#i just got lucky that we know their natural hair colors

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Modeling Competition AU

They do the makeover episode, and like... yeah, Lena and Kara have already caught each other's eyes (Kara has an infectious laugh, and Lena has an incredibly dry sense of humor that makes her crack up constantly), when they choose their new looks, their respective jaws just drop when when they see each other.

Kara goes from a mousy brown hair to flowing golden locks, and Lena goes from basic blonde to long black hair. The change is striking, and for a moment they're both just blushing distracted messes.

When Lena is being photographed for the makeover shoot, Kara keeps lingering and staring. And then when Kara keeps fiddling with her hair when it falls in her eyes, Lena thoughtlessly reaches out to tuck it behind her ear for her before snatching her hand back as though she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

#supercorp #modeling competition au #makeover episode #bc of course i would make lena and kara their end looks #i just got lucky that we know their natural hair colors

[kithtaehyung]

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

title: busted  pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made. note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun! note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all! warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵‍💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍  drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est  word count: 18.8k gdi

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Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher. 

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car. 

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time. 

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else. 

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root. 

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him. 

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive. 

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However. 

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household. 

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you. 

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money. 

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways. 

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now. 

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck. 

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer. 

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers. 

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.” 

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.” 

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it. 

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview. 

“Who are you seeing?” 

“Kook…” 

“I wanna know.” 

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back. 

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become. 

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down. 

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.” 

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret. 

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon. 

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees. 

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.” 

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets. 

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him. 

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all. 

And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you. 

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side. 

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…” 

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide. 

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back. 

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears. 

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.” 

“I know.”

“Do you really?” 

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk. 

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.” 

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch. 

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.” 

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?” 

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—” 

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it. 

“I’ve regretted it every day since.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?” 

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.” 

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to. 

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry. 

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this. 

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling? 

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.” 

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left. 

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight. 

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off, 

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”

You and your brother have a thousand differences. 

But one thing you two have in common? 

He’s just as stubborn as you are. 

A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.

Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you. 

Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them. 

Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”

Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows, 

“Why should I.”

“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately. 

Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.

No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.

It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

“…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”

To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout, 

“The fuck it isn’t—” 

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...” 

You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior. 

Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops. 

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done. 

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired. 

And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished. 

When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.

“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.

But they don’t have to do anything. 

Except let you do this yourself. 

“Please.” 

After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again. 

But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,

“Trust me.”

Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts. 

When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence. 

While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times. 

However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.

What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.

It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.

But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay. 

“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers. 

And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.” 

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”

Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.

“Right.”

…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all? 

“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.” 

“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.” 

Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years. 

Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were. 

Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken, 

“You loved me?”

“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”

“What?”

Fuck. 

It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop. 

As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways. 

So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years. 

In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend. 

“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.” 

Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.

When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.

And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost. 

When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.” 

For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”

“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.” 

“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?” 

When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.” 

“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.” 

He laughs again. So do you. 

And the both of you break all at once. 

He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world. 

While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder. 

You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end. 

But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future. 

“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”

“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.

And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours. 

But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave. 

What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away. 

But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”

Still, Jungkook moves in. 

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness. 

You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”

“I promise.” 

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”

His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.” 

He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.” 

“I’ll be okay.” 

After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.

Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present. 

But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.

And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.

She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.

While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of. 

Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”

Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”

“He said he still loves me.”

Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”

“Dom…”

“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”

“He said it was a mistake.” 

“It sure as fuck was.” 

“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…” 

“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.” 

“I know.”

“Now.”

You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”

“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.” 

In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things, 

“What do I have now.”

As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”

Huh?

Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”

What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on— 

“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”

“K.”

Wait, what.

You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face. 

His name is molasses on your tongue.

What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer? 

He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets. 

“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.

Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need. 

Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?” 

Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not. 

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.” 

Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.” 

“But it’s true.” 

His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,

“Makes me wanna take you home.” 

Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for. 

Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it. 

But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape. 

Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.” 

“Take you home?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.” 

If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide. 

If you didn’t have to wait. 

At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out. 

But why does he seem so—

You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like. 

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

Huh.

What does he mean by—

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

You freeze. 

So does time. 

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.

Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait. 

There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless. 

And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.

Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?

“Babe?”

But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs. 

Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.

And yet he found a way to be with you one last time. 

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye. 

So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try. 

You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.

If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.

Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.

“Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”

He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,

“Anything for you.”

That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.

“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel. 

You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.

But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it. 

Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will. 

And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.

If people are like seasons… 

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust. 

And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.

“Yoongi, I—”

You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth. 

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him. 

“Fuck.” 

He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair. 

If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now. 

It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars. 

Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you. 

“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.

Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest. 

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory. 

And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.

The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees. 

When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.

Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too

That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.

A plate. A bowl after that. 

Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.

You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long. 

Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”

“And I’d deserve it.” 

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.” 

Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.” 

“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.” 

He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.

And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves. 

As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing. 

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides. 

But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly. 

You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.

But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes. 

“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.” 

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”

Silence. 

“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.” 

“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”

Shit, that was close. 

“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.” 

“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.” 

And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got. 

He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore. 

But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.

An apology.

“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.” 

Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years? 

This can’t be it. 

Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.” 

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.” 

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.” 

“…Oh.”

You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.

And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it. 

What the hell happened after he left your room?

Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?” 

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone. 

But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.” 

“Until they realized we kept going alone.” 

A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.” 

He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.” 

“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things. 

A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.” 

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.” 

True. “It could be worse, I think.” 

“How?” 

You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges. 

Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade? 

Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence. 

Together. 

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.” 

“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.” 

Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”

And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.” 

“Oh, really.”

“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that. 

“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”

“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”

The pause he makes weighs a ton. 

“And leave this to us when you came back.” 

So… He… 

Holy shit. 

You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out. 

But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible? 

…Is he paying loans? 

“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.

He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.”

Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t. 

“It’s whatever.”

He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to. 

And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways. 

So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is. 

And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too. 

Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend? 

Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.” 

“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.” 

“What.”

“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.” 

“I like it here, though.”

“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...” 

“Empty?” 

“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.” 

You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.” 

And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.

Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else. 

But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things. 

And regret others. 

A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?” 

“All the time.” 

“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.” 

“Hmm.” 

You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.” 

And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.” 

You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were. 

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least. 

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”

“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.” 

Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.

It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back. 

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.  

…Calling should be okay, right?

Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you... 

Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.

Fuck. 

Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.

And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can. 

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”

You hear a low grunt before he responds. 

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.” 

Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?” 

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.” 

“Okay.”  

There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through. 

“Spoke to Kook.” 

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.” 

Ah. No finish line in sight.

But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.

“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.” 

“When you get it.”

You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”

“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”

“See? Claiming shit already.”

You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.” 

“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”

“Just work stuff.”

“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate. 

Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What.”

Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.” 

“…I see.”

Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,

“Not at you, doll.”

Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”

“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”

You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.” 

There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.

“I was there first, doll.” 

He what?

“Wait… You were?” 

He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke. 

Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway. 

Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.

“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.” 

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.” 

They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him? 

Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams. 

Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling. 

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.” 

“You okay?”

Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”

“Wait—” 

“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most. 

Yoongi: Missed Call

All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you. 

And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself. 

But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before. 

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?

Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?

Yoongi: Incoming Call

With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort. 

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

“Knew you’d answer on the first try.” 

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.  

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”

Huh? 

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean… 

As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note. 

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.

And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.

For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s. 

And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.

It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened. 

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked. 

But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen. 

And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you. 

Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts. 

As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place. 

Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—

“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?” 

Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen. 

Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.

“How’s Jimin?”

“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.

“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.” 

“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?” 

When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start. 

As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,

“A month.”

“...Damn.” 

Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game. 

“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?” 

That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.” 

“That’s good, at least.”

As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat. 

Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.

And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.

It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.

“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.” 

If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.” 

That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?” 

A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.” 

“Mm.” 

That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants. 

Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public. 

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.” 

Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.

Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes. 

But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?” 

He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?” 

Huh. “Me? How?” 

Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.” 

All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer. 

“Not even denying it. I like this.” 

“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again. 

The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start. 

“Break? Or what do you feel like?” 

You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.” 

“Mmk.” 

Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.

Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.

“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.” 

“You can definitely be upset.” 

You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all. 

Only warmth. And understanding. 

“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.” 

There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time. 

Him? Being more upset than you?

You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way. 

But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause. 

It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.

Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present, 

“What are you gonna say?” 

Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again. 

If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot. 

You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴 

You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time 

When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders. 

They’re lighter. 

How is that possible? You’re still sad. 

But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing. 

Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out. 

Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again. 

The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.

Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says. 

Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you

And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this. 

You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob. 

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle. 

Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.

The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close. 

The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone. 

“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers. 

And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours. 

“You will.” 

Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.” 

His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.

“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.” 

“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.” 

“Oh? The luckiest then.” 

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.” 

With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food. 

“Maybe you’re right.” 

One week turns into three. 

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought. 

“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay.”

“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”

“So?”

“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about— 

Oh. Right. 

…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of. 

“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”

He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,

“Go get it, doll.”

Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision. 

Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”

“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”

“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes. 

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” 

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons. 

“Okay.”

To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day. 

Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.

And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope. 

But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.

Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good. 

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”

You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”

“K. Have fun!”

When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.

Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere. 

On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.

When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up. 

Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too. 

However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded. 

Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob. 

One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time. 

But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…

There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size. 

No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.

Painful.

As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo. 

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back? 

A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all. 

Three months. 

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds. 

It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else. 

How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up? 

You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer. 

A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels. 

Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either. 

To the point where it’s starting to scare you. 

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly. 

But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling. 

Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.

It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.

But that night in his kitchen… 

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.

You can’t.

He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.

Your finger moves a bit closer.

What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.

But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.

When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now. 

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight. 

How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know? 

Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong. 

“Hello?”

But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable. 

As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.” 

Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.

You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.

However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted. 

“Babe, tell me. Now.” 

“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—” 

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?” 

Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement. 

Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.” 

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.” 

Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.

“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.” 

That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”  

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”

After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner. 

And your chest has never felt lighter.

Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats. 

If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.

And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing. 

But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.

As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.

“Fucking hustler.”

No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all. 

In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours. 

Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.

Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left. 

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless. 

“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.” 

With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,

“Anything for you.”

With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.

“You still have to gimme chips.” 

Maybe not quite everything.

Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.

As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.” 

When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?” 

“I just… You read.” 

To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window. 

Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.” 

Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.

And you glitch when you realize why.

Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.” 

He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.

Way too familiar.

Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?

No no no. Why is he taking you there? 

You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.

All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.” 

He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.” 

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?” 

He freezes. 

Which gives you a chance. 

Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.

Almost everything.

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.” 

Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done. 

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close. 

You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.

Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.

Yoongi’s still way too quiet. 

So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.

“Stop.” 

You do. 

And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive. 

The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door. 

Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place. 

If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—” 

You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want. 

“Please what.” 

Everything you want. 

Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways. 

But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap. 

“The fuck.”

Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines. 

You don’t know what’s coming over you. 

Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.

“Babe—”

Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.

“Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum. 

Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…

Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding. 

What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?

When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?” 

“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh. 

Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.” 

Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance. 

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.”

Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips. 

He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”

And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too. 

Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.

“Holy fuck.” 

You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight. 

And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher. 

“So fucking filthy...” 

You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair. 

“Don’t do that.” 

You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls. 

“Fuck!”

There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses. 

Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin. 

Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus. 

“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.

Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time. 

And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.

But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time. 

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.” 

You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”

“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,

“I’m fucking you with them on.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything. 

You know your panties are soaked. 

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit. 

But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night. 

Perfect. 

“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you. 

He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.” 

You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means. 

But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot. 

The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want. 

He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath, 

“So fucking perfect.” 

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.” 

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,

“Almost made me come.” 

“Be for real.” 

“Damn serious.” 

The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.” 

“Fuck me like you missed me.” 

A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck. 

Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between. 

“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”

Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple. 

His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved. 

“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.” 

He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”

You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,

“I said. Don’t move.” 

“But—Yoongi!” 

You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him. 

“Uh uh.”

And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes. 

You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling. 

Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.

If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops. 

When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure. 

All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”

Suddenly.

He stops. 

And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,

“What’d you say?” 

“Plea—Baby!” 

“Huh?” 

Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again. 

And again.

You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.  

In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—

“This is what you wanted, huh.” 

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?” 

Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided. 

“Then fucking beg.” 

He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out. 

To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.

You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.” 

He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming. 

Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips. 

When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides. 

Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too. 

Because his eyes speak volumes. 

They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size. 

But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem. 

And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window. 

You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”

You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—” 

Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.” 

As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.

“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.” 

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.” 

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe. 

“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.” 

Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better. 

It’s not. 

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds. 

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke. 

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.” 

What is he— 

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass. 

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make. 

“Uh uh. Stay like that.” 

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.” 

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.” 

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back. 

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.” 

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat. 

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel. 

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear, 

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.” 

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright. 

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.” 

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs. 

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk. 

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise. 

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again. 

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.” 

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it. 

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver. 

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain. 

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep. 

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips. 

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple  a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard. 

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”  

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.” 

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips. 

“Again.” 

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying. 

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true. 

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands, 

“Again.” 

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want. 

Oh, if they could witness you now. 

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.” 

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection. 

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months. 

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house. 

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there. 

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back. 

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.” 

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things. 

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes. 

Yeah. Stuff like that. 

“I’m her favorite.” 

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes. 

Does he feel at home, too? 

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next. 

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore. 

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets. 

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern. 

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.” 

“K.” 

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.” 

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”  

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.” 

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure. 

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“S’ok.” 

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.” 

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.” 

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper, 

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed. 

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak, 

“I always do, babe.” 

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering. 

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this. 

“That’s my fault.” 

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.” 

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care. 

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.” 

“You gave me tonight.” 

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give, 

“A little longer is nothing.” 

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again. 

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.” 

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.” 

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.” 

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.” 

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.” 

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul. 

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds. 

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others. 

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window. 

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.” 

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?” 

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.” 

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips. 

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.” 

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours. 

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface. 

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones. 

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side. 

“Not at all.” 

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head. 

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss. 

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light. 

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything. 

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”  

—

—

—

tbc. :) 

—

a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf)  A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder.  A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist 

#and the wait is finally over sheeeesh! #bts #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi x you #btshoneyhive #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #*latest #*ryenfictalk #ryenwrites #3tan10 #i hope y'all are ok with how much is in here hahahah #yoongi

[ovaryacted]

hey love!! i was thinking about number 53 with childhood bestfriend!Leon ??

also i loveeeee your writing omg you are sooo talented !!! <3 xoxo

Hey boo!! Thank you for requesting! I think it's crazy I haven't written anything about childhood best friend! Leon when that's the cutest fucking thing ever omg. For this one, I imagine RE2 Leon for the most part in age and appearance, just some very cute fluff with brief pining so I hope you like this because I really had fun writing this out! For context, there's no Racoon City or trauma, just a normal timeline, and Leon lives in Boston in a house where the reader can climb up to his bedroom window from the backyard. And thank you for saying you like my writing, really made my day. :) [ prompt game ]

#53 - "Who crawls through someone’s window at 4 am to go for ice cream?” PAIRING: Childhood best friend! Leon x reader [cw: Fluff, childhood history, little bit of pining] - 1.1k words

Leon was fast asleep in his bed, tucked nicely into his fluffy navy sheets face down in a pillow with drool slipping out of his mouth. He could hear some rattling coming from his window, the noise beginning to stir him from his slumber as he opened his eyes. Disorientated and groggy, he sat up in bed, hair a complete mess and rubbing at the corners of his eyes as he woke up.

Ears perking up to the sound of consistent tapping on the glass of his window, he looked in the direction he heard it, spotting a silhouette that was all too familiar to him. There you were, right on the roof of his bedroom window, the same way you’ve done so many times it became second nature to you. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he moved towards you, lifting the window to let you inside.

“Do you know what time it is?”, Leon grumbled, running his fingers through his hair to put it back in place but knowing he there was no point.

“It’s like 4 am, why?”, you said it to him as if it were nothing, offering a teasing grin.

“Some of us actually need to sleep. We can’t all be vampires like you”, he said to you, crossing his arms over his chest as he saw you go towards his bed, flopping onto it as if were your own.

“I couldn’t sleep and I was bored. So I came to bother you”, you replied, closing your eyes and exhaling a deep breath.

“At 4 in the damn morning?”, you gave him a playful shrug, finding enjoyment in his slight irritation. Even if Leon sounded like he was angry, you knew he wasn’t. He could never be mad at you even if he tried.

This wasn’t something out of the ordinary for either of you. Both you and Leon had known each other for so long that anything considered strange to others was seemingly defined as standard in the bubble that was your friendship. It all started with a funny instance at the age of 5, finding Leon on the playground during recess in kindergarten. Curiosity drew you to the young blonde that sat by himself, doodling in a coloring book on one of the picnic tables.

You sat on the opposite side of him, simply watching as he colored in the drawing haphazardly. You didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t say anything to you, but the both of you developed a form of silent communication. Sometimes, you would draw along with him, silently of course, and rarely, you got lucky and Leon would give you one of his crayons. It became a routine where you both sat at the same table, at the same time, simply sharing a space with each other in a way you both understood.

Until one Thursday, you didn’t come to school because you were out sick. Leon was at his usual spot, at the picnic table with his coloring book, looking for you and wondering where you went. When he couldn’t find any sign of you, he moped for the rest of the day, his mother wondering what had her son in such a weird mood.

When you came back to school the next day, you met with Leon again at the same table, sitting in front of him with the toothy smile you usually wore.

“Where did you go?”, he asked you, speaking to you for the first time since you started to sit with him two weeks ago.

“Got a booboo”, you told him, lifting the sleeve of your shirt to show him the Batman bandaid you had stuck to your skin. His eyes widened the slightest bit, somehow fascinated by the intricate pattern of the adhesive material on your shoulder.

“Woah. Cool!”, and for the first time, you saw Leon’s smile, noticing how he was missing one of his front teeth.

He passed you a piece of paper, watching as you unfolded it to see what it was. It was from yesterday, a stick drawing of you and Leon that he had made when you weren’t here. You cherished that piece of paper as if it were the Monalisa, and when you showed it to your dad the minute you got home, you excitedly told him you had made a friend.

You two have been attached to the hip ever since. From elementary school to high school prom and starting college, you’ve done it all together. And now, here you both were, young adults exploring the world with an unbreakable bond. Some people would pay to have a life connection like that, and it was something neither of you took for granted.

“Can you tell me now why you decided to wake me up this early and didn’t just text me?”, Leon caught how you were wearing one of the many hoodies you had stolen from him. He gave it to you once a few years ago when you were cold, and you never gave it back. Not that he complained, he’d buy as many hoodies as he’d like just so you could steal them later.

“I wanted ice cream, thought you might want to tag along”, you were mischievous, always teasing and bubbly no matter the time of day. 

“Who crawls through someone’s window at 4 am to go for ice cream?”, he scoffed at you, thinking this was all unbelievable to him when in reality you were very much in character.

“I do smartass. Are you coming or not? We could go get Dairy Queen, I know you like their sundaes”, you suggested, kicking your feet at the edge of Leon’s bed, already knowing he was going to say yes regardless of the time.

“Fine. But you’re buying me lunch tomorrow for waking me up this damn early”, he sighed, admitting his defeat to your schemes. 

“Yeah yeah, grumpy pants. Now go clean yourself up, you have some drool on your cheek”, you said back, hearing Leon chuckle under his breath as he went to the bathroom to freshen up before heading out.

You were his best friend, someone he cherished and wanted in his life for as long as he could have you. He’d do anything for you, absolutely anything you asked or wanted he got for you because all he wants is to see you smile. It’s even better if he’s the reason why you smiled, entranced by the way your cheeks perked up ever since he first saw it when you were kids. If only you knew what he was willing to do to make sure you smiled so much your face grew sore.

Whatever you wanted, you got, because he wants you happy. So long as he was the reason why, that's all that mattered to him.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy hc #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x you #resident evil leon kennedy #resident evil leon #leon x reader #ovaryacted asks #ovaryacted drabbles #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

[pastel-pillows]

Finally free of Hawkins Billy makes his way back to California after years away where he makes a special stop at his favorite diner.

Word count: 8925

No warnings!

“One all American breakfast, extra bacon, extra crispy, with a black coffee, extra hot. Banana nut French toast with a side of sausage and orange juice and an Ella’s original with water, coming right up.”

The sun had just barely made its home in the sky for the day yet the diner was already bustling, silverware on ceramic plates and chatter mixing into an ambient background noise that mingled perfectly with the wafting scent of brewing coffee and frying foods. Large windows let in unfiltered light to bathe the small diner in a natural glow and despite the early hour, most everyone seemed to genuinely be enjoying the welcoming atmosphere the building was bringing in, content, and some admittedly sleepy, faces all at peace.

“Thanks Hun, you’re the best.” A wrinkled hand held out the menus for you to grab, her other one patting the top of your hand in a silent ‘nice to see you gesture’ as you grab them.

“It shouldn’t be too long of a wait, most of the morning rush has been seated and served.” Tucking the menus underneath one arm you turn your attention to the toddler seated next to the older woman to ruffle his hair. “Would you like some crayons, little man?” Flipping the paper place mat in front of him over you pointed to the drawings and little mazes printed on it, all things he’d seen many times before but was nonetheless excited each and every time you showed him them.

“Here you go sweetheart.” The bell over the door chimed while you were grabbing the cup with worn down and, unfortunately, mostly broken crayons, so you call out over your shoulder that you’d be with whoever had just walked in, in just a minute. “Who’s the lucky person you’re coloring for this time?”

Having known the Hannigan’s from the summers you’d spent with your grandmother, you’d become quite familiar with their kids and in turn their grandkids and had several juice-stained pieces from Jackson pinned to the fridge in the kitchen of the restaurant. You didn’t get to hear his answer, the door chiming once more covering up the gentle reply from the timid kid so you just nod to pretend that you’d heard what he said and then promised to be back soon with their food and to check on his masterpiece.

By the time you made it back to the podium up front, no one was there to be found. A quick scan told you that whoever had come in had either gone to the counter to pick up an order or had gotten too impatient and simply left.

“He already left, sweetheart. Grabbed some pastries and booked it.” Helen reading your searching face gestures to the small glass display to illustrate her point. “Must’ve been on the road and in a hurry, I didn’t recognize his face, real quiet kid too, he didn't say much.”

“Thanks for taking him, I got caught up talking to Jackson about his art.”

“If only I was thirty years younger, he was a cute little thing.” Helen waves away your thanks in favor of cooing over the mystery man with the sweet tooth and how she would’ve eaten him up back in her day.

“Your mailman is going to be heartbroken.” You shoot a quick glance over the counter to see Sabino still cooking and take the chance to lean over the counter and gossip about Helen’s love life. “ The sailor, too.”

“Honey, there is plenty of me to go around, even at my age a good time is a good time. You should really be getting out there too, we can manage a shift or two without you, you know? The place isn’t going to crumble if it’s just us and you need to have fun while you’re young.” In between stories of her rendezvous Helen loved to urge you to follow in her footsteps and take the good that was offered, or at the very least spend time anywhere that wouldn’t leave you smelling of burnt coffee and fried foods. Her own kids had grown and left some time ago and she’d taken to you with an almost maternal, maybe more older sister role and was no stranger to worrying over you.

A pair of plates scraping as they slid across the tiled ledge drags your sight from Helen’s scrutinizing, albeit well-meaning gaze to a plate of French toast stacked sky high with whip cream, chopped nuts, bananas and powdered sugar and a much more modest one of eggs, hash browns and bacon. “Better get that, Jackson hates when the whip cream melts before he can eat it.”

It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in going out; California was thriving –the place to be with seemingly new things coming out every day, but you needed to save. A car wasn’t going to buy itself and waking up at four every morning to catch the bus to make it to the diner on time wasn’t something you wanted to do forever and as much as you like rooming with Lisa, a place of your own was eventually the goal.

Your shift passes slowly after that, thoughts of what girls your age were doing occupying your mind, daydreams of nights out and shopping trips mixing with the fried scent of reuben sandwiches and chicken tenders as the morning crowd bled into the afternoon lunch rush.

Helen’s words left you longing for both the things you were missing out on and the parties you’d gone to in high school. You hadn't realized just how much you’d missed having simple mindless fun until today. The memories of his laughter echoed in the back of your head through your afternoon chores and well into the evening, your dreams were water colored that night, pretty but distant and just out of reach.

“Morning Hun.” Sabino, the only person to get there earlier than you, sat at an empty table with a mixing bowl full of fruit loops in front of him and a steaming cup of coffee which he slides to empty space on the other side for you to enjoy.

Sliding into the seat, you lay your head down on the table and wrap your palms around the warm ceramic to both enjoy the last dregs of sleepiness and allow yourself to fully let the approaching work day settle in in the peace of the morning. After a good ten minutes had passed, the bell on the front door chimes once, then twice– and finally a third time to let you know Helen, Marie and Dennis had made their way in and that it was time to chug your now lukewarm coffee and start getting things ready.

The morning prep goes fairly painlessly and as the sun creeps up people began to trickle in, all of them just as heavily lidded and reluctant to leave the cozy promise of beds and sleep that came with nightfall as you had been, but perking up at the smell of coffee and grilling bacon that saturated the air .

“Welcome to Cecil’s, will you be dining with us or ordering to go?” It was barely fifteen minutes past the hour when the bell chimes signaling another customer had come ambling in. Marie was hosting today and you can just barely hear her greeting the patron with an enthusiasm that could only come from someone who was as new to the workforce as she was, fresh faced and eager with everything ahead of her.

There was a longer than usual pause and you heard Marie speak again. “Sir?” Just a few more seconds pass and a deeper voice responds with three words that had you craning your head to peek around the corner where you’d been setting out the pastries.

“Coffee, to go.”

Marie repeats his order to confirm. “One black coffee to go. Can I get you anything else this morning? They’re just putting the pastries out, we make them ourselves.”

“Just the coffee, thanks.”

“Yes sir.” Knowing you should probably brush it off as someone who just sounds familiar, you find yourself quickly stacking the last of the muffins and closing the display to finish before Marie is done pouring the coffee to get a glimpse of the man up front.

Rounding the corner you make it in time to see Marie putting the pot of coffee back, she’d given him decaf on accident, with no one else up front. “Marie?”

“Yeah, hun?”

“Can you cover for me real quick? I need to check on something.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

He was still there, sitting with one hand resting outside the window of his car holding a cigarette that he wasn’t smoking, head tilted back and eyes locked firmly on the roof of his car, the coffee he’d just bought was placed on his dash with the lid popped off and several sugar and creamer containers were open and emptied alongside it.

To everyone, including yourself, he looked to be just another man who was taking a moment to collect himself before the start of another day. To those who paid just a little more attention he looked nervous, the hand holding the dwindling cigarette shaking slightly at the sound of your approaching footsteps.

“Billy?” He could hear the sun in your voice, feel the warmth.

“Hey Princess.” He offered an easy toothy grin as if him stopping by to say a quick hello was a common occurrence.

“I knew I recognized that voice. I didn’t know you were back in town, are you visiting family?”

“I’m just here for a few days on my way through town, then I'm heading out.” Billy flicks the butt of his cigarette to ash it, the cherry burning upwards on a smoke he’s only taken one drag from.

“That’s a shame, it’d be nice having you back around. You always had a way of shaking things up.” The chime of the bell over the door alerts you to Marie before the call of your name does. “Stop in for breakfast before you go, yeah? I’m on for the next three days, all opening shifts. I’ll have our chef Sabino make you his famous peanut butter banana nut waffles.”

You pat the hood of his car a few times and bid him goodbye over your shoulder while making your way back into the well-loved diner for the rest of your shift, a skip only your coworkers would notice had been added to your step.

After two weeks had gone by, you were sure that Billy had simply come and gone, sparing a quick stop to say hi to a highschool friend before disappearing to wherever his final destination would be. The coast was your guess, somewhere quiet, but not isolated where he’d always be close to the water. He’d always loved surfing on warm days where he could relax while digging his toes into the sand and watching the waves lap at the shore on the cooler ones.

It was a short meeting but it left a lasting impression on you, memories flitting through your mind while you worked for the rest of the day.

The trailers were just coming to an end when you’d finally made your way into the theater, the opening scenes filling the screen while you balanced your popcorn, soda and candy in one hand and your purse in the other, the narrow aisles seeming smaller with every seat already full for the debut showing of Terminator 2. Even in the dim lights, it was obvious tonight was going to be a sold out show.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Every empty seat you managed to find was filled by a bag or stray sweater to signal it was being saved for a friend or already taken by someone who were making a quick dash to the concessions for a refill on popcorn and coke, having already downed theirs during the ads for upcoming movies and new products.

“I’m sorry my friend is sitting here, she just went to the bathroom.” Linda Hamilton’s voice booms on the speakers just as the girl was talking, her words hushed and nearly lost by the on screen presence, but the apologetic expression was more than enough to let you know exactly what she had said.

A shout of your name brings your attention to a row towards the back where you were surprised to see Billy waving you over, his tenor deep enough it cut through the boom of the music sequence to show you that he was pointing to where there was an empty seat next to him.

You had to squeeze past more than a few people to reach him, awkwardly shuffling sideways while being sure not to step on anyone’s toes as you made your way down the aisle to where he sat next to the seemingly only open seat left in the theater. “You always were there in my time of need, I might just start to think you’re my hero.”

“You’re here on your own?”

“Sara was supposed to get here earlier to save seats but she called last minute to cancel.” You had a sneaking suspicion that her sudden change in plans had something to do with the new coworker she’d met last month named Michael, his name had been popping up in more and more of your conversations and you knew it was only a matter of time before her work crush turned into something more. Juggling your stuff, you managed to get your sprite into the drink holder and tuck your bag underneath the seat before collapsing into it with a relieved sigh. As used to being around strangers and making pleasantries as you were from work, it was nice to settle beside someone you knew on your day off.

The movie was ok and Billy was sure he would have liked it had he gotten more of the story but his attention was divided between you and the big screen, his eyes having a hard time choosing between the fast paced action scenes up ahead and your delighted face as you crunched away on your treat. In that hour and a half, he learned a few things: you like to talk during movies, soft enough that only he could hear your whispered commentary and jokes, you alternated between salty and sweet, for every few handfuls of popcorn you would toss a mouthful of reese's pieces into your mouth for balance, and no matter how many times he declined your offer of snacks you’d always offer again a few minutes later, never content until he was eating too.

“Did you see the Hospital escape?” By time the movie had ended you’d made your way through all of your Reese’s pieces and soda but still had about half of your popcorn left, you were clutching it to you and still snacking on it as you recited the film you’d just seen back to him in a dramatic play by play. “I never saw the first one, but Sara had insisted this was going to be the ‘it’ movie of the summer. You saw the first one, right? How did this one hold up compared to it?”

Like it was a habit you’d been doing forever you leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder as you walk through the lobby and towards the parking lot, the tub of popcorn being shoved into his view from time to time in your never ending bid to feed whoever was around you. He tensed at the contact initially, but relaxed as you walked in stride with him, the warmth of your head against his bicep bleeding through the denim of his coat. The arm that wasn’t clutching the butter stained container to your chest looped its way around the arm you were leaning against to offer you an easier time keeping pace with him.

Outside the sun had reached the final stages of setting, the darkness crowding the streaks of crimson and orange and snuffing out the last of today to get ready for the morning to come. It was still warm, made bearable by the breeze that drifted in from the west. You walked absentmindedly with Billy to his car, side by side like no time had ever passed and waited until he was by the driver's door to hand him the rest of your salty snack before wishing him a good night.

“Hey, wait, you have a ride?” He rested against the car with one arm, the other digging into the pocket of his jacket to grab his cigarettes and lighter.

“I walked here, Sara was supposed to meet me at my apartment and we were going to head here together since my place is just around the block.” Your thumb pointed behind you to show the direction you'd be heading and to give him some reassurance that you didn't have far to go to make it home.

Billy opened his mouth to say something. He'd wanted to insist on a ride, tell you to be safe, ask if you were sure; instead he pursed his lips together and brought the lighter to the end of his cigarette and just nodded.

“I’m glad I was able to see you one more time before you left.” He wondered if you could feel the way his body froze when you wrapped your arms around his frame to give him a quick hug, thanking him for watching the movie with you, or the way it relaxed as you did that same little squeeze right before you let go to say goodbye, just as you’d done since you were kids. He thinks you did when you turned back around for another hug, a fast one, clinging to him for the briefest second almost like you were making up for the goodbye you never got to have back then.

If he thought back far enough, he could remember what it was like before, before his mom had left, before Hawkins, before the mind flayer.

You’d been together from the start from kindergarten with Mrs.Mayo, where he’d been paired with you as your walking buddy. Your school in California had been a lot different from the one in Hawkins– rows of buildings connected like a strip mall with no hallways. The school had been fenced in of course, but they had you pair up for safety anyway and when it came time to take you to the cafeteria or the play area they’d line you up and have you walk side by side.

Everyday, multiple times a day he’d find himself next to you, marching in rows to get lunch or visit the library, but he never minded, you were nice, you liked to talk and you always shared your animal crackers on the walk back from the elementary rooms to the preschool and kindergarten area.

It didn't take long for his teacher-assigned partner to become his best friend.

He’d spend recess walking on the wooden beams that lined the wood chipped area of the playground, balancing on the thin strips and pretending you were on a pirate ship and walking the plank. Billy remembered taking turns with Selena, you and Andrew on the swings, competing to see who could get the highest before jumping off and bragging that he’d be able to swing high enough that he could loop around the metal bar. He’d hog one of the swings for the entire play time trying to soar over the top but had never managed to.

Even in class you’d been together, your desks arranged into pods of four that made up the ‘blue group’ were pushed flush together, blue construction paper taped to the forward facing side with your names written in your own messy scrawls. No matter how far back he’d thought, there was never a moment you weren’t a part of, something he’d only realized after replaying your night at the movies together.

It was an easy friendship to have.

It became a hard friendship to maintain.

You weren’t oblivious, he knew you weren’t, you’d seen the change. You heard the way playground roughhousing had evolved into high school rumors of vandalism, hookups and bullying, but Billy was still Billy, at least to you and when the lunch bell rang, he'd wait around your classroom and walk side by side with you to his car where you’d pile in with a mixture of his friends and whatever girl he was with that week.

“Let’s get Jack in the Box, those tacos have been calling my name since the second period.” Sid had one arm looped around your shoulder and one around the driver's seat where he was patting Billy’s chest to emphasize his need for the fast food tacos. “I’m sure our girl here could go for some onion rings.” He jostled your shoulder knowing if anyone could sway the vote for today’s lunch excursion that it’d be you.

“Curly fries do sound really good.” His eyes were on you, visible through the rear view mirror.

“Can we get McDonald’s, Billy? I’d die for a milkshake right now.” The front seat was occupied by Amanda who was using the visor’s mirror to swipe on some lip gloss.

With one hand on the wheel and the other on Amanda’s thigh, Billy backed out of his parking spot, the rubber of his wheels leaving black marks on the pavement as he peeled out “A milkshake sounds good to me.”

“Come on man, even she wanted Jack in the box.” Defeated Sid slumped into his seat, a pout on his face at the lost opportunity to fix his midday cravings.

“An apple pie sounds good, too.” Your hand found Sid’s arm to give it a squeeze.

“I didn’t want an apple pie.” Through the mirror you could still feel his gaze, heavy, intense, and entirely focused on you as the car sped down the road towards town.

At the time it’d seemed like a good idea, in his mind at least, to push you away. It’d be easier for you both if you were the one who chose to walk away, he’d had plenty of experience with that and he knew if that was how things ended, he would at least be ok.

You’d known he was going to move, a few of your friends had gotten together in the dried creek behind his house to get wasted, say goodbye with jokes and talk about how he was planning to blow that ‘Midwest shithole’ that Susan had found for them in the middle of nowhere. You’d all stayed well past the setting sun, watching the running oranges and red dampen into a star-smattered sky while passing around the cheapest bottle of vodka that Wayne had been able to get his hands on.

The burn of the cheap booze sat in your throat even after the bottle had been handed from you to Billy to Wayne then to Sid, the bitter taste masked only by the bottle of apple juice you’d been nursing on the side.

“This year is going to blow without you man. Why’d your sister have to go try and run away like that?”

“She’s just a kid.” You defended.

“She’s not my sister.” His first answer overlapped your own. “She’s not my sister.” The second a much firmer response.

“Right, sorry man. I’m just bummed you’re leaving.” Sid raised his hands in defeat and the stereo pausing before switching to the following song, Rock you like a hurricane, was like an awkward punctuation to the tense conversation.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll be back here the day I turn eighteen. There’s no way I’m staying in that backwoods hell.” A breeze kicked up, warm but with the barest whispers of the impending winter, and you’re hit with the scent of cigarettes, liquor and cologne.

“Hey, Billy!” A little further down the dried creek Amanda calls out, she’s got a bottle of something brown clutched in her hand and two of her friends flanking her on either side.

“It’s about time you showed up.” Billy’s grin is wolfish when he pats his leg to invite her to sit on his lap, the excuse of there being nowhere else to sit leaving his mouth before she could make her way to the over crowded couch.

Things picked up from there, a bottle being passed between friends turned into more cars pulling up and beers being handed out as people clapped Billy on the back and told them they’d miss him, plans for the following summer already being made with liquor fueled optimism.

It was around three when people begrudgingly began to make their way home, designated drivers towing their drunken friends into their cars where they’d shout a final goodbye over the idling engines and milling people to Billy who just waved them off in favor of sucking face with Amanda.

“Hey man, we’ve gotta get home. My mom gets up at five and if I’m not home she’s gonna ship me off to Indiana with you.” Wayne stood behind the couch, fingers gripping the backrest and shaking it to get the pair's attention.

“I’m a little occupied.” Amanda’s lips stayed busy against his cheek as Wayne continued to whine about Sid being too drunk to drive them home.

“School starts in a couple hours, Billy. We could really use a ride home.” He didn’t respond to you at first, instead tilting his head so Amanda could continue to lather him with attention.

“Come on man.” Wayne shook the back of the couch hard enough it rattled you as well to no response other than a middle finger in his face. “Why don’t you try, Honey? He likes you better.”

“It is getting really late, Billy, would you mind taking us home?” Billy’s head lolled to the side and for a few seconds you felt like he was scrutinizing you, his blue eyes hardened for the briefest moment before softening and ultimately shifting to annoyance.

“Let’s go.” He patted the side of Amanda’s hip to tell her to hop off. “I’ll be back, Honey, wait for me here. Let’s make this quick, I have better things to do than drive you three home.”

“Told you he’d do it if you asked.” Wayne’s breath reeked of cheap beer when he leaned in to try to whisper that to you but the words simply went in one ear and out the other, just barely registering in the back of your mind.

He’d called her Honey.

He’d called her Honey and that shouldn’t have bothered you, but it had, more than the cold shoulder he’d been giving you for the past two months. It was a sting, sharp and quick, like the jab of a needle to see how pleased he was when she smiled at the nickname he’d only ever used on you. That had been your name since you were small, it was what everyone had called you, and it had never been all that special, not until it was given to someone else.

Sid’s house was closest and it took both Wayne and Billy to nearly drag him into the house, he’d been well past drunk and found the entire thing funny as the two wrestled him into a standing position so they could get him to walk with them. Wayne was next, a lot more sober than Sid, he offered Billy an arm around the shoulder squeeze and a “Keep in touch man.” Before he was off to climb in through his window.

When he’d pulled up to your house you didn’t reach for the handle, instead turning in your seat to face him. “Did you want to-“

“I’ll stop by tomorrow before I go.” He didn't miss the way your smile faltered as he said that.

“Promise you won’t forget me in the chaos of the morning before you go?”

“I won’t forget you, I promise.” His arm twitched against the back of your headrest where it lay, the habit of you hugging him before leaving his car ingrained into him. It was a small movement unnoticed by you, but a moment of weakness to him to see that he’d been expecting, wanting, that last hug.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Silly Billy.” The nickname got a smile out of him, the first one he’d directed at you that night

“Bye, Honey.”

The next time you see him, you had ended up missing the bus by a few minutes, the fading red of the tail lights grew dimmer as they ventured further into the night. The heavy rain obscuring them and your hope of making it home far quicker than it should have on a summer night like this. It was warm at least, so it could definitely be worse, you reassured yourself, the air stifling despite the waters rushing down your face in rivulets and drenching your uniform with each trudging step forward, it could be winter.

Home was easily more than an hour and a half walk that you weren’t willing to take at this time of night, and the diner’s doors were locked until Sabino made his way in the next morning. A hotel would be too expensive so you turn to walk towards the edge of town hoping that Marie would be home and not at her night shift at the nursing home.

“Get in.” The roar of an engine reaches you before the lights do, muted by the downpour that had left you soaked to the bone and ready to throw down the fifty dollars for the cherrywood hotel that would assure you a bed and a shower in the next few blocks, even if it would be for less than eight hours. Your body tensed for the second it took you to process that the car that had pulled to the stop beside you was the same bright blue Camaro that had left the diner a few hours before you had and once it sunk in who the furrowed brow and rumbling voice belonged to you were more than eager to climb into passenger seat and melt into the leather interior that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and cologne. “What the hell are you doing out here, you’ll get hit in this weather.”

“I missed the bus, a table of six walked in right before closing and I just got out.” Water still drips from your hair and lingeres on your lashes before splashing onto the seat belt you were strapping across your chest. “I was heading to a coworkers to see if I could spend the night.”

A cigarette stayed tucked between pinched lips while Billy exhaled a sigh,he’d gone straight to the laundromat after grabbing a burger to go and had spent the last two hours on a hard plastic chair waiting for his clothes, which were all crammed in his back seat, to be done. “I’ll give you a lift, you still staying on Lakeshore?”

“Are you sure? It’s a little out of the way.”

“I was heading that way, I’m staying with an old friend until I find a place of my own.” The key with the tag ‘Cherrywood Room 218’ was burning a hole into his back pocket at the lie.

Billy’s knuckles were white, both hands wrapped tightly on the wheel with his thumb tapping against the hard plastic, the sound of the heavy rain pounding the top of his car had muddled with his racing thoughts of what to say until it was a cacophony of white noise that spurred on his anxiety. He’d gotten this far, taken years to heal, made it back home and was seated by you. He knew what he wanted next but being here alone with you had him feeling like he had when he moved away when he was seventeen, unable to express what he was feeling. It boiled his blood to feel helpless in a situation.

“You’re staying?” Just two words, spoken in no special way, warms him, stoking a growing feeling that you’d been feeding with each interaction, with each touch and act of compassion. He knew that he had a lot to fix, and that you weren’t the answer to how he would do that, but you were an ember, crackling quietly as a source of comfort he’d never known before, creating cracks in the wall he’d hastily boarded his heart up with all those years ago when his mom had left.

“I’m sticking around for a while. This place feels like home, you know?” He’d have to break the rest down himself, take steps to the life he knew he wanted, but he had a foundation, a place that wanted him.

His grip on the wheel loosens, the tension from just minutes prior lifting with the contended hum you answered with as if you had just given him permission to allow himself to want to stay.

The drive passes quickly after that, with your head rested against the window watching the rain race against the chilled pane of glass and the both of you wrapped up in your own thoughts, neither of you seeming to realize you’d made it to your driveway until the car went from smooth cement to the crunching of your gravel driveway.

You linger in the car for a minute, your hand on the handle of the door steeling yourself to be drenched again. “Thanks for the ride, Billy.”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m staying just a few minutes from here.” Again the key feels more present in his pocket, reminding him of the can of worms he was opening by allowing himself to take this time with you.

“I’m glad you’re sticking around, senior year just wasn’t the same without you around, I missed having you there.” The volume of the rain increases as you crack open the door. “Thanks again for taking me home, the next time you come into the diner, desserts on me.”

“Take this.” Before you’d fully opened the door Billy shrugs his coat off, the same brown leather one he’d had since you were fourteen, to hand to you, his favorite one he’d never let anyone else wear, let alone borrow before tonight. He lingered for a bit, watching you run the short distance to your front door with his coat held above your head, the leather he’d taken such care of getting drenched to spare you from getting any wetter and only backing out of the drive once he could see the light spilling from your living room as you walked into your apartment.

Any plans he’d thought of having for the following day were forgotten as he decides that pancakes sound perfect for tomorrow’s breakfast.

“Good morning and welcome to Cecil’s, I’ll be your waitress today.” It was early, the gray of the sky muddling into the blue of early dawn, but you were wide awake, the smile on your face genuine as you greeted the third table of the morning.

“I was in green all day.” Jackson is already hard at work on his newest masterpiece, the blue crayon running against the paper to fill the sky like he was in a race against time to complete it.

You glanced at his grandmother for context and she explains that they had a chart for behavior, green was good, yellow was for needing a little extra direction, and red meant they'd been having a hard day.

“Well it sounds like you’ve earned yourself a treat, I'll be sure to tell our cook to make your pancakes extra special. After all, it's not often we get someone who managed to stay in green all day.” The boy beams at you, obviously enjoying the praise and the promise of an extra special breakfast for his good behavior at the daycare. He’d always been a good kid, and you were happy to celebrate that, but you were especially proud at how he’d been so excited to tell you about his accomplishments.

Helen grabs you the moment you put his order in with Sabino. “I’ve got another one for you, honey, Chelsea’s running late again.” The pause and pointed look before she said again was telling. Chelsea being on time was more unlikely than snow in December, but at least she always showed.

You could just make out the mess of blonde curls over the high back of the booth, styled to perfection but made to look effortlessly natural. “Welcome to Cecil’s, I’ll be your waitress this morning. Can I get you started with some coffee?”

Billy looked at ease, he almost always did, one arm tossed over the back of the booth and a bored look on his face. His jaw is tense, a nervous tick he remedied by placing an unlit cigarette between his lips.

The filter between his lips being crushed when he offered a tight lipped nod and slid the still upside down ceramic cup to you.

He could swear the sun broke through the clouds at the same time you smile, maybe even believes it only had because you did if it hadn’t been so embarrassing, dusting the gray expanse with gold to match the warmth of your grin as you rattled off the specials of the day even though you both knew he was getting the peanut butter banana nut pancake stack you’d promised at the movies.

Your pencil, a stumpy little thing just barely long enough for you to hold, had been scribbling on the notepad you carried in your apron, writing an order down he hadn't placed before you had even finished telling him about the soup of the day. “I’ll be right back with your food, Billy.”

Wafts of smoke start to lazily float up the moment you walk away, twirling in wispy gray lines before dissipating into the air. Billy isn’t sure if it’s the rush of nicotine or the comfort of routine but he can feel his muscles losing the tension he hadn’t realized they’d been holding since he walked into the diner, the simple act of doing so being a submission on his end. With all of your prior meetings being on his terms and in his places of comfort walking into a place that was so inanely you felt almost vulnerable.

Less than ten minutes had passed when you were back at his booth with a plate stacked high in one hand and a steaming mug in the other one, the look on your face is all too pleased as you set down a mountain of banana nut pancakes smothered in peanut butter and drowned in syrup. The sight of it alone is enough to make Billy’s teeth ache.

“I brought you some cocoa too.” The mug you hand to him was full to the brim almost to the point of overflowing and topped with a more than generous handful of mini marshmallows the top of which were sprinkled in cinnamon.

Exactly the way he’d taken it since you were both small and had spent your first holiday season together.

The house smelled of chocolate melting into perfectly buttery cookies, splashes of vanilla and sugar settling the house into a holiday haze. On the couch next to you Billy was curled up into himself, half of the blanket you were under was draped over him as you both nursed the cups of cocoa his mom had made you while you attempted to warm up from the day you’d spent playing outside.

On the tv a year without Santa was playing and Billy’s mom sang along to the tune of Heat Miser’s song, your own mother alongside her working on cookies for when Santa made his way here the following morning.

Billy’s attention is ripped away from the screen when he hears your mom calling a name, a name he doesn’t know, and you hop off the couch with your cocoa still in hand to go help her with the cookies.

“Your name isn’t Honey?” The revelation was clearly a shock, his eyes were large, comically so as he repeated the name to himself, your actual name feeling weird and clunky on his tongue after having known you as Honey for the past three months at school.

“You thought my name was Honey?” Billy could feel his face burn at the giggles that caused, both yourself and the two moms in the kitchen cooing over the fact that he’d been calling you Honey this whole time.

“That’s what the teacher always calls you.” He could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping past his face to his ears.

“That’s silly, Billy, that’s just a nickname.”

“Yeah, well…I like that name better.” He took a hasty swallow of cocoa to cover his blunder and coughed as it went down the wrong pipe, the whole ordeal only bringing more attention to him.

“That’s ok, you can call me Honey.”

“Thanks Princess.”

“I'll be back in a bit to see how you’re enjoying the food.” Not if he was enjoying the food, just how he was enjoying it. Billy had been known, by those close to him, to have a notoriously big sweet tooth, he’d done well to reign it in, instead focusing on working out and keeping in shape but he’d never been able to say no to baked goods especially if it was you who was offering them.

When you make your way back around to him, coffee pot in hand to refill his cup, he’d already polished off the cocoa and a third of the pancakes.

“How’s the food?” You spare a cautious glance around to the other diners to assure they were all content before setting the pot onto the table and sliding into the seat opposite him, the worn leather making you scoot more than glide across the bench seating to be directly across from him.

You’d asked him right as he’d taken a bite of his pancakes and he did his best to say it was delicious around the mouth full of sticky cakes which only earned a laugh from you and a glare from him.

“Are you on break?” Billy takes a quick sip of the too hot coffee to help clear the food in his mouth so he could talk to you.

“Not for another few hours but I’ve checked all my tables and can spare a few minutes.” Your hand reaches across the table to steal his fork and uses it to cut a chunk of his pancakes that you steal a bite of. “We really do have the best pancakes.”

“Do you always steal your customers' food?”

“Only the ones I really like.” It was an old game between you two, shared food, stolen food, some days he’d steal your cherries and you’d take his pickles anytime his food came with them. Seeing you slip into your old role so easily brings a smile to his face.

“Do you want to go out sometime?” It slips out before he’d wanted it too, the words leaving his mouth before they get a chance to fully form in his head. He’d been wanting to ask you,in a far less crass and direct way but the question lingered in the air unable to be taken back.

“Like on a date?”

“Yeah princess, a date.” It was already out there so he doubles down, layering his voice with that thick charm that he’d practiced, and perfected, over the years. Leaning in, Billy let the knuckles of his right hand brush against the top of your folded hands that were resting flat on the table, you were soft against his own battle scarred skin.

“Sure Billy, I’d love to.” It was a fast answer, instant really, an eager response and the matching grin you held on your face has him retracting his hands back to his own side, both of them landing in his lap before they slid down to his knees so he’d have a place to rest them. What did he normally do with his hands after someone had said yes? “I'm free. Friday night.”

You weren’t but nothing worth doing was going to be happening on a Wednesday evening and trading a shift to soothe the fluttering in your stomach that had been building since your first run in in the diner parking lot seemed worth it.

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Are you just going to wait by the window?” You’d been hovering in Lisa’s peripheral for the last ten or so minutes, alternating between checking the window by the door and double - then triple checking that you still looked ok in the little circular mirror that was older than you were that was pinned to the wall. “You’re going to pace a hole into our carpet.”

“It’s been awhile.”

“That you’ve been on a date or that you’ve been with Billy?” You held her full attention now, Lisa’s body twisted on the couch so she could rest her torso on the arm rest and watch you with an amused gaze. The name ‘Billy’ came out in a lilting way telling you she already knew the answer to your question.

“I’ve missed him, y’know?” You wouldn’t say a piece of you had been missing, but his absence had been felt. It was felt in the way you’d hear a car peeling down the street and your head would still turn, always expecting to see the blue build of his Camaro and to this day you still get an extra cherry on your milkshakes because he’d always stolen the one off of yours for years. Having him gone was like losing your favorite sweater or chapstick, you know it’s gone yet you still find yourself searching for its comfort.

Lisa’s eyes study your face for what felt like an uncomfortable amount of time but in reality had only been a few seconds before she turns back around on the couch sliding down into the divet she’d made to continue watching whatever had been holding her interest before. “Make sure he has you home before midnight.”

This time when you heard the roar of an engine pulling into the spot in front of your apartment you know that as soon as that door opened you’d find the perfectly polished metal of Billy’s 1979 Chevy and Billy himself on the other side waiting for you.

You can smell it the moment you’d climb into his car, a warm, greasy, salty scent that makes your mouth water filling the air. Nestled between your two seats you could see a white bag, still warm enough you could feel the heat radiating from it, with bold red lettering and the paper turning translucent from the grease seeping through it from the fast food inside. “I haven’t had this in years.”

Billy had his foot on the gas the moment your seatbelt clicked into place, the music turning up as he turned onto the street and began to drive you towards the edge of town.This time settling into the passenger seat felt right, like sliding on your favorite sweater that you’d worn over in time, like it was your seat again.

Small talk fills the short ride, your excitement over him being there and his slanted half smile coming easily, like no time had ever been spent apart, your comments being met with sarcastic banter and teasing remarks. The drive ended up going quickly and finishes with him pulling into the empty parking lot of a park you’d often pass by while running errands, the dark stretch of playground and grassy fields being illuminated by the pale moon overhead and the filtered yellow of the lampposts littered around the area.

The two of you sit on the play area, bypassing the splintering picnic tables to sit on the faded black plastic of the swings, the chains digging into the meat of your palms as you held onto them to help keep you in place while your legs folded in and out to get just enough momentum going for a light swing.

“This seemed so much bigger when we were younger.” You can still see his blonde curls leading the way around the playground, frizzy from playing in the hot summer sun, and still hear his voice excitedly telling you about the seven foot wave his mom had let him surf on his own over summer break.

Beside you the paper bag crinkles as Billy digs out the food he’d gotten for your date and you’re handed two tacos and a large curly fry. “Haven’t had this since junior year, there’s nothing in that shithole but cows and corn.”

“You still remember my order.” The swing drags to a stop when you push your heels into the soil and wood chips below, two deep divots forming in the material at the base of your heels as your movements halted.

You go for the curly fries first and the memories of lunch runs and late night drives hits you before the salt registers on your tongue, the way he’d always grumble about crumbs in his car negated by the salty treats he always seemed to have around for you.

Billy had always been unapologetically himself but it was only when you’d begun reminiscing on both your shared past and the years apart did you truly get to see him as he’d been in your memories, eyes bright and that deep hearty laugh of his twisting your stomach in knots that only his smile eases.

The rest of the night passes like that, stories shared between bites of food, jokes that weren’t nearly as funny as the way you two were laughing at them made them out to be and every so often his knuckles brush against your own as the swings sway with your movements. You stay in the park until what you could only guess was well past the curfew Lisa had given you, the cars having long since cleared the road.

It wasn’t until his car pulls into your parking lot that he kisses you, there was lull in conversation as you sat in the passenger seat with neither of you in a rush for the night to truly be over. You’d just finished telling him a story about graduation and how Sid and Wayne had almost made you miss your turn to walk and you have the biggest smile on your face.

You were always smiling, sure in him as a person in a way it took life-altering events for him to be in himself, even now as his fingers hesitated moving gently against the swell of your cheek. He’d been good at this before, it came naturally to him; a flash of a smile, a compliment here, a light touch there and whoever he was with was putty.

When his lips brushed against yours it was light, a soft glide of his lips that made your lips tingle. The initial kiss was enough to make him hungry for more, his own slightly chapped lips pressing against your own more eagerly, the hand that was just barely ghosting against your skin now cradled your face, holding it firmly to keep you in place as his lips moved against your own. The kiss had a sense of urgency to it, longing and needy but with no end goal in mind, he took and you were happy to give.

You couldn’t be sure how long it lasted,was it a long kiss? Short? Time had slipped away, moving around the two of you, just for this one moment, the moment everyone but the two of you had seen coming since fall of ‘72 when you’d intertwined your little hands for the first time and instantly bonded.

Billy broke away first, his lips kiss swollen and slick, but he remained close, his half lidded eyes, normally so icy and sharp had warmed to a softer shade of blue as they stayed level with your own, drinking in your own dazed but entirely pleased expression and only darting down to watch the way you bit the corner of your lip, chewing on it with a giddy smile.

“Wow.” He couldn’t help but snort a laugh at that, your genuine response simple but so endearing, that same sunshine bright smile on your face as he laughed at your awe-struck answer to your very first kiss together.

“Wow?” He was sure you would be able to warm up even the dreariest of Hawkins winters with the way you were looking at him, eye bright and taking him in like he was the one who could thaw a cold Midwest January day with just a look.

“I’ve been hoping you’d do that since you drove me home back in August.” There was a breathlessness to your voice with the kiss itself not being too heated, but the thrill of how perfect it felt to have him mould against you stealing the air from your lungs all the same.

You would have stayed there all night if you hadn’t had a shift the following morning but the late hour didn't stop you from stealing one more quick kiss before bidding him good night.

“I’ll see you in the morning Honey.” This time as you climb out of the car and he promises to see you the following morning you know he’ll be there.

Special thanks to so many people first @jo-harrington who is the reason I wrote this. @the-unforgivenn who has read this enough times im sure she could recite it by memory. @ghost-proofbaby @hellfire--cult (who also made the amazing banner and divider) @munson-blurbs @dr-aculaaa who all helped plot and cheer me on every step of the way. I’m so appreciative of you all 💕

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #i honestly consider this my first full real fic #i hope you guys like it

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Could we please have your headcanons of non-human Ace?? Is he a cuddly fox?? Or a coyote?

I would say a fox would suit him pretty well, cute little troublemaker.

Soft fluffy fur that matches his hair and covers his arms and legs but is black from wrists to hands and ankles to feet. There's fur above where his tail is attached and there's a small patch of white fluff on his chest, and his underarms along with a thin but soft happy trail of white fur starting below his belly button.

His dark claws that are semi-retractable. Sort of human hands, the skin is dark to match the dark fur on top of his hand and the patting on his fingertips along with the pad on his palm also matches the color. The padding is kind of soft. Touches your hands and teases you for them being small and clawless, totally not because he wants to hold them.

Foxes hunt by stalking and pouncing on their prey, regular human Ace already likes startling you, especially with the cute noises you make. It’s gonna be way worse with him being an actual predator made for hunting and sneaking. You will hear nothing before he pounces and man will he laugh once he has you. Said laugh is a bit fox-like but not quite.

Foxes actually have small spines on their tongues, you discover that when he decides to give your cheek a lick. No, he’s not being affectionate he just knows you humans think that stuff is gross, and he wanted to mess with you…totally the reason.

Even domesticated foxes have a very strong digging instinct, they will absolutely attempt to dig through floors, carpets, and your yard. He mostly grew out of it but you might catch him digging a hole or two in the Heartslabyul garden or even behind Ramshackle. Sometimes for no reason or other times to hide something from Riddle.

He is such a freaking snack thief.

Despite being a canine species, foxes actually resemble cats more than dogs in many ways. Like his animal counterpart, Ace’s pupils are catlike, vertical slits, which gives him excellent night vision. Many foxes are also excellent climbers, routinely scaling trees and roofs to stalk birds and squirrels. So, you might catch him on your roof or hanging out in a tree and he will likely encourage you to join him up there. Oh, the little human has trouble climbing? Well, he…he guesses he could help you if you give him some snacks later- no wait come back! It’s too bad most of the others here are beastmen or else it would be way easier to cheese it after causing trouble.

Foxes are naturally curious animals. As such, they occasionally check out other animals—even the ones that would, in other circumstances, be their bitter enemies—and make friends with them. For instance, dogs (and, to a lesser extent, cats) tend to have an antagonistic relationship with foxes. This does nothing to stop individual foxes from sometimes approaching and playing with both cats, to the point where the fox and the other animal actually befriend each other. Ace is similar in a lot of ways, though unfortunately as we all know, Ace’s version of making friends involves a lot of teasing. He’s lucky humans aren't a bitey bunch and can be easily won over by floof. He knows this is a weakness of yours and uses that to his advantage, acting like he's allowing you to pet him out of the goodness of his heart and not because it feels freaking amazing. Too bad for him Foxes are a vocal bunch, especially when happy and he sucks at hiding the feel-good fox noises when you find a good spot.

Interestingly enough recent research has found that one of the earliest animal species foxes have befriended may actually be . . . us humans. A 16,500-year-old cemetery in northern Jordan was found to contain a grave with the remains of a human male and his companion fox. Seeing as the grave is roughly 4,000 years older than the earliest known human-dog burial, it would appear that foxes were playing around with humans long before we got around to domesticating dogs. So…it was all most meant to be that you guys become friends…and he's obviously your favorite, right?

Be it with family, a friend, or something more foxes can be especially affectionate. Grooming, playing, and cuddling are the big three ways they show it. Though with grooming he often seems to be the one insisting you do it for him, he's pretty proud of his tail and is smug about it with others that you love his so much.

It…nice how you gently hold his hand while filing claws that got a bit too long. He’s ready to fall asleep, half lying on you as you brush out his fur, humming soothingly as you do it. It's in that relaxed half-awake state when he unconsciously tries to groom you back using his tongue. Will deny everything if you bring it up later. However, once you're officially together things change, and you'll end up with a lot more licks and Ace going after your neck and face along with a lot of nibbles.

Oh, the cuddling. Foxes cuddle not only to keep warm but also as a form of security blanket for each other. Their close physical contact provides comfort and reassurance within their social circles. Best believe anytime either of you has some stressful stuff going on a cuddling sesh is going to happen. He doesn’t even need to ask about sharing a bed since it's just normal for you guys now. Will still say he does it for your benefit, but we all know the truth. The nights he spends with you are the ones where he sleeps best, and he’ll get kind of grumpy if you don’t get to do it often. He’s clingy in his sleep and a living heater. Expect to either be used like a personal body pillow or straight up get laid on. Too bad for you if you get too hot or have to pee. The tail always manages to get wrapped around you. A cuddle pile with him, you, and Deuce is not uncommon.

Playing, there are the usual things he does for fun, along with his pranks but…for some reason chasing and catching you seems to be one of his favorites. Will give you a bite once he has you but is surprisingly gentle with it. That fluffy tail will swing around like nuts and the happiest noises make their way out of him as he rolls around on the ground with you in his arms. Tease him about it and he might give you a harder bite.

The others are sure he's making it his life's goal to have you always smell like him. You've lost track of how many times he's tossed a spare shirt or hoodie your way saying something about how a furless weirdo like you needs to stay warm. Arm over your shoulders, head resting on top of yours, if he's not touching you, he's at least sitting close. Gets grumpy if he smells anyone else on you and will straight up say you stink.

As far as courting goes, a lot of the guys assumed he was already doing it with how he already acts with you. Aside from him bringing you more food and getting into more fights it's mostly the same. Male foxes court the vixens and often fight with other males during breeding season. The female chooses which one receives her favors. The males follow the female until she makes her decision. The guys probably thought you were just taking a really long time to make up your mind or felt too guilty to reject him yet.

Fox Breeding and sex are mentioned below. ⬇️

Interestingly enough male foxes only produce sperm during their mating season. With many animals, the male is triggered into season by the female going into heat, but even after researching it for a whole day, I'm not sure if that also applies to foxes since this seems unique to them. What does this mean for Ace? Will he only be in the mood when his season comes around? Will he still be affected by his partner ovulating?

Or is this possibly something that wouldn't necessarily affect his libido but just means he'll be having dry orgasm until he's in season? I mean, the latter means no mess or need for contraceptives so that doesn't sound too bad, especially with giving oral so maybe we will just go with that.

Like a regular fox, he indeed has a knot. For some reason unlike wolves or dogs where it takes around half an hour for them to get unstuck from knotting, foxes stay together longer, typically for an hour but can go for even longer.

Foxes scream when they mate...a lot...and really loud. I'm not saying that he will actually scream but he can get pretty loud with the moans during sex and will make at least some fox noises.

After mating is usually when foxes get to work on their den. Since Ramshackle is away from everyone else he's likely going to consider your room your guy's den. Expect him to leave a lot of his stuff in there and if your bed isn't that big, he is going to make a pillow and blanket nest for you two on the floor, maybe it will even be like a fort. Perfect for cuddling in, mating, and having babies.

Does not actually want kids but that won't keep him from talking about breeding you during the act....now that I think about it, I think a lot of the twst dudes that don't want kids would do the same thing. "No baby, only breed."

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #nonhuman au #suggestive #ask #asks #twst ace #ace trappola/reader #twisted wonderland ace #ace trappola

[givemeonereason]

Rose-Colored Boy

Photo credit here

Rating: Rain-soaked Cotton Candy

Plot: Your sunshine husband always finds the bright side in everything.

A/n: This one took me a while. I had other pieces I needed to get out. I also got Covid and topped that with my birthday and the holidays. Though it was nice to take a small break. I'm glad this was the first piece in the new year.

The one thing that is so infectious about Kyojuro Rengoku is his overly loud countenance. And unshakable will, but he means well. I love this about him. The happiness he sees in every moment is absolutely admirable. It’s probably why he’s a fan favorite.

This was inspired by my own experiences with being a natural pessimist. I’ve been burned by the flames too often to know better than to expect good outcomes. Honestly, sometimes I wish the only flames come from the hashira himself.

*BONUS* I was listening to this while I wrote. It really helped me move along with this.

╒══════════════════════╕

You looked up at the gathering dark clouds above your head and sigh. “Of course, it would rain. We’re only halfway there.” You huffed, looking down at the best kimono you own. “This is going to be ruined.”

Your husband raised his head towards the sky, smiled and laughed cheerfully. “Thank the gods for this rain. We really need it if our garden is going to thrive this season.”

You look over at him, your eyes relaxing when you see his cheeks puffed in his smile.

You couldn’t be angry with his enthusiasm. He was right. The area was suffering from a terrible drought. Many locals have had to go without because of it. Only the support of the nearby town was able to keep people from starving to death. A blessing, for which everyone was grateful.

But you, aren’t so grateful. You tend to complain about the garden at your estate. It’s so much work to keep up with, even when the servants help.

Only Kyojuro Rengoku would think about this now, his precious sweet potatoes. They make him so happy though. And you love that about him.

Umai!

You laugh to yourself at the thought of him shouting during every snack and meal. It’s the one word, the one sound, that will never get old. You can practically hear it even when he’s away on missions and even if you’re lucky in your sweetest dreams.

“Rain is good and all, but why does it have to rain today of all days. We hardly get to go into town together. I was hoping that tonight would be special.”

He took your hand in his, twining his fingers with yours. “Every day and every night with you is so special.”

You were blushing. “Kyo…”

“What’s the matter, my flame?”

You gripped his hand tighter. “I just love you is all.”

Kyojuro pushed his chest out with pride. His cheeks red with happiness. “And I love you, my dear!"

You pulled yourself close to him, holding onto his strong arm. “You’re always so optimistic. I hate that, but I could never hate you.”

He turned and kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arm around you just as you felt a raindrop hit your cheek. You contorted your face into a pout, which made Kyojuro laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You pouted even more shoving your face into his chest. You felt his chest rumble as he laughed even harder.

The rain fell upon you both as you continued up the path. His hashira's cape draped over your head, not much protection as the wet seeped through the fabric.

When you stepped through the threshold of the town’s inn, you were drenched. Your hair was falling out of the carefully placed pins. The stain of your blush smeared down your cheek. The hem of your kimono sullied with mud. The ick of the elements enveloping you. You felt absolutely foul.

Kyojuro pushed his dripping bangs out of his face. He smiled brightly toward the matron of the inn. He bowed deeply. “Pardon us, madam, would we be able to impose upon you to stay for the night? My wife will not be able to make it back to our home with the weather conditions at present.”

“Yes, I have a room you may stay in.”

"Thank you so much." He bowed deeply once more. His hand on the small of your back leads you forward.

You noticed that the inn lady was very soft-spoken, even when she told you both not to worry about the trailing mud on the hardwood in the hallway.

This bothered Kyojuro nonetheless and he scooped you up into his arms so that the hem of your kimono wouldn’t drag anymore. Only wet footprint left from his socks marked the floor when you made it to the designated room.

“The bath is at the end of the hall. Please feel free to use it. I will bring robes for you to change into.” She bowed and continued down the hall.

“Ughh, this night is just terrible, isn’t it? I can’t wait to get into the bath. I feel so gross!”

“Then let me take you to the bath, my fire.” Kyojuro picked you up into his arms again, carrying you down towards the bath. He kissed you gently, looking down into your eyes. “Even if you were covered head to toe in mud you would still be beautiful.”

“Ewww! That’s so gross!” You pushed him lightly and he chuckled.

“While you’re in here I’m going to help clean the mess we made in the hallway.” He was already unbuttoning his jacket at the wrists and pushing the sleeve up his forearms. “I better get to work.” He flashed you a smile before walking down towards the entryway.

Kyojuro Rengoku, a light in a dark space.

When you peeled away your clothing you got into the bath and sunk down to cover as much of yourself as you could.

You have been looking forward to this day for weeks. When Kyo said he had a hashira meeting, it just made sense that you would go into town and make the most of it. When he's called to those meetings you never know what is going to happen, is it good or bad? Is it going to be a new mission, or intel on a upper-rank demon? You never know. So you try and make the best of your time with Kyojuro when you can.

But the way the day took a turn for the worse this time.

You can hear him talking to the inn lady from outside the door. He's so cheerful, so full of life. How on earth with such polar dispositions did you land him? It wasn't even arranged. Was he swayed by your beauty, sure, but that can't be the only reason why he chose to pursue you right?

You felt refreshed after soaking in the warm bath water. So you dressed and made your way back down the hall towards your room. The floors had a subtle sheen to them. Most likely due to Kyojuro’s heavy-handed cleaning. You laughed to yourself. You imagined the mad dash he made down the hall with his rear proudly up in the air as he wiped the floor clean in a steady line, a big smile on his face. You knew he would do anything to help others. The values his mother instilled in such earnestness.

Kyojuro Rengoku’s heart and soul exists in only pure kindness and altruism.

The guestroom had a table set in the middle. The amber light of the overhead lamp buzzed down onto tatami-lined floors. Kyo's dark brown uniform coming into view. "There is my beautiful wife." His smile spread widely across his face. His hands grasped onto either sided of your shoulders, a kiss placed upon your forehead. "Do you finally feel refreshed?"

You reached up and held onto one of his forearms. Your eyes closed when he pressed his lips to your cheek then. You smiled, feeling his honeyed-toned voice seeping deep into the rose of your cheeks. "Yes, I do feel refreshed now. You are welcome to the bath if you'd like."

"Yes!" He boomed in his usual volume. You laughed at the shift. The voice he used for only you is soft and sweet, but his normal countenance is explosive. The polarized juxtaposition of personality, yet in such perfect harmony.

You look towards the sliding guestroom door. "I saw that the hallway looked very clean on my way back here."

With his hands on his waist and chest puffed outward he shouted another, "YES!"

You reached for the buttons of his brown jacket and unfastened the top three easily. "You always liked cleaning the floors at home. No wonder you so generously volunteered to clean them here."

He worked the buckle of his belt and pulled the white leather through the hoops of his slacks. "It's the least I could do after we unintentionally brought all that wet in with us."

You closed your eyes, but the pressure from their roll still tensed behind your eyelids. "Yes, how could I forget." You looked towards the window, the rain still spilling down from the dark clouds above. "And to think, we could have been stooling the market street at this very moment." You sighed, your hand grasping the soft fabric your robe that was nearest your collarbone.

Kyo's voice came in again, soft, honey, sweet. "I promise that when I get back we will make the trip once more." He came up behind you, gently kissing the delicate skin behind your ear. A shiver scaling down your entire body. "Weather permitting of course."

He would do that for you. And you knew that he would make the trip even more special in some form. Knowing him all too well, he will probably present you with a brand new kimono for the occasion, possibly a new hair accessory, shower you with fresh flowers or sweets. Or if you're especially lucky, you might even go to town by carriage. It could be any, or even all of those things. Though, the only thing you've ever needed is him. Just Kyojuro, home and safe with you. The trips to town or even longer excursions don't matter if you don't have the one person who you've spent so many years with.

When he leaves for missions, you wait for him. Wait to hear the sound of his sandals on the gravel. The sound of his humming near the garden before he walks through the door. The verve of his laughter when you throw yourself into his arms. His calm breath in your ear.

He's home.

He's safe.

He's alive.

Kyojuro turned quick and made his way out of the room towards the bathroom. You sat down at the small square table and took the cup filled with tea to your lips. The warm liquid racing down your throat now warming your insides.

A young woman appeared at the door with the meal service. She placed the dishes carefully down on the table. It looked delicious and even more so smelled delicious. You poured another cup of tea and placed it on the opposite side of the table for where Kyo would sit with you.

You sat quietly and listened to the rain. The pattering of the raindrops hitting the roof would put you to sleep had the food in front of you kept you from lulling. Yet, your eyes were closed nonetheless enjoying the quiet—

The door opened with a flash. Your husband, robe-clad charged into the room towards the table. “It smells so good in here. And look!” He marveled at each plate in front of him when he sat. “These dishes look amazing!” He served you some of the stewed beef before eagerly taking some for himself.

itadakimasu--Umai!

You savored the rich taste of the sauce as it meshed so well with the vegetables.

Umai!

"Indeed this food is very good. However, I don't think it's as good as Rika's cooking." Your housekeeper is very skilled in the kitchen, which, unfortunately, has always been your weak spot in your marital life. Even if you did cook, Kyojuro always made you feel as if it were a wonderful meal.

Umai!

"Kyo, please be careful my darling. I don't want you to choke." You reached out for his hand that firmly grasped a large piece of beef between two chopsticks. But he shoved the meat into his mouth anyway.

Ummmahhh.

He could barely speak with such a large mouthful.

You sighed and shook your head. You laughed when you saw how wide his smile was, his cheeks puffed with food on each side. He could pass as a woodland creature.

You took another bite of your food. The difference is you chewed your food and swallowed before you let out a softer, but pronounced "umai!" It had similar energy to Kyojuro's, but the volume would never match.

Now that he swallowed the hunk of meat in his mouth, he laughed heartily at you. One hand on his belly and the other at the crown of his head, which he had thrown back in his laughter. His flame-tipped hair flattened from washing, now curling up at the edges near his eyebrows and chin.

He looked at you bright-eyed. "You know, you're very beautiful when you smile. It's one thing about you that I never tire of."

You blushed deeply, dipping your chin down towards your chest. "I'm sure you are the only one who thinks that my love."

His fist hits the table making the plates tremble. Though he's not angry in the slightest, his Kyojuroisms intensify even the most subtlest of actions.

"Everyone knows you're the most beautiful!" He got up from where he sat cross-legged and walked to the window, looking down at the rain-sullen garden below.

You're not sure if he's practicing for the stage. Shakespeare? Kabuki? Such drama, so Rengoku.

"Men are envious that I have such a beautiful and extraordinary wife." He looked back towards you. His eyes were soft again. "No other woman in all of Japan-- in all of the world could compare."

You put your bowl of rice down on the table and joined him at the window, resting your head on his shoulder as you looked out farther towards the empty street, lanterns rocking to and fro in the wind. "I am the luckiest woman in all the world."

"I am the luckiest man. I thank the gods every day for meeting you. And when I'm away, all I can think about is coming home to you."

You wrapped your arms around him. "How are you like this all the time? Isn't it exhausting?"

He held onto you tighter. "How so?"

"Aren't you tired of always being happy, always seeing the bright side, putting people before yourself? You're so joyful." You looked up into his amber-red eyes. "I love that about you, but you don't have to try so hard with me. You don't have Kyojuro Rengoku all the time."

He laughed. "But I am Kyojuro Rengoku."

You laughed as well, pressing your face into the shoulder and taking a breath. "I know, but what I'm saying is, if you keep burning so unwaveringly, all that will remain of you is ashes." You gently pulled his face down towards you and kissed his lips. "What good are ashes? I could use them in the garden, but who would I harvest sweet potatoes for? I want you and only you, no other variation."

Kyo kissed your lips, lingering there before looking into your eyes. "I will always be with you flame, fire, and ashes, in here." He pointed to your heart and gently placed his palm against the soft fabric of your robe. "I will never leave you, even in death."

He held onto you tightly when he mentioned death. He could die at any moment. His occupation continuously puts him at death's door. He is one of the best swordsmen, but death will come for all eventually.

You constantly think about the possibility of him dying. He could be outmatched. The thought strickens you.

Flame, fire, ashes, death, fire, death, umai, umai, umai, flame, fire, ashes, death. Death.

You rubbed your eyes against his robe, tears rolling down your cheeks. "Please don't go. Kyo, please...Come home with me. We can figure out something new. We will take Senjuro and Shinjuro with us."

You knew this pleading wouldn’t go far. It’s been a Rengoku legacy for generations to become the flame hashira. And all he wants to do is help people. To protect them. To protect you.

He got you down to rest on the futon. “Kyo…” You could barely talk. Your face buried into his chest. A blanket covering you both on the futon you were now sharing. You didn’t stop shivering until you honed in the rhythm of his heartbeat.

The table and plates had been cleared away an hour ago. And you were embarrassed when a young girl came in to take food and table away, your eyes blotchy and red, tears streaming down your face. So you hid behind Kyojuro. The girl profusely apologized for the interruption.

Buh-bum, buh-bum.

You focus now. Your breathing leveling out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

He brushed the hair stuck at your temples away and ran his fingers down your side. His gentle touch pulling you close to his body. A comfort that only he can bring. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” He tries to whisper, but due to his premature hearing loss, what he thought was a whisper, to you was a regular indoor volume. “I am very sorry to make you worry so much over me.”

“Of course, I worry about you. You’re my— my— my world.” You hugged him tightly. “I wish I could do something to protect you. The only thing I can do is try to prevent you from leaving, but you will go anyway. I’m not strong enough to keep you here. And I don’t want to, but I don’t want to wake up one morning knowing you’ll never be here beside me.”

He remained quiet, rubbing you back in languid strokes. This is a conversation that you frequently have. The end conversation. Always at your behest. The song and dance remain the same. Kyojuro and you never move out of place. He resolves to his missions, and you dissolve to worry.

You quieted yourself, concentrating on his heart again.

Buh-bum.

The scattered pattering of the rain slows outside of the window. Sleep pulling you into its hollow embrace. “I will never leave you. I promised you.” He somehow was so soft there in your ear. The fulfilling embodiment that sent you into slumber.

You hear rustling and open your eyes. The morning light shining in your eyes. Kyojuro is aside the window adjusting his hashira's cape. Your guiding light. You lift yourself up to stretch. "Oh, good you're awake." He smiles down at you. He pulled you up into his arms. "Good morning, my flame."

You pushed your face into his broad chest. He's so warm. "Morning." His arms stretch around you. "I'll change quickly so you can get an early start." You walked towards the privacy screen and began dressing into your kimono.

Someone soft-spoken came into the room while you were dressing and brought a light breakfast for the two of you. He stood beside the table waiting for you. When you sat down opposite him, he finally sat down. The joy in his voice as he ate happily. Food really is one of the most important things to him. If you let him he'd eat all day. Though it did make sense, being a hashira requires a high level of athleticism. He needs all the energy he can get.

But the best energy he gets is the love he receives from you. If he never could eat again, he would simply exist solely on your subtle glances, the warmth of your touch, the sound of your laughter, and the sweet taste of your kisses.

Forbidden fruit within reach.

Reaching out for him at the head of the road. The grass beneath your feet. You never want to let go, and he would rather you didn't. "Kyo, please be careful."

You heard him chuckle. He's putting up a good front, always.

"You have nothing to worry about." He winked at you. His infectious smile spreads into your own cheeks.

"Kyo---"

He turned back as he began to walk away. "I'll be back in a flash." He smiled again. His blond hair swayed over his shoulder, the string tied tight around the ponytail at his crown. It was the very same string you so delicately braided for him the first night he told you he loved you. He's kept it since.

"I love you." You smiled back at him.

"Love! You!" Kyojuro shouted back as he started moving down the dirt road. He took off in a mad dash down the path and into the woods. When you lost sight of the white of his cape fluttering behind him you walked in the opposite direction towards the Rengoku estate.

The air was fresh after the rain. The grass was greener. The flowers are in bloom on the trees. The sun warming your skin. The road rises up to meet you at every step.

Even though he's gone, he's still here with you. The lasting signs of his love in your usual disposition shifting, even if only for the moment.

The world is so much better when he's in it. Everything is brighter, it's so full of life.

Our life, you thought.

Ours and only ours.

Well, sweet potatoes too, but still ours...

Come home soon, my love.

╘══════════════════════╛

© 2024 givemeonereason

Don’t steal other people’s works! Respect creators!

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[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter 6:

Sunflower

Series Masterlist

previous part: Absdoughlutely next part: Beautifully Natured

Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, anxiety, and domestic abuse.

"Hello!" Your favorite voice bounced off the walls all throughout the quiet and empty bakery after the sound of the bells above the door chimed.

"Hey, honey! I'm in the kitchen!" You called out, a sickeningly delightful smile smeared across your face as you could hear his foot steps quickly approaching.

Since you we're facing away from the doorway, busy peeling and chopping apples on the big stainless steel countertops, you felt him before you saw him.

Steve's big arms engulfed you from behind as he peeped at what you were up to from above your head. "What's cookin' good lookin'?"

You laughed at his question before setting the big, freshly sharpened knife on the cutting board and ripping off your vinyl gloves. "Well for now it's just apples, but hopefully in an hour or two it'll be a whole tray of apple crisp bars ready to go for morning rush."

"Well it already looks delicious" He commented with a lopsided grin as you tossed the gloves into the trash for an opportunity to give him a proper hug.

You wrapped your arms around each other and lingered there for longer than an average hug, but who could blame you when he smelled so nice and held you so close and snug against his built chest. "They're just green apples, Honey"

"I love green apples" He stated as a matter of fact.

"Well today is your lucky day, because we have far too many so eat away" You released Steve from the hug and finally got to admire him.

It seemed as though every t-shirt he owned was one wrong move away from bursting at the seams, all while his legs just went on for miles and miles an-

"Soooooo, how can I help?" He asked, running his hand through his hair to pull it off his face.

"However you want" You smiled knowing that was his favorite answer.

If there was nothing blatantly obvious that needed to be done, he always found tasks that he loved to do. From organizing the cookie cutter bins by category in alphabetical order, to rearranging all the spools of ribbon on the long hanger to be in order of the color wheel, he always did it with a smile on his face.

At first you found it a little unnerving as if he felt pressured into needing to do something rather than just hang out with you, but after a few weeks of insisting, you finally understood he really did enjoy keeping busy any way he could. Anything that could occupy his hands and mind kept him one step closer to sanity.

"Ohh!" He lit up. "Can I finally fix that light in the bake case?"

He's quite literally been begging to fix it ever since he noticed one of the tiny lights in the bake case had been out. It wasn't enough for a customer to notice, nor was it a dire issue so it kept getting pushed to the back burner. It also wasn't as simple as just replacing the bulb, there were screws and wires and some weird metal pieces attached to weird plastic pieces...

"Be my guest, I know that would make you so happy"

"Just think of how beautiful your apple crisps will be in the morning under all of the lights, rather than all of the lights except for that one that's been out for weeks!"

"What would I ever do without you, Stevie?" You giggled as you snapped on a new pair of gloves to continue your apple chopping. "The bake case would be so dull... much as every passing day"

"Ugh, you're so lucky to have me." He joked with a sigh. "Screw driver?"

"Tool box is in the supply closet, very top shelf, back left corner." Your smile prevailed. "Did you lock the door?"

"Yes ma'am, and closed the blinds."

"Wow, at this point you're my best employee."

"And don't you forget it" Steve threw you a casual wink before disappearing into the lobby.

The light was an easy 15 minute fix, well, it would've been about five had he not lost a screw that took 10 minutes to find but he would never admit that. As he was finishing up, he heard what was almost a hissing sound coming from you in the kitchen, followed by clanking as if something had been dropped onto the metal countertops.

The sounds piqued Steve's concern, so he closed the case back up. But as he was walking back to the kitchen, he heard your little voice call out to him.

"Steve?" It was shaky and scared, something he had never heard from you before. Needless to say his walking pace turned into a jog, and when he made it through the doorway he saw you holding your hand in the other.

Your face was white as a ghost and your eyes were spacey, but the closer he got he noticed you were squeezing a bunched up paper towel to your hand and slowly swaying. He looked over to your apples to see a red puddle and the knife where it shouldn't be.

He recognized that glossy facial expression, he had seen it millions of times before on battlefield and training rooms. So he offered you a comforting smile as he approached to keep a hand on you. If you were about to pass out, he would be there to catch you.

"I um..." You started, but you couldn't quite get the words out without your internalized panic becoming very, very external. "Was cutting- then the knife slipped and I...caught it..."

"Are you okay?" He rubbed your arm as all his extensive first aid training from his days as an Avenger came flooding back to him.

"Bleeding" You stated, blinking your eyes as fuzzy darkness started to overtake your vision in invasive swirls. "A lot."

"Feelin' dizzy?" He questioned gently.

"Very." You nodded.

"Alright sweet girl, let's get you sitting down." He encouraged. You took one wobbly step before Steve stopped you in your tracks. There was no way you were going to make it to a chair by the will of your own two feet. "Okay I'm just going to pick you up."

You nodded in agreement and he swooped you into his arms like a rag-doll. You didn't even feel the need to hang on in case he dropped you, you just focused on keeping firm pressure on your hand as he took you to the front and set you down on a padded booth.

"Can I see it?" Steve questioned as he squat down in front of you. Once again you nodded and slowly pulled the paper towel away from your hand to reveal a nice slice right in the cushioned part of your palm beneath your thumb.

He inspected it the best he could but there was too much blood to even see what was going on beneath it, and when you curiously took a peak at your own hand, the black fuzzies invaded more of your vision.

"I think- I think I'm going to pass out." You mumbled.

Steve's eyes met yours in an instant when you admitted that, and he saw your ghostly white complexion had turned into bright pink cheeks and your head barely standing still. He pressed the paper towel back into your palm to block your injury from your eyesight.

"It's okay, lay down. Deep breaths." He reminded you, and assisted you on a slow and careful journey downwards on the booth. He reached over and grabbed a throw pillow from one of the lounge chairs and slipped it under your head. "Where's the first aid kit?"

"B-bathroom." You mumbled.

"Keep putting pressure on this, I'll be right back." He told you, guiding one of your hands to the other so you could firmly press them together.

You tried your best to stay awake even though you had to fight through the tunneled ringing in your ears and you lack of ability to see anything beyond the dizziness. However, you did hear his feet moving quickly around the store and the hand washing sink running.

Less than a minute later he was back and sitting on the floor in front of you, and setting down everything he had grabbed. You looked down to see him snapping on some gloves that barely fit his big hands, along with a whole roll of paper towels and both first aid kits. The calm expression on his face reminded you of exactly who he was, and what he did for most of the years of his life before he even met you.

"Here, take a few sips of water." He instructed you, cracking open a cold plastic bottle he took from the drink fridge. You did as you were told before placing the cold bottle against your hot cheeks as he sandwiched your injured hand between his two. "I'm going to see what I can do with what I have here, okay?"

"Do I need stitches?" You asked.

"I don't know yet, but I'll try my best to avoid that." He grinned before pulling the bloody paper towel off your hand. "Did you wash this already?"

"Ran it under water" You sucked in a breath as you felt gushes of thick warm liquid as he left it uncovered. Having not learned your lesson the first time, you looked again. "Oh my god..."

"Don't look at your hand, look at me." He advised you as he wiped away at the blood. It really wasn't stopping or slowing down at all, so he sandwiched your hand between his again and held it with firm pressure from both sides. "We're just going to hold hands for a while."

His reassuring smile as his eyes met yours made you feel like you could breathe again. "Well this is nice."

"Walk in the park" He agreed. "Does it hurt or can I squeeze harder?"

"Harder is okay" You agreed, so he did. It was just enough to feel your hand throbbing in his hold but not enough to cause more pain than you were already in.

"So, how was your day?" He questioned nonchalantly, trying to pull your mind away from your hand in attempts to calm you down. Plus he knew he needed a good amount of pressure to stay there for a little while.

"It was fine-busy." You answered shortly wanting to cut to the chase. "You're like, medically trained? You can give me stitches?"

"I'm trained enough to stop bullet wounds from bleeding out, and I've given stitches more times than I even remember." He reassured you. "But I have nothing here to work with, and I don't know enough to medically decide what kind of stitches would be best for this. If you need them, the best hands to be in will be a doctor's" He explained.

"Does it hurt?"

You worried eyes were killing him, but setting realistic expectations for what was to come seemed to be the best way you knew how to deal with your own fears, so he was happy to answer. "Another benefit of a doctor is that they'll numb you before. A few little shots around your hand and you'll barely feel a thing. It definitely doesn't hurt more than catching a falling knife."

You nodded with a gulp before an anxious, almost guilty admission slipped past your lips. "I'm really scared of the hospital. I know that probably sounds stupid to you but-"

"That's not stupid." He shook his head. "Most people only find themselves in a hospital when a bad thing happened to them or someone they loved. It's easy to be scared of a place like that."

"I'd rather you sew my hand together with a needle and thread and no pain killers then have a panic attack by myself in the emergency room." You continued to express your fears.

It was apparent to him now that the panic in your voice wasn't necessarily over the injury itself, but the thought of having to seek medical treatment. His first words without much thought would've been 'you won't be alone, I'll go with you', but you were smarter and more thoughtful than him. Stepping into a hospital with cameras around every square inch of the building and high security would be like locking himself in a cell.

You could see his wheels turning, trying desperately to find a solution to ease your mind before he let go of the pressure on your hand to check in on the cut. "It does actually seem to be slowing down a bit, but it looks pretty deep. Even if it closes on its own it's going to keep ripping open." He sighed.

You could tell he was contemplating the most morally correct option. He could do this himself and it would be fine, or he could encourage you to seek medical help and you'd have a not so fun night in the emergency room by yourself.

"Please" You pleaded, tears pooling in your lash line. "Georgia hates me, I have no family here, and I don't feel comfortable going with any of my other friends. We both know you can't step foot into a hospital."

"Can I ask what exactly you're afraid of?" Steve questioned gently, one of his hands still squeezing yours while the other rubbed up and down your arm to try and comfort you.

"I had a lot of really bad nights by myself at Greenwood medical." You started, unsure of how much you actually wanted to confess because you hated the way people looked at you when they found out. But Steve, maybe he would be different. Maybe he wouldn't look at you that way. "My ex-boyfriend he... wasn't very nice. And going there just reminds me of all of those times I was there alone because of him and I just- I can't go there."

His eyes softened, and his eyebrows tried hard to hide his inward emotion but he was still sympathetic. There was not much detail, but he got it now. He was done asking questions until you were ready to tell him more, and he was going to make sure you didn't have to step one single foot anywhere alone tonight.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." He sympathized, still rubbing your arm. "I have a lot of first aid supplies at home, I think I can make it work. I have a few things we can try before I sew it up, but just in case I do have a sterile needle."

You quickly nodded, accepting his offer to play doctor for you. "I'll just clean up the kitchen really quick-"

"No" He giggled as you started sitting up. "You stay here and keep putting pressure on it , I'll clean up the kitchen then take you to my house."

"I'll be fine" you insisted, but as you fully sat up a whole new wave of dizziness hit you once more.

"Just stay here." He smiled, wrapping your hand up with lots of gauze and tying cotton wrap around it as tightly as he could. "I'll be right back."

He disappeared through the kitchen door way, leaving you to lean your head back against the wall and take in some deep breaths to calm yourself down. You could hear the fridge opening and closing, the three compartment sink running, and the contents of the sanitizer bucket being dumped out before he came back to you.

He handled you with such tenderness and care as he helped get you into the car and back to his place. You didn't really even have a chance to process the new environment you were in as he urgently rushed you up the stairs and sat you on top of the en suite bathroom counter with your hand dripping blood over the sink.

He started rummaging through the cabinet and advising you to look away once more before he snapped on a new pair of gloves and aided the best way he knew he could.

Through the whole ordeal he told you exactly what he was doing before he did it, let you squeeze his hand as he sanitized it as you both knew the stinging was going to hurt like hell, then at the very end he was just as happy as you were that a bit of super glue and some butterfly closure bandages saved you from that sterile needle he told you about.

When all was said and done, it was nearing 10pm and he could just see the emotional and physical exhaustion dripping off of you. So the second the final wrapping was secured on you hand and he knew you were on the road to a smooth recovery, he gently raised the back of it to his mouth and gave it an exaggerated kiss just to make you smile.

"All better?" He asked, your eyes opening to look at him when you felt his mustache tickle your skin.

"Thank you, Doctor Rogers" You softly smiled, not having much energy left. "Your services are greatly appreciated."

"It's easy to be a great doctor when you have a great patient" He admitted. "I'm sorry, I know that hurt. On a scale of one to ten, how much of an asshole do you think I am now?"

"Zero" Your smile stretched beyond what you thought was possible. "Far less painful than the alternative."

"Good, that's all I could've hoped for." He let go of your hand. "Are you okay?"

Though the question was played off as surface level, you knew what he was really asking. Instead of answering the question with a lie, or forcing yourself into the emotional intimacy of telling the truth, you simply stuck your arms out for a hug.

He didn't hesitate to step between your legs and let you lean forward onto him before he protectively wrapped his arms around you.

The two of you stayed there for a while, but he didn't mind one bit. He ate up every second of it considering human contact in the past year of his life was few and far in between before meeting you.

"Why do you have so much first aid?" You questioned with your chin resting on his shoulder, arms happily keeping him close.

"Nat, Wanda, Sam... they all know exactly where I am. If they need a place to hide away I just want to be prepared." He explained. "Just in case something happens."

"You're a good man, Steve." You told him confidently. Somehow, talking about your hard realities felt easier like this. Being so close yet not having to see the worried facial expressions of each other as you talk about it. "Does Tony know?"

"Yeah" his voice broke, almost as if he was whispering. "He knows Bucky is in Wakanda too. He knows I broke everyone out of the raft, and didn't do anything about it when he got the call. Even if he hates me, I think there's a part of him that understands why I had to do what I did."

"How is Bucky doing?" You questioned.

"They cured him" Steve told you. "I got to talk to him yesterday. He's doing good, but even though the winter soldier is gone he has a lot of healing to do."

"Does it make you happy when you get to talk to them?" You asked knowing how much guilt he held onto.

"It does, I get a lot of peace of mind. It seems like everyone is making the time to work on themselves. Do things they've always wanted to do but haven't gotten to yet because avenging got in the way." He explained as he relaxed into you once more.

With each honest answer, you found yourself wanting to be more honest with him too.

"How about you?"

"I'm doing better. I slept through the night last night- anxiety levels are starting to creep down. I feel like I'm starting to accept that Captain America isn't who I am anymore, and that's okay." His answer sounded genuine to you. "So, I ask you again. Are you okay?"

"I wasn't." You confessed. "For a very long time, I was in a very bad place. I thought I was doomed to a lifetime of never being able to move on from how he hurt me. But I got there, and I'm doing a lot better. It's just sometimes things happen that remind me of how bad it really was, and it makes me panic out of fear of feeling how I used to. But I'm okay now."

"Where is he now?" Steve tightened his grip on you, nestling the side of his head into yours.

“Arizona"

"Do you want me to drive to Arizona and cut off his dick?" Steve offered, earning a heavenly laugh from you.

"It's okay, all that drive time isn't worth three inches." You smiled.

He laughed right in your ear before letting out a sigh. "You're right, three inches is more embarrassing than nothing at all."

You slowly let go of him and leaned back against the mirror, though Steve didn't feel ready to stop touching you yet so his hands make their way to the sides of your thighs.

"You're so sleepy" He grinned, being unable to hide how adorable he truly thought it was.

"I've been up since 4 this morning, of course I'm sleepy." You agreed.

"I'm mad at you, by the way." He stated with a sigh, mischievously raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah? What'd I do?" You questioned, hyper-aware of his warm hands squeezing your legs.

"You make me enjoy your company so much that no matter how much time we spend together it's never enough." Steve explained. "And when you leave? I miss you. Why did you do that to me?"

"M'sorry." You apologized disingenuously. "What are you going to do about it? Call the police?"

"Mhm, report you for harboring a fugitive." He joked.

"How dare you?" Your eyebrows playfully furrowed and your lips tugged upwards. "Then what would happen to my stupidity handsome fugitive? I'm pretty sure he survives off of chocolate chips and almond croissants. He'd wither away without the bakery"

"He'd have to run far, far away. Find a new bakery in a different town and cry over how lame the almond croissants are compared to yours."

"How do I keep you from dialing 911?" You asked. "How could I possibly spare you from a dull life full of mediocre pastry?"

"It's simple, just stop making me miss you so much." He shrugged.

"I think that's something you'll have to work on within yourself, sweet cheeks."

"Bucky did always say I have quite the knack for becoming far too attached to the people around me." Steve explained. "But this? This was never supposed to happen. Not when I told myself I wouldn't trust anyone until I could figure out how to absolve my criminal status."

"Well told myself I'd never let another man sneak his way into my heart, but here we are." You shrugged, cheeks warming at your own words.

"Is that what's happening?" Steve asked.

"We're either living in a cloudy bubble of naïveté, or maybe we were both supposed to end up right here, right now." You sleepily let your thoughts spew out of your mouth.

You watched the well oiled gears in his brain turn and crank until he deflated. "I really care about you."

"But?" You asked, feeling your heart sink to your stomach.

"I'm going to have to leave one day." He reminded you. "I don't want to hurt you like that."

"I know that." You nodded as you took his hand into your non injured one. "But you've been on the run for almost a year now, Steve. That's a whole year of your life that you'll never get back just because you don't know where you'll have to go or what you'll have to do next. Tell me, how much longer do you think you'll have until you leave Greenwood?"

"I don't know." He whispered, trying to understand your point.

"How long until you're forgiven?"

"I don't know."

"How long until the world needs their Steve Rogers back?"

"I don't know."

"How long has it been since we've been dancing around whatever is going on here just because time is so uncertain?" You laced your fingers with his, and his thumb nervously traced stripes into the back of your hand.

"Since the moment I saw you." He admitted, cheeks glowing pink.

"It's been a long time. A really long time. Months" You reminded him. "Whether we have a whole life time ahead of us, or only five more minutes, I'd rather spend the rest of my time with you being genuinely happy instead of dully dancing around the inevitable."

"Are you going to hate me when I go?" He questioned softly. You could see the concern smeared across his face. The fear flooded his eyes and sunk his eyebrows, he really couldn't handle one more person he loves hating him.

"Nothing could make me hate you." You denied. "I understand that this can't be forever, and that's okay. I just want it for now."

His free hand made its way up to your hair before gently pulling the strands that didn't quite make it into your ponytail away from your face and behind your ear.

Thoughts were firing out of every corner of his mind and ricocheting off every surface they could. It caused a chaotic sea of emotions, and paralyzed him with lack of words as the only outcome he could think of in this moment was closing his eyes and leaning forward hoping you'd meet him halfway.

And you did. His hand traveled along with your movements, caressing the side of your face as your soft lips met his.

The kiss was long, gentle, and sweet. Both of you couldn't remember the last time butterflies filled your stomach that didn't involve cutting it really close in hand to hand combat or just barely escaping a man that wanted to do you harm.

Most people loved to offer unsolicited advice when they learned of the situation with your ex. They all advised you, butterflies aren't some romantic feeling that was meant to sweep you off your feet, it was anxiety warning you to run.

But this, this was different. They were calm, slow flutters that made you feel so warm and relaxed that running wasn't even an option. You were more so melting into his hands like a popsicle on a hot summer day, you felt like the chunks of butter atop a crumble in the oven; slowly melting and turning a good thing even better.

When you mutually pulled away because the unfortunate human need to breathe was just too much, your foreheads and noses stayed pressed together.

"I think you're braver than me." Steve admitted, thou could hear the sadness in his voice.

"Why is that?"

"You've already accepted that this can't be forever, yet I already miss you even when you're right in front of me." His throat felt like it was closing, and his heart was slowly being ripped apart in his chest.

You kissed his lips once more, then again, and again. "I'll miss you too, but we shouldn't keep wasting such a good thing while it's right in front of us. Our time together is so precious, we have a chance right now to make the most out of it." He kissed you this time, then you continued. "Sunflowers still grow when the moon is out."

"I don't know if I would still be surviving this without you." The confessions wouldn't stop flowing passed his lips at this point. "I guess that makes you my sunflower in the dark."

"You'll make it home one day." You pulled your forehead off of his. "You'll be forgiven, you'll get your family back, and when it happens I'll still be cheering you on."

"I'll tell them all about Greenwood, and how I risked everything for a sweet little baker that catches falling knifes and hides away criminals." His sadness started to dissolve when he saw how yours never arrived.

It did, but you did a good job hiding it for the sake of his own mind.

"I'm not hiding away a criminal, I'm hiding away my best friend. Big difference."

His smile stretched impossibly wide. "They'll never believe me, by the way. All of them will make jokes about it until I find my way back to you and they see it with their own eyes."

"If that's the case, you'll need to fill me in on what kind of desserts Avengers like to eat because I'll have to win them over somehow." A yawn took over the end of your words.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" Steve questioned.

You shook your head. "Don't want to miss you that much."

"Okay, then how does Cars 2 and some real cuddles this time sound?"

"Like a dream come true." You smiled before taking another opportunity to steal a kiss.

"Come on, let's get you cozy." He offered you a hand to help you off the counter.

You both changed into some cozier clothes after he found you a shirt and some sweatpants of his that might've had a fighting chance at staying on your body. It earned a good laugh when you had to roll up the waistband a few times and tie the drawstring tight, but your efforts to still look a little cute in a super soldiers clothes were diminished when his shirt swallowed you whole.

Although Steve's clothes looked much better on him, you couldn't even begin to deny how comfortable you were as you slipped into his bed in his surprisingly well decorated bedroom and found yourself wrapped up in him once more.

"Tomorrow I'll help you change the bandages on your hand and drive you to work." He exclaimed while running his fingers through your hair that was now out of its ponytail and flowing freely.

"That's some real princess treatment." You drowsily mumbled, soaking in his body heat.

"I'm pretty sure that's the bare minimum of human decency." Steve challenged.

"I told the girls that I got injured at work and that I'll be going in late." You informed. "We can sleep in."

"Good, you deserve more than 12 hours between workdays."

"Nobody in the entire world would be able to wake me up before the sun if this is what I'm falling asleep to." You smiled as your eyelids were forcing you to keep them shut.

"I'm happy to have you here" Steve kissed the top of your head.

"I'm so happy to be here." You reaffirmed. "Goodnight, honey."

"Sweet dreams, Sunflower."

Next Part: Beautifully Natured

Tag list: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @happinessinthebeing @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @lokislady82 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @xxxalicerogersxx @avid-fic-reader-05 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bitchy-bi-trash

#steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #captain america #captain america fluff #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #chris evans #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu x reader #chris evans fluff #Steve Rogers smut #captain america x you #Captain America smut #captain america fan fiction #captain america series #Steve Rogers series #nomad steve rogers #baker reader #baker #baking #marvel #marvel series #marvel x you #avengers #rogersideup #nice to be kneaded #Bucky Barnes #natasha romanoff #Tony stark #steve rogers fanfic

[laawlesss]

;; Envy of the Empress ..

— ;; minific monday !! a oneshot (almost) every monday, usually under 5k words.. (..usually..)

>> in which a certain empress is jealous of you.

; words ? ; 2.6k.

; warnings ? ; none.

; genre ? ; fluff/comfort.

; request ? ; yes! ( @nani-nani-nani )

; pairing ? ; monkey d. luffy x reader.

; notes ; really happy w characterization in this fic !! y/n used, they/them pronouns also used. this was fun to write, i think i got luffy pretty okay in this one :3 tysm for the request, i hope u like!! crossposted on ao3 :3

    You had heard tales of the stunning Amazon Lily, an island inhabited by the Kuja tribe, overflowing with majesty. You had even heard tales of the shichibukai who made her home there, the fierce and terrifying Boa Hancock. The rumors said she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and with her standing in front of you, she really was an intimidating kind of ethereal. 

    Her long black hair tumbled down her back, and her figure was a perfect hourglass. Her limbs were long and slender, her pearly skin smooth, and her eyes round and soft. She was the kind of woman who caught the eye of everyone who managed to grace her presence. Now, as she stood ahead of you with all the poise of a goddess, you couldn’t help but to feel subpar. 

    “And… What exactly are you?” Boa sneered, rearing her head back and staring down her nose at you. Her elegant arms were crossed over her large chest, her eyes narrowed at you as you stood alone, waiting for your captain to climb off his ship that docked nearby. You suddenly felt plain in the outfit you wore, although you’d been so happy with it when you had picked it earlier that morning. Her extravagant clothing seemed to outshine yours in every way, with bright colors and expensive fabrics that put you to shame. 

    You were about to open your mouth and retort, before you felt a familiar weight settle over your shoulders. Your captain had leapt off of the Thousand Sunny and made a beeline for your side, a wide grin on his face. “Hiya, Hammock!” Luffy greeted the warlord, his tone bright and playful. Your tense muscles relaxed and you felt your heart soar at the presence of your partner. 

    “Luffy my darling! Oh, it’s so good to see you again my love!” The warlord’s demeanor had switched within an instant, and she held her hands to her face with a bright blush now present on her lovely face. She had an expression of shy bliss, swaying side to side as she fell into her own imagination. You tilted your head slightly in confusion, what was she talking about? Was she crazy, or did she and Luffy actually have something going on that you didn’t know about?

    You shrugged it off, sure that it was nothing. You leaned your head on Luffy’s shoulder, and your captain turned his head slightly to give you a smile. Heart a flutter, you relaxed, any doubts leaving your mind instantly. His fluffy hair tickled your cheek, causing you to giggle softly, and the sound of your glee knocked Hancock out of her stupor. 

    “Who are you, pitiful creature?” She sneered, her face twisted into an expression of envy. Hancock looked disgusted, offended that you had the audacity to stand in the mere vicinity of her love. 

    “They’re my smanibican other!” Luffy cheered, smushing his cheek against yours. You raised a brow and smiled in amusement. He lifted your spirits immensely, his happy-go-lucky and sunshine-y nature ended up being addictive. 

    “Significant, Lu. We still gotta work on that.” You hummed, and Luffy just laughed wildly. He wrapped his arm around yours, all the while Hancock looked as though you just puked on her shoes. She practically snarled at you, her eyes fierce and intimidating. Her massive snake weapon, Salome, had coiled up behind her and was baring her fangs at you, something that had you nervous. 

    Luffy didn’t seem bothered by Hancock or her snake at all, reaching down to hold onto your hand happily. He swung your connected hands, his signature grin on his face. “So where’s the food, Hammock? I’m starving!” Luffy drew the warlord’s gaze, and she melted again in an instant. The bright blush returned to her cheeks and she clasped her hands together with a schoolgirlish giggle. 

    “I’ve prepared only the finest feast for you, my beloved! Meat, fruits, cuisine of all types just for you, Luffy darling~!” She sighed happily, and held her face in her hands. Her long hair swayed behind her in her excitement as she imagined some false scenario in her mind. When your stomach growled, causing Luffy to laugh, she dropped her sweet demeanor again, glaring at you. “You are not welcome, harlot. Only Luffy may dine at my table.” Hancock scoffed, crossing her arms and turning her head away. 

    “Hey, why not?!” Luffy huffed, his brows furrowing and a sharp frown crossing his face. “I dunno what a hutlet is, but Y/N is not one of them!!!” He clutched harder onto your hand, and it took you letting out a sigh and laying your head on his shoulder to get him to calm down. Your captain only quieted his words, his angered expression remained in place. 

    Hancock looked torn, her heart shattered, before she recovered and turned her back to you. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she huffed. “…Very well.” She sent a glance at you, one so full of venom that you couldn’t help but shudder and slide closer to your boyfriend. The rumors that stated that she was as terrifying as she was beautiful were correct in every way. 

    Luffy cheered, letting go of any anger he felt and wrapping his arms and legs around you in a hug. “You hear that? We can both go eat together!” You smiled, and wrapped your arms around him in return. 

    “Yeah, we can. Do you wanna go get the others?” You suggested, looking around for your crewmates. The entirety of the Straw Hat crew had decided to stop on Amazon Lily as they passed through the area, most everyone excited to meet the Kuja warriors. Sanji, of course, was practically losing his mind even before you reached the island, and Usopp seemed genuinely terrified to step foot near Amazon Lily at all. 

    Luffy’s eyes widened, and he shot off with a wild yell, using his arms to swing back towards the ship docked further down the island. You felt a sense of contentment wash over you, watching your captain go so happily. In the meantime, you figured you’d take a stroll around and take in the sights of the beautiful island. 

    The forests were still but not silent in the least, teeming with wildlife that cooed and hummed. You had been told that Amazon Lily never saw a storm due to its location in the Calm Belt, and you figured Nami would get a kick out of the meteorology of the island. All around you vivid colors sprouted, wide leaves of trees and plants soaked up the sun, and brightly colored birds sang a chorus of songs. The island was as beautiful as its empress, filled with an incredible kind of majesty that had you floored. 

    Your hand lightly grazed over the bark of one of the taller trees in the jungle, your thoughts wandering as you wondered if Robin knew any secrets of the island that she’d be willing to share with you. It was perfectly peaceful, and you let yourself get lost in the forest until it was time for the banquet. 

    +++

    The dining room in Hancock’s palace was extravagant, lined with gorgeous fabrics in every hue, glimmering jewels and gems lining every cup and plate. The elegant aroma of delicious food wafted over the long table, and you had to keep a firm grip on Luffy’s arm to prevent him from leaping out of his seat and scarfing down the nearest entree. After fervently insisting that the rest of his nakama be allowed on the island, Zoro, Usopp, Sanji, Chopper, Franky, and Brook were allowed to attend the banquet, although Sanji did get punched and kicked a few times by a few Kuja warriors who he got a bit too close to. 

    You sat on one side of Luffy, while Hancock sat on the other side at the head of the table. Your crewmates were scattered about in the other seats, eager to begin the banquet. Although you sent a grateful smile to Hancock, she returned it with a sharp glare and a sneer, her hands itching to use her devil fruit powers on you. The only thing holding her back was Luffy, braced between you two, and his arm around your shoulders. 

    “Let’s eat! I’m starving!” Luffy whined, practically drooling as he stared at the onslaught of perfectly cooked meals for him and his crew to enjoy. Chopper sat on the other side of you, a few pillows stacked on his seat so that he could reach the table. He cheered in unison with Luffy, and you laughed. The atmosphere with the crew around had lifted, and you felt at home and safe once again. Who cared about what that warlord thought? Just because she was intimidatingly pretty she thought she could ruin your day? Your found family and your boyfriend were secure around you, and you couldn’t have been happier if you tried. 

    Soon you couldn’t hold Luffy back any longer, and he began to scarf down anything within reach. You could only laugh at his wild nature, and did your best to avoid his rampage while you ate. It was a bit of a task, dodging Luffy’s arms as he swiped food from other people, but made sure that you still had enough of the things you wanted to eat. You discreetly slid Chopper some of the fruit from your plate after Luffy had stolen his, only for your beloved captain to take notice and fall into a fit of laughter. 

    Throughout the meal, Hancock glared at you with fire in her eyes. When you took Luffy’s hand and leaned in to place an affectionate kiss on his cheek while he snacked on something, it seemed to be her last straw. She abruptly stood and slammed her hands down on the table, her face twisted into an expression of rage. The silence that fell over the table was the perfect backdrop for her speech. 

    “Get your disgusting mouth off of my betrothed! You don’t even deserve to be in my palace, I allowed you here out of my admiration for my Luffy. Now you dare to disrespect me by kissing my beloved?” Her voice was filled with venom and hatred, her eyes seething as her snake rose up behind her. “You are worth less than dirt, you don’t even deserve my spit.” Hancock hissed, entirely fuming. 

    You could hear Usopp whisper something to Franky, “I thought they were dating? Don’t people who date usually kiss their partners?” Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Franky nod, but you were too taken aback to move. You didn’t realize just how obsessed Hancock was with your captain, and you didn’t know how to respond. 

    “That’s no way to speak to them!” Nami stood up, matching the anger on Hancock’s face. Your heart swelled when you saw your crewmates coming to your defense, even Chopper, as timid as he was, leapt onto the table to agree with the navigator. 

    “Now, now, let’s all settle down—“ Brook said nervously, clasping his bony hands together. His head swiveled around between the irked warlord and the crewmates coming to your defense, and all you could do was shrink in your seat beside Luffy. 

    “You think Luffy would love someone like you? When he could have me?” Hancock spat, her furious gaze never leaving you. “I am better than you in every possible way, worm, you don’t even deserve to be in his presence!” Her voice trailed off into a screech, Zoro giving a short whistle as if to say, ‘damn, this chick is crazy’. Nami was about to say something, before Robin held up a hand, ever the picture of elegance. 

    “How about we let Luffy decide who he likes most?” She spoke with a calm voice, sending you a comforting smile. The entire time, Luffy had been chewing on a piece of meat, his eyes shadowed by his signature straw hat. Your heart started to pound, what if he chose Hancock? She wasn’t halfway wrong when she said that she was better than you, she was a warlord after all. Strong, beautiful, and empress of her own empire. Luffy had every reason to choose her over you. 

    Hancock crossed her arms and a confident grin sparked on her lips. “He’ll choose me, obviously—“ Her words trailed off as she watched Luffy yank his hat off of his head and drop it onto yours. WIthout a word, he swallowed his food and planted a kiss on your cheek, his arm firmly around your waist. When he looked up, he had danger in his eyes, returning Hancock’s glare with one of his own. It was obvious what his choice was. 

    “Quit talking about them like that.” His tone was slow but menacing, his eyes wide as he stared the warlord down. She was taken aback, a slight gasp leaving her. Relief washed over you, and you leaned into Luffy’s side, smiling softly to yourself. Was it bad that you felt proud? Either way, you had won over the pirate empress. 

    Luffy wrapped his arm around your waist, and tugged you closer, never once breaking his stare down with Hancock. The rest of the crew felt the dangerous aura that their captain gave off and tensed as though they were about to witness a fight. Chopper clung to your other arm, and Usopp hid behind Franky. 

    Without another word, Luffy stood up, pulling you with him. The rest of the crew followed suit, following behind him as he stomped back to the ship. You felt a little embarrassed, because of your actions the banquet was apparently canceled, and though you felt a strong disinclination towards Hancock, it twisted your heart to see her on the verge of tears as Luffy left her behind. 

    The crew didn’t seem to mind, Nami was raving about what a psycho the warlord was while Robin sent you a conspiratorial wink. Usopp was claiming that he could’ve beaten her if they went head to head, Zoro didn’t seem to care, and Sanji was lighting up a brand new cigarette. Everyone seemed nonchalant, but it had made you feel so cared for when they stood up for you. 

    Everyone seemed to be back to normal when you boarded the Thousand Sunny again, except Luffy. He still seemed to be carrying something, and you turned to him to ask him what was wrong. 

    “I didn’t like how she was talkin’ about you. You’re not a worm, you’re strong! That’s why you’re a part of my crew!” He looked to you and sent you a big grin, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you flush to his side. You still wore his hat, and he gently flicked the brim upwards so that he could see your eyes. His boyish expression sent a shock through you that had your head spinning. “And you’re my sanipigcant other! Of course I’m gonna pick you!” He pressed his cheek against yours, before giving you an affectionate kiss on your forehead. 

    You fought back a blush as you smiled, leaning into him as your found family made small talk around you. “Significant, Luffy.” You corrected him softly, to which he just laughed. You placed his hat back onto his head and his grin widened, looking at you like you were his whole world. 

    As the crew began to ship out from Amazon Lily after their very short excursion, you didn’t stray much from Luffy’s side, and he eventually pulled you up to sit on the lion figurehead with him as night fell. Your heart swelled with love for your captain and partner, and your affections only grew every time he sent you his excitable grin. Pressing a kiss to his nose that made him giggle, the two of you spent the evening watching the stars fade into view. 

#— 🤍 ; minific monday!! #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece fic #one piece fluff #fluff #ty for the request! <3

[hoodharlow]

Pull Up to Your Spot

AN: 🤪🤪🤪

Requested? No

Warnings: smut and an 🙄 ending bc Renata didn't handle things maturely

Word Count: 3.1k words

Renata awkwardly sat on her director's chair as one of Jack’s friends explained what he was envisioning for the ‘Luv is Dro’ music video. She was hired per Jack’s request since the original hire ended up not showing. She was going to play Jack’s love interest and they had a scene in the bedroom and one at a house party. They were doing the bedroom scenes first. 

“How does that sound?” Ace asked them when he finished.

“Yeah, I’m good with whatever.” Renata nodded. 

“Alright, I’ll let you finish getting ready then.” He said.

Renata nodded and went back to her designated trailer. She looked through some of the options Jack’s stylist provided for her. She only had one outfit but she wasn’t sure what she should wear. She sent Tania options but she wasn’t any help. 

A knock came from the main door of her trailer. Renata wiped the sweat off her hands on her shorts and made her way to the door. 

“Hi.” she said, opening the door for Jack’s manager. 

“Hi, baby. I brought some things for you to sign.” Neelam said, pulling out a manilla folder from her Christian Dior tote. “It’s just some protocol for the music video, waivers, and some NDAs.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” Renata said, taking the forms. 

She read over them. Everything was pretty standard and she signed them, handing them back to Jack’s manager. Neelam put them in the folder and she reached for another folder with the logo of the label Jack was signed to in the front. 

“This is another NDA, it’s for the label. Since you’re with Jack more and more, we have to have you sign this. I know you guys are just friends but the label wants–”

“It’s okay. It’s not my first time signing one.” Renata reassured as she sighed. “My ex had me sign a bunch when he got drafted to the NBA. I can’t talk about him on social media and he can’t talk about me.”

“Your ex plays for the NBA?” Neelam asked curiously. 

“He plays second string for the Utah Jazz.” 

“How did you two meet?”

“He played basketball for the Kentucky Wildcats and one time they played the Cardinals and came to the club to celebrate their win. He’s kinda a dick, but you can’t meet your prince charming at a strip club.”

Seconds later, Jack knocked and poked his head in her trailer. “Nee, Chris is looking for you.” he said, pointing behind him.

“We’ll talk more. I wanna know about this NBA player, ex of yours.” Neelam said, collecting her things. 

Jack held the door open and then shut it after him. “NBA player ex?”

“Don’t worry about it.” she shrugged. She went to the rack of clothes and turned to him, asking, “Did you need anything?” 

“Nah,” he said, propping his feet on the coffee table. 

Renata nodded and sorted through the clothes. She picked a cropped tank top and some olive green cargo pants. She heard a faint snoring and looked to where Jack was, finding him fast asleep with his arms crossed on his chest. She giggled to herself remembering how a few days ago he fell asleep at her place ten minutes into the movie they were watching. 

She placed her cardigan over him and let him sleep while she got ready. She sent Tania a picture of what she was going to wear so she could suggest some makeup ideas. Tania responded saying that she should keep it natural but she should do a double eyeliner look for a pop of color. Renata replied back, thanking her and began to straighten her hair. 

By the time she was done getting ready it was time for her scenes with Jack to get filmed. He was still napping on the couch. Neelam came by and dropped off his clothes after Renata texted her that he was fast asleep in her trailer. 

“Jack,” she gently shook his shoulder. “Dude, your manager is pissed.”

He groaned in response, pulling Renata’s cardigan over him. 

“We had to film your scene with your brother. You’re lucky he can be your stunt double.”

“Wait. what?” He sat up abruptly. 

“I’m just playing.” she laughed. 

Jack grumbled in response and stretched. 

“Neelam left your clothes here.” She told him, pointing at the set of clothes draped over one of the makeup chairs. “You can change in the bathroom.”

“Thanks.” he yawned. 

A few minutes later Jack came back out in jeans and jersey over his white t-shirt. Renata watched him through her mirror as she pretended to be busy with organizing her makeup bag. He had no right to look that good. She was so frustrated the last few days, and to make matters worse she had to play his love interest. She just hoped she didn’t do anything to jeopardize their friendship.

*

“Cut!” Ace yelled. He approached Jack and Renata. “Why don’t we take a break?” 

“Yeah,” Renata nodded, climbing off Jack’s lap. 

Jack ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He watched Renata walk out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

“Bro what the fuck is wrong with you?” Ace asked him. “You fucked up every take.”

“I don’t know.” He scratched his shoulder. “I feel weird having her on me.”

“Why? It’s not like you’re the first person she dry humped for money.” Urban said from behind the camera. 

Neelam smacked the back of his head. “Don’t slut shame and bash sex workers. It’s very unbecoming and hypocritical of you.” 

“I’m just saying…” Jack shot him a warning look before, making him shut up. Urban sank in his seat. “Nevermind.”

Jack got off the bed and went back to the trailer, hoping Renata was in there. He found her on the couch typing on her phone. 

“Hey.” he said.

“Hey.” she mumbled, not looking up from her phone. Evidently she was slightly annoyed. She was a perfectionist just like him and she always excelled in everything she did. Obviously a bad video shoot isn’t going to tarnish her streak. 

“Are you mad?” he asked.

“No, I’m annoyed with you.” she said, setting her phone down. 

“Why? I didn’t do anything.” he frowned.

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. She pushed herself up. “You’re not doing your part right and as a result you’re making me look bad. This is the plant pollution project all over again.”

“Oh my fucking god, Ren.” Jack groaned. “That shit was six years ago! Why are you bringing up shit from high school?”

“Because you’re doing the same thing!” she argued. “Just how you asked Miss Cardenas if you could be my partner. You asked Ace if I could be in the video. And just how I had to do the experiment by myself, you’re not doing shit in the video.”

“I’m sorry.” he apologized. “I thought I was going to be cool with you doing that scene with me, but I don’t–”

“If you’re going to be weird about this then I’m leaving.” she said, grabbing her clothes to change back.

Jack reached for her hand, stopping her. “No, I want you here with me.” 

“For realsies?” 

“For realsies.” He nodded.

“Okay.” Renata agreed, shooting him a warning look. She watched Jack sit on the couch and without skipping a beat she asked him, “How about we practice? 

“Practice?” he asked her.

“Yeah, let’s pretend it’s a choreo so when we go back to film it’s not as awkward.”

“Whatever you want.” Jack said. 

“I’m gonna sit on your lap, is that okay?” Renata asked him. He nodded. “Can you use your words, Jack.” 

“Yes ma’am.” he said playfully. 

“You’re so annoying.” she mumbled as she straddled his lap.

She gently massaged his shoulders and brought her hands to his chest. She slowly rocked her hips against his crotch. Her eyes landed on Jack as she continued to move her hips. Out of instinct she leaned in and without thinking twice, Jack cupped her cheek and pulled her into a kiss. She kissed him back with full force. 

Renata threw her neck back, reveling in how good he felt against her as their hips moved in sync. Jack nipped and sucked down her neck to find her sweet spot. He barely caught her strangled moan when he nipped the spot between her jaw and neck. He repeated his actions, earning a louder moan from her.

He pushed her up so that his hands were on her ass. With both hands, he kneaded her ass and then pressed her down on the growing tent of his pants. She held his face as she leaned down to kiss his lips. They moaned into each other’s mouths as Jack kept moving Renata’s hips on him. He held them in place and pushed his hips up for a different sensation. 

Renata pulled away breathlessly, “Just do something like and I think we’ll be good.” she pushed her hair over her shoulder. 

Jack nodded. “Whatever…yeah…”

*

The shoot went by smoothly. Jack and Renata’s scenes were filmed without any hassle, though they kept it a bit more PG than how they rehearsed. They agreed the kiss was awkward and should just allude that they were kissing.

Renata was back in her trailer getting ready for an after party Bryson Tiller is hosting. She was dressed in an all black outfit, consisting of a cropped baby tee, a mini skirt and a vintage leather coat. She had Tania to thank for reminding her to pack an extra outfit in case there was something else happening after. She finished off the look with some three inch, pointed toe knee high boots. It wasn’t her go-to going out party but it was enough for a house party.

She was touching up her makeup when Jack came. 

"Are you ready?" He asked, taking her outfit in and how short her skirt was.

"Yeah." She nodded, quickly swiping lipgloss on her lips. 

Jack helped carry her things to his car. He was giving her a ride to Bryson’s party. 

"Can we get food first?" Renata asked him.

"Yeah, what do you want?" He started the car.

"I’m not picky, so you can pick." She said. 

Jack nodded and began driving toward the nearest Chick-fil-A. Surprisingly there wasn't a line in the drive thru and they ordered their food. He pulled up to a parking spot so they could eat. Once they finished, Jack got out and threw their trash in a trashcan. He stood out in the dark sky with his chain gleaming under the yellow-orange light pole. 

"Your chain is very blinding." Renata pointed out when he got back in the car.

"Ooh, I’m blinded by the lights." Jack sang, making her giggle.

"Calm down Abel." She said in a teasing tone. 

"Do you mind if we go to my place real quick?" 

"No." She shook her head.

Jack backed out of the parking lot and drove them to his apartment. It wasn't that far from where they were and they got there in less than ten minutes. The parking lot was a lot nicer than the one she lived in. For one there was security posted in the parking lot entrance, the lobby and the cameras looked like they functioned, unlike the ones where she lived that were just for show. 

"Wanna come up?" Jack asked her.

"Sure." She nodded. 

She got out and followed him. Renata gave the doorman a toothless smile when he greeted them as they entered the lobby. She tried to not look like a child who's at Disneyland for the first time, but she couldn't help it. The building's lobby was so fancy and grand. She felt like she was at the Ritz-Carlton or something. 

Jack guided her into the elevator and pressed the button with the letter H on it. He pulled out his phone and texted the guys that he and Renata are going to be late. His phone dinged just as the elevator doors opened to his private floor. 

"C’mon," he tugged her hand. He unlocked the door, putting his security code in, and let her in first. "Welcome to my humble abode."

"This is what you call humble?" Renata blinked in shock. She went to one of the windows that had a view of the Waterfront Park. "I’m literally in love with this view." 

"Yeah, me too." Jack quietly said to himself as he watched her take in the view.

He went to his bedroom and put his chain in his safe. He chained into a fitted long sleeve shirt and some black pants. He came back and Renata was still in the same spot, this time with a more pensive face.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked as she turned to look at him. 

"It’s stupid." She shrugged.

"You can tell me anything, you know." He said reassuringly. 

"Trust me you don’t wanna know what I’m thinking." She laughed it off. 

"You’ve texted me at two in the morning needing to know if we’d still be friends if you became a worm. I think we’re–"

"I was thinking how it’d feel to get fucked against the window." She said, her eyes not leaving Jack’s. 

"Have you thought about how it'd feel on my bed instead?" He countered, taking a step closer to her. 

"No, but the idea sounds interesting." She smirked. 

Jack grinned and leaned down, cupping her face and bringing their lips together. He removed his hand from her cheek and pushed her jacket off her shoulders. Without breaking their kiss, he grabbed the back of her thighs and picked her up. He carried her to his room and set her down on the bed. 

Renata sat up and took off her top and skirt, keeping her panties as she didn't wear a bra under. Jack did the same and stayed in his boxers. She laid back and let him continue. With one hand he slightly lifted her head and kissed her. He used his other hand to pull one of her legs over his waist as he deepened their kiss. Renata pulled away to catch her breath, giving Jack access to her neck. She whimpered his name when she felt his teeth gently nibbling her jaw. 

"Oh fuck," she whined as he rolled his hips against her. 

"You're so wet," Jack groaned in her ear, rutting his hips into her. "My cock is getting soaked and we're both still in our underwear."

He shifted around so he was laying on his side. He brought his hand down her body, slipping them in her panties. Renata tried to close her legs, but kept them open with his knee. He slowly rubbed her clit with his fingers. Jack finally slipped his ring and middle fingers in her. She moaned as his fingers fucked into her at a deliciously slow pace. She rolled her hips as if she were riding his fingers. Jack smirked and pumped his fingers faster. He pressed his thumb to her clit, rubbing her harder.

Renata grabbed his wrist, stopping her own climax. "I need you inside me." 

Jack nodded and pulled his fingers out of her. He sucked them clean and turned back to his nightstand. He grabbed an unopened box of condoms and opened it, grabbing one. He hovered Renata once more. They kissed for a while with some touches here and there. 

“Jack, please do something.” Renata whined. 

“Eager are we.” He teased her.

“Not really.” She joked. 

Jack snorted at her commnet and got on his back so he could take off his boxer-briefs. She watched Jack slide the condom on himself before he got on top of her. 

“What?” he asked, noticing her wide stare down at his cock.

“That’s big.” she said quietly. 

“I’d like to think I’m average.” Jack said, trying not to smile. 

“It’s not gonna fit.” Renata said skeptically. 

“It will trust me.” he reassured her. He noticed her nervousness and squeezed her hand. “You know, we don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to, right?” 

“Oh I want to have sex with you. It’s just that I've never been with a guy that’s as big as you.” she said, making him laugh. 

“You might feel a stretch, but I promise I’ll make you feel good. Okay?”

“Okay," Renata nodded. 

Jack kissed her shoulder and slowly pushed himself in her until he was all the way in. Renata dug her nails on his biceps. It wasn’t as painful as she imagined, but it did feel uncomfortable. 

"You’re doing good, Renata.” He groaned. She felt so good around him as he slowly pulled out and then pushed himself back in. 

“More.” she whimpered. 

Jack tilted her head up so he could kiss her. His lips and tongue went at the pace he thrusted in and out of her. He wrapped one of her legs around him, bringing them closer as he took her.

 Her breath hitched at how good it felt. Jack must have noticed, and continued thrusting in that spot. The familiar feeling came over her once more. Renata was about to come, and Jack knew it. His thrusts got more precise, hitting where Renata needed him.

“Come on, Ren, let go for me.” He encouraged her. That pushed her over the edge, and she repeated  Jack’s name over and over until her high faded. Jack continued thrusting in and out of her. His thrusts grew sloppy. As he pounded into her, one of his hands found one of hers. Their fingers intertwined as he slowed his thrusts.

"Shit.” He moaned into her shoulder as he came.

Jack collapsed on top of her, catching his breath. He pushed himself up from her and laid next to her. Renata sat up and kissed a freckle on his shoulder. 

“Stay the night?” Jack asked her, rubbing her arm. 

“Yeah,” she smiled softly. 

They silently got ready for bed. Jack gave her a spare toothbrush and a new pair of pajamas that were too small for him. Once in bed, Jack pulled her down to the bed and brought her to his chest. He kissed her shoulder and drifted off to bed. In a matter of minutes he was sleeping soundly. Renata was about to doze off when she felt a sharp pain on her abdomen. She’d been feeling them all day because they didn’t get as bad now. She quickly got out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. She pulled down her pants and saw a small red stain. She cursed. 

Her period wasn’t supposed to come until the end of the month. She put a bunch of toilet paper on her panties and grabbed her purse, praying she had a pad or something. Thankfully she found a panty liner. She ordered an Uber as she got dressed, trying to keep her composure. She made a run for it. Just as she exited the building, her Uber pulled up. She knew what she did was shitty but she couldn't face him. It was better to end things this way.

Taglist: @cherryxcreme​ @heavyhitterheaux​ @carma-fanficaddict​ @youngharleezyxo​ @youngharleezy​ @babyharleezy​ @that-90s-girlllll​ @alinaharlow​ @whywontyoulovemecami​ @meyocoko​ @harlowcomehome​ @nattinatalia​ @webinurcloset​ @gassyandsassy1​ @jackharloww​ @awhore4moree​ @noescapricho-essentimiento​ @a-moment-captured​   @livsters​ @velvetstreets

#iwssa #jack harlow #jack harlow smut #jack harlow angst #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

[c0la-queen]

Matt Headcanons | The Clean Friend

---

Appearance:

Matt is the palest of the group, and has freckles across his face. He's very proud of his freckles, thinks they're one of his best features. His eyes are a bright blue. Sometimes the others joke about him having the "autism stare" (not in an ableist or mean way, they mean it lovingly). He has no facial hair, never really grows any.

Matt is the third tallest, and stands at 6'2. He's lanky and has the sluttiest waist of the entire group. Snatched. We love that for him.

He doesn't have any tattoos or glasses, but he does have his ears pierced. Usually wears little studs in gold, black, or purple.

Family Life:

Matt was raised by a single mom. However, he is lucky enough that his mom is an absolute girlboss icon and was able to support herself and her baby with her career as a fashion designer.

His relationship with his mother is extremely healthy. She taught him to love himself and express himself in whatever way makes him happiest. They talk frequently and he has lunch with her whenever they both have a free schedule, since she lives in town.

Matt is an only child, but grew up with Edd and Tom (and eventually Tord) so he doesn't mind.

Personality:

Matt is a little stupid, but he's got the spirit. I don't mean he's totally an idiot. He knows things, and got average grades in school. He just tends to lack common sense and can sometimes be a little bit of a bimbo.

He's a self love king. Loves helping other people learn to express themselves. In his mind, nothing is more rewarding then helping people find their style. Passionate about good hygiene. Has a skincare routine and will help Reader create one for herself as well. Will help Reader learn how to take care of her hair properly if she lets him. Always reliable for outfit advice.

Gift giving is his love language. He likes to buy the roommates expensive little gifts that he knows they like. But he'll cry happy tears if Reader buys him gifts, or gives him little crafts. Will keep every paper flower, origami butterfly, and love letter you give him.

He really likes helping out around the house. One his days off from work, he'll do the cleaning . He finds it peaceful and refreshing. Will happily let Reader help him if she wants to.

Actually pretty decent at cooking, but he usually just cooks for himself when home alone. Of course, will always cook Reader something if she asks him to.

Not the granola mom type of health freak, but he does prefer home cooked meals to processed foods. Still, can appreciate a good night of take out food every so often.

Has had several arguments with the boys over the color of his hair. They tell him he's "just ginger", but he will angrily insist that he's strawberry blonde. The arguments are always playful and end with eye rolls and stifled smiles.

Matt probably needs glasses but he doesn't realize it. His vision isn't the worst, he just thinks its natural for far away things to be kind of blurry.

A little scatterbrained, but in a cute way. The type to frantically search for his phone when its in his hand. Has to verbally run through a list of things he needs to have with him when he leaves the house- does it with whoever is nearby.

"Brutes." "This is why we can't have nice things!"

Not a huge fan of video games, but he likes playing Cookie Run Kingdom on his phone. Enjoys watching the others play games during game night.

I decided to take his humorous narcissistic personality and tone it down a bit. Instead, he's pretty active on Instagram and Tik Tok! He's not an out of touch influencer, hell he doesn't even consider himself an influencer, despite the fact that his mother's identity has gained him a decent following. He really just enjoys posting pictures of himself and the roommates in their daily lives (with their permission of course, and he doesn't obsess over posting every single detail) or making GRWMs, fun little story times, and fit checks. He really just treats it like an average person would treat their social media.

Smells like citrus and lemongrass.

Of course, we have to address the vampirism. When in his normal form, Matt's fangs are small, really just looking like unusually sharp canines, his ears are slightly pointy but not enough to draw attention, he still shows up in mirrors and photos, and can be out in the sun- just sunburns easier, nothing a strong SPF can't handle. However, in his more vampire like form, his fangs get longer, his eyes go red, his ears get pointier, and the sun starts to hurt him more. As for blood, he can tide himself over from a day to day basis with tomato juice or smoothies made of red fruits/veggies, but once a month he does need to feed on blood. The roommates all help him as best they can. Tord gets him some bags of blood and when questioned about it mutters a little "don't worry about it" (don't worry, he just picks up some from the medics in the nearby Red Army base that they keep on hand- soldiers can donate blood twice a year) or Tom goes out and hunts for him if the situation is particularly bad. If Reader offers to let Matt drink her blood, Matt would refuse. He doesn't want to hurt her, and won't do it even if she offers it.

Playlist (From My Spotify Playlist For Him):

Olivia Rodrigo

Florence + The Machine

PUBLIC

Harry Styles

One Direction

Hozier

Mitski

ABBA

Lady Gaga

Kesha

#eddsworld #eddsworld matt #eddsworld matt x reader #eddsworld x reader

[gabykatttt]

Sleepover pt 1

It’s was a dark and stormy night. Poppy,Viva and Veneer spend the night at the Bergan castle Cuz Bridget and Gristle went on their honeymoon.

Omg that looks so good on you Viva said wearing her nightgown with her pink slippers.

You’re lucky you have your own spare pajamas plus green looks good on you this day Poppy said.

Really I thought it wouldn’t fit on me or two Veneer said looking at himself in the pajamas he bought after he and Velvet split to have their normal lives.

But the pajamas aren’t everything ta da which slippers do you want the cats or the dolphins Poppy said showing Veneer the slippers.

Veneer picked the cat slippers and put them on.

Your show will be on in a minute I suggest we get popcorn before it starts Viva said turning up the volume.

That’s an idea sis you go get it Poppy said in a teasing tone. Viva got up from the couch groaning with annoyance to start the popcorn.

So Vennie what’s your show about? Poppy asked curiously.

Oh well it’s about two couples who do stupid shit together and get caught by the police so many times but they never succeed Veneer said explain his show.

Oh well that’s really Poppy was cut off by the host of the show.

Oh look it’s starting Veneer said getting up from the couch and sat in front of the tv.

Viva comes back with the popcorn.

What’s he doing in front of the tv didn’t his mom tell him not to sit close? Viva asked sitting on the couch.

Whatever just sit down and enjoy the show Poppy said as the three kept in looking as the tv screen

After the show

That was the best episode I’ve ever seen I liked the part when Josh cheated on his girlfriend with his gay friend that was unexpected and really funny right girls Veneer said with excitement only to realize that Poppy and Viva fell asleep.

Uh girls don’t tell me that the sleepover is already over Veneer said getting worried.

NO CREEK PLEASE NO MORE TEA I HAD ENOUGH AHHH ahhh Poppy screamed having a nightmare again.

Omg Poppy are you alright? Veneer asked worried.

It’s okay sis you had that dream again Viva said patting Poppy’s shoulder.

I’ll never get over it Poppy said letting out a sigh.

Just think of something else Viva said smiling.

Right where were we again? Oh yeah Poppy said

SLEEPOVER Poppy and Viva yelled with excitement causing Veneer to fall on the floor.

Let’s do our first activity Poppy said

Yes Viva replied.

What will it be? Viva asked

I don’t know do you know? Poppy asked.

I don’t know Viva answered.

Y-you don’t know? Veneer asked.

There’s so much to do on the sleepover we just don’t know what to start Viva said. Poppy snapped her fingers.

This calls the sleepover cap of destiny Poppy blurred out her idea.

The what? Veneer asked confused.

The sleepover cap of destiny it a cap that is filled with sheets of paper. You pick a random paper to start with our activities. Since it’s your first time having a sleepover with us you get to pick our first activity Poppy said giving Veneer the cap to chose the activity.

Okay Veneer said putting his hand and grabbed a sheet of paper.

Okay so the first activity is. Put blue hair dye on Viva’s shampoo and mix it up when she takes a shower Veneer said explaining the activity.

Whoops prank cap of destiny by mistake Poppy said grabbing the wrong cap away from Veneer’s hand.

Shit I got the wrong cap Poppy said quietly panicking about the prank on Viva.

SO YOU’RE THE ONE WHO PULLED THAT PRANK ON ME. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IS WAS TO GET MY HAIR BACK TO ITS NATURAL COLOR. NOT TO FORGET YOU MUST THE ONE PUTTING RACCOONS INSIDE OF MY UNDERWEAR CASES AS WELL. ALL OF THEM GOT WASTED CAUSE OF THEIR DAMN CLAWS RIPPING THEM APART Viva yelled.

Okay I’m going to get the right cap. I won’t be too long Poppy said panicking running to get the right cap.

Oh what else is in there? Gasp color power on my laundry no wonder why my clothes turned pink you’re such a prankster you know that Viva said chasing Poppy.

I’m afraid Veneer said to himself waiting for Poppy and Viva to come back.

To be continued

#trolls band together #trolls veneer #trolls viva #trolls poppy #sleepover #sisters #siblings #big brother #prank

[homicidal-slvt]

"That's Not Mistletoe"

-

MDNI

-

Peter Maximoff x GN!Reader

-

Warnings: Very Vague Angst, Pure Fluff, Cheesy As Fuck

-

Christmas time rolls around only once a year and honestly- that seems like once too many these days.

Missions, missions and more missions... God, life is a real kick in the ass, huh?

Then there's the holidays where things continue to be chaos and you just- miss your family. Miss what it used to be like as a kid before everything went to shit. Oh well.

"Damn, who pissed in your cheerios?"

You look up to spot the one and only Peter Maximoff, standing there with a bowl full of cereal munching on it with his hand- Seriously, has this guy never heard of a spoon?

Is he your best friend? Yes. Does that mean you also think he's a hype-speed disaster? Definitely.

"Just a little sick of listening to Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree for the umpteenth time."

"Oooo, someone's a bit grinchy."

"Yeah, well- it ain't exactly 'The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year' for me."

"Maaaybe, I can change that."

Oh, you know that look in those big beautiful brown eyes. Deceptively adorable but most definitely going to get into trouble.

Peter is both the smartest and dumbest person you know. He can be super intelligent and quick witted but also often doesn't think things through fully.

However, you can't resist that charming grin and flicker of mischief. Deciding to up whatever this is into a game- a challenge. Peter loves challenges.

"Alrighty then. Go ahead and play my Silver Santy Claus. Make my spirit bright and merry."

••

You just lay pathetically on your back in the snow with the flakes falling on your face, not bothering to move at all.

"That is not how you make a snow angel."

"My bones hurt, Peter. You're lucky. Your speedy ass is warm by nature."

His eyes meet yours and there's something in the moment, his cheeks and nose ever so slightly red, snowflakes glistening in his silver hair. It looks like he belongs in a winter wonderland- genuinely got a bit of a cute Jack Frost look goin' on right now.

'Fwip'

Before you could stare too long in a silver blur he's abruptly flopped down into the snow by your side, star-fishing against the ground to make a snow angel, his foot nudging your leg in the process.

"Ah, god... Personal space, Peter."

"Oops."

••

Highlight of the day so far? Peter unintentionally ice skating.

He rushes by you carrying the cold wind with him, which is very much not appreciated given you were already feeling like a total popsicle...

He made a major error though- the sidewalk was a bit icy in a spot and you watch him go flying across the ground, feet straight out from under the poor guy.

You watch as he ends up face down in a random pile of snow, luckily he doesn't seem to be too injured or anything... So, like any good friend you start laughing like hell.

"Holy shit, dude. You okay?"

"Yep... Just wounded my ego."

He simply brushes it right off and flashes a bright grin up at you, snow clinging all over his face, some flakes trapped in his eyelashes...

Oh shit- cute...

Little did you know- his whole chest swelled with warmth at your laughter. It was like the cold and busting his ass was entirely irrelevant when he saw your beaming smile. This is all he wanted...

••

Decorating your room with Quickie? What could go wrong!

You stare at the stupid amount of silver tinsel just- everywhere. Like. He put it everywhere.

Because of course he went ham with the silver theme.

"We need more colors, Peter."

His elbow nudges your side as he comes to a halt by you, shuffling his feet and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Are ya kidding? I think silver suits you almost as much as it does me."

Your eyes glance down to realize you also got wrapped in silver tinsel as well, an unamused expression gracing your face as you look back up at him.

It is funny but you aren't gonna give him that.

"More color, Peter."

"Alright, alright... I'll go get the other boxes."

••

Before you know it- you have gotten really into Christmas. It feels like you're a kid again, arranging the ornaments just so on the mini tree in the corner of your room. Everything else that happened to make you bitter towards the holiday fades towards the background.

Christmas is fun when you have someone to celebrate with.

"Look who's gettin' into the holiday spirit... Seems I really am Silver Santy Claus."

Your eyes roll dramatically as you turn to face a clearly overly-proud-of-himself Peter. You'd think he just saved a bus full of civilians with the twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, okay, Santa."

"Wanna sit on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas-"

He was gonna crack a joke and tease you but had no idea where he was taking that and it also... Sounded a bit - well - yeah. An awkward pause follows and you can't stop yourself from laughing.

"Jesus, Peter. Stuff really just falls outta your mouth, huh?"

"The offer still stands."

Oh. Well now you're blushing. Not good.

He grins triumphantly rather than being embarrassed, instead just teasing the hell out of you anyway.

••

The colored light twinkle so vibrantly around your room, it truly feels like a fantasy land.

Your gaze lands on Peter who looks to be just as enamored by the Christmas lights, the colors reflecting across his hair and basking him in the vibrant glow, little flickers of blue, green, red and pink dotting in his big doe eyes.

He looks back at you after a moment and it seems he sees the exact same thing happening to you, colors dancing across your face in a mesmerizing fashion.

He points up at the ceiling to draw your attention there.

"Well, would ya look at that... It's tradition to kiss under it, right?"

"Peter... That's not mistletoe. That's a piece of a tree branch from the yard."

Not another word is uttered before your lips meet his anyway under the Christmas lights, Peter was never one to waste time after all. Fingers clutching onto his fluffy silver locks with his hands rested against your back to tug you impossibly close.

You taste the remnants of various sweets on his lips, warmth blooming through your veins as you two part after a moment.

"Does this count as your Christmas gift this year?"

"Shut up, Peter."

-

{This is so stupid but I wanted to write something for Christmas LOL}

-

{More Content}

#peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x gn!reader #peter maximoff x y/n #vee's various works #peter maximoff

[ameagrice]

Young Years

chapter two | your name, again?

THE LAST OF US

tommy miller x fem reader

The smell of food gave you something to focus on in this new environment.

At your side, with his sleeves rolled up as he digs in, Freddie practically wolfs down a cheeseburger and fries. You’re worried he might make himself sick—or worse, he has an allergy you haven’t had the chance to know about before now. But he seems to like the food, judging on his speed as he eats, and you don’t have the heart to tell him to slow down.

Maria sits opposite you with another girl, younger than the both of you, maybe a teenager early in her years. She’s talking about all the things you and Freddie can do here, the school, the electricity powered by the dam you passed on your way up, but it’s turning into background noise the longer you sit and eat, and something inside you is desperately trying to claw its way to the surface, screaming for a bit of quiet and solitude.

Seven months of habits is hard to break.

Maria calls your name, and your eyes drift up from the table to her own. She smiles at you kindly, but there’s an edge to it that you can’t exactly place. Something’s off.

“How are you feeling?” Maria asks gently, tilting her head a little as she talks. The girl at her side, Mary, you think she’s called, nods along like she’s a part of whatever the hell this is. You wish she’d go away and leave you adults to talk. “Usually with new folks we come here first to talk and then sort out the housing and such. But you looked pretty stressed before—I thought it would be better to get yourself and Freddie somewhere quiet.”

You nodded slowly, picking at your fries. Not one of them is cold or burned. They’re a perfect golden color and crisped just right.

“I guess it’s just, like, weird. You know—we’ve all been trying to get by surrounded by FEDRA day in day out living off of shitty rations cards while this perfect little hideout looks like it hasn’t changed since 2003. Can’t help but feel a little fucking jealous of you all, if I’m honest.” You snapped. Irritation bloomed in you.

If Maria was offended with your choice of tone and words, she didn’t show it at all. She sighed, and sat up straighter in her chair. “You’re allowed to be angry. I can’t imagine how much worse it’s gotten out there—”

“Oh, lucky you,” you snap, shoving a fry in your mouth.

“But you’re safe here. Freddie is safe here. You’re allowed to take this time to—”

“Start over?” You finish her sentence. Now she looks like she’s holding back her words. Maria’s lips are pressed tightly together. “There’s no starting over any of this. All we can do is keep going. Right? Unless you’ve got a fuckin’ time machine hiding somewhere ‘round here, too?”

A silence came over the table. Around you all, people talked and laughed, oblivious to the mental distress taking over you.

“Mom, what’s a time machine?”

—

If dinner was stressful, bed time was even worse.

And not only for you.

Getting Freddie into the shower was easy enough. Getting his pyjamas sorted and hair combed was easy enough too. But the problems began there.

Eight p.m. The sheets were too soft. The mattress wasn’t right. He couldn’t feel the wind on his cheeks anymore. All these things he wasn’t accustomed to after growing up in a draughty apartment in the QZ, and the rough sleeping against sides of mountains and on dewy, ferny woodland ground, became uncomfortable. It was a painful reminder that nothing in your son’s life had been normal up to this point.

“Come on, Freddie,” you muttered, shifting him into your arms. “Mom’s tired, too.”

His head rested on your shoulder, soft breaths fanning the skin of your neck. Mom brain was in motion, willing to do anything to make your son feel better. He was used to nature at night, so you turned the lights off and used moonlight through the now-open window to guide your way. The cool breeze hit the both of you, and only you shivered—Freddie was wrapped up in the coat you’d worn since your arrival this morning.

Your nightly routine while travelling had been pretty consistent. You’d make sure Freddie ate and drank something before settling down for the night. You’d wrap him up tight and he’d scoot down into the sleeping back with you, both for comfort for you both and for protection. He’d be out like a light, unknowing of the majority of the dangers that could come for you at any time. The blissfulness of childhood ignorance.

Ten o’clock, hips aching from shifting side to side to settle him, you moved him to the bed which was surprisingly very comfortable—Freddie simply hadn’t had the life you had. To this five-year-old, the ground was a beautiful bed, and the actual bed wasn’t welcoming. You closed the window and the curtains, and left the room, door open to hear him if he called out.

And now came the hardest part.

Leaving Freddie be.

You could have slept and gotten in some good rest of your own, you maybe read a book or tried to see if the television worked.

You instead checked on Freddie every five minutes, unaccustomed to this sudden change in lifestyle. In the QZ, it had been the two of you for almost the whole of his life. When you decided to leave, you had become his No.1 constant day in, day out. So not only did the quietude of this new home shock you to the core, but allowing your son his own space to sleep and

By the time the sun was up and kids were walking the street to school—a very foreign thing to you after so long—you hadn’t slept one bit. And of course, Freddie was wide awake.

—

A week passed. The snow fell here and there, but gradually the cold air started to decrease. Weirdly enough, you quickly became accustomed to the ways of this weird little community.

More importantly, it’s people.

Maria turned up one morning to ‘see how you were’. You had a suspicion that she just wanted to know you hadn’t up and left or worse. Deciding the woman seemed nice enough so far, you invited her in. While Freddie played in his room, obsessed with the dinosaur toys left behind, Maria and yourself talked about your future in the community.

“It would really be good for the both of you to perhaps be involved in things going on,” Maria gently advised. She took a sip of the glass of water in her hands. “Freddie could talk to some other kids his age, and you could meet new people again. It won’t be easy, I know.”

You had to agree. You’d spent the past week cleaning, moving things around, and checking out the stores with Freddie attached to your hip. You’d finally gotten some semblance of ‘normality’ back after the past decade—hell, you had fresh groceries in the refrigerator in the kitchen, all complimentary for newcomers, apparently, clearly not having your own some sort of income yet. And in the midst of all the moving around and sorting things out, you began to crave adult talk, the company of likeminded others your age. You wanted terribly for Freddie to have friends of his own once more, to play and laugh like children should do.

“Well,” you started, raising your own glass to your mouth. “How do I even start? I don’t know where to start, Maria.”

As if the woman had expected the conversation to flow this way, she began expressing ideas almost instantly. “There’s a movie on most Sunday nights in the hall. They switch it up every week; kids ones to teens and adults and such. It gets a lot of attention, attracts a lot of people. It’s a good place to start. Try to remember that the majority of the people here have been in your place. Myself included. When you come to terms with that it all gets easier.”

—

“So where are you from originally?”

“Arizona.” Your eyes swept the crowd of kids in to the side of you all sitting on chairs in front of the big screen showing an old, old episode of Tom & Jerry on a projector.

“Right, right.”

You felt a little bad that this man was trying to get a conversation out of you, with little in return, more interested in your son sitting with a little girl about his age whom Maria had introduced him to. With a few tears, Freddie had eventually agreed to sit and watch the episode with her, and so far, seemed to be enjoying it. You spied the back of his curly blond head amidst the other kids.

Your first impression of the commune hall was that it was big. Tall, with worn and faded wooden flooring, string bulb lights strung across the ceiling and around the room for light. The bar yourself and this man were standing at was located at the back of the room, between people talking, adults making fun of silly things in the Tom & Jerry episode like children, or simply just drinking.

This man had been the first person to talk to you. The first person Maria introduced you to, and the first person you wanted nothing more than to shy away from.

“You’re kinda quiet,” he said. You shifted your gaze back to him.

“I just spent seven months on my own,. Sorry if it’s a little hard to make conversation.” You snapped, and took a sip of the liquid in your glass—hot chocolate. Now, that was one thing making the whole ordeal bearable. Living off of water and watered-down fruit juice in the zone for years made this hot chocolate, creamy and topped with marshmallows, your ideal heaven. Where the hell did they get this stuff from?

“Don’t get mad at me, girly. Just tryna talk.”

You whipped your head to him, frowning. “Did it not occur to you that maybe I don’t want to talk?”

The man laughed and whistled, grinning in a way that told you plainly he wasn’t going away. This tall, broad-shouldered man in the heavy grey jacket was taking your biting words for playing hard to get, and you hated it.

He turned so his back was to the bar, and your shot him a filthy look in the process. “So,” he spoke again, and you took no shame in visibly rolling your eyes. “That boy you came in with. He your son?”

Now, you really did flip. “It’s none of your fucking business, and I think you should fucking go.”

“I think you should watch your tongue, little lady.” He barked straight back. You raised your eyes to his. They were hard, bright blue, and sent a horrible jolt through your body. “Now, I understand—”

A hand clapped on his arm, and you shifted your hip off of the bar to leave. If this was one of his friends, you didn’t want to stick around for more.

“What’s goin’ on, Garrett?” He greeted, pushing between the two of you. You scoffed under your breath and stepped a good few paces away from him.

The way this man switched up made your insides freeze. Garrett slapped the other man on the back, laughing like he’d told a good fucking joke. “Not a lot, not a lot. I was just headin’ out.”

“Oh, right. Hey, it was good to see you, man.”

“You too, Tom. I’ll see you in the morning. You still gonna be working on the stables?”

“You bet,” the man at your side laughed, though it sounded a little forced.

Garrett picked up his glass, saying a quick goodbye to a couple of guys on his way out. You watched him go, making sure the door shut behind him.

“I’m really sorry about him,” the remaining man spoke. You watched Freddie, trying not to pay him any attention. “He’s…well, you just saw how he is. It’s probably not what you wanted to happen tonight.”

You simply hummed, hoping he’d take it as a sign to leave. You weren’t interested.

“Has Maria shown you around yet?” He poked. “Usually she takes newcomers on a tour of the place their first day.”

You took a breath. If he so much as offered to take you back to his place for a tour he’d be getting socked across the face with your mug before he could take another breath.

“No. She hasn’t. Haven’t been that interested in looking around until tonight.”

There was a sound of clothes ruffling, and then in the corner of your eye, you saw him lean his elbow on the bar. “The name’s Tommy. Miller.”

You turned, and looked at him. And your eyes wandered.

His dark hair, gently curled here and there but wavy overall, rested at the white fur-lined collar of his black jacket. His eyes were dark, maybe a very dark brown but you were unable to tell properly because of the lighting. The thing that slowed your heart wasn’t his good-looks, his tanned skin and dotting of freckles on his face. It wasn’t that he looked sweetly mischievous, and old enough to be mature with the facial hair on his upper lip. It was those eyes—those goddamn, calm-looking eyes.

You could tell a lot about a person from the eyes. And his said he wouldn’t be trouble.

So, you told him your name. And he smiled.

“It’s good to meet you,” Tommy said. He raised his glass to his lips. “Shame we had to meet under Garrett’s circumstances,” he side-eyed the door.

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. “I was ready to start throwing punches.”

“Well, now you’ve told him straight, I doubt he’ll try anything again.”

“What makes you so sure?” You pried. The full lights were beginning to turn back on slowly, and the kids starting to stand up. The episode had finished. Where was Freddie?…

Tommy laughed shortly, breathily. “Garret’s the type’a guy to try his luck the first time, and when his ego’s hurt, he won’t do it again.”

“Shocker. Usually those types of guys won’t take no for an answer.” You searched the crowd of children for your own, heart rate beginning to spike. Tommy was unaware of your internal panic. He kept talking.

“Trust me, he won’t be coming back to bother you. He also has a wife, so…”

In the back of your mind, something perked up and you shot Tommy a quick look, placing your cup down on the bar. “Seriously?” And seriously, where was Freddie?

He shook his head of dark hair, swigging the last drops in his glass. “Oh, yeah. And his wife knows he does it. We all got a suspicion that she won’t be with him much longer.”

“Good for her,” you mumbled absently. “I wouldn’t want to be with him either. Look, Tommy, it was nice to meet you but I got—”

“Mom! I just watched Jerry and Tom for the first time!”

You yelped and pressed your hand to your chest in shock. Tommy was looking down, and when you did, Freddie was standing in front of you with a face covered in chocolate.

“Pretty cool, huh?” You smiled, covering your worries. “Who gave you the chocolate, dude?”

“Maria!” He giggled. “She said it’s called milk chocolate, but chocolate’s hard and milk is like water. I don’t get it.”

You looked around the bar for a tissue, and found them by Tommy’s elbow. Realising what you were looking for, the man handed one over to you, and you smiled in thanks, kneeling down to wipe the sticky remnants of sweetness off of Freddie’s mouth and cheeks. He squirmed away as you licked the tissue and tried wiping again.

“Mom,” he whined.

You stood up again. Tommy was drinking another full glass of some dark liquid, probably alcoholic, and took it as your cue to leave.

“We’re gonna get going,” you said, wrapping your arms over Freddie’s front to hold him to you. “But it was nice meeting you, Tommy.”

You trekked home through the still-busy streets, other people doing the same after the movie night. A couple of drunk guys stumble and laugh boisterously, hanging off of one another ahead of you, and you clutch Freddie’s hand even tighter as he stumbles along tiredly.

Once home, you unlock the door and usher Freddie in first, flicking on the lights, still mildly surprised when they actually turn on. Freddie runs to his room to change into some pyjamas—one of the only two pairs he had that you brought from your old apartment. You set about making a fire in the living room and getting the place warmed up.

Freddie’s little footsteps patter in soon enough, just as you’re wiping coal dust off your hands and onto your jeans.

Behind you, he says, “Mom, who was that man?”

You already know who it is he’s referring to.

“That,” you stand with a sigh, back aching, “was Tommy.”

“Oh.” He climbs onto the sofa and curls up in the corner of it.

You set about getting things ready for bed. There’s no use in trying to get him to brush his teeth before he goes to sleep, you realise—he’s already halfway there. With the curtains closed, the door locked, and you’ve done a full sweep search of the house ensuring nobody and nothing’s inside who shouldn’t be, you head back into the living room.

There’s a kind of mom instinct, you know, that just helps you to know things. You know when your child is in danger. You know when they’re upset and not saying anything. And you know when they need you even when they don’t say it.

You lay down next to your son, who instantly curls into you, his breath tickling your chest. With your cheek on his head, rubbing your thumb back and forth across his shoulder, you close your eyes.

Tommy Miller’s name floats around your head.

Taglist (comment or message if you’d like to be added!)

@mimi-luvzyu

#the last of us #tlou #the last of us 1 #tlou 1 #tommy miller #joel miller #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #ellie williams #tlou x reader #hbo #tlou hbo

[mysweetgeo]

“This reminded me of you.” with george harrison please? if possible 65/56 era, shaggy haired geo supremacy 😫

i’m thinking reader is single on v day and so is george, so they both plan to surprise each other with gifts (mutual pining slay) but accidentally bump into each other while buying said gifts at a shop.

or literally just write any cutesy fluff i absolutely adore your writing😭

Picture Perfect

Request: I'm thinking reader is single on V Day and so is George, so they both plan to surprise each other with gifts (mutual pining slay) but accidentally bump into each other while buying said gifts at a shop.

Prompts: "This reminded me of you."

Pairings: George Harrison x F!Reader

(SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY !! I’d written 99% of this prior to V Day and fucked off to England the weekend after and forgot about it entirely 😭)

You and George had known each other for a few years, you’d initially met entirely by accident on the set of one of their photoshoots back in ’63. You’d been a photography assistant and had been asked to do a mundane task and had wound up spilling coffee all over George while retrieving coffee for the group. 

While George had found the situation hysterical, your boss had found it quite the opposite and fired you on the spot. 

This had led to you and George becoming great friends and you had made it a point to visit with him at every chance you got. 

You couldn’t help but feel something more than just a friendly adoration for the man, and what you had thought was just a platonic attraction had bloomed into something much more. 

It was hard to watch girlfriends come and go, but you stuck with him through all his heartbreaks. Always providing booze and jelly babies—which you knew he adored. 

With Valentine’s Day coming up, and George’s most recent girlfriend having just broke up with him last month, you decided a surprise gift would be an ideal way to help cheer him up. 

You’d stepped into the candy shoppe which was filled to the brim with Valentine’s Day paraphernalia. So much so that it nearly made you gag. 

You looked through the candy, grabbing several packages of jelly babies artificially colored with red and pink hues. You’d also grabbed a few packages of digestive biscuits to stuff in there as well. 

You were looking through the card section of the store when you heard a very familiar voice call your name. 

“George? What’re you doing here?” You asked, clearly taken off guard. 

“I reckon I should ask ye the same,” he said with a gentle smile. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, playing with a card in your hands, “Getting a gift for someone.”

George leaned an arm on the shelf to give himself a cool persona, “And who’s the lucky fellow?”

Your face tinged pink and you looked down at your feet, “Someone,” you managed to whisper. 

He laughed softly, “Do I know him?”

You flitted your eyes to see George’s amused face, “You could say that.”

“Well, any man who likes jelly babies and digestives is good in my book. How long have youse been seein’ each other?”

“We aren’t seeing each other, I’m just buying these for a friend,” you answered. “You never answered my question—why are you here?”

It was George’s turn to blush, “Well, y’see, I have this girl I know, right. And she’s a real good friend to me and I think I might like her, y’know. So I’ve just gone and gotten her a present that she’ll hopefully like and I needed a card to go along with the present. Somethin’ romantic-like.”

“Ahhh, so who’s the lucky lady this time ‘round?” You asked softly. 

George’s face turned even more red and he scratched at the back of his head. His hair had gotten much longer since you’d known him and his natural curls left his ends just above his shoulders. 

“Well—it’s erm, it’s complicated, y’know,” he huffed a laugh, “'cos I’ve known her for a few years now but I haven’t known how to say what I feel for her, y’know?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, “I know exactly what you mean.”

George’s eyes narrowed on yours, “You do?”

You nodded, “I do, I really do.” You stopped yourself for a moment, did you really want to tell George how you felt in the middle of a convenience store?

“George I—“ You began but were cut off by him. 

“I think I love you,” George blurted. 

You heard something fall to the floor, not realizing it had been all of the gifts for George you were holding on to.

“George, I love you too,” You closed the distance and hesitantly touched his arm. 

“Oh thank God, I thought you were talking about someone else,” George laughed as he looked down at you. 

“Who else do you know that has an unrealistic obsession for jelly babies and chocolate digestives?” You said with a laugh.

“Thought you might’ve cloned me without my approval.”

You shook your head before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, which were just as soft and full as you had imagined. 

When you pulled away for a breath, George’s eyes were still closed and his face mirrored your own—pure bliss.

“So what’d you get me?” You asked, breaking the comfortable silence. 

“Well I was walkin’ past this shop in the city centre right, and they had a couple real nice cameras. And I saw this *real* nice one and I dunno, it just y’know,” He paused and pulled a box from the small gift bag in his hand. “This reminded me of you. You said you’d need a new camera soon so I thought I’d help. I hope you like it.”

You could only bring your hands up to cover your mouth in reaction. “George—Oh my God,” You reached a hand out to take the box from his hand, “this is too much, this must’ve been so expensive. Look at you, you’ve gotten me a new camera and all I’ve gotten you is a card and some candy—I can’t accept this, its too much—“

Your ramblings were interrupted by George pressing his lips to yours once again. 

When you pulled away for a second time, George was grinning, “You’ll accept it and I’m sure we can work something out as repayment if you really think it’s necessary—which is completely unnecessary in my opinion.”

Your hand was wrapped around his bicep for stability, “You’re too much you know that?” You asked.

“Obviously, must be why I’m the ‘Quiet Beatle,’” he said with laugh. 

After scooping up the items you’d dropped, you made quick work of paying for them and heading off with George for some more impromptu lip-locking and candy eating.

And if a few photos were snapped of him eating said candy, well they were in good fun and great quality. 

#george harrison #george harrison fic #the beatles #1965 #1966 #george harrison x reader #female reader #george #beatles

[mattsobvimyfav]

For sport (Matthew Sturniolo & Chris Sturniolo)

Pt 3

A.n - hey yall so this is gonna be a very very very slow burn I already have some chapters written so I will probs rapid fire. It will be toxic, there will be angst , smut , everything you can possibly think of. It happens.

t.w. - mention of toxic parents and body image.

Not really proof read either.

——————————————————————————

Y/N’s POV

I pulled into my mother’s house dreading walking in. I turned off my car grabbing my phone and backpack. “How was the first day of classes, Have any homework?” My mother. Straight to the point. I’ve always heard how other mothers radiate love and happiness. Lucky them. Mine radiates anger and uneasiness. “No, it was the first day.” I say grabbing a water out of the fridge and turning towards her. “I dont need the attitude go to your room” I rolled my eyes and walked to my room, grateful I was sent there and did not have my door taken off its hinges… again…

I changed into shorts and a cropped top and opened my phone seeing Matthew still had me added I decided to add him back expecting nothing to come out of it. I was correct in assuming that because after a three-hour nap, I woke up to a couple of snap chats from my streaks and texts from Haylee.

Haylee-

4:32

How is it?

5:20

Did she take your phone again?

6:13

Ill assume that or your sleeping, ill wait and see.

Y/N-

7:38

Noooo i got sent to my room, and took a nap. I’m gonna pick out a cuter outfit tmrw

Oh yeah and mattaddedmeonsnapchat

Haylee-

7:39

WHAT?!! Has lindsy threatened your life yet?

I decided to just FaceTime with her because, if you know me, you know, I hate texting and would much rather just talk on the phone. She immediately picks up as I give her the run down of how he added me when I got in my car and decided she would help me pick out my outfit for the following day.

We had decided since I wore such an unflattering outfit the first day, I’d wear something that showed off my figure a little more. I didn’t waste 12 years of soccer and at the gym to noto show off what I worked so hard to succeed. We stayed on the phone for the next two hours trying to decide on a color for my homecoming dress, our school had homecoming, snowball, a spring formal, and prom. So homecoming was pretty early into the year.

Once we hung up I made myself a quick sandwich before getting in the shower and getting ready for bed, day two of classes is usually when they actually buckle down and start teaching.

I woke up the next morning, washing my face and brushing my teeth before letting my hair hang loose in its natural state, wavy straight basically just a mess, and put on my outfit. I threw on a pair of black gym shark leggings and a forest green cropped crew neck with some blazers. I never was one to wear jeans literally ever so this was about the best you’d get out of me until summer came along. I grabbed my backpack and checked my phone to see Haylee texting me asking what I would want from dunkin. I quickly responded and threw my phone into my waistband walking out to see my mom in her usual spot on the recliner.

“I’m going to school.” I stood in the entry of the living room looking at her “Are you sure your skinny enough for that outfit?” I scoffed rolling my eyes and walking out of the house. My mom was a real charmer you see, I was skinny. I was very fit. I worked really hard since I was a bigger kid and my mom would make fun of me. I let her words roll off my back now knowing I did look good and I did not need her to tell me whether I did or didnt.

I plugged my phone in and started to listen to the neighborhood as I peeled off heading to school, I was about fifteen minutes early as I parked next to Haylee turning off my car and hoping into hers.

“Good morning my peach” I said as I grabbed the bagel she had got for me.

“Good morning, what is on the schedule for today. Leaving early?” I shook my head no, “This is when Ill be assigned work so Ill stay late for the week and friday we will leave early” she nodded as we sat on our phones finishing our breakfast. We had lost track of time, the bell rining snapping us back to reality. We walked in with our bags and drinks in hand.

“Dad’s tonight?” she asked as I grabbed my first two classes books and notebooks out.

“Yeah. mom basically called me fat this morning so I’ll be there if you wanna come” She smilled nodding before pulling me a pencil out of my locker placing it on my books and walking away. She knew me well enough to know I would forget it.

Math was easy per usual. I accidentally took a nap the second period of english. That was okay though because that meant it was time for lunch. I grabbed my dollar bills and made my way to the vending machine getting a bubbly drink and a bag of chips. I walked into the lunchroom taking a seat at my friend, Olivia’s table.

“Y/N we missed you this summer.” She said wrapping her arms around me

“Yeah squirt” Olivias boyfriend followed behind, Nate, They had been dating since the first week of freshmen year and I loved them both deeply.

“I know, me and Haylee went up and down the whole state this summer” I smiled before opening my bag of chips. Lunch was filled with talking nonsense and giggling at each other until the bell rang. Olivia gave me a hug before walking away, she was like a literal ray of sunshine over me.

I took my seat placing my books down for my last four periods of the day as Matthew walked in just as the bell rang and shot me a smirk, I rolled my eyes at him before shoving my stuff to the side and sending Haylee a quick text asking to go shopping after school.

“Alright class, Since its the begging of your senior year I decided to make this assignment easy for you and you will be working in partners. I hated school even more when partners were involved. Our teacher started reading off names once he finally got to me “Y/N and….” He said glancing around the room “Matthew!” I immediately head planted into the desk annoyed, I had gone three successful years in none of his classes and keeping out of Lindays b-line of terror.

Matthew pulled up a chair next to me “Alright, I dont want to do any work this period so I say we do it tonight and Ill just text you” I agreed seeing as not the smalled part of me wanted to participate either. “I dont know what time Ill be home, me and Haylee are going shopping” I said looking down at my phone “Shopping for what” He asks “Hoco dress” I kept scrolling through the online shop as he nodded looking back at his phone,

The bell finally ring sending us to gym, I asked my gym teacher if I could go grab some work I needed to complete from my shop and she let me go, that was a lie, there just wasnt a single part of me wanting to go to gym.

I sat with Mr. Reynolds for the remainder of gym while he questioned me on the state of my eye, the left only a little yellow still and the right still bruised. The bell rang singnaling I had to head to biology. I said goodbye to my favorite teacher and made my way to class.

Walking in I noticed Mattheew already sitting, I decided to take this time to really look at him. He was wearing a black T-shirt and Haylee was not lying one of his amrs completely covered in patch work. He had on black cargo pants, his hair messy, and his stubble still growing in.

“You know its rude to stare” Matt said snapping me back to reality taking a seat a couple over from him “In your dreams” Just as I thought one sturniolo per class was enough I was bombarded to see Christopher walking in sitting inbetween me and Matt. I didnt dislike chris. He was funny enough and nice to me whenever we spoke, which was quiet alot because we were in the same shop “Hey pickle. Heard about the party. If you want Ill be the shit out of that guy” Chris said smirking at me. I giggled at him at the fact he still calls me pickle only Mr. Reynolds and Chris do that. “Its fine Chris. Ill be okay” Matt stared at us as me and Chris talked.

Once the class was over I started packing up my stuff “Hey you going to Homecoming?” Chris asked as I was putting my bag over my shoulder “Yeah, why?” I looked at him confused. “Go with me. I dont have a date so it should be fun” I took a minute to think before figuring who would it hurt “Sure Ill text you the color i pick out later” He gave me a quick side hug as he ran off towards the doors. “Ill text you tonight” was all Matt said before also walking out the door. I stood there waiting for Haylee because I couldnt possibly wait to tell her I had found a homecoming date. Even if it was only chris he was one of the more attractive guys in our grade so I was happy my pictures would come out good.

Tag -

@worldlxvlys

#matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo

[jvngkook97]

Haii! Can you make a fluffy fanfic where Jungkook and the OC are both idols, and OC walks in BTS’s practice room but she catches him simping over fan edits of her? Vise versa is fine as well. It’s perfectly fine if you can’t lol it’s a pretty cheesy request 😭 Tysm (p.s I love your writings)

Work of Art

pairing; idol!jeon jungkook x idol!reader, female!reader

genre; hint of angst, mainly fluff, established relationship, age gap au - koo is 24 and reader is 29, BTS hasn’t been in the game for too long, but long enough

warnings; cursing, implied smut, koo is in love with reader to the point of being a simp but reader actually reciprocates his feelings, so not really a simp?? just straight whipped tbh tho I hate that word so he’s just really really head over heels for reader ok. also reader has CURVES so we getting a handsy koo ofc

rating; 18+

w/c; 2,400

a/n; so sorry for the wait anon, but ty for the request. it was fun to write! made a little twist to it, hope you don’t mind and still enjoy! feedback and love is always appreciated <3

It all started with a simple request from you.

You asked if he could draw you a tattoo he believed would fit your vibe, beliefs, interests, personality, etc. Knowing how amazing he was at his side hobby of drawing, his main job being one of seven of the record breaking Kpop group, BTS.

So, it should’ve been fairly simple, right?

Wrong.

When it came to you, it needed to be nothing but perfection. Anything below that just shouldn’t exist in this world. To put it simply, he was truly, madly, deeply, in love with you.

Y/N Y/L/N. A name known throughout the world long before BTS came into the scene, with you being five years his senior. Someone he looked up to during his debut days and even when he was just a trainee.

You captured his heart and he never wanted it back. He wasn’t ashamed to say, he was whipped for you.

So imagine to his surprise when you requested a meeting with them shortly after they first debuted, wanting to work on a collab with them. You wanted to work with them. Jimin had to catch him from falling on his ass with how overwhelmed he was with the news. The others just rolling their eyes and laughing, very used to the obsession the youngest had over you. However, they never believed that you would actually come to love the golden maknae yourself.

Of course, it wasn’t love at first sight. At least, not for you.

You leaned over the bathroom sink, applying the last layer of your favorite lipstick with a smack of your lips, rubbing them together. Closing the cap on the tube, you shoved it back into your white Coach clutch. Hands smoothing down your outfit of choice that matched your clutch in color, not wanting to see a wrinkle anywhere. You fluffed your naturally long, wavy, hair with your fingers, and fixed your bangs.

Then you closed your eyes, and breathed.

“You got this, y/n. You’ve done this countless times with many other big names in the industry. You are a fucking force of nature. And anyone would be lucky to work with you.”

Opening your eyes after your ritualistic self pep talk you do before every meeting, you rolled your shoulders back, staring at yourself in the mirror, and poised with confidence.

“Let’s do this shit.”

Jungkook wishes that he shared the same amount of grace and confidence that you did in that fateful meeting, but then he would be lying.

It was his fifth time standing back up from sitting down around the ridiculously elongated, black and freshly cleaned, shiny table in the middle of the conference room they would be meeting you at.

He wiped his hands on the back of his pants trying to get rid of the sweat that didn’t seem to go away, and opted for just walking laps around the table since he obviously wasn’t going to be able to sit still anytime soon.

Namjoon rubbed his forehead and let out an exhausted sigh, feeling himself somehow get even more tired just from watching the youngest do laps around him. The boys all just flew back into the states from having been on tour for six months. He wanted nothing more than to be relaxing with a nice book in bed, or admiring an abstract work of art in some random museum.

But no, due to the meeting you requested a week ago, they now all gathered at, he checked his watch yet again, 7:30 in the morning to both meet you for the first time and start the process of collaborating on a song. Don’t get him wrong, he was overjoyed with the new project, he just wished he had more time to relax before said project came around. But alas, that’s the job of being an idol.

The rest of the members tried their best to ignore Jungkook and continue on with their own shared conversations around the table. It wasn’t until Jungkook went around the table for what seemed to be the 20th time that morning did Namjoon finally speak up and say something.

“JK.” He stated simply, making the youngest stop in his tracks.

“Yes?” He looked at his leader with wide doe eyes, still feeling the caffeine from the three cups of coffee he downed earlier, jitters kicking in full force. He hoped it would make him more alert, but not this much. He could literally feel his blood vibrating within his body. Shit.

“You need to relax. Everything will be fine. You’re going to run a hole into the floor with how many times you’ve done laps around this table.” He chuckled humorously, “You should drink some water.” He suggested, trying to find a way to ease his nerves before the meeting started.

He grunted, poking his tongue out to mindlessly play with his lip piercing, before throwing his hands up in frustration and plopping down in the chair in between Taehyung and Jimin for, hopefully, the last time that morning. Resting his elbows on the table, and putting his head in his hands, palms rubbing his eyes mercilessly. The make up crew would be devastated upon witnessing the action, he’s sure. For a second, the only sound that could be heard within the room was the loud ‘thunk’ of Jungkook’s forehead hitting the top of the table in defeat, eyes closed, and tattooed arms splayed out on the sides of his head. He’s finally giving up. Now, to just relax until y/n comes in–

A knock on the door ceased all conversation and movement within the conference room. In sync, regardless of how anyone was feeling that morning, they all stood up and stood in a straight line facing the door that would inevitably be opening at any second. Posture straight and hands clasped in front of them elegantly. Namjoon took to the middle of the line, slightly stepping forward as leader, ready to greet their guest of honor.

The door opened, and there you were in all your beautiful glory.

You strutted into that conference room, demanding your presence be known to every male in the room and Jungkook swore he saw a near blinding glow radiate from your figure. The members all shared side eye glances, and they all swore they saw literal hearts in Jungkook’s eyes. An obvious smitten look encompassing his face without his knowing. Cause if he did know, he would’ve backtracked in sheer embarrassment over the fact.

You came to a stop a few feet in front of the group, the door now shut behind you to give you all some privacy. Namjoon’s formal instincts kicked in, as he led his members in an introduction they’ve done many times now.

“2, 3! Bang!” Namjoon stated in a semi loud voice.

“Tan!” The other six members said in unison without pause behind him.

“Hello, we are BTS.” Everyone, including Namjoon, said. All making the same hand gesture as well as bowing respectfully to you in greeting.

You found it extremely cute and endearing, watching them all behave so politely. You decided to bow back respectfully in response and announced yourself in kind.

“Very lovely to meet you all, my name is y/n y/l/n and I’m very humbled that you all agreed to this meeting. I look forward to working with you.” You spoke in a normal, yet equally as formal manner. You then gestured to the table behind the still standing members with a smile.

“Please, have a seat. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting for so long, traffic can be ugly in the city of angels.”

Los Angeles. One of the world’s most famous cities. The city is internationally known for being the home of the rich and famous, Hollywood, the main home of major entertainment companies, bad traffic, ethnically diverse, and the second-largest city in America.

Or as you like to call it, home.

Each member smiled in response and took they’re respective seats that they already decided on prior to your arrival. Or so they thought. Jungkook unexpectedly stealing Jimin’s chair that was closest to yours besides Namjoon’s who was on the opposite side of the table, where you were now seated at the head of the table.

Hands folded comfortably in front of you on the table, you locked eyes individually with each member. Jungkook’s being the last pair on your list. He knows for a fact that he stopped breathing in fear of accidentally doing or saying something that would make you see him as bad in your eyes. Plastering on his signature bunny toothed smile, you couldn’t help but stare adoringly at the youngest member.

You could tell he was nervous, his leg subtly bouncing underneath the table, not enough to cause a distraction, but for you to notice being at the head. So, you thought you would try and help ease his nerves by placing your hand on top of his folded ones that mirrored your own a second ago, giving them a light squeeze before you let go and directed your statement to the entire table in front of you.

“Shall we begin?”

And the rest, as they say, was history.

Back to present time, Jungkook sat on the white leather couch located next door to their rehearsal practice room, in the group break room. Laptop perched open on his lap, he leaned towards the screen as his eyes widened by the minute.

"Holy shit." he quietly exhaled into the silent room, definitely not wanting to gain the attention of anyone. Not when it could potentially make them curious as to what he was currently looking at, or rather what he was ogling at.

The answer? You. Of course. Or rather, a very different version of you. Created by one of your many fans on the internet. A version that made a not so subtle tent start to form within the confines of his baggy Nike sweats he wore to rehearsals today. Now thankful that he didn't choose the skinny jeans, where it would've been very noticeable to the eye.

Don't get him wrong, he loves you. He loves every single inch of you. From your head down to your perfectly, curvaceous, body that never failed to turn him on just thinking about it. His hands twitched at the idea of being able to worship and caress your bare body that would willingly be splayed out on your shared bed, with your most intimate parts of you exposed for the pleasure of his eyes only.

He let out a low, guttural, groan at the mental image in his head, wanting nothing more than to relieve himself. But, he had a job to do. One that was made by you, so he needed to get his shit together, and fast. You were expecting him back home soon and he still wasn't done with the sketch that was almost finished. He just needed some last minute inspiration to finish what he would call, his first masterpiece.

And this? This was exactly what he didn't know he needed in order to do so. Damn, were there some creative and talented people out there. The way they paid attention to even the littlest details, from the moles scattered across your skin like constellations meant for him to discover. To the way they captured your eyes and face in an expression of a pure blissed out state, as if they were the ones hovering of your body in the dead of night, where rays of moonlight that shone through the see through curtain were the only source of light needed.

He should be pissed that others envisioned you in such a way, yet he couldn't, because it was art.

Because you were a work of art.

And unlike these fans of yours, he was the one that was able to see you in your most vulnerable state. And that alone, made him smile to himself in pure happiness. Cause how the fuck was he so lucky and worthy of your love to begin with? He'll never know, but he'll spend every day with you like it was his last, not wanting to take a single second with you in vain.

You were his diva, his princess, his queen, his muse, his goddess.

But most importantly?

You were his wife, and the mother of his children.

Life was fucking good.

"Damn, I look sexy as fuck." You leaned over his shoulder from your position of standing behind the couch, squinting at the open laptop to verify that what you were seeing was true. It was. "Is this what I look like from your point of view when we have sex?" Tilting your head sideways, you looked at it from a different angle, thoroughly entranced by the lewd fan-made drawing of yourself.

If he thought your ego was bad before, it was skyrocketing through the roof and into the solar system now, he thought with mirth.

Smirking to himself, he realized that if he got caught in the same act when he was younger, he would be freaking the fuck out by now. Having been with you for years now, however, it only fueled the fire that was insatiable within him. He looked at you from the corner of his eyes, and pushed the laptop off his lap, setting it onto the coffee table in front of him. Leaning back against the couch, he gestured for you to sit on his lap.

You sensually walked around the couch towards him, swaying your curvy hips seductively as you bit your bottom lip between your teeth. His eyes locked onto the sway of your hips in a trance, the tent growing in his pants by the minute.

You sat on his lap, legs on either side of his hips. His hands instantly went to grip the junction between your hips and thighs with a vice grip that made you inwardly groan when he ground his bottom half into yours deliciously.

"Yeah, that drawing of you is sexy." he stated the fact aloud.

"But you, baby?" he said with a lust filled gaze, hands now trailing along your various curves with a vengeance.

"You're a fucking masterpiece." he whispered into your slightly open mouth, before kissing you hungrily.

If his body was a paintbrush, he created colors on your skin like you were the canvas.

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