#anyway. i am home now. all is well. but goddamn i am having an eventful ass start to the fucking year huh
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I FUCKING WALKED 6.5 MILES IN ONE GO TODAY
#mud rambles#I'm still catsitting lmfao and because my tire AND rim is fucked and it's sunday i do not have a car!!!!#and i can't leave those cats unfed for an entire day!!!!#I was able to get a ride home but i wouldnt have been able to get a ride there in time and i was already not there as early as i wouldve lik#on the bright side. she is supposed to be home tmrw so i shouldnt have to do that again EL OH EL#i give credit mostly to the testosterone and my naturally large calves for being able 2 do that because.#this is not a normal thing i do. i dont work out consistently at all#im. like. it sucked i had to do that but also the fact i was able to makes me rlly proud#and getting to be outside and just walk was nice especially once i caught that second wind LMFAO#having to wait for. like two hours to be picked up kinda sucked but it was peaceful. it was just too cold and getting dark so i couldnt walk#all the way back home safely because the walk is. already not fucking safe lmfao and i was wearing ALL BLACK#yeah. not fucking chancing it#i had sidewalk literally for like. 300 FEET. MAYBE#like. I live in the fucking rural ass northeastern part of the appalachian mountains. we have main routes but it's still assfuck nowhere#i am not walking 6 and a half miles IN THE FUCKING DARK especially when we're in the middle of a warm front#we have coyotes and bears and while mountain lions arent typically in my area... it would be my fucking luck to get fucking murked by one#and like. deer may not be predators but. nepa. rural areas. NIGHT??? I am not chancing coming across something ELSE. ifykyk#anyway. i am home now. all is well. but goddamn i am having an eventful ass start to the fucking year huh
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THEIR REACTION TO YOU DRESSING UP
gn!reader | suggestive, mild swearing.
matsukawa, atsumu, hinata, kuroo, suna, osamu, sakusa, iwaizumi, tsukishima
MATSUKAWA’s sprawled on the couch as he waits for you to show him the new outfit you bought. you had excitedly texted him before coming home, hiding the contents of your bag as you ran to change. it’s been a few minutes when he teasingly calls out, “you okay in there, babe? need help?” “no, actually i don’t, issei,” you reply, walking in. issei does a double take, mouth dropping a little. “goddamn.” the speed he gets up is almost comical. you do a slow turn, smoothing out the fabric that seems to hug you in the most perfect way. “i don’t know when i’m gonna wear this, but it’s really nice, right?” “really fuckin' nice,” he agrees, grinning. “respectfully and in love with you, i humbly ask, do you want to kiss and or make out with me right now?”
ATSUMU freezes when you walk into the bedroom. you do a quick spin and smile. “what do you think?” his eyes are wide, gaze fixated on you. “am i dead? are you an angel here to take me away?” he finally asks. you snort and make your way over, reaching to fix the collar of his shirt. “i’m gonna take that as a ‘you look good, babe,’ then.” “just good? baby, i think i’m sweating. maybe cryin’ a little,” he continues, half-joking. “‘tsumu—” atsumu shakes his head. “uh-uh, don’t say my name, i might explode.” you laugh at your boyfriend, face warm from his praise; his own flustered state keeps him from noticing yours. he shakes his head again, as if to get out of a haze. “you know what, let’s go. yeah, let’s go now before i keep you all t’myself. we’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”
HINATA spits out his drink and chokes a little. “oh my–oh my, god, sorry, i—” “shoyo?” you speed over, concerned but also trying not to laugh. “are you okay?” “huh? yeah? i’m so fine,” he says unconvincingly. his face is flushed when he looks at you, whether from the choking, embarrassment, or your outfit, you’re not too sure. then, as if he wasn’t choking a few seconds earlier, he starts showering you in compliments. “anyways, you look great, babe. like, like it really screams 'you,' you know? i bet everyone’s gonna be jealous of me.” “oh really? of you?” shoyo tilts his head, as if you asked a silly question. “well, yeah? 'cause you look this good and i get to date you.”
KUROO almost drops his keys walking through the front door. “tetsu, you’re back early.” “god, please don’t tell me i forgot about a super important event tonight.” he sounds both panicked and in awe, mind in shambles at the sight of you. you open your mouth to speak, but tetsuro's faster. “wait, don’t tell me,”—he paces toward you—“before i die, i want you to know you look incredible, and i’ll gladly be your poorly-dressed accessory for the night.” there’s a joking strain to his voice, and he sniffs before pressing his cheek to your head. “tetsu.” you laugh and pat his back. “there’s nothing happening, i just bought a new outfit and wanted to try it on.” he lets out a relieved noise between a sigh and groan then moves to look at you, now able to fully appreciate the sight. “thank god. i’m going to count that as the second win of the night then, 'cause seriously, you look so good right now.”
SUNA snakes his arm around your waist and kisses your temple. “hi, babe.” “rin! when did you get here?” “a couple of minutes ago. beelined for you after ‘tsumu shoved a drink in my hand.” you laugh and he smiles before finally registering what you’re wearing. he takes a sip from his drink at the same time his eyes scan over the new look. “this what you bought on saturday?” “hm? yeah, it’s really nice, right?” rin looks between you and his drink. “if i didn’t have manners, i would’ve thrown this glass and kissed you.” amused, you jokingly hit his stomach. “why can’t you compliment me like a normal person?” rin takes no offense, instead maneuvering so he can hold his drink while wrapping his other arm around you. he squeezes you, grinning when you yelp. “‘one, cause you look hot, and two, where’s the fun in that?”
OSAMU lets out a low whistle as you walk into the living room, eyes scanning you up and down. he gets up from the couch, and places his hands on your hips. “y’sure you have to go out tonight?” “'samu.” he laughs at your pointed look and puts his hands up in surrender. “i’m kidding, hon. you look stunning, though.” rolling your eyes, you thank him. “c’mon, i’m gonna be late if we don’t go now.” you walk to the door, but osamu thinks back to the weather forecast for the evening. “you aren’t bringin’ a jacket?” “hm? nah, we’re gonna be inside.” putting on your shoes, you respond without looking, and are surprised by the weight that suddenly covers your shoulders. you know osamu's favourite jacket from anywhere, and you let him shift it to cover you. he leans over to kiss your temple and mumbles in your ear, “now you’ll be warm and everyone will remember we’re dating.”
SAKUSA’s fingers slip from his cuff button again, earning a huff and frown from him. “‘omi, are you ready?” “yeah, can you just help me w—” he turns to the sound of your voice and pauses. the new outfit you told him about makes his heart skip a beat, and he almost forgets about his own suit predicament. “with what? oh, the button?” you make your way over to help, kiyoomi staring the entire time. “there ya go.” “you look incredible,” is the first thing he says instead of thank you. it catches you off-guard, “huh? oh. i—thank you. you look very handsome.” there’s a beat of silence as kiyomi weighs the pros and cons of going out or staying home. you have to stop yourself from laughing when he asks with a straight face, “completely related, am i allowed to be mean if anyone tries to flirt with you?”
IWAIZUMI looks up when he hears the changing room door open. you’re fixing the waist of your outfit, and don’t notice the way his eyes widen. he whispers under his breath, “holy fuck.” “haji, do you think it’s too much for the dinner? i know it’s ‘just your old teammates’ but, like, i want to look good,” you explain. his gaze softens and he clears his throat before standing. “no, it’s perfect. you look…you look perfect.” you smile at him and it’s all he can do to stop himself from covering his face and groaning. “oikawa’s going to say something about you looking better than me, and i won’t even be able to disagree.” the sound of your laughter fills the air and hajime huffs a laugh at himself. “well, we better get something just as good for you then.”
TSUKISHIMA’s not great with compliments, and he always wants to kick himself in the ass for it when it comes to you. you look at him standing behind you in the mirror. “i think this is the one. what do you think, kei?” biting his lip, he looks to the side and clears his throat. “it looks good.” he doesn’t have to look to feel you staring at him. “you sure? you don’t think it’s missing something?” kei takes a second to try thinking of a response, then he glances at your wary expression and lets out a breath. “no, i promise. you look great, and this is the best thing you could have chosen.” you smile at yourself, and his gaze softens a fraction before he’s back to being tsukishima—“you ready? because we’re going to be late if we keep standing here, and the group chat’s about to blow up our phones.”
🏷️ | @devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @the-b-u-n-n-y @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fluff#matsukawa x reader#atsumu x reader#hinata x reader#kuroo x reader#suna x reader#osamu x reader#sakusa x reader#iwaizumi x reader#tsukishima x reader#x reader
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Hi Sarah, I'm going to visit Chicago in a couple of weeks and when I think of Chicago I think of you. What would you recommend I visit/do?
Unfortunately, Chicago is not its best self for a couple months---while I maintain that the city is for all seasons, summer is undoubtedly when it's most alive. However, there are a couple things I will definitely recommend for the unseasonably warm spring traveler:
(1) Eat some food
A friendly word of warning: do not be tricked into eating Giordano's or Lou Malnotti's. Perhaps your companions might try to win you over with promises of Chicago-style hotdogs---do not be swayed! You must manfully resist! (Harold's Chicken is that good though, and if you're close to the one in Hyde Park, feel free to devour the three piece dinner of your choice. Cheap bottle of the too-sweet wine I preferred as an undergrad optional.)
A much better option is to find a place that serves whatever food you love, but does it really really well.
Do you like sophisticated twists on a brewpub menu? Try Moody Tongue in the South Loop
Or are you really more of a tapas person? Highly recommend mfk in Lincoln Park
Would you prefer something a little....meatier? My favorite steakhouse in Chicago is Tango Sur (though I would argue their empanadas are really the showstopper)
There's nowhere in the city that does Hong Kong-style barbecue like Sun Wah in Uptown---I just stopped by after the parade for the Lunar New Year, the duck is to die for.
Are you on the West Side? First of all, do not go to Big Star. I mean, it's fine, but....come on. I'd pick Forbidden Root instead, or head over to Pilsen for Rubi's if you can't survive without tacos.
There are so, so many different bars I would recommend. Chicago was the home of bootleggers for a reason, goddamn it. Still, if you can't get to Wang's (look, I like Violet Hour too, but sometimes you don't want to drink in near-darkness), Koval (the rare distillery in Chicago), or any of the many, many craft breweries we have in the city right now, you probably can stop by one of the many, many, many bars we have in Chicago, and get a drink anyway.
There are more---of course there are more!---but we don't have all day. So instead I will leave you with this bit of wisdom: don't eat at Navy Pier or anywhere too close to Lincoln Park Zoo. If you are at a bar, don't settle for a burger when sometimes, the chicken tenders are actually better. And if you absolutely must go somewhere for pizza, choose Pequod's.
(2) See a thing
Chicago has many things in it! So many things! A hundred thousand things! Unfortunately, I don't know what you're into, so I will just talk about them in general.
MUSEUMS: I am a devoted museum-goer, and Chicago has blessed me with an endless feast. There are the big ones, of course---the Field Museum of Natural History, the Adler Planetarium, the Shedd Aquarium, the Museum of Science and Industry, the Art Institute of Chicago. However, my favorites are smaller, more unique: the International Museum of Surgical Sciences, Intuit (though it's temporarily closed, more's the pity), the Institute for the Study of Ancient Cultures at UChicago, the Lincoln Park Conservatory. That's not even all the museums in Chicago! That's not even all the museums that I've been to. It's amazing.
EVENTS: I once joked that I was a person who needed to schedule her enrichment like a blue-haired senior, but the joke was on me---I am that person! Fortunately, Chicago supports me in this endeavor by publishing many, many different calendars of "what to do this week or weekend". Do you want to see something onstage? Well, here you go. How about some classical music? I have a trusty guide. What about non-classical music? Always go to the Chicago Reader for that. Are you thinking of catching a game? Well, we're still in spring training for the Cubs and Sox, but the Bulls are doing okay even if the Blackhawks aren't, and we've got soccer (male and female) now too!
(Unfortunately, the Chicago Sky aren't playing right now, they're my favorites.)
OTHER: Unless you are extremely efficient, coming here and eating good food, doing one other thing, is more than enough. I promise it is! However, if you have more time, I definitely recommend just---wandering around. The Loop in particular is great for this, because it's reasonably small and everyone there is busy doing things. Going places, talking on phones, getting into or out of ubers, protesting outside of the Daley center, etc. etc. It's amazing to watch, and the buildings are pretty neat too.
Or you could wait a couple months, and take the Chicago Architecture Boat Tour, which I think should be a requirement for all Chicagoans. Maybe even everyone alive in the world. Just saying.
(3) Walk along the lakeshore
Chicago offers many delights, but I really do believe that Lake Michigan and its vast expanse of water, sky and space, is a unique gift to the city. It is beautiful in winter, in spring, in storms, in sun. It is free. You can sit in the grass or the sand or amble along its broad paths for miles, looking at unexpected art installations and waving grasses and the way the beaches slope to the water; you can talk to a friend or watch bikers and joggers pass you by. In the summer, there are a dozen different stands offering warm elote or cold soda, and cheerful men on jingling bike carts that will sell you neon orange push pops. In the winter, there are still bikers and joggers but also Canada geese, and you can stare mournfully at the slate grey water and ponder existence.
It is the heart of Chicago. Nelson Algren called us an "October city, even in summer"; Carl Sandburg described us as a shirtless dude who gives great oral. Personally, I think of Montrose Beach in the setting sun of winter, the sand almost too cold to touch---and beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
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I'm officially a hater. Every Halo game since the very first one is full of bullshit.
My many problems with Halo 4, as I experience them:
FOUR VIDEO GAMES IN A SERIES! FOUR DIFFERENT CONTROLLER MAPPINGS!!! MICROSOFT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???
What is the compass needle even pointing to on 117's assault rifle? we're adrift in open space...
WHY ARE THERE MOTHERFUCKING QUICK TIME EVENTS IN THIS GAME? FUCK YOU!
"these Covenant seem more fanatical than the ones we've fought before" - how the fuck can you tell??
Why did they give Cortana baby-face and big tits?? Pick a direction, Microsoft!! She can be prepubescent or postpubescent but not both of them simultaneously!
Why am I supposed to feel any sort of emotional attachment to Cortana anyway? She's just a Microsoft Clippy with blue boobs stuck on 🙄
"I'm the only AI generated from a clone" I'm vibrating with rage at how goddamn stupid that is.
I THINK YOU LITERALLY HAVE MORE PRESSING PROBLEMS THAN RETURNING TO HALSEY TO FACTORY-RESET YOUR AI WAIFU, MASTER CHIEF! YOU ARE EVADING HOSTILE ALIEN FORCES ON A RANDOM PLANET GOD KNOWS WHERE! JUST GET A NEW AI WAIFU WHEN YOU GET HOME! FUCK
"[Unknown alien transmission]'s behaviour is odd!" - how the fuck do you know that Cortana??? This is your first time encountering this transmission, how do you know it's not supposed to be like that?
Maybe the reason all these aliens are so hostile to you, Master Chief, is because the very first guy you saw you punched in the jaw and threw down an elevator shaft! Would it kill you to just try saying "hello" first?
Lmfao @ Cortana calling out the Chief for the exact same thing literally seconds later
"Requiem! At least we know where we are now!" - my guy you have no fucking idea where you are
WHY THE FUCK DOES HALO HAVE CINEMATIC 3RD-PERSON MELEE ATTACKS NOW?! JUST CLOBBER THE FUCKING GUY AND MOVE ON!
This is something I really disliked in Halo 3 too, but those invisible barriers that hard block you from taking vehicles indoors, even if you do manage to scrape them past the non-invisible barriers. Let me drive a Ghost indoors!
Why can't they maintain my weapon loadout on either side of a cutscene? Halo 3 handled this really well.
But here in Halo 4 I take my lovely SAW and my lovely Fuel-Rod Cannon into a cutscene and come back out of it with an assault rifle and pistol. 😒😒😒
• Seriously, why does Cortana have the face of a nine year old child and the body of a twenty-nine year old woman?! Am I taking fucking crazy pills here??
I can forgive video game developers being horny, but not when it's this gratuitously bullshit
(and the voice of a 59 year old woman, going by the game's opening cutscene of Dr Eugenics' interrogation lmao)
The new forerunner enemies are cool enough, but it really feels like they copied Borderlands' homework with their design.
Why is Cortana so blithely confident with all her info-dumping about these random alien creatures she's never seen before in her damn life? And why is master chief taking anything she says seriously when he knows she's going through AI-Alzheimer's???
The Didact is bullshit. Who the fuck is this guy? why does he call himself a "Forerunner" when that's 'our' word for them? and how does he indentify us as "human"? Also why's he so mad at us for freeing him? This is all so very stupid.
Wow. ANOTHER escape sequence involving driving fast through some exploding superstructure? Come on, Microsoft, it's all very well and good to rest on your laurels but this is just masturbating with them... I swear to you on my mother's life that having an original idea isn't nearly as painful as you seem to think it might be...
Even more being stripped of my good weapons and reset back to basic bitch assault rifle + handgun
"the greatest enemy ever faced by the forerunners: you" - bitch you've been extinct for like 100,000 years what the fuck are you even talking about???
"the Prometheans, they're human" what the fuck are you even talking about?? Who the fuck are the Prometheans??
Genesong, evolutionary acceleration, thousands of lifetimes' worth of planning? What in the flying fuck is all this nonsense? When and why did Halo become "What If Star Trek Was About Using The Power Of Friendship To Kill God"?!
Look, Microsoft, this shit isn't fucking rocket science. I shouldn't have to take an undergraduate degree in Halology to understand the fucking story of a video game. I shouldn't have to go read god knows how fucking many spin-off novels there are just to know basic facts about your game like who in the flying fuck are all these goddamn Elder God alien species you're name-dropping. I should just play the game and have knowledge of the game from playing the fucking game. Jesus fucking christ pull your head out of your arse and stop jerking yourself off and start making some goddamn sense!!
Why can this Space Orc Big Bad use The Force like Darth Vader anyhow??
Why is defeating Space Orc Big Bad a fucking quicktime event???
Lol get vaporised, idiot
Why was nuking his spaceship another quicktime event? Just make the whole thing a cutscene, christ 🙄
Master Chief finally makes it to The Waifu Dimension (via nuclear bomb?????) and his first thought is "how do I escape from here?" instead of "oh cool I can finally kiss my holographic waifu"
And now he's just, like, chilling out in orbit around earth, perfectly fine and unharmed?? after setting off a nuclear bomb in his lap with his own two hands?????
Hey, so why was I fighting digi-struct robots for the entire back-half of this game anyway? Isn't Halo supposed to be about fighting The Covenant and The Flood?? 😒
Also, didn't the Covenant have an internal schism/civil war last game?? Like, that was the whole plot of the whole game. Why are the Elites back in the Covenant again; are we just not going to bother with explaining that?
Holy fuck I hate this fucking game. Really glad I only paid seven bucks for it.
Things I liked about Halo 4:
It looks pretty
No more dual-wielding. Fun concept, sure, but it made the games' control scheme fucked to shit. Really felt like Bungie made all of the enemies into utterly gratuitous damage-sponges to compensate for MC's higher DPS too, and that sucked.
The weapon rebalancing, in general. The new Needler kicks ass.
No more dragging around a giant posse of allies with me everywhere. I feel like that was another big contributor to the enemies needing to be so heavily-buffed with sponginess.
Really glad the Brutes aren't in this game. Those guys were the fucking worst.
The items from Halo 3 were mostly useless and just served to clutter up the game. Forgot they were there most of the time, and kept activating them by accident when trying to reload. Glad to see they've been fucked off/heavily retooled. The new active-camo gadget is useful and fun without being overpowered; I really like how well they've balanced it. All of the other gadgets are fairly middling though.
The new machine gun is great! (SURE WOULD BE NICE IF I WAS ABLE TO KEEP IT FOR MORE THAN HALF OF ONE LEVEL THOUGH)
I laughed when I saw a grunt sprinting at my Ghost with a lit grenade in each hand. Some real Serious-Sam-type nonsense right there 😂
Stomping around in the Mantis mech was extremely fun
The sticky-bomb handgun was pretty fun.
Final verdict: Microwaved Slop.
I'll eat it if I'm hungry enough, but I won't enjoy it.
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happy wip wednesday! does anyone else find it difficult to piece a story together sometimes when you have the beginning and the end pretty much set in stone? I explained to @roseapothecary the other day that it’s like I have a bunch of wires in a knot, I know where both ends are, but now I’m just trying to work from the middle. anyway, that’s where I am currently.
here’s some more of my about time au!
“TK, come on in.”
He drops his bag to the floor and folds himself into one of the chairs, watching his dad as he takes a seat across from him. “What was that about?”
“Well,” he begins, leaning far enough back in his chair that it tips. “That was someone from the DOJ and Deputy Fire Chief Radford from down in Austin.”
“Texas?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a long way out,” TK muses. “What did he want in New York?”
His dad goes quiet for a moment. He leans forward now, pushing a business card across the desk and folding his hands in front of him. There’s a quick half-twitch of a smile before he starts. “A few months ago one of their firehouses lost nearly an entire team to an explosion at a factory fire,” he explains somberly. “They asked me to go to Austin. Rebuild the house they lost, since I’ve done it before.” He makes a gesture toward the house surrounding them, the reason it's here, its history.
With a slow exhale, TK takes the card and sits back. It reads Deputy Fire Chief Alden Radford in bold red letters across it, his contact info below. He flicks the card between his fingers. “That’s…wow, Dad, that’s quite a bit of recognition.”
His dad offers another half smile. “Yeah, maybe.”
“You’re not actually thinking about going, right? It wouldn’t make sense.”
“Why wouldn’t it make sense?”
“Because this is home,” TK states, like it’s the most obvious thing. And he and his dad both know it’s the damn truth.
His dad agrees. “I told them my life is here. You’re here,” he emphasizes. “But…”
“But?” TK’s heart thuds. “What do you mean, ‘but?’”
“In light of recent events, it might not be the worst idea to make some changes.”
“What—wait, Dad. You’re seriously thinking about moving to Austin? After—after what I just did? You’re just gonna leave? Again?”
“TK, I wouldn't be leaving you—”
“It’s not like you know anyone down there! I mean, you said it yourself: your life is here.”
“Well, if I did, I’d know one person,” he says calmly. “You.”
“What?”
“I think you need a change, son. Both of us. It would be good for you to get out of New York, get away from all these triggers.”
“So send me to the Hamptons or something!” He exclaims. “You have pull out there. Call Captain Whatshisname—Josephs!”
“I really think this would be good for—”
“—Dad—”
“—you if you could just listen to me for a second—”
“No!”
TK slams his hand on the desk hard enough to rattle the old melted piece of the South Tower on its little pedestal. He rocks back, a hand over his mouth, before grabbing his bag and shooting to his feet.
“I’m sorry, I…I’ll be right back,” he grumbles, ignoring his dad’s protests as he darts out of the office.
He makes a right, then one more and hits the supply closet, throwing the door open and diving into the cover of darkness.
He swears he’s having a mild panic attack. Too much has happened recently for his dad to just pull the goddamn rug out from under him, yet here they are. Why would he want to leave New York? Their entire lives are here, his mom is here, everything TK knows is here.
This is home.
And then, like a slow wave, it hits him. TK has felt so out of place these last few weeks, not knowing what to do with himself, feeling lost and truly a little hopeless. At first he chalked it up to losing Alex, then being unable to work until being given the all clear, but the sleepless nights that followed where TK pieced together that the only future he saw in this city was with Alex made him deny everything.
That is, until now.
TK thuds the wall with his fist before slumping into it.
New York is home, that’s never going to change. But maybe this will be good.
Pushing himself away from the wall, he takes a steadying breath. In the last two weeks, TK has only traveled the one time. While he and his mom talked extensively about time travel and its consequences and joked about the whole (fictional) space-time continuum thing, he’s been too afraid to do it again. He’s done his own research, too, the whole thing helping to keep his brain occupied, but all of it was fiction. He supposed it makes sense, really. Time travel is pretty sci-fi.
But he needs to redo this conversation; he can’t get the look on his dad’s face out of his head, and while his heart is going a million miles a minute at the prospect of actually leaving home, he probably could have reacted better, tell his dad that he supports him, whatever decision he makes.
He’ll go back five minutes, that’s all. Just to the top of the conversation before he blew it out of proportion.
He closes his eyes and…that’s it.
For a second, TK wonders if it worked, but when he finds his dad seeing the deputy chief and the woman from the DOJ off again and it’s pure confirmation.
“Jesus,” he mutters to himself. He’s still thrown off by this whole thing.
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Les Mis Blogging RETURNS
Did you miss me???! (Mis me)
Yes I did carry the goddamn Brick all the way to New York and back, because I accurately guessed those long flights would make prime reading time. Well, one way at least—coming back too late at night after four long days I could manage nothing but huddling tired and cold in my seat, eyes closed, comparing every album of Hadestown available to me (to be continued) (Musicals: Two!)
But right now, we return....to France:
Volume III: Marius: Continued
Book 5
The rest of this volume treats primarily of Marius’s misadventures. One of the first things that happens is that THREE YEARS PASS. Marius is now twenty, we are told. What is wild about this is that would mean all the revolutionary boys we were just introduced to when Marius tumbled into them fleeing his grandfather’s at age seventeen, would now be three years older as well. Is that the case??? Is Enjolras actually to be 25 now? Bossuet 28? ''11th year'' student Bahorel fully to 30? It does not seem it! Perhaps the schoolboys of l'ABC are enclosed in one of those pockets of sustained time that fictional characters occasionally stray into—your Aubrey and Maturins, your Tintin and Haddocks—where the events of years happen yet don’t seem to apply to their lifespan. Paris marches on while they just continue to exist in a perpetual twilight of their mid-20s. I mean, good arrangement if you can get it.
But anyway, we’ll reconnect with them later. In the meantime, Marius learns what a woman are (barely), and figures out a way to keep himself (barely) fed, (barely) housed, and (barely) clothed. On that last, Courfeyrac gives him an old coat when his wears through—“But this coat was green. Then Marius ceased to go out until after nightfall. This made his coat black. As he wished to always appear in mourning, he clothed himself with the night.” Son, I love you.
Really he spends most of his three years alone daydreaming and being weird. Who can relate.
Book 6
We are given an in-depth physical description of Marius at this epoch, who turns out to be a raven-haired babe. We are then immediately treated to Courfeyrac flirting with him over how he won’t flirt with anyone, and Marius runs away. Remarkable.
But before we can have too much fun with that, we then slide into a rather trying section where Jean Valjean and Cosette re-enter the chat, have the same walking route as Marius (these creatures of unbelievable habit..), and then the very minute Cosette enters puberty, Victor Hugo and Marius are like “omg, a Woman.” No! A teenage girl! Barely!
Marius, admittedly also still emotionally an infant, proceeds to develop an entire religion around her. Over the course of months they share (1) glance—he is in raptures. At least we get some intermittent hilarity when it becomes clear Jean Valjean knows something is Up, and I personally believe leaves his own handkerchief on purpose, just to troll him.
Meanwhile, with the (one) friends we left behind: “On the way there, he encountered Courfeyrac, and pretended not to see him. Courfeyrac, on his return home, said to his friends, ‘I have just met Marius’s new hat and new coat, with Marius inside them. He was going to pass an examination, no doubt. He looked utterly stupid.’”
Sorry to focus so much on Courfeyrac when he actually appears vanishingly little in this part of the narrative, but every time he does appear it's something like this; what am I do to.
Book 7
Introducing: Montparnasse & Friends! UNREAL DESCRIPTIONS IN THIS SECTION. Here’s some selections:
“He was six feet high, his pectoral muscles were of marble, his biceps of brass, his breath was that of a cavern, his torso that of a colossus, his head that of a bird.”
“He was transparent but impenetrable. Daylight was visible through his bones, but nothing through his eyes. He declared that he was a chemist.”
“Claquesous was vague, terrible, and a roamer. No one was sure whether he had a name.”
and
“Montparnasse was a fashion plate in misery and given to the commission of murders. …his cravat knowingly tied, a bludgeon in his pocket, a flower in his buttonhole; such was the dandy of the sepulcher.”
A cold crime-hello to these four gentlemen.
Book 8
Jean Valjean stops taking Cosette to Marius’s stalking street and he sinks into a very accurate description of clinical depression. Meanwhile, I learn Groundhog Day may be French?? Sacré bleu!
But, while “Marius was too melancholy to take even a chance pleasantry well” (phenomenal sentence), Hugo has a scheme in the wings. EPONINE makes her teen reappearance—bold, tragic, unhinged. Incredible that this feral, topless little gremlin who crows in scrawling free-association verse is the origin character for the musical’s tender sadgirl singing ‘On My Own’.
I mean look at this:
Wow!
So all this stuff rather wakes Marius up, as one might imagine, and before you know it really, he’s engaged in a misbegotten sting operation with Javert and the Thenardiers, who live next door to him in Jean Valjean's old apartment building. There are apparently only 20 people in Paris and 3 locations. Oh and you will never guess which mysterious charitable gentleman and his daughter the Thenardiers are trying to kidnap and rob! No you never will! Okay you have guessed it exactly! Marius, peering through a hole in his wall (Marius, how’s the peeping), already thinks of Jean Valjean as his father-in-law, and is so proud of him. As he should be, Valjean ~rules~. At various points throughout the proceedings, he maintains perfect noble silence pretending he has no idea who the Thenardiers are, leaps to his feet revealing he has secretly undone his fetters while Thenardier was monologuing, burns himself with a brand to prove he has no fear of death, and ultimately slips out a window down a rope ladder when no one is looking. I wish he was my father-in-law!
Thus concludes: Volume III ✓
Oh, and one more place-keeping point: thus concludes FIVE years now since Marius ran away from home. Five??!? Truly I think these five years have only stuck to Marius and Cosette. Oh! Hey maybe the way time works in Les Misérables is that it only touches you when you appear on the page. So Courfeyrac and Bossuet, present in a mere handful of lines since encountering Marius in a fiacre 100 pages ago, are therefore still just the same
(the best).
[Brickolage]
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nevermind still not sleeping i feel like i could throw up i’m so fucking anxious about this class i have to start tomorrow. i KNOW my major literally involves filming i know i picked this but this is a class about filming and shit and i literally cannot do that i’m going to have such a shit fucking time why did i pick this major i’m literally not even supposed to be here i have no plans for after i graduate and to tell the truth it’s the idea of taking this class that’s making me not even want to graduate like. why did i do this why am i here why do i even want this i don’t even know why i want this i’m literally only doing this major because it’s what i wanted when i was 17. SEVENTEEN. everything i’m doing right now in my life rests on the whim of a SEVENTEEN year old??? i was an idiot at 17. i thought i wanted to be a screenwriter when i was 17, NOT panning out the past several years ruined me and i don’t even write anything anymore. it’s all i can do to keep a goddamn diary of daily events. i’m turning 22 this year and don’t even know what i want to be when i grow up it’s pathetic i’m not cut out for any of this truly 😐. why am i having this breakdown literally hours from the start of the semester and not. idk. yesterday even would have been better then i could have cried to my mom or something now i’m just rambling on tumblr oh my god. like i’m literally not supposed to be there. everyone else there is supposed to be there and i’m like. a stray cat. and it fucking sucks and i have like. one friend i could actually talk to about anything real because in addition to letting whatever ambition i once had in me rot away like a pumpkin in november, i also let most of the people in my life turn into ghosts and acquaintances and nothing. and the happiest i’ve been in the past year was the summer when i was just living with my parents and working retail three days a week and not having to go to school for a career in an industry i don’t even think i want to be in anymore due to not being cut out for it. anyway hashtag pathetic girl. it’s nearing 7am. my first wake up alarm goes off at 8. i have to get out of bed at 10. and then i get to be miserable for hours until i come back here around 7pm probably and avoid my roommates and their boyfriends and watch another movie and be miserable and then wednesday i get to do nothing and just wallow around in agony and then on thursday i just do tuesday again until the last class ends around 5 and i drive home even though i hate driving but the only thing i hate more than driving is being in this fucking miserable awful college town longer than i have to be which of course bodes sooo well for the whole. “i’m not supposed to be here” thing. anyway. yeah sure i’ll post this oversharing ramble why not it’s not like this is any more embarrassing than anything else i or the rest of you post on here daily.
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hi hello i have time now let's talk about the new three hopes trailer and part of the recent feh channel!
feh channel time first, because this one has a lot less to deal with:
directly after introducing the game, feh refers to the characters as "students of garreg mach". this could mean exactly Nothing, but choosing to refer to them as students makes me think this is almost definitely a pre timeskip or early mid skip game. the fact that the mobile game's new summoning events are only academy arc heroes supports that, too.
okay new trailer time now that that's out of the way:
i'm pretty much certain at this point that arval is a sothis equivalent, and the fact that byleth doesn't know where shez's power comes from is mildly alarming. the glowing eyes though??? SO goddamn cool but also agarthan-looking.
"we've gotta win. for a new fodlan, one that will go down in the history books as the best ever!"
again, this could be me looking into things too much, but the "best ever"? shez you're looking a little sus, for lack of a better word. how would you have something to compare your new fodlan to if you hadn't seen other potential futures?
yuri's "let's do this, wolves" had me HYPED. his new voicelines are sounding so goddamn great and i like the slight change in his hairstyle!
his interaction with constance is fantastic as well, i love watching him rile her up, it's very funny. ngl i kinda wish constance had kept her curls but she doesn't look bad by any means! the fan being a part of her spellcasting is such a nice touch!
balthus really doesnt look that different to me lol but that's not an inherently bad thing. i just see very little change. nice to see he's still doing well!
HAPI. MY WIFE HAPI. THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE MY GIRL MY EVERYTHING. I LOVE HER NEW LOOK SO MUCH YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND SHE MEANS THE WORLD TO ME. the little bit of armour, her new hairstyle, the fact that SHE HAS A GODDAMN WOLF IN HER ATTACK AND TELEPORTS OUT OF THE WAY OF IT??? SO excited for her!! im really really glad they incorporated the monster summoning in her attacks too!!
OKAY MOVING BEYOND THE NEW DESIGNS NOW
expeditions?? neat?? i wanna know what that entails! teatime is back but i'm gonna be real with you i kinda wish it wasn't. i really wanted tea to be byleth's thing.
THE WEIRD LITTLE TIME THING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE VIDEO HELLOOOOOOO???
"how many times have we fought now? either way, this will be the last." TIME TRAVEL SHENANEGANS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
this game might actually get me to like rhea a little more. we'll see. just based off her 2 lines in the trailer, there's a decent chance of it at least somewhat changing my mind about her.
"what if all this was just some horrible mistake? what if there was another way we could have solved all this?" oh No. i dont even wanna think about what this could be referring to.
ALL THE TELEPORTING AROUND LOOKS SO COOL!!
i can't quite catch sothis's line word for word but it sounds like "we must now send the whelp to an early grave" and i just. okay?? goddamn??
i'm gonna be real with you i am Very scared of shez. the fact that they can change the fate of the game, that it seems they can remember fighting against byleth many times in the past, and again, the teleporting, i'm kinda terrified. i doubt byleth will actually die in this game but that doesn't stop me from being alarmed at the last scene of the trailer.
anyway. can't wait to go home and get the demo!!
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God, I just want this day to be over.
We usually have a Christmas thing at my mother's on Christmas Eve and then another one on the 25th at my father's (and then we're at our mother's again on the 26th but that's just for food, the presents are exchanged during both of the initial get-togethers).
It's been like this forever but this year we're having the one at my father's on the 23rd (= today) instead. I hate it. Nothing about that is rational. I know that, logically speaking, the actual event will play out the same as it would on the 25th, the only difference is that it's 2 days early this year so that everybody can make it, which is great! And I hate it. I don't want to exchange presents today, it's not Christmas yet and I'm being a whiny baby about it internally while also judging myself real hard for it because way to create drama for yourself, congrats.
I just found out that at least my present for my dad is gonna arrive in the mail today after all and there's a possibility that it's gonna be here before I have to leave, which is something at least, so fingers crossed. It was supposed to be here yesterday at the very latest but this is the busiest time of the year so I should be glad if I do end up getting it in time at all.
My brother's present is the only one I actually have here.
His wife asked for a gift card for a specific brand this year and I thought this would be the least stressful present because, hey, virtual gift card, easy, right? Right?? Wrong. I had a goddamn anxiety attack last night over the fact that they hadn't shipped (to my e-mail account) yet and the order status what confusing at best (I wanna have words with the person who designed their website because wtaf, but anyway), and I eventually got so stressed about it that I spiralled, only to wake up today to an e-mail telling me that my order was cancelled and I'm just- 😮💨 Really. Really? Literally how? I am so used to this shit being automated and shipping quickly that I am genuinely baffled by how long it took to get cancelled in the first place, never mind the fact that it *being* cancelled makes no fucking sense. This is a large brand name, you'd think this would actually work well.
It also means I now have no present for her today. I don't have the energy to try and order this again because even if I did it would likely not arrive today (and chances are it would just get cancelled again tomorrow and I don't have it in me to do this again).
I'mma just have to tell her and explain. I might have to just make a physical gift card that is a random card in an envelope with money in it or something. I could make it cute. I am all out of energy. Nothing about this is fun. I've been stressing out over these goddamn presents for too long now. It's the same every year, I don't even know why I'm surprised. I waited way, way too long to get started on them as always, like a dumdum, so the fact that I have no time left to sort this out is entirely on me, and I'm just so very tired.
I can't wait for it to be the 25th, where I will get to stay at home with my dog all day and all of this will be over. Maybe I'll even indulge and take a goddamn bath or something. I'm just looking forward to not running around in full anxiety mode anymore. This is fucking ridiculous.
#I just need to properly whine about this for a bit and get it out of my system so that I can actually figure out what to do later#I'm not there yet though#I'mma go cuddle my dog#I just know this will all feel overly dramatic in two days' time#maybe tomorrow even#if not tonight#but right now my stress levels are through the roof lol#just me rambling
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Good Morning My Royal Subjects,
It has come to my attention that I am not at my best for my kingdom. So I’m on a mission to glo-up and become that girl I know I always have been. I’ve been such a Debbie downer about my weight gain and own internal perceived lack of attractiveness.
For context and a goddamn rundown - Since the pandemic, chile, my weight has been going up. So many factors like moving from my active retail job to a snack laden office with perks like being taken out for lunch (almost ALL the time), moving back at home (and actually having to eat home cooked meals - Thanks Nanny lool) but worst of all, sort of growing out of my “skinny person discipline”.
I was slim for as long as I can remember, hell I still look in the mirror and see a slim person… just a bit fluffier? I can’t explain it, all I do know is that when I was slim, I thought I looked like how I do now. Fat? My body dysmorphia was dysmorphia-ing. I was so tiny then and I didn’t even think so.
I can safely say that being slim was the worst part of my life (and you see I said about being slim for as long as I can remember…). But I got bigger and honestly, I was kind of happier than ever, I know, sounds like absolute cap. But truly I felt like that… until…
Well everything, I’m a pretty girl (pretty inna di face wtf) and I’ve never had to worry about- this smile gets me out of trouble. But I guess… ugh how pick me… I darent say this but I just don’t get any attention - and I’m talking guys and girls. I used to get the girls bending over backwards to tell me how pretty I am and the guys??? You catch my drift.
Anyways, this is just an adventure I’m taking with myself to prove to myself five things:
1) I can do anything - getting my body back to where I want it won’t be easy, but it’s sure enough better than sitting here complaining.
2) never get complacent - I guess I just never expected it to happen. But I want to be visible again, I want to be the main event, not the side kick.
3) I owe my health everything - I deserve to have a healthy strong body that looks not only great, but works amazingly!
4) I deserve to have choices - I never want to feel like I am stuck in a box. I want growth opportunities, I want to be looked at like I’m disciplined.
5) when? - if not now, I’ll keep putting it off. By March 2024, I want to be BACK.
Im doing it for the slutty outfits, the stares, the return to pretty privilege, the smiles, being thrown around, the kinder treatment, being like catnip to these dumb men, looking the way I want in clothes again!!
I’m trying to accompany this with TikTok, so whenever I am ready to be perceived, I’ll put my TikTok on here x
Best,
Princess x
27/10/23
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viki & hickeys
the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)
SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.
WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries
MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide
RATING m (18+)
WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG
NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks
Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.
There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.
Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.
“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”
Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”
The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?
You’re not so sure.
It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.
Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.
“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”
You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”
She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”
At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.
You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”
Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.
Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.
Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.
So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.
And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”
You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.
Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.
To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.
Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.
On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.
(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)
“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.
Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.
“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”
You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.
There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.
Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.
“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.
He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.
But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.
Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”
You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”
His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.
“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”
Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.
Oh, you loved this man.
Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.
He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.
It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.
But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?
One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.
It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”
“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.
As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.
It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.
“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.
The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.
Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.
As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.
A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.
Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.
Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”
You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.
“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.
That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.
Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.
You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.
If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.
“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”
He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”
You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”
Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.
“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”
He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”
“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.
He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.
Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.
“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.
It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.
“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“
“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.
“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”
Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”
You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”
Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?
He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?
Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.
Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.
You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!
Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.
“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”
A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.
You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”
Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”
Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”
It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.
He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.
The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.
“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.
But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”
A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”
It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“
He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”
You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”
Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”
You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.
You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.
Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“
He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”
Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”
“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”
Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.
“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”
The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.
There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.
You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”
Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”
You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”
“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”
The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”
Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.
On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.
Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”
You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.
Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.
“I thought he was cool before.”
He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.
In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.
You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.
Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”
You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”
He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”
“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.
Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”
You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“
“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”
His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.
It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.
Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.
He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.
Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.
(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)
Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.
(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.
You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”
The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.
But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.
“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”
“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)
Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.
The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”
He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.
“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”
He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”
Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.
It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.
Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.
He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.
Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“
“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”
He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.
“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”
Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”
You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.
Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.
“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”
Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.
“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.
Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”
“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”
At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”
You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.
Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.
Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.
He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”
Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—
Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.
You whimper. “That hurt.”
“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”
Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.
Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.
Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.
Of course.
You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.
It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.
And you’re all too ready to act on it.
Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.
But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.
“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.
Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.
The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.
As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.
Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.
With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.
Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.
“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.
He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.
“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.
“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.
He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.
The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.
It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.
“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.
Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.
His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.
Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.
He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.
Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.
He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.
The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.
Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.
Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.
He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”
The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.
Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.
For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.
He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”
You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.
“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”
A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”
The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—
Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.
He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.
Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”
You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.
Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”
It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.
His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.
Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”
And it’s true.
You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.
You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.
Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”
Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.
Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“
Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.
You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.
He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.
“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”
“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.
It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.
Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.
“I kinda do—“
“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.
His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.
“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”
You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.
“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.
“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.
Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.
“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.
You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.
Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.
You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.
It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.
Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.
You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.
Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.
“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.
“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.
And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”
Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.
What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.
“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.
(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)
Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.
With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.
“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.
“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”
You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”
Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.
Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.
“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.
“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.
You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.
“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”
The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.
Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.
“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”
Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.
“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.
The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”
You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.
Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.
“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”
He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.
“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”
You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.
That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.
epilogue
Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.
He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.
Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.
“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.
“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“
“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”
“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”
The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”
There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.
All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”
epi-epilogue
The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.
You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.
“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.
“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”
And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.
“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”
Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
#networkbangtan#bangtanhq#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook smut#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#jjk smut#jeon jungkook fic#jeon jungkook x reader smut#bts jungkook#bts fic#bts smut#mine
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🌸Hi! I write for sagau, the Self Aware Genshin Impact AU, as well as the Cult AU. Almost hilariously my RNG has been much, much better after starting to write for these AUs.🌸
Edit: these are just my rambles and this is not all reader friendly but I had to s h a r e . Please tell me other sagau writers/consumers have had other similliar experiences
Edit 2: this post will be updated regularly with my strange coincidences
I got Hu Tao after joking about “ayo me the all creator wants you to come home” and the bitch did? First 10 pull? With like little to no pity? Also with single pulls? I got Kaeya on a standard outta no where, after LiTERALlY taking him off my team.
Kaeya came home AGAIN after using him as an ice bridge on a SINGLE pull on standard.
Barbara has cooked me w a y more sweet madame then nessecary. I cooked 20 and she made me 12 extra? Same with Jean? Nearly all the time?
I’ve been like playing the game as if they could actually hear me, as a jOkE. And now my Characters CRIT nearly every attack despite their terrible builds. I haven’t changed any artifacts? I’m like grateful but also I am concerned.
I’ve gotten the same 20 primo achievement multiple times? And the primos are stacking?
Making food, getting no bonus foods from Xiangling. I quietly whispered “extras please.” And the next 4 dishes gave extras back to back? None before, only AFtER?
Kaeya has come home an alarming amount of times. 2 of those times were in random single pulls in the standard. I got him before I even got him in the story event. (Mentioned before above but im still shook)
Whenever I verbally ask for multiple characters in ten pulls I have always gotten 2+? I’m gonna start messing with this more to see if maybe me speaking my desire helps? I dunno.
I messed with it again on Yaes banner and I didn’t say anything. I got Thoma, who is strangely very similar to Kaeya now that I think about it, he has come home with other characters a couple times as well.
I sat down the traveller at a cute spot to “rub their head” with the cursor cuz i love them and I STG this BiTcH SMIlED ? LIKE HELd THE SMIlE AS WELL? And as soon as I was gonna get a screenie it stopped ??? i ??? 😭
Venti came home and ate my pity early at 44 pulls after I jokingly said he better not since Im trying to get Ayaka.
Ayaka cane home at 30 pulls right after venti I think I actually am god
I’ve literally been like “oh snap imma get isekaid this is just like that one fan fiction I read-“ you know, as a joke.
Well I was scrolling through character profiles and - I- what? Like?
The character details for my lumine says “The Keeper is fading away; the creator has not yet come. But the world shall burn no more, for you shall ascend.”
Is the keeper that unknown god? They said they were the sustainer of heavenly principles and that’s similar-
Listen imma be honest I don’t look at a lot of character profiles but I’m pretty sure it didn’t say that aight. Am I going insane what? That better be for fuckin everyone or imma freak- like in a good way cuz I’m totally fine waking up in Teyvat but also HOLD UP?
How much of Genshin Impacts story actually involves some seeming All-Creator or the player? Or is this me loosing my goddamn mind? Im not surprised if it’s either.
Regardless, this brings up good ideas for future sagau fanfics, and valid questions about genshin itself. What exactly is Celestia? Some mediator? A corrupted council? Who is this creator that’s a c t u a l l y m e n t i o n e d .
My ear is literally ringing as I write this I’m actually kinda feeling adrenaline.
I want to incorporate this into some sort of narrative. I really wanna dig into Genshin now, I’m actually like, hyped? Lore? Going brrr? New ideas for different writings?
Anyway if I randomly disappear please note that I totally am in Teyvat somehow and am pray be, not in some Imposter AU.
Is this some sort of Meta joke or have I finally lost my few remaining marbles.
Istg I just saw Lumine smile at me- OH SHE DEFINITELY DId AGAIn WHaT
🌸Please share if you have had any similliar experiences cuz I’mma starting to sweat : ) 🌸
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What a Dumbass [P.P]
Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured.
Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader
Word Count: 2.1K
Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter
a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again.
This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop.
Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through.
At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him.
“Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch.
“He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.
“Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth.
“How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz.
“Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?”
“She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.”
“I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes.
“Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake.
“Make it a month, I know my worth.”
Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter.
You: are you home
Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?
You: i’ll be there in 5
Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?
Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????
(Y/N) declined (3) calls
Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot.
Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room.
“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room.
“Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”
“Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you.
“And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor.
Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?”
“Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.”
‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers.
“Bring a mop too.”
Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh.
“What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.”
“Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed.
“Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste.
“I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.
“Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?”
“Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further.
“I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound.
“Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other.
“You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!”
“Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets.
“You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.
“What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously.
“I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.
“This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—”
“Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement.
“Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach.
“What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle.
“You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch.
“I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch.
You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss.
“You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.”
You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement.
“Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair.
“Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.”
You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”
“Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.”
Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.”
“Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”
“But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”
You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection.
Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features.
“Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”
“Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss.
You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense.
“You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned
“You’re the one who got caught watchin—”
“(Y/N)!”
#avengers#peter parker fluff#peter parker x avenger!reader#peter parker x reader#spiderman x reader#spiderman x avenger!reader#spiderman fluff#tom holland spiderman#marvel#marvel fic#peter parker fic
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The Break of Dawn (Leo Barnes x f!Reader)
You work in a small diner not far from the bus station and try to get over a tragic event that happened to you three years ago. Leo Barnes is one of the steady customers, and at some point you realize there's mutual attraction between the two of you. There's no time for romance though - only one night left before the annual Purge, and Leo has an important job to keep Senator Roan safe as it's the only chance to finally put an end to the Purge.
Words: 3 656
Warnings: Sexual content (not super detailed, I would rate this story as Mature rather than Explicit, but still they f*ck), a bit of angst (trigger warning: loss), but Leo is a caring and protective guy who’s ready to hold you
A/N: My first time writing Leo Barnes or any Frank Grillo character, so please don't be mean :))
Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld, @skvatnavle, @lunamoon-87
“There he is.”
Stella pokes you with her elbow.
“What?”
“Your tough guy. He’s here,” she nods to the corner of the diner and you don’t even need to follow her gesture to know that Leo Barnes is sitting there, his usual spot. He’s a bit early today, and it’s understandable - you too find it harder to sleep well as the Purge is getting closer.
“He’s not my tough guy, Stells,” you roll your eyes.
“Oh yeah? Tell it to someone else,” she snorts. “So far I’m just wondering how long you’re gonna keep ignoring that sexual tension…”
“Stella, please.”
“What? Honestly, I don’t know why he’s being such a gentleman… But just FYI, y/n… You know it’s not the 19th century and you actually can make the first move?”
“Even if I wanted to, it’s not the right time,” you shrug. “You know he’s doing an important job. He’s got plenty of stuff to think about and it’s definitely not romance.”
“Who’s talking about romance, sis?” Stella laughs. “You’re both so goddamn tense, you need to blow off some steam. No, seriously. You need to get laid. He needs to get laid. It’s just way too obvious!”
“Oh dear god, just please shut up…” you groan.
“Fine,” she gives you a wicked smirk. “If you don’t want him, then I’m bringing his order.”
You chuckle at this.
“Don’t you dare.”
To be completely honest, you can’t deny that Stella is partly right. There is something between you and this grumpy silent man in the corner. But what exactly? You can’t really put it into words, it’s not just the attraction, or sexual tension as Stella says. You do find him handsome though, you admit that. A couple of times when he was wearing a t-shirt, you caught yourself staring at his muscular arms. Yes, guilty. And still… There’s more than that. You’d call it some sort of mutual understanding.
Leo Barnes works for Senator Roan. In the past, he used to be a cop, now he is the head of security for her. You learnt that one night when he was here, having his usual late dinner. The TV was on, evening news, something about the election of course. And suddenly you noticed him there, standing behind Roan’s back with another guy in a formal dark suit. You blinked, stared at the screen, then looked back at him. He caught your glance.
“Is that… you?” you blurted, realizing too late that you said it out loud. But he smiled, and in his smile there was no anger or annoyance.
“Apparently so,” he replied with a soft chuckle and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “How do I look?”
You started talking ever since then. Barnes usually came to the diner twice - in the morning he just had a mug of black coffee, and in the evening he ordered something to eat. Mornings were often crowded as many people passed the diner before heading to work in the city, so you were busy. But the evenings were mostly quiet.
You often stayed at work late, covering Stella who had to run to her kids or another date. You didn’t mind that since work was always your way to escape. Nobody was waiting for you at home anyways. Somehow, Leo Barnes started to keep you company. He wasn’t much of a talker and you were never into heartfelt conversations with the clients here, but something just clicked. Especially after you learnt about his job and it became clear that your views on the Purge are the same.
Many people hate The Purge, as well as many people support it. Some people hate it because they’re scared for their loved ones, their business (small shop owners who don’t have enough money to afford the Purge insurance often suffer), or they hate it just because they’re against violence in general. And the others… They have more personal reasons. You’re one of them. And somehow, even if you don’t know for sure, you just feel like Leo Barnes has personal reasons as well. He never really told you, and you don’t dare to ask because you know well enough how the memories can hurt. You didn’t tell him either. But still, you don’t know how exactly it worked, you just looked at each other and saw it. It’s like an unspoken secret between the two of you. The details don’t matter anyway. Your stories are in the past and you can’t change it, but what you can change is the future. If Senator Charlene Roan wins the election - the Purge will finally end. You can help with your vote, and Leo… Leo is determined to do anything to help her survive this year. Just this year, and hopefully no one would ever have to survive this nightmare again. You both want it more than anything else.
“Hey.”
You smile at Leo as you place a mug of coffee and a plate on the table in front of him.
“Hey…” he looks confused when he sees the food. Nothing really special: eggs, bacon, some beans and a toast. “What’s that? I... only asked for the usual…”
“Just thought you might need some extra fuel,” you shug. “Only one night left before the Purge, so… you must have a lot of work to do.”
“Yeah, you’re right… I actually do,” he gives you a tired smile. “Thank you.”
“Welcome,” you nod and turn to leave, but Leo suddenly touches your arm and you freeze.
“Y/n?”
“Yeah?” you face him again.
“Do you work tomorrow?”
“Yes… Why are you asking?..” you give him a puzzled look.
“Well uh… To be honest I’d be happier if you took a day off… You know, just to make sure you’re safe…”
You feel the heat on your cheeks. Does… does he worry about you?.. The realization makes your heart shrink for a second. Apparently he’s not just someone who understands, he’s someone who cares. You already forgot what it feels like when someone really cares. Well, of course there are your parents, but they’re far away… And Leo, he’s right here.
“It’s okay,” you say, trying not to look too baffled. “Tomorrow we’re closing the diner earlier, right after lunchtime, so I’ll be home long before the Purge begins. There’s no need to worry, really.”
“Good,” Barnes nods. “I just… don’t think I’ll be able to come over and check on you tomorrow, so I just…” he stutters as if trying to figure out something to say.
“I just want you to be careful, okay?” he finally utters, and to your surprise his hand reaches yours, squeezing it lightly. “Just be careful, yeah?”
“Yeah, I... Of course I will,” you try to smile reassuringly. “I promise.”
*
There’s about five minutes left before closing hour when Leo appears. As usual, you’re still here, helping Mary, the chief and the owner’s wife with all the cleaning up after the working day. While she’s in the kitchen, you wipe the tables, TV-set is murmuring something in the corner. The election, the purge… Always the same.
“You’re closed?” he asks, meeting your gaze. “Sorry, I… Didn’t realize it’s that late already…”
“We’re about to close, but it’s fine, come in!” you assure smiling at him maybe a bit more brightly than you wanted to show. “We’ll get you something to eat, right, Mary?”
“Sure thing,” she replies from the kitchen door. You weren’t the only one who saw Barnes on TV. Since then, he became an always welcome guest as the diner owners supported Roan as well. Otherwise, to be honest you don’t think you could possibly be able to work for them.
You put a plate with food in front Leo as he takes a seat at the counter. While he’s eating silently, you wipe the coffee mugs and place them carefully on the shelf. The TV keeps talking. Something about the bloomimg economy and international murder tourists who keep coming to the US to take part in the annual Purge. You glance at the screen, see their gut-wrenchingly excited faces.
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath and shake your head. “Fucking insane.”
“True,” you nearly jump at his words, as you didn’t realize Leo heard you. “I knew people who killed someone on Purge night for… different reasons. But those who kill just because they enjoy it, for fun or sport or whatever you call it - those are the most dangerous.”
“They’re just psychopaths. People like that should be kept in mental hospitals or something. But they just walk around as if nothing’s wrong with them. And the new founding fathers keep telling them how proud they are of them…”
“Roan’s gonna make it stop,” Mary joins the conversation. “This lady’s got some balls, am I right, sir?”
“Yes ma’am,” Barnes chuckles. “She absolutely got them.”
You leave the diner together with Leo. Mary chose to stay inside, waiting for her husband to come pick her up in a few minutes. The night is a bit chilly; you’re shivering, not sure if it’s the cold or the fact that you’re alone with him for the first time.
“Where’s your car?” he asks.
“Oh um… It’s in the service actually. So I’m going to the bus station right over there,” you point. Barnes frowns.
“What about tomorrow?”
“Stella promised to give me a ride home. Leo… I’ll be okay. It’s not the first Purge night in my life, you know.”
“Right,” he clears his throat. “Anyway, since I’m here I can drive you home.”
“You… sure it’s okay?” your voice betrays you a little. “I mean you must be tired…”
“I’m okay,” he assures, then nods at his car. “Come on. I insist.”
“Okay,” you hear yourself saying.
*
You’re mostly silent on the way. You feel a bit tense, but also kinda… weirdly excited to be in this car, next to him. Damn. Is Stella right, and you’re actually into him? Definitely so. But after all these years you almost completely forgot how it feels - to be into someone or how the relationships work. As if you’re a teenager again. Leo Barnes is the first man who actually made you think of something close to romantic longing since… That night.
“It’s here?” he asks as you reach your house. You nod, and he pulls over. You wait for him to say something, to tell you goodnight maybe, but he doesn’t. Without the sound of the car engine, the silence between you becomes even more awkward. You open your mouth to say goodbye to him, but instead different words suddenly come out.
“Leo, I…”
He looks at you intently. You stare down at your knees.
“Yeah?”
“I just… The fact that you worry about me - it’s very nice of you, really. And… I just wanted you to know that I worry about you too. I worry about you a lot actually…”
“Y/n…” his voice is quiet as he brings his hand to your face, gently urging you to look up at him. His eyes look darker than usual in the dim light of the street lamp nearby. You think if it’s possible to drown in someone’s eyes you’d already be gone.
“I’ll be fine, okay?” he says softly. “It’s gonna be a tough night for sure, but I’ll be fine, I have to be fine. You gotta trust me on this. You trust me?”
“Yes,” you barely whisper, unable to take your eyes from his, and when the tension becomes almost unbearable, his lips finally crush on yours.
You both expected and didn’t expect it, didn’t dare to admit even to yourself how much you really wanted it. Your breath hitches somewhere in your throat as you kiss him back eagerly, forgetting about everything and everyone for this moment that lasts so long and so painfully short at once. You’re both panting as your lips part, foreheads pressed together.
“I… I think I should go,” you mumble as a rush of panic suddenly overwhelms you.
“Yeah… Yeah…” he nods. “You should get some rest.”
“You too.”
You squeeze his hand for a second. Gosh, you didn’t even realize your hand was on his all this time.
“Good night,” you finally murmur, bracing yourself to get out of the car. You feel like something else needs to be said, but can’t really figure out what.
*
You enter the house and just lean against the door, heart hammering wildly inside your chest. You close your eyes and try to catch your breath. What the hell just happened? And why are you reacting like that? There’s nothing wrong about this kiss. You’re two single adults… Well, probably single. Leo doesn’t wear a ring, so… Damn it, you really got out of practice when it comes to relationships.
A knock on the door made your eyes snap open. As if in a daze, you slowly turn and reach the door handle, already knowing who you’re going to see.
Leo doesn’t say anything. And you can’t read the expression in his eyes, or you simply don’t have time for it, because the next moment he steps inside, his hands cup your cheeks and he kisses you with such longing and desperation it nearly kicks the breath out of your lungs. You don’t know what you’re doing any more, but your fingers are already in his dark hair, scratching the nape of his neck while his lips and tongue keep attacking your mouth. It feels like shockwaves running through your body, and for the first time in years you feel just so alive. All this time your feelings, passions and emotions were asleep, everything around you seemed pale and lifeless as if someone turned down the contrast, but something changed. Not right now, not in the snap of a finger, of course; it happened gradually. Something kept changing deep within you since the very first time your eyes met, and now - you’re finally ready to feel something. To let him in.
You don't think about it though. Or about anything else, to be honest. All you can focus on is what his lips are doing to you, how hot his breath is and how weirdly nice his stubble feels against your skin. Leo’s coat falls on the floor. His big hands seize your waist as he lifts you up, causing you to grip onto his broad shoulders. Pressing you against the nearest wall, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, the kisses are sloppy, open-mouthed, and you can't suppress a soft moan. He's big and strong, you feel small underneath him, but you like it.
You can’t even remember clearly how you finally reached the bedroom, frantically helping each other to get rid of the clothes. When you tumble down and he hovers over you, the skin to skin contact is overwhelming. He brushes your hair away from your flushed face, kisses you with sudden tenderness. The look in his hazel eyes is warm yet still full of passion as you cup his cheek and he presses his lips to your palm. An affectionate gesture that makes your heart skip a beat, but you both are too impatient to be soft right now. So he leans in, kissing you harder this time, grunting against your mouth when you pull him closer, craving as much of him as possible. You can feel him twitching against your lower belly as you wrap your legs around him, eager to get more pressure. He’s not even inside you yet, but it already feels so good you can’t help bucking your hips, earning a low groan from him at the friction. His lips trail along your jawline, down to the side of your neck, where he kisses and nibbles, and you just know there’s gonna be marks tomorrow, but damn, you can’t care less.
When he finally enters you and starts moving, you’re almost delirious. Clinging to him, you gasp and whisper his name into his skin, feel the muscles on his back tense as he thrusts deeper. The wave of bliss hits you so hard your vision turns blurry and for a few seconds it feels like you’re not there.
*
Reality comes back to you slowly, with all the dark and troubled thoughts you can’t escape. Leo is lying next to you with his eyes closed, breathing evenly, so you think he must be asleep. Good for him. Carefully, you slip out of the bed to get a glass of water. It doesn’t help you to get rid of the lump in your throat though. Back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed and let out a deep sigh, trying to fight back tears. Too many emotions for one night.
“Y/n.”
Leo’s voice doesn’t even seem sleepy. You can feel him shifting in bed to reach you, the warmth of his calloused hand stroking your back soothingly.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, uh…” You shake your head, bringing your hand to rub your eyes. “I’m good. It’s just… It’s been a while since I… You know…”
“I know. It’s been a while for me as well.”
“I lost my boyfriend three years ago,” you blurt out, surprising yourself that you said it out loud. “During the Purge night. He um… He was a medical student. We lived in an apartment building and we heard someone crying for help. I wanted to stop him but he just couldn’t ignore someone who needed help, you know. He got shot accidentally, right into his head. There was no chance to save him.”
Leo’s hand gently squeezes your shoulder.
“Sorry, I… Don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I’ve never talked about him since the funeral…”
“It’s okay,” he moves closer, pressing a kiss against your shoulder blade.
“I was so angry at first, you know,” now that you start talking you seemingly cannot stop. “I wished I could find and kill them. But then I thought he wouldn’t want me to become a murderer...”
He presses his forehead against the back of your head for a moment. “I know how you feel, y/n.”
You finally turn to meet his gaze.
“I lost my son. I know what this anger feels like. Two years ago all I was thinking about on the Purge night was revenge. I was determined, almost obsessed.”
“Did… you do it?”
“No. I was close to it. Very close. But… One wise person made me realize that it wouldn’t help. Violence only brings more violence.”
“It has to be stopped,” you whisper.
“Yes,” he nods. “That’s why I left the police. Cops have to stay away from the Purge. I couldn’t any more. At least now I know I'm doing the right thing.”
“Right… Just… I’m just scared of losing you too,” you say very quietly, but he hears you anyway. His strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you closer, enclosing into his warmth. Making you feel safe.
“Hey, hey...” He whispers into your hair as he nuzzles into the top of your head. “It’s not gonna happen, you hear me? Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.”
*
You have no doubt your colleagues noticed who drove you to work this morning. But today no one is in the mood for comments, not even Stella. Even though the work goes on as usual, there’s still this tension in the air before the Purge night.
Through the window you can see a bunch of guys gathered around the car with an open trunk full of baseball bats and other stuff you can’t discern. The owner proudly shows off his stuff, other guys laugh, they look pretty chill and relaxed, and your stomach nearly twists at the sight.
*
All night you could barely sleep a wink. A knock on the door drags you out of troubled slumber. At first you’re not even sure if you really heard it or it was in your dream. But the sounds repeat and you jump off the bed and without even caring to slip something over the huge t-shirt you sleep in. Barefoot, you rush to the door, open it with shaky hands.
He looks so exhausted it seems like he can barely stand. The collar of his shirt that used to be white is now stained with blood. And yet… He’s smiling.
“Leo!..” you gasp, stepping towards him and bringing your hand to his stubbly cheek. “Oh my god, are you… Everything okay?..”
“I’m great,” he breathes out huskily, and his smile slowly turns into a wide grin. “We did it, baby.”
You don’t even try to hold back tears as you fall into his arms, bury your face into his chest. He smells a bit like sweat and blood, but you absolutely don’t care. “I’m so glad you’re here,” you mumble into his ruined shirt. “I’m here,” he whispers back, stroking your hair. Then you realize the two of you are still standing at the porch.
“Alright,” you say, drawing back a little. “Let’s get you in, you need some rest… And you’re probably hungry too… And you definitely need a shower…”
“Wait, y/n. Let’s just… Stay here for a bit? I think we both need to catch a breath,” he chuckles crookedly, reaching out to wipe a tear from your cheek. You smile back.
“Okay.”
Sitting on the porch with your head on Leo’s shoulder, his arm wrapped around your frame, you watch the sky becoming lighter and lighter as the dawn breaks. You can hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. The city’s slowly getting back to life, waking up after another nightmare.
You both know it’s not the end, the war isn’t won yet, but at least you won this very important battle. And for the first time in what seems like ages you have a good feeling about the future.
*
Thanks for reading!
Hugs, Lucy
#the purge#leo barnes x reader#frank grillo#fanfiction#the purge fanfiction#the purge anarchy#the purge election year#lucy tries to write
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My Little Sun - Reid x Reader
“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” “So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.
CONTENT WARNINGS: AGE GAP, VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, STALKING, LANGUAGE probably the misuse of a Russian word IF THERES MORE LMK
A/N: Okay, let me be honest rq this idea lowk scared me but the words really just fell out of my brain really easily so, yk fuck it whatever. ANYWAY, if you like, please let me know!
pt 2, pt 3
“I love you Spencer.” The words immediately melted me.
“I know so many things.” She gave me an unapproving look.
“I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I do! Now for once in your life, listen to me.” She nodded her head in concession.
“I’ve just read more, I’ve written more, I’ve discovered and studied more than the average person. I could tell you a little bit about anything with one hundred percent certainty. I could--and want--to tell you the names of all the stars, I could recite verbatim the entirety of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus or Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which you know, speaking of I will ‘cause I still can’t believe you haven’t read it,” Her smile flattened into a straight line, and I laughed. “Orrr, I could also tell you something simple, like why we get the hiccups.” I shook my head.
“Regardless, I know so many things and I’m rarely taken by surprise because of it. Everything in life is a pattern of change, and as a human, we will always adjust and adapt to whatever situation we are in. For better or worse, we don’t feel the same thing for very long. This is why an addict takes a couple more every time, a sadist hits his second victim harder than the first, they’re searching for the high of the first time, and it will never come.”
She nodded in understanding,
“I know this is true, it’s factual, and yet every time I look at you it feels like the first. You’ve broken the laws of human psychology.”
“First time you saw me was at a gas station Spencer.”
“No. The first time I looked at you after I knew I loved you.”
“Where were we?”
“My car. You were dancing. You looked ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously sexy? You mean?” She smiled.
“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.”
“So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.
“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”
“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin.
“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.”
“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled.
“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine.
“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine.
“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted.
I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.
“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss.
“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed.
“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.”
“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.”
“You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic.
“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”
“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.”
“You are. So, so much smarter.”
“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest.
I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”
She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.”
“Whatever…”
I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?”
She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.”
I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other.
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“Must you work?” I sent the message to Spencer as I rolled over to his side of the bed in anticipation. I breathed in heavy, liking the way the pillow smelled like his laundry.
“Unfortunately.” he responded.
“Think you’ll be home this weekend?”
“It’s not looking like it, little one. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t reply. I was too sad to reply. I knew it’d make him feel guilty, which I didn’t want to do, cause like, his job and saving people and shit is important. But, it still wasn’t fair! At all. There was something very important I had to tell him.
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Total darkness, and then way too much light. My head hurt and I couldn’t move. I was handcuffed to a wooden chair. There were chains around my torso and ankles. The room was a medical sort of bright. It smelled like bleach and rotting fruit. The walls were dilapidated, seeming to be made of tiles that were once white, but have turned yellow.
What the FUCK?
“Hello!” I shouted. My voice was so coarse it hurt. Shit. My head pulsed so badly it practically hurt to think, but I still racked my brain.
Where am I?
How’d I get here?
Why am I here?
I woke up again. Fuck, why can’t I think? Why can’t I do anything?
“Hey, y/n.” A woman’s voice. A very stoic, cold, sounding female voice.
I’m not alone. Thank god, oh my god, I’m not alone.
With the little strength I had, I lifted my head to see her. She wasn’t what I thought. She was alright, she wasn’t tied. She did this to me?
She took a sip from her silver flask, “Do you know who I am?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Typical.” She stood up and grabbed me by the hair, “You fucking disgust me.” Like, she said, she threw my hair away like it disgusted her.
She sat back down on the bench in front of the chair I was chained to, “My name is Brook Austen. I was a professor at Georgetown last year. Taught a couple seminars at your school, that little university you go to, the students there were nothing like mine. Not nearly as intelligent, but as expected, Georgetown is much more prestigious, obviously.”
I was confused, and she knew, but did not care.
“You’re not the brightest, y/n. Only slightly above average high school grades, strikingly mediocre academic performance now.”
Where the hell is she going with this?
“And you know it doesn’t surprise me, per say, because every man on this goddamn planet is a piece of fucking shit! But I thought that, maybe, just maybe, Spencer was different.”
She grimaced, “I thought he’d want more than just a pretty face! ‘Cause you might be prettier y/n, but I’m smarter.” Her words were laced with utter hatred.
Her demeanor changed, and it almost started to seem like she was talking to herself. “I'm older. I’m more successful. I’m fucking better.”
She approached me again, grabbing my face so I was looking her in those scarily light green eyes, and she wrapped her hands around my throat. “I’m fucking better then you! Better, better, better!” Every time she said better she shook my neck and gripped tighter so I couldn’t breathe.
“Stop! Please! Please stop!” I shouted, “I’m-I’m pregnant!”
She began to break down, “You’re pregnant?” A maniacal chuckle left her throat, “You’re pregnant?”
“Is it Spencer’s?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Wow.” She laughed once more, “Fucking wow.”
“How could Spencer choose this!? You’re nothing like him. You are a pathetic fucking college student. A fucking daddy issue ridden slut! I’m a celebrated academic, just like him!” Tears began to slip from her eyes, “How could he not choose me?”
This woman is NOT well in the head.
“You--you like Spencer?” I asked.
“You don’t get to ask the fuckin’ questions here.” She pulled a knife out of her pocket and held it to the tip of my chin, “I do. So you’re gonna answer them.” Or, she started manically laughing, “I’ll kill you.” She swallowed, “And your baby.”
I screamed at those words, “No,” I sobbed, “NO!”
I turned my head away so I didn’t have to look at the woman in front of me, there was a timed red dot blinking. A camera.
“Is that-- is that a camera?”
She nodded, “I want Spencer to see you and his child die.”
“He….No! No, please, No!” I choked on a sob and she smiled.
“He doesn’t know.” She paced, “He doesn’t even fucking know!”
She waltzed over to the camera and brought it closer to us, “Hey Spencer.” She began waving, “Hey Penelope. Aaron. Derek. Jennifer. Emily.”
Her demeanor changed once more, into that of a cheerleader of all things, “So, quick recap.” Brook pursed her lips, “Spencer your twenty three year old fucktoy is pregnant. Congrats!”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Y/N was two things I didn’t know she was this morning: In serious danger, and the mother of my expected child. I felt frozen in trepidation.
We all watched in horror as Brook greeted us. All by first name. She knew exactly what she was doing and it freaked me out even more.
“Reid, you need to step out.” Hotch grabbed my shoulder, “Now.”
I was sick with fear and ill with rage. I sat down because I could feel my knees go weak. Hotch started again, “We know who she is. We will find her. Y/N will be alright.” He paused, “So will the baby.”
I replayed the events of the live footage in my head, her screams of pain and terror, her trembles and confusion. I’d failed her. I’d failed her and now I knew I’d also failed our child.
JJ sat down next to me, “Spencer, when did you meet Brook?”
“I uh,” I wiped my face, “A year and four months ago. I did uh, I taught uh, I taught a string of seminars at Georgetown. It was biweekly. Her office was next to mine. We spoke for the first time when she offered me a coffee.”
“What did you say?”
“What do you think I said?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, I said yeah, I fucking like coffee.” I felt instantaneously guilty for cursing, and especially at JJ but I was too frazzled for it to last long enough to apologize.
“I know Spence, I’m sorry. Just keep going.”
“Then, the next week, we got lunch together.”
“Was it, you know, friendly?”
“What are you implying Jennifer?” I snapped.
“No Spence, we just need to know. You know that.”
“It was-- it was just lunch. A very normal colleague to colleague lunch. We talked about the school’s history. And uh, where we grew up. It was small talk.”
“Ok, was this the last time you spoke to her?”
“No. There was one more time. Y/N was there.”
“Tell me about it Spence.” She grabbed my hand,
I breathed out, “It was the next week I taught after lunch. About two hours before my class. I was lesson planning, and Y/N was doing homework on my desk. She came in. She asked if I wanted to go get lunch. She saw y/n and--Fuck.”
“What Spence? What?”
“She asked me who she was, but it was like, she didn’t want y/n to know she was asking. She thought she was…”
“She thought she was what?”
“A student.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“The truth. That she was my girlfriend.”
“Did you see her anywhere else after that?”
“No. She never came by my office again. When I would see her by chance, she would scurry away. It was strange.”
“Think really hard Spence. Did you ever see her again after you stopped teaching at Georgetown.”
I racked my brain, “Yeah. I did. It was two months ago. Three days after I proposed to y/n. She was getting a coffee at this coffee shop by y/n’s school.. I was bringing her some lunch”
“Spencer she's been stalking you. Your proposal was the stressor.”
“But--I’m a profiler. I would’ve noticed.” I stood up with a realization. “What Spence?” JJ asked, standing up as well to look at me.
“She’s been stalking her, not me. She knew I was a part of the BAU, she knew I would’ve noticed.”
“I’ll tell the team.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N2: If this doesn’t totally flop, I’ll write PT 2, that elaborates on the reader’s and Spencer’s relationship. I think through flashbacks from both Y/N and Spencer would be a cool way to explore their relationship and of course the whole reader being kidnapped thing plot could develop. Again, if you enjoyed this pls let me know!!
#spencer reid fanfiction#Spencerreid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer x y/n#spencer reid#drspencerreid#reid x#Criminal Minds Reid#reid criminal minds#spencer x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid angst#mgg#mgg x reader#reid x you#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader sm#spencer reid x reader angst#reid x reader fluff#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#criminal minds angst
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Xicheng fic recs
(figured i might make a list of my own)
(to be expanded as i dig out more treasure/remember stuff)
in no particular order:
Deep as the Yearning Night by FreckledStarKnight
“At first, it was pure chance. The second time was accidental. And the third time? Well, they say the third time’s the charm, after all. Lan Xichen discovers that Jiang Wanyin sings beautifully and is immediately enamored by it. His pursuit of Jiang Wanyin’s secret talent leads to a discovery and a series of events that he did not anticipate at all. Not that he’s complaining, of course. He got what he came for and more. Or, how two sect leaders get together through the song called love. CQL-verse.“
post-seclusion lxc
trying to get jc to sing
bonus lxc & jin ling feels i hadn’t considered before
cute
Always use protection by hesselives
“In which Lan Wangji attempts to hire a new bodyguard for his older brother, a well-known traveling exorcist. Jiang Wanyin doesn’t even make his carefully considered list of Top Ten Candidates, and yet here he is.
Lots of wandering in the countryside, distant yelling, and mildly inconvenient spirits.”
bodyguard au
honestly just really intersting worldbuilding
Rewrite the stars by Arashii
“Five great kingdoms have been fighting for years and when the kingdom of Yunmeng is destroyed, the Crown Prince Jiang Cheng vanishes.In Gusu, Lan Xichen makes an offer impossible for Jiang Cheng to refuse. His life or revenge? There’s only one option and Jiang Cheng swears loyalty to the man he hated the most his whole life, the Crown Prince of Gusu, Lan Xichen himself.Written for XiChengFest2020 - Day 4“
ROYALTY AU ROYALTY AU
enemies to lovers!
flashbacks! i love flashbacks so much ohmygod
No paths are bound by Arashii
“In seclusion, Lan Huan has the support of a ghost no one has seen since the massacre of Yunmeng Jiang. His feelings start changing with the often visits and conversations they share. Before Lan Huan can confess though, he ascends, leaving everything and everyone behind him.
Two hundred years later, back to the Human Realm and without powers, the Martial God Zewu-Jun has a mission to uphold. His Heavenly Calamity started. The clues are little and the support comes in the most unexpected form, the current Ghost King: Sandu Shengshou. Now they need to stick together to contain a menace that is slowly growing.“
TGCF AU TGCF AU
ghost king jiang cheng come on
doesn’t follow tgcf plot, just the setup so no spoilers
jiang cheng gets the dogs and the xichen he deserves
once upon a dream by cafedeolla
“Xicheng soulmate AU
An au where your dreams are small snippets of your soulmate’s day. They’d show small things like buying coffee, reading a book, or hanging out with people from their perspective.
The problem was that people always have expectations and Jiang Cheng knows he always falls short of them. Time and time again.“
soulmate au, but being soulmates is more a problem than a solution
misunderstandingssss all over the place
now with a squel (in progress?)
Lan Furen series by jagaimocchi
“Jiang Cheng leaves Lotus Pier before the Wen Internment Camp and before the destruction of his home. When he meets Lan Xichen on the run from the Wens after the burning of Cloud Recesses, his plan to live a peaceful life away from cultivation sects is quickly derailed. Now, free to make his own choices, he cannot find it in himself to leave the other man's side.
With love, patience and time, Jiang Cheng finds his own happiness and peace with his past.“
have you ever wanted a fic where jiang cheng peaces out from home in search for a better life, bc he’s Had Enough??? jags got you covered
adorable xicheng
good uncle-dad-figure Lan Qiren
ongoing <3
Just around the riverbend by JungleJelly
“One day.
Jiang Cheng just wanted one day of peace and quiet, away from home, away from his responsibilities, away from his idiot brother and his nutcases of a mother and father. Just a few hours alone — him and a boat and nothing else.
Clearly, that was too much to ask for.”
now with a new story in the series which is adorable too!!!
mermaid!lxc need i say more?
Bad ideas (where they lead) by JungleJelly
“Jiang Cheng is a busy man. Fortunately, he is also a huge pushover when it comes to his sister, so when she recommends that he start doing yoga, he agrees pretty easily.Featuring Lan Xichen in yoga pants, Jiang Cheng’s inability to handle a crush, and, perhaps most importantly, a big fluffy dog.“
done for 2020 MXTX MiniBang
yoga instructor Lan Xichen
Jiang Cheng is: struggling with a crush on the yoga guy from youtube & very angry about that
If there’s a price for rotten judgement by TheWanderingHeart
“All Jiang Cheng wants to do is, well... his job, really. Other than that? Keep the city safe, keep his nephew alive, keep his sanity intact (if possible).
So when his brother calls with unexpected news, he knows all of that is about to fly out of the window.
***
[Every instinct is telling him don’t ask, you don’t want to know. By this point, Nie HuaiSang has scooted closer to listen. Jiang Cheng takes a steadying breath and pulls out his antacids. “What did you do?”]”
superhero au, come on
jc just trying to do his job in peace
(he can’t)
i love it so much oh my god *sobs*
The Form of Boneless Ice by TheWanderingHeart
“Mythical beasts have long ago been driven to extinction by the gentry — hunted for sport, but more importantly for their magical cores. Since then, there remains only one creature that has never been caught. The Jiang’s retreated a long time ago. Abandoning land altogether, they sought safety where the humans could not reach.It all comes to a head though, purely by chance. (Or is it by fate that a spontaneous decision allows for them to meet? If fate were a rock!) Jiang Cheng suddenly finds his whole life balanced on the head of a pin — on the flimsy promise of a human boy. In his opinion, things cannot possibly get worse!(But then they do when the Wens decide it’s finally time to search for the elusive merpeople, and suddenly nowhere is safe.)“
there she goes again, with another beautiful xicheng story full of awwww and mythology
actually one of the first xicheng fics i read
i chose it because there were mermaids
painfully accurate takes on Jiang family dynamics
kids! lots of kids!
Let me Slytherin to Your Heart by TheWanderingHeart
“Jiang Cheng never thought he'd return to Hogwarts, but in hindsight, he probably should have known that someday he would.With his nephew about to start school, he reluctantly takes his good friend's bad parenting? career? advice and ends up tumbling head-first back into the madness that he hoped he'd left behind... and rediscovering some feelings he thought he'd left behind too.“
Harry Potter au!
just really fecking cute
lots of snakes
[I am not going to link all of Jo’s fics, though I probably could, just my 3 favourites. UOSB is there by default]
Talent Hunt Crew Finds Angry Guy Shouting On College Campus, Recruits Him For Vocal Projection Abilities by oh_fudgecakes
“Jiang Cheng, resident Angry Guy and heir to a conglomerate empire, has never been the apple of his father’s eye. Quashed under the shadow of his brilliant brother, the music prodigy Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng sees his chance to turn things around when he is recruited by the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt. One problem: he can’t sing to save his goddamn life.As he struggles to develop his nascent singing abilities, Jiang Cheng finds himself sucked into the whirlwind drama of reality TV, helped along by his adoring siblings, his irritable vocal coach Wen Qing, and strangely enough, the unfairly attractive host of the All-Stars Lan Talent Hunt, Lan Xichen. Somewhere in the glare of the stage lights and an unexpected first love, Jiang Cheng stumbles upon the thing he was searching for all along: the courage to dream — and to attempt the impossible.“
done for 2019 MXTX Big Bang
uuuuuuuuuuh i might have cried maybe
heartwarming? painful at times? lots of family love?
slowburn xicheng being lovely
The Provenence of Hope series by velithya
“A chance meeting on a night hunt sets a course of events into motion that will change everything.
Featuring Xicheng getting together, recovery for Lan Xichen, healing for Jiang Cheng, and always, always, hope.“
got everything. feels. hope. love. ~~healing~~
A Small Measure of Peace by Sandstone112
“With his brother in seclusion, Lan Xichen finds himself in temporary custody of his nephew with little to no expertise in the child-raising department. Uncertain and alone, Zewu-Jun is willing to do everything to be the person Yuan needs—even if it means inviting Sandu Shengshou to a playdate.“
a loooot of adorable family times with jc and lxc taking care of their nephews
good grandpa lqr!
canon but fixed and less painful
🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋if you wish to avoid scurvy:🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋
Some day I’m gonna make you mine series by locketofyourhair
xicheng getting together through the years
friends with benefits but the real benefits are the friends we made along the way
Take me over (take me tonight) by velithya
jiang cheng has a tattoo and lan xichen doesn’t stand a chance
i'd be the sweet feeling of release (mankind now dreams of) by piyo13
two bros, chilling in a cave, no feet apart because they don’t want to lose their cultivation powers what are you gonna do
haven’t read yet and shame on me, but AM GONNA:
Upon Our Silver Bridge by TheWanderingHeart obviously
““When the path ignites a soul, there's no remaining in place. The foot touches ground, but not for long.”
― Hakim Sanai
**
Lan Xichen's sorrows have caught the attention of something. Unlike the adventures and foes they have faced before, there is no obvious enemy here to defeat. If this is the same thing they thought had taken Nie Mingjue's life, then he believes it is fated for him to die as well. Nothing can stop the black fire when it wants to burn.Jiang Cheng is sure his part in this is over. Wei Wuxian is back, his grand adventure concluded, and he'd never been at the centre of it anyway. So what does it matter what happens to him in the end? Slowly, he will come to realise that there will always be a battle to fight, a story to tell, a choice to make, and there is no such thing as an end to anything.“
it was difficult to do things in 2020 and few i regret not doing more than not reading uosb yet :’(
i will tho
Emergency Help Wanted by piyo13
“EMERGENCY HELP WANTED
I lied when I got my job. I told them I had a kid so I could leave early from work to pick him up from daycare, take him to doctor's appointments, and occasionally miss a day when he's sick. Long story short, I'm in too deep. I didn't think it through. Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy ages four to six, longish dark hair, likes soccer. Must also be artistic as the macaroni noodle paintings I made seem a little advanced for his age. Also, I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of husband when dropping him off. He's a prosecuting attorney who often brings his work home. Message me for further details. Serious inquiries only.“
Running Our Hands Through Embers by MarvelousMar
“If asked, Jiang Cheng would compare falling in love with Lan Xichen to a moth inevitably drawn to a flame.It burned.***In which Jiang Cheng discovers that even death can't help him escape from his trauma, so he embarks on a quest to save the people he loves, fix what he can, make the love of his life fall for him, and maybe, somewhere along the way, do a little bit of healing.”
The Beginner’s Guide to Moving On by InvincibleMel
gone from ao3, but i think there’s a link with a pdf going around
#xicheng#fic rec#Jiang Cheng#lan xichen#mdzs#the untamed#the grandmaster of demonic cultivation#mo dao zu shi
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