#i've been writing fic for almost 20 years you would think i would have more confidence in my ability to write by now

[jungkookschin]

older

think i need someone older, just a little bit colder, take the weight off your shoulders

synopsis: all your friends say you're delusional for thinking you have a chance with jungkook, the handsome older man you've known since forever, but you just can't seem to let him go. word count: 18k

pairing: older!jungkook x afab reader

genre: age gap au (seven years), social media au!!!, childhood acquaintance au, fluff, comedy, angsty, outta pocket, alludes to sexual innuendoes warnings: character death (not jk or y/n), cursing, nudity,

author's note: i am so overwhelmed with the support i've gotten for this fic!! obviously this isn't going to be the best written fanfic, but i genuinely enjoyed writing it!! and yes, there will be a part 2!

PART 1 | PART 2

“Girl.. be for real. He doesn’t want you.” Beomgyu’s opinion bounces off your bedroom wall but shoots into your heart like an arrow; you subtly glare at him through your vanity mirror. Though, the Snorlax plush headband and unblended concealer in triangles under your eyes is far less than intimidating. 

“Okay, fuck you-”

Beomgyu shrugs. “You can wear all the makeup in the world and you would never get his attention,” he nonchalantly utters, not caring enough to even look at you while he addresses you. You pout, sulking as Beomgyu’s very real assertion settles into your system. 

Jeon Jungkook would never see you that way. 

He adores you because you’ve been acquainted since childhood- your parents being close friends. He’s seven years older than you and has witnessed you blossom from a childish boy-crazy kid to an equally boy-crazy adult, the same way you’ve seen him go from a prepubescent pre teen to a hot, older, rich, man. 

“Look, and that’s not to say that you’re not pretty or whatever because you are pretty and a lot of guys want you, but Jungkook… he’s just too old for you,” he offers you an empathetic smile before attempting to assuage the petulance in the air.  “Honestly, I would be even more concerned if he responded to your advances because that would be.. hella weird.”

Beomgyu’s claims often transform your brain into a philosophical battlefield. Would it really be all that inappropriate for Jungkook to see you as a woman? An age gap of seven years holds no real significance if you were both in your 20’s, right? But does Jungkook knowing you since childhood completely nullify any chance you have with him?

“Oh fuck off with that. I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m already 19 years old, almost 20-”

“The delusion is never escaping this one…” Beomgyu mumbles. He finally looks up from his phone when you spring up from your chair and stomp over to him. You hold your manicured claw up to scratch his face, but Beomgyu grabs your wrist before you can do any damage. 

“You’re such a horse girl, don’t try to scratch me- wait are you crying?” Beomgyu’s gaze melts after noticing the tears accumulating in your waterline. 

“No!” you respond, the tip of your nose becoming slightly red. You raise your sleeve to wipe your nose. 

“Wait Y/N! You’re going to get makeup all over my hoodie!-” 

Beomgyu halts when he sees your unblended concealer transfer onto his very white and expensive hoodie. His lips form into a straight line while he stares at you blankly. 

“Sorry?” you squeak. He gestures dramatically- blinking at you like a pissed off owl.

…

…

…

You bolt to the door, sprinting from Beomgyu before he quickly follows in pursuit of you. You run through the house, tumbling down the stairs frantically, and when you turn the corner, you stub your toe against the wall, stumbling over and falling flat on your face. 

You shriek in pain, holding onto your toe. Your eyes immediately tear up, sobbing through the pain blistering in your toe. And for some reason, Beomgyu is nowhere to be found. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” 

You freeze when none other than Jungkook pops out of his room, completely shirtless with nothing but gray sweats on. His abs are literally ripping in your face and his entire sleeve of beautiful tattoos are practically mocking you- especially the mask one. It's laughing in your face because it gets to be on Jungkook’s body and you don’t.  

You begin to cry even harder. No physical pain would ever compare to the pain of not being able to have him. 

“Whoa, whoa, what happened?” Jungkook kneels down and takes your foot in his large hands. 

Thank God you got your toes done the day before. His thumbs press into the balls of your feet while he carefully inspects your toes. “Not fractured, I think. Think you can get up, baby?”

Baby. He’s been calling you that stupid nickname since forever. That’s what  everybody used to call you when you were younger; you were the youngest of all your parents’ friends’ kids after all. But for some reason, the nickname only seemed to stick with Jungkook. He has this horrible tendency (not really) of doting on you, taking care of you, and spoiling you to oblivion. 

You sniffle, shaking your head. 

Jungkook’s handsome face crinkles into a subtle laughter, an amused expression etched onto his features.  He takes his pointer finger and thumb, pinching your nostrils and wiping your snot onto his sweats. 

You smile sheepishly, butterflies erupting in your stomach. 

This man will literally touch your feet and boogers as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. That has to mean something, right? 

Jungkook scoops you into his arms bridal style and takes you into his room. 

Why Jungkook has a room in your house is beyond you. It seems like he was always over doing some errands for your parents- not that you were complaining, of course. He sets you down on his bed and uses his large palm to smooth over the frizzy hairs that are sticking up. 

“Just stay here for a while. I’ll take you to Urgent Care if it hurts in a few hours.”

Truth be told, that shit didn’t even hurt anymore, but there’s no way you were going to pass this opportunity up. You nuzzle into Jungkook’s sheets, his masculine smell absolutely amplifying your will to live. His cologne smells so good, the musky elegance of his scent making you dizzy as you bask in his essence. 

Anyways! Looks like you’re canceling your plans with Beomgyu. Apparently, he already knows that. 

Shutting your phone off, your eyes drift towards Jungkook, owlishly blinking at the computer code projected onto his large monitor. He’s got everything going for him: rich, hot, smart, successful. You want to cry again. “Jungkook, can I ask you something?”

His focus remains on the screen, eyes still boring onto the monitor before he absentmindedly responds, “Sup?”

“What would you do if a bear, a lion, and a gorilla just walked into this room right now?”

Jungkook’s fingers pause, hovering above his light up keyboard. He swivels around in his chair, his handsome features crinkling in evident confusion. 

“I’m serious. What would you do if a bear, a lion, and a gorilla showed up in your room? If you aren’t able to answer the question, then I don’t really know if I feel safe here,” you elaborate as you gesture with your hands, the bratty tone laced in your voice attempting to guilt trip him for not having a backup plan for this very specific specific situation. 

“Easy. I would feed you to them and then escape,” Jungkook bites back a cheeky smile  before spinning around and returning to his work. 

You gasp dramatically, pouting before you pull his covers over your head. 

Jungkook hums to himself, laughing at how obnoxious you can be.

Later on, another question is conjured in your imaginative little mind, and Jungkook’s lip twitches when he hears your classic Jungkook, I have another question. 

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think you could put me on with your piercing guy?”

Jungkook swivels around in his chair once again. “Thought you already had your ears and belly pierced.”

“It’s not enough. I want more. Wanna be like you,” you murmur, eyes settling on his five piercings decorating his left lobe, the one in his eyebrow, and the two on his lips. 

“It is enough,” he immediately counters, “You shouldn’t put holes in your body.”

You cock a brow at him.  “I know you’re not talking.”

Jungkook’s lip twitches upwards at your cheekiness. “Yea, I’ll send you his instagram. Tell him you’re with me and he’ll squeeze you in as soon as possible.”

-

“And I told Soobin to not piss in the water bottle, but he did anyway. And guess what? I almost drank from the same water bottle. Can you believe that? I was so fucking pissed at him I almost threw his piss back on him…” Yeonjun can tangibly feel that you’re not all there, your eyes occasionally drifting off- so his eyes follow your train of vision until-

“Oh c’mon Y/N!” Yeonjun’s fingers release the grip on the gym equipment, causing the weights to thunderously slam back into place. You yelp, flinching a bit before you swat Yeonjun’s biceps. 

“You scared me you bitch!”

“You scare me! And what the fuck are you wearing? What kind of basic bitch wears a pink set to the gym?”

You gasp dramatically. “You did not just say that.”

“And stop drooling over Jungkook! He doesn’t want you-mmmphh!” You clasp your palm over Yeonjun’s mouth mid-sentence, your boba eyes glaring up at him. You release your hand, pouting at him dramatically when you feel you’ve tortured him enough. 

Hands on your hips, you continue glowering at him and he gladly reciprocates the scowl on your lips. 

Yeonjun acquiesces from the glare-off almost immediately, too entirely soft to hold a grudge against his best friend. “Did you only agree to come to the gym with me to see Jungkook?” he asks, sincere disappointment laced in his words. 

You immediately soften, disheartened to hear the crestfallenness in his tone. You shake your head at the notion. “No- I wouldn’t do that. I swear he’s here by coincidence,” you explain thoughtfully, “I’m sorry for being an inattentive friend. It wasn’t intentional. I just get distracted whenever I see him. I’m sorry.” Your eyes return to Yeonjun’s who smiles knowingly at you. He opens his arms, offering an embrace and you gladly accept, hugging all the problems away. 

“You’re such a lovestruck girl,” Yeonjun teases. 

“I can’t help it. He just looks so good. Look at his arms and his tattoos- oh Yeonjun, I’ll never get over him. What should I do?”

“We just have to kill him. That’s the only option left,” your eyes meet his, his empty gaze boring into your skull before you both burst into giggles. 

“You’re right. That is the only option left.” You take a step back to stretch your arms, releasing the tension in your limbs until you sense a very familiar walking pattern approaching you.

“Hey Y/N,” Jungkook casually greets, creeping behind you to wrap a single arm around your shoulder. He pulls you closer to him from behind, nonchalantly nuzzling his forehead into the back of your head. You use both your hands to grip onto his thick forearm. “Um, hey Kook.”

Yeonjun bites back laughter, watching how you practically become hysterical at Jungkook’s casual gesture. 

Jungkook uses his vacant hand to dap up Yeonjun- over your head. “What’s up Yeonjun?” Jungkook grins. Yeonjun reciprocates the friendly greeting. “Hey, how’ve you been?  You looked great with the tricep presses.”

Jungkook beams at that. “Oh, you saw? I’ve been bulking so I’m trying to go super heavy with the weights.”

“I can tell. You look fucking enormous,” Yeonjun comments. 

Jungkook immediately dismisses the compliment with a wave. “Don’t say that. You look good too…”

Tuning out of the interaction, your brain begins to malfunction when you realize that Jungkook is extremely familiar with all of your friends. You definitely aren’t the most social person, often opting to napping in your cozy bed instead of going into the harsh, unforgiving world, but you are lucky enough to have great friends like Yunjin, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, and Jungkook knows all of them. That had to be indicative of something deeper, right? Perhaps his underlying affection for you? Or a sign that he was possibly in love with you? 

“What are you giggling about?” Jungkook teases, gently using his vacant hand to ruffle your hair. 

You crimson intensely. “Nothing,” you sheepishly respond, skitterishly ducking under Jungkook’s arm to scurry behind Yeonjun, using your friend as a protective shield. 

“What’s up with her?” Jungkook asks Yeonjun, to which Yeonjun feigns ignorance. “Not a clue.”

“Well then, I’m gonna head out. I’m actually staying at Y/N’s for a bit because her parents are out of town. Can you believe I still have to babysit her?” Jungkook says to Yeonjun, giving you a teasing glance. 

“It’s just in case someone stalks me or tries to kill me! I don’t need to be babysat,” you emphasize, scowling at Jungkook and he can’t help but to reach out and pinch your cheek. The casual gesture sends you over the moon. 

“Whatever you say. You need a ride home though? I can wait so Yeonjun doesn’t have to waste gas on you,” Jungkook suggests, eyes darting towards yours then Yeonjun’s to detect any traces of reticence or hesitation in his features. 

You do the same, glancing towards Yeonjun who actually sports a look of indifference. You playfully link your arms with Yeonjun’s before sending Jungkook a downward smile. “It’s okay Kook.  Wanna spend time with my friend today.”

A touched gasp leaves Yeonjun’s lips as he holds his hand over his heart, gesticulating dramatically to convey his surprise that you would choose him over the man you’ve been salivating over the past thirty minutes. 

Jungkook has no protests about your preference. “Alright Y/N, see you at home. See you Yeonjun,” he gives you a little squeeze before he departs. 

Yeonjun waits until Jungkook is out of ear shot to provoke you, mocking you in an obnoxious, high pitched voice, “I don’t need to be babysat! You’re such a baby- but thank you for choosing me, you know.”

You tilt your head, eyebrows pinching before you subtly frown at Yeonjun’s comment. “Of course I would choose you. You’re my friend.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world- because it kinda is. Bros over hoes any day. 

Yeonjun’s lips quirk up at the sentiment, “Oh how touching, thank you so much for gracing me with your presence, my queen.”

-

Jungkook thinks you can be such a princess sometimes, especially when you drag your feet back into the house, a sour expression consuming your pretty features. Particularly receptive to your emotional fluctuations, he doesn’t hesitate to ask you what’s up. 

He leans against the kitchen counter, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as his eyes settle on your moping figure. “Who made you sad? Bring them to me right now,” he muses. 

You pause, letting your light green gym bag (with little Snorlax’s decorated all over it) fall to the floor with a thud before gazing at him with a vacuous expression. “Why are you dressed up?” you point towards his work attire- a simple white button up and slacks. The buttons on his dress shirt are undone and messy, giving you access to his chest and it makes you want to roll around on the floor and cry. His slacks are tight- accentuating his long, muscular legs and you decide that you’d be okay with dying only if  you were suffocated between his thighs. 

“Had a work call,” he responds, indifference laced in his voice, “Now who made you sad? Want oppa to handle it for you?” he teases, releasing a breathless laugh at the way your nose scrunches up in disgust. 

Nonetheless, you spill everything to Jungkook- because you always spill everything to Jungkook and because you trust him with everything in you. He makes you feel safe. Plopping yourself down on the seat by the dining counter, you wordlessly slide your phone across the counter. Jungkook effortlessly stops your phone with a single hand, his eyes scanning across the array of text messages popping up on the screen. 

“Not this guy again,” he mutters under his breath, gauging the situation. 

“I know!” you concede, “Wish he would leave me alone- but I feel like I have to respond.”

The text messages were from none other than your ex-boyfriend, telling you how much he misses you, how he’ll do better for you, and every other generic I want you back text in the book.  

There are various reasons why you feel obligated to respond to him: (a) the whole breakup was a mess and (b) it was your fault. You were in a long-term, committed relationship with your high school sweetheart until you recognized your exponentially growing feelings for Jungkook. The guilt of breaking your ex’s heart haunts you- his crying, tear-stained face often popping up in your mind when you feel shitty, making you feel even shittier.  Though you were no longer emotionally tied to him you do feel obligated to give him closure, or at the very least respond to his text messages.  

But you’ve had this conversation with your ex numerous times. How much closure does one need in order to move on?

“You don’t have to respond to him,” Jungkook’s sonorous voice pulls you from the thoughts plaguing your mind. “You’ve already told him how you feel,” Jungkook is the rational force in your life, always tugging you towards the right direction, especially when your susceptible mind feels the need to please everyone and everything.

“I know,” you sigh, “I just feel bad. He was my first kiss, first boyfriend. It feels like I just abandoned him.”

A look of contemplation blankets Jungkook’s handsome face, evident by the way his fingers trace over his chin and lips. “That’s true,” he eventually asserts, “but no one as young as you should stay in a relationship out of obligation.” He approaches you and settles himself down on the vacant seat beside you. “Actually Y/N, I’m proud of you for building up the courage to let him go. It would be more painful if you forced yourself to stay.” 

You purse your lips and nod, allowing yourself to enjoy the sensation of Jungkook comfortingly rubbing your back. “t’s just sad. I used to love him.”

“I know Y/N, but sometimes you just have to start living in the present instead of the past. If you respond you’re just going to give him false hope. Just let it be,” he articulates, using prudence to assuage you.

You nod, craning your head to sustain eye contact with him, making the conversation feel all the more intimate and personal, “How would you feel if you were him? I mean- if your girlfriend broke up with you and you were still like- in love- with her?”

He tilts his head, thoroughly contemplating the question because he takes your feelings seriously, and he wants to give you the right answers. “If my girlfriend loses feelings then she loses feelings, there’s nothing I can do about it. I definitely wouldn’t beg for her back, I’d go out and make a lot of money instead,” he smiles, “But I wouldn’t know how it feels. I’ve never been dumped before,” he adds. 

“Seriously?” you interject, not believing that Jungkook has never been dumped in his 26 years of living. “What about that one girl you brought to Thanksgiving Dinner a few years ago? What happened to her?”

“Ahh her?” he somewhat grimaces at the thought of his ex-girlfriend, “She was getting a little too suffocating so I let her go. She was really pissed off- tried to key my car and shit,” he states. 

You gasp. His ex-girlfriend was so sweet to you- she even bought you a Snorlax plush keychain. But you can imagine Jungkook trying to hold her back while she jostles out of his grip, trying to key his car- his baby. “No way? If she ever comes back, just let me know. I’ll throw hands for you,” you enunciate, showing him your fists to which Jungkook just scoffs in amusement. 

“Yea, I’ll definitely call you,” he remarks sarcastically before getting up, “So are you good, baby?” he asks, casually resting his hand on your shoulder, and you nod. 

“‘M good. I’m not gonna respond to him.”

Jungkook’s lips quirk up at that. “Good.”

-

 Jungkook is livid. You can tell by the way he spam calls you even after you repeatedly reject his calls. You quietly sneak out of the lecture hall and answer his call once you’ve reached the hallway. 

“What? I’m in class,” you impatiently mutter. 

“You’re fucking kidding, aren’t you?” he scoffs through the phone, “I canceled your appointment, by the way.”

The color drains from your face once you realize what this is about. “He told you?”

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you thought you could go through me to get your nipples pierced! I can’t believe you thought I would let you do that!”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” you whisper shout into his phone, “I’m an adult, I can do whatever I want!”

“No you’re not. Baby, you can’t even drink,” he reiterates, a little more calmly this time. 

“Who cares? You’re not my mom! I can do whatever I want. Even if it’s through someone else!” you bark back. The silence that ensues intimidates you.

“Baby.” His voice is low, and it’s kinda hot but you don’t pay attention to it because of how angry you are at him trying to monopolize your actions.

“I’m not a fucking baby anymore so stop calling me that!” 

“You’re not a baby?” Jungkook laughs lowly into the phone, as if the claim itself is ridiculous.

“‘m not.” He can practically hear your pout through the phone.

“You can’t even get on a plane by yourself.”

You gasp at Jungkook’s low blow. That was one time. A month ago, you took a flight to Vegas for EDC to meet up with Yunjin, who flew out the day before you. But you had no clue how to check your bag in, and were far too intimidated to go through the security check by yourself. What if they thought your ID was fake? Or worse what if they sent you to jail? There was just no way you could go through by yourself.

You remember the way Jungkook shook his head at your preposterous notions but nonetheless still agreed to take care of you.

So Jungkook drove you to the airport, carried your bag for you, weighed it, and checked it in. He also stood with you for the entire thirty minute wait at security and only left the airport when called and told him you were waiting at the departure gate.

You don’t respond, and he takes it as an opportunity to further his point. 

“That’s what I thought. End of story. You’re not getting it done.” 

He hangs up and you blissfully sigh. This literally takes feminism back 32904098 years, but you kind of love a man that can put you in your place. 

-

Jungkook goes to the gym everyday solely so he can beat the shit out of Taehyung and Mingyu, who get off on tormenting him for his extremely complex and profound feelings for you. 

Hooking up to the bluetooth speaker and blaring the sound of police sirens, going “Ayo! He’s right here, officer!” every time they walk past a policeman- they even go as far as putting handcuffs on him while he sleeps- hooting and howling in laughter when Jungkook wakes with his hands restrained.  

Initially, it made his intestines twist and turn with pure guilt, guilt about harboring feelings for you, the little girl who used to prance around his room and do cartwheels in futile attempts to impress him. 

His friends make him feel like shit, but they’re his friends for a reason. 

“Hey, so how’s Y/N?” Mingyu casually asks, sinking into the welcoming leather of Jungkook’s sleek, black sofa. He props his feet up on Jungkook’s coffee table-  mahogany brown and custom designed to suit Jungkook’s meticulous and elegant taste. 

Jungkook narrows his eyes at the nonchalance of the comment, half expecting Taehyung to pop out of nowhere in policeman cosplay, ready to put him in cuffs. “Why’re you asking?”

When Mingyu detects the hostility blanketing Jungkook’s features, his jaw drops in realization of the reality of the situation. “Wait.. you don’t take us seriously when we tease you about that shit, right?”

Jungkook cocks his head in confusion, settling beside Mingyu, chopsticks in hand as he blows on his ramen. “I mean, kinda. I feel guilty about it.”

Mingyu eyes his friend for a while, and Jungkook slowly turns his head towards Mingyu when he feels lasers boring holes into his skull. “What, asshole?”

“Ah, sorry man. I didn’t know it bothered you. I kind of thought it was a given that you and Y/N are cute together. Didn’t know the age gap bothered you.”

Oh. 

Jungkook pauses, setting his sizzling ramen back into the plastic container instead of into his mouth, and Mingyu feels the need to further elaborate. 

“I mean, you’re always helping her out, taking care of her,  that’s pretty cute.”

Jungkook blinks at Mingyu, raking his tattooed hand through his hair. “Doesn’t that just make me look like a dumbass?” he mutters, before letting out a bitter, light-hearted laughter at the reality of his assertion.  

His emotions for you run deep and intricate, but one thing remains unequivocally clear: he doesn't do these things because he expects something in return. That would be selfish. Obligation doesn't factor into his decisions either. Jungkook doesn't subscribe to such motivations when it comes to his personal life. He views it as unnecessary and cumbersome—except when it involves you. Whether it's looking after you, lending you money, helping you with homework, or driving you to the airport, he does it all because he genuinely loves you.

He acknowledges the peculiarity of his natural inclination to care for you. In the past, he's ended numerous relationships due to girls he found excessively clingy, suffocating, or overbearing, all attributes he easily uses to describe you- but he lives for that shit when it comes to you.

Mingyu’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What? That girl loves you, Jungkook. If she does good in school and gets rich, you’d be bathing in that shit,” Mingyu jokes, causing Jungkook to sputter out laughter at the absurd thought. 

“Right now though?” Mingyu continues, “She wouldn’t be able to change your tire or some shit, but she brings you this sense of peace, and that’s something every guy needs in his girl.” 

Jungkook pauses at that. 

-

Jungkook is abruptly awoken by the blaring sound of his ringtone. Groggily, he reaches for his phone on the nightstand, eyes barely open. 

You, the only person that would call him at 3 in the morning, and you the only person he would answer at 3 in the morning.

Babysitting is the last word he would use to explain why he’s at your house right now. He’s at your house because, well,  he would do anything for you, even if you aren’t aware of the lengths he would go to keep you satiated and happy. 

He’s aware that men find you charming for your ditzy and oblivious nature, but Jungkook likes you regardless of whether or not you possess such an arbitrary trait. But it is true that there are a lot of things you aren’t aware of, like how utterly lovely you are. Jungkook knows you- sees how oblivious you are to the men who shamelessly ogle at you, or the boys who practically break their necks to get a glimpse at you. 

You have this resonating effect on him. You drive him crazy and you don’t even know it.

Initially, Jungkook had never truly focused his attention on you, yet as time passed, an irresistible attraction began to pull him toward you. He vividly recalls an incident in particular that left him dumbfounded.

Jungkook’s mom visited yours to drop off some vegetable. Gifting fruits and vegetables from their gardens are the way the aunties demonstrate their love and appreciation for one another. Jungkook reckons you didn’t know he was there because you pranced down the stairs with the tiniest boy shorts and  camisole top. Jungkook isn’t the type of man to become disoriented over the sight of a woman’s body, practically desensitized from all the women he’s been with, but he stiffens at your presence.

“Wow baby!” His mother giggles, using your classic nickname as she ogles you shamelessly, “You’re getting really sexy!” 

She playfully nudges your mom, “Are you ready to have grandchildren?” The joke makes your mother roll her eyes, though a smile lingers on her lips, infinitely proud of her beautiful daughter.

“I wish someone would marry my daughter!” Your mom jests, “All she ever does is sleep! I just wish a man would even look her way!” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows pinch in bewilderment. He knew your mother was only joking, teasing you as per usual- because clearly, you are captivatingly gorgeous. You make a sly comment in return to make his mom giggle, always so smooth and sociable with the old ladies. 

Suddenly, you randomly swivel around, yelping at Jungkook’s presence. “Oh hey,” you greet, fidgeting in place, “I didn’t know you were here. Sorry- I should cover up a little.”

For the first time in his life Jungkook is speechless in front of you. You. You just look so pretty standing in front of him, your manicured fingers twirling a single strand of hair, gazing at him and gnawing your lips like he makes you nervous when in reality you make him tremble with just one look. It makes his chest tighten and he inhales deeply to compose himself.

“No. Not at all, you should be comfortable in your own home,” the smile he offers you is forced, polite, and you’re bewildered at the tension accumulating between you and him. Your eyes glint downward; you can’t even look at him, and suddenly a bold wave of impulsivity washes over you.

“Hey Jungkook, can we talk in the other room?”

Jungkook’s eyes flash towards his mother’s then rapidly back at you. Subconsciously, his eyes trace down your body and he feels like has to physically gouge his eyes out to prevent himself from looking.

“Yea, sure.”

He follows you upstairs into the guest room, taking extreme measures to keep his pupils focused on the ceiling lights above your head. However, his efforts work against him because the ceiling lights shine on you like a spotlight, illuminating your gorgeous figure as you make your way up the stairs.

Your fingers wrap around his forearm and you pull him into the room.

You waste no time getting straight to the point.“Jungkook, I think I’m pregnant.”

Jungkook blinks, processing what you just said. “Huh?”

You bite your lip anxiously, crossing your arms while you look down at your toes. “My period is late, and I don’t know what to do- you’re the only person I trust to talk about this.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to confirm the sentiment. “You can trust me with anything. I’ll always take care of you- ‘m just a little shocked because I thought you were still a virgin.”

Gasping dramatically, you pout at him and stomp your foot. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Yea, clearly not, he thinks. “Just act normal. After I drop my mom off at home I’ll come back with a pregnancy test.”

You nod and give him a downward smile. “Thanks- ‘m just really nervous and I hope I’m not pregnant because I don’t even remember who the dad is and-“

Jungkook frowns at that, perturbation morphing onto his features. “Y/N, you don’t remember who the dad is? Please don’t do that- only sleep with people you trust. Please.”

“I trust you.” 

The words tumble from your lips immediately, before you can even process your thoughts. You clasp your hand over your mouth, a small gasp leaving your lips as you gaze up at him in pure horror. 

Jungkook doesn’t know what to think- doesn’t even know if that was just a fragment of his imagination. He blinks at you, brain too fused to even conjure a proper response.

“Wait- I didn’t mean it like that!” you blurt out. At that moment, you give up on any attempt to salvage the situation and scurry out of the room, stumbling back down the stairs. 

Jungkook runs his hands over his face. 

He’s going to hell for the thoughts running through his mind.

Thank God you weren’t pregnant but after that night Jungkook just never looked at you as just a family friend. It’s complicated . It’s morally conflicting, and it frustrates Jungkook like nothing else.

“Hello?” he speaks into the phone

“I bled on my bed,” you sniffle into the phone, “Just please come upstairs,” you say before abruptly hanging up.

He begrudgingly rises from his bed. Though tired, he doesn’t hesitate to throw his black t-shirt over his head to look presentable for when he checks up on you.  Rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his black sweats as he makes his way up the stairs. He gently opens the door to see you sitting idly under your covers, clinging onto your Snorlax plushie for dear life. You’re wearing 

He sits on the edge of your bed. “You ran out of pads?”

You don’t say anything, remaining stiff like an ice sculpture, not melting under Jungkook’s warm touch like you usually do.

He nods at you and gently tugs on your oversized T-shirt, urging you to get up as he sticks out his hand. “Change the sheets and I’ll go out and buy you some pads-“

“Jungkook, I'm in love with you.” 

Abrupt. 

Impulsive. 

Messy. 

But you feel like you just have to say it.  With a radiant glow on your rosy cheeks, you purse your lips in a demure manner, physically unable to look at him. You have to look at Snorlax to get your words out instead. 

You inhale deeply. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry if it creeps you out but I’ve always had feelings for you- and I hate you for it because I don’t think I’ll ever have the capacity to love anyone else like I love you.” With glossy eyes you finally peer at him just to see an entirely indecipherable expression- you’re not sure if it conveys shock, bewilderment, or horror but it evokes the most unsettling and humiliating sensation in the pit of your stomach. 

Just as day transforms into night, humiliation morphs into anger, and anger morphs into nonsensicality. Outrage bubbles within you and you chuck the Snorlax plushie at his face. 

“Fuck you! How can you treat me the way you do and expect me not to feel anything?! I emotionally cheated on my ex with you! You’re the fucking worst and I hate you. I hate you so fucking much!” Your hands frantically search for every single squishmallow, plushie, and teddy bear you have and you violently chuck your beloved squishies at him.  From zero to one hundred, you’ve escalated rapidly and you feel like you’ll die if you don’t convey everything to him right now, in this moment. 

Jungkook remains stoic, somewhat resembling the statue of a Greek god: handsome and stagnant, not even flinching at the impact of your squishies hitting his built body or the way you nonsensically scream at him.

“This is all your fucking fault Jungkook. You ruined my life! You ruined love for me! I’ll never get a boyfriend, never get married, never have kids because of you! I’m going to die alone and it’ll be all your fucking fault! How could you do that to me? How could you do that to me?” You erupt into sobs, pushing your face into your hands as you violently cry. Snot, tears, and saliva leak from your face as the chagrin completely consumes you. 

“Y/N.” The sound of Jungkook’s deep, baritone voice is barely audible over the sounds of your heaving. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He does sound sorry, but you can’t help but question the authenticity of his words because he didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. It’s like he’s merely uttering an apology to appease you. 

But for Jungkook, he’ll apologize a million times if it helps dry your tears.  He never let his pride get in the way when it comes to you.

He sits at the edge of your bed, using his finger to tilt your chin up, revealing your disheveled, snotty, and glossy face. You whimper when your vision clears and focuses on him. 

He wipes your face with your own shirt, tugging up the hem to absorb your tears, still gentle and attentive. You swat his hand away. “You need to stop doing that,” you mewl, blinking more tears from your eyes. 

“You need to stop crying. It makes me sad,” he retorts, passing you the same Snorlax plushie you violently launched at him. You cushion the plushie on top of your thighs and bring your knees to your chest. You inhale and exhale deeply, trying to settle from your emotional high. 

“You don’t even take me seriously,” you mumble, peeking up at him. 

“I always take you seriously,” Jungkook responds, “but I want you to stop crying first-

“Jungkook, kiss me,” you breathe out, “If you don’t hate me, then kiss me,” you say, your eyes fluttering shut, delusionally- as if he was about to kiss you. Instead, you feel his large palm on your head, softly caressing your hair. 

“I’m not gonna kiss you. You should get some rest.” His voice is deep, calm, and composed. How can he be so normal when you’re on the brink of losing your mind?

Your face scrunches up in indignation before you erupt in tears once again, practically screaming. “Fuck you! I hate you! I hate you!”

“Y/N.” He calls your name repeatedly.

“Y/N-”

“Shut the fuck up you asshole!”

“Y/N,” his voice becomes more stern with everytime he calls your name, but you don’t let him get a word in. You keep screaming at him, calling him every name in the book of insults, shaking him off every time he goes near you.  

When he attempts to sit by you, you violently push him away. “Go away! I’m not a little kid anymore! I don’t fucking need you anymore! I’m gonna be single forever because of you! If you don’t want me to be single forever then just fucking leave and never come back!” 

You’re aware that your words are horrible, but the overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame erupting in your system prevents any rational train of thoughts from developing in your mind. You’re embarrassed and devastated that Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and it sends you spiraling.

He attempts to calm you once more by sitting on your bed, but you push him even more violently. “Don’t fucking touch me! I’m never gonna find love because of you! Just fucking die, just leave forever if-”

He staggers on his feet, caught off balance from the force of your push, and for the first time in his life Jungkook yells at you.  

“Y/N!”

Giving you no time to say or think anything, he seats himself on your makeup chair, tattooed hand gripping onto its top rail. “Y/N,” he scowls deeply at you, features blanketed in exasperation,  “We’ll talk about this later, but you need to calm the fuck down. You’re hurting me when you talk like that.”

Your eyebrows furrow deeply in horror, your cheeks tear-stained and your eyes filled with sorrow. The haunting realization of what you just said settles into your system. Your quivering lips barely enunciate your words. “Kook, I’m so sorry,” you blubber out. “I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean it. I promise I didn’t mean it!” You shoot up, stumbling over your own feet and collapsing onto the floor. You’re a mess. Your face glistens with a layer of your own snot, and your hair is matted and tangled, the result of the countless times you tugged at it during this interaction. 

Unbeknownst to you, there's a red blotch near the lower hem of your T-shirt, and droplets of blood escape you and drip onto the floor as you stumble out of bed.  Jungkook notices though, eyebrows pinching in concern as a very disturbed expression morphs on his face when you collapse to your knees, your trembling hands holding onto him for support. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it! It’s all my fucking fault!”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. 

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you sniffle. “I’m so sorry I said that. That was so horrible of me. Please don’t die. I’m so sorry.”

A sigh of vexation leaves his lips, but nonetheless he remains patient, compassionate towards  the devastation that consumes your face. “I’m not gonna die.” He cups your face with his tattooed hand, and uses his thumb to wipe the idle tears on your face.  “I forgive you. It’s okay.” 

“Promise? Promise it’s okay? I’m so sorry,” you cry even more, desperately latching onto his hands, using the side of his fingers to wipe your eyes.  

“It’s okay,” he confirms, tilting your head upwards before wiping your face with a makeup wipe from your vanity. “‘M really tired. I’m gonna go get your pads then I’ll be back. 

You sniffle. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The smile he gives you is forced, and it makes you feel horrible.

He motions his head towards your bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when I come back.”

You tiredly listen to his words, getting under your covers and holding onto your Snorlax plush. “Good night Kook.”

“Night,” he says, somewhat emotionlessly, flickering the lights off and vacating your room. 

-

Horrible. You wake up with puffy eyes, infinite eye boogers, and an awful pit in your stomach. The memories of last night come flooding in and you immediately check your phone to see if Jungkook texted you. There’s nothing there. 

Why would he want to talk to you after what you did?

You decide to send him a text message to further emphasize how sorry you are. 

You throw your phone on the bed and scream into the stomach of Snorlax. 

Dry. He’s being so fucking dry and it’s all your fault. 

The next few weeks are spent with you attempting to redeem yourself. 

-

You have no idea why you’re in front of Jungkook’s work, let alone with a lunchbox cake in hand. Begrudgingly, you stumble inside the tall building, awkwardly smiling when you come face to face with the sweet old security man. Jungkook’s work place is fancy as hell. Every floor of the tower hosts the office of an aristocratic company. There are even enormous, airport-esque x-ray machines stationed towards the entrance. You have to walk through a metal detector to be granted access into the building.

“Why hello, young lady! What business do you have here today?” 

“Um, I have a cake for someone. H-he works at HYBE Tech Solutions.”

“Alright, go ahead and put your bag and belongings here,” he says, motioning towards the tray on the X-ray machine conveyor belt. You watch as your belongings pass through the machine and come out on the other end. Then, you step through the metal detector, holding your arms up to be properly inspected. You bid the security man goodbye and walk towards the elevator. 

An ominous feeling of stupidity washes over you as you press your fingers onto the elevator buttonsYou feel stupid. You feel dumb. You feel silly. You would never do this for a man, but here you are. 

You take a deep breath before you stumble in, coming face to face with the lady that works at the front desk. Your eyes settle on the badge on her blouse. Dorothy. You vaguely remember Jungkook ranting about this woman, venting about how she crossed professional and ethical boundaries-  often sneakily creeping her fingers up his chest while they spoke and even going as far as to dig into the company’s database for his personal information. 

You clear your throat. “Hi, how’s your day been?”

“I’m great! Thanks for asking, hun. How can I help you today?” She asks, voice bubbly and uplifting, perfect for customer service.  

“Oh! Um- I have something for Jungkook. He works in the tech department.”

Her bubbly and friendly atmosphere immediately diminishes, and she raises her eyebrows at you before eyeing you conspicuously. With a vacuous expression, she picks up the landline, pressing her thin fingers into the numbers. “Hey, can you let Jungkook know that there’s a child here for him?”

You purse your lips at that, rocking back and forth on your heels. You try to avoid eye contact with this woman by looking elsewhere- pupils frantically darting to the daisies on the front desk or  the grandfather clock that sits idly against the beige walls- but she’s persistently staring you down. 

Thank God Jungkook appears from the end of the hallway. 

He sports a light blue button up and brown slacks, a stack of papers in his tattooed hand while the other rakes through his short hair. He looks delicious as ever and clearly Dorothy agrees because she practically moans as he walks down the hallway.

“Y/N?” He narrows his eyes in your direction, confirming that it’s really you.

“Um hi Kook. I brought you something.” You use two hands to present the styrofoam box to him.

Jungkook’s eyes scan from the lunchbox to you. He places the stack of papers on the front desk before accepting the box and popping open its lid. “A cake?” he questions, and you nod shyly, fidgeting in place. 

“Thanks,” he plainly says, giving you an awkward smile before his eyes dart towards Dorothy, who is intensely scrutinizing the interaction. There is tension in the atmosphere, and Dorothy’s presence isn’t helping. 

He clears his throat. “You didn’t have to, you should be studying,” he says, his words a little more light-hearted this time.

You shake your head. “I wanted to do this for you. I’m sorry for last night, Koo.”

He stares at you before letting a sigh escape his lips. “t’s okay Y/N. Told you I‘m not mad. We’ll talk about this later.”

You twiddle with your fingers, your puppy eyes flickering towards him. 

“Hug?” he asks, cutting the tension, tilting his head while he holds his arms open. You pout, nodding before running into his arms. He holds you tight, and whispers into the top of your head so Dorothy wouldn’t catch heed of the conversation. “You made me sad last night, you know.”

“‘I’m sorry.”

“‘It's okay. I can never be mad at you for too long,” He subtly releases you from his embrace and pinches your cheek. “Now go home, okay?”

You take a step back and offer a nod. And for some reason, Jungkook feels that you’re looking at him as if you’ll never see him again. “Enjoy your cake.” 

Jungkook smiles back, waving you goodbye. You turn to the office lady, who quickly averts her eyes once you notice her blatant eavesdropping. “Thank you auntie. Have a nice day!”

Jungkook has to physically restrain himself from laughing.

-

A heart emoji. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his most insignificant actions.  You hold your phone to your chest and bite back a smile. 

Loud music booms and vibrates through the walls of this massive mansion. There’s a huge pool, complete with a waterslide and waterfalls spilling into the pool. You’re surrounded by tons of other like-minded college kids, clad in nothing but a white lace bikini. You’re able to acknowledge that it isn’t the most tasteful outfit, but you feel good and you look good. 

After jumping in the pool and violently pelting water balloons at each other (effectively scaring away all the hoes), you and Yunjin lie under a cabana mindlessly scrolling through your phones. You only look up from your phone when you sense Yunjin holding up her phone for a selfie. Jungkook would have rolled his eyes at the sight.

“Can I show you something?” you abruptly blurt out, eliciting a cynical look from your friend. “Is it bad?”

You immediately shake your head, composing your posture so you can properly show Yunjin your texts with Jungkook. Her eyes rapidly scan over the phone in moments and she shoots you a sly glance. 

“So do you think?-”

“I don’t know… but I really, really, really hope that it means something. I don’t want him to see me as a little kid anymore, you know?” Bashfully, you smile at her, your demure expression a complete juxtaposition to your practically naked figure. 

Yunjin cups your cheeks making your glossy lips pouty. “Y/N! You’re about to pull Jungkook!”

“I am?”

“Yes you are-”

Yunjin flinches dramatically when a harsh stream of water unexpectedly drenches you. You both whip your head to the culprit in question: Beomgyu standing directly in front of you with a massive water gun. 

“You bitch!” Yunjin shoots up and runs after him with you rapidly following your partner in crime’s lead. But as you’re running towards Beomgyu (who maniacally screams and dashes), another stream hits you from the back.

The second culprit. Soobin. You sprint towards, latching your claws onto his white T-shirt him while you tug him towards the pool. “Wait Y/N! I just dried off. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

No mercy for this bitch.

You position yourself behind him, using your whole body to push him into the pool. Splash! You jump and squeal in excitement when he emerges from the water wiping his face with his hands. You laugh hysterically in his face, childishly pointing your finger at him, finding it even more hilarious when he gives you the stink eye. “That’s what you get, asshole!-“

You pause and shriek in horror.

Somebody just pulled on the strings of your bikini top, exposing your boobs to the entire party.

You instinctively crouch, shoving your chest into your knees.The gasp of horror that leaves Soobin’s lips mirrors yours, and he immediately springs into action, rapidly lifting himself from the pool and sprinting after whatever asshole just violated you.

“Y/N!” Your savior, Yeonjun appears in front of you, crouching to your level. He rapidly rids himself of his shirt and pulls it over your entire figure. “You’re good, you’re good,” he whispers calmly to you, trying to prevent you from having a full blown panic attack. You stand up reticently, folding your arms over your chest, eyes trained on the ground and only looking at Yeonjun’s feet to gauge which direction you’re heading in.

“You okay?” Yeonjun settles under the cabana. “That guy is such a dick,” he mutters to himself. 

You nod and sink into the cushion of the outdoor-couch. “I’m so fucking embarassed.”

Attempting to salvage the situation, Yeonjun immediately shakes his head. “No, no. Nobody saw anything.” You shoot him a skeptical look, knowing damn well everybody in the party saw your bare boobs. 

“Is that Jungkook?”

You immediately whip your head towards the left, and indeed Jungkook is walking your way. You can’t believe he’s real. All heads whip in his direction as he makes his way towards you. He flicks his head back to prevent hair from falling in front of his eyes, barefoot, black T-shirt, and gray shorts. He looks so handsome you can’t even comprehend it. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, quicklyducking under the roof of the cabana before he positions himself in front of you. He inhales and exhales deeply, the blistering sun forming particles of sweat on his forehead. 

You look up at him and your heart melts. The sheen of sweat on his face, the way his eyes fixate on you. Your heart skips a beat. You want to cry. Again. Out of embarrassment, and how emotional you become at Jungkook’s mere presence.   

You bury your head into your knees, making Jungkook's eyebrows pinch. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Yeonjun opens his mouth, hesitatingly glancing at you to confirm if telling Jungkook is okay.

You shoot up and practically catapult yourself onto Jungkook, latching onto him like a Koala. “Nothing happened,” you say, nuzzling your face into his shirt. “Come swim with me. Please.” 

Jungkook sighs, using his large palm to tame your frizzy stray hairs. “Y/N. We need to go home.”

You cock your head in confusion.“Wait why?”

His voice becomes oddly stern. “Y/N. It’s important and we have to go home.”

“To your place or mine?”

“My place. Just follow me.”

You haven’t a clue as to why Jungkook is behaving so urgently, but you follow him nonetheless. You pick up your purse and give Yeonjun a quick hug, running after Jungkook who cooly breezes past everyone, not a single person missing the hot guy who suddenly showed to the party. 

Jungkook opens his car door for you and allows you to step in. 

“Jungkook… is something going on?”

“Yes, there is,” he says grimacing slightly, shutting the door for you before he climbs into the driver’s seat. 

This nauseating anxiety bubbles inside you and sends chills up your spine, making you flinch when Jungkook closes the car door on his side. Jungkook doesn’t say anything, just looks behind his shoulder to reverse from his parking spot before zooming out of there. 

“Is this because of what happened the other night?” you ask, and he glances at you quickly. 

“No, it isn’t.”

“Well.. are we going to talk about it?” you push, twiddling with your fingers. 

Jungkook shakes his head, noticing your trembling fingers in his peripheral view. He reaches over and puts his hand on top of yours. “Not now.” 

You don’t respond, shifting in confusion.

“Here,” Jungkook starts, throwing his phone in your lap, “You can play whatever song you want.”

You purse your lips and silently nod. 

Sooner or later, you arrive at Jungkook’s apartments, and he leads you up the stairs and sits you on his black leather couch. 

He cups your face with both hands, caressing the apples of your cheek with his thumbs. With your eyebrows pinched, you peer into Jungkook’s eyes, conveying your confusion through your scrunched facial features. 

“Y/N, before I tell you what I want to tell you, I want you to take a few breaths. Just know that I’m always here for you.”

You nod steadily, pretty facial features still crinkled in confusion. 

“Y/N, your parents were in a car accident, and they didn’t make it.”

“What?”

And as the haunting realization settles into your system, all you can remember are your shrieks of terror echoing throughout his apartment and the way Jungkook holds you against his body while he wipes your tears and assuages your loud cries. 

-

The few days that proceed are a blur, but Jungkook takes care of you and is far more attentive than he ever has been. You cling onto him like fragile glass ornament hanging from a delicate thread- like he was all you had left because he was all you had left. He was your spring solace after a harsh winter, and the way he treated you indicated as much.

Jungkook works from home so you aren’t alone. For the entire day, you sit on his bed and watch him work. You eavesdrop on his meetings, falling asleep to the sound of his voice and whenever you wake up Jungkook ensures that he feeds you, constantly worried about your inability to eat. 

You’re queasy just thinking about going back to your house, so your daily and nightly attire consist of pieces from Jungkook’s wardrobe. You haven’t verbally acknowledged what has happened- not ready to talk about the death of your parents. You’re just trying to survive, and you feel like you’re barely making it. 

Thankfully, all your friends and family have been extremely helpful trying to get you through your grief. Jungkook’s mother stays with you for a few days, and after that Yunjin sleeps over with you for a few days- but you know that a piece of your heart has been ruthlessly ripped form you.

“Y/N, you need to take a shower,” Jungkook expresses, obstructing your view of the TV. His toothbrush hangs from his mouth, toothpaste residue bubbling around the perimeter of his lips. You owlishly blink at him, observing how his expression hardens at your look of indifference. 

You scoot towards the left end of the couch, hoping to get a clear view of Ever After High projected on his flat screen TV. 

“Y/N you haven’t showered in three days,” Jungkook interjects, “Please take a shower.”

“I will. Later.”

He pushes up his glasses, staring at you with intense disapproval. “Y/N,” he says sternly, trying to be gentle despite his qualms. 

You acquiesce, pouting at him. “Okay, fine. Later.”

His frown deepens. “Y/N.”

You chew on your bottom lip, deeply contemplating what Jungkook has asked of you. His large frame remains frozen in front of you. No matter how you position yourself on the couch, he renders you unable to watch the princesses prance around on the TV.

“Okay… but will you at least come with me? I don’t want to be without you.”

Jungkook pauses. 

“I don’t mean like getting in with me, but will you just sit on the toilet and talk to me?” You ask, sinking into the leather of his sofa and using your sweater paws to sweep your hair back. 

“Yea, I’ll do that.”

Once you step in the shower, you close the curtains, and strip yourself from your clothes, handing the pile of clothes to Jungkook. You turn on the water, yelping at the sensation on your body. Jungkook was right. You needed this and you kind of do smell like butthole. 

“Wait Y/N, do you want me to go to your house and get you underwear?” 

After folding up your (his) T-shirt and boxers, he notices that you haven’t been wearing any undergarments. 

“No!” you call back, “I don’t want you to go there! Not yet,” you call back. 

“Then do you want me to buy you some?” he responds, placing the folded clothes on the bathroom counter. 

“Um, maybe we can order some on Amazon.”

“Just send me the link and I’ll place the order.”

“Okay.”

A wave of silence washes over the bathroom, and you peek your head from the shower curtain to see what Jungkook’s up to: scrolling on Instagram. On his screen is some instagram model’s bikini pic, his fingers pausing on the screen so he can look at the photo.  

“Who is that?” you ask, making Jungkook jump in his seat. 

“What the- Y/N, just take your shower!” Jungkook feigns annoyance but can’t help himself but scoff in amusement at how petty you can be.

“Is she prettier than me?” you ask, glaring at Jungkook with disapproval. 

Jungkook purses his lips and tugs the shower curtain past your face and holds it against the wall, preventing you from peeking your pretty head past the curtain. He holds it there for a good minute, unfazed by the thrashing against the shower curtain. 

Swish. 

You swipe open the shower curtain from the other side. Your eyes bore into Jungkook’s and Jungkook thinks you’re foolish not to realize how alluring and sultry you are. Your bare body is akin to a sculpture of the goddess Aphrodite. Water drips from the crevices of your body and you gaze at him with anticipation etched onto your face. You’re just standing there, but your posture is so seductive- or maybe it’s just the natural curvature of your body. 

“Why don’t you join me?” your sweet voice makes his Adam's apple bob in his throat. 

When he doesn’t respond, your features morph into humiliation, regret consuming you. You nod your head. “Sorry Kook, I’ll just-”

“Y/N, you’re gorgeous. Any man can see how lovely you are. Honestly, you take my breath away every time I see you,” Sensing the trepidation on your face, he solidifies his claim, “I mean it Y/N. You’re beautiful, and I want to join you but I’m not going to. You’re hurting right now and I don’t want to do anything to take advantage of you.”

And he isn’t lying, he yearns for every kind of contact with you, but he’s not going to go through with this. Not when you’re traumatized from the death of your parents. Not when you’ve been so unhinged for the past week, refusing to even shower. 

You stare at him for a second, dazy eyed and your eyes darting around the room. “Okay Jungkook. I’m sorry.”

He smiles sweetly at you and gently closes the shower curtain. “It’s okay Y/N. I’m gonna head to my room. You’re welcome to come visit me anytime.”

-

Boys’ night. Jungkook being the handsome stud he is, happens to have friends that are also handsome studs. Jungkook offered to postpone boys’ night but you declined his attempts to make you more comfortable. Jungkook has exerted so much effort to take care of you. There’s no reason for him to forgo time with his best friends. Besides, you can always hide in your room. 

You crack your door open slightly ajar, peeking through the crack to spy on Jungkook and his friends. Antisocial is the perfect word to describe you. 

The sound of the doorbell ringing was your cue to lock yourself in your room. Jungkook knocked a few times, but you were too scared of other people that you didn’t even grace him with a response. 

Clearly Jungkook got the message because he opted to leave a greasy piece of pizza outside your door, sending you a quick text message about it.

You just wanted to scout the scene, see who was there. Mingyu, Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon. Soju bottles are scattered around the table, and there’s some music blaring from the TV. You’ve met everyone here a few times- they all know you, but you aren’t close with Jungkook’s friends like he is with your friends. 

“Oh Y/N! Come join us!” You freeze at Mingyu’s words, and all eyes in the room whip towards your direction.

 “Umm..” you close the door gently and leap into the safety of your bed.

You overhear their banter through the wooden door. “Hey! Why are you making little kids uncomfortable!” Jimin yells, slapping Mingyu on the neck. 

Your lip quivers, and you inhale deeply, gathering the courage to step outside of the room. You quickly put on deodorant, and step out stealthily, taking a seat next to Namjoon on the couch. No one seems to notice you, and you tap on his shoulder. Namjoon whips his head towards you, the confusion on his face melting into fondness. 

“Hi,” you squeak out, fiddling with your fingers. 

“Hi Y/N,” Namjoon greets, the kindness laced in his voice assuaging the trepidation bubbling on your inside. Jungkook’s red lava lamp  illuminates the room with shades of crimson, and your eyes flutter shut when a ray of light shines on your face. 

“Are you okay?” Namjoon inquires, holding his hand up to shield you from the light.  

“Yea, I’m fine,” you blink a few times. You don’t say anything, just awkwardly take a bite of your pizza while your eyes dart around the room. 

Namjoon doesn’t seem to know what to say to you either, so the two of you just sit and eat pizza in silence. For a moment, your eyes lock. You owlishly blink at him and he blinks at you for a good minute.  

But then, to your surprise, Namjoon sets his pizza down, opening his arms. Your features scrunch up, and you let yourself melt into his warm embrace, glossy tears rolling down your face. 

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” he expresses, gently caressing the back of your head with his palm. You sniffle. “t’s okay,” you sob, “but I’m so sad. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You’ll get through this. We’re always here for you.”

His words invoke a tornado of intense feelings in your system, and your strong facade crumbles as you become vulnerable in Jungkook’s friend’s embrace. By this point, everyone has noticed your presence, and suddenly the night becomes about you. 

After wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you find yourself sitting in between Jungkook and Namjoon in a “friendship circle”. It’s quite cute that these grown men still sit criss-cross applesauce in a circle, but you’re overjoyed that you’re welcome to the group. 

“I brought you a cake Y/N,” Taehyung announces, handing you a lunchbox cake. With your doe eye, you look towards him before opening the lid of the cake. A lunchbox cake with Snorlax’s face iced on the top.  “Jungkook mentioned that you really liked Pokemon, so I thought you’d find this cute,” he continues, slightly trailing off.  You’re Strong! Is what it reads, and you fall into pieces, your features crumpling up before you burst into tears. 

Jungkook laughs in fondness at the vulnerability of your reaction, wrapping a single arm around your frame. 

“Th-thank you,” you sniffle, offering Taehyung a crooked smile. “Can we eat it together? I don’t want to get f-fat.”

At that, a chorus of no’s echo through the room, and you giggle a bit. 

Your heart is incredibly full. Family. Friends. People who care about you. This is something your soul desires, something your soul needs. 

The night meets its unfortunate end, and you stand in front of Jungkook as you bid his friends goodbye. Before the boys walk away, you find your fingers clinging onto the hem of Jimin’s oversized shirt. Before he ventures off, he turns around and graces you with an endearing look of confusion. “What’s up?”

“Can I come with you?” you spout. 

“You want to sleep over at our place?” Jimin questions, gingerly scratching the back of his head. 

You shake your head steadily, “I just want to talk to you,” you clarify, gazing up at him shyly. Jimin’s eyes dart towards Jungkook’s for approval and Jungkook nods his head. “Go ahead. I’ll give you guys privacy,” he pinches your cheek affectionately before closing the door. You stand on your tiptoes, peeking through the window of the apartment to ensure that Jungkook isn’t eavesdropping. 

Jimin leans against the railings, observing you carefully. 

You tug on the hem of Jimin’s tee, urging him to follow you to the lobby of Jungkook’s apartment. He follows in your stead, not questioning you until your actions pause. You shift around uncomfortably for a bit, and you look up at him. Taking a deep breath, you find the courage to ask him the question that’s been lingering in the back of your mind. 

 “Do you think Jungkook and I could ever.. be a thing?” you finally question, shifting your weight between your feet, a crimson sheen sweeping over your cheeks. 

Jimin’s eyebrows pinch, and he repeatedly opens and closes his mouth, looking for the right words to say. “Like romantically?”

Your eyes cumbersomely drift towards the painting behind Jimin. “Y-yea. I really like him, and I want him to be my boyfriend- and I know he’s attracted to me but won’t act on his feelings because of his ethical qualms,” you stutter out, pursing your lips after seeing how Jimin’s face morphs into astonishment. 

“Well, I don’t think Jungkook is seeing anyone right now- but Y/N, if I’m going to be totally honest, I don’t think you and Jungkook being a romantic pair would be appropriate. I mean, he’s known you since you were a kid. Even if he does like you, I don’t think he would cross those boundaries.” he very gently explains, meticulously finding the correct wording to not hurt your feelings. 

You bite your lip bitterly, sinking into the realization of his assertion. “Yea, you’re right. I don’t know. I guess it’s just a stupid crush,” you dismiss your confession with a wave and offer Jimin a shy smile. 

Jimin pouts at your invalidation of your own feelings. “Don’t say that. I know you’ll find someone who cherishes and loves you. Someone you deserve,” he asserts. You smile at him, nodding before he ruffles your hair and leads you back up the stairs. 

Someone you love. 

Would you ever find it in yourself to love anybody that wasn’t him? Jungkook has successfully monopolized your heart, your soul, your very being. 

Ping!

-

Tonguing his cheek, Jungkook impatiently and abruptly brakes at a red light, accelerating rapidly when the light turns green. He changes from his casual clothes to a black sleeveless shirt, loose leather pants, and a beanie. Mingyu sits on the passenger seat, frantically typing on his laptop as Jungkook zooms down the highway at record pace. 

Breaking into a frat house to terrorize some dumb college kids definitely wasn’t a part of the plan tonight, but Jungkook was down for some last minute terrorism.

“So what are you gonna do? Threaten the kid? Call the cops?”Taehyung questions from the backseat, both hands gripping on the headrest of Mingyu and Jungkook’s seats. 

“Look, I’m really trying to not sound corny, but I’m going to torture him,” Jungkook enunciates, which evokes a few seconds of silence. 

“This bitch-”

“He’s lost his fucking mind,” Mingyu mumbles. 

Jungkook laughs to himself, amused by the comments of his friends. Jungkook is an intelligent, rational person. Normally, he wouldn’t take it this far but he deems it extremely necessary for this particular situation. 

“What the- now he’s creepily laughing to himself-”

“If we tell Y/N about this she’s going to be scared of you,” Mingyu abruptly comments, shooting Jungkook a pointed look. 

Jungkook pauses, seemingly deeply considering the utterance of his friend, toying with his lip ring for a while he finally makes a comment. “I won’t do anything bad. I’ll just intimidate him a little.”

His friends sigh, not pressing further on the matter because Mingyu and Taehyung were pissed off too. Instead, Mingyu rolls down the windows of the car, allowing the breeze of the cool night to consume the interior of the car. 

Jungkook considers this very night a milestone in your healing process. You isolated yourself in his apartment for two consecutive weeks, your grief severely limiting your social capacity and ability to normally interact with people. His friends were privy to your situation, purposely not coming to Jungkook’s home out of respect for you. But tonight, the color that reappeared in your aura overwhelmed his heart with joy.

While you were on the couch, talking to Namjoon about something, Jungkook got an alarming text from one of your friends- Yeonjun. Jungkook is cool with your friends, but not close enough to be sending private text messages, so his eyes brows pinch in concern when he sees the notification pop up from his phone. 

Mingyu’s eyes drifted towards Jungkook, who was noticeably brimming with indignation. Jungkook scoffed to himself, a macabre smirk on his lips before he laughed erratically at the message. He repeatedly wiped his face with his hand, chuckling in amusement. Jungkook discreetly passed his phone to Mingyu without a word, with Taehyung looking over his shoulder, both of them gasping at the message.

This whole time, you were oblivious to the scheme Jungkook was contriving and Jungkook intended to keep it that way. You were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and Jungkook would cut his limbs off to lessen that burden. The indignation and resentment bubbling within him threatens to erupt because he’s so fucking pissed off. 

You’re everything to him, and the thought of you being violated makes him want to indulge in his violent impulses.  He can’t imagine how you would feel knowing that video spread around, and usually he would confide with you about these things but right now he needs to sweep this under the rug and make sure it never comes back up. 

Luckily, he and Mingyu both have degrees in computer engineering and know how to hack into technical infrastructures. 

Jungkook pulls up to the frat house, rolling the window down steadily before he rests his elbow on the ledge of the window. He sits there for a second, toying with his lip ring while his eyes bore into the interior of the house. He’s sure he looks creepy as hell- just staring into the house.

After a few minutes of waiting in silence, some guy arises from the house and approaches the car. 

Jungkook keeps his lips sealed until he’s close enough to perceive his features. 

“Uh is there something yall need?” the guy asks, innocently scratching the back of his head. 

“Yea,” Jungkook responds, voice firm and somewhat chilling, “Your name Josh?”

“Yea? What’s up-”

Jungkook kicks the door open, knocking Josh over until he’s rolled on the floor, clutching his leg as he shrieks in pain. 

“Oh shit, are we really doing this?” Taehyung mutters before joining Jungkook outside the car. 

Jungkook sits on top of Josh, continuously punching the shit out of him before he spits on the kid’s face. He uses a single hand to lift him by the collar, and violently pushes him against the car. “You mad Y/N rejected you? So you pulled that shit?” Jungkook menaces, his face centimeters away from Josh’s. 

Josh whimpers, crying- too horrified to coherently respond. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he pleads, tears and snot streaming down his ugly face. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Jungkook repeatedly bangs Josh against the car. “I’m gonna say this shit once and I’m not going to repeat myself,” he seethes, satisfied by the way Josh whimpers and nods his head pathetically. 

“You’re not shit. You’ll never ever be good enough for Y/N. You’re the same as the shit on the bottom of my shoe,” he breathes against Josh’s face, who whimpers and cries, “If I ever see you messing with Y/N ever again- I will ruin your whole life.”

Josh nods, unable to do anything else. 

“Got it?” Jungkook seethes, pushing Josh’s head against the car door.

“Got it!”

“Good. We’re going inside, and you guys are going to watch us go through all of your iClouds, and we’re going to delete every single copy of the video there is, alright?”

“Yes! Yes! That’s fine! I’m sorry!”

Jungkook scoffs in amusement at his despicable demeanor, before he throws Josh on the ground and enters the house. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Mingyu mumbles, following Jungkook’s lead into the house.

-

You anxiously wait for Jungkook to return home, absentmindedly toying with the Switch to distract from the hysterical thoughts frantically racing through your mind. You’ve done everything you could to distract yourself, your restless heart aching to do something of substance.

 You’ve been isolating yourself from society for the past month simply because you can’t bring yourself to leave Jungkook’s home, as if it was your safe haven. 

You dread the moment you have to return to your home, memories of your family coming to mind. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about everything, and you reckon that it’s time to process everything. There are aspects of grief that you find unfathomable- questions you have that make you want to throw up. 

What will happen to the home that holds the memories of your family within its walls? How will you assimilate back into society without your father, without your mother? You’re not confident that it will ever be the same, and your heart sinks into your stomach at the notion- but you have to be resilient; you have to face it. 

It feels worse to avoid the reality of your life than to face it head on. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the doorknob turning. 

“Jungkook!” The way you call his name is breathless, and his eyebrows pinch in concern when you pounce on him. Nonetheless, he allows you to nuzzle into his embrace and he soothingly rubs your back- like he always does. 

“Wasn’t gone that long,” Jungkook absentmindedly comments. 

“I know- just missed you. I’m sorry for being clingy,” you murmur, to which Jungkook shakes his head at the absurdity of your words. 

“Not at all. Stay here for as long as you want. I’ll take you with me wherever I go,” he adds, settling into the leather of his sofa. You shuffle after him like a cute little penguin, sitting your ass directly next to Jungkook despite the vacant empty space on your right side. 

“Then am I allowed to sit next to you?” 

Jungkook’s features crinkle up in amusement, nose scrunching as he laughs lightly at how cute you are. He pinches your cheek, “It’s one thousand dollars for every minute you’re within a five foot radius of me,” he comments, tone stoic and firm. 

He doesn’t have to look in your direction to visualize the way your pretty lips fall open, swatting at his bicep for his cruel words. “Jungkook, I don’t have that money! You know I only have 35 cents in my bank account!”

“Okay, then go sit over there,” Your eyes follow the trail of his pointed finger, the corner of the room. 

“Fine! You fucking asshole,” you mutter bitterly, jumping up from the couch and stomping away with a hmph, until Jungkook slyly wraps his hand around the circumference of your wrist and pulls you to him. You collapse onto the couch, your back against his chest, and your butt between his legs. 

He clings onto you, almost suffocating you with the way he wraps his arms around you, grabbing his elbows as he locks his arms over your head. “‘M just kidding- you know that. I can’t survive without my baby either, y’know?”

Your chest erupts with butterflies, and you hold onto his forearm with both of your hands. “I know.”

-

The next day, you return to school. Your professors were so empathetic and understanding to the nuance and confusion of your situation, allowing you to complete your coursework from the comfort of Jungkook’s home. 

Grief isn’t a linear process. Though you’ve found it in you to return to school, it’s the mundane and the typical that you’re becoming increasingly bothered by. 

No one in your Philosophy class is paying attention to this movie, clearly. You can tell by the lit up screens scattered within the clusters of students, and you aren’t diligent enough to not be one of those students, doodling flowers and Snorlax’s on your paper. 

For the second you do look up at the movie, your heart stops. It’s always the most mundane, irrelevant details that get to you. The scene barely occupies a minute and it makes your chest tighten in the worst way possible. 

The main character walks down the wedding aisle, her arm linked with her father’s. The haunting realization settles in your system- you will never ever experience that. You begin hyperventilating, your hand crumpling the paper, and you quickly rest your forearms on the table before shoving your face into your forearms. People are already looking at you and you can’t fathom the humiliation so you stay like that until class is dismissed. 

You finally lift your head, rubbing your eyes to adjust the blinding ceiling lights. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

You shriek at the unexpected voice and whip your head to the left. 

“Hey hey hey- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he breathes out, rolling his chair towards you before rolling back so as to not scare you further. 

“No no, you’re good,” you breathe out, inhaling and exhaling to bring you down from your petrified high. “Just having a shitty day,” you explain, sweeping away the hair dried to your face by your tears. 

He seems to be unable to conjure a proper response, peering at you with an empty gaze and you sink in your seat, feeling the need to further explain yourself. “Well there was that part in the movie where Emma got married, and that made me feel horrible because I recently lost my dad.. And my mom.”

“Wait, I’m sorry. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he articulates, “I just noticed you  haven’t been in class for a while and was kinda worried when I saw you crying. I’m sorry if I pushed your boundaries.”

“You know me?”

His lips tug up in embarrassment as he gingerly scratches the back of his neck. “Well we usually sit next to each other so I thought we formed an acquaintanceship or something,” he mumbles. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” you pout at him, “I usually tap out during class so I never noticed you. What’s your name by the way?” You shyly stick out your hand, and he gives you a straight lined smile before shaking your hand gently. 

“Sunghoon. I-I’m really sorry for your loss by the way,” he adds, and you find his nervousness quite endearing. You shyly smile at him, and he gazes back at you with similar amity. He ever so softly pulls your wrist towards his and scribbles his number onto your forearm. “Feel free to text me if you ever need help with homework. You missed a lot of school,” he offers, and you find yourself giggling at his forth forwardness. 

“Thanks Sunghoon."

-

When  Jungkook returns from work that night, the first thing he’s met with is you shoving your boots on, seemingly ready for a vivacious night out. Your figure is adorned with a white satin slip on dress, and your hair is put up in an elegant updo. Jungkook pauses, eyes settling on your figure before scanning up to your face; he thinks this is the first time he’s seen you with makeup on since he wiped away the mascara running down your cheeks the day he broke the news.

“Hey daddy,” you purr, “Where have you been? The kids have been waiting for you,” you giggle, sliding your mini purse down your arm. 

Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, humorously scoffing at your corny choice of words. 

You giggle, skipping towards him before jumping onto him, latching around his neck before you whisper in his ear. “‘m going out with my friends, don’t wait for me to get home because I might stay the night with Yunjin.”

Jungkook stiffens, remaining frozen while you back up from him. 

“So, do I look like an angel, or what?”

“Always look cute,” because despite the infesting irritation bubbling in his system, he would never not tell you how it is. You are cute, always cute, always like an angel. 

“Thanks,” you giggle, skipping towards the door but before you can skip past him, he latches onto your wrist. “Wait.”

You tilt your head, slightly confused. “I bought something for you.”

He digs in his backpack and pulls it out. Nipple pasties. “You never wear a bra, so I thought you’d be safer if you put these on before you go out.”

“You were the one who said I had small tits!”

“Okay, well you still have nipples- so at least put these on to keep you safe.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but he doesn’t back down. You snatch the pasties from his hand and march into the bathroom. “Fine!” 

Jungkook lounges on the couch, eyes trained on you before you bid him goodbye and skip out of his apartment. He inhales deeply to settle the erratic palpitations in his chest. He needs to stop being so protective of you. 

-

Your arms linked with Yunjin, you skip around from one club to the next, dancing and partying your little hearts out. When the night comes to a close you prance to the local ramen shop around your campus. From a distance, you can already make out Jungkook casually speaking with his friends. He’s always so animated when he’s with his friends, dramatically gesturing and hip thrusting in the air while his friends laugh at his immature jokes. He’s got a cigarette between his pointer and middle finger, taking slow puffs, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs before he tilts his head to exhale a long plume of smoke into the atmosphere. 

That’s right. Jungkook smokes occasionally but never lets you do it. What a hypocrite. 

His eyes drift off for a second until they land on you, and his lips curl up in your presence. 

“Well look, if it isn’t my favorite girl,” he teases, letting out low laughter at the way you crimson when all his friends’ heads whip in your direction. 

You narrow your eyes at him, giving him a dirty look that Jungkook cooes at. Even when you were trying to intimidate him you akin to a cute Snorlax, so adorable, eyebrows pinched and lips pouted- how could he feel anything but adoration at that? 

“Aw angel,” he jests, throwing your words right back at you, “Don’t ignore me, ‘m sorry for teasing you,” he catches you as you walk past him, pulling you towards his chest before resting his chin on top of your head. 

He casually smiles at Yunjin. “How’s my angel been doing? Has she been behaving?”

Yunjin’s jaw drops at the bold statement and you attempt to wrestle out of his firm embrace to berate him. 

Just kidding. It’s getting late, though. Do you girls need a ride home?” he asks, finally letting you go just for you to stumble out of his grip and almost land on your face, but luckily Jungkook pulls your shoulders back without even looking in your direction. 

“Jungkook, it’s literally 10,” you deadpan. 

“Oh c’mon, I don’t want you girls to get kidnapped or something,” he snarkily responds. 

“How about you give us some money instead?” Yunjin jests, clearly joking, but Jungkook takes it so, so seriously. He raises a brow at both of you. “How much do you need?”

“Wait no- I was kidding,” Yunjin quickly clarifies, her ears becoming slightly red, “you don’t have to..”

Jungkook looks from you to her, then back at you before whipping out his phone, taking another puff of his cigarette before blowing the smoke upwards, careful so you don’t inhale any smoke.

Ping!

Your eyebrows pinch in confusion when you get a notification, and you unzip your mini purse to grab your phone, allowing the screenlight to illuminate your pretty features.  

JEON JUNGKOOK HAS TRANSFERRED YOU 500 DOLLARS VIA HYBETRANSFER.

“250 each, alright?” Jungkook laughs, taking another puff of his cigarette before he saunters off, his friends pushing him around and teasing him. 

“Ayo, when did Jeon turn into a sugar daddy?”

You and Yunjin are left dumbfounded, even more so when Jungkook turns around and makes kissy lips at you. 

You fall to your knees. 

-

The next morning is the weekend.

You absentmindedly chomp on your cereal, eyes still crusty and mind still hazy from the morning daze. Jungkook arises from his bedroom, hair still messy and sticking out in various directions- but he still looks as handsome as ever, the tired and morning glow suiting him wondrously. 

“So, I’m planning a trip with my friends at the beach. We’ll stay in an AirBnb. You wanna come with?”

You pause, features crinkling up in confusion. “Which friends? The ones from last night or Mingyu and them?”

“Mingyu, Tae, Jimin, Namjoon,” he counts off, before shrugging, “I already planned to take you with me so it’s not like you have a choice anyways.”

You scoff to yourself in amusement. “Aren’t you being too forceful?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes and graces you with a look of skepticism. “So you don’t want to go? or..”

“No!” you rapidly interject as you shoot up, clearing your throat and regaining your composure at the way Jungkook smirks at you. 

You settle back into your seat. “I do want to go,” you exhale, “but do I have to pay for my own room or something? I’m broke.”

“Oh, I was just gonna have you stay in my room,” Jungkook responds, trailing off as he tries to detect any trace of apprehension on your features, “Is that alright with you?”

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you breathlessly exhale. “That’s perfect.”

So that’s how you found yourself at the beach, in nothing but your black bikini, prancing around the waves with Taehyung.

“Jungkook watch!” you call as you swivel around towards Jungkook, who’s applying sunscreen to his legs, not really paying attention to what you were doing. 

You stand in front of the upcoming wave, holding your arms out as if you were going to embrace the wave. “I’m going to stand against the wave!”

At that, Jungkook whips his head upwards, eyebrows pinching in worry as he shoots up. “Tae! Get her! She’s gonna get swept in by-“

And on cue, the wave collapses over you and you tumble into the unwelcoming water. “Motherfuck-“ You thrash and scream, powerless against the unforgiving currents until a pair strong arms pull you from your armpits and drags you to the sand.

“Holy shit Y/N, are you alright?” Taehyung asks, crouching beside you as he pats your back, allowing you to cough the water up.

“Y/N that was so dumb,” you hear Jungkook’s voice as he approaches you, crouching beside you as he hands you his black steel water bottle. “Take a sip,” he urges, and you nod shakily, grasping the bottle with both hands before you take a sip from it.

“I’m okay. Thanks for saving me Taehyung,” you smile at him and he releases a sigh of relief. “You scared the shit out of us!”

You gulp down the water and close the cap, returning his bottle to him. “Sorry, I won’t do that again, but can we get back to playing now?” you smile as you playfully fling a ball of wet sand at Jungkook.

Jungkook closes his eyes on impact, scoffing in amusement before he grabs you by your legs, signalling  Taehyung to grab your arms before they both lift you and run into the ocean.

-

Jungkook waits outside your shared room, knuckles softly knocking on the wooden door. A towel loosely wrapped around his lower waist, water drips from every crevice on his body, but he can’t enter until you’re done changing.

“Oki! I’m done!” you call out, opening the door for him, a towel in your hand as you use it to scrunch up your damp hair. 

“Wow. You’re really muscular,” you giggle, fingers hovering over his abs before you look up at him for approval to feel, to which he gently pushes your head aside and waltzes into the room.

When he’s done changing he beckons you back to the room, and you plop in the king sized bed, belly down and legs swinging back and forth in the air. 

Jungkook lies down beside you, resting his head on the pillow as he scrolls aimlessly on his phone, only looking over when he hears your ringtone go off.

You answer the call almost immediately.

“Oh hey Sunghoon!” you greet, shooting up from the bed to touch up your appearance in the facetime camera.

Sunghoon. Jungkook knows all your friends and he hasn’t heard that name before.

“Hey Y/N, how’s your vacation going?” Sunghoon asks, and you take a seat at the desk, propping your phone up against the wall. You twirl an idle piece of hair around your fingers. “It’s really fun here, I feel great,” you explain, “so what’s up?”

“You look like you’re having fun- wait, is there someone in the room with you?”

You rapidly turn around and look at Jungkook, then tilt your phone at an angle where he isn’t visible. “Oh, he’s just a family friend, do you want me to go somewhere more private?”

“Oh no that’s cool, I was just wondering but I called to ask you about the homework…”

A family friend? Jungkook scowls at that. Wordlessly, he breezes past you and exits the room, closing the door and sits next to Jimin on the couch. 

Jimin takes a few moments to acknowledge Jungkook’s presence. “Hey, is there anything going on between you and Y/N?” Jimin finally asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern when he perceives Jungkook’s sour face. 

Jungkook pauses. “Why are you asking?”

Jimin shrugs. “I don’t know. Don’t you know she has a crush on you? Isn’t it inappropriate for you two to be sharing a room?” Jimin continues, nudging Jungkook with his elbow. 

At that, Jungkook buries his face into his palms. He’s let this go on for far too long. “I know,” Jungkook murmurs, voice projection muffled by his hands. 

“You know? The other day she asked me if it was possible between you two and I straight up told her that you wouldn’t go for it.”

Jungkook remains wordless at that, and he thinks he’s developed an idea of the reality of the situation. 

Jungkook was too scared to address the subject with you; he let it linger for far too long. He didn’t want to burden you with anything else besides what you already had on your plate, and you got in your head about it. He never explicitly stated that he more than reciprocates your feelings, leaving you dangling on a string. 

He’s going to fix that. 

“No Jimin, that’s not it,” Jungkook clarifies, wiping his face with his palms. “I like her too, and I’m going to tell her tonight,” he states firmly, slightly craning his head to gauge Jimin’s reaction. His reaction isn’t what Jungkook expected. Instead of a look of concern, worry, or horror, Jimin looks over the moon. 

“Well shit! I wish I knew that before! You guys look perfect together!” he exclaims before eagerly patting Jungkook on the back. 

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at his friend. “Really? Don't you think I should wait a little longer? Until she's ready?”, to which Jimin simply shakes his head.

“Y/N's an adult. She can handle herself. I thought you wouldn't go for it because of the age gap, though. I guess I shouldn't have told her that," he says gingerly, scratching the back of his head. ”Sorry Kook."

Jungkook doesn't say anything, seemingly in deep contemplation. "It used to bother me,” Jungkook clarifies, "but it doesn't anymore."

“So what’s wrong with it?"

That’s right. There is nothing wrong with it.

-

A cool night on the beach. You feel the cool breeze through your air, the lunar radiance of the moon illuminating the beach. You’re adorned in a lovely, summer-esque two piece set with floral patterns running along the fabric, The top piece is cropped and strapless, exposing your collar bones and belly button piercing, and the bottom piece is a long, flowy skirt that blows marvelously against the wind. 

You gingerly step outside the beach house, enjoying the cool sensation of the night breeze. The guys are all hanging out in the yard, soju bottles and beer cans scattered on the wooden benches positioned on the beach. Namjoon and Jimin are posted up on the benches, chowing down on meat whilst engaging in pretty animated conversation. You spot Mingyu and Taehyung running around the beach, slapping each other and chasing after each other, their dirty heels slipping against the coarse sand. 

Jungkook is stationed at the grill, frying meat for his friends. His tall and built figure is concealed by his loose black T-shirt and black sweat shorts that you have worn a few times during your extended stay at his place. 

You creep up behind him, swiping away the stray hairs that the wind blew into your face. Tapping him lightly on the back, you coyly skmile at him, a bashful glow illuminating your face. 

Jungkook sensed your presence the moment stepped foot from the house, but still acts like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. He does a double take, eyes scanning up and down your face and body- you look so lovely and elegant in your little two piece set. “Hey,” Jungkook finally returns your greeting, a little breathless. 

“Can I have some?” you ask, pointing to the grill. 

“Uh yea, I actually made a plate for you a second ago,” Jungkook takes the prepared plate of your favorite meats, but pauses before he hands it to you. He hasn’t a clue if you’re doing this on purpose, but you’re looking at him with the sultriest of eyes, and it drives him crazy. His Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat, and he collects himself before handing you the plate. 

You tilt your head, sending him a look of confusion at his hesitance, but Jungkook sees it as a gateway to talk to you. “Y/N, can we talk? Like now?” Jungkook asks, rubbing at the nape of his neck. 

“Sure, what about?” you solicit, setting the plate on the table.

Jungkook immediately shoves his hands in his pockets, and motions his head towards the beach, obliging you to follow him. “About what you told me at your house..” he trails off, “that one time in the middle of the night,” he adds. 

He perceives the way your features morph into embarrassment, so he decides to take the lead on this conversation. He approaches you, standing beside you momentarily before smoothly lacing his fingers through yours. “Let’s go.”

Unable to conjure a proper response, you follow his footsteps in silence until your bodies appear as distant figures by the ocean. With your toes kissing the water washing up on shore, he turns back to look at you, fingers still intertwined. But you stop him before he can open his mouth. 

“Wait- Jungkook. Let me explain myself first,” you begin, thankful that the night sky conceals the obvious bashful glow on your cheeks. 

Jungkook who is seemingly expressionless nods his head, signaling you to let your words out. 

You gently pull your hand from his, twiddling with your fingers before you can speak. “Firstly, I just wanna apologize.. to you,” you begin, ignoring the way his nose scrunches in confusion, “I feel like you’ve been so good to me- you always take care of me. Your family is the only family I have left,” you continue, bashfully tucking an idle strand of hair behind your ear. 

“So I’m sorry for forcing myself on you, and I’m sorry for mistaking your care towards me as romantic affection,” you continue, subconsciously gesticulating with your hands. “I know you said you don’t like it when girls are clingy but I’ve been nothing but clingy, and you still take care of me and care about me.” Your words are passionate, and they’re true. “Everyone told me that a relationship with you would be inappropriate.. but I was too persistent and too selfish. I’m so sorry Kook. You must’ve been so shocked when I yelled at you and when I.. opened that shower curtain,” you finish, shaking your head in embarrassment. 

When you finally complete the sentiment, you tilt your head upwards to gauge his reaction. His eyebrows pinch in confusion, and his mouth is slightly agape. “What?” he asks breathlessly, eyebrows pinching even further. He runs a tired hand over his face. “Y/N- just- I can’t believe you said that. Y/N, I love you. And I don’t care if you’re clingy, and I don’t care what anybody else thinks of us.”

You gasp at his words, a profound sense of emotion absolutely overwhelming you.

“What I care about is what you think of me, and whether you’re happy,” His fingers find yours, and he holds your hand and looks right into your eyes to properly convey his sincerity. “Y/N, I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner. You were just going through so much shit and I didn’t know if you were in the right headspace or if you were even serious about how you felt for me-”

He stops when you yank your hands away from him, using the back of your hands to wipe the tears streaming down your face. The shapes of his eyes turn into little crescents, petrified at your reactions. He removes your hands from your face, holding your wrists. 

“Y/N, don’t cry. Please say something.”

“Jungkook, it’s too late. I-I don’t think I can do this- with you- I mean,” is all you’re able to say and Jungkook’s chest tightens impossibly.

His heart drops to your stomach, a crestfallen expression morphing onto his handsome features. “I-is that how you really feel?”

Another tear streams down your face and Jungkook itches to wipe it but suppresses that urge.

“I love you Jungkook. I do. I really do!” you cry out, “But I can’t date you, ever. I never want to lose you,” you sob between sniffles. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m sure of it!”

The situation is bitterly ironic. Jungkook spent months tiptoeing around his feelings, your feelings, because he wanted to ensure he was what you wanted. Even when you blatantly threw yourself at him, he made the conscious decision to not pursue you. He spent months deciding your feelings for you- and now you’re telling him you don’t want him and he can’t do anything but accept it. 

“Y/N, you’ll never lose me. I’ll always be here. Even if you change your mind.. I’ll always be here.”

“Jungkook, I lost my whole family. You’re all I have left,” you explain, trailing off a little bit, “If I lose you then I have nobody.”

“No, I swear- Y/N, you’re it for me, and I mean it.”

You sniffle, wiping your cheeks, eyes, and nose once more. “What- hiccup- does that mean?”

“It means… whatever you want it to mean,” he concludes. 

“Jungkook…” you trail off, “Don’t wait for me. If you find a girl you like, then you should go for her. All I want is for you to be happy. It’s what you deserve,” you offer him a soft smile, a direct juxtaposition to your tear stained cheeks.

His chest tightens at that and he shakes his head. “You’ll always be my priority. Me? I’ve dated enough girls, I can be single for the rest of my life.”

You immediately swat his chest at the sentiment. “No, Jungkook. You should be with someone who takes care of you, not someone you have to take care of all the time. I’ll just always be your family friend who had a stupid crush on you in college.” Your attempt to lighten the atmosphere is futile and makes Jungkook’s scowl deepen. 

“You’re more than that to me. You’ll always be.” His hand latches onto yours, and you pull yourself from him. 

“No Jungkook.. I’ve made up my mind. I really don’t think we could ever…” When your voice breaks and more tears accumulate in your waterline, Jungkook stops you, not wanting to cause you any more pain. 

“I got it, Y/N. But just know I’ll always be here… in any way you’ll take me.”

READ PART 2 HERE

taglist: @babycandy111 @jk97bam @bellagrayson-wayne @honeeybunneey (can't be tagged), @talyaaas-blog , @jjeonjjk7 , @lovingkoalaface , @rvck0lover (can't be tagged), @kissyfacekoo , @dontcribuyabag (can't be tagged), @ash07128 , @cinnamonbambii , @jeon-ruby , @starlight-1010 , @hellbornsworld , @dodoneck, @papiibuprofen , @canyon-lwt , @appleh4ad , @screamertannie , @jeonjenny (can't be tagged), @ahgasegotarmy116 , @badaismygf (can't be tagged), @oopscoop , @gabsrecs , @hiii-priestess , @junniesoleilkth (can't be tagged) , @caro134340lina , @ellesalazar

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts jungkook angst #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook drabbles #jungkook series #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines

[farfromstrange]

Lizzi’s Valentine’s Special & Follower Celebration

Dear Everyone,

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and I thought, since this silly little blog hit over 1.1k followers yesterday, I want to give you something special.

First of all, though, I want to thank you. I’ve been on here since (and I checked with the archive) July 19, 2022. I can't believe that it has been almost two years. I started watching Daredevil after watching Spider-Man: No Way Home in December of 2021 and hearing Matt Murdock say, "I'm a really good lawyer," after catching a brick. So, I started watching the show, and that was during a time I was really miserable. Mentally and physically, I wasn't in a good place, but after watching Daredevil for the first time and falling in love with Charlie Cox as a genuine person and an actor, it felt like I found a reason to keep going.

I started writing fanfiction again, which I kind of neglected because I felt like this hobby of mine wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't inspired at all until I watched the show. If I hadn't, I probably would not have gotten back into writing and using it as an outlet for my feelings, and I probably wouldn't be where I am today. Thanks to Charlie's portrayal of Matt Murdock, and watching his interviews, I felt like I could do the things that I love again and follow my dreams. He's the reason I chose to major in English. And while I owe him that much, I owe you guys here on Tumblr and AO3 even more.

When I first posted here, I didn't think people would even be interested in what I had to say and write. But then more and more people started visiting my profile, you guys started following me, and it kept me motivated to keep writing, even when I'm miserable, and I sometimes only post once every blue moon.

I feel so honored that you guys chose to follow a silly little blog run by a silly little 20-something-year-old whose first language isn't even English (but made it her entire personality), and who chose to write about traumatized dark-haired characters portrayed by Charlie Cox. I'm overwhelmed by the love you continue to show me, and every time one of you chooses to reblog or comment on one of my works, saying that it resonated with you, I feel like I'm doing something right. I'm sharing my ideas, my own experiences, my wishes, and even my deepest, darkest dreams through my writing like it's a fucking diary, and you eat it up every single time.

I'm just so glad that this community exists, as chaotic as it sometimes is, and that you chose to stick around, even when I suck at keeping promises sometimes. You keep teaching me new things about who I am, my writing, and how important it is to put myself first. I don't know if you've heard it lately, but you guys are incredible and I appreciate the hell out of every single one of you.

Thanks to Tumblr, I made lifelong friends (especially looking at you, @blackshadowswriter) and found like-minded people that made me feel less alone. That alone was worth making this account and continuing to post on here.

You may think that I'm being dramatic, but for someone who has never really experienced the kind of validation this community gives me, I want to celebrate this milestone. It means more to me than I can even put into words. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I love you all so much! Please, don't ever forget how amazing you are.

That being said, I've got some exciting things planned.

The other day, I found a folder in my Docs titled "the vault". I completely forgot about it because I usually keep my WIPs in a different folder. As it turns out, I made that folder for fics that I originally never planned to post, or ones that I'd finished but wasn't happy with. It’s many, but it’s a few. Some are deeper than others. I also jotted down rough ideas and outlines last year that I stuffed in there, some of which I've actually shared with you but never started working on. Until now. And the contents of that vault are what I want to give to you now.

INTRODUCING: The Vault

6 stories from the vault. 1 bonus fic. 7 days.

I went through a myriad of emotions while I wrote these. For some, I actually bled my soul onto paper. For others, it was merely a brain fart that led to their existence. They're sad, horny, and at times angry, but some of those were originally written for me, and only me. Those that weren't started as a few sentences in a folder before I forgot they existed. Either way, I don't want them to catch dust. And I wouldn't want to share them with anyone else.

Starting February 14th, I will be posting one fic every day until February 20th. My “The Vault” works are Matt Murdock x Reader works, but I've made an exception for the bonus fic. I won't tell you what they are about, but I will give you a list of installments and what kind of fic they are so you know what to be excited about (and maybe which ones are not your cup of tea).

-> The number at the end tells you the date I will be posting it on, but I put it in chronological order as well.

INSTALLMENTS:

1. If You Need To Be Mean (angst, hurt/comfort) 14.

2. Mismatched Bridesmaid (fluff, smut) 15.

3. Weed Cookies (humor, fluff, cw: accidental drug use) 16.

4. the grudge (songfic, angst, hurt/comfort, cw: death of a parent) 17.

5. Halloween (Smut) 18.

6. I Want To Fuck A Priest (Smut, cw: priest!Matt) 19.

BONUS:

7. Now That We Don’t Talk (Part 2 of Is It Over Now?) -> Frank Castle x Reader (smut, angst) 20.

A few more words: You are free to send me an ask if you want to know more, but be prepared that I won't be answering in much detail. I don't want to spoil the fun. I would, however, not mind talking about them as vaguely as possible (if you’re interested).

Thank you all. For everything. And I hope you stick around to read these little gems.

With love from yours truly,

Lizzi <3

#lizzi writes #follower celebration #valentine’s day #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #frank castle x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #charlie cox

[queseraone]

Everyone asks about what we want to see in S6, but I'm curious, what are your wants in general for S6 or beyond? Any particular storylines you'd like to see?

Honestly I'm just beyond grateful that we're getting a season 6! (In terms of renewal, and of course the strikes.)

What I want (also includes things I don't want) under the cut!

Tim and Lucy dance at the wedding!!! (it's a need)

KOJOOOOOOOOOOO

The little things: holding hands, a kiss on the cheek, one coming up and wrapping their arms around the other from behind. Just those soft things that are so easily overlooked, but frankly these little moments often have the biggest impact.

CHENFORD I LOVE YOU! That's the only "big" development I need for them in season 6, mostly because I think it should have happened in season 5.

Oh I lied, other big thing I'd really like to see - Chenford living together. Because let's face it, they already do, so might as well make it official already! (Especially if there's a time jump of any kind. Grown ass adults move faster in relationships than 20-year-olds.)

Aaron lives! (I almost didn't bother including this one since he obviously does, but still)

Development to (if not resolution of) everything that's been brewing regarding Lucy's undercover career. I know everyone has their own (strong) opinions on what they want to happen/where they want this to land, but I just want Lucy to have the career she deserves AND the life that she wants (and I personally don't think she can have both with the current state of things) AND for her and Tim to be in a good place. So ultimately I hope she realizes that UC is not for her - BUT NOT JUST BECAUSE OF TIM, because it goes against her character, because she doesn't want to leave herself, her friends, her life behind... (I could write an essay on this, and... oops apparently I have!)

Related the above, but Lucy to advance in her career. Be that as a detective or some other type of promotion or advancement. Girl has been killing it, she deserves it! (As much as I think having Angela and Nyla AND Lucy as detectives is too many detectives, I would loooove to see that trio kicking ass together!)

More Tim and Angela moments. Aside from Chenford, this is my absolute favourite relationship on the show, I adore their friendship and I'd love to see more of it!

Aaron and Celina to be just friends. Petition for more platonic male-female friendships on TV!! And they just give off BFF energy to me

Genny! Moments with Tim, moments with Lucy, maybe tell us her other kid's name... they made a point of moving her character to Los Angeles, I hope they use her!

No pregnancy for Bailey/Nolan. Congrats to Jenna, but we've had pregnancies every season since season 3 and it's a lot. Plus Nolan wasn't keen a few seasons ago, and he's even older now, and giving the lead character a newborn at home would really fuck with the dynamics. Also petition for more female characters choosing not to have kids, representation matters! (Oops another essay...)

Better integration of the various characters. Lots of people dislike Bailey (I am not one of them), but I personally think the biggest hiccup with her character is that she almost exclusively interacts with Nolan. This cast has incredible chemistry, so I would really like to see them play with that more! What I would give for a ladies night with all these badass women (you know they'll stumble across a crime or something...)

I'm sure there's more, but I've yammered on enough. Aside from these things, I'm just REALLY looking forward to my beloved show coming back. This cast is magical, I love how they manage to keep it light, and I'm excited to see what they have planned for us.

And I'm hoping for some renewed inspiration for fic ideas, too! Oh and that reminds me, my biggest want for season 6? RENEWAL FOR SEASON 7!!!!!!!!

#chenford #the rookie #the rookie season 6 #lucy chen #tim bradford #kojo #aaron thorsen #angela lopez #nyla harper #john nolan #bailey nune #genny bradford

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 24)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 3,440

Summary: It's been 15 years since Horacio and Javier brought down Gacha in Tolú, and now they're back where their story began.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Brief allusions to period-typical prejudices/politics/legislation, very brief sexual references, smoking, swearing, all the fluff.

Notes: Well....I feel like I should post this with a fanfare or something (just imagine there's one playing), but oh boy, oh man, oh god. I did it. I flipping did it 😭 It's only taken 36 months, copious amounts of blood, sweat and tears, a deranged amount of research, the last shred of my sanity, and probably a fair amount of back/neck pain from sitting at my laptop for too long to get here. But hey, if I don't write a self-indulgent novel-length fix-it fic for a criminally underrated rarepair from a defunct TV show, WHO WILL, I ASK THEE? 😂

I can't fully explain the journey this fic has taken me and my writing on, or the deep love I have in my heart for this ship and the OHDH universe that has lived constantly in my head these last few years. Even when I'm not actively writing, so many things remind me of these two everywhere I go. They got me through the darkest days of the pandemic and somehow became my comfort ship, despite er, certain canon events we don't talk about in this house.

Anyway, I think you've all heard quite enough from me for the time being. So, I will just say thank you so, so, so much to anyone who has read, commented, kudosed, reblogged, liked, sent me messages, made me things, suggested music recs, generally been incredibly supportive and kind ❤️

And thank you to anyone who may stumble across this fic in future. Please never be afraid to leave a comment, even if you're reading several years down the line, I will always love to hear from people about this story.

There will also be some moodboards and playlists posted on my Tumblr at some point (and *maybe* some new - much shorter lol - fics eventually) once I've caught my breath back a bit.

For the final time (unless I randomly think of anything I've forgotten, which is more than likely lol), I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 24: Suerte (Epilogue)

Early evening rays painted the pastel horizon, their last act of the day transforming the shimmering ocean into an inky palate of fuchsia, violet and saffron, the golden sands at the shore still warm to the touch hours past dusk.

Come the weekend, Colombians would travel far and wide to descend on the many beaches, bars and restaurants that dotted the waterfront. Or if they were feeling adventurous, they would birdwatch, dive off the Islas de San Bernardo, or canoe amongst the mangroves.

But it was mid-week and mid-December – when most locals were at work and school or preparing for Christmas. So, for now, Horacio and Javier had the place to themselves.

There was the added bonus of the coastline turning into a dense forest of palm trees just along from their beach house, civilisation a mile or so away on either side of them, so even at peak times, they remained secluded. It had become a daily ritual to luxuriate in the peace and quiet; a pre-dinner swim with no trunks required followed by entwined limbs and sand in their hair as the sun went down.

Today was no exception, the gentle lapping of the waves around them and their shallow breaths the only sounds to be heard, the taste of salt and scent of sun lotion heavy in the air and on their skin as Horacio rocked into Javier, slow and deep, their chests and foreheads drawn together.

It was almost dark when Javier switched on the shower taps, cascading soothing jets over his head, neck and shoulders. As he soaked his hair, the lights from inside the beach house sprung to life, illuminating the outdoor bathroom with an ambient glow. It was a feature of the premium accommodation they had splashed out on, a rare treat away for a special occasion.

The outside space was a mix of wood, tiles and natural stone for the walls and floors, encased by tall plants and trees for extra privacy. A double shower stood on a platform at the end of a walkway, with a large hot tub branching off in the other direction. On their first night here, they had opted for the tub, surrounding it with candles as a belated ode to Día de las Velitas, lost in each other beneath the bubbles and the stars.

A sturdy embrace enveloped Javier from behind, a position they had found themselves in every morning by the shore before breakfast, looking out to a tranquil sea and a kaleidoscopic sky. The day jobs kept them both on their feet and in good shape, although there was more softness around their stomachs, and Javier was stockier than in his younger years. But his upper body was even broader with muscle now.

He was no gym fiend, but he had accompanied Horacio in some of his strengthening training, wanting to keep his stamina up as much as possible. Not just for the obvious but because he was sometimes required to carry the heavier supplies at work and didn’t want to be shown up in front of his largely youthful team.

It was a welcome development to Horacio, whatever the reason. Not that he ever had any complaints before, but watching Javier blossom as he aged was a wonder to behold. Not to mention, there was more of him to enjoy now.

As for Horacio, aside from the sloping curve of his midriff, he was sheer jaguar strength. Not only in the noticeable places, but his core muscles were in peak condition, the daily horse riding improving his posture and taking him back to the drill commands of his cadet years. His skin was more weathered, and his days of being meticulously cleanly shaven at all times were long gone. But Javier assured him – a lot – the ruggedness was part of the appeal.

Javier wasn’t one to talk either, stubble being a more regular feature alongside his moustache nowadays. But that was mainly due to lack of time in his busy schedule rather than preference, so it wasn’t unheard of for Horacio to do the honours for him. For some reason, Horacio delicately scraping a razor blade across his jaw from the comfort of his lap was far more appealing to Javier than doing it himself in front of the bathroom mirror.

Their hair contained more grey patches, especially around the temples, which was easier to hide when they grew it longer. That wasn’t practical during the sweltering heat of a Texan summer, so they kept it shorter in the hotter months. But in the winter, they could run their fingers through choppy waves and coils of curls to their hearts’ content. And luckily for them, their anniversary fell in December.

“Can you believe it’s been 15 years to the day?” Horacio asked, scattering kisses across Javier’s back.

“This doesn’t even feel like the same fucking place, to be honest.”

“Tell me about it.”

Horacio let out a huff as flashbacks of leading his men on a fleet of raiding crafts towards Gacha’s hideout collided with memories from merely days ago of him and Javier island hopping in a hire boat along the same waters. They had taken a platter of fresh seafood and fruit, exploring the remotest beaches and lagoons, where their only company was the local wildlife.

He could still remember the sensation of the blood at his temple as he lay disorientated on the sand in the aftermath of the explosion, a stark contrast to dozing together under the shade of a palm tree or reading aloud to each other the words of Lorca, Gaitán Durán, Arbeláez, Neruda, Paz, Castellanos and Mistral.

“Although, I did notice signs for the barracks towards Coveñas when we were driving here,” Horacio added with a nostalgic smirk.

“Oh yeah? You didn’t want another night there for old times’ sake?” Javier tilted his head until he found Horacio’s lips with his teeth.

Horacio hummed and put up no resistance, his wet hands sailing with ease down Javier’s body, finding purchase at his hip bones. “It was tempting. But I figured you’d want to make the most of this before Christmas.”

“Damn right.”

They took turns massaging shampoo into each other’s scalps, lathering the suds through thick spirals, tenderly pulling at strands until they purred, thoroughly indulging in the sensation whilst they had the chance. And then they did it all again, rinsing off the soap, floating away on the meditative pressure of the faucet and their fingers.

“We could always see if Alejandra has more spa freebies if it gets too much, though,” Javier suggested through the haze of steam now cocooning them.

“I like your thinking.”

It had been a while since they last used such tickets, their previous visits not dissimilar to how their current vacation was playing out. But despite the chaos that would no doubt ensue, they were looking forward to catching up with Horacio’s side of the family. Between expanding businesses in Texas and Manizales and the oldest half of the brood living and working elsewhere now with the twins staying at home studying, they didn’t get to meet up as much as they would have liked.

However, Elena visited Laredo several times, swapping life stories and recipes with Chucho and joining Horacio and Javier in San Antonio one spring for the Fiesta. Her last holiday outside of Colombia had been before Alejandra and Horacio were born, so she was determined to take advantage of having family abroad before age finally caught up with her. There had even been discussions of a trip to Madrid if Horacio and Javier could arrange cover at work the following year.

“Pops is flying out on the 20th, right?”

“Yes. Marco and Raúl are covering the ranch and animals until your father’s back on the 28th. And Jorge is covering the farm until we’re home from Miami in the New Year.”

No one was keen to leave Luna, Sol and Leo, who had long since retired from ranch duties, but between work and Christmas commitments, Connie taking a full-time job in a different hospital, now Olivia was a teenager going on 30, and the earlier-than-expected arrival of Felipe’s and Juana’s second child – Óscar, a little brother to Claudia – New Year was the only time everyone’s schedules matched up.

These days, Luna, whose main residence was the cottage now, Sol and Leo spent most of their time nestled on furniture or looking for treats in the kitchen whenever food was prepared. However, Luna would sometimes still ride in the back of Horacio’s truck and keep him company in the lower fields.

Kira and Fuego had become old pros, showing their younger siblings, Cielo and Tierra, the ropes, not as replacements to the trio but as a new team with their own quirks and personalities. Thankfully, the dogs and Coco had taken well to the pair of barn cats, Churro and Tamale, who patrolled the outbuildings and dealt with any rodent intruders.

Meanwhile, Chucho showed few signs of slowing down, except one summer when he twisted an ankle, and even that was hard work to get him to rest. But he had been happy to step back from some of his more physically demanding responsibilities in recent years, trusting that the ranch and farm were in capable hands. With their expansion plans a resounding success – plus some new ones up their sleeves – he had become more involved in the business side of the operation alongside Miguel.

And, of course, he was always happy to offer Horacio advice whenever needed. But for the most part, he left him to it since Félix’s retirement, preferring to arrange for the guesthouses to be refurbished or to deliver fresh batches of cooking to aid workers and exhausted arrivals alike on the frontline of the border.

“Bet Jorge was as thrilled about that arrangement as my team.”

“Well, we can always delegate to our deputies whenever necessary. One of the perks of being promoted.”

It had taken Horacio five years under Félix’s watchful eye – and decades of experience – to be granted the title of farm manager. Then, Félix had retired the previous year, satisfied he had picked the right man as his successor and Jorge as deputy.

Horacio still had plenty to learn and likely always would with the constant conveyor belt of change to farming methods and technology that landed on his desk each month. However, there was a sense of familiarity with certain parts of the job, like the meetings, the paperwork, and the budget constraints. Except, this time, it all came without the funerals, the upper echelons of the CNP breathing down his neck, and the crushing weight of a country’s future on his shoulders.

“And a holiday on the Caribbean coast was necessary, was it?” Now that Javier’s hair was free from sand and shampoo, he turned to face Horacio, their lips almost touching.

Horacio nodded sagely and closed the gap. “A critical business need.”

------------------------------------------------------

Once dried off, they lay in a hammock in matching white towel robes under the thatched porch of their beach house with a perfect view of the sea, moon and stars.

“So, you like it here?” Horacio asked after a comfortable silence.

“It’s beautiful. I’m glad we came back – to see it how it’s meant to be.”

“Me too. Although, I fear violence will always be a parasite latched onto Colombia. Just when you think it’s gone from one place, it rears its head again in another. Or even the same place twice if you’re unlucky.”

Horacio remembered the stories he had heard from Trujillo in the last couple of years – particularly about Operation Orion. Officially, the incursion on Comuna 13 had been a success by the Colombian military against the likes of FARC. Unofficially, however, there were rumours of a leaked CIA report, disappeared individuals, and collusion between an Army General and none other than Don Berna’s subordinate. It was hard to keep faith that Medellín would ever be free from its past when history had such a predictable habit of repeating itself.

“I know. It feels like one step forward and two steps back in the States, too. Terrorism might be the new bogeyman, but re-branding to ICE and throwing a shitload of money at the DHS hasn’t stopped the drugs and the people finding their way over the border.”

Javier had heard directly from Steve about the shift in his job role since 9/11. Overnight, Steve’s whole department was removed from their current caseloads and signed up for every counter-terrorism and narco-terrorism course under the sun. It was now customary for DEA agents to be redeployed to the FBI as intelligence analysts if resources required. And if their eyes and ears were pulled away from the drug traffickers, it didn’t take a genius to figure out the consequences.

Meanwhile, in Texas, if anything, people only took graver risks in the wake of a beefed-up Border Patrol. Javier had spent a lot of the past year helping to set up new aid teams in Arizona and New Mexico, the inhospitable conditions of the desert not enough of a deterrent to stop families trying their luck or handing over their life savings to coyotes who didn’t care whether they made it across alive.

“But small things can add up to change. Bit by bit,” Javier added. “And at least they can’t arrest us for fucking in our own home anymore.”

“True. Not that the law stopped us before...” Horacio nuzzled against Javier’s neck before making a move to get up.

They may have joked in the here and now, but it wasn’t a change they took for granted. In fact, Luz and Carla had even persuaded Javier to attend a protest or two and pay bond and legal fees for those who had been arrested. After all, he’d had plenty of experience exchanging money for people’s freedom.

When news of the Supreme Court decision spread, it was another weight off their backs and one less reason to look over their shoulders, a chance to permanently put to bed memories of being spied on during such unguarded sacred moments. It was the final line to be drawn under those dark years, not to erase them because that was impossible. But it was, at least, closure.

Their cigarette was almost done, and Horacio had left the opened pack on the kitchen counter. Once retrieved, he took out another and leaned into Javier across the hammock, pressing the tip of his unlit cigarette against the lit one until it sparked.

“But you’re right,” Horacio continued, holding Javier’s gaze between exhaling a plume of smoke. He balanced on the edge of the hammock, just enough to stop it tipping sideways. “Things can change. But only if we want them to.” He perched their new cigarette between his lips as he reached into the pocket of his robe.

Their first cigarette was little more than a stub, so Javier stooped down to the ashtray on the floor to extinguish it. Once he sat up again, a small cubed box was presented into his spare hand.

Javier stared at the black box and blew out remnants of smoke, eyeing Horacio with an unreadable expression, an unspoken question and answer lingering between them and the mist of tobacco.

He prised open the box to reveal a ring of plain silver. Or, so he thought at first glance. But as he raised it towards the moon, the iridescent light caught on the inner band to reveal an inscription.

Suerte que encontré a mi media naranja.

(Lucky that I found my soulmate.)

“Fuck, Horacio…” Javier’s voice was strained, and his words came out as little more than a whisper. He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, letting the ethereal reflection from above capture each word.

Horacio watched every shift in Javier’s face with bated breath and a dry throat, his limbs lead and weightless all at once.

“The world’s changing around us,” Horacio said at last; swallowing his nerves and summoning his courage. “But no matter what the law or courts say in any state or country, this can mean whatever we want it to mean.”

Javier’s jaw worked back and forth, his teeth clamping down on the inside of his cheeks. But it was no use, and he let out a trembling scoff, an attempt to distract from the shining pupils he finally confronted Horacio with.

And then a broad smile crept across Javier’s features, his palm connecting with Horacio’s cheek before he plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag. “Pass me my jeans.”

It took Horacio a moment to process Javier’s request. Of all the responses he had prepared for – the good and the bad – that hadn’t been on his list, funnily enough. With narrowed eyes and pursed lips, he complied and fetched the jeans that had been flung over a sun lounger when they stripped off to swim earlier. Apparently, regardless of how humid the climate in Tolú became, denim remained a reliable staple of Javier’s wardrobe.

“Check my left pocket.”

Whatever Javier was up to, Horacio was torn between intrigue and irritation at Javier’s temerity to issue orders despite leaving him hanging. But he did as he was told, and in an instant, everything made sense.

“I can always take it back if you’d prefer…”

But Horacio was already opening the near-identical box, and any teasing faded to white noise as he came face-to-face with the gold equivalent of his own proposal.

“Hold it up to the light.”

The night sky was brighter now, making it easier for the inscription to be revealed.

Mi amor, mi vida, mi hogar, mi vaquero. Siempre tuyo.

(My love, my life, my home, my cowboy. Yours always.)

It was Javier’s turn to observe, and it didn’t take long for Horacio to raise a brow in his direction, shooting him a look of feigned exasperation that only came with the territory of a relationship as enduring as theirs.

“What?” Javier said with disingenuous innocence and a vulpine smile.

It was a contagious kind of smile, one that reminded Horacio they were equals in this and that he shouldn’t have been surprised Javier had the same idea.

“I take it my mother showed you her ring?”

“On my first visit to Manizales. It was beautiful. And so’s this.”

“As is this.”

“I like to think I put my own spin on it.”

“You did.”

They sat side-by-side on the hammock, legs facing towards each other with the rings held in their outstretched hands.

Javier’s thumb slid across Horacio’s left palm, tracing patterns over new callouses born from hard labour rather than war. He circled his wrist, waiting for the familiar rhythm but finding a beat that was, unsurprisingly, drumming quicker than usual.

After subduing with his touch, Javier retrieved the gold band, gliding it carefully onto Horacio’s ring finger, easing it over the knuckle until it rested snugly at the base.

They sat transfixed, marvelling at the light dancing across it as Horacio’s thumb ran back and forth over the curved surface in fascination.

Horacio repeated the ritual of mapping Javier’s left hand, lacing their fingers together as a tangible reminder of their bond. Their devotion. Their vow. Their choice. Whether the law honoured it one day or not.

He picked up the silver to his gold, shimmying it along Javier’s ring finger and passing beyond the slight resistance at his knuckle. Not too much force, but firm enough for it to sink perfectly into place.

With palms connected and fingers interlocked, their foreheads met, chests rising and falling in tandem.

“Te amo tanto, Javier.”

“Yo también te amo. Tanto, Horacio. Tanto.” Javier whispered, over and over in Horacio’s ear like a prayer – their prayer – before brushing his lips above Horacio’s brow, the bridge of his nose, both cheeks and down to his mouth, creating their own sign of the cross with each kiss. A new beginning and a welcome home.

They untied their robes and collapsed onto the hammock in a tangle of limbs, silver and gold melding at their chests and hands; their past, present and future as inseparable as their hearts, bodies and souls.

With one smooth motion, Horacio pinned Javier’s arms down into the netting of the hammock, a dark, hungry gaze passing between them as cool metal fused with hot skin.

15 years and several lifetimes may have gone by. But when Horacio had the man he loved, the man who loved him, his media naranja, underneath him, only one word ran through his head. Mine.

Old habits die hard, he supposed.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

[nimata-beroya]

20 Questions For Writers

This was sitting on my notifs for a few days and i finally took the time to do it. Thank my darling @takadasaiko for the tag!! 💕💕

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 88 works in total, 31 of which are for Star Wars.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

574,873 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I'm only writing for Star Wars. But I used to write for Arrow and Supergirl, and ASoIAF, Dark-Hunters and Chronicles of Nick are in standby. I'm waiting for right motivation to come back to any of the last 3.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I'm only talking about Star Wars fics here...

Kadala (The Mandalorian) [and 4th place in most kudos of all my works]

Rough Awakening (The Bad Batch) [and 5th place in most kudos of all my works]

Welcome to Yavin IV (Rebels)

An Explosive Situation (Rebels)

Rescue on Ryloth (The Bad Batch)

And the the rest of my all-time fics with most kudos are

Take Your Breath Away (Arrow)

Undisclosed Desires (Arrow)

Made For You (ASoIaF/Game of Thrones)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try my best, but sometimes I forget, and then it's been weeks and months since I got the comments that I'm embarrassed to reply them after so long. Even though, I think it's important that a writer let the reader/commenter that they appreciate it, even if it's with a simple "thank you" or an emoji. I know I'm being a hypocrite here since I fail to do what I preach, but it doesn't make it less true.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think that would be Drifting, because it's kind of open ending, left to be interpreted, so it could end however the reader wants. Although, I left an author's note at the end saying what's my preferred ending, which always will be inclined to the happy side.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

High Above the Ground because is the happy ending i want for Commander Fox and Riyo Chuchi. They deserve only the best!

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

No, not really. I've gotten only 1 stupid message of someone criticizing a fic, but that was years ago when I still posted on FF dot net. The joke was on the reader because I moderated all the comments there so I just deleted it and nobody saw it but me. Honestly, I just laughed about it cuz their argument was just stupid.

9. Do you write smut?

I do, all kinds -from the most tame thing to the most perverted. But I used to wrote way more in my old fandoms, especially for Arrow. I think for Star Wars I've written just 1 or 2 smutty fics, and tamed at that.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I've tried a couple of occasions but never finished them. I'm not opposed to them obviously, but I do think the combination of fandoms has to be just right to work. Or at least, when it's me doing the writing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes! Many, many years ago in the first fandom I ever wrote for. It was awful and hated it! You see, this was in the stone age of the internet when fandom specific sites abounded and not everyone had an account on FFnet yet (and Ao3 was not even a dream). The site I published on was split in 2 sections because the ships war in the fandom was bloody and ruthless, so to avoid the slaughter, I kept myself in my preferred side. But one day, a friend who read fic on both sides told me that someone stole my fics. Avoiding to get caught, the person who did it published them under a pen name that was almost exact to mine, she only added a period at the end, which could easily go unnoticed. Oh, and she interchanged characters names so it'd fit the other ship.

At first, my friend thought I had posted them but she knew I'd never write for that ship, like ever. In the end, it turned out that I wasn't the only one who had being plagiarized. Several people ON BOTH SIDES were. Thankfully, the person was caught and banned, but we almost burned the site down because of the whole shitshow.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

By me, yes, several. All into Spanish (my mother tongue). By others, not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes! A couple of times for different fandoms, and I loved it. I hope I'll do it again. The thing is that you need to find the right partner for it, or it can be a nightmare.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I don't appreciate this question, let me tell you. It's hard to choose. But I think I have to go with Olicity. I love them still (even if the show ending ruined it for me). Close second would be Braime (and I'm glad that there's still hope for them on the books, because as usual the show fucked them so but sooooo bad)

And as Star Wars specific, I don't think anyone will be surprised if I say it's Kalluzeb, right 🤣 They're my babies and I adore them!

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Anything for Arrow or Supergirl. I sworn off those fandoms after their respectively awful endings.

No promises, but there's still hope for all if my unfinished works for Star Wars 😅

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Coming up with ideas. So, so many ideas. All the time and I want to write them all.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Finishing writing the above-mentioned ideas. I tend to splay myself too much when I'm writing, and it takes me forever to get to the portion I really want to write (usually the idea that sparked the whole writing process) and I lose steam. That's why I have so many unfinished WIPs. I wish they'd write themselves.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's ok if used sparingly. A word here, a phrase over there is fine, but if a wall of dialogue that the reader needs to scroll down to the notes or click on a tooltip to find out the meaning it's the worst!!! A better solution for a writer that really needs/wants to have a whole conversation in another language for plot reasons or whatever, then all they need to do is to say once that the characters are talking in the other language and put the dialogue in the same language they've been writing the rest of the narrative and in italic.

The characters who don't speak the language won't understand what's being said, but the reader will and their reading will be more pleasant and fluid.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

An Argentinian show called Floricienta. A modern retelling of Cinderella.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I don't like this question either! All my fics are my babies! How do you want me to choose?!! There are so many I'm proud of. I guess I'll point the most recent one: Feed Me Poison, Fill me till I Drown I really like how this story is coming along. It's not done yet (what else is new? 😅) but what's coming is so so good!

Tagging (no pressure): @renee561 @thecoffeelorian @genericficerblog @airlockfailure @mistr3ssquickly @insertmeaningfulusername @fanfictasia

#20 asks for writers #ask game #the mandalorian #the bad batch #sw rebels #kalluzeb #braime #foxiyo #mare writes star wars #and other things #olicity #long post

[osirisiii-bc]

The thing that should not be [Terzomega One Shot]

I finally made it with a Terzo/Ghoul. What’s your opinion on POV fics? I used to write a lot of it in my past fandoms but here I see rarely this kind of fics. Thank you @van-goghs-smoking-skull for your help 🌹

Genre: slash, explicit, oral sex, sex, Terzo POV, young Terzo, sub Terzo, dom Omega, first time with Omega/a Ghoul.

Pairing: Terzo x Ghoul (Omega)

Rating: Nc17 (explicit but not properly smut)

Words: 2.943

Summary: Terzo is the 20 year old last heir of Papa Nihil and he’s definitely not having fun at his father’s birthday party. Luckily, a big Ghoul is around to save the night…

>>> Wattpad | AO3 | or down here 👇🏻

The first time we met, the big Ghoul and I, was in the hallways of the Ministry, shortly after the new summoning, but there was nothing more than a few distracted glances. I had seen him walking along with the other Ghouls, standing out for his size; their black robes covered every inch of their bodies, including their faces, making them look like nothing more than disturbing moving shadows.

The last time was a few days ago, and besides the looks, there was also the insolence of a mouth that was too big and too dirty to keep a few of their thoughts to themselves. 

It had been a coincidence that I happened to be passing by just in time to hear my name, followed by a somewhat ungentlemanly "I'm surprised none of us has fucked him yet."

The reply was even less gentle, “Just give me some time and my cock will end up deep in that throat.”

It must have been a group of Ghouls, judging by the voices, but from the cloister colonnade, I couldn't see them. A few more steps, and they were all there, gathered, chatting among themselves, some smoking with the cigarette passing under their masks. It was hard to tell who had spoken, but one of them, the tallest and most recognizable of the group, had stared at me a bit too interested while still laughing at what was said, even though it was impossible to imagine his expression under the mask.

I had noted that tone, knowing it would come in handy sooner or later.

Birthday parties are all dramatically the same and all equally boring, especially when it's your father's birthday. Or at least, I'm just in a phase of chronic dissatisfaction, as Copia would say.

Suddenly, a nearby, deep and familiar voice draws me to a small sofa that I only see from the back.

"...and so you're going on tour."

There is a girl with him, but I can't understand what they're talking about. I only catch a few phrases about music, and as I drink, I move a little closer. Just out of curiosity.

"Yes, in a few weeks." I hear him say, almost disinterested. 

"And is there a chance you'll take me in your suitcase?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you'd fit."

I almost want to laugh and clench the straw between my lips. I'd like to see the girl's face, but I only see her leave, probably after trying to hide her disappointment with all the self-control that a rejected woman can muster.

"You really know how to disappoint a woman." I say out of honesty, because I would have expected anything from him except for him to turn down someone like her.

He shrugs, not even surprised to see me there.

"If I listened to all those who flirt with me, I'd probably have little monsters scattered all over the world, which has probably already happened."

I raise an eyebrow, feeling my head a bit heavy for the few drinks I had. For now, it's still a nice feeling, but I've never been able to stop in time to leave it that way. Somehow, it's as if I need to create a balance just for the sake of destroying it with my own hands.

"I understand."

"Do you?"

I shrug, while I feel him watching my lips tighten around the straw.

I hear Sister Imperator calling me, and we both turn to her. "I think I have to go."

"You'll stay here, later?" That isn't really a question. It's an invitation, if not an order, and I quickly decide that I really like his orders tonight. "I'll make up for that incident in the cloister."

"See you later, then." I tell him as I boldly clench the straw of a now-empty cocktail between my teeth and move toward who I have always called mother.

After a night spent watching the others participate in the party, drinking and staring at the tips of my shoes as if in a catechism lesson, even the prospect of starting a conversation with Primo about his passion for succulents would seem interesting to me. Fortunately, my first brother doesn't have enough time to waste on me, so Copia approaches me, a cigarette between his lips and the rest of the pack still in his hand.

"Want something to drink?" he yells in my ear, as if the loud music gives him the right to think I've gone deaf.

"Do I look like someone who needs a drink?"

He nods convincingly. "Absolutely!"

"Then I'll go get it myself, at least it'll get me moving a bit. It's a real pain in the ass here."

"I haven’t seen you having fun lately!" He rolls his eyes before muttering something to himself, probably about what a creepy presence I am in his life. I hope that with alcohol around there's some action at least.

There isn't, or at least I don't get to know about it, as someone far more interesting than a drink blocks my way.

"Are you having fun?" 

The first time we saw each other, I must have had a really strange expression. It must have been at least five years ago and it was the first time I ever saw a real demon so close, but he hasn't changed at all, and I'm almost curious to know how he sees me now. Not that I expect him to understand concepts like age and physical change.

"Yes, yes."

"Shall we find a quieter spot, what do you think?"

I don't have the clarity to say no, and with a bit of luck, maybe I won't even remember it later.

I've seen him drink continuously during the party, but he seems as clear-headed as if what he's been drinking was fresh water. Either he holds his liquor well, or he knows how to mask it. Or maybe he's not a twenty-year-old jerk who collapses like an idiot after the third glass and makes a spectacle of his worst self.

I nod with a head that's a bit too heavy, then gesture for him to lead the way, only to stop him soon after.

"Wait a moment." I tell him, and I move away, looking for Copia.

When I find him, I only whisper, "Don't look for me… I'll be back in a while." making sure no one else overhears. He looks at me as if to say 'don't mess things up' - the way I have noticed everybody has started to look at me lately, as if they were ready to bet on me causing new trouble every step I take - and then reluctantly nods. I bite my lip, and the Ghoul takes his time to scrutinize me from head to toe as I approach him again.

When I don't want to feel utterly miserable, I seek refuge in Copia's reassurance. I revert to feeling at least ten years younger, shedding the darkness that has accumulated in recent years, especially when the hassle of being the last Papa's heir began to manifest. You need to start building your reputation very early, and I'm not exactly inclined to miss the fun of my youth for something that will likely happen in twenty or thirty years from now.

In all probability, later tonight or tomorrow I'll rest my head on Copia's shoulder, having him telling me that I'm a dickhead but that's ok, that the way to equanimity is a long and hard one, and I'll believe him.

The Ghoul raises a champagne bottle toward me, then hands me a glass as we sit on the secluded couches.

"To make it up to you." he explains, filling my glass like a seasoned gentleman. There's nothing to make up for, I'd tell him if I had the necessary courage, if you want, I can blow you right here.

We spend some time with a few words and many glasses that empty too easily, my stomach flaring up unsure if for the alcohol or who knows what else.

As I drink, I dare to throw a few interested glances at him, running my eyes up and down his frame, catching any relevant detail, even if it's hard to find them in a figure so covered up like his. The rings on his fingers, the shape of his shoulders, how he tilts his head when laughing… Anything can help me understand why him. And he does the same.

He talks about what he does, the music he likes to play, and worlds I've never seen.

Maybe I'll take you there. It always seems like he's about to say. Maybe we'll just stay there. Or maybe it's just me who wants to hear it from him.

I listen to him, barely hearing his deep voice, muffled by the mask he wears, and the party becomes just a confused cloud of lights and distant voices.

The mask is a testament to his past, his condition as a demon bent to the laws of a world not his own. Esoteric symbols stand out on his uniform; I focus on one of them, Omega. I decide on the spot to call him that from now on, aware that in the absence of an identity, everyone must have given him a different name.

How important it is for us humans to name everything. Perhaps that's our problem.

Omega, a guest who can't stay in his place and also the only one who manages to distract me.

We find ourselves drinking straight from the bottle, and I understand less than half of the things he tells me, but it seems to be okay with him. However, I can feel his hands lightly touching me while talking, so discreet that it surprises me. His are distracted caresses barely hinted at, words that say without saying, and I, who speak that language, immediately think of making it clear to him.

"Let's go to the bathroom?"

And I don't know if it's me or him who says it, but the fact is I get up, and he follows me.

Once inside, I let out a deep sigh that actually has nothing of the malice it seems. My ears already relax due to the newfound silence.

"I have to say you saved me from a boring night."

"You too."

I look at him through the mirror, and he does the same, at a comfortable distance from me.

"Really? Wasn't there anything more valuable than my company?"

He shrugs, then approaches, casting a glance at the door.

"It depends on how the evening might end..." he says with a very calm tone, getting closer until he's right behind me, but he doesn't touch me.

I almost want to laugh, but I let it stay just a little smile and I leave him there to enter one of the cabins and wait.

It doesn't take long before he follows me. He tries to enter, but he holds himself against the doorframe and dares to stretch only his head.

"Is there room for me too?"

I look away, tilting my head and shrugging, leaving it up to him to find out. And he does.

Perhaps my Ghoul doesn't like to give empty words, so he strokes my neck in a way I already know, and there's no need to even apply pressure for me to slowly slide down the wall to end up on my knees in front of him, putting into practice what he has fantasized about with his friends.

Too bad that this time there are no witnesses to prove how true to his word he is.

When he takes it out, I reluctantly admit that what they say about the Ghouls is indeed true. Me, a mere human, must accept and accommodate Mother Nature's wishes.

While I admire him, an involuntary "damn" escapes me, to which he responds with an avoidable "seems so.", but I decide to smile anyway. And then I begin.

I partly watch him and partly keep my eyes closed, relishing the weary satisfaction that comes from having the power to grip a man - human or not, as they apparently work the same - just by slipping into his underwear.

At some point, he stops me, and I understand that he wants to get serious; I stand up, and he immediately seizes my hips with those huge, hot hands. I've always thought of myself as not being a good catch for a woman, let alone a man, from this perspective... I have slender hands and long fingers, which I happen to know many appreciate, but they are minuscule in comparison to his; he probably doesn't even feel my touch.

From the way he's gripping me, it really seems like my entire body can fit completely between his hands.

He turns me around with expertise, and I let him.

I have too many thoughts in my head to properly think about how to move for him. Thoughts that I really shouldn't have in a situation like this, but I also know that this thing won't empty me at all; rather, it will fill my head even more than it already is.

As I gasp against the icy wall, I feel his face in my hair and his breath on my neck, escaping the mask he still has on.

"I like it like this."

Me too, sometimes.

I want to think about what a better person I could be, but instead, I let myself get screwed in a restroom by a Ghoul without saying a word, looking at the white tiles faintly mirroring my panting face while I moan and bite on the sleeve of my habit that still covers me, but not enough to grant me a decency I never really had. He has already said enough about me, and I remained silent even then. Maybe I deserved it. Sure I do.

When he thrusts, I feel it perfectly, almost too much. I feel it so much that I open my eyes wide and gasp, scratch the wall, and stiffen in a way that must amuse him. He grins in my hair and doesn't stop. Thank you.

At this point, I don't even know if this is actually his way to make amends, or if he has forgotten it along with the tenth glass he downed and changed his plans in the meantime.

In the following minutes, there are no words, and I'm grateful for that. I don't understand where one can find the strength to talk in a moment like this, when all you feel is your skin burning with flames that are only yours, and every breath seems like it's never enough.

Then it's just a warm breath on the skin, and what seems like a caress on my hips that now belong to him. At least for a while. Then I can't help but bend over in a way he doesn't seem to appreciate, or maybe he only takes it as a chance to pull my hair and tilt my head back, almost resting it on his shoulder, before pressing my chest back against the wall.

That's how I come, with one hand around my throat and the other resting on my hip, feeling my legs tremble and losing their strength as his thrusts get faster and stronger; I slide my tongue on my lip, hungrily savoring what's left of his flavor and all I can think of is how proud Asmodeus must be of me, while I ignore all the Clergy’s advice by letting those last drops of pleasure shake me and the voice dies in my throat in that last groan, while everything seems to turn white for a couple of seconds.

He holds me, saying nothing, with his huge hand holding himself on the wall, near my head, and the other firmly on my chest, pressing my back against him, and I can't say if that's a caring gesture or he just doesn't want me to fall on his feet.

I take my pack of Marlboros from my pants, which I've just put on, covered by my cassock, with hands still trembling a bit.

"Wanna smoke?" I ask, offering him one while I already have one between my lips.

"Nah." he mutters, as he gets dressed as well, as far as pulling up the zipper of his pants can mean "getting dressed."

I lean against the wall while he takes his time to straighten every fold in his Ghoul uniform, and I have strange thoughts.

"I was thinking about where we shouldn't be."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, not at all impressed.

"What we shouldn't have done..."

Encounters between humans and hellish creatures are not forbidden, but highly discouraged. Nobody can say what the true intentions of an entity born and raised in Hell may be, and it's always dangerous to form that kind of bond with subordinates, especially ones who don't feel feelings in the same way as humans. It is something to play with carefully.

"I only think about what we shouldn't be and we'll never be, so don't get ahead of yourself."

I shrug, also unimpressed. The cigarette is still unlit, and I don't think I'll smoke it.

"So disappointing is really your specialty." I joke, approaching him in this bathroom that now seems too big. I offer it to him, and he looks at it a bit strangely. "But keep this one." I tell him, and I like to think he's smiling under the mask. The fact is that he accepts it.

You keep it, so next time, I'll come back to get it. 

And we'll smoke it together.

#the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #young terzo #papa emeritus terzo #terzomega #omega3 #omega ghoul #copia #papa emeritus lll #bottom terzo #Dom omega

[arvensimp]

Hi! I've been reading your fics about Arven and you just make me fall in love with him harder than I am in. You write so beautifuly I really envy you! Very good job, this is my first request, and I hope I don't bother you with it. I love music, and I like to sing a lot, I imagine my MC who also loves singing and music with a beautiful voice, I would like to request a fic with a reader (can be gender neutral) singing to comfort Arven because he is sad, with Masbostiff joining them. (Both have a established relationship and around 20-22 years old)

Thank you!

Hello! You've come to the right place for this one lolol my masters degree is in voice performance and i've literally sung opera in different continents for the last several years.

-

That Funny Feeling

Arven x singer!reader, fluff and comfort, no genedered pronouns are used for the reader

--

Growing up in an empty house as he did, Arven never really listened to music. Sure, he's heard some of the top 40s hits that play over the radio in shops and stores over the years, and he's heard songs that students used to play in the halls when he went to the academy. Thing is, he wasn't exposed to music as a kid, so he didn't really ever seek it out as he gained autonomy.

When he started traveling with you after graduation, it was the first time you both had started spending significant amounts of time together. Sure you'd been casually dating, but you were both busy with your respective pursuits. Your time together was usually spent eating, holding hands, maybe watching a movie, cuddling, and doing other typical, couple-y things. You didn't have time to just exist with one another, which is part of what made now so special.

Because of that, Arven is a little gobsmacked to hear you one evening as you sit with your recently caught tinkatink, singing softly as you brush through her hair.

It's nothing special or over the top, you're just singing something gentle and calming, trying to lull your new pokemon into a comfortable state as you build your relationship with her, but Arven is utterly enamored. Truth be told, he feels almost voyeuristic listening in on the two of you, but he can't bring himself to move away.

When you're done with tinkatink, you move onto your scream tail who receives a similar treatment of a brushing with its bath, but this time the tune is more jovial, and Arven swears he thinks the scream tail is trying to sing along with you, though its voice isn't nearly as relaxing or sweet as a modern day jigglypuff's (or yours, he thinks).

Arven doesn't say anything that night because, truth be told, he isn't quite sure what he can, could, or should say. Do people usually sing like that? Is that a normal thing? Is complimenting you on your singing a normal thing to do, even?

As it turns out, you sing to your pokemon fairly frequently. Skeledirge often joins in with you in low, brassy tones, adding a bizarrely haunting quality to whatever it is you sing. Sometimes, 'Raidon curls up behind you, making you a nice little throne from which you sit as you sing to your pokemon during their mini grooming sessions between baths.

Arven never really joins in, but he silently loves the concerts. He starts to learn some of the tunes and words; he finds himself humming along to you sometimes. When he's alone, he even whistles one once. He didn't even realize he could do that! Sure, it was probably discordant and the wrong key (whatever that means...) but he whistled!

The two of you are walking through Socarrat Trail one day when the urge to sing strikes you, so you just...let'er rip. It's a folksy tune, perfect for crispy cool days on mountain trails, and your voice echos among the stones in an entertaining way.

You're not screaming or anything, but you're singing loudly enough for the wild pokemon to take notice. They turn, and the sudowoodo have the sense to high tail it immediately, as they would anyway. A few toedscool also seem to sense danger in the noise and decide to run away on floppy looking legs. For the most part, the other pokemon seem not to care much. Once they see that the source of the noise isn't trying to make a run at them, they go back to ignoring you.

Arven though? Arven has stopped in his tracks, eyeing you like you've just set off a bomb in the woods.

"What are you doing?!" He hisses.

"Singing?" You reply with a laugh. "I don't see a problem with it. It's not like we're bothering anyone. No other people are around, and the pokemon would've been disturbed by us, regardless."

"Y-Yeah, but... It feels wrong..."

You flush a bit, feeling embarrassed suddenly. "Oh... Sorry. I'll, uh. Stop, then." You imagine Arven wouldn't shush you like that unless the singing was bad, right? Oof, that's a faux-pas.

You spend the rest of the walk in silence.

Arven for his part, feels bad for being the one to silence you, but he isn't quite sure why. Like, you shouldn't sing in public, right? That's weird, right? Sure the song was great, and your voice is lovely, but... But that wasn't...wasn't normal, right?

Fuck, and now you're being quiet, and he isn't quite sure what to make of that, so he stays quiet, too.

That evening, Arven is eventually the one to suggest you both stop to have dinner and set up camp for the night. You only nod to his suggestion and get started on setting everything up for yourself and your pokemon. He gets started on dinner as you work on the tent and getting everyone cleaned and healed up from the day's battles.

Your pokemon, of course, notice the change in you, sensing that you're much more down than usual. Both tinkatuff (no longer tinkatink!) and scream tail both try to cajole you into a song, and skeledirge also chirrs lowly, but you quietly hush them, watching Arven's back carefully. You'd rather not embarrass yourself further by singing in front of him anymore. It hurts to think that he doesn't like your singing voice, but...well you think you like him more than you like singing.

As it turns out, Arven's pokemon also pick up on the difference, too, and Mabosstiff is quickly by your side, snuffling against your hands and side in an effort to get you to interact with him.

"Hey, bud..." You whisper to him softly, petting his sides. Mabosstiff boofs loudly twice, and you try to hush him some. "Hey... Let's be quiet for now, yeah?" Instead, Mabosstiff doubles down, baying like a smeargle. You wince and look to Arven, but he doesn't seem to mind the noise the pokemon are making. You smile and ruffle Mabosstiff's fur as he keeps singing, then you return to setting the tent up.

Like clockwork, Arven has dinner on the table as you're finishing up with the other preparations. You wait for him to finish filling the pokemons' bowls and for him to sit down at the table with you before you start eating.

It's delicious, as always, and you want to tell him as much, but you just don't have it in you to break the silence after so long.

So, Arven does.

"I... Uh, I think I messed up."

You give him a confused look, and with a mouth half full (covered by a hand, of course!) you say. "The food tastes fine?"

Arven groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, no. I mean, thanks, but no. I..." He sighs. "Did...Did I mess up? Or, like? Hurt your feelings or something today? I didn't mean to."

"Oh!" You look back down to your food. "Uh... I mean... I guess? You didn't mean to, but yes? It's okay though. I'm sorry you didn't like my singing. I feel bad, you know? Like it must have been really grating these last few weeks--"

"What?" He interrupts. "N-No! That's not it at all! I love your voice! It's beautiful! Like you! I-I mean. Uh..." He goes red. "I really like your voice. A lot. I...I just...well, I wasn't expecting for you to break out into song in the woods today. It caught me off guard, and...I dunno. It seemed weird?"

You bristle. "Weird?"

Arven winces. "I-I dunno! I just...wasn't expecting it, and...I dunno. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, and... I dunno, it was...sad...today...without the sound of your voice..."

You feel your face heat up at his confession. "So you don't mind when I sing to the pokemon?"

"No! I really like it. I...I didn't get to listen to a lot of music as a kid, so this probably doesn't mean anything, but... You're my favorite singer ever."

So singing becomes a welcome nightly ritual, not just one that Arven feels he can observe from afar. He's never quite comfortable enough to join in with you, save for maybe humming along softly with something he knows particularly well, but you don't force the subject with him. Singing is an incredibly personal thing, after all.

Arven and you have to spend a week or so apart not long afterward. You've been called away on League duties, and he decides to busy himself with some post-graduate study at the academy with Saguaro. When you meet back up at the lighthouse on Poco Path, you can immediately tell something's wrong.

After graduating, Arven turned the old lab into a makeshift apartment for himself between journeys, and he usually keeps the place as spotless as his old dorm. Currently though, the shutters are all closed with no natural light getting in, and the usual smells of deliciously cooking food are nowhere to be found. You find Arven curled up on the sofa, Mabosstiff whimpering at his side.

"Hey...What's going on?"

"Hey...Just uh..." It's clear from the sound of his voice that he'd either been crying or is actively holding back tears. "Found some stuff...from the professor..." By the way he says it, you know he means his parent. He gestures to a notebook, left open face down on the coffee table.

You sit down next to your boyfriend, pick up the book, and scan the page. It seems Arven found a passage written about him...about how one of his parents had walked out on the other not long after he was born... He was referred to as "the boy" the whole passage... Just reading it makes your blood boil. You click your tongue disapprovingly, and Arven hiccups a silent sob.

You put an arm around him, coaxing his head into your lap. "Shh..."

"I...I must've done s-something wrong...right?"

You run your fingers through his hair, pushing away that one tuftthat's forever blocking off half of his face. "Absolutely not," You soothe in soft tones. "You were only a baby... You couldn't have done a thing... They were both just...bitter people..."

"No... No, don't say that..." He says, turning a bit into your top.

"I'm sorry... But none of this was your fault, okay?"

He nods against you, digging his fingers into your side.

You keep petting his head, doing your best in the moment to soothe his aching heart. Mabosstiff similarly stretches out, putting more of his weight onto Arven, assuring him of his presence.

There as you sit in the quiet, with Arven trying to steady his breathing and swallow down the lump in his throat, you start to sing. It's hushed, like a lullaby, but with a melancholic longing. There's catharsis in singing music like this through a broken heart. Arven lets his tears fall silently as you sing to him. Between the sound of you, your touch in his hair, and Mabosstiff's weight on him, he stays tethered to the earth, present and safe and loved.

#arven fanfic #arven x reader #trainer arven #arven pokemon #rival arven #arven

[strandnreyes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

@rmd-writes @welcometololaland @three-drink-amy thanks for providing me with procrastination material <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

58

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

957,577. with the unpublished words of meet you after dark, I'll be very close to 1,000,000. I'm almost certain I'll hit it by the end of the year (at least that's my goal)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

911 Lone Star

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

anchor up to me, love (this being my top fic by kudos is so shocking to me lol it's just a 3x05 coda that I think I wrote the day after the episode aired, I really didn't think it was that special)

pushing boundaries

haunted by the ghost of you

one single thread

yours for the weekend

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, I try to respond to them all! That being said, I've very behind right now but I promise I'll get back to you!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hold on - This is probably the only 'unhappy' ending I have, but it's more so just unresolved because it's a 3x01 coda written before any of the other episodes in that arc aired. and 3x01 is not a happy episode lol

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

they pretty much all do in general so I don't think I could pick one specifically that stands out

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really, but it has happened a few times

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, but usually incorporated within a story, not as a standalone. I think the only PWP fic I wrote is when push comes to shove. and even that has some plot

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No crossovers

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

As far as I'm aware, no

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not officially

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Carlos and TK <3

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

idk if I can call this a WIP, but there's always been an idea in my mind about writing a fic inspired by the book Carlos was writing in as if you were a mythical thing. it's a 1970s camp counselor slasher murder mystery style fic that I wrote a little bit of for this prompt fill, but I don't know if a full au will ever come out of it. shame because the playlist and moodbord would slap

16. What are your writing strengths?

world building, banter, angst that feels like a punch in the gut, giving the happy ending room to breathe

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

smut I feel like. need to learn new ways to say the same exact thing

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think it makes total sense and feels authentic for it to be there every once in a while for non-crucial story details if a character speaks another language

19. First fandom you wrote for?

911 Lone Star

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I'm going to go with your first string. I think that has my most full-fledged character arcs and full circle storyline. It's my longest fic and I never really got sick of writing it, which is a pretty good indicator that I enjoyed it

no pressure tagging @reyesstrand @carlos-in-glasses @theghostofashton @orchidscript @freneticfloetry + anyone else!

#tag game

[vermillioncrown]

so, what's up with korvin's parents?

they're just normal people. they just have their circumstances and korvin doesn't want people putting their ignorant opinions on them.

=

but what's really up with korvin's parents? (+ a deeper discussion on my other fics, why the SI MCs are the way they are)

Getting Real™️ warning: reading this might provide context that turns you off my fics.

if you want to keep enjoying light-hearted snark as it is, don't read. if you read this, i request you do not come to me to argue a contrary interpretation of my writing. i know where my brain worms come from, please and thank you.

===

They are stated to be undocumented persons in chapter 1. They intentionally abandoned Korvin in the US. Korvin's reaction is he does not want anyone's judgment on the situation, because chances are it will be 'well-intentioned' but without context, kinda racist and classist, and he's an adult in a kid's body. He gets the kind of pressure that he, as a 'weird kid', as who should be his parents' first-born son to make it in America, would put on his parents. There are no other relatives here to help. They are too poor to be careful parents and do more than financially support their child, just barely. Mental health and superstition are greatly tied in Chinese culture, so he also squicks them with his 'unnaturalness'.

Their choice to leave him in the US is a far-shot hope that while they can't support their kid properly, he'd at least be to stay as a Dreamer and somehow make it.

And how do you begin to explain all that to someone? And better yet, how do you control the gut clenching reaction to someone's judgment of your situation when there was no good choice? What if someone accuses you and your parents of taking advantage of the US legal system, as if you're cockroaches that don't 'deserve' where you are right now?

It's better to never leave an opening for someone to judge. Or if someone has to say something, you just smile and nod, because you usually can't afford to say anything back to them.

I don't make this blatant in the fic because that's 1) insensitive 2) I don't want to deal with people's ACTUAL ignorant opinions 3) it's kinda meta and ingrained for me to be circumspect about this stuff, even if it makes up an essential part of Korvin.

===

It's cosmic comedy, I think, that I'm doing an application that needs me to submit a statement on my academic interests and diversity within my professional career. What is my past experience with that? What is my future intent? How has this impacted my goal to join academia?

I'm almost 30. And growing up somewhere metropolitan, moving all over the country, interacting with people of many walks of life and knowing there are many more I don't interact with...I've been through a roller coaster of perspectives what makes a person distinct. Their distinctness isn't just personality, even if personality isn't so flimsy that a different day will change someone so completely. Yet, we're all shaped by where we come from. Our background, culture, class, sex, environment, etc.

This might be rather obvious, but over the years I've read fic I find that it's a quality and philosophy that doesn't come across often. I'll focus just on SI and OC-insert fics since that's the most relevant. Perhaps it's the type of fics I read, perhaps it's the fandoms, perhaps it's the demographic, perhaps we have too much practice in accepting some Everybody who is Everybody as a baseline regardless of how well that Everyone resonates with us personally.

Of course, not every fic is written for every audience. And different people will always have different perspectives. But I want you to ponder these metrics: I've read fanfic since 2003. Non-stop. I would average 20-50k words a week as a preteen, and ramped up from there. SI and OC make a big portion of what I engage with because I find it a fascinating examination of canon material using an external force, or something like that. They also have the potential to be deeply developed super quickly because we, as amateur authors, really can't help putting a lot of ourselves without filter into our creations. It can lead to polarizing feelings over them because of that.

It's been twenty years, and I can count on one hand the number of SI and OC fics where I legitimately felt that I understood where this character came from and they make sense to me. The rest...some I understood where they came from in the same way I need to empathize with the people around me so that I don't offend them. As a kid and teen, that meant ostracization and bullying. As a professional, it means missing opportunities, also getting bullied, being sabotaged, being used and tossed away. I have to show sympathy, bend my brain to see what makes them 'them' and see how sensible it is for them so that I can survive and thrive.

Some I had to accept that we either lived in vastly different realities in which such a character is sensible, and that's just the world we live in; or they're just bonkers. We move on.

I am compelled to write because I want to explore something that I find has not been explored. If it was already done to my satisfaction? I have literally felt my interest dip like a video game health bar in that situation.

My MCs as SIs cannot be divorced from my background. Ostensibly, that's the square-shaped brain with the math and engineering, the ADHD, and the internal snark. But those traits don't exist in a vacuum. Luckily my interests aligned with my parents' hopes and dreams for me as poor immigrants to the US and I am the first to have an advanced degree since my family has been wiped through the Cultural Revolution; though they were lucky enough to be sponsored by an aunt that married a missionary.

The ADHD was undiagnosed because god forbid I had Problems, "What do you mean Vermillion has problems? She's so bright! She never has to study! She has so much potential!" I have a brother who has problems, and both culturally American and Chinese I have been trained to Not Have Problems because I'm supposed to keep the household together. Plus, we're poor. We can't afford that! We're poor, we have family problems, AND our child has mental issues? They already say enough shit about Chinese people, jeeze.

The internal snark--it does hurt a bit inside whenever I see the reaction to my brand of humor in my fics as if it's meant to be expressed to tell people off, mic drop, actions having no consequences. You know what that is? It's coping. It's also developing the social wherewithal to be circumspect because your livelihood depends on it. And beyond just me, the internal pressure of carrying my family's expectations and wanting to not make their sacrifices in vain--that doubles the risk.

No fucking way do I mouth off without thinking (not since I was actually eight, and learning ever since), and that's why my characters are the way they are. We see a spectrum of them: Zhu Yunxun that needs to put up a front to maintain societal privilege and also is lucky to be born with money and lineage; SI!Taiga with money, physical + mental advantages, gender on his side, and talent; Lan Wenhui born into lineage, physical advantages, privilege, and talent, but still a woman; and now...Korvin Kwan with only the advantage of youth and male privilege. I am a point of departure for each of these and despite whatever gains that have been made with these new lives, I know myself well enough and have been burned before that it's instinctual to not grow into that privilege as if you've always had it.

Zhu Yunxun needs to walk a delicate tightrope of politics and intrigue and is wildly windmilling in the air, even if they're staying on.

SI!Taiga is so baffling to the Clown Gang because he doesn't act like a typical cocksure talented sports boy.

Lan Wenhui...she has her convolutions to be revealed.

Korvin is perpetually at the end of his fucking rope (like, what's Bat-WIng-Guy gonna do? Kill him for swearing? It'd at least cut out the middlemen for child trafficking), and just managed to trust Dick and Babs. Now that he has some sort of solid ground beneath him, that's where we get the chapter 4 code switching and masking.

Actions, and speaking is an action, have consequences and my SIs are me. They live with that philosophy.

We see ten million and one characters that like to loudly and boldly declare themselves, with the implication that they truly believe everything they say matters and will make a difference. They will be heard!

There's no catharsis for those who need to keep it in, where catharsis isn't actually worth it.

You might think: well, that's just on you. You choose to internalize this, you choose to make your family your pressure, you choose to not speak up--

And then I would point out, again, that culture and background makes people. Being diaspora, it influences what I find socially important. And it's even more important because I grew up poor. There's a realm of difference between the professional and well-off Chinese diaspora vs the ones that had to cram in the slums of Chinatown. My family was luckily not at the tail end, but we were nothing like the well-off (I'm lucky that we've essentially achieved the vaunted American Dream, now). To us growing up like that, family was your support network. Regardless of how shitty they are, what they do, the cost of cutting them out was rarely worth it.

And now that I've gone into my professional life--I'm lucky enough that I've either made others think they can't talk shit to my face, or my poker face was strong enough to survive the utter bullshit I've heard told to me like it was the weather. I thank them for their time, and I do what I need to do to navigate the situation. Usually, I don't have the power to do much but survive, so I did. And now, I've reached a point where 1) times are changing 2) I'm niche and competent enough that people are too busy listening to what I have to say than condescend me 3) I can shut them down if they do 4) the field I'm working in values circumspection as a whole.

===

Anyways, this is probably a big bubble burst for my fics. I know a lot of people enjoy them for the funnies, but the funnies come from somewhere. I think I build compelling characters and interpersonal relationships because I work to ground them in reality and what I know and have learned through my own experiences and needing to empathize with others.

My writing is my catharsis. Every time I'm able to resonate with someone out there, I'm happy if someone completely different from me can understand, and I'm even happier if I make another person like me feel seen.

Anyways, that's my kinda intense and sad TED talk, I need to go back to writing my application statement.

#opinionated verm #redglyphs #on tpac #on dbd #on bil #on larb

[wikiangela]

✨ 2023 writing round-up ✨

tagged by @exhuastedpigeon <3

I posted 22 fics this year (including the multi-chapter fic I started last december) and 21 of those were 911, and 20 were buddie lol the very first fic was the ending of my sambucky era (or a pause, I might go back who knows) and then buddie fully took over

idk what it was about this year, bc I've been writing buddie since march 2021, but now it's like the only thing I write haha

putting all the fics i've written this year under the cut bc it got loooong haha - clearly, march this year was big for me, so many fics haha

January

June 14th, 2025 (I've been waiting for you my whole life) Sambucky, T, 3.5k

A year after getting engaged, Sam and Bucky get married. A little oneshot that takes place after the events of my fic "sounds like an angel (he might be a demon)".

___

March

The one with groceries and bad coffee buddie, G, 1.3k

It’s fucking coffee, of all things, that finally does it. Or, Buck buys Eddie's favorite brand of coffee for his loft, and Eddie's brain short-circuits, leading to a realization.

Fine buddie, 1.6k

Eddie’s foot feels heavy on the gas pedal, while his hands grip the steering wheel tightly, to prevent them from shaking. He’s driving almost on autopilot, while trying his best to compartmentalize and focus on just getting to the hospital, trying not to think about Buck- about what’s happening in the back of the ambulance right now. Or, after the drive to the hospital after Buck's hit by lightning, Eddie loses it. Sort of 6x10 coda.

don't know what I'd do if your tomorrow never came buddie, 1.9k

He can’t help but think that this is some kind of sick joke from the universe, which he doesn’t believe but he knows Buck would. “The universe is screaming at you and you refuse to listen” is what Buck said once, it feels like a lifetime ago. He didn't believe it, then, either. And now the universe is mocking Eddie, having him have to tell their kid about Buck, just like Buck had to tell him about the shooting. Eddie doesn’t know how Buck did it, how he had the strength, because he’s on the verge of breaking down and shattering into a million little pieces. Or, Eddie goes home to tell Christopher about Buck getting hurt.

we got time (but we're only human) buddie, 1.6k

“We got time, Eds.” Buck chuckles. “Not enough.” Eddie’s voice breaks a little. Buck squeezes his hand. “We almost ran out of time, and I can’t just wait until it happens again, Buck. Besides, life is short. We’ll never really have enough time, because a lifetime with you wouldn’t be enough." Or, Buck wakes up from his coma, and Eddie, done with wasting time, confesses his feelings.

I can't love you any more (than I do now) buddie, G, 2.6k

Eddie's pretty sure he and Buck are dating and kind of living together. Neither acknowledges it, until Eddie finally does.

I don't mind a detour (as long as I still get to be yours) buddie, G, 1.4k

Buck falls asleep on Eddie's couch. Eddie has feelings about it.

___

April

me and you only equals love buddie, E, 6.6k

“What would you say,” Eddie brings one of his hands to Buck’s face, traces his jaw, feather-light, barely there touch, and hears Buck take a shaky breath, eyes wide with something like awe not leaving Eddie’s face, “if I wanted to kiss you? Just hypothetically.” OR, Eddie is horny and in love, and after the poker date, he finally kisses Buck - and things unfold from there. aka my first smut lol

you're the one I want buddie, G, 1.4k

“You know there’s only one person I’m interested in.” “And who might that be?” Buck leans back against the counter with a goofy grin, and Eddie wants to just go over there and kiss him. “Just my best friend I’m kind of hopelessly in love with.” Eddie shrugs, and enjoys seeing how Buck’s whole face gets red. OR, no one knows that Eddie and Buck are dating, Pepa tries to set Eddie up on dates, and Buck finds it amusing.

kiss it better buddie, G, 1.5k

Buck burns his tongue, Eddie makes a joke, and everything changes.

stuck with each other buddie, G, 2.5k

Buck's new fixation is buying unnecessary kitchen gadgets that end up in Eddie's kitchen, they all cook together, and Eddie can't keep his feelings in check.

I'm free in salt water (embrace the deep end, leave everything) maddie fic, 612 words

Sobbing, Maddie got up and, fully clothed, stepped into the ocean. Cold water was splattering against her, as she kept walking, fighting against the waves that tried to push her out. She was determined. It wasn’t her first attempt at killing herself, but it would be the first time she would be successful. OR, What was going through Maddie's mind as she walks into the ocean? (wrote this one when i was bored in class in college about a year before I posted this and idk if I like it tbh but it's posted haha)

___

May

I'd marry you with paper rings  buddie, G, 3.4k

“If we’re not married by the time we’re, like, forty, we should just marry each other.” he chuckles, and downs the rest of his beer. And Eddie… Eddie knows it’s a joke. Obviously. It can’t be anything but. But still, it does something to him. He’s thought about it, fantasized about it, but hearing it from Buck, even jokingly… “Why wait?” his tone is also teasing. He can play it off as a joke, while still looking for Buck’s reaction, for any indication about how he feels. (...) “Let’s just do it now and get it over with.” Or, Buck makes a joke that leads to an unplanned marriage proposal.

Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life? buddie, G, 2.9k

Buck spends time with Eddie and Chris, and for some reason finds himself incapable of telling Natalia, which leads to some realizations.

what a mighty good man  buddie, G, 3.4k

Buck loses his phone, and Eddie calls him to help him find it - but he does not expect the ringtone Buck has set for him.

___

June

me, you, our kid and a dog buddie, G, 4.7k

Buck and Chris try to convince Eddie to get a dog, while not even living together. It leads to more unexpected changes than Eddie could ever imagine.

___

July

you been looking for love (let me show you how it's done) buddie, E, 12.2k

“Are you-” he frowns, the confusion somehow winning with the urge to just lean in and kiss him so thoroughly he’ll forget about any other kiss he might’ve shared with any dates. “Are you doing all this on purpose?” “Doing what?” Eddie tilts his head, licks his lips, and – Buck’s almost a hundred percent sure – drops his gaze to Buck’s lips for a second. “Eddie.” Buck takes a deep breath, and wants so badly to kiss the smirk off of Eddie’s face. “Please.” “What for?” “You’re driving me insane.” he whispers, nails digging into his palms to prevent himself from reaching out. But Eddie’s thigh is pressed against his, and somehow his hand is on Buck’s knee now, and Eddie’s looking at him in such a way, that it makes Buck hot all over – or, hotter, his palms are sweating, actually. “And I feel like you are doing it on purpose.” or, Eddie is a tease, Buck is horny and jealous of Eddie dating, and a regular evening takes an unexpected turn.

___

August

For a holiday (and forevermore) buddie, M, 95k, 30 chapters

Eddie's sick of personal, intrusive questions about his love life whenever he visits his family, so he starts bringing Buck for the holidays as his (fake) boyfriend. He only wants to shut them up, and doesn't expect that the small crush he has on his best friend could actually turn into something more... (my baby fake dating holiday fic <3)

I could get lost in the feelings (just say that you belong to me) buddie, E, 15k

“Wait, wha- how- how do you feel about me?” Buck asks, his voice quiet and almost hesitant. “Buck, really? Isn’t it obvious? Do I have to spell it out for you?” Eddie sighs, eyes finally locking with Buck’s. “I think I’d like you to.” he whispers, eyes wide. “Just so I- just so I’m sure.” “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Eddie mutters, and then, frustrated and sad, and angry, he takes the few steps separating him from Buck, grabs his face with both hands, and crashes their lips together. Or, Buck's going on a date, Eddie's so jealous he finally snaps and reveals his feelings, which leads to a passionate evening in Buck's kitchen. aka the possessive smut which might be one of my fave fics ever haha

___

September

baby, you drive me wild buddie, E, 10.9k

He places his left hand on Buck’s thigh now, and Buck’s smirk just grows. “Eddie, I’m driving.” he says mock-scolding, but he chuckles breathily, as Eddie shifts in his seat, angling more towards Buck, taking his right hand and very lightly moving it along Buck’s inner thigh, following the seam of his jeans, until he gets to his dick. “Pull over, then.” he hears his own hoarse voice, as his hand grips Buck’s also already hard dick, getting a gasp out of him, his left hand still on Buck’s thigh digging its fingers into the leg. He really doesn’t think he can wait until they get home. “Eddie.” Buck shakes his head slightly, eyes not leaving the road. “We’re not gonna have sex on the side of the road.” Or, Buck and Eddie have car sex on the side of the road. one of my absolute favorite fics I've written and i think my fave smut ngl haha

___

October

the next best thing buddie, E, 9k

And, look, Eddie could say that it’s all good, delete the message, and pretend it never happened. Except, the more he looks, the more turned on he gets, and his hand starts stroking his dick through the fabric, and- and his mind is clouded by arousal and jealousy, and such strong feeling of possessive want, he’s not thinking when he throws the covers away, takes a picture of his bulge, cock hard and leaking, a wet spot visible on his underwear, and sends it to Buck in response, with a text that says ‘no worries, I liked it. fuck, I want that gorgeous cock all to myself’. It’s so unlike him, he’d never even taken a nude picture before now, but- but this is Buck, who makes some sort of crazy possessive beast roar to life in his chest, and has his body screaming at him to do something, anything to get Buck’s attention on him, instead of whoever the hell was on the receiving end of the messages leading to that one. ‘HOLY SHIT’ is what he gets back, and not even two seconds later, Buck’s calling him. Or, Buck accidentally sends a nude and a spicy text to Eddie - things escalate from there.

___

November

I wanna spend my forever like that buddie, G, 8.6k

Eddie catches a cold and stubbornly denies he's sick, while a fondly exasperated Buck is trying to take care of him.

____

Writing Round-Up: Share what you wrote this year! It can be works you posted to Ao3, Wattpad, Tumblr, or anywhere else! You can share everything you wrote or just the ones your most excited about.

no pressure tags: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @daffi-990 @loserdiaz @lover-of-mine @giddyupbuck @spotsandsocks @housewifebuck @underwater-ninja-13 @hoodie-buck @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @jamespearce9-1-1 @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @thewolvesof1998 @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @pirrusstuff @fortheloveofbuddie

#2023 writing round-up #writing round-up #tag games #i wrote so much at in march-april-may and then there's a decline lmao #self recs #i love most of the fics on here ngl #this year has been good when it comes to writing #clearly the lightning got to me lmao how did i write so much about it #this is so long lmao but ill never pass an opportunity to self rec sns 🙈

[fragilecapric0rnn]

“it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyway” for the prompt thing!! (-patheticgirlsteve)

OKAY SO this prompt is from a prompt list I rb'd in December (wowza!) and I found the writing for this prompt half finished in my WIPs folder today and decided to finish it!

This ficlet is also a look into the in-progress When Harry Met Sally-inspired AU/canon divergence fic. I've been sitting on both that fic and this snippet for far too long and have been itching to share something. So, here's the something!

(something set in the late summer of '98, in a city that doesn't bode well during heat waves)

It’s an unusually hot night in Steve’s apartment. 

It's going to be an unusually hot week in the city, actually.

Steve has gotten used to the temperate San Francisco weather in the 11 years he's been a resident. But after 11 years, he's still surprised at the random bursts of heat that creep in during these last few weeks of August. Just in time for him and his students to sit inside the toaster oven that is his classroom during the first week of school.

Thankfully, it's not a school night. The last week of his summer vacation, and he's spent most of the daylight hours dangling half of his body out of the screen-less street-facing window in his apartment, praying a breeze would whip past him. (It didn't).

After an hour of tossing and turning in bed, in nothing but a pair of boxers, the open window providing no relief, the air stale and hot and a bit sticky, he decided to move to the living room, where he will still be suffering, but at least there's a TV out there.

A movie he remembers seeing with Robin in the theater during their Oakland days is playing as soon as he flicks on the TV, reminding him of how long it's been since they've lived together, let alone in that first apartment in Oakland. Freshly 20 and 21, figuring out how to live on their own, thousands of miles from everyone and everything they knew. Figuring out how to deal with the calmness of it all.

Remembers talking about the movie again in '92, and being annoyed with all of his friends (Eddie and Nancy) who thought that Lloyd and Diane broke up in London. Wonders if they're still as cynical about love today as they were back then.

As he's counting the years back in his head, the phone rings, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Hel-lo?” He answers, remembering that it is 2am in the middle of the word, dragging it into two syllables to make it seem like he's shocked that someone is calling him.

“What the hell are you doing awake at this hour?” Eddie quips, Steve reflexively rolls his eyes, at both the tone of his voice and the question itself.

“How do you know that you didn’t just interrupt my much needed beauty sleep?” He scoffs, flicking his head like he would if Eddie were sitting right here on the couch with him. Eddie must pick up on it, chuckling over the phone, a similar sound to the one he made when he was sitting on this couch hours ago, suffering with Steve in his apartment.

Now there's something twenty-one year old Steve would be shocked to learn. That him and Eddie became friends, at all.

“I can hear the TV.” Steve hums in response, turns the volume down a notch or two. “But, here’s a courtesy ‘I’m sorry’ for the late night call.”  

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” Steve sighs as the slightest breeze rolls through the open window. He's a much better sleeper than twenty-one year old Steve, but due to recent life-changing events and this damn heat-wave, a late-night phone call with Eddie is almost routine at this point

“I miss Evie’s apartment. She had AC.” Eddie says, casually. Steve still doesn't get how he can talk about her so casually. How he can just bring her up like it's nothing. If he even thinks about -

“I still can’t believe you got your heartbroken by a trust fund baby.” He says, cutting off his own thought.

“I’m more heartbroken about that AC unit right now,” still casual, as if he is actually heartbroken about an AC and not a person.

“What’re you watching?” He asks.

“Say Anything.” 

“Channel?”

“12.” 

The scene where Lloyd is talking to Diane’s father on the prison yard. It makes him think of Eddie on the other line, sitting in his unintentional bachelor pad a few blocks away from his own. The thought must’ve made Eddie’s ears burn. 

“That’s not what visitation is actually like, ya know?” His voice is soft.

“Oh yeah?” Steve says, wanting to encourage but not pry.

“Yeah. It’s indoors, at tables, cold and gray. Feels dirty and sterile at the same time.” Eddie says.

“I always thought it happened between a plane of glass, with a telephone on either side of the glass.” Steve offers, giving him an out, a chance to change the subject if he wants to bow out.

“That’s what it’s like in county jail. Prison’s different.” Steve hums again, knows there’s no need to respond with anything else. Steve doesn’t need to ask him how he knows all of this. He knows that Eddie doesn’t expect him to ask. That’s the thing, about old friends, about them, about their whole gang. There are certain things they’ll always know about each other. 

His mind drifts to a little Eddie and a younger Wayne, walking into a room just like Eddie had described, going through the motions. It pulls at his chest a little. 

“Do you still think they broke up in London?” Steve tests.

“I don’t think they broke up in London?” Eddie says, a tad defensive. 

“Yes you do, or you did.” He remembers the conversation, he knows Eddie must remember the conversation.

“When did I say that?” 

“In San Diego, we had a whole thing about it, the five of us.” The drunk and loud debate was held stuffed into a diner booth in San Diego. Before you left.

Eddie pauses.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“You sure did.” 

“Well, to answer your question, no. I don't think so. I think that they’re two weirdos who were meant for each other.” Eddie says, Steve sinks further into the couch, holds the phone up with his shoulder.

“That's exactly what I said then.” 

"Well, I think it now."

"Me too." It comes out softer than he expected. Suddenly thankful that this conversation is happening over the phone, so he can scrunch the feeling away from his face, take a deep breath and shake the feeling that just washed over his body.

“I know a thing or two about weirdos who’re meant for each other.” Eddie says playfully, that tone he uses when he's half-joking, but half-serious. Steve feels something bubble in the very depths of his stomach. 

“Oh yeah? Who?” 

“You and Robin.” Pop. He lets out a deep breath.

“Ha ha.” Steve says, toning up the sarcasm.

“Max and Lucas, Joyce and Jim, the entire gang who’s bonded by the terrors of the 80s and government NDA’s.” Steve’s laugh barks out of him, he can’t hide how surprised he is at these words coming out of Eddie’s mouth. 

“What? What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing, it’s just…” He trails off, trying to choose his next words carefully. “Not used to you talking about the past. Hasn’t really been your thing.” His mind drifts momentarily to San Diego again. Watching him hail that cab. Running away. 

“There's a lotta things that I used to do, or not do.” There’s a pause. Either of them could say something, there’s something dangling in the air between them, between their two phone lines, filling the space between their two apartments. Just as Steve opens his mouth to say something, cut the tension, snatch the feeling out of the air, Eddie beats him to it.

#whms au #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #sen writes #my fic #did this just light a fire under my ass? YES #there's a lot of missing context from this that will be given in the fic don't worry! #i just love a good telephone scene #especially a telephone scene that's loaded with things unsaid!!! #aiaof

[virtie333]

Let's talk Damerey.

I ended up being a VERY general fan during the SW sequels. Like...none of the ships bother me. FinnPoe? Fine. Damerey? Fine. Kylo and whomever, sure. I guess. I just want them to live and be happy.

Anyway, when did your Damerey journey start? I think I read at one point they had thought about making Poe and Rey a thing? But I guess the visions of the differing directors didn't allow for it? Did I make that up in my head?

I understand the appeal of that ship as well as FinnPoe or whatever it's called. I mean, it's Poe, so who wouldn't be obsessed lol

Anyway, thoughts?

Also, do you like to stick to Damerey fics for Poe or do you also like xreader with Poe?

Oh, boy. This might take a while.

I can honestly say I've been Damerey a lot longer than I've been a fan of Oscar Isaac. I became Damerey right after The Force Awakens. But here's the thing, I was Reylo, too. What? Okay, let me explain. I love the 'good girl falls for bad boy' trope, but I've always been realistic about it; the bad boy can't be horrible bad and has to become good eventually. I loved the idea of Rey bringing Ben back from the Dark Side, but... what he did to his father (my first love and still the one I compare to all other crushes) is unforgivable. I knew Ben Solo would NOT have a happy ending. Therefore, Rey needed to have her happily ever after with someone else. Finn or Poe? I loved them both, but I do have a thing for pilots, so I chose Poe.

The Last Jedi only increased my interest in both ships. The connection between Rey and Ben was fascinating. But... that last scene between Rey and Poe? I remember commenting to my brother after our first viewing, "They have to be planning something between them after that! Right?"

I went into the last movie wondering which way (if either) they were going to take it. I told myself I would be happy with either, and even if Rey chose no one; after all, she doesn't need a man to make her happy. But I am a hopeless romantic. After the first argument between Poe and Rey, where I nudged my brother (who I saw all 3 movies with) and said "They're just like Han and Leia!", I had hopes.

But... they failed to continue with that bright start. And with the kiss between Ben and Rey at the end, I was pretty much resolved to settle for Reylo. And that was my focus for the first couple of month after the movie. But then something strange happened. A fellow Reylo fan, who had defended the first two movies despite all the hate going on, started bemoaning how 'Rey would never be happy now,' and she 'would never get to have babies,' etc. etc. And that pissed me off. Big Time. She had options, dammit! She could stay single and raise Force sensitive orphans. She had Finn. And of course, she had Poe. So, I wrote Rising, my first fanfic in almost 20 years.

When the pandemic hit, and I ended up working part-time, I decided I needed to continue with this post-movie world I had created. I still had a soft spot for Ben, and it shows up in my early works, but I wanted to make Rey and Poe find their happily ever after. Then something else strange happened. In one of my stories, Kennera, I wrote a scene from Poe's POV. Suddenly, I wanted to know more about the actor who portrayed him. And I found this...

That was that. I was hooked on this man. I started watching everything I could with him in it. And I continued to write Damerey, falling more and more deeply into that ship. Reylo became less and less interesting to me, and now I could care less about it. Damerey is everything to me. And it's been that way for almost three years now. I just freaking love them with everything in me.

To answer your question about the ship almost becoming canon, yes it almost did. Colin Trevorrow's script The Duel of the Fates almost became the third movie, and it included a lot more Rey/Poe interaction, even a kiss or two. Some say it's why that scene at the end of The Last Jedi was added, to introduce that attraction. But alas, it didn't happen.

If you had asked me two years ago if I had read any Poe x Reader stories, I would have scoffed at you. I am a reader of novels and I write in the same style and always will, so why would I read that? But... I've read several amazing writers that write in that style since then, and I have become addicted. I know I will never write that way, but I will enjoy others.

I think the fact that I don't write that way is the reason why no one on Tumblr (other than a few trusted friends) ever reads and shares my stuff. It's a bit lonely sometimes, but it is what it is.

Damerey forever!

Art by @greysmartwolf

#ask box #ivystoryweaver #damerey #jedipilot #poe x rey #my story #oscar isaac #writing #i bet you're sorry you asked! #lol

[galvanizedfriend]

I'm having a writer-feels-like-crap moment and just needed to put this out there somehow. It's personal and it doesn't make sense, it's just a head fart. If I had a comment for each message I receive about updates I might actually write more. 🥲

I have no problem being asked about updates. I know some folks don't like that type of ask, and I totally respect that, but it's never been the case with me, I appreciate the interest. Please don't think that this is a rant against people who ask for updates, because it's not. There's nothing wrong with that, at least not for me. However.

I get so many asks about updates. Some anonymous, some not. Some I reply to, some I don't. And that's all fine, it's (mostly) good-natured, there's no harm in it. But I have to wonder where do people go after I post the updates? How come I only get comments/messages about the next update, but never a comment about how they read and if they enjoyed the chapter? How is it that people think it's really helpful to only ever ask for updates but not to leave a tiny simple comment to let the person writing know they've read the actual update when it comes into being?

This is about exchange, right? If you want writers to feed you, then you should feed the writers back. If the writing sucks, if it's not worth anybody's time to read and comment, then that's fine, you don't have to comment on things you hate, in fact you SHOULDN'T. But if you do like it and you still won't comment, that's how it translates to me. I just think everyone hated it. Because I get so many asks about updates, and then when I do post updates, people either don't read, or read and then never say anything about it. To me, that says they hated it, and the sense of excitement I had upon posting dies almost instantly.

I've written three different things this month to see if any of them would stick and make me want to write some more, and even though I had some really nice, really sweet responses to some of those that I cherish so much and have gone back to read again, nothing worked. That's not to say that I won't write anymore, but it's been really hard to push through my writer's block. Every time I sit down to write, I gravitate towards the things that I'm writing for myself and that are probably never going to see the light of day, because those are the ones that I don't care about the feedback, it's just for me. But then I keep getting the asks about updates on my WIPs and I honestly don't even know if the people asking for updates have read the latest chapter. Did you enjoy it? Was it good? Is there anything you're looking forward to? I don't know.

I haven't replied to a couple yet because I don't know what to say anymore. Sorry, no updates, I feel like the worst piece of shit writer there's ever existed and don't really feel like inflicting that upon the world anymore? Cause that's really where I'm at.

I've seen countless posts going around about how commenting/rebloging has been slowly dying because the newer generations have a thing where they think it's weird to comment/reblog days/weeks after stuff has been posted. Some lingering effects of tiktok and instagram culture and people thinking that it's somehow stalkerish or something. I promise you, it is not. You can leave comments on stories posted 20 years ago on livejournal. You can reblog posts from 2014. There's nothing wrong with that. There is NOTHING better for a writer to have someone suddenly going through their entire catalogue of fics and commenting on all of them, or reading through a long story and leaving their impressions as they go, even if it's a single line of comment to say 'hey, just found this, it's great'.

I have in the past left comments on stories that had been on hiatus for YEARS, with no expectations whatsoever, and suddenly the stories came back to life because my comments somehow made a difference. I have never been happier, both because I got to see something I loved being finished and because I may have given someone the tiny little push they needed in order to get back on their writing horse. There are days when I wish for nothing more than that, but I'm an old fandom person whose old fandom friends have almost all left fandom and I'm just here typing to myself, talking to myself and getting very little feedback. (Positive feedback, mind you. The people who hate my things are not shy about letting me know their feelings.)

I don't even know anymore. I've just been feeling very discouraged overall and I honestly don't know what else to do. Maybe this is an end of the year type of blues or whatever, but it is what it is. Updates will come when they come, I guess.

But anyway, to readers out there, doesn't matter if you read my fics or not: if there's anything you enjoy out there, any fics you're following, any stories you'd like some writer to see through to the end, or any writer you wish would post more of their stuff, just remember that the only way they'll ever know there's people out there expecting to see more from them is if you tell them, and the best way to do that is to comment on their stories. It fills writers with anticipation and confidence. Trust me, it works like magic.

#yokan doesn't write #yokan should be retired by now tbh #yokan should also find something new to hyperfixate on tbh

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Tagged by @rngaredead :)

For simplicity's sake I'm going to go with just my biDEMONium/trentcrimminallybeautiful ao3 and not try to combine it with my thesorrowoflizards one (why do i have more than one? because i was, among other things, an idiot who didn't know how pseuds worked next question) even though that would probably double some of these numbers lkfjgh

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Again, just on this account? 171 (some of those are oneshot compilations though)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

661,851 for now

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Ted Lasso, The Mysterious Benedict Society, The House on the Cerulean Sea, House MD, Death by Dying, Instinct, King Falls AM. Also, sort of Gravity Falls. Mostly those first two though, tbh. This one I think I will include other fandoms I've written and posted for on other accounts because it's fun and less about math. So also Shadowhunters, The Librarians, The Mentalist, The Dresden Files (TV), Roswell New Mexico, The Sandman, Star Trek, Professor Layton, Sanders Sides, Miraculous Ladybug, and sort of The Legend of Zelda. Also see, for unposted or posted a very long time ago and no longer something I would willingly share, Supernatural, Dirk Gently (both 2016 and 2010), Doctor Who, Warehouse 13, SurrealEstate, Person of Interest, Haven, Leverage, Bones. Psych, and probably more

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Ted Lasso Kisses Trent Crimm On The Mouth (Trent/Ted - 1,157 kudos)

semaphore (Trent/Ted; Trent & Colin - 997 kudos)

off the handle (Trent/Ted - 736 kudos)

linger (Trent/Ted - 709 kudos)

a preacher, a bikini, and a kiss or two (Trent/Ted; Diamond Dogs - 673 kudos)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I always get really busy/tired and then it's been so long it feels like it would be weird if I did. Plus, sometimes my answers by nature of the comments can get repetitive and then even though I'm being sincere I feel insincere which sucks. However, if a comment has a direct question or something I actually have like, something unique to say about, I'm much more likely to respond sooner rather than later/never. I appreciate every single comment soooo much though literally my motivation to get through the day like 80 percent of the time

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm going to stick with Ted Lasso fics here since I have so many fics posted and this is my Ted Lasso sideblog and say... well, most of the time I have a bittersweet ending and then some sort of hopeful epilogue (such as with ink sunset and make a mess of you) but I guess betrayal's sting / absolution's balm or something to get off my chest may qualify?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Uhhh, honestly, most of them are happy endings. I think trick & treat and matters of the heart end on particularly high notes?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not in this fandom! Yet

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh, yeah, baby. So much. Not sure what "kind" means in this context. It sure is explicit smut. I have tended almost exclusively towards hot transgender sex the last few years because. yknow. hi. but somehow I don't think that's the intention in the question.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do, but I haven't posted a lot. Only one on this account (a Gravity Falls x The Mysterious Benedict Society crossover that started as a joke because of a shared actress) although I had an interesting Shadowhunters x The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess fusion on my other account. I've written some pretty weird WIPs, though. And I've got some posts about Ted Lasso crossover/AUs, like a Sarah Jane Adventures AU, a Pushing Daisies AU, a Stardust AU... You can find that kind of thing in this tag on my blog.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. Not in this fandom, though, as far as I'm aware.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Again, not in this fandom, though.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Oh, man, I don't know if I can decide. Magnus/Alec (TV version only I'll die on this hill) will always hold a special place in my heart, but I've got other "obsessed with this when I was a kid" ships and also recency bias/current hyperfixation means Trent/Ted screams as an immediate answer, and so on and so forth. I'm bad at picking favorites. Overall, I'd probably say one of those two, or both.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Sticking to Ted Lasso again (I have. so many MBS WIPs. god.) I'd say lost sight of (who you are) (lost motivation, want to finish, fuck!!) or sweeter than heaven (hotter than hell) (got mad at it), or!! oh!!! ink sunset (stuck) and possibly the next installment of matters of the heart. Yeah, I have a problem

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm pretty good at being funny and also at eloquent but perhaps a little too verbose metaphors. I love me an elaborate metaphor

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

It's hard for me to focus and get what I have in my head out sometimes, even when I really want to. Whether it's being unable to organize or just my brain flat-out refusing to cooperate and do anything. Also, I'm way too like. easily discouraged with lack of feedback, and even a little negative feedback can kind of ruin my week and make me never wanna go back to that story ever again.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I just realized. The questions seemed familiar but I wasn't sure why and now I know, now that I've gotten to this question. I have done this game before and I remember bc of this question. I was confused bc it was under a different name, I think the questions were in a different order, and it was sometimes slightly differently worded but nope! This is the same one! Weird Anyway, just for this particular question, I'm going to copy-paste my old answer because I'm lazy. I’m extremely bad at linguistics in general, so if I must include someone talking in another language in my fic, I think I’d tend to cheat and do italics or some other indication that this is ‘in another language’ (ie “Where are you going?” she asked in Russian), but that’s admittedly a lazy approach. But I also think it’s probably better than butchering it with an auto-translator? Also, when people just include the translation in the end notes, even with a link (although that makes it marginally better) it breaks the flow of the story and makes it hard to read. Making an effort to at least match grammar is good (which I would do if it was for longer than a single scene, probably) but I think the best solution is when people know what they’re doing and like, have an actual translation with a little html code so you can click on it and it reveals what it means? Or if you’re clever, revealing what it means using context around it, but that has its own limitations. So that both like, uses the actual language and doesn’t break up the flow. It balances accessibility, flow, and respect for the other language in question well. But you’ve got to both know what you’re doing with the language (either asking someone/hiring someone/knowing the language yourself) and the html (although there are guides for that you’d have to spend time figuring it out + know it exists in the first place to look). And this is fanfiction, something we ultimately do for free in our spare time, so the lazy approach, I think, can be understandable. Maybe not in every context, but it’s not worth stressing a lot over in a few random lines or anything, you know? It is really cool when people do know a language well enough to include it properly in a fic, though, it can say a lot about a character or dynamic; and their background(s) and like. it’s neat :)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ever? Doctor Who. And I don't remember the order, but after that I know I wrote some stuff about Star Trek (mostly TNG but I believe also TOS), Supernatural, A:LTA, Marvel, WTNV, and the Stanley Parable? I think I first posted either Supernatural or WTNV

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I have no idea. Some of my top ones (for Ted Lasso again) would be matters of the heart and trick & treat I suppose?

Tagging: whoever wants to do this man, I probably tagged everyone I'd normally tag last time so if you see this and you wanna do it, go ahead and tag me and do it!

#tag games #tag game #gertspeak

[90stvqueen]

I was tagged by @tunemyart in 20 Questions for Fic Writers like a week ago and I just now saw it so THANK YOU FRIEND

How many works do you have on AO3?

27

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

235,642

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Xena: Warrior Princess (14 works)

Abbott Elementary (10 works)

The X-Files (2 works)

Stranger Things (1 work, is an outlier adn should not be counted bc I wrote it to meditate on internalized homophobia and not bc I ship it)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

say it again (Stranger Things LOL)

remind me tomorrow (Xena)

succ (Xena)

Fritole (Abbott)

No Matter What (Xena)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! It depends on how swamped I am with life stuff, but I like responding to comments because for me, writing is about starting a conversation and building community and connecting.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Depends on how you define angst but probably the fic with the angstiest throughline (like, it starts angsty, stays angsty, ends angsty) is glory glory glory to the night that shows me what i am (Abbott Elementary). But I think the best angst I've written is probably After (also Abbott) because it's a smutty slow-motion trainwreck.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

take these years of mine (Abbott) is probably the happiest thing I've ever written, period. remind me tomorrow has the happiest ending (and is the most lighthearted) of all my Xena fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, but sometimes I get demands for more or for specific plotlines. I worry that if (and WHEN) I don't follow those requested/expected plotlines, there might be some pushback.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Almost exclusively. Although I've been branching out a little more. But yeah. Mostly F/F, some F/F/M and F/F/F, also a decent amount of gender fuckery in various configurations. I would say my smut leans more vanilla, but I've written some kink, and there are definitely elements of kink in some of the vanilla stuff, too.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I do not write crossovers. Maybe someday. But probably not, unless it's purely for the lols

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

God I hope not! Not that I'm aware of!!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Somebody asked me if they could translate my fic once, but I don't remember what the fic was, and I don't think it ever actually happened. Would love that, though!!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Lots and lots. My first big foray into cowriting was with @angelsarenamederika, with whom I wrote a massive amount of trans!Mulder X-Files fic that we never posted anywhere but was an absolute blast to work on. I'm also working on a 5+1 piece for the Work Wives (Abbott) fandom with @the-frankenman-writes, @this-barbie, @katiehoughton, @wolf-government, and @vanillabeanwrites. OH AND! @deirdresart adapted Eromenas into a comic and it's AMAZING.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Xena/Gabrielle

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I refuse to answer this question. I WILL FINISH ALL MY WIPS SO HELP ME GOD

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and interpersonal dynamics and internal reflection (or, in unreliable narrators, lack thereof)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Stealing @tunemyart's response word for word here: Action, movement, and description of setting. I'm really trying to get better about grounding the characters in the world around them instead of some nebulous room. Also writing action without getting bogged down in unnecessary details. It's hard!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Maybe if you know the language and it serves the story or the way the story is being told. Never say never, but it's not something I usually do, because I don't ever really have a reason for it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter lol

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

Right now, it's After. I worked so hard on it and I learned a lot writing it and I found a community (partially) because of it! I think it's just a really satisfying, angsty/bittersweet read, start to finish. Honorable mention to Eromenas (again plugging the comic here) and five times it was quiet and once it was loud.

This was fun! I'm tagging the people I've already tagged in this (my dear friends and collaborators) and anyone else who might want to do this <3

#fic #ao3

[sammyboyimagines]

Can I request a possible fluffy/smutty fic between Billy and plus-size reader where they've been together for quite a few years and Billy finally gets the courage to propose after many failed/interrupted attempts and they celebrate in the best and most magical way possible after dinner with friends?

//I love this request thank you anon!!! I got really carried away and I think I stayed with the request. I actually like writing for Billy much more than I thought I would.

Summary: Billy finally gathered to courage to propose after a couple failed attempts. After a great dinner, you celebrate with your new fiancé. 4.5k words

Warnings: established relationship, 18+ MINORS GO AWAY, small praise kink, swearing, oral (f receiving), facesitting, idk what else.

"Hold on. Y/n! It's your clingy boyfriend!" Steve called out through the video store, making you cringe inwardly as you set down the poster you were hanging up.

"Y'know, you don't have to yell. I'm like 20 feet away." you grab the phone from his hand and hold it to your ear. "Yes?" Billy often called you at work. It annoyed the hell out of Steve, who had to yell across the store every time. He knew he didn't have to yell to get your attention. He just wanted to embarrass you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Billy's deep voice was just what you needed during a challenging day at work. You could feel yourself soften after hearing him call you sweetheart. "Hey! I'm so glad you called. I've been having the worst day ever." you heard his chuckle through the phone. It made your heart soar.

"You can tell me all about it tonight, doll. I just have a couple questions. Do you still have that red top that I like?" you looked at Robin, who was sitting next to you trying to listen in. 

"Uh, yeah. Why?" you were thoroughly confused now. It wasn't unnatural for Billy to ask obscure questions but nothing like this. You heard him sigh through the phone. "No reason. You still have that skirt that I like?" you furrowed your brows in confusion.

"Yes, but why? Is everything okay, babe?" you were actually concerned at this point. 

"Yes, I'm fine. Don't worry about me, doll. I want to take you on a date tonight. Can you wear those?" Billy wasn't usually this direct, he'd tease you into oblivion about the tiniest things. He always knew how to make up for it though.

"Oh, yeah sure. Where are we going?" you heard nothing but silence from the other end for a good 10 seconds. "It's a surprise, but I think you'll like it." it was very cryptic of him.

You didn't like it. It wasn't his norm.

"Okay, I gotta get back. I'll see you after work, I love you." you hung up, your confused expression worrying Robin.

"Did he break up with you? I'll walk right up to him and slap him if you need me to." you laughed and grabbed a stack of films to put back on the shelves. "That won't be necessary, Robin. Thank you. He's being very weird. He asked me to wear something special.." you were oblivious to the implications of that request. Robin, however, was not.

She nodded her head quickly, "I'm gonna go...fix something...be back in a minute." you took her departure as your moment to restock. You heard faint whispering, making you look over to Steve and Robin, who were smiling and whispering to each other. You couldn't hear what they were saying, and you had a rough day, so you didn't really care.

Billy was at home, running his hands through his soft curls. He was planning on proposing to you, and he was absolutely lost. "Fuck, this is gonna go terrible. Just like last time. Maybe I shouldn't.."

He had proposed two times last year...well, almost proposed. Last year, around February, he took you out to go stargazing just a little outside of Hawkins. He began his speech, his hands grasping your hips as he pulled your soft body towards his. "We've been together for years and it still feels brand new. You make me feel so good, you're so special to me and I want you to know that. I want you to know how much you mean to me. A-and that's why- Hargrove!" his bashful smile disappeared. He looked away from your gorgeous eyes and saw his friends pulling up in a pickup truck with some drinks. 

Assholes

"Saw you drive out here. We're gonna get a fire started and have some beers. Want in?" He stuffed the ring back into his pocket and helped you off the bed of his dad's truck, grabbing the soft blanket you had been sitting on. "Let's just go home," he told you, and you were blissfully ignorant at that moment. You agreed.

Proposal ruined.

He was very close that night. He had been grumpy the entire week afterward, feeling terrible for not going through with it. He wanted the moment to be perfect. He wanted to be uninterrupted when he proposed. He desired to see the teary smile on your beautiful face as he asked you to be his forever. That's why he refused to propose that night.

Or last October, he had you over for a home-cooked dinner. He frowned when looking back on it because it was Halloween night, and the kids were ruthless. "Y/n, this night couldn't have been more perfect. You're perfect. I don't think I could ever find someone who makes me feel this happy. You make me want to be a better person- *knock, knock*" he slammed his fist onto the table roughly and made his way to the door.

"Son of a bitch, what do you want?!" he swung open the door, only to be greeted by Dustin and his little friends in their Ghostbusters costumes asking for candy. (pretend this fits in the timeline pls). Max waved shyly, to which he smiled awkwardly. (no bad sibling relationships here)

"Woah, you look very angry. Oh, hey Y/n!" Dustin waved at you through the doorway, to which you waved back, a precious smile across your face.

"Get your candy somewhere else. We're kinda busy." Billy had the ring box in his hand still, his brain moving too fast for him to process it being exposed. Dustin gasped dramatically and laughed. "Oh shit! Better luck next time, douchebag." He shrugged and stumbled off the porch.

The little shit. 

So, after those two attempts, Billy was terrified to propose again. With each failed try, it broke his confidence that you would say yes. He knew you loved him. That much was clear by the way you'd greet him with a kiss whenever you saw him. But, he wanted to spend his life with you, and he was unsure that you wanted the same thing.

So, he bought gifts. Chocolates, flowers, and a dress you'd been eyeing every time you passed the store while on a walk. Part of him bought them just in case you rejected his proposal. He desperately wanted everything to go perfectly.

"Stop worrying, she'll accept. If any asshole tries to interrupt, just ignore them." he was trying to soothe his nerves. He still had 3 hours until the date. He had been talking to himself for an hour trying to psyche himself up for this important moment.

Back at the video store, Robin and Steve were onto him. "He's gonna propose, I bet 50 bucks." Robin was beyond excited for you, and Steve was too. "Do not tell her, do not hint at it. I swear I will make Keith give you longer hours." Steve threatened Robin gently. He was aware of Robin's habit of rambling, and he was very worried that she'd spill the secret.

The phone rang, making both of them jump. Steve rushed over and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey Steve, I need you to do something." Steve's eyes widened as Billy told him about the plan. He didn't want to mess up the proposal and face the terrifying wrath of Billy. "I'm taking Y/n to dinner tonight and I'm inviting you and Robin, her best friends. I'm planning to propose to her. I know I should have told you in advance but I'd really like you both to be there. Do you think you can do that?" Steve sighed and ran his hand through his hair. How could he refuse?

"We'll be there." Steve usually kept his promises. Especially, big ones for his best friend. Billy thanked him profusely, shocking Steve. Billy wasn't the nicest guy but Steve put up with him for your sake, otherwise, he would have kicked him out every single time he walked in to visit you on your lunch breaks.

You finished up your shift, which ended an hour earlier than Steve and Robin's because Keith wanted you to open up that day. Billy wouldn't tell you this, but he pulled several strings to pull this proposal off. That included threatening to punch Keith if he refused to let you leave early. So you said goodbye to Robin and Steve. They were practically shivering with anticipation. (i love making this reference pls tell me you get it antici....pation)

You drove yourself home, thankful for finally saving enough to buy a car so you didn't have to get a ride from Steve anymore. After hearing their lovely conversations about boobs and god knows what else, you didn't know how much you could take. You loved them to death though.

"Billy, I'm home!" the house was eerily quiet, even though you saw Billy's car in the driveway. After saving enough money, you both decided to rent a small house until the point came when either of you wanted to move out to something bigger. After hearing your voice, Billy panicked and shoved the gifts into a closet.

He shuffled down the stairs and greeted you with a big hug, making you yelp quietly against his shoulder. "Oh! Is everything okay? You don't usually go in for hugs.." Billy wasn't a hugger, his favorite thing to do was to kiss you. Anywhere and everywhere.

"What? I can't hug my sweetheart?" he held your waist, admiring your body in your work uniform. "Now, tell me what happened at work. Who do I have to talk to?" he let you rant on as he gently trapped you against the wall. Billy kissed your neck as you talked about your day. Suddenly the asshole customer seemed like a forethought.

"Are you trying to get me to forget about it?" you ran your hand through his soft locks, smiling at his hum in response to your question. "You just give me a name and he'll never bother you again, sweetheart. I'm sorry you had to deal with him. I think work needs to stay at work, it's just us right now. That's all we need to worry about, doll." He held your chin, admiring your face. Your soft jawline that he loved to press soft kisses against, your chubby cheeks that he loves to squish while you're asleep next to him in bed.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. So why do you want me to wear that outfit for our date?" Billy froze up, he wasn't expecting questions about the date. "No reason, doll. Let's take our time getting ready." he was desperately trying to make you forget about it. He starts to unbutton your work uniform, watching the fabric fall from your body. "I think a nice shower will make you forget all about your worries." he loved being intimate with you, he wasn't the best with his words so he returned the affection with kisses and sleepless nights.

You stepped into the shower, with him following. "You're acting very aloof today Billy. I don't like it. What's going on?" Billy frowned, he didn't realize that he was becoming the stressor.

"I just have a few fun things planned for us after the date. I promise everything will be fine. Do you trust me?" his hands ran up and down your soft body, massaging your hips and ass. You giggled and grabbed his hands. "That's very inappropriate, Mr. Hargrove. I thought this was a relaxing shower.." you smirked. He held your cheek.

"Fine, but you're in for it tonight." He knew you would be upset with him for lying about his intentions about your date, but he hoped his proposal would make up for it.

After your shower, you both got ready for your date/his proposal. Billy watched you getting dressed, not in a creepy way, just admiring you. The restaurant you were going to wasn't a fancy place. It was where you had your first date with him. It was one of the best nights of his life. He met you, you talked for a couple hours over a hot meal, and then went back to his place and stayed the night. He remembered it like it was yesterday.

During the drive over to the restaurant, Billy kept sneaking glances at you, his heart in his stomach as he tried to keep steady on the road. He was hardly nervous during the relationship. He was the strong one, your rock. But now he couldn't look at you without feeling the need to pull over and get it over with. However, he thought that it had to be perfect. He owed it to you.

You helped him get through tough times and he wanted nothing more than to make you his wife so he could give you everything you could ever possibly want.

He opened the door for you, smiling through the unbearable nerves that were racking his brain. He looked over and saw Robin and Steve at the table and he let out a sigh of relief. "I invited your friends, I hope you don't mind." you saw Steve wave a little too enthusiastically and Robin grabbing his arm from the air to scold him.

Lovable weirdos.

You giggled. "It's fine with me but doesn't complain when they talk the entire time." you teased him as you took a seat across from them in the booth. "Hey, guys! Why are you here?" Billy's eyes widened as he watched them start to fumble for an answer.

Robin cleared her throat. "We've been stressed and we asked if Billy would let all of us hang out. Sorry for third wheeling, well third and fourth wheeling?" Robin smiled widely in hopes to sell the lie, you nodded and looked at the menu. "Sure sure."

Billy felt like he was going to have a heart attack, his mind was traveling a mile a minute. "So why did you have me wear this outfit? Not that I'm upset, just curious." Billy held your thigh under the table. "This is what you were wearing on our first date, I'll never forget it, sweetheart." He kissed your head as you chuckled. "Wow, you're much more romantic than I thought you could be," Steve smirks.

"I've never seen you like this. Never knew how soft you were, Hargrove." Steve chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. Billy took his eyes off of you. "Shut up, Harrington." he gently held your jaw and pulled you in for a sweet kiss. "You look so beautiful." he was putting himself out there, desperately trying to show how genuine he was. He was terrified of rejection.

After a delicious meal, and a shared dessert between the two of you, he was holding the ring box in his pocket, near hyperventilating. Luckily, the booth wasn't around many people in the restaurant, so there wouldn't be too many eyes on him at the moment. Steve looked at Billy and got the message. He started talking to Robin about work, something that he knew would deter you from caring about their conversation.

"Y/n, tonight has been great. I want you to know how much I love you. I look at you and I just can't believe how I ended up with someone so beautiful, so angelic." He was surprised at himself for not falling apart after the first sentence. "Aw, I love you too." you giggle at his words. They were so sentimental and so unlike him.

Steve and Robin were talking quietly, both ignoring each other to listen in to the proposal.

"Let me finish, doll." he chuckles and takes your hands in his own, his palms slightly sweaty. "After our first date I just couldn't wait for what the future held, and after spending years getting to know all about you, I know what I want." He was hinting at it, but you were still oblivious. He was thankful for that.

"I want you. I want to wake up each morning knowing you're next to me. I want to kiss you goodnight every single night. I want to be yours. We've been together for a while but it feels like we aren't close enough yet. I need to be closer and connected. You've changed me. I was a hothead, and I had so many issues I didn't know how to face. But you helped me, you got me to open up, be vulnerable."

Billy recalled the first time he cried in front of you. He had a rough night with his father and he came over to calm himself. That's when he opened up about it all, he cried on your shoulder as you comforted him. It was the first time he realized he was in love with you. 

"You're my everything, and I want a future with you." He stepped out of the booth and got on one knee, pulling the ring box out of his pocket. His heart was thumping so hard in his chest that he could barely hear you gasp when you realized what he was doing.

You felt tears prick at your eyes as you watched him gather the courage to speak. It was endearing. You looked over at Steve and Robin, who immediately motioned for you to watch Billy. 

"Will you marry me?" Billy sighed in relief, he finally said it. After two failed attempts, he finally got to say it. Whether you rejected him or not, he finally gathered the courage. 

"Yes! Yes!" You pulled him in for a tight hug before you kissed him softly, and tears started to run down your face. Bily put the ring on your finger, his shaky hands holding your own.

"Took you long enough." Steve smiled. "We're gonna get out of here. Congratulations to you both. Hargrove, I'll beat your ass if you hurt her." This was the second time he'd given the "don't hurt her" speech, and Billy had yet to disappoint.

Once they left, Billy sighed in relief. "I've been trying for a year, doll. I know it took me a while to propose." You shook your head. "It doesn't matter, we're engaged now. I'll be Mrs. Hargrove, your wife, yours." Billy's eyes lit up.

"God I love you."

You hardly got in the door before Billy was tearing your shirt off, popping quite a few buttons. "Hey! I thought you liked that shirt?" Billy chuckled and unbuttoned his own shirt. "I'll buy you a new one. I can't wait any longer." He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you to him. He kissed you. The kiss was desperate, hot, and longing. 

"Wanna know why I love this skirt so much?" he slaps your ass, pushing you forward against him. "Your ass looks fucking amazing in them, love watching you walk away baby." he chuckles and picks you up, to which you protested.

"Relax, I'm a man. I can hold up my girl. I wouldn't carry you if I didn't think I could." He wrapped your legs around his waist. "Jesus your thighs feel so good." He strokes your soft plush thighs, groaning to himself. He carried you to bed and set you down. 

"Take your bra off, sweetheart. Wanna see those gorgeous tits." He took his jeans off, admiring your stomach and arms. It drove him crazy every time he held you to him. He often traced your stretch marks in your sleep, loving the feeling of your bare skin under his fingertips. He hums and lays you down, kissing your breasts and neck. 

"Keep the skirt on." he lifts up your skirt and his jaw drops. "No panties? Are you serious?" He was incredibly turned on now.

"Well, if I had known you were proposing I would have worn them. You said to wear a skirt.." you giggled when you saw his face turn red. "Such a dirty girl, god I love you so much." he was gushing over you. 

He smiled at you. "I'll get to that later." he sucked on your boobs, his hands grabbing yours and putting them in his hair. "Pull my hair, sweets." You obeyed, pulling his hair gently as you moaned his name softly. He could listen to your noises all day. He loved pleasing you so he could hear your sweet perfect little moans and whimpers.

"You've got such perfect tits, I don't know what I did to deserve you. I get you underneath me every night. Fuck." he groans into your breasts, pushing them together and humming. "Billy please.." you didn't know what you were begging for, but you wanted his mouth on you.

"Mm, want me to go lower? Maybe you should sit on my face, sweetheart." You held your moan when Billy reached down to rub your clit slowly. "Billy I'll suffocate you." you suddenly felt a little insecure. He frowns and sits up. "No sweets. I'll be fine, sit on my face please." he was practically begging now. "Fine, but don't let me suffocate you." He rolled his eyes and laid down, pulling you closer.

"You look so pretty in this ring. Can't believe you're mine." He hums and looks up at you as you hover over his face, holding up the skirt you were wearing. Billy clicks his tongue. 

"Don't hover, sit." he pulled you down by your hips. He immediately got to work eating you out. His tongue worked magic as you moaned his name followed by a string of curses. Billy's hands held your thighs, groaning against your pussy as he felt your soft thighs clench around his head. You dug your fingers into his hair, pulling a little harder with each swipe of his tongue over your entrance.

"Fuck, don't stop please-" you could feel a pressure building at the pit of your stomach as you got closer to your release. Billy could feel it too while he fucked you with his tongue. You tore your hands away from his hair and held the headboard of your bed, rolling your hips as Billy ruthlessly ate you out, his nose rubbing perfectly against your clit. Your loud moans were drowning out the quiet groans that Billy let out. He was getting pleasure from this too. 

And he did, he kept going. "Gonna cum for me, sweetheart? I can feel it," he mumbled against your hot skin. He got to work faster, his large hands grabbing your thighs tightly, the pressure only turning you on more. "Oh shit.." your body shuddered as your orgasm hit you suddenly. Billy held you down on his mouth, his hands holding your hips letting you ride out your orgasm.

He lifted your shaky figure off of his mouth. "See? Told you I wouldn't suffocate." He chuckles and takes off his boxers. "God you're so pretty when you come, so fuckin' gorgeous." he pulled you towards the end of the bed, his hands caressing your inner thighs.

"Think you can take me? Such a good girl, I know you can." he hums as he presses soft loving kisses along your neck. "Please fuck me, I need you.." you took Billy's hair in your hair, tugging lightly. He laughs quietly.

"Mm, so desperate.." He hid it, but he was so fucking close. If you moaned his name one more time he'd be a goner. He grabs his dick, pumping himself a few times and lining himself up with your pussy. 

"I can't believe you're mine, baby. Fucking say it. Say you're mine.." he pushes in slowly, inhaling deeply to keep control. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure. No matter how many times you slept with him, it always felt like the first time. "I'm yours, fuck me I'm yours." you moaned out, half whining.

He pushed all the way in. "Fuck it sounds so good when you say that. God, I love you so much, princess." he thrusts into you, taking a moment to wrap your legs around his waist as he pounded into you.

You moved your hips to match his thrusts, making him groan on top of you. Billy put your legs on his shoulders, his hands holding your thighs as he fucked you better than any other time previous. "It feels so much better knowing you're all mine. We're fuckin' engaged, I love you so goddamn much." he was letting his emotions pour out of him as he got closer to his own orgasm.

His fast thrusts made you moan his name repeatedly. While he was pouring his feelings out, you were too fucked out to form a single thought other than his name. He loved it. He loved seeing the fucked out look on your face while the only word coming out of your mouth is his name while you beg for anything he'd give you. You looked up at him while he pounded into you. He was biting his lip while he focused on the way your thighs and stomach moved with each thrust. It turned him on. He groaned your name, "I can feel you clenching, sweetheart. Come for me please, please baby. I don't know if I can hold back much longer." You didn't have to be told twice.

He kept up the pace, listening to your sweet moans as your orgasm washed over you. "Good girl, good fuckin' girl." he shudders, desperate to hold off his own orgasm. "I love you, Billy. Can't believe I'm your fiance.." you were smiling blissfully to yourself, but the thought of being yours drove him crazy. He stopped, spilling himself into you as he slowly collapsed onto you, kissing your neck lazily.

"Oh my god, you're too good to me, sweetheart." he pulled out and laid next to you. "Wanna take a bath with me? I'll clean you up." he pulled you to him, kissing your head.

"Mm only if you behave.." you knew Billy better than anybody, you also knew that he couldn't go through an innocent shower or bath without being extra touchy. You ran your hands through his soft hair, admiring the tired, stupid smile across his face.

"Fine, I'll try. No promises. I just can't keep my hands off you. You're my fiance." he was trying to hide the fact that he was so giddy, so excited to finally make this big step. 

"Remind me to thank Robin and Steve." you yawned. Billy nodded and sat up next to you. "I've been trying to propose for a year. I tried twice." he watched your jaw drop in shock. "How? You never asked me!" you frowned.

"It was never the right time. But this was definitely the right time tonight. Did everything go okay for you?" you laughed at his question.

"Are you serious? It went perfectly! You did everything right." you watched his eyes light up. "Okay, thank you, sweetheart. Now let's go have that bath." He held your hand as he helped you off the bed.

Your legs felt like jelly. Billy laughed. "Happens every time, huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up and help me."

#billy hargove imagine #imagine #stranger things #stranger things netflix #steve harrington #reader insert #robin buckley #billy hargrove x plus size #billy hargove smut #billy x reader #billy hargove x reader