#if by do something at it means 'throwing himself at it'

[joonberriess]

e s p r e s s o

⋆ TAGS — boxer!jk, he’s a fanboy, pouty jkkkkkk, oc’s a idol, sugar daddy elements, fluffy, rom-com vibess, jk’s secretly a little sub who loves praise, praise kinks, making love, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, rough sex, pussy-eating, unprotected sex, creampies, very light dirty talk, oc’s a tease, jk just loves oc, some violence (nothing serious jk punches a guy), oc’s a pillow princess, mainly dom!jk, subby!oc who is a menace, jk is super protective and a good bf, he beats someone up for you, tit play

⋆ WORD COUNT — 14.6 k

Jeon Jungkook was many things—charismatic, “lover boy”, charming—but the biggest one of all: a pain in the ass (for Yoongi). Jungkook was the type of guy to do whatever he wanted WHEN he wanted.

The kid had a strong backbone, Yoongi will give him that but it was an absolute nightmare dealing with the press for someone like Jungkook. Yoongi can count on his fingers how many times Jungkook’s gotten into heat for his loud ass mouth. Sometimes not all publicity was necessary whether it was good or bad in Yoongi’s opinion (not that anyone’s ever asked).

“Where is he? That little shit–” Yoongi growls behind gritted teeth as he storms through the gym towards the private training room Jungkook usually practiced in.

He slams the door open and locks eyes with his target, “There you are–!”

Jungkook stops in his tracks and turns around in surprise, “Hyung?” He’s confused as fuck because he’s been behaving himself lately, sooo what did he do now? “Yoongi hyung—ow! What the hell was that for?”

“How many times did I tell your ass to keep your little flings under the radar? I told you: if you’re gonna be fooling around with people do it on the down low but no, you just gotta fucking let the world know huh?” Yoongi seethes, literally trembling with rage from where Jungkook stands.

Jungkook makes a confused noise, “But I didn’t–”

“Then, what. The. Fuck. Is this?” Yoongi slaps his phone in Jungkook’s face, on it there’s some tweet with an article linked to it.

Jungkook squints his eyes mumbling under his breath as he reads the tweet out loud, “..Idol l/n y/n caught in a dating scandal with infamous boxer Jeon Jungkook–what’s the big deal though, everyone usually ignores these types of things.”

Yoongi looks like he wants to scream, “Kid you realize you’re a celebrity right?” Nod. “Okay, and she’s a celebrity too right?” Nod. “So why in the FUCK wouldn’t this be a big deal? I mean, it’s not like we’re not talking about the nation’s ‘sweetheart’ here, the country’s fucking pride and joy.” He really needs a fucking smoke right now.

“Hyung it’s just a fucking rumor she probably doesn’t even care or know about it, I don’t see why you’re stressing out. Not like I know her either,” Jungkook carelessly says as he throws a few punches at the bag, “you’re gonna end up bald with how you’re stressing right now.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath, in, out, in, out. “Because, idiot,” emphasis on the idiot, “this shit is getting out of control, you have any idea how many fucking news outlets are talking about this? For fucks sake the entire country is in shambles cause their ‘precious’ y/n is supposedly dating some lowlife boxer, no biggie really it’s not like I haven’t been getting threats either over this little stunt of yours.” He glares.

Jungkook lets out an exasperated sigh as he stops in his tracks, “Hyung I didn’t do anything, so fucking what if I posted a pic with my photocard, it’s MY photocard! Don’t her fans do that shit too, so why is it a problem that I do it too?”

“Because people think you’re dating now! They think you’re soft launching her or something!” Yoongi tugs at his hair, “You realize if people find out you fucked with her just to get in her bed they’re gonna lose it and not just on her but you mainly. You want a fucking witch hunt out for you? Because you know damn well they love her more than you.”

“Ouch.” Jungkook grumbles petulantly.

“No, ouch, use your fucking brain think about the damage you’ll take all because you wanted to fuck their little princess.” Yoongi glares.

Jungkook’s almost offended that Yoongi would think of him like that. Sure he had his fair share of groupies and models but Jungkook wasn’t a complete asshole about it! He had feelings too, he’s not sorry that he was fucking casually like any other normal person who was looking to unwind. It also isn’t his fault that they labeled him a playboy.

In the eyes of the public Jungkook was a menace as there were rumors of him knocking models up and cheating on the girls he’s ever gotten spotted with. Everyday he woke up and there was something new that came out whether it was him “dating” or his flings coming out to talk about their one night stands.

Needless to say he didn’t have the best public image.

“Okay let me stop you there, I’m not after her for sex or anything. If you really want to know, I'm actually interested in her. I wanna get to know her some more and take things further y’know?” He huffs and wipes the sweat off his brow with his shirt.

Yoongi scoffs, “Yeah right, I’ll believe it when I see it.” As he finishes his sentence the door opens and Namjoon pops in with Seokjin, the two team members hauling in some duffle bags in tow.

“What’s going on? The hell Yoongi look so red for?” Namjoon huffs as he drops the bag gracelessly, “Jungkook what did you do now?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment, tutting him like a misbehaved child.

Jungkook’s mouth drops open, this traitor! He’s supposed to be on his side, not Yoongi’s. Seokjin interrupts with a loud cackle, “What didn’t he do?” Another traitor! Jungkook can’t believe this, his own hyungs against him.

“Long story short Romeo over here is in a dating scandal—not with just anybody though, fucking l/n y/n. Y’know, the poster child.” Yoongi spits harshly, shooting Jungkook another pissy look while he’s at it.

Namjoon’s mouth drops open in shock, Seokjin actually looks pretty terrified too which is funny because if only he could see the face he’s making right now.

“No way you’re insane for that, shit good luck with the press because they don’t play about their little popstar.” Namjoon manages to utter once the shock passes.

Jungkook glares, “I didn’t do anything! They’re mad I’m showing off my photocard, I bet you that they’re jealous because they don’t have this one.” He huffs and thrusts his phone out to show them his phone case.

“What exactly did you do?” Seokjin laughs.

“Nothing! I posted a mirror pic and I didn’t expect a bunch of crazies to over analyze shit and spot the photocard. Not like it’s MY fault people make up narratives and shit.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and tucks his phone away safely in his pocket, “But you know what, just wait and see.”

“Wait and see what?” Namjoon snorts in amusement.

“Hyung doesn’t believe me but I’m serious about her, I’m gonna ask her out and from there maybe talk and get to know each other. One thing for sure she’s gonna be my girl unless she slaps me in the face and tells me to leave her alone or somethin,” Jungkook grins as he elbows his still pissed off manager.

Seokjin looks at him with a shit-eating grin, “Sure let me know how that ends up going for you.”

Jungkook purses his lips, “You’ll see..”

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⟡

They end up in Miami for a boxing match Jungkook has pending but his opponent ended up coming down with something so it got canceled. Now Jungkook has no clue what to do for an entire week and it doesn’t help that he’s jet lagged, hungry, and tired. Not a good combination.

“Did they say when the match will be back on?” Jungkook mumbles boredly from his spot on the lounge chair in his hotel. He’s slumped over scrolling down his phone looking at random shit on his feed.

“Hard to tell Kook, apparently the guy’s really sick and can barely get outta bed or somethin’. They said it was better to wait it out for a week and see what happens with him.” Yoongi sighs deeply, “Fuck, just our luck too.”

Jungkook nods in agreement, “What do we do now hyung? Do we go back or..?”

Yoongi takes a seat on the opposite side of him with a shrug, “Dunno, do whatever you want since the match is canceled. Me and Joon gotta stay back to talk with the event organizers and shit.”

He goes quiet for a few moments before sitting up, “Oh wait there’s an award show going on right now, they sent me an invite for you but I don’t know if you wanna go or not.”

“Award show?” Jungkook makes a face but what other shit does he have to do? It’s not like he’s got a match anymore anyways, maybe the after party will be cool or something. “I guess, why do they want me there?”

“Appearances for the press—you know, the usual.” Yoongi hums.

Jungkook’s lips are pursed as he looks around deep in thought. DOES he wanna go? It’s not like this would be the first time they’ve asked him to make an appearance but Jungkook doesn’t really like these types of things. Red carpets and interviews are so tedious and time consuming.

Wait—

“Hyung!” He suddenly gasps, “Holy shit—pass me my suit.” He says as he bolts away into the bathroom.

Yoongi looks at him in confusion, “What..kid what the hell are you on?” He snorts, “Don’t tell me you’re excited to go to this thing.” Nonetheless he still takes out Jungkook’s suit for him and lays it on the bed.

“No you don’t understand,” Jungkook cuts off as he splashes his face with water, “y/n is probably gonna be there!”

“y/n—Jungkook really?” Yoongi groans, “I thought you were playing around last time, I didn’t think you were actually serious about it.”

Jungkook holds back his whine, “Hyung you always think I’m playing around, why isn’t anyone taking me seriously about her! I swear I have good intentions.”

“I dunno, maybe cause you have a habit of sleeping with anything that walks and looks pretty to you. Or maybe the fact that you’ve done this before. Should I remind you of that one model from Cancun?” Jungkook pouts, “Or the bartender chick from LA?” His pout deepens, “Or the girl from Paris?”

“Okay I get it!” Jungkook grumbles, “But this time I’m serious hyung, more than I ever been about someone—especially her.” He says with a sigh while changing out of his clothes and into the suit Yoongi laid out for him.

Yoongi sighs deeply, “Look all I’m saying is to be careful how you go about this, it’s a lot at stake right now not just because of you being involved with her but the fact that the public has their opinions about you already as it is.”

Jungkook appreciates the sentiment but he doesn’t need anyone to approve or disagree about his feelings. The public didn’t deserve any explanations over what Jungkook chooses to do with his life, he’s here to fight and that’s it. Not to be anyone’s marionette or dress-up doll.

“I know hyung, thanks.” He smiles back and slips his blazer on, “I’ll text you later on and tell you what happens.” Yoongi doesn’t reply verbally rather with a low grunt, “See ya.” Jungkook says with a final grin and heads out of the room down to the main lobby and into a car Yoongi had waiting for him.

On the way to the venue he checks out the award show on Instagram, he sees a lot of people he recognizes and a few new faces. His eyes scan over the page eagerly in hopes of seeing you on there. Are you performing tonight? Were you already there on the red carpet? Oh he bets you look absolutely divine tonight (you always do).

“Yes!” He says a bit too loudly startling his driver in the process as he sheepishly apologizes.

Jungnkook finally comes across a post about you and he reads over the caption with an excited hum, biting his lip when he sees that you are performing after all. He’s getting a mean adrenaline rush right now like the ones he usually gets before his matches. Just thinking about how he’s gonna get to meet you tonight is getting him all worked up. He wonders if you’ll even give him the time of day.

Only one way to find out.

.

“Jeon over here!”

“Jeon, look here!”

“Jeon, is it true you and y/n are dating?” Jungkook makes a point to ignore this and act like he didn’t hear it even though he’s screaming on the inside.

The red carpet’s full of singers and models, the fans are screaming and reporters keep getting in his damn way as he tries to make his way through the crowd. Of course he stops for a picture or two with a fan, poses for the paparazzi too but he’s not concerned with them right now. He knows he must look a little lost with the way he keeps looking around like he’s trying to find something (yeah, you).

Jungkook almost frowns like a child who didn’t get their way once he sees you’re not anywhere in sight. You probably already headed inside which sucks cause he really wanted to see you beforehand since it was probably arranged seating in there. At this rate he won’t be able to even say hi–

“Oh shit, my bad.” Jungkook says when he bumps into someone behind him. He turns around to apologize properly when his heart fucking stops. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod—it’s you.

You look up at him with those dreamy eyes of yours, face scrunched up cutely (your lips pouty) in confusion as you tilt your head up (UP!) to look at him, “Um, you’re stepping on my dress.” Even your voice is so prettyyy.

“Sorry my fault,” Jungkook steps back and kneels down to fix the rumpled state he left it in, vaguely aware of the fast flashing (the paparazzi must be eating this up), “lemme make it up to you though.” He says once he comes back up.

You tilt your head, “And how would you do that?”

“I’ll buy you a new dress.” Jungkook’s dead serious too, if you asked him to buy you a whole house he’d do it in a heartbeat. Take everything at this point—have it.

“And who said I want you to buy me things?” You muse softly.

Jungkook chuckles softly and leans down to talk in your ear because the crowd’s getting louder and it’s hard to talk to you, “Don’t be like that, if you let me take you out I’ll show you all the things I can buy you.” He murmurs low, voice husky.

You tilt your head to look at him, eyes dropping down to his lips and then back up as a coy smile plays at your soft lips, “You’re funny.” You pat his cheek with a soft manicured hand and walk away.

His heart nearly skips a damn beat when you do that. Oh he swears he can still feel your soft hand sliding over his cheek when you walked away from him like the little tease you were. He doesn’t know how long he stands there until he gets moving, a stupid grin on his face the entire time as he replays the moment over and over again in his head.

Jungkook’s not gonna lie, this little cat and mouse game that just started has him eager for more. He’s so getting your number by the end of the night, call him delusional but he swears you’re digging him too with the way you checked him out just now.

He spends the entire night throwing a few sneaky glances your way, hell when you got on stage to perform he nearly folded then and there. Everything about it—sultry gaze, soft husky voice, and sensual body rolls—was perfect. Jungkook don’t even care that people are watching him ogle you in 4K, he doesn't bother to hide the fact that he likes what he’s seeing right now.

To make things worse you pass by his seat and shoot him a dazzling little smile, waving your fingers coyly at him which makes the people go wild. Oh he’s in love. Jungkook makes a point in looking for you afterwards at the afterparty. You’re changed out of your outfit from earlier, now in a pretty babydoll and your little Prada loafers.

When he makes eye contact you shoot him a smile, “Thought I’d wear something you can’t step on again.”

Jungkook snorted softly, “I already told you, I dunno why you’re being stubborn, quit playing and let me take you out already.” He says smoothly and wraps his arm around your waist, surprised that you don’t push him off or anything.

You look him up and down with a soft hum, “Mmmm I’m kinda in the mood for some paella.”

“Then let’s go.” Jungkook’s ready, he will literally drop everything to get you some paella.

“Not from here though, I hear it’s way better in Spain.” You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down so he’s eye level with you, “So unless you’re willing to take me to Spain, I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook licks his lips, “Fuck it, let’s go.” He starts leading you away, peeping the way you look surprised, “What?” He laughs.

“You’re serious, right now?” Once you recover from the initial shock you smile at him with a quiet giggle, “You’re crazy.”

Oh he just adores that cute eye-smile of yours, “Let’s get you some paella yeah?”

It’s a nine hour flight you both impulsively leave on with no bags, didn’t even tell your managers, and only your phones and wallets. No one questions when Jeon Jungkook walks through first class hand in hand with you trailing close by, you’re even wearing his blazer over your shoulders because you complained about how chilly it was.

Jungkook’s smiling like an idiot the entire time he’s sitting with you in the first class cabin. You don’t seem to mind how touchy he is so he keeps an arm over your shoulder so you’re pressed close to his side. He nearly screams when you lay your head on his shoulder and doze off into a peaceful slumber.

You left Miami around one in the morning and got to Madrid at nine with Jungkook booking you two a room at the infamous Four Seasons hotel. You knock out with him for a few more hours until you’re complaining about your paella.

“Hurry up, I'm starving and you promised me my paella.” You grumble and poke at his face.

“Yeah, yeah I’m awake.” Jungkook murmurs calmly as he rolls out of the bed to make himself presentable.

Jungkook feels like he’s in a dream right now, god this better not be because the sight of you looking so happy in front of him while eating your beloved paella is one for the books. Your little brunch date turns into a shopping date because you complain you don’t wanna be wearing clothes from yesterday since the two of you decided to stay in Spain for the weekend.

He has a goofy smile on his face as he swipes, taps, and inserts his black card at different stores you drag him to. He lets you spend his money how you want to, relishing in the way the BVLGARI store worker’s eyes nearly bulge out of their head when Jungkook pays for a forty-eight thousand wrist watch, all for you.

“Doesn’t it look pretty?” You grin softly while holding your wrist out to him.

Jungkook gently takes your hand in his and admires the watch, “Perfect, really suits you.” He grins softly as he thanks the employees and heads out with you to another store to see what you find.

By the time Sunday comes Jungkook’s spent well over one-hundred grand on you but does he care? No, not really because he did say he’d show you all the things he’d buy you. Jungkook doesn’t wanna go back to Miami but Yoongi’s bitching at him to go back because apparently his opponent got better and the match was back on and set for Tuesday the earliest.

“Let me make you mine already.” He finds himself mumbling low in your ear as he tugs you into a loose hug, not caring that you two were standing in the middle of the airport about to board different flights back (of course he pays for your first class ticket home).

You look up at him with coy eyes and a soft little smile on your glossy lips, god he just wants to kiss the fuck out of you but he doesn’t because you haven’t give him the okay for anything past non-sexual intimacy which he’s fine with because he does wanna take time to get to know you.

His breath hitches when your finger comes up to trace over his lips gently, “Cute.” You don’t say anything else and walk away after the intercom announces your flight. You leave him standing there in the middle of the airport, dreamier than ever but sadly it’s cut short by his phone ringing.

“Where the hell are you?” Yoongi growls.

“Calm down hyung, I’m boarding in a few minutes.” Jungkook sighs as he rolls his eyes, “I got so much shit to tell you.” He smirks to himself and begins walking.

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⟡

Sometime into the next week when Jungkook lands back in Korea he asks for your number through Instagram. He’s kinda surprised you gave it to him instead of dodging him like before, nonetheless he’s happy and giddy about it. He quite literally looks like a schoolgirl kicking her feet in bed texting her crush, that’s how he feels like right now.

You’re a quick texter which he likes and you don’t seem to mind him spamming so that’s even better. Jungkook spends his week giggling over dumb shit (it’s not) you say which has Seokjin making fun of him for it, which speaking of them they still couldn’t believe Jungkook pulled you.

“No way let me see.” Seokjin had demanded, “You’re lying, she would never, she looks like she has standards.” Jungkook can’t tell if he’s jealous or something, maybe he’s a secret stan too who knows.

Jungkook long established he was down bad for you ages ago but this just took the cake, a whole new level of simping. It starts when Jungkook decides to post a training video of him boxing/training, he goes viral and trends for a week because in the background he’s playing one of your songs. He’s got a shit ton of people calling him a “girly pop” or “cunty boxer” but most tell him he knows what’s up.

He doesn’t know but by him doing that it opens a new door to your developing relationship because you start asking him to do things for you. It starts with you telling him to change his profile picture with a pic from your latest comeback (he gets made fun of by your fans but he doesn’t care).

Then you make him tweet: “stream y/n for clear skin” while promoting your music video through him (again he’s a laughing stock). The nail in the coffin is when you prettily request him to wear a shirt from your merch collection after one of his boxing matches.

“Oh my god.” Yoongi says with his mouth dropped open in shock as Jungkook steps out of the backroom wearing a baby pink t-shirt with your face all over it, the cameras flash like crazy and reporters yell out a slew of different questions.

Jungkook runs around carefree in his little pink shirt posing for the cameras and grinning like an idiot because he knows you’re probably at home watching this. Yoongi asks him why he does these things and Jungkook just shrugs, he likes the praise you give him for doing everything you ask him to. He knows it’s light-hearted fun and you’d never do anything to humiliate him intentionally, if you’re happy then that’s all that matters.

jk: did u see me tonight?

y/n <3: yess lol can’t believe you actually did itttt

you looked super cute too, you should wear more shirts with my face on them.

jk: mayyybeeee you can come to one of my matches? don’t u think i earned it?

y/n <3: when is it?

Jungkook damn nearly yells out in excitement, he’s literally shaking as he types out a fast response like you’re about to change your mind or something. He sends you the time and day for it, promising front row seats so you’ll have a good view as he kicks this guy’s ass. You have him cheesing when you say this is going to be your first boxing match too, he’s so excited now.

“Calm down kid you’re gonna give me a headache with all that tapping.” Yoongi grunts as he slaps his hand against Jungkook’s knee, “I don’t know why you’re nervous, she already told you she’s here.”

“Because hyung! This is a big deal to me, she’s here at one of my matches and she’s gonna get a front row view of the fight. Now I have to win this, I have to make it worth her time.” Jungkook grumbles with a pout.

Somewhere off to the side he hears Namjoon snort at him, “She’s really got you wrapped around her finger don’t she?” He says while hauling in a cooler with water bottles.

Jungkook doesn’t even refute that statement, he barely bothers to acknowledge him because he’s reading over the texts you’re sending him. “Hyung she said yes to coming to the after party!” He grins cheerfully.

“Good now get your head out of your ass and focus on what I’m about to say. You have less than five minutes before you’re up in that ring and I need your head in the game.” Yoongi says sternly as he plucks Jungkook’s phone out of his hand, “You remember what I said about pacing yourself?”

Jungkook sits there listening as Yoongi goes into trainer mode, he knows his hyung means no harm and just wants him to win this so Jungkook can’t really be mad at him. He must have zoned out because Yoongi brings him back with a sharp smack to his arm, “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook smiles as he stands up, “let’s do this.”

“Get out there and make me proud.”

The entire atmosphere outside has Jungkook’s adrenaline kicking in already. He hears the crowd chanting his name, the loud booming music, and the chatter from the on-goers. He mentally psyches himself, lightly bouncing on his feet as he closes his eyes and mumbles a small prayer. Once he hears his name echo loudly and the screams he steps out with his gloves in the air.

This is what he lives for—the crowds, the music, and the atmosphere. He looks around the arena with a grin as they chant his name over and over again, stopping here and there to pose with fans. Jungkook’s not entirely focused on them though, his eyes wander through the front row looking for you and when his gaze finally lands on you he can’t help the big smile he sports.

You look so pretty with your MIUMIU glasses over your head. You’ve got on a plain baby white tee under your black leather jacket, some low rise jeans and your loafers. Right now you’re the center of attention in your section with people taking pics of you from every direction and some asking for an autograph. You even brought your little friend (Jeon Soyeon?) along.

As he passes by Jungkook shoots you a wink to which you wave back with a flirty little smile. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes skim over his bare chest and the desire begins fueling him with more determination to win. Sure he likes winning because who doesn’t? But now he has more reason to win, he has to impress his future girl.

Jungkook gets pulled up on stage with his heart drumming against his ribcage, he’s so ready for this. The ref calls out both of them and soon enough after slipping his mouth guard and gloves on he rises to his feet and stalks forward slowly with a glint in his eye.

“I want a clean fight okay,” the ref says to both as Jungkook nods, “alright, to your corners.” He sends them both away, the announcer saying some shit Jungkook doesn’t really concern himself with.

Jungkook makes eye contact with you one last time, the two of you mutually nodding before the sound of a bell has Jungkook immediately shifting his focus. He’s light on his feet and takes his time watching with diligent eyes as his opponent circles around him, waiting to get the hit on him but Jungkook’s faster.

The guy swings but Jungkook easily dodges, another swing and Jungkook manages to catch him off guard with a sucker punch to the jaw sending the guy reeling backwards. Jungkook feels like he had enough time to warm-up, he doesn’t play around anymore and launches himself towards his opponent with determination.

Punch after punch and round after round ends with Jungkook delivering one final blow, easily sealing this poor guy’s fate as the guy just lets go and falls to the ground. The referee jumps in, counting down from ten as Jungkook watches with anticipation and adrenaline, ready to go again if this guy gets up. He sees Yoongi sitting with clenched fists and a hopeful look in his eye, and then he sees you.

You’re looking at Jungkook with worry, eyebrows furrowed and doe eyes filled with concern. He manages a bloody smile despite the fucking world of pain he’s in right now (he’s not looking forward to the ice bath after this). He swears the world around him blurs until he finally hears the bell and the announcer’s voice echoing through the arena.

“Knockout!”

Jungkook sags in relief as he hears cheers and yells all around. The paparazzi flash him with their cameras as the crowd loses it, Jungkook turns in time to see Yoongi crawling into the ring and bringing him in for a tight hug, “You fuckin’ did it kid,” he laughs in disbelief as he has Jungkook spit his bloody mouthguard out.

“Fuck hyung, water.” Jungkook rasps out as Yoongi yells for Namjoon to come over.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, “Look at me kid, you okay?” He pats his cheek as Jungkook nods tiredly given that the adrenaline rush was now gone, leaving him bruised and exhausted.

Namjoon comes over with water as Jungkook takes sips, spitting it out into a bucket Yoongi holds out for him to rinse his mouth out. The referee comes over to announce Jungkook as the winner as he stands there barely holding on from pain. He makes eye contact with you again, smiling through the exhaustion despite feeling pretty shitty right now. He slowly makes his way over as you simultaneously rise from your chair to meet him halfway.

“So, what do you think?” Jungkook smirks as he crouches down and hops out of the ring.

You pout cutely with a frown, “You’re hurt.” You softly murmur as your delicate hand comes up to cup his face, “I’m happy for you though, you did really amazing.” You smile.

Jungkook feels his heart swell with happiness hearing that, he goes to wrap his arm around your shoulder but stops in pain. He forgot about this part as a low groan slips from his lips, “Shit he got me pretty good.”

“Don’t overexert yourself,” you help him wrap an arm around you, “gotta be careful, you took some pretty hard hits in there.”

Jungkook laughs tiredly as he lays his head on top of yours while you walk together to the back, “Shoulda seen the other guy.” He says low, ignoring the pointed glare you shoot at him, “Yeah, yeah, I’m just messing with you.”

You grumble something under your breath but he doesn’t catch it, he’s riding off on the high from winning and being so close to you. He likes this and wouldn’t mind having you in his life more after this as he’s long made peace with the idea of you being in his future. All he can think about at this moment is you, you, you.

.

“Say you can't sleep, baby, I know that's that me, espresso,”

Jungkook’s laughing and talking with his friends, he’s got you wrapped up in his arms pressed against his chest as he nurses a whiskey in his other hand. You play with one of his necklaces and tune out his conversation which he doesn’t notice until he turns to you and sees how sad you look, “What’s wrong?”

You look up at him and shake your head, “Just thinking.”

“About?” He gently prods, shifting his entire attention to you.

“You didn’t look so good earlier..how do you do it? I mean, I get you trained for this but I dunno, kinda scared me seeing you all beat up.” You softly murmur, “It’s just a thought of mine, I don’t mean to offend you or anything.”

Jungkook softens at that, he thinks it’s adorable you’re worrying about him like that. Almost feels like.. “Let’s dance?” He asks when a favorite song of his comes on, “C’mon, it’ll take your mind off things.” He grins.

You smile at him softly and follow him to the dancefloor, wrapping your arms around his neck as he holds you by the hips with gentle hands. He hums along to the song playing in the background with his dark eyes trained on yours. You look so beautiful under the dark lights and he can’t help but lean in.

“You’re super pretty y’know that?” Jungkook softly hums as he presses his forehead against yours.

You softly laugh, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Mmm did I mention I really like your lips?” His lip curls in a smirk, “Love how soft and plump they look, ‘specially when you wear lip gloss..” He slowly trails off as his lips hover over your own, “Can I kiss you?”

The way your eyes light up, crinkling with joy as you eagerly nod. Jungkook presses his lips to yours in a gentle manner, it’s sweet and slow, just like how he likes it. Your arms tighten around his neck and you tug him further down until he's towering over your figure, blocking you from everyone’s view.

Feels like everything’s complete now and Jungkook’s never felt happier than ever.

He slowly pulls off from the kiss as he stares down at you suddenly feeling shy, “Can I, um, maybe drive you home? Just to make sure you get home safe ‘n stuff. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, just thought I’d ask.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You gently reply.

A slow smile spreads over his lips and he nods, “Let’s go then.” He guides you out of the party and into his sleek black car that’s parked out in the front.

The car ride’s quiet and peaceful, he has the windows rolled down as the fresh breeze brushes over the two of you. Jungkook wishes the car ride lasted a little longer but it’s late (two in the morning actually) and he knows you’re tired. He makes a mental note to take you out on a drive next time you guys meet up.

“We’re here baby.” He murmurs softly, gently waking you from your sleep.

“Hm?” You sleepily blink and look around, “Damn, I’m more tired than I thought.” You smile tiredly while stretching your arms out.

Jungkook chuckles, “Don’t worry I got you.” He steps out and rounds the car, opening your door for you and helping you out, “Want me to carry you?” He teases.

You shoot him a sleepy pout and shake your head, “I’m good, maybe next time though.” You breathily chuckle.

“There’s a next time?” He teases.

You toss him a knowing look, stopping in front of the building door, “Good night, or morning I dunno I’m tired.” You spin around and lean over to smooch his cheek gently, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You softly murmur.

Jungkook’s completely entranced by you as he nods slowly, “Night.”

“Morning.” You teasingly correct him as you make your way inside.

Jungkook doesn’t leave until he sees you hop into the elevator, and even then you still wave at him before disappearing inside. Once you’re gone Jungkook lets out a deep sigh as he leans back on his car, what a night.

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆

A few weeks pass and it’s nothing but bliss for Jungkook. Seeing that he has no matches lined up or anything he decides to hang out with you nearly everyday whether it be you and him going out for ice cream dates or Jungkook just taking you out for evening drives out of the city.

He’s on cloud nine right now—he’s got the girl of his dreams, his payout from the last match was pretty big, and everything’s going right for him. Sure you haven’t sat down to actually clarify what you two are but Jungkook knows you feel the same way about him. Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing with the way things are right now, the you’re mine and I’m yours is left unsaid but it’s there.

You’ve both been hard launching each other on your socials for the past few weeks anyways. By now people knew there was something up with you and him, given that Jungkook wasn’t exactly discreet when he posted on his stories with you in them. Jungkook knows you’ve been doing the same thing too so by now the media kinda labeled the relationship.

Will he say anything? Probably not. Does he care? Nope. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation, he just wanted to be able to date you in peace.

Sometime in the week though you send him a message asking him if he wants to come with you as your plus one to some award show taking place in Hong Kong. He says yes of course duh, why the hell would he say otherwise?

He posts a pic with you in the private plane before calling it quits and ignoring his mentions/comments for the rest of the day. Today’s your big day and while you’re not performing he wants to put his entire focus into being there for you.

“How do I look?” He hears you say as he’s getting ready.

You’re dressed to the nines styled in vintage Chanel and Jungkook had a suit tailored to match your aesthetic for the evening. He knows you both are gonna look so good tonight, no doubt you’ll blow anyone away with your unwavering beauty too. “You look amazing.” He says as he stands behind you.

Your eyes flick up in amusement, “That’s all?”

Jungkook lays his chin over your shoulder and grins softly, “Breathtaking, beautiful, ethereal, stunning—” You cut him off with an embarrassed laugh as you swat at his hands.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” You turn around and play with the buttons to his shirt, “You look really good too.”

“That’s all?” He grins back.

“Don’t push it, you make the compliments here.” You smirk and lay a sweet kiss over his lips, to which he happily and eagerly reciprocates.

He might have gotten a little carried away with it because he’s pushing you against the sink counter and kissing you stupid like he’s been doing these days. A soft muffled groan leaves him as he circles his hands over your hips and uses his grip to pull you into him until your lower pelvis is pressing against his own, dangerously close to his friend down there.

“Jungkook–” You sigh, “We’re gonna be late.” You say in-between his eager kisses.

“Don’t care, let me kiss you stupid.” Jungkook replies as he closes the distance between you two again, moving his lips passionately against yours.

You let out a sweet little moan as your fingers card through his hair, he doesn’t even care if you mess it up either. Looks are superficial and at the end of the day regardless of how people see him they’ll never know him or you and Jungkook’s okay with that.

Suddenly the sound of a knock interrupts the two of you and you pull away with a breathless sigh, “Yeah?” You call out.

“The car’s here and traffic’s looking pretty bad so it might be good if we leave right now. We got thirty minutes to get there since the red carpet’s already started.” Your manager says through the door.

You look at Jungkook with a soft smile as you lean up to smooch his lips, “We’ll meet you down there.”

No one expects you to come out hand in hand with Jungkook and he relishes in their shocked faces/reactions. He likes the thrill and can’t help but pull you closer by the waist with his arm tucked tightly around you. They yell and beg for pictures as you walk on by with him, ignoring their weird comments or stupid questions with no meaning.

“You wanna head inside baby?” He leans down to whisper in your ear after a few rounds of interviews and photos with the paps.

“Yeah I’m getting bored.” You hide your shoulder in his shoulder and follow as he guides you towards the venue with a hand splayed protectively over the small of your back.

He can tell you’re nervous about tonight with the way you sit with your hand tightly wrapped in his. You’re currently nominated for two major categories with one of them being album of the year. He’d be shitting himself too if he was going up against other talented singers. You’re gonna win though, you have to and if you don’t he’ll fight them to recount the votes.

“Easy baby,” he whispers low, “you got this okay?”

“I know but what if I lose?” You purse your lips, “I did really well this year so I’m hoping maybe that I do win.” Jungkook doesn’t like how sad and worried you look right now.

“If you don’t win I’ll buy the fucking thing.” Jungkook snorts, “No one had the highest record sales and streams like you did baby, you basically have this in the bag and everyone knows it.”

You huff out a laugh and look at him in disbelief, “Jungkook you can buy me all the things you want but you’re not buying me an award. Don’t be ludicrous.”

He shrugs carelessly, “I won’t if they just give it to you.” He says seriously as he leans over to kiss your cheek, “I believe in you no matter what.” You look at him with a precious smile and turn your attention back to the show.

Performance after performance passes until soon they’re announcing the winner for album of the year. You didn’t win the other category but Jungkook knows for sure you’ll win the next one. He can feel you nervously bouncing your knee and gripping his hand extra tight while the presenter takes their sweet time opening the envelope.

“And the award goes to,” pause, “y/n!” The crowd erupts into loud screams and cheers, hell Jungkook yells out as he looks at you with glee and helps you stand up.

“You won baby!” Jungkook hugs you tightly as he sways side to side, “So fuckin’ proud of you.”

You happily laugh and bury your face in his neck, “I was so scared, oh my god.” You accept his hand as he helps you step up on stage so you could get your award. He stands back filled with pride as he watches you stride with confidence towards the main stage, walking past all these other people he could care less about.

After the show Jungkook’s surprised you choose to go back to the hotel instead of the afterparty some other singer invites you guys to. He doesn’t protest because he’s been dying to get away from all these people all night (you reprimanded him for suggesting that you guys leave right after you get your win). He walks hand in hand with you, smug as fuck because his girl bagged album of the year, just like he knew you would.

“Smile,” Jungkook holds his phone up, the flash going off as he hears you complain about not being ready, “you look fine, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snorts and shows you the picture he took.

You shoot him a pouty frown and take his phone, “Delete it I look bad,” you huff, “you better take a better one.”

“Whatever you say princess.” Jungkook takes a series of photos for your Instagram and his, you look so pretty in each one he takes, it’s disgusting how much he’s obsessing over them, “Damn you look sexy.”

“I always do, thank you very much.” You huff and sit back in your seat, enjoying the rest of the ride back.

Jungkook’s immediately on you when the two of you get to the hotel. He’s been wanting to pick up where you two left off earlier before your manager interrupted. If it was up to him you two wouldn’t have even gone to the damn show, he’s been dying to get you out of the dress the minute he saw you in it.

“Jungkook wait–mmph,” you’re cut off as he slips his lips over yours, his hands coming up to cup your face as he swallows your lips in a passionate-hungry kiss.

“Can’t,” Jungkook whispers, “been waiting all night baby.” He reaches behind you to push the door open, kicking it open all the way as he tugs you close and walks you backwards into the room.

“Moment I laid eyes on you I was gone, knew I had to have you.” Jungkook whispers as he leans down to bury his face in your shoulder and neck leaving a flurry of hot kisses all over, “Wanted to rip this shit off you.” He growls softly.

You whined in protest, body falling backwards when the back of your knees hit the lush bed, “Not my dress–”

“I’ll buy another—hundreds baby, don’t you know who your man is?” Jungkook smirks as he climbs over you, “Can I take it off you baby?” He knows he’s being a bit too eager right now, so naturally he wants to make sure you’re both on the same page.

“Yeah.” You softly breathe out, “I want you to take it off,” you trail off looking at him with those siren eyes, “make me yours.” You say as you let the strap of the dress slip off your shoulder invitingly.

Jungkook swallows hard, hands itching and trembling with excitement as he reaches up to pull the other strap, “You already are.” He muses.

“All the way,” you intertwine your hand with his with a precious little smile on your face, “want everyone to know who my man is.”

Fuck. Jungkook bites down on his lip and nods, “You want them to see my marks, want everyone to know who’s fucking you good?” He purrs and leans down to hover over you, lips against lips.

You nod with a cute ‘mmhm’, “I want it all, you promised you’d give it to me.” You softly pout, “Or was that a lie?”

“Fuck no, take it baby, ‘s all yours.” Jungkook hurriedly unbuttons his dress shirt, hastily throwing his belt off and peeling his slacks off, “Gonna give you exactly what you need till you can’t take it.” He says as he reaches for the zipper to the dress.

He all but rips the thing off of you and tosses it to the corner of the room (mind you it’s worth over twenty thousand). It’s the first time seeing you like this under him and he wants to make it special for you, a night you’ll never forget.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful baby.” He comments as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses along your chest and tummy,slowly slipping down the bed as he inches towards your panty covered pussy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this, been thinking about all the ways I could have you,” he whispers and lays a kiss over your damp folds, “I didn’t know if I wanted to lay you on my bed or bend you over the car—you make it so hard to control myself, you have no idea.”

He sees the little tremor that passes over you when he says this. Your eyes are filled with want and need but like the stubborn little thing you are, you don’t say anything. Jungkook can’t have that either, he wants—no needs—to hear your sweet little voice beg for him.

“What’s the matter baby? You need something?” Jungkook softly croons as he peppers soft kisses against your inner thighs.

You bite on your lip and nod, “Need you.”

“But you already have me?” He grins, he can see the frustration bubbling up on your face.

“Here,” you softly breathe and reach down to tug your panties upwards, the material digs into your cunt giving him a perfect outline of it, “won’t you give it to me?” Your voice pulls him in like a siren singing to a sailor, he’s so entranced by it he almost feels like he’s gonna drool right now.

Jungkook wastes no time in yanking the damp materials down your thighs, not bothering to slide them completely off as he lifts your legs up. They’re pressed together with your soft pussy lips pressed together for him, tempting him with a glob of shiny slick running down your soft asscheeks.

“Fuck,” Jungkook growls as he leans in to smother his face with your cunt, tongue slipping through your drenched dewy folds to lap up the globs of slick.

You kick your feet in the air with a tiny whine, hips wiggling in an attempt to get him on your clit. He laps at you messily, circling the tip of his tongue over your throbbing bud that’s squished between your folds. The moan you let out sends shivers down his spine and he’s eager to hear more.

“So fucking good,” he pants, “jus’ like I imagined pretty baby.” He slurs out, pussy drunk already.

He can feel you reaching down to tug your panties all the way off but he can’t be bothered with stopping, not when your cunt’s gushing for him. Jungkook licks with vigor, swiping over and over against your tender clit. Your cunt opens up beautifully with a low squelch and your thighs begin trembling under his strong hold.

It gets harder with each passing second to contain himself, his cock feels like it’s literally about to burst. He pulls away from you and lets your shaky legs fall back as he tears your panties off completely.

“Gonna fuck you so good baby,” he climbs over you and reaches down to pull his heavy cock out, “can’t wait anymore.”

Your legs easily fall apart for him and make room as he shuffles closer between them. Jungkook sees the way your eyes go dark when they land below between his legs where his cock hangs heavy, swollen at the tip with beady trails of precum oozing from the head. You lick your lips and reach down to grip him in your soft hand, tentatively squeezing and stroking as if you were feeling him up.

“Like it baby? Gonna have my fat cock fill this little pussy up?” Jungkook has a sleazy grin splayed over his lips as he watches you, “Hm?”

“Yeah, ‘m not gonna let you cum anywhere but inside,” you deviously smile back like the nasty little minx you are, “till it’s dripping.”

He groans at the thought of that and kicks his hips forward, “Lemme in baby,” he slurs out, “slip it right in for me, there you go.” He purrs when he feels the head slide over your messy pussy, smearing your slick and his precum all over your cunt before you’re guiding him towards your winking sopping hole.

You bite down on your lip when the tip catches against your rim, it pops inside feeling you inch for inch slowly—cockhead spreading you open until he’s fully seated in your tight cunt. He can’t help but bite his lip with the way you’re squeezing him so tight—so snug and warm.

“So nice ‘n warm for me,” he hoarsely says as he rubs his hands along your sides, gently squeezing at your hips as he pulls you closer until your pelvis is smacked tight against his own.

You let out the most sinful fucking moan ever when his cock slides deeper. Back arching and toes curling—he just loves how beautiful you look spread out under him with your pretty pussy snug against his cock. You release a stuttered moan as you reach for his hands and squeeze tightly.

“Hurts a little,” you say through gritted teeth, “why the fuck are you so fucking big?”

Jungkook nearly laughs at that because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard that many curse words leave your mouth before. “You want me to pull out?”

“No don’t you dare,” you glare, “took me a minute to get this thing in and you want me to do it all over again?”

Jungkook looks back down with a low whistle, “Little pussy looks like it’s struggling to keep me all in baby, you sure you can handle it?” He teases as he reaches down to flick his thumb over your swollen clit.

Your hips jump and you whine out for him, “Stop playing around Jungkook,” you turn to hide your face in the soft sheets, “you know I can.” You mumble softly, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

Jungkook bites down on his lip and rolls his hips slowly, “I know, you were made for this dick.” He smirks and lazily flicks his thumb pairing it with his slow but deep thrusts.

Your moans come out soft and breathy, everytime he backstrokes there’s a light sheen of slick covering his cock from the base near his pelvis. Your cunt makes these adorable little squelching noises as he pushes back in, balls lightly pressing against your taint when he buries himself back in. Occasionally he stops for a few seconds before he resumes his lazy pace.

He never imagined it’d feel this good with you, something about the way your little pussy refuses to let go for even a moment—squeezing him so tight it’s almost impossible to move. His own noises come out soft and husky, he can’t help the moans and soft sighs he lets out from the hot pleasure coiling in his stomach.

“Baby,” he gasps as he leans forward to hover over you with hands on either side of you, “this good?” He asks as he steadily increases the pace in his thrusts, hips smacking wetly against your ass and balls swinging now.

You nod eagerly, “More than good—mm, jus’ like that,” you sound blissed out, gaze half-lidded and dreamy as you stare up at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“Like that?” He groans, “Or like this?” Suddenly Jungkook snaps his hips up, a loud smack filling the room alongside a warbled cry of his name, “Oh you like that, don’t you? Baby likes it rough?” He purrs.

The slide’s fucking nasty with a mix of precum and your slick, he feels it slide down your taint where his balls slap repeatedly. The noise is filthy and sends pleasant tremors down his spine, “Oh, fuck,” he groans softly, “doing so good for me.”

Jungkook begins moving earnestly now, slamming his cock in and out of your bruised and battered cunt. Slick spills everywhere—the sheets, your inner thighs, his pelvis—it’s like music to his fucking ears right now. He can’t resist and leans down to smother your lips with his, swallowing every little cry and moan you let out.

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck as you hold on tightly, he reaches down to wrap a leg around his waist as he manages to slide in deeper with the tip brushing over your g-spot. You let out a loud cry into his mouth and bury your fingers in his hair, your thigh starts trembling again only this time more intense than before.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He pulls away with a moan, “C’mon, be a good girl and make it messy.” He purrs against your lips while watching your expressions closely.

You stare into his eyes with unshed tears as more whimpers and whines escape, “So close,” you manage to wrap another shaky leg around him, “please, please, ‘m so close.” You whine out as your legs cross behind him on his back.

Jungkook doesn’t wanna disappoint or hold out any longer as he manages to stick a hand down between you to roll your clit between his fingers, “Cum for me, give it to me baby.” He growls softly as he plows into your tender and sore cunt.

The squelching gets louder and your moans turn into weak whimpers as you lie there and take it. His cock stirs at the sight of you nearing your end, he decides to give you a little extra push as he meanly pinches your clit. This causes you to cry out and go stiff under him, body shaking like a leaf as you gush around his cock.

“Jungkook,” you gasp repeatedly as your eyes flutter shut, face pinched in pleasure and overstimulation, “so good.” You slur out.

Jungkook lets your tender clit go and focuses on his own pleasure now that he’s got your orgasm out of the way. He grunts quietly and buries his face against your soft tits, mouthing at your sore stiff nipples. You squeeze around him tighter and tighter until the coil in his stomach snaps and he lets out a long moan of your name.

“Fuck..” Jungkook whispers breathlessly as he presses your pelvises close together, burying his cock balls deep till every last drop’s inside your battered pussy.

You moan quietly and let your legs fall from his hips, limbs feeling like jelly as you lay there panting softly. Jungkook rests his forehead against your tit and sighs deeply, “Are you okay love?” He asks softly.

“Yeah, jus’ really tired.” You whisper hoarsely and close your eyes, “Fuck, no offense but I feel really gross right now. Start a bath for me, pretty please?” You softly ask with a lip jutted out in a pout.

Jungkook of course can’t say no, “Course,” he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and lifts himself off of you, “I’ll be back.”

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆

Your company’s the first to make a statement confirming what everybody already knew, and then Yoongi followed shortly after. If Jungkook had thought it was bad before, people went ape shit now that it’s been officially confirmed by you two.

Before, they put all the heat on Jungkook because it was easier to blame him for it given the public’s opinion about him. It was easier to blame him because why not? He was some low-life boxer in their eyes. But then the attention shifted and people started targeting their hate towards you which pissed Jungkook off to no end.

Why the fuck was everyone so invested in what you did and didn’t do? Why was it that they felt entitled to dictate who you date and don’t date? Jungkook really needed these people to get jobs or mind their business because clearly they had no life outside of hating on a stranger for finding their own happiness.

He saw those vicious comments people left all over your posts and he fucking hated that he couldn’t do shit to stop them from coming back, pissed him off even more because his girlfriend didn’t deserve this. You deserved the world and more, not this shit.

So, Jungkook did the next best thing he could think of. He started taking names and screenshotting profiles before turning them over to a attorney he hired, if he couldn’t beat these stupid fuckers himself he’d let them have it with his private team. He made headlines after people started noticing that he was suing the people opening their big ass mouths.

“Baby, it’s okay really.” You softly complain, “You don’t have to waste your time with these weird people, I’m sure they’ll get over themselves if we ignore them.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No, I’m sorry baby but I can’t sit there and watch these fuckers call you degrading names and demand shit like they know you—seriously who the fuck do these people think they are?” He growls under his breath as he paces back and forth, “And that’s not even the gist of it, these idiots are lucky I don’t catch them out in public because I’ll beat the fuck out of them.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you curl up on the sofa with a sad smile, “I know, but you can’t go around beating up millions of people for leaving a hate comment. It’s normal, this happens all the time I learned to live with it.” You’re trying to sound sure of yourself but he doesn’t buy it.

“Baby look at me.” He comes over and kneels down in front of you, “This shit is not normal nor is it ever okay, fuck them for making you feel like this. I hate seeing you look so dejected reading all those hateful comments,” he takes your hands in his and kisses them, “just lemme take care of it. Please?”

You look conflicted like you’re not sure if you should say yes but with a little more coaxing you finally sigh, “Fineee, just don’t do anything crazy. I don’t need my boyfriend in jail, thank you very much.”

Jungkook cracks a smile and buries his face in your lap with a happy sigh, “I promise baby, if I go to jail, who else is gonna cook you fried rice at three in the morning? Who else is gonna give you their black card?” He teases.

“Yeah, yeah now come here.” You open your arms for him, “You know I only need you and that’s all.”

Jungkook kisses that soft pout off your face as he nods, “I know you do baby, didn’t think otherwise.” He grins and lays his head on your chest with closed eyes.

The two of you sit there in silence together with the TV playing low in the background. Jungkook for the most part behaves himself despite being so close to your soft tits that are poorly hidden under your camisole. He can literally dip his head in there and get a sneak peek, maybe even a mouthful of titties—

“Jungkook, really?” You sigh, “You’re such a pervert.”

“You like it,” Jungkook winks as he mouths at your tit through your little camisole, “can I?” He knows you can’t resist and judging by the way your thighs press together, “Pretty pleaseee baby?” He gives you the best puppy eyes he can muster, all a man wants is some titty loving, that’s all.

You don’t even finish saying yes before he’s diving in and tugging your camisole down so that your tits spill out and into his face. His eyes light up and he immediately wraps his lips around a nipple, suckling gently as he laves his tongue over the stiff bud in his mouth. You quietly sigh and sink into the sofa with him following as he rolls his tongue over your nipple and flicks it repeatedly.

“You’re such a baby you know that?” You murmur, “But you’re my handsome bun,” the nickname has him perking up, “my strong, big, handsome bun.” You coo softly while stroking his hair slowly.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the warm feeling, his sucking slows down until he’s barely moving his tongue anymore and simply suckling on your teat. “You like hearing how strong you are don’t you baby—love knowing you can easily beat someone’s ass for me?”

He nods pathetically with a low groan, “Of course you do,” you softly coo, “it’s why I picked you, knew you’d be able to take care of me the way I deserve.” You scratch his scalp lightly, moaning softly when he makes another noise, “Treat me so good like the princess I am.”

That he does. Jungkook is in heaven right now, he feels like he can just pass out right here and now with a titty in his mouth. He can’t help but shudder as he slips into a dream-like state, “Go ahead baby, just rest yeah? I got you.” You softly say while cradling his head and going lax under him, “Take what you need.”

And he does. He ends up falling asleep, one of the best fucking naps ever with your tit still in his mouth even when he wakes up. He so needs to do this another time, shit’s relaxing and a good stress reliever. Jungkook doesn’t think you’ll have any complaints either.

.

It’s a busy week for Jungkook because he has a match coming up in a few weeks and Yoongi has him completely locking in at the gym for training. You don’t mind it and being the best girlfriend you are you come as support during his sessions. You also confirmed his suspicions that Seokjin was a secret stan because his hyung fanboys out when he meets you.

“Hyung stop it.” Jungkook glares, “Leave her alone before I punch you.”

Seokjin scoffs, “No way, I get to meet my idol and you wanna ruin it for me? Where’s my respect, you brat.” This guy—needless to say Jungkook’s shooting daggers at his hyung the entire time he’s there.

The real challenge comes during the press conference/weigh-in Jungkook goes to like he always does. It starts off normal, the guy doesn’t trash talk and Jungkook’s not one for it either unless the fighter’s cocky then yeah he’ll put them in their place but this guy’s alright which he appreciates. It’s the fucking reporters that get Jungkook heated sometimes.

“Jeon, how do you feel about this upcoming match? Any thoughts on your opponent?” One asks with his recorder held out.

“I’m excited like always, I know potential when I see it so I’m hoping to have a great match with my opponent. He looks like he can give me a run for my money.” He laughs softly into the mic.

Another reporter asks something but it’s directed at his opponent so Jungkook just nods off listening to the two. Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone laughing when he looks at him, and at first he doesn’t pay attention and just keeps his focus on the reporters. But then this guy comes to the front and Jungkook just knows he’s about to hear the stupidest shit in his life.

“Jeon, so how are you and your girl doing? Heard the news and wanted to congratulate you.” He says with this sleazy grin.

It rubs him the wrong way but Jungkook keeps his temper in check as he forces himself to politely answer, “Good, thank you.” He curtly replies.

He hears Yoongi clear his throat next to him with a fierce glare, “Let’s try and keep this about the match, he's not here to answer questions about his life, this isn’t a personal interview.”

You’d think that after being called out like that he’d stop there and move on but no, this guy’s a piece of work. “I mean I was just askin’ cause I was kinda surprised with the news since you know, she been ran through by the entire industry.” This gets Jungkook to react as he pushes his chair back, causing it to fly backwards as he slowly stalks forward.

“New guy every month—say, you the new boy of the month Jeon?” He smirks.

Jungkook doesn’t even think before he lunges at him, he hears Yoongi call his name as Namjoon springs into action to get Jungkook back but it’s too late.

Jungkook’s fist connects with the side of this man’s jaw and sends him flying to the ground as Jungkook lifts his (now) bloody fist up to strike him again with a sick sound. He’s so far gone right now he doesn’t even feel when Namjoon yanks him off the guy.

“Jungkook! Calm the fuck down and get off him!” Namjoon yells through the chaos as reporters scramble to get shots and videos of this.

“No, get off me hyung! Let me fuckin’ go where is this little shit? If you’re such a fuckin’ man come say it to my face one more fucking time, I dare you! Say it!” He yells as he struggles against Namjoon’s strong hold.

It takes three guys to get Jungkook away from the reporter, Yoongi deals with the rest but Jungkook’s so fucking mad he can’t even sit right now. He’s pacing back and forth in the little backroom they got him in as Namjoon watches with concern in his eyes. He hasn’t tried to calm him down because even he knows the danger of trying to talk to him while he’s this mad.

The door slams open and Yoongi steps in, “Jungkook what the fuck was that?! That guy went to the hospital, do you even realize the mess you caused? He’s gonna press charges–”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Jungkook interrupts, stunning Yoongi into silence, “He fucking disrespected my girlfriend thinking that shit was funny. I could really give two fucks if he wants to press charges or not!” Namjoon watches the two in silence, but he’s ready to jump in if Jungkook turns on Yoongi or something.

Yoongi, who usually has something smart to say for everything, for once doesn’t have shit to say. He just stands there watching Jungkook kick the chair over and pace around the room furiously. “Kid, look, I get you. I would do the same too if I was in your place but this shit isn’t worth it. You can’t be letting them get to you like this, that’s what they want.”

“Well he fucking got what he wanted.” Jungkook scoffs with a humorless laugh.

“Just go home, I’ll deal with the press.” Yoongi sighs as he rubs his temples, “Please, for once just do what I say.”

The news is bad, there’s a shit ton of articles coming out within the next hour about how Jungkook attacked the reporter and left him a bloody puddle on the ground. It’s all over the place and there’s a shit ton of people commenting about it on online forums and comment sections. One side praises him for defending you, and then the other criticizes his inability to keep himself under control but Jungkook doesn’t care.

The REAL cherry on top is when you post your response to the news—you use that video of Latto saying “thank you to my man” along with a cute selfie of you cuddled up in bed with Jungkook. Even you made it clear as day you didn’t give a fuck about that guy either.

Your fans who had previously had negative reactions to your dating news were coming around too in favor of Jungkook. They said shit like “free JK he did nothing wrong” and voiced their support for him. Some were even harassing the reporter who had dared to say those things about you, demanding that he lose credibility as a reporter amongst other things.

Jungkook thinks it’s going to be okay because that guy totally fucking deserved it (and more).

.

The weeks fly by and the day of his big match comes—the biggest one yet because bets are high and on top of that Jungkook has a winning streak to keep up if he wants them to give him the title of “undefeated”. Following the conference nothing really happened, the guy turned out to have some shady shit on him so he decided not to press any charges in the end. God bless Yoongi for digging shit up.

With that being dealt with Jungkook could finally put his entire focus on the match. He had heard the entire arena sold out and some of the richest people on earth were attending. This was a huge deal and he had everything to lose. Jungkook was confident in his win but this guy was also the deal too, which only means Jungkook has to keep his guard up.

“You ready kid? This is about to be the biggest fight of your career.” Yoongi says as he comes to sit in front of Jungkook, “You’re gonna have to kick it up a notch this match, the guy’s good but he isn’t better than you.”

He nods at that because Jungkook’s confident in his fighting abilities, “I know hyung, I have a really good feeling about tonight.” He smiles, “Don’t worry about it, I got this under control.”

“Good, that’s what I like to hear from you.” Yoongi grins back as he pats his back, “Now get out there and make me proud.”

The arena buzzes with life when Jungkook enters the room, he’s hit with flashing lights in every direction as people scream and chant his name. He’s getting worked up again as the adrenaline slowly kicks in. Jungkook makes his way up to the ring, passing over your section where you’re sitting with Namjoon and Seokjin.

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, blocking out the crowd and music as he tries to focus. He can do this, he can do this. He will win, for you.

The guy packs a good punch and each round gets progressively harder and harder to fight him off. During one of the breaks in-between the rounds, he slumps into his corner as Yoongi immediately springs over to help him with his mouth guard.

“He’s tiring you out Kook, he’s gonna wait until you’re low on energy to give it his all.” Yoongi warns, “You need to match his pace instead of wasting your energy so early.”

Jungkook pants tiredly as he shakes his head, “Hyung he’s gonna knock me out.” He says deliriously, filled with pain and adrenaline.

“No he isn’t, because you’re not going to let him, you hear me? You’re going to get back out there and show that punk what you’re made of.” Yoongi sternly replies, “Do it for the pretty girl waiting for your win.”

Jungkook’s eyes snap over to where you sit, you look really scared and on top of that worried. He sees the way your knee bounces and how you pick at your fingernails. This isn’t what he wants to see.. This isn’t what he wants at all.

“Okay.” Jungkook grunts with renewed energy, “Fuck, okay.”

Yoongi pats his back gently and steps away from the ring, “Remember: match his pace.”

Jungkook rises to his feet and gets ready for the next round. He only has a few more before a winner has to be announced or the match is tied. Only one of them will walk out a champion, and it’s going to be him.

He takes Yoongi’s advice and matches this guy’s pace, he observes his every move and studies the combos he throws out. The guy’s a corner tech type so Jungkook avoids the edges and keeps him in the middle. He also notices that he goes for uppercuts and rear hooks.

As Jungkook prepares to strike he loses his footing and the guy takes the chance to hook him across the face. It sends Jungkook to the ground as he falls with a groan of pain. “Fuck.” He whispers.

He’s not sure how much longer he can keep up, can he even get up? His vision is beginning to blur a little and his hearing’s a little hazy too. He barely even makes out the referee counting down to a knockout.

Through the blurriness he sees Yoongi run over to the side of the net, “Get up, kid! Fuck, c’mon Jungkook get up!” He desperately says.

Jungkook wants to, but everything hurts so much and he’s so tired right now. He weakly tries to get up, barely managing to hold up on all fours as he pants heavily with blood dripping down onto the mat below. He lifts his head up slowly and suddenly the world stops.

You’re standing there with tears in your eyes, your mouth’s moving rapidly (most likely pleading with him to get up). Jungkook doesn’t like that, he swore he’d never let you feel that way again after you attended his first match and saw how bad it was. Fuck.

“Four…three..”

Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up.

Jungkook grits his teeth and stumbles forward, barely managing to catch himself on the nets as he looks back at his opponent with renewed strength. The countdown stops and the match continues, he is going to win this if that’s the last thing he does.

He lunges forward and the guy doesn’t expect it coming as Jungkook manages to get him cornered before he lets loose. He rains a slew of punches, too fast for the guy to keep up who doesn’t expect him to suddenly be this fast.

Jungkook feels like he blacks out during all this, landing hit after hit until he’s finished with one last uppercut and then everything stops. He feels a pair of hands pull him back as the referee begins the countdown. Jungkook stands there heaving as he watches tiredly.

“..Two..one..” The bell suddenly rings and the crowd cheers.

He did it. Holy shit, he did it!

Both Yoongi and Namjoon rush into the ring together, bringing him into their arms as they jump with joy. “You fucking did it!” Namjoon smiles happily.

“Where’s…where’s y/n?” Jungkook blearily asks as he looks around.

“She’s right there,” Yoongi points out, “she’s still here Kook.”

He pulls away from the hug and trudges over to the net, holding it up and holding his arm out for you, “C’mere baby.” He calls out.

You immediately stumble over and climb into the ring with him, sinking right into his arms when he tugs you close. “I’m here,” he whispers, “I’m here.”

“Don’t ever scare me like that again! You hear me? I don’t ever wanna see you like that.” You whimper and cup his face, “Oh Jungkook..”

He smiles softly and leans down to kiss you passionately in front of everyone. You easily melt into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck. When he pulls back he looks around with a stupid grin on his face, “Fucking won but everything hurts.”

You frown cutely and ignore the reporters that begin to swarm the two of you. Jungkook keeps you tucked into his side as he answers their questions, “Feels really good I can’t lie, even if I feel like shit right now though. But I’m just glad I won, I've been wanting to dedicate this win to my beautiful girl.” He smiles down at you and kisses the top of your head.

They start throwing more questions at him after that. They’re all kind of the same regarding their relationship because they’re just dying to know all about his relationship to you. They even try to ask you some questions but luckily Yoongi intervenes when it begins to get out of control.

“Alright back up, give Jungkook some space.” Yoongi says as he pushes some reporters away, “You ready to go Kook?”

“Yeah, get me the fuck outta here.” Jungkook groans as he follows after his hyungs with you close by.

Yoongi and the others help Jungkook get into an ice bath as soon as they get into the back room. You work on cleaning the blood off his face and icing his wounds, “Does it hurt? Well, more than usual?” You softly ask.

“No babe I’m fine.” Jungkook replied calmly as he closed his eyes, “The ice feels really good, I’m sore all over.”

You hum, “Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“I will.” He hums back and sinks into the ice with a relaxed sigh.

The cold sensation on his body is working wonders on his sore muscles. It feels like he’s living the dream right now. He doesn’t think he wants to even party after this, sure a big win calls for a celebratory dinner or something but right now cuddling and going to sleep sounds way better.

Yeah, way better.

.

“I thought you were too sore to do anything, what happened to that?” You laugh softly while looking down at him.

Jungkook’s pout deepens, “I can still move my hips, see?” He says and demonstrates with a little thrust up, “Pleaseeee! For me baby? I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts or something.”

You look at him in disbelief, “You literally just got beat up what do you mean please? Look at you! Why the heck is sex even on your mind right now?”

“Because, you looked so sexy on that billboard on our way back here.” He huffs casually leaving out the part where he raged because everyone can see you and no doubt millions have.

Not that he’s petty but he’s petty, he wanted to tear that shit down and keep it for himself. “That’s not the point,” he groans and tosses his head back on the pillow, “I can still move and it’s not like my cock got beat up too.”

“You are so nasty.” You laugh softly and sit back on his lap, “If I ride you will that make you happy, hm?”

It’s comical the way his hair bounces when he nods vigorously, “Yes.” He says without hesitation, “It’s like a reward.” He grins toothily.

You roll your eyes at him with a sigh, “You’re so spoiled,” you mumble while reaching down to help him pull his boxers down.

“Wait!” Jungkook looks up at you with pouty eyes, “Can you..?” He tugs at the loose shirt you’re wearing.

Immediately you know what he wants and you nod, “My baby deserves it doesn’t he?” You softly say while tossing the garment somewhere else, “Did so good out there,” you purr and lean over him.

His eyes sparkle as he nods, “I did,” he whispers and licks his lips, “means I get a reward right?”

“Yes you do.” You gently coax him closer as you lean down to press your soft tit to his lips, “Take it, ‘s all yours.” He latches on without wasting another second.

Your lips part as a soft breathy moan escapes, your soft hand reaches down to fish his hard cock out of his boxers. He shudders when you start stroking him, it’s slow and sensual as you gather bits of precum with your thumb and slowly work your way down around the shaft.

His balls sit heavy and they ache with need to empty themselves in you. Jungkook has to fight the urge to buck his hips as he accidentally grazes his teeth against your bud.

You yelp softly and he pulls away apologetically, “Easy, not so hard.” You softly chastise.

“Sorry.” Jungkook murmurs and presses a kiss on your tit before moving to the opposite one.

“Just sit back and relax baby,” you murmur, “I got you.”

You position the head at your weeping pussy, slapping it repeatedly in small taps until the tip catches on your hole. Jungkook holds his breath as you begin to slide down on his sensitive cock until you're bottoming out with your ass meeting his thighs.

“Good?” You softly whisper.

Jungkook nods and goes back to suckling on your nipple in peace. You rock yourself in his lap steadily like you’re scared you’re gonna hurt him but Jungkook encourages you with a little buck. This makes you sink down in his lap with a lewd moan, his cock shifting deeper inside.

“Use me,” Jungkook quietly pipes up, “I can take it.” His breath hot and heavy over your pebbled nipple.

“You sure? What if I hurt you?” You murmur.

“I’ll be fine baby, I’ll let you know if something hurts. Please?” He opens his mouth to take your nipple back in.

You shiver and bite your lip still a bit worried but you end up giving in. You slowly pick up the pace, switching from grinding to bouncing. There’s a low smack here and there but it’s nothing too crazy because you’re going as gentle as you can.

Jungkook’s lips tighten around your nipple with every grind and bounce. Your pussy tugs at his cock with the right amount of pressure sending shivers down his spine. He moans softly and moves one hand up to grip your bouncing tit.

“Fuck you look good like this,” he breathes out in pleasure.

You groan softly as he squeezes your tit in his strong hand, massaging the soft mound of flesh afterwards. He pulls away to push both tits together and buries his face between them with a happy sigh, “Never wanna leave, I could die a happy man like this sweetheart.”

“You’re just a perv.” You chuckle with a moan.

“For you.” Jungkook grins and then lays back, “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already.” He notices that your bouncing has slowed down.

You glare cutely at him and sit up, “I don’t like doing the work in case you haven’t noticed.” You mumble while grinding back and forth over his cock, “You’re lucky I love you enough to do this.”

His eyes widen when he hears the words “love” and “you” in one sentence. It makes his sappy little heart beat with joy and pride hearing those words leave your lips, he can’t help but buck his hips upward eagerly.

“Jungkook..!” You gasp throwing your head back.

“Say it again baby,” he huffs as he uses his strong grip to haul you up and plop you back down on his lap, “I wanna hear it–” He cuts off with a breathy moan.

“I love you.” The words make him groan louder as he slaps his hips upward.

“Fuck I love you too,” he moans, “so, so fuckin’ much, you have no idea.” He whispers and looks up at you through hooded eyes.

You bite your lip hard and throw your head back with a whine, “ ‘m coming.” You whimper.

“Oh you like hearing that don’t you, knowing damn well that you got me wrapped around your fingers.” Jungkook huffs with exertion as he fucks into you harder.

“Y-Yes, love it so much knowing you’re mine,” you mewl softly and grind on him, “fuck, fuck..!” Your pussy clamps down and suddenly you’re coming all over him in slow waves of harsh pleasure.

Jungkook pulls you down for a passionate kiss as he holds you down against his pelvis. A few more rolls has him coming too, cock throbbing and twitching. He lays there panting heavily with hazy eyes while you whine about him being careful.

“Don’t put pressure on your side,” you grumble, “I told you we shouldn’t have fooled around.”

“I’m fine, see? Nothing’s wrong.” Jungkook laughs and delivers a sharp smack to your ass, “Now tell me you love me again. Wanna hear it from your pretty lips.” He mumbles and traces over your bottom lip.

“I love you.” You fondly sigh.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“You’re so annoying! I’m going to shower.” You huff and stomp off with cum leaking down your inner thighs.

Jungkook lays there with a soft grin as he watches you go, “Yeah, yeah, I love you too though.” Forever.

And ever.

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#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

[ilyrafe]

𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄.

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader

warnings: brief sexual innuendo, rafe being a softie!!!!

word count: 2.6k (i *might* have gotten carried away i'm so sorry lol)

a/n: this is a sequel to late night and also based on this, so thanks @keziahcore ! your mind is literally everything!

it’s almost like a sixth sense.

rafe feels your absence from the bed, and immediately becomes agitated. he turns on the lamp next to his bed and looks for any sign that you’re still there, and finds your small handbag on the armchair, which makes him just slightly relieved. 

when he looks at the clock, he sees that it is almost two in the morning. the bathroom door is ajar and the lights are off, which means you’re not there. before he can leave his room looking for you, you return, holding a glass of water, wearing only his shirt to cover yourself up.

“where were you? why did you leave me here?”

he can’t control this agony, this anguish that always catches him off guard when he finds himself alone. he can’t help feeling like a time bomb, ready to explode at any moment. the smallest things you do seem to trigger him massively, and he hates that. he hates that he ends up being rude and harsh to you, because you’re always so understanding and sweet.

even he knows he doesn’t deserve you.

“i was thirsty and went downstairs to drink some water.” your tone is sweet and calm, which makes him feel like shit.

his face changes, as he seems to calm down. you didn’t leave him, you just went to get some water. you’re there, your stuff is there, you’re not going anywhere.

“next time, leave a glass here. i don’t like it when you do that.” he says in a much softer tone, but he’s still upset that his sleep got interrupted.

“do what? get hydrated?” you joke, trying to lighten up his mood.

he rolls his eyes and huffs. don’t make him tell the truth.

“go back to bed. i’m tired, alright? i had a long day.”

“actually, i was going to read a book. i’m not sleepy and i don’t want to lie down right now.”

is it so hard to understand that he wants you to be close to him so that he feels safe enough to get a decent night’s sleep?

“you can read on the bed.”

“you won’t mind the lamp on?”

“no, just get the damn book and come back to bed.”

you laugh and nod, picking up the book from his desk and following him to his bed. rafe gets to his spot and as you sit down, he places one hand on your bare thigh and falls back to sleep almost immediately.

while he dives deep into his necessary rest, you start reading. it’s that book, in cold blood by truman capote. you don’t know if rafe is a reader, he never really talks about books with you.

every once in a while, you look down at your thighs to see his hand, firmly holding you, to make sure you won’t leave. this small gesture makes you feel stupid. stupid to believe he might feel something other than lust for you. rafe makes you question your beliefs and that itself makes you feel overwhelmed.

sometimes you want to leave, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. and you have tried countless times. he’s good for you in the same intensity he’s bad. to say you’re scared to ask him what you are would be an understatement, but you just would like some clarification, because you don’t beg the people you’re casually fucking to stay the night almost every night and throw a tantrum when they leave to get some water.

deep down, you know you’re more scared to hear you’re just an easy fuck. at this point, this would tear you apart.

being with rafe is a challenge. it’s like running a marathon you know you will not get to the finish line, and yet, you keep running.

when it’s almost four in the morning, you close the book and turn the lamp off. finally, sleep comes to you, and you settle into his bed, still holding rafe’s hand, which never left your thigh. with the touch, rafe wakes up, and this time he is no longer agitated.

“sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” you say, as you snuggle into the mattress.

“you- what time is it?” he asks, adorably confused and sleepy.

“it’s almost four.”

“and you’re going to sleep now?”

“yeah. go back to sleep, it’s early.” you say softly, placing a hand on his cheek, and he complies, pulling you close.

(...)

rafe’s alarm clock rings promptly at seven in the morning. he turns it off and goes back to his previous position: hugging you.

your hair smells like coconut and your skin is always soft. he never wants to not be touching you. it’s like your body was made to be next to his. for some reason, just your presence is enough to make him feel calm and at peace.

he places the softest kiss on your shoulder, enjoying the quietness that only early mornings can give him. the sweet sound of birds chirping outside makes him forget about everything else. rafe only has you in his mind (and in his arms).

you wake up and soon turn to face him. rafe has the most adorable sleepy face, and you might never stop melting over him. seeing him up close will never not be amazing. he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. he probably has the most beautiful shade of blue in his eyes.

“go back to sleep.” he whispers.

“‘m not sleepy anymore.” you mumble as you rub your eyes, which rafe finds captivating. “hi.”

“hi,” he smiles. “you only slept for three hours, sleep some more.” he insists, and you feel a tone of concern in his voice, but maybe it’s just your sleep giving you that impression.

“i’m okay, rafey.”

rafey. he hates that stupid nickname, but when it comes out of your mouth, he wants to legally change his name to it.

“you’re gonna be tired.”

“no, i’m not. i don’t normally sleep a lot.”

rafe frowns not because he’s confused - he obviously isn’t. he’s just not liking what you’re saying. he doesn’t like the idea of you struggling with whatever that may be. rafe knows damn well how bad it is to be sleep deprived, he doesn’t want you going through that.

“you have insomnia?”

“i guess i do,” you shrug. “i don’t really know. i just don’t sleep a lot. i wish i did, though. i get so jealous when i see you sleeping for hours on end.” you smile sweetly at him. “you’re so relaxed. must be nice…”

you let go of rafe after leaving a timid kiss on his lips, and stretch before getting up and going to his bathroom to start your morning routine.

after a quiet breakfast, rafe gives you a ride home, and he can’t hide his concern about what you said.

“i’ll see you around, yeah?” you tell him, with the sweetest smile you always have.

“of course. uh, about that sleep thing… if you need help with that… i’m here.”

“rafe, i think you might be a sex addict.” you joke, really not understanding what he meant. he isn’t talking about sex. the one time he isn’t talking about sex, you don’t get it.

“well, i’m just one call away.”

you chuckle and intend to kiss his cheek, but rafe is quick enough to turn his face and make you kiss his lips. you laugh at his antics.

silly rafe is your favorite. if only other people got to see this side of him.

he watches you leave his car and get inside your home. the strange feeling of loneliness comes back almost immediately, but it gets him thinking. it has to be some sort of irony that the person that quite literally helps him sleep isn’t sleeping.

(...)

only two days have passed and rafe already needs you to spend the night at his house again. he is so tired and exhausted. he takes out his phone and quickly types a message.

rafe: are u busy right now? can i pick u up?

you don’t tend to take long to respond to his texts, but this time, an hour goes by and nothing, so rafe starts to feel that unbearable anguish again, and starts to think that you left him and that you found someone better to spend you time with.

impulsively, rafe facetimes you, and you answer. from your face alone, he can see the tiredness in your eyes. or rather, in your dark circles. you’re in your bedroom, which makes him feel calmer.

“hi, rafey. sorry, i just got my phone.”

“what are you doing?”

“i’m studying for my exams.”

“i just wanted to know if i could pick you up.”

“i’dd love to,” you smile. “but it’s not a good idea, i need to study and i have a mountain of books to read until tomorrow if i want a good grade, which i do.”

“you’re tired, you should rest.” he advises, visibly worried.

“nothing a can of red bull can’t fix.” you say showing him the can.

“y/n, please go to sleep.”

something about his request makes you angry. maybe it’s the stress, or the fact that this time rafe is right.

“rafe, you’re not my boss. i need to hang up, i got shit to do.”

before he can protest, you hang up the call, and surprisingly, rafe doesn’t get angry. this is what it’s like when he’s sleep deprived.

as always, rafe wants to take control of the situation, so he puts on a hoodie, grabs his car keys and leaves his house to go to yours. it’s late at night, and rafe knows your parents are probably asleep.

the path is short, and soon he arrives in front of your house and the light is on in your bedroom, which tells him that you are still up. carefully, rafe gets out of his car and walks to the back of your residence, and climbs the wall, always making sure he doesn’t get caught by anyone. finally, rafe gets on the small balcony of your room and sees you surrounded by papers, books and notebooks. it’s a mess.

he knocks on the glass door, which startles you, but you soon calm down when you see it’s him. you almost run to open the door, but your face isn’t the happiest.

“what are you doing here, rafe?”

“nice to see you, too.” he ironizes as he steps inside your bedroom. “i have a proposition for you.”

“i’m so not in the mood, rafe…”

“listen to me.” he says. “i’ll… i’ll help you out with this stuff, as long as you let me help you sleep.”

“i don’t wanna have sex.”

“i’m not talking about sex.”

oh.

“you mean… sleep? like, really sleep?”

“yeah. i don’t like that you sleep so little. you’re becoming cranky.”

you chuckle at the last bit. you can’t stay mad at him, can you?

“that’s a nice offer, rafe, but what do you know about biology?”

“i’ll have you know i was a good student.” he pouts and you laugh. “even if i don’t know what you’re studying, i’ll help you out.”

it takes you a few seconds, but it’s decided. your body is about to give out, you really need to rest. you can’t absorb any more information. a good sleep might even help you learn whatever you need.

“okay.”

rafe smiles and it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

you begin to organize all your notes and books on your desk and rafe begins to undress down to his underwear, and gets comfortable on your bed. he realizes this is his first time sleeping on your bed, and he already likes the faint smell of rosemary that your bedroom exudes.

you have such a pretty bedroom. the walls are painted in the softest shade of blue, and you have books everywhere. no wonder you’re so smart, you read a lot.

the wooden furniture gives an earthy feel to your room, contrasting with the delicacy of the light blue walls. in the photos of the small mural on the wall, rafe realizes that he wanted to be there, present in the photos, and maybe, in a photo with you. you are always smiling and being hugged by someone, or hugging them. you are like that, you are magnetic.

you finish organizing your things and quickly change into a shirt of rafe’s that you hope he doesn’t recognize. it’s big and comfortable, and it makes you feel close to him when he’s far away.

the lamp next to your bed is on, so you turn off the main light in your room and go to your bed, meeting rafe, and he has the smallest smile on his lips. it’s ironic how having sex and being naked doesn’t feel as intimate as simply sleeping together does.

“are your parents home?” he asks.

“no, why?”

“so i could have come through the door, huh.”

“yeah.” you laugh.

a brief moment of silence sits between you two, as you’re staring at each other’s eyes. rafe is mesmerized and terrified at the same time. this - whatever this is - feels so nice and so foreign. he knows damn well he isn’t one to want to just sleep with someone, let alone climb up a wall to just sleep with someone.

rafe cameron is in love, and he is utterly terrified.

“what are you thinking?” you ask in a whisper.

your blinks are getting slower and slower. rafe begins to run his hand through your hair, combing them back, and touching the skin of your neck and shoulders ever so softly.

thinking about how much i want to be with you and how fucking scared i am.

“nothin’. close your eyes.”

you do, not because he told you to, but because you couldn’t keep them open any longer. 

why do you feel the safest with someone as dangerous as rafe cameron? someone who deals with the shadiest people around, that has anger issues and violent behavior.

that tried to drown his own sister.

why none of that matters when you’re in his arms? are you actually insane?

probably.

(...)

as soon as you wake up, you see your bed empty, and rafe’s clothes are no longer on the floor, where he had left them last night. it was to be expected, but you still feel disappointed. he was so sweet last night.

when you look at the clock, it’s already past nine in the morning, which means you’ve slept, surprisingly, eight hours straight. damn, you really were sleep deprived.

the sound of your stomach begging for food makes you get out of bed.

when you leave your bedroom, you hear the sound of the tv on and get scared. slowly, without making any noise, you go down the stairs, trying to find out if your house has been invaded, but it would be strange, as it is daytime. soon you see rafe walking around your house.

he didn’t leave?

it’s like you’re not even there. you get to watch rafe make himself comfortable in your kitchen, looking for stuff to put on the table. there are two delivery bags on the counter, which means he bought food, but the gesture warms your heart, which was merely shattered.

“the cutlery is in the second drawer next to the sink.” you say, startling him a bit.

“jesus. can you, i don’t know, announce you’re in the room? i almost dropped your coffee.”

you laugh.

“sorry, rafey. what are you doing, i thought you had left.”

“uh, i bought breakfast for y- us.” he says. you look inside the bags and you can tell he ordered possibly everything you have eaten from that place. “c’mon, i ordered that vegan shit you like, your coffee and even a pretzel.”

you follow him to the table and you both begin helping yourselves. this isn’t your first time having breakfast with him, but it does feel like it’s a first.

for the first time, you don’t want to leave him.

i love feedback! let me know your thoughts! <3

#my writings #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey imagine

[clusterbuck]

being unable to keep their eyes off of them please??

Eddie wants to get the hell out of here.

He feels kind of bad about it, because Bobby and Athena throw a great barbecue, and any other day of the week he’d love to grab a beer and settle in for as long as they’ll have him. Any other day of the year, really—

Just not the same day Buck kissed him.

He’d always imagined that if he ever scraped enough resolve together to try something with Buck, it would happen in the heat of the moment. After a close call on a rescue, maybe, or at a bar after a shift sometime, when he has just enough alcohol in him to push past the nagging doubts in his mind.

He’d always imagined that if anything ever happened, it would be because he took that first step. He could, when he was feeling hopeful, imagine Buck would be into it, but it had never even crossed his mind that Buck might want him enough to be the one to cross the invisible line between friends and something more. 

Only—

Two hours ago, he stood in the firehouse parking lot and watched Buck pace and forth in the artificially bright glow of a streetlamp for all of thirty seconds before drawing to a stop right in front of him, toe to toe across the faded outline of a parking space. 

“I’m going to do something,” Buck said, the warmth of his exhale ghosting across Eddie’s skin. “And you can tell me if I’m wrong. But—” he hooked one finger in the belt loop of Eddie’s jeans, tugging slightly, and the movement danced like lightning down Eddie’s spine. 

“—I don’t think I’m wrong.” 

And he tugged on the belt loop again, pulling Eddie closer into his space, and pressed his mouth to Eddie’s.

It seemed to last a lifetime, and it was over far too soon. Buck pulled back, careful, drawing a ragged breath, and Eddie leaned into chase him and found Buck grinning against his lips.

“Not wrong, then?” Buck murmured, and it took Eddie a moment to remember what Buck had said just before.

“Definitely not wrong,” he breathed. The words were half-lost in Buck’s mouth but he must have understood them anyway, because he laughed, bright and clear, before pushing Eddie up against the car behind him to kiss him again.

It was only when Buck’s phone rang, vibrating in his pocket so that Eddie felt it against his own thigh, that they remembered the barbecue. And that they’d promised to bring ice.

So now Eddie’s here, and for the first time he can remember he desperately wants to leave. 

He and Buck hadn’t really talked about it, so he’s trying to act normal. Which is to say he’s trying to act like he doesn’t want to walk across Bobby and Athena’s backyard and grab Buck by the collar to drag him in for another kiss. Or to demand what the fuck it means. 

He would describe himself as moderately successful. 

But in Eddie’s defence, if the rest of them knew the situation he doesn’t think they could blame him for the way his eyes keep getting drawn to Buck no matter where he is, like the universe is shining a spotlight on him. It’s not his fault Buck’s laugh lights up the room and he can’t help but look.

It’s not his fault that Buck catches him looking, sometimes, and smiles a smile that says he’s thinking about what happened in the parking lot. 

A smile that says he’s thinking about doing it again.

And it—well, maybe it is his fault when he grins back, his face trying to settle on something somewhere between wanting and bashful, but there are extenuating circumstances. He is, after all, only one man. 

Overall, Eddie’s pretty sure nobody could blame him for the fact that he wants to get the hell out of here.

Just then, Hen sidles up to where he’s leaning against the kitchen island and settles in next to him, mirroring his position and crossing her arms. 

“You should take your man home,” she says. 

Eddie flushes, and she laughs.

“You’re not being particularly subtle,” she says. “Either of you. I don’t know what happened exactly—” she raises a hand when Eddie tries to open his mouth “—and I don’t need to know. But you should take him home before it happens again on Bobby and Athena’s patio.” 

Eddie’s face feels so warm he’s surprised he can’t see cartoon heat lines wafting off his cheeks. 

Hen laughs again, gentler this time. “No one’s judging you, Eddie,” she says, and nudges him with her elbow. “I remember what it was like in the beginning. So go, take him home. I know you want to.” 

“I—yeah,” Eddie says, and lets himself grin. “I really do.” 

He doesn’t need to look for Buck, because he already knows where he is. He makes his way across the room, through their gathered friends and family, and over to where Buck is talking to Chimney. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as he does it, but Hen said it was obvious anyway, so he takes a deep breath and stands behind Buck, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder. 

“Hi,” Buck says, breathy with surprise but his cheeks pink with pleasure.

“Hen said I should take my man home,” Eddie says, and makes a concerted effort not to look at Chimney. He focuses instead on Buck’s cheek against his, and the way it crinkles when he smiles.

“Did she?” Buck says. “I guess we should listen to the captain, then.” 

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Eddie murmurs. They slip through the room, and Eddie tries to avoid Hen’s knowing look as they duck out of the front door without bothering with goodbyes.

As soon as the door closes, Eddie grabs Buck by the hips and pushes him against it, crowding into his space. “This is all I’ve been thinking about all night.”

“It’s only been two hours,” Buck says.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot longer than two hours,” Eddie says, and watches Buck’s eyes go dark. Then he grins. “Besides, do you want to nitpick, or do you want to kiss me?” 

“I can multitask,” Buck says, and Eddie laughs and kisses him for it, and for a moment the world narrows to just the two of them, wrapped up in each other against Bobby’s front door.

“Actually,” Buck murmurs, a moment or three later, when Eddie’s forehead rests against Buck’s and both their breaths come a little heavy. “I wanna change my answer.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “To what?” 

“I want you to take me home.”

send me a blossoming romance prompt 🌸

#911fic #buddie fic #ask emma #emma writes

[and-so-he-rambled]

Vlad becoming a Gotham rouge to protect the kids in his custody. Part One

Masterlist | Prequel | Part 2

Gotham was a great place to hide.

A city swathed in shadows and secrets, and drenched with the stench of death. He would blend right in.

Jazz was watching the city pass by through the windows of the bus, fingers clenched tight around a hidden weapon and blue eyes scanning for a threat. She hadn’t relaxed for a moment since they’d left amity, and likely not since her parents passing. She tried so hard to hide it, to be strong, but she looked so tired.

Danny was curled in his lap, grip tight on the lapels of his jacket as he huffed his way through a mild night terror. Vlad wanted to wake the boy, but he’d been sleeping so little since they fled, he needed the rest even if it was fitful.

He purred softly, a rumbling in his core that had once been something he deeply despised.

Danny, sweet innocent Danny, purred back. His baby core, still forming months after the accident that claimed his parents lives and changed him irreversibly, rumbled weakly back.

He hadn’t realized Danny was like him until he’d caught the ghost boy flying through the town, believing he was dreaming. The four year old excitedly told him he was like a superhero now, then collapsed in his arms to fall asleep. He’d recognized Vlad even with his blue skin and monstrous face, chest stuttering through a happy purr as he snuggled against him.

He’d had to talk to Jazz and Danny about how they were different, how he was different too, and that they had to hide. People had begun looking for their kind. Jazz wasn’t quite like them, she was death touched, but not half dead like them. She’d been in the same room during the accident, but her only change was the slight whitening of her hair.

He was doing his best keeping them all mostly alive in the castle, childproofing his precious Packers memorabilia and trying to learn the kids quirks. They didn’t trust food, not until he cut it up very small, and they were adept with guns and weaponry. He knew Jack and Maddie were passionate hunters, but he wondered just what they had taught their children.

It wasn’t helping matters that his obsession had broken during the death of their parents, both the love of his life and need for revenge gone. It left him lost and ill, but focusing on the kids was keeping him from fading away. Maybe they were becoming his new obsession, and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

The castle was old and run down, secluded from the world the way he wanted it be be. He was starting to build a fortune through less than reputable means and they were okay. He’d give the last pieces of Maddie, and that idiot Jack, a good chance.

Then they were attacked.

It happened suddenly. They were in the middle of a family dinner when the door was kicked in and there was yelling. Jazz grabbed the ecto pistol she always had from under the table and began to fire, shielding her brother with her body. She was only six, but she moved like a trained fighter as she began throwing anything within reach at their attackers.

They were wearing white, people Vlad had seen skulking around since Jack and Maddie’s deaths. One of the blasts seared through Vlad’s shoulder, human flesh sizzling as he screamed and tried to shield the kids. They were closing in, he had to do something, he had to save the kids. Their kids. His kids.

Without thinking much beyond that he wrapped his arms around the two children and when intangible, flying them through the ceiling just in time before a green shield he’d once helped blueprint kicked to life and covered the castle.

That led them to now, riding on a bus to a city Vlad only heard bad things about, a city to get lost in.

They were surviving off of the cash Vlad had on him, all his cards dumped. He’d need to make new IDs for the kids as well as himself, and find a place to stay, but right now he just needed to keep going.

A stolen jacket was draped over his shoulders, hiding the hastily bandaged wound that wasn’t healing even days later. Jazz carried a bug out bag everywhere with her, and the few things she had were helping. They’d grabbed a backpack for Vlad with necessary supplies at a department store before hopping on the Bus, all procured by him illegally while Jazz watched Danny outside.

Danny had asked him, brows furrowed, why he was stealing. That the cops and superheroes would come and take him away. His eyes filled with tears, shining a brilliant green.

“I don’t want you to get taken away.” He took a shaky breath, grabbing Vlad’s hand. “I don’t wanna lose you too.”

He’d had to explain that sometimes people stole to survive, trying to explain the grays in the black and white view of good and evil. Vlad knew he wasn’t a good person, but he was doing what he had to and he didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty.

The bus pulled into Gotham, brakes giving an ominous squeal that startled young Daniel awake. Vlad held him in one arm, the other hand winding with Jazz’s that was trying so hard not to shake, and they stepped off the bus.

#danny phantom #danny masters #danny fenton #jazz fenton #vlad masters redemption #Vlad Masters #vlad plasmius #dp x dc #dpxdc #Gotham rogue Vlad Masters #bruce wayne x vlad masters #dad vlad

[misstycloud]

Platonic. Fae father

Fae father! Who loves you more than anything. He’d trade his immortality and beauty a million times if it meant saving you. It’s worth nothing if he can’t be with you.

Fae father! Who originally wasn’t very interested in you but simply didn’t have the heart to throw you to the wolves like he would if it’d been any other baby- you were his, after all. But as time passed, he found himself more enamoured with you for every second you spent together. Before he knew it, you were an irreplaceable part of his life. He can’t imagine how he managed to live for centuries without you.

Fae father! Who is very protective and while he knows you’re safer inside his territory than you’d ever be anywhere else, there’s still a possibility something could happen you you. He can’t have that happen! What if you accidentally trip on a root and scrape your knee? Sure he can heal you with his magic, but he’d rather spare you the unnecessary pain and tears.

Fae father! Is scared that you’ll leave him eventually. This is especially regarding when you’ll have grown up. He never hid your half-human side(you were bound to find out anyway, considering you didn’t have magic in the same sense as him, and your ears were slightly rounded unlike his purely pointed ones), but he’s beginning to think it was a mistake. His attempt at good parenting could backfire and you would become naturally curious as you got older. Then you would request to leave the safety and familiarity of the forest you grew up in, to go adventure beyond it and come into contact with your human side.

Fae father! Who thought about how horrible that would be. He knew the cruelty of humans. They were greedy beyond imagination and an ugly stain on the world; truly a mistake of creation. He thought about what they could potentially do to you- a wonderful, kind yet naive child. His child. You were part fae and that was obvious- if he had to be honest, he had always been happy you appeared more fae than human, it made him feel more connected to you- the price that you would go for on a market was immense. Fae father nearly faints at what kind of filth could be wanting to get their hands on you.

Fae father! Who wove to protect you at all costs- even lying and misleading you. The only way he saw to do that is to keep you in the forest; your childhood home and his domain.

“Father, what’s beyond the forest? Are there really human towns? The animals tell me they are bustling with life- and there’s so many strange and new things!” You asked your father. You two were in your favourite meadow, you sat up in the lush grass, making a flower crown.

Your father had laid down a while ago and was content with the relaxation the summer weather brought. However, the moment you began talking about humans and your cutiosity for the outside, his eyes snapped open and he, too, sat up.

He gave you a soft smile, “The animals told you that?”

You nodded vigorously. He reminded himself to warn the animals to not tell you about such things, afterwards. If he had to guess, it was most likely that damn squirrel friend of yours that didn’t know when to shut up.

“Well, dear-“ he said, finding the way you were hooked on every word incredibly endearing, “yes, there there are human settlements outside these woods. But I do not want you going anywhere near them, you hear? It’s simply not safe for you.” Your father ended the sentence with booping you on the nose.

“What? What do you mean?” You exclaimed.

He chuckled, “I am older- I have many tricks to defend myself with; you do not.”

Pouting, you crossed your arms and said in defiance, “Why would you have to defend yourself? You’re not fighting, are you?”

You father ran his hand through his long locks with a sigh. “Dear, I am afraid that might not be the case.” You looked at him in confusion. “You see, we- as in magical kind- have not been on good terms with mannkind for centuries- maybe even ever.”

You were silent, pondering over what this meant as your protector watched. Had it not been a serious subject, he would have thought about how cute you look whenever you are thoroughly grumbling over something. He took it upon himself to expand his reasonings while combing through your hair.

“We are rare, beautiful, immortal and have powers they could only dream of.” To prove his point, your father held out a seed in the palm of his hand. He closed it for a second and a green light flashed. Opening his palm again, the little seed quickly grew into a wonderful, fully grown flower in a matter of moments. “See, if they had the means to do this, then a new war would break loose every day. They are greedy and selfish and struggle because of it, while we live away from such mundane troubles.”

“But what about all those amazing things they have invented? I hear they sing and dance just like us. They have families too, just like us. They can’t all be bad!” You protested. If all those things your friends had told you were true, then you needed to know and find a way to see them for yourself.

Your father sighed once more. He appeared to be doing that a lot during your conversation. He grabbed a hold of your hand and squeezed it tight. “I understand your curiosity regarding humans- trust me, I do. I was young once upon a time, as well. You believe that I did not sneak away to peek at the towns myself?”

“You have gone there yourself?”

He nodded to confirm your question. “However, they are far from what your little friends have been tricking you into believing. They are not fun and do not sing nor dance. Like I said, they are selfish and horrible, you best stay away from them.”

“But-“ you tried.

He cut you off immediately. “-No ‘buts’. You stay away from the town, alright? Simply stay here where you’re safe. I won’t tolerate any violation of the rules when it comes to this.” He took notice of your gloomy expression and added, “It’s for your safety, nothing else. Oh, sweetie, I do wish the world was different. However, this is a truth we must face. You do understand, correct?”

Seeing your worrying father’s serious demeanor as he urged you for an answer, you looked down before saying, “Yes, Father. I won’t go into human towns. I’ll stay out of trouble.”

He sighed in relief. “Good child. Remember, I am only looking after you. I’m your father, I know what’s best for you.

#oc #platonic yandere #yandere father #platonic yandere father #yandere oc #platonic yandere oc #misstycloud oc #platonic yandere x reader #yandere fae oc #fae father x child reader #platonic yandere x child reader #yandere platonic #yandere platonic father x daughter reader #toxic #overprotective platonic yandere #platonic overprotective father #fae father

[jq37]

Just to throw my two cents on the Rat Grinder discourse: They weren't worth the Intrepid Heroes' time. We didn't get the full picture of what's going on with the Grinders until the last quarter of the season. Before that they were just this other clique that hate the main characters, so in-character why would the Bad Kids bother giving them so much attention when they've got so much of their own crap going on. Kristens quest to get Cassandra back and her presidential campaign, Gorgugs courseload, Riz's million and one plates that he's been spinning all season, Adaines financial problems, Figs curse and her doubts about what she wants to do with her life. Fabian's the only one who might have had the time, but he had to be Maximum Legend. There genuinely was no time or even an incentive on the IH's side to develop the Rat Grinders characters.

I still think it's fucked up that these teenagers got taken advantage of by adults they trusted, but we didn't learn any of that until we only had two roleplay episodes left. Too little too late to even try anything diplomatic even if they didn't spend all their time after the Last Stand in hiding.

And a thing about Ivy that no one is roasting her about and really should: An elven archer? Really? Wow, never seen that before.

Yeah totally. Like, from a meta level, I see where the players themselves could have been more curious about the Rat Grinders. There are obvious plot threads that could have been teased out there (though, in fairness to the cast, the adult manipulation aspect didn't become clear until way later in the season--the rivalry and foil aspects were more obvious). This final confrontation could look really different if they'd played that all the way out all season.

But in character? The Bad Kids really didn't have a good reason to waste time on the Rat Grinders. They came into this school year already burnt out from their Night Yorb quest and wanting a break. But they don't get that because they immediately are beset by problems they have to deal with--Kristen's god is on death's door from neglect and she's on the brink of expulsion, Riz is running himself ragged trying to boost his resume for college, Fig is having a whole ass existential crisis, Adaine is struggling with money issues she doesn't want to talk about, Gorgug is taking FOUR YEARS of school at the same time, and Fabian is multiclassing and dealing with his empty house/not having parental support (or Cathilda's support) for the first time. They are dealing with SO MUCH high stakes, personal stuff before the plot even kicks in. And, mechanics-wise, this is represented with the downtime system that means that any time they spend on the RG's is time they can't spend on something that matters more to them. IMO, not prioritizing your haters is actually pretty mature. Like, they weren't proactively using their free time to bully them or anything (except for arguably Fig). They were snippy with them when they crossed their paths and that was it. As opposed to the Rat Grinders who literally had to be told by Jace to stop antagonizing the Bad Kids (though they must have been pretty ineffectual at it because the Bad Kids hardly noticed, which I bet stung considering they were so obsessed).

And also, it's not like they didn't try at all with the Rat Grinders. Early Insight checks on Kipperlilly just got, "This is a polished steel orb of a personality" which doesn't sound very worth interacting with in a sympathetic way if at all and then the next big thing they learn is that she had hated Riz since Freshman Year and that she wants Riz and Kristen dead. And that's AFTER we saw her smile and kill her party cleric. In their position I'm not spending further time trying to empathize with this person, I have made my judgement and it's up to the Jawbones of the world to find if there's something in there to be rehabilitated.

And that's not the only case. Adaine straight up saved Ruben from disintegration during the Frosty Folk battle when she easily could have saved the spell slot, but that didn't soften him towards the Bad Kids any. Adaine also was really keen to Scry on the Rat Grinders to find out what was happening at their meetings. But, in scene at least, she was never able to do that so we never got a scene of them, huddled together, clearly unsure about the path they're on but not feeling like they can walk it back or say no to the authority figures in their lives. She didn't get anything humanizing that would cause her to rethink their position on them the way that she did with Aelwyn for instance. So why would they think they're anything but gleeful co-conspirators?

Hell, the one RG Adaine was even slightly curious about was Oisin and now we know that he was feigning interest in her which, man, can you imagine how much worse that would have felt if she'd actually taken the bait and pursued him beyond just thinking he was cute? Of course, it's possible that her interacting with him more along with some good charm rolls could have changed the narrative in some way but we can only go off of what we know to be true in canon and those facts are (1) He tried to get closer to Adaine while actively planning the downfall of her and her friends, (2) he (along with Ivy) was mean to Buddy behind his back while tricking him into a plan that would force him to go against his religious beliefs, and (3) he called his KVX related dragon ancestors to try to kill the Bad Kids and endanger the entire student body population. Three strikes, you're out. If I'm a Bad Kid I'm not super interested in whatever else is going on with him. And again, literally all of Adaine's friends (except Riz) gave her help to do an Insight check on him during their confrontation in the hallway so she was looking for something there worth engaging with, but she didn't get much.

Fig was fully doing CIA, MKUltra, Fantasy Geneva Convention violations on Ruben to try see if she could get information or flip him. I think she did it in an objectively insane way so I'm not entirely shocked that it didn't yield the exact results she was looking for. But she never found the smoking gun (or whatever the opposite of that is) in his head that would absolve him/show the Rat Grinders were being controlled and her messing with his dreams never flared his conscience enough to make him try to break free (as far as we know) which is what I assume she was going for. If I was Ruben looking for a way out but scared of the repercussions, I might go to Adaine who saved me from certain death earlier the same year and has helped saved the world 3 times with her party and their friends in high (and low) places. Maybe that's what Fig thought might happen but it didn't so from Fig's POV? Gave him a chance. Time to start blasting. And again, at that age, if I walked in to the first day of class and the first thing this random boy does is sneer at me and flaunt his musical success, I'm popping up on his Nemesis Alert at that moment. Doubly so after he tries to trick me and my friends into doing drugs so we get expelled. I'm surprised she tried at all with him.

Fabian absolutely tried to interact with Ivy--in large part for self interested reasons of course, but that doesn't chance that he did it. And she came across as callous and unkind from the jump. Their final conversation before the latest episode is the one where she talks about wearing Mazey like a sweater and then says that Fabian missed his chance with her before stalking off. That's a pretty open and shut interaction. No way 17 year old me is like, "Hmm, but why is she acting so mean? Perhaps I should examine that more closely to further understand her." Nah, I've decided she sucks.

And Kristen has tried with Buddy literally up until the last moment. She rolled an Insight check on him right before the fight started and she got a 1. She got nothing from him.

Mary Ann is actually the only Rat Grinder who hasn't done anything to make a bad impression on the Bad Kids--the only thing she did was have a really good Bloodrush tryout. So no reason to hate her specifically (and, in fact, she is also the only Rat Grinder that at least half of them are positively obsessed with), but no reason to explore her further. And Kristen still tried giving her a stuffed animal and her response was that she already had that one and that she was going to give it away. What are they supposed to do with that?

Even when they tried, they didn't get information that was worth chasing when they were so busy and had to manage their free time. Gorgug didn't even slot in downtime to talk to his bio parents when they visited. Why would he spend any time on Mary Ann to figure out her deal? Maybe if they were given more explicit opportunities to interact with them in passing. If Mary Ann was shown at Bloodrush Games. If during class time Oisin tried to interact with Adaine. If Kristen ran into Buddy and Bucky talking. If any of their forays into talking to them or looking into them yielded anything actionable or that piqued their interest--they opened the door for Brennan to give them something more than once. But they never got anything that was worth investing more of their limited time into.

(And also, they didn't learn that Porter was involved until WAY into the last quarter of the episodes. Which absolutely could have changed things since, as far as they knew the RG's were working alone to raise this god which isn't crazy for them to think because Kristen literally did that last year and it was of her own free will. If they knew early that the RG's were smaller players in Porter's plot then maybe they would have been in more of a rescue mindset--especially since Fig has always mistrusted him--but that's not information they had and by the time they got it, the RG's were in deep hiding, like you said.)

And so, coming into the last few episodes, that's who the Rat Grinders are to the Bad Kids. A group of kids who they first heard about in the context of, "they famously hate you," even though they'd never interacted before. A group of kids who they already thought sucked even before they tried to kill the entire study body an hour ago. A group of kids who are trying to doom all of Elmville to eternal rage and who are willing and ready to kill them to do it.

With that context, yeah I think their actions are pretty understandable.

(Also, lmao. Yeah, I think calling Ivy basic would probably hurt her more than most things you could say to her.)

#asks #farmer-10 #dimension 20 #fantasy high #d20 #spoilers #d20 spoilers #dimension 20 spoilers #dimension 20 fhjy #fhjy #and they knew the rage crystals existed for a while #but they had no reason to believe that the rage crystals are a thing that happened *to* the RG's #rather than being a thing that they're doing to others #so like yeah I totally get it wishing that they players had delved deeper into their whole situations #that's the fun of narrative foils after all #but I don't think the bad kids themselves handled this situation unreasonably #when ppl rub me the wrong way/are rude to me irl I avoid them #if they have hidden struggles that's between them and their loved ones and their therapist #and if I was a bad kid after such a stressful year even if I heard their tragic backstories at this point I'd be like #cool motive still murder

[gothic-thoughts]

Lack Of Thought

(been waiting to make this shit 😩😩)

König x Black Fem Reader Smut

MDNI, Virgin!König, Experienced!Reader

CW: König's first time relaxing like this, giving Konig 🧠, both get overstimulated, size kink, cream🥧, eating 😻, the occasional German, indecisive Konig

Word Count: 1426 (give or take)

(any German translated with deepL)

His eyes were locked on my fingers as they slowly tugged down his zipper and unbuttoned his pants. I tug down his boxers and gasp in surprise when the shaft springs out and hits his toned stomach— curved, twitching and already leaking. I give a mischievous smirk as his breath hitches.

“Sorry,” He swallows nervously, “I knew it was hard but--”

I cut him off with a soft lick to his tip, making him gasp.

“Don’t apologize, Kö.” I wrap my hand around it and give the tip multiple licks, “It’s perfect...so perfect.”

He huffs, eyes closing. “Liebling...”

“You’re perfect.”

“Ja... ja, alright just.... Oh fuck.”

I stroke it, dragging my hand from his base to tip at a steady pace as I collect every drop of precum that oozed out. The huge man moans, squirms, and throws his head back with a silent scream.  I wanted to hear just how strained his Austrian can get so I wrap my full lips around the tip to finally suck it, bobbing my head up and down, loving the feel of his veins sliding past my lips but not even daring to take the entire thing. He lets out a shaky, broken moan of my name as he reaches a trembling hand down to grip my braids into a ponytail with his large fist.

“Slowly, fuck.” He clears his throat, “Slowly, mien liebe (my love), take it slow...”

“Is that a warning for me or you~?”

“Just t-take it easy on me, ja?”

“A mountain of muscle but so sensitive...” I stroke slower, kissing the tip to tease, “Go figure.”

“H-heh, don’t laugh at me, Schatz.” He chuckles, hips jerking slightly as his shaft throbs in my hand, “You know I haven’t really done anything like this...”

“I know, but that means I’m not going easy on you if that means you’re holding back.”

“Shut up.”

At that I stroke only the head, twisting my fist to grind his leaking tip into my soft palm. He pants, his breath warming the mask over his face as his fingers lightly dig into the exposed scalp my braids created. The soothing sensation makes me moan around his cock as I begin moving my head up and halfway down the shaft but his hips jerk again 

 pushing deeper into my mouth and hitting the back of my throat.

“S-sorry... It... It just... feels so good.” He groans, pulling himself out of my mouth, “I’m gonna lose my mind... shit...”

“You wanna try to go down on me next?”

A grin spreads across Konig’s lips as he nods, his cock twitching slightly at the thought. Before I knew it, I was on my back and his mask was off as he leaned his face between my spread legs. I laugh a little at his enthusiasm, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair just as he did mine.

“You even know what your doing, babes?”

“Kind of... I want to try what I learned.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You watched videos?”

“Only a couple, I got this.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her laugh was cut off by her gasp as my tongue began slowly and deliberately swirling around her little bud, using my fingers to spread the folds to make sure I was tasting the right area. I heard her mutter something up there but since it was followed by a moan, I didn’t even bother looking up, opting to watch my own tongue flick and caress her little pleasure center with precision. By the time I looked up at my beautiful Blume(flower), her face was pointed at the ceiling, having her head back in the disheveled pillows and her back arched.

I wanted her to look down at me just so I could see those eyes roll but her moans and tugs at my hair as I wriggle my tongue into her, were enough for now. Our moans fill the room as I taste every last inch of her cunt, even hooking my arms around those thick thighs, holding her tight to my face as I devour her.

“K-Kö, shit...” She whimpers, trying to push my head away, “I’m gonna cum, chill~”

“Mm mmm.” I hum on her clit, shaking my head, “Don’t...hold...back..”

“F-fuck... Fuck you~”

“C’mon... you can take it can’t you, Süße(sweetness).”

She whines and moans in response, heels digging into the mattress. I use my fingers to spread her folds and suck on her clit some more. It wasn’t long before her orgasm caught us both by surprise and we both grunted as her juices sprayed a little, coating my lips and chin. More of her flavor and moans made my cock leak so much precum all over the bed, I was lucky I hadn’t cum from tasting her. I give (Y/n)’s clit one last swirl of my tongue before pulling away, positioning my hips between her legs, and rubbing the head against her soaking wet folds.

“You sure you ready, baby?” She shuddered, “I just came so I’m gonna be tighter than normal.”

I chuckle, eyes locked on hers “More than ready, I’ll be fine.”

“Just take your time.”

I take a deep breath slowly pushing inside, feeling her warmth stretch over me inch by thick inch until the tip presses against her cervix with only half an inch between us. The sensation was already too much causing me to grip the sheets near her hips tightly and drop my head forward, shakily watching myself disappear in and out of her. Her soft hands suddenly rest on my face and guide my face up to look at her face with glazed-over eyes.

“Just breathe, baby.” She pants, “You okay?”

“Mmph, y-yes... no... Unh, fuck...”

“N-no? It’s too much~?”

“Yes... j-just a little. It feels too good... b-but also.... so overwhelming...”

“If you wanna stop--”

“N-no, I got it, liebe.”

I groan, gripping the headboard with one hand and keeping the other anchored to the sheets as I try to get used to the feeling. Her hands suddenly grip my shoulders, long nails gently clawing at my clavicle but the feeling drives me inside, making me pick up the pace, hips slapping against hers as I let out strained, breathless moans with her.

“Ngh, Köni, sl-slow down~” She moans into my chest, “N-not goin’ nowhere, fuck.”

“Scheiße(shit)... I...” I slow my hips slightly, still keeping the same depth as I plunge into her, “It’s so perfect...”

Somehow, going slow was even harder than going fast and it wasn’t long before I was slamming my cock into her again, panting and grunting as she claws at my back. (Y/n)’s back arches off the bed, trying to withstand my reckless thrusts. I bite my lower lip, desperately trying to maintain control as she reaches her climax around me but it was too much.

“Fuck yes, I love it... z-zu viel(too much).” I bury my face in her neck, panting, “I'm gonna get addicted.”

(Y/n) shakily caresses my cheek, “Just breathe, babes...”

“It feels so fuckin’ perfect, Liebling. Mein Gott, I can’t...”

I let out a groan as I finally lost my last shred of control and plunged as deep as I could making her yelp out. (Y/n) wraps her legs around me and her juices spray around my sensitive shaft a little as I finally reach the brink, my entire body trembling from the sensation filling her up. My hips thrust in a staggered pattern while my fingers grip the sheets tightly until they hurt. (Y/n) guides my face from her neck to look at her as her thumbs caress my cheeks.

“It’s okay, j-just breathe.” She chuckles breathlessly, her legs trembling at my sides, “God, I told you to take your time...”

“I... Scheiße... S-sorry.”

“Shh, don't be sorry. Just calm down.”

I lean down and kiss and pant on her neck, hot puffs of air tickling her brown, sweat-slick skin while she kisses the top of my head and gently grazes my scalp with her nails; only then my body finally relaxes and lets me press my body to hers moaning softly while trying not to crush her.

“There ya go...” She caresses my shoulders, nuzzling her face into my hair, “You did good for your first time.”

“I feel like I finished early, Schatz.”

“Nope, right after me, babes; you were good.”

I look up at her, locking our eyes, “Can we try again?”

“I, wha- now?”

“If you’re up to it. I want more than just good, Liebling. I want great. I'll learn to control myself.”

#black reader #black writers #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #konig smut #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig mw2 #cod konig #konig x you #cod x black reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig #cod smut #call of duty smut #cod modern warfare

[codenamesazanka]

more Deku bashing, if you'll forgive me

Seeing lots of shocked tweets and posts that Deku seems so cold and distant about Shigaraki dying in front of him; that Deku doesn't seem to care much at all; that Deku isn't devastated he wasn't able to save that little boy.

I have to point out that Deku never cared in the first place. He really didn't! It's why he needed to see The Crying Child to feel any bit of empathy for Shigaraki, and why ever since then, he only yammers on about saving the Crying Child and only the little boy. He never gave a shit about the Shigaraki in front of him. Never treated Shigaraki like someone real to engage with. That Shigaraki is unforgivable; and it was impossible to have ever bring the Crying Child into reality because the Crying Child was a memory, it happened 15 years in the past that cannot be changed, so all Deku can do is comfort the Crying Child then beat the shit out of Shigaraki.

I mean, just look at the imagery and the word choices:

Are those the words and expressions of someone who's trying to be careful about not hurting Shigaraki? Actually trying to help someone in pain? I remember when people were excited that Danger Sense would tell Shigaraki that Deku doesn't want to hurt him - turns out nah. He was so ready to make Shigaraki throw up blood.

Deku never tried to talk to Shigaraki. He never asked any questions during the whole time they were fighting. Mirio asked a question and got a response; but Deku? Nothing. Even in the memory-realm, when Shigaraki via memory-villains ask Deku what his plan was, Deku just shouted 'No!' and that was that.

When Deku said 'Somewhere inside of you is a person' he literally meant that. Inside of Shigaraki is the Crying Child, who is the actual person. Did he catch Shigaraki saying 'Spinner will be looking forward to this' and think, 'huh, Shigaraki has someone he cares about, I think? Then he wouldn't want to destroy Spinner, would he?' No. The fan-translation got everyone's hopes up that Deku wants to 'shred the rug' of societal failures, but the official translation was correct - Deku wanted to pry the lid off Shigaraki's trauma, accusing Shigaraki of repressing himself.

If he cared about Shigaraki at all, he would've protested when Gran told him he might have to kill Shigaraki. Instead:

He would've opposed the construction of something called a SKY COFFIN DEATH ARENA. He would've spoken up when Heroes talked strategy about how AFO is the better opponent to fight, implying that it's better if AFO had taken over Shigaraki, despite Shigaraki being the victim of AFO here.

Even when he ends up saving Tenko from Decaying the Shimuras, he's utterly lackluster there. Tenko's in tears, saying that he must have wanted to kill his family, he was born with a quirk like Decay, who could ever validate his existence the way he is??? And Deku's response? "Well. Holding my hand might make you feel better. So here." Saying something like, 'No, you're a child! It's not your fault!' or 'Your quirk isn't meant for harm, it can be useful too' or 'It's okay. You're not an evil existence' seems obvious, but Deku doesn't.

and really, all this has been obvious since the Mall Encounter in Chapter 69. Remember when Shigaraki point blank told him that All Might's smile is stupid because he acts like there's no one he can't save? And it's clearly full of resentment? And Deku picked up on this, which is why next chapter he asks All Might if it's true there are times where All Might couldn't save someone.

But once Tsukauchi said, don't worry about it, Deku did just that. When he does think about it one time, it's this absolutely nothing of a reflection

"I guess we just have to agree to disagree!" Come on. And this kid has a 'drive to save that eclipses all common understanding'??? for real?????

Deku has never given a crap about Shigaraki or Villains. Honestly, him wanting to save that sad little boy might as well be just Horikoshi putting lines in his mouth to move the story along.

If Deku really did care, I think he would've wanted to save the entire person that is Shigaraki. The Crying Child is a phantom - Shigaraki is real and solid and there. The Crying Child is innocent and easy to care about because it's a cute baby and it's openly weepy; saving hand-monster junji ito twink Shigaraki who laughs and talks about destroying everything Deku loves would've been an actual challenge. But clearly we couldn't have that because even the Crying Child was too far gone for Deku to save.

#character bashing #warning #nalslastworkingbraincell #again #i'll take it all back if next chapter proves me all wrong #sorry

[miyamiwu]

On Kaiser’s Trauma

I’ve thought it over, and I think there’s really no way for Kaiser to awaken this match. Be it scoring a goal or getting one over Isagi, he is not winning. I don’t see it at all.

I’ve reviewed the previous character development arcs, and one thing Kaneshiro has been staunch about is that internal development comes first before external development:

Chigiri - Chigiri had to get over his fear of losing his old self by putting his leg at risk again before the narrative rewarded him with a goal.

Bachira - Bachira had to overcome his fear of being alone before being rewarded with, not a goal, but with a friend who met him where he was.

Barou - Barou had to experience his arrogance being crushed and overcome the subsequent resignation he felt before he could reclaim his role as “main character.”

Hiori - Hiori had to first come at peace with giving up soccer entirely—something he had been hesitant to do, even when it hurt him, because he didn’t know what else to do—before discovering what soccer really means to him.

Yukimiya - Yukimiya found salvation when Isagi saw him as he was desperately fighting for a chance while he could still see.

It’s a bit different for Isagi’s main rivals, though:

Nagi - Nagi got motivated to put in an effort because of Isagi -> Got stronger during Second Selection -> Went back to old habits just to beat Isagi once -> Regressing in the rest of the NEL arc

Rin - Rin had to stop seeking answers outside of himself -> Unleashed his true ego during the U20 match -> Subconsciously sought affirmation from Sae at the end of the match -> Felt rejected by Sae -> ??? (The current match against PxG is ongoing, so I don’t know how he is right now)

Nagi’s and Rin’s development arcs are not linear, and currently both are in the lower curves of their arcs. This is because they haven’t fully solved their internal problems. Until Nagi finds a reason to push himself outside of beating Isagi and until Rin gets over his brother issues, they can never fully grow.

Likewise, Kaiser, who is undoubtedly also a main rival, has to first fucking get therapy process his childhood trauma before he can truly awaken.

But trauma is not easy to overcome. In fact, you don’t even really “heal.” Kaiser “getting over it” in just one match is impossible. As such, I don’t see him winning. At least not now.

Isagi throwing Kaiser’s words back at him by calling him a “clown” has gotten some people to think that Kaiser’s awakening is imminent. After all, a similar thing had happened to Barou before when Isagi called him “donkey.”

But Kaiser is not Barou. Both may be arrogant, but one of them didn’t grow up under violence. And as I’ve said before, internal development comes first. Barou’s internal problems, compared to Kaiser’s, are much easier to resolve.

And unlike Barou’s, Kaiser’s problems are not confined within soccer. They seep into his every being and in all aspects of his life, as we can see in how he treats himself and others off the field.

To begin, let’s talk about what Kaiser thinks of himself:

Alternatively, Hoshi’s translation of Kaiser’s monologue goes like this:

These guys are “humans.” Different from me, they were born wanted “humans.”

Having been abandoned by his mother and growing up abused by his father, Kaiser’s sense of worth is so low that he thinks he was born without it—which is wrong. Everybody is born deserving to live.

But Kaiser thinks otherwise. He sees himself as not even human because nobody wanted him alive. Still, he has this strong desire to live—a desire that had first made itself known to him at this moment:

Right before this, he had looked so dead inside:

He didn’t flinch when the cops came to arrest him. He didn’t try to fight for the escape money he had stashed away. He was so passive and tired and helpless that he might as well be truly dead.

But at that moment his father was about to destroy his soccer ball? A fire lit up inside him. A fire so bright and strong that he got to beat seven cops while handcuffed.

That fire was the love he had for soccer. All his life he’d been in a passive position, but when he fought for what he love, the reins of his life got transferred into his hands.

And in that moment, Michael Kaiser, for once, was truly alive.

Now, he’s living his life in constant search of that fire—or “proof of his existence,” as he puts it.

However, Kaiser has misunderstood what that fire is. After all, how can he recognize love when he’s never been loved?

Only pain and violence are familiar. Thus, it is honestly no surprise when he misattributes “proof of existence” to “inflicting malice on others, living on inside them as a scar.”

For Kaiser to grow, he has to redefine “proof of existence.” How can his own existence depend on the number of people he defeats? That’s unhealthy. And as with Rin’s problem, it’s just seeking answers outside of himself.

But for Kaiser to even begin redefining it, he must first learn to recognize love for what it is.

Love was the fire that was lit inside him. He must go back to it. (Like how Bachira awakened by going back to how he used to play as a child.)

Love is also the main thing that sets Isagi apart from him—the former having been raised by loving parents and having companions sincere to him—so it’s crucial that he learns this if he wants to defeat Isagi.

How can he do this? With the way he was raised, I don’t think Kaiser can learn love on his own. He has to learn it from others. But before that, he must see himself as “human.” While he still views himself as “non-human,” Kaiser won’t be able to connect deeply with “humans” and welcome any love from them.

And this is the crux of his problem...

Kaiser has made attempts to be more “human,” but...

... he’s going about it so horribly wrong 😭😭😭

@galaxynajma also sent this question:

What do you think is the new reason for why kaiser does this every morning: His morning routine consists of: standing before the mirror naked, gazing at himself while having a conversation (to himself), getting into the mindset that nothing is impossible, and then smiling while thinking ‘this is me’. (Trivia from Blue Lock wiki)

“This is me” is Kaiser reaffirming to himself that he is becoming more “human” when he sets out to achieve the “impossible.”

How to be Human 101

Okay, fuck, to be completely honest, I have no idea! I didn’t expect to get this psychological while I was writing 🫠

I had… written myself into a corner. But anyways, I’m gonna try seeing this through...

So, I’m no psychologist, but… I relate on a deeply personal level with Kaiser’s “human vs non-human.” But in my case, I had used the words “normal vs not normal.”

(This is gonna get a little bit personal, but bear with me!)

This distinction was something I strongly felt during my peak depression years. I felt like nobody truly understood me because they hadn’t been through what I had been through. Whatever the doctors said just went from one ear to another because I couldn’t trust them. In my head, had categorized them as one of the “normal” people—their lives were so put-together and they were so in control and on top of things! Not like me, who was drowning.

I also slowly distanced myself from friends because they, too, were the “normal” ones.

One friend, however, stuck around. She didn’t mind me going missing for months without a word. And whenever I showed up again from who knows where, she would always excitedly welcome me back as if I never even left. And this was the friend who I thought to be always better than me in every way because she was prettier, smarter, and had a better financial status. So I never really expected her to get me.

But oh, she did. I found out that she wasn’t “normal,” too. She too had her own problems, and we got to share our sorrow with each other...

So, I guess what I’m trying to say here is that...

It’s not really a matter of erasing the distinction between “human” and “non-human.” It’s enough, for now, that Kaiser finds another “non-human” like him, and with whom he will slowly start to feel “human”—worthy of living and being loved.

I know Kaneshiro isn’t fond of therapy talk, but for Kaiser, I think it’s a must that he gets to open up to someone. He doesn’t have to share the full story. He just has to be sincere about it.

And who is the closest “non-human” that we have around Kaiser who’s also unwanted by his family?

Ness.

This doesn’t even have to be about shipping. And I know their relationship is looking pretty grim right now because of how Kaiser has been treating Ness since the beginning, but...

...I still believe that this, at least, was real.

Together, they can learn what it is to be “human.”

In summary, for Kaiser to awaken, he must first resolve his internal problems. To do this, he must...

Find a fellow “non-human.”

See himself as “human.”

Recognize love for what it is.

Redefine his “proof of existence”

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, *bows

---

Okay, so I don’t normally do this at the end of my posts, but I just recently launched my Alpha Reading Service. If you liked my analysis above and would like me to review your story the same way, do check it out!

Or, if you don’t need any alpha reading, consider tipping me on Ko-fi instead. Thank you!

#*checks time #THIS TOOK ME ELEVEN HOURS TO WRITE HOLY SHIT #AAAAAH #I still have to prepare for my classes 🥲 #i’m going back to reality folks #take this and go! #michael kaiser #blue lock #michael kaiser meta #blue lock meta #michael kaiser analysis #blue lock manga #miyamiwu.meta #miyamiwu.src #kainess #alexis ness

[penny00dreadful]

Through The Valley - Post-Apocalypse AU - Part 1

AO3

Eddie rapped his knuckle against the metal three times.

“I don’t sell from the van, Harrington.”

He was parked in a dark corner of the cul-de-sac, blocking out any streetlight. The only reason he’d been able to recognise the artful swoop of hair was due to the residual glow from Tina’s Halloween Bash that had completely cleaned out his stock. It was going to comfortably pay his and Wayne’s electricity bill for the winter months ahead.

With maybe a little left over for a couple of new tapes if he was lucky.

If it had been anyone else he’d probably have been more careful in his approach but Steve never got physical in school. Even if he chose tonight to start throwing drunken punches, Eddie was pretty sure he’d be able to fend him off. 

He wasn’t as strong as Steve but he was stone cold sober and knew how to take care of himself.

Eddie didn’t even really have to try to be mean and scary half the time, his look did it enough for him.

Steve had been leaning up against the side of the van with his head in his hands but Eddie’s approach must have been muffled by the thumping music coming from the house because the way he startled at the sound of Eddie’s knocking was borderline panicked.

A little over the top, to be honest.

Like he expected some monster to appear out of the shadows.

Steve glanced at him but just as quickly turned his back, swiping furiously at his face and Eddie got the distinct impression he’d interrupted something private. It immediately put him on edge.

These traditional masculinity jock types always got very defensive if they were caught being vulnerable. Like a single shred of emotion would shrink their dick.

“I’m not here to buy, I’m-” Steve sniffled again, wiping his nose harshly on his sleeve. “Sorry, I just needed a minute, I’m leaving.” His voice was thick from crying and he in no way tried to hide it.

Eddie frowned. 

He didn’t really know what to do with that reaction, it wasn’t what he was expecting at all. But he figured if Steve could be gracious enough not to snap and spit at him, Eddie could be gracious enough not to make things worse.

“Don’t worry about it, man. If you need a minute, take a minute.”

Steve shook his head. “No, it’s fine-” he was cut off as he tried to step away but had clearly misjudged where the curb was in the darkness, tripping over it and landing hard on his back in the bushes. 

He leaned forward, trying to pull himself back up but went completely slack again a second later.

“Well that’s just fucking typical.” Steve muttered.

Eddie tried hard to keep any hint of a smirk or smile off his face as he moved to hover over him, still trying to keep the mood light.

“You good?”

Steve flapped a loose hand in his direction. “I’m fine. Just leave me here to die.”

Eddie did smile at that and held a ringed hand out to him. “Dramatics are usually my job.”

Steve clapped his hand into Eddie’s and allowed himself to be hauled up to a sitting position. 

Eddie considered for a moment before his curiosity got the better of him and he threw himself down onto the concrete.

The coldness of the curb immediately bit through his jeans. There’d probably be a freeze tonight. He could see their breath fog up in between them and the van they were now shadowed behind as he tapped out two cigarettes from his pack and offered one over.

Steve looked surprised for a moment, or Eddie guessed he looked surprised. They were both still drenched in mostly darkness, so Eddie couldn’t see much of his face. 

Steve took the cigarette with a soft, “Thanks.” 

Lighting up he took a deep inhale before rubbing at his eyes again with the heel of his hand, though it seemed to be more out of tiredness than continued tears.

He sniffed again and let out a heavy sigh. 

“Are you going to ask about it?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.” Eddie shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. No. I don’t know-” Steve’s words died in his throat when he looked up, eyes sliding from Eddie’s face and landing over his shoulder.

Eddie twisted around and caught sight of Jonathan helping a stumbling Nancy out of the house with nervous hands and a worried brow.

“I’m guessing it has something to do with that?” He asked, turning back.

Steve tracked the two of them with his eyes before looking back down at the ground and saying quietly, “Yeah, something like that.”

“You’re not worried about someone else taking your very intoxicated girlfriend home?”

Steve shook his head inhaling another large drag from his cigarette. “No, not with Byers. She’s safe with him, she-” he sighed. “Don’t think she’s my girlfriend anymore anyway.”

Well it didn't take much more than that to paint a picture in Eddie's head of what had happened. 

The whole town had known about the fight between Jonathan and Steve last year following the spray painting and subsequent clean up of The Hawk in which Nancy had very much not sided with Steve on it, though who could blame her. 

People had expected him to drop her like a lead balloon after that but he hadn’t. He’d shocked everyone by starting up with her again, but now it looked like those issues had never really been resolved.

Eddie watched Steve’s silhouette carefully, ready for the moment he’d just up and start punching whatever was in reach like a good little testosterone driven toddler, but he just looked… defeated.

“You’re… handling it remarkably well.” He hedged, apprehensive.

“For now.” Steve tilted his head back to look up at the stars, his breath curling out white and foggy in the cold. “It’ll probably hit me tomorrow.”

Eddie wanted to reach a hand out, grip at his shoulder, offer a comforting touch but boys didn’t touch. And if they did, they only did it after reaching a certain level of friendship, which they were not at.

So he kept his hands to himself.

“Well I’d offer you something to take the edge off, but I’m afraid I’m all out.”

Steve shook his head. “No, you’re okay. Distraction and a cigarette is good enough for me. Plus you can’t just go around offering charity to anyone who crosses your path, people will try to take advantage.”

“You think I’d let people take advantage of me?” Eddie said with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

Steve snored. “No, I suppose not. You’ve got your whole,” he waved his hand in Eddie’s direction, “bad boy rough and tough… look.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and laughed around his cigarette. “Hey, don't disparage the look, Harrington. It works.”

“M not disparaging, it’s a good look.”

“Oh, really? Didn’t think it’d be your type of thing.”

Steve glanced over at him, his eyes mischievous and ever so slightly hooded. “You’ve no idea what my type of thing is, Munson.”

Wait.

Was that a line?

Was Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington flirting with him? Him? 

Maybe Steve had too much to drink. 

He was obviously heartbroken by whatever was going on with Nancy so maybe it was just some kind of catharsis or a joke or-

A shrill ring cut through the air, sharp and splitting.

Eddie snapped his head up.

Steve didn’t react.

There was a rotary phone hanging off the side of his van, teal with a twisted cord.

And it was ringing.

Loudly.

It was like a spell had been broken, the shrill screaming of ringringring filled Eddie with a wild panic, a wild fear, shooting through his head and setting his blood alight.

He turned his wide eyes back to Steve who was now looking up at the phone with loose shoulders and a calm face. 

The darkness didn’t matter anymore, he knew with exact, intimate detail what look Steve had right now.

He’d been back here often enough after all.

“Stevie, don’t answer it.” Eddie’s panic was edging into desperation.

His time was running out. 

There was an overwhelming sense of loss inside him, mixed up with devastation, heartbreak and sadness.

He was slipping.

He was slipping away.

Again.

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” Eddie shook his head frantically, grasping Steve by the shoulders. “You don’t have to.” 

He swung his leg over, sitting himself firmly in Steve’s lap and placed a hand at either side of his face, practically begging him. “Just a little longer. Please, baby, please.” 

It was like he was imploring Steve to look inside at his beating, bloody heart, pleading with him to let them both stay. His tone was frantic and he could feel his soul cracking to pieces, clinging on as if he could keep Steve here just with his grip alone.

“It’s about Max.” Steve stated, matter of fact.

Eddie leaned forward and placed kiss after kiss in quick succession against Steve’s face. “You don’t have to answer it yet.” He said, a thick sob crawling its way up his throat, trying to change the inevitable. 

His vision was starting to blur with tears and the lump in his throat felt like he’d swallowed a fucking golf ball. “Not yet. You can- you can answer it later. Please. Stevie. Baby. Sweetheart. We could-” He threw his arms around Steve’s shoulders, holding him as tight and close as he possibly could, as though his grip could keep them both here. 

His tears were finally slipping free and his heartbreak cresting into complete and utter anguish. “We could go hang out with Robin or… or…”

“I haven’t met Robin yet, Eds. You know that.” Steve’s hand came up to softly cradle the back of his head as Eddie’s tears clung to Steve’s neck where they fell and he wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. “I have to answer it.”

The next sob that came felt like it had torn his whole body in half, shaking him to his core, ripping him in two. 

“Just a few more minutes.” He begged. “Please. Please don’t go.” He whispered, tremulous and defeated as the soft click of the receiver being picked up sounded around him and he awoke with a start.

Eddie took a few moments to collect himself, swiping furiously at his eyes with his bedsheets, hating himself for crying and trying to will the lump in his throat away. 

His heart was aching and he knew despite his best efforts he’d be carrying it around with him for the rest of the day. 

He didn’t have nightmares like Dustin or Nancy did. He didn’t scream or thrash or claw, no.

He had these dreams. 

He wept in his sleep, crying until he was dried out and exhausted upon waking up but he wouldn’t trade them in for anything.

At least with these dreams he could still…

Nevermind.

It wasn’t important. 

He had too much shit to deal with today to spend time mourning the past. 

The past was dead and there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He just had to keep moving forward.

For Wayne, for Dustin, for Mike and El and Will, for the Sinclair parents and the Buckley parents and Ms. Mayfield.

He tried to focus on the issues of the day.

Their food surplus was getting dangerously low and there hadn’t been a supply drop from the military in weeks, though their own vegetable crop was still growing strong.

Chester Hagen and his goons were still giving Nancy trouble. 

They needed extra hands to get their fence back up again and those bandits were still out there. 

They might have been scared away by Dustin and Scott’s genius and deadly electrical wiring but they weren’t going to stay away for long. 

Their settlement was way too valuable an asset to have under their belts from a defensive standpoint alone and if Chester Hagen or the fucking bandits were able to seize control it could be catastrophic.

And that’s not even mentioning the fucking Ghouls.

Their bright red eyes were always the first thing visible through the darkness of the forest, followed closely by the smell of decay. 

They kept to the shadows, unnervingly quiet considering they were the shambling corpses of those caught in the crossfire of the rifts opening up. 

They were able to sneak up on even the most alert of people, getting close enough to strike, cutting a gnarled claw into their victims skin and paralysing them, ready to be feasted upon silently and unable to scream.

If someone was unlucky enough to die from a bite, rather than claws ripping their flesh from their bones and bleeding out, they’d come back a few hours later, dead and mindless, driven by the need to consume.

It was so incredibly fucked up.

Nearly everyone had had a run in with someone they had known once in life.

Hawkins had been a very small town after all and the Ghouls were drawn to their walls, the noise their small community made within their safe refuge amongst the trees like a shining noise beacon.

The creatures were easy to pick off though, high up in the communities man made sentry towers Eddie had suggested way back when, but the community could never get too complacent.

The Ghouls were still a very real threat.

The two bodies that had to be brought home and buried after the last trip to maintain the water tower made that clear enough.

Two more plots in their makeshift graveyard at the edge of what was once a golf course.

Fuck, they needed food. At least something more than the rationed out vegetables they were able to grow, something similar to the comforts they knew before everything went to shit.

Some sugar, some salt, even a bit of fucking meat.

They hadn’t been hunting too much lately, it was getting more and more dangerous to leave the walls. 

Everyone was running on fumes and it was making them sloppy. 

Their sentries were having trouble concentrating, their medical personnel had started to feel they couldn’t perform their duties safely anymore, their smartest minds were waning. 

Eddie dragged himself out of bed. 

No time to huddle in for warmth and wish for a different day than the one he was facing down, too many people were waiting on him, relying on him.

He did allow himself to drift a hand over the pillow he kept on the other side, though.

His side, though it had always been empty, ever since they first arrived at this estate, ever since Eddie first slept in the bed, nine months ago.

Fourteen months since the end. 

Fourteen months since... 

No.

Stop thinking about it.

Too much to do today.

He shook his head again, stripping down bare and stopping in front of the mirror. 

He was leaner than he had been before all this began. 

Fourteen months of surviving an apocalypse would do that to a person. 

His hair was longer and still just as messy as ever. His skin was blocked out with more self-inflicted tattoos. Mostly the result of sleepless nights and downtime by candlelight when the memories sometimes got to be too much and he just had to get them out, get them onto skin, carry them on the outside rather than leave them to fester on the inside. 

There was an illustration of Smaug from the books, done to the best of his memory on his right knee. Shitty interpretations of his guitar, a slice of pizza, a walkie talkie, trucker hats, mugs, guitar picks and music notes littered his arms. The old hellfire logo and the Corroded Coffin logo inked into his chest where his demon head and black widow had once been, now in the stomach of some long dead demobat somewhere. 

Those had hurt like a bitch.

Almost as bad as the two quotes on the inside of his thighs.

I had not intended to love him on the inside of his left.

He made me love him without looking at me on the inside of his right. 

Eddie scratched at his jaw in the mirror. He needed a shave but that could wait, he couldn’t be fucked dragging a razor over his face right now.

The shower was icy cold. He barely remembered what bathing in warm water felt like anymore. Positives and negatives to having a steady water supply from the reservoir on top of the hill, but no electricity.

At least they were all able to keep clean.

He barely bothered to dry off, dumping his towel in the laundry hamper he’d probably forget to bring down to their approximation of a laundrette, again.

He snatched up some clothes from his dresser, dark and sturdy, just how he liked them.

Dark jeans, dark top, high quality boots that he found in the abandoned house he and Wayne were now living in and though the July sun had been vicious and unrelenting, he needed the comfort of the familiar.

The only things of his own that had survived were what he had on him when they’d run. His necklace, his bracelet, his wallet chain, even though he hadn’t had need of a wallet for over a year, wasn’t even sure where in the world it was. But he added them too, feeling more like himself with every piece he put on.

He snatched up the rifle he kept loaded and tucked between the bed frame and the wall every night, slinging the strap over his shoulder and was about to head out of his bedroom when he paused, gripping the door handle tight.

He hated giving into the urge but if this was the day he died, he knew he’d regret not doing it.

With a put upon sigh, he let go of the door handle and turned back into his room, opening his closet door and looking at the only item of clothing hanging in there.

Reaching out, he brushed his fingers over the back shoulders, feeling the raised lettering of the name across his fingertips and ran a hand down the sleeve, gripping the cuff.

Before he could stare at green and white for too long and allow the sorrow to wash over him again, he let go and shut the closet door.

The house he and Wayne had managed to lay claim to was one of the smaller ones but that didn’t bother them. 

Hell, it was practically Eddie’s own now that Wayne was spending most nights with Scott. 

In any case the house was close to exactly who he wanted to be close to. 

The Hoppers-Byers clan lived directly behind him, the fence blocking their gardens from each other long broken down by El. Dustin and his mother lived to one side of him, Nancy and her family on the other. Across the road lived the Sinclair parents, Susan Mayfeild and the Buckley parents, along with the various friends and family members of those that hadn’t been seen since before everything went to shit, trying to find comfort in their numbers.

They’d tried to convince Dustin, Mike, Will and El to join them in their support group but those kids weren’t the types to sit around and talk about their feelings. 

They were the types to throw themselves into some new experiment or dig their way through The Void trying to find a new way forward.

But no such luck so far.

Eddie had stopped asking.

He trudged his way through the streets of what was once a very affluent gated community but had now become their own little post apocalypse village. 

How quaint, he thought, sardonically.

He headed towards what was a rec centre once upon a time but had since been repurposed as their collective dining hall.

During the good times when food stockpiles were high people could come and go as they pleased, getting fed whenever the desire took them, maybe even being able to make a request of what they wanted to eat.

But in times like these, when the variety of food was dangerously low, mealtimes were strictly regimented to make sure everyone got an equal share. 

As he waited in line, his stomach growling with the smell wafting from the kitchens, the people around him sent him warm smiles and friendly greetings, some even trying to engage him in small talk.

Crazy how an actual apocalypse can change attitudes.

“What’s on the menu today, Joyce?” Eddie asked when he got to the front of the line. 

His smile didn’t feel as strained as it had been before. Joyce always managed to bring some light out in him. 

“Only the finest potato stew for one of our fearless leaders.” She replied with a sneaky smile, pushing a bowl of watered down lumpy stew towards him.

Eddie glared at her but without much substance behind it, picking up his bowl. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

Joyce awed playfully, reaching over to pinch his unscarred cheek. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t pull such an adorable face whenever I do.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and turned away, calling back over his shoulder, “Bye Joyce.”

“Bye sweetie!”

He sat himself down at an empty table as far away from everyone else as he could, hoping to just be able to eat his meal in peace before the demands of everyone and everything started to surround him.

He only got about two bites in before a sour faced figure sat himself down across from him.

Eddie didn’t even bother to look up.

“I’m not in the mood, Hagen.”

Chester Hagen was a man who looked like he might have been attractive in his youth if he didn’t constantly have a sulk on his face and a sickening air of superiority around him.

“Just hear me out, Munson. I know you feel like you owe the Wheeler girl your loyalty-”

Eddie snapped his eyes up. “I don’t owe Nancy anything. She has my loyalty because she’s earned it. Something I’m sure you’re unfamiliar with.”

“Don’t you think this place could use some actual leadership? Not just some little girl playing politics.”

Eddie sighed heavily and continued to shovel his food into his mouth, trying to have this conversation finished as fast as he could. “And you think that’s you, do you? Might I remind you that everyone here,” he waved his hand around, “including you and your luddites elected her as leader, because she was one of the few who knew how to actually handle everything.”

“That was then. Now we’re starving. The military doesn’t respect her, why else wouldn’t we be getting our drops on time? The people are upset and they’re starting to talk. And need I remind you I was an acting town official for years. I ran for Mayor-”

Eddie lifted the bowl to his mouth, slurping down the last of his food. “And you lost.” He winced in mock sympathy, standing up. “To Larry Kline of all people. Ouch.”

He left to hand his bowl back over to be cleaned, praying that he wouldn’t be followed but that was apparently too much to hope for. He’d barely made it outside before he heard the heavy footsteps following him.

Eddie darted around the corner of the building, striding down the small gap between the dining hall and their makeshift medical centre, only stopping once he was sure Hagen had followed him in.

“Munson, if she has something over you that makes you think you can’t switch to the better team then you’ve got to know we can help you out. No matter what it is. You have a lot of respect in this community, we could use that. And you wouldn’t be stuck acting as some little girls guard dog-”

Eddie swung around, pressing the barrel of his rifle into Chester Hagan’s neck, backing him into the wall. Hagen immediately threw his hands up in surrender, his eyes wide with fear, looking like he was about to piss himself.

“What if I like being a little girl's guard dog, what then?”

Eddie and Nancy didn’t exactly see eye to eye. She still held onto some middle class, small town politeness and nothing Eddie said, trying to get her to accept the brutality of the world they were living in now would dissuade her. 

But she was an effective leader. And she was one of the people who had kept him alive during the spring break from hell.

There was no way he was going to sell her out to Chester fucking Hagan.

Hagen swallowed, shifting the muzzle ever so slightly around his throat. “S- so is it a sex thing? Because I’m sure we could find-”

“For the sake of your own head I’m encouraging you to stop talking now.”

“Right, right. Yeah. I’m… I’ll stop talking.”

“Good. Now listen to me very carefully. Under no circumstances whatsoever will I be persuaded, coerced, bought or bullied away from Nancy’s side. This town voted her their leader and unless the majority no longer wants her overlooking things, it’s going to stay that way.” He pushed the barrel of the gun in harder, right under his jaw. “But if I ever get approached by you or one of your goons trying to get me to switch sides or go behind Nancy’s back for information again, I will not hesitate to put a bullet through your eye. We both know I’ll do it and I won't lose a wink of sleep over it."

"Th- pe- people won't like that."

"Oh, won't they? Tell me, who do you think the people will side with between the two of us? It's why you keep trying to get me to join your side. Because you know you don't have shit without my support. Like you said, I have a lot of respect in this community.” 

“B- but you two fight, you fight all the time! We can hear it clear across the estate! We can-” Eddie dug the gun in just a little deeper. “Do not approach me again. Do I make myself clear?”

Hagen nodded, short and sharp and scared. “Crystal clear, Munson. Sir.”

“Good.” Eddie pulled the gun away from his neck and slung it back over his shoulder, walking down the rest of the alleyway before calling back, “Clean up, it smells like you shit yourself.”

“Can a girl get pregnant if she’s on top?”

Eddie dropped the metal sheet they were using to repair the hole in the fence, just barely managing to avoid crushing his toe. The noise clanged around them like a dinner bell. He and Dustin were outside the protective walls of the community for this particular repair and they both froze, tensing up and waiting to hear if the sound had attracted any Ghouls or roving bandits towards them. They were barely in danger, there were sentries posted on high platforms around the whole perimeter but it was still something they wanted to avoid if they could.

Speaking of, they could hear someone climbing the platform from the inside before Jonathan poked his head over the eight foot wall, looking down on the two of them.

“Everything okay?”

Eddie took one last glance at the dense woods around them and let his shoulders drop, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket and looking back up.

“Yeah, sorry about that Jon. The kid just jumpscared me is all.”

“I literally just asked a question.” Dustin frowned at him.

“A sex question.” Eddie pointed out.

“I think I’ll take my leave, have fun with that!” Jonathan disappeared back behind the walls before Eddie could even glare at him.

“Why are you even asking me? And who are you planning on sexing up? You’re too young anyway. You’re a foetus.”

“I’m sixteen. And seriously? I thought you’d be more… open minded about this.” Dustin pouted. “Plus who else am I gonna ask? Hopper, Jonathan? I can’t go to the library, they don’t exist anymore and I can’t ask-” Dustin swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in check and failing. “Steve’s not here.” He whispered.

Eddie’s heart gave a painful thud, like it always did whenever Steve was mentioned. Whenever Eddie thought of him, really.

It usually led to him trying not to think of him, which made him feel guilty, like he was trying to forget. Which then made him sadder and angrier and more hopeless all at the same time. Because ‘forgetting’ implied Eddie would never see him again. It implied that Steve was… gone. 

And he just couldn’t accept that.

But trying to avoid thoughts of Steve often left Dustin in the lurch. He knew it did. 

Who else could the kid talk to about this? Not Jonathan or Hopper or Joyce or Wayne or Claudia. None of them knew Steve like Dustin did. Not even Nancy had known him very well by the end.

Will and El had been the two kids who’d interacted with Steve the least when they were all together. Before. And Mike had too much ‘ex-boyfriend to his sister’ attitude about him to really talk to Steve back then, always assuming there’d be more time.

Maybe he could talk to Richard and Melissa Buckley. They were the parental connection Steve never had, Eddie knew that. Steve had told him that himself.

But there was too much of an age gap.

And the rest of their Upside-Down crew were in the same boat Steve was. 

Not here. 

They hadn’t been seen or heard from in over fourteen months.

Robin, Max, Lucas, Erica… 

Missing.

Not gone. 

Never gone.

Just… missing.

Dustin shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, can we just talk about the sex like scientists? Not make it weird with squiggly feelings?”

Eddie smirked, but nodded, happy to avoid the subject of Steve for a little longer.

“Sure thing, kiddo. To answer your question, yes. A girl can get pregnant from literally every penis in vagina position. And she can get pregnant if she’s on her period. And if it’s her first time.”

Dustin huffed, throwing his arms out at his sides. “Then how is anyone supposed to have sex without getting someone pregnant in the apocalypse?”

Eddie snorted, picking back up his metal sheet. “Why do you think there's been so many babies born here since it started?”

“Unsafe practices?”

Eddie snapped his fingers and pointed at Dustin. “Unsafe practices.”

“Well…” Eddie could hear Dustin drumming his fingers against his baseball bat, apparently contemplating something. He took a big breath in. “What have you been doing?”

Eddie nearly dropped the sheet again. “Me?”

“Yeah? How have you been having sex without getting anyone pregnant?”

Eddie blew out a breath, busying himself with finally securing the sheet. He’d probably end up nearly dropping it again if he didn’t. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t been.”

“Having sex?” Dustin asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Eddie closed his eyes, bracing for all the usual questions. “I haven’t been having sex.”

“Why? Are you celibate? Are you waiting till marriage or something?”

“No…” He shook his head. “I just…”

“You do like girls, right?”

Dustin’s tone wasn’t accusatory or derogatory, just curious.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “You go around asking people dangerous questions like that often, Henderson?”

“No. I’m not an idiot. Didn’t feel like a dangerous question to ask you. You don’t feel dangerous.” Dustin scowled. “Are you?”

Eddie allowed the corner of his mouth to tick up. “No, kid. I’m not dangerous. And to answer your question…” he shrugged. “Yeah. I like girls just fine.”

Dustin watched him closely, eyes darting between Eddie’s own. “But you don't prefer them?”

Eddie nodded. “Correct.”

Dustin nodded as well. “Okay. So you're like Will?”

“Not exactly. I like people… but I tend to lean towards the more… masculine side of things.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, animals do it all the time right? Why would it be different for people? People are just animals with bigger brains and a higher endurance.”

“Debatable.”

“Scientific fact.”

Eddie sighed. “Suppose you’re right.”

“So… do you just not feel safe trying to find someone in an apocalypse or is there someone…?”

“From before?”

Dustin swallowed. Talking about pre-apocalyptic relationships was always heavy. Especially if they… weren’t here. 

“Yeah.” He agreed. “From before.”

“Yeah. I had someone. Have someone.” Eddie couldn’t look at him, continuing to work on the fence, unable to stomach the pitying looks he’d seen people get, people who still had hope they’d be reunited with their loved ones even after all this time. 

People like the Sinclair parents, the Buckley parents and Ms. Mayfield.

No one knew he was also one of those people.

And if he got his way, no one would ever know.

He didn’t need the fucking pity.

He didn’t think he could bear it if Dustin muttered out the dreaded, “I’m sorry.” 

But as always, the kid was full of surprises. “What’s his name?” It felt very deliberate, to ask what’s his name and not what was his name. Present tense. Intentional.

Eddie smirked to himself. A small little private thing, just for him. 

“Ken.”

There was the sound of shuffling as Dustin hummed. “I don’t think I know a Ken.”

“No.” Eddie replied. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

AO3

So…

Hello!

I am back! I am officially bring my break to an end and that is a terrifying concept but I'm gonna do it anyway! Updates on this fic will be a little more sporadic than my previous ones as I get back into the swing of things but I am so happy to be back and I hope you enjoy this story! 🥰

Fic title and lyrics from Through The Valley by Shawn James but it was this version by Ashley Johnson as Ellie that truly captured me.

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

@geekymagicalpotato

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #pennys anniversary event #through the valley #post apocalypse au #dustin henderson

[raised-u-fr0m-perdition]

𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙵𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙳 | bartender!dean winchester

Summary: Dean Winchester needs a job after his little brother left for Stanford, and he’s good at mixing drinks. You happen to work at Harvelle’s Roadhouse, which is the place he chose to work at. He finds a family. He finds a new life. But he also finds you. But you have problems of your own.

A/N - My first reader series, do make sure to comment and/or reblog feedback. Set with S1/2 Dean cause I love our baby boy 😁 and pretend group chats exist on old phones lol

A/N 2 - All the chapters are named after drinks. The intensity of the chapter depends on the drink I chose for the title :) and banners are by @cafekitsune

TW: Alcohol (duh), mentions of drugs, roofies, abuse, mentions of abuse/r@pe, smoking, Ruby (she’s a warning in itself), unhinged group chat (also a warning in itself)

two - daiquiri

Megolodon: Cassieeee

Casanova: What?

Megolodon: You’re late

You: Yeahhhh, we’ve been waiting for weeks

Ben Dover: Sabbatical’s over, brother

Casanova: I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

Ruby-gina George: To hell with fifteen minutes, get your ass over here

Megolodon: Listen to the nice lady

Ruby-gina George: Shut up

Megolodon: Bite me

Ruby-gina George: Keep it up and I just might

Megolodon: I bet you’d like to

bDe: didn’t know you two swung that way

You: Neither did I

Ruby-gina George: WAIT NO

ScarJo: That’s news to me

Ben Dover: News to all of us, darling

Queen B: I leave for FIVE MINUTES and we’re already out of the closet

Ruby-gina George: NO CLOSETS

Ruby-gina George: HELL NO

Ruby-gina George: NO CLOSETS

Megolodon: THAT WASN’T THE MEANING-

ScarJo: We accept you, dw

Ruby-gina George: die in a hole

bDe: sounds like overcompensating

Ruby-gina George: ALL OF YOU DIE IN A HOLE

The clink of glasses filled the atmosphere, along with merry shouts, whistles and cheers as glass after glass slammed down onto the counter. But it wasn’t patrons, no. Afternoons were always chilled out, since not many patrons stopped by. The evenings always got the raunchiest. So here you all were, egging on Castiel and Benny in a shot contest. There were five shots of the Roadhouse’s strongest bottle of hard liquor, and you were all seeing who could down them the fastest. None of the people in the room were lightweights. There were lightweights, heavyweights, and then there were the bartenders at the Roadhouse, who Meg liked to call ‘jumbo-weights’.

“DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!” You were yelling, your voice mixed with those of Dean, Meg, Bela, Ruby and Jo. Benny finished first, slamming down the shot glass and whooping loudly, not even that buzzed while Cas dejectedly sipped his last shot, having missed by the fraction of a second.

“Cassie, sweetie, don’t beat yourself up about it.” Meg purred, gripping Cas’ shoulders tightly from behind. “You’re out of practice.”

“Or maybe I’m just good at throwing ‘em back.” Benny smirked, but then his smile dropped. “That sounded better in my head.”

“Glad we can agree.” You snickered, then cleared up the shot glasses. “C’mon, what next?”

“Meg.” Ruby shot up from her seat, beckoning her over. “You. Me. Shot challenge. Now.”

“So polite.” Meg drawled, but got up anyway, a familiar sultry smile on her lips as she lined up for the competition. “Bring it on, darling, I can do this in my sleep.” Benny racked the shots, a giggle coming from your mouth as Dean awkwardly looked to Castiel.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” Dean smiled, putting his hand out. “Dean. Winchester.”

“Castiel Novak, but everyone calls me Cas.” Cas shook Dean’s hand, finding himself warming up to this stranger.

“Cas.” Dean repeated under his breath, then nodded. “Alright, Cas. Let’s get you some water to wash down that hard liquor.”

“That would be ideal.” Cas nodded, instantly following Dean. In the meantime, Ruby and Meg were slamming back shots, and Ruby was just tagging behind Meg. You were egging them on, but you noticed something. Ruby usually downed shots easy as breathing. Now she wasn’t, which confused you. However, you brushed it off. It couldn’t be something bad. Your resident Regina George always was tough as hell.

Ruby-gina George: Been there, done that messed around

Megolodon: I'm having fun, don't put me down

Ruby-gina George: I'll never let you sweep me off my feet

Megolodon: THIS TIME BABY, I’LL BE BULLETPROOFFFFFF

You: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOUUUUUUU

bDe: *dies of laughter*

ScarJo: I’ve been on a beer run for FIVE MINUTES and y’all go mad

Queen B: Tsk tsk, eyes on the road, hon

ScarJo: Joke’s on you, I’m in the store

Ben Dover: Damn, how’d you get there so fast

ScarJo: I stole the keys to Val

Queen B: explosion incoming-

You: You did WHAT?!

ScarJo: I’M SORRY SHE’S A FAST CAR

You: YOU’RE GONNA PAY

Megolodon: Girlie, it’s just a car

Ruby-gina George: how dare you, Val’s a masterpiece

Megolodon: I mean, she shouldn’t take it that heavily

bDe: no she absolutely should, go to town sweetheart

You: THANK YOU

Ben Dover: Dean, brother, don’t encourage that behaviour

bDe: i will

Ben Dover: What if someone stole your car, then

bDe: murder

ScarJo: oh wow

You: SOMEONE GETS IT

bDe: lots of murder

Ben Dover: Brother-

bDe: torture first

bDe: lots of torture, then a whole lotta murder

ScarJo: Benny, you chose the wrong role models

You: shut up, YOU TOOK VAL

bDe: then more murder, and i’m gonna throw the bodies in a lake, no one will ever know

Ruby-gina George: Hold up, I’m coming with you

You: Jo, I’ve got your gravestone prepped

ScarJo: And you say we’re unhinged

You: Get your ass back to the roadhouse

bDe: i’ll get away with it, I swear

Megolodon: Why am I actually enjoying this

bDe: if I can’t have my baby, no one can

Evenings were always the more raunchy of times at the Roadhouse. The bar was now full of chatting passers-by, girls dressed in skimpy clothes and biker boys with tattoos winding around their necks. The shift today was yours, Ruby’s, Dean’s and Meg’s. There were an overwhelming amount of females working at the Roadhouse, if you were incredibly honest. As for the employees not working behind the bar, they were roughing it up at a booth, hollering and hooting like owls at a baseball game.

“So, darlin’, what do you do in your free time?” Dean asked you, cleaning out a glass with a rag and shooting a wink to a couple of giggling girls nearby. You poured a whiskey for a patron, sliding it across the table.

“Well, I’m a big fan of joyrides.” You answered with a goofy grin. “My Mustang’s always fun to take a spin in.” The mention of your Mustang got Dean’s eyebrows up to his hairline as he pointed out of the window.

“That beaut’s yours?” He exclaimed in disbelief, laughing. “Damn. That’s a serious muscle car.”

“Yeah, my Valkyrie. Val’s my sweetheart, always will be.” You looked up wistfully at the mention of your beloved car. “And your Chevy Impala, she’s absolutely gorgeous. I could listen to her purr all day.”

“That’s my Baby.” He bore the same wistful look you did, then nudged you. “We should take ‘em out for spins. Y’know, joyrides.”

“You sure?” You chuckled, looking up at him. “I don’t drive easy.”

“Even better.” He gave you a little wink paired with a click of his tongue. He flipped a bottle in his hand, pouring a whiskey shot expertly and handing it to you. “Ma’am.”

“Sir.” You took the shot with a chuckle, sending the glass over to the sink. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“You’re very welcome.” He poured himself a shot and downed it, and you couldn’t help but focus slightly on his pouty, pink lips, almost hyper-fixating on them. But you tore your eyes away to serve a customer at the bar, a rather shady-looking guy who had a snake tattoo on his neck. He was also wearing sunglasses inside, which had Dean raising an eyebrow.

“You know who wears sunglasses inside?” He muttered into your ear as the man ordered a glass of Jack Daniel’s with his eyes on Meg. “Blind people… and douchebags.”

“I can’t fault you for that logic.” You laughed, pouring the man a glass and passing it to him as you turned back to Dean. “About that joyride, I’m down.”

His eyes lit up, a puppy-like grin now on his face as he fully faced you, elbow leaning on the counter. You couldn’t help but stare deep into those mossy eyes, mirroring the infectious smile on his face just as Meg stumbled up to you both with a groggy smile on your face, whiskey glass clutched tightly in her hand.

“You t-two look so… cute.” She giggled, leaning heavily on you. You saw the glass cup in her hand, and you caught a whiff of… Jack Daniel’s? “Smilin’ at each other, lovin’ each other, so adorable!” You raised an eyebrow, holding her steady as she continued to ramble. “You should marry each other. Ugh, I feel so… weird.”

“Does Meg usually get this slammed?” Dean whispered, and you shook your head, confused. That’s when Ruby sprang out from behind the bar, grabbing the guy by the scruff of his neck and slamming his head roughly down on the counter. “Woah, damn!”

“Ruby!” You gasped, but she snatched the glass from your hands and showed you the contents. There was a powdery white substance in it that you instantly recognised. “Damn it- she’s been roofied.”

“Bastard thought he was smooth with it.” She growled, holding the guy down. “It takes Meg a lot of strong tequila and a Long Island to make her that slammed.”

“I’m surprised you know that, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’m callin’ the police. Get this jackass locked up.” Dean glared daggers at who could’ve been Meg’s potential assaulter as he dialled the emergency number and explained the situation. Meg clung onto you, and you felt bad for her as you went to haul her off to bed, entertaining her every mindless babble about something or the other.

“You’re pretty.” Meg slurred as she hobbled with you. “You look like Rubes. She’s pretty too. Very pretty.”

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous.” You replied dryly, not out of disdain for Ruby but rather out of extreme concern for your friend. “Absolutely stunning.” Though there was part truth in that. You’d always wanted to be like Ruby- not give much of a damn. Able to speak every weird and/or rude comment that came to her mind and everyone would worship her for it. She could talk openly about where she came from, confidently, with a flick of her blonde hair and my-give-a-hoots-are-on-vacation attitude, but you weren’t inclined to open your mouth about it. “Let’s get you in here.”

You opened the door to your bedroom, limping to the bed and just letting Meg flop- “Wheeeeee!” She squealed as she went, but then was out cold the moment her face hit the mattress. You smiled at her antics despite the seriousness of the situation, drawing up your blanket and tucking her in, staying with her for a bit until you were sure she was ok. Then, as you descended the stairs, you’d found that the gang had cleared out the bar, which was helpful in the current climate. Especially now that the dude had been carted off to the nearest station.

You made eye contact with Ruby, who looked livid, but softened slightly when she saw you. “Is she ok?” She asked expectantly, and the tension seemed to lift a fraction when you nodded.

“We’re gonna have to tell my mom about this.” Jo sighed, drumming her fingers on the table. “She’s gonna be pissed.”

“The dude who tried his luck on Meg?” Dean shrugged, his brow furrowed a tad in concern. “His luck’s gonna say adiós once Ellen gets her hands on him.”

A few days later, you were up early, sat talking to Dean in one of the booths before you went on your joyride. The sun filtered in through rickety blinds, illuminating Dean’s emerald eyes as they gazed at you in a way that would bore through your soul. You hadn’t known Dean for more than a week, but he was such an easy person to be around. He was witty, but sometimes had trouble coming up with comebacks when flustered, had an easy demeanour while also seemingly being kind of lost himself. He was like a walking contradiction, and it intrigued you to no end. He could look like a sharp-jawed, drop dead gorgeous heartbreaker, but in his grey Henley, he just looked soft and innocent. Handsome and sweet.

Though, you knew he was too good for you. What with his smooth words, caring personality and overall just being Dean. You were, if anyone find out where you came from, a personified chessboard. Your entire being was checkered with black and white.

“C’mon.” He stood up, looking to the jukebox on the other side of the room. “Let’s dance.”

“Let’s what, sorry?” Your eyebrows raised slightly as he jogged over to the jukebox, playing Tiny Dancer by Elton John and outstretching his hand for you. “Oh, no, I’m not a dancer.”

“C’mon, don’t leave me hangin’ here.” Dean’s outstretched hand beckoned you over almost like a siren’s call, and what with his boyish grin, the charming sparkle in his eyes and the overall feeling of being wanted got you up with him and taking his calloused hand in your own, skin tingling with the feel of the ring on his finger, his own feeling sparks upon the silver band on your hand pressing against his warm skin. He drew you close, his arm around your waist in a sort of non-pervy way, like he wasn’t trying to force himself on you.

“Warning. I might step on your toes.” You gave him a look which was playfully serious, but Dean just gave you a cocky grin. Damn that smile.

“Just follow me, sweetheart, and you’ll be fine.” He raised the other hand that was already interlocked with his, the low rumble of his voice putting you at ease as he swayed you both from side to side, moving in a circle with a look in his eyes that he couldn’t explain as he gazed down at you. “See? You’re a goddamn natural.”

“Maybe I have a good teacher.” You replied smoothly, which seemed to stroke his ego, as he shot you a wink and a click of his tongue.

“Damn right, you do.” Dean gave you a bashful chuckle, then bit his lip as he smiled, both of you continuing the slow spin in a circle while Elton’s mellow voice hazed the atmosphere. “I’m gonna spin you, ok?”

“Don’t drop me.” You quipped, and he shook his head with a laugh.

“Don’t tempt me, darlin’.” He spun you out and then in, his arms crossed over your front.

“Did you have special dance lessons?” You asked with a giggle, holding his hands, his fingers gently rubbing and playing with yours. “You’re really good at this.”

“Well, my friend Bobby taught me.” Dean sighed into your ear, a low chuckle falling past his lips. “He’s a grouchy ol’ bastard, but I had a prom date that I needed to impress. Sadly, I never got to go with her. I was… sick… on the night of prom.” You brushed off the brief hesitancy, instead enjoying this brief moment of calm. Dean could tell that your nerves were frazzled from the events of Wednesday night. That’s the great thing about Dean. He reads people easily, all for his insistence on having no emotional intelligence whatsoever. You assumed that this was a distraction method.

“Ellen’s always been one for dancing.” You mentioned, shrugging as you rocked from side to side. You saw Ellen as practically a second mom. She took you in, and Benny, when you needed it. But she was lonely, and you were pained to see her like that. “But she hasn’t in a while. Not since she lost her husband.”

“Huh.” Dean’s voice had an intrigued tone to it. Like he had an idea. “We should set ‘em up.”

“Ellen… and this Bobby of yours?”

“Yeah, they’re the same age, both lonely old souls - with all due respect - and they would get along.” He tilted your head with his index so you’d look at him and his charismatic smirk, just begging you to say yes. “Whaddya say we play matchmaker, sweetheart?”

You found yourself conceding quickly to this man’s goddamn charms. “Ok, fine. But if this goes south, you’re to blame.”

“Duly noted.” He laughed, nodding proudly and squeezing your hand. “That deserves another spin.” He spun you again, so then you were facing him. “Y’know, I’m kinda honoured. Pretty lady such as you, dancin’ with a grunt like me… gives a man all sorts of ideas.”

“Are you flirting with me, Dean?” You raised a playful eyebrow, again involuntarily finding yourself giggling like a lovesick schoolgirl at his smooth words.

“Maybe.”

“That’s rather bold.”

“I don’t see you complaining.” You both locked eyes for a moment, then burst out into laughter, his lower register mixing well with yours in the dim, naturally lit room.

You were happy with this man. Really happy, that you’d found a good friend. You found a good friend in Dean Winchester.

And he’d found a new home in you.

The purr of Baby’s engine.

The windows rolled down and blowing through your hair.

Guns ‘n’ Roses’ ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ playing on a cassette tape.

All of it had you hooked on an impossibly addictive high, hopped up on the euphoria of singing the lyrics at the top of your lungs with Dean in the driver’s seat, a grin that could only connote inner nostalgia on his face as you both belted out the words off by heart. The feeling of the wind on your face, the thrill of how fast Baby was speeding down the highway and the sensation of being unchained… it all got you above the altitude of a kite.

Far above.

Dean’s eyes were on you when he wasn’t looking at the road, admiring the way the light hit the curve of your face and illuminated your eyes. He took in your sweet voice, filling him like a warm hug. He’d not known you for long, but to him, you were home. Someone he could turn to.

He found himself hooked on that pretty smile. Your smooth words that contrasted your otherwise humble nature. How one second you could be the calming force and next you’re busting out your wild side like nobody’s business. You seemed so… sure… of who you were. So easy on a misguided soul like him.

After his baby brother went to Stanford, his father didn’t see much point of keeping him there. John was a drunk, and a notoriously violent one at that, and he’d prevented Dean from going to college so he could take care of Sam. But his Sammy was all grown up, and he didn’t need Dean anymore. That broke him in pieces, and made him desperate to find someone to pick them up because he’d lost them.

He turned to you with a wide grin, meeting your eyes as the final chorus blared on the radio. There was no place you two would rather have been right now than here, just letting loose and having fun. Neither of you were allowed to be kids. Sammy was Dean’s reminder, and the ring on your finger was yours.

Painful reminders, but they were both ones you couldn’t let go.

Then Dean switched the cassette tape once the final notes rolled out, Eye of the Tiger playing loud and proud on the speakers.

This was like trying to get Sammy to eat his proteins when he was a kid. Only harder.

“C’mon, Bobby, it’s just a date.” Dean reasoned, chuckling slightly at his surrogate father sat in Baby’s passenger seat and looking rather like a pug with the grumpy face he had on. “You’re gonna sit down, be yourself and everything’ll go smooth like butter.”

Bobby bristled, glaring daggers at Dean, lips pursed. “See, that’s easy to say when you’re not the one on this date, boy. She’s gonna be some classy broad who orders a pinot noir, or a Chateau Margaux or whatever-the-hell, and I’m gonna be stuck wonderin’ what the hell all these fancy names mean.”

“See, you don’t know until you try.”

“Don’t give me that chick flick crap, you idjit.”

“Look, all I’m saying is don’t get too hopped up on the idea of being perfect for Ellen.” Dean shrugged. “Be cool, yeah, and flatter her, give her some compliments and make her feel at home, but don’t go saying things like-”

“This sucks balls.” Bobby grumbled, not at all to Dean’s surprise.

“See? Don’t say that.” He saw Ellen in the rear view mirror, and clapped Bobby’s shoulder. “Ok, Bobby, you’re up. Knock her socks off for me, yeah?”

Bobby had no choice but to get out of the car, hoping that he didn’t look like a fool, or maybe his gelled back hair was neat and didn’t have a dreaded flyaway. That his collar wasn’t popped. That his jeans didn’t have some unexplained stain on them. He stepped to Ellen, who gave him a warm smile. “Balls.” He muttered under his breath. She really did look like a classy lady, which sent his embarrassment into overdrive.

“Hi, I’m Ellen.” She introduced, her voice smooth as honey and making Bobby even more nervous that yes, this woman was definitely far above his league.

“Bobby.” He replied stiffly, but then held out his arm. “Shall we?”

“Guess so.” They linked arms, striding towards the restaurant, where you and Dean had made a reservation. When the two were guided to their table, they were provided with a drinks menu. Ellen didn’t even take one minute scanning it, flicking through at the speed of light and announcing that she knew what she wanted. Bobby, however, was stumped. Wine? Pinot grigio? Champagne? But there were so many options for one champagne. Why couldn’t the damn drink options be more simple? Beer was definitely out of the question, though his mouth watered and taste buds craved for the Heineken embossed in gold on the menu.

But he knew that he wanted the medium rare steak, announcing that to Ellen, who replied that she’d be having sea bass fillets with specialised dressing and garnish which sounded rather fancy. It did nothing to soothe Bobby’s poor nerves. Ellen, meanwhile, was torn between remaining soft spoken with this man or being, y’know, herself. He seemed decent, and considerate, with the way he carefully looked over the drinks and food menus.

“Madam, sir, can I take your order?” A waiter with a flip notebook arrived beside them, and Bobby gestured for Ellen to speak, not wanting to seem overbearing.

“The sea bass fillet with the special dressing and garnish,” Ellen answered smoothly, her eyes flicking to Bobby to gauge his reaction to the next words, “and one Heineken.”

The choice of drink lifted Bobby’s spirits instantly, and that gave him the green light to not strive to impress the beautiful lady across from him. “And I’ll have the steak, medium rare. And as for the drink, I’ll have what the lady’s having.”

“Of course.” The waiter took the menus and left the table, inciting a moment for the two to laugh at their own anxiety.

“You thought I’d be one of those high-horse, classy women, didn’t you?” Ellen guessed, and Bobby nodded bashfully.

“Guilty. I haven’t done this in a long while.” He chuckled, warming up to Ellen quickly. “You’re a woman after my own heart. Always loved a good Heineken.”

“You and me both.”

After they’d had dinner, they exited the restaurant, but instead of parting ways, Bobby offered his arm once more to Ellen. “Mind walking for a while with this ol’ fool?”

“Not at all.”

NEXT UP:

“Jo.” Ruby sat down in front of Jo, who was in animated conversation with Charlie. They both turned to her in surprise and identical raised eyebrows. “And you, Charlie. I need advice.”

Maybe Charlie could help. After all, she was an expert in the field Ruby needed advice on. This was an extremely unfamiliar topic, even though she’d grown up in a family full of suspiciously close women.

Oh, god, this was nerve wracking.

Jo looked concerned, but nodded, and Charlie did the same. “Sure, go ahead.” Jo gestured for Ruby to continue, while Charlie sat eagerly forward in her seat, waiting for Ruby to speak.

“Ok.” She took a deep breath, her eyes briefly flicking to Meg. “What if… what if I…”

TAGLIST:

@hobby27 @jackles010378 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @eexphoria @onlyangel-444 @mxltifxnd0m @iloveyou2mia @snowayumi @itssofiasstuff @yallgotkik @aylacavebear @muhahaha303 @k-slla

Like, reblog, and let me know if you want to join the taglist!

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #spn masterlist

[scoobydoodean]

I was wondering if you, as a Dean fan have opinions about the different writers? Mostly because I see a lot of Dean fans really strongly dislike Dabb for some reason and I don’t really understand why. I’ve never seen a concrete explanation beyond “he can’t write Dean/doesn’t understand Dean/actively hates Dean” but with no examples as to what he does that’s so bad. And I see this in every shipping lane. I don’t have a strong opinion about him as a writer one way or the other.

I'm exploring this more as I rewatch the show (currently on season 6) so I'll speak mainly from that perspective on my most recent thoughts. I am not a big fan of Dabb or Loflin, but have tried to be fair about things so far when talking through each episode. I am a fan of "Alpha and Omega"—it's my favorite finale (it's also... a finale for a season Carver started as showrunner? So I don't know what the implications are there as far as storyboarding). Also points for having demon Dean stab a guy through in 10.02.

I'll focus on the negatives you asked about in this post, but in the links you'll find me moving the narrative this way and that toward much more charitable readings... I think. (I do have a tag #dabb disk horse which you can either peruse or blacklist at your leisure). What I can tell you is something almost always strikes me as a off about Dabb/Loflin episodes so far in this rewatch in terms of character work.

Dabb/Loflin's first ever episode was 4.06 "Yellow Fever". In the aftermath, Kripke felt the need to release a definitive interpretation of their episode to the public, stating, "Dean is not a dick... he's a hero." The whole episode toyed with, to an extent, the idea that all the victims of the MotW were bullies. You can take this other directions—for example, queer meta, or meta about Sam as the real bully. However, the story a lot of fandom latched onto was that "Dean is a jerk and deserves to be humiliated and punished for that" which obviously didn't make Dean fans watching live in season 4 happy—and this theme of Jerk!Dean continues into their next episode, "After School Special", where they once again parallel Dean with a bully literally nicknamed "Dirk the Jerk" by Sam, and throw what I think is transparent shade at Kripke's issued statement from before the Christmas break (post here)... or maybe they mean to throw shade at the Dean fans who got angry. In this episode, they also make illusions to Dean wanting to have sex with barely legal high school cheerleaders, which also did not ingratiate them to Deanfans at the time. I said on my last rewatch, "In After School Special, Dean seems more unlike himself than any episode ever in the history of Supernatural up to this point" (post explaining that here). I carry similar sentiments about portions of 5.06 "I Believe The Children Are Our Future". Yes—I am aware of performing Dean meta. I just... feel like they try a little too hard. It feels hamfisted—desperate. To the point it doesn't feel like Dean anymore sometimes. In 5.06, they also have Dean (guy who is generally very protective of kids) suggest to Jesse that he'd be good to have in a fight???? I can see how they got there, but again—it just feels... off. The last episode I rewatched that they authored, 6.04 "Weekend At Bobby's", also leaves a bad taste in my mouth—not in what it's trying to do with Bobby or what it's trying to do on a meta level—but once again, with dialogue from Dean that just makes me think "he would not fucking say that" (post here). I think looking at all of these, you can probably see deangirl ire toward Dabb has a long history. It's been around as long as he's been around, whether he deserves as much ire as he gets or not.

I haven't circled back yet on this rewatch, but Dabb and Loflin also penned season 7's "The Girl Next Door"... do I need to say anything specific? Maybe I'll just link my entire #amy tag. What narrative did they want you to get from that episode? Who the fuck knows. And that's often the problem:

When you watch various episodes I've mentioned, you can work around to a meta that tells you something different than you might at first think the page conveys—something hidden and maybe contradictory. The thing is... you could also... not do that? And that wouldn't be so bad, except that sometimes the two narratives you can most easily grasp completely contradict each other. "After School Special" can be an episode that points to Sam's envy of Dean and John deep down and foreshadows Sam becoming a bully, but on a meta level, it also just as easily says Sam becoming a bully is somehow Dean's fault, and Sam is some poor captive baby. Dean is a creep and a bully and a cheater but we should all coddle him because he saw his mom die when he was a child and he's sooo sad. "Yellow Fever" can be a queer meta story and might also foreshadow approaching Bully!Sam in 4.14, but it also very much does call Dean a jerk (should we take that seriously? should we not?) and implies Dean should be punished for the outcome of three decades of reality-bending torture. Even if it's a queer meta underneath... it's just as easily one about how closeted men should be humiliated for cowardice or how being closeted turns you into an asshole.

Jumping way ahead, I have to mention 15.10 "The Hero's Journey" just because. Yes, it is full of jokes and Garth goodness, but also tries to sell you the story that nothing about Sam and Dean is real, to a degree that feels like you are being flipped the bird for ever watching this show. And again—you can make meta that it's all a ruse! But is it? Or is Dabb actually just telling you to go fuck yourself? Like he totally wasn't when, after the SPN finale when fans were Not Happy™️, he tweeted a sign reading, "Don't feed the baboons"? Yet again—we play into the motif of the "hero" who isn't a hero at all but some pathetic loser who deserves to be publicly humiliated, bookended with Dabb's opening episode in his opening season. I'm not saying that's what it is on purpose—but I am saying you can make these arguments easily, and that leaves me consistently annoyed with Dabb for being fucking sloppy and leaving me to deal with some of the most insufferable meta imaginable that carries little support outside of episodes written by Dabb or the Dabb/Loflin writing team.... Yes—I am in fact saying that Dabb and Loflin's hamfisted episodes (regardless of their intentions) are largely responsible for some of the most insufferable, loathesome fandom metas about Sam and Dean's relationship around.

Look at 5.16 "Dark Side Of The Moon", and 7.08 "Time for A Wedding!" and 8.14 "Trial and Error", 11.17 "Red Meat", and 15.20 "Carry On". Along with 4.13, while they might or might not say something deeper or contradictory on a meta level, on a surface level, every single one of these episodes sows the narrative that Dean is needy and clingy and needs Sam more than Sam needs him—something I intensely disagree with for a multitude of reasons... but I'll just link this. Many of these episodes also follow a surface level narrative of "normal life obsessed Sam" (and here I'll link my entire #sam the hunter tag and #in which sam is not a helpless little waif with his hands cast over his eyes being carried along by the tides of the immutable sea). When I look at this episode list, I also don't find it at all difficult to believe that Dabb wanted Dean to die in the finale. There is nothing at all shocking about that. And yes—you can argue he's pointing to the opposite—that this fate should be subverted and that's what makes 15.20 the dark ending, but I think you can just as easily argue that yes it's a dark ending and yes Dabb has always dreamed of this ending. A "tragic" ending where Dean dies and Sam goes on to have a white picket fence... while also leaving you little hints along the way that maybe it's all a big ruse because how could he not? He never has to explain anything. Someone else will pick up the story and make it make sense. He's already fucked off to piss all over fans of Resident Evil.

That said, when I mention what I feel is off character work, I mainly mention Dabb/Loflin episodes from my recent rewatch, which suffer from the two of them being newer to the series (coming onto the writing team in season 4) and also leave questions about whether, perhaps, they had conflicting ideas about characterization. Was Dabb the one penning these lines? Was it Loflin? Was it both? Did they trade out who took the lead? I didn't really say anything negative about "Sam, Interrupted" or "Jump the Shark"... (though "Sam, Interrupted" also calls Dean "codependent") who wrote those? Is it possible that the messiness of the meta comes down to two writers at war? I have to imagine though, that they got along, or else they wouldn't have written together for four fucking years. If they didn't get along...? My mind always comes back to their first solo episodes, right after splitting up in season 8. Dabb's first solo episode is "Hunteri Heroici"—the only episode to lend any perspective to season 8 Sam's reasons for abandoning everyone—paralleling him checking out with Fred's catatonia, which Sam has to save Fred from. It is the only episode that lends Sam sympathy in the early part of the season. He follows it up with "Trial and Error"—where Sam promises to save Dean from suicidal thoughts. Loflin's first solo episode is what I would regard as the most scathing solo episode commentary on Sam in the entire series—"Citizen Fang". Then he writes again right after Dabb's "Trial and Error"—penning "Remember The Titans" where Sam tells Dean to get over the promise Sam so passionately made in Dabb's episode and face reality.

This is why we're exploring this rewatch.

DISCLAIMER: Now I just devolve into bitching because I'm writing at 3AM. Proceed at your own risk.

It seems like these days, everyone demands an explanation for disliking Dabb (something about some sort of destiel battle... I don't know what that flamewar is and I don't give a damn tbqh.) I guess I've just been wondering what's actually so great about him. Because it feels like people have overcorrected to basically acting like he's god's greatest gift to mankind. People point to how meta his episodes can be, but I think other writers easily best him on that front on multiple occasions (particularly enjoyed by me so far on this rewatch: 3.10 "Dream A Little Dream Of Me", 4.04 "Monster Movie", 4.12 "Criss Angel Is A Douchebag"), and without leaving their meaning so up in the air that you don't even know what the hell they were actually trying to tell you because there are two different completely incongruous narratives you could just as justifiably claim were the intended one. Some people may find that duality praise-worthy. I don't. I find it sloppy—and when I add in mediocre character work, I just land on the side of him being, at the very best, mid.

Add him in as showrunner, you have... at least two of my least favorite seasons (13 and 15). Add that he's a one-trick pony in terms of the Sam and Dean conflicts mentioned above that he continuously rehashes rather than come up with anything new or fresh, and the same conflicts between Dean and Cas being played out until they both die (shut UP I'm not talking about canon destiel as the alternative—I am literally just asking for more diverse conflicts). I can't say I understand what I''m supposed to find so impressive.

(Before anyone so much as breathes this near me, Berens also sucks and I am going to tear off your nose hairs if you start bringing him up as if disliking Dabb for some reason means wearing rose colored glasses about Berens. Berens can eat a whole cactus raw over "The Trap" alone.)

#writer disk horse #dabb disk horse #mail

[rustedhearts]

i can't quit you, baby (70s!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve doesn't like the thought of you spending time with another man while he's gone. but doesn't steve know?—he's the only man for you.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ rolly's roller wheels ✶ blurbs ✶ the only living boy in indiana

tags: smoking but in such a sexy way, jealous steve, fluff, smut-ish at the end, just something short and sweet. ignore that it changes tense like halfway through, I simply cannot edit right now.

for thea ⭐️ thought 70s!steve deserved a little love. hope you enjoy! thank you for supporting me <3

wc: 1,204

august 1978

The windows are open when Steve gets home, letting in sticky summer air and blaring horns from the street below. Your new apartment was two stories above a busy Indianapolis street, and with that came all the city noises that you still struggled to sleep through four months post-move. And without sleep, you became restless.

Without Steve, you became restless. And a combination of both—after busy work days for Steve that kept him from dinner and bed—you were absolutely insatiable.

"Sweetheart?" Steve calls, dropping his keys on the coffee table on his way to the kitchen. "Where are you—oof!"

You throw yourself into his arms, knocking him off kilter until he braces himself on the wall. He envelops you once he registers the assault, chuckling into your neck.

"Hey, honey. Missed me?"

You sigh contently, rubbing your cheek on his cologne-and-sweat-scented chest. "Mhmmm."

"Well gimme a kiss then, sugar."

You giggled on your journey toward his mouth, kissing it with eager tongue and a little whine. You're barely five seconds in before Steve furrows his brows and pulls away, nudging you back by the waist. Eyes fluttering open, you frown at him and try to tug him close.

"Why do you taste like that?"

You laugh again. "What?"

Steve narrows his eyes. "Whose cigarettes have you been smoking? Huh? They're not mine."

Cheeks warm, you wriggle out of Steve's grasp and pluck the rag you were dusting with from the counter. "What? I haven't been—"

"C'mere. C'mere, sweetheart, who've you been smokin' with?"

Steve follows you, and you giggle through the scampering cat-and-mouse chase around the living room.

"Steve, I haven't—no, no!"

He catches you when you attempt to leap over the coffee table, one strong arm anchored around your waist. He pulls you down, sweeping you to his side and spinning you around until you're giggling and batting at his hands.

Steve decides to spare you and sets you on your feet, waiting until you've caught your breath and your cheeks stop hurting before tugging you close by the chin. He kisses you again, firmer and with writhing tongue.

When he pops away, he shakes his head and huffs. "I fuckin' knew it—Camels. Whose fuckin' Camels have you been smokin'?"

"What?" You place your fingers on your lips again. "How can you even tell that?"

Steve wags a finger in your face. "I know my smokes, honey, and you're avoiding the question."

Sighing, you retrieve the rag from where it fell on the floor and take it to the end table to dust under the magazines.

"I was hanging out with Dalton earlier. We had a smoke on the roof."

Steve's hands find his hips, eyes following your ministrations throughout the room. "Oh, you 'hung out?' You just hung out with some dude while I was at work?"

“Not some ‘dude,’” you argue, eyes rolling into the lamp shade that you readjust. “He’s one of the only neighbors that’s introduced himself, and that’s actually been nice.”

Steve tips his chin down, eyes slanting to a glare. “Yeah, because he wants to get in your pants.”

“I resent that, Steve Harrington—and why would you think sharing a cigarette with him would mean anything?”

Your boyfriend mutters under his breath, and when you turn with a quirked and accusative brow, he grumbles and turns on his heel. He stomps into the kitchen, where you hear the rattle of the refrigerator and the hiss of a beer can opening soon after.

“I don’t like that you’re here hangin’ out with random guys while I’m gone,” he calls through the wall.

“Excuse me, what year are we living in? We didn’t move to the city so I could be the little woman, Steve—“

“I never said that!”

Your bare feet pad into the room, where it’s your turn to pop your hand on your hip and glare at him.

“It was implied.”

Sometimes, it was hard to remember the days when Steve was just your best friend. The best friend that teased and ridiculed you, and the best friend you teased and ridiculed back. Until moments like this when it all came flooding back. When you fixed him with an attitude and a fiery stare akin only to when he forgot to pick you up from school in the snow, or said something stupid and out of line when you were eighteen years old.

You were grown now, but he didn’t seem any smarter.

Steve’s tongue clicks on the roof of his mouth, sweetened with his first sip of Miller Lite. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply that, sweetheart. I just…—it just makes me….—I just feel—“

“Jealous?”

Steve lifts his hand in an empty gesture. It smacks down onto his thigh when he drops it, shoulders shrugging shortly after.

“Yeah! Yeah, maybe I am.”

Your glare coils into a cocky smirk, teeth digging into your lip. You drop your hand from your hip and step his way.

"Aw, Stevie," you coo, words dripping with mockery. "How cute—"

"Psh," he scoffs, head turning when you come to brace it with your hands. "Yeah, yeah."

"You're jealous of the neighbor? That's sweet, Steve, really."

He tips his head back to the ceiling and shakes it. "Jesus, you're not gonna let this go."

You take the new position as an invitation to press your mouth against his neck. He swallows under your touch, fingers curling tighter around the countertop behind him. Your teeth scrape the soft and musky flesh of his throat, giggling when he shivers. You press a firm, open-mouthed kiss to his jaw, under his ear, down the column of his throat, over his collarbone at the top of a tight navy t-shirt. He's so full and muscular these days, and you can't help but run your hands over the broadness of his pecs.

Steve's hands fall to your ass, sliding into the back pocket of your jeans. You squeak, squished up against his front when he tugs you in.

"Only want you smoking my cigarettes," Steve demands, voice hoarse with arousal.

You guide your mouth back up to his ear, kissing the shell of it delicately. "Okay, honey."

"Promise?"

You pull back enough to meet his eye, and flash him a smile. "Promise. Now, you gonna show me how jealous you are, or what?"

Steve chuckles, tongue prodding the inside of his cheek. "Go grab my smokes for me first. By the door, hmm? Wanna see how pretty your lips look wrapped around one."

You pause. It's your turn to swallow, cheeks warm as you stumble back. Steve's grin is salacious and sideways, head tipping to nudge the other way.

"Go on, baby."

Steve steals the Winston from your mouth just as you're climbing into his lap, deciding you look prettier without it. But before the smoke can leave your mouth, he grabs a fistful of your hair at the back of your head and seals his lips over yours. He steals it from your lungs, sitting back against the headboard with a grin when you whimper.

"Tastes much better than Camels," he muses.

And watching Steve leisurely smoke a Winston is all the encouragement you need to keep bouncing in his lap.

#rolly! #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #70s!steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you

[justabratsworld]

Be Careful For What You Wish For

Cw: noncon, mans did not pull out

It was the 12th of December when Maximus first saw her. His never ending world of darkness had finally ended. (Y/n) was a whirlwind of emotions. She brought about feelings Maximus forgotten. As the days turned into night, Maximus found himself watching her sleep.

Normally he would chase away whoever moved in his old home but he can’t bring himself to do it this time. Watching (y/n) do her day to day routine stirred something within him.

When he was still alive he wasn’t someone who felt love like other people did. Maximus would get consumed by an obsessive love, driven by a need for possession. He would need to be the only person his lover needed and wanted. Sure he got his hands dirty from time to time in order to get rid of competition but it was all for love.

One night, (y/n) was staring at the full moon. Tears flowing down her face and she kept pleading the universe to send her someone that would love her. Someone who would appreciate her and who would be loyal.

Hearing this, Maximus took this as an invitation to take her for his own. Before (y/n) could react, Maximus made his move. His hands grabbed her arms and pulled her close. The scent of peaches filled his nose as he dug his face into her head. Her body felt nice against his. (Y/n) struggled, her eyes wide with terror, but Maximus was stronger than he looked. He bound (y/n)’s hands and feet with rope. His heart twisting with a cruel pleasure as he saw the fear in his beloved’s eyes, the realization dawning on her face that she was trapped.

'Don't be afraid, my love,' he said, his voice now a soft coo as he gently caressed her face. 'You are safe with me. I will protect you, keep you safe from the world, from harm.'

(Y/n)’s face paled. A million thoughts were going through her head as she tried to figure out who was doing this. Whenever he spoke it sounded like he was in front of her but she saw no one. When she looked in the mirror she saw no reflection. But his fingers caressing her sides and his breath on her neck felt real.

The ropes around her feet loosened as she felt her legs spread apart. (Y/n)’s heart dropped when she felt her pajama pants and underwear slipping down her legs.

‘Don’t worry my love, once we bounds our souls together, you will see the man who has been worshipping the ground you walk on since you moved here’ Maximus whispered in her eat (Y/n)’s pretty eyes were screwed shut as she kept shaking her head no. She didn’t want whatever this is. When she asked the universe for a passionate lover she didn’t mean this.

Maximus dropped to his knees, pulling (y/n)’s underwear down to expose her glistening pussy. He wasted no time in burying his face in her, his tongue lapping at her dripping wetness. (Y/n)’s moans grew louder as he forced an orgasm out of her.

Maximus stood up, his cock throbbing with need. He grabbed (y/n)’s hips, pulling her close as he thrust into her. Watching his love cry out and throwing her head back as he filled her made him feral. He began to fuck her with a primal need, his hips slamming into her with each powerful thrust.

Feeling himself on the edge, Maximus knew he couldn't hold back any longer. With a final thrust, he exploded inside her, filling her pussy with his hot cum. (Y/n) gasped, her body shaking as she felt him cum inside her.

‘Now we are one my love’

A/n: first time writing a sex scene 🥴 let me know if i need to add anymore cw

#fem reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #tw noncon #ghost fucker #smut #yandere smut

[midnight-moth]

Mushy May - Painting on Each Other

Carnelian

CW: Blood, Heavily implied NSFW, Rain and Dew being weird (romantic) about blood.

565 words

This is mushy may - painting on each other if you squint. But it is mostly me being weird about blood because for some reason I wasn’t weird about blood for the first aid prompt.

Below the cut or on ao3

Dew shifts, suddenly aware of how the damp sheets stick to his skin, he kicks his legs to try and free himself. Adhered by sweat, cum, and maybe a little bit of blood.

Their duvet sits heaped in a pile on a chair in the corner. It is not subjected to the same passion and violence, and remains free of rips and tears and bloody stains.

White sheets should be a mistake, but Dew likes the way it looks, hopes it stains. A diary written in rusty red that reminds Dew of the parts of himself surrendered to Rain, of what he’s received in return.

They’ve peeled themselves apart for a minute, a brief respite in the name of oxygen and hydration. But Dew is already throwing his leg back over Rain’s torso, hitching his knee over Rain’s waist. Delighting in the obscene glide of what remains pooled in the hollow between his hips.

Fingers skip down his spine, a barely-there touch that makes him shiver. And then cool fingers dimpling the skin on his back to pull him closer.

Dew’s eyes remain unfocused, until the light shifts. Golden rays pour through the window, illuminating the still weeping puncture marks on Rain’s neck.

It reminds him of some pretty gemstone with a name he cannot recall.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s pressing into it. Hypnotized by the little river of red that runs along Rain’s collarbone, collecting in the hollow where they join.

His trance is broken as Rain whines softly in his ear, pain or pleasure, he’s not sure yet.

“Hurt?”

Rain mumbles something in his ear that sounds like no.

He draws his finger through it again, maybe he’s feeling sentimental, maybe his bid for oxygen wasn’t effective. Either way he feels soft and fuzzy around the edges. Maybe a little bit silly.

He leans back to appraise the marks on his chest, it’s pretty. A garden of purples and reds and pink. The scratches are the stems, and the bruises make up the petals.

He drags his blood tipped finger across his own skin, creating a fence around that garden, he means for it to be heart shaped. It is - almost.

Rain is watching him now, a lazy smile and heavy lids. Teetering on the edge of sleep and wake.

Dew almost can’t stand how effortlessly pretty he is like this, with his tangled hair and kiss-swollen lips. Purple stained permanently in the hollows under his eyes, threaded through with little pink veins, his sharp jaw covered in patchy stubble that Dew would rub himself raw on.

“Finger painting now?”

“Guess so.” Dew concedes with an equally lazy grin.

Dew digs into his own split flesh, with a bit more force than he would with Rain. But he wants to get it right this time.

He paints another heart, this one in the center of Rain’s chest. It’s considerably more symmetrical this time, that’s something. He’s not sure it atones for his strange behavior.

But Rain doesn’t seem to mind.

Neither of them consider the inherent symbolism of the gesture. It somehow feels lighthearted.

There are more nonsensical marks, the bed sheets are beyond salvation now. Rain paints Dew’s lips red, and Dew reciprocates.

And then it dissolves as they do, in a kiss that doesn’t seem to have a beginning or an end.

Carnelian is a rusty red gemstone - The etymology of the word inspired me more than the actual stone itself. From the Mediaeval Latin corneolus, itself derived from the Latin word cornum, the cornel cherry,[13] whose translucent red fruits resemble the stone. The Oxford English Dictionary calls "carnelian" a perversion of "cornelian," by subsequent analogy with the Latin word caro, carnis ("flesh"). (Wikipedia)

#this kind of blows #but I am in writers block era #just trying to get started #I need to write bacon Dew and slime GF #and that needs maximum effor #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #mushy may 2024 #cw blood #blood #it’s their love language #midnight moth writes #moth’s mushy may 2024 #also yes reading raindrop blood made me have to write raindrop blood #thank you for the inspo

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Why am I thinking about how the ghouls sit ? Anyway here are my headcanons :

Sunshine likes to sit cross-legged, especially on furniture that isn't meant to be sat on. The coffee table, the kitchen counter, a dresser, even the fridge on rare occasions, you name it.

Swiss slouches a lot. It drives everyone crazy because he takes so much space, half laying on the couch, arms thrown on the headrest, legs spread wide. He doesn't even realize he does it until someone points it out, it's literaly his default position.

Okay, I have a very specific vision for Alpha. Whenever he sits in something that has armrests, he throws one of his leg over one of said armrests, which leaves him basically manspreading the day away. It exasperates Pebble for some reasons. Though Alpha really doesn't do it on purpose most of the time, he does get a kick out of spying the reactions it gets (Omega hates that he finds it stupidly attractive)

Speaking of Omega, that ghoul hates sitting. He'd much rather lay down, even if that means staying on the floor during movie night because he's not about to keep the whole couch for himself. When he does sit, he tends to be a bit stiff, back ramrod straight, tension in his shoulders. He doesn't really know why, it's just how it is.

Ifrit loves to have his legs thrown over someone's lap, he's a very physically affectionate ghoul so it soothes him. Or he'll have someone sitting on his lap and tangle his legs with theirs.

Phantom sits with at least one of his knees drawn up to his chest, tail often wound around him. It makes him feel safe, even more so when someone holds him as he does it.

Dew often has one leg folded under him while sitting, the other hanging off the couch/chair or whatever. Every once in a while, he'll switch legs so that they don't get numb.

#I don't know why I thought about this #but here #surprisingly I might expand on this later #somehow sitting positions inspired me ???? #anyway #sunshine ghoulette #swiss ghoul #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #ifrit ghoul #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost