#the lighting is terrible in almost all of his scenes it's not even funny

[lisutarid-a]

#final fantasy #final fantasy vii #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii rebirth #tseng #tseng of the turks #ffvii rebirth #ffvii rebirth spoilers #ffgraphics #my graphics #a desperate attempt to make something decent for this stupidly loyal man #the lighting is terrible in almost all of his scenes it's not even funny #really love his calculated and level-headed personality #not to mention his long silky hair 🤭 #he deserves more appreciation <3

[taevbears]

Movie Night

When horror movies don't scare you anymore, your boyfriend wants to figure out what you are afraid of.

⤑ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader (feat. the Daegu boys) ⤑ genre: horror, mystery, suspense, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.1k ⤑ warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, depictions of kidnapping, torture, and multiple murders, hidden camera, non-explicit sex, a bit of angst, open ending. this fic gets pretty dark, so please be cautious of the warnings! ⤑ note: happy halloween! this started as a little spooky shower thought i had a little over a month ago and became this lol. i love reading scary stories, but lmao, i feel like i'm not very good at writing them. thank you @angelicyoongie for assuring me that this isn't as terrible as i think it is. also please note that this is a work of fiction and i don't think IRL jungkook is like the character in this fic at all

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The shadow of a muscular, male figure looms over the female protagonist. His breaths are heavy from chasing her around, barely visible against the chilly, October air. Finally, he has her cornered. He holds up a sharp knife in the air.

The woman trembles on the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life to be spared. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and a look of hopelessness and despair fills her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

The camera pans away as the killer violently stabs the woman. Her terrifying screams of pain and anguish echoes from the TV screen as fake blood splatters on the wall.

Blue and white light bathes over you and your date in the dim living room. You try to suppress a long yawn with the back of your hand.

You’re so bored, you’re practically in tears.

“You didn’t like it?” Jungkook asks you, chuckling at your reaction.

“It didn’t scare me,” you admit sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

You love horror movies. It’s what inspired you to become a film student. You love being on the edge of your seat from the thrill and suspense that the main character acts out. You love being genuinely shocked from unexpected twists and jump-scares. You love a good ghost story that haunts you long after the credits roll, or the paranoia of a similar terrifying incident happening to you.

But perhaps, over time, they’ve lost a bit of their magic.

Although the production of movies has become phenomenal in recent years, movies these days seem to rely too heavily on shock value and nostalgia. Once popular franchises are milking out their legacies to a newer audience. There are so many retellings of the same, old stories that you can already accurately predict what will happen before you reach the ending. Even some of the most climactic scenes of the movie are so over-the-top, they’re almost comical.

Honestly, it has nothing to do with your date or even the so-called horror movie itself. You just don’t scare as easily anymore.

Jungkook peers are you curiously, a boyish grin on his face. “Then, what are you scared of?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah? That’s a bold statement.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook laughs. “You have to be scared of something.”

You throw the question back at him. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin in thought and pushing his tongue against the lip rings on his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at you. “Hmm, I think I’d be scared to lose you.”

You find yourself smiling back at him.

“You’re so sweet, Kook,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him.

Only recently, you and Jungkook started dating officially, and you really like him a lot. He’s very cute, funny, handsome, and perfect in many ways. Butterflies flutter in your stomach when you’re around him, and there’s still that exciting giddiness and eagerness of new love whenever he messages you or visits you in the evening.

In some ways, Jungkook is almost too good to be true.

Part of you wonders if there’s a catch.

But with his lips on yours, it’s easy to push that thought aside.

Credits roll on the screen as the movie comes to an end. His fingers glide up your thigh as yours tangle into his hair. The cool piercing on his lips presses against your bottom lip as he slips his tongue in your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away and faces the TV. He uses the remote to tap out of the movie credits and browse through the list of recommended shows on your streaming service. Casually, trying to hide a teasing smirk, he asks, “How about we watch a different movie, then?”

You stare back at him, a bit stunned and flustered. But your own smile touches your lips.

“Or,” you suggest, grabbing his wrist to lower the remote. He turns away from the screen to look at you, eyes lingering on the sultry smile on your lips. “I know something else we can do instead.”

When you first saw Jungkook, you thought you were being catfished.

His selfie on the dating app included a slight head tilt, a pucker of his pierced lips, and a peace sign. Big, doe-shaped eyes stared back at you from your phone screen, and you noticed the tiny moles below his lip, on the tip of his nose, and on his cheek.

The second picture was of him and his brown doberman, affectionately named Bam. The picture was taken of them outside. One of his hands was holding a tennis ball and the other was gently touching the dog’s long ears. A small, fond smile tugged on your lips when you looked between them and realized that they kind of looked alike.

The third picture was him at the gym. It was a back-shot where he was using the equipment. Broad shoulders, buff arms and back, a tiny waist. You stared way too long at his strong muscles and the ink on his arm before you finally swiped right.

Turned out, much to your surprise, he liked your pictures too. The two of you were a match.

And it wasn’t long until he sent his first message to you. In your inbox, a simple: “hey :)”

On your first date, the two of you agreed to meet at a very public, very crowded bistro. You stood nervously by the building, dressed nice for the occasion. And in case anything went wrong or if this Jungkook guy wasn’t who you expected him to be, you shared your location and had a “send help lol” message on standby for your bestie, Min Yoongi.

As you waited, scrolling through and jumping around different apps on your phone, you found yourself to be surprised yet again.

Someone who looked like the guy you’ve been chatting with called out your name. And soon, he was standing in front of you: big eyes, bigger muscles, tiny beauty marks on his face, colorful ink on his arm, a charming smile, and a simple, “Hey, I’m Jungkook.”

One date turned to a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth date, as he laid in your bed that night and snuggled close to you, it finally started to sink in that Jungkook wasn’t some figment of your imagination.

He was real, and sweet, and seemed to really like you as well.

Jungkook, like you, had an interest in filming. He especially liked editing videos for his dance challenges, short clips, and a series he called “Golden Closet Film” on his channel. While you imagined yourself to be a big director, working in movie sets, and making scripts come to life with your vision, Jungkook told you he’d like to film a project where you’re the star.

“I don’t think I’m on-screen material,” you replied, amused by the idea. You’re not an actress. You don’t think you have the kind of beauty filmmakers seek out for their lead roles. Hell, if anything, Jungkook would be a better fit for an acting gig.

“You are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “To me, you’re perfect.”

You smiled at him then, your heart fluttering by his words. “You are to me, too.”

It was shortly after that conversation when you both decided to date each other exclusively. And it felt like the kind of romance you’d see in the movies. Picture perfect, a little corny at times, and a thrilling whirlwind of laughter, teasing remarks, and intimate touches.

“Am I who you thought I’d be?” Jungkook asks you the next morning after the movie-night bust, propping himself up on the side and peering down on you. His arm flexes, colorful ink decorating it, as the thick comforter wraps around his bare body.

“No,” you confessed, still a bit tired from last night. You keep your eyes closed as you quietly murmur, “You’re even better.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the pleased look on his face. As you feel him press his lips against your cheek, you ask, “What about me? Am I who you thought I’d be?”

Had you opened your eyes then, perhaps you would’ve seen it. The blank look on his face as he pulls away from you, how the light in his eyes suddenly seems to vanish, as if he isn’t really looking at you anymore.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. When you open your eyes, you see him shaking his head. The same, sweet boyish smile appears on his lips.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

The topic about exes inevitably came up early on in your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve dated casually before. Even thought you’d be getting somewhere with some of the guys you were talking to.

But none of them quite compared to Kim Taehyung.

You were a film student. He was a photography major. The two of you were bound to end up in some of the same classes together in the art division.

To you, it was love at first sight. You fell for him so hard and so fast.

What started as bumping into each other at the library and helping each other with assignments led to making out at each other’s dorms with the text books left unopened. Coffee dates between classes became anniversary dinners at nice restaurants. He introduced you to his parents, and you proposed going on a romantic getaway together.

The day you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone else was when he snapped a photo of you looking out at the scenery during that weekend trip. It was just you and him, and a natural setting that looked straight out of a movie.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the picture through his camera. That day, he called you his muse.

And in return, you told him that you loved him.

When you fell for Taehyung, you fell hard and fast. Eventually, it occurred to you that Taehyung didn’t do the same.

Sure, he cared about you. Sure, he loved you. But while you heard wedding bells and dreamed about your future with him, Taehyung was just starting to put himself out there in the world. His art was being recognized, and he was getting booked to shoot at weddings, parties, and other big events every week.

Soon, the dates happened less frequently. The romantic gestures of bringing you flowers, surprising you on nice dates or small gifts, or even renting your favorite movies to watch together happened even less. He would promise that he’d make it to a party or an important event to you, just to let you down. And it felt like him giving you a bit of affection or attention was a chore.

Taehyung was the world to you, but the petty arguments and the distance that started growing between you two made it clear to you where his priorities were. And it wasn’t with you.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you had to do. Both of you knew it was coming. It was just a matter of who broke up with who first.

Just as Taehyung came into your life, quickly and effortlessly, he was gone. Nothing but bittersweet memories of what once was and what could have been weighed heavily on you for months.

What made it worse was that Taehyung, a man you loved with all your heart, had moved on from you so fast and so easily.

You saw him and his new girlfriend at a mutual friend’s party. You were warned that he’d be there, that he was already seeing someone. But it still hurt like hell to see him happy and in love with another person.

But if Taehyung could move on, so could you.

It felt weird at first, but you started to put yourself out there again. You joined dating apps. You went out with the people that fancied your interest. You met Jungkook.

And from there, everything was history.

With Jungkook, you started to think about Taehyung a lot less. The plaguing “what ifs” have quieted down, and the hurt from heartbreak began to heal. With Jungkook, you started to feel like yourself again: you started to smile more, laugh more loudly, enjoy watching movies again, became passionate about cinematic ideas you’d like to create one day.

With Jungkook, you’re also cautiously optimistic.

Because like Taehyung, you feel yourself falling hard and fast for Jungkook. It’s almost scary how truly perfect he is.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Yoongi tells you, sliding into the chair opposite of you with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smells like freshly-baked cookies. A spot of flour stains his apron as he uses his fifteen-minute break to hang out with you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, gratefully taking the drink he hands you. “What do you think about him?”

“Does my opinion even matter at this point? You’re in love with him,” he drawls before taking a sip of his Iced Americano.

“Of course it does, best friend. Why else would I keep you around?” you remark, taking a sip of your own drink. “Besides the free coffee and cookies. Thank you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. The perks of being friends with the cookie boy at your local bakery is a free cup of coffee and getting dibs on leftover treats that didn’t sell the day.

“He’s fine. Kind of annoying. A little too energetic,” he answers as his eyes flit toward the TV screen that his boss keeps on. A woman dressed in bright, business clothing holds a microphone as she reports on the recent news. There’s a grim look on her face.

You have your back turned to it, but you can hear Yoongi’s boss turning up the volume.

Breaking news. Missing woman found dead near home. The victim has succumbed to multiple stab wounds. It is believed that she has been kidnapped and tortured prior to her violent death. The attacker is currently unknown and still at large. Local authorities advise staying indoors and to please report any suspicious activity.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder, seeing police taping off the crime scene and answering what they can to the news outlets. The location is so close to where you are.

“This is the second victim,” a customer mutters with a frown.

The person they’re with nods their head and asks, “Do you think they’re connected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls your attention. When you look at him, there’s concern on his face. “If you need a ride anywhere, make sure you call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. Jungkook usually comes to my place anyway.”

“Still. Just let me know that you’re still alive when I check in, all right?” he says as he stares at the screen. You don’t blame him for being worried. As you follow his gaze, you see a picture of the latest victim of the ongoing case that has the whole town on edge.

This woman, like the others, kind of looks like you.

“If you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, throwing a tennis ball as Bam hurriedly chases after it. 

The two of you are at a park with his dobermann. Despite how scary it’s been lately with the news, it’s a nice day. Children are screaming and playing together on the playground as their parents watch them nearby. A group of teenage boys are playing basketball on the outdoor court. Middle-aged and elderly couples are paired up and are getting their daily steps in.

“My hero,” you joke half-heartedly, but you’re still a bit concerned. Yoongi being worried about you makes you feel paranoid.

Jungkook turns to you. He holds out his hand as Bam retrieves the ball and drops it for another throw. “I thought you weren't afraid of anything.”

“Movie-wise, I’m not. But this is different.”

Jungkook throws the slobbery ball again. Further this time as Bam barks happily and takes off. He takes a seat next to you on the park bench. “I can leave Bam with you when I have my evening shifts. He makes a good guard dog.”

He works as an editor and cameraman for a big content creator, which gives him lots of flexible hours to work on his projects when he isn’t busy filming. Since the beginning of autumn, his boss has been giving him evening work to film ghost-hunting videos and other spooky content for Halloween.

“That’ll be nice,” you reply with a small smile. The two of them have been coming to your place so often, it might as well be their second home.

From a short distance, Bam lies on the grass with the tennis ball by his paws. His tongue is out, needing a short break from running around, as he faces you and Jungkook. Even with other dogs and kids around, he’s very well-behaved.

Just as Jungkook tells you that he’ll get Bam, the sound of small, excited barks grab your attention. A familiar black and brown pomeranian approaches you like an old friend, wagging its tail and perking its ears up when it sees you.

Your heart nearly jumps when you recognize the dog.

“Tan!”

You know that voice. How could you not?

That deep, smooth baritone has haunted you for months.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend, stops in his tracks when he realizes why his pomeranian took off. The two of you were still together when he adopted Yeontan, and you were there to help raise him when he was still a puppy.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook asks, drawing your attention back to him. He reaches out to pet Yeontan, but the pomeranian growls at him. Almost like he wants to protect you from him.

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Taehyung apologizes, stepping closer to you two and picking his dog up. He looks at you as he tries to soothe the agitated Yeontan in his arms. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you reply politely. Old feelings start to pull on your heart strings that you fervently try to ignore. “I’m good.”

“You look good,” Taehyung starts, but then he purses his lips in regret. It’s obvious that he’s nervous to talk to you. Maybe he feels the same as you.

Softly, you reply, “You do, too.”

“Who’s this?” Jungkook repeats. This time, there’s an annoyed look on his face as he stares at Taehyung. 

It puts you off a bit. Jungkook is usually a friendly guy.

“Oh, this is Taehyung. We used to date,” you tell him honestly. Though, the information seems to just annoy him more. “Taehyung, this is—”

“I’m Jungkook. She’s my girlfriend now.”

His arm snakes around you possessively. He holds a steady gaze, but it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Dark, threatening, and angry. It’s almost unnerving.

“I see…” Taehyung trails off as his gaze shifts toward him. Yeontan is still in his arms, growling and barking at Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the pup so aggressive toward someone. Even Bam comes over, ditching his ball to guard over you and Jungkook.

“It was nice to see you, Taehyung,” you tell him, sensing the tension in the air and deciding to cut things off. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Yeah…” he continues to trail off, finally pulling his gaze away to look at you. It looks like there’s a million things he wants to say to you. In a lower tone, he tells you, “My number is still the same. If you ever want to talk.”

You frown. After the breakup, you’ve deleted his number and unfollowed him on social media. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Then I’ll call you,” he promises, firm with his decision.

You don’t get it. You and Taehyung have run into each other after the breakup before, and he’s never had an issue with you dating anyone after him. He clearly has moved on, and so have you. 

Why now?

What is it about Jungkook that has him worried for you?

“I don’t like that guy.”

Jungkook is still heated as he drives you home. His grip is tight around the steering wheel, and the tires screech when he makes a sharp turn. Bam stumbles a bit in the back before sticking his head out the window again.

“Slow down, Kook. You have nothing to be worried about.”

The radio blasts in the car, too much in a rush to connect his playlist to the stereo. It’s playing the week’s top music, and a catchy song from a popular artist fills the car.

Curious, you open your phone and check your followers. You’ve unfollowed Taehyung a long time ago on all your social platforms, finding it hard to look at any of his recent pictures – even just his scenic photography – without thinking about how he had once called you his muse.

But Taehyung never unfollowed you. He had always kept his inbox open for you.

“Did you see the way he was looking at me? It’s like he was looking down on me,” he continues to rant, speeding over a yellow light. He glances over at you and sees that you’re distracted with your phone. “I don’t like how you were looking at him either.”

“Are you serious?” you ask, turning your attention to him. “We barely talked. What the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

On the radio, the program is interrupted. One of the hosts makes a grim announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen, we just received unfortunate news that a third body has been found pertaining to a series of brutal deaths. 

“You still love him! You’ll go back and leave me again!” he suddenly snaps, throwing you off guard.

Silence follows the tension.

Then, you inquire, “Again?”

The third victim is a young female. Hair color and eye color match the previous victims as well, indicating that this might be a targeted attack by the killer.

Not once have you been unfaithful to Jungkook. Even when you were starting to message each other, you weren’t talking to anyone else. The two of you haven’t even been dating that long.

“Forget I said anything,” he starts with a frustrated sigh. But he realizes he’s fucked up.

“No, I’m not just going to forget it. What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

As of now, authorities have no leads on a suspect. All victims have been kidnapped, tied up, and tortured prior to their deaths. We are led to believe that this is the work of a potential serial killer. 

He nearly slams to a stop. The seatbelt around you yanks you back from hitting the dashboard. Bam falls to the floor and you gasp as the back of your head hits your seat.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, but for the first time, it feels like the rose-tinted glasses you have on him have fallen off. He’s always been perfect to you: sweet, athletic, talented, and kind. But the Jungkook before you is someone completely different.

This Jungkook scares you.

Stay inside. Lock your doors. Call the police if you see anything suspicious. Be safe out there, folks.

“I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” he asks through gritted teeth and a harsh look in his eye.

You nod your head, hands trembling a bit as you hold onto your vibrating phone. The screen shows an unknown number trying to contact you.

“Is there a reason why your boyfriend called me?” Yoongi asks you from the other line. He has you on face-time, awkwardly propping up the camera to show his elbow as he mixes a batch of cookies.

It’s been about a week since you saw Jungkook.

After he dropped you off at home, he wanted to put it all behind him. He kissed you sweetly and murmured apologies for overreacting as his hands slipped under your shirt. But you sent him home before he could convince you to sleep with him. You were still upset about how hostile he was toward Taehyung, his accusations about you, and what his outburst meant.

That hasn’t stopped him from trying to get back to your good graces, though.

The number of missed calls from him keeps increasing by the hour. Ones that you leave unanswered or send straight to your voicemail. 

You don’t want to talk to him.

At your door, you hear him rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame and insistently ringing at your doorbell. From the other side of the door, he begs for a chance to explain. 

You don’t want to see him.

Clearly, after reaching you directly hasn’t worked, he’s starting to contact your friends.

“He’s probably trying to find me,” you tell Yoongi, poking at a bowl of fresh strawberries. You’re still dressed in your pajamas, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

The sound of a small dog can be heard in the background of your line. It dawns on him that you’re not at your place or Jungkook’s.

Yoongi is silent for a moment. Then, he grabs the phone and asks, “What do you mean? Where are you?”

You don’t feel safe in your own home. And that day, while you were in Jungkook’s car, Taehyung called to check up on you. He was always good at reading people, and he warned you that he had a bad vibe about Jungkook.

And you’re starting to see what he meant.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

When you turn your phone, you reveal Taehyung busy in the kitchen, cutting off the crusts from his sandwiches. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sheepish smile at the scandalized expression on your best friend’s face. “Hey Yoongi.”

“Can you please explain what’s going on? Why are you at your ex’s?”

So, you do. You tell him that Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone, that you needed some space to cool off but he wouldn’t let you breathe. It was becoming overbearing and overwhelming.

Against your better judgment, you call Taehyung. He invites you to stay over at his place until you’re ready to talk things out with Jungkook. Because even if you’re not together, he still cares about you. Because a part of him will always love you. And at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

“I didn’t want to be alone, especially with a killer targeting women like me out there,” you explain quietly. It feels like the murders have increased in a shorter period of time. If the town wasn’t on edge before, they certainly are now. “But I was still mad at Jungkook, and he was starting to scare me.”

“So the first person you go to is your ex-boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

That ship has sailed. You know it has when you walked in and saw his engagement pictures hanging on the wall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sure he would’ve figured out that I’d be with you,” you tell him with a frown.

“I just wanted to help her, hyung,” Taehyung adds as he stands behind you. “I worry about her too. That guy gives me and Tan a bad feeling.”

Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea either. You shouldn’t stay with Taehyung. It’ll just make things look a lot worse.”

“I guess you’re right,” you reluctantly agree. Taehyung grimaces, but he can see Yoongi’s point too.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift. You can stay with me until you’re ready to talk to Jungkook,” Yoongi tells you, looking rather serious. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, okay?”

Hey. It’s Jungkook.

You stare at the message on your phone. Three dots that indicate that he’s typing something, but he keeps erasing and re-typing them again. As if he’s trying to properly convey his words.

Are we breaking up?

You stare at that message even longer. It feels childish to break up with him without trying to talk to him. For the first time in a week, you pick up your phone and type back.

You scared me, Kook.

His response is immediate.

I thought you weren’t scared of anything.

You huff when you realize he’s teasing you, even now.

Movie-wise, I’m not. But this. This is different, Kook. You were really scaring me.

Again, you see the dots appear and disappear before a handful of responses appear.

I know, babe. I’m sorry. Can you please come over? I want to show you something I’ve been working on.

You think about it.

I miss you. Bam misses you too.

Yoongi said not to do anything stupid.

Please, baby. We can just watch a movie, if you want.

But, like in every horror movie, the protagonist finds themselves making a plethora of stupid decisions.

Okay, Kook. I’ll come tonight.

Movie nights with Jungkook was one of the things you always looked forward to throughout the week. Nothing appealed to you more than a night-in with your boyfriend, food delivered at your door, and checking out new shows and movies.

You have your list of favorites, but nothing quite holds a place in your heart than a good ol’ horror movie. Tellings of urban legends, supernatural forces, paranormal activities, true crime, and slasher films. 

As you step into Jungkook’s house, it almost feels like you’re in one of those movies.

His place is dark, almost pitched black. You could barely see what’s in front of you.

“Come inside,” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand. He pulls you in and deadbolts the door behind you.

“It’s so dark,” you remark, gingerly stepping forward. You have a bad feeling about this. You almost pull back toward the door, thinking of waiting for Yoongi or going back to Taehyung instead.

But Jungkook has a firm grip on you. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“This is different, Kook,” you try to reason. “You’re really freaking me out.”

He pulls you further inside. In the living room, nothing but the TV is on. The screen is paused on a homemade film.

This must be the project that Jungkook is talking about.

Everything is set. The living room is clean, a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of alcohol sits on the coffee table, the lights are off, and the show is ready to play. He sits you down in the middle and keeps an arm around you.

“You know, when we met, you were exactly what I was looking for,” he starts as he presses play.

The tape shows you. Bam lying on your lap as you affectionately pet his face and kiss the top of his head. You, holding Jungkook’s hand and leading him down a busy sidewalk. You, in the kitchen, trying to swat his hand away as he steals your ingredients. You and Jungkook, peering into the camera lens, and your bashful face as he kisses your cheek. 

A smile tugs on your lips as you watch yourself on the screen. Jungkook leans over, copying his onscreen self and kisses your face.

One thing you liked about filming is seeing things from a different perspective. In this case, seeing yourself through Jungkook’s eyes. You look so happy, so incredibly in love with him.

Like with Taehyung, you fell for Jungkook hard and fast.

But Jungkook fell for you harder and faster.

Your smile fades as the next scene shows.

The camera points to the bed, and a couple walks in. It’s you and Jungkook, stumbling in together after drinks at a bar. You’re laughing and trying to wrap your arms around him as he leads you onto the bed. The kiss you share is messy, heated. You tug off his clothes to feel more of him.

You remember that night, but…

“Jungkook. When did you record this?”

You had no idea he was filming you then.

You don’t realize it then, but he makes eye contact with the camera, as if to check that it’s on. He maneuvers you to get a good angle of your body as you busy yourself with your own clothes, wanting him to touch you more as well.

“Jungkook, stop. I didn’t—” 

You feel so sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, baby. Here, I’ll fast-forward.”

But you don’t want to watch anymore. You want to leave. You shouldn’t have come here.

The screen shows you and Yoongi. The two of you are at the bakery he works at, and you’re wearing an old cardigan that you got rid of . You smile and eagerly reach for one of the coffees in his hands and take the bag of cookies he’s holding between his lips. He rolls his eyes at something you say before he takes his first sip of his Iced Americano. It’s a typical hangout between you and him.

It looks like it was taken across the street. Your heart plummets even further when you realize that the old cardigan you’re wearing was a piece of clothing you got rid of before you met Jungkook.

The scene changes. You’re sitting at the fountain at your university, looking over a script you wrote for an assignment. Taehyung comes to take a seat next to you. He greets you with a boxy smile and a kiss. The two of you were still dating at the time.

How long has Jungkook known about you?

How long has he been targeting you?

It’s you and Taehyung again. This time, it was filmed from the other night. When Taehyung came to pick you up from your house. He helps you carry some of your things into his car and hugs you when he sees the distressed look on your face. 

“Jungkook, what the fuck?”

It dawns on you that you don’t really know your boyfriend at all.

You try to stand up, but Jungkook has a firm hold on you. His grip tightens when you try to resist him, and his hand seizes your neck as he pushes you down. Your heart hammers against your ribs when you quickly realize you can’t escape him. Jungkook is much stronger and faster than you are.

More images flash through the screen. It’s Jungkook this time, taking a mirror-selfie of himself dressed in all black. He has his hood up and a Halloween mask covering his face. 

It cuts to his feet walking across the sidewalk. Carefully, the camera tilts up, showing that there’s a woman just ahead of him. She’s about your height, her hair the same as yours. She doesn’t notice him as she listens to music playing in her earbuds. 

The scene cuts again, and the same woman is bound and gagged on a chair. Fear shines through her eyes as a shadow of a knife reflects from her body. Behind the camera, Jungkook demands, “Say your line.”

He removes the gag from her mouth. Her voice pitches in a high shrill as she quickly says, “I-I love you. I won’t leave you.”

You recognize her as the latest victim of the latest killings.

And the realization hits you like a truck. Jungkook and his night shifts, the increasing deaths, his interest in filming, having you as the star.

“I practiced, you know. I’ll get it right this time,” he tells you, pulling out some rope he had hidden behind the cushion. You’re trembling as he wraps them tightly around your wrist. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“You’re so bad,” the Jungkook on the screen says, showing what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s dimly lit, but you can hear someone running from him. But he doesn’t seem worried, his heavy footsteps casually echo across the concrete. In his hand is a sharp and bloody knife. Mockingly, he asks, “Where did you think you’d go?”

The victim has been let go, but she isn’t free. Ahead, she finds herself cornered as Jungkook catches up to her. Terrified, she holds her hands out in front of her, as if that would stop him.

It’s like seeing your own fate on the screen.

The woman begs and screams before her blood splatters across the floor. You find yourself quoting her, staring up at his darkened eyes. “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, staring right at you. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

#movie night os #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #yandere jungkook #bts horror #jungkook horror #halloween 2023 #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

meeting you was too perfect to be real; somehow i know in every lifetime i've heard your laugh.

jd6 x reader: baristas always flirt like this with customers, right?

(warnings: no warnings today! (isn't that just deranged?). all sweetness and cuteness and sparkles and the like. my gift to you, free of charge. (enjoy!).

(a/n: my favorites! i give to you the sugar installment of my sugar and spice project. nothing even a little bit sad, here. and, surprisingly, i actually had a lovely time writing this. so much so that i'm almost tempted to make this into a full story, not just a scene - so let me know if that would be something you're interested in. i love a good coffee shop meet-cute, so i tried to do it justice, complete with a shy, blushy jd6. tell me what you think, tell me how you're doing, tell me what you'd like to see next, tell me what you think about the season so far. go canucks. sending every lovely thing i've got to you and your snakes. you can find the spice story of this project (toxic tz11. have i convinced you?) here. until next time).

anaheim was sort of funny. hot, but not necessarily oceanic, somehow still classic california. it was home to you, or at least it had been for the last couple of years.

however, in a very classic california fashion, rent was high, and although you loved your job as a barista like a hobby, lately it didn't really seem to be paying the bills.

so, you asked around, told your friends that if they knew anyone who was looking for a place to live, they should send them your way. you let that issue settle to the back of your mind, for now.

this morning, the opening shift was busy but predictable. the regulars stopped in for their typical before-work cup, filling you in on new developments in their lives as they tore open sugar packets. you convinced two customers to try your new fall creation, a cinnamon pumpkin latte, which was quickly becoming you go-to. your only co-worker for this shift was your work-best-friend, which you loved, which made the shift feel like it wasn't even work.

the opening hours flew by, as they so often did on weekdays. like clockwork, three hours in, your coworker took their break, going out back for a smoke.

there were no surprises, nothing new at all, until someone you had never seen before stood in front of you.

someone tall and broad, with messy dark hair that glinted almost purple under the soft light and the warmest eyes you had ever seen. his sweatshirt hung off of him like a blanket, clinging softly to the muscles of his shoulders and arms.

you cleared your throat. "welcome in. what can i get started for you?"

somehow, he looked even more unbalanced than you felt. he coughed before shoving his hands in his pockets, rocked back and forth once on his feet. "uh, yeah, h-hello." his voice was not what you expected, a little less steady, a little too telling. you knew immediately that he was a terrible liar, that everything he thought and felt would play across his face and tone in the truest, most sincere of ways. "i've never been here before."

your smile was instinctual, immediate, and his hands flexed in his pockets when your face brightened. "i know," you said, tilting your head at his look of confusion "i would have remembered you," you whispered like a teasing secret.

rosy pink began to appear at the tops of his ears, across his freckled nose.

anyone who worked as a barista would tell you that flirting was pretty much in the job description. one of those unspoken truths of the universe, that the pretty faces making the coffee let compliments flow easy as cream.

it was so much more fun when the customer looked like this, behaved this way, like he was so mature but still somehow not used to the attention, which you could barely believe. if he looked like this, he must know the effect he had on others, no? at the very least, could he assume the effect he had on you?

your laugh was soft. "didn't mean to embarrass you, new kid."

he reached a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, nervous habit. how gentle it looked it on him. "'s okay, petal, forgive you." his voice seemed to have steadied, now, as he settled into his space. into your space, too.

you blinked. in your head, it was comically slow, like a cartoon. is this what swooning felt like? your head filling with chatter like girls at a sleepover in middle school, gossiping behind hands shining with popcorn butter?

you cleared your throat. "so, what are you drinking?"

he sucked on his teeth for a second, appearing to think. "usually a black coffee kind of guy," he mused, leaving the end of his statement hanging between you like a question.

your smile grew childish in its sincerity. "but you're going to let me make you a more interesting drink because black coffee is boring?"

he rolled his eyes playfully, pretended to think about it, absentmindedly twisting the ends of his soft hair between his thick fingers. "i really don't like chocolate, okay?"

you scrunched up your face. "me neither," you said, sensing you almost had him.

you leaned forward on the counter, summed up your most convincing expression. "c'mon, please? you deserve a sweet treat! promise i'll make it so, so good for you."

"woah, the brothel's next door." your coworker's interested and mocking voice came ringing in clearly as the back door swung open and shut.

you and your new customer both turned a bright pink.

"can i make you a treat, please?" you said to him, simply, pulling a cup from the stack next to the register.

"i'd like that," he said, bashful as anything, his smile like a reflex.

you nodded to your coworker. "my friend's gonna ring you up."

her eyes lit up with mischief as she took your spot at the register. "let me guess," she said, barely able to talk because of her laughter, "you want that iced?"

your brow furrowed in confusion, unsure of the grounds on which her joke was being made, but you just finished fiddling with the espresso maker and put the finishing touches on your creation.

an iced americano, since he liked black coffee, with a splash of almond milk you infused with cinnamon and cardamon. a classic with a twist. something different, like you were so sure he was.

you handed it to him with a smile, still flushed from his presence, pleased to find him just as affected as you.

he held it in his hand like a treasure, like some kind of luxury, never looking away from you.

"aren't you going to take a sip?" you asked. "so i can make you something else if you don't like it?"

he shrugged, the motion making the muscles in his shoulders and back ripple. "i trust you."

you could have shaken your head at him. how silly, you could have said, how silly you sound, talking like that to me.

"i hope i'll see you around, new kid," you said genuinely as he made his way out, reluctance dripping from his frame like amber.

"thank you, petal," he said, so sweet you could have sworn the shop smelled like cotton candy for the rest of your shift.

"remember what i said about your zone entries!" your coworker called out after him as she wiped down the counter.

you turned to her, finally. "what are you talking about?"

she waved you off. "he plays hockey. my little brother's favorite. and god, if their zone entries aren't the sloppiest in the league."

she had lost you already, though, as your mind became clouded over with burnt caramel eyes and hands flexed in pockets.

an image that stayed present in your mind days after.

you had only just started to forget about your handsome stranger when one of your friends called to tell you he might have a roommate for you.

he assured you that this guy was not a creep, not even a little bit, that he was clean and orderly and liked a schedule, just like you.

"i swear, you'll love jamie," he had said.

and you knew this friend, loved him like a brother, trusted his opinion, so you agreed to have this prospective roommate, jamie, you supposed, swing by your place for a tour.

just a tour, you thought, what's the worst that could happen? it probably wouldn't even be the most memorable part of the hour, never mind the day.

you knew you were wrong when a gentle knock gave way to an opening door, and he stood there in your doorframe like a vision from a dream, hazy and lovely and every bit as beautiful as you remembered.

you almost dropped the mug you were holding.

and he genuinely did drop the flowerpot he was holding in his own grip. the loud crash had you covering your mouth with one hand.

"oh, fuck," came his rough voice, the smell of dirt growing stronger as shattered ceramic and soil now laid between the two of you like some sort of seance. "oh, god, 'm so sorry, petal," he practically whined. "just shocked me, 's all, didn't mean to make a mess."

you tilted your head, smile coming easy. "shocked you? you showed up at my house, new kid."

"if anything it's your fault," he said, face so rosy pink, smile shy. he let out a frustrated sigh, gestured to you. "can't answer the door looking like that, petal, swear you're a safety hazard."

"flattery will get you nowhere," you warned playfully, although you were pleased.

"not even in the door?" he asked, a hopefulness glazing over his gaze like lemon pound cake icing.

you shook your head, stepped to your side to let him in. "well, then, jamie, i guess i can start your tour by showing you where the vacuum is."

fin. (maybe).

#hockey #hockey smut #nhl #nhl smut #smut #jd6 #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale x reader #jack hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #trevor zegras smut

[hamsterclaw]

Fic Library: Jungkook (Part 1)

I realised whilst compiling this library just how many Jungkook stories I've read and recced. It's probably because Jungkook stories are far and away the most prolific on my feed and also probably because the maknae looks and acts like he does. I hope you enjoy these, don't forget to show these writers some love.

Rattled JJK x reader, single dad JK by @gukslut. The Jungkook in this story breaks my heart with his grit and humanity, and the MC is so relatable it hurts. If you haven't read this, do yourself a favour and be prepared to have your world rocked. Probably my favourite fanfic of all time.

The Cul-de-Sac Cons JJK x reader, JHS x reader, con artist AU by @bonvoyagenoona. I've read and re-read this a lot, the love story between JK and reader is fraught with intrigue and danger, and all the side characters - cuckolded husband Hoseok, Yoongi, Namjoon, are fleshed out perfectly as well.

Lonely Hearts Club JJK x OC, dystopian sci-fi tattoo artist AU by @joonbird. A story that made me think about fanfic in a completely different light, angsty and terribly sad.

Ego JJK x reader, fuckboi college AU by @suga-kookiemonster. A series that had me hooked from the first chapter, a rolling romp, with the perfect ending. Adore.

Feels like summer by @badbhye is a sweet, funny, coming of age story featuring reader and an grown-up, glowed-up next-door-neighbour Jungkook. Also features the immortal line 'Fucking Aquarius bastard' which makes me laugh every time I think of it.

Blink and you'll miss it by @satnin-darling is a fun, fast-paced story with great scene-setting featuring a street-racer reader and rookie lawyer JK.

Spin Cycle by @miscelunaaa is a slow burn series where reader meets Jungkook in a laundromat and their relationship develops over a collection of fun-size drabbles.

Damsel in shining armor by @jimilter is a follow up to the equally great Knight in distress and features chaotic chaebol JK and a competent, take no prisoners reader. A fast-paced, hilarious caper involving reader trying to do damage control as JK wreaks havoc.

Burning bright by @snackhobi is a Pacific Rim AU featuring Jaeger pilots Jungkook and reader, and an unforgettable classic in my book. I love this, and it always reminds me how damn talented fanfiction writers are.

Ghosts just wanna have fun by @sugaxjpg is about a Jungkook who has the ability to see ghosts set in a med school AU and features Yoongi and Taehyung as cockblocking spirits. Sweet and so, so funny.

Blackout by @bonvoyagenoona is set during one night when the entire neighbourhood loses power and Jungkook and reader navigate the neighbourhood block party. It's the perfect romantic almost first date.

Under the stars by @madbutgloriouspond is a sweet, cute, fluffy, real story about Jungkook and reader in a college AU that I love, love, love.

THAT nose riding drabble by @here2bbtstrash honestly doesn't even need a title. JK is sweet, clueless but willing, and Yoongi? He's the voyeur of my dreams.

Disaster management by @jimilter is gold. Unruly chaotic chaebol CEO Jeon Jungkook is back, and company President reader is right by his side as they try to avert disaster.

Leave the door open by @here4kpopfics is a strangers to lovers neighbours AU story that makes me think about how annoying and irresistible Jeon Jungkook would be if he lived next door.

Car sex by @musicloverxoxo7 features co-workers Jungkook x reader who flirt their way to a smutty, sexy encounter.

Euphoria by @btssavedmylifeblr is a beautiful study of life, love and mortality that is one of the best stories I've read. Unforgettable.

Part 2

#fic library: jungkook #fic rec list: jungkook

[hauntedwitch04]

Candles and fire

Nyx Acheron x reader

Words: 0.7k words

Warnings: none, just fluff and idiots totally in love with each other, some burnt pots

Author’s note: Hi everybody! Sorry to be this late, life is just being crazy right now.

Requests are open I Ask

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Join the Taglist

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🎃Halloween party 🎃

DAY 7: “Love I swear if you light another candle our house may go on fire.”

You don't really know where your passion for candles comes from, you just know that one day you tried to get a packet of them, to decorate your home, smelling of cinnamon, and from that day your life totally changed.

The one you have today, often your friends and family, call it almost a disease, since every time you enter a store selling candles you have to be careful not to spend your entire salary and that of your mate, Nyx.

Ironically, the two of you actually met while you were looking for new candles to light in the fall and he was looking for a gift for his Aunt Nesta, who like you had discovered the power of candles and had made it a point to light one every time she read or embroidered. Seeing you so knowledgeable Nyx had thought well to ask your advice and one thing led to another you found yourselves on your fifth date on the largest and most beautiful deck in Velaris, gazing at the moon and stars when the bond clicked for both of you, and from there the rest is history.

You enter the house after a difficult day spent in your library, which is located in one of the most beautiful places in the Rainbow, when you are presented with a scene that you do not know whether to call heavenly or hellish. The home you share with your love is strewn with candles, and their vision sways between an angelic vision to the flames of hell.

"Nyx?" You ask, entering the house paying attention to where you put things down or where you walk. You get to the kitchen and see your mate busy with something at the stove. It probably must not be going the way he wants because you hear him cursing as he moves pans and pots off the stove, some with smoke and flames coming out, others with foam. You can't help but laugh at that scene, but in doing so you are discovered by your husband, who turns around. Nyx, seeing you, his eyes immediately light up.

"Love! You're back already!" The boy says happily, only to look around and immediately guilt shows in his expression. "I'm sorry, I wanted to try to surprise you: candlelight dinner, but I guess the only thing I'm good at is lighting candles and pots and pans on fire." He comments as he walks over to you and hugs you, leaving a sweet kiss on your lips.

"About this: love I swear if you light another candle our house may go on fire. I love candles, but I wouldn't want us to turn into skewers." You say and Nyx can't help but laugh as she presses her nose into your hair, breathing in the smell of your favorite shampoo.

"You think so?" The prince of the night asks amused, as he looks around again. "I'm really sorry though, for once I try to do something for you. I really am a terrible mate." Says Nyx, ducking down and hiding her face in the crook of your neck.

You stroke the back of his head, then force him to look into your eyes.

"Hey, cut the crap! You're the best mate a woman could ever want, you're handsome, funny, kind, good in bed, smart in short I think there are people who would kill to be loved by you even for a few minutes, and just because you couldn't get something done today doesn't mean you're any less perfect than everyone already knows you are." You say, leaving him a series of kisses all along his face in the process. "How about we make something together instead? It's been a long time since we've done that." You propose and immediately see his eyes light up, and he nods, as he takes you in front of the stove again, and amid laughter, kisses, and maybe something more, you finally manage to prepare something, and it doesn't even matter if it's the best thing in the world, because the only thing that really matters are the moments you've shared with the person you love.

#hauntedwitch04's writing #becky's halloween party #halloween party #acotar x reader #imagine acotar #nyx acheron x reader #nyx x reader

[davnittbraes]

A Study in Feminism

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7190 (I’m sorry)

Warnings, tags etc: mention of addiction and recovery, very brief unwanted physical restraint, reader technically commits assault and runs from the cops, mentions of past relationships, arguing, angst (of course, because it’s me,) rage at the patriarchy, explicit smut, oral f!receiving (of course, because it’s Frankie,) unprotected p in the v action with previously given consent and present but not mentioned birth control, c-spot orgasm (DONE RIGHT, none of that blindly stabbing at things nonsense) and some fluffy silliness to top it off

Notes: this is my first true one-shot, as in I have no intention of developing this into a series. We’ll see how long that lasts lol. No mention of Frankie’s kid(s?) here, the word count is bad enough without diving into that

Objectively, it’s a shitty bar. 

But it’s the only one in the area that won’t be packed tonight - it’s lack of television screens eliminates the chance of rowdy, drunk crowds packing in to watch the big game, and really, the last thing you want is to be around a bunch of obnoxious people right now. 

Today was… A Day. 

Your morning sucked. Work sucked. Your commute sucked. Everything just. Sucked. 

The type of exhaustion born from dealing with too much bullshit is setting into your muscles and all you want to do is close this day out with an ending that isn’t as terrible as the rest of it. 

So. The bar is shitty, but it’s quiet, and it has food and alcohol. Three out of the four things you need right now. 

And the last thing just texted you to say he’s on his way. 

You smile as you type out a quick reply to Frankie. Funny, you’ve been doing that a lot lately. 

Smiling, about Frankie. 

It’s only been a few months, and you’ve both got enough relationship baggage that neither of you are rushing into anything. So it’s a little early for you to be confident in saying it’s going to be a long-term thing. 

But you’re still smiling when you lock your phone and the wallpaper photo lights up your screen - you and Frankie, kissing in the middle of a mutually enabled giggle fit. 

Not an unusual scene, in your relationship. 

He makes you laugh, often, those dry one-liners that come out of nowhere, spoken in that quiet, almost always gentle voice. A voice that belies his strength and determination, a focused drive that got him through his military career and earned him a place on elite task forces. 

The same focus that pulled him out of the pit of addiction and led him to be five years clean this year. 

Now, he’s the reason why your exhaustion is already starting to slough off your shoulders, just the anticipation of his presence enough to set your heart racing and turn your thoughts away from the events of the day. 

He’s the reason why you had the energy to shower after work, throw on a pretty sundress and some makeup instead of sulking alone at home on the sofa. 

He’s the reason why you wanted to end the day on a positive note, because since Frankie came along, you know what it’s like to be happy and you want to stay that way. 

Shifting on your bar stool, you set your phone down and reach for the glass in front of you, taking a sip. The unoccupied seat beside you suddenly fills, a guy wearing a bit too much cologne sliding into it.

Internal alarm bells go off immediately, skin on the back of your neck prickling in warning. There are plenty of empty seats that aren’t right next to you. But then again, this isn’t the first time some guy has invited himself into your evening unwanted. You can handle this. 

Glancing around, you pick out an empty table for two toward the back. You’ll just move over there -

“Hey.”

You look at the man who just sat next to you, silently praying to whatever the patron saint of women drinking in bars is. Please let him not be a creep. “Hey, I was just moving -“

“Come on, now, you’re the reason why I sat here in the first place.” He turns to face you, smile too forced, gaze drifting down your body. “I’ll buy you a drink, we’ll get to know each other.”

Nope. Not a chance. 

Keeping your tone neutral, you move to slide off the barstool. “I’m good, thanks.”

He stands up suddenly, stepping too close, expression shifting to something dark. 

You inhale sharply, startled, and his cologne catches in the back of your throat, stinging your eyes and almost making you cough and you blink rapidly to clear your vision. 

Gotta get away, where -

“Hey, dude. She said no.”

An unfamiliar voice drifts over your shoulder, a tall, broad man stepping up to your side, placing himself just a bit in front of you.

You can’t help but frown at him - who is this guy? - but the creep with the cologne scoffs, gives him a onceover, then slinks away. 

The guy turns to smile at you, and your frown fades. He’s instantly charming, warm and friendly. And he did just scare off what was going to be a problem for you.

Clearing your throat, you reach for your drink to get rid of the lingering scent of strong cologne. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs, settling into the now-empty stool. “I see a girl in trouble, I have to step in. It’s the right thing to do.”

Those internal alarm bells sound off again, quieter this time, unsure. He seems friendly, but he moved right into that stool the creep had just left far too easily for your comfort. 

Time to go. 

You grab your phone, slip it into your purse. “Well, I wasn’t really in trouble, but I appreciate that you want to help other people.”

“Guys like him are assholes. They should be put in their place more often.” He shakes his head, leaning an elbow against the bar, charming smile dimming as if he’s upset even talking about it. “Might not have seemed like it to you, but men like him can flip pretty quickly. He definitely would have taken advantage of you.”

A flash of surprise makes you freeze, staring at him. He assumes you were completely blind to how obviously dangerous that guy was? 

A hard note slips into your voice, despite your efforts to keep it light. “I was leaving when you showed up. I would have been fine.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze running down your frame in an echo of the other guy’s. “I’m sure you would have. But girls like you are always safer when you have a man to look after for you.”

“Excuse me?” Your voice rises, anger rushing through your veins. “I don’t need ‘a man to look after me.’ I can do that myself. Watch me.”

You shove off the barstool, spinning around to -

His hand grabs your arm, grips tight, pulls you back. 

Shock rips through anger and you yank hard to free your arm -

His fingers dig in, bruise -

It doesn’t budge he’s too strong -

You struggle to pull free, managing to glare at him, anger flaring bright at the smug look on his face. “Let me go.”

He grins, gaze dark with something that curls into your stomach and makes you sick. Makes your heartbeat waver and your lungs clench with panic. 

You hate this feeling. 

This feeling of helplessness.

It’s one you’ve felt too many times in situations too similar to this, when you’ve had to cautiously navigate a conversation with a strange man who was coming on to you, always aware of the fact that they were usually bigger and stronger than you, that many people would be on his side if it came to a fight. 

That society would have you “give him a chance,” no matter what you wanted. 

Frustration sweeps through shock and panic.

No. 

You’ve had enough of men making you feel this way. 

Like you’re powerless.

You shove him with your free hand, pushing all your body weight into the motion. 

He jerks backward, thrown off balance, letting go of your arm as he stands up. “Hey! Watch it -“

“What’s going on?”

The quiet, gentle words seep into the tension in the air, dull the harsh beat of your pulse in your ears. 

You look over your shoulder, voice rushed, high with too much emotion. “Frankie.”

He’s eyeing the stranger, jaw set in a tight line as he moves to stand by you, placing himself between you and the guy. 

A thrill of something primal squeezes the air from your lungs - the way Frankie moves, with the confident grace of someone who has fought similar fights countless times, and won. 

With the absolute certainty that he will do whatever is necessary in order to protect you.

Your heartbeat races for a different reason, another kind of heat flooding your system. 

Seeing Frankie stand up for you is… unfairly sexy. 

The stranger scoffs, looking at you over Frankie’s shoulder, sneer twisting his features. “For someone who doesn’t need a man, you sure are quick to hide behind one.”

You freeze. 

Shame pours ice-hot down your back. 

No. You will not let him make you feel like this. 

Powerless. 

Anger boils, irrational and unstoppable - 

You’re moving, slipping around Frankie and pushing out all your anger and frustration at this asshole and all the world’s assholes and -

Ow. 

The stranger is shouting, slumping, holding his hands to his nose. 

Why does your hand hurt?

You’re moving again, surging toward the stranger, but someone grabs you and -

Instinct shoves you back, a grunt as your elbow hits something soft -

Rage dims enough for a sliver of awareness to sink back in. 

Frankie wraps an arm around your waist again, pulling you back, his voice finally registering to your anger-haze mind. “Stop, come on, we have to get out of here -“

A patron sitting at the bar a few seats away is on his phone, talking frantically, you catch words drifting through the rush of blood in your ears -

Police -

Assault -

Broke his nose -

You push Frankie away and find your feet, grabbing your purse and moving quickly toward the back door.

The cool night air hits your skin and you gasp, the contrast to the heat boiling in your chest sharp and disorienting. 

Frankie’s right behind you, pulling the door shut and striding quickly toward the street. “Come on, I parked this way. We’ll go to my place, it’s closer.”

Instinct more than anything pushes you to follow him, your mind too chaotic with adrenaline and anger to think. The guy’s sneering smirk replays in your head over and over, that smug superiority of someone who thinks they hold power over another person. 

Your teeth hurt as you clench your jaw. 

Worse, that he did hold power over you. That he was stronger than you. 

That he proved his point. 

Because Frankie -

Was only trying to help you -

The rational thought burns to ash as soon as it crosses your mind, caught in a whirlwind of rage echoing with the words of the asshole back at the bar. 

Because Frankie shoved his way in. 

Frankie opens the passenger side door to his truck, gesturing for you to get in. The gesture reminds you of when he’d stepped between you and that asshole and shame ripples through you again. 

You liked it -

No, he interfered, he didn’t think you could hold your own -

You shake your head sharply, trying to knock the irrational, anger-fuelled thoughts back as you slide into the seat and he closes the door. 

Deep breath. Let it out. Try to calm down. 

The silence is heavy as he drives, vibrating with tension, hanging between you just waiting to crack and spill out all the words you’re trying so hard not to say, but that tiny sliver of rationality is growing harder and harder to hold on to, worn away by the memory of that smug smile and that slimy glance down your body and those words -

“Wanna tell me what happened?” 

Frankie’s quiet voice is jarring to the noise in your head, just enough for your tenuous hold on your temper to finally snap. 

You shift roughly in your seat, struck with the urge to move but annoyingly stuck where you are for now. “What ‘happened’ was you got in the way.”

He glances at you, a movement you see out of the corner of your eye. “How did I get in the way?”

Ignoring the heat of frustration in his voice, you power through, holding tight to your own anger. “You shoved yourself into a situation that I was handling just fine without you.”

“Really.” The sarcasm is a low blow, it stokes your anger perfectly. “I wasn’t aware you wanted to go to jail tonight. Sorry I stopped that from happening.”

You throw up your hands, let them fall to your lap with a loud slap to emphasize your frustration. “Don’t be dramatic. I would have been fine. I didn’t need you to get involved.”

A moment of silence, and you risk a glance in his direction - the green glow of a traffic light illuminates him as the truck passes underneath it, catching the faint movement of his index finger tapping slowly against the steering wheel. 

Great. He’s using that anger management technique he learned in therapy. 

Next he’ll be trying to walk you through it too, count steadily to ten, so you can both calm down and talk about this. 

Yet another thing you don’t need from him right now. 

Right now, you want to rage, at him, at the asshole in the bar, at the entire world, for making you feel like you aren’t enough. 

Frankie clears his throat. “Obviously not. That punch was perfect.”

The words throw you for a loop, not what you were expecting, but not enough to quench your anger. “Yeah, well, I’m no spec ops but I can throw a punch. Which is why I didn’t need you to step in.”

He looks at you again as he turns onto his street, but it’s too dark to see his expression. “Look, I saw you were in trouble -“

“I was handling it.” You cut him off quick but he keeps going. 

“- and I care about you, so yes, I stepped in -“

“- I didn’t ask you to -“

“You don’t have to, that’s just what you do for people you care about.”

An undefinable emotion flood your veins, hot and cold at the same time. “Oh, so that guy cares about me?”

A pause. “What?”

You scoff, fold your arms across your chest, suddenly hyperaware of your body and uncomfortable about it. “He stepped in when another creep was being too pushy, so he must care about me, too, right? I should have been grateful to him, let him buy me a drink?” Rage chokes your throat. “Should I have let him take me home and fuck me because he stood up for me?”

“You know that’s not what I’m saying -“

“Then what are you saying, Frankie?” You twist in your seat, look at him without even seeing him. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re no different than that guy.”

Frankie stills, turns off the ignition, sits back in his seat. 

You hadn’t even realized he’d parked in his driveway. 

Blinking, you finally look at him. 

The outside light is on, casting his features in a dull orange, deepening the shadows around his eyes from the bill of his baseball cap. You can’t see them, but it doesn’t matter - you can tell by the slump of his shoulders, the downturned corners of his mouth. 

Your words echo in your thoughts. 

Guilt spikes through your anger. 

You hadn’t -

You didn’t mean -

What you said last still hangs in the air, unable to be taken back. 

Frankie moves, breaking the stillness. Opens the truck door and steps out. Closes it behind him. 

You watch him walk up to the front door of his house, unlock it, disappear inside. 

The dull thud of the door closing behind him is like a final toll of a bell. 

Your voice cracks in the silence of the truck cab. “Fuck.”

The worn hinge of the truck door creaks as you scramble out, slam it behind you with a little more force than you meant to. The buzz of anger in your chest shifts, turns toward yourself too, and how you treated the one man who was kind to you tonight. 

You’re such an idiot, why would you say that -

He’s not -

A growl of frustration chokes in your throat as you push through the front door. 

The house is quiet, dark, only the entryway light left on. And empty, no sign of Frankie -

He comes out of the kitchen, a bag of frozen green peas in his hands. 

Your heart stutters hard enough to hurt, and you lean back against the door as if it could give you strength.

Frankie stops in front of you, gaze on the bag of peas as he holds it out to you. “To keep the swelling down.”

A huff gets stuck in your tight throat, comes out more like a cry, and you blink back the blur of tears, look up, around, anywhere but at him. “How dare you be so thoughtful and sweet after I said the worst things to you.”

He gently takes your hand and turns it over to rest your sore knuckles on the bag of peas. “Still care about you.”

You can’t even look at him, can’t see the hurt that you know is obvious in those warm, brown eyes. Instead, you focus on his hands, on the large palm cupping the pack of frozen peas to your scraped knuckles, the long fingers of his other hand loosely curling around your wrist. 

All the fire and heat and fury that burned in your chest moments ago suddenly sputters, flickers. Dies. 

A heavy sigh loosens the tightness in your lungs. “I’m not mad at you.”

His fingers flex on your wrist, his low hum of disbelief vibrating over your skin. 

Fuck, you really screwed this up, didn’t you. 

Letting your head fall back against the door, you force yourself to look at him. He needs to see it, that you’re telling the truth. “I mean it. I’m not.”

That warm gaze meets yours - yeah, just as you thought, it’s there, hurt tinged with anger and now doubt. 

That stings more than the hurt, actually. 

The knowledge that he’s doubting you, your honesty. Maybe even how you feel about him. 

Fuck your pride, girl. Just tell him. 

Shifting your wrist in his grip, you take his hand, squeeze it tight. “Look, I liked it, okay? And I’m angry with myself and I took it out on you and that’s not fair, and I’m so sorry, Frankie. I’m sorry.”

A frown forms between his brows, his gaze flickering over your features in confusion. “Liked what?”

Oh god, just say it, get it over with. “When you showed up and like immediately stepped in to defend me, physically put yourself between me and the threat with no hesitation, then stood there with your stupidly broad shoulders and strong arms and testosterone and this whole aura of “don’t fuck with my girl” and god, Frankie, it was so hot. “

His mouth twitches, lips curving at the corners and his frown melts away, hurt in his eyes replaced by fond amusement. “Oh yeah? You liked that?”

Your nose wrinkles as embarrassment tries to push you away from him. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wanna know what was really hot?” 

His voice dips low, rasping down your spine, pulling it into an arch that curves your hips toward him, a movement tracked by his gaze. 

He definitely catches the clench of your thighs, too. 

His thumb glides over your bruised knuckles. “What was really hot was watching you clock a guy with at least six inches and fifty pounds on you, staring him down like you were gonna castrate him right there in the bar.”

Biting back a grin, you twine your fingers in his, cocking your head to the side. “If only I had a knife.”

He chuckles - why is that so hot - and lets go of your hand, tugs you toward him, pushing into your space, his chest brushing your breasts through your dress. Anticipation catches in your throat, arousal you’ve been holding back for so long pulsing to life. 

Then his expression turns serious, thoughtful, his free hand slipping around your waist to rest on the small of your back with casual intimacy. “That’s what I was thinking, you know.”

Your thoughts are already sluggish with a pleasant haze, it takes a moment to figure out what he’s referring to. “That you wanted me to cut his balls off?”

“I was thinking don’t fuck with my girl, because she’ll make you wish you’d never laid a hand on her, and leaving with your balls still attached is the least of your worries.”

The absolute certainty, the pride in his voice - some emotion you’re not ready to name twists behind your ribs, trembles through your veins. 

God, what you wouldn’t do for this man. 

Lifting your free hand, you let it trail down his chest, the slight swell of his stomach, brush over the bulge of his jeans. His breath hitches as you press your palm there, lean in to murmur against his lips. 

“Don’t worry, your balls are safe with me.”

You catch the glint of his answering smile before he’s taking the sliver of distance between you and swallowing it in a searing kiss that pulls a moan from your throat. 

He echoes the sound back when you flex your hand, fingernails scratching lightly against denim, palm grinding over his cloth-covered cock. Arousal warms between your thighs as you feel him twitch, already starting to strain against the fabric.

Need swarms over your skin, your thoughts, dizzying. 

Fuck, everything about him feels so good, the way his body presses to yours, his hand glides up your back, his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, how his breath stutters against your cheek when your fingers curl over his length and squeeze -

Crash -

You startle, hands flying to grasp at Frankie’s shoulders as you whirl toward the source of the sound -

Tiny, cold balls ping off your legs -

What -

Frankie huffs, looking down at the floor by your feet, mouth twisting up in a sheepish smile. “Dropped the peas.”

You glance down at the bag, split open, a few random peas still rolling away, and a surprised laugh bursts from your chest. He looks at you, gaze sparking, and your laugh gets stuck in your throat, a wave of intense affection flooding warm through your veins. 

It amazes you, sometimes, how much you want him. 

He obviously sees it, expression shifting to something similar, darker and sweeter at the same time. 

Then he’s pulling you to him, hand curling around the back of your neck as he kisses you firmly, thumb pressing at the hinge of your jaw until you open for him.

Yes -

His tongue slips into your mouth to glide along yours and a rush of heat floods your core and you clutch at his shoulders, sweep his cap off those soft curls to sink your fingers into them, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

Something shifts, you can feel it under your palms, an energy that flares to life deep within him. 

Your own body responds, moulding to his, silently pleading for more. 

He gives it, kiss turning into something more desperate, all lips and tongue and panting breath and hands roaming your body, catching on the fabric of your dress, slipping underneath. 

The heat of his large hands on the swell of your ass makes you gasp, break the kiss, and he groans. 

“Need you -“

The pleading tone of his voice brings your lips right back to his, your hips arching into his grip, shivers of pleasure racing along your skin when his fingertips dig in just enough to sting. 

Then you’re moving, feet stumbling to follow him, senses too focused on how his lips move against yours and his hands sweep over your hips and his thumbs trace the waistband of your underwear -

Something soft but solid bumps against your thigh  and then he’s turning you, guiding you back to lean on it - the arm of the sofa, you’re in the living room now. 

He pulls away enough to look at you, dark gaze flitting over your features as if taking you in, every sign of your arousal that’s painted on your face. The corner of his mouth ticks up, as if he likes what he sees. 

There’s something almost cocky about his expression and it feeds the heat growing in your core, cunt throbbing for friction. Your hands fly to his belt, start to open the buckle but he takes your wrists, stills your motion. 

You hesitate, confused. “Frankie?”

“It’s okay.” He brings your hands to his lips, kisses them lightly before setting them palms down on either side of you, resting on the arm of the sofa. “I just wanna taste that perfect pussy of yours first.”

A moan falls from your lips, and his smile grows as he sinks to his knees. 

Holy shit -

Seeing him like this, knelt before you with that goddamn knowing smile, his hands smoothing up your thighs as he pulls the skirt of your dress to your waist. It’s exhilarating in some way, shoving your need for him even higher. 

But residual guilt suddenly tamps down on your arousal. “Frankie, I’m supposed to be making you feel good -“

“This does make me feel good.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and yanks them down your legs, glancing up at you as he leans in. “Hold that pretty dress up for me, baby.”

You just manage to grab the skirt of your dress to keep it out of his way when he flicks his tongue out and swipes it over your clit. 

Oh fuck -

Pleasure sparks through your core, your thighs falling open, and he hums in approval as he shifts closer, large hands gliding up your legs, warm and steady, plush lips pressing a wet kiss to your clit before lifting his gaze to look up at you. 

A moment, and you’re pinned by that dark brown, those beautiful eyes that glow with some kind of warmth, some sort of emotion that’s stronger than any you’re ready to name yet.

You swallow against a suddenly dry throat, a mirroring emotion swelling in your chest, his name falling from your lips in a hushed whimper. “Frankie…”

He blinks once, a slow sweep of his lashes, the last moment he gives you to breathe. 

Then he truly begins.

Fuck it’s so good -

The flat of his tongue warm and slick against your folds -

Your fingers curl into the fabric of your dress, so tight it hurts. 

Scrape of his moustache over your clit sends shivers of pleasure through your body - 

Lungs ache for air, you struggle to breathe, swept up in a wave of hot-wet-heat that sears your skin. 

It’s intense and all-consuming, how he pulls pleasure from you body with his mouth, knowing exactly what makes you fall apart, a combination of experience and intuition you’ve never been the focus of before him. 

You can’t stop watching him, mesmerized by the sight of his tongue slipping through your folds, swirling around your clit, dipping down to lave over your entrance. Pleasure builds steadily, a throbbing pulse that radiates through your veins in time with your rapid heartbeat, and you finally break, gasp for breath, a sharp inhale that cracks with his name -

“Frankie oh god -“

He groans in response, dark gaze growing darker, hand gripping your thigh to haul it over his shoulder and -

Your head falls back, a cry cracking free from your aching chest. 

The angle brings him closer, lets your hips roll into the heat of his mouth, and you chase it, shudder as he follows the movement, flattens his tongue so you can grind your cunt along its length. 

Pleasure spirals through your veins, voice tight with it. “Yes oh god just like that -“

You try to find a rhythm but can’t, a steady tremble growing in your thighs as your pleasure swirls higher and you whine in frustration. 

He pulls back, words deep and rasping against your sensitive skin. “Come on, baby, ride my tongue until you come, I wanna taste it.”

His hand grabs your hip, guides your movements, pulls your folds along the slick of his tongue and catches your clit with a flick at the end and it’s perfect so perfect and -

Again and again -

Heat grows, swirls through your core, pushing higher and higher. 

Yes you can feel it right there right there -

He nudges deeper and his tongue grinds over your entrance on the next roll of your hips and you cry out, muscles tensing, so close -

Again -

A burst of wet heat -

Swell of pleasure and it bursts -

You sway with the force of it, scrambling for purchase, a hand diving into his hair to hold him there as your cunt pulses with each wave. 

Finally it breaks -

Air rushes into your lungs, blood pounds in your ears, your entire body shivers with the release. 

He groans long and low, tongue pressing to your entrance, long fingers gripping your hip so hard it stings. The wet sound of him swallowing your pleasure down pulls a trembling aftershock from your core. 

Fuck he’s so fucking sexy and incredible and perfect -

Need you need him now -

Thoughts still scattered, a tug on his curls is all you can manage. 

And he’s there, rising to kiss you, fill your mouth with the taste of your own pleasure. You melt into him, wanting more, slip a hand between your bodies to cup his cloth-covered cock.

He grunts, a sharp exhale that shoots straight to your core and sparks renewed arousal, and you squeeze as best you can through the denim of his jeans. 

You find your voice, murmur against his mouth. “Are you gonna let me apologize to you now?”

His hands curve around your waist. “Apology accepted.”

Suddenly he grips and flips you around -

A whirl of motion and -

His hands press firmly between your shoulderblades, pushing you down until you’re bent over the arm of the sofa. 

You moan into the sofa cushion as a shiver of primal need runs down your back - so fucking hot when he manhandles you like that - arches your hips up, seeking. 

He tosses the skirt of your dress up over your waist, the clink of metal telling you he’s unbuckling his belt. “You like that? When I move you around however I want?”

A frisson of embarrassment stills your movements, and you huff into the cushion. “Shut up.”

The sound of a zipper as his words drift down over you, gentling and teasing at the same time. “Come on, baby. Say it. For me, I wanna hear it.”

Leaning up enough to throw a mock-glare at him over your shoulder, you bite your lower lip to stop from moaning again - just the sight of him, all broad shoulders and mussed hair and dark eyes, towering over you, enough to send a rush of want through your body. 

And that playful, knowing look in those dark eyes tells you he’s not going to oblige you until you give him what he’s asking for. 

Sighing dramatically, you flop back down, burying your face in the sofa cushion to muffle your words. “Yes, I like it.”

“Like what?”

Damn him. Whining, you wiggle your hips to tempt him into moving on from this but hands on your hips still your movement. “Fine. I like it when you move me around like that. During sex.”

He chuckles, one hand leaving you while the other grips your hip tight. “Distinction noted.”

Then he’s sliding the head of his cock through your slick folds, notching into your entrance and -

Oh fuck this angle -

The stretch -

You gasp for breath, fingers curling into the sofa cushion -

Pleasure pulses bright through your core -

He groans as he works his cock in. “Fuck, this pussy, so fucking perfect  -“

The wet squelch of each slow, grinding thrust echoes in your ears, ripples through the rising heat spiralling out from where your body clenches around the thick of his cock. 

Spikes of white-hot pleasure shoot through your hips and legs, tremble in your lungs, and you can’t think, only want more -

A pause, he stills, hips pressed against your ass, head of his cock tight to a spot deep inside you that sends a jolt of pleasure through your entire body. 

“Gotta breathe for me, baby.”

His rasping words sink into the pleasure-haze, the ache in your lungs burning enough to finally get your attention, and you inhale sharp, voice cracking. “Oh my god, Frankie, feels so good -“

“I know, I know, just breathe.” A warm hand glides up your back and down again, in time with a gentle thrust of his hips that grinds his cock against your cervix. 

Oh fuck -

An intense burst of pleasure rips through your body, flashing white at the edges of your vision. 

Again -

It’s so much it’s overwhelming it’s incredible and you’re floating -

Over and over -

Your fingernails scrape at the sofa cushion, hands desperate to anchor yourself, spit out gasping words. “Right there just like that oh g-“

He grunts as your cunt pulses around him. “Holy shit, you’re gonna come already - fuck -“

The shudder runs through your entire body, clenches his cock tight, and you feel it, building so fast - too fast - it’s so much how -

A high-pitched whine of his name is all you can manage. “Frankie -“

“Come for me, come on -“

Again - 

Strong hands on your waist, holding you in place -

Again - 

Bright hot heat -

Bursts -

Every nerve ending in your body alight, blood rushing in your ears -

The drop and -

You gasp for air, like you haven’t taken a breath in centuries, throat aching with a sharp throb and you swallow against it - did you scream? Fuck. Probably. 

Strong hands caress your lower back. “That was a good one, huh?”

Senses scattered, you blink to try and clear your vision, your head, find your words. “Yeah.”

An amused chuckle, a gentle shift of his hips that drags his cock along your sensitive inner walls, sends a shiver up your spine. “Want me to give you another one?”

Your cunt clenches instinctively as he seats himself deep again, pleasure once again spiral outward through your limbs. “Yes, make me come again, please.”

“Yeah? I want to, baby. Love watching you fall apart on my cock.” Another slow thrust that curls your toes. “Wanna give you what you want, always.”

You moan into the sofa cushion, his words slipping beneath the haze on your thoughts to someplace deeper, something that tightens around your heart. 

Then strong arms are slipping underneath you, hauling you upright, hands are pressing you back against a broad chest and -

The sharp thrust of his cock rips through your body but his hands hold you firm, pin you in place as he starts up a rhythm that shoves pleasure through your veins. 

Your fingers curl around his forearms, nails digging, strangled moan falling from your lips. “Holy sh-shit-“

“Yeah, I know.” He groans into the crook of your neck, tongue flicking out to taste your heated skin. 

His hand slips down to where his cock pulls slick from your dripping cunt, calloused fingertips finding your aching clit instantly. 

Fuck -

Your legs waver and his free hand shifts, arm wrapping around your waist to keep you steady as his fingers match pace with the snap of his hips. 

Pleasure rises, hot, swirls out from your core and fills every corner of your being -

Frankie -

So perfect so good feels so good -

His free hand finds your breast, dives into the neckline of your dress to cup it firmly, grinds his palm over your peaked nipple and tiny sparks of pleasure join the flood, sweeping you away -

The first pulse of your orgasm looms, pulls a cry from your throat. 

He picks up his pace, voice rasping in your ear, words stifled by the rhythm of his thrusts. “Fuck I’m gonna come, come with me, baby, please come with me I need it -“

Yes yes yes -

Up higher and higher until it’s a tidal wave of bright heat -

Your slick spatters on your inner thighs, squelches around his cock -

There -

Your head falls back, body shudders against his. “Frankie -“

His pace stutters, once, a cracked groan rumbling in your ear -

Everything pulls tight then releases and -

A flood of wet heat against the pulse of his cock deep in your pussy -

He thrusts again, again, slows, again -

Pleasure finally dims, moves to overstimulation, his fingers leave your clit to help hold you steady, his cock slowly slipping free of the clutch of your cunt. 

You take a deep breath, try to find your body again. There’s a certain disorientation, soaked in spent pleasure, tilting your thoughts and skewing your senses, making everything seem so far away yet close at the same time. 

The urge to find an anchor, to root yourself, pulls to the forefront. 

Lifting a shaking hand, you sift your fingers through his hair. “Frankie?”

His sigh against your neck is full of contentment, lips pressing soft kisses to the space just below your jaw. “Yeah, baby?”

Somehow, that’s enough, and your own contented sigh shifts the air. “Frankie.”

“Is that the only word you know now?” 

His chest vibrates with laughter against your back, enough of a physical sensation to bring you down into your body even more, become aware of his teasing tone. 

You lightly tug on his curls. “Fuck you.”

“That’s three, at least.”

Huffing a laugh at his obvious display of male pride, you pull out of his embrace to lean over the couch and take more weight off your trembling legs. “What did you do to me? I can barely stand.”

“What did I do to you? What did you do to me, I thought I was gonna pass out, you were choking my cock so hard.”

“Well, that was your own fault.” You arch your back slightly, stretching sore muscles. 

His hands cups the curves of your ass, groaning when you instinctively spread your legs and bend lower. “You’re killing me, baby. Look at you, you’re a mess.”

You shiver as his thumbs spread your pussy open, glide through your combined pleasure. “Hmm, well, that’s also your fault.”

“I see how it is, everything’s my fault all of a sudden.” 

His playful, grumpy tone makes you grin, break character, straightening to turn around and kiss him firmly. He leans into it, arms coming around your back to hold you tight, his soft moan dusting over your cheek.

A few moments pass, moments that feel like forever and are gone too quickly at the same time, and when you pull away and meet his gaze, that beautiful, soft brown so warm with affection - for you - emotion stings the back of your throat.

Gently cupping his cheek, you stroke your thumb over one of those bare patches along his chin that his beard never grows into. “I mean it, Frankie. I’m sorry. I was angry at the world and I took it out on you, and that’s not fair.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to -“

“Please, listen.” You hate to interrupt him but you need to get this out. He pauses, nods once, and you take a breath before you continue. “You’re what I want at the end of a bad day. I’ve had more fun with you than anyone else in my entire life. And I know I can trust you to always have my back, even if I don’t think I need the support. I know you’ll be there for me.”

Swallowing back against a suddenly tight throat, you give voice to the emotions that were boiling under the surface of your anger earlier in the evening. “It’s frustrating, being a woman. Sometimes it feels like society expects this impossible balance, like we’re supposed to be ladylike, pretty and soft and gentle and also strong but not too strong, like we’re supposed suck it up but also withstand the pressure.” 

Sighing, you let your hands rest on his chest, drawing strength from the steady rise and fall beneath your palms. “I just… tonight I felt that, and I hate it so much. I don’t want to feel like that. I wanted to prove to those guys - to everyone - that I am strong enough. Even more. That I’m stronger than they want me to be.”

He looks at you, tiny crease forming between his brows. “I can’t say that I understand, not exactly. But I get that feeling of not being enough, of needing to prove yourself but hating that you feel like you need to at the same time.”

Right. Of course he does. 

Everything he’s been through in the last few years, he probably understands better than most. 

You lift a hand, press that crease between his brows flat with the pad of your thumb. “I know you do. But you don’t need to prove anything with me. You know that, right?”

His features soften, smile pulling at his lips. “I know. Do you?”

“Yeah, I do. Even if I forget it sometimes.” Biting your bottom lip, you weigh your words, settle on what you hope is enough. “You make me happy, Frankie. Really, actually happy.”

He smiles for real, gaze warm and bright. “You make me happy, too.”

You pull him in for another kiss, trying to push everything you’re feeling into how your lips move with his, your hands curl into his hair and over his shoulders and down his sides and around his back. 

It’s enough. Maybe more than. 

A stronger tremble shivers down your legs and your knees buckle, pulling you and Frankie apart. 

He deftly catches you around the waist, grinning. “I was that good, huh?”

Laughing, you shove his chest playfully and lean back against the arm of the sofa. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never.” A brief kiss to your forehead, then he’s stepping back, straightening his clothes and turning to walk out of the room. “Stay here, I’ll grab something to clean you up.”

Wrinkling your nose, you try to stand, fail and settle back on the sofa. “I don’t need you to wait on me.”

“I know, and I support that.” He calls back over his shoulder as he disappears around the corner. “I’m a proud feminist, baby.”

You bite your bottom lip, giggling to yourself. 

“Shit!”

His startled shout instantly wipes the smile off your face. 

You pitch your voice so he can hear you. “What happened?”

A sigh that shakes with laughter. “Stepped on the peas.”

Your snorting laugh echoes as it drifts down the hallway, and you don’t really care how unladylike it sounds. 

#triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco morales x you #reader insert #no y/n

[captianmikasa]

AFTER 2 YEARS! THE ATTACK ON TITAN SEASON 4 PART 2 RELEASES THIS JANUARY.

THE WONDER ABOUTS OF EREN AND THE CREW FOR THE NEW SEASON!

I sigh and rub my eyes aggressively, “I can't even scroll through Twitter these days…”

“It’s actually called X now.” Mikasa says in a sarcastic voice.

“Oh shut up, who actually calls it X?” She turns her head over to look at me while she’s getting her makeup done.

“Jean does.”

My posture got better, and my head twitched towards her out of shock, “Really? Like no funny shit, really?”

“Yep heard him call it that the other day.”

“Jean, look at the video I sent you,”

“What did you send me it on— oh X.”

“He genuinely calls it that? Did that actually fucking happen or are you kidding me…” I couldn't actually believe what was coming out of Mikasa’s mouth.

“Nope, really says that.” We both laughed.

There were footsteps coming to the room, the door opened. “Mikasa, you ready yet?” It was the voice of Armin.

“Give me a second…” Mikasa says as her makeup artist finished her makeup.

She continued, “Alright! I’m good now. What are we shooting?”

Armin rolled his eyes, “You should know this Mikasa.. The last episode of part 2.”

Today was the last day for the shooting of Attack On Titan; season 4 part 2. After these months of recording all these scenes, it's finally coming to somewhat of an end. Well, an end for just half a year. Then we'll have to get back to recording for the final special 2 episodes, to really end off Attack On Titan.

We all headed to the set. The director spoke, “ALL WE NEED IS MIKASA TODAY! ON THE BOATS!”

I escorted Mikasa on the boat as she shot her scene that was about my character. She did it in one take, beautifully. Mikasa has always had a natural talent in acting. She almost always gets her scene in one take, without fail. It's amazing how well she can do her job. I can't help but smile any time she films her part. Which in turn, makes it difficult for me to record scenes with her. It's been like that ever since we were younger.

After she was done we all clapped. She ran down from the boat with a large smile, “Was it good Eren? Was it good?”

Her being so excited about her scene made me smile larger than ever before. I responded to her, “It was great.” Me and her hugged with an annoyed Armin in front of us. He took a photo of him with me and Mikasa hugging in the back.

Mikasa smiled even harder at the photo, “Armin it’s so cute… send that to me!”

He rolled his eyes, “No, I’m posting it so that everyone knows how terribly annoyed I am at both of you.”

We watched over Armin’s shoulder. He went onto his Instagram and tagged us both as he was posting. The caption stated, ‘I really do hate them.’

Mikasa scoffed, “You don’t hate shit.”

I laughed a bit. “Armin, one of these days, the media is going to believe that you actually hate us.”

We went to grab our things so that we could head back to our separate houses. Mikasa took hold of her blue Louis Vuttion purse. Me and Armin only brought our wallets. To be fair, it was just supposed to be Mikasa on set today but we wanted to come here with her. We do that for most people who are shooting a solo scene.

After her scene, we finished up recording for season 4, part 2. Why did they have to split up the show this much? Sometimes I just wanna hurry and get everything recorded at the same time.

We all started to try to prepare ourselves before walking out with our guards. We knew that the place was going to be swarmed.

We started exiting the set that we were recording at, and I was right. The paparazzi was all over the place. There were so many flashes of cameras all around us as we exited the building. When we first started acting, the light blinded me terribly.

One of them had a mic and was trying to speak to me, “Eren! What’s happening in the new season?!” 

I didn’t want to be rude so I gave a brief answer, “You’ll figure it out soon!” We all went into the car of my driver. This has happened so many times that she just starts to immediately drive whenever we get in so that they don’t crowd around the car, even if she doesn’t know where to go.

I ended up in the left end, Mikasa in the middle and Armin on the right. I heard a large groan from Armin, “I am hungry as a bitch.” He complained.

I sighed, “I mean, we could go out and get something to snack on. Nothing too big, we have the cast dinner tonight.”

Mikasa perked up on the word ‘snack’. Mikasa always gets hungry after a shoot, no matter the length. “My God, yes can we please get food? I think I'm actually starving.”

I spoke to the driver as I sighed, “You heard the princess.” We started heading towards Mikasa’s favorite fast food restaurant… Burger King.

When I first met Mikasa, I wouldn't expect this to be her favorite place to eat. For a lady that acts so classy, it was truly unexpected— until she told me the real reason.

_______________

3 YEARS AGO:

“Mikasa, you always want Burger King, why? You know that we can all afford something better.” I spoke to her while we were sitting down in the B.K booth.

She laughed, “I can't just want Burger King?”

I felt bad for my words and thought that there's maybe not any lore behind it. “Oh I’m sorry Mikasa—”

She cut me off, “But no, you're right. There is a different reasoning.” 

It went silent for a minute as she was just staring at her food. I became confused, “Are you gonna tell me? Or—”

“Well,” She cut me off again , “I didn't really grow up with a lot of opportunities. First off– I’m a second generation immigrant. My parents met when my dad traveled to Japan when he was in college. And in those four months, my mom met my dad. They fell in love, or however you wanna put it. They were dating for 3 years. On their anniversary, my father visited Japan again and got my mother pregnant. They decided that this was really the factor that they needed to have my mother move to America with him.”

I looked at her eyes. Not necessarily sad, but more so– telling.

She continued, “We couldn't afford much, so a lot of nights we would get fast food since it was so cheap. A load of mail would come for my dad, every Sunday. And we would receive the magazines of Burger King coupons. So we would get Burger King a lot. But now, I eat it for comfort– to remind me of being home, even though it was a rough time for all of us.”

I felt genuinely bad. It was only just a slight sliver of what she must've gone through, but I still felt sympathetic.

________________

The driver pulled up to the window for us to speak. I rolled down the window and Mikasa started talking, “Could I get a Whopper Jr. and a medium coke?”

Armin followed up with chicken fries and a regular fry too. I wasn’t too hungry, so I got just regular fries. I rolled the window back up as the driver went up and collected the food from the fast food windows.

We all started eating in the car. It was silent as everyone was stuffing their mouths. Our driver started heading to my house, she knows us so well at this point. The drive was only about 25 minutes away from the Burger King.

_________________

“Y’know, I’m so grateful that we made it this far but… I feel like I can’t even go on social media without seeing Eren’s aggravating face everywhere.” Armin spoke while we were sitting on my couch.

Mikasa started dying laughing while my mouth was hanging open, “My face is not aggravating.”

“To you, maybe. But when we already see it everyday and then when we go home and see it too, it’s like I wanna punch you in the face.” Mikasa added herself in the conversation.

“You too, Mikasa?!” They both started laughing. They are always picking on me as a joke…

We all started arguing with one another until Mikasa’s phone started to ring.

“Who is it?” I asked her.

“It’s Vianna.” She spoke and walked away to answer the call.

Vianna, Mikasa’s manager. It’s one of her close friends’ mother from when she was in elementary school.

Me and Armin exchanged looks as we both were listening in on Mikasa’s conversation.

We saw her eyes go wide with excitement, “I got it ?!” Me and Armin looked at each other, confused.

We couldn’t hear the other side of the line so just hearing Mikasa’s voice confused us. What did she get ? It had me wondering just what the hell Mikasa could be talking about.

“Holy, Via… Shit, I’m gonna be super fucking busy. But thank you and thank them! I’ll gladly take it.” There was a slight pause for whatever Vianna said. “Okay! Bye-bye!”

Me and Armin rushed back to our positions and tried to act like we weren’t eavesdropping. We pulled out our phones and both collectively started to scroll on Instagram. 

Mikasa rolled her eyes as she entered the room, “I would be stupid if you guys think you could fool me. I know you were listening in.”

Me and Armin dropped our phones and started to talk to Mikasa, knowing we got caught. Armin spoke, “So what was Vianna talking about?” All eyes and attention was on Mikasa.

“I got the role for Hori in HoriMiya!” Mikasa gave the largest smile ever.

Me and Armin started to celebrate her, but another role besides the one in Attack On Titan..? Isn't that a lot of time and effort? Once it all settled down I spoke, “How’d you get the role? Did you audition behind our backs?!” I let out a very fake gasp.

She laughed a bit, “No! They scouted me and Vianna told them that I’ll take it. I’m glad she did, because I’m super excited about it. HoriMiya was a really good comic.” Mikasa displayed a smile on her face that I’ll never forget. She really is genuinely happy about landing this role, huh?

“I was never really into reading… What is it about anyway?” I asked about ‘HoriMiya’.

Armin spoke for Mikasa, “It’s basically like a rom-com.” He turned his attention back to Mikasa, “But I didn’t know that they were making it into a show!”

Mikasa… In a rom-com? I laughed to myself a little. Both Mikasa and Armin turn their heads immediately. Mikasa speaks, “What’s so funny?”

I controlled myself from letting out anymore laughter, “Nothing really, I just think it’s funny that you out of all people were scouted to be in a rom-com, considering how serious your A.O.T. character is.”

She sighs, “Yeah, now that I think about it– the fans will probably be surprised. But oh well, with the ending of Attack on Titan coming up, the extra money won’t hurt.”

Armin spoke, “True that, I don’t know what my next job will be yet.”

“Wanna hear my plan?” I asked them. Their attention went to me now, “I’m riding out on this Attack On Titan money and taking a break for a bit. I mean– we’ve been doing this since we were kids. Plus, I don’t want the people to get sick of me already.”

Armin had a sigh of agreement, “Fair. I guess I could wait for a new job until the series is officially over. I mean we’re not dropping the next two movies until next year, yeah? I have some time.”

Mikasa started to talk again, basically ignoring what we just said due to her excitement, “Well they want me as soon as possible for HoriMiya.”

As soon as possible? Mikasa is gonna totally over work herself. She already has a prime role in Attack On Titan and probably could live off of that money for a few years. I guess that just shows how much being an actor really is an important thing to her– not just the money.

“Who’s even playing Miyamura?” Armin asked Mikasa, his face looked almost as happy as Mikasa’s.

“Via didn’t tell me, so I guess I’ll figure it out.” She sounded bummed out by the fact that she didn't know who was going to be her main co-star.

That’s right, it is a rom-com. She’s going to have to be very romantic with somebody. Not like I care or anything. Me and Mikasa are only a thing on screen, not real life. I have to remind myself that a lot these days. My childhood best friend… her and Armin. They mean the most to me.

Mikasa is just a friend, like how Armin is a friend. We are all just friends. The most iconic trio, on screen and off.

Before I knew it, I was spacing out for a while. Everything that I was thinking about had to deal with Mikasa.

“Eren? Are you okay?” I heard the beautiful voice of Mikasa Ackermann was above me, waving her hand in my face– trying to gain my attention.

“Y–Yeah… Sorry.” I came back to reality quickly. The over view angle of Mikasa is always a pretty sight.

“We should probably start getting ready for dinner, yeah?” Armin spoke.

We all got up and went to go grab our clothes. My place is always the main hangout area, so everyone has clothes here in the different guest rooms. We scurried off and I put on an outfit that seemed… proper enough. It was a celebration dinner for the Season 4, Part 2 recordings coming to an end.

During season 4, the table grew extremely. There were so many new characters to sit around the table. Zeke, Pieck, and Porco… All new additions. Plus we keep people who died from the past seasons. It’s going to be way too many people to count.

Me, Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Connie, Jean, Annie, Reiner, Bert, Levi, Hange, Erwin, Historia, Ymir, and the new season 4 people. I groaned just thinking about it. Too many people to keep track of and way too many to genuinely have a conversation with.

We go to the same restaurant every year… It’s a tradition that I’ll genuinely be sad whenever it ends. And now the ending of Attack on Titan is becoming even more apparent as cast members book other shows and movies to star in. Their time is becoming more free from A.O.T… More things to do and people to see. 

Historia and Ymir already got the job to be Nana and Hachi in NANA . Sasha got the job to be Teruhashi in THE DISASTROUS LIFE OF SAIKI K. Along with everyone else, many other people in the cast have gotten other jobs… I think it’s just hard for me to really let go. The difference is that Sasha, Historia and Ymir’s jobs don’t start until a year or two. Mikasa’s character ‘Hori’ is being filmed as soon as she is free.

I genuinely couldn’t really think of what Mikasa would be like in a rom-com. I know it’s acting but Mikasa’s real self is so connected to her Attack On Titan character that it feels almost unbelievable to see her in a different role. But that may also be because that’s all I’ve known Mikasa for in my whole life. The Mikasa Ackermann in Attack On Titan… Not in anything else.

I got up and looked at myself in the mirror, mentally getting ready for this afternoon. My outfit; jeans, a white long sleeve with a polo sweater covering it. I don’t get super dressed up unless its for award shows… Speaking of which– the Yem Awards are somewhat soon– a few months.

A Mikasa Ackermann bust through my door, “Eren are you– Yes you are!” 

Mikasa has always been beautiful, since that day I met her when we were just 12 years old. She was always someone who caught my eye. One of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen. She is almost the exact definition of my type . There were rumors of me liking Mikasa because of all my previous ex’s having at least one key feature that is similar to one of Mikasa’s.

She started to really walk into the room instead of standing by the door frame, “Awe, we’re matching kinda.”

I look down at her outfit and then mine. “Yeah… We are.” She was wearing almost the exact same outfit as me but more– cropped, I guess.

Mikasa groaned, “Armin’s taking forever and a year to get ready.” She spoke as she pulled out her phone. “Take some photos with me, I kinda wanna post today.”

Her Iphone 13, pro max with a plain black phone case. We went in front of my mirror and started to take photos. It was nothing crazy, just friendly poses. We are the best of friends. I genuinely consider her that. Some people might disagree with that– like Connie for example but their opinions don’t matter to me. Mikasa’s my best friend and I know it.

As we were taking the photos, her hands shifted to places where they wouldn’t usually be. Her hand was on my upper thigh, almost basically on my lower waist. The hand placement was making me– not necessarily hard but… nervous? 

Ever since we were kids, Mikasa has always managed to make me nervous. As a kid, I didn’t really like being friends with girls that much. To be honest, I think the gender separation that the adults teach us at a young age made me that way. But Mikasa was different. Mikasa was my first genuine friend that was a girl. I was in a mire 6th grade when everything started. I was 11 years old when I got casted as the role. A lot of my childhood was taken from me since then, I couldn’t genuinely experience an actual childhood anymore. Attack On Titan was the best thing to happen to me. But all pros have a con.

My parents told me how revolutionary this show would be. Attack On Titan– originally named ‘ Shingeki No Kyojin’ was a script idea from all the way back in Japan. They were very specific with their casting. They wanted the characters to really feel, real. Since they wanted that– they casted people whose names fit the roles as well. They took Mikasa and her Uncle, even though in the show– they’re cousins.

My parents were right about this show though, they made everything almost as realistic as possible. They tried to make me feel actual grief. My parents are both actors too, so it just made the most sense that we all starred in this show together. And I am forever grateful for them forcing me to play in this show that would make my whole career.

The only person in the cast whose a Yeager but not actually related to me was Zeke. I didn’t really have any family that would fit the role of Zeke, so they went out and found that one on their own.

“Eren! Are you even paying any attention? These photos are going to look like absolute shit if you don’t actually pose. Aren’t you supposed to be pretty boy?” Mikasa was in my ear about me spacing out.

Pretty boy… I haven’t heard that one come out of Mikasa’s mouth in a while. It used to be Mikasa’s favorite nickname for me back in the day.

Armin came into the room, “I’m ready… are you guys done taking your little photos?” He asks.

“Yeah, coming.” Mikasa responded as we all eventually walked out of my house and in the car, heading towards the restaurant. 

__________________

We made it… finally. People were surrounding us as we made it to our destination. Loads of cameras and microphones were everywhere. I’ve gotten used to this life, and I would have assumed that Mikasa and Armin would be too since we all get scouted and paid the most attention to, since we’re the main characters and all. But Mikasa still can never seem to get used to the flashes and the paparazzi in general.

I usually always have to cover her with the help of Armin. 

After what seemed like forever, we made it inside, to the back of the restaurant where it was quiet. We seemed to come in the middle batch. Most people were here but not everyone yet.

We sat around the giant table, Mikasa to my right and Armin to my left– like it always has been. After about 10 minutes, everyone showed up.

After I was sure that it was everyone, I ordered champagne to the table, pouring up for everyone. They were all having their separate conversations, I felt bad but it was time…

I stood up and made my annual speech, “The show that has brought us together and met a new family that we never knew was here. Attack On Titan, I will always be grateful for the people that it has brought me. Who knew that it would end up being my best friends for life? This is a toast to the best show we will ever work on, along with the best cast we could ask for– even with our new additions to the table. Attack On Titan, Season 4; Part 2 is completed. Two more movies to go within the upcoming year and the beautiful show we’ve come to know and love will be gone.”

I look around at the table and everyone. The last person I look at is Mikasa, signifying her to say what she usually does. “Raise your glasses! And~...” She held the ‘and’ for a while.

“CHEERS!” We all shouted in simultaneously. There were smiles on everyone's faces.

“Another great speech, Eren.” Erwin spoke to me after everyone calmed down once again. 

I smiled at him, the oldest one here, “Thank you Erwin! It means a lot coming from you.” As a response, he just gives me a smile. Whenever Erwin gives a compliment, it means the whole world to all of us.

The waiter came along and asked us for our orders, everyone basically got what they usually get when we come here. 

Everyone must have been hungry as hell because it was complete silence as everyone was eating their food. It must’ve been a complete 20 minutes of no one talking at all.

Once everyone started finishing up their food, there was conversations starting up all around the table.

Something shot to my mind and I just remembered what else I wanted to talk to the table about, “EVERYONE! Sorry to grab your attention once more but there is something that I need to speak about.”

Everybody's attention went to me again, “I’d like to congratulate everyone who has gotten another job handed to them for another show or movie. You guys are all great actors, like no other. And I’d also like to congratulate another one of us for finding out that she got another role as of today. Mikasa has gotten the role of Hori in HoriMiya!”

Mikasa started to blush a bit and get a little embarrassed for everyone at the table celebrating her accomplishment.

Mikasa hit me a little bit as I sat back down in my chair, “You had to announce that to everyone!?” She whisper-yelled at me.

I whispered back, “I’m sorry… are you actually mad at me?”

She rolled her eyes a bit, “No,” She shoved me a little, “I could never really be mad at you.”

“Eren you never think before you speak…” Armin was lecturing me.

I sighed, “I know.”

Me and Armin both heard a gasp come from Mikasa’s mouth. We turned our heads as soon as we heard it. She got a text, I assumed it was from Vianna… The way she was so excited.

I even looked over to see that Sasha and Connie were interested in what was going on, her gasp was loud.

“What is it?” Connie asked her. He got to it before me or Armin could.

She lifted her head up from her phone to see that basically everyone was looking at her, “Nothing— I just found out who is playing Miyamura.”

Okay now I’m super interested. “Who?” Almost all of us said in unison.

She started to get shy from all the people talking to her at once. Mikasa is never good with too many people bombarding her.

I answered for her, “She probably can’t tell since the cast listing hasn’t gone on the internet yet.” I looked towards her, looking her in the eye, asking for confirmation.

“Yeah…” She said lightly. I let out a slight smile from Mikasa’s actions.

__________________

It’s been 2 hours since dinner and now I’m home alone. Mikasa’s at her house and Armin is at his own as well. 

I lay in my bed, alone and tired. I was tired, physically. No matter how tired I am, I still can never get genuinely comfortable in my bed. I groaned to myself and my struggles.

There was music playing on my speaker, the playlist that me, Mikasa and Armin all made together. It brings me comfort whenever I’m alone or nervous about something.

The speaker read me a notification– I thought I was on Do Not Disturb , Jesus… It read a notification from me, Mikasa and Armin’s group chat.

I opened my phone–

MIKASA– Okay, I couldn’t not tell you guys whose playing Miyamura.

ARMIN– Who?!

MIKASA– Yaku Takahashi, you know, the one that played Megumi in Jujutsu Kaisen.

ME– Yaku…?

ARMIN– Yaku?! Oh I love him! He did a really good Megumi!!

MIKASA– Yeah! It seems he’ll be a really fun person to work with.

_________________

Yaku Takahashi– One of Mikasa’s most popular ships outside of me and Jean. They ran into each other for the first time at the Yem Awards last year.

Yem Awards– One of the most popular TV show / Movie awards as of the past recent 2 decades.

Fans loved the interaction between the two. He’s pretty handsome as well.

They’re probably gonna have pretty chemistry on the screen, and the fans are going to freak out. But who am I to be upset about this– they’re just acting… like how and Mikasa do. I mean– I am allowed to be a little off-put by this, yeah? She’s my best friend for so long and I’ve been the only one recording those types of intimate scenes with her, so it’s only natural to feel weird knowing that someone else is going to start doing that too… maybe even more.

I shook off the feeling from myself and stood up from my bed. I just really can’t believe it— I’m nervous, almost scared. It must just be the fact that one of my best friends is getting a new role and it’s not with me, right? I can’t comprehend what I’m feeling right now. And who knows what’ll happen once the public finds out. Everything that I’ve been seeing about EreMika will be gone.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?!” I shouted out to myself in my room. I think I’m going crazy. WHY DO I EVEN CARE? It’s just Mikasa getting some extra money… but who even knows how much closer Yaku and Mikasa are going to get.

I threw myself on my bed, once again and screamed into my pillow. I didn’t even feel like a 19 year old, I felt like a little kid.

TO FINISH THE REST OF THE BOOK HEAD TO MY AO3 PAGE!

#shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk fanart #aot #attack on titan #eremika #attack on titan fanfiction #eren jeager #eren x mikasa #mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa aot #armin arlert #armin x reader #eren smut #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein smut

[jarenka]

finally I finished this pic. Maybe you remember it from the post I MADE IN FUCKING JUNE... a very old post.

And here is the scene in the fic I invented the whole opera plot for:

Anakin closed his eyes, lost in memories.

He and Obi-Wan took a day off to go to the Opera House of Senra together. Even with Anakin's driving habits, it took them four hours to get there. 

The theater building, as was customary in Karati, was located in the center of the park, and Anakin and Obi-Wan managed to take a little walk before the performance. Last time Anakin went to the opera with Palpatine more than twenty years ago.

 "Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis The Wise?"

 He thought these memories would haunt him now, but as soon as he and Obi-Wan entered the theater building, all bad thoughts flew out of his head. They climbed the wide stairs, found their seats in the parterre. Until the lights went out, Anakin observed the hall decorated with intricate wood carvings and beautiful lamps modeled after different local flowers. Anakin and Obi-Wan were wearing their regular civilian clothes but the majority of spectators chose traditional evening clothes of East Catari, embroidered silk tunics. 

“Do you remember the first time you tried to dissuade me from going to the opera?” Anakin asked Obi-Wan. 

He was still very young back then, not even a teenager. In the dining room Anakin overheard other Jedi discussing the latest premiere in Galaxies Opera House. At that time he did not even know what a "premiere" was, and he saw something remotely similar to the theater play only once, when his mother's friends arranged an amateur performance for the children on... some kind of holiday? Anakin no longer remembered. He liked it. Aunt Sey portrayed a farmer and sang funny songs. 

“You were eleven," Obi-Wan replied. “Not every adult can handle opera, and I thought you wouldn't understand.”

He really barely understood anything. It was a historical drama with political intrigue at the end of which the hero was killed by his old enemy, and even as an adult Anakin found this plot to be overcomplicated. But then he was struck by the singing, and the music, and the and the actors in stunning costumes, and the soft play of light and color on stage. He sat almost motionless until entr'acte, and moved only when the curtain fell. "Is it the end?" he asked Obi-Wan, disappointed. "No, there are three acts, but in the meantime we can rest a little." 

In the opera they were currently watching there were only two acts and it took two and a half hours total. When the lights went out, the orchestra played a short overture in the dim light of the bulbs in the orchestra pit, then the lights went out, the music subsided. The hall was plunged into complete silence and darkness. 

And then a voice rang out — an amazingly beautiful contralto. Bluish light flooded the stage, illuminating the scenery of the palace garden with palm trees and bushes strewn with flowers; the palace itself was visible in the distance, a squat building with round domes; two female figures with spears guarded the entrance to the terrace where Princess Akarias was waiting for her beloved. The voice of the actress, at first quiet, now filled the whole hall, she pressed her hands to her chest, tormented by terrible forebodings. Her lover, Saria, a general of the royal army, had to lead troops to war with a neighboring kingdom, and Akarias was afraid that she would die. 

Anakin froze in awe just like years ago in the Galaxies Opera House. He had no idea that theater still could invoke such strong feelings in him.

It became a little brighter on the stage: dawn was approaching, and Akarias was afraid that her beloved would not come to her. 

This production was much simpler than any that was done at the Coruscant. No holoprojectors or complicated machinery. To change the scenery, the lights were turned off between scenes, and at some point Anakin was even able to distinguish the silhouettes of workers in black clothes who were carrying the royal throne from the stage. 

The author of the opera took the plot from the ancient history of Palia, the home planet of the current inhabitants of Carati. After the long war, the king of Asteria and king of Kadasa decided to marry their children Princess Akarias and Prince Tarr in order to establish peace between the kingdoms, but instead of becoming a pledge of peace, on the wedding night, Princess Akarias killed her husband. In the opera, this murder, as expected, was committed out of passion: Akarias was in love with the general Saria, who died in the war at the hands of Prince Tarr, and she agreed to the marriage only to take her revenge.

The last scene took place in the Prince’s pavilion decorated for newly married couple. Sitting in front of the mirror without her upper dress, Akarias sang that she still loves Saria. She prayed to the gods for her and Saria to be together in the afterlife despite her marriage with Tarr. She begged the spirit of Saria for forgiveness, and assured her that she entered into this marriage with only one goal: to do to Tarr what he did to Saria. From the bodice of her dress she took out a knife that had been with her all the wedding ceremony. The metal shone brightly in the spotlight. 

Tarr was waiting for her sprawled in the bed with only his undershirt on. He dreamed that he would finally make love with his beautiful young wife. He propped himself up on his elbows when Akarias approached him, and froze when, instead of going to bed with him, she picked up the knife. Akarias killed him, and then, after offering another prayer to the gods, she killed herself.

Only when the lights came on did Anakin notice that he had grabbed Obi-Wan's arm. He hastily unclenched his fingers and looked at Obi-Wan's palm. He felt a bit dizzy with excitement. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked. After all this beautiful music and beautiful voices his own voice sounded a bit weird to him. 

Obi-Wan replied with a puzzled look. 

"You adjusted the prostheses, didn't you?..” 

Anakin didn't adjust anything. He hadn't held hands with anyone for so long that it hadn't even occurred to him. 

“Well... I forgot.”  

Obi-Wan's gaze softened. 

“It's all right. Apparently, the factory settings suited you.” 

The actors came out to bow, and Obi-Wan and Anakin applauded them along with the rest of the audience.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #post-rotj au #my art

[solunstell]

Notes I've taken from the first three bsd novels... brainrot included

Entrance Exam:

Dazai is a terrible driver

Kunikida is scared of ghosts

Kunikida actually makes lots of references to Christianity. From the direct quote "Let there be light" when using a flashlight to "There is no difference between myself and them. Are we not all born on the same planet, only to ultimately return to the eternal heavens together in death? O divine creator, answer me." (I say Christianity because I know for a fact that the first quote is directly in the bible)

Karen Dazai

Dark Era:

Dazai is repeatedly noted as appearing younger than he is or compared to a child by Oda

This novel really helped me understand Dazai's relationship with suicide better. The way I read it, it seems like it's not about dying but almost dying to him, similiar to the dopamine rush of skydiving or mountain climbing. This lines up with the fact that he always makes dumb mistakes that fail the attempt, something that would be out of character if it were accidental mistakes.

I love Oda's narration. A bit dry and blunt. Very fitting for his story.

Untold Origins:

Naomi's suggestions for the entrance exam all being [redacted]. Also her characterization in this novel was great. Really helped me understand how the author intended her be written in a way that wasn't as transparent in the manga or anime.

Dazai says "methinks"

Kid Ranpo's voice is compared to a chicken

He also seems to have terribly hand-cut hair

Fukuzawa plays by the rules of the secretary's maze of papers, Ranpo does NOT

Oh my god Oda my boyyyyy

I noted that he is vengeful even in his assassin days

Also kinda funny how Oda's youngest appearance in the series and one of his oldest appearances in the series are both in scenes with Ranpo. I wonder if Ranpo knew...

The fact that Oda talks down about V killing for justice is very ironic.

Also, V being after a skill-less world is very similiar to the whole Fyodor Dostoyevsky thing

Natsume owed a debt to Ranpo's father

Throughout the novel, Fukuzawa notes how bad he would be at being a leader or in power. Ironic.

He also didn't know he was a skill user until after starting the agency haha. An interesting world building question is how many people have abilities that they just never know?

Ranpo autism moments:

Not eating the mochi

Getting confused over if he was using the word granted right ("You can’t take connections like this for granted… Wait. Taken for ‘granite’? ‘Granted’? Uh…”)

Immediately calling Fukuzawa's business card and saying “Please help me, Mr. Bodyguard, sir. I don’t have a job, and I’ve got no place to stay tonight. I’m going to die.”

Fukuzawa can hear him doing this over the phone and across the cafe

Actually the phone call is a bit desperate.. this entire meeting has been a bit desperate on Ranpo's part. It feels like he is trying to reach out to Fukuzawa and practically begging for help. The most interesting thing about the phone call is that it is the most honest Ranpo is about his emotions and motives in the entire meeting, and yet, he has his back to Fukuzawa the entire call. And when he gets what he wants - when he is accepted - he turns around with a big grin.

Psychoanalyzing Egawa and being confused as to why she gets mad

You have to be exact in what you ask with him or he WILL NOT know what you're really asking

My babyyy adults get mad when he speaks the truth cuz he's smart and blunt

"What's a skill user" sweetie it's the middle of a play

Ranpo NO TALKING in the middle of THE PLAY

RANPO NO

RANPO

RANPOOOOO

He's very physically expressive

He is often portrayed as more cool and collected by fanon, but this scene of the play, although it takes place when he is younger, really shows the depths of his emotions. He is confused. He is agitated. He is angry and scared. He doesn't know how to deal with his emotions and he doesn't know how to ask for help. And he has a breakdown at a really really dumb annoyance because it tips him over the edge. Probably one of my favorite scenes for his characterization.

And Fukuzawa doesn't invalidate his feelings.

His parents raised him so well. I would live an au where they didn't die and were able to bring him up the way they planned to. I think that would be fascinating to see how Ranpo would turn out.

Ranpo doesn't look down on others cuz his mother taught him not to.

Fukuzawa dad moments:

Says he'll feed this kid he doesn't know later if he keeps talking

Tempted to tell everyone in the restaurant that the kid just followed him there

“Hear that? Those are the wails of the mochi you left behind”

Tempted to say he's only thirty two when Ranpo calls him old

Ranpo basically adopted him as his dad

"Three times, Fukuzawa told Ranpo to quiet down as he whined for candy. Twice, Ranpo wore down Fukuzawa’s patience until he caved. Three times, Ranpo asked Fukuzawa why planes could fly. Four times, Fukuzawa convinced Ranpo to keep walking when he complained his legs were tired. Four times, Fukuzawa carried Ranpo on his back."

Keeps imagining ways to leave Ranpo

When Fukuzawa lashes out, Ranpo is legitimately stunned, even shaking for a while afterwards

Using a chi attack to make Ranpo think the glasses did something lmao

Fukuzawa chewing out Ranpo for the whole plan

#sol text #meta #bsd meta #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #tw suicide #tw religion #tw caps #bsd light novel #bsd untold origins #bsd dark era #bsd entrance exam #ranpo edogawa #yukichi fukuzawa #osamu dazai #souseki natsume #doppo kunikida #oda sakunosuke #fyodor dostoyevsky #long post #naomi tanizaki #bsd spoilers

[foxydivaxx]

Jojo's Actor Au

-All the villains are the opposite of their characters and are actual sweethearts in real life

-Kira is so shy in real life

-Diavolo did not like the dye they used for his hair because it was difficult to get off after shooting was done

-Dio's Wrryy was an actual accident. When they were filming the scene where he first became a vampire, he just said it. The cast and crew loved it and it stuck ever since. The same applies to the Muddas as well.

-Dio says Wrry a lot when the cameras are not rolling especially when he gets startled.

-Poor Dio gets pranked by everyone especially Jonathan and Jotaro. Everyone loves hearing him says Wrry or Muda xD

-Jonathan, Jotaro and Joseph are actually brothers in real life

-Diego is Dio's twin brother and as a result people confuse the two much to their amusement. Dio is taller and more muscular and Diego is the smaller twin. Also Diego has shorter hair than Dio.

-Giorno is Dio's real son and his oldest child. Ungalo is the last born and was born when Phantom Blood was released. Yes Lisa is his daughter xD He kind of adopted her even though she is an adult because they have a strong bond due to Lisa playing his baby sister in a movie years ago

- Dio went through a terrible divorce around the time of Phantom Blood

-Lisa is much younger than her character xD

-Kars and Dio always flirt with each other whenever they see each other to the point where everyone ships them, something they are aware of.

-Dio's Stardust Crusaders costume was actually his idea. He wanted his character to be as outrageous and sexy as possible hence the crotch spot xD

-Kars was uncomfortable with his outfit due to the cold temperatures where they were shooting

-Stardust Crusaders and Battle Tendency were shot at the same time

-The Villains Club which are all the main Jojo Villains are all besties and get along well. There is that occasional spat in the Villain house between Dio and Kira over stupid shit which gets resolved later. These bitches always hang out and do karaoke and stuff

-All the various Jojo casts from different generations all do karaoke on Sundays as part of their tradition.

-There was one funny karaoke incident that Jolyne filmed. This incident had Kars, Dio,Funny Valentine, Jotaro, Jonathan,Joseph, Caesar, Giorno,Diavolo, Diego, Johnny, Pucci, Kira and Josuke all singing and dancing to one of Aogiri's hit tracks and actually doing the dance moves. Giorno and Josuke were the ones that taught the others. Jotaro fucked up in some parts making everyone laugh. The video went viral and Aogiri found it hilarious and reached out to the guys and they all became friends

-Giorno and Josuke hit the high notes and Diego, Kira and Kars did the rapping. Dio was enjoying himself a lot because he loves dancing and being an idiot on set xD. Dio also did some rap parts much to everyone's surprise and he was good at it.

-Giorno, Jolyne, Anasui, Lisa Lisa, Weather Report, and Josuke love Aogiri and would blast their music all the time.

-Their fave members:

Giorno: Eren, Kaneki

Jolyne: Eren (she has a crush on him xD)

Anasui: Light, Lelouch

Lisa Lisa: Kaneki, Ichigo

Weather Report: Izuku, Ichigo

Josuke: Eren, Kaneki, Lelouch

-When Jolyne got to meet Eren in person, she almost screamed and fainted because of her crush on him

-Lisa Lisa is actually the clumsiest Jojo family member and occasionally crashes into shit a lot making everyone worry about her safety

-According to Jotaro, Josuke eats the most out of everyone and always steals snacks from the snack bar

-Pucci was scared of Dio at first but once he realized how sweet he was in real life, he relaxed.

-Dio would scare many people at first due to how terrifying his character was but meeting him in-person shocks many

-The Jojo that is similar to the character is Jonathan, something he finds funny

-Little Dio and Little Jonathan are friends in real life and go to the same school. Both of them are now grown up and are successful actors. The same applies to the baby versions of the others

-Everyone calls Funny Valentine Barbie because of the pink outfits and the hair. He loves the name and cracks Barbie jokes on set.

-Diego injured himself during the filming of the race scenes.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #dio brando #enrico pucci #funny valentine #jonathan joestar #jotaro kujo #joseph joestar #jolyne kujo #giorno giovanna #josuke higashikata #kars #yoshikage kira #diavolo #actor au

[moonlightazriel]

Caught /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: "Hey , it's ok if you are busy but if you can write please consider my request......After returning from a long mission Azriel and his family had a lovely dinner ( reader and their 2 years old daughter) After putting their daughter to sleep in her room Azriel and reader came back to their room and just being romantic, having sweet talks , telling how much they missed each other , kissing and cuddling and they were having sex and suddenly their daughter wakes up and enters their room and seeing her parents like this she was confused 😂❤ and she started asking weird questions that they were doing and all and then Azriel and reader makes up such a cute and nonsense stories and excuses 🤣.......( smutty, fluff and funny ) ❤ "

Warnings: Just a little Smut

Word Count: 1,5K

Notes: This was a funny one to write. Thank you for your request. 😍

Main Masterlist

I heard the sound of the front door opening, and the heavy steps approaching the living room, Aesir immediatly got up, her tiny wings making her a little unstable while she rushed to get to her father, she disappeared from sight, Azriel was holding her while she asked about his trip, he held her tightly , a smile on his face as he told her everything he saw on his mission.

I watched the scene, she was just like him, the same hazel eyes, the same hair, dark as the shadows that rested around him, it was like i birthed a clone of my mate. Az looked at me, he looked tired, he was in a mission on the mortal lands for three weeks, i hated when he had to be away for so long, i missed him just as much as our daughter did.

“Aesir, honey, let’s give daddy some time, he needs to shower before dinner.” I said grabbing the two year old from him, he leaned in, kissing my forehead and silently thanking me. “He will be right back.” Aesir nodded happily and i took her back to the kitchen with me, to finish the dinner.

Azriel showed up again a couple minutes later, he was wearing his pajamas and his hair was wet, i could smell the scent of the soap he used, my mind could only focus on the alone time we would get after dinner, being away from my mate is always an absolutely hell.

“This smells delicious, i missed your food.” Azriel said while he served himself, i placed a plate in front of Aesir and she started to eat, her chubby hands grabbing the food and making a huge mess. “What my girls did while i was away?”

“Mommy and i went to play with Malina and Nyxie everyday.” He smiled at his daugther, every time Az was on a mission, Feyre would take Aesir to the River house to spend some time with her cousins, the trio was inseparable, Lina and Aesir were an absolutely nightmare to poor Nyx, but he loved them really much. She started to ramble about her weeks and he payed atention to every little detail, Az was an amazing father, he was perfect and always did everything he could to make her happy, i loved their unique bond, it was really beautiful.

“These three are so terrible that they even got Cassian tired.” I laughed, sipping on my wine. “I can’t imagine how it’s going to be when Maddox gets old enough to join the gang.” Azriel looked at me, his eyes wide.

“He’s going to be even worse than his father, can you imagine a kid with not only Cassian’s temper but also Nesta’s? Mother help us.” I snorted loudly, we loved our nephew but even his parents were afraid of what he will do once he start walking and talking. We talked a lot more about everything, he pulled Aesir on his lap so they could share a dessert, he played with her and her loud giggling filled the room, my heart was full of love and happiness watching them, the two people that i loved the most in the entire world.

Once we all finished eating, our daugther was almost asleep on her father’s arms, i walked over to them, kissing her forehead and whishing her a good night, Az left to get her ready to sleep while i cleaned everything in the kitchen. I stretched my muscles starting to turn all the lights off, walking to our bedroom in the end of the halloway, i removed my clothes to put on my pajamas when i heard someone behind me, Azriel was standing in the doorway looking at my half naked figure.

“I missed you, your body, your face, your scent, everything.” He said closing the door and getting closer, i could already feel the wetness growing between my legs, his scarred hands grabbed my waist, his nose running up and down my neck while he smelled me. “I was getting insane, i need you.” I kissed him, my hands desperate to grab something, the urge to get as close as possible to him, i could never get enough of him, i waited my whole life for my mate, so i just enjoyed every second we spent together.

He led us to our bed, resting on his elbows to prevent crushing me with his weight, he kissed me again, gently while one of his hands cupped my breast, his index finger moving in circles, making my breath uneven, his lips on mine muffled the noises i was making, we had to be quiet to not wake Aesir.

His other hand slided down my thight, reaching the space between my legs while he pulled my underwear aside, one of his finger sliding inside me, i closed my eyes and tried to contain any moan as his lips started to go down my neck, sucking, kissing and biting. He added another finger while my hand grabbed his clothed cock, moving my hand in the same pace he was moving his fingers, we masturbated each other, his eyes looking at me intensly as i pressed my lips together.

He stopped, he adjusted us, now laying properly on the bed, he removed his clothes and what was left of mine, he got over me again, his shadows turning the lights off, his cock sliding easily inside me, i sighed relieved, while he pushed slowly inside me, we just enjoying each others presence, i caressed the golden thread between us, sending him my love, while he tugged back. I was used to doing this, sending my love to him whenever we get intimate, this would make the moment even more magical than already was.

Maybe it was because he was away for so long, or that he simply shutted them off, but his shadows danced franticly by the door, we didn’t listen the footsteps neither the door opening, we only stopped when the lights were suddenly turned on and her sleepy voice sounded.

“What are you doing daddy? Is mommy okay?” Azriel immediately fell on top of me, his arm pressing my throat, the air getting limited as he tried to cover us, his shadows blocking her view as he looked at me in complete despair, his eyes got even wider as he saw my red face and the struggle to breath, “oh shit”, he whispered before getting off of me, i gasped for air while he rushed to get dressed, i never saw Azriel being so fast, in a second he was dressed and the covers were covering my body, his shadows dissipated and Aesir had a confused look on her face.

“Mommy wasn't feeling alright, daddy was checking her temperature?” He faltered and i had to cough, hiding my laughter as he tried to explain to her what she saw. Aesir rushed to my side, her eyes filled with worry as she climbed the bed, her hand touching my forehead, mimicking what i did to her whenever she got sick.

“Are you alright mommy?” She asked again, i also didn't know what to say to her, my face red as i tried to think of something to say.

“I'm fine honey, your father was just checking, he always wanted to be a healer.” I blurted out and i could see Azriel slapping his own forehead as the words got out. “What the fuck?” he muttered and i shrugged my shoulders, wanting the cauldron to burn me alive. “But what are you doing awake?”

“I heard a noise, i was investigating.” She rested her hands on her hips, and Azriel laughed. “Just like daddy do.”

“That’s my girl, so brave.” Az kissed her cheek, and she giggled, starting to rub her eyes, sleep taking her in it’s arms. “Do you want daddy to put you to bed again?” He asked and she nodded, when they left i got up, putting my clothes on and going after them, i stayed by the door, watching as Azriel tucked her in bed, he kissed her forehead and whispered that he loved her, he turned to me, a smile on his lips as he pulled me in for a hug and we waited for her to fall asleep again.

“Oh Mother, that was awful.” I pointed out, closing her door and going back to bed.

“Why did you tell her i wanted to be a healer?” He laughed and i rolled my eyes.

“I don’t know, i just panicked i guess?” I justified. “My mind literaly stopped working the second i heard her voice.” He laughed again and pulled me closer to his chest, i wrapped my arms around him and breathed his scent.

“I can talk to Rhys to invite her to sleep there tomorrow after the dinner, so we can have alone time.” His fingers traced invisible patterns on my back. “I know he and Feyre won’t mind taking care of her. What you think?”

“I think that i definitely will need a healer tomorrow night.” We both laughed, my whole body relaxed as i just layed in my mate’s arms and slowly the sleep consumed us.

#acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #moonlightazriel #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #velaris #night court #nesta archeron #female reader #rhysand #cassian #fluff #shadowsinger #smut #sarahjmaas #feyre archeron #azriel x y/n

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Loki S2E1 Review: A Triumphant Return? Or Just More Smoke and Mirrors?

A review by Lena, because I promised.

**SPOILERS FOR THE EPISODE BELOW THE CUT!** **READ AFTER WATCHING THE EPISODE OR AT YOUR PERIL!**

Everyone knows my opinion on Season 1 of Loki, and how I find it an insult to character who went through over a decade of progress, only to be featured as the whipping boy in the show that bears his name, while a cipher of a Sue takes the spotlight in all of her brashness to such an extent that I kept wishing she’d be stuck in a goddamn elevator.

Lol, dreams do come true (kinda).

My rolling internal conflicts with the show made it a very difficult decision for me to even choose to give Season 2 a chance. Do I suck it up and try to see what most viewers seem to with a repeat watch of S1? Or do I stand by my (admittedly, annoyingly negative and isolating) opinions and just wait for the onslaught of delicious gif-fitry of Hiddleston’s ass the SAS Sisterhood would soon bring forth?

The only thing tipping the scales was the promise in the early release reviews that Sylvie would be scaled back, if not in screentime, at least in level of abusiveness and misery that we’re supposed to identify with. So, onward I went.

THE STORY I was expecting S2’s overall plot to be “ The Cunt Hunt for Sylvie” from the get go, but surprised to see how little they chose to use her in the first episode.

So almost immediately after Sylvie was a giant butt and risked the entirety of creation itself for the sake of personal revenge, Loki starts Apparating zapping across time and space seemingly randomly. Kang the Wifebeater Conqueror is taking over and has a giant Mount Rushmore monument in the middle of the TVA to remind everyone that it really doesn’t matter how terrible of as person you are, Disney will continue to hire you if they’ve already hired you enough times.

We find Loki running from the TVA and Mobius, proving once again that his hair alone deserves an Emmy, before yeeting himself off a balcony and casually watching as an innocent hovertruck driver falls to her death at the 4:08 timestamp.

We’re off to a banger start?

In a scene with more ridiculous accents than a Long Islander remake of Braveheart, B-15 and Mobius try to convince Professor McGonagall’s Nazi Sister that the new timelines shouldn’t be closed, as now there are people living in those timelines, and closing the loop would essentially be genocide. B-15 is pretty great. I forget about them.

The scene with OB is the best in the episode, and it does a good job at being funny and expository without getting difficult to follow. My eyes were also thankful for the brief change in the color filters to something with more contrast and light.

**HAIRWHIPHAIRWHIPHAIRWHIPHAIRWHIP** Ten points to Gryffindor.

I had to go back and re-watch the scenes leading up to the episode’s climax because I didn’t catch what they were doing at first. I hope they don’t make this a pattern again. We need less complication, more character development.

2.75 out of 5 Sexy Leather Holsters for being engaging and Sylvie-minimal, but hard to follow in parts, and while I smelled it coming a mile away, I’m not going to be at all impressed by the “Where in the World is Sylvie Sandiego?” thing.

THE CHARACTERS/ACTING It’s a little off-putting to watch the characters themselves through some inconsistent writing, but the acting shines through regardless, which I expected from Frame 1.  

At times I swear Mobius is autistic or ADHD-coded, at least somewhat, in the way he stops what he’s doing to express his special interests whenever they’re brought up. I’m sure he isn’t supposed to be, but as someone who has two sisters with autism, I still get some neurodivergent vibes off of Mobius, but that’s more of a personal note.

Tom and Owen still have infinitely better chemistry than Tom and Sophia. The banter between them is pretty fun, although in a few spots it gets kind of Mac-and-Dennis-y from Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and the talking over one another once in a while goes on for a second or two too long.

Rando girl in the elevator is the champion of the episode.

Ke Huy Quan is going to be a fan favorite on the level of Wandavision’s Randall Park (who we NEVER got our show about, btw). His Q-like character (Ourboros, but called OB) is always the highlight of his featured scenes, and a lot of it is just because Ke Huy Quan just exudes excitement and enthusiasm the whole time. I want to hug him. I hope this wasn’t his one episode and that he’s a recurring character. I just want to see his Pinchers of Peril save the day again.

3.75 out of 5 Sexy Leather Holsters for wonderful acting and a memorable new character, but I had to take a few points off for those stupid accents in the board room scene and not really doing much otherwise with Fascism Braveheart.

THE PRODUCTION My theory is that Loki is the most successful of the MCU shows for two reasons: 1- Tom Hiddleston’s incredible appeal as the title character, and 2- the production values are both higher and more cinematic overall than many of the other MCU shows, most of which take place on Present Day Earth and try to rely more on special effects and savvy camerawork than environment to wow the audience (Wandavision aside). Undeniably, Loki resembles a film more than any of them, and therefore, it easier to appeal to a broader audience…

…but is it?

S1 of Loki was creative in terms of setting, but the screen itself was often so dark I thought I was watching Season 3 of A Handmaid’s Tale, so how does one enjoy the talent behind the scenes if the scenes themselves are hard to make out? The filters are still a little overused so far, but I’d call S2 an upgrade, if only because I can see more of what’s going on.

I’ll admit that the 70s aesthetic wasn’t my favorite in the beginning (esp because I’m not particularly fond of the soupy colors and odd designs of the decade), but it’s growing on me a bit more here. The haziness gives the TVA a musty, claustrophobic feel, like it would smell vaguely of sawdust and cleaning fluid if you breathed it in.

The animation at the climax was quite pretty to look at, and the soundtrack continues to be the show’s boon.

4.25 out of 5 Sexy Leather Holsters

MY THOUGHTS AND FINAL GRADE This episode’s purpose was to examine the consequences of Sylvie’s actions at the end of S1, and for some reason, it chose to do so without her present for most of it. Not once was it suggested that she should face punishment, and in fact, she is seen in her few scenes as even more of a victim than S1, quickly becoming Loki’s purpose and motivation yet again without doing anything but stumbling into an Oklahoma McDonalds and asking for one of everything like a stoner on payday.

So much of this episode was Tom Hiddleston running around full tilt, and to that I say…brilliant. I could watch those cheeks clap for days.  Also, I’ll give the creative team credit, they finally seemed to understand that Tom’s hair is an actor unto itself and deserves some spotlight (I wish it was longer though…Ragnarok Hair Supremacy!). Nine out of ten mangos for thirst-quenching.

I'll give it props, I was engaged until the somewhat-muddled climactic activities (I needed a few rewinds to understand what Mobius was doing in the Sontaran costume). It certainly reads like Disney banked everything on this season doing well, with S2E1 still showing off the higher budget and more cinematic feel that the other MCU shows generally lack. I have no doubt it will pull in enough views for them to re-consider a S3. I'm still clenching a bit on what comes next, though.

I I'll go on to episode 2, but I reserve the right to stop at any time.

My theory: The Mysterious Pruner was OB.

3 out of 5 Sexy Leather Holsters overall for the episode.

SAS TAGGIES: @holdmytesseract @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtiggerv2 @gruftiela

#loki #loki season 2 #episode 1 review #loki season 2 review

[pantoneyoongi]

the sun & the stars | kth | 04

title ; the sun & the stars pairing ; taehyung x you

word count ; 6k

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

description ; 

taehyung’s known you almost his whole life - his sister’s best friend, the girl who invades his home and his life on the daily. you’re the one who gave his sister the nickname ‘sky’ to begin with - and also the one who relented when he whined about it at age five and said okay, you can be the stars, then. 

it’s funny, because to him, you’re just the petty, mischievous neighbor from across the street with a penchant for stealing his snacks. but over the years, you’ve somehow landed yourself a reputation that stretches beyond the 1.5 year age gap he has with you - for someone who generally likes to keep things low key, you sure have a way of drawing attention. 

sky’s friendly, teasing best friend is known for being cold, impassive, and immovable. which is weird, because when he’s around you, all he sees are unabashed grins and terrible jokes. until he realizes maybe he doesn’t know you like he thought he did. maybe they’re right - it just so happens that the walls you throw up around him look a little different from the walls you throw up around everyone else. 

tracklist ; willow - taylor swift, give me your forever - zack tabudlo ft. billkin, limbo - keshi

tags ; college!au, best friend’s little brother!au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, a lot of it, fluff, mentions of absent parents and financial instability, insecurity, brief mentions of infidelity, arguing, fun fact i wrote this entire fic based almost entirely off one (1) scene in this chapter lol, please give my girl sun a hug after this is over thank u

you’re not sure if the luck counts as good or bad, but both you and sky finish your finals earlier than most of the other students do. your finals stack up back to back, leaving you a couple extra days to breathe easy after. so while jimin and taehyung are still frantically cramming and testing, you crash at sky’s apartment for a day after jinyoung convinces you to take a day off before you actually collapse at the restaurant. 

slouched on her couch and half-awake is when sky decides to ask you. you almost topple off the couch, startled awake. “come again?” 

“do you want to meet namjoon?” 

you hesitate. “are you… official, or something?” 

sky shakes her head. “not yet. but i mean, you know everyone i know, and… i just thought…” she trails off, but you know what she means. namjoon is an anomaly compared to sky’s other friends. most of her friends are your friends. 

you sit up on the couch, trying to look nonchalant knowing full well you are anything but. “feels like i’m the parent meeting the new boyfriend.” 

sky cracks a grin. “feel free to chew him out.” 

you narrow your eyes at her playfully. “oh, i will.” 

her eyes light up with amusement. “i expect nothing less.” 

sky looks happy; it’s easy to tell by the way she can’t help smiling. her excitement is subtle but palpable, and you try to reciprocate, but your heart feels weighty in your chest, and you’re struggling to keep it held up. you make an acknowledging noise when sky jumps up to make food for the two of you, watching her flit about the kitchen, light on her feet. 

you and sky tend to communicate less in words and more in implied feelings and actions. you know it’s not the best way to communicate - it’s what landed the two of you in trouble the last time - but even despite having what jinyoung calls “half a conversation, dammit, sun,” you can tell the tension has faded. sky looks like she feels more comfortable in her own skin, like it’s a relief not to be holding onto a secret anymore. 

your shoulders relax a little, watching her. even if your heart feels like a traitor in your own chest, the majority part of you feels relief, too. that sky’s happy, that she found someone who won’t love her in halves. it’s a testament to namjoon’s sincerity, that he’s able to step past sky’s basic levels of kindness, becoming part of her life. even without your protectiveness, sky’s circle of friends is deeply exclusive, just from sky’s shy and introverted nature. 

she smiles at you from the kitchen, and you smile back. for her, you shove down the insecurities, push yourself off the couch to go wreak havoc in her perfectly organized kitchen, and hope that no matter what position you hold in or outside of sky’s life, that she’ll always have someone who makes her laugh as loudly as she does now. 

.

.

.

“i need a ten year nap,” jimin says into your countertops, voice muffled from his face being smushed into it. his arms dangle lifelessly at his sides, back arched from the way he’s sitting in the chair. 

you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “go take a nap at your place then. stop bothering me at mine.” 

jimin lifts his head, and you snicker at the red mark that’s left on his forehead. “i feel like you favor taehyung over me,” he complains. “you feed him once a week, you’re nice to him, and what do i get? kicked out of your apartment in less than ten minutes.” he jabs a finger in your direction. “this is blatant favoritism.” 

you smile sympathetically at him, and he makes a disgusted face at the mocking saccharine look. you even pout a little. “are you mad everyone likes taehyungie better than you, jiminie?” 

“you - you know what?” jimin looks like he’s going to be ill. “don’t ever use that voice on me again. never mind. you can have her,” jimin hops off the chair and goes to faceplant into your couch instead, leaving behind a bemused taehyung in the kitchen with you. you share a look with the younger, eyebrows flicking up as you smirk in amusement. 

taehyung just shakes his head, nursing his glass of water. he looks exhausted too, but he’s still poring over his notes, with two exams left before the week is over. 

you whip up a simple fried rice for the boys, setting a bowl in front of taehyung before going over to nudge jimin with your foot. “get up, freeloader. go eat.” 

jimin pathetically lifts his head from the couch cushion. “leave me here to die. at least if i die, my classmates will get automatic a’s.” 

you smack him against the head. “get up, you overdramatic gremlin. we all know you’re acing all your classes anyway.” 

jimin grins. you have half a mind to drag him up by his ear, but that would go against your policy of putting minimal effort in when it comes to men. 

eventually the two of you join taehyung at the kitchen counter, though taehyung hasn’t even touched his food, still buried in his notes. you tap your fingers against his notebook. “hey. eat.” 

he looks up slowly, like his brain and body are out of sync. you want to run your hand through his hair, smooth it back and away from his forehead, take away that tired look on his face. you soften, pushing the bowl closer to him. “you need to eat to be able to study, tae.” 

quietly, he nods, relenting and putting his books away. jimin looks between the two of you, offended by the blatant difference in treatment, but he keeps his mouth shut at the look you throw him. you watch them both affectionately though, chin propped against your hand. 

when they both look like they have a little more life in them, you start up conversation. “hey, are either of you coming to the dinner with sky and namjoon or is that just me?” 

“there’s a dinner?” jimin says at the same time as taehyung shaking his head, saying, “i have an exam that night.” 

you wince. “you have the worst finals schedule. that’s literally the last slot of finals.” 

taehyung groans a little, burying his face in his hands. “please don’t remind me.” 

you huff out a laugh, giving in and patting him on the head, ruffling his hair a little. “i’m sure you’ll do just fine.” 

“is no one gonna explain to me the meet the namjoon thing?” jimin interjects, and you almost instinctively flick him on the forehead, but cut him some slack and don’t. you shrug at him instead. 

“sky wanted me to meet namjoon this friday before everyone goes back for winter break. guess it’s just a ‘meet the bestie’ thing since she didn’t invite anyone else.” 

jimin hums thoughtfully, thumb rubbing at his chin. “well,” he finally says. “if he can pass your standards, then he’ll probably pass mine.” 

you deadpan. “what am i, like the final boss or something?” 

jimin snaps his fingers. “exactly.” 

you can’t even argue with him. he’s probably right. you settle for pretending to take his food away, jimin sputtering out nonsense to steal it back from you, scraping rice into his mouth as fast as he can while you laugh, eyes crinkling happily. 

.

.

.

the dinner with namjoon makes you more nervous than you let on. you’re meeting sky and namjoon somewhere a little ways off campus, within walking distance. it’s a relatively known and popular ramen spot, with a cozy interior, booths lined up against windows and tables neatly lined in the middle otherwise. 

you wish taehyung was coming. but seeing as taehyung has one last final to take, and most of campus, including namjoon, is leaving for winter break tomorrow, that leaves just you for this dinner, sky mentioning in the group chat that she’ll introduce him to the broader group some other time. your palms sweat and you wipe them against your jeans, dragging your hands against the material, trying to find your grounding. 

you stand outside the restaurant, counting numbers backwards. you remind yourself that this is sky, and someone important to sky, and that means you need to find the right balance between making sure he won’t hurt her, and making sure you don’t scare him off. 

with a deep breath, you enter the restaurant, scanning the room until you spot sky and namjoon at a booth, off to the right. a waiter comes up to you but you shake your head politely and gesture towards your friend, and he steps out of your way so you can make your way to them. 

sky and namjoon sit opposite each other, sky sliding in to make room for you. you offer her a smile and try to extend it to namjoon as well, but you’re you and you’ve always had issues smiling at people you don’t know well. he takes it all in stride, offering that dimpled smile he’d given you the last time you’d seen him, at the library. 

he really does give off good vibes. you almost feel bad about your half-assed smile. 

sky leans towards you, and she’s practically vibrating in her seat, though you can’t tell if it’s because she’s happy or nervous. probably both, honestly. “this is sun,” she introduces, and that’s how the night starts, with her exchanging your names and namjoon’s kind eyes so obviously captivated by her, but still finding time to shift to you, friendly and open. he’s so effortlessly inviting that you find your defenses lowering, even if you let sky and namjoon carry most of the conversation, watching the way they interact, the shy grins sky tries to hide, and the affection pouring out of namjoon whenever he looks at her. 

you smile. a real one, and even when namjoon catches it and matches you, you keep it. 

.

.

.

you slide out of the booth when sky mentions she needs to use the restroom, letting her slip past you while you sit back down. sky glances back but you give her a look promising that you’ll behave yourself and she smiles and heads off, to the bathrooms in the back. 

you return your gaze to the table, eyes flicking up to meet namjoon’s. now it’s just the two of you, and you regard him carefully. he doesn’t shy away from the way you assess him, like he’d been expecting it, especially now that sky isn’t here to serve as a buffer. 

the silence passes, like he knows better than to say anything while you gauge whether he’s worth sky’s time. he doesn’t even seem to mind. 

you relax against the booth. “seems like you know me.” 

he rubs the back of his head. “sky talks about you a lot.” 

“did she tell you i’d threaten you?” you say it with a smirk, eyes glinting. 

namjoon gives a small smile. “she said it was a possibility.” 

you won’t admit it yet, but you like namjoon. he seems honest and casual, and there’s something reassuring about the way he cares for your friend. he doesn’t look scared of you, nor does he seem amused by the possibility of your five-foot-nothing ass trying to beat his. he regards you with respect - like he already knows how much you mean to sky. 

your smirk eases into a smile, eyes growing gentler. “i won’t,” you say. “i don’t think a threat would be particularly effective. what i’ll tell you instead, is that she’s important to me. she’s the most important person in my life. and i regret it, but i haven’t always been able to protect her like i should have.” 

you lean forward slightly, smile fading, and while your expression hardens, your voice remains soft. “i don’t plan on having any more regrets like that, do you understand?” 

something about the way your voice stays quiet, firm, how there’s no malice strewn into the words, only a simple promise, is what freezes namjoon in place. it’s not technically a threat, but the way you look at him holds a guarantee that if he fucks up, he’s not getting any second chances. the person sitting in front of him would do anything for sky. you, without hesitation, would commit a crime for her if she asked you to. take the fall for something she’d done if you needed to. you would do anything if it meant protecting sky. 

“understood,” namjoon’s voice comes as a low murmur of confirmation. you know he hears you loud and clear, so you straighten, smile returning. 

“good.” your eyes drift over to the window. despite being located right next to campus, the restaurant has a decent view of more than just buildings and parking lots, overseeing a small field. “you know why we call her sky, right? ‘cause,” you gesture outside, where you can see the sky turning the different shades of blue directly post-sunset, the beautiful hues of cerulean, cobalt, indigo. your voice grows nostalgic. “she’s my whole sky. the only thing that encompasses every part of the world.” your eyes slide back to him, and he meets your gaze. “take care of her. please.” 

it’s a request. one you’ve never asked of anybody, because sky doesn’t need someone to take care of her, not when she has you on her side. but she deserves to have someone worry about her, bring her lunches, remind her that she’s special and worth loving, out loud, with their whole chest. the way namjoon stares back at you, you know he can give that to her. he can treat her like she’s his whole world. 

he smiles, and nods. without words, you know he’s made the same promise you made when you were five years old. 

when sky returns, neither you nor namjoon give any indication of the conversation you’ve just held. you’re all smiles and light banter, and when sky looks to you, silently hoping for your approval, you beam right back at her, the way you always have. 

because it’s sky. for sky, you would do anything. 

.

.

.

it’s when you part for the night that you break. you head back towards your dorm, after five solid minutes of convincing sky that you don’t need or want an escort. but halfway back and your knees give out on you, and you drop into a crouch in the middle of the sidewalk. you hang your head and try to breathe evenly, to smooth out the shaky way you inhale and exhale. 

it shouldn’t feel like this. you should be happy for sky - you are - but you’re so fucking selfish, you’re so fucking scared, the ugliest parts of you sneaking behind your back to strangle you, remind you of who you are. 

to everyone else, sky’s the one who needs you. sky, who is too nice to say no most of the time, who is gentle in everything she does, who has always been the one you’ve protected. sky’s quiet, demure nature gets taken too often as compliance. as someone who can be bent to anyone’s will. 

but that’s not true. you know that. sky’s just simple and patient; she doesn’t mind much. she goes with the flow, content to follow after you, let you take the lead. 

but she doesn’t need you. she never has. 

you press your hand firm against your mouth to muffle the cry that threatens to slip out, eyes squeezing shut. no. no. you’re not going to be upset about this. you’re not going to be selfish about this. 

fuck. 

.

.

.

everyone looking from the outside in says you’re the strong one. 

you and sky sit at distinct parallels, impossible to intersect. on one hand there’s you, cold, hard, and impassive. you don’t know how your reputation spun wildly out of control, but people dodge you like you’re poison. they fear what you could do, even if they don’t know what you would do. 

on the other hand there’s sky, elegant, trusting, and caring. she’s a bit shy, much quieter than most others, but she’s sweet, and people like that. she embodies the definition of a good girl, with off-the-charts intelligence to top it off. she’s your best friend. you’d protect her with your life. everyone knows it. you’re her personal guard dog. 

but the truth is, she’s not the one who needs protecting. you’re the one that’s fragile, quick to come apart. one nudge and everything around you will crumble, scatter in the wind and you’ll be left with nothing. they say sky needs you, but it’s you who needs her. 

she’s your safe place. she makes you feel wanted. you don’t know anyone else like her, who makes you feel like there’s something worth fighting for. because what else are you going to do? if not to protect sky, what else are you worth? 

not much, apparently. after all, you’re the one who hurt her the most. 

you’ll never shake the self-inflicted blame for it. for falling for seokjin and not realizing the entire time that sky also had feelings for him. that he was playing the field, holding your hand while sweet-talking sky, keeping her his secret, leaving her with the guilt of having feelings for her best friend’s boyfriend. you were blind to all of it, rose-colored glasses fogging what was right in front of you. 

they can say all they want about, it’s seokjin who hurt her, it’s seokjin who shouldn’t have done that, but even if you’re not the mastermind, you’re the accomplice. you know that because of you, sky experienced heartbreak before she could experience love. 

the world sky existed in was perfect, until you fractured it. 

you did everything to patch it back up. return to sky the picture-perfect she used to have, before you weaseled your way into it, selfishly begging to be a part of it. to have even an ounce of what normalcy might feel like. but even in doing so you couldn’t bear to give it up. you need sky. 

nobody understands that. you need sky, but she doesn’t need you. least of all now that she has namjoon. 

.

.

.

you don’t really like school breaks. winter and summer breaks are longer than spring break, which means you can go back to your hometown. you usually spend it working most days, but being home also means unlocking your door to an unlit room, hardly any food in the fridge and your parents never there. 

it’s a little better now that you’re older, and can stay up later. you catch them when they get home at midnight, weary eyes and tired smiles. they hug you and you feel like a child again, melting into your mother’s embrace that you’ve missed so much. but they’re too tired to spend much time with you, and most mornings, either you’re gone before they wake up, or they’re gone before you wake up. 

you know they love you, and that’s why they work so hard to provide for you. but you really miss them sometimes. you missed them in elementary school, when they didn’t show up to see your science fair project. you missed them in middle school, when they couldn’t be there to see your artwork displayed for the night. you missed them in high school, when they weren’t amongst the proud parents watching their kids walk across the stage for graduation. 

your pictures are scattered throughout the house, though. your science fair participation ribbon is tacked to the fridge, your artwork framed on the wall. your high school diploma is kept displayed on a dresser in your parents’ room, a reminder of what you accomplished that they never got a chance to. and when you graduate college next semester - you know they won’t be able to attend your graduation ceremony then, either, but they’ll leave a picture frame out for you to place your university diploma into, and a slice of cake will sit in the fridge as their way of celebrating with you, too. 

you know better than to believe you aren’t loved. but you also don’t really know your parents at all, just know that they have sacrificed everything to make sure you could have a better life than them. that includes being there for you in all the little moments, and all the grand ones, too. 

it’s a lot of pressure. they give up every waking hour, bending over backwards to pay for your future. but the child in you cries while you sit under a single light in the kitchen at a table meant for a family and you’re utterly alone. 

coming home means a lot of things. it means comfort, in the form of your parents arriving in the middle of the night, getting to see them even if it’s brief. it also means sitting alone with your own thoughts, forced to confront the parts of you that you can escape when you’re away at university. 

you’ve always known what you’re afraid of. it’s why you put up such a big front, whether it’s the cold and calculating way you treat strangers, or the bright and adoring way you love your friends. 

you’re afraid of being alone. you’d think after years of it, you’d find the time to get used to it, but you never have. you don’t want to be alone. you want someone at your important events and life milestones and even for the little stupid things that don’t matter and can easily be forgotten. you want someone there for all of it. 

that’s sky. when you had your science fair, sky’s parents stopped by your booth for a full twenty minutes, fascinated by everything you had displayed. sky was never part of the art exhibition, but she and her parents and taehyung all showed up, taking pictures and ooh-ing and ahh-ing over your mediocre middle school artwork. and when your parents couldn’t attend graduation, sky’s family drove you there, cheering as loudly for you as they did for her. 

sky’s there for everything. she listens to everything you have to say, no matter how mindless or menial. she remembers most of it, too, even better than you do - can recant stories that you don’t even recall telling her in the first place. if you love sky fiercely, defensively, sky loves you quietly, peacefully. 

what you’re afraid of is that sky will find her happily ever after, and it won’t include you. that the family you forced your way into doesn’t actually want you, and you’ll go back to your empty house and your dinners alone and the child in you will peer out across the street and wonder again what it’s like to have a family that can afford to be home. with you. that you’ll have to once again get used to an absent family, with no one to go running to. 

but you can’t tell her that. you can’t tell her, or taehyung, or even jimin. they’ve already shown you so much love. given you so much more than you deserve. you can’t beg them to stay if they don’t want to. 

you stare out the window. when it’s winter, it gets darker earlier, and all you can see is black. 

lonely, lonely, lonely. 

.

.

.

sky is pacing. 

sky doesn’t pace. sky generally sits still, in fact, so still that sometimes jimin will pretend to double check if she’s still breathing. taehyung’s eyes follow his sister back and forth and back and forth as she crosses the length of the room over and over again. 

“you okay?” taehyung ventures, after sky’s doubled back for god knows how many times now. sky pauses, head turning so slowly, she could give a slowly deteriorating animatronic a run for their money. taehyung makes a face. “sky.” 

she blinks at him. “something’s wrong.” 

he raises his eyebrows. yes. something is wrong, but sky doesn’t usually say it out loud. both you and sky have this in common: when things go south, you hide. 

taehyung noticed it a week ago, when the first stop you made since coming home wasn’t his house, but yours. you actually haven’t even been here since winter break started, and this is usually the place you come to lie down on the floor and complain about your creaky old joints. your messages in the group chat have been dwindling further and further, and you’ve canceled on group invites, even the ones that include yoongi and hoseok, who you haven’t seen in an entire semester. you cite work as an excuse, even though you normally would’ve found a way to make time for them regardless. 

sky looks stressed. “sun hasn’t come over.” 

taehyung chews on his lower lip. he’s not really sure what to say. taehyung has gone looking for you, of course, but he keeps missing his chances at actually seeing you. he’s considered just walking over to your place, but when you get like this, there’s the distinct possibility that you’ll just pretend no one’s home, which you’ve done before. 

sky resumes her pacing, and taehyung lets her. he wishes he had answers, solutions, anything - but the best he’s got is an attempt to get to you before you can step foot into your house. the problem is your schedule is not exactly consistent, and somehow you manage to sneak back into your house in the precise moments when taehyung isn’t creepily staring out his window trying to catch you before you head in. 

he hates when you get like this. hates that when you’re hurting, or insecure, you don’t come to him. or sky, jimin, yoongi, hoseok, someone. you draw into yourself instead, refusing to reach out. you lock yourself out, and taehyung’s banging on every door trying to find the room you’ve hidden yourself in. he’s looking for you in corners and around bends and in nooks and crannies, trying to figure out where you’ve hidden yourself this time around, because he cares about you. he worries about you. he knows he might not know you the best, but god, he wants to. but you won’t let him. 

it aches, to see you pull into yourself. to watch you work yourself to the bone, until you’re so tired you could collapse. yet you say nothing of it. neither the work nor the feelings that smother you; you keep all of it sealed tight under lock and key. the lock is shaped with your blinding smile and taehyung has spent years trying to find the goddamn key. 

he hates that you always tell him you’re fine. that you always tell him not to worry. that your smile is just convincing enough that he can’t argue, can’t push hard enough for you to waver and cave, confess what he knows is true. 

he can see how much you’re hurting, and you still won’t let him in. 

.

.

.

you honestly wondered how long you could keep this up. it’s not like you can call on yoongi this time to help you dodge sky and taehyung, considering he’s been blowing up your phone trying to pry an answer out of you. yoongi’s a little better at reading people than the rest of your hometown friends, and the fact that you haven’t shown face to him or hoseok yet is a little too telling for him. 

you opt for just ignoring his messages lately instead. 

(note: yoongi is not amused by this.) 

your luck runs out on you, naturally, on a day that you are more exhausted than usual. your shift ran over and you were definitely a hazard on the road driving home. you genuinely consider taking a nap in your car before heading in, except it’s fucking cold and there’s no way you’re leaving your car on to burn gas just so you don’t have to physically move. 

that’s how taehyung catches you. he’s sitting on the curb outside his house and when you finally manage to drag yourself out of your car, he stands, catching you off guard. 

“you’re home late,” he comments casually, but the way his brows knit tight together gives away his worry. you shrug. 

“long day.” 

you step towards your house, and he doesn’t stop you, just follows behind. “sun.” 

you’re so tired. you lower your head while your back is still facing him, trying not to be agitated by his presence. but you just want to lay down. you just want to take a shower and pass the fuck out. you don’t want to face your demons, and you definitely don’t want to face them in the form of a conversation led by kim taehyung. 

with a deep inhale, you turn to face him. “yeah, tae?” 

there it is. that look you keep trying to avoid, pretty brown eyes revealing all his emotions, because unlike you, taehyung isn’t scared of them. all his concern, his care, everything he’s wondering about you is laid open on his face, but if he’s not asking them out loud, then you’re definitely not answering them. 

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip nervously, and he struggles a little with what he wants to say. you wait, as patiently as you can, and briefly ponder whether he can see your eyebags actively getting worse by the minute or if you’re just tired enough to feel like they are. 

when he continues to say nothing, you rub your forehead and scrunch your face a bit. “taehyung, i-” 

“wait,” it comes out a little desperate, and he flounders a little, which is unlike him. he breathes out a steady breath. “i…” his eyes fall to the scarf looped around your neck. you wear it every day now, cradled by its warmth and familiar scent. “was just… looking for my scarf.” 

it’s an excuse to keep you here and you know it. but it still takes you aback, face contorting into a frown almost immediately, and you can see the regret on taehyung’s face just as instantly. your hand comes up to grasp at it, but you don’t move to take it off, instead clutching it a little too tightly. 

it doesn’t belong to you. it’s taehyung’s. he’s asking for it back. 

he’s starting to panic, but you don’t really notice it so much as the rush in your ears. you hold onto it, entire body tense, like you’re geared to run any second now just to keep it with you another day. 

“shit. wait. that’s not - you can keep the scarf, sun, that’s not really what i came for. i promise. i didn’t - you can keep it. please keep it. i just -” he scrubs at his face, frustrated, shaking his head, clearing it. when he lowers his hands, he looks calmer, adjusted, but there’s still too much in the way he looks at you for you to bear. 

“sun,” he starts again, gentler this time. “i’m just worried about you. we’re all worried about you. you’re working so much, and you come home so late, and you look so tired. i know you think we don’t notice, but we do, and - you don’t have to work so hard, sun.” 

anything else he says is lost after that. you don’t have to work so hard, sun. your head spins, everything sounds muffled, and every emotion you’ve tamped down shoots straight through you, hard and fast. 

“do not fucking talk to me about working hard, taehyung,” your voice comes out like steel, and whatever he was in the middle of saying cuts short, taehyung startled into silence. you look at him with borderline disdain, scoffing. “i-” you shut your eyes, trying to calm your temper. but the waves keep rising and if you don’t want to say something you’ll regret, you need to leave. “i’m going home, taehyung. you should too.” 

you turn around. you don’t want to have this conversation. you don’t want taehyung’s worry and you don’t want anyone else’s, either. you don’t do well with confrontation, you don’t do well with letting people in, and you don’t do well with people making empty promises telling you that you can rely on them. 

people like sky and taehyung, live their lives so comfortably. in every moment, everything they say and do, they make it so abundantly clear that they were loved to the fullest as kids, and continue to be loved. that their family had the ability to shield them instead of needing them to grow up too fast, like you did. it makes you resentful, sometimes. you hate that part of you the most. 

but the anger is so much easier to manage than the hurt. the anger is so much easier to feel than the jealousy. 

“sun-” 

“what?” you whirl around at his voice, voice so fierce he almost takes a step back. “what, taehyung. what do you want?” 

you’ve never looked at him like this before. you’ve never let the smile slip from your face. taehyung’s part of your inner circle, he’s always had the privilege of seeing your free laughter, be on the receiving end of your playful jibes. he gets to see you without restraints, without guards. but now you glare at him like you don’t even know him, like he hasn’t been there for almost every step of your life. 

except he hasn’t. he only knows that side of you, the side that’s bright, content, the side that lives to please. he’s gotten glimpses of the version of you that’s exhausted, the version you kept so neatly tucked away in dark houses and latchkeys. but never really because you chose to let him witness what it means to be you behind your brilliant smiles and easy-going jokes. the best he has to see that side of you are the rumors that swirl and follow you around. 

when he stays silent, you advance towards him. “what do you know, taehyung? be fucking for real. what do you really know? you live the definition of a white picket fence family, you have everything. do you even realize what you grew up with? your - your fucking - packed lunches and juice boxes and 6:30pm dinners and-” your hands wave around, gesturing to nothing, and taehyung doesn’t think it even hits you that you’re crying by now, tears welling helplessly in your eyes as you go, “all the times someone was there to pick you up at the bus stop, or make you breakfast in the morning, take care of you when you were sick, taehyung - you have no fucking idea! you don’t know what it’s like! to be scared in your own house because no one’s home to protect you, to be lonely in a place you’re supposed to call home, to know that every decision you make, everything you do, it has to be worth something - i don’t have to work so hard? i have no fucking choice, taehyung, so tell me what the fuck it is you really think you know, because you don’t!” 

you end in an explosion, breathless, in tears, shaking. that’s when the recognition settles into your features, trembling hands lifting to wipe at your tears, scrub them away. it feels hard to breathe, chest tight, and your head lowers, eyes growing distant as the fight starts to leave you. the exhaustion returns, draining all the anger out of you. 

you stare at some aimless spot on the ground, tired. “you don’t know,” you repeat, voice almost inaudible. your eyes slowly lift to his, and there it is - your defense mechanism, ruined; you give him a broken smile. “i never wanted you to.” 

the way you say it is heartbreaking. he can see something shatter in your eyes. his lips part but the words fail to come, feeling all of your anger and grief and hurt all at once. he’s never seen it as plainly as he does now, written all over your face. you look away, and your smile falls, useless, now. 

and then you’re gone. you trudge back into your house, and by the time taehyung figures out how to move again, it’s too late. your front door is closed and locked, and he doesn’t know where to go from here. 

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

#taehyung x you #taehyung x yn #taehyung x reader #taehyung angst #taehyung #series: tsns #series: kths

[groovinbilly]

the one where billy and eddie are besties and chrissy thinks she's a cunning girl (harringrove)

“Are you gonna be an asshole about it?” Steve crosses his arms and looks wary of Billy. And in all fairness, Billy can't pass up the opportunity to antagonize Steve. It's in his nature. But he's learning to not cross the line. Not with Steve.

Eddie is doing a terrible job of pretending to mind his own business. But he can see him shaking his head, amused. Billy wants to throw him off the bench and run away with his goodies box.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, princess” he says amid smokes. He is about to get up and take with him Billy's chance to keep staring at his stupid pretty face. Jesus. "I have said nothing"

"Yeah, well, we all know you're not exactly the embodiment of kindness" Steve says. Billy makes an exaggerated face of apparent offense. Eddie snorts, throwing away his intention of feigning disinterest.

“Alright, Stevie. I’m not gonna be an asshole, cross my heart” he says with unusual seriousness. Steve is growing out his hair, strands falling over his eyes. But Billy can see Steve looking at him, almost sheepishly. Steve is not a shy person. "What do you want, tiger?"

Steve runs his fingers through his hair and after a pause that has Billy captivated by Steve's hair's ability to take on different shapes, he blurts "I hear that you have a small business running here."

“You mean, Munson?" Billy asks, pointing to his friend. Eddie is leaning against the table with one hand to his cheek, and his gaze darts from Billy to Steve as if he's watching an interesting tennis match. The idiot.

“No, no” Steve says quickly. “I don’t mean that” He shoots a quick glance at Eddie who points to the pot box. Billy frowns, looking around him. The old table in the clearing behind the school is where you get the finest weed you can pay for. Billy is just a new addition to Eddie's makeshift office.

Steve clears his throat a bit and gives him an expectant look. "The other business," he says moving his hand. As if that meant anything to Billy.

“I don't follow” Billy drops his cigarette to the floor and looks back at him, confused.

“Me neither,” Eddie quips, but no one pays attention to him.

"Jeez" says Steve exasperated "You're gonna make me say it"

"Say what?" Billy wants to shake him up so he can stop beating around the bush. As he prepares to light another cigarette, Steve abruptly opens his backpack.

A crumpled sheet of paper with almost illegible handwriting appears in front of him. "What’s this?”

Steve gives him an unimpressed look. “My essay for English”

"OK? Good for you?” Billy puts the cig pack back and examines the sheet.

“Funny” Steve crosses his arms again and reluctantly says “Chrissy told me you could write me an essay for a few bucks.”

“Wh-” Eddie's coughing fit interrupts Billy, he's choking on his own saliva. Billy feels his ears burn as he slaps his friend's back a bit too harshly. "Chrissy told you that?" Billy squawks.

"Yeah" says Steve looking at the scene, doubtful. "She said you helped her a lot with her essays and her grades. She even told me you sometimes tutor."

The more Steve says, the more Eddie chokes. Billy's whole face is burning. Fucking Chrissy.

"Is there something wrong?" Steve looks lost, and Billy wishes Cunningham had given him a heads up. She can't just throw these curves at him without a warning.

“Oh, Chrissy girl,” Eddie says in awe, gathering up his things once the choking hazard has passed. "See ya, lovebirds" he says before vanishing into the paths leading back to the school before Billy could throw a rock at him.

"What was that?" when Billy doesn't respond immediately, his expression falls. “Okay, I get it,” and ripping the essay from Billy's fingers, he gets up to leave. Again.

Billy has two seconds to react and take the sheet from Steve. "Calm down a bit," he says before Steve can respond. Even though he can't read a damn thing, he examines the page. “Sometimes I do favors for Chrissy, you know, as a friend,” he says nonchalantly, turning the page to see more of Steve's cramped small handwriting.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

"I'll pay you." Steve says resolutely as if Billy needs more encouragement. "Money is not an issue, really." Steve still thinks he needs to convince Billy. Sometimes the kid can be clueless, Eddie had told him.

Billy assumes a business-like posture and laces his fingers. "Deadline?"

"Friday, second period,"

"That's close" being Wednesday afternoon. As far as he could read, Steve has attempted to write about basketball and the fear of public speaking. With no apparent connection. "What's the topic?"

"Uh, clearly how sports can help you overcome anxiety," he says, pointing to his essay. Billy nods. Right. He looks at his watch and figures that the library is closing for today, but tomorrow he has 1 hour before picking up Max. Enough to put together a draft. He can do the rest at home.

"Alright" he says putting the sheet in his backpack. Steve looks at him expectantly. "What"

"Are you able to, uh, can you at least get me a B+?" says sheepish. Billy can get him an A+ if that's what he wants. "I need to step up my game, but it has to be realistic."

“You got it. Not too clean, right?" Steve relaxes his posture and laughs. Billy is star-struck for a moment.

“Right.”

The sky has darkened, and the breeze has gotten colder. The noise coming from the school has subsided and Billy has to find Max.

"Well, I'm off then," says Steve, as if they hadn't spent the last few minutes staring stupidly into each other's faces in silence. Billy coughs and tells me too.

Steve is the first to leave, but stops when he reaches the line that separates the clearing from the rest of the forest. "Uh, if you can, maybe, you know." Steve is moving his hands again. Billy waits patiently. “If you have the time, can you help me with other subjects? You know, tutoring?” Billy says nothing for a while, and when Steve frowns, Billy forces himself to speak.

"Uh, sure, man," he hangs up his backpack and walks over to Steve. “Just say the time”

They both walk in silence to the parking lot. It's uncomfortable but bearable. After all, Steve and Billy aren't exactly friends. Not to mention that Billy has the fattest crush in history since he entered Hawkins High. Too bad King Steve doesn't play for his team.

Chrissy Cunningham has no business making him hopeful.

“See ya” Steve says with a pat on his back as he reaches for his Beemer. Billy nods and walks briskly over to his Camaro with a pounding heart. He is truly fucked.

Later, when Billy puts on his glasses to decipher Steve's hieroglyphs, this is his reaction:

#harringrove #harringrove fic #no upside down #eddie & billy #billy x steve #billy is just the new guy in town #and eddie took him under his wing #chrissy just want to help #she knows something #steve just need help #billy has a reputation #and steve is a little wary of him #but billy is just rough around the edges #he's a good boy #my writting #hellcheer #implied eddie x chrissy

[likesunsetorange]

bodyguard au snippet

lol i'm rewriting the club scene (mostly staying the same but adding a bit) and this little piece of dialogue made me chuckle i love making mikasa so funny she really is ruining eren's life lmao

“Hi, Eren,” she quips, the corners of her mouth upturned and the pink of her lips sparkling under the lights from her gloss, painting her words almost as pretty as she is. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” she adds innocently after in between absentminded stirs of her drink. It’s clear Eren’s presence poses no threat to her; she knows her fun is soon to come to an end, but it’s clear she’s enjoying this little tryst of hers. 

Eren can feel his eye twitch at her lack of gravity for the situation, he struggles to hold onto the last remaining bit of sanity he has within him. As someone who feels almost painfully apathetic about almost everything, he can’t remember the last time he’d felt so intensely about anything, but in this moment, Mikasa had him particularly vexed. In the week since meeting her, Mikasa had quickly become an expert in just exactly how to get under his skin, something few could truly do. 

Eren takes a deep breath before he speaks, trying not to let his jaw clench through every word—he had no desire to waste any more time for her silly games. “We’re leaving, Mikasa,” he orders, any previous trace of empathy within him nowhere to be found. 

Her face falls, eyes going a bit wide and her mouth forming into a pout—it makes Eren sick to himself how he almost wants to succumb to her petty wishes, too. “You’re no fun, don’t you wanna stay a while?” She muses. Her free hand runs along the curve of his bicep as she continues speaking, her eyes sultry, asking for him to cave in—she really is the devil. “C’mon, Eren, loosen up a bit. I think you could use a break.” 

Eren can feel the chills run down his spine at her touch, but he wouldn’t fall for her act a second time, no matter how pretty she may be. He shakes his head, attempting to regain clarity and remember why he’s here in the first place—she drugged him—the anger within him begins to resurface at the thought.

“You really think I want to just loosen up? You have a lot of fucking audacity trying to play these little games with me still, Mikasa,” he scoffs. “First, you spend the entire week insulting me and treating me like absolute shit. Next, you pretend to be nice to me, even bothering to give me a sorry ass apology, and then you drug me? And you couldn’t even bother to use something useful? Benadryl?” He says trying to be heard over the music, his words starting off in anger, but quickly transitioning almost into that of disbelief, an angry chuckle emitting from his lips.

“What? You didn’t want to be visited by the Hat Man? Heard it’s kind of fun actually,” she jests, clearly amused at his outburst. “Did he tell you anything funny? Or are you just still seeing all the black spots?”

He stares at her in disbelief, if he wasn’t so angry, he might’ve laughed at her joke, but the rage continues to push through due to her sheer level of audacity. “Not only are you terrible, but your parents are drowning in money, and you decided to knock me out with over-the-counter drugs? I guess I wasn’t worth the effort of seeking out actual drugs?” Eren says, clearly taken aback.

Rather than dispute him, Mikasa simply rolls her eyes before finally setting her drink onto the counter behind her, seemingly finally growing tired of her game and their petty back and forth. “Sorry for being considerate and not drugging you with actual drugs, Eren. Next time, I’ll remember to go for the hard stuff—don’t you worry.”

“Glad you’re so sweet, Mikasa. I should be so thankful to have a boss as considerate as you,” he pipes back, glaring down at her. “Now, let’s go.”

#bodyguard au #eremika #she's so funny i love her #i am her biggest supporter even if she is a villain lowkey LMFAO #the hat man joke whoever reminded me of that i love u btw #vic’s wips

[gingersnapwolves]

Kouri watches Shadow and Bone 2.08

KAZ GIVING NIKOLAI HIS CANE

“Well, this all looks terrible”

MY MAN! HE DID THAT!

Inej just slicing and dicing those shadow monsters like hell fucking yes

Oh shut the fuck up Kirigan

If I had a nickel every time Alina stabbed Kirigan with a blade she had because Inej had previously thrown it, I’d have two nickels. It’s not much, but it’s weird that it happened twice.

What’s a little light necromancy between friends

KAZ READS POETRY

Ugh Kaz wanted to hug her so bad

(Jesper and Inej are so cute though)

FIVE OF CR - *CAWING SOUND*

I just about fucking died

Kaz and Nina bonding!

Kaz offering to help her!

I still don’t even know what happened to David. Like, the shadow monsters didn’t completely swallow anyone else. There’s this lingering shot on the dumbwaiter door like I’m supposed to see something there which will tell me what happened but I don’t??? Where is David????? They all assume he’s dead, but why? She can’t hear his heartbeat but maybe he went somewhere else??? 

My wife turned to me and said, “Did Jet just die?” and I cracked up

Really looked like Alina was gonna plunk that torch down right on Darkling’s crotch

I’m sorry but Darkling’s funeral scene is so funny to me because why are the crows even there lmao. They’re just awkwardly hanging out in the background and sort of wander off at the end? I’m crying

Kanej hurts so goooooooooooood

I don’t hate the way Tolya looks at Inej here. But I can’t wait for him to ask what’s up between her and Kaz and give them the same treatment he gave Wesper.

“Tolya, how’s it looking?” “Sexy, but not like we’re trying to, like, we’re trying, but it’s almost effortless”

The best book-to-show change is this bit with Matthias and the wolves

I think Nina should get to murder Pekka Rollins. As a treat.

Kaz’s cane upgrade!!!!!

Oh my God I actually forgot this dime-store Rasputin existed

Love how Nikolai decides this is a good time to strip and look at his injury

‘Not until the Apparat drapes me in a dead animal and bonks me with a scepter’ Nikolai ilusm

Alina’s dress is so gorgeous

ICE COURT ICE COURT ICE COURT

(But how can we do ice court without Inej? Who’s gonna call Inej and say they need her help?)

Fascinated by what they’re doing here. I mean, it makes sense. They wrote separate storylines to involve the crows in the SaB trilogy so it would make sense they’d write separate storylines for Alina and those characters to be involved in the SoC duology. But like, damn. Yikes. Big yikes.

#liveblog #shadow and bone #kouri watches shadow and bone