#Also for a moment I was too worried I wrote the beginning too much dramatic then I remembered it was Zuko so that is fine

[kanene-yaaay]

Childish Fights and Loud Laughter

Kanene’s notes: For some reason I am going back to my old fandoms? dfghyygtfdf anyway I re-watched atla once again last month and finally got some time and energy to write a tickle fic for it! Yesh!!!!

Warnings: Zuko’s general grumpiness, but only that. Switch!Zuko and Switch!Aang. I have no idea when that happens but it’s before the Sozin’s Comet. Around 3500 words.

[~*~]

Aang was staring at him.

Not that being stared at was something new in his life. Zuko grew rather accustomed to it, being the first heir of the Firelord and having a gigantic scar that covers half of your face usually made you the most interesting person in a crowd.

Still, it didn't mean that Zuko had to like it. Actually, he didn’t even understand why Aang was paying such a close attention to him now. After months of being friends, he should already be used to Zuko's presence in their group. Was he having second thoughts about accepting him as his teacher? Why? Was it because of the mistake in their morning training? 

It wasn’t even a gigantic thing. Aang just got a way too light hit in his side that made him lose his concentration of his firebending and flinch away from the strange, electric sensation on his side.

(If that told him something about Aang's improvement or about Zuko's own lack of skills it was unclear.)

In the end, the reason for the staring didn't matter. It wouldn't be the first time Zuko would lose everything for a single mistake. He just needed to prove to the Avatar that he was still a worthy ally and teacher.

He got up.

"Break's time is over. Come on, let's spar and then run through your katas again. From first to tenth." 

As always, the authority in his voice made Aang immediately jump to his feet, although no more moves were made to follow the instructions, the boy was still watching him for something.

"What!" He bristled.

"Did you injure your side?"

"With your weak hit? You just got me off guard, that is all." Zuko readied himself in an offensive stance, beginning his attack. "Let's see if you can do it again, and no more holding back your punches. You won't have this mercy when it comes to the Firelord."

"I know, I know." But instead of the defeated look that always took over the younger's face every time he mentioned his father, Aang's expression quickly bounced back to a curious expression, dodging from his flames and attacks with fluid moves (it was both weird and interesting to see how much fo the other elements affected his actions even when he wasn't using his bending). 

"Are you sure you're not injured, though? You did jump pretty high back there."

Zuko felt like there was something hidden in the other’s voice. A kind of light reflected in his eyes, a different way that he seemed not worried at all in trying to fight back, an extra bounce in his step. 

And for some reason, now the Avatar keeps smiling at him. Which, when the subject was about how he possibly was or not injured, didn't make Zuko very confident about his safety.

"I am not hurt." Irritation began filling his words. "Take this seriously! Fight back!"

"I will! I will! I am just curious, why did you jump away?"

"For no reason! It doesn't matter."

"No one squeals and jumps away for no reason." Was he getting closer?

"I did not squeal!" Zuko widened his stance and with a circling gesture, moved his arms until his palms were facing the ground, ceasing the fire attacks before adjusting himself to a standing position. "And if you rather keep mocking me than really focusing on your training, then I suppose that you can continue mastering your firebending alone."

He turned away, feeling strangely out of place, before fast steps put Aang right in front of him, arms in a placating gesture and his expression full of alarm and a bit of regret.

"No, wait! I wasn't mocking you, I swear." Aang then took a respectful stance and bowed, with his thumb poking out from his closed fist resting on his open palm. "Please don’t give up from me yet, Sifu Ho-" at Zuko's glare, he bit back the 'hotman'. "Uhhhhh, Sifu Zuko."

The older one took a deep breath, wondering if his uncle also felt the same feeling of old all the times Zuko kept pushing his proper training off to complain about capturing the Avatar and restoring his honor.

Life really comes to a full cycle, doesn't it?

He bowed, as well, mirroring Aang's gesture and respect, letting his usual irritation wash away, a common pinch of guilt that always came when he let his angry outbursts control his decisions appearing once again.

His point still stands, though.

"Alright." His tune was tough, but not unkind, a soft kind of relaxation taking over his gestures. He should at least try to have the same patience as his uncle. "Let's try again. Firs-"

"I am just really curious!" Aang cut him, basically bouncing on the same place, his energetic big smile back to his face now that the misunderstanding had been cleared. "If you're not injured, does that mean you're ticklish?"

For some reason, Aang seemed about to launch himself straight to the sky with how much he was beaming. In a blink, Zuko remembered old memories of his and his mother's laughter, of Lu Ten's surprise attacks and Mai's playful touches before he threw everything away to fulfill his own destiny.

And, in another bewildered blink, abruptly, Aang's smile and actions made complete sense. Zuko looked at him with wide eyes.

"I-"

Before the prince could answer, however, the avatar jumped at him, not wasting a single second as he locked on his sides with a horrible scribbling that made he feel like there was thousands of feathers teasing his sensitive torso, following his body even when the surprise attack made him fall on his back, holding his reactions with all his will power.

"I knew it. You are!" The scribbling quickly evolved to a series of light pinches and squeezes that almost made him jump away as they traveled too much close to his stomach, giggles beginning to bubble in his throat. "I can't believe you never told us about it before!"

"W-why-" He bit back a squeal, refusing to fall for such childish play. "Why would I snkr e-ever tell you tha-ah!" 

Aang beamed even more at the muffled yelp that came when he experimentally scratched at his belly, deciding that it was a perfect place to dance and wiggle his fingers freely. 

"Because it is fun! And it would be nice to see your smile. I don't think we ever heard you truly laugh since you joined the group!"

"I don't need to laugh." He gritted through his firmly pressed lips, turning his face away, feeling his features getting hot at the hopeful and bright expression from Aang at the giddiness slipping through the tears in his barriers. "We need to t-t-train. Don't!"

Zuko maybe, if he wasn’t totally concentrated in not dying because anywhere - absolutely any other place - would be better than that spot, would definitely feel mortified by the honest to Agni high pitched plea that fled from his mouth when the other poked his bellybutton curiously.

Aang smiled even wider, somehow.

"You also have a ticklish bellybutton?" He poked the tickle spot again and again, giggling in delight when Zuko wiggled from one side to another with even the slightest hint of a touch. "Just like Sokka! He would go totally crazy when we tickled his belly. Katara even had this secret technique she did when..." Suddenly, he stopped.

Zuko could see the exact moment the Avatar got an evil idea.

"No.” Aang didn’t move. “Don’t you even think about it!" 

He tried to roll away, legs too weak to help him in a chase. Nevertheless, the other's playful hands followed him, pulling him back and straddling his waist so he could rest his index fingers and thumbs at each side of his bellybutton, making Zuko take a wobbly gulp of oxygen.

"Aang-" He tried to push the hands away but the Avatar was as immovable as a rock, grinning at him a tad manically. "Aang, I am g-going to make you do so many katas you will keep doing them in your sleep! Don't you dare!"

The Avatar, the bridge between the spiritual world, the one responsible to bring peace and balance to the four nations, the only one in the world able to master all the elements, the agent of evil snickered and did, in fact, dare.

For Zuko's complete mortification and immediate defeat, he began squeezing.

It was horrible. It was unbearable. Each squeeze made his entire body spasm with the sheer force of keeping his laughter inside, face growing more and more red as the tickling just did not stop.

That was when Aang's voice cut through air.

"Hey, actually, this gives me an idea! Wanna see a cool trick?" Zuko shook his head and Aang laughed. "Okay, I will show you anyway! It goes like this: 'Hello, I'm Mister Bellybutton and I am supeeeeeer ticklish!"

He was squeezing said tickle spot as if it was a mouth, pretending it was speaking and even making a goofy voice for it as if they were both tiny kids and not the future firelord and the one destined to end a one hundred year war, full of responsibilities and posture to uphold and Zuko…

"Squish! Squish, squish, squish, squishsquishsquishsquish-"

Zuko exploded in a loud, boisterous laughter. 

"S-SHUHUHUHUT AHAHAHAHAHAP!"

Whether it was for the sheer absurdity of it all, the awful and playful impersonation of a silly voice or the tickly shocks that filled all his nerves and senses he couldn't say. Actually, other than becoming a mess of laughter and sounds that were supposed to be words but were too lost in crackles to be understood, he wasn’t able to say much.

"Oh my god!!! Zuko, this is your laughter?! It's so nice! I can't believe we never tried to tickle you before!"

Zuko realized that he couldn’t do anything to stop the unfair tickle attack on his stomach, especially when Aang focused on using his other fingers to prod the sensitive skin and buzz on it, pulling a series of startled snorts that made the prince immediately hide his flaming face on his hands.

"Noooo, come on, not fair! You can't hide your smile, that is against the rules!"

"THEHEHEHERE'S NO RUHULES!"

"Of course there it is! Every tickle fight has rules. Like: no hiding your smile, no covering your face, and especially…"

The younger relented his attack giggling together with the other's remnant and uncontrollable titters as Zuko tried to recompose himself, feeling yet still a bit dazed with the sudden joy and adrenaline that were still running in his veins.

Wait. Why was it so quiet? Aang was saying something, wasn't he?

"Never leave a tickle spot unprotected unless you want it to be tickled!"

Suddenly fingers began kneading his ribs and Zuko's arms shot down in a too late attempt to protect them, a loud yelp announcing the comeback of an unstoppable mix of fast, airy giggles and eventual squeaks that didn’t wait to mingle in such a rare and beautiful melody. 

"Here is it!" Zuko wasn't sure how, but he could swear that Aang somehow got more than two hands, because in a blink the wiggling fingers that were prodding and drawing circles on his ribcage were not only assaulting his neck and ears with a skillful spidering scratches and nimbly scribbling but also, even before he could lift his arms and try to pry them from there before another high pitched chortle came out of his mouth, were worming and digging awfully on his armpits, obliging him to clue his arms to his sides once more and starting the whole cycle started again and again.

No spot was left without a proper, tickly and tingly attention. Every squeeze on his knees, scratch on his soles, kneading on his sides and light tapping on his palms (how did he even discover about his palms-) pulled all sorts of loud crackles, bubbly giggles, bouncy titters, wobbly squirms, tired kicks and a boisterous belly laughter that left him without energy, a "stop" ready in the tip of his tongue when the younger decided that it was enough and relented the energetic tickle attack.

The prince of the Fire Nation turned around, still giggling, still blushing and still feeling the ghost feeling of dancing fingers buzzing right under his skin, leaving a permanent giant smile on his face.

He wiped the few tears that accumulated on the corner of his eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to not get embarrassed by the couple of giggles that continued to fill the air.

"See, I told you it was fun!" Aang snickered. "I didn't expect you to be so ticklish, though. You're almost as bad as meEEK!"

With a swift roll and quick reflexes Zuko jumped and pushed - not necessarily gently but also not with all his strength - the Avatar down, pinning his arms upwards with a hand.

Wide grey eyes stared at him, a drop of alarm on them.

"Uhhhh, Zuko, you're not really angry are you? It’s just that you never said to stop and-"

Zuko lifted his hand and with a gasp, the other cut his babbling.

He began wiggling his fingers.

"Almost as bad as you, you say?"

"Waitwaitwait!" Aang kicked and laughed joyfully, suddenly free of any drop of fear in his gaze as he wiggled like a madman on his hold, trying with all his might to put as much distance as he could from the offending silly fingers. 

Seeing the older one loosening up was rare, but to see him loosen up, smile and be playful on the same day? Aang felt like he was the luckiest person in the world. He couldn’t wait to tell everyone else about how nice Zuko's laughter is. 

I mean, if he survived the payback. Aang tried to lightly pull his arms back, but the grip was firm. He watched with trepidation the hand that was getting closer and closer to his sides, sucking his belly as much as he could.

Golden and gray eyes found each other for a moment.

Zuko stopped, his tiny smirk being overthrown by a frown and Aang felt his arms being freed. 

The butterflies in his belly stopped batting their wings and the smile on his face fell. He tried to not feel too disappointed.

They would eventually get Zuko to participate in more of their shenanigans. One day. When he was ready. Even if today wasn't the day, he still got him to laugh.

An unbearable light feeling on his palm made the shorter yelp and jump away, one of his wrists being held back before he could pull it to his chest.

Golden and gray found each other again. Zuko smiled triumphantly.

"I knew it." He said, and Aang watched with a giddy feeling as blunt nails began scribbling on his palm, following the lines of his hands, drawing on the tip of fingers, contouring and spiraling across the entire sensitive skin to his wrists. Soon enough, his airy, fast and giggly snickers were filling the space, amidst his wiggles and half-heartedly attempts to pull his arm away. "I was wondering how did you discovered about my hands. It's because yours are sensitive as well."

"Yehehehes!" An 'eee' sound stretched the word and he snorted, kicking and squirming more, his other hand flapping non stop in an attempt to free himself of all the energy running in his veins. "Ihihihi realized that when I stahaharted to bend firehehe. It makes them so ticklihihish!"

"Must be rough for you." 

"Hehey! But yours are ahahahalso tick- no!" 

Not minding the other's protest, Zuko lifted the captured arm and attacked the unprotected armpit, being careful to tase and drum his fingers in every available inch of skin, feeling extremely smug at the shriek he got from the Avatar with the drastic change from such a soft to more playful tickle attack, his squirming getting so strong that he pushed himself back to a sitting position.

"BWAHAHAHA! NOHOHOT THERE!"

Zuko remembered something Lu Ten used to do with him all the time. It was childish and silly and not at all fitting for the future Firelord, but it used to drive Zuko over the palace’s walls all the time, and if Aang had at least half of his reaction…

He was just really glad that they went to train in a far area alone.

"What? Not here?" He made sure to focus on the weakest spot of the pit, poking and digging there for a good measure. "Not right here? Are you sure?"

"YESYESYES! IHIHIT'S TOHOHOHO BAHAHAD!"

"OK then." The tickling came to a stop.

Aang continued to laugh softly at the attack, his smile big and wobbly and eyes shining with excitement. "Wohohow, you're ruthless."

Zuko merely hummed in reply, watching him for the exact moment where he would relax and lower his guard…

Now.

"Hm, I changed my mind." He went right back at the merciless attack.

"SIFU HOHOHOHOTMAN, NOHOHO!"

"And stop calling me that! Do you like being tickled, by chance? Becoming a mess of laughter and squeals?"

"Yehehehehes!"

Zuko blinked, the tickling faltering for a bit and fishing a mess of tittering and soft squealing before resuming his quicker pace. "Really?….Why?"

"Ihihihit's fun!" Aang squealed and arched his back when Zuko got bored and decided to worm his fingers to his back ribs, spidering and stretching on the space in between each bone. For a piece of moment nothing but laughter filled his mind, thoughts and senses and all Aang could do was squeal until his mind got a bit clearer. 

"You like it too!"

The shout that came out from the prince's lips was a mix of embarrassment and surprise. "I do not!" 

"Do too!"

"Shut it!" The playful glint on the other's eyes only got stronger at the color flooding once again Zuko's cheeks. He grumbled in a grump protest. "If you can still tease me then I am not doing a good job. You must have a death spot somewhere, don't you?" He held the boy by his shoulder, starting to wiggle and prod his back in a search.

It was a good thing that his hand was still keeping the boy still because as soon as the sentence came out from his mouth the other began wiggling like his life was on the line.

"Wait, wait, Zuko! Not there! You can tickle my hands again or even my sides, they're pretty bad, but, wait!"

"Is your back really that ticklish or-" Zuko's teasing was cut when he pressed the highest space in between his shoulderblades (being very careful to not accidentally touch the scar) and, after a loud shout, an extremely low belly laughter filled the air.

"NOHOHOHO!"

He stopped. Aang stopped, hands flying to hide his mouth. 

"That was you?"

"No, of course not!" With a muffled voice the Avatar tried to wiggle away from the touch, only the tip of his smile appearing behind his palm. "What was what? I didn't hear a thing. Ah! It’s getting so late, I think that Katara is calling meeEEEHEHEHE!"

Zuko pressed once again at the middle of his shoulder blades, thumb incessantly tasering on the same spot as he watched with drops of surprise and amusement as the youngest usual higher voice became much lower and stronger, his guffaws making his entire torso beam with the force of the laughter.

"Your voice gets rougher when someone tickles your back?" Poke, poke, poke, prod, tase, tase. "How does that even work?"

"NOHOHOHO! LEHEHEHEHEHEAVE THAT SPOT ALOHOHONE, PLEHEHEHEASE!"

Seeing that the boy seemed unable to stop bouncing in the same place with the sheer amount of ticklishness and energy running across his entire torso, Zuko decided to listen to him, stopping his tickles and eyeing his lower back with curiosity.

If just that tiny spot on his shoulder blades were so bad he wondered if his spine…

With an only one index finger, the older one ran the tip of the finger across Aang's spine.

He got exactly to the middle of it before the airbender shot straight to the sky with a high pitched, ear splitting squeal.

Zuko quickly jumped to a standing position, wide eyes searching the sky until his gaze finally found the hope of the world, the bridge between the material and the spiritual world, clutching his belly and historically giggling while kicking the air just like a kid in a tantrum, floating from a side to another, way too lost in ghost tickles and tittering snorts to control his airbending and stop spinning in the air with each laugh.

The future firelord sighed, ignoring how fond he felt for being the one responsible in making the smaller look as happy as this.

He forced his face to go back to his usual scowl, even if a playful, silly kind of feeling softened most of it and even when the entire gang already knew how to see right through it.

"Your training is not over yet, stop fooling around and come back! You still have to do katas until sunset."

Aang's remanent joyful laugh rang like a bell across the air. Somehow, Zuko felt like they wouldn’t do a lot of training today.

#I am once again looking at the prince of the darkness and the ray of sunshine and being obsessed w their friendship #you can pry a giggly silly Aang from my dead cold hands. that bean deserves so muchtickles fr <3 #Switch!Aang #Switch!Zuko #Ticklish!Zuko #Ticklish!Aang #atla tickles #atla tickling #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #Me: *uses 'airy' to describe Aang's laughter* I am the master of puns. I am unstoppable. I am silliest silly to ever silly #Also for a moment I was too worried I wrote the beginning too much dramatic then I remembered it was Zuko so that is fine #kjhgtfrfghjkjhgf #T H E M <3 <3 <3 #Zuko: this is childish >:( // Aang: We ARE children >:)

[maochira]

hi!!! I don't know if the requests are open now, but if they are, could you do a script of how kaiser and ness (and maybe grim and gesner) propose to the reader?? thanks in advance!!!💜💜💜

I can do all four! I wrote this with Kunigami, Chigiri, Aryu and Barou a while ago btw! Oh also, my requests are always open :]

Requests open! - masterlist

Tags: gn!reader, established relationship, fluff

Kaiser wanted to make sure the proposal would be an absolute surprise. He spent three months planning the entire thing behind your back. He wanted to do all of it by himself, but for some parts, he needed the help of a few close friends and advice from his parents. Speaking of parents, even if he didn't need to, he still asked your parents if they were okay with him proposing to you. Although, he mainly did it to keep up with the perfect impression he always gives off to your parents. But there was also a little part of him that was slightly insecure. Nothing he'd ever admit, though. And for full three months, he planned the proposal behind your back. Out of nowhere on a random day, Kaiser tells you to wear something nice and that he's going to take you out on a special date. It's something he does fairly often, so no big surprise at first. And even when he takes you to the park where you had your first date, you don't think much of it at all. As the moment approaches, Kaiser doesn't seem to get nervous either. And when he does get on his knee and pulls out the ring, you're in tears immediately because he picked out the perfect ring that you only ever dreamed of. So of course, you're saying "Yes I do!" before he even gets to ask the question. But at the same time, you're wondering how he managed to keep his mouth shut for this long and how you didn't find out even a little detail by accident.

This actually isn't going to be Ness' first proposal, it's going to be his second. The first time he proposed, you said no. But to be fair, it was only a few months into the relationship when you were barely out of the honeymoon phase and just getting used to how the relationship worked properly. Back then, Ness was already so sure that you were the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, so he proposed when he got the chance. He did have a ring back then, and even though you said no he still wanted you to keep it. It's still a cute little reminder of how much Ness has loved you since the beginning. And even throughout the next few years of the relationship, Ness often had to suppress the urge to propose again at random moments. But you were the one who told him to wait a few more years, so he respected that. But after around three years, Ness started feeling like he's waited long enough and started planning the proposal. What he didn't know was that around the same time, you started planning one as well. You got worried Ness would be too afraid to propose a second time, so you thought you should take matters into your own hands. Ness actually was about to pull the ring out multiple times on random dates, but something always held him back because it never felt like the perfect moment. But then, on a late-night walk because neither of you could fall asleep for some reason, you randomly stop walking to get down on your knee. Ness notices you've stopped walking and a part of him can sense what you're doing. Before he turns around he pulls out the ring that he's been carrying with him for weeks. When he turns around to face you, you've been on your knee for a few seconds and both of you ask the question at the same time. Of course, both of you say yes without hesitation.

Grim has always been very dramatic and is a bit predictable because of that. He always gets more dramatic if he's stressed, nervous, or if something special is coming up. And recently, he's been acting overly dramatic all the time. Well, overly dramatic of you take his already highly dramatic personality into consideration. Grim actually planned to surprise you on your next monthly anniversary, but he couldn't hold it in anymore. It's not a special day at all and there's nothing special happening today either, so even if you have noticed him getting more dramatic recently, a proposal isn't anything you're predicting for today. You're actually just expecting him to have bought you another present that he can't wait to give you. But instead, your boyfriend tells you to get ready for a date out of nowhere. You actually just woke up from a nap when he told you that, but you'd never say no to a surprise date. He's trying to wait until you're on your date, but Grim just can't keep it to himself anymore. So while your mind is still a little fuzzy from sleeping and you're getting ready for the date, Grim proposes out of nowhere. It's a bit unusual for him to do it in such a random moment, but you're fully awake immediately and obviously, you say yes when he asks if you want to be his forever.

Gesner has never been great at keeping secrets. He has to tell you everything to the point where he tells you almost all of his thoughts. Sometimes he does tell you a little too much, but that's beside the point. Surprisingly, when he started to plan the proposal, he was able to keep it to himself the entire time. A few details did slip out, but it was never enough to let you know he was planning a proposal. And to be honest, Gesner isn't the most romantic boyfriend either. Most romantic aspects of the relationship come from your side, but for this special moment, he wanted to put in as much effort as he could. Your yearly anniversary was coming up so you were about to start planning how you'd spend the day with your boyfriend, but as soon as you mentioned a single idea he told you he wants to plan everything this time. That already gave you a slight suspicion that he might want to propose, but you didn't ask about it any further and let him plan the day. And Gesner went all out with his plans: He filled the day with all of your favourite activities that you love to do together and ends the day by going to your favourite restaurant. There were many moments throughout the day when he was about to propose, but kept himself away from it because that's what he wants to end the night with. So when you return home and walk back to the house, Gesner acts as if he dropped something and gets down to pick it up. But the moment you turn around to check on him, you see him with a ring in his hand instead, asking if you want to marry him. You quickly respond with "yes" but you're also surprised by how he was able to hide this from you.

Taglist (sign-up link): @starhrtz @kaineedstherapy12 @zyuuuu @yerinsshi @luvcalico @remy-roll @thedaisy78 @truegoist @rienniey @kalinkavx @vanitasbrainrot @rrueyuo @weichspuelertrinker @acacIa @kermitslefteyeball11 @futuristicxie @bluelock4life @yueyingwrld @yuehailin @keiidaydreams @takorirei

#💟 maochira writes #bllk #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #alexis ness #alexis ness x reader #alexis ness x you #benedict grim x reader #benedict grim x you #benedict grim #erik gesner #erik gesner x reader #erik gesner x you

[mia-tiny]

Unexpected Company Part Four | P. Seonghwa

⇒ pairing: p. seonghwa x fem!reader

⇒ smut, angst, mentions of past cheating, mentions of drinking, drunk psh, oral (both receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (big no no), cumming inside

⇒ word count: 8.1k

💖 read part one here, part two here, and part three here

💕 view my masterlist here

🖤 view my Kinktober ‘22 masterlist here

⇒ author’s note: When I first started this series as the first thing I wrote on Tumblr, I honestly didn’t expect to make a full story out of it, so trying to wrap up all the loose ends was so hard. Hence why it has been more than a year between part one and this final part. Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed Unexpected Company and waited patiently for this release!

This week has been the week from hell. Besides it starting with Seonghwa seducing you and then sneaking out before you wake, you’ve had to also deal with Wooyoung’s incessant meddling that started the moment he found out about your affair with his roommate. He has been trying relentlessly to convince you to talk to Seonghwa, but you feel it’s very clear that the man in question has absolutely no intention of speaking with you unless it is to get in your pants. You can’t even complain to Wooyoung about the situation and how upset you’ve been, either, since there is a high chance he will willingly share the information with his roommate and make the circumstances even worse. 

After Seonghwa ditched you in the morning five days ago, you spent the day moping and pitying yourself before deciding you are done letting him play you like a fiddle. You officially swore to yourself to stay away from him and all the trouble he brings along, so you’ve made no attempt to contact him.

Seonghwa hasn’t contacted you either since Sunday evening and you hate that it disappoints you so much. You wish you could care as little as you pretend to, but you can’t help secretly hoping he will message you and explain everything. After five days of radio silence, however, you realize that the chance of that happening is slim to none. At this point, you just want to be done with the situation and move on with your life.

After such a shitty week, you are thankful to be spending your Friday evening just melting into your couch and watching some mind-numbing television. Of course, Wooyoung had invited you to party tonight, thinking it would be the perfect thing to get your mind off Seonghwa, but being around all that chaos sounded like the very last thing you wanted. You also know Wooyoung too well to believe he wouldn’t spend the whole time meddling, so you quickly rejected the invite in favor of being a couch potato. He has tons of friends he goes out with anyway, so he likely just found someone else to get wasted with.

By one in the morning, you now having become one with the sofa, your eyes begin drooping heavily as your exhaustion finally sets in. Figuring it is about time you go to bed, you force your sluggish body to move for the first time in hours, groaning dramatically as you stretch out your stiff muscles. It doesn’t take long for you to get ready to sleep, and you are soon sinking into your freshly washed sheets, the lavender scent lulling you into a state of relaxation as your worries leave your mind.

This tranquility lasts for all of two minutes before you are jumping at the sound of heavy banging on your apartment door. The sudden noise has your heart skipping a few beats as you listen to the lethargic but resounding beating that beckons you. Confused, you quickly check your phone to see if Wooyoung said he is coming over, but you have no new notifications.

The sound continues, so you cautiously slip out of bed and gently tip toe closer to the source as if they’d be able to hear you over the racket they are making. On your way, you grab an empty vase to use as a weapon just in case the person hammering on your door at this hour isn’t a welcome guest.

Your heart races at a mile per minute as you inch closer, the relentless thumping never letting up despite how lethargic it is. Gathering your courage, you unlock the deadbolt and grip the knob in your hand, taking one steadying breath before flinging the door open to reveal the visitor.

You yelp in surprise as the person, who was about to bang his fist on the entrance once again, flies forward into your arms listlessly. In your effort to catch them, you drop the glass vase that subsequently shatters at your feet. The weight of the man’s lifeless body has you staggering back as you attempt to hold him up despite his uncoordinated movements.

The glimpse you had of his quaffed silver hair, along with the smell of his expensive cologne that now overtakes you, alerts you to the fact that this is exactly the person you don’t want to see.

“Y/N,” he slurs in absolute delirium as he tries his best to stand on his own.

Great. He is also wasted.

“Seonghwa,” you grunt in annoyance as you try your best to help him in his awkward movements. “Stand up.”

“Y/N,” he just calls in response, much softer this time, as he finally finds his footing and is able to hold at least some of his weight, though still relying on you to keep him steady.

You carefully reach around him to push the door closed, making sure to avoid the broken glass scattered across the floor in the process. As you move closer to him, he drunkenly assumes you are going in for a hug and wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you flat against his heated chest as he rests his chin on your head and sighs.

“Seonghwa, let go,” you whine as you pull out of his grasp, only able to do so because of his concerningly inebriated state. “Come here.”

Despite your overwhelming irritation, you carefully guide him to the couch where he plops down with a large huff. His eyes are only half open and his head keeps drooping lazily to the side, but he somehow still looks exceedingly handsome in his all-black clubbing attire. He smiles languidly up at you and you snap out of your daze, annoyance again overtaking you.

Why the fuck is Seonghwa stumbling into your apartment drunk at this hour after not contacting you all week? As if he has ever sought you out for anything other than sex. And if that is truly what he came here for, then he is going to be sorely disappointed.

If he is here for another reason, though…

No.

Stop.

You can’t start letting your hopes up just to be burned again by his casual seduction and aloof attitude. You are going to make Wooyoung come pick him up and then sink back into your comfy bed without having to worry about this jerk.

With a bothered huff, you march off to take care of the broken vase before one of you ends up hurting yourselves on it, but Seonghwa whines childishly as you leave.

“Y/N, where are you going?”

“I need to clean up your mess,” you sneer with a roll of your eyes while deftly collecting each shard of glass for disposal. “Why are you even here, Seonghwa?”

He chuckles giddily, courtesy of the alcohol in his system, and lets out an obnoxious hiccup.

“Because you’re here,” he slurs as if that clears things up, and you scoff.

“And what makes you think I’d want to see you?” you retort as you finish tidying, shooting him a look of disbelief to get your point across.

The smile he just had drops into a frown immediately and he stares into the distance as if pondering your question. After a minute of silence, you assume he’s lost track of the conversation entirely and stomp off to your bedroom to collect your phone. You come back and take a seat a couple feet away from him, but he plops himself down so that his head rests in your lap.

“Seonghwa,” you gripe as you try to squirm out from under him, but he grumbles out a melodramatic whine that convinces you to let him be for now.

Ignoring the slight fluttering in your heart, you dial Wooyoung’s number and wait patiently while the line rings… and rings… and rings… until finally sending you to voicemail. Frustration bubbles in your veins as you call him three more times, never getting an answer. Now what the fuck do you do?

While you debate your options, Seonghwa stirs beneath you as he drags his legs up onto the sofa.

“Y/N,” he whines softly, sounding like a pouting child as he turns to lay on his back. His bloodshot eyes gaze directly up at you and you feel a pang of sadness as you take in his expression. “Do you hate me?”

His voice sounds thick, as if he is fighting off drunken tears, and you notice the way the edges of his lips tilt downwards. You don’t know what could possibly be going on in his mind, but seeing him like this forces your fiery attitude to soften. You’ve spent all week despising him, but it is difficult to feel the same level of hatred as you gaze at his innocent flushed cheeks and puffy eyes.

You don’t know how to answer his question. Up until this moment you fully believed that you hate him, but now you realize your emotions aren’t that simple after all. Even if you were sure, it’s not like telling him that would do either of you any good right now.

You decide it is probably best to just avoid the question altogether.

“You can sleep on the couch tonight, but you’d better not do this again,” you reprimand, trying to change the subject as you accept the fact that he isn’t going anywhere tonight. “The bathroom is over there if you need it.”

You begin to slide out from under him, but he reaches up and grabs your wrist to silently beg you to stay. You know it’s dangerous to look down at him, but you can’t avoid it. You gaze into his watering eyes and don’t resist when he brings your palm to cup his cheek, as if he needs the comfort despite it being forced. His skin is burning hot against your palm.

“I’m sorry I’m so selfish,” he murmurs softly as his eyelids grow heavier and he fights against their instinct to close. “I wish I could be better for you.”

Following his mysterious words, his eyes finally shut, a couple tears being pressed out in the process. His breathing settles into a steady rhythm as he falls asleep, his grip on your hand releasing when his arm plops down at his side.

You simply continue to stare at him, your mind in utter chaos as you process everything. He looks so peaceful as he rests despite the couple tear stains left on his skin. Your thumb gently wipes the nearest one away as you continue to cup his cheek much longer than necessary.

This is the first time you have ever seen a crack in Seonghwa’s aloof exterior, the one that is confident and seductive without showing a single ounce of vulnerability. He’d honestly maintained it so well that you’d begun to view him as a bit cold-hearted, but now you realize how much more there must be hidden behind the mask.

More than anything, you can’t shake the image of his desperately forlorn expression as he uttered his last line.

I’m sorry I’m so selfish. I wish I could be better for you.

His voice was clearly laced with regret as he admitted this, but why is he suddenly apologizing to you late at night after showing up wasted? Especially when he has never shown any sign of uneasiness or remorse about your sexcapades before. In general, he always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone, so sure of what he wanted and knowing exactly how to get it, but now you wonder what other mysterious emotions he must be harboring.

In fact, when you think about it, not even Wooyoung has ever really known the deep, dark intricacies of Seonghwa’s mind. Just how much is Seonghwa bottling inside? How much is he guarding from others with his lone wolf facade?

His drunken words echo loudly in your head and, even though you know it is stupid to pay them any attention, you can’t help but try deciphering them. Surely if he is apologizing for being selfish, he must have some idea of how difficult he has made this for you, but what does he mean he wishes he could be better?

The only conclusion you can clearly draw, though you try your best not to invest too much stock in it, is that he truly does care for you, but there is something holding him back. And by the trembling sound of his voice, along with the truthful drunken tears he shed, it seems to be eating him up inside.

Sleeping softly in your lap, he looks so defenseless and innocent, like a lost child who just needs someone to tell them everything will be alright. You wonder if he came to you tonight because he truly has no one else to do that for him. To just hold and comfort him until he feels okay.

While you can’t immediately forgive all of his elusive actions thus far, you suddenly feel sorry for Seonghwa as you ponder the breadth of his unspoken pain. You doubt he will remember any of this in the morning, if he even sticks around long enough for you to see him. And while one part of you hopes he forgets so that you can move on from him, another part wishes for him to remember and, just maybe, allow you to see this vulnerable side of him without the assistance of alcohol.

Seonghwa stirs in his sleep with a grumble, bringing you back to reality where you still sit with your hand against his cheek. As carefully as possible, you try to sneak out from under him, but he must sense your impending absence since he yet again responds with a desperately sad whine that makes you freeze. With a heavy sigh, you acquiesce to his unspoken request to stay a bit longer before heading to bed.

You delicately reach towards the other end of the sofa to grab your throw blanket, spreading it over his body to keep him warm. You try your best not to get too wrapped up in your thoughts, your fingers instinctively brushing his hair back in a calming, repetitive motion.

At some point you must have dozed off because you awake in the morning in the exact same position as before, your neck screaming in pain as you lift your head from its awkward placement for the first time in hours. You glance down at Seonghwa to find he is still sleeping soundly, his lips parted slightly as he lets out steady soft breaths. Without thinking, you let your fingertips brush along his cheek, your thumb just lightly grazing across his bottom lip as you admire his beauty.

Both of you startle, however, when he suddenly opens his eyes and sees you staring down at him affectionately. You gasp and pull your hands back at the surprise and he quickly jolts straight up in embarrassment.

“Oh, I- uh, you’re awake,” you stutter awkwardly as he repositions himself to sit normally, his eyes still wide in shock though he avoids looking in your direction. You hate the tense silence that befalls the room as he fails to reply, surely trying to make sense of the situation he has put himself in. “Do you feel alright?”

As if your question suddenly reminds him that you are there, he peeks over shyly and nods. “I’m okay, I’m just-”

“Hungover?”

As you cut him off, he nods again, dropping his head in his hands and gruffly rubbing his eyes to wake himself up. His typically neat hair is disheveled and his cheeks are still tinted pink, indicating the groggy state he is in.

You wait for him to say something more, to say something - anything - about last night, but he seems too dazed to make conversation just yet, so you take initiative before you can stop yourself.

“Do you want to take a shower? No offense, but you kind of reek of alcohol,” you admit, halfheartedly expecting a chuckle from him that never comes. “I can make breakfast in the meantime.”

He takes a moment to think before nodding again and groaning in discomfort as he stands from the couch with you following suit. Even while you fetch him a clean towel and direct him to the restroom, he says nothing and dares not make eye contact. As soon as he has shut the door, you let out a deep breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding.

You aren’t sure what to make of his demeanor and it’s unclear whether he remembers the events of last night or not. On one hand, he could be acting bashful just because he woke up in your lap to you caressing him. On the other hand, though, he may be embarrassed because he recalls exposing his more vulnerable side while under the influence.

The anxious tension in your chest has your heart beating strangely and you figure you should stop overthinking for now, instead opting to focus on the menial task of cooking eggs and toast while you wait for Seonghwa. By the time you are finished and setting the table, you hear his footsteps plodding closer and steel yourself mentally for however this meal may go.

He rounds the corner dressed once again in his clothes from before but now with damp hair that he has attempted to fluff up with a towel. He stops across the room from you before bringing himself to glance in your direction, his shy demeanor a full 180 from his usual disposition.

“I hung the towel on the rack in there. I hope that’s okay,” he mutters.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you awkwardly reply as you try your best to act normally and be inviting enough to make him less uncomfortable. “Come sit. Do you want some coffee?”

“Ah, no thanks. Just water is fine.”

He shuffles over and you both take your seats across from each other at the small round table. As he glimpses at the food you laid out, he also notices the pain relievers you put next to his plate and allows a minute smile to appear on his lips before it quickly fades away.

When acting so strangely like this, Seonghwa seems almost like a skittish cat that will dash if you make any sudden movement or prod him, so you gently pass him the bowl of eggs so that he can serve himself. He accepts it with a meager “thank you” and takes a small amount before handing it back, but makes no movement to start eating. Figuring he may be waiting for you, you bite off a small chunk of toast, and only when you go to swallow does he startle you by speaking.

“I’m sorry I showed up drunk last night,” he mumbles while pushing his food around with his fork, never actually picking it up. You nearly choke, but thankfully manage to avoid making the situation that much more awkward.

“It’s okay,” you offer pleasantly even though you definitely did not think it was okay at the time. It’s not like telling him off right now would do any good anyways.

“And I’m sorry I broke your vase.”

There is a beat of silence as he finally makes eye contact and studies your expression.

“Oh… so you remember?” Your heart races at the notion of having this conversation right now, but he just nods. “You seemed really upset.”

The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them and you practically kick yourself at how nosy you sound. He chuckles humorlessly and drops his fork as he leans back in his chair with a sigh.

“Yeah, I guess I was pretty upset,” he mutters. “I just– Basically, I– I mean–”

“It’s alright,” you interrupt as he struggles to find the right words. “You don’t have to explain.”

But you want him to. You so desperately want him to.

“Even if I don’t need to, I want to. Or I guess want isn’t the right word. But I should.”

He has you on the edge of your seat, the meal entirely forgotten as you hang on to his every word with a flurrying mix of fear, anxiety, and curiosity. Your uneasiness only increases as he takes time to think about how he should state this.

“I don’t know where to start,” he admits.

“Anywhere is fine. Just, whatever you want to say.”

He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly as if preparing himself. He then leans forward again to rest his elbows on the table as he gazes at you earnestly, his affect more confident than before as he has become determined to get through this conversation.

“Let me say this first,” he prefaces, making your heart drop as you dread the worst. “I like you. And I mean I really like you… but I don’t think it would be good for you to… fall for me.”

‘Too fucking late’ you want to tell him, but he continues before you get the chance to say anything.

“And I know I’ve given you a lot of mixed signals, but a relationship… I just… can’t.”

The silence echoes throughout the room and you attempt to fight off tears. Whether they are out of anger or out of sadness, you are not entirely sure, but thankfully you are able to suppress them along with the lump in your throat.

“You just can’t? Why? Can’t be bothered to tie yourself down to one girl? Can’t help but want to be a playboy who toys with people’s feelings?” you sneer as annoyance bubbles up inside you at the thought of this being his bullshit explanation, but he looks at you with an abhorred expression.

“God, no. That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

You cross your arms and wait expectantly as he restlessly runs his hands through his damp hair with a shaky exhale.

“I never meant to give you so many mixed signals. This whole time I was telling myself that things between us are only casual so I wouldn’t feel so bad about seeing you– because I kept wanting to see you –but after we truly slept together… I realized how much more it is, at least for me.”

Your heart tingles with excitement for a moment before you remember that this is simply the preface to whatever reason he has for dumping you– or, you guess, technically pre-dumping you.

“When I woke up that morning, I started freaking out so I left and I’ve spent all week going crazy over it. Then when the weekend came, I was desperate to get it off my mind, but somehow ended up at your door.” He pauses and looks away as he gathers his thoughts momentarily. “I’m just so afraid that I can’t be the person you’ll want me to be.”

His heavy words catch you by surprise, leaving you slightly confused as to where this is coming from. “What do you mean?”

You can tell this is extremely difficult for him to talk about by how fidgety he is getting, but you can’t just let him end his explanation so cryptically, not when you are finally seeing this truthful, vulnerable side of him. Surely there must be more to his reasoning.

“My last relationship, about five years ago, was an absolute disaster,” he admits despite his discomfort. “We had been together for three years until one day I came home to find her in bed with another man. I know, so cliche, right?”

He scoffs sourly at his own remark.

“I found out she had been seeing him behind my back for months. Of course, she had no remorse. She said it was my fault for not paying enough attention to her, or for working too much, or because I hadn’t proposed yet. And the more she went on about it, the more I actually began to believe it was my fault.”

Your mouth hangs open in shock at what he has experienced, the drama of it sounding like a perfect Lifetime movie. His fear and anxiety around commitment suddenly makes perfect sense.

“Since then,” he continues. “It has just been easier to not care or feel. Someone who doesn’t invest in anything doesn’t have anything to lose, so that is what I did. I thought I could just fake it until I make it, and it had been working just fine, until…”

He glances back up at you to imply the rest of his confession without actually having to say it out loud. Your stunned brain rushes to process the many emotions you’re feeling, but your mouth acts before you can stop it.

“What a fucking asshole!” you exclaim in a rage, surprising Seonghwa, who now looks at you dumbfoundedly.

“What?” he asks, perplexed.

“Sorry, not you, I just–” you pause shortly to calm yourself before continuing. “It just makes me so mad that someone would do that to you and have the nerve to place any of the blame on you. I mean, it’s just ludicrous.”

“Well, it’s not like I was the best–”

“Seonghwa, stop,” you interrupt sternly, causing him to shut his mouth in obedience. “Regardless of what’s going on between us, you need to realize that no matter what you did in that relationship, you did not deserve that and you did not cause that. If she really had all those qualms then she could’ve broken up with you, but she made the choice instead to hurt you like that. That is on her and her alone. Cheaters never cheat because they have problems with their partner; they cheat because they have problems with themselves. So I refuse to sit here and listen to you talk shit about yourself over someone else’s mistakes.”

It is now his turn to fall speechless after your rage-fuelled rant. The anger you feel just from imagining how lonely and hurt he must’ve been alerts you to how deep your affection actually runs, but you do your best to push the thought aside for now. You at least find the irony somewhat comical that all week you’ve been pissed at Seonghwa and now here you are defending him.

Honestly, you only realize now just how two-dimensional you have perceived him as up to this point. For a long time, he was just Wooyoung’s hot and mysterious roommate. And recently, you’ve only seen him as horny, arrogant, and a bit cold-hearted. You feel a pang of guilt for never granting him the decency of considering he runs any deeper than such a superficial level. Between last night and now, it has become clear that he feels and thinks much more than he has ever let on.

Silence still echoes awkwardly throughout the room, and you assume you may have been a bit too brash. You clear your throat stiffly and straighten in your seat. Your heart sinks heavy in your chest as you fear this will really be the end before you’ve even started. Still, you can’t let him go without saying what is on your mind one last time

“Seonghwa,” you call softly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I know you’re afraid, and I know you’ve been hurt, but I really hope that you don’t let that keep you from finding your own happiness… even if that happiness isn’t in me. Of course, I really like you too, but if you don’t want–”

“No,” he interjects rapidly. “I do want this. I want you, but I also don’t want to disappoint you and make you deal with all of my insecurities and baggage. I don’t know when– or even if –I’ll be able to feel normal about love again. I don’t know if I can be the perfect boyfriend you’d want.”

“I never said I wanted you to be a perfect boyfriend,” you quip immediately with slight annoyance at just how self-critical he is being. “I don’t want you to be anything… I just want you. Even when I was pissed at you and wanted to write you off for good, I was secretly hoping you’d come back with an explanation or an apology or a confession– with anything even though it may have been pathetic of me.”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic,” he states seriously. “Can I ask you a question, though?”

“Of course.”

“What if it doesn’t work out? And what if I can’t bring myself to trust again?”

His expression shows just how anxious and sullen he is, his head and heart likely overwhelmed from trying to navigate this situation and fight the fear he has harbored for so many years. As much as you want to assuage his concerns, you know it isn’t fair to guarantee that everything will come up roses, especially since it could just make his insecurities worse if it doesn’t.

“Honestly, Seonghwa, I can’t 100% promise that it will work, but that is both the joy and the pain of relationships. Yes, sometimes you get burned, but sometimes you find something incredible, and that incredible thing suddenly makes all of the past hurt worth it,” you level. “And if you did want to take that chance, I am fine with moving as slowly as you’re comfortable with. I wouldn’t have any expectations or rush your timeline to heal, but I’d always be willing to support you through the process. I’m not going to push you into a relationship you’re not ready for, though, so the choice is always up to you.”

He stares into the distance as he processes the many conflicting emotions brewing in his heart, having to decide which one he is going to let dictate his happiness from now on. As time ticks on with you staying silent to let him ponder, you begin to prepare yourself for rejection just in case he decides the risk isn’t worth it. As devastated as you would be, you just hope that he will make the decision that is best for him.

Seonghwa is taking so long considering his options that you are about to tell him he can think about it for a few days when he finally speaks.

“Okay,” is all he says in a quiet voice. Your heart automatically races as your hopes shoot through the roof.

“Okay?” you question, wanting to make sure you aren’t misunderstanding his response.

“Let’s go slow and see where it takes us,” he states more confidently now. “I know I can’t make many promises to you, but the one thing I will promise is that I’ll try.”

You can’t help the tears of happiness that rapidly spring to your eyes and glide down your cheeks, the tension of the entire morning beginning to fade away. In fact, the burden of the anxiety and anger that you’ve experienced over the past few weeks has suddenly lifted from your shoulders, resulting in the emotional reaction. Seonghwa, though, is instantly flustered.

“What happened? Why are you crying?” he babbles in a panic as he gets up and walks over to you. He easily slides your chair away from the table and kneels next to you so that you two are level.

With him this close, your hand automatically reaches to caress his cheek, but you stop midway as you remember you might make him uncomfortable. Seeing your hesitation, however, he reaches up and guides your hand to his face, a silent message of approval. You smile in response despite your tear-stained skin.

“I’m just happy,” you chuckle, his face now lighting up to match yours as he absentmindedly rests his hand on your bare thigh. You do your best to ignore the way your body reacts to his touch, but it becomes much harder when he thoughtlessly lets his thumb rub back and forth against your skin in a comforting motion.

“Seonghwa,” you call gently as your tears stop and you wipe away their traces, removing your hand from Seonghwa’s face in the process.

“Hm?” He looks up at you innocently with so much concern that you visibly gulp.

“If we are going to take things slow, then you’ll have to keep things like this to a minimum.”

Your eyes flick to his hand and he follows your line of sight. Realizing what you mean, he releases a genuine chuckle that is music to your ears.

“I mean…” he starts off mischievously. “Maybe we take it slow starting tomorrow? And today we move fast one last time?”

“Move fast?” you question quietly, your brain only catching up when you see his seductive smirk that you’ve gotten so used to. “Are you horny right now?”

You’re shocked that after that long and heavy conversation, this is still what is running through his mind, but he seems so relaxed about it that you let out an amused laugh. 

“Should I not be? It’s not my fault you look needlessly cute when you cry.”

The lightened mood has you feeling weightless at last, and with his suggestion to be reckless one last time, you are quickly leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. He is slightly surprised at first, but melts into your embrace with little hesitation.

The kiss is nothing like last time. Instead of being fueled only by lust, it is noticeably more passionate and emotional, a physical outpouring of all the feelings you’ve both been desperately suppressing until this moment.

He stands up slowly and grips your waist to bring you onto your feet as well before pulling you tight against his body, the proximity making you dizzy with yearning. Wanting to feel the heat of his skin against yours, you tug at the hem of his shirt and he pulls away briefly to reach behind his head and pull it off in one swift movement. God is it hot when he does that. You let your eyes linger on his toned abdomen, your fingertips gently running down its ridges.

“Like what you see?” he teases, making you giggle as you are reminded of that first rainy night you two spent together when he asked the same exact question.

“You know I do.” Your fingers meet his belt and you grip it to tug him back against you, his playful grin returning at your forwardness.

“Well haven’t you gotten feisty, baby?” he taunts, and you palm him over his jeans as you nod. “Missed my cock that much?”

Fuck. There it is. That sinful fucking mouth of his that has you biting your lip just to keep from moaning, your panties now sticking to your wet core. All you can do is nod enthusiastically before standing on your tiptoes to press your lips against his again. You hold him close by the back of his neck while his hands travel down to roughly grab your ass, making you squeal. He pulls away just momentarily to mutter “cute” before grabbing the backs of your thighs and hoisting you into the air.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips as he swiftly carries you off to the bedroom, your hands tugging at the hair on the back of his head. You are desperate to have him as close to you as possible now that you can do so without spending days afterwards feeling like shit.

Seonghwa plops you down on your mattress unceremoniously and makes easy work of your top and pajama shorts, tossing them mindlessly on the floor. He grabs your ankles and playfully tugs you to the edge– another surprised yelp escaping your lips –so that his face is level with your core once he gets on his knees. You hold your legs up and open for him as he runs his fingertips gingerly across your underwear to feel your wetness through the fabric.

“This pussy is going to make me go crazy,” he purrs, your heart fluttering out of control. “I’ve been dying for another taste.”

“Be my guest then.”

After a devilish glance in your direction, he pulls your panties aside and moans at the sight of your sex. You feel like you might just pass out and die right here from how turned on you are with every little thing he does, especially when he leans in to lick a flat stripe up your slit, flicking his tongue playfully against your clit in the process. He just smirks at your pitiful moan.

Compared to before, the way in which he eats you out is a little less desperate, but much more sensual. He sucks and laps at your sensitive nub erotically and brings his left hand up to interlock his fingers with yours. He may be diving face-first into your cunt right now, but there is something about the simple romanticism of holding hands that has butterflies erupting in your stomach. Honestly, you have typically dreaded guys going down on you because they are always so overconfident and then can’t deliver, but Seonghwa– He is nothing if not extraordinarily talented.

You gaze down at him as he works on you and man is it a sight to see. His silver hair, still not quite dry, has been mostly pushed back from his face, but a few stray pieces fall across his forehead. His eyes are closed as he gets lost in pleasing you and his cheeks are flushed from how heated he is getting. When he feels the intensity of your stare and makes eye contact, he moans wantonly with his lips around your clit, the vibrations making you gasp and reach down to card your fingers through his locks. The sting he feels in his scalp from your grasp only spurs him on more, moving his free hand just below his mouth to glide his middle finger deep inside your hole.

“Oh fuck,” you moan shamelessly as he curls his digit to rub against your g-spot.

With how wet you are for him, he wastes no time in slipping a second finger in along with the first to start stretching you out for his dick. The pleasurable intrusion, along with his expert mouth, has you arching your back dramatically, your hand squeezing his tighter and tighter as the tension builds in your core.

“Hwa, don’t stop!”

“Call me that again,” he growls, loving how it rolls off your tongue. As soon as he laps at your clit once more, your climax hits and you cry out his nickname as your legs shake from the intensity. His movements are relentless as he savors every last bit of euphoria he can give you, not stopping until you are whining and squirming away from his touch. Only then does he remove his fingers, sucking them clean with a hungry look in his eyes and then licking along your folds one last time.

Despite your heaving chest from the mind-blowing orgasm, you are still ravenous, so you rapidly sit up and tug him onto the bed with you. With a bit of skillful maneuvering, you get Seonghwa to lay on his back, your hands making quick work of his belt to pull his bottoms off altogether. His impressive cock slaps against his stomach as soon as it escapes its confines, the tip already leaking with precum.

Once he is fully naked, you also slip off your bra and playfully toss it onto his face, making him laugh as he chucks it aside. He can’t stop himself from sitting up and attaching his mouth to one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around it while one hand gropes your other boob. As amazing as it feels, it is now your turn to please him instead, so you push him back down onto the mattress and wrap your hand around his length to start stroking.

“You want to suck my cock that badly, baby girl?” His smug expression says it all.

“You act like you didn’t just eat me out like your last meal,” you quip before bending down to circle your tongue around the head of his cock.

“I can’t help that you have such a delicious little pussy.” His words have you blushing.

“Well I can’t help that you have such a delicious cock.” He chuckles down at you and brushes your hair out of your face as you place small kisses up his shaft.

“Touche,” he says before immediately groaning as you finally bring him past your lips and hollow out your cheeks.

With how big he is, you’ll have to work yourself up to fitting much of him inside, so you start off by using your hand to stimulate the parts you can’t reach yet. You glance up at him to see him watching you with his mouth agape, enamored by the view he has. It takes everything in him not to buck his hips up, but thankfully you are able push him past the back of your throat.

“Just like that,” he coos as he gathers your hair in one hand to keep it out of the way and guide your movements. “Good girl.”

Upon hearing his praise, you start bobbing up and down, your throat flexing around him in a way that has him hissing in pleasure. You let your hands glide up his body to caress along his abdomen, his muscles tensing instinctively when you brush over anywhere sensitive. You can see goosebumps forming on his arms and you love the way his body reacts so visibly to your touch.

With his grip on your hair, he encourages you to take him further and you oblige. Obscene sounds escape you as you try your best to please him and the noise has him moaning even louder. Seeing him this worked up, your insatiable cunt once again cries for attention, desperate to be filled by his massive cock. You impatiently release his dick with a pop and stand up to pull off your panties, Seonghwa watching you the entire time with a lust-filled gaze.

“You gonna let me stretch out that cute little pussy again?” he hums as you straddle him and line his tip up with your hole.

“I’m not just sitting on you for nothing,” you tease right back, earning you a flirtatious smack on the ass as you slowly take every inch of him.

“I didn’t realize you were such a brat in bed,” he says through a moan. “I’ll have to take note.”

“You have a lot to learn, Hwa.”

After your snarky comment, you promptly choke on a gasp as you finally sink all the way down, your walls fluttering to adjust to his considerable size. You can feel him pressing against every spot inside you, the sensation already dizzying without even having to move, but patience has never really been your middle name.

Resting your hands on his chest to keep yourself steady, you grind against him and throw your head back as pleasure tingles through every inch of your body. His hands dig into your hips to spur on your movement while curses fall from his mouth in the form of moans.

“Yes, baby. Ride my fucking cock,” he growls, your cunt clenching around him in response, which does not go unnoticed. “Such a dirty girl.”

“Only for you,” you answer, intending not only to continue the dirty talk, but also to subtly assure him that you are now his and his alone. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

In search of even more intensity, you start bouncing rhythmically on his dick. His eyes fixate in your tits as they jiggle in front of him, clearly transfixed by the sight. Seeing you work so needily for his dick is something that will surely be replaying in his dreams from now on, perhaps even in his “daydreams” of sorts. 

“Show me you fucking want it,” he commands to motivate you, a moan falling past your lips at his domineering tone.

He grabs your hands from his chest and once again interlocks his fingers with yours, holding them up a bit higher to help support your movements. You’re not sure if you can handle Seonghwa being a hand-holder during sex when the simple act affects you this much. Nevermind that fact that he feels so amazing when filling you up to the brim. Without even trying, his cock constantly pokes at your g-spot in a manner that makes it feel like electricity is running through your veins.

Despite how euphoric you are feeling, your thighs start getting tired from bouncing on him and your pace starts faltering as you fight your shaky muscles. Noticing your struggle, Seonghwa uses your held hands to tug you down against his chest, letting go just after to cup your face and gaze affectionately into your eyes.

“You are going to be the death of me, I swear,” he mutters, smiling at the way you blush timidly. “I could spend all day complimenting you if you always react like that.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it then.”

You press your lips against his once again, just enjoying the taste of him on your tongue and the warmth of his embrace. While you are lost in the passionate kiss, he pleasantly surprises you by beginning to gently thrust up into you, the both of you moaning into each other at the new angle.

He glides his hands down the sides of your body, stopping at your ass and roughly gripping your cheeks to hold you just how he wants you while snapping his hips against yours. After gliding in and out of you a few times to test the waters, he bends his legs to plant his feet firmly into the mattress and starts mercilessly pounding into you.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim at the suddenly overwhelming sensation, your face just inches from his as your eyes stay locked on each other. The act feels extra intimate as you watch the pleasure unfolding in each other’s features.

You can’t control your lewd moans that fill the room as the tension starts building in your core once again. When you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound, Seonghwa shakes his head without ever faltering in his pace.

“Don’t hold back. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You do as he asks, your pathetic whimpers and whines getting increasingly high-pitched as you teeter on the edge of euphoria. The way your pussy starts constricting around Seonghwa has him also flirting with release, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make you cum on his cock first.

Wanting to feel you release around him, he gathers all his energy to ruthlessly buck into you even faster than before, the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberating pornographically off your bedroom walls. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if you end up with a noise complaint from your neighbors.

Seonghwa lets out pants mixed with vulgar moans in time with each thrust, trying his best to hang on until you’ve been taken care of. With the way your cunt tightens around him, though, he can tell you aren’t too far off.

“Hwa– please– yes!”

“Let go, baby.”

As if flipping a switch, your body immediately reacts to his command and your orgasm hits you at full force. Your nails dig into Seonghwa’s shoulders as you hold on for dear life, the feeling threatening to send you straight to heaven, never to return. It is shocking that he could even make you cum this hard without you having to touch yourself, but then again he has already proven himself as quite the sexpert.

The vice grip that your satisfied pussy has on his cock is more than he can resist, his own high following shortly after yours. He stills inside you and kisses you passionately once more as you both bask in the bliss of your climaxes. Only when you start coming down from cloud 9 do you detach and rest your foreheads together, trying to catch your breath from the intensive activity.

Being this close to him, both physically and emotionally now, has your heart feeling warm and fuzzy. While you know things won’t just magically be perfect between you two, and there are still many things to work through, you are excited to take the risk and work through them together. It will surely take time and mistakes will be made, but perhaps you can exercise some patience this one time.

To think that this all started because of a random storm and you being too lazy to fetch an umbrella.

“You know,” Seonghwa murmurs as he caringly tucks your hair behind your ears. “We said we would start going slow tomorrow, so that gives us the rest of the day to make the most of this speed.”

You laugh at his coy smile. “We’d better get busy then.”

Damn does this man drive you crazy.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist: @minkysmilk @annaflwrs @han8ul @whatudowhennooneseesyou @aishidaishi 

@ja3hwa​ @btsreader12​ @mingkyway​ 

#ateez smut #ateez drabbles #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez x you #seonghwa smut #seonghwa drabbles #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa oneshot #ateez oneshot #kpop smut #kpop drabbles #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #kpop oneshot #kpop x reader #kpop x you #kpop scenarios

[theclearblue]

Is it bad that I feel personally victimised by WCI or am I just being dramatic?

I don't think so anon, I think the themes of family in WCI are some of the most personal and nuanced Oda has ever done and while tragic in so many ways, I think results in the best way of conveying how powerful found family is but also how someone can have complicated feelings towards their blood family.

Throughout all of One Piece, you can see this through line of found family and how blood relations isn't what matters in who you consider family (The ASL brothers, Bellemere and Nojiko for Nami, Kuina for Zoro, Zeff for Sanji, Saul for Robin, Tom and Iceburg for Franky, and while not a strawhat, Corazon and Law deeply affected me as well). This is obviously a trope Oda has liked writing for a long time and one he does well, but (with somewhat the exception of Marineford/Post-War arc with Whitebeard and Ace), WCI is the first time he really dives into these themes of what family is, and what I really appreciated, how messy it can be.

(I uhhh wrote a lot after the cut so be prepared for that)

And it's not just Sanji in this arc (I'll get to him though don't worry), from Germa, from the Big Mom Pirates, and the Firetank Pirates, so many characters are acting as narrative foils to Sanji and dealing with family related trauma, and responding to it differently. The ones that really got me were Pudding and Katakuri though, and they're pretty similar to each other as well. I've talked a little bit about Pudding already here so I'll talk a bit more about Katakuri instead, but it hit me really hard when he made a temple for himself, and he lets the rumors fly about "his back has never touched the ground, he's praying to a god of war, no one has seen him eat" and it's just. Him laying on his back, eating donuts happily. And the scene is kind of silly and funny right, but I kid you not my New Year's resolution this year was to just, try to be more comfortable in my living room/kitchen without thinking everyone is going to judge me for, what? Eating? Watching a show I like? Completely normal things, but if you've ever grown up in a house where just, EVERYTHING you do is picked apart and criticized by family, it's easier to just shut yourself away in a room and hide it. And isn't that tragic? Katakuri projecting this image of strength that his family asks of him so much that he feels he has to hide completely normal things like lying down and eating? I could go even deeper into this character but this is just one example of a character's complicated relationship with his family, where he hides so much of himself for them, but also it stemming from a place of love after what happened to Brulee when they were kids.

And now to talk about Sanji. Ohhhh where do I even start with this guy. As kind of a sidenote, if you've seen any of my posts from Thriller Bark through Punk Hazard, I was really struggling to like Sanji as a character and I didn't make that a secret. Which was upsetting to me because, from Baratie-Enies Lobby (and really good moments at the end of Thriller Bark and Saoboady) he was a favorite of mine! And at times I thought his character was done pretty dirty where he was stripped down to a singular gag and Oda leaned into it way way way too hard. But it's immensely satisfying to me to see all the little seeds Oda planted for so many years come to fruition in Zou and WCI, to the point I think he's turned from being the most one note strawhat to the most nuanced and layered in the span of a singular saga. And that was incredible to see.

I think what really captivated me about Sanji from the beginning were how strong and rigid his convictions are, and that even though he's kind of a rude brat (I say that with love lol), he's so undeniably kind, even to a fault. And with his first backstory we see how a lot of his rigid rules he's made for himself come from, it's from Zeff. He doesn't hit women, he'll feed anyone who's hungry no matter what, and he learns to fight to protect people he cares about, but he isn't really a fighter in the same way Luffy and Zoro are, and that's made clear in his desire to protect his hands in a fight so that he can do what he really loves, and that's to cook. A lot of what makes Sanji who he is today is shown here, but Oda was smart in showing aspects of Sanji that clearly don't stem from Zeff without telling the audience why for the longest time.

He shares the dream of the All Blue with Zeff, but where did it come from? Zeff is kind of similar where he has this hard exterior but underneath is kind as well, but it's taken to another level with Sanji where it becomes self sacrificial. Throwing himself down the mountain on Drum Island, taking the lightning bolts from Enel for Nami and Usopp on Skypeia, boarding the water train alone to try and get to Robin, and most prominently, at least for me, him trying to take Luffy's pain at the end of Thriller Bark instead of Zoro, where he very clearly places more value on Zoro's dream and life than his own. That was the moment to me that made me really realize he does not see value in himself, unless he's providing something he deems useful. And if the situation calls for it, he'll throw his life and dream away if that makes him "useful" not realizing that the crew don't see him as this dispensable thing like he sees himself.

And all of Sanji's strengths and flaws as a character just come to make this perfect storm and mess that is Whole Cake Island. And the kindness that is Sanji's most definitive trait is so clearly not in this family, at least not seen at first. His brothers are made to have no zero empathy and beat down on him constantly, verbally and physically, and Judge just watches and doesn't care, eventually just hides Sanji in a cell and pretends he's dead. Because he was physically weaker and human. And yet he continues to cook because he loves doing it, he remembers his mother's kindness, and his dream of the all blue is formed in a small dark room and just. This got to me big time. Not to get too personal but the set of expectations put onto Sanji by his family, ones he can never live up to and finding passion in something his family finds to be worthless and a waste of time. Finding an escape in books and finding his dream there even though everything around him is hell. Slowly realizing the extent of cruelty that his father will go to as he grows up. Very unfortunately for me this might be the most relatable character I have ever come across in regards to my own experiences. I'm someone to voice my thoughts on things even if nobody else cares (hence why I've been liveblogging on here since Drum Island I think lmao) but while watching Sanji's backstory it affected me like nothing else ever has. It's not even something that made me cry really, I was just in shock after watching it for awhile. And Reiju saying to Sanji, "There are people out there who will accept you for who you are, you need to get out of here" which is so similar to what Saul said to Robin and even similar to what one of my sisters said to me growing up. Yeah. I also felt personally victimized by Whole Cake Island lmao.

But the end result of Sanji's arc is so beautiful and amazing. Sanji putting on this act of looking down on Luffy, and once again trying to sacrifice himself to protect those that he cares about, but Luffy just cuts through the bullshit because he knows that isn't really Sanji talking in that fight. Luffy's speech as Sanji is being driven away where he says that he can't become the pirate king without him by his side. This isn't an original thought but Sanji and Zoro both kind of represent different aspects of Luffy's dreams. Zoro with a seemingly impossible ideal and putting 100% of yourself into it. "I will become the greatest swordsman." "I will become the pirate king." But Sanji's dream of finding the All Blue reflects Luffy's dream of finding the One Piece. They both don't know if either of those things are even real (the audience at this point knows the one piece is real, but to my knowledge and where I'm at, Luffy doesn't). Yet there's this childlike wonder they both have about these dreams, because, what if it is real? Luffy knows that Sanji is irreplaceable because of the ideals that they share, not because of what Sanji can provide or be "useful" as.

It takes so much for Sanji to go running back to Luffy, and even when he does, he obviously gets insecure again and starts listing off reasons why he isn't worthy enough to go back to the Sunny and to the crew. And God is it satisfying to see Luffy absolutely rock his shit for saying that and asking him to just SAY what he really wants. And Sanji breaking down and saying how much he misses the Sunny and the crew and also airing out how he feels backed into a corner and doesn't know the way out, that he wants to help his family even though he doesn't consider them family and he KNOWS it doesn't make sense, he is being kind to a fault again. But Luffy smiling at him and saying "Well, that's just how you are. Let's go crash the wedding." That's when I started sobbing lmao, because there is such unconditional love and kindness in that statement that Sanji has so desperately needed ever since his mother died. Someone who just accepts him and all his faults wholeheartedly, and is that not the most beautiful representation of family??? His relationship with his blood family is so messy and complicated and full of mixed feelings(and that's very common), but his feelings about Zeff and Luffy and the rest of the strawhats are so clearly full of adoration and unconditional love for them, and they feel that same love for him as well! How lucky all of them are where they found their people, and how everyone else in this world has that opportunity to find the space and people they truly belong to, not tied down by blood. Whole Cake Island's themes on family were so well done and also fundamentally changed me as a person I think.

#umm. this got uhhh long #sorry wci has just been bouncing around in my brain and this was the perfect outlet lmao #and i could say even more! so many layers to sanji and reiju and pudding and katakuri and chiffon/lola #and so many more #could talk about the strawhats during this arc too #GOD i'm insane about one piece. they make me go insane i love this STUPID manga about STUPID rubber boy so god damn much #whole cake island #wci #one piece meta #one piece #sanji

[emilytaylorkelso]

The Beginnings: 2012 (Bandcamp Exclusive)

I’ll tell you forever that 2012 was the worst year of my life. It wasn’t all bad, but I was so absolutely unequipped for what I went through that it took the next decade to recover, and in some ways it permanently altered me as a person.

That’s why this year gets its own album of re-recordings. I wrote hundreds of songs to process it all, and when I look back, I still love most of them. As emotional as I personally think these songs are, they don’t scratch the surface of what I went through. Those songs didn’t start coming out of me until 5 years later after a whole psychology degree and a little therapy.

Love Story is the most ironic way to start this collection, but I insist on doing things chronologically. So this is me falling in love for the first time.

Are You Happy Now is me getting my heart broken for the first time despite everyone trying to warn me.

Stupid Boy is peak pettiness on my part. I’ll own up to that one; I was being a dramatic 15-year-old kid.

Over You was me trying to be hopeful and trust that time would heal all despite how messy it was in that moment. (Spoiler alert: it would.)

Recovery was the first day I felt truly good again. (Spoiler alert: it wouldn’t last.)

Miss Me, Miss Me was me re-gaining my confidence and remembering I was worth loving, and worth missing.

What’s Good About Goodbyes had a bridge that came to me in the shower; I wrote the song around it. I liked writing as if I was years in the future, reflecting back on whatever I was going through in that exact moment with wisdom and clarity. I especially like revisiting songs like that now that it really is years in the future.

Good Girls (Bad Boys) is about the first time you hear that the first person to break your heart is seeing someone new.

Each Step of the Way just proves how complicated humans are. It proves that I could be angry and hurt and heartbroken but still insist on caring about the person who caused it all once I saw that they were going through something. (Or it proves I was really easily manipulated. We’ll never know what really happened here.)

It’s Still His is that feeling when you’re not over someone, but there’s someone new trying to win your heart. It’s not that new person’s fault; you’re just not ready until you’re ready.

Still in Love with You is… exactly what it is. Exactly.

You Taught Me That was mainly inspired by the grandfather I lost when I was 6. I had a weird relationship with religion and the idea of heaven when I was younger, and writing songs like this gave me so much comfort.

Fall for You Again is how it feels to love someone new but still have moments where you worry that you’re not over that first heartbreak. It’s weird the first time you care about two people at once; before that, you don’t believe there’s anyone else out there for you. At least when you’re 16.

The Last Song was me being determined to start the new year without dragging 2012’s baggage into it. It was also right after Taylor Swift released Red, and I was obsessed with All Too Well. Unfortunately for me, this was not actually the last song. 

#emily taylor kelso #emily taylor #theemilytaylor #emily kelso #music #country #country music #emilytaylorkelso #singer/songwriter #original song #2012 #throwback #bandcamp #independent artist #indie artist #country pop #pop country #new music #bandcamp friday #taylor swift #re-recordings #vault tracks #from the vault

[montyterrible]

Puss in Boots, Interest in Plot

There are fairly heavy spoilers below for Puss in Boots: The Last Wish and lighter spoilers for The Super Mario Bros. Movie.

Watching Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (2022) so soon after The Super Mario Bros. Movie (2023) really helped me further suss out my issues with the latter through contrast with the former.

The 2011 Puss in Boots was kind of a huge surprise for me in terms of quality when I finally watched it last summer. I had skipped it when it first released, along with a lot of other animated films, because I was in that period C.S. Lewis describes in the dedicatory letter addressed to his goddaughter Lucy Barfield at the beginning of his famous novel The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe: “I wrote this story for you, but . . . I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales. . . . But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” Lately, I’ve felt myself sort of coming back around like Lewis describes, and I’ve been catching up on some things, like Puss in Boots.

As I suggested before, the first film surprised me with how “good” it seemed to be—specifically, or most relevantly to this piece, how much of a genuine, enjoyable adventure movie it was, in contrast to the more wry, pop-culture-indebted Shrek film franchise it spun out from. It felt quite separate from those movies, and while I was initially a bit worried about The Last Wish when I saw and felt a stronger link between it and Shrek (via some quick cameos and perhaps a marginally pop-ier soundscape and some level of silliness), it eventually settled into the sort of more dramatically satisfying mode I wanted, and I ultimately enjoyed it a lot, which was a stark contrast to my experience with The Super Mario Bros. Movie,when I just felt like the plot washed over me without much impact, without, we might say, “emotional friction.”

When The Last Wish was new, there was some… discussion online (or at least on Twitter) regarding its depiction of a “realistic panic attack”—what started as a praise and became a lightning rod for mockery. As I was reflecting on the movie after watching it, I found myself thinking about that scene, though not exactly in terms of its portrayal of a mental health issue.

In brief, The Last Wish focuses heavily on Puss having lost 8 of his 9 lives in frivolous ways over the years. Down to his last life, he’s being pursued by the physical manifestation of Death, which wants to kill him for his lackadaisical approach to living in the past. The periodic encounters with Death are presented quite dramatically and borderline horrifically, with Puss experiencing panic/fear/terror at the prospect of losing his life (for good). The “realistic panic attack” is a result of one of these encounters and is where Puss finally allows his new companion, “Perrito,” a wannabe therapy dog, to comfort him, and he also then opens up to Perrito about a falling out with his love interest from the 2011 movie, Kitty Softpaws, that occurred between that film and this one.

The reason this scene stuck with me, post-viewing, is because I realized it was such a good example of what The Super Mario Bros. Movie lacked—friction, and a willingness to let conflicts develop and breathe. So much of the conflict in that other movie felt perfunctory to me, like it was just going through the (Mario-colored) motions of having any kind of dramatic elements. The panic attack scene (and other Death encounters) also stand(s) in contrast to the trend that I hate in writing, filmic or otherwise, where moments of tension are so frequently undermined with “comedy.” Balancing humor and tension is a good and fine thing, but this tendency to not trust the audience—of children or adults—to sit in a moment and feel it for what it is bothers me.

Mario pays lip service to certain internal and external conflicts—the upcoming fight with Bowser, Mario and Donkey Kong trying to make their fathers proud—but I just never really felt those conflicts. The victory over Bowser was obviously guaranteed, and I just didn’t feel the fathers’ disappointment in any meaningful way. Like I said before: “Perfunctory” is the operative word here.

Meanwhile, The Last Wish has other good examples of letting conflicts be felt. The way it adapts Goldilocks and her bears is a great example: They start as just a Shrek-ified subversion of the original fairy tale (since they’re kind of rough -looking and -talking criminal types), but then the question of how all four of them are going to get what they want from a single wish is introduced, and we start to realize that “Goldi” has her own private idea of what the wish will be that puts her at odds with the “family.” We later find out that she wants to wish for a real (read: human) family, which explicitly puts her in conflict with the other bears’ wishes and how they feel about her, but they resolve to still help her anyway because they love her, and then the climax of their story arrives when Goldi gives up a chance to seize control of the titular “last wish” during the all-hands scuffle at the end of the movie and chooses to help save Baby Bear instead. And she and the bears then help Puss and company destroy the magical map to both prevent the evil Jack Horner from getting his own wish and because they already have what they want, we’re told. This is a storyline and conflict that is teased and revealed and that develops and transforms over the course of much of the film’s runtime, offering tension and a certain amount of uncertainty regarding its final outcome.

There are certain things in The Last Wish that are essentially predetermined: We can assume that Jack won’t get the wish (given how obviously catastrophic it would be) and that Puss probably won’t die, and savvy viewers will probably guess that Goldi will give up on her wish as well just based on how these stories usually unfold; however, there are still unknowns here: Like, at one point Perrito seemed to bond with Goldi and the bears, which made me wonder if he’d end up with them in the end as his new family, and no one getting the wish was actually kind of a surprise I hadn’t anticipated either…

What’s critical is that The Last Wish gives its internal and external conflicts room to grow, which is a little surprising given just how many characters are involved. It’s willing to let things linger and develop. Puss’s comedy beard that he grows when he’s feeling washed up is a fun little example. I thought for sure that the beard would just disappear between scenes once he started being more active again; however, it sticks around for a while, until he specifically begs Kitty to shave it off, which is both a funny moment and an opportunity for the conflict between the two to bubble to the surface and be teased ahead of the panic attack scene. Puss is also missing his signature swashbuckler’s blade for most of the film, which changes how he has to fight—first with a stick and then with a little dagger given to him by Kitty. It’s a fun, lasting wrinkle and also an obvious symbol. That sword has essentially been part of Puss since his first appearance in Shrek 2 (2004), and him losing it during the first encounter with Death, when his intense fear is introduced, but regaining it during the final bout, when he overcomes that fear, is a symbolic gesture on top of adding to the drama and comedy. He’s recovered a critical part of himself and is willing to once again fearlessly dance upon the razor-thin edge between life and death that the slender, almost delicate, blade could also be said to represent.

Having said all that, obviously one movie does not need to be written exactly like another one. It’s possible to mischaracterize what I’m saying here as “Mario needs to be Dark!” (because The Last Wish is tonally overall a bit more dramatic and serious), but that’s not it—It’s that one movie treats its conflicts more thoughtfully and credibly, while the other does not. Mario is welcome to stick with “easy,” “light” stuff like a lack of fatherly acceptance if it wants, but it could at least execute that stuff competently so that it actually feels like it matters, and that’s what The Last Wish does.

While I don’t know that I’d claim with any real certitude that The Super Mario Bros. Movie is “condescending” toward children, that is one thing that C.S. Lewis essentially says not to do in his essay “On Three Ways of Writing for Children”: “That is the proper meeting between man and child as independent personalities. . . . An author . . . . is not even an uncle. He is a freeman and an equal, like the postman, the butcher, and the dog next door.” Movies like the Puss in Boots duology or Arthur Christmas (2011—another animated movie I should not have “skipped” years ago) seem to me to embody that principle well. They’re created/written at a level appropriate for children, but they don’t use that as an excuse to do nothing but fart jokes, or to skimp on their conflicts.

#movies #movie review #puss in boots #puss in boots the last wish

[dreamties]

Take A Step Out Of Your Head - Polyam!Ghostface Hurt/Comfort

A/n- I listened to a lot of dandelion hands while I wrote this, so if it emotionally wrecks you than um...you know why?

Also, big thank you to @venisonghost for beta reading this and @rakunko who was vv supportive and encouraging while I worked on it !! <3

Word Count: 2,256

You’re in the kitchen, occasionally stirring the big pot of macaroni on the stove. Stu comes up behind you, wrapping his long arms and lean frame around you. He nips at your neck, leaving tiny kisses as you giggle and try to escape him. "Not now, babe."

You can hear Stu whining in return. "C'mon, dinner can wait a bit. Haven't seen you all day," he murmurs against your neck.

You hum in return, trying again to push him off. "Dinner will be done in a minute, you think you can wait that long?"

You look at him, and he's giving you the biggest puppy-eyed look you've ever seen. "Fine. We can cuddle up on the couch later, drag Billy into it too- maybe watch some Elm Street?"

Stu excitedly nods, going back to peppering you with kisses and sucking at your neck.

"Fuck off, Stu," you giggle as he finally let's go.

"Aw, you're no fun, Y/n,” he says, dramatically sticking his tongue at you. He slips away to open the fridge, grabbing a beer, and silently offering one for you. You shake your head, giving the macaroni two gentle stirs.

He takes a few sips then sets it down next to the stove. You look up towards him curiously and he gives you a mischievous smirk. He takes you by surprise, gently dragging a finger along your jawline, directing your face up towards his. It had been much longer than you’d care to admit that you’d had a good, proper kiss like this. Between work and classes and the boys’ murder gig. You melt into him, cherishing how nice it feels this close to each other. His lips are soft and warm against your own, and you can taste his beer as he deepens the kiss. 

Your sweet moment with Stu stops mid-way, interrupted by the front door slamming open then shut. Billy tosses his mask to the kitchen counter, landing with an angry slap- blood splattering against the tiled surface. You spot him trying to slip his Ghostface garments over his head, struggling as he makes his way to the bedroom.

"Should someone check on him?" Stu mumbles, feeling nervous.

You sigh, "I've got it, babe. Just keep an eye on the macaroni, it should only be a few minutes longer- and don't burn it like last time, okay?"

He chuckles, "I won't, I won't."

You roll your eyes, feeling unsure and worried about the decision to leave Stu in charge of dinner- but eventually settling on the feeling that it was for the best. Billy needed you.

Usually Billy did the caring- not to say that the rest of the relationship didn’t- but Stu and yourself were far more expressive of your own feelings than he would ever be- he would ever let himself be. He wasn’t much of a talker like Stu- but had an equally calming aura when he needed to be there for his loves. Aside from the physical comfort he’d provide, his attempts for comfort were subtle (unless it involved maiming a new victim…). 

When it came to the few times Billy found himself struck with harsh emotions that he never quite learned how to deal with- it was tricky for Y/n and Stu to help him. It was different every time. Finding the right balance between treating him as normal and stepping into new territory- and depending on what set him off, it could always be easier said than done. 

The bedroom door is left ajar, and you carefully move it further open- wincing as it makes a painful creak. Billy doesn’t seem to mind much- or hear it- as you find him sitting stock still on the bed, hunched into himself. His ghostface robes clutched in his grasp, dried blood packed into his nails and caking his hand- in parts they still shine as if freshly drained from his victim, 

You let out a sigh, eyeing him carefully. His knife is placed hazardously on a towel next to him- if he moved the wrong way it could knick his skin. You move across the room, and tentatively entering Billy’s space you grab the knife- the handle is sticky and wet. You set it on the ground, not caring about whether it stained the carpet or not. You could deal with it later- all that mattered was making sure he was okay, that he was safe. 

"Here," you motion towards the pile of clothes in Billy's hands. His eyes appear glossy as he clings onto them harder. You sit down next to him, putting a cautious hand on his back and the other smoothes down his hair. "Is this alright?"

He shrugs.

You sigh, "Can I take these? I'll put them in the laundry room, I'll wash them after dinner."

His grip on them loosens, and you get up, plucking them from his grasp. You press a gentle kiss to his forehead, scurrying off to do as you had promised. You clean your hands off, before grabbing Billy some fresh clothes from the dryer that had yet to be put away yet.

When you come back, he's dutifully wiping the blood off his knife. You smile at him, leaning against the doorframe, "I'm gonna go check on Stu and dinner, you need anything?"

Billy stares up at you, smiling- it's something devilish but sincere. "Come here."

You raise an eyebrow at him, but do as told. Billy sets his knife down on the floor, slowly slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you down into his lap. He gives a contented sigh, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.  

“You two just can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

You can hear him murmuring something, but it’s muffled by him being pressed so close to you. 

Usually when Billy was sad or overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do, he’d push those close to him away. There was a comfort in being alone- feeling like you deserved it, that this was how things were meant to be. It was rare that Billy accepted your care without a fight- so graciously, so calm. You begin to gently rub your fingertips in soothing patterns against his hands.

Every once in a while subtly asking him if it was alright, and receiving nothing more than a few mumbled words and grunts.

Stu shows up a while later, poking his head in the doorway. “It’s done.”

You glance at him, “You drain the water out before you put the packet in?”

He looks away.

Your face falls in mock anger, voice stern as you call to him-“Stu?”

He lets out a big laugh, grinning at you, “Yes, I did.”

You roll your eyes, presenting him with an exasperated look but gentle smile. “Why don’t you bring it in here, not sure if he’ll let go of me yet.”

“Totally!”

He comes back a moment later, setting the bowls of warm macaroni on the nightstand. You give a smile of appreciation towards him, and he takes that as his invitation to join the two of you. He lays down long ways on the bed, close enough to pull his arms around the cuddled mess of his lovers. He rests his head nudged against Billy’s backside. A bit of an awkward position? Maybe, but then again- that was Stu for you.

After a moment of allowing the quiet to overtake the room, you can’t help but laugh at the way the three of you had situated yourselves. You twist in Billy’s grasp, and he hesitantly moves his head upright. “Hey, Billy,” you whisper, “Mind letting go of me for a minute?”

The only response you get is him nudging you back to your position, and hiding his face in your neck again. He holds on tighter. 

“C’mon, we’re gonna cuddle up with Stu. You’re gonna be more comfortable, babe.”

His grip tightens uncomfortably. 

“Billy.” Your voice seems to startle him, and he lets go. His arms fall limply against his side.  You sigh, gently removing yourself from him- his head seems to almost hang in shame as you part. 

Stu moves himself up, so he’s sitting behind Billy.  

Your voice comes out soft, as you try to assure him that “It’s okay.” You offer your hand out to guide Billy to a more comfortable spot on the bed. The three of you find yourselves laying down with Billy situated safely in the middle. Stu’s behind him, arms wrapped around his torso, hands tucked gently around his waist. You’re in front of him, giving him a gentle smile and very softly petting you hand against his head. He yearns to lean into your touch, but he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve this.

Billy feels small and angry, trying to shy away from Stu’s hold by slowly curling into himself. He’s got his back hunched and his legs awkwardly pulled up towards himself. He’s tired and he hates the two of you seeing him like this- but he knows it will be worse if you and Stu leave. He lets out an awful whine, clutching your shirt in his grasp. He ducks his head, so he’s staring down at your shirt twisting in his bloodied hands. He shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t be doing this. 

You spare a glance towards him, his sudden noise worrying you. You catch the sight of his eyes glossing over again, and him trying to blink away any possible tears. You want so badly to pull him into a hug and tell him it’s okay to cry, to let it out. But you can imagine his reaction to it vividly, him pulling away, an angry look on his face. And letting out some terrible, defensive noise. Him pushing you away for the rest of the night- and perhaps it would spill into the following days. It was safe to say that Billy wasn’t good with most comfort, and definitely not his emotions. You’re still surprised he’s let the two of you coddle him like this for so long.

So you don’t hug him. And you don’t tell him it’s okay. You lean in closer, pressing your forehead close to his. You start your fingers through his hair, you try to be gentle with it, but your fingers keep getting caught in little snarls and dried blood. You move your head to press a small kiss to his forehead, then move back and continue trying to sooth him. 

“I love you, Billy,” you whisper. 

Stu makes a muffled agreement and then, in an attempted whisper, he says almost too loud, “Me too!” He chuckles out an apology, and nuzzles his head into the back of Billy’s neck. Billy doesn’t say anything, but he likes the warmth radiating off of his boyfriend. It feels...safe.

It’s a while before Billy does anything again. His voice is much smaller than usual when he speaks- and it sounds like he’s holding something back. Trying not to let out teary, loud sobs. 

“I don’t want you to go,” he mutters, pulling your shirt tighter in his fists.

“We’re not going anywhere, love.”

Billy holds his eyes tight, finally letting go of your clothes and hiding his face in his hands. So...so ashamed of you seeing him like this. Hearing him try to hold back his crying- it was pathetic. Billy was not supposed to be like this. Not around you, not ever. 

He lets out a pained whine, and a few tears slip out. “I almost lost you and Stu.”

You try not to frown at him, sighing, “Why are you saying that?” And then you’re reminded of his bad mood as soon as he had returned home. “Did something happen when you were out?”

“I handled it,” he grumbles out.

“Handled what?”

“Just- it!” He nearly growls, barking it out harsher than intended to. “Fuck, fuck…” he grumbles to himself. He presses his hands closer and closer, till he has his palms pushed to his eyes and it hurts. He tries so hard not to think about a life on his own. One where their little secret came to light, and he and Stu- and worst of all, you, who hadn’t done anything- would have to suffer the consequences of their wrongdoings. 

“Billy,” your voice cuts through his thoughts. You have one of your hands placed on his own, gently beckoning for him to remove them from his face. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he brings his hands down. He blinks a few times, and then rests his eyes shut again. He lets out a shaky breath. “Whatever happened- you're safe now.”

“Yeah, you’ve got us,” Stu says, giving Billy a gentle squeeze. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “And we’re not going to let anything happen to you, or any of us. We’ve got each other now. Forever and always. Okay, Billy?”

Billy’s not sure what to say. A simple yes would suffice, but he can feel the tears finally begin to trickle down his face- and he doesn’t trust himself to speak. He buries his head in your chest, and pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around you. Finally allowing himself to relax, and let Stu snuggle closer into him.

The three of you fall asleep that night, safely tucked away in each other's arms. Bowls of macaroni long forgotten, and more serious conversations left to be had. But for now- you had each other, and Billy was okay with that. 

#poly ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface x reader #poly ghostface #poly!ghostface #billy x reader x stu #billy loomis x reader x stu macher #billy loomis x stu macher #billy x stu #stuilly #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher x you #billy loomis x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slashers x s/o #slashers x s/i #slashers x you #polyam ghostface x reader #polyam!ghostface x reader #polyam!ghostface #polyam ghostface #slasher oneshot #reblogs are encouraged !!

[1kook]

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags;  jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either  the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away.  His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

Copyright © August 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

[taestefully-in-luv]

Always You | JJK (Drabble#7)

Summary: You come back from Japan.

Pairing: Always You!Jungkook x female reader

Genre:, fluff!!

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: mentions of sex

Notes: Here is technically the first drabble I wrote but I am only now just posting hehe. it's just a lil something something. This isn’t the end of drabbles don’t worry! Remember requests for drabble ideas are open! Lets chat:)

Taglist: @seagulljk @fancycollectormoon @justinetingball

© taestefully-in-luv

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe it’s been a year since she left and you still get this nervous every time you see her.” Jimin playfully jabs Jungkook.

“Like, didn’t you just see her two months ago?”

Jungkook stands here, in the middle of the airport, holding a rose. He breathes in and out, his unsteady breaths making Jimin giggle.

“Two months is a long time ago dude.” Jungkook pouts, he brings the rose to his nose and takes a sniff, hoping the aroma will calm him.

“And she’s here for good now…and you know why I am so fucking nervous dude.” Jungkook keeps staring ahead, watching as crowds of people walk through the busy airport. His heart is slightly pounding as he watches in anticipation…you should be walking through at any moment.

“I know, I know.” Jimin smiles, “She’s going to love it.”

The last few months you were home before you left for Japan, you and Jungkook decided to get a place together. The few months you got to live together were pure bliss. Jungkook and you lived happily and comfortably together again, except this time sharing a room. You two did everything together, letting the newness of the relationship swallow you down in the most wonderful way. Cooking together, sleeping together, sometimes even bathing together. BFF bubble baths? Yeah, that. But naked. Just everything.

Jungkook had visited you in japan 3 or 4 times. But in a whole year only seeing you 3 or 4 times felt like nothing. He found himself feeling lonely quite often in your empty apartment but having the guys around really helped. Jungkook is beyond excited and also nervous to see you. He always feels this way, the distance that Japan put between the both of you really took a toll on him but he always stayed strong.

“I think I see her!” Jimin’s giddy voice makes it to Jungkook’s ears, “Let’s go!” Jimin grabs on to Jungkook’s arm and starts dragging him towards the crowd of people.

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook picks up his pace, his eyes scanning for you but he doesn’t see you. Why doesn’t he see you?

“Right there, right there!” Jimin begins pointing in some general direction. And then he sees you. He sees your bright green cardigan first and then he sees your smile next. Jungkook starts jogging towards you as his smile grows so fucking wide on his face, his teeth proudly displayed.

“y/n!” he calls out, now running towards you.

You see Jungkook making his way towards you, this boy is not slowing down. You start to laugh as you start walking faster and faster towards him too.

“Jungkook!” you yell at, not caring how loud you’re being. You are seeing your boyfriend for the first time in a couple months and you are so fucking excited. Especially because there is no more goodbyes after this.

Jungkook finally reaches you and scoops you up in his strong arms, he holds on to you so fucking tightly that you struggle to breathe. You’re laughing so loudly and hugging him back. He spins you around in a couple circles, his excitement is clear to any bystanders. Jimin finally catches up to you both and you catch his eye. You smile excitedly towards him and he slumps his shoulders in pout.

“I wanna hug her too Kook.” Jimin playfully frowns.

Jungkook keeps squeezing you, his head in the crook of your neck as he inhales you. He mumbles something into your hair and neither you nor Jimin understand what he said.

“My turn, my turn.” Jimin continues to whine. You can’t help but continue to giggle when Jungkook lifts his head from you and spins you around until he’s facing Jimin.

“No. All mine.” He says matter of fact and you hit his back.

“You have to share me, baby.”

“I most certainly do not.” Jungkook says in a stern voice and you start chuckling.

“Okay, okay. You can put me down now.”

Jungkook sets you down gently but he doesn’t loosen his grip around you. He continues to hold you, his eyes finally meeting yours. You look up at him and he feels himself transforming into a god damn puddle.

“Why do you look so beautiful, hm?” Jungkook leans in closer to you, “Why does my girl look so fucking beautiful?”

“Jungkook” you lean up until your lips barely touch his, “I missed you.” You whisper against his lips. Jungkook smiles and nods his head, he leans down to catch you in a sweet kiss.

Finally, he has you here. For good.

“Need I remind you, I am still here? And waiting for my hug and kiss too.” Jimin winks and you laugh into Jungkook’s kiss.

You finally pull away from Jungkook and he pouts dramatically, he does not want to let go of you ever again. You walk towards Jimin and embrace him fully, his arms go to wrap themselves around you with all his love. You guys sway your bodies back in forth in a tight hug, and you playfully kiss his cheek, making him burst out into giggles.

“Okay, back to me.” Jungkook softly whispers with doe eyes. “Back to me, back to me.” He repeats over and over, holding out his rose for you.

You finally notice the red flower and you start to turn a nice shade of pink as your blush deepens.

“For me?”

“No it’s for me.” Jimin deadpans, “Can you just take his flower already.”

You take a few steps until you’re in front of Jungkook and you reach out for the rose, your fingers brushing against his and even after all this time you feel butterflies fly in swarms in your stomach.

“This is so sweet, Jungkook.” You go in to hug him again and he gratefully embraces you back.

“Red roses symbolize love…” he says shyly, “So I thought it was appropriate.” He pulls back slightly, “I was going to give you a dozen…but I thought taking care of one is work enough already.” He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck.

“We couldn’t even take care of that Venus fly trap.” You remind him with a pointed smile, “So, smart move on your part.”

“Well, guys.” Jimin doesn’t mean to interrupt. “We should get going. Everyone’s probably wondering where we’re at.”

“What do you mean?” you tilt your head, “Where are we going?”

“Surprise.” Jungkook says with a grin. “Let’s go.”

~~~~~~

“Oh my god you guys are crushing me.” You are in the middle of a fucking group hug. Who’s idea was this? For sure Taehyung’s. He, Hobi and Jin are absolutely crushing you as they hug you tightly. Namjoon and Yoongi stand off to the side just waiting patiently for a turn, bless them.

“Because we—” Taehyung begins, “Missed. You.”

“So. Much.” Hobi finishes for him.

“SO MUCH!” Jin yells, “Visiting you once in Japan was not enough.” Jin begins to pull back, Hobi follows his lead but Taehyung continues to smoosh his cheek into your head, squeezing you so tightly it makes you laugh out loud.

“Okay, I believe it is my turn.” You hear Yoongi say calmly. “You can let go now Taehyung.”

“NEVER!” Taehyung giggles, “But fine.”

Yoongi goes in for a rather quick hug, but holds on to your arms as he speaks.

“The record shop was not the same with out you.” He somewhat whispers. “I just had to hear about Tae’s girl problems the whole time.” He teases.

“And Jin was right,” you hear Namjoon walk closer to you, bringing you in for a tight hug. “Visiting once in Japan was not enough.”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen you guys in what? 6 months?”

“And girl, that is too damn long.” You hear her voice cut through and you bubble over with excitement.

“TRINA!” you practically jump in her arms, she laughs that loud ass laugh you love so much and you can’t help but smile.

“And Holly too!” you rush to Holly’s arms, she hugs you back and you feel like everyone is here and you feel so whole.

“Happy?” you hear Jungkook’s voice from beside you. “We thought we would surprise you with a little welcome back party…”

“I’m so happy.” You admit, “Thank you.” You reach for Jungkook’s hand and interlock your fingers with his. “As much as I can’t wait to hang out here with everyone,” you bring your voice down to a whisper. “I also can’t wait until I am home alone with you.”

Jungkook turns a bit red before he’s smirking, squeezing your hand. He leads you to Jin’s backyard where everyone is starting to end up.

“We don’t have to wait until home before you can be alone with me.” Jungkook whispers back, you can hear his teasing tone and it goes straight to your lady bits.

“Be careful.” You warn, “I might take you up on that.”

“God, y/n. I am hoping you do.” He stops at the doorway and pulls you into his body, he grinds he hips into yours and you feel his half hard length.

“What are you thinking about that’s got you so worked up?” you tease, your hands running down his chest.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Your lips have been on my mind since we got here.”

“Want to kiss me baby?” you press yourself into his chest, tipping your head up.

“So fucking badly.” But before Jungkook can lean down and capture your lips he hears someone’s throat being obnoxiously cleared.

“You guys are so fucking gross. Can’t even check if you’re alone.” Jimin rolls his eyes, he continues walking towards you two with a cup in his hand.

“Why is it always me that you guys always end up making out in front of?” He whines, and you chuckle. Not feeling too embarrassed since it’s just Jimin.

“Sorry, sorry.” You step away from Jungkook and put your hands on your hips. “Where’s my drink, hm?”

“Here, take this one. Not strong enough for me anyway.” Jimin hands you his cup and you roll your eyes with a grin.

“What about me?” Jungkook pouts, “I want a drink too.”

“You’re both fucking babies.” Jimin says with a playful smile, “I’ll make your drink, but you gotta keep me company.”

“Deal.” Jungkook nods his head, “You can go ahead and hang with everyone else baby.”

“Oh, thanks for the permission.” You salute towards him and he waves you off.

You head outside to find everyone else with their own drinks in their hands, chatting away. You find Trina and Holly and go take a seat next to them.

“I have missed you guys so much.” You sip on your drink, “Japan was so cool but nothing beats being home again.”

“We missed you too.” Holly puts a hand on your knee, “We’re so glad you’re back.” She says as she brings her hand back to her body.

“Yeah bitch, never leave us again!” Trina jumps into the conversation, “You should of seen Jungkook, honey. He was so miserable without you.”

And then you’re frowning. You know going abroad was a really tough decision. Especially because you had just gotten into a relationship and just 5 months in you went long distance. Jungkook struggled a lot in the beginning while you were thriving in Japan when you had first arrived. He talked a big game, saying you guys could handle it, saying going a few months at a time without seeing one another wouldn’t be such a big deal but it was…he grew depressed without you.

You nod your head once you get out of your thoughts, you take another sip of your drink and then you hear Taehyung speak up as he walks to you girls.

“He wasn’t that bad guys.” Taehyung assures you. “Maybe in the beginning… but after his first visit with y/n he lit up light a spot light and he got stronger. Plus he had us.” He gestures towards everyone.

You look up at Taehyung and feel immensely grateful…for his words and because he’s right, Jungkook had all of them to lean on.

“So when are you going to do it?” Jimin gives Jungkook a knowing smile, “Here? Some fancy date?” he continues pouring a “couple” shots of Vodka in his cup.

“Why the hell would I do it here? I planned a whole date, of course. I want everything to be fucking perfect.”

“When’s the date?”

“Tomorrow.”

Jimin watches as Jungkook wipes his assumingly sweaty palms on his jeans and he can’t help but softly smile towards his friend.

“It’s going to be fine, Jungkook.” Jimin’s tender voice does little to calm Jungkook though.

“What if she says—”

“She’s going to say yes.” Jimin sets the bottle of vodka down, he swirls his mixed drink with a spoon, giving it a look before shoving it into Jungkook’s hands.

“You need this one more than me.” He laughs, “Listen, just relax.”

“I can’t relax, I want tomorrow to be here already. But I am so nervous. What if things don’t go smoothly at the restaurant? What if—”

“What if it all goes wrong? Really?” Jimin raises a single brow. “But what if it all goes right?” he pats Jungkook’s shoulder. “Just do it when the moment feels right?”

“How will I know when that moment is?” Jungkook bows his head. A frown decorating his face.

“You’ll just know.”

You can’t believe you’re back home with all your friends. You’ve missed this. You don’t regret going abroad at all, you needed it, if you’re being honest. You needed to do something for you no matter what. You needed to go out into the world and experience something wild and new. And Japan was an absolutely perfect experience. Every time Jungkook would visit you two would have such a lovely time, but saying goodbye never got easier.

“What are you thinking about?” Jungkook snuggles you closer to his body, you’re sitting between his legs on the grass on a blanket.

“Oh nothing.” You sing. “Nothing.”

“y/n! Do you want chicken or beef?” You hear Jin ask over the light music filling the backyard.

“Chicken!” you yell back and sink lower to the ground, cuddling closer to Jungkook.

“I’m serious y/n…” Jungkook begins, “You don’t have to wait until we’re home to be alone with me.”

“Follow me inside the house then.” You turn your head to face him and you wink, “I’ll be in the bathroom.”

“The bathroom? Oh, we’re being classy tonight.”

~~~~~

Jungkook’s fingers barely touch you as he skids them down your bare back, you lightly moan at the contact.

“Missed touching you.” He says softly, he fingers now running up your back before they’re sliding back down again.

“Missed being touched by you.” The side of your face is pushed into your pillow as you stare at him. “I missed you so much.”

It’s the next morning, you two are lying naked in your shared bed, the sheets barely covering you. Jungkook continues stroking your back as you lazily close your eyes.

“I’m glad you found a job here.” Jungkook admits, “I don’t think I want to ever be apart from you again.”

“Was it that bad?” you whisper out.

“Baby…no matter what we can get through it but yeah, it sucked.” He chuckles, his fingers graze your skin lower and lower. He lifts the sheets back until your ass is in view, Jungkook kneads the flesh before bringing his hand back and giving you a little spank.

“So, be a good girl and never leave me again.” He goes back to massaging your cheeks and you groan.

“Never again.” You promise. You keep your eyes shut as you enjoy Jungkook’s touch. You roll over to your back, bringing the sheets to your face and you sniff them.

“It feels so good to be home…” you say, “To be with you. In our home. Together.”

Jungkook feels his heart flutter, like a butterfly is taking off and flying towards the big, blue sky.

“Are you happy?” Jungkook asks, “With everything? With…me?”

You crack open one eye to get a look at Jungkook…he’s lying on his side with one arm stretched out to stroke your soft skin and his other arm is holding up his head. He looks so soft and like he has a glow surrounding him.

“So unbelievably happy, my love.” You assure him, “With everything…with you.”

Jungkook eyes expand before they narrow at you and he smirks.

“What about me makes you happy?”

“What about you makes me…?” you begin to laugh lightly. “Can I say everything? Or do I I have to list specific things?”

“I want a list. In alphabetical order, please.” He jokes. “Least to most important.”

“They’re all important!” you close your eyes again. “But okay…A: ass…” you say and Jungkook spanks you again.

“I’m serious y/n.”

“Dude me too, you have such a nice ass.” You point out, “But fine, A: your attitude. Even when things get hard you try to stay positive and it really helps me to be honest…B: body, you are really hot. C: Coc—”

“Okay, I feel like I know where this list is going.” Jungkook cuts you off with a blush. He can’t help but chuckle.

“Really Jungkook, everything. You make me happy when you breathe. Just being here with you makes me happy. You make me laugh all the time, you make me think about life, you make me challenge myself, you push me to do things for me, you support me, you are always honest with me, you…” you take a breath, “You…love me and you don’t make me doubt it for a second.”

Jungkook looks taken aback for a moment, like your words are really surprising him. He continues to glide his hand down your back, feeling your skin beneath his fingertips. Jungkook never wants a moment like this to end. It’s perfect. You look so beautiful here, relaxing after a night out partying and welcome home sex. He thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever looked. But to be fair he thinks that a lot.

“Because I do love you.” He finally says, “So much.”

“Trust me, I know. And I love you just as much if not more.”

“That’s impossible.” He leans down to kiss the top of your head. “My love for you is endless, how can you top that?”

“I can live my life trying.”

This is a moment, a special moment. Does he need a fancy dinner date to create a moment like this? Or is this the moment that Jimin was talking about? The moment where he knows.

“y/n…do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?” his tone is soft, tender and shy. Your cheeks get painted a lovely shade of pink as you think of his question.

“Of course I do.”

“No… I mean it. Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Me and you forever? Me and you until we move on to the next life, and even then you have to promise to spend that one with me too…”

“Jungkook.” You giggle, “What are you going on about? We already said—”

“You’re it for me.” He admits, “You are without a doubt, the love of my life.” He blinks rapidly as if he were trying to rid himself of any oncoming tears.

“I mean it when I say you are the best thing that’s happened to me.” His lip slightly quivers and you reach up to caress his face.

“Baby,” you begin. “I love you.”

“Then…” Jungkook draws his hand that was stroking you to his body, he scratches the back of his neck and smiles shyly. “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s make it official.” He says and you grow slightly confused. Jungkook stands from the bed and heads to the closet. You lay here wondering what the hell he is doing, is he putting on clothes? But he walks back out still naked, with something behind his back.

He comes to your side of the bed and gets down on both knees, he scoots closer to the bed until he’s face to face with you.

“Want to marry me?” he asks, reaching for your hand. His other hand holds a small box and your eyes grow twice their size. There’s no way he’s…

“Jungkook…” you breathe out, “Are you proposing?”

“Well, I have a ring. And I quite literally asked if you wanted to marry me. So yes?” he chuckles and you gasp.

“We don’t have to get married for a while. But being engaged and planning a future could be nice.” He suggests and you want to faint. You were not expecting this. Not so soon anyway. But he’s right, you don’t have to plan a wedding and get married right away. And he is without a doubt the love of your life as well.

“Jungkook.” You choke on his name, “Yes.” Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath…you said yes? His shocked expression slowly morphs into something much more soft. He takes your hand and he’s slipping the ring on your finger.

“Mine.” He says with a timid smile.

You stare down at your hand with the sparkly jewelry accompanying your finger.

“It’s so beautiful.” You say somewhat surprised.

“To be honest, Jimin really helped.” He admits with a laugh. “And by helped I mean he picked it out.”

“Figures.” You giggle and you reach for him, your hands on either sides of his cheeks as you bring him in for a kiss.

“You really want to marry me?” you raise a brow at him and he gives you his dopiest most in love bunny grin he can manage.

“I wouldn’t marry anyone else.”

“Good, me either.” You peck his lips again, “You want a whole life with me?”

“I want you in this life, the next life, the life after that…”

He plants kisses all over your face and you laugh.

“Want to marry you y/n. Want to adopt a pet with you…want to put a baby in you…want to grow old with you…” he says all between kisses.

“A-A baby?”

“One day. Multiple times.” He grins, kissing you again. “Don’t you want that?”

“Yes.” You say breathless. “One day.”

“I just really want you forever, you know?” Jungkook whispers. “Do you think you would like that?”

“Babe, I would love that.” You bring him in for another kiss, then you open your eyes and they travel to the ring on your hand. “And we just made that our plan.”

#bts #bts fluff #bts drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #always you drabbles #jeon jungkook

[ickle-ronniekins]

forever, i choose you

desc: he’s always been everyone’s second choice, in every aspect of his life. george weasley just wants to be someone’s first.

word count: 3.9k

pairing: george weasley x muggle!reader

warning(s): idk you might cry, i sure did but what else is new. loneliness/discussion of sexual content/idk

A/N: i still have no motivation to write and/or read. and it’s the absolute worst. but i wrote the bulk of this story back in december/the beginning of january, and i figured maybe i’d try and write the ending and publish it and see if it’ll spark any inspiration in me. i’m real, real, real sorry if i haven’t gotten to your fics to read (i’ve got them all saved!) i just don’t know what’s wrong with me atm and it’s THE WORST. also it might evoke more emotion if you listen to this while reading this lil fic. thank you, to all of you, for your support and patience, always.

disclaimer: i do not give consent for my work to be posted on ANY other platform.

Seven-year-old George Weasley watched with wide eyes and a goofy grin as his father twirled his mother in the family space of their normally bustling and loud home. But tonight, the Burrow was quiet. Everyone was already sound asleep, his five brothers and his younger sister. George should be too, but he just couldn’t fall asleep no matter how much he tried. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his sheets and kept groaning, and it wasn’t long before his twin brother Fred threw a few pillows at his face, and eventually, George decided to get up and go for a stroll.

He hid strategically on the staircase so his parents wouldn’t see that he was still wide awake at nearly midnight, and he watched as they swayed lightly to the music emitting from somewhere in the house. It was light as a feather, the music, a small piano tune that echoed through the lower level, its sounds traveling effortlessly up the stairs of the home. Mr. Weasley dipped his wife and Mrs. Weasley giggled like some of the young girls George had seen in the village, kind of a nervous giggle, and he watched her blush. He saw his mother placed her head gently on Mr. Weasley’s chest and they both closed their eyes, and George wondered if they were happy to have a moment of peace without their seven children running around causing mayhem.

He wondered if they danced like this every evening, after everyone had already gone to bed.

George noticed a weird sort of feeling in his chest; he wondered why his heart was hurting. Was it because there was something wrong? But then he realized that wasn’t the case, for the aching in his heart came from his pure desire to find exactly what his mum and dad had -- a love like none other, with seven children, a home with multiple stories, and more treacle tarts than one needs.

He vowed in that moment, as he watched his parents from the staircase and tapped his foot quietly in rhythm with the music, that he’d find love like that one day.

He wanted someone to choose him first, just like his parents chose one another.

He brought his hand to his chest, as if to calm his rapidly beating heart, for the sheer idea of finding a love like theirs filled him with such excitement that he was certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep now. Seven-year-old George Weasley laid in bed, ignoring the soft snores from his twin across the room, his eyes wide with wonder as he dreamt of the woman he’d dance with one day.

Twelve-year-old George Weasley wasn’t ready to date. He was only twelve years old! He much preferred to dream.

He knew when he looked at the girl across from him that she wasn’t the one, lovely as she was. He adjusted his Gryffindor tie and cleared his throat and focused on the Potions assignment in front of him. It wasn’t exactly a date, was it? He was in a Potions lesson with his classmates, and Snape. But when the cute blackhaired Hufflepuff approached him and asked if he’d like to work together on the next of Snape’s ridiculous concoctions, Fred poked his brother in the ribs and winked, as if to say, If you don’t partner up with her, you’re a right prat.

And so George did what he thought was gentlemanly and he said yes. He could tell by the rose pink colour that flooded her cheeks that she was smitten with him, and that she’d asked him to be her partner because she was smitten. And he had to admit, she really was quite cute and very, very kind.. and rather smart for her age as well. And he knew that she’d make some man very, very happy someday. It just wouldn’t be him.

He did what was asked of him. He measured out the correct amount of powdered Griffin claw. He made sure he and his partner had enough salamander blood for their strengthening solution. And he smiled back at his partner, though his heart and his mind were still with the girl he’d dance with one day.

The Hufflepuff tried her hardest to capture his heart, but it belonged to someone he had yet to meet.

She wasn’t the one that felt like home.

-- -

Sixteen-year-old George Weasley didn’t understand why all of his classmates wanted to snog people and move onto someone else without so much as a blink.

So many people were pairing off and lasting less than a week before moving onto someone new. George rattled his brain for answers, he searched the eyes of his classmates for explanations, but he couldn’t understand why people would want to hop from one person to another. Didn’t they want to find love, a love that’s long lasting and pushes boundaries and moves mountains and weathers the storms it meets?

But perhaps, he worried, maybe that’s where he was going wrong.

Maybe, in order to find what he truly yearned for, he needed to be reckless and love without really loving.

Maybe he needed to search less, in order to find her.

And so he decided, with much persuasion from Fred, that he’d ask that pretty brunette Ravenclaw to the Yule Ball, and he’d dance and drink firewhisky and maybe he’d even kiss her, if the courage he tried to summon stayed with him throughout the night.

And maybe if he did all those things, he’d forget about the one his heart desperately craved.

And for a little while, he really did forget. Perhaps he could get on board with this “love the one you’re with” mentality. Maybe he could just be in the moment without worrying about everyone else. Maybe he could kiss girls without feeling anything, maybe he could date casually, maybe he could be like everyone else his age and not think about weddings and marriage and having children.

“Georgieee,” the Ravenclaw slurred on the dance floor. She tugged on his tie and pulled him close. He could smell the firewhisky on her breath and his heart began to pound when she pressed her lips lightly to his cheek. “Dance with meeee.”

No, this wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted more than this. He’d always wanted more than this.

George begrudgingly agreed and caught Fred’s eye from across the dance floor. The elder twin threaded his brows together and pushed the air with his hands, as if encouraging his younger brother to go for it. The Ravenclaw dazedly draped her arms across George’s shoulders and he sheepishly looked down toward his feet, but didn’t wrap his arms around her.

“George Weasleeeeyyyy,” she slurred again, hiccoughing in between giggles, “I said dance with meeeeeee.”

He tried to fight it, tried not to think of what he always did, but he couldn’t help it.

This girl was not the one. He could tell, because there was no love in the way she said his name. There was no true feeling in the surplus of kisses she kept pressing to his jawline, and there was no warmth radiating from her -- not the kind that mattered, anyway.

He knew, as he placed his hands gently on her waist and swayed with her to the music, that this was not what love felt like. This is not what home felt like.

He danced anyway, even though it was not the kind of dancing he’d seen his parents do all those years ago, and he allowed himself to think about what the rest of his classmates weren’t -- the person he’d hold in his arms, who’d be the mother to his children, who’s kisses would send him spiraling, who’s embraces would become all too familiar in a way that would comfort him in the darkest of times.

He allowed himself again, to dream of true love.

-- -

Seventeen-year-old George Weasley was sick and tired of waiting for the one.

It sounded kind of dramatic in his own head, seeing as he was only seventeen, but he’d known now for ten years exactly what he was looking for, and ten years seemed like a lifetime.

It didn’t help that nearly all of his friends had gotten over their casual dating scene and were now all enthralled with their significant others. He felt so painfully lonely, though he’d never admit it to a soul. He could hardly admit it to himself.

One evening, he shot up from the couch and out of the common room in a fit of fury, for if he had to see Fred and Angelina snogging in the corner for one more minute, he was quite certain he was going to explode from disgust. He was happy for his brother, of course he was, but he didn’t need to see it. Not as often as that.

He found Ron sitting in the Great Hall with Ginny, Harry, and Hermione and plopped beside them all before engaging in exciting rounds of exploding snap. But as the night grew darker and he grew more tired, George noticed the undeniable chemistry between his sister and Harry and his brother and Hermione. Though they all hadn’t admitted to one another how they felt, George had found it obvious, and he politely excused himself before he tugged his jacket rather angrily around his shoulders before he walked out into the winter storm, just to feel the cold air numb his skin.

He walked out of the castle, over toward the owlery, through the treacherous amounts of snow. Anything to distract George from everyone who’d apparently been hit by Cupid’s bloody arrow.

Ever since he was born, it had always been Fred and George. What about George and Fred? Was it because Fred was older? And why were people always lumping them together? Just because they’re twins? George loathed that. They were individuals too. He was always second, in everything.

In getting hand-me-downs from his older brothers. In being referred to with his twin. In lessons when the professors would call out their names for attendance, because F came before G in the alphabet. And even when it came to love; all the girls always seemed to flock to Fred instead, because he was more exciting. More boisterous. Less shy.

The cold, winter air bit violently at his exposed skin, and he reckoned it hurt less than watching everyone around him find someone that chose them, all while he was still waiting for the right person to choose him.

George Weasley didn’t want to be someone’s second choice.

He wanted to be someone’s first.

-- -

Twenty-year-old George Weasley didn’t know how exactly he ended up here.

He didn’t know how he ended up in a relationship three years deep, without having said “I love you” once and actually meaning it.

George thought he might’ve found her, his person, during his seventh year. She was beautiful and kind and everything he thought he’d hoped and dreamt of. Her soft touch, her yearning eyes, the way she curled up next to him in the dormitories late at night and held onto him as she slept -- it was everything, and it seemed to be perfect.

He thought that maybe, perhaps, she was it. But even so, he found himself waiting, still, for that feeling… the one on the staircase he’d felt so long ago.

But the pain of realizing that she wasn’t who he’d been searching for was more heartbreaking than the pain of him asking her to leave.

He’d been looking at her through rose coloured lenses and had been ignoring the truth that was right in front of him.

He should’ve left years ago, when that Gryffindor girl began to make backhanded jokes about the shop, and his dreams of becoming a business entrepreneur, claiming that she was only joking around.

He should’ve left when that girl showed up late to the grand opening of their shop, nearly a year into their relationship.

He should’ve left when he held her in his arms, and still didn’t feel comfortable beside her.

His heart ached for it, what he’d felt on the staircase at the mere age of seven. And perhaps he’d become so desperate for it, that he took something disguised as true love.

But the truth was that he knew, deep in his soul, that this Gryffindor girl wasn’t the one. He’d just chosen, outright, to ignore it. Perhaps if he could forget that idea that “the one” would smack him square in the face with an overwhelming sensation of knowing, he could have learned to love her, even when he hadn’t had that smack in the face moment when he’d met her all those years ago.

But it hadn’t happened, had it? He hadn’t grown to love her. Not truly, anyway. And she hadn’t grown to love him. Not in the way he wanted to be loved, at least.

Because it was more than just heated kisses and lazy days in bed and all things physical that he wanted.

It was about love. Pure, blinding, unadulterated love.

He stood frozen solid in the middle of his tiny flat and watched as that Gryffindor girl grabbed her coat off of the hanger and raised her hand slightly before slipping silently into the dimly lit hallway for the very last time. And George poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat near the window, looking up at the stars, expecting to feel sad at her departure, but in fact, he didn’t feel sad at all.

He felt hopeful.

He hadn’t found the one yet, but he knew she was out there, getting to him as fast as she possibly could.

Though his brothers had urged him to come to the pub and meet someone else, George didn’t fancy the idea of doing that. He was over that entire scene, just as he was in school when everyone was pairing off and moving on immediately. He didn’t want something fleeting, and he didn’t want something meaningless.

He wanted something true.

-- -

Twenty-three-year old George Weasley was certain that he was never going to find that feeling ever again, for as long as he lived.

While all of his friends were out at the pubs, meeting people and fooling around as if feelings weren’t involved, George was walking aimlessly through the streets to work. He was constantly dealing with the haze above his head, waiting for it to lift. He was turning down girls left and right and ignoring his brothers’ insistence on dating casually again.

He didn’t want to waste any more of his time on people who weren’t going to reach out and trace circles onto his chest in the middle of the night, or who weren’t going to dance around the kitchen in his clothes while cooking dinner, or who weren’t going to look at him with eyes so tender, it would render him useless for days to come.

He’d been waiting sixteen years to find his person, the one who would choose him everyday over everyone else, and in hindsight it didn’t quite seem like a long time. But as he cried silently to himself every few nights in bed, feeling the empty space next to him and yearning for the one who was meant to be there, sixteen years felt like a lifetime.

He thought for a long while, that maybe she was in another country, or maybe she was an auror or something, fighting her way through the monsters of the wizarding world.

He’d thought for a bit that perhaps he just hadn’t met her yet.

But as the days dragged on and he found himself lost in crowds, searching face after face, looking for hers, he truly felt as though all hope was lost.

And so George paced back and forth in the kitchen of his flat, biting at his nails and pouring himself hefty glasses of wine, keen on ignoring everyone’s attempts at getting him to come out.

Maybe this was what he deserved.

Maybe because he wasn’t out there, sleeping with people whose names he wouldn’t remember come morning like everyone else, he was just going to be alone.

Maybe there really wasn’t someone out there for him. Maybe not everyone finds true love. Maybe his parents had just gotten lucky.

The dull ache in George’s heart grew stronger, and for the upteenth night in a row, he laid in bed and gripped the covers and cried himself to sleep, his tears sliding down his cheeks the same way the evening rain slid down the window terrace.

-- -

Twenty-four-year old George Weasley stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he felt it.

That feeling. The one from the staircase as he watched his parents dance, all those years ago.

Heart pounding, chest rising, hands freezing.

It hit him square in the chest without warning, nearly knocking him over though his feet were rooted into the ground at the spot, smack dab in the middle of that cafe in the middle of London.

Someone was playing a slow, soft piano tune coming from the other end. People were filtering in and out, asking the man in front of them what exactly he was staring at and why he wasn’t moving. But George Weasley stood where he was, not taking his eyes off of you.

You were reading furiously, flipping through pages of a book gripped tightly in your hands, as though you couldn’t devour the plot fast enough. George watched with admiration as a gentle smile tugged at your lips, as your eyes scanned the words quickly, as you tapped your foot on the ground, in rhythm with that slow piano.

He watched with dazed eyes and parted lips as you finished the end of your book. You dabbed your eyes with a tissue and clutched the book tightly to your chest, overwhelmed, clearly, by the end of the plot. George’s heart soared so high at your passion that he found himself struggling to hold back the I love you that was pressing behind his lips.

You immediately took a long sip of your tea and placed your finished book back into your bag, only to pull out another and immediately immerse yourself in the next story. George laughed to himself, stunned that you were so intent on falling into someone else’s storyline, if only for a little while, that you hadn’t dared take a break from one book to the next. You merely jumped right in.

He wondered if his overwhelming feelings called out to you like a signal of sorts, because just as he was working up the courage to walk over to you, you looked up. You searched the room for a moment before meeting his gaze and suddenly, the world around you both stopped.

George found himself wanting to know everything about you. He itched to devour up any and all information you’d be so kind to provide to him -- your name, your favorite color, your birthday. He wanted to know what book you’d just been reading, and what about it had moved you so much to the point of tears. He wanted to know everything, but deep in his soul, he also knew that he’d have years to learn it all.

In fact, he’d have the rest of forever.

Your eyes went soft and George began to feel the steady pounding of his heart increase, and to his amazement, he noticed a gentle smile tug at the edges of your lips.

And he smiled back.

He’d been right all along. That feeling of finding the one would smack him square in the face. He wondered, as he peered at you now, biting down on your bottom lip and looking toward the ground, why he’d ever doubted himself in the first place. And he wondered when you looked back up at him once again and raised a hand to say hello, if you’d been smacked in the face with that feeling too, just like he had.

He resisted the urge to pour his heart out to you, right here and right now. He’d have time.

Perhaps today was just about having today, and recognizing that you were everything he’d been looking for since that evening on the staircase.

He’d tell you this one day.

-- -

“And what does… Lumox mean again?”

George laughed and squeezed your hands. “You mean, Lumos?”

You bit your lip in embarrassment and laughed, too. “Yes! Lumos. That’s the one that produces light, right?”

George brought your hands to his lips and kissed them gently. You two were seated inside a bustling restaurant in Diagon Alley, and he wondered if people passing by realized just how cozy you two looked together. “You’re more brilliant than most witches I know.”

You cocked your head to the side with an air of confidence and batted your eyelashes at him. “What can I say, Georgie? I may have been born a… Mugglie… but maybe I was meant to be a witch.”

George had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing. He couldn’t get over how painfully adorable you were as you attempted to pronounce these wizarding words and learn spells and charms and things as he taught you all things about the wizarding world. You took his wand and pointed it at your wine glass, pretending to transfigure it. You couldn’t, of course, since you weren’t a magical being. But George didn’t mind. He could watch you pretend all day long.

In all his years of studying magic, he’d never felt anything quite like this.

BONUS, just because i hate feeling sad asf:

Thirty-two-year old George Weasley rocked his redheaded daughter back and forth in his arms, until he was certain that she was sound asleep again -- her mouth open wide as she began to snore softly when he placed her back into her crib.

He peered up at the clock on the wall and blinked a few times before 4:32 a.m. came into focus. Exhausted, he made his way back into his room before sliding into bed.

And there it was again. That feeling.

You turned over in bed to face him, squinting in the darkness as your eyes adjusted to the scene unfolding before you. Groggily, you reached out and traced your fingers across his jawline. His heart nearly stopped. “Is she alright?” you asked sleepily.

George grinned softly and leant forward before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He whispered, “She’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

Though your eyes were already shut, you reached out again and took his hand in yours before bringing your lips gently to his fingers. “Okay.. I love you.. G’night..”

But you were asleep again before George could respond, so instead he pulled you closely to him and began to gently trace circles on your bare shoulders. He breathed in the smell of your shampoo, and listened intently for the beating of your heart that had fallen into sync with his.

Tears pushed at the edges of his eyes, but he slowed his breathing and reminded himself, again, that there was no longer an empty space beside him in bed.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ever given up hope, but perhaps giving up hope was what made finding you so much sweeter.

If only he could tell seven-year-old George what he’d find when the time was right.

And in the darkness, as the rain pattered on the rooftop of his house and he felt your embrace tighten around his body, he whispered into the silence, “I love you, too.”

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @acciotwinz @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @highly-acidic @90shermione @zreads @holland-parkers @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @awritingtree @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyinhserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight @hannolannno @msmimimerton @oh-for-merlins-sake @hufflepuff5972 @pigwidgexn @sarcasticallywitty15 @breadqueen95 @teawiththeweasleys @pit-and-the-pen @phuvioqhile @vogueweasley @hufflrpuffforfred @harrypotter289 @lovefromrosie | message me if you’d like to be added or removed or have changed your URL so i can update!

#george weasley #fred weasley #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #george weasley x reader #george weasley reader insert #george weasley x you #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imagines #george weasley imagines #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction

[alexaplaysgames]

Can you do Felix and Mc getting into a fight

My angst brain need some

You got it bb <3 Idk if this is really that much of a fight, but I couldn't make the MC too mean to Felix. Also, I’m aware this paints baby in a bad light. I had to make them fight about something okay :’( I don’t think he’d do this in canon.

Title: A bit Bitter

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC (Last Legacy)

Words: 2564

Tags: @demon-paradise @themohawkhelmet @cactus-hoodie @aomiyeon @piningmaybeanartist @another-confused-gay @uselessbeanies @nomnomcupcakesworld @druwuuwu @frozen-daydream @kirakiratears @margitartist @crowtrinkets @fanfic-about-fictif Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

“Tell me the truth, Felix.”

His gray eyes dart upwards from his textbooks as I storm into the room. When he sees what I hold clutched in my hands, he swallows, the bob of his throat visible even from the doorway.

I continue in a voice that is simultaneously weak and as strong as I can manage. “Is this really how you feel?”

“W-why do you have that, love?”

I frown. His nervousness sends guilt shooting through me, but I stamp it out. I’ve bent over backwards for months in an attempt to make him comfortable, and did so gladly. But this? I can only withstand so much.

I set the notebook down on the edge of his desk with a heavy thud. Felix winces.

“The things you wrote in here, about me…” I shake my head, then look away. I can feel my eyes sting, and I bite my tongue to hold back from crying. “Felix-“

“That’s private! You don’t have the right to go snooping through my possessions.”

I sigh. Yeah, I’m nosy and read his journal, and normally I would be ashamed. I shouldn’t have done it, but… “I don’t think that’s important right now.”

“Of course it’s important!” Felix gasps, standing out of his desk chair to snatch up the journal. He meets my eyes with a fragile sort of vulnerability, then pulls the journal defensively to his chest. “I’m not privy to every thought you have. You can’t judge me for mine.”

“I would never think these things of you!” My voice raises until it edges on a shout, and I frantically rush to reign it in. “I would never.”

“That’s not-“ Felix whispers with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair.”

“No. What’s not fair is this.” I reach forward and pull the leather journal from his hands, flipping forward a few weathered pages until I find what I’m looking for.

“‘Not nearly comparable to Rime’s beauty, nor do they possess his talent with magic. They’re candlelight to his radiant sun. I’ve quelled whatever feeling has stirred in my chest and decided that I won’t settle for them. Not while my love is still hurting. And I do miss him so.”

Felix is biting at his lip as I lower the book once more, his eyes watery, wide circles. “That’s old,” he chokes out. “I swear. I don’t feel that way. I love you.”

He looks like he wants to touch me, so I step away. I shake my head. “But you did feel that way.”

“I- why does it matter? That’s private. How- how much else have you read to convince yourself my feelings for you are disingenuous? You were never meant to see any of it.” He’s wrapped arms around his thin frame, now, squeezing his eyes shut as if he wishes this all would simply go away.

“I’ve read enough.”

Felix’s eyes go wide, then dart to the journal in my hand. “Why?” I ask. “Worried there’s something worse left for me to uncover?”

“N-no.” He runs his hand over his face. “Why couldn’t you stay out of my things? That was personal! It was none of your business!” Felix hisses the last words, as close to angry as I’ve ever seen him with me. His eyes are filled with tears, but his expression if one of a rage I’ve never been in the receiving end of.

“Fuck you,” I spit out, watching him hiccup as if the words were a physical blow. “You’re a liar, Felix.” Then I simply can’t help myself but to add, “Maybe you do deserve to be alone.”

I know as soon as I say it that I’ve gone too far, and the look on his face- fuck. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the broken, hurt expression that flashes across his features out of my head. Yes, the words he’d written in that journal had stung, but I don’t feel any satisfaction from hurting him just as badly. If anything, it makes me feel worse.

All I feel is lost. My psyche weighs heavy with guilt, as well as hatred for myself for letting my patience slip. Before it can all come crumbling down on me, I turn on my heel and rush out the door, slamming it behind me with an echo that rings much to hollow to make me feel any better.

✦✧✦✧

I had frantically stuffed my few belongings into a bag and rushed to the nearest inn, flopping onto a rickety bed and crying myself to exhaustion. That had been two days ago, now, and I haven’t spoken to Felix since.

On the bright side, sending drunk texts is much more difficult to do when one doesn’t possess a cellphone.

Each night my dreams are filled with memories of his face, his smile. I can feel him in my arms, see the distinct colour of his blush each time I call him “baby” or “my sweet”. I wonder if I was over-dramatic in my reaction, but then remember the words in that journal. To think, the passage I had read aloud had only been one of many.

No. I was right to be upset.

I keep wondering if maybe the things he wrote in there were true. Yet, it’s so confusing- Felix has always had the upmost respect for me. And he’s not exactly great at hiding his emotions.

I’ve met with Anisa and Sage, both of whom seemed relatively stunned at the news. Anisa had offered exercise as a way to take my mind off it, and Sage had offered… another form of physical activity altogether, which didn’t really surprise me.

“A fight? Really? You two have always seemed like such a sappy married couple…”

I sigh. “Thanks, Sage. Really. It wasn’t even a fight, to be honest.”

“Married couples do fight, Sage.” Anisa pats my hand. “Felix is just dramatic. It will be fine! Whatever he did, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He just gets a little… jumbled up sometimes. But his intentions are pure. At least, I believe so. You can never tell with Felix.” She smiles. “Give him some time to mope and he’ll apologize.”

“If it helps,” Sage interjects, “he fought all the time with deer boy, and they were apparently a thing. I’m sure he’s used to it.”

I refrain from telling Sage that his oh-so-helpful comment is far from helpful; in fact, it highlights exactly what I’m worried about.

Tonight, thunder strikes outside in heavy, booming claps. The room I’ve rented is lowly lit by a single candle, but the flashes of lightning outside the window often light up the entire space. Rain pelts the roof and the wind howls mournfully, as if in empathy of my crushed spirit.

I’m just in the middle of pretending I’m in a sad music video when I hear an unsteady knock at the door. At first, I think it might be a tree branch outside, being as it’s so soft, but then I hear the sound again.

I fling the wool blankets over my head with a huff and shuffle towards the door, then unceremoniously fling it open.

I should have expected it would be my necromancer boyfriend looking like a drenched cat.

Felix is sopping wet, his hair plastered to his forehead and clothes so soaked I can see his tanned skin underneath. As soon as the door opens, his eyes go wide, and he immediately looks as if he’s attempting to say something, but he can’t seem to spit it out. His teeth are chattering so forcefully he can’t speak, and the wind has whipped the wet strands of hair into his mouth.

He is so stupid. I immediately can’t help but think that I love him. I am definitely morosexual.

I blink dazedly at him for a moment, before grabbing his elbows and hastily pulling him inside.

“I’m s-sorry,” he sobs as I grab a blanket off the bed and hastily wrap it around his shoulders. I can’t tell if he’s shaking from crying or the cold, can’t tell if the wetness on his face is from his tears or the rain. “I’m so sorry.”

“Felix, it’s fine. Come here, you’re going to get hypothermia.”

I grab a towel from the bathroom and begin using it to dry his hair. He shakes his head as he pushes it away, sending droplets of water flying. “No! Listen, please, I am sorry, I am. I wish to explain myself. You deserve that much, at least.”

I sigh, then stand back and nod. I sit down on the edge of the bed. The mattress groans, as do I. “Fine.”

Felix pauses as if he didn’t expect that answer.

Then he picks at the frayed strings of the blanket around him. He shivers as he tugs it tighter around his shoulders. He licks his lips. “I wasn’t in a good place when we met.”

I nod. It was obvious then, and it’s even more so now. “I know.”

“It wasn’t healthy. I know that it wasn’t, but-” he cuts off as the thunder outside rumbles, lightning illuminating the haunted look in his eyes. “I loved Rime. More than that, I obsessed over him.”

That much I had guessed, but the confirmation does still twist my stomach.

“I was still in love with him when we met. Desperately so. I clung to the very idea of him for years. Rime adored how I idolized him, he encouraged it-“ he looks out the window as if lost in thought, then sighs. “It wasn’t you. I would’ve compared anyone to him. I did.”

Felix sniffs, then delicately kneels at my feet. “I am so sorry. I promise I didn’t truly think those things, my dear. I just felt so guilty, every time I felt anything for you. I had made myself think that he was perfect, that I could enforce my love for him through some strange sort of self-discipline.” He cringes, as if he knows how awful that sounds. “It seemed reasonable. I owed him my life.”

Apparently having said what he needed, Felix goes quiet. His eyes are red-rimmed, dark circles underneath, as if he’s been crying instead of sleeping ever since I left him.

“You are so incredibly lovely,” he whispers, choking. “I could see it even then. I was scared of what it would do to me to admit it.”

I swallow. I’m honestly not sure whether to believe him, but the look in his eyes is so earnest. Felix is many things, but he’s not one to hide his feelings, nor is he a good actor. I know deep down that he’s not faking his love for me, despite how my heart convinced me otherwise.

“If- If you’re still angry with me, I understand,” Felix stammers, though the tears in his eyes make it seem like that isn’t true. “M-maybe I should leave-“

The rain pounds harder against the windows. The wind whistles through the surrounding cracks. I grab his wrist.

“Come here, my sweet.”

Felix’s eyes widen at my use of my pet name for him, a timid look of disbelief in his eyes as he takes my hand and allows me to pull him onto the bed. I lie down on my back and guide to lay against my chest.

“I forgive you.” I almost can’t believe the words myself, but I know that it’s the only option I could ever consider. I love him. It’s a simple as it is complex.

“You needn’t-“

“I do. It wasn’t right of you to say those things, but it was also unfair of me to get so angry with you over something you wrote a long time ago. I know your old relationship really took a toll on you. Besides, I said some awful things to you too, Felix,” I continue, reaching up to brush his bangs back from his forehead. He trembles, leaning slightly into my touch. “You don’t deserve to be alone. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me, and I shouldn’t have. Okay?” I wait until he finally nods to continue. “And I’m sorry for going through your things. I betrayed your trust, and you were right to be upset.”

Felix goes a little slack-jawed before he finally breathes out, “O-of course I forgive you.”

“I’m glad, because I don’t think I could live without you.”

He stares at me for a moment longer before he lurches forward and kisses me, desperate and wanting, full to the brim with both apology and forgiveness. It tastes if the salt of his tears and the cold rainwater that runs over his cheeks. He’s shaking the whole time, and I tug him tighter to my chest. I can feel his heart racing through the fabric of our clothes.

“I love you, sweet.”

“I love you too,” Felix hiccups, “so much.”

We spend a bit longer like that, tangled up in the bedsheets with Felix soaking through both our clothes. Eventually, I pull back.

“Did you really wait until it was storming to show up and apologize?”

A sheepish laugh as he flushes. “I had t-thought it would be romantic. Like in my novels. I didn’t realize it was pouring quite so hard.”

His cheeks are a flaming red and he looks away like he expects me to be upset. I sigh to hide my fond smile. All I can do is kiss him again.

“I’ve brought you something,” Felix murmurs, his lips so close to mine that they brush, his eyelashes wet against my cheeks. He reaches back and takes the leather notebook, the stupid source of all our fighting, out of his coat pocket. It’s surprisingly dry.

I can’t help but want to smack that stupid book out of his hand. “Felix, why would you do that?”

He rolls his eyes, then gets up and stands off to the side of the bed. The room lights up green as his entire hand, the journal with it, are suddenly engulfed in flames, until nothing but ashes sift through his fingertips, drifting down to settle against the wooden floor.

“You’re my future.”

He’s so dramatic. I love him to pieces.

I grab his waist and all but tackle him back onto the bed, delighting in his surprised squeak.

“Stop!” Felix yelps as he falls back against the mattress, only to be assaulted by my cuddles, “I’m positively soaked; I’ll drench the sheets.”

I can’t really say that I care. We have a lot of making up to do; I’m not spending a second without him by my side for the rest of the night. Felix grumbles a final complaint and then sighs. He wraps his arms around me and presses his cheek into my chest, and I can’t help but think he feels the same.

“I didn’t enjoy that,” he mumbles, turning his face into me to hide his expression. “Being apart from you, it- hurt. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.” I’m just realizing how much. His scent and the feel of his hair against my skin, his voice. He’s invaded my senses once more, and it feels like coming back to life.

He turns to look up at me. His cheeks are rosy and his hair mussed, droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes and temples. God, he’s so adorable- I don’t know how I could ever stand to be angry with him. “I don’t want to be at odds with you anymore. I love you too much.”

I boop his perfect nose. “Deal.”

#felix escellun #fictif last legacy #last legacy #last legacy felix #fictif felix #sage lesath #anisa anka #felix iskandar escellun #fictif #rime solano varela #fictif fanfic #alexa plays last legacy #alexa writes #last legacy fanfiction #felix x mc #felix escellun x mc #Fictif Sage #interactive fiction #interactive game #Fictif anisa

[shurisneakers]

shut in [10]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, shooting, abuse

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: double digit chapter!!! like 3 parts to go everyoneeee woo!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The nostalgia was strong. 

The last time you and Sam were sitting like this, you were deciding on what to make of the bread supply that was now dwindling. The soup had ran out maybe a day or two ago and you were left with just bread, peanut butter and jelly.

You two had to devise an escape plan. You’d been there long enough and now with Sam making his first public appearance as Mob’s Most Wanted, even if it was for a good cause, there was no doubt that people would be after you.

“What if we go back to Ransone and let the rest sort itself out along the way?”

You made a note of it on the paper but you weren’t very convinced with the idea, not with the realisations you had made along the way.

“Do we know any other hideouts?” you asked instead, tapping the pencil against the paper.

“None that you don’t already know.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “What are your thoughts on caves? Think we can make a bed outta some leaves?”

You wrote down ‘Sam’s cave idea’, just to humour him. Stupid, but more plausible than other options.

“If we make a run for it, what are the chances we’ll survive?”

“With law enforcement, civilians and gang members looking for us, I’d give us about-” you said candidly, “-two months. Three max.”

It wasn’t like you had no experience running from the state, but it was never on this scale. 

“We’d have years if it was only law enforcement, but we had to go get the entire fuckin’ mafia involved,” he huffed in annoyance.

An idea occurred to you that made you pause, but you hated it.

“What if we split up?” you suggested halfheartedly. “It’ll take them more time to find the both of us, if they’re looking for us together.”

When he didn’t reply, you looked up at him from the sheet in front of you.

“We’re not splitting up,” he began steadily, just as you knew he would. “The same people who are after you are after me. We need to stick together.”

“I know. I’m not saying we can’t meet again after that, I’m saying that maybe it’ll be easier for us to hide.”

He couldn’t deny that it wasn't the worst idea, but something didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to do it.

“Okay, then how do we find each other after that? When? I don’t have your email; fuck that, I don’t even have your number.”

“We’ll schedule it, I guess,” you murmur, trying to work out the logistics. “Whoever gets there late has to buy ice cream. And I’m particular about the flavour I like.”

You tried to lighten up the mood but he wasn’t having it, as much as he appreciated it.

“I don’t care if it’s more difficult,” he said slowly. “But I’d like us to stick together. Not until we’re out of this mess. Then if you want to never see my face again, which you shouldn’t because it’s beautiful, we’ll go our different ways.”

He was adamant about it, and you knew he’d argue and poke holes into the plan until it didn’t make sense anymore. You weren’t going to argue.

“Okay,” you accepted. “We stick together.”

A smile spread across his face which equated to one of triumph. “You got any other ideas?” 

“We stay right here and fight off whoever comes.”

It was dumb. This place wasn’t yours, and staying here would be a death wish. That didn’t stop you from saying it since neither of you were holding back on implausible ideas.

“This is our house now,” Sam added with determination, playing along.

“Damn right,” you affirmed, cracking a smile at him.

Bringing your attention back, you stared at the list. There is one option you wanted to explore but you weren’t sure if you could because you didn’t have the resources. But he may.

“You got any friends whose help we could use?” you asked cautiously, unsure of how this would play out. 

He continued chewing on his lip for a second like he was analysing all options, before nodding. 

“I got a friend. Well, my only friend,” he corrects himself. “His name’s Riley.”

“He got a place we can stay, this Riley?”

“He does. But I don’t want to involve him. He’s-” he paused, trying to find the right words to frame what he’s thinking “-he’s been through a lot.”

“We’ll leave him alone then,” you assured, realising that it must be a touchy topic for him.

Sam didn’t move on, though. 

“I’m all ears if you want to talk,” you offered. 

He pressed his lips together, giving you a tight smile. He looked like he wanted to say more but was holding back. You reciprocated, hoping it would give him some reassurance, noting how he exhaled softly.

“When I joined the cartel, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to since everyone was much older than I was. Riley was the first friend I made. He was a mouthy li’l one.” Sam smiled wistfully and you found yourself smiling with him. “He talked so much shit and he had the spunk to back it up but he never really got that far because no one wanted to test their luck with him.”

“We spent whatever free time we had together. He didn’t have a family so he and I-” he trailed off but you knew what he was getting at. “Ransone found out. Didn’t like anyone in his stupid squad becoming all buddies because if we turned against him, he knew he’d lose.”

Shared experience. You didn’t have any friends in the organization either; they were always separated from you willingly or by force. You wondered if that’s why you had taken such a liking towards Sam, knowing fully well that it was the first time in years you were able to be friends with someone without having to worry.

“He started pittin’ us against one another. Combat training, preferential treatment, just plain out sabotage. Riley’s the reason my back’s all kinds of fucked up.” He gave a short laugh. “Tried everything he could to make sure we’d stay away or even kill each other if it came to that.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But we didn’t,” he confirmed. “Ransone fuckin’ hated it, so one day, he decided that he’s going to finish it once and for all. Sent us on a fake mission so that we’d be alone together, then told us that only one of us could come back. One of us had to die or else both of us would. Some sick fuckin’ form of entertainment.”

It was exactly something that Ransone would do. Dramatic, vile and utterly despicable, just for his own joy,

Your eyebrows knit together when his eyes glazed over. 

“Riley, he- he didn’t even let me have at the gun. Just straight up chose for the both of us that he was going to be the one who died. He was so tired, of everythin’.” The muscles in your jaw tightened at where this was going. “He didn’t do it though. We figured out another way.”

You didn’t realise how tensed you were until you forced yourself to relax.

“Faked his death.” He shrugged. “It was the only way. Let Ransone believe he bled out and that I buried him behind the warehouse he sent us to. Shot him in the leg to make it look convincing. He’s still got a limp.”

“He made a run for it. Found himself a place in New Orleans, changed his identity, basically made turned into a whole new person. Ransone bought it for a while because I’d make it a point to visit the grave, leave some flowers and shit. Told him that if he messed with it that I’d put a bullet in his head and I was angry enough for him to see that I wasn’t kidding. I knew he’d figure it out eventually but I was hoping I’d get rid of him by then.”

“He lived in New Orleans for years. Never had a problem until recently.”

Sam paused for a second, but it gave you the time to pull up an old conversation you had with him.

“He’s the one Ransone threatened you with,” you connected the dots. “He’s the one he found.”

“Said he’d kill him if I didn’t take out Pierce for him,” his words were bitter, confirming what you said. “Sent me a picture of him in front of his house to prove it.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” you breathed, leaning back. Sam’s situation was more dangerous than you initially thought. Having Riley in the picture just made it more difficult to help Sam get out of the organization, especially since he was now leverage material.

“You asked me once what the scariest thing I had done was.” You didn’t get immediately what he was talking about until you remember the questions you had asked to get to know him better. “It was that. Getting him out of this life and trying not to get caught in the process.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“He’s the only family I got left.” The way his voice dropped made him sound so tired. “He’s already on their radar. If they find out I’m staying with him or that he’s helping in any way, they’ll kill him.”

You didn’t say anything, not like you had anything constructive to offer at that moment.

“That got dark real quick,” he remarked, the corners of his lips quirking upward.

Clearly he didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. To explain the entire thing from the beginning must have drained him completely.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you said quietly.

He paused for a second, looking like he was thinking to himself.

“Me too.”

______

The sky’s beautiful, you decide.

You could stare at the clouds for hours.

Which is what the both of you have been doing.

“If you fucking say it’s anything other than a dog, I’ll push you off the roof myself.”

“It’s clearly a penguin, Samuel.”

“I hate you.”

The cement was cool against your skin even though there was a blanket serving as a mediator between you and it. The sun nipped at your skin and your back was aching from staying in the same place for a prolonged period.

Sam tended to think better when he was outside, unconstrained by harsh white walls and artificial light. So you grabbed a spare blanket, a bottle of water and the ladder to haul the both of you to the roof. It was filthy, as you expected but you managed to tidy a part of it to the best of your ability before laying the blanket down.

“I know why you brought me up here, Y/N,” he piped up.

You just knew that when you needed some space, he often implored you to go outside. You figured the best way to help him was to do the same, not knowing what else you could have to give.

“Just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it,” he added.

Okay good. It helped.

“That’s a tree.” You pointed upwards, avoiding his gaze.

“You get three more seconds to change that answer to a table.”

“That looks nothing like a table. You’re delusional.”

He laughed, not offering a counter argument.

The outside did him good. He was calmer than when you first came here a few hours ago. He didn’t let his spite towards Ransone show very often, especially at this volume. Talking about Riley only reaffirmed how much he despised the man.

“We need to get out of here eventually, you know?” you mused.

You don’t want to. You don’t want to admit that saying it out loud made it worse.

“We do,” he sounded sure and you wondered if he ever felt bad about it too, “but we need a proper plan.”

The clouds shifted. It looked like a kid on a bike; not that you’d ever tell him. He would never agree.

“We need help,” you stated.

“We can’t.” You knew he’d say that.

“You know we do, Sam.”

“There’s no one out there we can trust.”

You liked that he used ‘we’. The only other times you had been referred to as ‘we’ had been for things so sinister, so violent.

His elbow was touching yours lightly. You wanted to move closer, press against him.

“There’s one person who might be able to.”

He turned to look at you questioningly. You did the same.

You waited till he figured it out on his own. His face shifted the minute it clicked in his head.

“No way.” He turned away, almost laughing out of bewilderment.

“It’s our only option.”

“Then we’ll find another one,” he began to sound more insistent, realising you were being serious. It was a crazy idea, you’d give him that, but it’s the only one you had that had a sure shot of working.

“We’ve tried. You’ve tried. There��s only one way,” you knew that getting annoyed wouldn’t get through to him and you also understood his hesitations. “He’ll help.”

“We don’t know that. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous.” He couldn’t afford that; not this late in the game.

“I know it. Lis- Sam. Look at me,” you commanded gently, and he obeyed reluctantly. “I understand that this is absolutely batshit wild, but I promised I’d help you. This is the only way I can think of. But I need you to trust me.”

He looked unsettled.

He didn’t have anything to go on. Only your word and his faith in you. He could say no and he knew you’d spend countless hours pouring over multiple options just to find another way. He could say no and you’d take it in stride and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. It wasn’t about trusting you, it was about not trusting the others.

But he could also say yes and let you take control, trust your instincts. You had never let him down before and he knew you wouldn’t now. He could say yes and help you work on one solid plan that had equal chances of failing as it did being a success, but it was something that you could be sure of.

“I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

He felt your fingers trace at his face patiently. He scooted closer, letting your bodies press gently against each other.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

He didn’t know if he made the right choice or not, but the smile that appeared on your face made him think that maybe he did.

God, he was done for.

___

“You ready?” you asked him.

“No, but what the hell; let’s do it.”

You let it ring right to the very end.

“Hello.” It seemed gratuitous at this point because you knew the conversation wouldn’t proceed with that.

“Code?”

“1993.”

“Y/N. Hello,” his voice came back loud and clear.

“Hey.” You snuck a glance at Sam. He was completely stiff.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been… good,” you admitted.

“Oh?” he sounded amused. “That’s a change.”

“Yeah.” You shifted on your feet awkwardly. “Listen, I need help.”

“Help with?”

“We need to get out of here. We can’t do it without you. I mean we can, but it’d be better if you lent a hand.”

“When you say ‘we’, you’re referring to…”

“Me.” Sam stepped forward towards the phone. You shifted it so it was between you.

“Oh, hello,” he sounded surprised, and he had good reason to be. “You know about-”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Y/N, you trust him?”

“Yeah,” you looked up at Sam, “I do.”

“Alright. If shit goes wrong, you’re both fucked. I’m not taking any responsibility.”

“We get that,” you sighed. “Can you help or not?”

There was a momentary silence on the other end as he thought.

“Tell me what you had in mind.”

“We got a hit.”

They turned away from their conversation with the person walking beside them at the interruption.

“This better be important.” They gestured to their companion who looked annoyed at being interrupted. He was too dangerous to have on anyone’s bad side but the agent didn’t care. This was crucial.

“Someone saw him. Wilson.” He was breathless from the flight of stairs he had run to come upstairs.

“Where?” They could hardly believe their ears, restraining to contain the excitement that was threatening to rise.

“A town, miles away from Pierce’s place. Said he roamed around looking for a store, bought some food and then left.” His eyes shone. “We think we might know where they are. A rough sketch at least. Couldn’t follow him too far because he kept checking.”

“Finally,” their face gleamed, completely discarding the guest they had and the confusion on his face. “Some good fucking news.”

“Do you want us to put a hit out on them?” The relief the agent felt was almost overwhelming. His partner may have died but it didn’t look like he was going to.

“No,” they said crisply, certainly. “This one’s on me.”

Next part

#sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #mcu fic #sam fic #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #sam wilson series #falcon #falcon x reader #the falcon x reader #hitman!sam wilson #hitman!au #shut in fic #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #sam wilson #the falcon #sam wilson fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam imagine

[writingadvice365]

genuinely hope this question isn't too long! you can choose to ignore this, but even then, thank you for your time and patience!

plot-related question, well, kind of. i have a difficult time sticking to one plot. it is like when i am in the middle of developing a WIP, a new idea arrives in my mind and i suddenly lose interest in my previous WIP. the worst part is that the cycle never ends and if i don't seriously commit to one story, i might actually end up with no progress until the day i die. i know how to practice self-restraint (i think), the bigger question is that how do i know which story to stick to once i do decide to commit? there are some premises that i develop that i know are kind of bland, incompetent, and going nowhere, but i seriously can't choose between any of my stories. and no, i don't believe i can combine them considering that they range from a world with cake people to pop idols being held hostage in a death game/survival show. it's especially hard since most of my stories come from dreams and i dream atleast every night. (yes, i remember my dreams even after a few hours if i like them enough. i consider it a blessing.) like the other night, i dreamt of a world full of civilized anthropomorphic dog-gangsters who gamble on underground fighting and now i want to make it a premise. how do i know which premise is better? because i end up liking multiple things, but developing none. and how do i actually commit to a story? how do i ensure that i don't replace it the moment i get another idea for a premise? and how do i actually start on a book? i keep making ideas, but acting on none. do you have any advice on how to start a story?

No worries! No question is too long! But I hope my response makes sense since I have a lot of thoughts on the topic and I feel like I rambled a bit...

Having so many ideas and not finishing any of them is something I personally struggled with for a long time. I eventually realized that the main reason why I was not finishing stories was because I did not know what happened next. I would jump into an idea without having a complete plot with a beginning/middle/end. So after I wrote everything I had of the initial idea, I had no clue where to go next with the story, which would result in frustration and me jumping ship for the next exciting idea that gave me joy.

So now, I force myself to write out the ENTIRE plot of an idea before I start writing it so I have a clear path and end goal. It is not always super detailed at first and I continue to add to it as I write but it gives me a guide to turn to if I feel like I am losing my way. Plus, finishing an outline is still finishing something and it feels great to do so!

Unfortunately, there is not one perfect way to write a book and to make sure you keep writing it. Every author will tell you something different. But ultimately, only you can decide to keep writing the words, you are the only one who can choose to write instead of doing something else. Your story will not exist unless you write it. So if you believe strongly in that fact, you will be able to write your story.

One way to keep yourself writing is to be decisive. With so many ideas with so much potential, it can be difficult to determine the best path to take for a story. There is always the fear of accidentally eliminating the "perfect" idea for an inferior one if you decide too soon. This is a lie because you can literally change anything about your story whenever you want for whatever reason. That is also what the editing and rewriting phases of a draft are for. Make a choice and stick with it.

As for what premise is the "best" one to pursue, my personal rule is to go with what sparks joy and is fun to you. You should ALWAYS write for yourself first. If you don't love your story, it will be difficult for other people to love it. Even if an idea seems ridiculous or cliche or overly dramatic, if you like it, go with it.

Please know that not finishing every single idea is not a bad thing. It is okay to start something and not finish it if it doesn't spark your interest anymore. It is also okay if you just write out the vivid scene or scenario that has popped up in your mind and then put it aside. Writing is writing, so you are honing your craft and improving no matter what you write. You are not wasting your time if you enjoy it.

While you obviously can't combine all your ideas, I am sure there are reoccurring themes/characters/concepts that your are interested in. See if you can find what those things are then try to come up with a new story idea that centers around them. Make a list of things you like or that spark your interest as well as the favorite elements of stories you have already written.

Keep writing down all your ideas! You never know when one will be the spark you need for something you are working on later. I love using ideas from dreams in my stories too! Something you might try is to give yourself a set amount of time to write out a dream idea (an hour, a day, etc.) then take some time to seriously consider if you want to pursue the idea further or modify it and combine it with something else.

I hope this helps! Please let me know if you would like me to elaborate on anything or if I didn't really answer your questions sufficiently. =)

#ask & I shall reply #anon #writing advice #writing help #writing tip #writers on tumblr #writeblr #am writing #nanowrimo #writers #November 2021

[helloprettybb]

first

I feel like I start every fic that I make after a long break the same way. But, I’m back for now. I’m always active on Tumblr, but I never have the motivation to write a full fic. This is Peter Parker x reader and both of them are 18. This may or may not be “inspired by true events.” Also, I apologize for anytime I wrote, “fighting for dominance,” during a kissing scene.

warnings- first kiss awkwardness, cursing, low-key smut, hickey, intense kissing lol, feeling and stuff, choking, CHOKE ME LIKE YOU HATE ME

summary- when peter finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet, he decides to help out... as a friend, of course.

word count- 1.8k

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, not even looking up from his computer. After your second dramatic sigh, Peter finally spared you his attention. 

“Just thinking,” you respond vaguely. You’re laying on Peter’s bed, staring at his ceiling.

“Thinking about what?” you tilt your head to see that Peter is still typing on his computer. You roll your eyes at his absentmindedness.

“How in a couple of months I’ll be in college and still haven’t had my first kiss yet.” you admit. At eighteen years old, you’ve never kissed anyone. Unlike everyone else who had their first kiss in middle school, you missed out on that. Granted, you were never asked out or invited to any parties, but you should have kissed someone by now.

This new information finally makes Peter close his laptop. “You haven’t had your first kiss?”

You sit up so you can face him. “I know it’s embarrassing. But no, I’ve never had my first kiss.”

Peter wheels his chair toward you. “Well, I promise you it’s not embarrassing.” he assures. “Some people might find it adorable.” 

You laugh, “Adorable? I think it’s stupid.” you flop onto his bed again, “I’m just a pathetic virgin.”

“Hey, you’re not a pathetic virgin.” Peter responds. You sit up on your elbows to glare at him. “You just don’t have much experience. That’s fine. Cool even.” he adds awkwardly.

“It’s not cool or adorable. It’s so lame. At this point, I just want to get it over with.” you confess. 

Peter furrows his eyebrows, “Get it over with?”

“Yeah, I don’t want it to mean anything. I’ve waited this long and the longer I wait, the more anticipation will build up. I just need to do it so I won’t have to think about it anymore.” You ramble. Peter looks confused, so you ask, “What?”

“You uh, want to get it over with?” he asks. Peter moves from his desk chair to sit beside you on the bed.

“Yes?” you reply, wondering where he’s going with this.

“What if...” Peter looks away like he’s trying to find the right words. His voice drops and he mumbles, “I kiss you so you can get it over with.” Luckily, you’ve dealt with Peter and his mumbling for years so you heard what he said.

“You’ll kiss me?” you ask, disbelief laced in your voice.  Peter Parker, your best friend of seven years, is willing to kiss you just because. 

“Yeah, I mean if you want. We don’t have to. It’s just that you said you wanted to get it over with and that it’s been on your mind. So if we kissed, you wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. But I also get how you’d want to have your first kiss with someone you like,” Peter rambles. He averts his eyes as he rambles, having them go everywhere but meet your face.

“Peter,” you say to interrupt his muttering. “That’s fine.”

“It is?” he asks, still nervous.

“Yeah. I trust you and we’re friends, so it won’t be weird.” you reason.

“Okay, okay.” Peter nods. After his agreement, the room fills with awkwardness. Neither of you knows what to do or how to start. The two of you avoid eye contact with each other for almost a minute. You’re about to say something when you look up and see that Peter is moving in.

You have barely enough time to prepare before his lips are meeting yours. Internally, you scream seeing as you’re having your first kiss with Peter Parker and it’s good! You were so caught off guard that your arms are frozen to your sides. You pull away a little and ask Peter, “Uh, what do I do with my hands?”

“Just put them anywhere,” he replies. You awkwardly place your left arm around his shoulder and your right hand lands at the base of his neck. Peter leans in again and this time you’re more ready. This time when your lips meet, it feels like heaven. Peter’s slow and sweet given that it’s your first kiss. He doesn’t go too fast, only occasionally sucking at your lip. He slowly incorporates his tongue and you let out a moan. You would be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so perfect.

Peter’s left hand, which was previously resting on your cheek, moves to lightly trace your chin. You feel him increase the speed and pressure subtly. You don’t mind as you try to keep up, but concede and let him guide you. Before you could lean more into the kiss, he pulls away. He looks at you like he’s expecting you to say something.

“Thanks?” you state almost like a question. 

Peter chuckles awkwardly and asks, “Thanks? That’s it?” You lightly slap his arm as he laughs at your embarrassment. 

“You know I’m terrible at reacting!” you exclaim. Never have you been so annoyed at your inability to give reactions. 

As if he could sense your embarrassment, Peter adds, “Well, you’re actually better than most people.” Surprisingly, you have a reaction at that.

“Really?” you ask incredulously.

“Yeah. The first time I kissed MJ, she ran into me and we hit teeth.” Peter admits and you laugh. He joins in and the lust almost leaves the atmosphere. Then the laughter dies down and an air of confusion fills the room. 

You want to ask if you can kiss again, but Peter answers your question when he leans in. You have barely enough time to resume the awkward hand position before you meet his lips. He starts off a little more passionately than before and you wonder if he’s enjoying it as much as you. Peter’s hand moves to the back of your neck. He parts slightly, but still close enough where you could feel his breath on your lips. 

“I want to try something,” he whispers. Before you could ask, his mouth trails down your cheek and to the side of your neck. He plants light kisses on your neck and you remember your cousin’s wedding is tomorrow.

“You know, I have to show my neck tomorrow,” you let out breathily. Trying to prevent your worries from overshadowing the moment. 

“No marks,” Peter whispers against your neck. He gives a couple of light kisses before adding, “Unless you want one.” You’re not going to have your first kiss and not get a hickey.

“Okay, just under my shirt,” you reply. Peter doesn’t say anything, but you feel him play with the collar of your shirt. You didn’t choose the most flexible shirt to wear, but then again, you didn’t plan on kissing Peter Parker when you woke up today. 

You feel him gently tug your collar down before placing lips below your collarbone. He begins to suck and you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You try to card your fingers through his hair, but it’s too short so you settle with caressing the back of his head. Peter doesn’t seem to mind as he continues to give you a hickey.

Once he finishes, Peter pulls away slightly to look at you. Not wanting to be trapped in a weird conversation, you take initiative and put him towards you. Peter’s lips meet yours and you passionately make out. His right hand moves from your chin to the back of your head. He moves his fingers into your hair and gently tugs. To your disappointment, he only does that once before moving back to cup your chin. His left hand lightly trails the side of your neck. You continue to kiss as you feel his hand slowly make its way around your neck. He gives a tentative squeeze and you sigh lightly. You never thought you’d be into choking, but today you were learning wildly new things about yourself.

Peter tries again, but for a couple more seconds and you let out another breathy sigh. He releases his grip before tightening around your neck. This time, Peter keeps his hand there until you feel a euphoric lightheadedness. Peter chokes you a couple more times, with you moaning loudly frequently. You begin to worry that you’re the only one making noise, but Peter starts groaning against your lips. 

You feel your nerves building and insecurities piling so you focus on Peter and his essence. His faint cologne and the light taste of coffee distract you from any concerns you previously had. You think that you have the lead so you pull him closer to you. But once he feels your eagerness, Peter responds quickly by pinning you to the wall. You tilt your head back as he passionately kisses you with a couple of bites in between. Your lip is probably fucked, but you love it. 

You feel Peter’s right hand travel down while his left remains under your chin. It rests at your lower back for a moment before going beneath your shirt. His gentle touch sends a chill down your spine as he rubs circles on your lower back.  He stays there for seconds or maybe minutes. Ever since the first kiss, you have had a skewed sense of time.

Peter’s hand moves from your back to the front of your body. It snakes under your bra and you feel him flick your nipple. You gasp at the feeling and he continues to play with your tit. You’ve never been so relieved that May is away as the room fills with lewd sounds from both of you. 

Peter retracts his hand from underneath your shirt and returns to your lower back. You think he’s going to move back to your neck, but his hand goes down to your ass. He cups it and you both moan. 

You think he’s going to stop at your ass, but you feel his hand smooth over your jeans and end at your inner thigh. He gives a light squeeze before pulling apart and asking, “Do you want me to?” 

“Yes,” you breathe out, sounding and looking like a mess, but you don’t care. Peter Parker wanted you and right now, you wanted him, too. After you gave him the word, Peter quickly undid your jeans and dipped his hands until his fingers met your clit. You gasped when he started rubbing gentle circles. 

Peter cupped your face with his other hand as he continues to play with your clit.  You felt him pull away and open your eyes. You make eye contact with Peter and he starts rubbing your clit faster. Before you could moan too loud, you pull him back to your lips to quiet yourself. 

Peter and your groans fill the room as you feel your climax growing. Your head falls onto his left shoulder as you grip Peter’s bicep. Sensing your desperation, he whispers, “I know you’re close, baby. Cum for me.” 

“Fuck,” you gasp when you cum. Peter rides you through your orgasm, before pulling his hands out of your pants. 

As you zip your jeans, Peter asks, “Was that okay?”

#Peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #Peter Parker smut #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #marvel #marvel imagines

[mr-nauseam]

Never get over that Watson was so shy in A Study in Scarlet

It's a lot of fun for me as most adaptations tend to portray Sherlock Holmes as a social incompetent. He is certainly a social misfit but by his own choice.

Personally, I have always believed that thinking that SH has a major deficit being a social person is a big mistake, especially when there are thousands of tests in the canon that prove otherwise, he simply chooses to ignore various social norms and be deliberately rude to those who In his opinion they don't deserve a polite treatment -often cocky and rich guys who think they can do whatever they want just because of their social position, huh- at other times he's brutally honest and someone who doesn't like to sweeten people's ears or say things delicately if he don't see it necessary.

Sometimes he thought it unnecessary to do so and that is where Watson really intervened to show him that there were several moments where this was necessary, we then got to the real point of interest: it is funny, ironic and surprising how much the people forget how extremely shy Watson was at the beginning.

I mean, come on, it took him months to ask Holmes what his job was, it must have been very hilarious, because I'm pretty sure that the first weeks SH was grateful to have a roommate so respectful that didn't complain about the strange visits he received at all hours, but when more than 1 whole month passed without the guy asking, he must have started to worry.

Imagine Holmes starting to get anxious as the days went by, his kind roommate said nothing, Holmes knew that Watson was watching him and that he was curious, but for some mysterious reason he did not ask him.

He did not ask him, whatever happened -one day a screaming and crying lady came crawling down the stairs or the time Sherlock helped an actor who came completely disguised as a harlequin and the only thing Watson did was say "good night" and go to lock himself in his room-. Disturbing

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS MEN?" SH thought completely anxious in his chair watching Watson fall asleep in his chair, it must also have been a torture because Holmes is so dramatic and LOVES HIS JOB SO MUCH, that he must have prepared like 20 different secret speeches to tell Watson about his job: "I am a consulting detective, you will probably wonder what is that? Well the answer is in your coat, which tells me that you went to ...".

So many elaborate speeches that he could never use because his damn roommate never asked, the suspicion may even be raised in his head. What person can ignore their living room blown up with a chemistry experiment without daring to ask why he have done it?, probably a psychopath but then Holmes saw Watson reading a Dickens novel looking so calm that he dismissed the absurd idea.

But time passed and Sherlock's patience too, I'm pretty sure he must have started doing weird and eccentric things in the middle of his living room just to give John a chance to ask.

"Oops I'm producing a lethal gas here, wouldn't you be interested in hearing about this WATSON?"

"Oh no, I put MY POISON IN THE TEAPOT, aren't you WORRIED WATSON?"

"I wanted to practice fencing in the living room, don't you mind Watson?" -in fact the list of Holmes limits that Watson wrote could well come out of these failed attempts-.

God is it must be very funny that even the newspaper Watson found with Holmes's article was his 944th attempt, and was the one he did with the most reluctance.

SH: "He likes to read, I could give him one of my monographs or my new article in the newspaper, ugh..."

-Sherlock is so tired-

-He underlines the title and throws it verbatim on Watson's seat-

-He eats his toast totally dejected-

-Watson wake up-

And then it happened.

#acd canon #acd holmes #acd watson #acd #sherlock holmes #dr watson #sherlock fandom #john watson #john h watson #meme #sherlock and john #funny #a study in scarlet #headcanon #SH-IKA

[fangirling-is-my-passion]

*Salted Caramel*(Steve Rogers x Platonic!Reader)

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and a very, very complicated parents-child relationship (I don’t know how to write warnings, I’m so sorry).

Summary: You have an anxiety attack one day and the First Avenger comes to the rescue. In a fatherly way, just to clarify, hehe.

A/N: Eeehh, I have no clue if any of this makes any sense, haha, but I’m not gonna lie, I wrote the fic I desperately needed, so anyways I hope you enjoy it, my lovelies. Also, know that if you ever need anyone to talk to, my dms are always open. :)

You were the newest member of the Avengers and, although you’d only been part of the team for a couple of months, everybody had welcomed you with open arms. Nonetheless, you didn’t have as much opportunity to interact with them as you would’ve wished to, since you, not only being the newest member but also the youngest, still lived with your parents. Everybody had agreed that that was fine as long as you attended training sessions at the compound three times a week, which your parents agreed to. And now, even though you’d celebrated your 18th birthday a week ago, your living situation hadn’t changed much. At least not so far.

In spite of it all, the team had quickly embraced your presence in their lives and you felt more comfortable and at home with them than you’d ever felt with any of your relatives, including your parents. As a matter of fact, you didn’t really feel at home with your parents at all. Due to some issues from the past that had had its peak only a few months ago, the effect in the present was that your trust in them had broken completely and, even though you’d tried to fix the relationship several times along the years, the truth was that your parents kept letting you down constantly, making the damage irreparable by now.

This had taken a toll on your mental health and your anxiety had worsened a lot lately, nevertheless, telling your parents about it was obviously out of the question, and you didn’t want to bother the group of superheroes with such insignificant problems like yours. The world was in their hands, and in yours now too, you couldn’t make so much fuss about something like that.

Until the day you reached your breaking point.

Which sounds very dramatic, yet if you thought about it too much, you’d been through a lot worse before.

The circumstances and its specific details are irrelevant, the point is that, while you and your mother were having lunch, you had quite an intense anxiety attack. The kind you hadn’t had in a considerable amount of time.

Your hands started sweating, your heart began pounding inside your chest, making you feel like it could burst out of your ribcage at any given moment. Your breathing became shallow and quick, your lungs always asking for more air to breathe in, and a weird sensation that felt very much like losing ground and any sort of control over your life and yourself invaded you. At one point you even thought you’d pass out, but fortunately you didn’t.

You had to get out of there, fast.

So you told your mother that oh, crap, you’d just now remembered that you had a training session with the Avengers that afternoon, so you really had to get going. And without another word, not even waiting for a response from her, you took your phone and nothing more, and exited the house.

Once outside you walked aimlessly, trying to get as much air into your lungs as you could in an attempt to calm down. A million thoughts were rushing through your head, making you feel slightly dizzy, but you tried with all your might to concentrate on your inhalations and exhalations. After several minutes, you started feeling the tension in your whole body loosen up a bit, your breathing becoming steadier and your train of thoughts no longer on the verge of crashing. However, you still felt the urgent need to talk to somebody. Yes, the last thing you wanted to do was bother any of the earth's mightiest heroes with your problems, but this really seemed to be the last straw for you.

Therefore, you unlocked your phone and called the first person you could think of.

“(Y/N)?” Steve Rogers’ voice called from the other side of the line.

“Uh… Hi.” you said hesitantly, with a remaining shakiness in your voice that certainly didn’t go unnoticed by Steve.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” he asked preoccupied, and you could almost picture the expression on his face: the furrowed brows, the worry reflecting in his blue eyes.

“I, um, I’m… I’m fine, I just… I just needed to talk to someone. I’m sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you with this.”

“No, no, you’re not bothering at all. What happened? Where are you, at your house?”

“Umm, no, not exactly, I’m… I’m a couple of blocks away, but…”

“Oh, okay. Do you want me to go there, or maybe meet somewhere, so we can talk?”

“I-,” tears started gathering in your eyes, making everything around you blurry, but you weren’t exactly crying out of sadness, “I don’t want to be a burden, really, I’m so sorry, I just wanted to hear your voice…” you mumbled, your voice cracking.

“(Y/N), you’re not a burden. Whatever happened, if it’s important to you then it’s important to me, okay? We can talk. Just tell me where and I’ll be on my way.”

“Why are you being so nice to me? You barely know me…,” you sniffled, tears rolling down your cheeks now, a sign of how moved you were by Steve’s kindness. He didn’t have to do all that, leave the compound to go meet with you somewhere, to listen to a problem that had nothing to do with him, but he was willing to do it nonetheless.

“Because I care for you. Even if you haven’t been part of the team for as long as the rest of us, you are family now. And families are always there for each other,” he stated softly but with determination.

“Thank you…,” you whispered, feeling like not all the thank you’s in the world could express how grateful you were to the man. “Um, well, there’s… There’s a small coffee shop relatively near here, I guess we could… we could meet there… if it isn’t much trouble,” you added.

“Sounds good. Can you send me the address?”

“Sure.”

“And text me when you get there, all right?”

“Yeah, I… I will. Thank you, Steve. Really.”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo.” You smiled to yourself, feeling another wave of tears coming up. “And, hey,” he added, “it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

_________________________

Minutes later, you were at the coffee shop, sitting at a small table for two by the window. It was a lovely place you’d discovered at the beginning of the year, one day you were wandering aimlessly around your neighbourhood. The food was quite tasty in general, and both the place and the people who worked there gave off a very warm and cosy vibe, the type you only feel during Christmas, sitting in front of the fireplace with a cup of hot cocoa in your hands.

You’d already texted Steve to let him know you’d arrived, and now all you had to do was wait for him to get there. According to him, he was just about to.

And it was true, because a moment later you saw the tall, blond-haired man enter the establishment and search for you with his eyes. He finally spotted you, and you were able to notice, even from a distance, how his expression softened, while he made his way towards you.

“Hey,” you muttered standing up, still ashamed that you’d made the superhero travel all the way there for such a mundane reason.

“Hey,” he greeted you back with a soft smile, before sitting down on his chair, prompting you to do the same, “so… What happened, kiddo?”

You sighed. “Well, I just… I, um… may or may not have had… um, an anxiety attack…,” you could feel your face heating up due to the embarrassment you felt by admitting it to somebody else. An anxiety attack. Pfff. It felt so absurd now, making such a big deal out of it when there were clearly more important things…

“An anxiety attack?” Steve asked, tilting his head to one side in that particular way of his. His ocean eyes were overflowing with kindness, and that single-handedly was more than enough to make you want to cry again. Your heart was definitely not used to such a level of sympathy.

“Yeah…,” you breathed, your eyes starting to water up once more.

“Does it happen to you very often?”

“Umm, not exactly, I don’t know… It’s… It’s been happening with more frequency lately, but… I-I don’t know, it’s… it’s complicated. I mean,” you sighed again, “I’ve… I’ve lived my whole life... with anxiety and, well, I know there isn’t an actual cure for it, but I’ve… I’ve learnt to handle it, more or less, it’s just…”

At that moment, a waiter walked up to your table and asked if you wanted to order anything. You wiped the few tears that had escaped your eyes as discreetly as you could, hoping the waiter wouldn’t notice anything. As a matter of fact, you were embarrassed by letting yourself cry in front of Steve too, but at this point you couldn’t really help it. The superhero looked at you inquiringly.

“Have you eaten already? Do you want anything?”

“Um, yeah... yeah, I have… Uh… no, I don’t know... if you want anything… I can tell you that the salted caramel frappe is really good,” you offered him a small smile.

“Is that so?” He smiled too. “Well… I’ll have one if you have one. If that’s okay.”

You chuckled lightly. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

“All right then, two... salted caramel frappes? Please.”

“Sure,” the waiter wrote it down on his notepad and gave you both a warm smile, “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you,” you and Steve said in unison.

“So,” he began, “you said your anxiety attacks have been happening more frequently lately. What do you mean lately? Is there a specific reason? Is it because of the Avengers?”

“What? No, no, not at all, you’re actually kind of my escape from everything… Umm, it’s complicated…,” you let out another sigh and proceeded to explain the situation to Steve, at first hesitantly, but after a while you were capable of talking a bit more freely.

You told him about your parents, about how you no longer felt at home in your own house and how the trust you ever had on your mother and father had been broken. How the comfort they were supposed to provide you was long gone and, in spite of your past efforts, it always ended unfavourably. It wasn’t easy, not in the slightest, nevertheless, as you kept talking, you could feel a heaviness being lifted from your shoulders, one that you didn’t even know was there in the first place. And, yes, the possibility of things ending badly even now was still there, but Steve’s expression, his whole energy made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t felt for way too long. So you might as well give it a try and get this off your chest once and for all.

Not long after you started talking did your beverages arrive and you both thanked the waiter before you continued.

He listened to you attentively. Never interrupted you, waited patiently for you to go on every single time you paused to take a breath or sigh or calm yourself down, never pushing you to keep talking. His furrowed brow reflected his worry for you, but it was in an understanding and serene way. He was glad you were finally telling all this to somebody and felt honoured that from all people you’d trusted him. He was perfectly aware that you were opening up to him and the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel like your emotions were invalid or unimportant. So he kept listening until you finished, and then waited a few seconds more, letting you sip on your frappe, before he spoke.

“I gotta ask, is that the reason why you go to the compound more than the necessary three times a week?”

Touché. You’d been constantly lying to your parents, telling them you had training sessions almost daily, or making random yet believable excuses so you could get out of your house and spend more time with the people who actually made you feel good.

You simply nodded to confirm Steve’s suspicions.

“It’s okay, (Y/N), I understand, I really do. Families can be tough sometimes, and people may disagree with what I’m about to say, but you don’t really owe your parents anything, especially after the way they’ve made you feel. It might sound like a bold stance, particularly for someone as old-fashioned as me, but as the saying goes “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”. You’re not obliged to like your parents, let alone if they have had abusive conducts towards you. Now, in addition to that, it doesn’t have to be a greek tragedy for it to be valid. If something makes you feel bad or uncomfortable in any way, if it hurts you, then it does and that’s it. Other’s don’t get to say whether they hurt you or not, only you do,” he made a pause, pondering what to say next, ”Maybe someday your relationship with your parents can be rescued, or maybe not. Both things are fine, as long as it’s what makes you feel better. For now, however, I think we should find a quick and satisfactory solution to the problem, so why don’t you come live in the compound with all of us? You’re an adult now, you don’t need your parents’ permission,” the blue-eyed man offered you a sweet lopsided smile full of warmth, a tiny hint of fear that went unnoticed by you sparkling in his eyes, since he wasn’t sure of what impact his words had had on you. He was hoping he’d said the right thing, but he was terrified of the possibility that he’d screwed up.

Nevertheless, his fear couldn’t be further from the truth. Steve’s speech had reassured you profoundly, reinforcing that sense of safety of yours that had already started to develop around him and the rest of the Avengers. You lacked words to express how grateful you were towards him, but this man would always have your eternal gratitude. Needless to say, tears were streaming down your cheeks as quietly as you could keep them, your heart overwhelmed by the tenderness and the understanding he was offering you.

“I-,” you began, but your sobs became too much for you to contain and you broke down crying. Still, you tried to articulate your thoughts as best you could,” I’m sorry, it’s just… nobody had ever been so understanding with me and… and had ever comforted me so much in my life… you’re being so kind to me I… I honestly can’t thank you enough… I don’t even know what to say, I’m so sorry, I’m so lame...”

“You’re not,” Steve assured you softly, placing his hand over the one you had on the table. How were you supposed to stop crying if everything he did filled you with a sensation of comfort you’d lost a long time ago?

“Thank you,” you sniffled, wiping your tears clumsily with your free hand, “Thank you. And… yeah, I’d… I’d absolutely love to live with all of you at the compound. But will it be okay for everybody?”

“Of course! I told you, you’re part of the family now. We would all love to have you there with us, kiddo. We simply have to tell Tony, he’s the one in charge of that sort of stuff. And, of course, let your parents know. If you want, we can go to the compound right now and tell him. I’ll be there with you if you need me to. Both with Tony and with your parents.” Steve gave you a loving smile. His heart felt so relieved now knowing that his words hadn’t been a mistake.

“Okay, yeah… That… That would be nice. I told my mother I had a training session, so she won’t expect me to be back until later.”

“All right then, perfect,” he said, before taking another sip of his frappe, which had been reduced by half by now. Yours was almost untouched, but only because you’d been too busy speaking. Or crying. Or both. “By the way,” he added, “you were right, this thing is really good.”

You giggled. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Steve motioned the waiter to ask for the bill and once it was paid (he of course didn’t let you pay for your drink no matter how much you insisted), you both stood up from your seats, grabbing the remains of your frappes.

“Steve,” you called, making him turn back to look at you attentively once again, “thank you. So, so much. For everything,” you expressed with as much sentiment and gratitude as you were capable of. He was definitely the best man you’d ever met in your life. And that was saying something, having in mind that you’d met all the Avengers.

“Come here,” Steve said with a smile, his arms open, asking for a hug. You did as you were told, a wide smile now plastered on your lovely face. Yeah, it was a bit swollen from the crying, but it was still lovely.

To be honest, all you wanted to do at that moment was to keep hugging him and never ever let go; nonetheless, you knew that wasn't possible and eventually you'd have to break the hug. So for now, you breathed deeply, inhaling Steve’s scent (he smelled like bar soap and clean laundry, with a small touch of cinnamon), and you let yourself enjoy every second of that warm and strong embrace, and its newly found feeling of home.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x platonic!reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x platonic!reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #captain america fluff #captain america fic #mcu phase 4 #marvel fic #mcu fanfiction #avengers #avengers fic #avengers imagine #steve rogers imagine #captain america imagine #tw: anxiety #tw: anxiety attack #it's been so long since I don't post a fic #it feels weird #also sorry if there any mistakes #:) <3