

“Trying to rest applies to you too.”

Tim protested as he trashed, trying to get him to let go, and if the pretender had actually been serious about it, Jason may have not been able to keep a hold of him.

“I’ll tell Babs to leave the investigation for tomorrow as well. You’ll have time before we go meet Danny’s friends, so let’s rest for some time first, okay?” Bruce said with that voice he always used when he was treating them like little kids. And if Jason found it soothing, that was between his mind and himself.

Tim groans, but relaxes, accepting defeat, and the kid is asleep before Jason even makes it out the living room. Jason wonders, not for the first time, if Tims ability to basically sleep anywhere, anyway, anytime, would go away if the kid actually followed the sleeping schedule Bruce and Alfred tried imposing, instead of taking random naps around the clock. 

He’s sure the little shit will be back in front of the computer in 30 minutes. Whatever. He already did his mandatory older sibling duty by getting him to stop for a nap. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Next part

[ikeukiss]

NO DOUBT | 박종성

⟢ PAIRING: park (jay) jongseong x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 4.1K ⟢ GENRE: hints of comedy, smut ⟢ TAGS: ceo!jay, employee!reader, sexual tension for the win, pwp, dirty talk, oral fixation, pet names (pretty, princess, etc.), sir kink, degradation kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, breath play, spanking, creampie ⟢ SYNOPSIS: You hate your boss to an insurmountable degree, and he more than likely feels the same with the way he constantly berates you. But only when you finally give him a piece of your mind do you understand his animosity stems from a rather surprising place. -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy birthday to Mr. Park himself! This was so much fun to write even if I'm losing my mind at work myself, unfortunately. Thank you to my lovely friends for beta'ing for me once again—Linda @xomakara, Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, and Booki @kwanisms—and of course we all know the song that inspired the title this time.

You might have to kill Mr. Park, preferably with something incredibly sharp.

Every remark your boss throws at you, verbal or handwritten, trickles down your body like acid. It's a wonder you haven't been eaten alive by his criticisms already, the CEO cruel in his meticulous focus and scathing remarks.

These estimates look terrible.

My dog could create a better spreadsheet than this—before he chewed it up, anyway.

Do you always lack focus on projects like this?

Just because he's the head of Daydream Media does not mean he gets to parade around with the energy of a pompous cockatiel. As soon as the thought comes up, though, you shut it down. Cockatiels are much cuter than him, and probably a lot cuddlier too.

Working under the guy for twelve months, you know how unrelenting his desire for perfection can be. Starting his company straight out of high school, the business went from a passion project in his garage to a multi-tier musical instrument and audio equipment manufacturer that could make Yamaha blush.

Park's admirable work ethic drove you to apply for a job at his company in the first place. Yet, his need to micromanage others quickly overpowered all the qualities you first admired about the man. His head status practically ensures all he needs to do during work hours is oversee company meetings and sit prettily at his desk. So why did he have to be such a prick?

You're grumbling to yourself as you type out your response to his last email regarding your monthly sales report. Every clack of your laptop's keyboard feels and sounds like gunshots in your ears. You try to remember to stick to facts, keep your response level, and do all the things you've learned from years working with pretentious dickheads like Park.

But there's something about him specifically, the irritation he stirs in you so deeply ingrained beyond the surface of your dignity you can't seem to think rationally.

Your cubby mate, Sunghoon, notices the tension pervading your shoulders and neck, the veins in them close to bulging from your skin. He slaps you on the back with a manila folder, and you roll your eyes in response.

"What crawled up your ass and took a vacation?"

You give him your best fake smile as you punctuate your email's last sentence with a period. "Who do you think?"

"Santa Claus? I hate that fucker." Sunghoon's smirk can usually put you out of any funky mood you're in, but not today. You smile with closed lips instead, hoping the message gets across well. I love you, but it's not the best time.

You close the email and rotate your chair in his direction. Sunghoon may put too much gel in his hair and annoy you to no end, but he's your best friend, regardless. He's partially the reason you stick around the hell-ridden office you've made a home in for a year. "Mr. Park," is the only answer you give him to curtail his initial sardonic guess.

"Ah, head honcho." He flicks his gaze toward your boss's office, a stray hair whipping into his forehead. "What's he mad about now?"

"My latest stats for the new snare kits." You huff out a breath of air. Rubbing your temple, you try to curtail the impending headache on the horizon. "Don't know if he's pissed they're not selling as predicted or because I didn't make the headers on the sheet the right shade of green."

"Hey!" Sunghoon points one of his slender fingers in your face. "You know the guy uses night mode on his fancy PC all the time. He needs to see the projections, you heathen."

Just as a laugh is ready to escape your mouth, your computer pings. The notification reads the email is from the devil himself. As you click it to pop open the application in full-screen mode, you wonder what Park could say so quickly after you gave him a three-paragraph-length explanation on your report.

When you read the single line of text, any semblance of happiness turns to bile in your throat.

You'd think with your degree, you'd be able to spell "acquisition" correctly.

All the composure you tried to muster dies. Your jaw muscles tighten and your teeth gnash against each other as the words replay in your head over and over. He has no right, and yet he does at the same time. He didn't need to say it the way he did, and yet it's here in black and white for you to spiral because of, the exasperated and petulant tone practically hitting your eardrum in the way only his voice can.

You ruminate on your initial thought of murder, and you know even now—despite the ever-present reason to put the guy in a casket—it's childish.

But if you can't kill him, the less drastic option is to at least give him a piece of your mind.

Your chair bangs against the cubby opposite of yours when you stand up, and Sunghoon flinches. "Hey, don't do something you'll regret," your best friend warns.

"Trust me, I won't," you mutter quickly before storming off in the direction of the executive offices.

At lightning speed, you're in front of Jay Park himself. The man's ready to dig into a chocolate cupcake when you approach him.

"Do you get off on being an asshole?" The words come out biting and high-pitched, but every knot in your gut unfurls when you say it. His eyes bug out, and that gives you the perfect signal to continue before he can open his mouth with a witty comeback.

"I spelled one fucking word wrong in an email, and it was another excuse for you to pick me apart and prove you're the one calling the shots here. But having millions of dollars to your name or a shitload of success doesn't make you a good person. You treat so many people in this company like disposable pieces of garbage, when the only one who should feel like that is you!

"You're an arrogant, self-centered, irritable…" Your last words disintegrate on your tongue when you see the single pink candle strewn across his desk. The flame was puffed out long ago, but it tells you all you need to know.

You're giving your boss the proverbial middle finger on his birthday.

In the second between realizing you've been telling him off to considerable lengths for a long minute and the fact you've done so on his birthday of all days makes you flush. Your entire body drains of its color the longer you remain silent. How could you forget this day? Why did you have to find courage at the worst time?

He doesn't yell back, scoff, or do any of the telltale things you expect from him by now. Instead, all he does is laugh. He almost smashes his face into the cupcake in front of his lips as the chuckles exit his mouth.

"I thought Chaewon in accounting giving me this would be the highlight of my day," he lifts his cupcake for dramatic effect as he speaks, "but that…tirade has to be the best present I've had in a long time." He sets the cupcake down and stands up from his desk, but not before rolling the cuffs of his button up to his forearms, wiping the crumbs off of his fingers with disinterest.

You stutter, unsure how to continue now or what he plans on doing. As you try composing an apology, the automatic blinds to the windows that give Jay a bird's-eye view of the employee floor from his office come down. You slowly watch the people outside of the room leave the corner of your eye, and you gulp. "I—"

"I admire your courage, you know. Walking in here with that angry pout and little performance. I thought you couldn't get any cuter."

"I didn't pre-plan it," you interrupt him, some of your flare coming back in full color. Even as you say it, your mind hangs on his last word like a clothespin. Cuter?

You never would've expected that word to come from his mouth. Not in relation to you, anyway.

"Of course." His smile remains plastered across his face, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "Do you remember that team-building retreat in Seosan? It must've been around your three-month mark here with us."

You nod vigorously, going back to the memories of that vacation in your mind's eye. That word fits better, you think, when you recall sipping cocktails and lounging by the pool with Sunghoon and your mutual friend in sales, Jake. You did your typically professional routine by day, attending meetings and learning seminars like an astute employee. The nights that accompanied them were filled with fun and laughter you were glad to have with your new coworkers.

"Yes, I remember." You stand stock still even as he steps closer, the professional bubble on the precipice of being popped with every step he takes to get closer to you.

"Do you ever stop to think when my…excuses to pick you apart, as you said, began to occur?" He holds his fingers under his chin, pretending to contemplate the answer to the question with you, and while it riles you up, it leaves you more confused.

"It must've been…" You bite your lip, unsure what intentions are hiding behind his questions. "I'm not sure."

"One of the first emails I sent to you was marked right after we came back from the trip."

"I—I don't understand."

Jay laughs again, the sound hollow. "For an incredibly brilliant woman, it seems you need things made explicitly clear to you."

He's so close now, you smell the mint on his breath. It's intoxicating mixed with his cologne—Prada, you think. The mixture combined with his proximity makes your knees buckle a fraction. "Maybe something about you caught my eye, sipping Mai Tais one minute and being so prim and proper the next, and I've been spending the past excruciatingly long nine months trying to figure out what. All I know is that it's definitely not your penchant for spelling." His eyes gleam with sincerity, a rawness that you've never witnessed in his presence. This is the first time you've ever been alone together, truthfully.

"Respectfully, sir, there's nothing particularly eye-catching about me," you say meekly. "It's not like I'm the one with the company—"

Jay's lips slamming into yours is the last sensation you planned on feeling because of him. You can live with displeasure, annoyance, exasperation, but this is entirely new. He captures the inside of your mouth with his tongue, pressing in and probing like he's never felt someone more worthy of exploring before.

His fingers find purchase at your waist, and he takes your bottom half in both of his hands as he continues navigating your mouth. The spank he lands to one side pushes you further into him, and his body rumbles in delight. He's searching for the answer to his previous question; you can tell. What is it about you that's been driving him crazy, and continues to do so?

His intense physical analysis of you and your body makes you cry out, eager for more and not settling for anything else. Has this been always sitting under the surface, the tension you so adamantly assumed was hatred? You should've noted the way he stared at you from across the bar all those months ago, lights twinkling behind his head as he quietly observed you in all of your alcohol-flushed but starlit stupors.

Again, the words run around the two of you like a marathon, practically screaming in your ears: it's always existed, this tie between you both that you once assumed was founded on disdain.

Boy, were you fucking wrong.

Jay pulls away when he hears your moan fill the room. "Forgive me," he starts, "I just couldn't help myself." You must look breathless, seem dumbstruck, for him to hold you with such care and tenderness. You barely recognize the man in front of you, the tyrant you purported to know long gone.

He runs a finger across your bottom lip, and you can't fight the urge to take the digit into your mouth. When you bite down on the soft skin of his index finger, he groans. "I just apologized for my lack of control. Don't make me lose it again, princess."

The pet name shoots you in between the legs, your body jelly in his hold when his eyes stare you down so intensely. "What if I want you to…sir?"

He takes your throat in one palm and kisses you deeply, cutting off your breathing just a touch for you to focus only on his mouth. Like he's the only thing that can keep you breathing if you just give into him.

"I thought you hated me," he confesses in between kisses. He peppers them across your cheeks and takes a long pull at your mouth again before pushing you into the edge of his desk. You squeal when he lifts you up and sets you down on the glass tabletop, not stopping his barrage of kisses and licks to your skin.

"B-Because it's not normal to feel the opposite. To have a crush on your very powerful and intimidating boss isn't exactly smiled upon in the code of conduct, sir," you whisper as he trails his lips down your neck, across your collarbones. He even goes so far as to dip his nose towards the center of your cleavage. You never hated him, you realize. He frustrates you to no end, for sure, but that emotion clearly has many facets that you never dissected before.

"So you think I'm intimidating now?" Jay questions you with a lilt of humor that is unmissable. He unties your blouse and unclasps your bra in record time so both articles of clothing fall to the floor like raindrops, insignificant now that they're out of the way. It would be incredibly easy to get lost in the beauty of your chest, the peaks of your nipples and curve of your breasts, details Jay wants to take to his short and long term memory, but he's got a one-track mind that points south. If he enjoyed making you squirm with words before, he smirks to himself at how different it'll be for you when uses his body this time.

"I've always thought you were," you confess. You gasp when he bunches your skirt between his fingers to sit the material at your hips, exposing your lace panties. The fabric is soaked by now; you swear you can feel a damp spot forming under you and on his desk.

But he looks more than satisfied.

"Fuck, this is how wet you get?" The question is more for his ears than yours, and you whine from the lack of his touch on your skin, although you've had a plethora of that merely a second ago. You thought you were burning before, but now you're on fire and close to becoming ash before he's even truly done anything.

"Mr. Park, p-please," you beg, slightly gyrating against the glass desk for some relief. It's better than doing nothing to fix the ache he's created.

"It's Jongseong," he interrupts you with a smile. "Jay if it's easier pretty, but I do love it when you use my surname like that." He nips your lips again, licking inside your mouth lewdly.

"Lie back," he commands. It's hard to do as he asks with so much in the way, but the problem's immediately solved when he throws the contents on his desk—including his laptop—to the side. Everything clatters to the floor, but you fight the urge to react outwardly. The only physical reaction is your eyes going wide at the sound the clattering of his pencils, books, and electronics just made. Your reaction causes him to scoff, the sound on the edge of wickedness. "I can get all of this brand-new in a second. Don't focus on that," he says with his hands rubbing the outside of your thighs in tender circles, "and focus on laying down now, princess."

You let your bare back softly hit the glass. The desk is cold against your naked skin, but the sensation's immediately replaced by the warmth of Jay's breath against you. "You're beautiful. Just like I dreamed," he whispers, partly amazed and fully intoxicated, before diving in.

Jay immediately laps and sucks along your folds—the sounds of his mouth working your hole reverberating across the walls—as if he's been starved for decades. He takes your clit between his lips as a finger prods your center. The digit hooks inside of your core without issue. He eats you out like no man has ever done to you or for you before, his method alternating between long strokes of his fingers and little flicks of his tongue. How could heaven be so attainable with someone you initially saw as the devil incarnate?

"You asked me if I get off on being an asshole," he whispers into your cunt. "I don't. But I just might from touching you. You taste impeccable." He slaps your clit abruptly, making you keen. He presses the hand originally at your neck against your chest, your heartbeat thrumming against his palm. The tempo is all for him, a beat he wishes to hear on loop forever.

“It's like you were made for me," he whispers, "the perfect little slut splayed out like this." He inches your thighs further apart to see the way your hole glistens with his spit and your gathering arousal. The sight makes the strain of his erection in his slacks a touch more painful. It begs for him to do something else fast to relieve the surmounting pressure, but he puts off the urge for now. "I fucking love it."

"Jong—sir—I'm gonna come," you announce, the lower half of your center bumping into his chin harshly from how hard you're following the movements of his mouth. You shouldn't chase it so fiercely, but you want him to pick you apart in this way. You've never wished for anything more in your life.

And you know he'll put you back together just to repeat the process all over again.

"Come for me, princess. I want to feel it on my tongue." He replaces his finger with the wet muscle, dipping inside of you to lap up all of you before you completely crumble. Jay takes it all beautifully, allowing his face to be covered in you in the aftermath. You scream out as your release continues overtaking your better judgement. Your brain doesn't care how loud your cries of pleasure must be or have been.

Your coworkers saw you walk in here moments ago; they have to know what you're getting up to, legs spread for your boss and letting him use you for all of his fantasies. But, as you float back to consciousness, you don't seem to give a fuck about any of them.

"You did so well for me, pretty." Jay unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly just a touch to pull his cock from his pants. He hisses when he touches himself, and you know he must be aching from no stimulation prior to this moment. "Think you can handle one more?"

"Yes, sir, please." You say it with such a twinkle in your eye, Jay doesn't seem to care if he breaks the Italian-made iron of his desk. He has to have you, to cover your body with his and push you beyond your limits again.

Jay does exactly that, squishing you between his white button up and the glass underneath you, but you wouldn’t mind if he collapsed your lungs at this point. He's taken you to the edge of breathlessness by now, so there's nothing stopping him from fully toppling you over.

He slides inside of you without issue, your previous arousal creating the right amount of slip. But he's so big, his cock tightly filling your pussy with every inch, the tears that fill your eyes are unavoidable. "S-sir, it's t-too much—"

Jay halts the lie on your lips with his own, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip with a fierce power. "It's not nearly enough, pretty. You feel incredible, so tight. Such a tight little cunt, and all mine."

You nod your head as he thrusts, fat tears falling down your cheeks as he sets a relentless rhythm. The iron fixtures of Jay's desk squeak and tremble from how hard his hips snap up into you, but the only sounds he focuses on are your mewls and labored breaths. You're a vision, fucked out and trembling, and he can't picture a moment where you don't captivate his very being.

The answer to his earlier question hits him like a flutter of wind to the face: it's everything about you. Your relentless effort to every minute task that mirrors his own, your smart retorts to his endless critiques, the way your eyes crinkle at the edges when you laugh. It's all that pervades his mind, but the new images of your slung mouth and sounds you make on the brink of your second orgasm take precedence on the list of ways you enthrall him.

He reaches in between you to pinch and roll your clit against his thumb and index finger, feeling his own release on the tip of his tongue. "Come with me, princess. Let me feel it."

You don't need to hear it a second time to listen to his words clearly. You rattle around his cock like thunder that follows a stroke of lightning, your body shaking as your body surges with endorphins. If your first orgasm was bright and blinding, this one is all-encompassing and soul-shattering, threading into every seam of you so you don't forget how it feels to be pleasured so well, loved so thoroughly.

Jay comes right after you, his warmth flooding you as his body goes taut from his own shocks of numbing pleasure. You know he feels the same, with the way his brows knit together and his jaw slacks. His hips stutter to a full stop, and he can barely pull out of you without his body quaking. He watches the traces of his cum leak out, mixing with the arousal still surrounding your hole, and he knows he's in it now. He'll never go back.

You slump against him when he lays back on the table. The staccato of his heartbeat sweeps through your right eardrum. The muscle's tempo is an exact match for your own racing chest.

"I can't believe I was so loud," you murmur into the silence that follows your labored breaths. Jay looks down at you with a dazed smirk, and you giggle with a shy smile before tucking your face in between your fingers.

Jay takes both palms in his own to kiss, and semblances of the sweat on his skin touch you like dew. It's beautiful to be so wrong about someone, this gentleness he's displaying proving that fact perfectly. "The glass is laminated, and the rest of the walls are soundproof, princess. Nobody could hear you in here unless I truly gave it my all."

You smirk, unruffled by the fact your boss always thinks one step ahead of everyone, even in situations like this. "That wasn't your all?" You blush and tuck your face into his neck, the question rhetorical and teasing. "Seems you have a lot to show me."

"That I will." He takes your jaw between his fingers when he kisses you again. Mint still lingers on his tongue behind the traces of your arousal, and you could become a puddle again from how unreal it all seems. The past thirty minutes, the preceding moments before you walked into his office, and the plans that lay ahead for the future. "But not before I take you on a proper date."

Months later, you sit at your desk with only your boss on your mind, his eyes lingering on you even as his CFO Lee Heeseung discusses something menial with him. You try to go back to your laptop screen, the seasonal trends report for the new line of guitar strings begging to be completed, but it's no use. You're enthralled with the man across the office space, just like he is with you.

So when the email to meet him in his office for an "oral report" of the latest documented projections comes a few moments later, you don't question him, the man you love.

You thought you wanted to kill your boss before, but it was truly unexpected how many deaths—both little and enormous—Jay Park seemed to have in his pocket for you.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @prkhaven @tinycatharsis @fangel @aaa-sia @yvnempire @addictedtohobi @innocygnet @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @xylatox @dawngyu

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @/moadiarynet @/pirateeznet @/thediamondlifenetwork @sweetvenomnet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[dumbkiri]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒

χα∂єη яισяѕση χ ƒ! мαιяι! яєα∂єя

ρℓσт: second year at basgaith did not start out the way you wanted. xaden left you behind breaking his promise to you. luckily for you, some memories can be erased.

αηgѕт

ησтє: I changed up the timeline of events to fit this prompt. This is a reader insert, but you do have blue eyes. Just wanted to warn ya, but I need you to somewhat resemble Liam/Sloane. And yes, Sgaeyl enjoys your company :) Lenin is the offspring of Sgaeyl/Tairn cuz y not? and you have a cool ass signet...obviously this is made for fun! apologies for typos in names and shiii not proofread!

“I will never leave you behind.” 

That is what he promised you the year before Violet Sorrengail came into his life. Xaden Riorson hadn’t broken a commitment and you never thought he could. He trained you, made you stronger in the year you first joined Basgaith College. Then there were moments you two shared behind closed doors, moments you believed you could only have between each other. 

Then second year came around and you could not believe how fickle his resolution could become. His declaration of loyalty melted in the palm of her hands like she held onto him the entire time. Like she knew him all these years of creating the rebellion and rebuilding his home, your home. It didn’t matter that his life was tied to hers. No, that was an excuse. He got close to her and now people wouldn’t stop talking about how he ditched you for Violet. 

You did your best to laugh about the teasing remarks or smile at the reassurances your friends made. But they hurt more than anything because the truth lies within their words. 

With their pitiful looks, it felt like they told you, ‘Read between the lines, [Name]. He dropped you for silver. Time to move on.’

And to make matters worse? Xaden made your brother act as her bodyguard. You couldn’t even spend time with Liam because he was wrapped up in his duty of being Violet’s friend and protector. You’d hope that you would have time with Liam to catch up between all the letters you sent to him. Yet every time you tried to catch his attention, he would hug you with a grin then say ‘I’m sorry, but I’ll be back. I promise.’ He left you to go follow Violet like a puppy. 

Not only that, your best friend is also training her! You hadn’t had her by your side in what felt like forever. You usually wake up early to spar with Imogen, instead you have to deal with Garrick and his huge body. God, you felt so alone in your stupid room reminding you of their presence. Xaden’s shirts, Liam’s wooden figurine of Lenin and Imogen’s stupid training dummy. 

Everyone that spent time with you is now focused on Violet Sorrengail. 

“You are not alone, Dagger,” Lenin said, his voice washing over you like ocean waves, “You have me and I think this is the time to push further with your signet.” 

He is right, you have better things to focus on. You pushed yourself off your bed and sat yourself in the middle of the room. You closed your eyes and felt yourself leaving your dorm room. Turns out your signet isn’t really cloaking, it’s manipulating matter and energy. Cloaking works because you manipulate the speed of light to slow it down allowing you to force it around your body or other subjects. So when an outsider looks at you or the tested objects, they would have no idea of your presence. 

“You still have no idea how it works, do you?” The dagger on your nightstand vibrated with pure power waiting for you to tap into it. 

“I’m working on the explanation, okay,” You laughed in your old bedroom. Pushing yourself up from the carpeted floor, you walked over to the night stand and picked up the vibrating dagger. You wonder how your friends tap into their bond. How they picture their dragons. 

Lenin called you Dagger the moment he accepted you as his rider. It was a nice sentiment and better than most nicknames others receive. 

“It fits you,” Lenin hummed, “You killed that group with only a dagger and now you are unstoppable in any challenge you face. You give that oaf a run for his money.”

“Lenin, his name is Garrick and he’s a nice guy! An oaf is a crazy way to describe someone you met once!” You barked out, a giggle shaking your body with happiness.The dagger grew warmer in your hold and you gripped it tight. This is when your signet proved to be at its best, when you were happy. And Lenin knew this. 

“Try cloaking yourself then moving some objects around you, one at a time,” Lenin growled in warning, “We do not want you chucking me out the window again.” 

“Hey! That was by accident, besides Liam made another figurine of you! Can you imagine if the one of Sgaeyl was thrown out? Yeesh, you think she’d forget about me too?” 

 You sat back down in your previous spot and allowed yourself to focus on your breathing. Lenin hummed in your head, filling it with memories of your first flight with him. Honestly the best feeling after a storm is being reborn in the evening light with a dragon to call your protector. 

“My mother enjoys our flights out together, it’s a shame Shadow is preoccupied with whatever he does in the dark.” 

“Oh, I know! We can invite your mom to fly with us. We can go early tomorrow that way Xaden doesn’t know! What do you say to that?” 

The way Lenin hummed in satisfaction knew you made him happy with that suggestion. “She would love that, Dagger.” 

……

“Hey, [N.Name], you in here?” 

Imogen knocked twice on your bedroom door then waited for your response. Five beats of silence went by and she looked over her shoulder at the group with a raised eyebrow. 

“Seems like she’s out,” She removed her hand from the door knob and took one step back until Xaden’s gruff voice stopped her. 

“Open the door and we’ll see if she’s actually gone.” 

Imogen rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, “Alright, look. No offense to Violet, but [Name] will not be interested in training her. Especially when we…” The pink haired female moved her hand around lazily, hoping for Xaden and Liam to get the point without having to explain it right in front of Violet. 

“When you guys what?” Violet questioned looking at the three of them, confusion stapled onto her face. 

Xaden shook his head and said, “Doesn’t matter, right now Violet needs her help. Liam is here to convince her and you’re here to open her door.” 

Imogen never liked this idea in the first place. Talk about violating one’s privacy for another’s benefit. She just hoped you would forgive her when they all walked into your room uninvited. Imogen placed her hand on the handle and opened it up while holding her breath. 

She hadn’t seen you in awhile. Only briefly in classes then she had to go training with Violet. Yet her training wasn’t enough, Violet needed to get better with daggers. Xaden had the bright idea of asking the expert, Cloak and Dagger, to teach the silver-haired girl. Damn it, if only Imogen was a better teacher you wouldn’t have to be dealing with a pain like this. 

Watching your crush hover over another girl. 

Even Sgaeyl disapproved of Xaden’s choice. The blue dragon always had a liking for you and she would lean over you if someone got too close in the field. Now the female dragon has to deal with Violet Sorrengail and her weak nature. 

“I’m working on the explanation, okay?” 

Your bubbly laugh hit Imogen in the heart with a pang of guilt. She kind of forgot your laugh, but she couldn’t admit that to you. Imogen slowly walked in and watched you sit in the middle of the room with the dagger you earned from Garrick floating a foot just above your lap. 

Your eyes were closed which allowed her and the rest to walk into your room. Someone closed the door behind her, but Imogen’s eyes were glued onto you. How can you not get any cooler than this? 

The floating dagger spun a few times and you laughed again, “Lenin, his name is Garrick and he’s a nice guy! An oaf is a crazy way to describe someone you met once!” 

Liam coughed out a laugh and everyone turned their heads at him. He shrugged his shoulders and whispered, “I don’t think she can hear us. She explained before that when she taps into the bond with Lenin, a cloak is automatically draped over the both of them. Think of mega-shields.” 

“Hey!” You suddenly shouted making everyone freeze, then you said, “That was by accident, besides Liam made another figurine of you! Can you imagine if the one of Sgaeyl was thrown out? Yeesh, you think she’d forget about me too?” 

Imogen sighed out in relief, letting the breath she was holding out. Then anger flared her system up. Your words sunk in and she looked at Liam and Xaden, “This is exactly what I meant by what we did. We dropped her because of you.” She pointed at Xaden then moving her glare towards Violet, “I get it, you guys have mated dragons, but I don’t know what is going on with [Name]. She’s my best friend and ever since I’ve been stuck on training duty, I haven't known for a while what's going on and the only one who really keeps in contact with her is Garrick and Bodhi.” 

“[Name] knows that isn’t the truth,” Liam’s smile fell and he stepped up to Imogen, “She also knows how important it is to keep Violet alive. If she dies, Xaden dies. Do you know how important that is?” 

Imogen squared Liam up, ready to defend her best friend, you, “I do, but Violet’s survival relies on her now. A friend we all dropped since Violet bonded with Sgaeyl’s mate. How would you react if your friends, who forgot about you, barged into your room uninvited then asked for your help in training that girl? I don’t think you understand that your sister has feelings. Or did you forget about that too?” 

“Oh, I know! We can invite your mom to fly with us. We can go early tomorrow that way Xaden doesn’t know! What do you say to that?” You chirped and the dagger spun faster this time and you disappeared in a blink of an eye. Then small items around your dorm began floating one at a time. First it was Sgaeyl’s figurine on top of a shelf that floated, disappeared, reappeared then placed gently back in its place. Next it was one of Xaden’s shirts then your notebook. 

“Sgaeyl likes [Name]?” Violet piped up with genuine surprise. Yet the tense atmosphere flicked on like a light and the spinning dagger stopped moving. In a second, Violet swore, the dagger’s edge was pointed in her direction and it shot towards her. 

“Violet!” Andarna shouted.

“Silver One, get down!” Tairn ordered. 

Time slowed down and Violet forced herself to drop towards the floor. When she did, time resumed and the dagger embedded itself into the wall behind Violet meanwhile a wall of shadows rose up too late to protect her. 

“What. The. Hell!” You shouted, uncloaking yourself, and glaring at the people in your room. Your blue eyes flashing dangerously as you stood up and briskly walked over to the wall to retrieve your dagger. “I could have killed her! Killed you!” You spat while pulling the dagger out of the wall with ease. 

“What are you guys doing in my room?” You asked, frustrated that everyone is left stupified by what happened. 

“We,” Liam began looking at the hole made in the wall. You really could have ended four lives in one second. A second that Xaden reacted too late to save Violet. Liam helped Violet up and continued on, “We wanted to ask for your help. Violet needs expertise in challenges and she likes using daggers. I suggested that-” 

“Did you suggest or did Xaden tell you?” You asked, putting the dagger into the sheath at your hip. When Liam hesitated to answer you moved your attention to Imogen, “And you, you used your privilege to allow them into my room? I almost killed Violet, Imogen!” 

“[Name],” Imogen called out softly and she put her hand on your arm to calm you down, “I’m sorry, but Liam is right. Violet needs your help and I tried all that I could. You’re more skilled and patient than I am. Also yes, Xaden did tell us to do this.”

You closed your eyes and leveled out your breathing. 

“Lenin, they could have died. Your parents,” You reached out to him and he didn’t hesitate to reach back. 

“It’s okay, Dagger,” Lenin hummed, “Andarna saved Violet, you need not worry.” 

You opened up your eyes and sighed. You couldn’t forgive yourself if Lenin came to hate you. The only reason why you weren’t alone was because he stuck by your side. “I’m not interested in training duties. As you can tell, I’m busy working on my signet. It obviously needs work.” 

You turned your back on them and waved a dismissive hand at them, “You can walk yoruselves out.” They mumbled behind you and then the door closed right after. Yet you still felt his demanding authority. 

“Your signet isn’t cloaking, is it?” 

“Obviously not, Xaden,” You answered back, gathering some of his shirts in your arms. This was the perfect moment to return them since he spared some time to talk to you. For her. He was only here for her, you grimly reminded yourself. 

“I found out at the beginning of this year, you would have known if you asked how I was doing,” You were not at all ready to face him. Knowing that this could be your goodbye to him. He may have let you go, but you wanted to hold onto him a little longer. 

“I can manipulate light and matter,” You explained, keeping your eyes glued to the floor, clutching onto his shirts like a lifeline, “I can cloak multiple items and even Lenin despite his size. Right now, I’m messing around with the space surrounding objects to lift them up. I wanted to learn how to cloak other dragons like Sgaeyl or Deigh or Glane. But you guys are too busy. So I’m focusing on the levitating part of my signet.” 

“That’s incredible,” He said with unfeigned amazement.  

You couldn’t help, but agree with him. The smile on your face bringing back the dazzle in your blue eyes, “Right? I mean if I can cloak multiple dragons at once, imagine how any battle will go. Our enemies won’t know we’re coming and-” 

“I miss this girl,” Sgaeyl interrupted you and Xaden felt her pride rise, “Leninach knows exactly how to choose a strong rider. And I wouldn't mind flying with them again either.”

“Then tell your son to convince her to train Violet,” Xaden said, “You do that then we will fly with them.” 

“I’ll fly with them with or without you,” She growled. 

“-and I want to apologize for almost killing Violet. I didn’t recognize her voice.” You finished and looked into his dark eyes. 

Xaden tilted his head in a slight angle, “Liam did mention that you are blocked out from the world when you channel. But the moment Violet spoke, you threw the dagger her way. Tell me that wasn’t intentional.” 

You rolled your eyes and tossed his shirts at him which he caught effortlessly. “I told you I didn’t recognize her voice. And Liam is half-correct. When I channel, I feel this cold washing over my body like ocean waves. That’s the whole cloaking bit. He calls it mega-shields, leave it to my brother to come up with something corny.” 

You walked over to your bed and sat on the cushion of it. You brushed the ripples on your sheets away and said, “Regular shields block out anyone, friend or foe. Mega-shields block out my friends because when I channel I know I’m safe around them. So when I channel to use the levitating part of my signet, I’m left vulnerable. Which means I’m more perceptive of foes or people I don’t trust. Violet isn’t an enemy, but she certainly isn’t my friend either.” 

“You’d like her,” Xaden cut in, “She’s smart like you and she’s dealing with a group that is targeting her because she’s the general’s daughter and Tairn is her dragon.” He said it because he knew you’d relate to her. During your first year, a group targeted you because you were very close to Xaden and your dragon was the third largest dragon known. Yet unlike you, she didn’t kill the people that went after her. Not yet. 

You vividly remember the year of your Threshing. The way the fog clouded your vision, the rain washed the blood off your clothes. The first time you heard Lenin speak to you with pride. You killed six people with the dagger you earned from Garrick during challenges. But the seventh was saved for Lenin.

“She’s nothing like me,” Your bite was cold with truth, “I killed those that came for me during my Threshing. She let Jack Barlowe run away. I broke my opponents bones and sliced them up with my dagger in challenges, she poisoned them. I can mount my dragon despite his huge size and hold onto him while flying. I don’t need Lenin to hold me down with lesser magic.”

Xaden grabbed the chair at your desk and sat on it. He rested his forearms on his knees and leaned in with heavy shoulders. Yeah, you were right. Violet couldn’t even hold a candle to you, but his convincing needed…convincing. 

Xaden looked into your blue eyes in what felt like forever and his demeanor softened up. He remembered how well you tore down his walls even when you glared at him like that. You always had that effect on him and he missed it. He hadn’t been able to relax ever since Violet bonded with Tairn. Couldn’t walk past you without Sgaeyl snarling at him for his indifference. 

“[Name], please I don’t want to argue with you. I need you to do this. You’re the only one that can help her.”

“Wow, you got him to beg,” Lenin chuffed. 

You rolled your eyes and mulled about the idea of training Violet. Is it possible to train a fragile girl like her? The only thing she’s got going for her is her intelligence. So what? All you had to do was get her to manage her dagger skills as well or even better than you. 

“I’ll give her a week to pick up my technique,” You stood up from the bed and walked over to your door, “If she doesn’t learn at least some of it, she’s a lost cause, got it?” 

“A week,” Xaden agreed and he pushed himself off your chair. Then he stood right in front of you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You reeled back from the action and said, “It was good to see you, Xaden.” 

You opened the door for him and gently pushed him out of your room. He nodded his head silently and let you lead him out. He missed the feeling of your hands on him and missed when you smiled at him. Xaden will admit his thoughts have been clouded by Violet for many reasons. 

I don’t think you understand that your sister has feelings.

Imogen’s shout at Liam from earlier echoed in his head. She was right, [Name] had every right to refuse them. Xaden neglected her feelings for him while also pushing his feelings for her away in the back of his mind. Now that his life was tethered to Violet’s he couldn't afford not to protect her with all he could. 

He expended his friends and family’s time to revolve around Violet. Now he was making you swallow a heavy pill by having you instructing the girl that took him from you. 

“So how did it go?” Liam asked when you closed your door on them, not even saying goodbye to him or Imogen. The action hurt Liam and Imogen, yet they did not try to argue with you. 

Xaden sighed and said, “Violet has one week to learn [Name]’s technique. If she doesn’t catch on to any of it, consider Violet a lost cause. Her words, not mine.” 

“Great,” Violet mumbled, not at all confident in her skill. 

……

When night came, Imogen struggled to fall asleep in her bed. Not even Glane’s words of reassurance helped her to get a wink of sleep. Instead Imogen spent her time glaring holes into her ceiling thinking about today’s events. 

The hurt and anger in your face plagued her mind. 

BAM! BAM!

Two heavy knocks rattled Imogen’s door and she shot up in her bed in alarm. She jumped out of her sheets when she heard Garrick on the other side of the door, voices rushed and drowned out on the other side. 

Imogen jogged over to her door and opened it up to spot Garrick and Bodhi looking at her worriedly. Then Garrick said, “You need to open [Name]’s door again. It’s an emergency.” 

The pink-haired girl followed her friends and asked, “What is going on? Is she okay?” 

Garrick shook his head, “Well if what she’s being accused of is true, then no. She will be in trouble.” 

Imogen looked down the dark hall and spotted Xaden pacing in front of your door with bloodied knuckles and shadows twisting haphazardly around the halls. She needed to know what happened. “Xaden, what is going on?” 

Xaden stopped pacing and pointed at your door, “Open it now.” 

Imogen didn’t hesitate this time, the fury in his voice moved her and she opened her friend’s bedroom door. Inside it was dark and when the mage light flicked on, your bed was empty and made. 

“She’s not here,” Imogen told the boys and she glared at them, “Now can one of you tell me what’s going on? Why the hell am I being woken up at the crack ass of dawn?” 

Xaden, obviously pissed, zoned out and everyone knew he was reaching out to Sgaeyl. 

Bodhi stepped up to speak and said, “Violet was attacked by the unbonded riders. She said that the one who wasn’t caught left the hallway like a shimmer. Like [Name]’s cloaked shimmer.” He looked at Imogen with nervousness like he sensed her anger. 

Imogen couldn’t believe it. She dragged the males into your warded room one by one. Then she closed the door behind her and yelled at them, full on shouting at their stupidity, “You have got to be kidding me! You guys really believe [Name] would let unbonded riders attack Violet? She just agreed to train her! You cannot be this fucking stupid!” 

Then she had to hit the nail on the coffin. Your cloak doesn’t shimmer anymore. It did when you first developed your signet, but when Xaden encouraged you to get rid of that shimmer you achieved that goal in two months. How could the guys forget this? It’s like after all this distance they put between them and you made them forget how your signet works!

“Her cloak doesn’t shimmer, dumbasses!” 

But Xaden was out the door already, his hands clenched up in his frustration. 

“Where are you going?” Garrick called out to him. 

“To the flight field,” Xaden responded, his steps heavy with determination to get your truth. 

……

You stretched your limbs after dismounting Lenin with a smile on your face, looking at the two dragons before you. Your bright blue eyes landed on the blue dragon and you bowed your head, “Thank you Sgaeyl for joining us. I know that after Xaden stopped hanging out with me, we don’t go on our flights anymore.” 

Sgaeyl leaned down and huffed into your face, a sign of acceptance. 

“She says ‘I look forward to early flights with you now’,” Lenin chuffed. 

You reached your hand out to the blue dragon and avoided eye contact with her. You waited for her to boop your palm with her snout and after a few seconds she indulged in your request. The grin on your face washed away the moment you heard Xaden shout at you. 

“Back the hell away from Sgaeyl!” 

In surprise you turned around and watched Xaden in his flight jacket and uniform make his way towards you. Angry didn’t even begin to describe Xaden, he was beyond pissed and it was directed at you. Was he seriously mad that you went out flying with Sgaeyl and Lenin? 

“Lenin, what happened?” You asked your dragon, taking one step backwards into his warm chest. 

“The Silver One was attacked,” Lenin answered. 

He snarled and leaned his neck down, guarding you from Xaden’s line of sight. 

“You are agitating Lenin,” Sgaeyl warned Xaden. 

Xaden stopped a few feet away from the pair of dragons and took a deep breath in. Upsetting a blue dragon is not on his bucket list. Neither was threatening a black dragon’s rider. 

So he started off slowly, “Did you let unbonded riders in Violet’s room?” 

You owlishly blinked behind Lenin’s cover and scoffed. You just came back from flying and he’s asking you about such a thing. An action like this is damaging for your reputation, to your friends and squad. Walking away from Lenin’s protection, you made your way to Xaden to stand in front of him. “You seriously asking me that question? Why would I let unbonded riders into her room? The only way they can bond to Tairn is if she dies, but newsflash Xaden, Tairn and Sgaeyl will die if she does!”

“She said that one got away and that they left with a shimmer, only your cloak shimmers,” He growled out. Then he grabbed you by your shoulders, his fingers digging into your flesh, “Don’t tell me that your jealousy got the best of you that you had to kill Violet. Tell me you aren’t that petty to kill her, us, or me!” 

Did he truly believe that jealousy could be your motive to kill Violet Sorrengail? Hell if it was, you would have done so long ago. But you weren’t that shallow. You ignored Violet like the plague, didn’t bother to get to know her because it physically hurt you. The girl that captured Xaden’s attention in one second undid all the work you did in years to get him to notice you. 

Finally when it was happening, when he called you yours, Violet came in like the storm she was. Uprooting your friends and family. 

“My cloak doesn't shimmer anymore, Xaden,” You said dejectedly, you didn’t have the energy to fight him right now. To explain that your cloak stopped shimmering two months after your signet popped up. “I may be jealous of her, but I’m not the one who broke a promise. I may hate her for stealing my friends and family, but I wouldn’t kill her out of spite. I just told you yesterday that I was willing to put my differences aside and train her. 

“Then why did she describe your cloak?” His hands fell away from your arms, the warmth gone in a breeze. 

You shoved your goggles in your flight jacket and shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know, but I was flying out with Sgaeyl and Lenin. They can vouch for me, we’ve been flying out for hours. 

“It’s true, we were gone long before the girl was attacked,” Sgaeyl confirmed. 

“I hope you find the true culprit,” You walked past him and to the direction of the college. Your shoulders are heavy with the realization that he will always choose her over you. Whether it stems from his growing need for her or keeping her alive, it didn’t matter anymore. He broke the promise and left you behind.  

“[Name], where are you going? I’m not done asking questions,” Xaden turned around, but you kept on walking. 

“I’m going to forget this conversation ever happened,” You declared with certainty. And one person can help you with that, you just hope she’s awake. 

……

When you walked into your room, mentally drained from the conversation with Xaden, you were caught off guard by Imogen’s presence. Her right leg bobbed up and down as if she was waiting for you to arrive. This made the trip to her way easier, the walk of shame was going to be very painful if you did walk towards her room. 

“Imogen?” Your soft voice awoke her from her trance and she jumped up from your chair with a sigh of relief. 

“Finally, you’re back,” She jogged over to you and embraced you in a tight hug. Okay, Imogen rarely hugs you and this one felt like she needed it. “I was so worried when everyone started pointing fingers at you for letting unbonded riders into Violet’s room. But I knew it wasn’t you, your cloak doesn’t shimmer anymore.” 

You huffed out with a grimace, “I’m glad one of my friends remembers that it doesn’t. Anyways can I ask you for a favor?” 

“Anything,” Imogen breathed out and pulled back with a smile. 

You nodded your head and said, “Erase my memories. I need to forget that Xaden just accused me of endangering his girlfriend.” Not that they are dating just yet, but it wouldn’t take long for them to develop feelings for one another. 

“But if I do that-” 

“If he wants me to train Violet, I need to forget this morning,” You pleaded with her, grabbing her hand and forcing her palm to touch your cold forehead, “Imogen, please. I cannot look at Violet knowing she accused me of something so horrid then Xaden blaming me for it. Do this for me.” 

“Okay,” Imogen reluctantly agreed. She watched your tears fall down your face and you smiled at her hopefully. 

“Thank you.”  

You wished Imogen could erase more than the conversation. You wanted her to erase all your feelings for Xaden Riorson. 

Forget his hands roaming your body and the kisses he left in his wake. Forget the way he said your name with adoration and the way he stared into your eyes with longing. 

Because you could train Violet with ease if you held no feelings for Xaden. But hey, not everyone can have what they want. This is a lesson for you and hopefully Xaden will finally remember how much you mean to him. 

Soon, it will happen. A feeling so deep in the pit of your stomach made you believe that. 

[kaiser1ns]

#. FOR NOW, THOUGH, HAKUNA MATATA

featuring 𝗶𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝘀𝗮𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 with 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗱𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝘆𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗶

fluff + slight suggestive. it didn’t matter how close they got as teammates or how many stupid jokes he cracked, sae’s focus was always on you.

Staying over at your best friend’s place, enjoying some peace and quiet without trying to hide from the paparazzi or him opening his mouth to say something giving his manager a ton of explanation to do about his rude behavior. You had decided to shower while Sae was running some errands. The warm water cascaded over you, your muscles relaxing as steam filled the small but luxurious bathroom. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you stepped out, wet hair clinging to your shoulders. You were just about to put on a face mask to help you relax to the fullest, feeling the cold ingredients soothing your skin when the front door opening startled you.  

Sae wasn’t supposed to be back yet.  

Heart pounding, you instinctively tightened the towel around your body and peeked out of the bathroom, expecting to see him but instead, you were met with a wide grin and cat-like pink eyes—Shidou Ryusei.  

“What the—?!” you shrieked, grabbing the nearest thing at hand, which was your slipper as you threw it at him out of reflex to protect yourself from stranger danger, even though the striker was no stranger to you.

“Woah! Feisty!” Shidou laughed, dodging your attack from where you were positioned in the corridor with the nearest safe place when he was not in your vision anymore as he settled on the couch instead. “I knew Sae had good taste, but damn—"  

“GET OUT!” you screamed, retreating as fast as your bare feet could take you. Slamming the bedroom door shut, turning the lock, breathing heavily as you wrapped your arms around your body. Without wasting another second, you grabbed your phone trembling, and called Sae.

The call barely rang twice before he finally decided to answer.  

“Why are you calling me? I’m almost home—”  

“What is your little pet doing here?!” you snapped, clutching the phone as if your life depended on it and right now it did. How can he just enter like he owns the place? Most importantly what was he even doing on a random Tuesday at nine o'clock in the morning, supposedly visiting Sae’s apartment... “What are you talking about?”  

“Shidou!” you hissed. “He just walked in! Into your apartment! While I’m practically naked!” You can practically hear Sae’s sigh through the phone and what you assume were the sound of cars’ engines—he was still somewhere outside. “Don’t panic. I’ll handle it.”  

“You better,” you snapped, trying your best not to panic when another man came uninvited when all you wanted was to be alone and wait for your best friend to be back so you could spend more time together. “Because if he tries anything, I’ll do more than throw a slipper at him.”  

On the other side of the door, Shidou’s voice rang out, teasing. “You know, I can hear you. Sae never said his place came with such entertainment!”  

You hung up, swearing under your breath. Quickly grabbed one of Sae's football shirts from his drawer—it was oversized, brushing against your thighs, the soft fabric smelling faintly of him. Pairing it with a pair of shorts you had brought along, you slung the towel over your arm and took a deep breath, preparing to be met with the intruder and whatever chaos he would create this time.

When you finally opened the door, your defenses were up, expecting some obnoxious comment or teasing smirk. Instead, you found Shidou lounging comfortably on the big couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table as he scrolled through what you assume is TikTok.

You rolled your eyes. Typical.

Choosing to ignore him, walking to the fridge, your stomach growling. Surely Sae had left something for you to eat. Except... the fridge was nearly empty. You sighed, shutting the door a little too hard. You’d trusted him to stock it, and maybe grab you something to eat since this was supposed to be your day together, but apparently, someone had other plans.

Settling for the chocolate bar you found on the counter, you opened it and perched on one of the barstools, hoping to enjoy it in peace. But even with your back to him, you could feel his gaze burning into you.

“Can you stop staring at me?” you said, not bothering to turn around and grabbing your phone to watch videos in hopes of ignoring his presence but Shidou’s voice came with that same teasing tone. “What can I say? You’re pretty. Makes me wonder how someone like you has Itoshi Sae’s attention.”

The sudden compliment caught you off guard, and your eyes widened slightly as heat crept into your cheeks. Quickly, you brushed it off. “None of your business,” you snapped, finishing the chocolate bar in a single bite.

Silence fell, broken only by the occasional sound from Shidou’s phone. You stared at the empty wrapper in your hand, wishing Sae would hurry up and get back. This day was supposed to be about you and him—just hanging out, doing whatever you wanted.

Before you could sink further into your thoughts, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the apartment. Both of you froze, eyes snapping to the door. For a moment, you and Shidou locked gazes, silently challenging each other.

Then you both bolted toward the door.

“Move!” Shidou shouted, but you were faster, shoving him out of the way with your shoulder as you reached for the doorknob. Yanking it open you grinned up at Sae. “Welcome home, Sae~” you chirped, standing in the doorway like you just didn’t push someone visibly physically stronger than you in the wall.

The prodigy's unimpressed gaze flicked between the two of you, and you could already tell he was annoyed. “I don’t even want to know,” putting two big plastic bags on the floor and crossing his arms as he took a good look at the both of you, mostly at you and how good you looked in his jersey. It wasn’t the first time you wore his clothes, he hoped it was not the last with you smiling so innocently, stepping aside to let him in. “Oh, nothing. Just your little pet causing trouble, as usual.”

Behind you, Shidou groaned dramatically from where he’d stumbled, rubbing his shoulder. “She fights dirty, Sae. You should’ve warned me.”

“Save it,” the midfielder cut him off, already rubbing his temples like he regretted ever leaving you two alone when he didn’t know himself what Shidou was doing here but he would let it slide this time, he was not that annoying.

After Sae’s exasperated interrogation and a grudging apology from Shidou for barging in, the three of you settled in for lunch. It wasn’t anything fancy, he had picked up takeout on his way back and got your favorite dish. He just knows you so well. Eventually, after hours of doing nothing—more like not trying to get into another competition with Shidou for Sae’s attention when you lost only once when they talked about their teammates in the U-20, you enjoyed the gossip nevertheless.

Actually, Shidou isn't that bad, he is just another lost soul who seeks someone to understand him, but he couldn't get that understanding from you, especially not today when he decided to be a pain in the ass interrupting your alone time with the boy you had hearteyes for and it’s getting late, the perfect time for the three of you to settle on the couch and relax. No more competitions, no more talking back when you somehow convinced them to watch The Lion King.

You’d started it last night with Sae, cuddled up together under a blanket as you gently played with his hair. He’d fallen asleep right around Hakuna Matata, his bangs brushing against your fingers as you toyed with them. Now, as the opening notes of the song played again, you couldn’t help but glance over at him. His maroon hair was back to its usual styled look, held in place with hairspray, but you could still feel the softness from the night before.  

You nudged Sae’s side, making a subtle hint for his attention. He raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t say anything when you leaned your head against his shoulder. Your hand found his, your fingers brushing against his palm until he intertwined them with yours. A small, satisfied smile crept across your face as he played with your fingers, as he always does when you want physical intimacy.  

From the other side of the couch, Shidou’s gaze didn’t miss a thing. “Aw, don’t leave me out,” he leaned forward, dramatically resting his head on Sae’s other shoulder.  

“Do not even think about it,” Sae deadpanned without even looking at him.  

You smirked from behind Sae, meeting a pair of pink eyes with that smug look on your beautiful face. He could read your lips clearly as you mouthed, I told you, he likes me more. Shidou rolled his eyes, leaning back into his spot on the couch. “Whatever,” he muttered under his breath, crossing his arms. “Hakuna Matata, I guess. A life with no worries.”  

As the movie progressed, you shifted positions. By the time Can You Feel the Love Tonight started playing, you were stretched across the couch, your legs stretching out to the armrest and your head resting comfortably in Sae’s lap. He ran his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle as he focused on the screen. You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat when your eyes met. His teal gaze was soft, a rare expression that he reserved for only a select few, only for you. 

The scene on the screen mirrored the moment between you two: Simba and Nala finally being together after a long separation when the lioness gave him the look. You gave Sae the exact same look, and his fingers stilled in your hair for a second before resuming their slow, soothing rhythm. Shidou’s mouth opened wide in shock, raising his eyebrows and breaking the bubble you and Sae were in.  

“Are you two together or something?” he asked, leaning forward to look at the two of you.  

You didn’t hear him, too lost in Sae’s eyes and the soft touch, however he heard him loud and clear. Without breaking eye contact with you, he replied, “No.” Short, simple, and without any more explanation. But Shidou wasn’t stupid. He could see the complexity in that “no.” It wasn’t a denial—it was a warning sign. The kind of sign that said, This isn’t your business. It wasn’t the answer he expected. He tilted his head, studying the two of you. The way Sae looked at you, the way you seemed to melt under his touch—it was more complicated than simple.

Ah, so that’s how it was. You two were playing along with this whole best friend thing, but he knew now that he’d never truly have Sae’s attention outside the football field. It didn’t matter how close they got as teammates or how many stupid jokes he cracked; Sae’s focus was always on you no matter what.  

As Simba and Nala’s romantic moment faded into the third-wheeling antics of Timon and Pumbaa, Shidou sighed. He supposed he could relate, leaning back into the couch, his gaze shifting between you. He can see what's happening and you don't have a clue. Falling in love and here is the bottom line, the duo is now down to a singleplayer. The sweet caress of twilight, there's magic everywhere, and with all this romantic atmosphere ... Disaster's in the air.

You didn’t even acknowledge him, still too focused on your childhood crush. Shidou smirked faintly to himself. Yeah, he’d get used to it eventually. “Guess that makes me Timon,” he muttered under his breath. You glanced up at him briefly, a teasing grin pulling at your lips as he sighed, slumping deeper into the couch. Maybe, just like Timon and Pumbaa eventually came around to Nala, he’d get used to you too.

For now, though, Hakuna Matata.

The movie neared its end, the final battle between Simba and Scar playing out and you had fallen asleep at some point, your head still resting comfortably in Sae’s lap. His focus is split between the movie and the steady rise and fall of your breathing. You looked so peaceful like this, and he wasn’t about to move and disturb you.  

On the other side of the couch, Shidou was anything but peaceful. He stretched, groaning as the credits began to roll, signaling maybe he should roll out too. He had been patient all day, third-wheeling like a champ, but the sight of you nestled into Sae as if you belonged there was starting to rub him the wrong way.

Suddenly, he stood, making Sae look up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Where are you going?” your best friend asked, his voice low to avoid waking you.  

“Far from the Pride Lands,” Shidou quipped, a smirk playing on his lips. He had gotten way too into the movie, and the line slipped out before he could think twice about it. He glanced at your sleeping form, tempted to throw in a teasing remark, but he held back. The last thing he wanted was to get on Sae’s nerves.  

Sae rolled his eyes, his attention drifting back to you. “Yeah, run away and never return.”  

The words were dry and pointed, but there was no harm behind them, just the usual sarcastic remark. Shidou would leave now, but this wasn’t the last time he’d invade Sae’s space. He didn’t mind the food or the movies, but the third-wheeling? That was too much to handle.

“Itoshi Sae,” he said carelessly, the lyrics coming to him easily after spending the entire day watching The Lion King trilogy, “I can’t wait to be king!”  

Sae let out a quiet, tired sigh, waving him off without so much as glancing his way. “Just go. And close the door behind you.” Shidou chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed his stuff. He didn’t need Sae to escort him to the door—he knew the way out. As he reached the hallway, he paused for a moment, looking back at the two of you.  

Finally, just the two of you. Leaning back onto the couch, his hand still gently brushing through your hair. The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the end credits music and your steady breathing. He glanced down at you, allowing himself to smile for the first time today, and if you ever saw him like that you would end up being more annoying than the guest that was here seconds ago.

Shidou had just stepped outside the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him as he muttered something about the Pride Lands. But halfway down the hallway, he patted his pockets and realized his phone was missing. Groaning, he turned back, muttering to himself, “Can’t even leave without forgetting something.”

As he reached for the doorknob, he paused. Why was the door unlocked?

Pushing it open, he stepped inside—and immediately froze.

There you were, sitting on Sae’s lap, your hands cradling his face as your lips moved together in a kiss that could only be described as passionate. Sae’s hand rested firmly on your legs, holding you in place as if he had no intention of letting you go. The scene was so intimate, so unexpected, that Shidou just stood there, wide-eyed, his mouth slightly open in shock, a rather pleasant shock.

The door creaked behind him, and the sound made both of you stop. Your heads snapped toward him in unison, eyes wide like you’d been caught committing a crime.

Shidou blinked, then grinned, his signature playfulness kicking in. “Holy shi—For free?”

Your face burned red as you instinctively grabbed the nearest cushion and launched it at him. “SHIDOU!” you yelled, still clinging to Sae as if letting go would somehow make the situation worse.

He ducked the flying cushion, laughing as he darted toward the coffee table to grab his phone. “Relax! I’m just here for my phone!”

“Shidou, get out!” you shouted again, angrier and annoyed because this was the second time he caught you in an unexpected situation and as he backed toward the door, phone in hand, Shidou smirked. “You know, you should really lock the door. Or were you hoping I’d come back and catch you manipulating Sae like Nala tried to do with Simba? What a woman you are…”

Your grip on Sae tightened as you glared daggers at him. “Stop staring and GET OUT!”

“Alright, alright!” Shidou raised his hands in surrender, still grinning like he’d won some kind of prize. “Lock the door next time, damnit!” he added with a laugh, finally slipping out the door.

The moment the door closed, you and Sae sat in silence, your faces still flushed. A second later, he got up and went to the door, the sound of the lock clicking echoed through the room, ensuring no further interruptions.

Outside, Shidou shook his head, chuckling to himself as he walked away. “Hakuna Matata,” he muttered. “What a wonderful phrase.”

Inside the apartment, you laughed out of pure embarrassment, burying your face in Sae’s shoulder. “I can’t believe that just happened.” He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer there's a calm surrender to the rush of the day. It's enough for him just to be with you, because he would make you feel his love tonight.

“That we got this far,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His lips met yours kissing you again, slower this time, removing any tension as you kissed him back, “Now, relax.”

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[bloomzone]

THE "LUCKY VICKY" MINDSET !

The Lucky Vicky Mindset or jang wonyoung mindset was created by Jang Wonyoung herself combining "lucky" with her English name "Vicky" (stand for Victory )to share her positive mindset that it's abt choosing a perspective that helps you move forward with confidence so this mindset is about understanding that your attitude shapes your experiences and that seeing yourself as "lucky" isn’t about chance but about the way you navigate challenges, setbacks n success.cuz It’s easy to feel overwhelmed when things don’t go as planned. Whether it’s struggling in school, facing criticism, or dealing with self-doubt, the natural reaction is often frustration or discouragement. But if u shift by thinking like : What if, instead of seeing obstacles as signs of failure, you saw them as redirections toward something better?

This mindset isn’t about ignoring problems it’s about handling them with clarity and resilience. "So how do you develop it?" u need to :

ஐ - 𝟷. ʀᴇғʀᴀᴍɪɴɢ sᴇᴛʙᴀᴄᴋs

There will always be moments when things don’t go your way. Maybe you didn’t get the opportunity you wanted, maybe people misunderstand you, or maybe you feel like progress is slow. The lucky vicky Mindset teaches us that nothing is truly working against us—it’s just working differently than we expected.A well-known example what wonnie said "This happened during a tour when I visited Spain. At that time, I waited a long time at a famous bakery, but all the bread in front of me was sold out. They told me that if I waited a little longer, fresh bread would come out. I thought, ‘That’s Lucky Vicky,’ because I could eat freshly made bread. I shared that story with my fans, and from then on, ‘Lucky Vicky’ spread instantly and became a popular meme.” It’s a small moment, but it reflects a powerful way of thinking it mean that Instead of focusing on what didn’t happen, focus on what’s still possible.This applies to bigger situations too. Didn’t get the result you wanted? It’s a chance to adjust your approach. Lost an opportunity? Maybe it wasn’t the right one, and something better is coming. Feeling stuck? That means growth is happening, even if you can’t see it yet.The way you choose to interpret setbacks determines whether they drain you or empower you.

ஐ - 𝟸. ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴅᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇs ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

Wonyoung is often criticized online, but her response to negativity is simple: “No problem, I don’t care. You are you, and I am me.” This isn’t about arrogance or something but it’s about understanding that not everything requires your energy.If you spend too much time thinking about what others say, replaying negative moments, or trying to justify yourself, you lose focus on what actually matters. Some opinions do not need to be addressed. Some people are not worth your time.That doesn’t mean ignoring constructive feedback, but it does mean choosing where you place your attention. The Lucky Vicky Mindset is about knowing when to engage and when to walk away because your energy is too valuable to be wasted on things that don’t help you grow.Jang Wonyoung also said in a show interview : "I believe there is energy in thoughts and words. When I got anxious and negative thoughts, I tried to correct them positively. In the end, there was no wrong path even if I looked at where I am now,"

ஐ - 𝟹. ғᴏᴄᴜs ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴇss

Comparison is one of the biggest traps in personal growth. Social media makes it easy to see others succeeding and wonder why you’re not at their level. But the truth is, no one’s journey looks the same and no one has it all figured out.Wonyoung has been in the spotlight since she was a teenager, constantly compared to others, yet she stays focused on her own path.

🗝️:You don’t need to be ahead of anyone else you just need to be ahead of where you were yesterday.

Instead of thinking:

"Why am I not as successful as them?"

Try:

"What small step can I take today to improve?"

Your timeline is your own. Trust that your progress is happening at the right pace for you.

ஐ - 𝟺. ᴄᴏɴғɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

A lot of people wait to feel "ready" before taking action. They think confidence comes when they finally have everything figured out. But in reality, confidence grows through experience, not through waiting.Wonyoung didn’t become poised and self-assured overnight. She gained confidence by stepping into situations that challenged her. The only way to become good at something is to do it, even when it’s uncomfortable.So, whether it’s speaking up more, taking on new challenges, or stepping outside your comfort zone, start before you feel fully prepared. Confidence isn’t about never making mistakes but it’s about knowing that mistakes won’t break u

ஐ - 𝟻. ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴀss ɪs ʜᴀʟғ ғᴜʟʟ

I want to add something about positive and negative thinking for the setback part

People often say, "The glass is half full" to mean optimism and "The glass is half empty" to mean pessimism. The Lucky Vicky Mindset takes it a step further.

wony once said, “I was about to drink water after practice, and just about half a cup was left. I had hoped for just about half because it would be too much to drink all of it and not enough if it was too little. I am totally a ‘Lucky Vicky!’”

That it’s about seeing things as aligned for you. It’s not about forcing happiness or pretending everything is perfect. It’s about trusting that what’s in front of you is just right cuz The way you interpret situations shapes your reality so this way of thinking removes the pressure to categorize things as "good" or "bad." It allows you to move with life instead of resisting it. When you start seeing every outcome as something that fits into your journey, you naturally feel more at peace, less anxious, and more confident that things are unfolding the way they should.

So instead of asking, “Is my glass half full or half empty?” try thinking, “Maybe this is exactly the amount I was meant to have.”

@bloomzone

This mindset allows you to be present, grateful, and naturally attract opportunities. When you believe that life is working with u, rather than against you, everything starts to feel like a lucky break even the things you didn’t expect.i hope y'all like this blog and thank you for the love and support ! have a lucky Vicky day 🍀

[prettieinpink]

REBRANDING YOURSELF

COLLAB WITH THE HOTTIE????!!!!!!! @honeytonedhottie. LMAO NOT US PLANNING THIS IN LIKE DEC THEN RELEASING IN APRIL. I luv you so much ur my fav moot. moots who collab together, stay together. Check out her post on her page too, as usual, she makes the best points so y'all better listen.

Rebranding is a process in which you redefine who you are and how others perceive you. Each journey of rebranding yourself is personal and individual. When you rebrand yourself, you further align yourself with your higher you. This post is a guide to getting started on your journey!

UNDERSTAND YOUR CURRENT SELF.

So, take a step back and think about who you are as an individual right now. What are your values and beliefs? Does your external self reflect your inner self? Are you comfortable in your current environment?

These questions and more will help to see which aspects of your life you may need to redefine. See if there’s anything that doesn’t align with your higher self. 

After that, pick those aspects that need to be redefined. Why do you want to change this? How has this been impacting you internally/externally? Does this aspect stem from your environment or yourself? See why this aspect needs to be improved. 

DESIGNING YOUR BRAND

This is more of a fun step! So, using your aspects design how you want that specific thing to look and feel like. Avoid being vague or non-specific. Try to put in as much detail as you can for each aspect. 

If you’d prefer, you don’t have to use ‘aspects’ and instead use your life generally. This is your redesign, so do whatever is more comfortable and achievable for you.

ASPECTS

Health

Social life

Career

Hobbies

Family

Finance

Spirituality

Personal development (mindset, goals, improvement)

Self care

Culture

Well-being

Things to include

Achievable goals

How your environment looks like

How your daily life like

How you see yourself

What do you feel after

Why this is alignment within yourself? 

You can do this any way you want. The one I would recommend for redesigning your life would be a vision board, preferably a physical one. If you don’t want to do that, there are still a lot of options such as writing it down into a pretty poster, creating a playlist that will reflect your brand, creating a pretty list, or having sticky notes around your room as reminders. 

Be creative and detailed with this. You should spend at least an hour if not more trying to redesign your life/aspects.

CREATING GOALS

Goals are so important, especially when we are moving in a different direction than we were before. As we’ve got the current status of who we are and what we want to be, creating goals should be easy. 

Make your goals visible. Put a sticky note on your mirrors, put it as your laptop background, put a reminder on your phone, listen to a playlist that motivates you of your goals or anything else that will constantly remind you of your goals. 

Other than that, remember that goals have to be achievable, mindful, and flexible.

ESTABLISHING HABITS

Habits are so important to rebrand yourself. Habits make up your identity. The way you act, speak, and do daily, can subconsciously influence you to be someone who isn’t in alignment with your higher self.

 As much as it’s important to establish new habits that align with you, you have to root out the habits that are pushing you off track from achieving your goals. 

The good thing is that you can do both at the same time. Replace those old habits, with brand new ones. For example, when you open your phone first thing in the morning instead of opening up TikTok, get YouTube opened and start a 5-minute meditation to start your day.

However, just because a habit is beneficial for you, it doesn’t mean it is in alignment for you. For many people, they prefer to read books as a productive alternative for leisure, however, you may not be able to read a book and focus. In that case, you may want to watch an educational video instead. You’re still getting the benefits, but just in a different way. 

STEP FIVE: IMPLEMENTING YOUR BRAND DAILY

Think about all the little details of how this person would act, from morning until night. Embody their actions, words, aura, and vibes. This is when having a visual of your goals is good, so you can see what you need to do.

This includes no longer indulging in things your higher self wouldn’t do. Regardless of how much comfort, entertainment, or dopamine something gives you, you have to let it go if it is destroying your mind. 

I way I recommend implementing your brand daily by creating a daily routine that focuses on a different goal each day of the week. E.g:

Monday - Practicing being mindful (meditation, journaling, connecting with your religion)

Tuesday - Fitness (pilates, weightlifting, hot girl walks)

Wednesday - Socialising (going out to meet new people/connecting with old friends)

Thursday - Productivity (Schoolwork, studying, business, workplace tasks)

Friday - Self-care (taking a slow day however you’d like)

ta-daa!! thanks 4 reading. now go follow @honeytonedhottie 💕😍

[comicaurora]

You mentioned in a previous ask about Arcane that wanting to do something better can be a great motivator, but recently I've seen a lot of discussion about fanworks created out of "spite" like Spiderman Lotus or that Transformers fan film. Do you think these come from different feelings, leading to their end result, or that the motivation just needs to be handled carefully?

Ah, I see the confusion. When you have ideas for what a story could do, and then the story goes in a different direction and bypasses what you thought it would do, that can be an incredibly useful motivator for using that unused inspiration for telling your own story. Taking someone else's completed artwork and saying "move over, idiot, I'll show you how it's done" is a recipe for hubristic self-immolation.

Setting out to "fix" someone's work has to be approached very carefully. Artistic criticism is a complicated skill, but it isn't treated that way. Especially in the age of the internet, several wildly different things have been conflated under "criticism", and I think that's why spite-motivated "fixes" almost always end up tripping on their shoelaces and falling flat.

Art critique - "fixing" someone's work - is about figuring out how to make the art the most effective version of itself. Determine what it's going for, and make suggestions for how the artist could improve the execution of that goal. Clarify a confusing moment, change the score a little to be more emotionally impactful, break up the pacing with moments to breathe, tighten up the pacing to maintain the frantic vibes.

However, the broad perception of what art critique is has been bundled together with several other forms of criticism, including snarky reviews (a judgment of quality rendered after a work is completed and aimed at prospective audiences so they don't end up wasting their money), general knee-jerk mockery (it is easy and fun to score points off of other people's sincerity via a little casual bullying), critical analysis (taking apart how a story works to learn from it, a useful approach for other artists trying to improve their own skills) and, of course, fanfiction.

Ahh, fanfiction! If you don't like a story, you can just take the characters, setting, premise, worlbuilding, and the general shape of the plot - ignoring the fact that at this point you've borrowed about 80% of the work that went into building the original story already - and then you can just make the characters do what you wanted instead. If you think Spider-Man would be better if everyone was miserable and grieving a dead buddy the whole time, you can do that! Two hours of misery for everyone!

This approach is ostensibly trying to accomplish what art critique does - to make a better version of the story. But in practice, it's almost never interested in interrogating what the story was actually going for. In fact, it's actively scornful of what the story was going for. It doesn't take it apart to see what did work, it just says "I didn't like that and I could do better" and produces something trying not to be like the original it disliked.

I kind of think of it like this. If you ate a meal and you were like "there's not enough salt in this," you would not produce a better meal by focusing exclusively on loading it down with all the salt you could find, even if you were starting with all the same ingredients. Do you understand how they were put together to begin with? How the meat was brined, how the vegetables were cooked, what seasonings went where? Do you think all it needed to make it work was salt?

So you get fanworks that do indeed focus on the part that the fanartist thought was missing. You get Spider-Man Is A Sad Jerk For Two Hours. It accomplished what the fanartist wanted, but it fails in its true goal of being Like The Original But Better, because it never actually made the effort to understand what made the original tick. Why do people like Spider-Man in his other movies? Well, there's lots of reasons that work for different audiences - he's funny, he's good-hearted, he's graceful and well-choreographed, his fight scenes are fluid and exciting, his dynamic with the people of New York is lively and comedic, he's hapless and hurting but he always tries his best, he gets knocked down but he always gets back up-- there are many reasons to like these stories. But if all you can focus on is what you wanted them to add, you'll have a lot of trouble parsing out what functional elements you'll need to carry over into your fanfiction to not lose the core of what made it actually mostly work.

If all you focus on is accentuating the bits you wanted them to do without recognizing the parts that were working fine, you end up with a heaping plate of salt.

✨ as the ask states, this post is very specifically about spite-motivated "I can do it better than the writers" fanworks and not fanfiction in general ✨

[castielscaplan]

Kiss Me Tender (Castiel)

Summary: you confess to Castiel that you're in love with him.

Warnings: fluff <3

WC: 690

Read on Ao3!

-

The quiet hum of the bunker surrounded you, a stark contrast to the chaos that often came with hunting. Tonight, however, was different. Sam had gone off to research something, and Dean was off on a supply run. It left you alone with Castiel, the former angel who seemed to understand both the beauty and sorrow of the world better than anyone you’d ever known.

You sat in the library, surrounded by old books and maps, pretending to focus on something, but your mind kept wandering to the angel across from you. His intense blue eyes scanned through ancient texts, but every so often, you’d catch him glancing your way. There was a gentleness in his expression that made your heart flutter, something you tried to push down for far too long.

“What are you reading?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Castiel blinked and looked up at you, his lips curving into a small smile. “I’m researching a new demon sigil Dean wanted me to examine. It’s... fascinating.”

You chuckled softly. “Fascinating? Demons aren’t really fascinating, Cas. They’re kind of the opposite.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Yes, but their sigils are intricate. There’s something beautiful about how even the most malevolent beings can create something complex.”

That was Castiel—always finding beauty in unexpected places. The way he saw the world never ceased to amaze you. But it wasn’t just his perspective that drew you to him; it was his kindness, his loyalty, and his growing humanity.

He shifted in his seat, closing the book and setting it aside. “You’ve been quiet,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “Are you okay?”

You hesitated. There had been a tension building between the two of you for weeks, an unspoken energy that neither of you dared to address. And now, sitting alone in the dimly lit library, you felt it more than ever.

“I’m fine,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrayed you. It wavered, carrying a weight that you couldn’t hide anymore.

Castiel’s eyes softened as he stood up, moving closer to you. He knelt by your side, his gaze locked on yours. “You don’t seem fine.”

Your breath hitched as his hand gently touched yours. His warmth seeped into your skin, and for a moment, everything else faded away. You had no words, no witty remark, no excuse. Only the truth you had been running from.

“I think I love you.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. You immediately regretted it, feeling the air between you grow thick with uncertainty. But Castiel didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away or seem confused.

Instead, his thumb brushed over your knuckles, his touch steady. “You think?”

A small laugh escaped your lips. “Okay... I know I love you.”

His expression softened, and his eyes shone with something you couldn’t quite place. Was it surprise? Affection? Or something deeper? You weren’t sure.

“I’m... not very familiar with love,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost vulnerable. “But I know how I feel when I’m with you. It’s... different. Strong.”

Your heart raced as he continued.

“I feel... grounded. Like I belong. You’ve shown me things I never understood before—feelings I never knew I could have.”

You could barely breathe as he spoke, every word drawing you closer to him.

“I think I love you too,” Castiel finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

Without thinking, you leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you. His lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, filled with all the unspoken words between you. It was gentle at first, but as he deepened the kiss, you felt the weight of his confession, the purity of his affection.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other. Neither of you said anything for a moment, basking in the warmth of the moment.

“I’ve waited so long to say that,” you whispered.

Castiel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up his entire face. “Then let’s not wait anymore.”

--

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[revelboo]

Transformers x Reader Headcannons- problems

Pretty much how I write and overthink their personalities, actions, and motives. Soundwave, Starscream, Megatron, Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Jazz.

Starscream

• Can’t stop self sabotaging. As much as he hates Megatron, he’s his own worst enemy. Fueled by self-loathing, ambition, and spite. If every good thing is just going to be taken away, he might as well destroy it himself and take some petty satisfaction in watching it burn.

• You, though? He wants to protect this feeling you kindle in him. Even if he doesn’t truly trust that it’s real, he wants to pretend it is. Needs you to play along with him. Fiercely possessive because you’re his.

Megatron

• Exhausted all the time. With all that’s been lost, he can’t just stop at this point. There’s no peaceful end even if he almost wishes there was. The Decepticons look to him, believe that he’ll bring them home. To a better world. That guilt and responsibility fuels his hatred, keeping it going. If he fails, it’s all for nothing.

• They’re always watching. Looking for weakness to exploit. There’s always machinations among his officers, plots and schemes. You have no ulterior motives beyond survival and he can respect that. Even so, you’re willing to meet his optics even though you know who he is and what he’s capable of. Brave, foolish little thing.

Wheeljack

• Absentmindedly creating problems in the name of science. Is genuinely surprised when something blows right up in his face no matter how many times it happens. Forgets to refuel and recharge until someone says something or he just crashes. Generally avoided by everyone because of how often his experiments spectacularly fail.

• Even if he’s engrossed in an experiment, if you’re around, his attention is divided. You crash a lot faster than he does and guilt prompts him to take a break, because you definitely don’t look comfortable cheek propped up on a hand, sound asleep. He’s awful at taking care of himself, but surprisingly attentive toward you. Constantly worried because you’re just so fragile compared to Cybertronians.

Jazz

• Smiling through the stress. Seriously, he’s on a knife’s edge of anxiety all the time even as he plays it off. Everything’s a joke. Everything’s fine. Even if he wants to just scream, he keeps that easy going smile in place. It’s his armor and he needs it to convince himself as much as everyone else.

• Somehow you see right through him. You can lay a tiny hand on his plating and he just unravels. And you don’t expect him to just keep smiling through the pain. He doesn’t have to keep the act up, he can vent to you, bleed all the anger and frustration out instead of pretending it away. And he needs this more than you know.

Ratchet

• Gruff and caustic, that angry exasperation is all defense, pushing others away with sarcasm. No matter how quickly he works after a battle, the wounded just keep coming. Sometimes he’s not fast enough. A spark gutters out while his hands are wrist deep in another patient. He’s not enough. If he loses someone, it’s his fault. His burden and his blame to the point where sometimes his servos just won’t stop trembling.

• Somehow you understand that if you try to comfort him, he’ll fall apart. There’ll be time to grieve later, but right now the two of you work to save who you can, your little hands able to reach things he can’t. You don’t complain, just do what’s necessary. Later, he’ll cup you to his chassis, silent as you break.

Soundwave

• The worst part of being able to hear other’s thoughts? They never stop. It’s a constant sensory barrage threatening to overwhelm him unless he makes a conscious effort of block them out, so he’s always on guard. Can never relax or that tide of voices crashes over him. Finding out he can’t even block out human thoughts is a shock. You’re there in the back of his processor all the time.

• It’s why he needs you to sing for him. Doesn’t matter what it is, he just needs that one thing to focus on so everything else fades into background noise. The more you lose yourself in the song, the more he can relax, because you relax. Your thoughts calm.

[manytoonepoet]

I can't keep silent any longer: Shipping, having headcanons, and having your own interpretations about a character is absolutely alright... so long as it doesn't compromise the true essence of a character. If not, you are creating a new character of your own, much like how Disney is remaking its classics with, more often than not, unnecessary and unwanted changes that disrespect the original intent of the source material.

To be fair, there's certainly nothing wrong with shipping characters; it's fun. I ship characters myself. But what ticks me off is when they're too blinded by their own delusions and headcanons for this ship that that is the only thing they focus on instead of the incredible story this character has been given by the writers. Shipping is good; mischaracterizing characters for fun is not. That is where I'm throwing hands. And this applies to both Aventurine and Veritas as well. Aventurine is NOT the submissive bottom gae man who's extremely helpless and dependent in your ships. And, no, Veritas is NOT the big boy dominant daddy or whatever the heck that is in your ships. (I'm aware that they're not the only case, but given that I'm within the HSR fandom, I believe this is the best example I can go with as of now.) Every single turn, I see posts saying, "Aventurine is soo gae, man." "He's gae for Ratio, and he's not even hiding it." "He's gae and a masochist," and it is incredibly frustrating because Aventurine's character is so much more than being the submissive gae man for their ships. And what's worse is that whenever they get called out or reprimanded by it, they begin throwing slurs and labels all around like they own it. (Yes, I've indeed blocked all of the accounts with the posts I see that I don't like, but there's only so much that blocking can do.)

I've not been in this fandom for long, but I can tell that the majority of its people only care about which ship is better and who's gay and whatnot. For once, can we just enjoy and learn about a character instead of focusing on who's gay for whom and who's not? The writers certainly did not spend their time painstakingly writing stories for these characters only for them to be thrown out to the wind like it's nothing just because they're too focused on their sexuality.

And must we forget what Aventurine has to go through?

(I found both of these on Pinterest, credits to the original owner of these posts.)

These are only a few examples of what he had to go through. This is barely scraping the surface of what he had gone through, yet a lot of people only care about his sexuality, whom he could be gae for, how good he could be in bed, and so on and so forth. But what about his resilience? His perseverance? His bravery? His intelligence? His thought process? His strategy? Time and time again, he loses a part of himself, yet he continuously picks himself up even if he is ripping at the seams, even if he doesn't have the will to live. He lost his family, his friends, his home, his kind, the light in his eyes, the ability to see himself as anything more than a product, a weapon, the ability to believe he is deserving of love, companionship, the ability to believe he is worth more than those 60 Tanba, and many more. Aventurine should be a source of inspiration for us, not this; this is too much. And if one continues to view Aventurine, Kakavasha, as such, then I must tell you this: You are no better than his abusers, assaulters, the IPC.