#school started these are going to drop in quality every week

[detectiphoenix]

WEEK 4 - SPLASH

SOMEONE SAVE HIM !! HE DOESN'T HAVE THE BODY COMPOSITION TO FLOAT

#a little late whoopsies #school started these are going to drop in quality every week #inktober52 #the dragon prince #viravos #viren #aaravos #sir sparklepuff #comics #art #detectiphoenix

[jpmarvel90]

Don't Belong pt 1

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Word Count: 8392

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: Y/n is the adopted daughter of Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. However, when science enables her mother's to have twin boys who are biogloically both of their's, her relationship slowly changes. At 17 she's ready to move out and move on, is it too late for her moms to fix things?

Y/n's POV:

When I was 6, my life was saved by none other than the Black Widow. She came in like the hero she is and saved me from the hell that was Hydra. Whilst helping me to acclimatise to normal life, we grew close, and she was a mother figure I never had. I was so shocked when she told me that she wanted to adopt me.

It was everything that I could ever ask for. She was an amazing mom. Caring, loving and always there for me. She had this soft side that not many people got to see. To the world, and a lot of the team, she had this tough, steely exterior. But I never saw that. Not from the moment she found me. I always felt safe and loved around her.

A couple of years later, Wanda joined the team and soon enough, Mama fell in love. I never saw mama so happy. They had the perfect relationship and Wanda took me on without a second thought. When I was 9, she adopted me, and I had two loving parents.

We had quite a domestic life. Tony built us a separate suite at the compound so we could still be close by for when they were needed for missions. I loved having parents that were heroes. I was so proud of them. I ended up spending quite a bit of time with Pepper when they were on missions together, but when they came home, they always had a couple of days off to spend time with me to make up for being away. It was great.

Watching them make a difference in the world, was the reason I joined the SHIELD Young Initiative Programme. I wanted to be just like my moms. Steve became a huge support to me, and alongside him and mama, I was acing all my practicals and exams.

But before that, when I was 11, our family grew. With the help of Bruce and Tony, Mom got pregnant with twins, both biologically hers and mamas. Billy and Tommy made our family complete.

As soon as Mom got pregnant, Mama told Fury that she wouldn't be going on missions once mom got into her third trimester and that after the birth they both would be taking maternity leave. She also told him that they would only ever be sent on a mission together if it was to save the world. Otherwise, under no circumstances were they to go together. They wanted to be around for the twins as much as possible and didn't want them left on their own if they had to go on missions together.

For the first couple of years, everything was perfect. But when they became toddlers, they were a bit of a handful. It meant that mom's focus went to them and slowly I became less of a priority for them.

I found it hard as I was coming into my teenage years, and I felt like I needed my moms more than ever. But I understood at the start. I was old enough that I could look after myself and the twins needed more. But it got harder when every time I tried to talk to one of them, I was brushed off, or told to speak to them later. But later never came.

Once I hit 13, I was their personal babysitter whenever they needed it. Mama told me how they were trying to make sure that her and mom still had quality time together, so had a date night or day each week. Seems they forgot about quality time with their daughter. It got to the point I was expected to drop everything to be there for my brothers. Picking them up at school, taking them to soccer. It didn't matter what I had planned, I was expected to do my job for the family. I did it without complaining, because I thought if I could prove that I was a good sister, maybe they would start to acknowledge me more.

To try and prove myself worthy, I worked even harder for SHIELD. However, now I lost mama as my training partner. She was too busy with work or the twins to help me train. It hurt when she told me that but, thankfully, Steve stepped up more than he had. He became like a father to me. I could confide in him when my moms didn't have time. Though there were still things that I couldn't talk to him about.

Now I'm 17, working towards graduating the youth programme and into SHEILD as an official agent. We have our final exams coming up and I'm doing everything I can to be ready for them. The top two initiates will get fast tracked through the system and be able to go on missions sooner.

I want nothing more than getting that chance. I need to start making a name for myself and to stop being under my mothers' shadow. Once I wanted to be just like them, to make them proud. But now I know that's not possible. They have their perfect biological family. I was just the stray they took pity on.

"You know, you could take it easy today. You're more than capable of passing these exams even on a bad day. You'll be finishing top of the class and joining us for missions in no time." Steve tells me as he holds the punch bag for me. "I just want to be on top of my game." I tell him, hitting the bag as precisely as I could.

"Have you told your moms about the date for your final practical. I'm sure they'll want to be around when you get home." He asks, making me falter with my hits. "I did, but I don't think they were listening. Although they seemed to acknowledge it, Billy was showing them his Lego at the time." I share with him.

Steve knows what's been happening with my moms and the only reason he hasn't done anything is because I made him promise not to. All I need to do is graduate and then I can get moved into the SHIELD facility and start a new life without being a burden on my family.

"You know, you should talk to them. I know you've tried, but really sit them down and tell them how you're feeling." He tries once again. "It's been years now. If they really cared for me, they would notice that they barely see me anymore. I don't even remember the last time they said I love you." I respond, my hits getting harder.

"Ok, I'm calling this. You'll hurt yourself and then you won't even be able to complete your exams." Steve tells me, stepping between me and the bag. I sigh but know he's right. "Just try for me ok. Maybe after your exams. They'll be so proud of you." He pleads. "Ok, fine." I agree. "Now go shower kiddo. You stink!" He teases me before dodging a punch I try to land on his arm.

I smile as I head up to my room. As I walk into our apartment, I see the happy family sat together watching TV. "Hi moms." I call out when I enter. They don't even turn around, so I call out again, only to get the same response. I decide to go and join them but as soon as I sit down, I'm scolded by mom. "Y/n do you have to come in here like that. Go and shower will you." She tells me off. I look to mama who doesn't even glance in my direction. "Sorry, I was training for my final exam." I explain but once again, nothing. I let out a small humourless chuckle to myself as I leave the living room. Every day, I feel more and more like I don't belong here anymore.

__________

I did it! I actually passed! Not only did I pass, I topped the class. I think I even saw Fury smile. I'm so happy, nothing can burst my bubble right now. As a class, we all decide that we're going to celebrate tonight. We've been a tight group and it'll be nice to actually spend time together without having to study or practice.

I practically run back to the compound, smiling ear to ear. "Someone's happy." Steve calls out to me as I rush through the kitchen. "Someone might be your partner one day!" I call out as I keep on towards my destination of finding my parents. "Can't wait kiddo. Well done! Knew you could do it!" Steve shouts after me.

"Y/n, don't run!" Mama scolds me as I find them in the living room. "Sorry, but I have to tell you something that I know you'll want to hear." I apologise with a smile on my face. "Not now Y/n. We're about to head out. The boys just need dinner and don't let them stay up late." She tells me. That's when I notice that she's dressed up in her best jacket.

"I can't look after the twins tonight. Our class are going to celebrate." I explain, hoping she might ask why we're celebrating. But that would be wishful thinking. "Time with your friends can wait Y/n." She tells me without even looking up at me, too focused on her phone. "Can't one of the others watch them. Just for tonight. I've never asked before. But just this once. Please." I practically beg, but to no use. "Stop being selfish and just watch the boys." She snaps, making a lump form in my throat.

"Fine." I mumble, leaving the room and head out of our apartment. "Where are you going?" She calls after me. "To see Steve. Don't worry, I'll be back to watch your precious boys." I talk back whilst leaving, hearing her call after me.

I make my way to find Steve. I know he'll be excited with my results. I wipe at my eyes for the few traitorous tears that fell. "So, I hear someone will be an Avenger in no time." Tony says as I walk into the kitchen. "I think I'll stick with SHIELD." I respond. I have no desire to be a full time Avenger. I'll be around to see my moms live their perfect life without me.

"I'm proud of you kiddo." Steve smiles at me, pulling me into a hug. "Thanks, old man. I couldn't have done it without you." I tell him truthfully, squeezing him tighter. "Your mom's must be proud. Especially Nat. Now's the time for celebrating." Pepper says. "Oh, I'm babysitting the boys tonight." I respond, trying to hide my disappointment. I notice that all others share a look.

They have all noticed how my relationship has changed with my moms, but thankfully, never brought it up. "We could watch them. Let you go out with your class. I know how much you've been looking forward to it." Pepper offers kindly. "Thanks, but mama said it had to be me." I reply. "Sorry kiddo." Steve says, wrapping his arms around me. "It's ok. I better go back before I get into trouble. I just wanted to tell you all about the results." I tell them.

"Of course Y/n. We're so proud of you. I can't wait to work with you." Tony pats me on the shoulder, whilst the others all give me a hug. "We'll do something together tomorrow." Steve promises and I nod. "I'd like that." I reply, taking a deep breath before heading back home.

When I get back to the apartment, both mom and mama are waiting to go. "Good, you're back. We'll be home late." Mom tells me, turning to leave. "And we'll talk about your attitude in the morning." Mama adds on with a stern look before turning to leave. "I love you." I call out after them. No response. My head drops. I really have just become the live in nanny.

_________

The next day, I didn't have to face my moms in the morning. They had taken the boys to the park and out for breakfast. I didn't even get an invite. But thankfully, Steve is taking me for dinner tonight to celebrate the passing of my exams and my imminent graduation.

He's taken me to my favourite Italian restaurant. It's nice to have this time. Steve really has been the only parent I've had recently. I'm so grateful for him. "So your moms don't know?" Steve asks as I tell him that I've been told I can move into SHIELD accommodation in a few days. "I've tried, but as usual, I barely have a conversation with them anymore. They probably wouldn't even notice that I've gone." I admit the painful truth. "Do you think they even still love me?" I ask the question that has been haunting me for a long time now.

Steve looks at me with a sympathetic look. He reaches out and takes my hand. "Oh Y/n. I'm sure they do. They just got lost in the boys and have forgot, that even though you're a teenager, you still need them." He tries to defend them. "If you say so." I mumble, not believing him.

"Well, I have something that might cheer you up." Steve says, changing the subject. "Oh yeah, and what might that be Captain?" I ask with a smirk, making him roll his eyes. "I spoke with Fury, and he already has a mission for you. It's nothing too big, a simple in and out to get some data." Steve explains, making a smile grow on my face. "Really? Me on a mission already?" I question and he nods. "Fury would have had you on them earlier. You've been the best recruit the programme has seen. But he had to follow protocol. There is one downside though." He shares. "Oh God, don't tell me it's with my mother?" I ask making him laugh. "No, just this old man." He responds. "Really? I'm going with you?" I ask excitedly. "Yeah, you don't need me. But I wanted to see you in action on your first mission. I really am proud of you kiddo. I'm glad that I've had a front row seat to seeing you become the woman you have." He expresses honestly, taking me off guard.

The rest of dinner is lovely, and I have a really nice time. It's nice to actually have someone care about your achievements. However, that happiness soon disappears when I enter the apartment to two angry moms. "Where do you think you've been? You've not been answering your phone." Mama yells at me. I reach into my pocket and see that my phone is dead.

"Sorry, my cell died." I tell her, but that doesn't help. "So, are you going to share where you were without telling us? It's 10pm Y/n!" Mom now joins in. "I was having dinner with Steve." I share. "Until this late. Why would you be going out for dinner on a school night? Why didn't he ask us first?" Mama questions me.

"We went out to celebrate when I missed going with my class. And it's not a school night. The programme has finished now." I tell them, trying to keep my cool. "Is this about that party you couldn't go to last night?" Mom asks. "No, actually, it was having someone to celebrate with that I finished top of my class and am now officially a SHIELD agent!" I snap back, taking them both by surprise.

"You've had your final exams already?" Mom asks, stepping closer but I pull away. "Yeah, I have told you on a number of occasions. But apparently you don't listen to me anymore." I admit, feeling tears building. "You finished top?" Mama says proudly, but I just scoff. Her pride is too late. "Like you even care." I growl. "Don't talk to your mother like that." Mom tells me off.

"Like what? You haven't given me the time of day in years. Why do you suddenly care that I was out late. Was I not around to be your personal babysitter? Or were you just annoyed I wasn't there for the one time you noticed I wasn't around." I call them both out taking them by surprise.

"Y/n it was one night." Mom tries to deny more calmly. "No, it wasn't. It's always the twins this, the twins that. I have to make allowances for them in my life and stop what I'm doing to be there to babysit them. When was the last time that you spent any time with me? When did you last tell me you love me or even acknowledge me?" I shout, tears falling down my cheeks, as my parents stand staring at me in shock.

"I have worked my ass off with SHIELD so I can get in and earn my spot with them. Where I can have my own place and start a life for myself. Because I clearly haven't been a part of this family for a long time." I share how I've been feeling. I notice that both their eyes tear up. "Oh Y/n, sweetheart, that's not the case. Of course you belong." Mama tries to argue, moving closer with a shaky hand out in front of her. I don't reach out. In fact, I move away. "Well neither of your actions have shown it in the last few years." I point out, making mom cry harder. "Look it's fine. I get it. I'm not your biological child. Billy and Tommy are. I'll always be grateful for you saving me from Hydra, but you've got your family now. Don't worry, I'll be gone in a couple of days." I say sadly before heading to my room, my moms frozen in shock in their spot.

I slam the door shut behind me, locking it and falling onto my bed. I bury my head into the pillow and sob. All the emotions I've been bottling up come out. My whole body wracks with each sob as I realise, it's official. I really have lost my family now.

Nat's POV:

I feel the tears slowly falling down my cheeks as I realise that my daughter stood before me as a broken girl who thinks her moms don't love her anymore. By the time I come to my senses, Y/n is already gone, and I'm left facing my wife who is sobbing. "Have we really been putting the boys first so much she thinks that we don't want her anymore?" I say at a whisper, my voice getting caught in my throat.

"It's my fault. Things changed when I came into the picture, and we started trying for our own babies. We didn't even consider how that must have made her feel. We didn't even reassure her that we would still love her just as much, regardless of if the boys were ours biologically or not." Wanda responds.

I quickly move forward and wrap my arms around her. "It's not your fault my love. We both wanted that. Our lives are significantly better with you in them Wanda. But you're right. We should have tried harder to make sure we involved Y/n and showed her will still love her." I comfort her.

I can't believe that I've let Y/n get to this point. The day I found her in that cell, she changed my life for the better. She not only made me a mother, but she made me more human. She made me see there was more than being an Avenger. She is the reason that I who I am today. Yet I've neglected her. I got so focused on the twins that I didn't even notice how little I have seen Y/n.

"We should go and talk to her." I suggest whilst Wanda still clings to me. "She was angry. We should give her some space. Let's take her for breakfast in the morning. I'll ask Pepper to watch the boys and we can start to make this right." She counters. "But..." I start, not wanting to leave this longer than we have to. "This is our daughter we're talking about. She has your temper." Wanda tearily chuckles. "Hey!" I poorly defend. She's right though. She might not be biologically mine, but she is my mini me.

That night I don't sleep. All I can think of is every time that I blew Y/n off and decided to spend time with the twins instead. When did we stop doing things as a family? I try and think of the last time I trained with her or helped her prepare for her exams. God, how did I not even know she was taking them this week?! "Your thoughts are loud Detka." Wanda mumbles sleepily as she turns over to look at me. When she sees the distress on my face, she gives me a sympathetic smile. "She has worked so hard, and we didn't even know she was completing her final exams. She told us yet neither of us remembered or even heard her apparently. We are awful moms!" I sigh.

Wanda moves and pulls me into her embrace. "I know. I feel awful too. I'm so proud of her though. She finished top. She's just like you." She shares. "She's moving out." I realise whilst Wanda just looks at me confused. "What do you mean?" She questions. "She said she would be gone in a few days. She must have been assigned a room at SHIELD. Our little girl was ready to leave the nest and we didn't even know." I respond, another wave of sadness washing over me.

"We'll talk to her and make her see that she is still very much wanted here. If she still wants to move out that's fine, but she has to know that we love her and always have. We can't change the past but we sure as hell can make sure we change the future and how see feels." She says determined.

Neither of us really sleep. I think we regret not talking to her last night. But our tiredness soon takes over and we get some much need kip. It definitely won't do any of us favours when we talk to Y/n in the morning. She won't make it easy on us and I don't want to snap because I'm too tired.

When we eventually get up, we check on the boys and I go to ask Pepper if she would mind watching the boys. "Is Y/n not available?" Pepper asks with a humourless chuckle. "What? No, we're going to take her to breakfast." I respond, surprised at the bite to her tone. She hums in surprise. "I'll take the boys. Make sure you treat that girl. She definitely deserves it." She tells me firmly. I nod and thank her before going to get the boys.

"Everything ok?" Wanda asks me when I take Billy from her. "Whilst we've been failing to notice Y/n, I think everyone else has noticed our behaviour. It's very frosty down there." I tell her and she nods sadly. I guess we can't expect anything less.

It makes me wonder what could have happened if we didn't have everyone else around. They have clearly been supportive to her and been there when Wanda and I should have. What if she didn't have that support, would she have even still been with us?

Shaking off the thought, Wanda and I take the boys to the compound living room, where we receive a number of glares from the team that were there. Thankfully, nothing is said, but my guilt keeps on growing.

With the boys sorted, I take Wanda's hand and we head to Y/n's room. I take a deep breath and knock on the door. We wait anxiously but get no response. I try again, calling out to her this time. "Y/n, honey. Can we come in?" I ask, but once again, we're met by silence.

I look to Wanda who's got a concerned look on her face. "Sweetheart, we're going to come in now." Wanda speaks up and pushes down on the door handle. I'm surprised when it opens but that is soon replaced by shock when I see her room practically empty. There are a couple of boxes with her stuff in, but most of her clothes have gone.

I let go of Wanda's hand and quickly move into the ensuite to see if she's in there, but I'm met by more empty cabinets. Panic builds within me to know that she's gone. "Where is she?" Wanda asks as stands by the chest of draws, picking up photos that had been turned upside. She lets out a muffled sob when she sees they're our family photos. What have we done to our daughter.

"She's probably asked Fury if she could move sooner. Considering how much he loves her, I'm sure he would have done anything to get her in as soon as possible." I respond, letting out a sigh. "But she's only 17. She's still a kid." Wanda argues. "I know babe. But when she signed up, it was part of the contract that I signed as her parent. Besides, she turns 18 next week and we'd have no say anyway." I admit.

"Shit, is it already her birthday? We've done nothing to prepare for that. In fact, I'm sure we both forgot." Wanda exhales, running her hands through her hair, whilst I made sure all the photos were back upright. Though, I notice our last family photo was back when Y/n was just 15. We've got hundreds of photos with the twins, but it's been over two years since we've had a complete family photo.

Wanting to know that Y/n is ok, I grab my phone out and hit Fury's number. It rings out and I let out a sigh before trying Maria. "Romanoff." She greets me. "Hill, I was wondering if you could tell me if Y/n has moved into her room yet and if so where she's been placed. Wanda and I want to surprise her." I try my luck.

"I'm sorry, Y/n has asked that we don't disclose her room location at the moment. She has been allowed early move in, so will be in a position to share once the other agents are moving." Hill responds. "Please, Maria, I'm asking you as a friend. We really need to see Y/n." I plead, hoping she'll have sympathy on me. "And I'm telling you as a friend that how you treated your own daughter is unacceptable. Do you know why she was the best cadet to come through?" She calls me out. "No." I respond in a whisper. "Initially it was because she was trying to be just like her hero mothers. But she got even better when she was fighting to make her own name for herself to start her life over. I watched her personality change to become guarded and her walls built high. That's what you did to her Nat." She scolds me through the phone.

"I know Maria. We have fucked up more than we thought possible and we're trying to make this right. We can't do that if we can't even speak with her." I counter. "This isn't something you can just fix with a talk and a hug. This is years of you slowly neglecting her. Pushing yourself onto her is not going to help with that." Maria warns me. I know she's right. We'll end up pushing Y/n away if we're not careful. But I also know that I can't wait to fix this. I want my baby girl to know how much I love her. Despite my inability to show her these last few years.

Wanda and I spend the day trying to get any information on where Y/n might be. We get a lot of cold shoulders, and our questions often go answered. I even spend time hanging around the Shield accommodation to see if I can catch a glimpse of her. My lucks not in and I return home deflated.

When I walk through the door, a smile forms on my face as I see Wanda giving the boys dinner. "Any luck?" She asks. I just shake my head. "We'll find her." She says confidently. "When was the last time we had dinner with Y/n?" I ask, looking to Wanda who's looking at me sympathetically. "Detka, you are punishing yourself by think that." She scolds me lightly. "It's true though. She asked when we last said I love you to her. I've been trying to think, and I don't remember. How can a mother not remember when they last said I love you to their child. Have we really subconsciously disregarded her because she isn't biologically ours?" I share my thoughts, tears falling freely down my face.

Wanda quickly moves from the table, leaving the boys to carry on talking about the latest Nintendo game they're playing. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me in close. "We let ourselves get lost in the boys. They were a handful and we were blessed with a daughter who was selfless and caring. Subconsciously, we took advantage of that. But that changes now ok." She responds as I nod in the crock of her neck. We really need to fix this.

__________

It's been a few days and we've still had no luck in seeing Y/n. Wanda and I decided to go to Shield to talk to Fury today, whilst the boys were in school. I head straight to his office, knocking twice before heading in, not caring if he's busy. "Romanoff, Maximoff. What can I do for you?" He asks, moving his gaze from the laptop in front of him.

"It's been long enough now Fury. The other agents have started moving in and Y/n is still only 17, so tell us where she is staying." I demand, my tone harsh. "I can give you her room allocation, but she's not there." Fury responds, just angering me more. "Then where the hell is she?!" I shout, only calming down when I feel Wanda squeeze my hand. "She's on a mission. She'll back tomorrow." He responds nonchalantly.

"A mission? She's 17 Fury! How is she already going on a mission?!" Wanda responds before I even manage to direct my own anger into words. "She is almost 18 and finished top of her class. You knew that was a possibility when you signed her up Romanoff. She has the potential to be the best agent we've seen. She is ready." Fury retorts, but I'm still not happy. "She's just a kid, she could get hurt." I growl, worry taking over me.

"Natasha, she is far from the kid you think she is. If you still trained with her, you'd see that she can almost beat Steve in hand to hand combat and her weapons skill matches your own, if not better in some instances." He points out and I realise how little I actually know my daughter right now. "Look, I'll keep you posted when she's back." Fury concedes after a moment silence.

"Thank you. Is she on her own?" I ask but he shakes his head. "Steve went to be on comms." He replies and that puts my mind at ease a little. He loves her like his own, he'll do everything that he can to protect her. "Ok. Thank you." I say, taking Wanda's hand a heading home.

"We've missed so much Nat. Y/n used to tell us everything about her training and classes. We've created an environment where she doesn't feel like she can share with us anymore. She was probably so excited to get a chance on her first mission. But instead of us being with her and making sure she's prepared, we didn't even know she had gone." Wanda agonises.

"I'm worried that we may not be able to fix this. If her walls have gone up, they'll be near impossible to knock them down." I sigh. "You had walls once. What helped you to let them down?" Wanda asks. "Y/n." I respond, my gaze dropping to my hands. "Then we find away to be the same for her." Wanda tries to comfort me. But how can the people that caused her this pain, be the ones to pull her through.

The next morning is quiet whilst we get the boys ready for school. They asked this morning where Y/n was and that they missed her. It broke my heart. Because of our actions, not only is Y/n feeling alone, isolated, and not part of this family, but her brother might lose the chance of having their sister in their lives.

When we get home, we end up just sat waiting for any news that Y/n is on her way home so we can greet her. I want to be able to hear all about how her first mission went and actually be apart of something so special to her. I may not have shown it, but I've always been proud of her. She is talented and I loved training with her. I had always planned to join her again once the twins were old enough. But I didn't and it seems that I have missed out on so much.

Whilst I'm preparing lunch, I hear Friday's alarm go off and my ears tune in. "Emergency medical team to the landing bay. Emergency medical team to the landing bay." I don't even think before I'm dropping the knife onto the countertop. I go to call for Wanda, but she rushes in from the bedroom. "Something's wrong with Jess. I can feel it." She says worriedly. "Let's go." I say, taking her hand and rushing through the compound to get to the landing bay.

Cho is waiting, along with a nursing staff. "Is it Y/n?" I ask as we come to a halt next to her. It feels like an age before she responds. A small nod of the head breaks my heart. "H-how bad?" Wanda asks, a tremble to her voice. "Steve confirmed a gunshot wound. She's lost a lot of blood." She responds. I run my hand through my hair, my stomach in knots.

It feels like the world around me has become muffled. I don't hear the orders that Cho is giving her team. Had I been able to, maybe I would have known more about her condition. My chest feels tight at the thought of her being hurt and the chance that she might not make it.

It's not until a pair of hands cup my face, that I zone back into the environment around me. "Breathe for me baby." Wanda's shaking voice tries to calm me. But the complete fear in her own eyes doesn't do much to help. We're facing losing our daughter and she doubts the depths of our love for her.

I do my best to bring myself out of this panic attack. I can't be a broken version of myself. My wife and family need me more than ever. If I can't pull through now, I'm not worthy to be a mother. "That's it detka. Deep breathes." Wanda guides me. I take one more deep breath and stand straighter. This isn't about me.

I can see a frown on Wanda's face form as she sees me put up my own walls. I know that she hates when I do this, but it's the only way I know how to get through what's about to happen without completely breaking down.

It's not long until the QuinJet comes into sight and slowly starts to descend on to the landing pad. I feel like I'm holding my breath as we wait for the ramp to lower, and we can see how bad this is. My heart is thumping against my chest as it begins to lower, and I see Steve's face first.

Cho and her team move forward, a bed waiting, whilst Wanda and I hold back. I want to be by her side straight away, but I also know that we'll just be a hinderance to her care if we insist on being with her.

When we get a full view of Steve, I hear Wanda let out a sob beside me. He's holding our unconscious daughter in his arms. His own suit is covered in blood and my eyes instantly land on the blooded dressing on her stomach. "I tried to staunch the bleeding as best I could. But it just kept coming." Steve explains. I've never seen him so shaken up before.

He places Y/n on the hospital bed and moves out the way, before staring at his bloodied hands. Cho doesn't wait before rushing Y/n off to the medical bay, the three of us closely following behind.

"Is she going to be ok?" I ask as they start to get to work. But before she has a chance to respond, the machines start to go crazy and they move even faster to help my daughter.  "I can't answer that right now Agent Romanoff. I need to focus on Y/n, but I promise I'll keep you updated." Cho says, her polite way of telling us to leave. I'm reluctant, knowing that in this moment, Y/n is on the verge of life or death. But with a subtle tug of my hand from Wanda, I follow to watch through the window outside.

My gaze doesn't leave my daughter as I watch over as the team work to save her life. I don't notice that another person has joined us until I hear a bang from behind me. My head shoots around where I see Steve pinning Fury to the wall. "You told us it was empty! That all she needed was to get to the drive and out again." Steve growls at Fury who's holding his hand up in surrender. "I know." He responds, but Steve isn't happy when he slams him against the wall again.

"Then why the hell is she led in that hospital fighting for her life. There was a whole guard waiting for her!" Steve yells. This information makes the anger inside me grow. "You sent her into an ambush?!" I join in now, furious that he has put my daughter in danger.

"I didn't know! I'm as surprised as you are." Fury tries to explain, but Steve isn't letting up. "Talk!" Steve spits. "I had an agent scout the base for two weeks! Every report was how there was no activity. I would never have sent her had I know there was any more risk. It was supposed to be an easy mission for her first." Fury explains.

I can see the honesty in his eyes, and I know Steve does too. Fury has been like family to Y/n and I do trust he would never willingly put her in unnecessary danger. "So, either Hydra suddenly decided to man the base or..." Steve starts. "The agent tipped them off." I finish off as Fury nods. "I've detained the agent, and he broke within minutes. It was a perfect opportunity for them to fight you without back up." Fury shares as Steve lets him go. "Except I wasn't meant to go in. So, they were faced with Y/n." Steve concludes.

"I'm sorry Nat. I really am. I never would put Y/n in danger like that. I wanted her to have a successful first mission. One that would build her confidence." Fury apologises with a sincerity that he rarely shows. "I want to see him." I state firmly, to which Fury sighs. "Me too. It's because of him that our daughter is fighting for her life." Wanda steps beside me, her eyes glowing red. "Not now, not while you're both angry and worried." Fury refuses. "He could be the reason my daughter dies!" I shout at him, but he doesn't budge. "And he'll also be the reason I have to arrest you for killing him. If it's not you it'll be Wanda. I'm not letting either of you do that." Fury once again declines.

In a huff, I drop to the seat in the waiting room, my head falling into my hands. He's right. I will kill him if I get my hands on him. "Be here for Y/n. She needs you now more than ever. Leave the rest to me. I can promise that he will not get away with it." Fury orders, the formality coming back into his tone. We all reluctantly agree, and he leaves content that, for now, a homicide will not be occurring.

"What happened?" I ask Steve when the silence becomes almost unbearable. He takes the seat next to me and his gaze falls to his blooded hands. "It was meant to be a simple mission to test her hacking. I was in the QuinJet for support, and she was to go in, get to the mainframe computer and download as much data as possible." He starts and I nod along. "It was going fine, and she was doing everything by the book, clearing each room one by one. Part of me was sure she would be just like you and be impatient to get what she needed." He shares, with a small smile, making me chuckle. "Thankfully, she's a far better agent than I am." I respond, feeling Wanda's hand interlink with mine.

"It was as she got to the second floor, she said something felt off. It was warmer and it didn't smell as damp and musty. She said there were signs that this floor had been used recently. Knowing the risk that could entail, I told her to pull back and we'd get a team to help us clear the base. It wasn't something we should be doing on our own." He continues to explain, my anger towards the double agent increasing by the minute. But I also feel pride at how she was able to establish that something was wrong.

"She did as I ordered, but she was ambushed on her way out. I was already on my way in to meet her when I heard gunshots start. By the time I reached her, all the agents were down around her, but an alarm was blaring, and I knew others would be on their way. I grabbed at Y/n's arm, but she didn't move. As I moved in front of her, it was then I saw where her gaze was fixed. She's been hit. I got her out of there as quickly as I could and set the QuinJet to fly on autopilot. I tried everything that I could to stop the bleeding, but there was just so much. I-I...." Steve starts to crumble as he aggressively rubs at the blood on his hands.

I reach out and place my hands over his, stopping his actions. "I know you would have done everything you could Steve. We don't blame you. I'm so grateful that you were there to help our daughter." I try to reassure him. "I'm going to clean up. I can't sit here with...this on my hands any longer." Steve says, standing up holding his hands out in front of him.

Silence falls again when it's just Wanda and me. I want to look through the window again, but I don't think I can see them working on her. If she dies, I can't watch that. She looked so small as Steve laid her on the bed. "I had always hoped I'd be with her on her first mission." I speak up, guilt building once again. "Hmm" Wanda responds, turning to look at me. "When we used to train together, I always knew she would be one of the best the agency we would see. I couldn't wait to work along side her. My pride was overwhelming." I share as Wanda smiles softly at me.

"What happened? Why did I let myself lose sight of her. I have no excuse for treating her how I did. When I adopted her, I promised that she would always be loved and safe. Look at her now. I wouldn't blame her if she never forgives me." I lament, tears stinging my eyes. "It wasn't just you babe. We both have done wrong by Y/n and it's not forgivable. But we can work to earn her trust back and be the mothers that she deserves." She tries to comfort me.

"What if she doesn't make it and we don't have a chance to make things right? Or she does make it through, but she wants nothing to do with us?" I question in a panic. "I think she always hoped you'd eventually pull your heads out your asses." Steves voice takes us both by surprise as he rejoins us in a pair of sweats and a hoody. "What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

"Fury loves that kid. If she had asked to move out sooner, he would have allowed her too. I think part of her didn't want to go just in case you started being the loving and caring mothers you once were. Ultimately, she was still a kid and desperate to still have you in her life." He clarifies. "But she had already gone. We blew our last shot." Wanda speaks up. "Maybe you're right. But if anyone is worth fighting for. It's her." Steve points out and I couldn't agree more. I know that I'll do anything in my power to make things right and hopefully prove to my daughter that I love her more than I can express.

After hours of waiting, too scared to even glance through the window, Cho comes out of the medical room with a solemn look, and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. I feel my breathing pick up once again, the thought of not being able to fix everything with Y/n becomes suffocating. It's not until Wanda grasps my hand that I find myself zoning back in.

"H-how is s-she?" I find myself asking in a quiet, unsure voice. Cho sighs and takes the seat opposite us, her hands interlocked. "Y/n suffered a gunshot wound to her abdomen. The bullet went straight through her liver. We were required to remove part of her liver, to ensure we saved her life. This was harder with the amount of blood that she lost. However, we were able to stabilise her before repairing the damage done to her liver." She explains.

"So, she's going to be, ok?" Wanda asks to clarify. "It's going to be touch and go. She's extremely weak right now and the next couple of days are going to be critical to her recovery. If she can pull through these next few days, I believe she'll make a full recovery. Though it'll take a lot of rehab to adjust to the changes to her body." Cho confirms.

I let out a small sob, knowing that she can pull through this. I have to believe that she will make it through these next few days, and we can be there to support her through her recovery. "Will she be able to return to full field duties?" Steve asks, clearly agitating Wanda. "Really Steve. That's what you're concerned about right now?" She snaps.

He turns to look at us and I know exactly why he's asking. "The SHIELD programme is everything to Y/n. To lose it after only just achieving it, that will crush her." Steve defends. "I think she would rather be alive right now." Wanda snaps back. "You just don't want to face that the honest truth is that without this programme, Y/n will feel like she has nothing, and I hate to say it, but she won't be too happy about being alive." Steve shares, an angry, yet sad look on his face.

Wanda goes to argue back, a look of hurt washing over her face. But I hold my hand up to stop her. "He's right my love." I interrupt her, making her snap her head to me. "SHIELD was the only family she thought that she had after she believed that she didn't belong in this family anymore. It will break her if she can't carry on what she worked so hard to achieve." I admit sadly.

I lock eyes with Wanda, and I see her heartbreak even further, if that's possible. "It'll take time and a lot of hard work, but I believe that Y/n would be able to return to full duties within SHIELD." Cho chips in, reminding us all that she was still in the room. "But first, she needs to get through the next few days." She reiterates, making all of us nod.

"Can we see her?" I ask, desperate to be with her and to hold her hand. "Of course. I'll be in my office, but the nursing staff will monitor her hourly." She smiles at us and leaves us to it. I take Wanda's hand and lead her towards the door and slowly push the door open. I let out a gasp when I see my little girl led in bed. She has a tube down her throat and wires attached to so many machines.

I've seen many people in this situation. But when it's your own daughter, there aren't words to describe the pain you feel. How helpless you are to make them better. All you can do is sit and watch as you wait for fate to take its course. Praying that you get your daughter back.

I instantly move to take a seat next to her bed, taking her hand in mine and holding it tightly. I notice the bruising to her knuckles, showing she fought. It brings a small smile of pride to my face.

Wanda goes to the opposite side of the bed and gently places her hand on Y/n's head. "I'm so sorry moya Lyubov." She whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. "We promise we're going to make things right. We are so sorry that you ever felt like you didn't belong in this family. You'll never doubt this again!" I make promise to her now, one that I will repeat when she wakes up. Because she will wake up.

Part 2

#marvel fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #avengers fanfiction #marvel #avengers #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wandanat #wandanat x reader

[y3ager]

STORYTIME I (26 F) FUCKED MY SUPERSTAR CLIENT (24 M) AFTER MONTHS OF SEXUAL TENSION!

— ‘i’m a manager for a pretty big music label and my client is the biggest dickhead in the world but i fear i fucked him after one of our usual arguments.. 😵‍💫’

eren y. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, smut, porn not much plot, hate(?)sex, cunnilingus, cowgirl, reader gets called ‘mama’ and ‘boss’, unprotected sex, mild choking, musician!eren, manager!reader. minors do not interact.

my first collab entry MAKE SOME NOISE YALL WTF!!! but no seriously thanks so much to @k9nto for letting me join your event i had a blast writing this! hope you all enjoy! 🤭

YOU’VE ENCOUNTERED SOME annoying people in your life. in kindergarten, a boy taunted you by picking up one your fallen hot pink knocker-balls and refusing to give it back to you. in high school, some chick named tiffany ripped down all of your junior class president posters that you spent weeks designing and printing out on the highest quality paper. your college advisor had been completely useless, you’d still be dragging yourself through your bachelor’s degree if you didn’t stay on your toes and realize the classes you were dropped in were a waste of time. but all of these people, and many more that have slipped your mind, shaped and molded you into the woman you were today. strong, tenacious, independent, a go-getter who never gave up and thus was able to reap her hard work, in the form of three nice crisp degrees and a never pitiful bank account.

but eren yeager, grammy award winning singer, songwriter and musician, with multiple weeks spent at the top of the billboard hot 100 and 200 charts, millions of units sold worldwide, and stadiums packed to the brim, took the fucking cake.

you were warned he’d be difficult. every manager he’s assigned quits before one of them ends up in a body bag. none of them have a single nice thing to say about him, and he finds that hilarious.

for better or for worse, you took the challenge because you’re a sucker for them. nothing in life comes easy, and you figured that the managers before just didn’t come hard enough. maybe eren’s fame and status made them falter, but such a fate wouldn’t befall you.

you dragged him to his magazine shoots, you kept his mouth in line during interviews, you kept his socials clean. he was never a second late to rehearsals and recordings. he was a reflection of you, and if you were perfect goddammit he was going to be too.

until today.

“i’m not putting in another extension, eren. the label is starting to get really irritable. we need to go to the studio now.” you furiously swiping along your ipad, pacing around the singer’s deluxe hotel room. while you’re dressed for the day in clean crisp clothes, sharp stilettos, and jet black lace front expertly melted and laid, eren’s still in the bed. the covers are everywhere, his shirt is next to a couple pillows on the floor, and he’s laying on his back eating a croissant from room service, paying you absolutely no mind. it takes everything in you to not chuck your device at his big head. “i’m serious. get. up.”

“and i said i’m not,” he mocks your assertive tone, voice oozing in sarcasm. “going.” he coughs, obviously faking. “my voice hurts. can’t make those greedy bastards money if my vocal chords ache. they’ll live.”

“you are on a strict deadline this era. if you want to catch award season, this album needs to be finished and dropped in the next month. amidst the press tour, your window of recording time is dwindling fast.” dates in your digital calendar glare at you, red and angry. every time you check something off your to do, ten new things pop up. you feel your jaw clenching, teeth gritting together uncomfortably.

“i’ve won enough awards. i don’t care. i’m not getting up.” eren finally raises up from the bed, narrowed green eyes meeting yours. it’s fire against fire, an unstoppable force that is a manager determined to do her job versus an immovable object, a musician who’s not budging from his spot. “it’s my album. it’s my music. i finish it when the fuck i get ready. that label will burn before they drop me.”

“if you don’t follow contract, they will drop you. they put a lot of money into you-”

“money i made back for those dumbasses-!”

“they are your bosses, without them-”

“they need me way more than i need them-!”

“get,” you toss your ipad over to a small couch, storming over to the bed. you snatch the edge of the covers and yank hard. enough is enough. if he won’t get up, you’ll make him get up. “the fuck out of this bed, eren, now!”

“you need,” the cover is yanked back, tugging you forward along with it. you lurch momentarily before righting yourself upwards, leaning back to give yourself more leverage in this childish tug of war you find yourself in. “to calm the fuck down, ___. i’m not going and that’s fucking it.” eren may be lean, but he’s toned like a MMA fighter, muscles rippling under tan skin when he calls upon them. another tug and you topple onto the california king bed, one expensive heel sliding off your foot and falling across the room.

your heads snaps up from the covers, brow furrowed deep in anger. “stop being so fucking difficult, you moron!” emotions welling, you grab one of his arms, preparing to drag him out of this bed. your to do list is a nagging itch on your brain that by the grace of god you are going to scratch. you’re not about to let this bad-with-authority dickhead best you when all he has to do is record a fucking vocal.

“oh, we’re doing this?” easily, too easily, so easily that you register your back hitting the soft bed before you realized he even grabbed you back. he pins you down easily, slightly calloused hands grip your upper arms firmly, pushing them down. he places his legs other either side of your hips so yours are forced in between them, but doesn’t keep you from writhing to free yourself. “whatever fucking—stop doing that—chip you have on your shoulder, you need to fucking solve it because shit’s not going your way today. i’m not going and that is final.”

the tussle leaves you two of you panting, eyes boring into each other’s. eren’s long chocolate brown hair is disheveled not only from a night’s sleep but from this impromptu wrestle. small beads up sweat trickle down his naked chest. your writhe again, and he presses down against you, a synonymous hiss sliding through both of your mouths.

“i hate you, eren.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night, ___. looks like you wanted an excuse to feel up on me.”

“oh, like you wanted an excuse to hump me like a mutt?”

there’s another beat of silence as you two watch each other. eren’s hands tighten their hold just a tad before he presses his hardening length hard against your clothed cunt. against your better judgement, your head tilts back and a small moan fights against your bitten bottom lip.

eren hums lowly, his dick bulging against the constraint of his boxers. “hate me too much to actually fuck me, huh? i’m only worth a dry hump.”

oh how eren frustrates you. how he makes even the simplest things in life painstakingly difficult. how he makes you want to smoke ten packs of cigarettes after a day of dealing with him. but oh, how handsome he looks under the lights at photo shoots. how his deep, smooth voice reverbs in your ears. how his fingers move so deftly on his guitar, as if it’s merely an extension of his body. who wouldn’t fantasize about that late at night, him bending you over and snatching down your pants to fuck the stress out of you, or yourself knocking him down a peg and making him beg to let you cum inside.

“shut-” another roll of his hips makes you gasp. “up..”

“i want you, ___,” eren confesses. his hips don’t falter, his cock becoming hungry for release. “i want that pussy. i wanna fuck that little attitude out of you, can i? i see how you look at me and i stare right back.”

you shiver, hand rushing to undo your dress pants and feel more of eren’s dick against your dampening cunt. his hands work with your perfectly, yanking your pants down. it’s a whirlwind of clothes, your sweater, bra, your other shoe.

eren reaches up to grab your breasts, rolling them in his palms, squeezing the supple flesh, pushing them together. “oh, pretty girl. pretty fuckin’ tits.” leaning down, he kisses down your sternum, stomach, inching closer and closer to your center. he wastes no time grabbing your thighs and licking a nice, long stripe against your drooling cunt and sucking on your clit.

your back immediately arches up and your hands fly to grip eren’s hair, tugging at the locks and pulling him in closer so you can feel everything. “oh my god, eren.” the singer’s not shy at all, audibly sucking at you and reaching up to twist and pinch your pebbled nipples.

with another languid lick eren pulls himself away. he pulls his boxers down on and off, freeing his dick from the constraint. he rubs the thick, weeping tip up and down your slit, staring hungrily at the juices leaking out. the feeling of it makes you shiver in anticipation.

“mmm, mm-mm.” you push yourself up. “let me get ‘n top..” there’s a greedy look in your low eyes as you place your hand on eren’s solid chest and lay him down on the bed.

“take charge here too, huh?” your forwardness makes him chuckle as he watches you straddle his waist. “okay then. ride me.”

you brace yourself on your toes as his hand and yours grasp his shaft, directing it to your pulsing hole. you slide down gingerly onto him, his size quickly stretching you out. “ahh, fuck, eren. fuck…”

“you got it,” he assures you, one hand on your thigh as you sink lower and lower, taking him in inch by inch. he bites his lip at the wet tightness of your walls, squeezing and sucking him in. it makes him throw his head back, a couple of small pants escaping his mouth. “mmhm, fuck that pussy feels so good. take that dick, boss.” his hand raises only to land on your ass check with a sharp slap.

you start out slow at first, letting yourself adjust to the wideness of his dick but that quickly gets old. you’re soon addicted to the feeling of him fitting inside so perfectly. gripping his free hand in yours, you swivel and raise your hips faster and faster, effortlessly, desperate for that feeling of him pounding that oh so sweet spot. your juices slide down his length, the slap slap slap of your ass against his muscled thighs filling the room. “‘s so big, feels so good,” your voice slurs.

eren hisses from his spot under you, eyes trained on where you two connect. mouth slightly agape, he watches your cunt swallow him up and the fluid that leaks out. “yes, mama. keep fucking me just like that. feels.. f-fuckin’ amazin’…” his hands grab your plump ass cheeks, fingers digging in hard as he thrusts his hips up, driving the tip of his cock even deeper inside you and pulling a loud moan from you. “keep goin, mama, ‘m almost there, don’t stop, please..”

his pleading make you clench even tighter around him, and that feeling deep inside your tummy aches for release. you place a hand around his throat to better balance yourself, relishing in his low groan. your thighs quake and tremble, your hips meeting his eager thrust perfectly. “oh, my god; oh my god. i’m— shit!” you throw your head back in ecstasy, cumming hard enough on your client’s dick to leave you numb.

“aw, fuck, boss.” eren thrusts up to push his cum deep inside, holding you against himself to ensure a single drop doesn’t leak. “take it, take it..”

the two of you are left panting hard, bodies sweaty and gleaming with the afterglow of sex. you gingerly pull away, cunt left sore and spent from a round of sex months in the making. eren reaches over to caress your ebon lips, admiring the smooth, wet feeling once you roll onto your back. “no more attitude from you, yeah?”

“no more attitude from the man reduced to calling me ‘mama’ and begging to cum either, i’d assume.” your teasing laughter is cut off by him purposefully sinking three fingers deep inside you. “mmh…”

“mhm, sure.” roles reversed, eren climbs on top of you and stares down with green eyes aflame with lust through his tousled brown hair. “now i want to see what i can make you call me.”

#eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x black reader #eren jaeger x black reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x black reader #🏙.aotmodern #❤️‍🔥.aotsmut #kishibyesredditcollab

[yandere-daydreams]

“Bitch.”

She was already scowling, but her frown deepened into a wicked sneer as she flexed her injured hand – the imprint of your teeth visible and pronounced against the meat of her palm. You hadn’t meant to bite her, but that didn’t matter, not to her, not when it came to you. She didn’t need an excuse to hurt you, just an opportunity, and you’d been stupid enough to give her one.

Her eyes flickered towards you, towards your crumpled body where she’d knocked you to the floor. The janitor’s closet she’d shove you into was dark, letting the harsh, phosphorescent lights of the school’s hallways silhouette Whitney; turn her into some great, looming monster with bleach-damaged hair and a mutilated mini-skirt. You could just barely make out the grin, wry and careless, that spread across her lips as she crouched, cupping your chin, pressing her thumb into your jaw with too much force for the gesture not to be deliberately malicious. “Now, that’s how I like to see my slut. On your knees, staring at me all doe-eyed and shit.” She paused, taking a moment to dig her nail into your cheek and savor how easy it was to make you wince. “You’re lucky I’m such a busy woman. If I had a few minutes, I’d give these losers a show and fuck you on the floor, make sure you get what you’ve been damn-near begging for all day.”

“Please, I—” You didn’t have time for her bullshit. If you missed a class, your grades would drop. If your grades dropped, Winter would notice. If Winter noticed, he’d question whether or not you were “dedicated enough” to deserve your part-time job at the museum, and if you got fired, you wouldn’t be pay Bailey at the end of the week and if you weren’t able to pay Bailey—

“I have to get to class,” You spat, if only to get yourself out of your own head. “Whitney, I don’t have time to—”

“God, you’re such a fucking nerd.” Her tone was demeaning, teasing, but her grin didn’t falter. “See, that’s the problem. You’ve been brushing me off every time I try to get a little quality time in, and I’m starting to get lonely. Is it a crime to miss my favorite slut?”

“I’ve got time after school, a-and I’ll eat lunch with you tomorrow.” Begging, now that reasoning with her had failed, pleading. Not that falling back on the blank, hope-eating void where her heart should’ve been had ever led to anything but disappointment and suffering, for you. “I can’t afford to do this, Whitney. I— I’ll fail a test, and get fired, and get evicted—

“I know.” It was almost a mercy that she didn’t even pretend to care. At least she knew what she was doing. At least she couldn't say she didn’t know how badly she was going to hurt you. “Maybe, when you’ve given up on that stupid fucking job and gotten your ass kicked out of that shitty orphanage, you’ll remember who really takes care of you.”

She leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss into your forehead. You tried to melt into it, to salvage what scraps of kindness she was willing to offer, but even your desperation was misplaced – betrayed with an airy chuckle as she dropped lower, nipping at the corner of your jaw before running her tongue across your cheek and shoving you backward, leaving you on the floor as she stood.

The last thing you saw was Whitney, a twisted smile painted across her lips and a glint of something cruel in her eyes, before the door slammed shut, a lock clicked into place, and you were left in hopeless and impenetrable darkness.

#woman loving wednesday #on thursday #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #degrees of lewdity #yandere degrees of lewdity #yandere dol #dol imagines #dol x reader #dol whitney #whitney x reader #yandere whitney #yanderecore #yancore

[bonvoyagenoona]

blackout | jjk

Pairings: Jungkook x female reader

Rating: 18+ | Mature | Explicit

Word Count: 16k | read on ao3

Synopsis: You’ve just been laid off, and all you want to do is eat some dinner, curl into bed, and forget. Unfortunately, the neighborhood block party is tonight, and the festivities turn downright chaotic when the entire city loses power. Don’t fret, though. Jungkook will help take your mind off things for a while.

Genres | Content Warnings | Themes: Strangers to lovers, FLUFF with a capital FLUFF, Yugyeom makes an appearance, humor, comfort, smut (starts out with sweet, vanilla sex and masturbation, turns into biting, hickeys, fingering, oral sex [female receiving, male receiving], edging, protected vaginal sex, playful spanking, overstimulation, spitting), drinking / drinking games, drug use (weed edibles).

Preview:

Eyes wet with steaming, streaming tears, you let the bodies push you back.

Back to the elevator.

Back down to the lobby.

And back to the curb outside.

Where he looks up and finds your twisted, nauseated expression.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You didn’t see him when you stepped back onto the sidewalk. Even now, you only see him in parts.

Bent fingers clutch his hoodie’s drawstring, pulling left, then right. The denim of the jacket over it shifts slightly as he does. Full lips rest against each other lightly, an interrupted, absent-minded whistle reforming into more words.

“You dropped something.”

Taglist: @apprentlyeveryusernameistaken @artistkoo @augela @awinkies @babycoffeefire @bbangtanlove95 @bluejin0812 @bookandarrow @btseditsworld @claricedelune @codeinebelle @dearbambideer @downbad4yoongi @dreamamubarak @dvalitaes @effielumiere @elyte @greezenini @helenazbmrskai @hobiiiiiworld @ifntelyinspirit @imaginativedreams @iwantkitten @jimcartop @jkkit @kflixnet @kookayparadise @kpop-fanfics24 @lynnloveslokiredacted @m-yg93 @miscelunaaa @missbickerbocker @mochilatae @morti13 @nch327 @noonabunny @pb-n-juju @peachy-skz0325 @purpleheartsfortae @rumpucis @skyys-universe @somewhereofftheglobe @sumzysworld @sunnietee @sunshinerainbowsbts @svgahigh @taytaymuse @weluvbmo @yuugehn​

Thanks and hope you enjoy!

What makes a good manager? Empathy? Organization? Know-how? Whatever mix of qualities, are they innate, or does it come from steadily and patiently rising through the ranks with your allies? Are good leaders born or made?

You don’t think you’ll ever be sure of what makes a good manager. But what you are definitely sure about is what makes a bad manager. 

Bad managers are the type of people who, when given a choice, elect to have you come in for your office job all week for your usual 8 to 5, and wait until Friday afternoon to inform you that you have been let go, even though they got the call from leadership on Monday morning.

You grumble as you shift your cardboard box of belongings to your other arm in order to make the last leg of your journey, every single one of your pores emptying twenty-fold their volume into the fibers of your polyester blend. Couldn’t you have been sacked in the fall? On top of having an additional couple of months to figure your shit out, you wouldn’t be drenched.

It’s 7 by the time you’re stomping around the corner to your block. There’s a family-sized bag of pita chips, a pail of hummus, and an edible patiently waiting for you.

If only there weren’t so many people blocking the way to your door.

Crumpled ghosts of flyers float past you. Their sans-serif font and centered alignment. The drawing of an old-school boombox with music spilling out of it. The date. The goddamned time. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, unable to hear even yourself under millennial R&B samples carrying Gen Z slang. 

Shoulders slumping, you try to trudge through the crowd that doesn’t part, draining energy quickly by the time you make your sixth and seventh attempt, even using the sharp corners of your box to try to snowplow your way through the increasingly drunken bodies that won’t feel any pain until the morning. 

Eyes wet with steaming, streaming tears, you let the bodies push you back.

Back to the elevator.

Back down to the lobby.

And back to the curb outside.

Where he looks up and finds your twisted, nauseated expression.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You didn’t see him when you stepped back onto the sidewalk. Even now, you only see him in parts.

Bent fingers clutch his hoodie’s drawstring, pulling left, then right. The denim of the jacket over it shifts slightly as he does. Full lips rest against each other lightly, an interrupted, absent-minded whistle reforming into more words.

“You dropped something.”

The Hulk bobblehead, given to you in celebration of getting this job in the first place, proves to be more lasting than your presence in the office. 

When you see it in a puddle by your feet, your heart sinks a little. 

And, ever-so-slightly, so does the box in your grip, as you jostle around to allow yourself to reach down and pick it up.

Before you can, though, bent fingers have let go of the drawstring and curl around The Hulk’s head instead. Green abs and purple shorts wiggle from its spring, despite what seems to be The Hulk’s unrelenting protest. 

You look up at the owner of those bent fingers, form crouched in front of you, still only able to perceive him in parts. Four wrinkles at the bridge of his nose. An amused smirk. 

“Ha ha!”

He studies The Hulk’s face, and his right brow falls into a slanted line in perfect mimicry.

“Raaawwrrr!” 

The Hulk’s body wiggles violently as bent fingers shake him back and forth. 

“HULK SMAAAASH!”

You don’t mean to smile. 

His smile is about to meet you too, but his eyes start to take up more space, widening at the sight of slightly shiny lines on your cheeks, carving your skin out like flowing rivers cutting through sienna rock.

“Hey! It’s OK!”

A sleeve rises into view. It moves in quick, small motions, back and forth. 

“Just gotta c-clean him up a little here and—” 

The Hulk suddenly grows ten times in size, now dangling on its spring, right in front of your face.

“See?? N-no harm done!!”

You sniffle.

Bent fingers gently set The Hulk back into the box, in a gap between your empty, gray mesh pen cup and your prized, powder blue stapler. 

You sniffle again. 

You love stapling. 

So final, so sure, that satisfying, crisp metal crunch!

You think you hear that crunch as this stranger’s bright eyes are putting it all together.

As are you, bits and pieces of this stranger now stitching together into a concerned but welcoming face, much too kind, and dangerously easy to open up to. Especially for someone in your state. 

Your fingers dig into your cardboard box.

“Thanks,” you say, relieved that your voice sounds so steady.

He lifts his eyes from the powder blue stapler and watches as you lift your upper arm to your right cheek. 

You dab your tears.

You frown at the sight of black streaks on your blouse. 

And then you startle at the feel of denim against your left cheek.

You watch as this stranger takes a step back.

The fact that he doesn’t seem to notice or care about the black streaks on his sleeve makes you care less about the black streaks on yours.

You feel a little lighter. From what it looks like, about three wisps of Pat McGrath FetishEyes lighter.

“Sorry,” he says, “I just—”

“No, that was… that was nice of you,” you say, starting to become impressed at just how steady your voice is. “Thank you.”

He nods. “Can I help you with anything else?” He holds his hands out a little, wrists coming out of his sleeves. “Take that box for you?”

“I’m good,” you say. 

He’s kind for softening his doubtful look, but his head tilt gives his thoughts away.

“Really,” you insist.

And you insist to yourself that you really don’t mean to smile. You’re surprised that you do. 

He mirrors it, his eyes following his lips, which follow yours, copying perfectly the slightly sad pout that you’re too aware that you’re making, and that tells him that his head tilt is absolutely warranted. 

“If you say so.”

Your smile fades a little as you look back down to the box, still in your grip, resting against your stomach. 

You look back up and watch as he curiously peruses the box’s content. 

“What is all this stuff?” he asks.

You look back over at the crowd now spilling out of your apartment building. 

“Um…”

Your brain is moving too fast, keeping you from being able to expand on the complexity of the matter. The words settling in the back of your throat are reduced to grade school-level syntax that matches the grade school-level emotions that you’re trying to hold at bay. 

This is all Desk Stuff. 

Desk Stuff belongs on a Desk. 

But you no longer have a Desk. 

You no longer even have an Office. 

Or a Job. 

And all you seem to be able to do about it, at least, for right now, is cry.

“Just… stuff.”

How is your voice still so steady when your stomach and chest are churning and burning, flip-flopping positions in your body in an attempt to escape this disaster?

To escape you?

He seems to realize now. There’s even a hint of — ugh — pity in his eyes. 

You want to explain that you’re stronger than this. It’s just that your Job, and your Office, and your Desk were so rare. Beautifully, wonderfully, hilariously rare. Just like your powder blue stapler is rare, and it’s even rarer to see it not at the ready under a mix of sunlight and fluorescent lighting but settled against hastily packed bits and bobs in a box open to the night air.

“You need to keep any of it?” he asks. 

The realization feels weirdly cold in your chest. “No,” you say.

“You want to keep any of it?”

You shrug. 

His head straightens suddenly. 

“Not even The Hulk??”

He looks so excited.

You really, really don’t mean to smile. You’re surprised that you do. That you still can.  

You even chuckle, softly, three tiny stops and starts of that steady, warm voice. 

“Why? You want him?”

“Well, y-yeah — he’s The Hulk!!”

You hold the box out and up to him. 

“Take him, then. Give him a nice home.”

Bent fingers wrap around The Hulk’s head. He lifts The Hulk out of the box and places it into the left chest pocket of his denim jacket, patting it caringly, for safekeeping. 

The Hulk’s eyes peek out at you over the lip.

“Now you pick something,” he tells you.

You look up from The Hulk’s eyes and stare questioningly into the eyes of this alarmingly kind stranger.

“You wanna keep at least one thing, right?” he asks. He peeks back down into the box. “Anything important? Or, just, y’know.” He looks back at you. “Special?”

You think again of the satisfying crunch of metal. 

And then you smile down at your powder blue stapler. 

You hug the box against your chest with one arm and pull the stapler out with your free hand. 

He smiles again, and claps his hands with glee.

The Hulk nods.

And, as you nod back, you catch a glimpse of the alleyway. 

Your gaze settles on the too-bright blue paint sadly used for something as putrid as a dumpster. 

Your feet take you there, and they, along with your calves, and thighs, and arms, and shoulders, and back, thank you immensely as you toss all the rest inside. 

That box looks so small now, amongst everything else. The longer you stare at it, you can’t even really see it anymore, as it gets lost in so many things that also don’t matter.

With your arms free, you get the impulse to pull your phone from your back pocket. But you don’t want to see the flurry of messages that are probably waiting for you.

Instead, you turn and walk back to the curb, where he is still standing and watching you. 

Your feet take you back to him, arm at your side, the stapler fold hanging off your finger, its handle and base taking turns swinging as you walk, powder blue grazing the side of your polyester-covered thigh. 

You stand in front of him, feeling so much lighter. 

“Uh, thanks,” you say. “Again.”

He smiles. 

Now that the weight is off of your shoulders, you can take in more. The sound of street traffic buzzing around you. Honks, and music, and chatter. 

The crowd around your apartment building has doubled if not tripled in size. 

“Live here?” he asks. 

You nod, and your shoulders sink. “But the block party completely slipped my mind.” You sigh and wonder how long it will take for the crowd to dissipate. “All I wanna do is eat some dinner, curl into bed, and forget today ever happened.”

“What’s stopping you?” he asks. 

You furrow your brow and gesture to the drunken, obnoxious mass blocking your way in. 

“Just gotta fight your way through a little, is all,” he says. “C’mon!”

Instead of complaining about having to do anything other than what you want to, you figure that following this guy, with his broad frame, tall stature, and friendly face, will help you work smart and not hard.

So you follow him. 

He moves through the crowd with ease, swimming with the current, instead of fighting his way upstream. 

He offers you protection from the worst hits. Errant slaps and elbows here and there as people reach for each other. A near-collision with a keg stand. 

But people still cut in front of you. By the fourth or fifth instance, you wonder why this always happens when you’re in a crowd, or whether you can consider it a “cut” when you don't even seem to register on people’s radar.

You watch as his head bobs along, nearly out of sight. And then, when he’s too far away, you start to feel the tide turning again, pulling you back out into the vast ocean. 

You’re nearly all the way back by the lobby doors when his face pops out of the crowd. 

“Hey!” he exclaims. 

He throws his arm out, hand open, palm upturned. A life saver on a rope thick, straight, and strong.

You grab it.

You watch as his hand turns over and determinedly pulls you into him.

And you lock eyes briefly before he swirls you around and puts you in front of the crowd, daring you to meet it face-to-face.

He stands behind you but places his hands firmly on your shoulders.

You grip the stapler tight in your hand. 

And then, with his guidance, you start to move through the crowd. 

Part the crowd. 

It’s much easier than you thought. But you knew that. You used to do this all the time, without even thinking. Shoulders back. Hair tossed just so. Beaming with all the wise, unthreatened confidence that years of a magical mix of expertise and bullshit have bestowed upon you.

They, and he, bring you right next to the elevators, and, thinking this is it, you go to punch the button. 

But he steers you toward the stairs instead.

He leans down into you, pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your right ear. 

“Let’s go this way.”

The music and chatter is so loud that even though you feel his chest straining, it sounds like a whisper. 

You think about what’s waiting for you at home. 

The chips. The hummus. The last three squares of your weed-infused chocolates. All designed to help you settle your mind and forget about this whole, wretched day.

Then again, maybe there are other ways to forget.

You shove your powder stapler into your pocket and nod, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already angling you toward the stairs, and chases your steps as you both climb. 

You feel his hands slide down your shoulders, then arms, then into the crooks of your slightly folded elbows, your right hand still touting your stapler, your left hand not fully grasping but angled to feel along the railing so that you have something to hold onto if you trip over one of these people sitting on the steps.

He’s right by your side. Grabs hold of you to help keep you steady when someone suddenly moves to get up. When he lets you go at the top of the stairs, you're almost sad the building has elevators at all. 

“You know the Chans?” he asks.

You register the smell of egg rolls and dumplings and fries and cheese and sugar before you notice that the people who happen to be on this floor are too busy stuffing their faces to really talk. It’s quieter here. Thankfully.

“No,” you mumble, as he walks next to you, moving in lockstep down the hall and slightly to the right. “I don’t really know anybody else in the building.”

“Just moved in?”

“Been here three… wait… four?” You grimace. “Years?”

His eyebrows rise at the speed with which his own mother would race a cake over to every new neighbor on their street. 

“I’ll introduce you!” he says, swinging around you and standing perpendicular to your path to let you know that this next, slightly ajar door will lead you to The Chans. 

He knocks on the door. 

It opens, suddenly, and fully, and a woman grins happily at the both of you before settling into his warm, eager gaze. 

“Jungkook-ah,” she chides playfully, “I told you to come as soon as the party started! We’re already almost out of—”

He — or, well, Jungkook, apparently — rushes inside the apartment toward the kitchen, leaving you standing there in the hallway. 

The woman turns to you, still carrying fondness in her eyes. “Hi!”

“Hi,” you say, as pleasantly as you can. 

The woman takes in the sight of you, though she frowns when she looks down by your hip.

“Is… that… a stapler in your pocket?” 

Your brain starts to move too fast again. 

Desk. Office. Job.

But then she giggles. 

“Or are you just happy to see me?”

Jungkook mumbles something resembling an introduction after you follow “Miff-iff Cham” through the busy, glowing living room and into the kitchen. 

“Did you even think to get your friend a drink??” Mrs. Chan asks, reaching not for the plenty of plastic flatware but into the cupboards for a porcelain bowl. 

Jungkook mumbles something else, a chomped egg roll raised to his lips, cheeks bulging out, and a bit of fried wrapper sticking out of the corner of his mouth. 

“This boy,” Mrs. Chan laughs, shaking her head. “He devours everything in sight!” As she talks, she walks down the line of her counter, scooping up a bit of everything from her various pots and pans and plopping it into your bowl. “If we didn’t feed him real food, he’d eat garbage off the street! Like one of those fat pigeons!”

Jungkook protests, still unintelligible, but wounded, and passionate, given that flakes of egg roll wrapper fly out of his mouth. 

“Please, Jungkook, you’re so sensitive! Have you seen you?” Mrs. Chan says with a roll of her eyes. “Although, if you keep inhaling these egg rolls…”

She softens at Jungkook’s worried expression.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you fat. I just meant— Ugh, what else eats tra— Like a raccoon, then. How’s that, huh? Jungkook-ah? My little fluffy, sneaky, grabby-hands raccoon?”

Mrs. Chan shoves the now-full bowl into your open hands and makes grabby-hands with her own, pinching his full cheeks, cooing more… weird?... but sweet, raccoon-based compliments at him, which makes him smile happily, and close his eyes at her caring touch. 

You bring the bowl up to your face and breathe in the mouth-watering scent of all of this delicious, home-cooked, made-with-love morsels of amazing food.

For once today, someone has served you a pile of nothing but goodness.

You smile gratefully and take the chopsticks that Mrs. Chan gives to you. And then you take your place next to Jungkook, backs to the sink, both of you leaning back slightly as you eat. 

“Now, I didn’t catch your name,” Mrs. Chan tells you, stirring a spoon into one of the pots. 

As you finally say it, you can’t help but feel Jungkook paying you close attention — such close attention, mind you, that you swear he’s nearly pressing his smile onto your cheek.

“I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself,” you go on, flashing a look at Jungkook before adding, “I’ve just been so busy…”

Desk. Office. Job.

The rest of the sentence that you were going to say travels down your throat like the unchewed walnut that slipped by. 

You cough. Clear your throat the best you can. And pick up what you can recover.

“…at work.”

“Ah, well, whatever! I’m happy we get to meet now,” Mrs. Chan says lightly.

The air with which she says it. So ethereal. It makes you feel a little better.

“I’m Chan Jia,” she goes on, “and my husband Feng and I have lived here pretty much all our lives, and, uh, we really like to cook! Even when half the city isn’t on our doorstep.”

Your eyes hang wide. “You’re amazing at it,” you say, through cheeks fuller than Jungkook’s. “The walnut chicken in particular is, mmm, god, so good.”

Mrs. Chan beams with pride. “Glad you like it! And that you came so hungry.”

More people spill into the Chans’ living room, and Mrs. Chan reaches for some of the paper plates and plastic flatware. 

“Get her something to drink, Jungkook-ah!”

He nods obediently and yells out an earnest, “Thank you!”

You scarf down the last bite in your bowl and start to calculate what seconds you want — definitely the walnut chicken, and maybe the lo mein — when Jungkook sticks a fresh egg roll in your face. 

“C’mon!”

He stuffs the egg roll into your mouth and takes your empty bowl from your hands, setting it in the filling kitchen sink. 

He takes your right wrist and tugs on it, leading you back out to the hall. 

You bite down on the egg roll and catch the other half in your left hand, grumbling, “I wasn’t done!” as you desperately try to chew and get the delicious pork filling and perfect golden crackles down your gullet. 

“Oh, sorry,” Jungkook says. “Seemed like you were.”

“Well!” You raise your left hand and bite into the second half. “I wasn’t!”

“Well, your bowl was empty, and you emptied it kinda fast, like, shockingly fast, so I thought it was time for dessert—”

You polish off the egg roll as your feet plant themselves in place. “What is this? Who even are you anyway??”

He smiles. “I’m Jungkook!”

“Yeah, caught that,” you say, narrowing your eyes. “Seriously, though! I don’t really know who you—”

Someone splits the two of you, excited to bring one of two waffle ice cream cones to someone downstairs.

“—w-who you are, or if you even live here,” you continue, watching as they round the corner, jogging down the steps with what looks like pistachio ice cream in one hand and some kind of chocolate in the other. 

You turn back to Jungkook. 

“And all these people? I don’t know who they are, and I just really—”

“But now you know Mrs. Chan,” Jungkook says, “and I guess by extension you kinda know Mr. Chan. There was a photo of him on the left wall by the—”

A group of young girls giggle as they exit one of the other apartments on this floor, each of them carrying baskets of freshly baked cookies.

Jungkook playfully yoink! s a couple from the last girl’s basket, and she teasingly slaps Jungkook’s arm as he feigns pain. 

They laugh at each other, and then, he wiggles his eyebrows and nods upward. 

“Oppa!” she whines.

He brings his shoulders up to his earlobes and wiggles his eyebrows even harder.

She rolls her eyes and hands him two more cookies, and she scurries to rejoin her group.

You glare at him.

He blinks at you. Pushes out his lips. 

“So…”

He holds out his arm.

“Is it time for dessert?”

You frown.

He wiggles the cookie around.

“Huuuuuh?”

Begrudgingly, you snatch the cookie that he’s offering.

Chocolate chip with toffee chunks and gooey caramel in the center.

It’s goddamn incredible.

“Is everyone on this floor a chef?!” you exclaim in surprise, crumbs flinging from your lips.

Jungkook looks up at the ceiling again as he counts. His unfolding pinky denotes The Chans in 2A, duh. His ring finger counts the Jeups and their three lovely daughters in 2D. His middle finger stands for the Gal brothers and their new ice cream machine, or, well, old ice cream machine, since their shop got the new one—

“Kinda, actually,” Jungkook answers, looking back at you, still counting the others in his head while holding the three other cookies between his thumb and index finger. “Although I guess the Jeups and the Gals are more… bakers? But I don’t think you say that for ice cream.” 

He plumps his bottom lip, chin wrinkling. 

“What do you call someone who makes ice cream for a living?”

You roll your eyes as you polish off your cookie.

“Hey, I thought we were doing it?” he asks. “Shoot. Maybe I’m doing it wrong?”

“Doing what?”

“What you wanted to do.”

Toffee and chocolate are swirling together heavenly in your mouth, but you keep glaring at him. You layer more fire into it. Frown harder. Scowl meaner. If you look angry enough, maybe he’ll give you a second cookie out of fear, and you don’t have to admit how boggled you are.

“You said that all you wanted to do was eat some dinner, curl into bed, and forget,” Jungkook recalls. “So we’re taking care of the eating part.”

You pull back a little on the glare. 

“I would’ve appreciated getting to eat more of that walnut chicken.”

Jungkook’s eyes and grin thin out. 

“We can go back. Or…?”

He holds out another cookie to you.

Which you slowly take.

And in return, you let go of the glower.

You turn the cookie over in your hands. Raise it to your lips.

Jungkook nods encouragingly.

You take a bite.

Peanut butter. With little chocolate candies. That are also filled with peanut butter.

Your pesky smile makes another reappearance.

“Now,” Jungkook says triumphantly, biting into two cookies at once and recalling, “Mrs. Chan said,” as he gets those cookies down to half-size with his huge bites, “ god this is fucking good,” smacking as he talks, “to get you a drink. So c’mon!”

He holds out his hand again. Devoid of any cookies.

You take it anyway.

And he leads you to the elevator.

“Can I get a copy of the itinerary?” you ask, puzzled by all your traipsing. 

Jungkook drums on the elevator doors with his knuckles before giving the right one a slap and pushing the call button. “It’s just block party physics,” he explains. “You saw all those kegs and coolers when you came in, right?”

You nod.

“Gotta keep beer on the ground floor. Nice way to say hi to people. And nobody wants to lug all that shit up all these floors. But people are doing stuff in their apartments, too. More drinks, and food, and games.”

You take a second to take Jungkook in from toe to head. White, worn sneakers, with blue details. Baggy pants. Thin, white hoodie. Denim jacket. Fluffed hair, crinkled and thin eyes, wrinkled nose, and an easy, big smile. Like he’s just hanging out at home.

“Party physics,” you repeat.

The elevator doors open, and you both step in, Jungkook leaning against the railing in the back, and you facing him with a smirk.

“Of which you just happen to be a scholar?”

Jungkook grins. “That, and, uh…”

He gestures to one of the flyers on the elevator bulletin board behind you. It’s not as crumpled as the ones that blew by you earlier. But it is drooping, the tape holding up its top two corners having lost its stickiness over the past few weeks.

You smooth the paper out.

And then you reach into your pocket.

For your powder blue stapler.

You staple each corner into the cork, and you see what Jungkook is talking about. Below the boombox drawing and general details is a whole spreadsheet of details. A murder mystery party on floor twelve. A dance party on floor seven. Karaoke on floor six. Movies on floor eight. 

Nothing on floor nine. You’re one of just a few people who live there. That floor doesn’t get great light, or a great view, facing the north, ignored side of the block. But that doesn’t matter to you. You like it quiet. That’s why you’re all there.

For some reason, you feel a little sick at the thought of riding up to floor nine.

So you’re grateful that you stop, for now, on floor five.

It boasts a crowd just a tad smaller than the one on the first floor, but the energy seems easier. Lively, but less brash.

When Jungkook sees your relieved smile, he takes it as a sign that he’s doing something right.

“Where should we start?” he asks, looking around at all the open doors. As you re-holster your stapler, his head darts left and right, checking your reaction with each option he presents.

“Board games! Ooh, OK, ‘ya seem to like that. We’ll put that on the list. We could also check out that poker game, which we passed back there. And there’s—”

You pull Jungkook’s arm toward you with such force that his nose bumps into your cheek. You laugh together, your eyes shining a bit brighter.

“That.”

You point.

“I wanna do that.”

Given your professional, cool-toned business separates; your seemingly strategic nature; your, quite frankly, super uptight vibe; and the way your eyes initially widened at the proposal to join the board game room, Jungkook wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who had even a passing interest in drinking games. Especially flip cup.

Yet, here you are, standing on top of Kim Yugyeom’s mother’s old kitchen table, the front of your blouse stained with sangria, and both of your hands victoriously pumping two empty, crushed plastic cups into the air.

Funny how the thing that always kept you from playing flip cup was the beer.

And you were extraordinary. How you downed each drink. How, like your voice has been so far this evening, you were able to stay so composed. How that gave you such an advantage with each flip. How everyone in the room cheered you on, shocked by how you hadn’t stuttered on a single cup. How Jungkook almost caught up, but you were able to rally and down two more full cups of sangria than you probably should have.

“Howwwww have I not plaaaaayed this gaaaaame before?!” you ask, delirious from your winner’s rush. And maybe the sangria.

“You haven’t?!” a laughing Yugyeom adds, as he helps you down from his table. “Would’ve thought you were a pro!”

A little unsteady on your feet, and happily so, you lean into him, melting at his strong form and touch before pouring into one of the chairs nearby.

“Alright there, champ?” Yugyeom chuckles.

He watches you wiggle happily in your seat, one strong wiggle forcing you to lean a bit too much to the right. 

“Haha, fuck, let me get you some damn water!”

Jungkook lands in the chair next to you, propping you up and giggling at your blissful humming. 

Your eyes meet his. “Oh, what’s this?” You raise your left hand up. “Hmm?” Your palm grazes the tip of his nose, and your eyes widen with excitement, as his widen to try to find out what’s wrong with your hand. 

“Oh!” you smile.

Equally thrilled and perplexed, Jungkook moves to give you a high five?

But you dodge him with a grin. 

“Uh-oh!” 

Your wrist goes slack. Delighted, you do an arm wave, letting it flow through up to your shoulders, through to your trunk, and onwards to your other arm, which flows up and around from your side and around, down your opposite shoulder and through your forearm, fingers gathering to a point and tipping back Jungkook’s open forehead.

Jungkook lets out a spirited laugh that perks up your spine.

As you watch with interest, he furrows his brow and opens his mouth in fake offense. His head bobs forward, and he lets the wave travel throughout his entire body, each muscle isolation smoothing into the next. 

He gets up and starts to dance, suddenly going rigid as he starts to pop and lock, hips moving with more precision than you would have anticipated, his baggy clothes suddenly looking sharp, his body halving, and The Hulk slipping out a little, bobbling along with him. 

Yugyeom rejoins you, and him, cheering and catching the wave in his chest from Jungkook’s lightning rod of a hand and letting it travel through his black hoodie-covered torso, down to his legs, the frayed rips of his light blue jeans swaying as his muscles take turns relaxing and constricting, traveling back up to his other arm, and down to the hand that is holding two water bottles: one for Jungkook, and one for you.

You giggle and shiver as Yugyeom places the cold plastic against your neck, fingers grazing his as you take over the grip of the bottle.

This is… nice.

“What else can we play??” you ask brightly, letting the bottle linger for a moment before lifting it, and unscrewing the cap. “What other games are there?”

“Should probably slow down on the drinking ones,” Jungkook rightfully decides, as you start to slump again.

He takes a step back to you, and your left cheek rests on his right hip.

Feeling so comfortable, you close your eyes for a moment, missing Yugyeom’s intrigued smirk, and Jungkook’s helpless nose scrunch.

“Leaving so soon?” Yugyeom asks, tossing him the other bottle.

Jungkook looks down and notes your hazy, unfocused eyes, as well as your clumsy fingers still working at the water bottle cap. 

“After this water break.”

“Well, swing by again later,” Yugyeom tells you, as your eyes flutter open. “I need to avenge my humiliated friend here. Or get the chance to, at least.”

Jungkook pouts. “Humiliated?”

“Only Jungkook can save himself,” you say, much too haughty for someone who has taken about thirty whole seconds to open a water bottle, “but depending on how tonight goes, I might take you on as another trophy. I mean victim. I mean opponent.”

Yugyeom shakes his head at your self-assuredness, looking over at Jungkook to see if he’s clocking this, and finding he’s only chuckling as you close your eyes and eagerly drink.

“Where’d you find her?” Yugyeom asks, as Jungkook looks back at him.

“Obviously by the dumpsters, given all the trash talk,” Jungkook jokes.

You choke on your water and laugh, the back of your hand rising to your lips as you open your eyes again and catch your breath.

“No, really,” Yugyeom goes on, smiling at you and shoving his hands into his back pockets, chest puffing out with a relaxing breath. “You live on the block?”

You point up at the ceiling. “Ninth floor.”

“The hermit floor?” Yugyeom asks, surprised.

You left your left shoulder from Jungkook’s hip and tilt your head toward it. “I crawled out of my cave today. And saw Jungkook on the curb.”

Yugyeom looks over at Jungkook again, who just smiles. 

He meets Jungkook’s smile with a pleased chuckle.

“I mean it. Come back later. I still wanna hang.” He narrows his eyes at you and wiggles his eyebrows. “I want a go with the resident flip cup champ.”

You wink at him as you bring the water bottle back to your lips. 

Before Yugyeom takes his leave, he reaches out his hand, slightly dampened from the condensation on those ice-cold water bottles, to Jungkook. Their right hands clasp together, and they bring their right shoulders forward to one another, chests bumping together tightly. 

Yugyeom slaps Jungkook’s back.

He mumbles something.

Jungkook scoffs with a grin.

And then they part, Yugyeom flashing you another smile before he heads back toward his kitchen table.

Jungkook crouches down and wipes his hand on his thigh. You watch his fingers spreading across. His palm rubbing down toward his knee, and then back up again.

“Oh my god,” he says. 

You straighten and snap your eyes to his, feeling caught. “What??”

“I think you’re…”

Jungkook shoots you an open-mouthed, told-you-so smile. 

“…having fun??”

“Absolutely not,” you say, trying your best to sneer.

“You’re smiling!” Jungkook taps his finger on your cheek. 

You swat his hand away, giggling and thinking fondly of him teasing those three girls with the cookies. You haven’t really stopped smiling since.

“You’re laaaugh-iiiiing!”

You roll your eyes. “So what if I am?”

Jungkook watches as you screw the water bottle’s cap back on and set it down, next to the right leg of your chair.

“Are you?” he asks gently. “H-having fun?”

He wants you. 

To have fun, that is. 

He wants you to have fun because you so clearly hadn’t earlier that day. He’s good at fun. At least, he’s always thought he is. In much the same way that Mrs. Chan is good at walnut chicken, and the Jeups are good at cookies, and the Gal brothers are good at ice cream. 

He’s always thought that he’s been good at fun. Things have gotten a little busier, as life does. He hasn’t talked to as many people in a while. He definitely hasn’t gotten to swing by Yugyeom’s nearly as often, and he’s missed his check-ins with Yugyeom’s wonderful neighbors. While standing out there on the curb, peering up at your building, he wondered if he’d changed.

But, if you’re having fun, given the day that you’ve had, then that means he hasn’t.

He’s still good at fun.

Maybe if you knew this was kind of about him, it wouldn’t feel so strange for someone to want you to have fun when just a couple of hours ago, the bubble of your perfectly pleasant life burst at the discovery that people who celebrated your birthday, who clinked drinks with you at happy hour, who left you funny sticky notes on your desk, who shared the load when work got overwhelming — people who were supposedly invested in you — didn’t actually care all that much.

Do you even deserve it? Fun? When you are so easily discarded? 

Jungkook clearly deserves it. He’s only just met you, by some dumpsters no less, and he’s still, inexplicably, trying so hard.

You feel your heavy heart pulling you under.

But then, you catch sight of The Hulk tucked into Jungkook’s pocket.

“I am.” You grin. “I am having a lot of fun.”

He brightens. Sits a little taller.

“Good!” His eyes close nearly all the way, and his two front teeth bunch up his lips. “I knew you were.”

He jumps to his feet. “Feeling up to more games? Maybe those board games?”

The sangria is starting to catch you, mixing with the swirl of emotions bogging down your heavy, heavy heart. You need to do something to let it out.

“Which floor had the karaoke?” you ask. “Six?”

“Quit hogging the mic!” 

You spin around and scream the next lyrics at this surly, thin-lipped man, mashing whatever he can into a lour look of extreme disapproval. 

The next part of this song is iconic, and masterful. You know each of the vocal parts in the lush swell of the breakdown, but this occasion calls for the throughline, the main melody, to drive the point home.

“NEVER GONNA GET IT NEVER GONNA GET IT!” you belt, pointing at Thin Lips, shimmying as you dance around him in a circle. 

“NEH! VER GONNA GET IT NEVER GONNA GET IT!”  

You put a resonant sting on the syncopated quarter notes that carry into the next measure, tapping your toes on each eighth-note of this manifesto. 

“NEH!!! VER GONNA GET IT NEVER GONNA GET IT!”  

Exaggerating even more, you pull your lips into a mocking pout, and you descend down the harmonic scale. 

“NEHHHH-VER GONNA GET IT—”

Brazen, and drawing a bit of power from the room clapping and laughing around you, you grab the handle of your stapler, aim it at Thin Lips’ cleft chin, and clap the hammer against the anvil on each note. 

“WOO-WOO-WOO-WOOOOOOO!!!!”

“THE FUCK—”

“Shik.”

You aren’t sure when Jungkook got up from his seat on the Hans-in-6F’s couch, but now, he’s next to you, arms folded, chest slightly bouncing from holding in his laughter.

Thin-lipped Shik glares at him, and you start circling around Jungkook instead, singing the second half of the breakdown a little softer, but swaying your stapler in the air.

Jungkook’s eyes, which have been following you this whole time, spread out to the rest of the room, everyone chanting and clapping along. “We’re all having a good time.”

“She’s sung like a hundred songs!” Shik protests. “I want a turn!”

At the whiff of vodka that follows, Jungkook negotiates, “One more song, alright?” 

He speaks kindly, with the kind of smile that people born with goodness and light at their core can share. But he puffs himself up when he says it. He unfolds his arms, and his chest inflates. He flexes his right hand. Just in case.

Shik sighs. “Fine. But make it something pleasant. She’s been screaming for the past hour.”

He takes Jungkook’s seat on the couch, seemingly discontent unless he’s taking things from other people. 

But it’s fine. The energy is dissipating anyway, En Vogue starting to decrescendo and queue up your next show-stopping performance.

“Hey.” Jungkook’s unflexed right hand lands softly on your shoulder. “Diva.”

You turn and smile at him.

“Wanna do one last song?”

Panting, and jamming your stapler back into your pocket, you slow your dancing feet to a mere sway, pouring your weight to the left, then to the right.

“OK,” you say, mind starting to wander, “but let me pick something different.” Your eyes widen a bit. “Would you wanna sing something with me?”

Jungkook beams. “Yeah!” 

As you scroll through your private YouTube playlist of karaoke faves, he stands a little closer. Looks over your shoulder with curiosity. Giggles softly when your thumb tugs at ones that he likes, too.

He smells good.

“Ooh!”

You startle back at his sudden exclamation and bump into his chest. 

And he just lets you.

“You, uh, know this one ?” you ask, thumb hovering over a picture of two silhouettes.

“I love that one.”

“Me too.”

A shared glance between you tells you how much.

Jungkook hums. “Then start us off.”

Growing up, you’d wished that the karaoke industry would work faster. Churn out more microchips that held more than just the 70s and 80s ballads that your family sang in the same rotation at every holiday, birthday, christening, graduation, wedding, hell, every Saturday morning, while you each took charge of scrubbing a different part of the house… 

Nowadays, karaoke versions of songs aren’t hard to find. Literally every song is essentially at your fingertips. But with every song at your fingertips, it’s becoming harder and harder to find people who know what you know. Like what you like.  

As Jungkook reaches for the other mic, still charging on its base, you play the instrumental.

And you raise your mic to your mouth.

“I keep so much of me hidden. Can’t lie. No, I’ve got this pain inside. Most times I never admit it. But with you, no, I don’t want to hide.”

Jungkook bites his lip as you sing. You aren’t the most gymnastic singer, but you have such a pleasant voice. And he’s not the only one who thinks so. A hush has fallen over the entire room, and even Shik is captivated by the way you’ve softened the air around you. 

“What’s there all the time. And weighs on my mind. My friends say they listen. But honestly, I don’t think that they get me like you do. You don’t have to try. I come unfolded with the things I hold inside. I have never told no one but you.”

How long have you been singing? Has it been an hour? Two?

Maybe people don’t tire of you as easily as you thought.

Your heart feels a little lighter.

And you let Jungkook fill the space that remains.

“When I’m with you, I feel different.”

In just one line, you discover that if Jungkook’s voice were a drink, it would be a toasted marshmallow mocha. If Jungkook’s voice were a feeling, it would be your bare legs meeting the backseat of the car on a tempered summer day. If Jungkook’s voice were a hand, it would cup your cheek and hold your face up to make sure you didn’t miss the sight of a falling star. 

“Like I can’t just be your warmness, oh baby…”

His vocal runs are hurdles and sprints and marathons in equal turns, voice strong and whole as he dips in and out of notes and syllables, playing with time, and tickling your lighter, and lighter, and even lighter, heart.

“I’ve been through some tough things in my life. And it’s so easy to tell you.”

You believe him.

You believe him so strongly that you almost miss your cue to join him again at the chorus, singing an octave apart, matching him note for note, voice bending and gliding a little easier. Freer.

But then everything just stops.

The music. Your voices. The energy.

It all comes to a halt.

Other voices start to overlap. Curses, and concern.

A small circle of bright, invasive light appears. And then another. And another.

They catch people in slices.

Frowns. Fists. 

Eyes. No two sets meeting.

Except, somehow, yours and Jungkook’s.

“Everyone OK?” someone asks, as more and more tiny spotlights rove around the room. 

“Apparently it’s the whole building!”

“The whole block?”

“Look out the window!”

“Yeah, it’s the whole city!”

Whines start to fill the room. Then groans. Then yells.

“Fuck,” you hear Jungkook whisper, “people are gonna lose it pretty quickly.”

You feel a hand grab yours and yank you toward them.

“It’s me.”

But you knew that.

And now you know that the center of his body, the notch where his pecs and the top of his abs meet and surrender to one another, seems to be a perfect spot for your hand to rest. And your hand resting there makes up for all the blows that your feet and shins and hips take as you fight your way through the distressed crowd.

“Door.”

You don’t see or feel it. Jungkook’s already holding it open for you, leading you through by jutting out his chest and letting you know where he is, which is right there, still curved around your hand.

His hand leaves yours and slides down your side, circling around your back, incidentally following the line of the band of your bra. His forearm pins you to him, and you feel your body bending with his as he shuffles you through to the hall. His chin rests on the top of your head, and your temple cushions against his collarbone.

Baby powder.

Bodes beat against your back, and you take in a sharp breath, your fingers balling into fists. One hand is still safely settled into that notch below Jungkook’s chest. Your other arm is pressed to your side, hugged by Jungkook’s armpit, your hand swinging down and closing around—

“Wait, shit, I’m still holding the mic?”

“It’s OK,” he tells you. “Everything’s OK.”

But something catches his attention.

“Deji?!”

You feel Jungkook’s chest tighten around your fist.

“Deji!!”

“Mr. Jeup?” Jungkook calls out, hoping his voice can meet hers despite the building wails.

“Jungkook-ah?”

“Yes, it’s Jungkook!” 

The collective spotlights help Jungkook and Mr. Jeup find each other across the hall, and Jungkook leads him, and you, to a spot close to the staircase railing.

Mr. Jeup has soaked through the collar of his shirt.

“I can’t find Deji,” he says breathlessly. “I’d already been looking for her for a couple of hours, but she got separated from her unnies—” He clicks his teeth. “Always trailing behind.”

You think of the sweet girl slapping Jungkook’s hand away from her basket of cookies.

“We’ll find her.” 

From what you can tell, Jungkook’s voice is enough to reassure Mr. Jeup, as the slices of him that you get look more and more relieved. 

“Go home and check in with Mrs. Jeup and the girls,” Jungkook tells him. “My friend and I will go up floor by floor. I’ll text you the moment I see her.”

Mr. Jeup shakes his head. “We should’ve just gotten her a phone. Like she wanted.”

“She won’t be far. She knows your rules.” A slice of light catches Jungkook’s smile, as fond as when he had exchanged those cute giggles with her earlier. “And, though it might not seem like it, she always follows them.”

Mr. Jeup nods. “Thanks, Jungkook. Let me know.”

Shades of Mr. Jeup make their way along the railing, following it carefully as he makes his way back downstairs.

“I’ll formally introduce you another time,” he says apologetically.

Jungkook can’t be so hospitable, or demented, to be thinking about a formal introduction in this fraught situation. 

But then you think of how he and Deji teased each other. Their familiar, funny way. How she gave him four cookies as a treat.

Or a payment.

A placid smile spreads across your face. “You know where she is, don’t you?”

Jungkook chuckles.

“C’mon.”

“When will it come back on??”

“We wanna watch!”

“It was just about to get to the good part!”

“Give it a few more minutes,” a voice, more mature than the others, calls out. “Give the backup generators a little bit of time to kick in.”

“They’re not going to,” another older voice says in response. “It’s been too long. I’m betting they’re down as well.”

“Stop it!” the first hisses. “You’ll scare them!”

As predicted, the younger voices start to clamor.

“What??”

“So when will the power come back on?”

“I’m getting hot!”

“Me too! I’m starting to sweat!”

“Eeeewww!”

“Helloooooo!” 

Jungkook calls brightly from the hallway through the opening door, slowly revealing a group of kids in the living room, and a couple on the couch, outlined against a soft half-sphere of candlelight. 

“Yon! Yeo!”

“Jungkookie!”

The woman on the left jumps up from the couch, and the woman on the right just nods.

You sigh softly when, in the center back of the group of kids, all of them lying on top of each other, having kicked off their blankets and facing a blank, white bed sheet hanging on a cleared clothing rack, you see Deji, sitting with her legs criss-crossed.

And next to a boy.

Jungkook lets go of your hand, but not without glancing at you to make sure it’s OK to.

You smile and nod, lingering in the doorway and watching him tiptoe in the gaps between squishy, teeny arms and legs to crouch down next to Deji, and this boy.

Deji gives Jungkook a high five, and you smirk to yourself as he pulls his phone out from his back pocket, sighing with relief as he starts to type.

The woman who waved gets up and walks over to you, leaning on a bookshelf by the door and folding her arms.

“I’m Yon,” she replies. “And that’s Yeo.” 

She jerks her thumb behind her.

Staring straight ahead, Yeo takes another sip of wine.

You introduce yourself and say, “Did you set this up for the kids?”

Yon nods. “Toy Story 3. We were almost at the incinerator scene.”

Your eyes pop open, and you look over to the kid who cheered about the scene earlier. 

“That was the good part??”

Yon cackles and says, “Seojun over there has a dark sense of humor.” 

The other kids have successfully been distracted, settling into other lively conversations, giggling and playing games with each other, and with Jungkook. 

But Seojun quietly breaks free from the group and makes her way to the couch. She plops down next to Yeo, the two of them chatting quietly. 

Yon watches them affectionately. “So does Yeo. Kindred spirits, those two.”

They look so serious. But there are moments. Eyebrow flickers. Chuckles. And, throughout, a warm smile of recognition of something deeper. A somewhat somber but understanding of the world around them. 

Seojun pauses. Stumbles. Gets whatever she wants to say out. Yeo seems to ponder it, and then says something back. Then, Seojun and Yeo look away from each other, and Yeo strokes her hair once as Seojun hides a smile.

You didn’t realize how many kids lived in the building. But you’re usually out before they’re up, and back in long after they’re asleep.

“Kind of you to host something kid-friendly.”

“To be honest, these have kind of been little test runs.” 

Yon’s voice is cautious and small, but happy. 

“We want to adopt,” she admits. 

Her eyes are pillowy soft as they scan over those tiny, laughing faces. 

“The kids around here are so sweet. Good families. Good parents. They don’t judge. And they’ve given us so many smiles. It’d be nice to share our lives like this all the time. Especially with a little one who really needs it.”

You can feel how momentous Yon’s heart must be. Her words surround you. Inflate you. Lift you up.

“Well,” you sigh, impressed, and a little sheepish, at her outpouring of love, “the little ones who get to join your family are quite lucky.”

Yon lets out a deep, encouraged sigh. “Thanks for that. Nice to hear something positive, y’know? It’s been… hard.”

You regretfully agree.

“Anyway,” Yon replies, “how do you know Jungkook? Are you friends with Yugyeom, too? That’s how we met him.”

“I, um—”

Desk.

Office.

Job.

“Well, I just met him today.” You blink. You can’t believe you just met him today.

Yon smiles, recognizing your dazed look. 

“He makes quite an impression, doesn’t he?”

Your eyes land on him as he grins and throws up a peace sign while taking a picture with Deji, and laughing with the boy, who is starting to take interest in The Hulk bobblehead in Jungkook’s pocket. 

“I’ve known him since he was a skinny teen,” Yon reflects. “His parents used to own this building, but they sold the property when they retired. He’s still here all the time, though.” 

She smiles.

“It’s been a little while since we’ve gotten to see him. But it’s always so nice when we do. He just makes things… better.”

Jungkook notes the boy’s gaze, and his bent fingers reach into that pocket to pull The Hulk’s head out, flashing The Hulk’s cute little grimace, to Deji and the boy’s delight. 

But when the boy reaches out for it, Jungkook frowns and leans back, not letting the boy take The Hulk out of his pocket completely, choosing instead to close the flap of his pocket over The Hulk’s black eyes, tapping the pocket in thanks for safekeeping. 

You giggle.

Maybe that’s the secret to Jungkook.

To all of this.

Being a kid at heart.

Yes, things have been hard.

Things are hard.

But they haven’t been hard just today. And not just for you. Or Yon and Yeo. Or Shik. Or Mr. Jeup. Or any of the people in your building, on your block, in this city. 

Everyone is shuffling around, lost in the dark. 

But it isn’t your fault.

It isn’t anyone’s fault.

Maybe that’s just how it is sometimes. 

Maybe that’s how it is all the time.

There’s always more that you could do to fight against the darkness. To make things better.

But maybe there’s also more time for selcas, and singing, and sangria. 

Fun, kind things that you could do with others. And for yourself. 

Maybe that’s the way to start.

Yon’s face suddenly pulls together tightly. And you follow her gaze to your hip.

“Why do you have a stapler in your pocket?”

“Hey!” Jungkook exclaims, popping up beside you and patting Yon’s back.

“Hey,” Yon says warmly, leaning in for a hug. “We were just getting to know each other.” She smirks. “Just as it seems the two of you are.”

Jungkook grins at you. “The two of us have been having fun.”

You smile. 

“Oooh, funnnn,” Yon says, her voice waving up and down as the word trails from her lips.

She smirks at Jungkook.

“Then don’t worry about Deji. She’s just fine.”

And she is. Deji and the boy are in their own little bubble, voices hushed, bodies crouched and facing each other, smiles mirroring.

“Tell Mr. Jeup that I can walk her down if he wants,” Yon says.

“Nah, he’s good,” Jungkook replies. “I sent him a selca. Told him that you were all just hanging out.” 

He slides his hands into his back pockets. 

“In fact, I told him that it’s better for her to stay. That it’s much calmer than downstairs. So he said thanks, and that he’d come up and pick her up when the chaos dies down. Even if it’s late into the night.”

Yon clicks her teeth and shakes her head. “Cheeky fucker.”

He beams a cheesy, accomplished grin. 

“Alright, Cupid.” Yon beams a cheesy grin of her own. “Then why don’t you two continue your night of fun?”

Jungkook flicks his eyes over to you.

You realize that you’re starting to sweat, too.

Yon is already shoving Jungkook back into the hallway when he asks, “Y-you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure.” She smiles at you. “Nice meeting you. Maybe you can explain the stapler when I see you again?”

You laugh, and Jungkook stands next to you in the hallway.

Before you leave, he turns back to the living room.

“Dehhhh-jiiiiiii!” he sings.

Deji looks up at him and smiles. “Yesssss??” she sings back mockingly.

Jungkook sends her a wink.

Deji’s cheeks balloon with air, and they deflate quickly as she whines out, “oh-PAAAA!!!”

He cackles as Yon hurriedly calls back, “OK, Jungkook-oppa is leaving now! Everybody say goodbye!”

The kids yell out goodbyes to Jungkook-oppa, and Jung-krook-oppa, and Yungkook-oppa, and Jungle-oppa, and Crunkook-oppa, and Chunky-oppa— and Yon, cackling, uses her foot to nudge Jungkook farther into the hall before pushing the door closed.

The kids’ goodbyes are replaced with the sound of people in other eighth-floor apartments trying to come up with — and, in some cases, even arguing about — activities to occupy their fellow film fans. But unlike on the other floors, the sound doesn’t seem so overwhelming, tempered above by the typical silence of the ninth.

You look up. Being up on the hermit, ninth floor affords you a certain privilege. You haven’t worried one bit since the power went out. You know that your apartment looks exactly the same as you left it. Kitchen, clean. Living room, sparkling. Bed, made. Pillows fluffed, and sheets pressed. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for maybe the fire escape that you like to keep cracked, fighting off the sometimes stale air. 

You see your desk pushed up against it. Pages of your open book swaying in the breeze.

“Tired?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head.

How quickly you grow tired of stale air.

“Maybe a little, but,” you rush, “uh… not quite…”

Your gaze settles on each other. Jungkook’s eyebrows are slightly tented.

“Not quite ready to go home just yet,” you say, voice low, and ambling.

Jungkook smiles.

“Then let’s go do the second thing you wanted to do tonight.”

It’s been a while since you’ve seen stars. 

And you still kind of see stars when you turn to Jungkook. 

The breeze runs through his hair, making some of his shorter, soft curls dance.

You miss them a little when he pulls up his hood, so that his hair stays clean as he lies down on the roof, next to you.

He’s just so mesmerized by how bright the world is in the middle of a blackout.

“Can you believe this happens every night?” Jungkook asks in awe. “This happens every night, and we just don’t see it.”

You look back up at the sky like an old friend. 

The suburbs that raised you gave you unencumbered sight. You’ve memorized a few of them. Though your favorites are the ones that shine during the winter, you can spot some of summer’s best. The dippers. Leo.

You introduce him to them.

It’s fun to watch Jungkook meet them for the first time.

“They make everything feel so much smaller,” he observes in wonder.

“That can be a good thing,” you realize as you say. 

You feel his curious eyes on you as you give your body a good, deep stretch, toes wiggling, hips pulling down, chest rising a little, and shoulders popping as your neck tilts left and right, your head still resting on the inside back lining of Jungkook’s denim jacket, which he laid flat on the roof for you. 

“Takes some of the pressure off.”

He watches as you lick your lips, take another deep breath, and close your eyes as you exhale. 

“Feeling a lot of it?” he asks.

“Was.”

The warmth of Jungkook’s proud glow tickles your side, and you open your eyes to the sight of him beaming at the sky and biting his lip at a job well done.

You follow his gaze, and take another deep breath.

“Things will work out,” he says comfortingly. 

You chuckle. “They probably always do, for someone like you.” 

“What if they do?”

It would sound cocky if he didn’t punctuate it with a question mark that has a light giggle for a point.

The corner of your mouth ticks up. “Then I’m happy for you.”

Jungkook hums.

You lie there in silence for a while, the sounds of the city floating up from the street. It’s calming, hearing the city chugging along, even if just a little slower and quieter, as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening. Because it isn’t.

Jungkook pulls his legs in, bending his knees and letting his feet plant themselves onto the roof, one leg crossing over the other, foot just above and to the right of you. 

You watch it sway a little. 

“I’d play some music or something, but I think my phone is going to die soon,” Jungkook mumbles.

“Oh. Hang on.”

As you slant your hips toward him, Jungkook’s eyes run down your body and follow their curves. Your hand slides out from your back pocket with your phone, still full of charge.

When you look at its screen, you don’t even see all the notifications in the top bar. You go right to your playlists, and you see the perfect track. 

It doesn’t occur to you to ask Jungkook if he likes it. He’s already moved his swaying foot in time to the slightly faster beat.

It’s a song about a new crush, its sweet and giddy lyrics, harmonies, and melodies floating into the air, lofted by city sounds, and Jungkook humming along beside you. 

You smile to yourself.

You narrow your eyes.

And then you turn onto your side, folding and tucking both of your hands under your right cheek.

“Tell me more about this crush,” you say.

Jungkook mirrors you, forehead wrinkling, and lips tantalizing as he smirks and turns inward to you, too. 

You’re almost touching.

You catch another whiff of baby powder.

“Hmm… which crush?”

You giggle together, noses almost bumping.

“Tell me more about Deji and this boy.”

“Ahhhh!”

He smiles. Fond. Almost proud.

“She’s so cute,” you say, your heart swelling a little. 

“She’s precious,” Jungkook agrees. “The Jeups are always busy at their shop, and when they’re working really late, people from the building will drop by their place and check on them, or invite them over. I haven’t been able to visit as often, but when I visit Yugy, I usually try to swing by. Entertain them for a few hours if I can.”

“So friendly,” you comment.

Jungkook tilts his head toward you. “It’s nice to make friends.”

You smile. “It is.” And then. you sigh. “Now, tell me about the boy.”

Laughing, he says, “His name is Hyun-Woo, and he lives on the fourth floor.”

Your smile stretches, and your eyebrows rise.

Jungkook giggles. And then he shares a bit more.

“His parents are quiet. They’re all still kinda new to the city. A little shy. He is, too. He has a pet gerbil named Moony because he seems to like to play at night. He plays video games. He used to collect these little space battalion figurines, but he kind of lost track of some of them during the move, but it’s alright, because he was kinda starting to lose interest in them anyway. And he plays tennis. He’s OK at it.”

“Is he a nice kid?” you ask.

“What do you think?”

“You’re the one who knows him.”

“Huh? I just met him tonight.”

Your eyes open in surprise. Jungkook knows everybody in the world. 

“What?”

He raises his hand in caution. “Hey, all of this info is second-hand from Deji.”

“She’s really fallen for him, huh?”

Jungkook’s brows, cheeks, nose, and lips all draw together, meeting, squinched, in the middle of his face.

“She told me that she’s butt-crazy in love.”

When you laugh, he laughs, all his features bouncing back to their rightful, gorgeous places.

You lie there, just watching him, trying to take more of it in. 

More of Jungkook just laughing.

His eyes are perfectly almond-shaped, but they grow so big and round when he laughs. He seems to have a habit of pushing his upper lip into a triangular pout, symmetrical with the way his cheeks form sideways Vs as he pulls his lips up and back. There’s a tiny freckle on his chin, by his bottom lip, and you like that depending on how full his laugh is, and how open his mouth grows to let it out, you can sometimes see it, and sometimes, you can’t, because when it pops up, it’s like a tiny, adorable prize. And now, he’s scratching the tip of his ear, grabbing onto it, before sliding his hands under his cheeks, just like yours.

Your knees are almost touching.

“Is she?”

“She is.”

Maybe it’s the topic, and maybe it’s just tonight, but everything about him shines so brightly. Even his voice bathes you in starlight.

“When it comes to this sort of thing, you just know.”

He rubs his knee, gently, against yours.

It angles downward as he rests his weight on it. 

His arm comes around you, and your body turns with it, your back meeting the roof.

His hand flattens, resting on his jacket, holding him up.

As he leans over you, face in full view, the only thing you see, other than the swirls of stars sparkling behind him, you think you might crane your neck up and plant a kiss on his slightly parted lips.

As you raise your chin to meet him, he thinks you might, too.

He opens his mouth to say something else. Maybe even do something else. Whatever it is, you want him to do it. 

But then, there’s the loud buzzing of generators, and a rush of light. 

Windows. 

Signs. 

Billboards. 

Fluorescent. 

Neon. 

Spotlights evolving into floodlights. 

The entire city rumbles with an earthquake of cheers.

Your lips pull back from the pout you were making, rushing inward as you seal them together with your teeth.

Jungkook freezes.

You look at each other for a moment.

And then he leans back. Instead of lying back down, he sits up, folding his legs under him. He uses them to get himself back onto his feet and walk over to the edge, looking back at you and raising his eyebrows in question.

You rock onto your side, kneel, and then hoist yourself up, joining him to look over the ledge.

The streets are more crowded than you thought. And they’re growing louder, no longer restrained under that black cloud.

“Guess it’s over,” he says.

You blink a few times, getting used to this new, luminous world. You peer down at the building across the street, the one that blocks the city from your apartment’s view, and you see a horde of people through one of the main windows.

You can already hear the din of people in your own building, chaos moving from the hallways to the stairwell. Sweaty bodies pushing against each other to get back to their apartments, filled with stale air.

Jungkook raises his eyebrows as he reads your mind. “Wait it out?”

“Nah.”

You follow the siding, along the ledge, to where the roof’s fire escape sits.

You grab the rising railing and steady yourself before climbing up, over the ledge, and turning around to take the ladder down..

You look at Jungkook with a daredevil’s grin.

“C’mon.”

Hoisting the fire escape window open proves to be much more difficult than you thought. Maybe the metal tracks have rusted over. Maybe the paint has turned to glue. Or maybe there’s something stuck at the top, a bit of wood, or a random pebble, wedging it in place.

Jungkook sends it flying upwards with seemingly no effort.

Even though the fire escape’s metal work is still up to code and more than enough to keep you from tumbling down into, incidentally, the dumpsters below, he holds his arms open and around you. Just in case.

You climb in, careful not to stomp on your still-open book, balancing on your desk carefully, but not for too long, given that it was bought on a budget and contains a drawer of screws that you didn’t use when putting it together.

Jungkook sees you calculating, and before you can give any kind of warning, he dives for the rug, somersaulting into the living room, stopping just short of the coffee table holding your one real plant.

Smiling back as you cackle, he jumps up, dusts himself off, and takes a bit of a bow.

Unlike every other apartment in the city at that moment, your lights are still off. But you tend to keep them off anyway, much preferring the way the city light gives you just enough to maneuver around comfortably.

He seems to understand. Another shared preference.

You watch as he takes slivers of your living room in. At the far end, your door, double-locked. Shoes lined up, except for a boot that has fallen on its side. A table, which is probably where you put your keys and mail. A skinny bookshelf on the first wall. A TV, and that coffee table, in the center. That plant, which, unfortunately, isn’t doing too well. This couch, with the quilt that looks like your mother, or any mother, made it, but is actually another bargain buy. 

“Cozy,” he says with a genuine smile.

“Appears that way,” you admit.

Jungkook nods as he takes more in. Everything seems to be in place. In order. And he’s starting to feel awkward there, unsure of where he needs to be.

“Well,” he says, smiling. “I guess there’s nothing left to do but the last thing on your list.”

There’s an uncomfortable pressure in your chest. You let it storm and rumble for a moment, and you realize that it’s not anxiety, or stress. Those would mean that having Jungkook in your apartment would feel wrong. That you would want him to go.

But you desperately, desperately don’t.

It’s regret. 

The regret of not craning your neck up and kissing him under the stars.

“I don’t want to do the last thing anymore,” you say, looking at him with want. “I wanna do something else.”

You don’t break your gaze as you walk right up to him, toes touching his.

You tilt your head.

You kiss him.

You kiss him.

And he lets you.

When you pull away, you grin and ask, “What are you thinking?”

He could have been staring for five seconds or five hours. It somehow feels like both. And all of that explodes when he tells you, “I was thinking how much I like the taste of your mouth.”

His lips land on yours with a soft grunt, diving in with more want the more that he gets of you. His fingers hold your head gently, but after each taste that he gets of you, his fingers continue to dig in, squeezing your cheeks slightly, and forcing your lips forward.

He runs his tongue over them and kisses you once more. 

Hearts pounding, you pull away, wearing matching, wet smirks. 

As you pull away, you stare at each other, puzzled, and even more curious.

You rush together again, bodies colliding this time, and violently so.

“Ow!”

You rub at the sore spot just above your right breast, and The Hulk scowls back at you.

“Haha, aww.” 

He whines along with you, pulling you in closer on the other side, and placing his hand on your sore spot, too.

He massages his fingers in tender circles.

And then he pulls you in for a kiss that unfolds slowly, not robbed of heat and passion but building back up to it layer by layer, like the measured steps of the fire escape, rather than tumbling off of the roof’s ledge.

His hand travels down, taking your breast in his hand and massaging it with his entire palm, working in tandem with his tongue in your mouth.

You feel both his tongue and his hand at your pussy, clenching tighter, and nearly getting as wet as your smirks.

He groans softly, shoulders bending back.

He momentarily removes his hand from you as he peels his jacket off of his frame, first his left sleeve, then his right, folding the jacket in half and gently tossing it over to your couch.

And then, his hand returns, and the other joins it, groping your chest and pushing your breasts into you. You lay your hands on top of his and follow his round motions, intertwining and closing your fingers around his fingers as they feel you.

His thumbs flick over both of your nipples. You can only feel part of the sensation, with your blouse still on, and given the light padding in your bra. But it’s more than enough to send twitches to your pussy as it drips with more arousal.

Your thighs tighten and clasp together, hips swirling.

Your head dips back as you take in a long, deep breath, followed by shallower ones.

It feels like you’ve been drowning. 

Jungkook watches you, hands slowing to a stop.

“Everything OK?”

“I haven’t been kissed like that in a long, long time,” you say, dazed. “And I barely know you.”

Jungkook smiles. “I’m Jungkook.”

You laugh, “Yes, but—” 

“Why don’t I tell you what I know,” he says quietly, and thoughtfully. 

He runs his fingers down the collar of your blouse. You barely feel him, but your chest feels so tense.

“I know that you’re sweet.”

He runs his index finger down your chest. As he unbuttons the first button with just his right hand, your eyes unfocus, lids falling slightly closed, and your tilting head sending them back.

“I know that you’re kind.”

The second button is a little harder to undo. You had to replace it after the thread came loose, and you overdid the fix just to be sure. He’s still able to unbutton it with just one hand.

“I know that you’re funny.”

The third button opens, and he rolls it in his fingers as he tickles your belly button, making you giggle and squirm.

“I know that you’re feisty. And really competitive. Which I’m gonna have tons of fun with.”

You laugh as he hooks his finger around the fourth button, which falls open. He barely even had to touch it. You feel your shirt spreading apart at your shoulders, and you feel the slight breeze from the window on your chest.

“I know that you’ve had a shitty day.”

You soften as he undoes the last button at the end of your blouse.

“And I wanna make you feel better.”

His hands move up your hips, and waist, and he moans softly at the feel of your skin. 

He bends down and kisses just above your right breast, as his hands run up your chest and to your shoulders, slipping under that polyester blend and running down your arms, your blouse traveling with them.

You hear the crumple of sangria-stained fabric fall on the ground.

Jungkook’s lips find a spot on your neck, and you lean back to give him room.

Your hands sneak under his hoodie, and you take the time to grope every single muscle on his back, each of them covered in a slight sheen of sweat.

“Mmm,” he whispers, as you hook your arms under his and pull him closer. 

“Why have you been wearing two layers?” you finally ask, feeling the weight of his sweat in the fabric. “It’s so hot.”

“I haven’t done my laundry yet. These are the last clean clothes that I have. And this is thin.” 

He tugs on the front and looks down.

“You can see my nipples through it.

Your frown is weighted with empty promises when you look down. 

“In the light, I mean,” Jungkook chuckles.

“That’s a feature, not a bug, Jungkook.”

He has no idea what you’re talking about, but he’ll take it, with the way you’re softly moaning as you run your hands across his chest.

“You wanna see them?”

“Uh-huh. Let me turn on the light.”

“Or you could just take this off.”

“Right.”

You almost would prefer to turn on the light, because, now that you know his back is made of nothing but rippling muscle, you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle the full sight of his chest. 

But you bite your lip, and tug.

He pulls his arms down, and then he shakes his hair free, as you pull the hoodie from his head.

You wish you could take a picture of the resulting floof, so soft and cute.

And then you let your eyes drift down to his chest.

He watches with interest as you trace each of his pecs with your fingers. 

“Live up to your expectations?”

You realize your mouth has been hanging open.

You look into his eyes.

“Shattered them.”

He laughs, and then you go back to admiring his body. You wonder what he does. Weights, obviously, as supported by his strong, defined arms. Maybe he swims, given his waist. He probably likes to run, too. He can probably run for hours. In fact, with all the gallivanting around tonight, his heart’s gotta be like that of a stallion.

This bodes well for you.

The only way he can pry you away from that body is by tilting your chin up and stealing your gaze with his eyes.

His lips flutter against your jaw line until they meet yours again.

With your chests mashing together, and your kisses stretching on for longer, busier spans of time, you’re starting to work up a sweat.

“Bedroom?” you ask, panting.

He nods quickly and looks around to figure out which door it is.

You smile and take his hand, leading him to the far right, past your kitchen, and to your room, to your perfect, comfy bed.

You slide out of your shoes, undo your pants, and let them fall to the floor before climbing onto the bed and sitting in the middle.

And you run your hand across your chest as you watch him take his time, kicking off his shoes, taking off his pants, standing there in his black boxer-briefs and just grinning at you.

“Are you gonna join me or what?”

When your head tilts to the side, weighted with impatience, he scrunches his face again, and laughs.

He crawls as he follows you, watching you to make sure you’re comfortable as you lie down, and then settling on top of you, like you both wish he had done on the roof.

“You playing with me?” you mumble through a smile, as you bring your arms around him.

He kisses the inside of your upper arm and rubs it with his hand. “No,” he says simply. “Just like looking at you.”

You sigh as he kisses you.

It’s a little faster. Hungrier. Like before.

He leads you back with his lips, and when he looks down at your chest, you arch back, fingers finding the band and undoing the clasps in the back.

He lets out a sigh when he sees your bare chest.

He locks eyes with you, and his look says it all. Equal parts tender and fascinated. You wouldn’t believe the look on anyone else, but after tonight, you know that there is no disingenuous bone in Jungkook’s body. 

You are beautiful.

He smiles as he snatches your bra from your hand and tosses it behind him, rushing forward to you and pinning you down to your pillow with his kiss, both of you laughing and grunting happily.

You place your hands on his hips, and then stroke his thighs.

You run the backs of your fingernails to his crotch, and he lets out a low moan.

“OK?” you ask.

“Yeah. Yeah, please.”

You fondle his cock, hard, and getting harder, while you grasp it with firm pressure. He whines so sweetly as your hand runs up and down its column, his underwear keeping it pinned against him, nearly choking it off.

His left hand claims your left breast, starting to massage it, and his right hand strokes your panties, twisting as your body starts to writhe against your mattress, the fabric riding higher and getting caught in your swelling, dripping flesh. 

Your kisses are becoming more and more impassioned with each need being met.

He starts to dip his fingers between your pussy lips, letting your clit part his index and middle fingers as his wrist rocks back and forth.

As you moan on each stroke, he lifts his lips from yours and rests his temple against your collarbone.

“Can I taste you?” he asks hopefully.

You look at him and nod in desperation. 

He smirks and kisses down your body, taking your panties and pulling them down to your calves. He’s so impatient that he starts to eat you out before they’re even fully off, and you take turns between giggling while trying to kick them off completely, and groaning at each dizzy lick of his tongue tip, spiraling around your clit, and sending you spiraling into your own abyss.

Your hips start to match his motion, but then his hands grasp your hips and pin you down.

You feel yourself fighting against him, and that tight, added resistance has you seeing stars. The sensation travels in waves over your body, never quite settling in one place. Your shoulders carry you from left to right. Your ass digs down, then pumps up. Your back locks, then arches. All of your movements fail miserably at quelling the disquieted sections of your body, only shifting the tension from muscle to muscle.

He pins your thighs down with his forearms, and then holds you open with his thumbs, his tongue laying flat and changing from spirals to broad, heated, pressured brushstrokes up and down, at an even, unhurried tempo.

You whimper as you start to feel little shivers of pleasure tickle your body. You wet your lips and press them together, choked-off grunts getting louder and louder.

“Fingers?” Jungkook asks.

“Mm -hmm.”

He grunts as he shifts his weight, letting your left thigh go, and softly pushing it to the side to widen your spread a little.

His hand is warm and covered in your sweat.

He lays the pad of his thumb against the entrance of your pussy, pressing slightly, and then he sucks the juice that collects around it.

“Tight little thing,” he mumbles. “Not ready for me yet.”

You groan at all the things that means.

He slides the tip of his index finger in. At first, you feel yourself fighting him, but when he starts to suck your clit, you feel yourself start to shift that tension up to your extremities. Your hands ball into fists. Your toes curl. Your throat closes off as you try to wail. 

His entire finger slides inside, and you feel your walls conforming to his knuckles. 

He starts to pump, and you hiss.

The sound of wet muscle doubles, and you feel his groans against your clit as his hips start to snap into his own fist. 

He keeps his mouth open as you rock against his mouth, tongue stretching into your folds as you slide around his finger, moving faster, his other fist matching your pace stroke for stroke.

As the edges of a soft, warm release start to take you, he slips another finger inside of you, and you let out a loud moan. 

Jungkook hums, pleased with how pleased you are.

“Shit, it feels so good,” you whine, before resting the back of your forearm over your lips and biting down.

He quickens his speed. Curves his fingers up.

“Uh-huh!”

You tighten around him, and he lets out a sigh, his temple resting against your thigh, eyes dazed over as he watches his fingers disappear inside of you over and over again, while his other fingers tighten their grip around his leaking cock.

He grunts again, and then, he places his lips over your clit, sealing it in his mouth, and sucking again.

When you come, you sigh, laughing a little at how unexpectedly delirious you feel. 

Your body is still shivering when he stands over you, his pace slowing, but his cock still has a ways to grow. 

It’s already so big.

You can’t wait.

“Come here,” you motion, directing Jungkook to come around the side of the bed.

“You sure?” he asks, obviously excited.

“After that?” you say, delighted. 

You roll onto your side, hugging the edge of the mattress, and open wide for him, eyes gleaming as you look up at him.

His hand cradles the back of your head as you try to take him in one gulp. It takes you a minute to get the angle right, jaw driving you left and right, tongue flat, then narrow and pointed, until you surround him with your lips, and you start to bob your head back and forth, halfway down his shaft.

He takes a shaky breath in, and you smile when you hear him let out a little, “whoo.”

He comes out of your mouth with a pop as you lick your precum-glossed lips and ask, “You like it?”

You see only his hair floof shake up and down. His head has fallen back, the strong pillar of his throat bulging forward, collarbones out, chin directed up at the air. 

You watch as you suck harder, his crown regally announcing itself through the curtains of your tonsils, muscle meeting your throat.

Jungkook hisses, bringing his hands up to the sides of his head, and raking his fingers through his hair. 

You move back and forth again, your pillow collecting your sweat as you go.

The longer you go, the more you feel him resisting.

You place your hands on his hips to find that they’re shaking. 

When you pinch them, he moans, and he finally lets himself thrust.

You groan as he pushes into you, taking shallow breaths in through your nostrils as he sinks further and further into madness. How you take him so easily, and yet, how beautifully tight and slippery your throat is. How patient you are, and how careful he has to be. It’s driving him sinfully insane. 

Before it gets too far, he pulls out, slow at first, and then quick, as you catch your breath, and he tenses.

“Again?” you prompt weakly, opening your mouth.

“I have to fuck you,” Jungkook demands. “Now.”

You laugh at how serious he looks, his eyes darting around your bedroom.

“What are you looking for?”

“Condoms?”

You get out of bed and scurry to the bathroom, Jungkook smiling and pinching your ass as you go.

You lead him to the bathroom, the door opposite your kitchen, and you quickly locate them under your sink. 

“These OK?” you ask, holding up the box. 

“Perfect.”

He rips one from the rest.

And then he sets it on the sink, taking the box with him and marching back to your bedroom.

You laugh, running up to him and jumping onto his back, wrapping your legs around his waist and peppering his neck and traps with kisses.

He kisses your forearm and giggles.

And then something catches his eye.

He stops.

“Ooh. What’s that?”

You look over to your kitchen counter and spot the simple snacks you’d left out for yourself, thinking you’d be treating yourself for the weekend.

“Is that candy?” he asks.

“Chocolate, infused with weed.”

“Yeah?”

He looks back at you and smirks.

“You wanna?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. “We haven’t eaten in a while. And they’re kinda strong.”

Jungkook beams. “Even better.” But then he pushes out his lips. “Unless you were saving—”

“I’m down if you’re down,” you say happily. “Go get ‘em.”

He hoists you up higher onto his back, and you tighten your grip around his shoulders, as he walks over to the counter.

He unwraps the gold foil and breaks off a square. He raises it up and behind him to your lips. You take his fingers into your mouth and suck. He leaves his hand there so that you can suck the rest of the chocolate off of them, too. He beams at you, and you lean forward to kiss him, before he takes another square for himself.

He licks his fingers as he brings you back to bed, the two of you laughing as you go.

And then, he stumbles, tripping, turning just in time to throw you onto the bed, while he falls to the floor.

“Oh my god!” you cackle, as Jungkook pops back up, your pants, and your powder blue stapler, tangled up and around his foot.

“I’m sorry!” he calls out, pulling them off and throwing them back down. 

“Are you OK?” you ask, still giggling.

Jungkook furrows his brow and looks at the ground. He disappears, and then pops back up again, holding up a sleeve of condoms.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

He rips one off the end and puts it on, crawling over you as you lay back.

“Mmm,” you sigh, as he pushes into you.

His neck lolls forward, and you grab his hair floof in your fingers.

“You OK?” Jungkook asks gently.

You wonder how many times he’s had to ask someone that.

He’s so long, but his girth. So wide. So full. And so heavy, with want, and passion, and excitement. 

“You said that you had to fuck me,” you say, hands grabbing onto his ass. “So fuck me.”

He starts to move, pulling back, and then rocking forward, your bodies bobbing up and down as your movements build off of each other, more pleas floating out of your mouths. 

More. 

Harder. 

Like this.

His eyes find that spot above your right breast.

“What?” you ask, slightly distracted by the look on his face.

“I think there’s a small bruise.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’m sorry about that.”

“That’s OK,” you say, scoffing. “If I need to, I can cover it up with something.”

“So can I.”

His mouth latches there, and he starts to bite, and suck. You feel your skin giving way to him, like it’s breaking open and spilling all over you, instead of Jungkook’s pool of spit. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, your hips starting to roll at the combined sensation. “Don’t stop.”

As his thrusts get harder and deeper, he shifts all of his weight to his left side, and his right hand slides down to your clit, starting to rub in those circular motions again. You roll against him, knees in the air, swaying open, then back closed around his waist. 

Everything’s a blur.

He stiffens as he pumps, deeper and deeper, the bed rocking under your weight, his own tiny sighs getting louder as you start to wail.

All the while, his teeth pinch and nibble that spot on your chest, and you feel your legs starting to shake.

You’re on the brink of another orgasm.

When he stops.

“No, no, no, no,” you whimper, fluttering.

Jungkook giggles.

“Don’t stop!”

“I’m not. Not completely.”

“Ugh.”

His voice deepens, and softens, as it rumbles through your hair to your ear. 

“Think about how crazy it’ll feel when you come.”

He runs his wet index finger around your right nipple, and he kisses the hickey he’s just given you just above it. 

“Please.”

Jungkook grins. “Ah, you asked so nicely.”

He starts to thrust into you again, and you fall right back where you were, covered in tingles and sweat, body starting to spasm, shaking even harder than you were starting to before.

He’s right.

Jungkook, this beautiful stranger, who is dipping in and out of your frenzied pussy, cock slamming, and disappearing, whose hand is furiously pawing at your clit and making you overflow with arousal, making every muscle inside of you tremble, and then freeze and release, exploding and sending you reeling, is absolutely right.

“Fuck!”

When you come, you do feel crazy.

And so does he, getting off on how you moaned for him, babbled nonsense because of him. 

A few tears are pooling in the corners of your eyes.

You feel so raw.

A good kind of raw.

Not like before, when Jungkook first saw you crying.

The kind of raw that tells you that you’ve washed the day off of your tired skin and are reborn.

You look at him in contemplation.

“You’re lucky I like overstimulation.”

“Taking note,” Jungkook observes, slowing his thrusts. “What else do you like?”

“What do you like?”

“I like spanks.”

“Me too,” you say. “Giving and receiving.”

He stops his thrust altogether, intrigued.

“Then spank me,” he orders. “Right now.”

You do, as you bite your lip and smile.

“No, really, spank me,” Jungkook says, reaching for your arm.

You fight off his wiggling fingers, lean forward, and pack a wallop into your slap on his ass, watching it shake.

“Ow! Not that hard!” he whines, rubbing the spot.

“I’m sorry!”

He collapses into giggles, curling up in your sheets.

“I’m kidding. You’re kind of weak.”

You scrunch up your face and spank him all over his body, but then he picks you up, tickling you and sending you into a cackling frenzy.

“Jesus fucking— Stop! Stop! You win!” you cry.

“Say I’m the flip cup champ!” Jungkook demands.

“What??”  

“Say it!”

“B-but you aren’t!”

“Say it or I won’t stop!”

You can’t breathe, you’re laughing so hard. “I’m the flip cup champ!”

Jungkook pinches your side, and you squeal.

“You’re the flip cup champ!” you holler. “Jungkook is the flip cup champ!”

Jungkook laughs with haughty satisfaction as he lies down on his side, kissing you as you start to float back down next to him.

As your cackles slow, you turn to him and run your fingers over his pretty, kiss-swollen mouth.

“What do you wanna do now?”

“I dunno. What do you wanna do?”

“I dunno.”

“What were we doing, anyway?”

You stare at each other, dumbfounded.

He laughs and turns to you, wide-eyed. “I think we were having sex?”

You cackle. “Oh shit, right!” You kiss him. “Let’s do that. Let’s do more sex.”

“Shit,” he giggles. “This is not a reflection of the quality of sex we were having, by the way. I’m having an amazing time.”

“I know. Me too.” You smile. “I’m having fun.”

You’ve been in the clouds since meeting Jungkook. But everything feels even hazier. The boundaries of your mattress, nightstands, walls, ceilings, and floors are melding. Softening. 

And so is Jungkook’s happy, smiling face.

You grin and scrunch your nose. 

“Hmm. I guess the edible hit.”

“Guess so,” Jungkook celebrates, eyes shining.

“Let me ride you,” you say warmly, but excitedly, kissing him as you get on top. “You’ve been doing all the work.”

“You’ve been putting work in, too. And you can’t ride me better than I’ve been fucking you,” Jungkook teases.

“Are you shitting me?” you ask, aghast. “Is that a dare?”

“Try it and find out.”

You slap his chest, and he laughs.

And while you sink down onto him, he sighs lightly, licking his lips and curling them into a smile.

First, you tantalize him by weaving slow circles, clenching him so tightly, that he hisses the same way he did when he was in your throat. 

His hands slap onto your thighs and grab on.

You start to bounce up and down, and he watches your breasts jiggle as you do, his left hand reaching up and squeezing the right one as his right hand squeezes your thigh.

And then, you lean forward, and rock against him. You move so sweetly, whether you’re gently stroking him with your flesh, or riding him so tight and hard that he can’t see straight. It seems that you’re headed that way, with how hard your fists are gripping his shoulders.

He moans compliments as you ride. 

“You’re goddamn gorgeous.”  

“You feel so good.” 

“So, so tight. If you clench even harder, I’ll—”

And you do.

He won’t be able to last.

But then you stop.

His mouth falls open.

You lean forward and scoop him up into a kiss.

“Think about how crazy it’ll feel when you cum,” you joke.

“You are driving me crazy.”

You giggle through another moan. “Butt-crazy?”

Jungkook whines. “Don’t be cute. And don’t talk about butts. I might ask you to do something, and I feel like that’s a question for when we know each other a little better.”

“Keep going the way you are, and if you ask it tonight, I might say yes.”

“Oh god.”

But you still don’t budge.

He places his hands on your waist and frantically tries to get you to bounce. Tries tickling you. Pinching you. 

“Agh, c’mon.”

“Nope. This is payback for—”

Jungkook finally just grabs you by the hips. Holds you in place. Starts to pump up and into you.

He’s relentless.

You give complete control to him, barely able to hold yourself up. 

But he’s got you. 

The strokes feel like flames, deep, hot, and fast, making your pussy pulse, arousal leaking, even threatening to spurt out of you because of how full you are.

When your elbows start to tremble, threatening to give way, he wraps his arms around you hugging your chest to his. His strokes have started a wildfire in your core, and you’re sweating so much that when your head falls to him, there’s a splash of it onto your temple. 

Everything in your body is clamping down. Shutting down. You can’t stand it anymore. All this tension. 

The release is almost unbearable.

You both howl, your orgasm coming first, and his coming soon after, your bodies tied up in knots as you strain to stay together, transferring each flicker and spasm to one another, until you both collapse back down to the mattress.

“Let me cool you down,” he mumbles, fighting the oncoming drowsiness.

“What?” you ask.

But he’s already sliding down your body.

He licks at your pussy, lapping up all of your arousal.

“Jungkook?”

You start to feel waves rolling up your calves.

“Jungkook.”

“Mm.”

He spits it all back onto you, making you gasp.

He keeps licking, sucking on your clit, sucking on your lips, and gently running his fingers across your stomach, like little comforting tickles.

You come, softly, and quietly, gentle shivers helping your body stretch back out and relax, resolving the rest of the tension that hadn’t quite unfurled from before.

“There.”

You watch him army crawl back up the mattress and laugh softly when his completely drenched hair floof hits the pillow next to you.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says.

“Nothing,” you answer. “My mind is completely blank.”

“Good.” Jungkook grins. “That was the third thing you wanted, wasn’t it?”

All you can do is stare at his proud, accomplished, wondrous grin.

And before he pulls you into a soft, tender kiss, he tells you.

“You were right. I find that things usually work out. And that’s because I always make sure that they do.”

The sun stings your eyes. It feels chemical. Even with them closed.

Slowly, you pry them open. First the left. Then the right. You blink slowly, then rapidly, the world coming into focus as you do.

Where are you?

Oh. That’s right. Home.

Why did you forget that you were home? You’re always home.

Though it feels like you haven’t been home in ages.

Why is it so bright?

Yes, it’s day time. But it’s so—

Right. The city blackout.

But how did you know the whole city was affected? Whenever anything in your apartment goes wrong, you pretty much ignore it and continue puttering around your apartment until you get some kind of text from a co-worker—

Mm.

Anyway, you guess you’ll putter around until you somehow find out from someone that whatever you were experiencing was actually part of some kind of mass event—

Riiiiiiiight. The block party. 

Hold on.

Why are you smiling about the block party?

Why are you giggling about the block party?

Why do you feel so sore?

And what time is it?

You lift your head, too quickly at first, feeling immediately unsteady. You shut your eyes and let your body find equilibrium before trying to step back outside of yourself. When you’re ready — there’s no rush, you, for some reason, kindly tell yourself — you prop yourself up on your elbows and look to your nightstand to find out.

And you see four things.

Your clock, reading 8:43 AM.

Your powder blue stapler.

The Hulk.

And, under his feet, a small note, scribbled on a piece of paper. Torn, like his shorts.

It’s 8:20. I think you’re almost up, but you look pretty comfy, so I don’t want to wake you. Going to the Chans for breakfast. 

C’mon!

As everything comes swirling back to you — the dumpsters; and Mrs. Chan’s walnut chicken; Yugyeom and his sangria; Shik and your stapler; Mr. Jeup, Deji, her cookies, her crush, and Crunkook-oppa ; Yon and Yeo in the candlelight; and, not least of all, Jungkook’s beaming face framed by that unspeakably wondrous, starry, starry sky — you’re glad, thrilled, that some memories from last night were absolutely worth keeping.

So you leap out of bed to make more.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts fanfic #ksmutclub #ficscafe #magicshopsgate #purplearmynet #kflixnet

[larkingame]

hello folks! I hope that January has treated you all well and that the beginning of 2024 has been kind to you so far. welcome to the second public update for larkin's monthly development of 2024! 

Personally, January seemed to fly by for me, and while it did provide a lot of time for work, it also posed some challenges and taught me a few things. The first of which, is the fact that the new Larkin is a //big// undertaking, bigger than I think even I realized when I first set out on this journey. While turning Larkin into an RPG, with dice rolls, stat checks and the like is a decision that I'm still very happy with and proud of my progress on--it's going slower than I'd necessarily like. To illustrate this to you, the prologue of Larkin currently sits at about 55k words, while the original twine prologue was at just about 21k words in it's complete scope. The big difference there being, in those original 21k words I managed to get the plot moving and the Preacher and Wyatt on their way to Nevada, but in the time that I've been working on the RPG version of Larkin, I've only just about gotten finished with the first major encounter. It's slow going, and I'm working really hard to ramp up the production speed--adjusting my schedule to wake up at 5:00 am to work for a few hours before work and school, and then coming home and working on larkin until about 1:30 am (as much I hate this fact, I //do// in fact need //some// sleep.) Even with all of my free time dedicated to work on Larkin or catching those few precious hours of sleep, I'm still not entirely happy with the speed at which I'm working on it--and I'm still experimenting to try and figure out what works best that helps me produce quality work with a quick turn-around. 

That being said, one of my new systems I've implemented to try and alleviate my production stress is that I've started dropping two updates to the game every week. The first update comes on Thursdays and is called what I've dubbed a 'Bulk' Update, it essentially builds on the choices/routes that have already been presented to the player, giving you room to explore your environment/develop your character compared to the Sunday 'Streamline' Update, that furthers along the plot of the story. Later tonight I'll be posting an update roadmap for the month of February on Patreon. 

Other brief updates about the progress of the game. For one, I've been working with two artists—one who is producing some art that'll be used as future patreon physical rewards and another who's putting together portraits of all the game's main characters that I am. Sickeningly excited about, considering that this artist is my current favorite working artist of all time. In total there's going to be sixteen character portraits that you'll be able to unlock throughout the course of the game, with slight variations depending on our relationship with that character. Other than that, me and my assistant Phillip are in the process of really trying to build a bigger social media presence for Larkin, so we'll be launching twitter/threads/bluesky/instagram and editing the tiktok pages for Larkin, that I'll drop in a card later tonight as well. I’ve also introduced another patreon tier of $1 for those of you who are wanting more consistent updates on the game development on Patreon!

STATS: 

PROLOGUE WORDCOUNT: 55, 750 words

ROUTE TRACKER: 1.5/11

PROLOGUE WORDCOUNT GOAL: 150k

#larkin if #larkin game #larkin patreon

[absolutebl]

Recommendation for something to watch and complete on a off day? I am also off today. Something soft and full of love preferably....

10 Soft BL's to Binge In A Day

(Since I don't sleep and watch high speed I binge full length Thai BL but I'm assuming you want something shorter than that, so I've limited myself to a 5hr runtime.)

1. Semantic Error (Korea Viki) - Sexy older boy discovers pouty younger boy has outed him as a slacker, starts out bullying him, accidentally falls madly in love. Korea hits it entirely out of the Parks by doing a university BL with everything we expect from BL just done exactly right. Korea's signature quality executed perfectly with added bonus good story, great pacing, stunning visuals, and fantastic chemistry. You cannot ask for more from a BL, let alone a KBL. Full review.

2. Seven Days (Japan grey in 2 parts Seven Days: Monday - Thursday, Seven Days: Friday - Sunday) - one of the best live action yaoi mangas ever made. The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat, there’s still more kisses than Cherry Magic. Popular first year Seiryo has a policy of going out with any girl who asks… for one week. On a lark, third year Yuzuru tests to see if that policy also applies to boys. Seiryo agrees that it does. Along the way they accidentally fall in love. All the angst is just teen confusion. 

3. Our Dating Sim (Korea Viki) - I enjoyed every aspect from the casting to the very simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s very low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story. Do we call this cozy BL? Why not? This one is going to live in my rewatch pile, I can tell already, and you know what’s best about it? Every single episode is in that pile. There’s no skipping with this one, it might be good natured and calmly sweet but it’s tight and the pacing is excellent. It perfectly suited KBL’s short-length tendencies. Full review.

4. Light On Me (Korea Viki - Korea does an elegant pastiche of traditional live action yaoi but all tropes are cleverly deployed to bolster one of the most riveting love triangles ever put on screen… and I don’t like love triangles. LoM strategically tailors classic BL tropes to 2 different semes resulting in pristine pacing, plot, and character development, explicitly serving narrative (not just to tick boxes). LoM is a master class in this trope drops. (If you write fanfic or romance you should study this show.) Full review.

5. Takara-kun and Amagi-kun (Japan Gaga & Viki) - I gnawed on my knuckles and squealed a lot with this show. Reserved cool kid who must learn to communicate to keep the tiny disaster nugget he’s madly in love with. It is beyond charming: soft and gentle, packed with cuteness and high school angst, thirst, & yearning. Was there plot? Not really. Was it emotionally tense and paced well enough for me not to notice? Absolutely. Did I enjoy the hell out of it? Oh yes. Full review.

6. HIStory 2: Crossing the Line (Taiwan Viki) - super low stakes sweetest story of the bad boy who falls hard for the senior on the volleyball team and then works to earn his love. You know it’s Taiwan so the kisses are great but in this case it also ends well. Only trigger is that the side couple is the stepbrothers trope, and some don’t like that.

7. Cherry Magic (Japan indie subbed) AKA Doutei dato Mahoutsukai ni narerurashii - the sweetest, fluffiest, most charming bit of adorable ever, full of found family and pastry and serious slapstick, the characters are utterly bonkers, but cute about it. 

8. Wish You (Korea Netflix or Viki, you want the movie version) AKA WISH YOU: Your Melody in My Heart - low stakes high pining romance about a pianist who falls in love with a busker who is on his way to being the next big idol. 

9. Restart After Come Back Home (Japan indie subbed or Gaga?) - this one is perfect if you just want a beautiful loving movie, and one that is well filmed and complex enough to appeal to those who don’t normally watch BL or romance (if you have a reluctant partner). 

10. You Are Ma Boy (Vietnam YouTube) - is there angst? Nope even what could have been angst (a gay idol) doesn’t materialize, it’s just cuties in a cafe confusing each other with cat & mouse games. The side het couple is a touch disturbing, tho. 

Also Old Fashioned Cupcake, it's a bit more complicated than soft but a FANTASTIC binge watch.

(list updated May 2023, not responsible for ones that come after that date)

#asked and answered #rec list #BL's to Binge #bingeable BL #it's on viki #Semantic Error #korean bl #Seven Days: Monday - Thursday #japanese bl #adapted from a manga #live action yaoi #Seven Days: Friday - Sunday #Our Dating Sim #Light On Me #Takara-kun and Amagi-kun #HIStory 2: Crossing the Line #taiwanese bl #Restart After Come Back Home #WISH YOU: Your Melody in My Heart #You Are Ma Boy #vietnamese bl #Also Old Fashioned Cupcake #Cherry Magic #Doutei dato Mahoutsukai ni narerurashii

[moiravim]

Forevermore

Dad Loki x child/teen yn (gender neutral)

Uncle Thor x teen yn

Just a bunch of fluff <3

Loki had met you on his first trip to Midgard. Although you were just a child, you were working with the avengers. You had powers that could let you heal people, so you worked with the other doctors in the medical wing.

Even though you spent all your time helping them, none of them cared for you like a parent would.

That was until Loki came. It was obvious to everyone that he had a soft spot for you. He watched over you and became the father figure you didn't have.

As soon as he got the chance, he adopted you and took you to Asgard. The two of you live together in the castle.

He'd help you learn lessons and how to control your magic. He made sure you felt like you belonged.

Loki is extremely overprotective of you. If anyone talked bad about you, He'd start yelling at them. No one is going to get away with hurting his child.

The two of you are inseparable. He makes sure you know how much he loves and cares for you.

His love language is quality time with you. If he could he'd spend every single second of his life next to you. Although Loki doesn't often show his love through touch, he holds your hand frequently.

By the time you were a teen, Ragnarok was starting and Loki took you to Midgard. Even if you argue that you can help, he refuses to let you. "I just don't want you to get hurt" he defends himself.

So the two of you go to Midgard anastay in a small apartment Thor had bought. The avengers didn't fully trust Loki yet, so they refused to let him stay in the compound.

Loki's schedule for the day was: make and eat breakfast, drop yn off at school, go to work, pick yn up, and get dinner.

Although he was annoyed by his new lifestyle, He was happy you both were safe and that you got to spend weekends together.

When Thor got back, you all moved to "new Asgard" and lived in a nice house together. Thor was delighted by the fact he was an uncle and treated you like his own child.

He'd take you out for ice cream, would introduce you to all his friends, and would teach you how to play video games.

When Thor was reunited with Jane, you had offered to use your powers on her. After a while of their begging her, she agreed.

After healing her, you were very exhausted and slept for a week while Loki and Thor took care of you as if you really were royalty. To them you were.

The four of you finally got your happy ending as a normal family. Thor and Jane now had each other, and you knew you'd always have Loki.

#loki imagine #loki layfeson #dad loki #platonic marvel #platonic avengers #thor odison x reader #marvel x reader #marvel #loki laufesyon x reader #parental figures #marvel dads #marvel x platonic reader #platonic #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #loki fanfic #thor fanfiction #thor ragnarok #thor love and thunder #hurt/comfort #loki hurt/comfort #loki as a dad

[mayonnaise-is-a-drink]

White Day Special: Love Languages!! <3

Lucifer

Love Language: Acts of Service

Frankly, this poor demon is overworked, wrung dry by both demands of the kingdom and his younger brothers (more of the latter, honestly).

And he appreciates any actions (successful or otherwise) to alleviate his stress.

An action that could be as simple as a cuppa of Black Coffee of Melancholy in the morning, brewed by your very own hands.

You knock on the door to his study, and it swings opens to reveal a very haggard looking demon –too haggard in fact, when the morning bell has yet to sound.

He perks up at the sight of you, before his curious gaze settles on the tray in your hands.

You hand him the cup of freshly brew coffee that he accepts gratefully, and you set down the flask of thermos on his table, to get him through the day, you insist.

“Thank you, Y/N. I will savour every drop of your love.”

Mammon

Love Language(s): Words of Affirmation and Quality Time

You may expect the Avatar of Greed’s love language to be receiving gifts, but this demon would very much prefer to hog your time and attention.

You aren’t sure when exactly it has become the norm, but you are very much used to the sight of the second-born lounging on your bed.

You certainly aren’t against it.

He talks about a lot of things; sometimes it was about school, sometimes it was (complaints) about Lucifer, sometimes about his modelling work, his latest schemes, and sometimes... when he receives some not-so-nice remarks from the others.

And when he doesn’t, you hold him gently until he feels like himself again.

He talks and you listen quietly –offering kind words at times or to reprove his actions at other times– and the hours go by.

“Y/N, y’know, thank you. Thank you for being here for me.”

After all, what better gift in the Three Realms but you?

Leviathan

Love Language(s): Quality Time and Receiving Gifts

His introversion didn’t allow him to make friends easily.

He wasn’t lonely! At all!

His brothers don’t understand his hobbies. But that’s okie! He doesn’t understand their normie hobbies too.

He was used to it –that is, until you fell into Devildom.

Maybe it was your genuine interest in getting to know him –keeping up with his oshis and latest hyperfixations or even surprising him with trinkets you brought with him in mind– that broke him out of his shell, one step at a time.

It seems that ever since you arrived, he has been smiling more often than before. 

ALL ACCORDING TO KEIKAKU (TL: Keikaku means plan).

After all, he has you now. And you will make him happy. 

"Y/N! I got you this limited-edition Matcha.Ver Azuki-tan that you were looking at Akuzon last week. Consider it a return gift for the Sucre Frenzy tickets, kthxbye!”

One step at a time.

Satan

Love Language(s): Receiving Gifts and Acts of Service

You are not sure when it started, but it has become a habit for you to stop at any bookstore you come across. 

Perhaps you are in love with books, or in love with someone who loves these books. Maybe both.

And today, you walked out of the bookstore with four new books in haul. 

You hope he will like them.

You find him in the library, sorting the uncategorised pile of books into their new shelves, and you join him in his endeavour.

A comfortable silence falls between you two, and he breaks it softly, almost embarrassed, “Say, Y/N, in our future home together, I’d like a library like this too, maybe bigger.”

Your joyful smile says all that he hopes to hear.

Asmodeus

Love Language: Words of Affirmation

Being the Avatar of Lust and the most beautiful gift to the world (source: Y/N), he certainly is used to hearing flattery and compliments on his appearance.

So, what was so different about the praises coming out of your mouth?

Was it because of your cute and clumsy attempts to woo him?

Or was it because of the furious red blush adorning your face when he returns your courting?

Maybe he just loves everything about you.

He definitely wouldn’t mind if you translate your love from passionate words into fervent actions.

“Y/N, darling, I need help picking out tonight’s lipstick. Do you think this shade of red-rose or cherry-candy matte would look better on your skin?”

...Screw the dinner plans, you two aren’t taking a single step out of his room tonight.

Beelzebub

Love Language: Receiving Gifts

It’s no exaggeration to say that he is the biggest eater you know, and you are more than happy to indulge him.

You may not be the best cook or a very experienced one, but you know how to follow recipes! 

That has to count for something, right?

And practice makes perfect –is what you would have like to say.

But he eats and praises all the food you have made, no matter how burned or under/over seasoned it may be.

In his eyes, you (and your cooking) are already perfect. 

“S’good. As long as it’s from you, Y/N, it’s tasty.”

You love this demon but damn it, you want to improve your cooking for him too!!

Belphegor

Love Language(s): Physical Touch and Quality Time

He loves naptime.

He loves you and your warmth.

What better than both combined?

You wake up, startled, with no sense of time.

Your throat feels parched, your mind numbed. Your muscles ache as you move your body. What time was it? How long were you asleep? What-

He stirs beside you, blinking owlishly.

“Y/N? Why are you awake? It’s still... night-time. Ah, don’t panic, you will only hurt yourself again.”

Your mind goes blank, teetering between consciousness.

“Let’s go back to sleep together.”

The room was cold, but him and the bedding was warm and comfortable. So very comfortable.

“Now.”

You won’t leave him now, would you?

#obey me #obey me! #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me drabbles #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor #obey me belphegor x reader #maruwrites #this was totally not for valentines that I procrastinated and screwed up on

[kaleldobrev]

My Hero (2)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's been over a week since your younger sister has been staying at the Bunker and she's still been able to hide the fact that she's a huge Supernatural fan. But during your girls day, she may of said something that could have possibly blown her cover…

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Cursing (6x), Mentions of sex, Fluff

Authors Note: Okay, here's part 2 of my "My Hero" mini-series | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

My Hero Masterlist

You and Shell were in the Bunker kitchen; you at the kitchen stove while your sister was sitting at the island counter in front of you – her nose still very engrossed in the book that she had been reading. It killed you a little bit not knowing what book she was reading, because she had placed her own cover on it. It was just a simple black cover; similar to the ones that you would place on your textbooks in middle school or high school, but hers just happened to be homemade.

Shell had been at the Bunker for a little over a week now, and despite the main reason for her being here was to spend quality sisterly time with you, it really hasn’t been in the cards; as much as you both humanly tried. The two of you would sit down and try and watch a movie: Dean or Jack would come in and watch it with you guys; the two of you would try and go out to lunch: Sam and Dean would join you both. You knew that Shell loved the boys just as much as you did (different in some ways of course), but you could tell that she was just starting to get a little annoyed when it came to the constant interruptions in quality time.

“So, I was thinking,” you began as you started plating the breakfast that you had made for you and your sister. The breakfast consisted of your homemade chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs with bacon bits, and a side of fresh fruit. “There’s this cute little bookstore in town that I think you’d love, and I’d love for us to go today.” You said, sliding her plate over and taking a seat next to her.

Shell grabbed the fork next to the plate and looked up at you a little hesitant. Going to the bookstore was something that was right up her alley, and she had a slight idea when it came to the bookstore that you were talking about. While going on her morning jogs with Sam, the little bookstore in town would be one of the things that they would jog past. “Which one of the boys will be joining us for that trip?” She asked as she started eating some of the eggs on her plate.

Your face dropped into a little frown: this was something that you had wanted to avoid. “None of them will be joining us.” You stated, now starting to eat from your own plate. Shell scoffed. “I’m sorry, Shell…Really.” You hoped your voice was sincere as you genuinely were sorry. “I know you were hoping for a lot of quality time together but…” You sighed, trying to figure out the best way to say what you were about to say next without dismissing your sister’s feelings. “I know the boys really want to spend time with you too. Because I’m family, you’re family.” You placed one of your hands on top of hers, giving her a soft smile, a smile that she returned back.

When you had told the boys that your sister was going to be spending the summer at the Bunker, there were lots of talks of concern and lots of “This isn’t a good idea.” But at the same time, the boys also seemed genuinely excited about the fact that your sister was going to be spending the entire summer here. Out of everyone, the one that seemed to be the most excited was Jack, as Jack was the only one that had never met your sister before. “Does she like Star Wars?” Was one of the first questions that Jack had asked you about her.

“I know…” Shell said, slightly trailing off. She had almost forgotten that the boys had considered her family. “But…you’ve seen them basically every single day for…years. Being here with you, this is the first time I’ve spent an extended period of time with you in…years.” Hearing your sister say this had broken your heart. She was right, you knew she was. You had been on the road with the boys for years, and rarely had gotten to see your family; the only time you had seen them for an extended period of time was years ago now, when you and Dean had spent “your year off” living with Shell and your parents.

“I know.” You sighed. “But I think they can manage one day without seeing me.” You said. “Especially the one I share a room with.” You winked.

“You talkin’ about me Sweetheart?” You heard Dean say as he strolled into the kitchen.

“Only good things.” Shell said, finishing up the food on her plate.

“Good. Cause I’m a delight to share a room with.” Dean winked, grabbing an empty mug from the cabinet.

“Except when you snore.” You said, taking a sip from your mug.

Dean scoffed, grabbing the freshly brewed coffee that you had made earlier and poured it into his empty mug. “I don’t snore.”

“So, you’re telling me that Sam is the one I’m hearing from down the hall?” You questioned.

Dean looked at the two of you for a second, trying to weigh his options on how he was going to answer you. There was a large part of Shell that had wanted to chime in, siding with you – she knew for an absolute fact that Dean snored. Not only has she heard him snore before, but there’s been brief mentions of him snoring in the Supernatural books. “Yes.” Was the answer that he decided to go with. You simply rolled your eyes.

In a weird way, Shell liked witnessing these moments, because these were moments that were rarely in the Supernatural books. Yes, Chuck did have some of these cute little moments and quips between either you and Dean, you and Sam, or Sam and Dean, etc. but they weren’t as prominent; probably because Chuck wanted to focus more on the plot than character building – something that you thought was lacking at times in the series.

Seeing the brothers, Cas, and Jack being domestic was something that was rarely in these books, but these were the things that Shell really cherished and were always some of her favorite parts. But that was something that she would obviously never bring up.

“Okay, me and Shell will be gone most of the day. So, please don’t burn the Bunker down while we’re gone.” You stated, placing your wallet into your purse as you and Shell walked down the hallway to the War Room – Sam and Dean following the two of you closely behind.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. “We aren’t going to burn the Bunker down.” The boys said in unison. Strangely, this made Shell fangirl inside: she had loved the parts when the boys had said things in unison, so hearing it in front of her was something that she had loved. Yet another thing she would never be able to say out loud to anyone.

You turned around and flashed them a look, everyone stopping dead in their tracks. With the abruptness of your stopping, Dean almost smacked right into your chest, but he caught himself by placing his hands on either side of your arms. “It was one time.” Dean said. You raised a brow. Dean looked over at Sam, Sam giving him the ‘I’m not getting involved look.’ “Twice. Maximum. And it was Jack.”

“Don’t blame my Jack.” You said. “I taught them fire safety remember?”

“Can’t believe Dean actually let you take Baby.” Shell said, currently looking out of the passenger side window, with you in the driver’s seat. The radio was on low, but you could still slightly hear Led Zeppelin playing.

“I’m one of the few people he trusts to drive her.” You flashed your sister a quick smile before turning back to look at the road again, Shell giving you the same type of smile. Shell knew you were right, as Shell herself could probably name the select few people that you were referring to.

“I’m not a huge car person but, I do have to give Dean one thing, she is beautiful.” Shell stated. Although she wasn’t a car person, doesn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate how good-looking of a car Baby truly was, how important she was to not only Dean, but you and Sam as well. How much blood, sweat and tears (literally and figuratively) went into re-building her. “It never occurred to them that, sure, maybe they never really had a roof and four walls but they were never, in fact, homeless,” was a line that Shell had found herself going back to from Swan Song – one of her favorites in the series.

You and Shell pulled up in front of the bookstore. It was a cute little mom and pop type shop that looked like it could barely hold 200 books. The storefront looked like it hadn’t been updated since it was built, which was probably when the town was incorporated back in the 1880s. “You weren’t lying when you said it was a cute little bookstore.”

“Nope!” You said. “I don’t come here that often, but, whenever I’ve come in, the owners always greet me by name.”

“That’s nice.” Shell loved that; it really was a mom and pop type place.

Walking into the store, an older woman behind the counter looked up from the book that she was reading and smiled. “Y/N!” She beamed.

“Hi Missus Jackson.” You smiled back. “This is my sister Shell. She’s spending the summer with me and the boys.” You said, turning toward your sister.

“Well hello there dear.” Missus Jackson said, her voice sounding just as warm as when she had greeted you. “How are you liking being around all that testosterone?” She joked.

“Don’t know how my sister does it.” Shell joked back.

“And she does a fine job whatever she’s doing.” Missus Jackson winked, laughing a little. “If there’s anything I can help you with, let me know.”

“Thank you, Missus Jackson.” You smiled. “Get anything you want.” You told Shell, her face automatically beaming with delight.

As the two of you looked around the store, you had found a couple of books that you had wanted to get (mainly cook books), while Shell seemed to not really find anything that she had particularly liked. Walking over to her with your two books in hand you asked, “Nothing you like? Or has my medical student of a sister read most of these books?”

Shell laughed a little. “Not shockingly, but I have read a lot of these books.” Your sister looked at the shelf in front of her, her eyes growing a little wide as she spotted the first ever Supernatural book. She grabbed the book and started examining the front and back; Shell was trying her best to look at the book in a way that seemed like she had never seen these books in her life.

“Jesus. Which one is that?” You asked.

“It’s the first one.” Shell said. My favorite one. She thought to herself.

“I hate Chuck for that fucking cover.” You said. Shell couldn’t blame you for hating this cover, she had personally hated the cover herself. Not only did the cover art depict shirtless and very ripped versions of Sam and Dean, but it also featured a very scantily clad, and very busty version of you. “Makes me look like a fucking sex object more than a hunter.”

Reasons why I put covers on all my books. Shell thought. “You know what they say, sex sells.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know that but…these books aren’t even that popular.” You paused. “Wish I could fucking burn all of these.” You mumbled. “And don’t even get me fucking started on the fact that me and Dean are not only full frontal but our sex scenes are too fucking graphic. I mean I know me and Dean can have…interesting sex but…I even felt dirty reading those sections, and I was only skimming.”

Another reason why I always skip those parts. Don’t need to know how you and my surrogate brother-in-law get it on. “Gross.” Was all Shell said.

“Sorry.” You gave Shell an apologetic look. “These books just make me so fucking angry.”

“It’s okay. I get it. I mean, I don’t fully but…you know.” There was a part of Shell that was embarrassed by the fact that she had loved these books as much as she did because of the fact that you had hated these books more than anything. At one point in her life, she had thought about telling you that she had read the books (obviously telling you that she did in fact skip the sex scenes), but hearing you right now, hearing the anger, made her thankful that she never told you.

“I’m going to go and pay for these, and then we can go to lunch.” You told her, walking over to the counter.

Upon entering the diner (which also happened to be very mom and pop), the two of you took seats across from each other and started looking over the menu. “What do you usually get?” Your sister asked.

“Bacon cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake.” You said quickly.

“Of course.” Shell responded.

“Can you blame me?” You asked, not really expecting her to answer you.

“You’ve been living with Dean for too long.” Shell joked.

Her response made you laugh. “Boy do I know it.”

“You know…” Shell began, “I think I’ll get that too. I really want to understand how you and him both think that bacon cheeseburgers are better than sex.” Her comment had made your eyes practically pop right out of your skull, looking at her like you were a deer in headlights. Have I…told her that before? You thought.

“Yeah…” You nodded, unsure of what to say to her comment. Maybe I told her and I just…forgot? Or maybe Dean told her? Then again, we did spend over a year living with her and mom and dad…

“So, what did you think of the burger and milkshake?” You asked, the two of you getting into Baby. You had wanted to say, Is it better than sex? But it was something that you decided against.

“Pretty good. I can see why you and Dean love them so much.” She said, shutting the passenger side door.

“I’m glad you liked it. The diner makes some pretty bangin’ burgers.” You said starting up the engine. The roar of the engine making you feel somewhat calmer in that moment. “See if there’s anything you wanna listen to. There should be cassettes in the glove compartment.”

“Sure.” Shell said. She never thought she’d ever get the chance to actually pick the music while in Baby, as one of Dean’s rules has been ‘the driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake hole.’

As Shell rummaged through the cassettes, she couldn’t help but picture the scene in the first book where Sam was making fun of Dean for the type of music that he had, in which you came to Dean’s defense. “It’s the classics Sammy. Don’t hate on the classics.” She pulled one of the cassettes and handed it to you, giving you a smile. The title of the cassette read: Y/N’s Mix. “Good choice.” You said, smiling at the mixtape that Dean had made for you about a few months after you and him had started hunting together. This mixtape had to be over 15 years old at this point.

Popping the mixtape into the player, the first song that came on was Since I’ve Been Loving You by Led Zeppelin – yours and Dean’s song.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 If you'd like to be added to a tag list, message me!

#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #SPN one shot #SPN imagine #SPN #supernatural #supernatural one shot #supernatural imagine #dean x reader #dean x you #reader insert #female reader

[fategoflatass]

My Winter 2024 Watchlist & Opinions

The feared time has come. After avoiding this post like the plague, I finally put myself to write my pretty unnecessary thoughts on this season that's departing next week or so.

Admittely, it wasn't that big of a deal, but that might be because the bigger titles will come out the following season? (Should I also make a post about that?)

Anyway, let's get started!

Boku no Kokoro no Yabai Yatsu 2nd Season

Comedy, Romance, Slice of Life // ☆☆☆☆

CW: cringey teenagers

Here, we one again get to follow our favorite middle school duo—the edgy boy and the gluttony in human form—as they grow up and find out just how complicated being a teen can be. Awkwardness, idiots and cutsie romance ensured!

This series is just so damn adorable, man! And awkward, holy fuck it can be awkward. But being a teenager is, in big part, going through the cringiest phases possible to cleanse the karma of a lifetime, so is that a bad quality or an amazing depiction of real life?

Anyway, my guys are back and I can't explain just how happy I am about it! I'm usually not that fond of school romances since, well, they tend to be too immature for what I'm currently looking for. This was made especially obvious since I began watching more and more series centered around adult characters.

But this series is quite different—they're immature, yes, but it's not as annoying as they tend to be. You know why? Because they found out about this thing called communication. Yes, they're not the greatests at it, but at least they're trying!

I've been thinking on checking the manga out, although I haven't decided yet. If anyone here has read it/is up to date, should I get into it or wait until next season comes out?

BUCCHIGIRI?!

Action, Supernatural // ☆☆

CW: big ammounts of cringe

Arajin Tomoshibi's reunion with his old pal Matakara Asamine takes an unexpected turn when they stumble into a brawl with the toughest guys in town. And just when you thought things couldn't get weirder, a colossal genie decides to drop in. Brace yourself for the ultimate showdown. It's the clash of the cool and the magical!

(Yes, I stole the summary from AniList. Couldn't bother to write something down for this one).

This series comes from Utsumi Hiroko—the same woman who worked on Free! and Banana Fish, the mind behind SK8; one of my biggest comfort shows. And honestly, it shows!

Because BUCCHIGIRI?! is an amalgamation of all her previous ones.

You have the childhood friend pair composed of the Gentle Giant™ (who's quite literally Makoto 2.0, personality and appareance wise) and a dude who has only one goal in life—for Haru, it was to swim free style. For Arajin, is to get laid. And no, I'm not kidding.

Then you get the delinquents (I refuse to call them gangs. They remind me too much to the Tokyo Revengers guys, and I despise that show) and their corresponding leaders—the fruity freak (who I love, ngl) with the obssesive, brocon little sister (who I despise, ngl), the big ass bitch whose age's unknown but seems too old to be hanging around teens, and later on we get a guy who reminds me a lot of Jamil from Twisted Wonderland only that he's utterly pathetic, a professional crybaby and, overall, unbearable—entirely different from my totally cool and more than respectable guy.

There's not much to say about the rest of the cast since they're forgettable to a fault, having little to not charisma. Expect for the skirt guy, he's neat.

When it comes to the supernatural side of things, ugh. The dude who follows Arajin around is exasperating and so cringey I tend to skip fowards when I know a joke—the joke, the only thing he knows besides fighting—is coming.

Speaking of which, the fight scenes are cool, MAPPA doing their best as always. I just wish they would beat up Arajin more often (and that he didn't have to scream his primal urges every time he's going for a punch).

And, for fuck's sake, don't get me started on Arajin. He's the worst protagonist this woman has ever come out with—zero charisma, a total asshole, a terrible friend, and a guy who'd make you want to die if he ever got a crush on you.

I'll cut it here since it's getting too long and I don't wanna get into spoiler territory (in case anyone cares about that), but yeah. I don't recommend, at all. Go watch her other shows instead.

Dungeon Meshi

Adventure, Comedy, Fantasy // ☆☆☆¾

CW: blood, death, violence

While exploring a dungeon, the adventurer Laios and his party are confronted by and lose against a red dragon—they're left without money, provisions and Laios' sister. But not everything is lost, since they can still save her while the creature digests its food. The problem is, they can't fight with an empty stomach!

The best show of the season, hands down. Not like it had much competition to begin with, but anyway.

When I first heard about the show's plot, I admit it, it didn't call me at all. But certain someone (*cough* @arataka-reigen *cough*) convinced me to give it a try. And here we are!

Honestly, I haven't had a laugh like this with an anime in so long! Not only because of the jokes, but the characters are perfectly designed for the viewer to laugh with and, most importantly, at them. I actually have the theory that they're the ones responsible for the BUCCHIGIRI?! cast's lack of charisma. I mean, they had to steal it from somewhere—is too much!

From what I know, more characters are yet to appear (I saw a catgirl and, as a cat lover, I just gotta see the catgirl) and the story gets darker with time (in case episode eleven wasn't enough hint for you).

I can't wait to see what this story has to offer next!

Gekai Elise

Comedy, Fantasy, Romance // ☆☆½

CW: tracheotomies without gloves

In seek of redemption, Takamoto Aoi becomes a doctor to help those who she would've either mistreated or ignored in her past life. Sadly, she gets involved in a plane crash and dies—only to wake up as her past self, ten years before her demise! She'll now look to become a surgeon once again, in the hopes of changing her fate.

If I had to describe it with one word, it would be meh.

The characters, the plot, the romance—it's all pretty average. A wet piece of cardboard is way more interesting than the entire cast and the story put together. The love story is whatever, not engaging enough to get me interested on their scenes.

What I would've liked is if they went on and changed the affections names for something more fantasy-ish or that has to do with the world in which they live in—I highly doubt these people knew about the existence of Dr. James Parkinson, so why would they name a disease after him? That sorta thing, you know?

But anyways, basic ass story with basic ass characters, and I'm a fool for having given it a chance.

And if I may ask, where the hell is the lamp?!

HIGH CARD Season 2

Action, Fantasy // ☆☆½

CW: cultural appropiation (?), blood, some violence

The High Card team keeps on fighting to mantain peace in the city, all meanwhile some of its members are still dealing with past consequences. But when new trouble surrounding the cards surges, they have to get to work to save the day once again!

Look, if the summary ain't shit is mainly because this show has me so uninspired. The only reason why I didn't steal it from AniList is because it doesn't have one.

In case anyone wonders why I'm still watching this show, same. I guess season one wasn't that bad for me to go and drop it, so I decided to give it a second chance. Do I regret it? Mmh, kinda.

To be honest, it's not entirely bad. I mean, it's certainly worst than its predecessor, but it had an interesting section that had me paying a little more attention than usual for like, two episodes or so. And then it lost me again.

The section I'm talking about is around episodes five to seven, where—and spoiling as little as I can—things get rather dramatic. It felt like a cry for help disguised as character growth that did nothing, absolutely nothing, to the characters themselves. They could've skipped those episodes and it would've been business as usual.

In the first two episodes we get introduced to his superhero-like guy who loves spitting random words in Spanish and, no, he's not even Hispanic. Then, he proceeded to not appear for the rest of the season. At least for now, we're currently in episode ten. But even if he were to appear once again, I don't think there's enough time to develop him or create a plot surrounding his cringey ass.

Also, and this might be petty as hell: they never explain why the cards look like the poker ones? I mean, they shared the lore behind them, yet that didn't explain this? How did they come out with the cards' and combination's names if they're supposed to not be poker related?

Hime-sama, "Goumon" no Jikan desu

Comedy, Fantasy // ☆☆¼

CW: none

Amidst the war between their kingdoms, the Princess is captured and imprisoned by the demons alongside her mythical sword and companion, Excalibur. It all seems grim for these two but, when the time comes around, the demons' torture methods seem a bit... gourmet?

I came into this show solely because of the trailer. What can I say? It looked nice. And to be honest, the entires series does.

These type of shows don't tend to be my cup of tea, but I thought it could turn out to be something similar to Maou-jou de Oyasumi—something that doesn't catch me at first, yet its second half leaves me wanting some more of those charismatic characters (Twilight my beloved).

The problem here is that God, it's repetitive. This series has one sole formula and will repeat it till the end of times, with barely some exceptions.

As LunarEquinox would put it, "it not her being tortured, it's you being tortured by repitition".

Kyuujitsu no Warumono-san

Comedy, Slice of Life // ☆☆☆½

CW: none

Planet Earth and its habitants are in danger; they've become the main target of an evil intergalactic organization who seeks to rule the world! The Rangers do everything in their power to defend the citizens from the General—but today's his day off.

Another fluffly, non plot-centric series. But this one I'm quite fond of.

I guess it's because I really like the «gap moe» concept? The difference between the protagonist's intimidating and powerful look at work and his casual, awkward and panda-obsessed self once he's home it's pretty adorable. It's like he goes from being a lion to one of those long ass domestic cats who'd let you hold him if close enough—only that I think he's supposed to be a lizard(?) of some sorts.

But it's not only him; you also get to see his coworkers with are all very formidable, and even the Rangers themselves. Red having no sense of orientation whatsoever is too relatable, I hate it here.

Not much to say, really. It's just a show about a long ass dude on a trenchcoat whose (most probably, undiagnosed) autism gets him to buy anything panda-related. If he were to become the ruler of the new world, I wouldn't oppose to it.

Loop 7-kaime no Akuyaku Reijou wa, Moto Tekikoku de Jiyuu Kimamana Hanayome Seikatsu wo Mankitsu Suru

Fantasy, Romance // ☆☆☆¾

CW: violence, mentions of war

Rishe Irmgard Weitzner, a duke's daughter, has lived many lives—and it's not a saying. For the past few decades, she's been trapped in a timeloop where her engagement gets called off at age fifteen and, from then fowards, she's decided to go down different paths. A merchant, a doctor, a maid—whatever called her attention. Is in her seventh time she become subject of the affections of infamous crown prince, Arnold Hein—the very same man who'd killed her in one of her past lives as a knight. When he asks Rishe to become his wife, she decides to utilize her every skill to avoid the upcoming war.

This one's different from the others, in the sense that I wasn't there when the first episode premiered. I guess it hadn't caught my attention (and the way they colored the hairs looked so bad to me at times, and still does). But again, certain someone began posting about it and I couldn't help myself.

I found this series to be a tad more interesting than the average female public-centric fantasy series. They actually cared to build an appealing plot with its politics and all, while also giving us an attractive main couple whose chemistry is quite nice. I like it when the characters banter, they go back and forth a little bit, but still show feelings for each other—is entertaining, isn't it?

While it's not my favorite series from this season, I do find it highly recommendable—independently of whether you're already into this type of shows or you'd like to give them a try.

Majo to Yajuu

Action, Adventure, Drama, Fantasy // ☆☆

CW: violence, blood

A guy carrying a coffin alongside his companion appear in a town, searching for the witch who cursed her and fighting some others in the meantime.

I love dark fantasy stories, so when I stumbled upon this show it grabbed my attention almost immediately. The whole concept of wiches, curses and different types of magic has always been a concept I quite enjoy. When it's well done, that is.

What Majo to Yajuu brings to the table is an uninspired series that unapologetically grabs concepts from other stories similar in concept, and doesn't even try to do anything new with them. The magic system is has is so average and uninteresting, and the same happens with the different conflicts that surround the main plot.

And even when it is supposed to have a more mature tone, there are times where they spoon feed you basic information as if you were too stupid to comprehend the intricacies of something you've seen multiple times—not even in other places, but in the same show, even the same episode.

The characters are heavily boring, the main duo being the most salvable of all. They do have some chemistry, but it's just not enough.

Anyways, just another letdown.

Metallic Rouge

Action, Mystery, Sci-Fi // ☆½

CW: violence

In a future where humankind coexists with androids called Neans, a group of them known as the Immortal Nine rises to cause havoc in society. Rouge, a Nean, alongside investigator Naomi are tasked with going all the way to Mars to stop them.

Also known as Bones' 25th Anniversary project, Metallic Rouge arrived to put many interesting question on the table—question that have been talked about multiple times in movies and series revolving androids and robots, yet is always cool to see what different authors have to say about the matter.

Sadly, the way they decide to manage the story is quite futile when it comes to enjoyment. That is, they decided to take the "show, don't tell" narrative route—something we've seen in series like Tengoku Daimakyou, and damn if it worked there. The thing is that this narration style is rather complicated, and can't be saved if done wrong.

Well, guess what happened?

Whether it's the scripwriters' fault or not, I've no idea. The only thing I know for sure is that they fucked up. The give you little to no information, which doesn't help the viewer to try solving the mystery by themselves nor succeeds at keeping them engaged. The only thing attractive enough are the fight scenes, but they become more are more scarse as the episodes go on. Is then when the staff realizes they messed things up, and as a result you get episode nine—a huge ass info dump, with twists that no one would've been able to guess since they hadn't given us enough hints to even get a hunch of what could be going on.

An absolute mess and a masterful class on how not to do things.

Ninja Kamui

Action, Adventure, Drama, Sci-Fi // ☆☆☆¾

CW: death, fire, blood, violence

Higan is a retired ninja who lives in hiding with his family in rural America. One night, assassins from his former organization end up slaughtering both his wife and son due to him breaking their ancient code. Now seeking for revenge, Higan goes back to his old ways in the means to make them pay.

This one is such a wild ride! From the same director who worked on Jujutsu Kaisen's first season, we get an action-packed revenge series.

Yes, it might not be the most original or complex plot of all times, yet that's not its main focus. What it is its main focus are the fight scenes which are absolutely amazing, so fluid and entertaining. You won't be able to take your eyes from the screen!

Even then, the characters are compelling enough for you to either root for them or hope for the hero to end their lives once and for all.

This series is an absolute banger and no one should sleep on it!

Ore dake Level Up na Ken

Action, Adventure, Fantasy // ☆☆½

CW: death, violence, blood, edgelords

After being slaughtered by monsters in a dungeon that was far from matching his rank, Jinwoo, or "the weakest Hunter of all" as called by many others, wakes up only to find out he now that the "System" by his side. This program that only he can see will help him do the impossible—level up.

So here we are, huh.

The biggest anime this season, and it's a fucking power fantasy with extra steps. I swear to God...

Jinwoo is a boring ass piece of wet cardboard, which is meant for the viewer to find it easier to self-insert as him. Those around him are either beings with no personality at all, default mean guys, or the love interest that just has to be there to tell us just how cool and attractive the protagonist has become—not like we needed her for that, since everyone is a simp for that guy for some hell of a reason—and to be saved because she'd be dead without him.

The only thing worth your time would be the action scenes, but since they depend so much on the viewer's hype, and that mainly comes from those who root for the protagonist, it just doesn't work on me.

This shit's boring, man.

Yubisaki to Renren

Romance, Slice of Life // ☆☆☆½

CW: ableism

Yuki is just your average college student who struggles with classes as one does. One day, she gets helped in the train by an upperclassman named Itsuomi. That's when he finds out that she's actually deaf.

One of the most hyped up series from this season, and for good reasons. Not only is a shoujo—sadly, this series don't tend to get anime adaptations as often as their counterparts—, but is a rather well known one.

To the surprise of no one, this is one fluffy series! The characters are all charismatic and sweet, some more than others, and their personalities and struggles feel very human.

The romance is adorable, although I have it hard to not see Itsuomi as someone who's trying to complete a dating speedrun—might be my demi ass, but they've known each other for like, what, two to three months? And they're already dating?

Yuki's deafness is touched upon with such respect, except for when Oushi opens his fucking mouth. I don't know if it's him or the author themself who sugarcoats his ableism as if it came from sheer worry for her future, but saying deaf people should stay at home is in no way a cool thing to say or think. I doubt he'll stay like this forever, but warning you just in case it results uncomfortable for someone.

To end on a more positive note, I love the fact that they center so much around the character's lip movements! It just feels right for the themes that the series touches upon.

Yuuki Bakuhatsu Bang Bravern

Action, Comedy, Mecha // ☆☆☆½

CW: violence, war, torture (it's just one scene)

In a world where the military utilizes mechas as weapons, Oahu island, where both the Japanese and American troops are located at the moment, gets attacked by an unknown, intergalatic enemy. They'll now have to join forces to defend the planet.

I think it was Mother's Basement's video that convinced me to give this show a chance and, honestly? I don't quite regret it. After all, I like parodies and mechas, so why not combine both?

Given, I haven't watched every mecha anime there is out there—and with that, I mean that I've yet to watch Gundam which I think was a major inspiration for this one series. But even if you haven't watched it either, that doesn't mean you won't get to enjoy it.

It does make references to the genre's different tropes, yeah, but it serves as a standalone. The comedy works even if it's your first mecha series since some scenes are just so absurd.

The characters are cool, each and every one of them having enough charisma for you to be able to remember them through the entire season. They all have enough chemistry with each other to make their bonds belieable.

With time, the series starts leaving the comedy aspect aside and gets more centered around its actual plot—although the laughs never truly leave. And it actually works, which I admit surprised me a bit.

A series curious enough I think you should give it a chance.

#dungeon meshi #solo leveling #bucchigiri?! #yubisaki to renren #boku no kokoro no yabai yatsu #metallic rouge #ninja kamui #high card #7th time loop #hime sama goumon no jikan desu #majo to yajuu #kyuujitsu no warumono san #gekai elise #yuuki bakuhatsu bang bravern #winter 2024

[madaboutmunson]

Ok because the other two little fics were so well liked my brain could stop thinking about it.

So we've got how the song in question was written, the song when Corroded Coffin make it big, so consider this one the last time that song is ever played live by Corroded Coffin.

It starts with a little shocker so I've hidden the story under a read more so people don't accidently read it, in case it upsets anyone, but trust me when I say it's not all doom and gloom 😉 I got you 💚

The day the news of music legend Eddie Munson passing breaks, it plunged the world into deep, dark despair. A shocking departure that stopped newsreaders in their tracks to announce it.

The bombshell news was plastered everywhere for weeks, billboards, posters, newspapers, magazines, murals, tv show opening monologues, and this thing slowly emerging, the internet, had its forums full of theories as to what had happened, as no announcement had come from the Corroded Coffin camp as yet.

There was no sign of illness or injury. No accident or crime details. He seemed to have just...died.

The outpourings of condolences from countless heavy metal icons, hundreds of celebrities, some of which you would never have even guessed, liked Corroded Coffin, millions of fans worldwide held candle-lit vigils and sang their songs sombrely acapella in meeting places all around the world.

A week later, the band finally released a written statement.

"It was during the hellish times of high school that Eddie found us, protected us, guided us and forged this band of brothers that would go on to conquer not just our fears but the entire world. Impossible dreams came true countless times over, but now we sit in a waking nightmare at the loss of our leader, so now our time must come to an end.

A band is a sum of its parts, and with any one of us gone, this is simply not Corroded Coffin anymore. So it is with the deepest sadness but no regrets we have to say goodnight to you one last time.

Thank you for sticking by us all these years.

Remember to look out for one another.

HFC 4 Eva

The Remains of Corroded Coffin"

With the statement is an announcement that there will be a tribute show organised by Corroded Coffin, but they declined to play all but one song, which a special guest on guitar.

A month later, the tribute show goes ahead, but no stadium can hold it due to demand, mainly because the band had to fulfil Eddie's final wishes.

One of which was causing the most problems, Eddie wanted every member of the Corroded Coffin fan club to get the first refusal on a space at the tribute show. So no matter where in the world they were from, they were invited and their travel expenses paid, or something set up so they could join the live feed.

Eddie had jokingly set up the fan club at a merch table in the early days. It got you a Corroded Coffin badge, a hand-painted d20, a poster, access to a monthly newsletter/comic and a hand-drawn membership card signed on the back by the band, all for the price of five dollars. As the band grew, the fan club pack stayed the same, except the merch was better quality, it had to be mass-produced, and the price was lowered to one dollar.

The band also often had membership cards on their person or gave them out for free to fans that wanted them through their music charity for kids living in low-income areas.

So as you can imagine, there were thousands of potential attendees, but if you didn't have the card, you weren't getting in, no matter how much money you had or how famous you were.

The crowd is a sea of Corroded Coffin fans of all ages and all walks of life.

The first people out on stage are Corroded Coffin.

All of them.

The three band members wheel out an enormous coffin encased in rusted metal sheets with haphazardly driven rivets to keep it together, standing up tall, onto a platform at the back of the stage. They do this in absolute silence. The crowd is so hushed that on the recording, you can hear the ting of someone dropping a can.

Then the chants start, "Eddie! Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!" Hauntingly fierce like an army ready for battle, they know they can't win.

It spreads across the ocean of fans like a ripple of deafening voices.

Then the concert begins. Not only is the lineup littered with some of the most famous musical artists in the world, but also many of Eddie's favourite bands, and to introduce each of them is a celebrity pairing.

Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley. Prize-winning journalist and film director, respectively.

Tech Whiz Kids Dustin Henderson and Erica Sinclair.

Internet entrepreneur duo Jargyle.

Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers. Heads of a missing children's charity.

Award-winning scientists Mike and Will Byler.

Novelist Lucas Sinclair and Skateboarding legend Mad Max.

Then lastly, a fan favourite, Eddie's Uncle Wayne. He had made a cameo appearance in every video they had ever made, was on every concert video and was always thanked in the album notes.

"It is my greatest honour that the boys chose me to introduce the last performance of the evening. I know this song was his favourite, and many of yours also. So without further ado...Sadly, for the final time, Ladies and Gentleman, I give you Corroded Coffin," he shouts finally over the crowd's roar as flames shoot out of the sides of the coffin on stage, and the three remaining members walk out.

They say nothing and launch into the heaviest song Corroded Coffin ever wrote.

A lead guitar joins in but with no guitarist to be seen.

As the song draws to a close, a man walks out in a denim battle vest a little too snug for him, his hair voluminous but dishevelled. He's holding the prop guitar.

He swings it around, smashing it into the floor behind him, and with an almighty swing back in front of him, the guitar must know this is its last show because the body splits in two. The man rips the neck of the guitar out of the body and holds it above his head. The fake blood spills out of his mouth, and the tears flood down his face as he punches the air in time with the Eddie chants before he blows a kiss at the crowd and then one at the coffin.

There is a curtain call for all involved as pyros and flames fill the air around the stage until the last fan leaves the area. Then the curtain finally drops.

Everyone heads backstage or to the trailers behind it for food and drinks. 

All except one person. Steve Harrington.

He looks around to ensure the coast is clear, approaches the giant coffin structure, and puts his hand on it, still warm from the flames.

"I never did find the right time to tell you this, and it looks like I'm too late." The tears prick his eyes again, and the first one that escapes down his cheek causes the rest to follow in droves. 

His sobs are so loud he covers his mouth to quiet them for fear of anyone overhearing, "I love you, Eddie. I just didn't know how to say it, I-I d-didn't know if you felt the same, so I'd act like I didn't care and hoped you'd make the first move, but you didn't. And then you got famous, and were gone. I saw you a handful of times, and every time I wanted to tell you, something got in the way, or I chickened out, you know, because...well, because maybe you'd reject me and hate me or worse, you'd want what I did, and the press would eat you for breakfast. It would have ruined everything you built, and I couldn't handle that." 

He runs his hands through his hair, bows his head, and presses his forehead against the warm sheet metal. "I couldn't take that chance because I loved you so much, so very very much, Eddie." He plants a kiss on his fingertips and presses it against the name plaque on the coffin. He lets out a final guttural sob. "See you on the other side, Munson", he manages finally and walks away.

He takes a last look back over his shoulder as he wipes the tears from his eyes, and Steve swears he sees the thing move.

He shakes his head and takes a few more steps, he can hear Eddie cursing under his breath in his mind, and it makes him smile.

But then Steve freezes to the spot because there is a loud clang behind him. He doesn't want to turn around and fix Eddie's coffin, but who else is going to do it, right?

"Well, that was suffocating!" Eddies voice rings in Steve's head.

Steve steels himself and prepares to see the worst as he turns back towards the coffin, only to find the front of it completely off its hinges, and standing draped in his guitar, with crumbs in his hair and hat with two beer cans in with straws, is one, very alive Eddie Munson.

Steve cannot move. He mutters, "Oh god, I've finally lost it."

Eddie looks at Steve with a perplexed look on his face, "Ah, yeah, you have" he puts his hands on his hips, "Keeping a secret like that from me for like a decade. First of all, how fucking dare you wait until I end everything to tell me, and secondly, get over here, you big stud, and give me some well overdue sugar."

"What...the...fuck..." Steve fearfully whispers to himself, "I'm actually insane."

"Eddie!!" Dustin's excited voice rings out behind Steve as he charges forward, embracing him.

"Hey, watch my guitar, you little shrimp!" Eddie giggles and Ruffles Dustin's hair.

"Wait a second now," Steve says, finger pointed out in front of him, slowly stepping forward, "You can see him?"

Now it's Dustin's turn to look confused at Steve. He scoffs out a laugh, "Well, of course, I can! Are you feeling ok, Steve?"

"But...but...but he died...again...is he like... immortal, or something. Like a-a vamp.. vampire?" Steve tries gingerly, moving closer, one hand still stretched out in front of him like he's trying to ward off something evil.

Dustin and Eddie look at one another in confusion and start laughing.

"Steve, have you sampled some of the special backstage treats?" Eddie asks and turns back to Dustin, "I mean, that might explain why he also just confessed he's had a massive boner about me for over a decade!"

"Really?" Dustin says curiously, and Eddie nods as he takes off his guitar. "Wow."

Then the others start piling onto the stage, all of Eddie's nearest and dearest, and all of them are smiling and laughing and joking, except for Steve, who is watching this happen around him until he erupts.

"How can you all be so god damn normal about this??!!!!! He's just come back from the dead. Not like last time when he passed out. He's been dead for like a fucking month, and your all just-just fucking OK WITH THAT??!!" Steve is yelling at the top of his lungs, hands gesticulating wildly at them all, still keeping his distance, and the group falls silent.

"Oh, no, honey," Joyce says soothingly, walking towards Steve. "It's ok, it must be really scary to see this kind of thing, but you remember, right? It's all just for show." She turns and whispers to Hopper, "I knew all those bumps to the head needed looking at."

"FOR SHOW?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN FOR SHOW?! IT WAS EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE" Steve starts counting on his fingers, "It-it was on the news, and-and in all the papers, and-and the fans did all those vigils" He points accusingly at the band, "You were at least three of those!!"

Robin's eyes go wide "Steve, it's me, Robin. Hi!" She approaches him slowly, "I'm real. We're all real here. Everything is ok" Once Robin is within arms distance of Steve, he pokes at her and squeezes her arm to make sure she is, in fact, real, "OW!! Jesus!!!"

She bats Steve's hands away, "Ok, enough. Listen, did you open the fan club mail this month?"

"The fan cl-? What the hell are you talking about?? Is this a nightmare? Am I dead??!! Is this Hell??!!!" Steve shouts into the air.

"In this month's fanzine, it explained everything. The band wanted to stop and spend time with their families and start new projects, but the press was getting to a fever pitch with them. Gareth had his bins rifled through. Jeff couldn't even take his kid out for his birthday without getting hounded. So Eddie came up with this plan. That way, no one gets blamed for breaking up the band. It just is no more." Robin explains compassionately to Steve.

"So the whole crowd, all of you and the bands, they all knew it was fake?" Steve asks quietly whilst everyone is still staring at him and Robin.

Robin nods but then adds, "Well, not the other bands. We couldn't risk it, but we and the fans are loyal enough to keep a secret. Plus, if anyone even tries to say they've seen him, they'll be labelled like those Bigfoot-spotting people."

Steve shakes his head, "But I'm not a member of the fan club?!"

"The absolute audacity!!! What, you fucking love me, but you're not a member of my band's fan club? What kind of half-assed groupie are you?" Eddie shouts, astounded and a little insulted at Steve.

Jeff turns to Eddie, "You knew he wasn't, man. You made him that special membership card at the hideout for valentine's day, but you never gave it to him, remember?"

"Shut up!" Eddie says through gritted teeth at Jeff.

Steve stands more confidently, his hands on his hips, "Oh, is that so?"

"Yeah, that's right", Gareth laughs, "And then when we were talking about this, you said you'd call him and tell him yourself, Eddie, remember?"

Eddie bites his bottom lip and tries to look as innocent as he can from under his hair, smirking over at Steve, "Did I say that? Really? Funny thing that... I don't remember"

Steve's eyes go wide, "Why, you little shit!!" Steve runs and lunges for Eddie. Eddie is laughing and yelling as he's being chased around the stage by Steve, who eventually captures him in a bear hug when he runs the wrong way around the drum kit.

"urgh...god...let me..." Eddie struggles angrily and tries to wriggle free as Steve squeezes him.

"Oh-hoh no, you are going nowhere, you little prick!" Steve says, squeezing him tighter, making Eddie's face screw up, "What you did, was so not cool!"

"I...only...did...it...cus..." Eddie tries to talk, but it is difficult. He can hardly breathe.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Excuses. You wanted to make me look like an idiot!" Steve says with an unimpressed tone.

Eddie's face is turning pink as he frantically shakes his head in a no.

"Oh, you didn't? Then why?" Steve says, loosening his grip enough for Eddie to take a breath.

Eddie's body sags a little as he takes a deep breath, "Because... I wanted to see if you'd be sad if I died." Eddie says quickly, "I mean, I didn't expect you to agree to headline and the whole speech, you know?" Eddie says, trying to hold back an adoring smile.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head in disbelief, "You made me go through a month of grief to see if I would be sad if you died?"

"Well...it was supposed to be just a day, but then I got genuinely distracted by everything, and then it was two weeks later, and then I thought I could surprise you by jumping out of the coffin, and you'd be overjoyed and I'd say something romantic to maybe win you over, like..." Eddie looks everywhere but at Steve as he details everything.

"Like what? What could you possibly say to make up for that, you complete shithead!" Steve says with an angry squeeze, making Eddie wince and groan.

"That I fought an army of angels and the hordes of hell for one kiss from your sinfully perfect heavenly lips because you're my muse, my love." Eddie manages to get the words out with a struggle.

"What?" Steve says, lessening his grip.

"The songs I write, the ones with my name next to them on the albums, they're all about you," Eddie says as he catches his breath.

"What?" Steve says again, wholly bewildered and fully releases Eddie.

"Our first number one, the one that got a Grammy, and was used in a bunch of movies. That's about you. The um, slow one with the choir on the unplugged album, that's about you. The one we close the shows with, the one with no words, that's about you too. And loads more," Eddie says, adjusting his clothes, looking back up at a dumbfounded Steve, "What? You had no idea? You don't remember? in the garage? You corrected the spelling of sleeve, but it was supposed to be Steve. I just forgot to cross the t" Eddie looks between Steve's eyes for a glimmer of comprehension.

"Ohhh", Steve says finally and points at himself and smiles.

Eddie smiles back at this lovable weirdo and nods.

Steve claps his hands together and looks pleased as punch, turning to the others still pointing at himself with a look of happy surprise. 

Everyone nods at him except for Mike, who throws his hands up, "Are you kidding me? The song we danced to at our wedding was about Steve??? Oh my god!" Mike has to be consoled by Will and Nancy.

Steve eventually turns back to Eddie with a massive smile on his face.

Eddie plays with his hair and looks coyly up at Steve swaying from left to right, "So I dunno, do you maybe wanna come live on a secret island with me for a few years until people forget about me, maybe? I mean, I'll have to get my hair buzzed first, and um, lose the whole rockstar get up" Eddie looks up hopefully and gives a cute little shrug.

Steve folds his arms and taps his lips thoughtfully, "Hmmm."

"OH, MY GOD! Could you grown-ass idiots just kiss already? I could be solving the mysteries of the goddamn world, ok? But instead, I'm stuck here waiting for a long-haired freak and his little ex-sailor boy bride to figure out what everyone else knew years ago!!" Erica shouts, exasperated.

"Apart from Mike", Dustin whispers.

"Yeah, except Mike, who is also on team dumbass!" Erica adds.

"Hey!!" Mike says, annoyed, and is immediately swamped by Will, Joyce and Nancy as Hopper pats Erica on the shoulder with a smile.

"Get offa me, sasquatch!" She says, rolling her eyes.

"Well, you heard the lady," Steve says with a smile walking with an over-the-top swagger towards Eddie.

Eddie grins mischievously, jumps up to grip onto Steve like a koala on a eucalyptus tree, and kisses him, once on the lips, with an audible mwah sound.

Steve looks at him with a laugh, "I hope you've got more where that came from because you've got a lot to make up for, Eddie Munson."

AO3 Link

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddiemunson #eddie stranger things #steveharrington #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steddie #steddie fic #dustinhenderson #dustin henderson #corrodedcoffin #corroded coffin #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #minific #madaboutmunsonmini #madaboutmunson

[mrs-johansson]

Chapter 6 - Dark Phoenix II - Emergence of conflagration

Part 1:

“It’s our biggest sighting of Klaue in six months. Our destination is Casablanca, Morocco. We all know he operates mainly in Africa. Our sensors have found Vibranium in the biggest amount yet. Our mission is to retrieve the Vibranium. Klaue has become one of our highest priority targets, if anyone messes up this mission I will fire them myself, understood?” Looked around the room of agents. There were about 10 agents plus Sam and Natasha. “We leave 0500 sharp. Vibranium is the strongest metal on Earth, so prepare yourself.” Everyone stood up and took their files before leaving the conference room. “I’d hate you to be my boss,” Sam walked up to me. “I am your boss,” I chuckled dryly knowing he still doesn’t think I’m his boss. “Okay, fine. Is there anything else for the mission? I’d like to be prepared,” he said and I looked up from the leftover papers. “You know your way around raids, we can use your experience with this many recruits. You have to take this seriously, Sam. I count on you in this one,” I said and he dropped his smile and put on a serious face instead. “Absolutely, thank you for trusting me with this.” I gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder before he left.

“Any notes for me?” Natasha leaned against the table, crossing her arms in front of her chest, a slight smirk on her lips. I looked her up and down before going back to the papers. “Notes… Romanoff, I don’t know if I could give you any useful advice. Just don’t vandalize my mission, I heard that’s kind of your thing,” I said without looking at her otherwise I would have laughed straight away. “Yeah, that’d be fun though. Anyway, I was thinking you and Katarina could come over later. I’ve got something for her,” she suggested and I chucked. “Natalia, you have to stop buying her new stuff every week,” I grabbed the papers and made my way to my office, Natasha following close behind. “But I love seeing her face when she's surprised. Y/n, she stopped abnormally fast, we need to spoil her while we can,” her arm gently snuck around my waist pulling me closer so she could leave a kiss on the side of my head. A smile came along my face feeling so much happiness and calmness in our relationship.

The last 6 months were a growing experience. Natasha and I started going to couples counseling. It was my idea and Nat was pretty skeptical about it at first, she needed some convincing but eventually she agreed to do it. After six months of doing it, she actually became fond of it. It keeps us in line I think.

Natasha and I haven’t moved in together yet which I think was a healthy balance to our relationship. We made sure to build it up securely and honestly, trying to be as independent as possible while also being in a loving relationship.

Of course, we spent all of our free time just us two and Katarina. We always try to spend some quality time together, either going to the zoo or some museum that Katarina could enjoy too.

So that’s been great, I love our relationship and I feel like we will be good.

Katarina had stopped growing fast and since the surgery, her hearing and speaking abilities became better and better. She’s gonna turn 4 in just a month and she’s the most amazing little human. Nowadays, she talks your ear off if you’re not careful enough. It became a tradition that every time Natasha was over at our place, Rina read Nat a chapter of Harry Potter.

Her abilities still don't fail to amuse us. She’s reading like she’s in high school and her vocabulary is insanely high. My dad has offered that he could teach her physics and math but I denied it. She’s 4. I want her to have a childhood. Watch her play the snow carelessly, scrape her knee on the playground, cry because she can’t stay up too late, or smudge her face into her birthday cake. I don’t want her to grow too fast unnecessarily. She deserves every little moment there’s to enjoy.

“What did you get her?” I asked Natasha while we entered my office. She took a seat in my chair very quickly. “A set of the Harry Potter movies. Special edition,” my mouth fell open, and looked right at her. “I wanted to get that for Christmas. Oh my god, you have to stop at least until her birthday. You’re gonna steal all my gift ideas,” I said. I packed away all the files and got my bag. “Fine. Ready to go?” She turned with the chair but did not care to stand up. “Just one more thing,” she stood up and closed the door before turning on the shades in the glass windows. “What are you doing?” I asked and she just walked back to me and took the bag out of my hand, dropping it to the ground, making me gasp. “That’s a really nice bag, why would-“ She cut me off with a kiss. Very unexpected at the moment but not complaining.

Her hands were quick to get a grip on my waist, moving to the edge of the table. I pulled myself back for a second, taking heavy breaths. “We need to pick up, Katarina,” I panted. “We have an hour, calm down,” Natasha kissed down my neck, hands roaming my body. “Thank god, I couldn’t have left this room,” I put my hands on her face and pulled her back into a kiss.

***

“I have to make this room soundproof,” I mumbled to Nat as she closed the door behind us. “Maybe next time keep it down a notch,” she bumped her shoulder to mine with a smirk on her face. “Maybe next time-“ “I hate that my office is next to yours,” Maria walked past us.

After I basically ran to the car and Natasha took her sweet time we finally made our way to Katarina’s school and picked her up. I ordered the groceries on the way and once we got to Natasha’s place it just arrived.

Rina ran inside the apartment as Nat chased her while I took the groceries from the delivery guy. “Wow, I’ve never delivered anything to an Avenger, you guys are really cool. Thanks for keeping us safe,” said the man, and I appreciated how nice he said it. “Our pleasure,” I smiled at him. “Is it possible for me to take a picture with you?” He asked a little hesitantly. “Of course, no problem,” I stood next to him and we took a picture before he said thank you and left.

“Was there a problem with the order?” Asked Natasha as I entered the kitchen. “No, he just wanted to take a picture with me. He was really nice,” I said.

Unpacked all the stuff we ordered and after a little while I cooked something real quick, not in the mood to make anything big. We sat down and ate then Nat spoke up.

“I’ve got something for you,” she said, pinching Katarina’s side. The little girl’s eyes widened and a big smile appeared on her face. “Really?” She asked. “Yup, stay here,” Nat stood up and went off to her room and a couple of seconds later walked out with a bag in her hand and a cheeky smile on. “What is it?” Asked my daughter curiously. Natasha handed her the bag and Katarina was quick to rip open the box and when she saw it she gasped loudly.

“Oh my god, yes!” She said excitedly and observed the package of Harry Potter movies like it’s a treasure. “Thank you,” Rina jumped out of her seat and was quick to shower Natasha with hugs and kisses. “You’re welcome, baby,” she kissed her head while hugging her close. “I love you, Natty,” Katarina mumbled against Nat’s shoulder and the smile that pulled on the redhead’s face was remarkable. “I love you too, Bean.”

The rest of the day went by really fast. Clint was nice enough to take Katarina to school so I could go to the mission in time so at 4 am sharp I was already at the HQ, preparing for our departure. Got my guns and knives ready and met with Nat and Sam at the deck ten minutes before 5.

“Be aware of the trainees. I don’t want any of them to mess this up or get killed on my watch, but stick to your mission too. Be safe and don’t do anything stupid,” I said to the two of them. “She’s talking to you,” Sam glanced at Natasha who scoffed at this. “She’s definitely talking to you,” she said. “I’m talking to both of you.”

At 5 we took off with the team, flying straight to Morocco. Our estimated arrival was 6 which was successful thank god because I didn’t want them to slip away this time.

“Sam, I’ve got you new glasses, you have to wear these,” I handed him a box and he took it with a smile. “Wow, a present for me,” he opened it but the smile dropped from his face. “They look the same,” he said. “Yeah, but they have a Vibranium sensor in them. It detects metal, which makes our job a little easier.”

“Okay everyone, it’s showtime. Team R leaves first then Team W and then Team S. Comms are on at all times, you see something you share, yeah? Don’t die,” I said then we were ready to go.

Nat left first with her team then Sam and lastly me. I was very protective of this mission because I’ve been after Klaue for the last six months and he always seemed to be two steps ahead of me.

I neared the main entrance with four agents behind me, Nat and Sam’s teams already making their way inside.

It was a bigger building than these compounds usually look. Security was way more advanced and a lot more guarded. “We can get through, but there are way more guards than we expected, Y/n,” heard Natasha over the comms. “Yeah, I got that. But I’m not leaving until I have Klaue.” “You’re the boss.”

#gxg #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #black widow x you #marvel #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x stark!reader #natasha romanoff x stark!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff imagines #y/n stark #stark!reader #sam wilson

[ernmark]

Who was in charge of marketing for Harry Potter?

(This isn't about She Who Must Not Be Named or her bigotry. This is purely about the business of bookselling.)

If you were a YA reader at the time, or you're into fandom history, you might know the story: July 16, 2005, in the wee hours of the morning a car pulls up to a bunch of teens and children standing outside a bookstore, and some jackass shouts at the top of their lungs: "Snape kills Dumbledore!" and then speeds away.

That story was infamous. THE biggest plot twist of THE biggest book series in the world, spoiled before anyone could even crack the pages.

Which is... actually kinda weird, right? How'd they know?

Had they read an advance copy? Did they stand in line since like 4 PM to get their hands on the book, and then the second they got their hands on it just frantically start skimming the last hundred pages or so until they found a particularly devastating bomb to drop? (Trolls being trolls, this was not considered particularly extreme behavior).

Or were they paid to do it?

This is adult me with conspiracy goggles on, but consider: The message that was sent is not that a character killed another character, but that no matter how hard you try to avoid spoiling your favorite story, some bad-faith actor is going to jump out of the bushes and do it anyway. There's no time to wait for your library's copy to be available, no time for your friend or your sibling to finish and hand it to you-- you have to buy your own copy right the fuck now.

And everybody and their sibling (literally, people were buying multiple copies per family) around the world buying the same book in the space of the same two weeks? That is how a book guarantees a spot on every international best seller list for a long ass time.

The thing is, whether this was a deliberate move or an amazingly convenient and lucrative bit of trolling does not matter. Regardless of the source, the marketing department pounced on an opportunity. Every brick-and-mortar bookstore left had piles of bookmarks and buttons, posters plastered on the windows, dividing readers into one of two teams: either "Trust Snape" or "Snape is a Bad Man". People wearing those pins sparked conversation and debate in real life, to say nothing of what was going on in the forums. Essays and treatises and manifestos were written. Books were published-- both officially licensed materials and unofficial ones full of theories and details.

When that next and final release was coming out, you bet your ass everybody on the planet was going to be there (or risk another drive-by spoiler). When the next movie was released that November, it didn't matter that what had come before was kinda iffy in quality-- people were showing up in costume.

Even before The Drive By Spoilering, the marketing team was honestly the stuff of legend. Gorgeous hand-illustrated covers and chapter header artwork, branded title fonts that could be recognized from a mile away in the dark, big fancy displays present in every single school book fair, and then that website-- the official website was a thing of absolute beauty, especially in that time. It was colorful and had a million moving parts and secrets to uncover, it was updated frequently and with a lot of little secret extra tidbits on the character and world, and oodles of essays from the author herself that were often very endearing to the readership. It was a gathering place for fans as much as the fan-run websites.

(I should point out that with marketing this robust, I have no doubt in my mind that all those tidbits and essays were themselves run past the team for approval, to make sure nothing particularly egregious slipped through the cracks. But that kind of editing isn't cheap, and I suspect it would only really have been employed during the Important Years for the franchise.)

I remember wanting to be a writer as a teenager, embarking on that career as I got out into the world and started querying books I'd written, and for every single one of us in the writing community, that kind of marketing was the dream. The midnight releases in full costume, the gorgeous custom covers, the posters in every library and bookstore, the breathtaking website. But all of those things turn out to be heinously expensive, and for every franchise that returns on that investment, there were dozens, perhaps hundreds, who didn't make back enough, or cover their expenses at all. And that's where you get to the point where querying authors were advised to establish massive followings on social media in order to demonstrate that they were a safe bet, that half the work was already done if the publishers would just give us a chance-- and sure, for some of them that effort did get them publishing contracts. At which point, even if the publishers felt inclined to spend more than a pittance on promoting new authors' work, there wasn't any point in doing so to the degree that the Harry Potter books received. There's little room to stand out in a saturated market; a flash in the pan is only impressive if the pan isn't already on fire.

These days there's little hope of any one new author rising to that kind of fame, though with self-promotion and self-advocacy, a lot more diverse authors are starting to carve out places for themselves. But marketing yourself is exhausting, and it's expensive, and it makes you vulnerable to all sorts of stupid blunders and career-ending missteps.

I'd rather stay indie. But I wouldn't say no to that marketing team.

#harry potter as a cultural phenomenon #the business of writing #writing woes

[faces-ofvenus]

Hi sweetheart I'm here as I said, I've been thinking about headcanons all night based on what you said. I have two things in mind so we can start with the soft one. I would like you to base of a girl older than him, perhaps a little younger than his own mother with whom Jace feels he has totally lost his mind. Thank you very much!

— 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧: 𝐚𝐛𝐜𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐠𝐡

A - affection | how do they show affection

The way Jacaerys shows how much he likes you, or cherishes you, will always be mostly for quality time, he just wants to be with you, or be near you, look at you as if you were simply the most magnificent and divine being, without any outside interference.

The fact that he prefers a thousand times to be near you when he is free from his duties than to do anything, whenever someone is looking for you they just look for you, because they know that Jacaerys takes advantage of every moment to be able to be near you.

But one thing I would see different maybe with your s/o would be the fact that he is more open to physical touches, and more affectionate, than if you were a younger person, this especially if you want to touch him back, it may not even seem like it but he listens and hears the whispers and gossip around him very well, he just learned to live with it.

To think that people think he is with you just for a political/economic deal disgusts him, the fact that you are older than him has never helped either, not that he would care, nothing intimidates him, nothing, especially the people the other lords and ladies teasing him, this only makes him kiss you for longer periods, and longer, obviously nothing that is too promiscuous he respects and still wants to honor you.

B - balance | how do they balance you, work/school/life?

It's so hard, he's almost going crazy sometimes, because all he would like to do is be in bed with you, sleeping, having a cuddle session, or just relaxing, everything, but as his mother always or almost always makes a point of reminding him, he would be your heir, and should be prepared for it, Jace has always had so much of this stigma about him, it would be so hard to get out of it.

I see that sometimes he ends up not only neglecting himself, but you as well, like the days you barely saw each other and exchanged words, sometimes it was the endless classes that took up his time, sometimes it was his dragon training, sometimes it was some private didactic with his mother or uncle.

Just when he thinks he can be alone with you, there sincerely appears some extravagant and pompous event that he would have to attend.

And not only that, you being a widow and having taken control of your husband's house wouldn't be easy either, you know how much the jealous wolves want your position, and you know how easy it would be for them to take it away from you, so you work twice as hard, and sometimes verge on exhaustion, even if your last and first thought, when sleeping and waking up are those of Jacaerys, your handsome and jovial prince.

When honestly the scales were already full and you guys just exploded, Jace would drop all obligations, fuck sincerely he thought, he hadn't felt his lips in a week, it was killing him, and you could say the same.

So if I were to give a rating of how balanced you two are, I think I would give it a 6 out of 10.

C — cuddles | do they enjoy cuddling? what positions?

I already say that in public you and Jacaerys are as reserved as possible, yes you have some caressing exchanges, mostly with your hands, and some dropped kisses when you can't hold your affection any longer, but you both wouldn't like to give that taste to the people around you.

But in private, yes oh man, you guys can't get away from each other, I think the best place you would love to cuddle obviously would be either in your bed or in his bed, that's obviously if you're both not married yet and it's a total secret, but if you are your bed has seen so many things, I think Jace loves it when you're on top of him, he's sitting at the head of the bed, you're on his lap, just cuddling and kissing, you laugh because Jacaerys makes you feel like a little girl in pre-puberty, who is just having make-out sessions with the boy she liked.

And honestly you love that feeling, how he makes you feel invigorated, when he kisses not only your lips, but your hands, your cheek, forehead, nose to the back of your ear, when you do the same act with him, and you're just enjoying that moment alone, that's for sure the best part of your days.

Jacaerys loves it when you go out and he is just lying on your lap while you are messily mussing up your hair, and Vermax is behind you, cuddling up too, maybe those days are the best of his life, his heart in those moments just thinks that this is why he fell head over heels in love with you, and that the choice to marry you, or to be with you, could never be the wrong one.

D - date | what was your first date?

You were honestly quite apprehensive about going on a date with Jacaerys, not just because of the talk, or your own insecurities, but just because, you had seen him as a child, a nephew, for so long, even though you had feelings for him, it still felt strange to you, the possibility of going out on a date with him.

Especially being seen publicly, all of this frightened you too much, and Jace quickly realized it, that he in no way wanted to make you uncomfortable, and for a moment thought you were denying him or wanting to cancel, which you vehemently denied and just admitted you were unsure if it was right.

Your first date was in his room, yes it was strange and everyone would think that something was going on within the walls, but honestly it was absolutely nothing of the sort, Jace simply made his room into a restaurant, it was so surprising that it didn't have a bed, you would surely call it some kind of dining room or something, the servants just showed up to drop off dinner and so on.

You were free of the ties, uncle and niece or any insecurity that clouded your minds, you were just two young men getting to know each other, no labels, no ties, you allowed yourself to laugh and joke with Jace, and some of his teasing jokes, while he will a new side of you (somewhat sarcastic and bold) you also allowed him to show his flirtatiousness, and you saw no longer the boy you thought he was, but a man.

E - excited | how excited do they get when they see you/are with you?

Describing how excited Jacaerys gets when he sees you is simply impossible, this is due to the fact of the anxiety he feels, before they even established a relationship, he could not show that he was in love, even failing miserably in this sense, and as you yourself did not live in Dragonstone, and only visited a few times a week he spent the rest of the days waiting for your arrival, and you came at the moments he least expected, to make his anxiety worse.

From this he always wanted to be ready for your visits, yes the maids were shocked at how you he was always highly cleaned, he prized for care to impress you, and always wanted to have something new to show you and impress you, when his eyes directly hit your eyes, they seem to glow, his heart beats so fast, and his hands even get a little sweaty, he gets almost all silly when talking to you, you find it so sweet, it draws sighs from you, how attentive he is to you.

You feel almost the same, it's strange, and you hate it, you hate it all, you don't want to feel anxious to see your nephew, your friend's son, you don't want to feel warm when his brown eyes look at you like that, you just don't want to but sometimes it can't be impossible.

F - fighting | what happens when you fight

Okay, both you and he are extremely pacifist people, you try very hard to talk to solve your problems, even if sometimes you provoke each other to the point of causing small discussions, between you, but as I said, they are silly provocations that lead to equally silly discussions.

But when it's a serious discussion that really wears both you and him down, things aren't so nice, I can't say that between you there's shouting and crying, you're just cruel, saying things that you know can hurt each other, as a way to get somewhere that neither of you know.

You have already cited the fact that he is a bastard, and he is a bastard due to the fact that you are already at an "advanced" age and have no children, and it was painful to say the least, to have such an awkward and awkward silence between you after that, you just want to apologize, and go back on your words.

Your fights usually happened when one of you was EXTREMELY exhausted, when your responsibilities, sleepless nights, and days without seeing each other, charged the bill in the end, you then became two totally different people than you really are, Rhaenyra always warned you of your easy irritability when mentally exhausted, and already warned her own son with the same speech.

But your stubbornness and obvious pride often ended up blinding you, making you get into these kinds of fights and more serious discussions, sometimes for totally idiotic reasons, but that end up becoming big things.

G - gorgeous | pet names. what do they like to call you? what do they like to be called?

As he likes to be called first of all, Jace is crazy when you use the suffix "my" so hot from your lips, he loves the possession over him that you hold, my prince, my love, and specially my king, you calling him king, that's something quite personal, knowing the problems you'd have if you were heard calling him king, but he doesn't stop being so elated when you're in your rooms, and you just whisper in his ear in a way that's for sure to tease him, ah you love to tease Jace.

He's not a shy man, but he can't stop himself from blushing, when you look at him seductively and call him by that nomenclature, he feels so trapped, like he can do anything you ask.

Sometimes to get a little joke out of him, mostly for fun, you call him, "little Velaryon," or "Velaryon child," he hates it a little, he admits, and sometimes it reminds him of his tender age, the age comparisons between you, and he doesn't want to feel like he can't have a woman like you, or that you deserved someone older and more "mature," but nothing that a kiss on the lips, and arms wrapped around your neck pulling you closer can't fix, and you add your weak point, "My sweet Velaryon child".

Nicknames like Jace are also used quite often, not so much as my prince for example, or my love, it's just that you think it's more intimate, and easier to use in public, without either of you ending up embarrassing or offending anyone and he likes it, in fact everything that comes out of your beautiful lips he loves just for being yours.

Jacaerys is also a man of many nicknames, usually he likes to call you also with the suffix mine, not only he sees that it is yours, but he likes to remind you that you are also his, he calls you my princess, you denied it saying that you are not a princess, and he like, you will marry me, so yes you are a princess, AH my princess, my love especially when you are in romantic moments, Jace has a lot of creativity with nicknames, and he is always changing them, he just has many ways to describe you in the sweetest ways possible.

The day you touched Vermax, he called you sweet dragon tamer, and you were looking all scared shitless, how can you find a cute nickname for that, and he just laughs and kisses your forehead, while encouraging you to touch the dragon even more.

He calls you my queen, and you just look at him so skeptical, we can't blame you, anyone would fall in love with that, and you might as well be jumping up and down with pure happiness, and living a cheesy romance, but just, you're realistic, just an engagement between you is something, almost, almost impossible, now you being his queen, it's just so far away, you never thought.

But the way he speaks with such conviction, when he looks at you with adoration and talks about how beautiful and beloved queen you will be, and will not only stay in the role, but will command and rule by your side, that is so, you never imagined it just makes you sure, that he is for sure the man of dreams, and you are so lucky, and are sure to enjoy that feeling.

H - hi | first time meeting

You obviously met because you were a long time friend of Princess Rhaenyra, even though you were about 5 or 4 years younger than her, in adulthood you eventually met again, and really created a bond of friendship, just as you were also friends with Lady Alicent.

The visits to King's Landing and Dragonstone were even very frequent, sometimes you were the moral compass of both, especially of the ambitious Alicent, but anyway, you were present at the birth of Jacaerys Velaryon, your first "legitimate" son with Lord Laenor Velaryon, honestly you didn't feel anything for the child, it would even be strange, being more busy with your own troubled personal life.

Even knowing the possible illegitimacy of your considered "nephews" and the possible crossroads your friend was getting into, always supporting her you always helped the three boys, especially Jace and Luke, giving many lessons on content entertainment, you were considered one of the smartest minds in Westeros, even being a little "young" and inconsequential.

Jacaerys quickly came to see you yes still as his aunt, but honestly from the age of 13 or 14 he could already eagerly feel the butterflies in his stomach whenever he looked at you, whenever you scolded him or taught him were his best moments of the day, you were so beautiful to him, maybe the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and also one of the most different (he would be a young Rhaenyra, and you would be a mold of Daemon).

I hope it turned out minimally good and coherent, gee I told you I was going to share it, I was so looking forward to it.

#hotd #hotd x reader #reader #reader insert #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys headcanon #hotd jacaerys #headcanons #hotd headcanon

[milky-mink]

Yandere Kakucho as your secret admirer Headcanons

TW: Yandere, Stalking, Kidnapping

As far as you know, you are just a normal College Student that lives in Tokyo with no special quality whatsoever

You lived in a suburban neighborhood with two of your cats ever since your parents had to work in another country, leaving you all alone in a two story house. With no relatives to take care of you, you rely on yourself to survive

You are average at everything, in looks, personality, school, sports or any other things that you could think of, even if you work so hard on something, you would only still get above average as a result

And due to that, you gave up on exerting anything in your life and just do things with minimal effort, although it made your life easier,it also made you very bland and uninteresting as a person

Because of that, you would always be unremarkable to most of your peers and the people around you

Despite the fact that it made you angry and frustrated inside, you just swallowed that bitter fact and try to go on in your day to day life

Average,Unremarkable, Boring, Forgettable. Those were the words that could only describe your whole appearance and personality

But then one day, things started to change

Love letters in your mailbox, flowers sent to your home everyday, food deliveries every time you forget to make either Breakfast or Dinner and even expensive gifts that you know that you could never afford in your whole life, even if you saved up for it

At first you thought that it was a joke, even though you aren’t bullied in middle school or in high school due to you being good at blending in, you have seen bullying face to face and one of those are people giving the targets love letters as a joke to humiliate them in front of their friends, so you just either ignore it or put it in the trash.

You thought that those things would stop since it was just a way to get into you but it still keep coming

Jewelries, Luxury Clothing and even those Fancy wrist watches that you could only see celebrities and CEOs wear in public, those are the few examples that the mysterious admirer has sent to you

It was flattering at first and even romantic, with having no one to care and love for you at a young age, you quickly got attached to the mysterious person who’s sending you these gifts

Every time you’ve received those flower bouquets and those sappy romantic love letters,it felt like there’s butterflies in your stomach, it feels so good to be noticed by someone, to feel wanted by that person.

But all good things must come to an end as the letters started to get much more intimate and creepy, and the gifts started to get personal and excessive, as if he’s stalking you 24/7

That person would write to you letters about your day, the whole details of it, they even sent pictures of you inside of your home or in public areas

The romantic letters are now turned sour, an example would be that the letter they’ve sent about you talking to one of your classmates about a certain topic in your class that you couldn’t understand, saying that you shouldn’t talk to other guys and if you have a problem, just write back to them

And those were one of the mild ones as they kept sending letters upon letters in your mailbox, although you burned them all. Those letters are still able to get to you by either your phone, email or any social media accounts that you have, even the once that you used anonymously

You tried to file complaint to the police about your stalker but they just ignore it, saying that they would look in that case but its been weeks, and there’s still nothing done about your stalker

You’ve finally had enough of everything that has happened to you, violation of privacy, illegal trespassing, stalking both in real life and online. It's all too much for you to handle

So you’ve decided to buy a burner phone and call your parents in another country, saying that you would just live with them and enter a local university

You’ve drop out of university and quickly booked a flight to where you parents are working in

Just as you were about to leave your home with your cats and suitcases, you heard a loud knocking on the door

Annoyed, you quickly walked to the door to open it, revealing a tall man with a black hair, wearing a black overcoat. There’s a notable feature on his face, which is a scar that goes through his left eye

Just as when you are about to ask what he is doing in your home, he quickly puts a cloth in your mouth and tightly restrain you so you couldn't escape

You tried to get out of his hold, thrashing and trying to kick his groin but the chemicals in that cloth started to take effects on you, making you dizzy and weak

Just as you are about to lose consciousness, you felt him kissing your neck and then whisper into your ear, his last words to you before you black out should’ve been comforting but instead scared you to the core

“Sweet dreams, (Y/N), I’ll be with you from now on” 

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokrev #yandere Hitto Kakucho #yandere kakucho #tokyo revengers headcanons #tw yandere #yandere #yandere headcanons #kakucho imagines #kakucho headcanons #kakucho hcs