She's the Goddess of Victory and the Truth, amongst other things. She's one of the most-revered gods out there, due to how powerful a domain she holds. Athletes, soldiers, and leaders alike all pray to her very often.
Her blindness is not at all seen as an issue by mortals-- actually, due to her blindness, mortals tend to be much kinder to disabled folk.
It's seen as sacrilegious to forbid someone from participating in sports, contest, or even war on the basis of their perceived abilities. It's seen almost as if you're saying that Toph wouldn't be able to do that.
She's also the patron of innovation. She's the first form of Metalbending, and inventors/tinkerers will often pray to both her and Sokka (god of wisdom) when they go to create something new.
The Blind Bandit is an enigma.
No one really knows what she is-- she might be the goddess of trickery? And lies? but she's the only goddess to have no temples, to never ask for offerings or prayers, and she doesn't really... act like a goddess.
Really, she's more of a cryptid than a goddess- she definitely isn't human, considering she's been hanging around for like 300 years... but yeah no one really knows what she's up to.
Yes the wolf she's riding on is Sokka- he isn't too happy about it but he has a soft spot for Toph.
Aang and The Blind Bandit meet each other pretty often on the road-- he's normally the epitome of "good deeds" but she's a really bad influence on him (some think that he just can't say no to someone that shares his sense of style)
I know I've literally got another au in the works already but i don't care man I love mythology and now they're gods >:)))))
Some info!
Katara and Sokka's face markings are based on the Painted Lady and Warrior makeup (respectively)-- on top of giving Sokka some winged eyeliner to resemble a wolf's markings (as the master of wolves), and a semi-circle on Katara's forehead as a symbol of equality (as the goddess of justice).
Gods don't technically "die" in this AU-- it doesn't happen often, but when it does, they usually become one with their domain. When Gyatso died, as the god of the wind, he turned into the wind and could only communicate through wind chimes (small signs/yes/no-- he can't communicate complex thoughts).
When Kya died, she turned into the starry sky. Hakoda, grieving his wife, would often study her form in the sky and learned to use the patterns of her stars to navigate, which made him become god of navigators.
When Kya died, people started praying to Sokka and Katara for matters of family and home-- it's not actually their domain, but they gratefully accept the duties that come with taking over for their mother.
Katara's necklace has sharp points in this to relate to her mother's star domain.
Katara's cloak is a sealskin (as the matron of sealife)
Yes, Sokka's leg is still hurt in this (still trying to figure out the story behind that, but I love when characters get permanent injuries in media and I'm KEEPING IT) he has a cane-- doesn't always need to use it but he has it!
Sokka's cloak is a polar bear dog's hide (as the god of hunting)
You know, there's this clichรฉ that teenage boys always eat massive amounts, but teenage girls really aren't that different if they're not suppressed by diet culture and body shaming. Like, I was a teenage girl who frankly just stopped bothering to fit into mainstream beauty ideals at some point, and I would regularly make myself just one big massive pot of pasta and devour it completely. This wasn't even stress eating or anything, I just genuinely needed the energy because you know, I was a teenager and my body was developing. I feel like so many teenage girls think they need to eat as little as possible to be petite and pretty, but the truth is that your body is developing just as intensely as teenage boys' bodies. Eat more, please, your body needs it.
Pleased to report that after a day of this i am not longer craving caper brine and my mouth is not dry as usual. There's some good suggestions in the notes too that I want to try.
-ancient roman posca: water, red or white wine vinegar, honey, salt, herbs (coriander, mint, thyme)
-switchel: water, ginger, vinegar, sweetener, lemon, salt
I don't know who my intended audience is here, so whoever needs to hear this, I am begging you to learn to participate in conversations that are about things you aren't interested in.
Part of socializing and having friends is being a good listener even when you don't actually give a shit about the subject.
Your are hurting other people's feelings when you bluntly respond with "Anyway..." and then change the topic.
It can not always be about your preferred topic.
You are being rude. Yes, even if you are neurodivergent. You can be both autistic and rude.
I finished the last constellation tonight. All 40 of them are now done! Went through and double checked and every stitch is in place for them and all the beads are in place. Which just leaves the milky way part to do.
Started stitching the Milky Way in. Slowly making progress on it as I am hiding the travelling thread so the back will look nice.
Looks pretty cool and keeps the readability of the other stitches. Very happy with it. Just a thousand or so to do. As they are in a grid roughly every centimetre apart.
Update on the constellation quilt. I have gotten the last Milky Way stitch done now. Which means the quilting part of this project is done. My next step will be to baste the edges down, remove the pattern, trim the quilt square, and lastly attach the binding.
Progress on the constellation quilt has come along quite a lot now. Finished the binding on the quilt over the weekend. I prefer to machine stitch the binding to the front then hand stitch the back side. It gives such a nice finish to the quilt. Took the time to measure it also and it ended up being 72" by 72" (183cm by 183cm).
With that done I could finally start removing the pattern. Which is taking both less time and more time that I thought it would. As it rips really easily so that goes fast, but the tiny corners and removing it under the beads is slow. You can now see the difference in the glow effect with it against the dark front of the quilt instead of the pattern.
Behold the stars of the constellations of the northern sky! I love how this quilt has turned out. It was a lot of fun to work on and the effect is so cool in person. Overall I would estimate it took about 90-100 hours to complete. Give or take 10 hours if you want to count the time I spent custom dying the fabric.
I made sure to get a nice photo of it in daylight. For once I also remembered to get a quilt label on it. The back really shows the difference in readability of the quilting on the ice dyed fabric compared to the solid front. Thank you everyone that has followed this. I am glad you all found joy in it.
Those that are interested, here is the pattern I used by Haptic Lab. I made the large northern hemisphere version, and plan to make the matching southern hemisphere one next year. I also got your back for the less crafty people. Haptic Lab sells finished quilts in this pattern, both as a large quilt and a small one.
โคทone-shot!! in which.... jungkook shows up every Friday for six months to ask your father for permission to marry you, and gets rejected every time. Still, he returns each week with flowers, pastries, and stubborn determination. Meanwhile, you have no idea your boyfriend has been secretly trying to โapplyโ for the role of your husband behind your back.
I'm gonna marry her anyway (Magic!-Rude)
pairing: ์ ์ ๊ตญ x fem!reader
Genre: romance | slice of life | comedy | fluff | bittersweet
warnings: jk is down baddd, he's SOO in love, jk's a bit delusional tho, peak romance trope btw, he loves to pamper y/n, he would do everything all again without question, crying, happy tears, respectfully he wont give up, Jungkook is the sweetest
word count: 7.2k
Every Friday at Four
If someone asked you to describe your boyfriend, you would probably say something annoyingly sweet.
Kind. Talented. Loyal.
The sort of person who remembers the name of the stray cat that lives behind your apartment building, not only he remembers it but buys extra cat food and leaves it out in little dishes. The sort of person who buys two of everything because he knows you'll steal half of his anyway, and he'd rather plan for the theft than risk you going without. The sort of person who texts "Did you eat?" at 2 PM and then again at 6 PM and then again at 9 PM, and actually waits for an answer each time, and sends follow-up questions if you take too long, "What did you eat?" and "Was it good?"
What you would not say is: "My boyfriend spends his Friday afternoons getting rejected by my father."
Mostly because you don't know what's happening, and sweet Jungkook intends to keep it that way.
The first time he drives to your parents' house, he almost turns the car around.
Three timesโฆ scratch thatโฆactually, four.
The fourth time is especially embarrassing because he has already parked. The engine is off. The keys are in his hand. He's committed, and yet his hand keeps drifting toward the ignition like it has its own agenda, like it wants to go home.
He sits behind the steering wheel, staring at your childhood home. The house itself isn't scary. It's just a house with white walls that need repainting. A small garden where your mother has beautiful flowers. A blue mailbox that has your last name on it with faded stickers that are peeling at the edges. Normal things.
Unfortunately, your father lives inside, and your father is terrifying. Not in a dramatic movie way, he doesn't threaten people or is part of the mafia, and he definitely doesn't own weapons or has a scar across his face.
Itโs the fact that he looks at people the way professors look at exam papers, as if he's found three mistakes in the first paragraph and is debating whether he should continue reading or just fail you now and save him some time.
Jungkook swallows. His palms are sweating against the steering wheel. This is ridiculousโฆ What if your father hates him? What if he laughs? What if he says no?
Then you'll ask again.
He grabs the box of pastries from the passenger seat and gets out before his courage disappears completely.
The door opens, and your father appears. For a moment, nobody says anything. The silence stretches and Jungkook becomes suddenly, painfully aware of every part of his body. He bows politely. The low and respectful kind of bow that says I come in peace, I mean no harm, please don't destroy me.
The silence grows longer, and our dear Jungkook begins wondering if people can die from awkwardness. If that's a medical condition, and if he should have written a will. Your father stares, Jungkook bows a little deeper. His back protesting.
Finally, your father speaks. "Did my daughter send you?"
"No, sir." Jungkook's voice comes out steady.
A pause. Your father's eyes narrow slightly, scanning him like he's reading a label. "Did something happen to her?"
"No, sir."
"Then why are you here?"
Jungkook suddenly forgets every sentence he prepared during the drive. All those carefully constructed arguments inside his overthinker mind, all those practiced phrasesโฆgone, evaporated.
Wonderful
He manages a nervous smile. It feels crooked on his face, too big, too desperate. "I wanted to talk to you."
Your father doesn't move. "About?"
For a fleeting second, Jungkook considers pretending he came to discuss the weather. The weather is safe, but unfortunately for him, that would make even less sense than his actual reason, and also, he's pretty sure your father can smell lies the way other people smell smoke.
"Sir, I love your daughter."
Your father blinks a few times. "Oh."
Jungkook nods. Encouraged. Maybe this is going well. Maybe the hard part is over. Maybeโฆit is not going well.
"That's unfortunate," your father says, and steps aside to let him in.
โโโโ ๊ฐ โกเพเฝฒ ๊ฑ โโโโ
Five minutes later, they're sitting at the kitchen table.
Jungkook has never seen such an intimidating kitchen before. Everything is clean and organized. He is afraid to touch anything. Your father places a cup of tea in front of him. The gesture is kind, but the expression on your father's face is not kind. Not in a malicious way, itโs the expression of someone who has watched young men come and go from this exact house, who has learned that most of them are not worth the time it takes to memorize their names. Jungkook suddenly understands where you inherited your stubbornness from.
"So," your father says.
"So," Jungkook echoes, and he immediately hates himself for echoing. He's not a parrot. He's a grown man. He has tattoos. He pays taxes, and he should be able to handle a conversation without turning into a robot.
"You love my daughter."
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
Why? Because you're funny, because you laugh with your entire body, throwing your head back, because you cry during movies and then deny it, because you pretend not to like affection and attention and then complain when he stops giving it, which is confusing and annoying and completely endearing, because loving you happened so naturally he didn't notice it until he was already too deep in love with you.
He clears his throat. All of this is too much to say to your father. "She's amazing," Jungkook says.
Your father's face remains unreadable. "That's your argument?"
Jungkook panics. His brain, which had just started working again, shuts down completely. "No, sir."
"Good."
โโโโ ๊ฐ โกเพเฝฒ ๊ฑ โโโโ
An hour later, Jungkook has somehow been interviewed more thoroughly than a job applicant for a position that requires government clearance.
Career plans. Finances. Future goals. Emergency savings. Apartment size. Life insurance. Retirement planning. Your father asks about his parents, his siblings, his thoughts on home ownership versus renting, his opinion on private schools versus public schools for hypothetical future children that Jungkook is definitely not ready to discuss but finds himself discussing anyway because when your father asks a question, answering feels mandatory.
At one point, your father asks what kind of husband he intends to be. Jungkook answers honestly. It's the only answer he has, the only one he's sure of. "The best one I can."
Something shifts in your father's expression, only for a second. Maybe it was approvalโฆor pityโฆor maybe even indigestion. Who knowsโฆThen comes the final question and the most important one.
The reason Jungkook is here, sweating through his nice shirt
His heartbeat speeds up. He sits straighter, tries to look like the kind of man who deserves what he's about to ask for.
"Sir."
Your father waits. He knows what's coming. Jungkook can see it in the set of his shoulders and the slight tilt of his head.
"I want to marry her."
Your father folds his hands and looks directly at him.
And says:
"No."
Like he was declining extra napkins. Like Jungkook had offered him a flyer for a kebab place he wasn't interested in. Like this whole hour meant absolutely nothing.
Jungkook stares. Surely there's more, surely there's a โbutโ or an โunlessโ or a โhoweverโ waiting in the air, ready to step on stage and save this moment from being exactly what it sounds like.
There isn't.
Your father takes another sip of tea.
Jungkook blinks. His mouth feels dry. His ears are ringing. "Sir?"
"No."
"I understand, butโ"
"No."
"Can I ask why?"
Your father nods. "You can."
Jungkook waits. Your father waits too.
Nothing happens.
"...Why?"
"Because I said no."
Jungkook nearly laughs. Not because it's funny, but because otherwise he might cry, and he's pretty sure crying in your father's kitchen would be the final nail in a coffin that's already been nailed shut, buried, and had a parking lot built over it.
โโโโ ๊ฐ โกเพเฝฒ ๊ฑ โโโโ
The drive home feels longer. His pride aches took, his heart tooโฆeverything aches, actually, in a way that makes him wonder if this is what adulthood feels like. He should probably be upset, and angry, and embarrassed that he poured his heart out to a man who responded with a single syllable.
But Jungkook finds himself smiling, a small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth while he waits at a red light because beneath the frustration is something unexpected.
Your father didn't laugh or mock him or send him out, and he didnโt tell Jungkook to find someone elseโs daughter to love and cherish. He didn't say Jungkook wasn't good enough, wasn't successful enough, wasn't worthy. He just said 'no', and then he said it again, and then he kept saying it until Jungkook ran out of questions.ย He smiles because for two whole hours, he listened.
And Jungkook overthinks about itโฆ a man doesn't spend two hours questioning someone he doesn't care about. A father doesn't interrogate a future son-in-law candidate unless the answer mattersโฆ unless the person sitting across from him is a real possibility.
โNoโ wasn't the end.
Jungkook glances at the road ahead, next Friday isn't far away. Five days, six hours, maybe less if he leaves work early. He can survive five days. He can survive anything if there's a chance at the end of it.
That evening, you're both sprawled across his couch, casually stealing fries from his plate. Your own plate sits untouched, still full, but you keep reaching for his anyway. Not because they're any different, just because they're his. This is the thing that you always do, and Jungkook loves it; itโs predictable and is exactly what he wants to come home to, exactly what he's fighting for.
Jungkook watches you. You glance up, caught, a fry halfway to your mouth.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Suspicious. Very suspicious. You narrow your eyes, and he sees your father in you for just a moment.
"What are you smiling about?"
He shakes his head. He can't tell you. Not yet. Not until he has something real to offer, something earned, something that proves he's serious. "Nothing."
You throw a fry at him. It bounces off his forehead and lands in his lap. You look proud, as if you've accomplished something significant, and your boyfriend laughs. Suddenly, the rejection doesn't feel so heavy anymore, because at the end of the day, every difficult conversation leads back to this. To you, to the future he's trying to build, one Friday at a time.
Jungkook picks up another fry. You steal that one too, quick as a cat, and he lets you. He doesn't even try to stop you. He watches you eat it, watches you chew, and for now, he lets you.
After all, he has bigger battles waiting for him next Friday. And the Friday after that. And however many it takes until your father finally says yes.
Now, 6 Months later
You are folding laundry when your phone buzzes against the coffee table, skittering like an insect that can't decide where to die. It's a text from him.
jk: Still at work, might be late for dinner, don't wait up
ย You smile because, of course, he is. He's always at work, or the gym, or somewhere building his body while you eat instant noodles in sweatpants that have a hole in the left thigh. (no shame)
What you don't know is that your boyfriend is not at work. Your boyfriend is currently sitting in his car in front of your parents' house. He's been here before. Many times. 6 months of Fridays, to be exact, which is 24 Fridays, which is 24 times he's climbed out of this same car with his heart hammering against his ribs.
Jungkook checks his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looks good. He looks great, actually, black sweater, hair styled in that particular way that took him 45 and 3 YouTube tutorials. He looks like a man who deserves a โyes.โ He looks like a man who is about to get another 'no', but hope, as they say, is a stupid and beautiful thing that dies slowly.
"Okay," he whispers to himself. "Okay. This time."
He reaches into the backseat for the flowers, peonies this week, because last week your mother mentioned she liked them and Jungkook remembered. He bought pastries again from that French place across town that requires a reservation three days in advance. Your father sees him coming up the walk through the living room window, and he doesn't move.
"Who is it, dear?" your mother calls from the kitchen.
"Nobody," your father says, which is technically true because, as far as he's concerned, Jungkook hasn't earned the right to be somebody yet.
"Nobody" rings the doorbell. Your father counts to ten before he stands. He opens the door.
"Sir," Jungkook says.
"Jungkook," your father says, like he's surprised, like he hasn't been watching the car sit in the driveway for fifteen minutes. "Again?"
"Yes, sir. If you have a moment."
"I suppose I have a moment."
This is their ritual. Your father steps aside to let him in, and Jungkook enters your childhood home. He can smell your mother's cooking from the kitchen. Something with garlic. His stomach growls, which is embarrassing, but your father pretends not to notice because even he has limits to his cruelty.
"Flowers," Jungkook says, holding them out. "For Mrs. โฆ he clears his throatโฆfor your wife."
"She'll appreciate them."
"And these are from Maison Blanc. The almond croissants you mentioned."
"You remembered."
"I remember everything, sir."
This is the part where your father should feel bad. This is the part where a normal person would see the earnestness in this young man's face. Your father is not having any of it. "Sit," he says. "I'll make tea once again."
They sit in the living room. The couch is old, and Jungkook sinks into it the way he always does, while your father sits in his armchair. The tea is green and bitter. Jungkook hates green tea, but he drinks it anyway.
"So," your father says.
"Sir," Jungkook begins, and he sets down his cup because his hands are shaking again and he doesn't want to spill on the carpet. "I know I've asked before. Many times. But I'm here to ask again."
"Mhm."
"I love your daughter. I have loved her forโฆ" He pauses, does the math "โฆtwo years, four months, and sixteen days. Not that I'm counting. I mean, I am counting. I have a calendar. That sounds creepy. It's not creepy. It's โ"
"Jungkook."
"Yes, sir?"
"Deep breath, son."
Jungkook takes a deep breath. Your father watches him.
"Sir, may I have your blessing to marry your daughter?" The question hangs in the air between them.
Your father takes a sip of tea. He thinks about you, ย his daughter, his only child, the person who once cried for three hours because her goldfish died and then forgot about it by dinner time. He thinks about the way you looked at Jungkook the first time you brought him home, like he was made of magic and promises. He thinks about the way Jungkook looks at you, like you are the only thing in the world that matters, like he would burn down every building between here and the sea if you asked him to.
He thinks, good.
Then he says: "No."
Jungkook nods. He expected this, but something in his chest still sinks, still curls up small and wounded. 25 rejections. 25 times he's asked.
"Can I ask again why, sir?"
"Because," your father says, and he leans forward, and Jungkook recognizes this posture. This is the posture of a man about to deliver a lesson. "You still flinch when I say no."
"I โฆ what?"
"You flinch. Your shoulders go up, your eyes go down. You look like a dog that's been kicked." Your father's voice is not unkind, but it is firm. It is the voice of a man who has spent thirty years teaching high school English and knows exactly how to make a point land. "If you want to marry my daughter, you need to be able to hear 'no' without breaking. You need to be able to hear 'no' and keep standing anyway."
Jungkook stares at him. "You want me toโฆ you're testing me??"
"I'm teaching you," your father corrects. "There's a difference."
"How long?"
"Until you stop flinching."
"And if I never stop flinching?"
Your father smiles. "Then you're not the man I thought you were, and my daughter deserves better."
They sit in silence. From the kitchen, your mother's voice rises in a question about dinner, and your father calls back that they'll be a while.
"You can go," your father says. "Unless you want to stay. Daeun made enough for three."
Jungkook should go. He knows he should go. He's supposed to meet you in two hours, and he needs to shower, and he needs to practice his smile so you won't know that he's been here again, that he's been rejected again, but the smell of garlic is making him dizzy with hunger, and your father's face has softened in a way it never has before, and something in Jungkook makes him stay.
"I'd like to stay," he says. "If that's okay."
Your father nods. "Set the table, then. You know where the plates are."
He does. He knows where everything is. He's been here enough times to have memorized the layout of your childhood home. He knows your father takes his coffee black and your mother hums when she cooks. ย He knows these things because he loves you, and loving you means loving where you came from, even when where you came from keeps telling him no.
โโโโ ๊ฐ โกเพเฝฒ ๊ฑ โโโโ
You just got out of the shower when he texts again.
ย jk: โomw saved you some dumplings. It was a coworker's bday today.โ
Y/n doesnโt question anything. You don't know about the tea, or the conversation, or the way your father's eyes went soft when Jungkook finally laughed at one of his jokes. You have no idea that somewhere in your childhood home, there's a drawer where your father keeps the cards Jungkook has brought. And you definitely have no idea that your father talks about Jungkook to his friends, calls him "that persistent kid" with something like pride in his voice. You don't know that your boyfriend is learning how to be the kind of man who doesn't flinch. You don't know that his heart that's been broken so many times and still beats hopeful.
He thinks about you. He thinks about the way you look when you first wake up, he thinks about the way you laugh, he thinks about getting down on one knee and offering you everything he has, which is not much, which is everything. Because many months ago, he made a promise to himself that he would do this right, that he would have your father's blessing.
You text him
You: hurry up, I'm hungry, and the TV show just started!! <3
Three socks and a suspicion
You are standing in front of your open sock drawer when you realize something is wrong with your boyfriend. Not wrong-wrong, not cheating-wrong or lying-wrong or has-a-secret-family-in-a-whole-different-country-wrong.
Jungkook has been... off.
Not distant, if anything, he's been more present than usual, texting more, calling for no reason, showing up at your apartment with food he claims is "leftover from the guys" but is clearly freshly bought because since when does Namjoon eat salmon with lemon dill sauce? Since when does anyone in that dorm eat vegetables that aren't covered in cheese? (again, no shame)
You hold up three socks. None of them match.
"You're thinking loudly," Jungkook says from your bed, where he's sprawled on his stomach, scrolling through his phone. He always knows when you're thinking. It's one of his most annoying qualities as a boyfriend.
"I'm not thinking," you lie.
"Your forehead does this thing." He finally looks up, and his eyesโฆ those big, dark eyes that you fell into like a well you never wanted to climb out ofโฆ crinkle at the corners. "It wrinkles. Right here."
"Maybe I'm just getting old."
"You're 23."
"24 in three months."
"Ancient," he agrees, solemn as a funeral. "Should I buy you a cane? Or maybe one of those chairs that lifts you up?"
"Jeon Jungkook."
"Yes, my elderly girlfriend?"
You giggle and throw a sock at him. "You've been weird lately," you say.
"Weird how?" he asks, and his voice is casual, perfectly casual, too casual.
"I don't know. Distracted. Happy distracted. Like you're not telling me something."
Something flickers across his face. Something that looks almost like panic, or maybe hope, or maybe a little bit of both.
"Maybe I am," he says, and then he smiles and pats the space on the bed next to him. "Come here. I'll tell you, angel."
You go because you've always been weak when it comes to him. After all, he could ask you to follow him into a burning building, and you'd follow. The bed dips under your weight.
"Tell me," you say.
"I can't."
"Jungkook."
"I literally can't. It's not my secret to tellโฆBut I promise it's a good secret. The best secret, and when you find out." He stops and swallowsโฆ "when you find out, I hope you'll say yes."
Your heart does something complicated in your chest, a backflip, a small, confused seizure. "Say yes to what?"
"Everything," he whispers.
You should push. You know you should push, but he's looking at you like you're the only thing in the world, and you forget how to form words. You forget your own name. You lean in to kiss him because that's the only thing your brain will allow, you kiss him and he kisses you back.
Your mother knows.
She's known since week three, when she came home early from her book club and found Jungkook washing dishes in their kitchen while your father dried. They were arguing about baseball, and your father was laughing. She stood in the doorway and watched them.
"Mrs. Y/L/N" Jungkook had stuttered when he saw her, dropping a plate back into the sink with a splash that soaked his shirt. "I can explain."
"Can you?" she'd asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Not really. No. I'm sorry."
She'd looked at your father, who was doing a terrible job of looking innocent. Your father, who had told Jungkook โnoโ 13 times at that time, showed no signs of stopping.
"How long?" she'd asked your father.
"13 weeks," he'd said, like he was proud of it. Like this was an accomplishment.
"And how many more?"
"We'll see."
Your mother had sighed then, it's the sigh of a woman who has been married to this man for 22 years and has learned that some battles are not worth fighting. She'd picked up a towel, started drying the plate that Jungkook had abandoned, and said: "He likes the almond croissants from Maison Blanc. But the chocolate ones are better."
Jungkook had stared at her. "You're not... mad?"
"Oh, I'm furious," she'd said, and smiled. "But I'm also hungry, and you two have clearly been eating without me, so you're taking me to dinner. Somewhere expensive."
That was week 13.
โโโโ ๊ฐ โกเพเฝฒ ๊ฑ โโโโ
Now it's week 27, and your mother has become Jungkook's accomplice. She texts him recipes your father likes. She has, on two occasions, lied to you about where Jungkook is on Friday afternoons, which makes her feel slightly guilty, but she's never seen your father have this much fun. Not at your graduation, not at your sister's wedding, not when he finally beat his brother at golf after 15 years of losing. This ridiculous ritual of weekly interrogation is the most fun he's had in decades.
"He's coming today," your father says now, not looking up from his newspaper. It's Friday. It's 3:30. He checked the clock four times in the last hour.
"I know," your mother says.
"He's bringing those almond things."
"You love almond things."
"I tolerate them," he corrects.
She sits down across from him. "You know you're going to ahve to say โyesโ eventually."
"Do I?"
"Yes. Because, despite your best efforts, you like him. You like him more than you liked Minji's husband, and you liked Minji's husband enough to cry at their wedding."
Your father sniffs. "I had allergies."
"You had feelings." She reaches across the table and touches his hand. "When are you going to tell her?"
"Who?"
"Your daughter. The person this actually concerns."
Your father is quiet for a long moment. Outside, Jungkook's car pulls up, and your father straightens his shoulders and puts on his mask of indifference to become the man who says โno.โ
"When he stops flinching," your father says. "Or when she figures it out. Whichever comes first."
"And if she never figures it out?"
Your father smiles. It's a small, complicated smile, the smile of a man who has spent his life teaching other people lessons they didn't know they needed to learn. "Then she's not as smart as I raised her to be," he says, "and Jungkook will have to keep coming forever."
The doorbell rings. Your mother gets up to answer it, leaving your father to his newspaper and his anticipation and his strange, stubborn hope.
โโโโ ๊ฐ โกเพเฝฒ ๊ฑ โโโโ
Jungkook is not flinching today.
He's thought about it all week, actually, ever since your father said those words like a challenge.
He's practiced in the mirror. He's practiced in the shower. He's practiced saying โnoโ to himself, which felt ridiculous but also necessary.
He stands on your parents' porch with lilies-of-the-valley in one hand and chocolate croissants in the other. He switched because he suspects your father is tired of pretending to like almonds.
I will not flinch, he thinks.
Your mother opens the door. "Chocolate," she says, looking at the box. "Smart boy."
"I have it on good authority that almonds are overrated."
"Your authority is correct. Come in. He's in his usual spot."
The living room is the same as always. The couch is waiting to swallow him. The armchair is waiting to judge him. Your father is waiting to break his heart, gently.
"Sir," Jungkook says. He doesn't sit. Not yet.
"Jungkook." Your father folds his newspaper. "You're early."
"I couldn't wait."
"Eager to be rejected?"
"Eager to try."
They sit. The tea is prepared, black today, not green, which Jungkook takes as a good sign, or maybe just as your mother intervening on his behalf. The chocolate croissants are placed on a plate.
"So," your father says.
"Sir," Jungkook says, and he sets down his cup, and he looks your father directly in the eyes, and he does not look away. "May I have your blessing to marry your daughter?"
Your father opens his mouth to say โno.โ
Jungkook does not flinch or move, and your father notices. Your father notices, and something shifts in his expression like seeing a student finally understand the lesson.
"No," your father says.
Jungkook does not flinch.
"Okay," Jungkook says. "I'll ask again next week."
Your father leans forward. "Why?"
"Because I love her. Because I want to do this right. Becauseโฆ because you saying โnoโ doesn't change what I want. It just changes how long I have to wait."
Your father is very still. From the kitchen, your mother is listening, holding her breath, ready to intervene if necessary.
"And if I never say yes?" your father asks. "If I keep saying โnoโ until you're old and gray and she's moved on to someone else?"
"Then I'll keep coming," Jungkook says, and he means it. "I'll keep coming because this isn't about you. It's about her. And she deserves someone who doesn't give up just because it's hard."
Your father looks at him for a long time. "You're not flinching," your father says quietly.
"No, sir. I'm not."
Your father sits back. He picks up his tea. He drinks it, slowly, thoughtfully, like he's tasting something new. "The chocolate croissants are better," he says finally. โDo you think Iโm being cruel to you?โ
"No, I understand youโre being careful."
"Do you?"
"I have a sister," Jungkook says. "She's younger, if someone wanted to marry her, I'd want them to work for it. I'd want to know if they were serious." He pauses, chooses his words carefully. "I don't think you're cruel, sir. I think you're scared. And I think that's okay. Because I'm scared too."
Your father laughs. It's a short, surprised sound, like a cough that turned into something better. "You're scared? Of what?"
"Of not being enough. Of messing up. Of all of itโฆmarriage, forever, being someone's whole world. What if I'm bad at it? What if I hurt her? What if I try my best and my best isn't good enough?"
Jungkook realizes he's said too much, but your father doesn't attack. He just nods, slowly, like he's hearing an answer to a question he didn't know he was asking.
"So that's why you flinched," your father says. "Not because of me. Because of the fear."
"Yes, sir."
"And now?"
Jungkook thinks about the fear, which is still there; it will always be there, he knows that now. He thinks about the future, which is uncertain, which is terrifying, which is beautiful because it contains you.
"Now I'm scared," he says, "but I'm here anyway."
"Next week," your father says. "Bring the almond croissants. I changed my mind. I like them better."
"Yes, sir."
"And Jungkook?"
"Yes?"
Your father turns around and smiles, "Stop calling me sir. My name is Seojun."
โโโโ ๊ฐ โกเพเฝฒ ๊ฑ โโโโ
You are eating a salad when Jungkook finally shows up, two hours late.
"Sorry," he says, dropping onto your couch with the boneless grace of a man who has been through something and survived. "A meeting ran long."
"Liar," you say, but you're smiling because he's here. He's always here, because even when he's keeping secrets, he's keeping them with such obvious love that you can't really be mad.
"Am I?"
"You're wearing a hoodie. You don't wear a hoodie to meetings."
He looks down at himself, surprised, like he hadn't noticed. "Huh. Guess I'm caught."
"Guess you are. Where were you, really?"
"I was," he says slowly, "learning how to be brave."
"Jungkookโฆโ
"And I think," he continues, "that I'm almost there, almost ready., my love." He reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers are warm. "Soon," he promises. "Soon you'll know everything.โ
"Okay," you say. "But if this secret is bad, if you're secretly a criminal or you have a twin, I'm going to be mad."
He pulls you close, rests his chin on your head, and you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek. "I love you," he says, like it's a promise, like it's a prayer, like it's the only true thing in the world.
"I love you too," you say..
The Blessing
You are standing in the middle of your apartment holding a spoon when the world changes. Your mother calls, and her voice, when you answer, sounds strange.
"You need to come home," she says. "This Friday. Four o'clock."
"Mom, I have work-"
"Four o'clock," she repeats, "And honey? Don't tell Jungkook."
"Mom...?," you say slowly, "what's going on...?"
But she already hung up.
โโโโ ๊ฐ โกเพเฝฒ ๊ฑ โโโโ
Jungkook knows something is different. He's known since Tuesday, when your mother texted him with instructions for this Friday that were more specific than usual.
Daeun: Wear the blue shirt, and bring the small box, not the big one. She's suspicious enough already.
He's been carrying the small box for four months. It lives in his gym bag, wrapped in an old T-shirt, tucked between his protein powder and his backup headphones. He's taken it to work, to the convenience store at 2 am, when you wanted ice cream. He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror. The blue shirt, your favorite.
Today feels different. Today feels like the last time, one way or another. He drives across town with the box in his pocket and his heart in his throat. He doesn't know you're already there. He doesn't know that your mother finally broke, finally told you everything, finally couldn't stand keeping the secret for one more day. He doesn't know that you're sitting in your childhood bedroom right now, listening to your mother's rushed explanation to you, โEvery Friday, for 6 months, heโฆโ with your hands shaking and your eyes filling with tears that you can't quite name.
Are you angry? You should be angry. He kept a secret. A big one. A secret that involved your father and pastries and some kind of ongoing test that you apparently needed to pass without knowing you were taking it. But underneath the anger is something else that feels like being chosen, over and over again.
"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask your mother, and your voice sounds small, like a child's.
"Because he asked us not to. Because he wanted to do it right. And because your father was having too much fun to stop."
"He's been rejecting him? For 6 months?"
"29 times," your mother says. "This will be 30."
"That'sโฆ" you stop, because you don't know what that is. Cruel? Romantic? ย "Where are they?"
"Living roomโฆwaiting."
You stand up. Your legs feel unsteady, and you walk to the door, opening it and hear:
"You're late," your father says.
"Traffic," Jungkook replies, and his voice is steady.
You walk slowly and silently down the hall. You can see them through the doorway. Your father in his armchair, the throne, Jungkook on the couch.
"So," your father says. "This is 30."
"Yes, sir."
"You know what I'm going to say."
"I think so," Jungkook says. "But I'd like to hear it anyway."
"You stopped flinching," your father says. "Week 26. Do you remember?"
"I remember."
"I thought that would be it. I thought I'd say โyesโ then, and we'd be done with this." Your father leans forward. "But then I realizedโฆ flinching was just the first test. The easy one. The real test is what you do after."
Jungkook is very still. "And?"
"And you've shown up," your father says. "29 times. Through my bad moods and my stupid questions and that week where I made you help me clean the garage because I wanted to see if you'd complain."
"I didn't complain, sir."
"Yes, that's right."
You are holding your breath. You realize this only when your lungs start to hurt, when the edges of your vision go blurry. You let it out, slow and silent, and you watch your father's face.
"Jungkook," your father says.
"Yes, sir?"
"Do you love my daughter?"
"More than anything."
"Will you keep loving her? When is she difficult? When she's tired? When she's been your wife for 20, and the newness has worn off, and you're left with just, with her ordinary flaws?"
Jungkook doesn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Will you keep showing up?"
"Every day," Jungkook says, and his voice breaks slightly, but he doesn't flinch. He doesn't look away. "Every Friday. Every Tuesday. Every day that ends in Y, I'll keep showing up until you believe me, and then I'll keep showing up so you don't forget."
"Jungkook," your father says.
"Yes, sir?"
"My name is Seojun."
"I know, sir. I mean โ I know, Seojun."
Your father stands up. He walks to Jungkook, who stands too, automatic, respectful, ready for whatever comes next. He puts his hand on Jungkook's shoulder.
"Yes," your father says.
Jungkook's face crumples for a blinkโฆthe relief, the exhaustion, the pure happiness of finally being enough.
"Seojun," your father corrects, but he's smiling. "And you're welcome. Nowโฆ" he steps back, clears his throat "โฆyou have a question to ask, don't you? Might want to get to it. She's standing right behind you."
Jungkook turns.
You are crying. You didn't realize you were crying, but your face is wet, and your hands are shaking, and you can't seem to make your mouth form words. You look at him. at your boyfriend, at this stubborn, persistent man who loved you enough to endure 29 rejections just for the chance to propose properly.
"Youโฆ" you start, and your voice breaks. "You idiot. You absoluteโฆwhy didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to- " he starts, and then stops, because you're walking toward him, and then you're in his arms.
"I would have said yes," you mumble into his shoulder. "Week one. I would have said yes."
"I know," he says.
"Ask me," you say.
"What?"
"Ask me. You came here thirty times to ask him, now ask me."
Jungkook's hands are shaking. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the small box. It's worn from being carried, from being hidden.
He gets down on one knee. Your mother appears in the doorway, raising the phone to record this, to capture it, to prove that it really happened.
"Okay," Jungkook says, and he's crying now too; you realize the tears tracking down his face in the most undignified, most beautiful way. "Okay. I've been practicing this. In the car. In the shower. In my head, about a thousand times." He opens the box. The ring is simple, exactly right, exactly you. "I love you. I've loved you for two years and four months and thirty days. Your father told me I wasn't ready. But I think- I hope- I'm ready now. Will youโฆ" He stops, swallows, starts again, " โฆwill you marry me? Will you let me keep showing up? Will you be my family, officially?"
You look at him. You look at your father, who is wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and pretending he's not. You look at your mother, who is crying, who has been waiting for this for weeks when she first saw Jungkook washing dishes in her kitchen.
You look at Jungkook.
"Yes," you say. "Yes, you idiot. Yes, I'll marry you. Yes to all of it. Yes, forever."
He puts the ring on your finger. ย He stands up, and he kisses you.
โโโโ ๊ฐ โกเพเฝฒ ๊ฑ โโโโ
Later, after the crying and the laughing and your father insisting on opening the good wine that he's been saving for something important, you sit on the porch with Jungkook, your hand in his, the ring catching the light.
"30 Fridays," you say. "You came here 30 times."
"29 rejections," he confirms. "One yes."
"Was it worth it?"
He looks at you. He looks at you like he looked at you the first time, like he'll look at you when you're old and gray and arguing about whose turn it is to take out the trash.
"Every single one," he says. "I'd do 30 more. 300. However many it will take."
You lean your head on his shoulder.
Inside, your father is telling your mother that he knew Jungkook would make it, that he never doubted, that he was just testing him to be sure. Your mother is rolling her eyes and pouring more wine and smiling in a way that says she knows exactly what really happened. That her husband has already accepted your boyfriend somewhere around week twelve, and has been pretending otherwise ever since.
But that's their story.
This is yours.
The future is waiting.
It's going to be exhausting and beautiful and completely worth it.
idk if this is an usamerican thing or not but it always blows my mind as a small european country resident that yall have many names and types of apples???? what do you mean its not just red yellow or green??? why is it so complicated??? who is granny smith????
I don't know if you take request but I really love your writing so I'm giving it a shot. If you do, I was thinking of Narumi Gen/Hoshina Soshiro discovering that proper and sweet subordinate has nipple piercings?
Fearful Symmetry
Summary: Written for the above request from Anon! I hope I've done it justice, lol. I've written one for Hoshina, and maybe I'll do another for Narumi!
In which a field test for speed results in an embarrassing situation, when Numbers Weapon 10 blows your shirt into oblivion while taking off at close range.
Contents: Humour, romance, Hoshina x Reader, suggestive themes.
WC: 2705
Dividers by: @uzmacchiato
There was little in the world of the defence force that could rattle Hoshina Soshiro.
He'd faced the ever-evolving threat of kaiju, the adrenaline of a close-won battle, the speed and high stakes of fighting for the lives of all around him.
Yet, it seemed that something had finally breached even these supposedly impermeable defenses.
You.
More precisely, the small gift you'd granted yourself a few years ago, unknown to most.
The sequence of events that moved the unflappable Vice-Captain to a near-speechless state started on a deceptively calm Saturday.
Your role, as one of the on-the-ground technicians, had seen you run quite a few field tests for simulating battle with Numbers suits.
While you, and your fellow officers, held a key role in operations, you were very much under the wing of the Third Division, and by extension, the Vice Captain himself.
That day's test was supposed to have been a routine one.
Weekends, when the majority of the repairs to Tachikawa Base were on pause for the work crews, were the ideal times to run such tests.
The subject was simple: speed.
The Vice Captain, all of his skills considered, had been having some trouble co-ordinating with his suit. Temperamental, capricious, never operating within the expected parameters, it was a wonder that the Number 10 suit even allowed him autonomy.ย
Your monitoring equipment and sensitive measuring instruments had all been calibrated and set to function earlier, and you now awaited him in the temporary testing chamber that had finally been declared fit for use a few weeks earlier.
As always, you'd arrived earliest, born of an earnest desire to make sure everything was in working order, and perhaps, also a product of wanting to steady your nerves before meeting the Vice-Captain.
God, was he charming, deadly and handsome, an altogether unfair combination.ย
Even while working through the possibly life-threatening consequences of wearing a prototype weapon made from a powerful kaiju, one that had once nearly eaten him no less, he managed to possess a singular confidence, charisma, humour and passion that made him very compelling to watch.
To put it in plain terms, you were crushing rather hard, and every interaction you had with him only made you sink further into this self-inflicted hole of adoration.
Those things aside, you were of a practical inclination, more than determined to see the man the whole division admired so much overcome this trying set of test runs.
The doors to the chamber hissed open, and the subject of your thoughts marched in, offering a jaunty salute.
"Oh, it's you, Officer. You're here early. Couldn't wait to start?"
His gentle teasing would be the death of you.
Clearing your throat, you offered a grimace.
"Just making sure everything's in order, sir. You know what happened with the sensors the last time around."
He nodded thoughtfully, already taking off his jacket and undershirt to prepare for the electrode stickers you'd place on him, a sight you tried very hard to maintain a professional facade for.
"Made 'em go haywire. I remember. Managed to fix it?"
"Pretty sure."
"Ain't you a reliable one. Makin' me look bad."
He gave a small rueful laugh, probably a callback to his own flagging ability to successfully synchronize with Numbers Weapon 10.
Your usual amusement died in your throat.
Standing, you approached him, able to meet his eyes with a serious look when he raised a querying brow.
"Sir, we all know you're doing your best. Please keep at it. There's nobody who could do this as well as you have so far. A sentient suit ... that's way out of the ordinary, and you know it."
Hoshina regarded you with frank surprise for a moment.
You didn't blame him.
His presence usually made you tongue-tied and shy enough to stick to tech-speak with him, something he took some delight in teasing you about.
He gave a small smile, head tilting to one side, never on the wrong foot for long.
"Thanks."
Simple as the gratitude was, it was honest, sincerely delivered.
Nodding, you immediately turned to fumble with the electrodes on the tray beside you.
It really should be illegal for anyone to look this cute while expressing a very ordinary sentiment.
Then, it was time to place the sticker-backed sensors on him, and you had to fight a whole new slew of issues.
As if Hoshina suspected all too well what your difficulties were, he kept up a stream of 'helpful' comments while the powerful flex and shift of muscle in his arms and shoulders came to full display as he raised them obediently at his sides.
"These electrodes are kinda cold, y'know. Can feel 'em when I'm moving. Oh, damn. Hey, you're gonna keep that a secret, all right? Can't have 'em knowing how ticklish I am. Kills the street cred, know what I mean? Did the sticker fall off? They just don't stay on my stomach. I wonder why. What d'you mean keep my pectorals still? I can't do much about that. Okay, maybe they can jump, just a little. Like they're about to get some Mont Blanc."
He was clearly trying to ease the tension that rose before every test run, and all he'd managed to do was undo all of your determination not to transform into a flustered mess.
You slapped the last sticker onto him a little more forcefully than you intended and shot him a slight glare.
He grinned back, completely unapologetic.
"So, am I ready, Officer?"
"As ready as can be, sir."
Hoshina made his way to an adjoining chamber to get suited up, your teammates having already taken up position in the control room above.
Over the speakers, the sync stats and combat potential, as well as the monitoring of the Vice-Captain's vitals, were all provided with swift punctuality.
Emerging back into the test room, Hoshina appeared in the Number 10 combat suit, gleaming ominous red in the glare of the artificial lighting, the tail flicking like that of large, highly dangerous predator.
His swords had been holstered in their usual position, at the small of his back, and he drew them experimentally, flipping them deftly into reverse grip before beginning his warm up.
Seeing him like this was a significant transformation. Every movement was graceful, contained, lethal, drawn out along a thin wire of control until motion snapped into powerful stances.
You could have watched him like this all day, but there were tests to be run.
Limbering up, Hoshina kicked out one leg, then the other, before jumping lightly on the spot, knees and elbows loose.
"What's on the menu today?"
"A standard speed test. The objective is simple, Vice-Captain. Go as fast as the suit allows you."
"Weapons?"
"Let's do a control run with them sheathed first."
"Sure thing."
Over the speakers, protocols were observed, the suit activated remotely.
The change in the room was immediate.
Something vast, cold, inhuman, clawed its way to consciousness as the red light gleamed on Hoshina's chest, like a great beast that had been sealed away for centuries.
You shuddered as that voice, one that had audibly been trained to mimic human vocal patterns and sounds, an accent wholly monstrous, clicked and hissed in the quiet of the room.
"Hoshina. It's you."
"Who else would it be?"
"Arrogant as always."
"Huh. You're one to talk. Get with the programme. We're running some field tests today."
"How boring. Bring me some real enemies. Ha. How about that one, standing over there. Can we kill her?"
Hearing your own demise bandied about so freely made you stumble slightly over a cord.
Hoshina's scowl grew deeper, raising a fist to bash against the sentient panel on his chest.
"You threaten her one more time, and you're kaijuย mincemeat."
"An idle threat. What do they wish us to do?"
"We gotta go fast. As fast as we're capable of."
"Oh? A race?"
"Against our own previous time. Try to keep up."
It never failed to amaze you how flippant and antagonistic Hoshina was when dealing with Numbers Weapon 10, all considering the fact that his life lay in the balance if Number10 decided that he wasn't worth protecting.
Giving him a thumbs up as signal that you were ready for him to proceed, you were about to retreat to somewhere behind the monitor when Number 10 growled impatiently.
"This is taking too long."
Hoshina tensed, obviously fighting back against some sensation the suit had initiated.
"Oi, what are you - "
The blast that echoed through the testing chamber was deafening.
Blown back, face scrunched in disorientation, you picked yourself off the floor, then hunched over on your knees as the ringing in your ears slowly subsided.
The force with which Hoshina had taken off was indescribable, beyond anything you'd yet experienced while testing the suit.
Shaking your head slightly, the world swam into view as you hesitantly opened your eyes, in time to catch Hoshina skidding to a stop a few feet away, aggravation clear in his bearing.
" ... the hell you're doing? You obey me. You don't just take off like - "
He glanced over at you, presumably to check if you'd been injured by Number 10's precipitous movement, and froze, eyes opening in rare surprise.
Even his irritation seemed forgotten.
Wondering if, perhaps, you really had been injured somehow, you slowly straightened.
This was a strange sensation.
You were quite certain that it hadn't been so chilly in here a moment ago -
One glance down at yourself was enough to gather what the Vice-Captain had seen.
The incredible speed which Number 10 had employed had blown your loose cotton shirt apart, the buttons scattered somewhere beyond your sight. It hung down around your elbows, and even the bra you wore beneath had been tugged so hard, one of the straps had torn, rendering the entire garment shoved to one side.
You were essentially topless in front of Hoshina Soshiro.
If his current expression was anything to go by, he'd also registered the sight of your nipple piercings, a small, daring concession to your wishes when it had been your birthday a few years ago.
You stared at him.
He stared back at you.
The red eye on his chest swiveled towards you.
"Human, what is that? Are you training your own resistance to pain?"
"Huh? I - "
The kaiju's voice seemed to snap Hoshina out of whatever frozen state he'd entered.
"Stop asking her about that."
He wrenched his gaze away from you, a stilted element in his stride as he marched towards the table where he had left his folded clothes.
Now that you'd hunched over once more, arms crossed tightly across your chest, you registered the warm drape of his jacket over your shoulders.
His voice sounded, close, too close, warm and reassuring beside your ear.
"Sorry about that. It just doesn't listen to me, sometimes."
You shook your head, as if to tell him that you placed no blame on him at all, still unable to form words.
Hoshina had just seen your -
It seemed that even your brain refused to complete the thought.
He cleared his throat.
"Um. Well. Maybe you should go up and find some - "
"Human, what is the purpose of placing those on your chest?"
Number 10 was not to be disuaded.
You nearly let out a hysterical laugh as Hoshina slammed a fist dangerously hard into the panel on his chest. His grip on your shoulder was reassuring and protective, even as his ears tinged a tell-tale scarlet.
"Shut the hell up, you damn freak!"
"Freak? I'm not the one with metal lodged in my mammary - "
"Enough!"
You raised a placating hand as Hoshina's voice rose in frustration, the other still holding the edges of the jacket together.
"Sir, it's fine. It's just a kaiju, it doesn't know about, well ... "
You gestured at your chest and Hoshina's eyes slid downward, almost against his will. Maybe you were imagining things, but you didn't think you'd ever seen his eyes open for such a prolonged period before.
Number 10 spoke up yet again.
"Ah, now I understand. This is some kind of human mating ritual."
Your mouth fell open in disbelief, a hoarse croak emerging.
"Wha - what do you mean?"
"This is how a weaker specimen such as yourself attracts a strong mate, such as the swordsman. Such modifications to your body can show that you're more than capable of taking him on during - "
In desperation, you slapped your hands over Hoshina's chest, as if covering the kaiju's mouth.
The jacket fell open once again.
"That is a profoundly stupid way to attempt to silence me, human. And now you've got his heart rate up again. I suppose such methods do work. How primitive."
This time Hoshina rapidly drew the edges of the jacket closed across your chest.
"Uh, let's just ... get you up to the changing rooms. Ignore anything this shitty kaiju says, all right?"
"Yes. Yes, of course. Absolutely."
You allowed him to steer you by the elbow, half-dazed, that edge of disbelieving laughter still on the verge of bubbling over.
In no universe would you ever have predicted that today, Vice-Captain Hoshina would have got an eyeful of your nipple piercings.
Before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out.
"They're a gift to myself. I've wanted them for a long time. So, I had them done a few years ago. On my birthday. "
His grip on your elbow tightened, even as his voice remained almost gentle.
"Stop. You don't have to explain yourself to me. Or anyone else."
"That's not it. I just ... I like it. It makes me feel good."
There was some kind of tension, telegraphing itself between your body and his, some thrumming cord of unspoken intent.
He exhaled sharply.
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I mean, yes sir."
Somewhere, within all of this chaos, you'd slipped into addressing him as an equal. He hadn't seemed to mind, or even register it that much.
Proximity sometimes forced familiarity, and you thought, wryly, that now Hoshina was far more familiar with the sight of you than he'd ever anticipated.
As the changing rooms came into view, he paused at the door, some rigid, invisible line drawn between you both.ย
You stepped through, turning to regard him shyly.
"Thanks, Vice-Captain. For the jacket."
You knew full well that this wasn't the only thing you were grateful for.
Hoshina shrugged, some of his easy equanimity seeping back in, now that you both were on safe ground.
He was still wearing the Numbers suit, even if it had now fallen oddly silent.
"I hope the shirt can be repaired. I'm real sorry 'bout that."
"Nothing to apologize for, sir. It's a field test. They're bound to be mishaps."
He nodded swiftly, turned to leave, but something seemed to anchor him in place.
You took in the fall of his dark hair, partially obscuring his eyes.
"Not to sound weird or anything, but I'm glad you did what made you feel good. And they look good, too. On you, I mean."
It was testament to the fact that your embarrassment had risen to such unprecedented levels that it had seemed to vanish altogether.
He'd seen everything, after all, and still saw fit to offer some comfort after that debacle.
You brightened, perking up a little.
"Really? You like them?"
"Ah, well, sure. They're ... nice. Very symmetrical."
Laughter came sputtering out of you in an uncontrollable fit. Hoshina's ears had turned red once more, but now he was laughing along, the awkwardness between you both diffusing.
"Symmetrical?"
"Shhhh. Don't kick a guy when he's down, y'know?"
"I'm glad they're to your exacting standards, sir."
"Of all the days to not have a ruler on me."
It dawned on you that you were in the realm of joking (and perhaps flirting) with your superior.
Lower lip caught between your teeth, you took another step backward.
"Anyway, thanks again, Vice-Captain."
"Sure thing."
This time, he did make it to the passageway before Numbers Weapon 10 struck again.
"You are aroused. Why are you not acting upon it, Swordsman?"
in more pleasant news: this year is seeing the biggest humpback migration in Australian history, bigger than it was PRE whaling. That's right, there are more humpbacks migrating off the coast of Australia than there were BEFORE industrial whaling started.
A huge, fat W for environmentalists and Greenies. what an achievement
Summary:ย Your new neighbor wants you bad, but you barely give him the time of day, leading him to ask you to make a list of tasks he can accomplish to get you to finally sleep with him.
Pairing:ย Jungkook x Reader
Genre:ย Social Media AU, College AU, Neighbors to Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Slow-Burn, Hurt/Comfort
Word Count:ย N/A
Warnings:ย chapter specific warnings will be included on each individual post
Authorโs Note: this is a social media au (aka SMAU) so the entire story is told through messages between the characters, with no written chapters. I just want everyone to be aware of that since this is my first time trying one! this wasn't something I ever planned on doing, but I had the idea and figured why not try it. plus, it gives me time to work on some of my long-standing wips while you guys are busy reading this for the next few weeks. I'll be releasing chapters biweekly on Mondays and Thursdays at 7 pm EST. some chapters are fairly short given the nature of smau, but I'm hopeful you'll still enjoy reading the new drops each week!
( ๐ฃ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ) ๐ผ๐๐ณ ๐ ๐ณ๐ฒ๐บ!๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ฟ. หแฒ๐ผโ smau +++ mdni. your best friend accidentally finds out what kink you are into and who else to try it out with, if not him, the person you trust the most in this world? cw: bdsm dynamics (daddy kink, marking, bondage, oral fixation, sadomasochism, blindfolds, and predator/prey).
ยฉ KISSKKU do not copy, repost or modify my work.
taglist ( dm or comment to be added ) โ @strhwa @way2jellyous @tinyfixon @thatonelocalbookworm
the oldest reblogs for this post that i can find are from january 2nd of 2013. this can has been getting kicked around tumblr for almost 13ยฝ years now
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