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1kook · 3 years

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crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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jellybeandrawsthings · 3 years

Note

☹️hi i dont usually do this thing where i ask for art/thoughts on things but ive had a super bad day and i was just curious as to what your take on your wounded-on-krypton Kara would be doing with Lena if she hadn't of come out as Supergirl but they still met and fell in love- would Kara just be floating around Lena's apartment during quarantine listening to Lena read books and making her gf tea's and flying out to get her her supplies so Lena would stay safe from getting sick? I really love your art.

aww, I'm sorry u had a bad day, I made a little doodle and tried writing a little story for it as well that should answear your queastion about my scarred!Kara and her relationship with Lena if she didn’t became Supergirl (tho I'm not a writer, so its quality might not be the best) hopefully it will make u feel even just a little bit better

The first time she met Lena, Kara was going to L-Corp to get a prosthetic replacement from their new Cybernetic Futures program since she kind of destroyed her old one.

Okay, she definitely destroyed her old one, but to be fair, who knew kicking a cement boulder with a prosthetic leg made from human metals but with the force of an angry and very frustrated superpowered being would destroy said metal leg. Really, who could've predicted that?

Walking into the building with warm coffee in hand proved to be more difficult than Kara hoped, her busted prosthetic making her wobble every two steps since she didn't have a spare she could wear - this was the spare - and the slippery tiled floor didn't help. Making her way to the elevator she kept glancing down focusing on her steps, this meant she didn't notice when a woman absorbed in her phone walked straight into her path. On instinct, she relaxed her body as to not harm the human she collided with, unfortunately, that meant she lost her barely-there, to begin with, balance and was sent sprawling onto the floor and her coffee splashing straight at the woman's shirt. Perfect. Just what she needed today.

She had an apology already forming on her lips when she looked up and for the first time noticed the woman, no, the goddess she bumped into. Her hair was black, but when it caught the light it shone deep chestnut brown and cascading down her back, her skin was pale and looked so soft Kara found herself wanting to touch it, her fingers twitching at her sides. The woman's eyes were green, though her right eye seemed to be two shades lighter, more gray than green. She wasn't looking at her currently occupied with taking in the state of her clothes. And Rao, her clothes. The outfit was that of a businesswoman, high heels ready to kill, dark burgundy slacks with a matching suit jacket, loose black tie, and a white shirt. A white shirt that was now covered in Kara's coffee. Oh no. She needed to fix this, like, immediately. The best place to start is with an apology, right?

———————

Lena was having a pretty normal day, all things considered. She should have known her days are never normal. She woke up early, ate a small breakfast, and went to work. There she had meetings with investors from 8 to 11, some paperwork to sign, a small meeting with the head of R&D at 12, and now she finally had enough time to take a break and maybe grab some lunch. With a certain sandwich place in mind, she made her way down to the ground floor and, while answering some last-minute e-mail made her way to the exit of the building.

Before she could even make it halfway to the wide double door, she felt something surprisingly solid and at the same time very wobbly bump into her, and then a sudden warmth and wetness on her chest. Looking down at herself confirmed what she already suspected, someone, spilled coffee on her. Thankfully it was only warm and not scalding hot the last thing she needed right now was dealing with coffee-induced burns. Making sure her shirt was the only thing damaged in the incident, Lena paid no mind to the person who bumped into her, that is until a very apologetic voice started talking to her. From the floor. Looking away from her ruined shirt, she took in the person frantically trying to apologize for spilling coffee on her, at least that's what she thinks the woman was trying to do, seeing as at his point she was rambling a mile a minute.

The woman on the floor looked young, probably around the same age as Lena herself, she had blond wavy hair gathered in a messy ponytail and hidden behind cute square-framed glasses, the bluest eyes she has ever seen. There was a burn scar covering most of the left side of her face and neck and more peeking out from under her shirt. Her left leg ended right below the knee, and the prosthetic she was wearing looked like someone put it under an industrial press and then tried to put it back into shape with a hammer. She was wearing blue sneakers, jean shorts, and a yellow tank top with tiny rainbow dinosaurs on it that gave her an unobscured view of the rippling muscles in her arms as she gesticulated wildly still rambling out something resembling an apology.

Taking it all in Lena came to one conclusion. She's cute. And so with warm coffee drying on her chest and a beautiful woman at her feet, really what else was there for Lena to do other than ask the blonde out on a date.

———————

They moved in together after a year of dating. Alex asked if they were sure, but there wasn't a doubt in their minds that this was what they wanted. It felt right. And they were glad for this decision since a few months later, they and most of the world's population were confined to their homes.

Days in quarantine were spent working from home on their laptops with their legs entwined together and sharing a blanket out of the view of the cameras. When they weren't working they were finding new ways to entertain themselves. Slowly making their way through the classics of fantasy and sci-fi literature, with Kara floating them above the couch and Lena laying on top of her chest reading aloud from her Kindle was how they were spending most of the evenings. During the weekends when there was less work, Lena tried to teach Kara how to bake - with mixed results - and Kara made it her mission to recreate as many childhood experiences Lena missed out on living with the Luthors as possible. Her blanket fort wasn't the most structurally sound, but it sure was cozy. Movie nights were a nightly routine, and cooking dinner together became the most sacred daily ritual neither of them dared or wanted to skip. Weekly game nights through zoom were initiated almost immediately after lockdown and to no one's surprise, Lena and Alex's competitiveness did not lessen with the development of not being in the same room. If anything it became worse. Bets about how long will it take for the two of them to start fighting and accusing each other of cheating were as much a tradition as game nights itself. Most days though were spent working and lounging together with Kara occasionally flying out to pick up supplies they needed. And when one day Kara flew through the balcony with two cats and a dog saying there wasn't enough space in shelters, who was Lena to refuse those cute puppy eyes (it didn't hurt that the dog and cats were adorable as well).

#consulting with the oracle #annonymous #supercorp #ficlet

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thesquidkid · 3 years

Text

Through the clouds, I see love shine

Little fic for @unbearable22, thank you for putting this song in my head while I was doing homework 😆 Hope you enjoy! (Read on AO3)

In my life, there's been heartache and pain

I don't know if I can face it again

Can't stop now, I've traveled so far

To change this lonely life

Michael was sitting on the bed of his truck, leaning his weight on his left arm, legs slightly crossed so he could fit. His hat was off, the fingers on his right hand playing with its hem. He was looking at the man in front of him, who was leaning his back against the truck, a laptop positioned on his thighs. Alex looked peaceful, even if nothing about this situation brought peace, the features on his face were relaxed.

They were somewhere in the mountains where Michael had driven them, following a certain signal, stopping every once in a while under a radio post, allowing Alex to connect the Lockhart machine to the post and observe the frequencies and code something that would lead to understanding the machine better. They had talked about the machine some more after Michael had been allowed into Deep Sky to get a look at it, Alex focusing more on the informatic part of it, whereas Michael was more interested in the mechanics and the alien tech used.

This time, their stop was quite long, Alex seemingly having found what he was looking for. In reality, they both knew that Alex could’ve done this all alone, it didn’t require any of Michael’s special skills, they weren’t after Jones or anyone, anything, particularly dangerous. They were just after radio signals for the Lockhart machine. But the fact that Alex had asked Michael to accompany him meant a lot to the both of them and so they drove away from Roswell.

When they were driving they would mostly talk about the machine, about the different theories they had. But once they stopped, Alex would take his computer out and Michael would sit silently, either next to him, or in front of him, and would think. He would think of Alex, of them together.

They didn’t really get a chance to properly talk after the kiss. They did talk about their relationship, and had agreed not to fall back into old habits. But, then, Alex had gotten Michael clearance to get into Deep Sky and the machine had been their main focus.

“Michael?” Alex said, with a smile. Michael realised that he probably had been talking and stopped seeing that Michael wasn’t paying attention.

“Huh,” Michael asked, bringing his thoughts back to the present, “sorry, you were saying?”

“Are you okay?” Alex asked instead, putting his computer to the side, his entire attention on Michael.

Michael breathed out deeply, gathering his thoughts before answering. They both were making efforts on communication, and Michael wasn’t going to stop there. “I, uh, I don’t want to mess this up,” he said with a faint smile, looking back up at Alex.

“I’m guessing you’re not talking about this very boring mission,” he said, with a smile, closing his laptop and waving to Michael to sit next to him.

Michael scooped himself up smiling back at Alex and sat down next to him, turning his upper body so that they were still facing.

“I don’t want to mess us up either,” said Alex once Michael had stopped moving.

“So what do we do then?” asked Michael, his voice low, barely a whisper, feeling like if maybe he said it louder it would curse them. “Because I know we can do better Alex, I know we can be together without hurting each other.” He breathed deeply and blinked a few times, feeling his eyes sting with the beginning of tears. “I am done with all the pain and heartbreak in my life, I just want to love you, freely.”

He raised his head, as if it was a challenge to the universe. Alex put his hand to Michael’s cheek, wiping the tears there with his thumb, ignoring his own. Michael however, not one to ignore Alex’s emotions, brought his hand to mirror the gesture, bumping their arms and making them laugh a bit, before it died down, and they were back in the current time, in the current conversation.

“I think,” started Alex, “that out of the two of us you’re the one with more experience with free love.” Michael shrugged at that, and Alex decided to move on, neither wanting to reminisce about the past, but rather choosing to look towards the future, their future. “I want you to show me what it’s like, Michael. I want to experience everything with you. I want-” he cut himself with a breath, “I want to know what it’s like to not be scared of loving you, Michael.”

They stared at each other, only now realising that it was the first time either of them said that word in present tense. I love you. Three words that for the longest time have been unspoken between them, and finally, breached the surface.

“And as for what we should do,” Alex continued with a sniff, “how about we start with dinner?” he asked, looking into Michael’s eyes.

“Your place or mine?” replied Michael, with a breathless chuckle.

“How about the Roadrunner Cafe? We could definitely make it there for 8 tonight,” Alex replied with a nervous chuckle. The Roadrunner wasn’t so different to the Crashdown - less good quality, obviously - and it wasn’t something too fancy. But it was different. It felt more important somehow, like there was no mistaking in what Alex meant. Not dinner as ‘friends’, but dinner as boyfriends.

Michael looked at him with a smile, “I don’t know about you but I’d probably feel bad, you know? Cheating on Arturo like that.”

Alex laughed at that, “Fair enough, rumors go around quickly in this town.” He looked at Michael with so much softness in his eyes, his face and his body relaxed, that Michael needed to actively fight his instincts, not to jump Alex and kiss him, right here and there, but he also knew that they couldn’t fall back into who they were before. Not if they wanted them to work out. And judging by the way Alex cleared his throat, looking pointedly at Michael’s lips, he would say he wasn’t the only one in that state.

“So, it’s a date, huh?” Michael asked, wanting to make sure they were clear, on the same page, before they did anything else. “Us, tonight at the Crashdown. And not as friends, right?”

Alex chuckled and leaned closer, “I mean I thought we were friends.” At Michael’s teasing raised eyebrow, he quickly added, “but yes, tonight we’re having dinner in the best place in town, as boyfriends.”

As Alex talked, he leaned in closer and closer, until the final word was whispered, Michael feeling it more than hearing it, the two men crashing their mouths together. But unlike all the times they kissed in the last decade, until the night at the Wild Pony, that kiss was slow. Still burning like fire, but without an expiration date.

In the end, they drove back into Roswell, and parked outside the Crashdown. From the moment they walked out Michael’s truck, until they sat down at a booth, their fingers were intertwined. And once they were seated, their bodies touching, from shoulder to knee, Alex on Michael’s left. They knew that people were looking at them, but neither cared. They were too busy getting to know what being loved felt like.

I wanna know what love is

I want you to show me

I wanna feel what love is

I know you can show me

#this song is 100% a malex song #michael guerin #alex manes #they both deserve all the love #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #malex #malex fic #also lmao as i am typing these tags #wanna bet that this will be more popular than any of my delmanes fics?#😂😂😂#also please forget anything about science #i do not know what they could be doing here #i just wanted them to talk #thesquidkid writes

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morgansunflower · 3 years

Text

I Miss You 1/3

Jason Todd X Reader

Batsiblings x Batsis! Reader

Warnings: suggestive content, though nothing explicit

Words:1,179

Reader Love's Jason more than anyone in the world. Though her lover has horrible timing

I threw up my breakfast into the grass outside Wayne Manor garden just beyond the shrubs. As I finally stop, I groan. Shit. My impending morning sickness the norm for the last few months. I step through the shrubs by the pool. I step up the steps. I open the door to the back entrance. I step inside and shut the door behind me. I saw Damian walk down the staircase. The chances of him trying to get on my nerves are well, very likely. Epically sense I smell horrible from throwing up.

I sigh "please don't say anything I know there are a million insults you want to say. I just need a break"

"tt, you smell revolting" he said with a rewarding look on his face

Of course I do "that's what happens when you throw up your entire breakfast" I obviously stated

I walked up the steps to my room. I walk through the hallway and open my bedroom door. I shut the door behind me and sat on my bed. Bruce is going to be infuriated with me. I looked on my laptop for places for Jason, our baby and I. How the hell I going to tell Jay? I remember our last night together. The release, the comfort and the beating of our hearts touching. We used a condom, always do but things happen. His voice ringing in my head 'I'll be back soon I promise' he'll be back. I suddenly began crying missing Jason, I need him. I want him to hold me. I have been trying to call him for so long but nothing. He left to help Roy with a mission. That was a three months ago. I yawn, I feel so exhausted. Sleeping as been so much harder. I shut my laptop and put it beside me. I laid back leaning on my pillows... That morning I opened my eye's feeling nauseated, and my breast sore. I stood stepping to my full length mirror. I lifted my shirt off. I gave to my small bump. There's only so much time I have until it'll be evident that I'm pregnant. I put on one of Jason's t-shirts and my shorts with pockets. I walked down the stairs and went outside for privacy. I call the doctors office to set my appointment. As I finished the call I hang up and put my phone in my pocket. I turned to the entrance seeing, Damian! Shit. By the look on his face I know he heard every word I said.

"Dami.." what do I say?

"tt I'm telling Richard" he said

"Damian do not tell anyone!" I demanded "I don't want anyone to know, at least for right now" I pleaded

He folds his arms glares at, me "tt it's not unlikely you can hide you're gaining wei--" I cut him off

"for once could you not be inconsiderate!" I snapped

His scoffed with a genuine hurt look on his face. I shouldn't have said that. I usually never lost my temper with him.

"Dami--I.. I'm sorry I lost my temper. My hormones are driving me insane" I said softly

He sighs heavily "is this why you have been ill?"

"yeah" I sigh, remembering yesterday "didn't mean to worry you the other day when I threw my breakfast up and probably last night's dinner to"

"I was not concerned" he lied, I could see right through that kid "is there anything else that you will be withstanding?" he asked bluntly

He doesn't know anything about pregnancy. I sit on the side of the lounge chair and pat beside me. Damian scoffed and sits by me.

Damn, how do I say this? "did Bruce, Alfie or Dick ever tell you about?..." I stammer, this is so awkward. I so do not want to give him the talk 'the birds and the bee's' talk.

He shakes his head in disgust "yes! Don't be absurd. I am aware of such. I have a girlfriend and am practically grown!" he defended

"ok! Good" I take a deep breath "so I guess after that thing happens when two people make a baby. Things change in a woman's bod- my body to be exact. My hormones are increased. I feel a nausea, headache sometimes" wanting to spare Damian from being grossed out. With as little as information about pregnancy I could. The minutes went by as I explained appropriately how my body is changing and about the eventual birth.

As I finish he takes a deep breath "will you be in pain when you are to give birth?" he sympathetically asked

"yes" I truthfully answered his face physically drops. I touch his shoulder "but don't you worry I'll be fine I promise" I assured him

He rolls his eye's "tt, I am not.. I still can not comprehend why you are keeping this in such secrecy" I lower my hand from his shoulder

Truthfully I am afraid of rejection from my family, but also "well because it's a big change. It means, no more patrol or missions for me"

"what?!" appalled he stood and extended his arms "that is absurd!"

"what? You gonna miss me" I chuckled

"tt, no I only.." Damian stammered folding his arm's with a huff and looking at the ground. He lied.

I guess I should tell him worst case scenario "Dami, patrol or missions are dangerous enough" don't cry! "if something happens I might could lose my baby" I stutter under my breath fighting tears scared to my core I'd lose Jason's and I baby.

His face drops and eyebrows narrow "I was, perhaps being too inconsiderate.. It is only, other than Richard" he takes a swift breath "you are the only bearable.. friend I have"

My heart melts that the kindest thing he ever said to me. Don't cry! He sits back down by me.

"Aww, Dami" I softly said

"tell anyone and I will...." he stammered and scoffed unable to come up with a insult. I chuckle he rolls his eyes "as I was saying Drake and Brown anger me to my core. I can not promise not to end them"

I roll my eyes and laugh. I look at my worried little brother "how about this? When patrol gets super annoying or hard for whatever reason. You can come hang out with me and have some quality uncle time with my baby"

"truly?" he asked softly

I nodded smiling "of course"

Damian swiftly hugged my neck. I chuckled and hugged my baby brother. He swiftly parted and gazed to me with worry.

"wait does Todd know of this" his face angers "because if he left you--" I cut him off

"Damian, he doesn't know" I sadly said missing, Jason.

With night fallen I sit in my bedroom. I hear my phone a text from, Damian. I open his message.

(Damian)- I fear that your absence from patrol as been noticed by our family-

-thank you for the warning. I should have known that I'd eventually run out of luck-

#batfamily #Jason Todd X Reader #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne X Batsis! Reader #Batsis! Reader #Batsis #Pregnancy #Unplanned pregnancy #Morning sickness #Batfamily #Worried Damian Wayne #Worry

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adhdeancas · 3 years

Text

Sunset Sound: God is Dead?

I might start updating twice a week because I am writing this story at BREAKNECK speed. this is my favorite chapter so far. enjoy! (special thanks to @friedchickenangelwings once again for sticking with me and my incessant rambling about this story at all hours during holidays)

Fic Summary: Everything is the same up to the end of 15x20. Chuck has been “defeated,” but it was all a farce. When Jack absorbed Chuck, Chuck easily took over the 3 year old’s body and acted as if he were defeated. Chuck!Jack then had the Rusty Nail placed in the barn where Dean died, and with Cas gone, Dean didn’t fight it. Chuck did reimagine Heaven, but he’s fed the same lie to them all: that everything is perfect, they are free, they are in real paradise. Except it’s all an illusion insulated by blue skies and endless horizons. Because, just like the Good Place, people make Heaven into Hell for each other. And there’s nothing Chuck loves more than the natural order of tragedy. He “let it slip” to Bobby that he brought Cas back, when he really left him to rot in the Empty. Dean has to find his best friend before it’s too late, and he has to keep a happy face for everyone else, because Chuck is watching. Always watching.

“You know?” Dean shakes his head. “What’s going on?”

Charlie leans back against the bar. “Well, after Ash and I found each other-” they give a cute little nod of the head in sync, dorks, “through the frankly shitty wifi they’ve got up here, we got to talking.”

“Yeah, we realized some shit just didn’t add up. Like angel radio.” Ash spins around and ducks into his backroom, coming back with a laptop that’s way more advanced than it was last time. Dean raises his eyebrows at it. “Yeah, man, it’s sick, right? Charlie upgraded my systems, it’s bitchin’.” he reaches past Dean’s shoulder to give Charlie a fist bump (enthusiastically returned) and Dean backs off.

“Yeah, bitchin’,” Dean repeats with a grin. He’s too dumb for these people. But he sure is glad they’re on his side. “Well, hey, show me whatcha got.”

Ash nods and taps his temple. He mutters to himself and pulls the system toward him while Dean watches anxiously. Ash pauses and looks at him. “Dude. Gimme a second? This setup is a lil’ more complicated than your blackberry.”

Dean snorts and gives him space, followed by Charlie. “Dude. you’ve been dead too long. Blackberrys haven’t existed for like… ten years.”

Ash gives him a genial middle finger and Dean grins. Charlie sits up on the pool table and Dean leans against it next to her. “Listen, Charlie, I gotta. I gotta say sorry, again, for…” He clears his throat.

“Dying?” Charlie asks lightly.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Not your fault, Dean.” She shrugs, and she actually manages to look cheerful. Damn, Dean loves this chick. She puts her hand on his shoulder and shakes her head. “Seriously, Dean. Let it go! I have! Seriously, I got to spend a few years with my high school girlfriend watching Lord of the Rings - she was a cheerleader - and sneaking out to design some fucking world-altering programs with Ash! Being dead, for me, it’s kinda amazing.” She smiles at him. “Guessing you don’t feel the same though, huh?”

Dean swallows. He doesn’t know how much he wants to say about that, but being dead… it definitely sucks. And not in the good way. “Guess it just feels like I got more to do. Now, at least.” Now that Cas is… and heaven is…

Charlie looks like she doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, they’re interrupted before she has to think of something.

“Eyo! Sorry, amigos,” he leans over backwards to look at them. “Found it.”

Charlie jumps off the table and grabs Dean’s hand. After a few steps she shoves him with her shoulder until he bumps into Ash’s back. Dean bounces off his soft form and clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters, throwing a death glare back at his surrogate sister. She flashes him a smug grin before focusing back on the computer screen.

Ash recovers from getting jostled in time to point. “Yeah, so, we got word on Angel FM that this Jack kid is goin’ real Jim Jones over here.” He holds a finger up at several paragraphs as he’s flipping through them. “Preachin’ all kinda love and peace and hippy commune shit, but if somebody even questions it, he snaps. Naomi no-likey,” He smirks up at Dean and points to a group of cuss-words even Dean barely uses. “Rough translation.”

Dean shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like Jack.” Jack, especially Jack-with-a-soul, almost never got mad. I mean, he’d spent quality time with Lucifer without blowing up. The kid is level-headed to a fault. “Anything else?”

Ash frowns at him. “Y’know, going through angels’ personal phone calls is a lotta work.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius. Got anything else?”

“Ash, what about the human rumors?”

Ash looks at Charlie and they have a silent battle of wills, but Dean’s too impatient to see who wins. “What human rumors?”

They pause and come to an agreement. “Fighting. People fighting. Couples. Families. Friends. All over, since the reboot. People are happy, but… it’s like earth. People can talk - people can fight.”

“And?” Dean raises his eyebrows. There’s something they’re not telling him, and he thinks he knows what.

Ash raises them right back. He’s not about to divulge. “Hombre, this ain’t earth. People are supposed to be happy. If they ain’t… like a glitch in the matrix, y’know?

Dean grunts. “Anything else weird on the radio? Anything at all.”

Ash’s sigh sounds labored. He leans back in his chair and wobbles, obviously sorting through all the enochian bullshit he’s read over the past… whenever. “Meh… I got… I don’t know, God was singing?”

“Singing? Singing what?” Dean leans in, intent. If it was Taylor Swift, Beyonce, maybe Lizzo…

Ash cocks an eyebrow. “Folk shit. Indie music.”

That’s what Dean was afraid of. “Shit.”

“Why? What does that mean?” Charlie grabs onto his arm.

Dean’s worst fears, that’s what. “It means that ain’t my kid. It’s Chuck.”

“Who the hell is that?” Ash stands up as Dean walks away, cursing every stupid atom that had decided to make this dumb universe. Although, he guesses, that was Chuck’s purview too.

“He’s god! God before the reboot I mean, the dick who up and left and only came back to screw me and Sam over. Fuck, I thought we’d finally gotten out from under his thumb! Now, apparently, he’s just using my kid for his meat-suit.” Dean takes a deep breath. This is bad. Worse than bad-bad.

“So… what do we do? How do we nuke God?” Charlie asks the question like it’s normal, just another Saturday afternoon.

Dean thumps his forehead onto the nearest table. Sure, sure, good, great. They were back to square fucking one. “I don’t fucking know,”

“Alright, break it down. We need more mojo, right? How do we get more mojo?”

“Well, angels are the next best thing, right? Maybe if we get them all together, they’re obviously not psyched about folk-God, or whatever,”

Ash points at her like she’s a genius. “Alright, yeah!”

“Guys, there aren’t enough angels left to even try.” Dean feels hopeless. There’s nothing to do. They are literally out of options. There’s no hope.

“Well, where can we get some more angels, then?”

Dean stands up. “I know a place.” His heart feels like it’s being squeezed like a lemon. It’s a crazy idea. It’s practically impossible. And probably suicide. And he’s gotta find a way. “We gotta break open the Empty.”

“The Empty?” Ash looks skeptical. Dean smirks.

“Yeah, angel/demon afterlife. We punch our way in there and we’ve got juice for days, man.” He spreads his arms out, asks the question.

Ash glances at Charlie then back at Dean. He sniffs and nods. “I’m in.”

Dean looks to Charlie, who scoffs. “Duh. Of course. So what, we get in and say pretty please help us kill your dad?”

A warm feeling spreads through Dean’s chest. “Well, we’ll have a little help on the inside. Cas.”

“Castiel? The angel dude?”

“He’s dead?” Charlie’s voice has much more concern than Ash’s. Dean nods in response to both questions. It still makes him feel like he’s swallowing glass to think about it. “What happened?”

Dean looks down at his boots. It’s only the scene that keeps playing on repeat behind his eyelids. Cas crying, holding onto his shoulder, telling him… telling him goodbye. Telling him that. “He saved me.” he starts, expression guarded. “He made a deal.”

Ash grunts and nods, ready to drop it. Charlie stays quiet too, but she clearly wants to say something. Dean’s thankful for the drop. He doesn’t know what he’d say if they asked more. All he knows is that he needs Cas back. And he needs to talk to him. He needs to tell him that - that he wants him to just stay fucking put, damn it. That he needs to stop dying on him. And that he can’t just go and say something like that and then leave. It’s a bitch-ass move.

“Yo, Deano?”

Dean jerks his head back up. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“How do we jail-break ‘em?”

“Guessing we’re gonna need some serious magic shit. And since we can’t get to Rowena…”

Ash breaks into a wide grin. “Pamela? I’ll give her a call.”

Pamela is “busy,” so they have to wait for her to finish up with Jesse before she can come by. Dean has to hand it to her, it’s just about the most Pamela thing in the world to put off their realms-saving work for a heavenly hookup. Dean hangs around talking for a bit, filling his friends in on the latest on Earth, but he can’t concentrate. Ever since they’d decided the next thing is to get into the Empty, he can’t relax. He takes his beer and goes outside to wait, settling down on the Roadhouse’s front step to watch for Pamela.

After a bit, Charlie plops down next to him, a soft grin on her lips. He returns it half-heartedly before looking out across the clearing. She leans her head against his shoulder. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence before she turns into him. “So we gotta get into the Empty.” she sighs. Dean nods glumly. Just his fucking luck. Even heaven is ruined. But at least… at least they’ve got a shot. “And get Castiel.”

Dean frowns and pulls away to look at her. Maybe it’s just his paranoia, but he hears some deeper meaning in her voice. “The guy died for me. I gotta,” he presses his lips together, hating himself for the half-lie he’s telling. Cas deserves better. Charlie just nods and watches, like she’s waiting for him to keep going. When he manages to talk again, his voice cracks. “We gotta get him, Charlie.”

Charlie pulls him into a side hug. “I always said he was dreamy, that angel.” She points out. Dean snorts. He remembers. He’d blushed like an idiot after she said that the first time.

“Yeah.” He mutters. Okay, so she knows. That he and Cas are… that Dean’s… good. Cas deserves recognition. He deserves someone to talk about him. For Dean to talk about him. But then Charlie just hasn’t spoken, and he feels like he needs some explanation. “I… there were other guys, before him.” He continues, clearing his throat. His mind wanders to Benny and Lee, Crowley. “But he’s… he’s it.”

He risks a look at Charlie and she is just staring at him with a fond smile. She surges forward and kisses his cheek, squealing. “Yes, I fucking knew it, you bisexual dumbass! Bi, right?”

Dean laughs. “Yeah, I guess- wait, you knew?”

Charlie looks around, like Dean’s a dumbass it was so obvious. “Well, yeah, dude. Game recognize game.” She motions between the two of them and he scoffs. That’s right. Gaydar. That would’ve been nice to have for the last, oh, 12 years? “We’ll get him back.”

Dean pulls Charlie in for another hug and leaves her tucked under his arm until a motorcycle pulls up and Pamela gets off, shaking her hair loose like a blind slow-motion model in a porno. She grins at the pair on the steps like she can see them. “Take a picture, you two. It’ll last longer.”

“How did you-”

She throws a hand out in dismissal. “Please, I can feel ogling from a mile away.” She pauses, laughing at the embarrassed silence Charlie and Dean are sporting. “Nah, I’m just joking. I do the hair-shake for a reason. I deserve a good stare. Hell, it’s half the reason I own this motorcycle.” She throws her helmet in the general direction of the motorcycle and greets her friends. Dean can’t decide whose hug is more flirty, his or Charlie’s.

“Alright, bitches. Let’s séance some shit.”

tag list: (ask or dm to be removed or added)

@dochunterwitch @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus

#sunset sound #god is dead?#chapter 3 #fanfic #deancas #destiel #my writing #dean winchester #castiel #charlie bradbury #pamela barnes #ash

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

How Wonderful Life Is (While You're in the World) (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Rosé has the perfect plan for proposing to Denali. If only she could get the plan to work.

A/N: So this idea came into my head and wouldn’t leave until I wrote it! I wish I had the same motivation for my homework honestly. It’s basically pure fluff and a little chaos. Thank you so much to Writ for beta-ing and helping my pull the final scene together. Please leave some feedback if you’d like, I really appreciate it!

Title from Your Song by Elton John.

Rosé has had the ring for two weeks now. The plan, however, she’s had even longer. It’s carefully organized, each step written on the checklist (which Lagoona’s been teasing her for) in Rosé’s prim-and-proper handwriting (which Jan’s been teasing her for since they were kids). But she needs this proposal to be perfect, everything Denali deserves and more. Denali deserves the world, but even with her promotion at the fashion magazine, that’s out of Rosé’s price range, so this has to be special.

She sits with an eye on the door, waiting for Denali to come in and fling her bag on the couch. Then Rosé will spontaneously-but-not-really-spontaneously suggest they go eat at the Thai place where they had their first date. After dinner, she’ll develop a sudden desperate craving for ice cream–hey, she might as well put those old acting classes to good use–and they’ll go on a walk to get said ice cream. But not any walk—a path Rosé created herself, one that takes them to the same ice cream place where chocolate and pistachio sweetened their first kiss, past the art museum where they officially became girlfriends in front of a Monet, and finally into the park where they first met years ago, where Rosé will get down on one knee and pull out the ring burning a hole in her pocket.

A perfect full circle moment, one she knows Denali will love.

Her leg bounces as she waits. She knows Denali will say yes, but this is still a big step, even bigger than moving in together. But that had turned out so well, letting her be around Denali all the time, learning new parts of her girlfriend that she could tuck inside herself. Like how Denali still has a battered Nike shoebox of her old Pokémon cards. How her early rising for skating still lingers, inviting warm sunrise cuddles. How she’s so brave and fearless, yet still shrieks and throws random objects across the room when she sees a spider. It’s a step that let them create a home together, with fluffy blankets on the couch and cheesy photo-booth pictures on the fridge and both their favorite chips in the cupboard. A home in each other, hugs and kisses and support all the time. A step that became amazing, and this one will be even more so.

Until the door flies open and in comes a slightly limping Denali with a scowl on her face.

“Well, today fucking sucked.”

Rosé jumps off the couch, easing Denali’s skating bag off her shoulder. “What happened, baby?”

“First one of my design clients decided they wanted to change their costume right after we settled on the original design. Then this minivan mom screamed at me outside the rink for like ten minutes because I said her kid needed more practice before moving to the next age group. And then I was so distracted from everything I fell on my knee when I was practicing.”

“I’m sorry, Nali.” Rosé winces, one hand steady on Denali’s waist, the other rubbing her back, soothing Denali with gentle touches, reminders that she’s here. “Is it bad?”

“Nah, it’s just a bruise. I’ll put some ice on it and it’ll be fine.” Denali flops down on the couch, leaning back and sighing. “Can we order pizza?”

Rosé’s heart sinks as she realizes the proposal is off for the night. Denali’s stressed and exhausted, clearly not in the mood for having dinner out or going for a walk. Rosé doesn’t blame her, and she isn’t going to push things. Part of her is disappointed, her perfect plan in ruins, no chance of them going to bed giddily planning a wedding. But Denali needs comfort after a bad day, and that’s something Rosé will always love to give her.

“Of course,” Rosé says. “Anything else you need?”

Denali shakes her head. She’s tough, and after some food and sleep, she’ll be ready to take on the world. But that won’t stop Rosé from giving her anything she wants tonight, making sure she always has a soft place to land.

“I’ll order it and get you some ice. You just relax.”

It doesn’t have to be today, Rosé reminds herself as she settles next to Denali, careful not to bump her knee. She’ll just propose another night. Everything is fine. And when Denali falls asleep with her head in Rosé’s lap while Rosé gently strokes her hair, everything really is fine.

—

Rosé waits a few days before her second try, giving the universe time to let out all its bad, proposal-killing vibes. The ring is secure in her nightstand drawer, nestled between her vanilla lotion and melatonin gummies, and Denali is secure in her arms when they wake up. Tonight’s the night. Rosé can feel it.

Until the rain starts.

And not just any rain, but heavy, pouring rain, pounding on the roof and destroying umbrellas. The kind that soaks you through in seconds and leaves you shivering the whole day. No one would want to spend five seconds in that rain, let alone go for a romantic walk in it.

But it’s only morning, and these heavy storms never last. By tonight, the sun will shine and the world will glisten with leftover rainwater. A perfect setting for a proposal.

But when the rain is still screaming down when Rosé leaves work, rattling the windows as she and Denali curl up under a blanket with hot chocolate, she has to give up on this one.

—

Third time’s the charm, everyone says that, so Rosé’s optimistic when Attempt Three rolls around. Hope follows her all day at work, as she arranges photos of models and meets with Michelle to discuss next month’s issue, and there’s a spring in her step when she leaves her desk and strolls to the elevator with Symone.

“I can’t wait to see your layout tomorrow!” Symone says, adjusting her purse and closing the door.

“You mean Friday.”

“Tomorrow is Friday.” Symone’s excitement becomes concern. “You feeling okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine,” Rosé stammers, batting away the hand Symone extends toward her forehead. “I just mixed my days up for a minute.”

Symone nods, and only when they’re both out of the building does Rosé allow herself to exhale, frantically checking the date on her phone and swearing when it confirms that today is, in fact, Thursday. She’s been so focused on this round of the proposal that she missed a day somewhere. Her layout is due at midnight, and even though it’s almost done, she puts so much care into each one there’s no way to do the proposal and the layout tonight without hurting the quality of one of them, and she can’t do that. It’s not fair to give Denali anything less than her full attention, and she can’t submit half-assed work weeks after her promotion either. The proposal will have to wait.

Again.

The hope turns to lead as she drags herself into the apartment, sprawling out at the kitchen table with her laptop, massaging her temples to ward off the looming headache. She doesn’t even hear Denali come in until she drops a kiss on the top of her head.

“Deadline?” Denali guesses.

Rosé sighs, leaning back to chase another kiss, which Denali gives her. “Yeah. I got my days mixed up and it’s due tonight. I’m gonna be here a while. I’m sorry.”

Denali nods in understanding, brushing Rosé’s hair off her face, calming the stress buzzing in her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make dinner and then I can keep you company. I have some costume sketches to work on.”

Rosé nods gratefully, heart swelling with love as she returns to her work. She faintly registers Denali moving around the kitchen, swaying and humming whatever her favorite song is this week, until she sets down two plates of grilled cheese.

They eat their sandwiches, and Denali replaces the plates with their floral coffee mugs–pink roses and blue forget-me-nots–a comfortable silence spreading between them as they work. They didn’t need to talk, didn’t need much of anything, but liked knowing the other was there anyway. There’s always been this connection between them, the way they were completely attuned to each other’s moods, knowing when to give space or comfort or talk things through.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Rosé says, stretching her back and jumping as it cracks. “You can go to bed.”

“I’m staying,” Denali says, stubborn as always. “Besides, I don’t sleep as good without you, which makes no sense because you’re always kicking me.”

Rosé sneaks glances as Denali works, sketching a blue skating costume. Denali’s been teaching skating lessons for years and started making outfits for clients last summer, and it’s really taken off lately. Rosé loves watching her sketch, the way her tongue curls over her lip, the way her dimples peek out, the way her dark eyes narrow in focus. She’s absolutely beautiful, hair in a messy bun, sweatshirt that Rosé is pretty sure was once hers sloping down to reveal the curve of her shoulder. The woman Rosé’s going to marry. Denali grins as she finishes, and finally catches Rosé staring at her.

“What?” Denali asks.

Ask her, Rosé thinks. Ask her right now. And she almost does, plan be damned. But she doesn’t want it to seem like she’s just blurting it out for the hell of it, like it’s thoughtless. “Nothing,” Rosé says quietly.

“I’m on to you, Rosie,” Denali says.

Rosé’s heart skips a beat. What if Denali found the ring, what if she knows–

“You were just so dazzled by my smile it made you speechless,” Denali says, flashing her dimples again.

Rosé grins, trying not to sigh in relief. “You’re right, baby.”

It’s 11:03 when Rosé sends her layout to Michelle, slumping back in her chair and letting her exhausted eyes slide shut.

“Come on, Rosie. Let’s go to bed.” Denali’s hands help her up, and Rosé leans into her. Denali stayed with her this whole time, refilling her coffee mug and rubbing her shoulders, showing her funny videos she was watching on her phone, letting out soft encouragements when she got frustrated. Rosé knows how lucky she is to have Denali, and she nuzzles against her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she mumbles sleepily. “For stayin’ up with me.”

“Of course.” Denali presses a kiss to her cheek.

They collapse into bed, and Rosé falls asleep with her arms full of love.

—

Attempt Four doesn’t go wrong right away. In fact, everything is fine–no bad work days, no rain, no deadlines.

And then Jan calls.

“What do you mean your sitter cancelled?” Rosé demands into the phone.

“I mean my sitter cancelled. It’s not a difficult statement,” Jan says on the other end.

“And why does this involve me?” Rosé plays dumb, but she already knows where tonight is going, and it doesn’t include a ring.

Jan sighs. “Because Jackie has this work dinner tonight, and I want to be there for her, but we can’t leave the baby. Please, Rosie, pleeeease?”

“All right.”

“You’re a lifesaver!”

Rosé sighs, adding another tally to the failed proposal column.

She tries to make the most of the night, not wanting Denali to suspect anything’s wrong. She’ll know if something is off with Rosé, and Rosé doesn’t want Denali to get suspicious about what’s bothering her, or think she’s hiding something. Well, technically she is hiding something, but not in a bad way. So she happily takes baby Joey from Jan and rocks him slightly, smiling as he smiles. Denali leans over and tickles him, giggling as he giggles, and there’s something about her smile, about the overjoyed the-baby-likes-me gleam in her eyes, that makes her even more adorable.

“I bet I can make him laugh harder than you.” Denali sticks her tongue out to prove her point.

Rosé gives into her competitive side and twists half her mouth up and crosses her eyes, cheering when Joey shrieks with joy.

“All right, that’s enough. You keep making those faces and you’ll scar the kid for life,” Denali mumbles.

Joey sleeps most of the night, but they watch the whole Disney movie anyway, snuggled together, Rosé softly singing in Denali’s ear.

—

Over the next few weeks, Rosé tries, refusing to let the universe take her hope away. She tries again and again, each time thinking that this will finally be it, the day they finally become engaged. The ring glares at her every time she reaches for her melatonin, because as the failures pile up, so do her hours of tossing and turning. Attempt Five is crushed by the dump truck the city brings in to clean the park. Denali catches a cold from one of her skating students and Rosé makes soup and fusses over her on the night of Attempt Six, and when Rosé wakes up sneezing two days later, that’s the end of Attempt Seven. The ice cream shop posts on Instagram that they’re closed for the day due to electrical outages, and Attempt Eight melts away like ice cream in the sun. By this point, Rosé’s tempted to make a damn bingo card for the next thing to go wrong.

“I see I still don’t have a sister-in-law,” Jan says as she enters the apartment, Lagoona trailing behind her.

“Why do you want another sister? You have us.” Lagoona throws an arm around Rosé and flashes Jan a cheesy grin.

“That’s exactly why I want another one.”

Rosé sighs. “This is what I wanted to talk about, actually.”

Jan and Lagoona must sense her seriousness, because their bickering stops, faces attentive like every time Rosé has gone to them for help. They were there when she failed a math test, and when she realized she wanted to kiss girls the way other girls kissed boys, and when she was getting ready for her first date with Denali. They’re always armed with hugs and decent advice and (usually) decent fashion tips, and Rosé loves them for it.

“What’s going on?”

Rosé fidgets with her sleeve. “It’s just–every time I try to propose, something goes wrong. What if …” Rosé pushes on despite the crack in her voice, “what if it’s a sign I shouldn’t propose? That we shouldn’t get married?”

She’s been trying to stay hopeful. She and Denali have been together for four years, after all, and if a few mishaps delayed their proposal, well, they’d get there eventually, and laugh about everything later. But that was about four mishaps ago, and Rosé can’t shake the feeling tightening around her chest that they’ll never get to the laughing-about-it stage, that Denali will never wear the ring. A few mishaps are a coincidence, but how many coincidences can you have until they become something more, something you can’t ignore?

“Don’t even let yourself think that,” Jan says softly.

“Jan’s right, and I’ll probably never say that again, so stop analyzing and listen,” Lagoona says. “You’re trying too hard to make this perfect. Stuff just goes wrong sometimes. It only feels huge because you’re putting so much pressure on yourself.”

“And it doesn’t need to be perfect,” Jan adds. “I know you want to give her the best proposal ever, but Denali knows you love her. She wouldn’t want you to be this stressed. You could propose in a dumpster and she’d say yes.”

Lagoona nods. “Look, your plan is amazing, but maybe it’ll help if you lose the plan and just propose when it feels right. Then you don’t have to cancel it every time the smallest thing goes wrong.”

“But how will I know when it’s right?” Rosé asks. “I don’t want it to seem thoughtless, or disappointing.”

“Nothing you do would be thoughtless, and you’d never disappoint Denali, first of all.” Jan pulls her into a hug. “And honey, I think it already is right. That’s why you bought the ring.”

Rosé nods, every doubt immediately pushed away. Instead of clinging to the plan the way she would cling to her script and run lines over and over at theatre camp, she can let go of the plan, of waiting and waiting for every single factor to be ideal. She loves Denali, and any time to propose to her is the right time. Rosé knows it’s right, just like she knew moving in together was right, just like she knew asking Denali out in the first place was right. Denali has always felt right to Rosé, someone she can show herself and her heart to, and she’ll know when to do it.

—

Rosé has taken to carrying the ring around in her purse, just in case she’s pushing her luck keeping it hidden in the apartment, but also in case the moment hits her while she and Denali are out somewhere. She likes having it close, touching the black velvet box and assuring herself of the promise inside.

Even with her new plan of not having a plan, she still struggles to get the words out. There have been some close calls–a weekend morning half-asleep in bed together, sunlight making Denali’s face gold, or having coffee in a cozy cafe, Denali tilting her head back to laugh at something Rosé said. But she always stumbles over exactly what she wants to say, or hesitates just a second too long, and the moment passes, or Denali moves on to something else.

Tonight, she’s flipping pancakes while Denali tends to the eggs.

“Why do you love breakfast for dinner so much?” Rosé mumbles, dodging Denali as she throws salt and pepper on the eggs like they’ve personally offended her.

“Breakfast food tastes better at night. You’re having a certain food at a time you’re not supposed to have it, so it’s like all sexy and forbidden and shit, and it tastes better. Same rule applies to pizza for breakfast.” Denali shrugs, like it’s common knowledge.

“I’m sorry I asked.” Rosé adds chocolate chips to the pancakes, Denali’s favorite.

They dig in to eat, and Denali jokes that she should make a skating costume based on breakfast foods, with a waffle skirt and ruffles that look like bacon, and Rosé can’t stop laughing, torn somewhere between amusement and horror.

Denali is laughing too, arms swinging around as she pretends to model the garment, her eyes sparkling, and it hits Rosé all at once in that moment. God, I love her so much.

“Marry me,” Rosé says.

Denali stills at once. “What?”

“I–hang on.” Rosé sprints to her purse, digs out the ring, and lowers her knee to the kitchen floor. Her heart throbs in her chest, but a smile from Denali shows she has nothing to worry about. “Denali, I … I had this perfect plan of how to propose to you, but every time I tried, something went wrong and stopped me. But the plan doesn’t matter. You matter. You matter more than anything to me, and this might not be perfect, but it’s you, and you’re always perfect to me. Will you marry me?”

Denali’s eyes glisten with tears. “Of course I’ll marry you, Rosie. I love you so much.”

The ring fits perfectly when Rosé slides it on her finger, and Denali fits perfectly in Rosé’s arms when she pulls her in for a kiss.

“So you did that little speech on the fly, huh?” Denali asks when they pull apart and sit back down.

“I am an improv queen, you know. Got the theatre camp certificate to prove it.” Rosé laughs. “But yeah. Instead of writing what I wanted to say, or thinking too much, I just … said it. And it’s all true, because I love you.”

Denali smiles, reaching out to take Rosé’s hand, stroking her thumb across the back of it. She gets a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, how many times did you try to do this? I just want to know.”

“I think the official count is eight.” By the time Rosé finishes telling them all, they’re both crying tears of laughter and clutching at sore stomachs, splitting the bottle of champagne they opened.

Denali looks at her after she’s done, and Rosé knows she’s crying for real now.

“You’re not disappointed, are you? The plan was way better, I was gonna–”

“I don’t need to know what the plan was,” Denali says firmly, “because I love the proposal you did. You could never disappoint me, Rosie. Never.” She sniffles. “I’m crying because I just–I can’t believe you tried that hard to do this for me. You’re basically the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“I love you,” Rosé says simply, and even if she couldn’t do the perfect proposal, she’s glad Denali knows how much she loves her, how she would do anything for her.

“I love you too,” Denali says. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll get to do that proposal some day after all.”

But Rosé doesn’t care if she does or not. Because she and Denali are getting married.

—

One Month Later

Rosé has a new checklist (which Lagoona’s been teasing her for) in her prim-and-proper handwriting (which Jan’s been teasing her for since they were kids). It’s a notebook, really, stuffed with all the things they have to do for the wedding–check out venues and finalize the guest list and then look at menus and decor and about a hundred other things. But Denali commanded her to leave it home today, because they both need a break.

“Can we get lunch?” Denali asks.

“We didn’t even shop yet.”

“But I’m hungry,” Denali whines.

“Okay, okay.” Denali’s hanger can level a city block, and Rosé knows she needs to get some food in her. “How about that burger place?”

“Too far. We’re only a block from that Thai place, let’s just go there.”

They get to their table just before the lunch rush hits, and Rosé thinks of how she’d been so sweaty before their first date that she had to put on extra deodorant in the bathroom. She’s calm and peaceful now, Denali slurping noodles across from her, their feet brushing without any thought of whether a first date was too early for that.

“I think those noodles gave me heartburn.” Denali rubs her chest as they walk out.

“Maybe it was the fact that you ate a giant bowl of them–”

“Oh, hush, Rosie. Oooh, you know what my mom says cures heartburn? Ice cream!”

Rosé doesn’t think that’s medically accurate, but she’s not going to challenge her future mother-in-law; even if the woman is miles away, her hearing is excellent, and it’s just not worth the risk.

She follows Denali into the ice cream place, helping her sort through all the flavors for her massive cone with extra rainbow sprinkles (‘what kind of lesbian would I be if I didn’t get rainbow sprinkles, Rosie?’ Denali demands, and Rosé gets extra on her strawberry cone too).

“Okay, I officially ate too much.”

“Again, you literally had three scoops of ice cream and a waffle cone.”

“Don’t remind me.” Denali looks slightly green, and Rosé just hopes this day doesn’t involve vomit. “I just gotta–I gotta walk it off,” Denali says, trying to nod convincingly, easing her hands off her stomach.

“If you throw up, please don’t do it on my shoes.”

“Noted.”

As much as Rosé hates barf, she can’t stop keeping a close eye on Denali as they walk, one steady hand on her back in case she needs it. Denali’s taking measured, trying-not-to-throw-up breaths as they walk, Rosé so focused on her that she barely notices where they’re going.

Denali comes to a sudden stop, her breathing back to normal in an instant, and Rosé finally notices they’re in the park.

And then it hits her.

They had Thai food.

They had ice cream.

They went on a walk together.

And now they’re in the park.

“I think you have something to ask me.” Denali grins smugly, but Rosé’s brain is still lagging, trying to piece together how Denali executed the plan perfectly.

“How did you—I never even told you what the original plan was!” Rosé stammers.

Denali’s smile stretches to her ears. “No, but Jan and Lagoona were more than happy to tell me.”

“Those two and their big mouths.” Rosé shakes her head, but she can’t believe how they teamed up with Denali and went through all this so the proposal could happen the way she dreamt.

“Yep. They also said they were gonna hide in the trees and watch, and I think they were joking, but you never know.”

Rosé cackles. She wouldn’t put it past the two of them to abuse the internet and order those fancy camouflage hunting suits to hide in, and when her quick look at the trees reveals nothing, she wonders if they really did.

“You—you really did all this for me,” Rosé says in wonder. “Lunch and ice cream and pretending to be sick so I was distracted and wouldn’t figure it out.”

As much as she told herself things ended up okay, part of her still wanted to do it, express her love the best way she could. She’s always been one for big, meaningful gestures where she could let out the love bursting inside her. And now she gets to, because of Denali.

“You’re not the only actress in the family,” Denali teases. “I know how much the proposal meant to you, Rosie. I wanted you to be able to do it.” Denali slips her ring off and offers it to Rosé. “Go on, ask.”

Rosé takes the ring and carefully gets down on one knee. Her body is warm from the sun and from love, and the words she finally says are a combination of her planned speech from months ago, and everything bursting in her heart right now.

“Denali, the first time we met was right in this park, at the skating rink. I bumped into you, and when I saw you, I was so glad I’m a shitty skater.” She grins. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. I love your passion, and your talent, and your kindness. I love you when you’re screaming over video games, and when you’re in your sad blanket burrito, and even when you drink too much coffee and get too hyper. And you love me too, even when I’m grumpy or I won’t stop singing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I promise that I will never, ever stop loving you, no matter what. Denali, will you marry me?”

“For the second time, yes, I will.”

She slides the ring on Denali’s finger for the second time, and as she pulls Denali in for a kiss, she knows that, plan or no plan, her life as Denali’s wife will be infinitely perfect.

#rpdr fanfiction #s13 #denali foxx #rosé #jan sport #lagoona bloo #rosnali #lesbian au #fluff #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

i wanna know what love is - 06

Pairing: rockstar! sebastian stan x writer!reader

Warnings: Y/N and Sebastian not bickering? shocking.

A/N: who else is going slightly insane due to quarantine (my problem is not being able to go outside and buy more snacks). let me know what you guys think, i love receiving your feedback always warms my heart listening to your opinions xx

Last Chapter // Next Chapter

Sebastian couldn’t sleep. He had never found it easier to sleep on the tour bus, every little sound from bus’ engine, drops of rain hitting the windows, the constant bumps on the road to Sherrie’s breathing made him hyperaware of everything around him. To add to injury, Sebastian also hated to be the only one awake in the middle of a loud silence, it always made his mind go places he liked to locked normally. He couldn’t drink as the boys had made it specifically forbidden to have alcohol in the bus due to a prior incident, couldn’t smoke as all his cigarettes were gone and couldn’t even watch TV as it would wake everyone on the bus. He was stuck with his mind which he didn’t like it.

He got up from his bed, shirtless only using plaid pj bottoms that he’d had since forever as seen by tiny hole around the knees, and went down the stairs to see what he could find in the fridge. He found more silence as he walked to the small fridge by the bedding area in hopes to find something to munch on. There was certainly loads of food in the fridge but he wanted something greasy. Right now what he wanted was a big greasy juicy burger and some fries so he could forget about his own thoughts.

He sat back down in one of the lounge coaches looking around, maybe if he laid down in the coach he could fall asleep? That’s all he wanted right now but after a few minutes of twisting and turning he couldn’t fall asleep and let out a load groan before covering his own mouth, realising the other boys were sleeping on the same zone. His worry about waking someone up was about to die down until he heard a door slide from the far corner of the bus. His eyes scanned to the door of Y/N’s room were she was standing in her white and pink pjs.

- I’m sorry. - he blurted before the two could start bickering. - I can’t sleep.

- Come in. - he gestured her arm towards her and he furrowed his brow at her. That was it, she was gonna finally murder him. Sebastian got up and walked over to her, entering her room as she closed the door before. She had certainly changed the room to her liking with a few polaroids stuck to the wall with blue tac and a few battery operated fairy lights. - You can stay in my room. Michael and Fred got me a second mattress so I don’t feel the bumpy road but I think I’ve grown immune to it.

- I’m not gonna take your bedroom. - he didn’t expect her to be nice to him. He knew she was a good girl with good intentions but he couldn’t wrap his mind around her allowing him to stay in, specially after the fight they’d had last night. - It’s your bedroom.

- I have some work to do. - she grabbed her laptop and notes. As per usual, she needed her daily notes compiled and sent to her editor and she was very behind in her work. - Besides, it’s your bus.

- Can I help? - maybe he didn’t want to sleep. He knew that for some reason he just couldn’t go to sleep, at least sober. He’d spent years and years of practicing to shut off his thoughts but lately all his thoughts seem to go back to his head. She however could not deny him, he looked like a lost puppy asking for stuff to do to avoid bedtime. - Please?

- Fine. - she sat in the bed, inviting him to do the same and handed her a bunch of yellow notepad pages. - Just highlight what’s not filler.

- How will I know what it’s not filler? - he looked at what she had written so far. She was rather nice in her review, even trying to write something nice about him and for a moment he thought she didn’t hate him that much but then realised she had her end of the deal to follow. His eyes skimmed over what she had written today, ignoring her constant typing on the laptop until they fell on a certain word on her pad. A certain name. He shot his head up to her. How did she even know about it? - Y/N.

- Yeah. - she turned from her laptop to him, sleep engaged in her eyes already.

- Who told you about Melody? - he wasn’t mad and she didn’t know if she should worry or not. She was about to start to apologise like a big idiot but he stopped her by just sighing, looking to the paper and back to her. - The boys did it, didn’t they?

- I’m so sorry. - there she was again, apologising. Whatever she did, she was always apologising. It pissed him off beyond no way. She was a reporter, a writer, it was her job to dig up dirt on people, yet she seemed to have not lost her spine again. - I’m not gonna run it, I just ... I just wrote it down, I was surprised you used to have a girlfriend.

- Fiancée. - he corrected her and she was taken out by surprise. She could maybe picture him being faithful to a single woman in a dating like scenario but married? She couldn’t possibly imagine him as a married man. - 4 years, not 3 as you wrote in here.

- You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. - she was sweet and Sebastian couldn’t deny that. He knew there was two ways she could go about in her career, she would either be a failed writer or one of the best. He’d been in the business for ages, had seen various writers, reporters, paparazzi and knew what qualities led specifically to instant success and she lacked them. Maybe he didn’t know her well enough or maybe she was too new in the area to be spineless but he sure hoped she didn’t fall in the failed category.

- I don’t have a problem talking about it, sweetheart. - he placed the yellow papers on her bed. - I proposed, we were gonna get married and I ruined it.

- Is that why you’re a womaniser, now? - she blurted out, not even expecting to say it. However, it was late and she wasn’t thinking right again.

- Are you trying to psychoanalyse me, Wiley? - he raised his eyebrows at her making her hold in a laugh. She placed her hand over her chest to settle herself down while Sebastian stared at her with a tiny smile in his face. - Love is for suckers. Take that for me.

- I know that no need to teach me. - she gave him a smile that he knew way too well. It was a sad let’s smile about it situation smile which stunned him. Y/N looked like the type of girl that would meet a guy and follow him to the end of the times, a loyal girl. - I’ve had my own experience with love before. All I have to say is no thank you.

- What happened? - he knew he was being nosey but yet again, she was always snooping around on his business and it wasn’t like he was writing a piece on her. Besides, he was curious and the boys wanted them to stop bickering so maybe socialising apart from teasing each other to no end was a good idea.

- Met this guy while I was at my first year in university. Fell head over heels for him, my first kiss was with him and then he just stopped talking and a month after ghosting he dumped me over a post it stuck at my accommodation door. - she said trying to lighten up the mood but the memories of how her heart clenched when she saw the yellow note glued to the outside of her door saying he didn’t feel it, her eyes dropped to stare at her legs not wanting to hold any eye contact with anyone.

- What an idiot. - Sebastian made her laugh with that comment. - At least when I drop my one night stands I tell them, to their face.

- I don’t imagine it’s very exciting to date the human version of vanilla ice cream.

- Hey, you can’t bake banana split without vanilla ice cream. - Y/N burst out laughing, holding her hand onto her mouth. His eyes didn’t leave her figure, she looked so adorable laughing and trying to hide it using her hands. - He’s an idiot, Y/N.

- Thanks, Sebastian. That was really nice of you.

- I’m a nice person what can I say.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #bucky imagine #sebastian stan AU #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan reader insert #rockstar!sebastian stan

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olympusgenius · 3 years

Text

The Phantom of Kamata

It was Saturday, and classes were over that day, Tokyo gets noisier and lively after school time, and like other days, Jutaro would visit the crafter who took his heart.

One of the reasons he likes Hephaestus is his charming shyness, even if he looks intimidating at first, he’s sweet and gentle, but at the same time, he’s somewhat mysterious, like a rosebud you’re watching closely to see when it opens and know what color are its petals.

He always denies his good qualities, criticizing severely onto himself, calling himself ugly, impure, filthy, unwanted, after their first encounter, Jutaro wanted to show to the crafter he’s sublime at his own way, and he deserves all the love of the world.

That Saturday...one of his good qualities...or talents will be disclosed unexpectedly.

Jutaro and Salomon exits from Ota Station and buys something for their visit to the workshop, a variety of dango dumplings assorted in different flavors, a local treat, both reaches to the Kamata Tech College’s entrance, Musashi didn’t show up like other times, but another good friend of them watches them from afar, holding some packages in his strong arms.

“Mama, Salomon! Nice to see you!“

Talos, the android created by Hephaestus at his “ideal” image, greets them cheerfully while he runs to the entrance, after some problems with him, he acts more human and less robotic, even calling Hephaestus “Papa” instead of creator.

“Hi, Talos! How are you?“

The summoner greets him nicely, Salomon and Talos make their own secret salute bumping their hips from both sides and bumping their foreheads, Jutaro find it funny, even with that well-built physique like his creator has, he was like a child trying to learn everything.

“Mama, you came to see Papa, right?“

“Yes, and I brought some snacks, is there anybody else here?“

“for now, just Papa and me, grandpapa and my uncles went to an errand, and Kuro-aniki is still in school now, all of them must be coming back at least in 10 minutes since now“

Talos opens the workshop’s door to let them come in, then he leaves the packages in the main desk and press the intercomm button to announce his coming to Hephaestus.

“Papa, I’m home, and Mama came today!...Papa?”

Talos tries to communicate with his creator again via intercomm, but there’s no answer.

“Is something wrong, Talos?”

“I don’t know, normally Papa responds when the intercomm sounds”.

The three of them goes to Hephaestus’ Lab to come in, after Talos submits the keycode, the door opens and a deep, mellow voice sings accompanied by a orchestral-like music tune, the trio are somewhat surprised and come down through the staircase leading to the underground lab, there they see the reason why Hephaestus didn’t respond the intercomm...

The music was coming from Hephaestus’ laptop, it was the soundtrack from a well-known musical in Tokyo, “Phantom of the Opera”, then they notices the male voice in the song was being overshadow by Hephaestus’ singing voice, it was powerful yet sweet, manly and beautiful, he not only sings it, he becomes the Phantom in the song, after some seconds, the rest of the crafters come down to the lab and see their fellow crafter’s secret performance with curiousity and amusement, Jutaro and Takemaru records that performance in video.

Hephaestus didn’t notice them until the song finishes, he watches them with fear and shock, sweating and blushing, the only thing he could say was...

“T-TALOS!! Why you didn’t say you came home?! you let them get in!! even Mama!!!”

Talos was equally shocked after see his father sing like that, the crafters were astonished and just applaud and cheer to Hephaestus’ hidden talent, then Amatsumara is the first one to talk, hugging Hephaestus’ right shoulder with his black arm.

“well, well, well, it seems we have an opera tenor working as a crafter here! “

“That was amazing, Heph-niki! did you ever sing like that? can you sing enka too? or rock music?“

“Oi, Kurogane! leave the big star alone!...at least until the next karaoke night!”

“Tvastar! where should I upload this better? SummTube or FaceSumm?“

“do it in both, Takemaru! but you should upload it in Reddis and Chipper too!“

Hephaestus was blushing more than ever and almost cries, the crafters leave the lab and keep talking about Hephaestus’ performance and their future karaoke night, the summoner comes closer to his lover with gleaming eyes.

“Mama?...I know...my v-voice is u-ugly too“

“That...was...BEAUTIFUL!! I LOVED IT!! Can you sing “If I Can’t Love” from Beauty and the Beast, for me?, I could get you the Beast ballroom outfit or a nice tailcoat from some friends in Daikanyama Academy!...please, for me?“

“Did you really like how I sing, Mama?“

“all of us were surprised at first...but it was incredible, I love how you sing... It felt full of...passion, I guess“

“I-If that’s the case, I-I will sing all the songs you want, just for you, Jutaro“

“That would be nice, but I would like to share this with my friends, show them all the nice things you are capable to do, show them...your true and beautiful self, the Hephaestus I love“

Jutaro kisses him in the lips and goes up to the workshop, waiting for his lover to come up and join to the rest of the crafters, Hephaestus smiles to himself a little, the flame over his eye becomes red and pink, then he notices Talos was making a pouting face in silence.

“Talos, what's up?“

"nothing..."

"Talos..."

“Why you didn’t tell me you can sing like that, Papa?“

“sorry for don’t tell you before...but...are you jealous?“

Talos was blushing like his father did before and doesn’t say anything, still making his pouting face.

“you’re jealous...“

Hephaestus laughs after coming with that conclusion, Talos gets upset and answers.

“It’s because when I try to sing...my voice sounds with that weird tone, like in the songs from that DJ robots in your playlist... “

“you mean...Dark Punk?...that’s called autotune...and I don’t find it weird..“

“I want to sing as pretty as you Papa, to amaze you and Mama too...“

“sorry...but a talent cannot be programmed...you must find it by yourself“

“at least...can I sing with you, at the next karaoke night?“

“like you wish, Talos...like you wish“

“Hey, will you come, Phantom of Kamata? the dango dumplings Jutaro brought will begone before you come“

“TAKEMARU!!!“

#housamo #tokyo afterschool summoners #MC3 Jutaro #Hephaestus #Talos #kamata crafters #drabble #phantom of the opera

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damaless · 4 years

Text

Harmony & Counterpoint

Chapter Five: un poco meno mosso

Momo rolls over, sighing, and frowns as her knee bumps a wall on the wrong side of the bed. Her mouth feels fuzzy — had she not brushed her teeth before going to bed? Wait…

She opens her eyes. Right. The migraine. Kyouka’s room. So where…?

She scans the room. Instruments line the far wall: keyboard, cello, guitar, bass, saxophone. Along the adjacent wall, Kyouka’s desk, with papers spread all over it, some mix of coursework and compositions-in-progress, presumably. Her eyes shift downward and she finds Kyouka herself, curled up on a beanbag chair, fast asleep.

Oh, no. She’d been in no shape to refuse anyone’s aid or hospitality, but putting Kyouka out of her own bed overnight is an egregious imposition. She’s practically sleeping on the floor.

And that’s not the only problem.

Her stomach sinks and an echo of last night’s migraine pulses through her head — she’s lost precious time that would have been spent on assignments — she��ll have to work through several mealtimes or possibly skip piano practice all week in order to catch up.

Her phone has been plugged in and placed on the nightstand — Kyouka’s doing, surely; ever so considerate — but she only feels worse when she reaches over and tilts it to check the time. She’s missing her morning class. She’s not even a month into her first term at university and she’s already begun skipping classes.

Her eyes sting, and her breaths are coming faster and shallower no matter how she tries to get herself under control. She wipes at her face futilely.

“Momo?” Kyouka’s voice is still hazy with sleep — she’s woken her up now, too, with this ridiculous overreaction, after ruining the quality of her sleep—

“Hey, what—?” The mattress shifts, and Kyouka’s hand settles on her back, rubbing circles. “What’s going on, hon? Does your head still hurt?”

She takes in a stuttered, uncontrolled breath, and tries to respond, but her throat feels like it has a lump in it and the words won’t come. She shakes her head, instead.

Kyouka just sits there with her, hand continuing to move soothingly against her back. Until she swallows, and manages to speak.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, voice shaky. I’ve terribly inconvenienced you — I took advantage of your hospitality—

“I took your bed,” she manages, eloquence failing.

“Momo.” Kyouka leans into view, face tilted towards her. “You’re my friend, and you were sick. You’d’ve done the exact same thing for me if our positions were reversed.”

That’s true, but the circumstances would be different, she wants to say.

“My bed is bigger, though,” is what comes out of her mouth instead.

Kyouka flushes pink to the tips of her ears, and Momo’s eyes widen as the implications of her statement catch up to her.

“I mean, um—” She blinks a few times. There’s isn’t really anything she can say.

Then Kyouka’s eyes crinkle, and a hand comes up to cover her mouth. Momo sobs a laugh, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Kyouka lowers her hand, eyes softening. “What’s really going on, huh?” She reaches over to the nightstand and produces a box of tissues.

Momo exhales a shaky sigh, taking one and dabbing at her eyes. “I’m— I’ve been so tired, these past few weeks.” She bunches handfuls of the bedspread in her fists, looking down at her lap. “And now I’ve fallen even more behind, and I’m missing my morning class. I’m going to need to somehow push myself even more to make up for it, but that’s the behavior that caused me to be such an inconvenience to everyone last night—”

Kyouka’s hand comes next to hers on the blanket, palm up, a silent offer. and after a moment of hesitation, Momo relaxes her fist to take it.

It’s nice, having someone provide comfort with simple, physical touch. Her parents love her, they do, but they’re not especially warm or affectionate people by nature.

“What class?” Kyouka asks, quietly.

“Business Ethics,” she replies, and Kyouka’s brows furrow thoughtfully. “I have a big assignment for it due next week, too, which I haven’t even begun to work on.”

Kyouka hums, but doesn’t elaborate.

“What are you thinking?” Momo tilts her head.

Kyouka shrugs. “I don’t know if you want my advice, but…” Their eyes meet, and Momo nods. “You have so much on your plate, it doesn’t seem sustainable.”

Momo sighs. She’s right.

Kyouka shrugs. “If you ask me… it’s still early enough to drop courses without penalty, so if your ethics class isn’t a prereq for something you’re planning to take next term…”

Momo shakes her head — it isn’t.

Squeezing her hand gently, Kyouka continues. “Why not just drop it? Then missing your class doesn’t matter, and right away you’ve got one less assignment to worry about.”

She makes a good point, but… Momo worries at her lip.

“You’d still be taking more courses than any reasonable person would ever expect you to.” Kyouka looks down at their joined hands. “It’s hard to watch when a friend isn’t taking good care of themselves. That headache was no joke; it seemed like you were feeling awful.”

Momo shakes her head. “It wasn’t a particularly enjoyable experience, no.”

Kyouka smiles, but another expression briefly flits across her face, too quick to discern. “At least… you got to have Eijirou help bring you here… Lucky you?”

She tilts her head. “I guess it was fortunate that he was around to assist. It would have been difficult, otherwise — or… it sounds like you’re referring to something else?”

Kyouka shrugs, suddenly awkward. “Ah, I mean… just that most girls think he’s pretty attractive — or so I gather, anyway — and he is a really sweet guy.”

“Most girls… but not you?” Momo raises an eyebrow. Eijirou does have a well-taken-care-of physique, now that she’s considering it — had Kyouka never noticed?

“Well, objectively, I guess, sure,” Kyouka says, intently focused on picking at a loose thread on the blanket. “But, um— dudes aren’t really my thing.”

Oh. Oh. “Oh,” she says.

Kyouka pulls her hand away, bringing it up to rub the back of her neck instead. “I’m sorry, uh— sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, no!” Momo places a hand on her arm, and Kyouka looks back up at her. “Not at all. I’m not uncomfortable.”

Just… somewhat inexperienced with this sort of thing, but she doesn’t need to bring that up.

“Oh, okay,” Kyouka says, softly. “Okay, that’s good.”

They sit in silence for a while. “I think I will drop that course.” Momo sighs. “Can I borrow your laptop? Or— you might want your room back, so—”

“No, it’s fine.” Kyouka leans over to the desk and looks back at her with a smile. “If I let you out of my sight before you drop it, you might change your mind.”

She quickly logs into the student portal and gets to the final confirmation page before dropping it, hovering the cursor over the button that will finalize her decision.

“What if my parents are disappointed?” she whispers.

“Your parents aren’t the ones taking the course.” Kyouka says, frowning slightly.

She hesitates.

Kyouka touches her arm. “Do you want me to click it for you?”

No. She’s an adult. It doesn’t always feel like it, but she is. She can make her own decisions and follow through with them. “I can do it.”

She clicks. It’s done. No more Business Ethics. No more looming assignment, no more accidentally skipped class. Her shoulders sag in relief.

“You okay?” Kyouka gives her arm a squeeze, and she nods.

“Yes,” she says. She feels better than she has in the last three weeks, at least. She has an hour before her next class starts, too. “Do you want to go out for breakfast?”

The smile Kyouka gives her is small, but genuine. “Sounds great.”

Read the rest of this chapter on Ao3

Read from the beginning

#bnha #momojirou #harmony and counterpoint #h&c #yaoyorozu momo #jirou kyouka #my stuff #my writing #my fics #long post

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blurry-fics · 4 years

Text

Chapter Seven

Where Did We Go | Series Masterlist

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1878

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this one! :) (picture credit)

“What else do we need?” Tyler asked, leaning over your shoulder to look at the grocery list that was in your hands.

“Chips, salad, and you specifically requested that we get cookies. After that, we should have everything on this list.”

Although today was supposed to be your lazy day, you and Tyler had decided to go out and run some errands. It was something that the two of you enjoyed doing together, even if it wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world.

“Where should we start?”

“The chips and cookies are right down here, so let’s get those out of the way.”

Tyler turned your cart down the aisle and headed towards the chips. You had barely gotten a few steps into the aisle when two teenage girls turned in your direction, their eyes going wide.

“Oh my god, it’s Tyler Joseph,” one of them said quickly before throwing a hand over her mouth.

The two girls exchanged a look before walking towards you. Tyler was already running a hand through his hair, trying to make it look less like he had spent the night before heavily drinking and just rolled out of bed to run errands, even though that was exactly what he had done.

“Can we get a picture?” one of them asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Tyler smiled.

You held out your hand for the girl’s phone, already knowing where this scenario was going; it was one that you had been in countless times before. Tyler wrapped his arms around each of the girls and smiled in your direction which, even if it wasn’t necessarily directed at you, made you smile a little. After taking a couple good pictures, you passed the phone back to its owner.

“Thank you so much,” she smiled at you. “You’re so pretty, by the way.”

Your eyebrows raised, having not expected that compliment. “Thank you, you are too.”

The girl’s smile grew even more as she turned to her friend. They quickly walked off, already whispering excitedly to one another. Tyler once again leaned on the cart, slowly beginning to push it forward once again.

“Who’s the celebrity now?” he smiled, giving your arm a nudge.

“The only reason I have even an ounce of fame is because I’m dating you,” you said.

“Fame is still fame, no matter how you get it.”

“Whatever. Just pick out your cookies, Joseph.”

You went a little further down the aisle to grab some chips while Tyler looked over his cookie options. It usually took him a little while to decide, so you took your time picking out some chips to keep around the house as well.

“I’ve got it!” Tyler announced triumphantly, holding up his selected cookies. He was loud enough that you were sure people a couple aisles over would hear him too. “I want these ones.”

You shook your head; sometimes you were amazed by how little some of Tyler’s mannerisms had changed since high school.

“Ok, put them in the cart.”

Tyler gently put the cookies into the cart among the rest of your groceries and then pushed the cart down towards you, lightly bumping you with it. You turned to him with a smile.

“What do you think? Tortilla chips?” you asked.

Tyler walked around the cart so that he was standing next to you, wrapping one arm around your waist. You couldn’t resist turning to look at him while he considered chip options. There was something about his thinking face that you found, well, adorable.

“I think tortilla chips are good,” he nodded, turning to you. “Oh, hi, I didn’t realize your face was that close.”

“Sorry, just admiring you again,” you smiled before grabbing the chips and adding them to the cart with the rest.

“Dork,” Tyler laughed. “Alright, what’s next?”

* * *

When the groceries were finally put away, you and Tyler got comfortable on the couch to watch some TV for awhile. You were quick to rest your head in Tyler’s lap and start scrolling through Netflix to find something to watch. Tyler, however, was paying close attention to something on his phone.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked, looking up at him.

No answer. You waited a few more seconds to see if he would say anything before you went back to scrolling. He was probably just distracted. After another ten seconds of silence, you gave up on asking for his opinion.

When you finally found a show that looked good, you turned to Tyler again. His eyes were moving quickly across his phone screen, one hand pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. You waited a little longer to see if he would come to a stop, but he didn’t.

“Hey, Ty?”

“Hm?”

“What do you think of this show?”

Tyler’s eyes barely flicked up to the TV for a second before they were back on his phone. “Yeah, looks good.”

You weren’t entirely convinced by his approval of the show, but decided not to push the matter. Whatever he was reading was obviously important, and you didn’t want to start an argument over a Netflix show. Instead, you hit play and made yourself comfortable on his legs again.

“I’m going to need you to move.”

You were only a few minutes into the TV show when Tyler said it. Confused, you turned to look at him. He had finally stopped reading for the first time since he had picked his phone up, but it was still in his hand. His comment took you back a little bit, Tyler rarely asked you to stop cuddling with him.

“Um, ok,” you said, pushing yourself up to a sitting position and scooting away from him.

“I’m sorry. The label sent a really long email about stuff coming up this week but they got it wrong, so now I’m going to have to get this all sorted out.”

“Oh.” You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. It seemed the lazy day you had planned to spend with Tyler was quickly being flipped on its head. “That’s ok.”

“I’ll still sit and watch TV with you, I’ll just have to be on my computer while we do it.”

“Ok.”

Tyler leaned over and kissed you before getting up to grab his laptop from the office. You forced a smile and decided to make yourself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch since cuddling wouldn’t really be an option if Tyler was having to send emails. At least he would still be at home and close to you.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

You had been watching TV for a couple hours and Tyler was still working away at his laptop, sending out emails and coordinating with various companies to figure out what was wrong. The TV show you picked had ended up being super interesting, although you weren’t even sure that Tyler knew the plot at this point. You had barely seen him look up from his computer once this entire time.

“Are you getting close to finishing, Ty?” you asked.

“I have no idea,” he said, his tone harsher than you had been expecting. “I’m trying to get this done as quickly as I can, but new emails are coming in faster than I can keep up.”

“Ok, sorry I asked.”

You tried to focus your attention back on the TV show, but you couldn’t quite get yourself to pay attention. Your mind kept replaying Tyler’s reaction to your question. You hadn’t meant to upset him with it, yet he had snapped at you for wanting to know when you would actually get to spend some quality time with him. That had been the original plan, after all.

The more you thought about your exchange with Tyler, the more frustrated you started to become. Eventually it was too much for you to keep inside, so you paused the show and practically stormed upstairs so that you could get some of your restless energy out without bothering Tyler. You hated getting into arguments with him and the longer you stayed downstairs and let your frustration grow, the more likely it was that you would end up snapping at him. Up here, you could let yourself calm down and think through the situation.

You couldn’t have been pacing your bedroom for more than a few minutes before Tyler joined you upstairs. He practically burst through the door of the bedroom, his shoulders relaxing as soon as he laid eyes on you.

“I couldn’t find you anywhere downstairs… thought you might have left without me noticing,” he said.

You held back a sigh. Him not noticing what you were up to was half of the problem, wasn’t it?

“I was just up here.”

“Are you ok?”

You began to chew on your lower lip, debating if you should even tell him why you were upset. He was already stressed enough as it was and you didn’t want to add to that, but you knew he would also want to know if he had done something wrong.

“Not really.”

He came closer to you now, only leaving a foot or two of space between you until he had an ok to get closer.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just… I don’t know, I’m frustrated, I guess.”

“About what?”

“We were just supposed to have this nice lazy day today,” you sighed, crossing your arms, “and then of course the label had to email you and you had to work anyway. And I don’t want to be mad because I know it’s important, but it stings a little bit when our plans get ruined like this.”

Tyler reached up and ran a hand through his hair, twirling it around his fingers at the end.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“What if I make you a deal?” he asked. “I’ll work for another hour or so and then once it’s time to make dinner, I’ll stop. Even if there’s more to be done, I’ll save it for tomorrow and we can just spend the entire night together. How does that sound?”

You nodded, “I like that idea.”

He reached out and put his hands on your arms, “I promise that I want to make it up to you however I can. I know work takes up a lot of my time, but you’re still my first priority at the end of the day.”

Tyler stepped closer so that he could press a soft kiss to your forehead. The small gesture made you smile and, before you knew it, you had your arms wrapped around him. He hugged you tightly, making all of your frustration melt away in an instant.

“I’m sorry for not being more patient,” you mumbled into his chest.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said. “We got it worked out.”

“Ok. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

After hugging him a little while longer, you followed him back downstairs and got comfy on the couch again, this time a little closer to him. Although you didn’t like that he had to do more work, you were reassured by the fact that you would have the rest of the night to spend with him.

And that was enough for you.

* * * * *

Taglist

@tylersheavydirtysoul @faceofcontvsions @ohprettyweeper @shaytwentyonep @tyler-josephs-floof @buzzybeebandaid @topownsmyheart @harishaanne @addictwithaheavydirtycheetah @somethingboutyou1 @boiled-onionrings @heythereitm3 @gaysludge @breadbinishigh @5secondsofmoxley @patdsinner33 @littlerachelbee @royal-avengers

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anotherkpopvictim · 4 years

Text

Seven Is Our Lucky Number - OT7 Story Chapter 2

Chapter 2: When Yoongi met Hoseok

A/N: Here’s chapter two, I hope you enjoy!

Relationship: BTS X BTS (Yoongi X Hoseok focused)

Rating: G

Words: 1966

Italics = flashback

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Over the last few months of social distancing due to the global pandemic, the group took the time where they couldn’t be with their fans to instead do things that they wouldn’t typically get to do. Like devoting lots of time to their mental health, and working on their own personal music. They also had a lot of sex, so none of them were complaining.

Besides working on personal things and going at it like rabbits, they also spent some time doing more domestic activities. For example, sitting down and eating dinner together at the table at least two times a week. It was a change as most of the time they were just too busy to do it, but they happily accepted the new resolution as it meant spending more quality time together.

“So...there’s something I’ve been thinking about lately,” Namjoon commented one day over one said dinner.

The others were all chowing down delightedly on the home-cooked meal provided to them by Seokjin and Yoongi, and most only made unattractive noises in response to the leader.

Jimin hummed around his mouthful of food and spoke up indulgently, “What’s that?”

“You know how we always joke that seven is a special number to us?” he received six head nods in reply, “Well, I’ve discovered two more sevens in our journey.”

Jin looked rather skeptically at the leader, “Don’t tell me you believe in lucky numbers?”

Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly, “Not necessarily. I just thought it was an interesting coincidence.”

“So what is this coincidence?” Jungkook inquired.

The leader turned to the eldest rapper in the group. “Yoongi do you remember what day it was when we first met?”

Yoongi raised his head from where he’d been mostly focused on his rice and thought for a moment, “The day we met? Ah...oh, sometime in the beginning of July in 2010.”

“July 7, 2010, to be exact,” Namjoon corrected, “The seventh day of the seventh month of the year.”

Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi had all let out a of chorus of curious ‘huh’s.

“Freaky,” Jungkook exclaimed, his bright grin a stark contrast to his words. Jin rolled his eyes at his strange antics.

Taehyung was the only one sitting rather quietly at the other end of the table where he was now poking at his rice and avoiding everyone’s gazes. No one really seemed to notice his silence, though.

“Definitely an interesting coincidence,” Hoseok said, eyes narrowed in thought. “But couldn’t we technically find just as many twos or fours linked to our past. Or any other number?”

“Perhaps,” Namjoon shrugged, “But it got me thinking “what if?”, you know?”

And that was that.

After Namjoon’s mention of the coincidence, it kind of fell to the back of everyone’s mind.

Now, Yoongi definitely wasn’t a very superstitious person, but he had to agree with Namjoon - it was curious.

It was a few weeks after Namjoon had first brought it up that Yoongi and Hoseok were curled up together on their living room couch. The younger man had convinced the older to watch a movie with him but he honestly wasn’t all that interested in it.

Yoongi was much more interested in Hoseok, in his bright demeanor and insightful comments on the film. He was so different from the boy who he had first met.

March 14, 2011

It was about eight months after Yoongi and Namjoon had first met, and Bang PD had moved the two of them out of the dorm they shared with eight other trainees and set them up in their own place. It was a small apartment, but Yoongi couldn’t be happier with the move. The CEO told them that he was really starting to get things together for their group and wanted them to be settled into their own place before he introduced another potential member.

Yoongi used the apartment as his studio while the boss looked on finding him a proper room at the company. The rapper had created a dent in the cheap leather sofa in their living room and had the coffee table covered in coffee cups and empty take-out containers.

The pout on his lips and frustrated furrow to his brow became more and more apparent as he tapped frantically at his keyboard and mouse pad.

“What the hell?” he hissed lowly, eyes darting around his laptop screen in hopes of finding the file that had suddenly disappeared. He had been rubbing at his dry eyes when his elbow accidentally bumped his laptop a few times and then without any notice, the music he’d been working on was gone.

Yoongi’s heart sank in his chest, anger rising up his throat as he cursed under his breath. “No, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.”

He searched every possible folder the file could be hidden in three times over and came up with nothing. The best he could find was a rough draft from a few days ago. All the work of the last seventy-two hours was gone with just a few accidental bumps.

Yoongi was overtired and angry at the universe. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the black strands before groaning loudly into his palms, irritated.

“Um...”

Yoongi jumped at the sudden voice and looked up from his hands to see an unfamiliar boy standing in the apartment doorway.

Shit, Yoongi thought, I forgot Namjoon said someone was moving in today. How he could forget something as important as that, he didn’t know. Sometimes he just became so invested in his music that everything else kind of just...disappeared around him.

The boy, who couldn’t have been much younger than Yoongi, was doing a terrible job at hiding the fear in his expression. Yoongi was sure that his own face was the cause of that - he was probably screaming anger and frustration.

The two of them were awkwardly frozen for a minute where neither of them really knew what to do, before Yoongi finally gathered himself together. He stood up from the couch and took a few steps towards the newcomer. “Ah...hi...sorry you had to see that...I’m Yoongi.”

The other boy smiled politely, albeit hesitantly. “Jung Hoseok.”

Yoongi was taken aback momentarily by Hoseok’s smile. It was bright and seemed to light up the room with a single flash. The rapper cleared his throat, “I apologize for the terrible first impression of me.”

Hoseok blinked, surprised, “That’s okay. We all get a little bit angry sometimes, right?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi replied, letting out a breath of relief.

“Can I ask what made you so angry?” the younger boy asked curiously.

Yoongi grunted, “I lost the last three days of work I did on a song. Doesn’t seem like I’m going to get it back.”

Hoseok winced sympathetically, “Ooh, that sucks. I’m sorry about that, Yoongi-ssi.”

“I’ll get over it eventually,” Yoongi said, though he wasn’t sure if it was to assure Hoseok or convince himself. “Let me show you around the dorm.”

The apartment wasn’t anything more than a small kitchen connected to the main room and a narrow hallway on the other side of the room that led to a tiny bathroom and a bedroom with two bunk beds. The paint was peeling off the walls in some places and there were creaks in the floorboards loud enough to wake a hibernating bear, but it was a place to live and that was really all Yoongi could ask for.

“It’s not much,” Yoongi commented after the tour had finished and he sat on the bottom bunk of one of the beds as Hoseok unpacked some of his things. “But it’s home.”

Hoseok turned to him after tucking away some of his shirts in one of the empty drawers of the dresser. “I like it. It’s small and cozy. It doesn’t feel totally alien from my home.”

“So, what’s your specialty, Hoseok-ah?” Yoongi asked.

The younger blushed slightly at the question, “Oh...I’m a dancer. That’s probably my only strong suit at this point. Bang PD-nim wants me to learn how to sing or rap, but...I don’t know...”

Yoongi frowned, not liking the dejected look in the younger’s eyes. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Give it a good try first before worrying about it.”

Hoseok nodded, “You’re right. Thanks, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Call me hyung,” Yoongi replied, “And as far as rap goes, you can come to me or Namjoon for help any time you’d like. Can’t help you when it comes to singing, though.”

“You were an underground rapper, right?”

Yoongi hummed in affirmation, “I came here to be a producer but plans changed.”

“That’s so cool that you know how to make you’re own music!” Hoseok exclaimed. “I wish I was that talented.”

“I’ll teach you about producing too, then. But, you have to teach me some cool dance moves.”

Hoseok smiled, but unlike before, this was a full-on, genuine smile oozing happiness. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his body seemed to vibrate with energy and joy.

If Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat before, it was tripping over itself now.

“Thanks, Yoongi-hyung!”

“Yoongi-hyung! Yoongi-hyung! Min Yoongi!”

The rapper blinked rapidly, brought back to reality by Hoseok waving obnoxiously in front of his face. He batted the hands away before he took in the pout on his boyfriend’s face.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention since the movie ended like ten minutes ago,” Hoseok said. “What’s going on inside that head of yours that took you so far away, huh?”

“Sorry,” Yoongi replied, “And, ah...I was thinking about the first time we met.”

Hoseok cocked an eyebrow curiously, “Why?”

“Honestly, I was wondering if there was the number seven involved somewhere.”

The lead dancer chuckled at the older man, “Namjoonie got you thinking “what if?” too?”

Yoongi curled into Hoseok’s shoulder more and mumbled a confirmation. He sighed into the younger’s neck and shut his eyes.

“So? Did you find any sevens?”

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi furrowed his brow in thought, “The date doesn’t have any sevens in it...” he trailed off as a moment flashed across his mind. A snapshot of the front door of their apartment. “Oh my god, wait, the apartment number!”

Hoseok looked confused, “Of our first apartment? It was...” his eyes lit up in recognition. “Seventy-seven.”

Yoongi nodded. “But we always forgot it because the landlord refused to put new numbers on our door.”

He thought about that old apartment - how it was much too small for seven growing boys to live in together. How sometimes he (they) felt suffocated not having anywhere to go to get away from each other if they wanted to.

And yet, Yoongi couldn’t say that he’d hated the place. When they first moved out of it and there was no longer a need for the seven boys to share one room, Yoongi found himself tossing and turning at night. It was too silent in the room, only Jin’s soft breathing could be heard. But Yoongi was used to the melody of six breathing patterns together and it made him anxious to not be hearing them. It took weeks after first moving before he got a decent night’s sleep.

“You don’t think there’s anything actually going on, do you?” Hoseok asked, bringing the older man out of his thoughts once again. “With this whole “seven” thing, I mean.”

Yoongi waved off the other’s worries, “I’m sure it’s just another coincidence.”

Hoseok nodded in response before tugging Yoongi closer into him. “Come here, then. I’ve been craving cuddles all night but you were too busy staring at me to notice.”

Yoongi huffed out a laugh, “Cuddles coming right up.”

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A/N: So, another chapter done. I really hope that you guys enjoyed it! Comments and likes keep me going <3

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joeymozzarello · 5 years

Text

Pen to Paper

Chapter Two

Summary: A simple thesis on a simple book she’d read. That’s all she needed to do. She knew it would be at least a little bit arduous but she didn’t think it would cause this much trouble.

Pairing: Tim Murphy x original female character

Words: 1,589

A/N: i got the idea for this in the american natural history museum where i found a note to a Julie T from a Dr. Com on a bench near the t-rex room.

Tim Murphy didn’t consider himself a people person. Sure, he was charming and got along with virtually anyone but he found that he rarely met someone who understood him, so his friendships usually felt synthetic. There were few people he felt he could actually trust, so this walk with the unexpected newcomer, Julie Trenton, was a little bit uncomfortable for him but he thought he was playing it off well. “This is the reading room, most meetings happen in here and if you want coffee you gotta sneak it in because Amanda doesn’t like drinks in the library.” Julie only hummed in return. Tim had heard her sigh a couple of times, he thought maybe she was bored or felt as awkward as he did but every time he turned around to look at her, her eyes were wide and gleaming, excited. He found that surprising, he didn’t know why, she was just like every other college student that passed through here, so he shrugged it off.

A couple of minutes had passed since the last words of the conversation had been spoken and Tim thought he should probably say something, maybe ask a question, show some interest in her. He just didn’t know how invested he should get if she was only going to be here for a week and then he’d never see her again. “I read your book, you know,” she beat him to it. He stopped in his tracks, making Julie who was following close behind bump into his back and stumble a bit. Tim straightened his shoulders a little bit and he turned to her. She was around his height so their eye line matched perfectly and her eyes held the slightest bit of confusion in them. She cleared her throat. “I thought it was,” she paused. “Interesting.” Why did she pause? Tim’s heartbeat picked up slightly and as Julie begin walking again he couldn’t help but rush to follow her. “You hesitated,” he was now quickly pacing next to her trying not to look too eager. Her eyebrows twitched as she side-eyed him and kept walking. “I didn’t,” but she did, he wanted to know why. “I just thought it was a bit - short.” He blinked. “Maybe I’m a quality over quantity kind of person,” he was trying not to sound defensive, all of a sudden he wished he knew her, he wished he could understand what her expression meant. Julie didn’t seem phased, she shrugged. “Maybe.” But she didn’t sound convinced. Tim didn’t say anything, too caught up in his own head to form a sentence. “So what do you do on a normal day?” He didn’t answer right away, he was still confused from what just happened but still he powered through. “I study, I write, sometimes I organise stuff, it’s all very thrilling work,” he said, not meaning to sound as blank as he did. “You sure make it sound like it,” she chuckled. “So this expedition? Where are you going?” “All over the place. I think we’re starting somewhere in the Amazon, I don’t know yet, we’re getting briefed in two weeks, maybe?” He thought perhaps it was his turn to ask a question, he didn’t really know what to say, though, and if he asked about his book again she would definitely catch onto his bravado slowly crumbling. “Um, how long have you been in New York?” He waved at a colleague as they passed each other in the hallway, the smile disappearing just as fast as it appeared. “I noticed you’re not, uh, American.” Julie couldn’t help but laugh. “I got here two nights ago, I locked myself in my hotel room for the first day and a half because I was trying to battle jet-lag. It didn’t work.” They turned a corner, now nearing the food court and Tim felt he’d been lazy in his words. “So you’ve been wondering around awake at 4AM trying to figure out if it’s truly light outside or if it’s just the streetlights that are blinding you?” He asked. It felt like such a natural question, it didn’t take Julie long to realise he was speaking from experience. Tim knew that. “I’m a fellow insomniac,” he chuckled, the first real laugh tumbled out of him and he saw Julie’s expression light up, she seemed to finally relax. “I’m glad I found a 4AM buddy.” “Call me anytime,” he winked. It was only after he did that when he considered maybe it was weird or inappropriate, that maybe she wouldn’t get the joke but to his relief she laughed. “Alright, smart guy,” she shook her head playfully. “Maybe I will.” That’s when they landed in the food court. It was full of men in suits, women in tight pencil skirts and a couple of college students typing away on their laptops, a usual Monday afternoon. “So where’s the best place to eat around here?” He looked at her with a sigh. “Honestly?” Julie nodded, amusement in her face. “Anywhere but here. I recommend the Pret-a-Manger down the road, best sandwiches, good prices.” “Yeah, we have those in London,” she looked around, seemingly inspecting everyone so closely, people Tim had never really looked at before, he was sure she would know them all better than him by the end of the day, and what was embarrassing was that he’d been working here for over three years. “So, its really that bad, huh?” “Yep, although breakfast on Thursdays isn’t bad - but you gotta get here before eight or else everything is cold and then it’s not worth it,” Tim scratched the back of his head. “But! We move on. I’m pretty sure Janet is gonna make us eat the soggy pizza, that’s her favourite,” he twisted his nose. “And she puts lettuce on it - some people have no taste.” Tim’s frown prompted Julie to start asking him about what he actually liked and Tim began to babble on about his love for Reece’s Pieces. “They’re just classic, I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t like Reece’s Pieces.” Julie said she’d have to try them sometime.

Just as Tim had said, Dr Connors made them eat at the soggy pizza place. He’d ordered a sandwich, something pre-made that couldn’t be messed up and watched Julie subtly poke at her pizza, trying to figure out if the mozzarella was real or if it was plastic, a question he’d decided was better left unanswered a long time ago. Janet didn’t seem to mind, she just ate her lettuce-covered pizza with a satisfied smile on her face and kept talking. He didn’t understand it.

Janet and Julie had been talking about London for just over ten minutes and the conversation hadn’t shifted to him once which was a little insulting if he said so himself. His mind kept wandering back to the expedition, the thing he’d been striving for since the beginning of his work here. Maybe he’d finally get the chance to make his own discovery, needless to say he was excited.

“Oh, look at him, lost in his own brain again. You still with us, Tim?” Janet said amicably. Dr Connors knew Tim better than anyone here, she was a close family friend. He knew she was close with his grandfather in her youth but he didn’t remember why, maybe her father was friends with him. He couldn’t remember. What he did know for sure was how grateful he was to her, Janet was like a mentor to Tim, from the moment he entered college to every day since he graduated. He owed her everything. “Timothy Murphy-Hammond, it is rude to ignore people.”

He snapped his gaze back from fuzzy. “Sorry, sorry, what’s up?” He noticed his eyes felt tired, the coffee buzz didn’t seem enough today and the half-worried look on Janet’s face confirmed his suspicions. He hadn’t slept enough and Janet knew that. He was gonna be in deep shit. “It’s not my fault I’ve never been to London!” He tried to distract from all the attention that was suddenly on him.

“You haven’t?” Julie’s eyebrows shot up. “Let me paint you a picture - it’s like New York but everything is lower down and it smells a lot better.”

There was something sarcastic about Tim’s tone. “Sounds like a dream,” he narrowed his eyes. “Sounds like you aren’t enjoying the city.”

“Does it?” She blinked, flicking her fringe out of her eyes. “No, I like the city. It’s just, there’s a lot of up and too many people looking down.”

Tim had never thought of that. Maybe it was because he was one of those people. His nose was always in a book, he bumped into people everywhere he went because he was so distracted. His eyes didn’t leave hers, her gaze didn’t falter.

“O-kay,” Janet broke off their stare-off. “So, Julie, tell me about this theses,” she turned towards her newest protégé with her chin on her fist and an intrigued leer at the pale girl that sat next to her. That’s when Tim spaced out of the conversation, only partly interested but too full of pride to engage. When did this become me? He wondered. It wasn’t a harsh judgement on himself, just an observation. A sudden flash of a memory of his youth, running around with his sister, when he used to read books because he wanted to and being able to just let go. Those were impossible standards, he knew that. Kids have no worries because they’re kids. I haven’t been like that since ‘93.

Master List!

#tim murphy #dr tim murphy #tim murphy au #jurassic park #jurassic world #joe mazzello #joe mazzello au

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spaceshipkat · 6 years

Note

Found a stan's post about what Sjm said at her Houston stop regarding ToG and Acotar characters meeting.Just so much bullshit: "Rhys would win in a fight against Maeve because Maeve is a “piece of crap” who only fights for her own selfish wants and Rhys would fight for something he loves and therefore have a better reason to fight", "Aelin would spend the entire time staring at Rhys because even though she has Rowan who is also beautiful, Rhys is just that beautiful", "everyone would love Rowan"

Houston anon, if you wanna watch the whole thing, TheTruthAboutBooks made a vlog on yt

uhhh did they say they’d have booths for fanart?

i freely admit i’ve eaten a lot of airheads today, but…i’m nauseous.

what the diddly dong heck is this. according to the vid, you can take a pic with them, but no idea if you can keep them.

why are they screaming

as someone from AZ, why is all she remembers of it cowboy boots?

and imma paraphrase the questions she’s asked, so. question #1:

McGee: you’ve been writing t0g since you were 16, how do you feel, what’s going through your head?

sj/m: writing k0a was bittersweet and fun. when i was 16, all of this was a crazy dream (she has been saying this literally everywhere. i mean she even made it a hashtag on insta today). “when i went to college i was a creative writing major” uhhh where???

interlude for a brief thanks that does sound sincere, at least.

and now she’s saying that on Tuesday she asked if anyone had read the book, a teenager said yes, and sj/m proceeds to, uh, very snarkily reenact it with a raised index finger (terrible quality, i’m sorry; it’s at 11:55 in the vid)

christ you guys she’s been answering this question for eons i want it to stop, especially bc right now she’s talking about getting to write the final scenes of a book she’s been working on since she was a teenager. we know the drill.

okay wait now she’s saying when t0g was bought fantasy (yes, fantasy, not ya fantasy) hadn’t taken off and had just one publisher say yes to t0g. everyone else rejected it and i have a feeling they don’t regret that in the slightest.

oh my god she’s still talking. the author moderating the event (Katharine McGee) hasn’t said one word since that first question.

she just asked if there are any other aspiring writers in the ground, and then said that “if i can do it, you can do it” and i’m cackling. and getting published is “a long road” and that wasn’t a tornado, it was just me sighing. (today was a shitty day in terms of publishing where i’m concerned, so yeah)

and now she’s talking about how the book was going to be longer than 992 pages, originally 1008 pages. she gets a call from her editor, who says “the book is too long” and sj/m replies “you can’t do this to me EVERY WORD AND EVERY COMMA IS EXACTLY WHERE IT NEEDS TO BE” (emphasis my own) OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD @longsightmyth

and apparently her editor said “we have to find a way to make the book shorter without cutting anything from it” and sure, janet. and christ on a bike the entire team at blooms worked around the clock to get the book to the printers in two days, or it wouldn’t have been printed in time for release. they bumped up the text a little on the chapter header, condensed chapters through the formatting so hanging paragraphs between chapters would fit on the previous page.so cutting out one whole page, basically.

sj/m: so they managed to cut it down to nine hundred and ninety–”

audience: “980″

sj/m: nine hundred and ninety–”

audience: “980″

sj/m: “whatever it is!” *waves hand*

i’m now at 16:53 and McGee has finally spoken since sitting down.

McGee: “who knew eight pages could be so important”

sj/m: “i have no idea” (i’m typing this on my laptop but i’d have the upside down smiley here on my phone bc the tone here is that)

WE’VE MADE IT TO QUESTION #2 (and i’m paraphrasing again)

question #2:

McGee: i want to go back to what you were saying about writing scenes that you thought of as a teenager and reaching the end of the series is so emotional. did anything change, take any unexpected turns, or is this truly the ending that you foresaw at age 16?

guys i’m sorry i can’t sit through her answer bc if is basically a reworked version of everything i wrote above and everything she has said umpteen times (all about fictionpress, to get this book published she had to rewrite new things, treat the first version as a completely separate book, start over with a blank page, blah blah blah i really don’t give a fuck, janet moving on)

i’m not sure if she mentioned this in the other events, but she’s explaining how she wrote ratalien fanfic.

question #3:

McGee: was it hard for you when the first two books came out and the readers were all excited trying to ship–

and yes, sj/m did cut her off. McGee jumped in to ask question #3 and here’s sj/m while McGee is asking the question

and now she’s talking about tambourine and riceman. so.

she’s talking about some animal that went extinct from Costa Rica? “go vote and save the environment” and now she’s explaining where she got the ending for k0a from (the mountains and the sun and she started crying) worth noting she said she went to Costa Rica in 2013, thereby getting the ending of k0a in 2013.

guys i want to donate my ears to science as well as my eyeballs:

sj/m: alien never did what i wanted her to do except doing rowboat, if you know what i mean (emphasis not my own)

i just laughed out loud at sj/m: “please let alien get me to this ending that i want, if she survives.” one of the biggest surprises was getting alien to the ending that she wanted.

question #4:

McGee: i love what you said about aelin, i feel like she has literally grown up alongside you, or you’ve grown up alongside her, she’s such a fun character bc she’s vulnerable and strong and she’s not afraid to be both badass and very girly at the same time

(you guys know my thoughts about the ridiculousness of still complimenting alien for being badass and girly like the two are not mutually exclusive and no longer unique character traits can we stop now kthxbai)

McGee continued: how has she rubbed off on you, are there any traits of aelin that have become traits of sarah

she’s nodding along while McGee talks here:

sj/m: her love of reading, her love of binge-eating chocolate in bed, oh my god she’s now off on another tangent about getting started in publishing again and before she had meetings she’d tell herself “my name is sjm and i will not be afraid” omg so deep wow

so now we know why she made Lysandra a snow leopard (yes this is my assumption): she has a leopard ring and her leopard shirt bc you can never have too much leopard on leopard

so with alien and Lysandra and all the ladies in this series, they’re all strong in different ways, elide can’t gut you the way alien can, she has her own strength (intelligence and kindness), then Manon (her favorite) came into her life at a time she needed a character to identify with, Manon’s journey is one of her favorite things she’s ever written.

aaaaaaaand a side story wherein she explains how Manon appeared in her head and saw Manon in her first scene in h0f after music and i’m snoring (and then another piece of music where she saw a scene in k0a and began sobbing but she doesn’t say which scene)

and now she’s talking about how thick the books are. someone says all the books should be the same size on the shelf and sj/m says “look at Harry Potter! whose rule is that? it’s a dumb rule” (claims she said it “i understand but no”–emphasis not my own)

OH MY GOD SHE’S EXPLAINING HOW SHE’S NEVER CRIED MORE IN A SCENE IN K0A AND GUYS I AM SO BEYOND DONE SHE’S JUST REPEATING HERSELF IN NEW WAYS I WANT DEATH

McGee: i love how all your women are strong in different ways, even Kaltain, characters who start one way and then their story seems expected and it ends in such a different place

congrats, McGee, you just described writing a character arc (i apologize for the snark but ugh)

McGee continued: which brings me to the dedication of this book, do you want to talk about that at all, there might be zero people in the audience who’ve read k0a yet, what do you want to say to them before they start reading?

what would you call this expression? grimace? “hOw DaRe”?

and now she’s talking about the dedication, which we all know my thoughts on (i’ll spare you from another repeat bc i, unlike sj/m, try not to say the same things over and over again)

every time a book came out her parents would open the book and ask why it wasn’t dedicated to them and she wanted to wait to dedicate the last book to them, so. (she thought the dedication would be a spoiler but “ladies are gonna get shit done,” “take on the man,” wah wah) and she’s mentioned ac0tar again.

HOLY SHIT SHE JUST ASKED MCGEE WHO SHE DEDICATED HER BOOK TO I AM SHOOK. “aw that’s so sweet, i don’t have a sister so i can’t dedicate it like you can” (yes i’m paraphrasing again)

and she’s brought out Taran. he’s cute and all and oh my god “i can hear a baby crying and go ‘eh i don’t care he’s not my baby’ but then i hear my baby” and blah blah blah

we’ll end this with Taran bc he’s cute:

#ask #anonymous #anti sjm #anti koa #long post #save #i need to remember to use that tag more often

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chocolatemillkk · 7 years

Text

Kid Brother II

Part Two of Part One

I'm trying to build a 4 or 5 part fic so bear with me! I'm totally open to requests in the mean time and would love any constructive criticism. Thanks for everyone's responses! 💙

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The bold oranges bleed into yellows and the sky becomes a muted blue as the sun's vibrance shines down on us. I wrap my blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to ward off the morning chill. All of my girls were here and we were finally free enough to do something as simple as watching the sun rise over the sleepy town and my heart felt full. But-as there was always a but with me-a little part of me wished I had someone to share it with...romantically. I wish I had somebody else wrapped in this blanket so we could experience the magnificance together.

"I definitely need to bring Alfie up here soon," Zoe says as if reading my mind.

"It would be so romantic," Poppy scrunchles her nose. "Though Sean would probably talk through the whole thing."

We laugh when Anna says, "But you would love it."

I let out a sigh as Zoe leans her head on my shoulder. Every single one of my friends had been in long term relationships. They all knew what love was and I felt left behind. 27 and I didn't know what it meant to be in love. I blamed myself for it, obviously, I was so in love with my job that I always told myself work first and boys second. I didn't regret that but moments like these made me ache a little.

"You'll find someone soon," Zoe hears my sigh. "When you least expect it and you'll fall for each other and it will be better than what you imagine."

I smile at her optimism. And then the other girls find it funny to add on "and he'll have the biggest muscles you've ever seen," or "and he won't mind driving you around London traffic," while dissolving in fits of laughter.

"You guys are all so clever," I smile at my friends. "But almost half of those things are not even my type."

Zoe sits up and raises her eyebrows, "So what is your type Y/N?"

I think for a second, "Definitely not ripped, huge muscles are a turn-off!" Niomi sighs. "He's got to be handsome, strong-and that's mentally too! I love a good head of hair, he's got to be funny! And knows how to let loose..."I trail off as a certain someone pops into my head and I see Zoe's mind at work. "Got to be at least a couple years older," I add in. "Oh and taller than me. Nothing that starts with 5!"

We decide to grab breakfast and head back to Zoe's where most of us have to head back to our everyday busy lives.

"It was so relaxing being here, thanks Zoe."

"Stop working yourself so hard!" She complains as she pulls me in a tight hug.

"Hey! You should not be talking ms-throwing-christmas-launches-in-october!" Zoe laughs into my shoulder before releasing me.

"We need to remember to just hang out more."

"Deal!"

"It was nice of you to come by, sorry I wasn't home." Alfie comes up behind Zoe, peeling an orange.

"Oh at least I got to see your face in real life," I give Alfie a quick hug.

"Oi!" A voice echoes from upstairs. Shit I didn't know Joe was still around.

"I'm heading to London right after my video uploads. Ride with me."

I meet Zoe's eye and she raises her eyebrow. "May as well, I'm sure he'd like the company."

I shout an "okay" and excuse myself to go upstairs.

"How long is the uploading gonna take?" I ask Joe from his doorway. He's got his laptop in the middle of the bed while he stuffs pieces of clothing into a duffle bag.

"Should be 10 max. Then we can head out."

I step into the room and sit on the bed, "Sounds good."

Joe's eyes scan the room and then he sits next to me with his laptop. "I've been meaning to ask you if you could star in one of my videos?"

"Me?" I ask, confused since I'd never been on an official video before-just in the occasional vlog.

"Yeah, I sort of wanted to do a childhood type video next time I'm in Brighton. Mikey is making the trip to London in a few weeks so I was gonna take him with. And since you grew up with us, I dunno, thought it would add something more for the viewers. Plus they're always asking about you when you pop up on mine or Zoe's."

I consider it, "I'm not the best for something so formal."

What?! You don't have to be we'll all just be talking so no pressure."

I agree to it after he gives me some more details. Sitting this close, I can't help put drink in his features as he lays it out. When he was serious, Joe looked older but in a handsome way. I tried not to think more on it but my stomach started fluttering and I got up abruptly.

"Sounds lovely Joseph, I'm just gonna use the toilet before we go."

"Uh yeah," Joe looks at me funny as I fly out of the room.

I take extra long so by the time I'm done I hear Joe's voice downstairs. We were ready to go.

"No more portals, you're ruining the-the feng shui of the house." Zoe tells Joe as I step down. "The Feng shui?" Joe asks laughing.

Alfie lines up in front of the vlogging camera, "we've had a few ghosts show up through that portal. It's almost Halloween we don't want any more coming through."

"Joe's portal's creating tears in the fabric of the Zalfie house?" I joke and suddenly the camera's on me. Joe walks towards me as Zoe and Alfie chime in their agreement. "This is the lead archaeologist here at the Zalfie residence. Now what is it about these tears?"

"Archaeologist?" I ask Joe.

"Shh-scientist, now what were you saying?" Joe pretends to hold up a microphone as he angles the camera at us.

"These tears," I put on a serious voice and look into the camera, "are the result of the space portal Joesph Sugg has created and time and space is always a tricky concept wouldn't you agree?" I look at Joe who's been staring at me with a smile on his face. He nods while taking off his glasses and perching them on my nose. I almost laugh but bite my lip. "Nasty things slip through as Alfie Deyes has already told us so we need to let the portals remain stagnant for...2 months and...."

"16 days," Joe finishes.

"Precisely," I giggle as Joe takes the camera off of me and realise Zoe is doubled over giggling silently. Alfie is shakind his head at us but his smile reveals his humour.

"...so I guess we'll be taking the Mercedez." Joe explains. I walk away from him as he finishes up and give Zoe and Alfie another hug. Joe catches up to me and grabs my bag as well as his.

"What the bloody hell is in here?" Joe asks. "Just clothes, some toiletries." I respond. He shakes his head as he loads up the back. He sets up the camera on the dashboard after he turns on the car but he accidentally knocks it near my feet. There's an audible crack and we look at each other in horror as we reach for it at the same time.

"Shit," I say as Joe yelps. We pull back our heads and I rub the side before laughing. "Sorry you alright?"

"I'll be bloody fine what about the camera?"

I reach down for it, alone, and hand it to Joe. "I guess it's hard for anything to hurt that thick skull."

His mouth drops, "You're the worst at being nice!" I laugh evilly as he checks out his camera.

"That's weird nothing's wrong," Joe says and then points it towards him. "And it's been on which means everyone heard the real Y/N Y/L/N. She is as icy as they get ladies and gents."

I shrug my shoulders, "I'm a scientist just reporting the facts."

Joe raises his eyebrows and turns to the camera. "I am getting roasted so I'll just," he sticks his hand in front of the camera and turns it off. "That's really odd I swear I heard a crack."

I look down and suddenly spot the culprit. A small glass bottle of hot sauce is wedged under the seat. I pick it up and show Joe. We have a good laugh and soon we're on our way.

"How was the sunrise?" Joe asks after we listen to the radio for a bit.

"It was lush," I gush. "It was so many shades of the most beautiful colours, and it slowly lit up every single thing. It was so bloody romantic."

Joe laughs, "Romantic? You didn't even have your boyfriends up there."

"Well all the girls wished they were. Obviously I don't have one but if I did, that would be amazing."

"Aren't you dating that guy...Jackson?"

"Jacob? God Joe I went on a few dates with him three months ago. He was too clingy. That was so long ago!"

"Well I never bloody see you! You're always up at the crack of dawn rushing to work then rushing home where you work some more."

Joe is referencing to one morning when I bumped into him while getting coffee after I hadn't seen him in months but left after a two minute chat. He texted me afterwards saying how offended he was he wasn't worth more of my time-joking of course.

"It's just my job!" I defend myself.

"Yeah but you should take a break, hang out with friends. We live in the same part of London but I never even see you!"

"Well we lead different lives."

"No, next time I go out I am going to make sure you're there. And then I can watch you get drunk because I have not experienced that since your college days, and before that...senior dance." Joe laughs. I blush with embarassment.

"Fine, as long as it's not on a weekday and I don't have a date."

I go back to texting on my phone but Joe interrupts after a while.

"So...Justin?"

"Jacob." I correct him.

"Yeah, that bloke. He was clingy? What does that mean?"

"Well I told him from the beginning work's a huge priority for me and he said it was fine by him but after the third date he would get so annoyed if I didn't text him right away or if it took me over an hour to respond. He was too much."

"It takes you an hour to respond?"

"Ugh not you too." I roll my eyes.

"No-seriously Y/N are you that invested in work? I'm not so sure that's healthy."

"Listen Joeseph I get enough shite from all my other friends I don't need yours added in. That's like my kid brother lecturing me on working so much."

"I'm not your kid brother," Joe says.

"Obviously not!" I say-that would be creepy. "My kid brother is 21. I said like."

"I'm like your kid brother?" Joe asks and I could tell he was offended and maybe that was a little condescending but I was trying to ignore my newfound crush by saying what I should be believing.

"Ugh don't take it so literally Joe!" I pull out my phone again and browse through it as Joe stays silent the rest of the ride. When he pulls up in front of mine, I finally put the phone down.

"Thank you," I punch his shoulder lightly after he merely nods his head. "Why are you so moody?"

"Just tired," he comments.

I let it go, not in the mood to have any sort of discussion with him. Especially when he looked so hot that moody. "I expect to hear from you soon about that invite," I tease. "I'll see you around."

That finally gets him to look at me and his face melts into a smile, "You better be ready to go out with me."

My heart skips a beat but I play it off with a laugh. "You'd be surprised with how well I hold my liquor."

I walk up the steps to the apartment and as soon as I get inside I flop onto my bed. That was the most tense and emotionally confusing car ride I have ever had

#joe sugg #zoe sugg #thatcherjoe #thatcherjoe imagines #joe sugg imagines #joe sugg imagine #thatcherjoe imagine #youtube imagines #youtube #poppy deyes #alfie deyes #fic #kidbrother

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tea-and-cardigans · 7 years

Text

Movie Night - Bughead College AU - Part 2

Hey Guys,

Sorry it has been so so long since I have posted anything but unfortunately adulting (and a super flu) got in the way and then there was a hit of writing self doubt and writing block. But here is the second and final part to Movie Night.

I also almost have the next chapter of What Fools We Mortals Be finished and am just working out some kinks and ideas with my Beta.

I always get so stressed with my fics that aren’t one shots as I get so worried that readers will be disappointed with the conclusion or next part which is the reason I sometimes get stuck on my WIPs.

Anyway I hope you guys enjoy and always sorry to mobile users for the keep reading cut.

Summary:

Betty is sick of the substandard movies that are chosen to play at the makeshift college ‘drive in’ she decides she has had enough and on her mission to correct this injustice bumps into a beanie wearing student who is just as outraged.

Based on the following prompt:

You’re the only other one who voted for my favorite movie on movie night so do you just want to watch it in my room au

Part One.

Nolan and Tarantino

Veronica was excited for her. As soon as she told her she would not be in their dorm room tonight because she was going to a boy’s room the squeal that Veronica had emitted had very near ruptured her eardrums.

“I knew you had it in you B.” Veronica wrapped her arm around her shoulder like a proud mamma bird finally seeing her baby bird spread her wings and embrace the full college experience. “Sooo what’s his name?”

“Jughead.” Veronica did a double take, her head cocked slightly to the side as if she may have misheard her.

“Jughead?”

“Yeah I think it might be a nickname.” Betty mused while Veronica’s eyes widened in realization.

“Wait a second Archie’s roommate has a weird name, I thought it was Juicebox, but maybe it was Jughead.” Veronica clapped her hands together in delight. “You are going out with Archie’s roommate.” Her voice had now taken on a sing song quality and Betty could see the cogs turning in her head processing all this information at once, probably forming plans for double dates and who knows what else.

“I’m just going over to watch a movie, it’s not a date.” Veronica sighed heavily, before taking Betty’s hand and leading her over to her bed encouraging her to sit beside her. “It’s not-” Veronica silenced Betty’s protests placing a finger up to her mouth.

“It’s a date Betty,” she stated simply, as Betty’s eyes widened. She knew it was a date, or was that just some wishful thinking on her part. He was interested in movies, she was interested in movies. People of the opposite gender can watch movies together alone in a college dorm room and not have any romantic feelings towards each other. Can’t they? “You are going to be alone in his dorm room, probably on his bed, his laptop between the two of you, an arm around your shoulder.” Betty imagined the scene in her head. She imagined them both reaching for the popcorn at the same time, their hands brushing accidently against each other, a shared laugh before their eyes would meet each other’s gaze. She shook her head trying to wipe the images from her mind. No it was just watching a movie.

“He chose The Lobster for drive in movie, he puts up a choice each month.”

“The unpopular choice.” Veronica reminded her.

“Maybe but it’s always the one I would choose.” Betty was happy to have someone who could appreciate good cinema as much as she loved Veronica her taste in movies sucked.

“Well B, what are you going to wear for your non-date date.” Betty pulled her bottom lip with her teeth. She hadn’t even thought about it yet. She wanted to look nice but not too nice, not like she had spent hours agonising over what she was going to wear for the night, even though she had a feeling that that was exactly what she was about to do at Veronica’s insistence.

Betty shifted nervously in front of his dorm room door, she could faintly hear music playing inside his room. It was something she didn’t recognise but it sounded pleasant to her ears. She shifted one of the two large shopping bags of snacks that she had brought for the evening into one hand while she raised the other to knock on his door.

The door opened almost immediately and she noted that he was still wearing the crown beanie that he had been earlier. Apparently that was part of his permanent wardrobe or so Veronica had informed her after sending several inquisitive texts to Archie. And yes, Jughead was in fact a nickname, but Archie wouldn’t tell her his real name through fear of Jughead’s retribution.

“Hey.” He opened the door wider for her so she could enter brushing past him.

“Where can I put these?” She held up the two rather large bags of snacks that she had brought with her. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just brought some of my faves and the classics.” She noticed him lick his lips as he eyed the bags and he pointed towards what she assumed was the desk on his side of the small dorm room.

“Over there.” She moved towards the desk placing the heavy bags down and turned around to fully take in the room. It was not as messy as she had imagined a room shared by two teenage boys may be, but she guessed that he had done some tidying up as well. The two of them looked at each other awkwardly for a while, both of them with their hands in their pockets, before glancing around the room. “Would you like something to drink?” Jughead asked her breaking the silence.

“Sure.” He moved over to the bar fridge located at the end of his bed and surveyed it’s contents.

“I’ve got Coke and Beer.” Betty knew the safe option was a coke. Best she keep a clear head. She had been drunk once in her life, one of her first nights on campus and it had not been a pretty picture. But one beer couldn’t hurt.

“Beer,” she announced confidently, straightening her posture a little at her decision. He pulled out two beers, twisting the tops off both using the bottom of his t-shirt and handing one to her. He held his out for her to clink her bottle into, almost like a little cheers before they endeavored on their film watching journey.

“You can sit on the bed.” He motioned towards the single bed on one side of the room. “Or I have the desk chair if that would be more comfortable,” he added quickly.

“Bed’s fine,” she answered as she jumped onto the single bed, her back resting against the pillow that had been placed against the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her. He picked up the laptop from his desk along with the desk chair. Placing the laptop on the chair in front of the bed, he moved again to Archie’s desk to get his desk chair and placed it in front of the bed before sitting on it. Betty watched him carefully as he leant forward to get the movie playing on the laptop.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m getting the movie started.” He looked at her quizzically before he returned to the task at hand.

“No I mean why are you sitting there. There’s plenty of room up here.” She patted the empty space next to her.

“I just thought you might -”

“Grab the snacks and get up here.” Betty was surprised by the strength of her own words. “Please.” she added to try and soften her request. He quickly pressed play on the video and grabbed both bags before hopping onto the bed next to her, still placing some space between the two of them. She handed him one of the pillows that was next to her and he placed it behind his back before opening one of the bags.

“What do you want?” He whispered as if they were in a cinema afraid of ruining the viewing experience of others.

“The Red Vines.” She turned towards him as he handed her the packet. She noticed him looking through the bag hesitating on making his own choice. “Take whatever you want,” she whispered to him before turning her attention immediately back to the screen in front of her as the words she had just used wash over her and she mentally kicked herself. He didn’t seem to notice, or he was just as embarrassed as she was as he pulled out a packet of Milk Duds and faced the screen as well.

They were both fully engrossed in the movie, laughing together at the appropriate parts and she was glad that he shared her dark sense of humor. When she had tried to get Veronica to watch the movie she had asked her to turn it off not even half way into the movie. Instead they put on a romantic comedy, not that Betty minded them once in awhile but it was nice to have someone who could understand her love for dark comedy.

“What animal do you think you would want to be turned into?” Betty whispered as she turned to Jughead waiting for his answer while she watched the movie from the corner of her eye.

“I think I would be a cat.” She waited for him to elaborate further. “Well they’re independent, survivors and it would good to always be able to land on your feet.” He threw a milk dud up into the air before catching it in his mouth. She gave a little clap at his achievement. “You?”

“A hawk.” He looked at her surprised at her choice. “Well I would want to be able to fly so I would want to choose a bird, but I also don’t want to be at the bottom of the food chain and be one of the small animals getting eaten by a bigger animal. So a hawk.” She took the packet of milk duds from him and tried to toss one into her mouth, but missed by quite a distance. “It’s the beer.”

“No I just think you aren’t very good at that,” he quipped, throwing another one up for himself and catching it in his mouth easily. Betty never one to be outdone took the packet from him again and tossed another up into the air, too high and off centre and it bounced off her forehead. The impact stunned her for a moment and his laughter filled the room. She rubbed her forehead in embarrassment as she watched him laugh. The way his nose and eyes wrinkled and he looked completely uninhibited. She couldn’t help herself and soon found herself laughing along with him.

Betty took a deep sigh as the movie cut to black. She eyed the packets of open half eaten sweets that they had managed to work through during the movie. It was though Jughead was determined to try some of everything always offering her some first. There were also the 4 empty beer bottles that they had polished off during the movie on his night stand. She could feel the slight heat across her cheeks and neck a side effect of the alcohol and the enclosed space no doubt.

“Okay important question.” Betty sat straighter on the bed at the seriousness of his tone. “And the very future of our friendship depends on your answer.” A smirk crossing his face told her that he probably would let her get away with an incorrect answer. “Favourite director?” She sighed heavily at this collapsing onto her side in dramatics as she groaned.

“Don’t make me choose.”

“You have to.” He insisted leaning his body to the side to catch her eyes. Betty sighed in defeat and pulled herself upright again, thinking carefully about his question.

“Hmmm.” She was tapping her finger on her chin as she ran through a series of possible answers she had favourites for each genre, for each decade of film, how could she possibly choose just one out of so many. He watched her expectantly as she continued to think. She went to answer before pausing again, considering her answer so carefully. “Christopher Nolan.”

“Hmm.” He said nodding his expression giving nothing away about her choice.

“Hmm?” she responded, her eyes urging for him to elaborate further, to tell her his own thoughts rather than just making a sound in response.

“I just wouldn’t have guessed, thought you might go for a classic like Speilberg, you seem like a classic kind of girl.” She wasn’t sure how to take his statement, should she be offended that he thought she liked older more traditional things, did he think that she would be so predictable and hence maybe even boring.

“What’s yours?” she asked.

“Tarantino.” She let out a short laugh in response.

“Of course.” she rolled her eyes.

“What do you mean? Of course.” Jughead Jones did not like to be predictable he prided himself as not being one of the herd.

“Just you know, dark, tortured, mysterious it figures you would like Tarantino.” She shrugged her shoulders reaching over him for the unopened packet of M&Ms, meeting his eyes as she took a handful, a look of victory in her eyes. He sighed. Maybe he was a little predictable sometimes. “What now?” She said finishing her mouthful of candy and eyeing him carefully.

“Well we could watch another movie.” He suggested, she nodded eagerly and he found himself smiling at her. It felt so easy between the two of them. He knew he should feel nervous a pretty girl like Betty Cooper alone with him in his dorm room. Archie had given him a wolf whistle when he had let him know that a girl would be over tonight, before Jughead had insisted that it wasn’t like that.

If Betty’s love life had been uneventful up to and including college, Jughead’s had been non-existent. He wasn’t exactly what girls had gone for in highschool he kept to himself. Attended classes and stayed on the outer fringe as much as he could. Not that he ever went completely unnoticed, the jocks it seemed had a far reaching sonar for those who wished to go unnoticed. He had been bullied, sure, but he had survived. Even had managed to fight back on occasion but at the end of the day he was still that scrawny weirdo from the wrong side of the tracks.

College he had imagined would be much the same. He would attend his classes, stay on the fringe. He had always been more of an observer than an active participant. Then he had been roomed with Archie Andrews. Jughead could practically smell the Jock coming off of him as soon as he entered the room. He had already been formulating the contents of his request to transfer rooms form in his head, when Archie had introduced himself, holding out a hand for him to shake. Jughead had taken it cautiously always waiting for the punch that was coming masked by kindness. But it never came. Archie was a decent guy, still a jock, but decent and despite himself they became friends.

“Should I make some popcorn?” Her voice broke into his thoughts and he saw that she had moved off the bed a packet of microwave popcorn in her hand as she stood next to the microwave.

“Sure. I’ll choose a movie. Any requests?”

“Action. After that film I need to see some things getting epically destroyed.” She winked at him and he felt his stomach drop. He had felt the same feeling when she had asked him to take anything he wanted and several images had crossed his mind, while he tried to keep his face passive.

He carefully looked through the list of films before smiling to himself. “Batman Begins?” he asked already having a pretty good idea of what the answer would be.

“Now I know you're just trying to get in my good books. Choosing a Nolan film.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just trying to be a good host.”

“Well you are being an excellent host.” The microwave beeped and he moved to his cupboard to grab a bowl holding it in front of her for her to empty the freshly popped popcorn into. The aroma filling the air. He grabbed two drinks from the fridge, pressed play on his laptop and sat back down on his bed. She soon joined him. He noticed that she sat herself a little closer this time placing the bowl in between them. He tried to concentrate on the film in front of him but found himself distracted.

Betty seemed more engrossed in the film than he was. He could occasionally see her mouth the words and he wondered how many times she had seen this one.

His hand brushed up against her knee and she froze. He was reaching for the bowl of popcorn between them and had misjudged where it was. He could see her body tense up at the contact and he scolded his own clumsiness.

“Sorry,” he mumbled under his breath.

“It’s okay.” He felt her hand rest over his own before he was able to draw it away from it’s current location. He shot a questioning look in her direction, her eyes were still focused on the screen but he could feel her thumb tracing the back of his hand. He felt as though he could learn to lose himself in those little touches. He had lost complete interest in the film, which really had been used as a way to keep her there for a little bit longer, not wanting the night to end just yet. He watched the way the light played across her face, the pale blue light highlighting her face, the small tug of a smile in the corner of her lips. And now he knew he was doomed as his attention had been drawn to her lips. He imagined how they would feel against his own. How he would trace the curve of her neck with his thumb hoping that she would keen into his touch. He shifted uncomfortably and when his leg brushed up against hers she turned to face him, meeting his gaze immediately.

There was a moment’s hesitation as he felt that he had been caught staring at her, before she shifted towards him and her lips brushed against his. Soft. Her lips were impossibly soft. She pulled back and he stopped her with his hand at the back of her neck, pulling her back again so that his lips could have another taste. He felt her lips responding in kind to his insistent lips returning his kiss with just as much force.

His thumb traced her collarbone, travelling up her neck to cup her face as his lips moved to her neck, feeling her move her body against him as the bowl was knocked to the floor in her eagerness to feel closer to him. Her hand rested on his chest as his hand dropped to her waist holding her against his body as his lips returned to hers, running his tongue over the seam of her lips begging for permission. She relented and sighed into his mouth as he deepened the kiss and his grip on her waist tightened in response.

She pulled back to examine his face, her fingers running over his features. The ones that she has been admiring all night, sneaking glances when he wasn’t looking. Watching the shifting light from the screen move across his face, highlighting his cheekbones just as she had imagined.

“That was nice,” she whispered breaking the silence between them.

He placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt, “Just nice?”

“More than nice,” she corrected as she reached over to lace his hand in hers. “You know we should do this every month your movie loses.”

“That would be every month then.” He wrapped his arm around her tighter as she leant up against his chest.

“It’s a date.”

#bughead fanfiction #bughead #betty cooper x jughead jones #riverdale fanfiction #movie night #AU #college AU #fluff

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