Tumgik
#like it was completely out of the blue and i 'know' she only did it bc i looked sad
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Baby, Let The Games Begin
Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~600
Warnings: fluff
Summary: You have a spontaneous snowball fight with your friends that ends with you hitting the wrong person. Who knew she'd get her revenge only weeks later?
Square Filled: free space for @badbitchesbingo
Author’s Note: JJ and the reader are in college
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God, you fucking hate the cold. If you could live in a sunny place for the rest of your life, you would. Maybe when you’re older, you’ll buy a house in both the Northern and Southern Hemisphere so you don’t ever have to be in the cold weather again. Some people say the cold is better because you can bundle up and snuggle in blankets. Fuck that shit. You hate the feeling of chills running down your spine and goosebumps rising on your skin. It doesn’t matter how many blankets you bundle up in, that chill never goes away.
The only good thing that can come from cold weather is the snow. Snow isn’t so bad because you get to have fun outside. The more you run around and play with your friends, the hotter you get until the cold isn’t an issue anymore.
Still, you wish summer was here.
The path from the library to your dorm isn’t far but the cold makes the journey stretch to what feels like miles. You walk past a group of trees when you get ambushed by flying snowballs. You gasp and protect your face from the biting cold only to hear the familiar laughter of your friends.
“You little shits! You’re gonna pay!” you grin.
You grab handfuls of snow and start throwing, not knowing exactly who is getting hit. You grab a bigger handful of snow to throw at the instigator of the group but when you throw it at him, he ducks out of the way. The snowball slams into the face of a complete stranger. Everyone stops playing around as you approach the unsuspecting victim.
“I am so sorry. Are you okay?” you gasp.
The snow falls from her face and the bluest of blue eyes stares at you. She narrows her eyes in anger but you can’t seem to focus on anything but her beauty.
“Have better aim next time.”
She shrugs the rest of the snow off her before walking away. You’re stuck in your place; you can’t seem to move even if you wanted to. You stare at her retreating figure, and one of your friends slaps his hands on your back.
“Someone has a crush,” he sings.
“Shut the fuck up. This is your fault. You ducked out of the way.”
“Not my fault you’re too slow.”
You push him away from you and depart from your group of friends. That kind of killed the mood so you’re ready to go back to your dorm and dream about the mysterious blonde woman. 
A few days later, you rush over to soccer practice inside the huge dome field. They put the dome up whenever there is severe weather like heaps of snow outside so you can at least practice. You’re new to the team and this is your first practice. You’ve dabbled in the sport in high school and figured you’d give it a try in college.
You’re off to the side stretching when you hear people yelling. You look up just as a soccerball smacks into the side of your face. Whoever kicked it didn’t do it hard enough to break any bones, but you know there will be a slight bruise there later on.
You gasp and look around the field to see who might have kicked it. You lock eyes with the same blue eyes you’ve fallen for. She flips her hair back and smirks, giving you wide unapologetic eyes.
“I am so sorry. Are you okay?” she asks.
You want to be mad. You want to be pissed she did this out of spite. Instead, you’re smitten all over again. If she wants to play this way, you’ll play her games.
“Have better aim next time,” you tell her the exact words she told you.
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xxmaxwellxx · 3 days
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Hello! Sorry for the delay but I’ve finished my first Yandere oc fanfic! Writers block and anxiety are a pain. Anyway, this is my first fanfic and I’m a tad dyslexic so forgive me for any mistakes! Please let me know if I missed anything with the trigger warnings and sorry for the formatting issues, I wrote this on my laptop. Also please give me constructive criticism and feedback! I’d like to start a blog dedicated to my writing and fanfic so any help is appreciated!
Tw: stalking, obsession and general Yandere behavior.
Gn reader (referred to with they/them pronouns)
Today was a nightmare, we had at least fifty customers during the lunch rush and what's worse is that a guy came in and was sitting at the same table for five hours and only left 30 minutes before closing, the clattering of plates echoing behind me as I wipe down his table, my body feeling like concrete, but I'm forced to keep going. Something crinkles and falls to the ground. Picking it up, I see it's a recipe with (XXX)-XXX-XXXX ‘call me ;)’ on the bottom. I let out a sigh, wading it up and throwing it in the garbage. Of course, he would do that. The guy who refused to leave was also a creep. Just as I'm about to leave, I notice a shadowy figure lingering outside the café, their gaze fixed on me. A chill runs down my spine, but I shake it off, attributing it to the exhaustion of the day. “Hey, I'm going to head out! Could you lock up for me?” I call out to Delilah, the nice old woman in the back. I grab my stuff after she responds in the affirmative. The bell ringing as I head out. I walk to the same bus stop I take every day, the last bus picking me up so often that the bus driver knows me by name.
Sitting down on the bench, I pull out my phone, scrolling through insta. A post from a famous influencer, a post of someone's dog in a newly knit sweater, someone advertising their small business. Just what you'd expect to see, but what I didn't expect was someone sitting next to me. I glance over at them, he’s wearing a white hoodie, sweatpants and sneakers. Nothing out of the ordinary except for his face, what was up with his face? Sunglasses? Why was he wearing sunglasses at night? He turns his head and I quickly turn away and look back at my phone, but I can feel him staring at me, practically burning a hole in the side of my head. I shrink into myself a little, his gaze never leaving me. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, but I can't make out his expression, his face completely obscured by a surgical mask. Should I speak up? Why was he just staring? Was there something on my clothes? Do I offend? The bus screeches to a halt in front of me, and I jump to my feet, quickly hurrying into a seat. Jeremy, the bus driver, gives me a weird look but doesn't say anything. I see the man board the bus, and I hope that he won't sit anywhere near me. That hope is instantly shattered when he stops in front of me. He's tall and intimidating. The light shines off his long black hair, creating a shadow over his face as he looks down at me. I can feel dread knotting up my stomach, I want to cry. I didn't even notice the tears gathering in my eyes, he holds something up, but I can't see it. I blink, the tears fall and I realize he's holding up my bag, “You forgot this.” his voice is low and gravelly like he just woke up. “Oh, thanks.” I say quietly, quickly taking my bag from him.
I look away, turning my gaze out the window, suddenly finding the passing cars more interesting than whatever he was doing at the moment. “I like your apron.” I side eye him, he's staring at me again. I didn't humor him with a response, “Where did you get it?” he's not going to stop talking, is he? “My grandma made it for me.” it wasn't anything amazing, just a blue and white striped apron with a cute rubber duck on the pocket. “It's very cute.” I hum in response, trying not to engage. Trying not to give him fuel to keep going. But despite my efforts, he does.
“I like your hair.”, “Where do you work?”, “How was your day?”, “Do you like work?”, question after question. A never ending string of words. I try to ignore him, to not give him enough to keep going. But he does. The bus stops, and I stop tuning him out to jump up, remembering to grab my bag, and hurry off the bus and away from him. I speed walk to my apartment building, up the side stairs and to my door. I reach into my pocket and I don't feel anything. My heart speeds up as a cold sweat covers my body. Where's my keys? I start to hyperventilate as I check my clothes. My front pockets, back pockets, apron pocket, shirt pocket. They aren't there. They aren't anywhere. I could have sworn I took my keys out of my locker. Did I drop them on the bus? Did they fall out on the sidewalk?
I let out a scream when I feel a hand on my shoulder, whipping around I see the man from the bus and I suddenly have something much bigger to worry about. I open my mouth to scream, at him, for help, I don't know, when he holds up my keys. The fluffy blue pompom and rubber duck keychains bouncing from how fast he lifted them. “I’m sorry, but these fell out of your pocket.” our hands brush as he quickly hands me my keys and speed walks down the stairs, he makes to the bottom and I shout a “Thank you!” after him. Maybe I judged him too quickly.
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They touched me. I can't believe it, they touched me! I can't believe I've at last managed to approach them, emerging from the shadows where I've lingered for so long. Turning the corner, I slide down the wall, quietly giggling to myself because oh my god they touched me! The streetlight over head flickers as I put my hand over my mouth in an attempt to muffle the laughs that are bubbling up and out of my mouth.
I followed them out to the bus stop they sit at every day, they're so beautiful, I couldn't take my eyes off them. They left their bag by the bench, I don't know why, but they seemed freaked out and left in a hurry. Poor thing must have had a horrible day, worse than I thought, if they're that anxious. I was taught to be nice, people like it when you're nice, so I brought them their bag. They looked so cute when they looked up at me. What wasn't cute was the tears gliding down their cheeks. My stomach was in knots as I handed them their bag. I hate seeing them cry, so I did what helped me. I asked them easy questions, trying to distract them from whatever was making them cry. They must have been really sad because they were giving short answers. As the bus came to a stop in front of their apartment building, I slipped their keys out of their pocket. Maybe a happy accident would cheer them up, even if it was artificial. My voice was stuck in my throat as I followed them off the sidewalk, my heart was beating rapidly as I followed them up the stairs. They're looking for their keys. Fuck. No turning back now. I can't be a coward now, I grab their shoulder and they scream. I look so creepy, god, just say something! “I’m sorry, but these fell out of your pocket.” I sounded like I total loser, but sounding like a loser was better than them fearing me, even if for a moment. It felt heavenly when our fingers brushed against one another, their voice like an angel when they shouted thank you. If only they'd let me hold their hand, walk them home, kiss them goodnight. But this will have to do for now.
I'll see you again soon, my love.~
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kiimchungha · 7 months
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#actually also#I was thinking abt this bc I can’t sleep and like.#u guys prolly remember my bestie m///ika and I’ve never talked abt it properly but like#we were best friends for abt 6y before she ghosted me bc of a new boyfriend (army guy which is already 🤢 but yeah)#and like before she ghosted officially she basically met another group of girls and a guy online and they all have regular meet-ups and#hang out. which is fine. but it’s such a slap in the face bc they’re like. all rich lol#like they say they’re not but if u can afford regular trips across the country. hotels and restaurants and parties. u are rich#and I already know she’s rich but yeah I thot our friendship kinda looked over class status lmao#but to see her make friends strictly w rich people and suddenly forget all her morals re other stuff has been. hard on me to deal w frankly#I unfollowed her on all socials bc it makes me sick to my stomach knowing that she ghosted me even tho I asked her a few times to just tell#me if she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore. bc I saw it coming bc when she made other friends and got the new bf she started pulling#away. and I know ppl grow apart but we never really did. she just decided I wasn’t good enough. completely out of the blue decided to stop#answering my messages. idk#my trust issues skyrocketed since then#we were so close I was supposed to teach in the usa and we were gna move in together like it was that deep#and yeah idk. I think abt it every so often bc. it’s upsetting#like#I thought she cared abt me lmao but#I guess I’m basically only good to make ppl feel good abt themselves and then if anyone else comes along I immediately get ditched#it’s an awful existence to have#mrow.org
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asilentsongbird · 7 months
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Neuvillette pines for you.
Furina learns to avoid him simply so she doesn't have to hear about whatever thing you've done lately that Neuvillette is obsessed with.
The ache is so deep in his soul it almost hurts.
The rain comes in a downpour sometimes. To match the wetness on his cheeks. Though sometimes he can't tell if it's the rain or his tears on his face.
You find him like this one evening. An umbrella tucked under your arm as you find the Chief Justice on the shore, head bowed and completely soaked.
"Monsieur Neuvillette?" you ask softly, coming up behind him. Your umbrella is just big enough to protect him from the rain. "Are you alright?"
He turns to you with shock on his face, tears still running down his face. A thousand thoughts race through his head, everything from did you see him crying to why in the world are you out in the rain?
A soft, gentle hand touches his cheek. It takes him a moment to realize it's your hand, the softest thing he's felt. Instinctively, he wants to lean into the touch. So he does.
"Are you crying?" your voice is soft, concerned, without the barest hint of judgement he so easily passes on to the players of his court.
The umbrella is shoved into the crook of his arm, and another hand reaches up to join the other. You cup both of his cheeks, though he has to bend slightly to allow you to do so, which he does so easily.
"There," you murmur, brushing your thumbs under his eyes. Your smile is so soft, even softer than your touch. "You have beautiful eyes, Monsieur Neuvillette. I hate to see you so sad."
The rain stops suddenly, as though someone has turned off a switch in the sky itself. His cheeks are dry and the sky is clear, and before he can say a word, you're looking up at it instead of him, still smiling.
"The rain stopped." You sound so happy about it, he almost feels bad for making it rain. You press the umbrella further against his hand.
Your touch feels warm. Inviting, and soft. Everything about you feels soft to him.
"Keep it for next time, okay? I'd hate to stumble upon you wandering through the rain again. You could catch a cold!"
He clears his throat softly, trying to figure out words. He's pretty sure words didn't exist before you started talking to him, and now he's floundering over them like a child.
"Allow me to walk you home," he finally manages, as though he didn't stumble over words for the first time in his life.
You smile, and link your arm through his own when he offers it. The sky above you two hasn't been this clear and blue in ages.
Perhaps, after he finishes walking you home, he can figure out how to finally ask you to dinner.
But who knows, really. After all, if he cries again, will you touch him as softly as before?
There's only one way to find out.
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confessedlyfannish · 6 months
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DP x DC Writing Prompt #5
Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.
After a moment, the door opens.
"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.
"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.
"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."
Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.
"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"
"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.
For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.
Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.
Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"
"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.
"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.
"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.
"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.
"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.
"He did," Jazz says.
Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.
Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.
A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.
This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.
Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.
In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.
"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.
Damian stops dead in his tracks.
"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.
Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.
"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.
Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"
Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.
"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.
"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.
Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.
"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.
"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.
Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.
Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.
Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.
They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.
"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.
"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.
Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."
"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."
"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.
"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."
Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.
"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"
"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.
"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."
"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."
"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."
Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.
"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."
Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.
Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.
Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.
Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.
A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.
His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.
"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"
"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.
He never stopped practicing, after all.
"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."
"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."
Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.
"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.
"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."
"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."
Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.
"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."
"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."
"Mr. Wayne-"
"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."
Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."
"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."
For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.
"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."
"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.
He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.
Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."
Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."
Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."
"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."
Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."
"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."
"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.
"Even then."
Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.
"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.
"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.
But for his brother, Danny will wake up.
"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."
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artist-issues · 4 months
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If you haven’t seen Wish yet and you love Disney, do not go see it. I am telling you now. It is ripping out the hearts of the Disney movies you love and then waving their corpses around as if celebrating those hearts.
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I’ll explain why, again: the message of Wish? Awful. Anti-Disney.
But they've been doing this for a long time. Saying one thing with their movies, and saying another with their PR and Disney Parks Soundtracks.
I'll explain.
Main Idea of Disney's Wish (and the You Are the Magic theme park song and merch): "The power to make your wishes come true is in you."
Most Disney Movies' Idea on How to Have Wishes: "Do what's right, (trust a higher power) and something even more wonderful than what you wished will happen."
Don't try to argue with me about this. You have to look underneath the slogans and the sweater designs and the song titles to what the stories actually support to acknowledge this.
Because you can’t say “do what’s right” has power unless you answer the question “who gets to decide ‘what’s right?’” (Which, coincidentally, is a question Wish brings up and then doesn’t answer.)
Audiences of Disney used to accept that wishing on a star was much like prayer; there’s something you long for, and it’s out of your hands, but you wish for it and you do what you know is right in the meantime. And you’re not crushed, you’re not downhearted, because somewhere in your mind you trust that the combo of those two things—wishing on a higher power and diligence to do what’s good—will be what makes your wish come true.
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Trust in a higher power—COMBINED WITH:
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—diligence to do what’s good.
The Blue Fairy (higher power) gave Geppetto his wish specifically because he had demonstrated commitment to do good, whether he got what he wanted or not. The Fairy Godmother (higher power) gave Cinderella her wish specifically because she kept on being kind and good to low creatures like mice and wicked stepsisters, whether she got what she wanted or not.
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Do you know why that combo (higher power + diligence to do good) is impactful? Timeless? Important?
Because it’s selfless. You want something, but you’re not going to sacrifice doing the right thing to get it. You’re not going to focus so hard on making what you want a reality, on your own, that you miss out on things that could be more important than what you want. And, you’re not so self-focused as to believe that if you don’t do it, it won’t get done.
Jeez, that’s the whole point of The Princess and the Frog!
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Tiana wishes to have her own restaurant, and she believes that only her own hard work will grant that wish. She misunderstands her dad’s advice before he dies. She isn’t willing to trust a higher power combined with her own diligence to do good—she only trusts her own ability.
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It’s not until she realizes that Ray, the character of faith, was right all along that she learns—what she wished for was too self-focused. It wasn’t complete without love. Something bigger than herself. And getting that was never going to happen just based on her own hard work.
But you know what? It was never going to happen just by a “higher-power” flavored shortcut, either. Because Facilier offers her her wish if she’ll just trust him, no hard work needed. But what does she say?
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Trust in a higher power + diligence to do what’s right = selflessness, and getting more than you could have ever wished for. And if your wish is selfish, doing those two things will change your wish into something selfless.
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More examples? Get ‘em while they’re hot, in case Wish made you forget, just like the current #NotMyDisney executives have forgotten, what real Disney wishes are for.
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Belle wishes to have adventures in the great wide somewhere--but when she's imprisoned and that chance is taken from her it's not reversed because she worked hard to make her wish come true. It's granted because she gave up her wish for her father: she just did the right thing, regardless of her wish. And in the end, she does get what she wished for, which is adventure in an enchanted castle...and much more, because she gets true love, a throne, and a castle full of friends.
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How about the One Who Started It All? The one Wish is failing to pay genuine tribute to?
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Snow White wishes for someone to love her, and he does--but when they're separated, she does not exercise power to make The Prince come back to her. Instead, she loves who she can where she’s at—the Dwarfs. In the meantime, she has faith that he will keep his promise, and that pure trust in a higher power outside of her control is a big contributing factor to why the Dwarfs come to love her, and learn from her...and in the end, even more than she could've wished happens. He does take her to his castle, but she also has seven new friends who also love her, and the Queen is dead. And she didn’t need to use “the power in her” to work harder and get it done. She just needed to not focus so much on herself at all.
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How about a male main character? One who’s wish starts out selfish, but after learning to wish on a higher power and be diligent to do the right thing, gets more than he could wish for?
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Aladdin wishes to be somebody different (somebody he believes Jasmine could love, somebody who lives in a palace and is respected and “never has any troubles at all.”)—but doing everything in his own power for that wish proves that it was selfish all along; so he switches to doing the right thing, regardless of if his wish comes true, and he gets even more than he could’ve wished. He gets real love with Jasmine, he gets his friend Genie, and he gets to be free from feeling “trapped” because he doesn’t have to hide who he is anymore.
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Or Simba?
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Simba wishes to get to do whatever he wants as King—but when Mufasa dies and he’s convinced it’s his fault, it isn’t for that wish that he goes back to Pride Rock to confront his past and his Uncle. It’s because he had an encounter with a higher power—his father—that helped him to realize his wish was selfish all along. He gives up the selfish wish, and he goes back to take his place as king, not so he can do whatever he wants, but so that he can take self-sacrificial responsibility that comes with ruling. And because he just does the right thing, finally, he gets more than what he wished for.
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How about something more recent? Zootopia.
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Judy wishes to make the world a better place by proving she can be what she wants to be and catching bad guys—but when she tries to make her wish happen on her own, in her own abilities, she fails and is forced to realize that she should’ve been looking for help by understanding “bad guys,” like Nick. It’s only after she humbled herself, admits she’s wrong, and changes her wish from “proving I can be what I want and catching bad guys” to “proving that understanding each other makes the world a better place” (much less self-focused) that her wish comes true—and so much more. She does make the world a better place, and she does get to catch bad guys, but she also gets to befriend one who was a good guy all along, and become all-around more effective at her dream job.
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This is how Disney always has been. Because it’s at the heart of good storytelling, and even life (not to get too dramatic.)
The power is not in you. Because it’s not about you. Self-sacrifice, faith, and doing the next right thing regardless of if you get your heart’s fondest desire is what makes more than just your wishes come true. And there has to be belief in a higher power to make that message powerful.
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But Wish?
Not only is it bad at showing instead of telling. Not only is it lazy and soulless.
But it’s characters rip the Star out of the sky and say “don’t wish on this. Wish on yourself, to get what you wish for. You don’t need a higher power. You don’t even need to sacrifice to do what’s good—whatever you do is good, because you are the one doing it.”
That is wrong. That is not true, and it is not powerful. There’s no sacrifice in focusing on or placing your trust totally in yourself, and it undoes every good thing Disney has done up until now.
And it undoes it on the 100th anniversary, and it flaunts Easter eggs of the very things it’s undoing.
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myfictionaldreams · 6 months
Text
Day 6: Dry Hump- James Potter
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Summary: James Potter was your best friend, and he was unequivocally in love with Lily Evans. However, he has one secret he trusts only with you: he’s never kissed anyone.
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, inexperienced James & experienced Reader, friends with benefits vibes, kissing/making out, dry humping, cumming in pants, teasing, nearly caught
Part 2!
masterlist 📚 
kinktober masterlist😈 
AO3 Link 
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James Potter was your best friend. He had many best friends, including the other Marauders and fellow Gryffindors, but he was YOUR best friend and had been since the first year at Hogwarts. James was the one person you always ran to and shared all happy memories with; if you needed cheering up, he’d be the only one who could pull a smile to your lips. It had always been just the two of you until he became infatuated with Lily Evans.
It had been years of hearing about how wonderful Lily was, which you knew anyway as she was your friend. Finally, you convinced her to say yes to one date with James, even though she did wait until everyone was finishing their time at Hogwarts and about to graduate. He’d waited long enough, and you were thrilled to see him getting his dream date.
This was until he casually announced one day, “I’ve never kissed anyone”.
He’d mumbled it to himself under his breath. James had gone from pure exhilarated joy to fear and doubt at the weight he’d put on his shoulders for having to be the perfect date for Lily. You’d taken him to the Shrieking Shack to try and get away from everyone else so that James could blow off some steam, but all he’d done so far was sulk in his armchair and stare into the fire whilst waiting for Sirius and Remus to join after their lesson.
Then, out of the blue, he admitted his secret that he had yet to kiss anyone. A frown dawns on you as you turn away from the book in your hand to inspect the messy-haired Marauder next to you visually. “What?” you asked with a hint of uncertainty as if he was telling the truth, “How have you never kissed anyone before?” Your mind raced to all of the parties in the Gryffindor tower where most people, including yourself, had made out with others, but now that you thought about it, you’d never seen James lip-locked with anyone else.
It was James’ turn to frown as he looked at you blankly, “When would I have had time? I’ve just wanted to be with Lily, and she’s always said no when I’ve asked before. Anyway, I don’t see why you’re saying it in that tone; it’s not like you’ve been kissing loads of people”. You give James a tight-lipped smile to show that he was, in fact, very wrong with that statement. His eyes widen as he realises the truth, “Wait, you have? Since when?”
“James, how can you be shocked? I’ve kissed plenty of people before, especially during those parties with the fire whiskey that Sirius always steals for us. You wander off with the Marauders or fawn over Lily, and what am I supposed to do? Stand on my own? Absolutely not, I go and find some fun”.
Your best friend’s mouth drops open in shock. Still, he quickly covers it up by looking away grumpily, “Great, so I’m the only person in our year who hasn’t kissed anyone, and now, I’m going to take Lily out, and she’s going to refuse to see me again because I don’t know what I’m doing, we’re going to finish school, and I’ll never see her again, and I’ll die alone!”.
You couldn’t help but laugh at his over-the-top rant, shutting the book with a loud snap and facing him completely whilst still in your chair. “James, you need to chill out a bit; I’m sure it’ll be fine. Do you really think Lily’s been going around snogging loads of boys? I’m sure she’s just as inexperienced as you”.
James’ shoulders dropped in relief as he turned back towards you with hope in his hazel eyes, “Do you think so?”
Your face immediately gave it away that you’d been lying as you sighed, “Ok, I might have seen her making out with a Ravenclaw a year ago, but still, I wouldn’t worry about it! You’ll be excellent! You’re James Potter, the Gryffindor King, a founding Marauder and Gryffindor Seeker. You can sure as hell make out with Lily Evans correctly”.
The pretty Marauder smiled thankfully at your dramatic declaration, “That’s true, thanks, Sweetheart”. Relaxing back into your seat, the book returned to your hand, assuming the conversation was officially over. However, only a moment later, James is whining pathetically, “But what if I’m not good? What if I hurt her or lick her wrong or-”.
“Lick? Why are you licking her, James? I thought we were on about kissing?”
“We are! But you know, people use tongues and-”
“James, I don’t know what you want me to say; if you’re that petrified with kissing, why don’t we practice a little so you can stop freaking out”. It took you a couple of long seconds before the offer you’d just given him genuinely dawned on you. You weren’t sure why you had said it, expecting him to say no but wishing for him to calm down and thinking this was the only option.
James’ head snapped towards you, giving his full attention as he asked, “Wait, you’d do that?” He pushed himself up off the chair's arms, and his eyes were wide and hopeful again.
Lowering the book, you spoke slowly, “Yeah, sure. I mean, it’s just a kiss, and at least we’re friends, so no feelings have to be involved”.
“Yeah, that's a good point! Okay, right, so, um, how do we do this? Do I come over to you, or do we stand?”
Sighing at James, you stood abruptly, dropping the book and strutting to him with arms swinging. The marauder sits up suddenly, taking his feet off the stool he had been resting on as he stares up at you with wide eyes that you can see the whites of his eyes beneath his glasses. “What are you doing?” He questions uncertainly as you straddle his lap without a word, your knees resting on either side of his toned thighs, your fingers slipping around his neck and interlocking at the base of his skull.
“I’m going to kiss you, James. Is that alright with you?” You didn’t mean to sound sassy as you asked with a single raised questioning eyebrow, but you also needed to make sure that he was happy for this to continue.
Those two wide hazel eyes stared at your lips, licking his own to moisten as he slowly nodded, “Uh yeah, just tell me what to do.” A pang of sympathy rushed through your chest at seeing James becoming nervous, which was not usually a sight that you had to see as he was usually such a confident, happy person. You would have spent some time to explain that it was normal to be nervous during your first kiss, but you didn’t want to allow any more time for him to freak out, so loosening your intern locked fingers, you moved them to cup each of her freshly shaved cheeks and pressed your lips delicately against his. You wanted it to be quick enough that he didn’t even have time to tense, even though he did proceed to lock up as you moved back to assess his reaction.
“See, it’s not so scary. You’re supposed to enjoy this, James”. Thankfully, as your face lowered once more, he forced himself to take a steadying breath and relax the tension in his muscles as your lips caressed his.
They were softer than you’d anticipated, plump and smooth like a pillow and instantly, your eyes and his close. However, James surprised you by moving his first. His hand lifted and rested on your hip so gently that you hardly felt it until he gave your body a little squeeze to test the waters of how much he could get into the moment. So you rewarded him by pressing your face harder against his, lips beginning to move and rubbing against each other on instinct.
James even amazed himself with how naturally and quickly he could make out with you. Tilting your head, you deepened the kiss, nose pressing into his cheek so that you could smell his skin that had remnants of his aftershave, which was always spicy and woodsy. As the air became necessary, you pulled back enough to take deep, greedy breaths, now noticing he was doing the same thing but looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.
“So what did you think-”
James didn’t allow your sentence to finish as his other hand cupped along your jaw, pulling your face closer again until the two of you kissed with much more heat with the movements. His mouth opened wider to match how yours was moving against his; your heartbeat quickened as you leaned further into his tall, warm body, melting into his touch and kiss.
Then you wanted to take a risk and licked his bottom lip, which you were ultimately greeted with a praising deep groan of satisfaction that vibrated James’ entire chest and sent tingles straight to your core.
Ok, wow, you thought as James attempted and succeeded with his own lick back against your tongue; you were definitely getting turned on by this. As if he was reading your mind, James pressed harder on your hips, willing you to move down, which you did, your skirt pushing up on your thighs so that when you sat on his crotch, your panty-covered pussy was flush against the material of his trousers.
As one, the two of you pulled away from each other. Mainly because you were now sitting on his very hard erection and also because he knew you could feel his evidence of being aroused. You both stare at each other with wide, unblinking eyes, lips slightly swollen and the taste of his spit still on your tongue.
However, you didn’t want to stop and awkwardly sit back in your seat, and he wasn’t rushing to push you off, either. You were horny, and so was he. Yes, James Potter was your best friend, but that didn’t have to matter; you just wanted him to enjoy the moment and show that it wasn’t as scary as he thought.
Enough time passed, and if he didn’t want to continue, he would have said something by now, so you took the opportunity to lean back in, your thumb attempting to soothe him, stroking across his cheek in timid circles. As your mouths reconnected, your hips ground down on his crotch. You were hoping that he knew enough about anatomy to tell that the warmth from your pussy was a sign of arousal, wanting him to know you were just as turned on as he was.
You do it a few more times, rubbing back and forth with increasing pressure until James makes a pained noise that has you stopping altogether and checking in on him.
He’s looking everywhere but at you, as he apologises, “Sorry, it’s just these trousers are tight and rubbing me painfully”.
“You could just take them off”, you say once again, not thinking before you speak. James looks at you with dramatically wide eyes as he, too, realised what you’d just said. Quickly, you clarified, “I’m not saying that to have sex or anything; I just mean, we could kinda carry on doing what we are doing, but if your trousers are hurting, then just in your boxers”.
You’re surprised by his automatic response of a nod, yes, his arousal blocking all thoughts of Lily as he begins to undo his belt easily. Rising onto your knees to give him room, he pushed the offending material until his thighs were bare and his plaid boxers were on display, barely containing his length. Not wanting him to feel exposed, you lowered yourself once more, and both groaned at the contact, yours at a higher pitch as you could feel the entire outline of his cock against your cunt.
James was bigger than you’d thought and was currently pointing down his left thigh, so you angled your hips in this direction. Tilting your hips forward slightly, your clit grazed along his shaft, causing a hitch in your breath as it caused pleasure to pool in your abdomen, moisture slickening your hole with each movement.
You’re breathing just as heavily as he is, lips still moving against each other, exploring, tasting, needing more. You were kind of proud of him when he moved his face down your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses and causing more pleasure to pulse through you. You were half tempted to rise onto your knees again to show him the evidence of your arousal that had soaked through your panties and onto his boxers, but you didn’t want it to stop.
As your fingers delved into his messy black hair to hold his face closer, he thrust his hips up against yours to add to his stimulation. He was still apprehensive, so he didn’t push too hard, but he rocked back and forth until his tip was pressed against your clothed folds. The muscular thighs beneath yours tensed with each thrust, the muscles defined from all his years of playing quidditch.
His hands remained in place, one on the opposite side of your jaw to where his mouth still kissed, and the other hand helped to move your hips back and forth in time with his own ruts. You’d never actually gotten off like this with anyone before. Usually, underwear would be removed at this point, and more direct contact could occur, but it was still exciting to have some barriers between you. The lace of your underwear was quite rough against your most sensitive area, especially your engorged throbbing clit. You were sure to be sore afterwards, especially with the amount of pressure you were rubbing against each other; with each passing second, the need to find completion made you both desperate.
As his lips found yours again, his tongue began to delve and explore the hollow of your mouth, along your palate and even over your teeth; your pussy began to clench, fire blooming in your core with the impending release.
Pulling back, your fingers moved to rest on his shoulders to hold on tighter as you quickly moaned, “Please don’t stop; I’m going to cum”.
James moaned huskily, out of breath, but both of his hands were now on your hips, moving both his hips and yours faster to find his orgasm. Resting your forehead on his, you both shared the same area, still tasting the other in your mouths, sweat beginning to coat your faces. You were sure you could feel his own wet patch against your arse cheek from where precum was dribbling from his tip and staining his underwear. 
“Ah, fuck- James!” your head tilts back as you finally orgasm, thighs shaking and pussy fluttering around nothing. However, just as you were beginning to come down from your pleasurable high, James suddenly grabbed you painfully, both arms wrapping around your waist as he sat up further on the chair, nearly knocking you off of him if it wasn't for his grip around your midsection. Reassuringly your arms wrapped around his shoulders as his face nuzzled into your chest, his body shivering as thick spurts of cum soaked his boxers.
His moans were like music to your ears and sounded slightly pathetic, making you cling to him more, attempting to run your fingers through his hair to calm the crazy style, but to no avail. Your pussy felt like it was on fire due to the rough stimulation and the untouched orgasm, but it felt so good you savoured the sensation for a few minutes whilst trying to catch your breath.
“There you go, Potter. Not only have you kissed a girl for the first time, but you’ve also made her cum”.
James laughs, loosening his grip slightly to look up at you, but then you both hear the worst noise imaginable: voices from a few floors below, especially those of Sirius and Remus. You scrambled to your feet, straightening your clothes and sitting back in your chair, picking up the book and opening it to a random page as James pulled up his trousers, both of you ignoring the bodily juices completely.
James just about had his feet back on the footstool before Sirius and Remus walked in, but both immediately halted and looked between you and James. It was Sirius who spoke first, eyes squinting in accusation, “Why do you both look so guilty right now? What did you do?”
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zylev-blog · 3 months
Text
Danny and Sam were enjoying a date out in Metropolis when it happened. Superman had been mind controlled again, and was taking hostages. Neither Danny or Sam were worried, and were amongst the only people not running for their lives. They just sat outside the cafe, sipping their coffee and eating their food. As the ground began to rumble, they simply picked their coffee cups and held them in their hands to not spill the coffee within.
“So then Tucker says, ‘not my pda!’” Danny finishes, laughing along with Sam.
“I swear, he loves that thing more than life!” Sam laughs.
That’s when they heard it. The sunlight outside got a shade darker, and Sam and Danny turned to see the outline of Superman hovering in front of them. They both glanced at him, then at each other.
With a loud sigh, Danny out down his coffee. “Can you move a little to the left, Superman? You’re blocking the sunlight.”
Without warning, Superman reached out and grabbed Sam, who was closer to him. Sam grunted out in surprise as she was lifted into the air by her neck. Danny looked unconcerned.
“Seriously?” Sam asked, gesturing at Superman. “You’re going to ruin my necklace.”
“I don’t think he’s worried about your necklace, babe.” Danny leaned against the table, watching the encounter.
“Well, he should be!” Sam exclaimed. “I paid good money for it!”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible. We can just buy you another one once he stops choking you.”
“It’s not really like he’s going to get anywhere.” Sam agreed.
Superman seemed to take offense to this. His grip on her neck tightened, and while Sam’s face did flush red, she wasn’t gasping for breath or having her neck snapped.
“You remember the other day when I said Black Canary could strangle me and I’d be happy about it?” Sam asked, her voice a little breathless.
“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, wondering where she as going with this.
“I like Superman choking me better. He would probably be better at it than a human.” Sam grinned at the Kryptonian.
“Shouldn’t he at least buy you dinner first?” He asked.
“You know, most boyfriends don’t talk so freely about their girlfriends being choked by other guys.” Sam pointed out.
“You’re right.” He agreed.
“But this is getting kinda weird. Superman, do you mind letting me go? This isn’t really working for me anymore.” Sam pointed to the ground.
A large crowd had started to gather around them. Some looked horrified, while others looked curious. Curious at Sam, who hadn’t died yet. Superman made no moves to remove his hand from her neck.
“Hey babe?” Sam asked.
“Yeah?” He took another sip of his coffee, completely calm.
“Can you record me beating up Superman so we can send it to your sister?”
“Why her?” He tilted his head.
“Little sister.” Sam clarified.
“Ohh. Yeah, sure, she’d love that.” He took a second and pulled his phone out—a latest WayneTech model. “Go for it.”
Sam wrapped her hand around Superman’s, and with an audible snap, broke his hand and pulled it off of her neck. Superman gasped in pain, but Sam wasn’t done yet. She proceeded to judo flip him and send him crashing to the Earth while she continued to hover in the air. She clapped her hands together and cracked her knuckles.
“This is going to be fun.” Sam grinned wickedly.
“You know, I could just touch his temple and cure him of the mind control.” He offered, but continued to record Sam.
“Don’t spoil my fun.” Sam flipped him off, then dove towards the ground. She kicked Superman in the nuts, then kneed him in the face hard enough to draw blood. She punched him a few more times until he fell unconscious.
Danny got up and stopped the recording. He walked over to his girlfriend and looked at the unconscious Superman. He bent over the man and pressed a finger to the man’s temple. Blue power briefly illuminated Superman’s skin, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
“You’re going to cause trouble for us.” He chastised her.
“But you love it.” Sam took his hand. “Let’s go home.”
She flew into the air first, but Danny took another second to dig into his wallet, leaving a $20 bill on the table they were sitting at. He then flew into the air after Sam, chasing her all the way to Amity Park.
—————
Six months later, and Danny and Sam were on another outing in Gotham when they were interrupted by Batman. They pulled a chair up for him, and eventually the man took it. They ordered him a coffee and a bagel.
“So, what brings you here?” Danny asked casually.
“How did you defeat Superman?” Batman asked, straight to the point.
“Huh?” Sam asked. “When did we do that?”
“Six months ago.” Batman responded.
“Ohh, wait— remember the day we went to Metropolis?” He hummed.
“Oh. I already forgot about that. Superman’s not pressing charges, is he?” Sam asked. “I do have a good lawyer, he’s just an asshole to deal with.”
“No, he is not pressing charges.” Batman grunted.
“Then what’s this about?” He asked, tilting his head.
Without answering, Batman opened a box on his lap. At once, the kryptonite took effect of both Sam and Danny, making their skin turn green and to writhe in pain. Just as Danny was about to take the box from Batman by force, the man had closed the lid and tucked it away.
“I had my suspicions.” Batman said, as if that explained everything. “So how did two more Kryptonians land on Earth when the planet was destroyed thirty years ago?”
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gay-dorito-dust · 10 months
Note
hellooo, your writing is amazing so far i love it 🫶🏼
Could you do one for Hobie x fem reader, where the reader is friends with SpiderPunk AND Hobie. But she doesn’t know they’re the same person. And one day lovergirl rants about her fat ah crush on Hobie to him??
First off, thank you for enjoining my writing, I try my best with what working brain cells I have left 🤣
Ooh I love this idea very much! But I might make it a two parter cuz I defiantly went off request…oops…
Part 2
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You were just minding your business, chilling on the roof top of an abandoned apartment complex, mind a million miles elsewhere on a certain somebody when a flash of red and blue caught your eye and before you knew it; you company of one had became a company of two.
‘Heya Spidey, how are things?’ You greeted.
He shrugs, ‘the usual but what about you lil missis,’ he playfully nudges you, ‘head so far off into the clouds I’m actually feeling a little neglected over here.’ You laughed, shoving him away by his arm. ‘Oh come off it, will you? I just been thinking about this guy I’ve liked for a while now.’ You admitted and Hobie’s interest was immediately peaked.
For as long as he knew you, Hobie could barely remember the last time you had ever admitted to him in fancying someone, besides from a couple of incidences from way back that ended up backfiring; but other then that, you kinda made it a point not to talk about it, maybe in due to him thinking that whoever you did fancy at the time weren’t worth the effort you’d give had you perused them. You had often called him overprotective whenever you tell him about your crush of the week but Hobie would defend himself by saying he was merely looking out for you and didn’t want you getting hurt by some douchebag.
‘You don’t have to defend me from everything Hobie,’ you once told him as you were patching him up from beating the breaks off of your last crush because they were chatting shit about you behind your back, ‘whilst as sweet as it is but you can’t always be there to look out for me.’
‘Watch me.’ He replied, his view remaining completely unchanged. You sighed, knowing that once Hobie’s mind was made up, nothing you nor anyone else could do to change that. He was an akin to that of an immovable object when it came to his beliefs and views and it was amongst the many things you adored and admired about him most.
‘Oh yeah? And who’s the lucky guy?’ He asked casually leaning back on his arms, watching as you brought your knees close to your chest before resting your chin upon them as your eyes gaze out at nothing in particular; something Hobie noticed you often do when you were particularly in your feelings and needed something to hold onto and ground yourself before you became adrift in your own sea of emotions. It was cute to see you tucked in on yourself so tightly that he couldn’t be more thankful for the fact that you couldn’t see how dopey he must’ve looked beneath his mask.
‘Hobie. Hobie Brown.’
He blinked twice, nah, he must’ve heard that wrong, surely, his hearing must be going all scewiff.
‘Hobie Brown.’ He said his own name as though it was the first time he was ever saying it. Upon seeing the way your shoulders drop and your body becoming at ease upon hearing his name, along with the way you smiled gently and how your eyes seemed to beam with newfound light which all had only helped In affirming to Hobie that he did indeed hear you the first time. ‘What is it about the guy that’s got you all up in knots?’ He asked, trying to act as though you didn’t just indirectly admitted that you’ve got a crush on him to him.
‘Where do I start.’ You started, unable to fight against your own feelings that were swelling up within your chest when an image of Hobie appeared in the forefront of your mind, he was sat on your bed, eyes closed as he allowed himself to get lost within his guitar rifts, his calloused fingers expertly transitioned from chord to chord as it were muscle memory. ‘He’s just so cool and awesome and so forthright and opinionated in his views and beliefs that he’s not afraid to back down from a fight should it come down to it.’ You tell him with a sense of fondness in your voice.
Hobie was quick to notice how your hand fiddle with one of the many handmade pins he’s made you that you always paired up with any and every outfit you ever wore, even if they styles did clash but you didn’t seem to care; Whatever the reason for you reaching for the pins were, whether it’d be out of a need to feel out the closest thing you had in regards to him or it was just something you did out of habit, made Hobie warm within his chest that soon spread throughout his body. ‘Sounds like me and this Hobie guy are more alike then I originally thought.’
Your fingers stopped their fiddling and you suddenly looked at him as though you were just now realising something with the way your eyes bore into him, Hobie thought that you might’ve developed the ability to see through the mask that withheld his identity and into him, so much so that he couldn’t help but make a comment on it, ‘stare at me any harder sweetheart and your stare might burn right through my mask.’ You must’ve been deep into your thinking as you didn’t seem to have noticed that he had spoken at all and Hobie was starting to think that he might’ve been too relaxed with you as Spider-Man that you might have started to have it pieced together in your mind; after all you were smart, more so then what you give yourself credit for.
‘Now that you’ve mentioned it you and Hobie do share some of the same attributes and habits, I’m also pretty sure your similar height wise and even though your mask muffled your voice, it fills me with a sense of familiarity that it’s hard for me to put a finger on.’ You said as you leaned closer to him until you were partially merely a breath away from each other. Hobie didn’t know he was holding in a breath until you shrugged ‘but I could just be grasping at a straws, so I won’t dwell on it as much.’ and moved away from him back to your previous position.
As much as he would’ve loved to have you figure out his identity on your own terms. Hobie would prefer it best if he were the one to reveal himself to you but the moments where he wanted to never felt right and he didn’t want to you in danger by doing so, but he knew that there’d come a time where he would be greeted with a choice in wether to tell you the truth as to who he was or continue living like he has currently and potentially loose your trust because of his lack of transparency; Hobie couldn’t bear to think of loosing your trust but just as he has always done since becoming your friend, he was merely looking out for you and for your safety as they were always his top priorities.
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dollyhao · 2 months
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succubus!reader x nerdy!ellie
summary: ellie is desperate to lose her virginity that has been looming over her her whole college career.
toni’s note: i made it guys! i promised this back in october and it’s the end of january… but it’s here.
cw: this is pure smut, no plot at all lol. 1.8k words
༊*·˚
ellie has not a single regret about what she’s about to do. ellie is in college and is still a virgin, at this point she didn’t think she’d ever lose her virginity. until one of her friends joked that she should summon a sex demon, that it was ‘the only way she’d get laid’. it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, but desperation makes people do crazy things.
she read in an old book she found in the library about one in particular, the book had a picture of you drawn in and ellie thought you were absolutely gorgeous and perfect for her. what was the worst that could happen?
ellie lights the candles around the circle she made on her bedroom floor. she chanted your name 5 times like the book told her, then after 20 seconds the candles all blew out and a gust of purple smoke floats in the air. you pop out the smoke looking even more perfect than the book describes.
“who dares summons me?” you say in this slow sensual voice that ellie feels course through her body. you look around the room you were summoned in before your eyes rest on a short girl with black rimmed glasses on her face. ellie is looking at you with those pretty green puppy eyes, mouthed formed into an o shape.
“a girl? well thats new,” you walk closer to ellie sizing her up. “your cute… tell me what you want from me.” “i-i,” ellie is literally speechless. shes staring up at you, the lady demon whos probably gonna take her virginity. you have long horns on your head and a cute skinny tail, but the best part is that your completely naked. breast out in the open, nipples standing at attention, nothing covering your cunt and it’s just begging for ellie to drop to her knees to taste you.
“did you call me here to waste my time?” you ask her putting your hands on your hips with a quirked brow. “no no! i-i want you to take my virginity.” ellie says playing with her fingers. you hum, “ok ill do it. but you have to sign a contract-” “yes yes! anything!” you spawn a paper out of thin air, “dont you wanna know what your agreeing to?” but by the time you finish your sentence ellie has already signed the paper.
after she is done signing, the paper disappears. “i wanna let you know i-i’ve never done this before. well i almost did in my fourth year of highschool but that was a missed opportunity-“ ellie’s nervous rambling was cut off by you running your hands over her shoulders and ripping her shirt open exposing a blue sports bra underneath. ellie gapes at you, suprised at the sudden intrusion. you push the ripped shirt off her shoulders. “do you wanna touch me?” you say voice softening seeing how nervous the poor girl is.
she nods vigorously trailing her hands up your tummy to your breast. “you can touch me however you want.” you say smirking at her. ellie feels like she can hear your voice inside her head, a slow sensual voice with a rasp that can only be described as wild and sexy. she feels a rush of arousal pulse through her as she pushes you to lay on her bed. your eyebrows shot up, you feel her start to kiss down your stomach swirling her tongue around your navel before her head dips between your legs.
you buck slightly when you feel her inexperienced tongue flicking all around your cunt. she takes your clit into her mouth rolling and flicking her tongue all around it (like they do in the videos she watched before the summoning). you can feel her breathing heavy against you. she pushes two experimental fingers into you feeling how wet and tight you were. you taste sweet like honey and something else addictive that ellie can’t name, ellie suspects its part of your demon powers.
you grab her hair squeezing your legs around her head trying to contain your moans, no human has ever made you feel so good. you might just… like this girl. she’s cute and gentle. and she looks at you like your aphrodite instead of a sex demon.
you feel yourself about to cum when you push her head from between your thighs. ellie is looking at you, chin covered in your juices looking pussy drunk with her glasses fogged up. “are you ok?” she asked you, looking genuinely concerned. you want to coo at her but instead you flip her over taking place in between her legs this time. you peer up at her with this look that looks like you want to devour her. you pull down her sweat pants and underwear licking your lips at her slick pussy.
you give her clit a sweet kiss before using your thumb to rub circles on it. ellies moans out loud when she feels your abnormally long tongue enter her. your tongue is reaching places her fingers couldnt possibly reach. she chants you name which only encourages you to move your thumb faster on her clit. ellie grabs your horns and pull before locking her ankles together keeping you still as she grinded on your tongue feeling the knot in her stomach ready to explode. you let out a groan as ellie tugs on your horns. “im so close.” she says before her body goes rigid.
you pull away from ellie, swallowing her essence, seeming to have had an energy boost. “is there anything else you wanna try?” you say rubbing up and down her legs. she nods getting off the bed grabbing a box from under it. in the box are sex toys but ellie pulls out a girthy purple strap. “oh,” you say eyes widening, “you wanna use that on me?” you ask with that same sensual tone from the beginning. “yes.. please”
she puts the strap on before she feels you push her down on the bed straddling her. you hover over her dick grabbing it and running it up and down your slick cunt. “you want me to fuck you?” you say placing a hand on her chest still hovering over her. ellie nods her head grabbing your hips panting in anticipation, “yes please…” “ask nicely,” you say leaning down licking and biting her ear. “please fuck me. please.” ellie says bucking her hips. the tip of her dick pushes into you, you moan sitting completely on ellie’s cock.
you are bouncing and riding with no sign of slowing down. ellie is running her hands over your body, transfixed at the way your breast bounce as you ride her. when she sits up, she wraps her arms around your waist, holding you close to her as she kisses your neck and chest leaving marks.
you grab ellie’s face, tilting her head to the side so you can have access to her neck. you use your tongue to lick and suck marks into her neck until you get a little too excited and nick her neck drawing blood. ellie let’s out a groan followed by a guttural moan, completely dazed. you lick at her neck getting all the blood up before humming and planting a kiss on the mark.
ellie is gripping your ass meeting your thrust with her own desperate ones. “are you close?” ellie asked desperately, leaning to kiss you again. “very.” you coo out, kissing her using that long muscle of yours, twirling your tongue around hers.
you let go and ellie is staring in awe at the beautiful look you made while cumming. she lays back on the bed, exhausted and satisfied. when she feels your very sharp nails trail up her stomach and latch at her sports bra causing it to rip as if it was being cut by scissors. “more.” you whisper with a wide grin.
“what?” ellie asked wide eyed. “i want more. i think im going to keep you.” you whisper in her ear.
༊*·˚
I, Ellie Williams, am allowing succubus y/n to take on a human form and co habitat with me. I will fulfill her needs of sex so that she may stay by my side and use me for a long as she wills.
signed: ellie williams
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literaila · 2 months
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one in the morning
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary:
"satoru. where did you get these kids?"
warnings: slight angst, awkward child rearing, a bit of arguing, and pining (of course), slightly ooc gojo
a/n: because i am a sucker for little megumi
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*
year zero. year one.
it's not that you're not expecting the call. except that you're not. 
like not even a little bit. an asteroid coming down and destroying only you and your apartment building is slightly more likely than satoru gojo calling you in the middle of the night, like he hasn't done in the last six months. 
the last year, really.
a year ago you would've known who it was immediately and probably would've cursed satoru out for calling you at three in the morning to see if you wanted to go get ice cream with him (and then you would've gotten up and put on your shoes to find him outside of your room, already grinning). 
but now you have to check the caller id. 
you blink around in the dark--struggling through the dregs of dream you're still waking through--and sigh. 
unfortunately, you've never had quite enough willpower to ignore this phone call. shoko has called you an idiot many times--too many times, actually--telling you that satoru's attention-seeking habits are not your responsibility. not that she's had to say that in a while, though... and it's not like you're going to sneak out in the middle of the night with him anymore--you can't sneak out. you have your own house. there’s no yaga to look down on you disapprovingly here. 
and he hasn't called you in six months. you haven't even heard about him beyond some irritated remarks from yaga, and shoko's knowing glances when you try to nonchalantly bring him up.
and still. 
it takes you a moment to pick up the phone, your thumb hitting the answer button before your mind can stop you. 
"satoru?" you whisper, listening to the breathing on the other end. 
there's some muffled moving around, and then a breath, and then someone in the background speaking, and then-- 
"i need your help." his voice is quiet like he doesn't want anyone to hear what he's saying. 
what time is it? have you ever heard satoru say those words before? 
your first thought is that he's on another mission. that there's a cursed spirit and he needs some assistance. but when has satoru gojo asked anyone for help with a cursed spirit? when has he ever needed it? suguru was typically there to keep him from-- 
you pause, sitting up in bed. this might be a nightmare, but usually, you're more accustomed to them. "where are you?" you ask him, speaking in the same soft voice. 
you expect him to name off some city, some house, some country that you couldn't possibly get to. you expect him to crack a joke, say something to you about being lost without him, or laugh at how serious your voice sounds. but he only murmurs, "at your door." 
like it isn't a completely crazy thing to say. how does he even know where you live? 
"it's one in the morning," you say, frowning. some small part of you wants him to actually be there, expecting a knock to come from the void of your hallway. and the other, much bigger part, thank you, wants him to be joking. 
"i know," he sighs, and the receiver is muffled again, and then, "can you open it?" 
"what's going on?" 
"please," he repeats. there's no joke to this. this is not satoru asking you if you want to go get donuts at six in the morning, or milkshakes at midnight. "i'll explain. i just need your help." 
you bite back some remark about how he hasn't needed your help for the past year. about how he hasn't called, hasn't texted, and hasn't even asked about you since-- 
but you stand up, trying to untangle a knot in your hair. you hang up on him without answering. your heart gets a bit of satisfaction from that. 
and go to your door, giving yourself two seconds to prepare for the real-life satoru in front of your face. blue-everything eyes, you think, wall white hair, and a stupid smile. 
but when you open it, your eyes drift to his (sort of) like they're already sure of where exactly he might be, it isn't just him. 
there's a little boy--as tall as satoru's waist, with dark hair and furrowed brows to match--standing in front of another little girl--the same dark hair, but blank face--glaring up at satoru like he's kidnapped both of them. 
your eyes widen as you realize that he probably has. 
"this is basically every kid's dream," he's telling this boy, his playful voice like they’ve known each other for years. "i got you candy and i'm letting you stay up late. why aren't you normal?" 
"why aren't you?" this boy retorts, and his voice is hard. unreasonably sarcastic for such a small person. it might make you giggle, the obvious tension between the two of them, if you weren't so worried about these kids' poor parents, freaking out at their disappearance. 
the little girl is the first to notice you there, and she waves, her face much softer, much more exhausted than the boys in front of her. but she doesn't look frightened; not concerned with wherever this strange man has taken the two of them. 
and satoru looks up at the motion, his mouth turning as he looks at you. 
the little boy frowns, but his eyes settle. there's a brief moment where he watches you and you think that he's about to start begging for your help, but then it's gone. and his eyes trail back to satoru, still angry. 
you blink, swallowing at the three of them. this is not ice cream.
"satoru," you get out, eventually. "where did you get these kids?" 
*
"okay," you set a glass of water on the coffee table, trying to put on a normal smile. your hands are shaking, so you tuck them under your sleeves. "i'm sorry i don't have a lot of extra blankets, but if you get cold i'll go look through some boxes and see what i can find." 
it's been ten minutes with them inside your apartment, and you already feel like you're doing something wrong. satoru, obviously, just briefly introduced the two of them to you, before you grabbed his arm and dragged him--along with the kids that trailed behind--into your apartment. 
you'd hissed at him about how it was cold, and one in the morning, and they needed to be asleep. he only smiled and asked how you were. 
so now they're cuddled up on your couch, with your only spare blanket, both of them with dreary eyes. you're trying not to look too closely--to check if they've been crying, or if they're harmed in any sort of way.
the little boy--megumi--nods and tsumiki smiles at you. 
how four little eyes can look so appreciative, you're not sure.
satoru is leaning against the wall behind you, watching you move around these children like it's normal, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from screaming at him.
"is there anything else you need?" you ask them, trying to be softer than you are. you should’ve taken that babysitting job when you were twelve; you’re completely out of your depth here.
megumi shakes his head. 
"no, we're good," tsumiki says. 
and you seriously want to get them to a hospital. where did they come from? why does satoru have them? is he insane? are they insane? have you just dreamt this all up?
"okay, satoru and i are just going to go talk in the kitchen for a bit. come get me if you need anything." and you smile again, taking a couple of hesitant steps as they both look away from you to the show that tsumiki put on when you handed her the remote. 
at least they're not outside anymore.
you drag satoru into the kitchen, thinking about knocking the wind right out of him. he's always been particularly punchable, but right now he's even more so. 
and he's smiling adoringly at you. 
“satoru," you grind out, trying to keep your voice down. he leans against your countertop, crossing his legs. 
and he hums inquisitively. “you know, i don’t think megumi likes me very much.” 
“satoru.” 
“not sure…" he scratches his head, white hair falling over his sunglasses. "i mean he’s kind of a weird kid but still. i took them to the store to pick out anything they wanted and neither of them got anything. even when i showed them the different cakes they had in the bakery. there were matcha rolls today, too. do you think they’re robots or something?” 
“satoru. where did you get those children?” your voice is a step away from furious. 
why is he here right now? why does he just barge into your life at unprecedented moments, acting like nothing has changed between the two of you? 
acting like you haven't missed the sound of his voice or the way he speaks with his hands, or how he's standing right next to you, warmth radiating off of him like a toxin. 
“is that important right now?” he asks. “we’re talking about their spending habits.” 
“i’m talking about you. tell me that you didn’t steal them from the park and that i’m not obligated to report you.” 
“are you serious?" he shakes his head at you, his voice still teasing, calm as ever. "you think i’d just take some random kids home with me?” 
“i don’t know!" you tell him, finally breaking--your voice is raised, and you almost don't notice. "i don’t even know how you got here, or where you’ve been in the past six months, or whose children those are because they are certainly not yours.” 
he pouts. “you don’t think they look like me?” 
“you’re too pale.” 
“that’s rude, you—“ 
“whose kids are they? now, satoru.” 
you hope your face looks intimidating, but honestly, your demand is more like a suggestion when it comes to satoru. he can listen or he can leave. 
you don't know which one you want more. 
there’s a beat of silence where he rubs his foot on the ground, messing up your tiled floors probably. and then he sighs, relenting. “…toji zenin’s.”
he could’ve said anything else and you wouldn’t even care. oh, he found those kids abandoned in a warehouse on a mission? cool. oh, he found some long-lost cousins? great. if it were anything else, you would've waved him off and told him that he needed to get them new clothes, or something. 
but this? 
“what?!” 
“shh. you’re the one who said they need to sleep," he tries to look around the corner of your hallway, even though you both know he doesn't need to.
you’re gawking at him, but, really, can it be helped?
“toji zenin?!”
“well technically fushiguro according to the records i dug up. but zenin nonetheless...” 
“you stole his kids?!” 
“i didn’t steal—“ 
“he tries to kill you so you kill him instead and take his children hostage?!” 
this would be a wonderful moment to wake up.
satoru waves this statement off, frowning. “you’re really brushing over the ‘tried to kill me’ part. what? you don’t care about me?” 
“why do you have them, satoru? what are you planning to do? torture them for information?" your eyes are wide and your heart is panicked. "they’re kids—“ 
he scowls. “of course not.” 
“then what? tell me everything, starting from when toji tried to kill you.” 
“why do you automatically think i did something?" he complains. "it’s not like i asked zenin to kill me first. i didn’t bait him into slicing my throat open.”
“because you always start the problems.” 
“not true. sometimes i solve them, and sometimes i—“ 
“how did you find out about them?” 
he sighs. “he told me about megumi, before he, ya know,” and then he makes a motion across his neck. and a terrible noise that supposedly indicates death. 
you don't even mock him for it “why?” you ask. 
“megumi might inherit the zenin technique. he’s worth a lot to the zenin clan, and i guess that toji made a deal with them.” 
“you guess?” 
“well, it’s not like i had a whole lot of time between the resurrection and murdering thing to ask him. i didn’t invite the guy out for tea so he could tell me about his pride and joy," his voice is riddled with sarcasm, so you can't decide if he's joking or not. 
he is the most infuriating person you've ever met. 
“so what? he asked you to keep megumi away from them?”
“no, he didn’t seem the sentimental type. maybe he told me cause he didn’t want megumi to grow up there, or maybe he told me so i could claim the prize money for myself.” he shrugs. “it doesn’t matter.” 
you glare at him. “oh, it doesn’t?”
“no. i asked megumi what he wanted and this was it. he doesn’t want to live there and leave tsumiki behind, or have her live in that misogynistic shithole.” 
“how old is he?” 
satoru almost winces. "uh, six?”
“you don’t even know how old he is?” you close your eyes, shaking your head. 
“he’s in first grade! we haven’t gone through all of the basics yet.” 
“and tsumiki?” 
“…nine.” 
“satoru.” 
“i’ll figure it out. megumi acts like he’s fifty years old anyway, so what do i care?” 
you can practically see him rolling his eyes. 
“what do you care?" you repeat, mocking. "you just told me that megumi made this decision for himself. he's a kid. he probably doesn’t understand—“ 
“he understands that if he goes to the zenin clan his sister will suffer in whatever way they deem fit. i mean, you know what it’s like for girls there—especially without any cursed energy.” 
“you cant just make this decision for them on a whim, satoru. have you thought any of it through? where are they going to stay? who’s going to watch them when you’re sent away? where are they going to go to school? what if megumi does inherit his cursed technique?” 
“all of that doesn’t matter. i'll figure it out," he waves off the topic of their lives like it's a mere suggestion, "what matters is that i keep those kids from being subjected to a life of servitude and competition. that they get to be kids while they can.” 
you swallow. is there a way not to be frightened by this? “i know—i know where you’re coming from," you give him a weak smile, trying not to yell, or fight, or question this so much that satoru shuts down. "it’s nice of you to be… worried about them. but this isn’t like taking in a lost kitten, satoru. these are children.” 
“do you really feel the need to point that out?” 
“yes. what do you know about kids?” 
he smiles, wide. “nothing!” he exclaims. “that’s why i came here. and you’re already doing a great job.” 
you frown. “what do i know about kids?” 
“well, you like them, don’t you?” 
“what?” 
“when we went to that daycare center during second year you played with all of the kids. you like them," he nods as if affirming it himself. 
you went to a daycare with satoru once to take care of a grade three curse and apparently, it's led him to insanity. 
“you’re comparing my hide-and-seek skills to taking care of those two kids on my own?"
“i mean, i’ll be here too...” 
“taking care of three children on my own?” you correct. 
satoru pouts. 
you think about what suguru told you after riko amanai died; about satoru and the shift within him. some sort of manic strength he hasn't uttered a word about since. 
but you continue, swallowing. "what's this really about?" you ask, softly, trying not to be mad, or worried, or concerned about why he came here to you. "it's not like you to... take responsibility for something you're not responsible for." 
his pout turns into a frown. you can see his brows furrow. "you don't think i'm capable of helping people?" 
"i know you're capable. but why? why now? i mean, it's been a year since toji died, and you're just getting them now? you suddenly remembered what he said to you?" 
"i had to figure out the logistics of toji's deal." 
"okay," you shake your head, "but still. why not have a family take them in? find someone who can give them a relatively normal life before they're pushed into all of this?" 
satoru's face is blank. "no. what happens when megumi is eight and his new 'parents' put him in a hospital because he's seeing things that they can't?" 
for the first time since he's walked through your front door, he sounds almost serious.
"i--" 
"what happens when they're afraid of him because he draws in cursed energy? when his 'family' rejects him like yours did? like suguru's did?" 
"satoru." 
"honestly, do you think that's any better?" he gestures to your living room, to the kids he's proclaimed responsibility for. "if he does inherit his technique then the zenin clan will go looking for him anyway, and he won't be able to protect himself because there was no one to teach him how. no matter where he goes he's going to be ripped away from tsumiki, who seems to be the only thing he actually cares about. he didn't even want to know--" 
"is this about suguru?" you ask him, the words falling before you can catch them. 
satoru stills. you can see every one of his muscles tense. preparing for a fight. "what?" 
"are you trying to... make up for his decisions? do you feel guilty? is megumi supposed to replace him?" 
"replace him?" 
"i know you think that you can take care of everything on your own, satoru, but you can't. it's not your fault that toji died. and it's not your fault that suguru left--" 
"it is my fault." he says, so softly the words are almost caught before they can reach you. "it is." 
you shake your head. you should've had this conversation months ago. a year ago, before any of this could happen. 
"c'mon, y/n," he continues, no laughter, no smile, no swagger. "i saw what was happening. everyone did. but i was his best friend. i was supposed to be there for him." 
"suguru didn't want you there. he didn't want you to be a part of it." 
"well i could've stopped him. even if i couldn't save suguru--" his voice cracks on his name. "i could've saved everyone else. but i didn't." 
"that's... that's a ridiculous suggestion. how are you supposed to kill your best friend? why should you have to save everyone? why would you even--" 
"megumi isn't some replacement. he's a little boy, and if i'm not there for him then he's going to be stuck with his family. just like i was. he's going to be used for his cursed energy and who knows how he'll turn out? if he'll kill people recklessly like toji, or die trying to do the right thing?" 
you're silent. 
"i'm the only one who can protect him from this," satoru says, and you realize that he's been thinking about this for the past year. that every second since he almost died, this has been on his mind. "they're not going to touch him if i make it clear that i won't let them. i won't--i'm not going to let him become someone he doesn't want to be." 
you sigh. "satoru..." 
his body moves at your voice and he smiles again, shaking off whatever anger you drew out. it's almost a complete shift in who you're talking to. like the stakes no longer matter to him; these kids are just another obstacle to face, a power to control. 
like he's remembered the role he's supposed to play. 
"besides, someone's going to need to take over for me eventually. i might as well train him myself." 
you cant see his eyes, and that’s probably good. you wish someone else were here to take your side, explain to satoru that he’s just a kid himself. that he shouldn't have to take care of everything on his own. 
because when it’s just you, he always has the upper hand. he always gets his way. 
"okay," you say, eventually, after you realize that you'll never win this fight. that you don’t want to fight with him at all.
"okay?" he repeats. "so you'll help me?" 
"help you?" 
"yeah. why do you think i brought them over here?" 
you pause. "you want me... to what? raise them?" 
"with me, yes." 
"are you kidding?" 
"no. you're probably the only person i trust to help." 
the words do something almost indescribable to your body. the person you were a year ago would've cried out in relief, would've clung to him like glue to paper. 
but you frown instead. "seriously?" 
"you've already taken care of them better than i could. look." he drags you around the corner to where tsumiki has her head on megumi's, both of them snoring softly, folded into the blanket you gave them. 
the tv flickers in the background, bothering neither of them. how they've managed to fall asleep with all of the yelling that's been going on, you don't know. 
"see? they already feel safe around you." 
"they're exhausted," you correct, but feel yourself soften at the sight of them. they are kinda cute without the scowl or concern plaguing their faces.
"we're going to be great parents," satoru coos, slinging an arm around your shoulder. 
you push him away. "we are not their parents. we are... permanent babysitters. nannies." 
satoru fixes you with an amused look. "okay." 
"and you still owe me an explanation. i want a complete narrative about what you've been doing for the past six months. and how you found the two of them." 
"okay," he steps closer to you again like you won't notice. 
"and--" you don't have anything else. it's one in the morning. how clear is your mind supposed to be? "and you're paying for anything they need." 
"uh huh." 
eventually, you sigh. it's a surprise that you've lasted this long. "fine. i'll help you. but only because they'd probably die if they spent more than twenty-four consecutive hours with you." 
satoru doesn't say anything--not to whine or roll his eyes--and it's a small acknowledgment, a thank you he doesn't have to say out loud. he'll take this win, at least. 
the two of you watch them, relaxing into the wall. 
after a minute satoru whispers. "by the way..." 
"what?" 
"i didn't tell megumi that i killed toji." 
you turn to him. your eye might as well start twitching. 
"what? he said he didn't want to know--" 
*
you're sneaking into the kitchen when you notice him sitting at the table. his hands are crossed in front of him, his eyes focused on a stain you haven't been able to get off of the wood. 
he's very small, you realize, watching him. his hair is messier than it was the night before, sticking to his head like he slept slumped against it. 
he's not doing anything, really. just sitting there. you can see his legs swinging in the air. 
and before you can prepare for what to say to this little boy who you're probably going to be spending a lot of time with, your mouth is open. "hey," you say to him, just whispering. 
tsumiki must be sleeping. 
megumi looks up, quickly, like he wasn't expecting you to be there. his eyes are wide like he's been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. but then he slumps down again and gives you a brief nod in acknowledgment. then looks back down, because the table is very interesting.
you wonder how many mornings he's woken up alone, with no one to tuck him back in.
"can't sleep?" you ask him, standing across from him and leaning against the table. 
"this is when i usually wake up," you recall his voice the night before when satoru was teasing him, rougher than a boy's should be. but it's soft now, quiet. 
it's probably seven if the clock on your bedside table is to be believed. 
"you were up pretty late, though." 
he almost rolls his eyes, remembering the events of the night before. 
and you can tell that he doesn't really want to talk to you. he doesn't know anything about you, or what you want with him. why should he trust you? 
you clear your throat. "how old are you?" 
he looks up again. "six. why?" 
"satoru wasn't sure." 
this time, megumi actually rolls his eyes. you're familiar with this sort of annoyance directed at satoru, so you smile, just a little bit. at least there's something you can relate to. 
"and tsumiki?" 
"seven." 
you nod, stepping away. 
what do you say to a boy who has been dragged into your home by a maniac? 
you sigh, clearing your throat again. "are you hungry?" 
megumi's eyes narrow. there's a brief second between the two of you, where some sort of understanding passes through his eyes. who was the last person to make him breakfast? 
and then he nods, slowly. 
you smile. "okay. c'mon, let's see if i have anything you like." 
*
next part.
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ferrstappen · 4 months
Text
could you be more obvious? l MV1
a/n: thissss is based on a request I got and ofc I added the Verstappen twins <3 this is messy I’m sorry but I’m on a writing mood
summary: you show up pregnant for the first race of 2024, just six months after Max won his 3rd WDC.
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Max being crowned world champion for the third time was something that made your skin buzz with excitement, a knot form in your throat seeing everything he’s achieved and the pride and satisfaction of knowing that every single person on the team had his back, was definitely one of the best sights.
But for Luca and Mila Verstappen, their papa being champion again time wasn’t exactly a big deal… they knew it was important because there were lots of fireworks and special tshirts, but they were born watching Max a champion, they only knew him as such.
what, like it’s a big deal?
They didn’t say it, but you knew that’s what was on their mind.
That was the reason why both Max and you decided to not bring the twins to Qatar, especially with the high temperatures and Luca’s history of getting sick during Grand Prix weekends, they were more than happy to stay with auntie Vic while you got ready to celebrate your husband.
And God, did you celebrate him.
Without the twins, the gin and tonics kept coming, the sloppy make out session on the VIP area of the club as if you were teenagers again, his front pressed against your back as he tried to impress you with his best moves, only to earn a couple of drunken giggles and peck on the lips.
Things were starting to quiet down, lots of people had already left to their hotel room, but you and Max were on a world of your own, with you sitting on top of him, but the moment you started feeling his lips ghosting against your neck, his hands moving from your waist to squeeze your hip.
and you knew it was time to go.
Bahrain, 2024
Max didn’t remember being so excited for race day. Yes, he was anxious for the new season, but the highlight of his day was seeing you getting ready, a loose blouse and white jeans accentuating the noticeable belly of six months of pregnancy, which was a complete surprise to everyone.
You entered the paddock through the main entrance, with photographers everywhere and Kym Ilman greeting your family, because the scene was worth more than a couple thousand likes on Instagram: you were holding Mila’s hand who in return was holding Luca’s, while Max walked with his arm protectively around your belly.
The twins weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea of having a baby brother or sister, a fact they made clear by asking every day if there was any chance to stop the baby from coming home eventually, telling you and Max that they were more than okay having the cats. Sadly, they were the only ones
“No! No! No! Is that why you went MIA on social media? Oh my God look at this bump! Congratulations you two,” Lily let go of Alex’s hand to give you a tight hug as Alex congratulated Max with a couple of pats on the back.
The scene repeated itself with most drivers on the grid, who didn’t ask how far along you were, but were able to deduce the situation. Until…
“How far along are you?” Charles asked you as he held Luca on his arms, letting him mess with his hair.
You blushed and Max’s chest puffed as if he has been waiting for the question. “I’m a couple of days away from the six months mark,”
Charles looked as if he was doing a very specific and difficult math problem as his girlfriend, Alexandra, stares at him with a faint blush on her cheeks, probably since she has always been more reserved around you because she was younger, but she was impatiently waiting for her boyfriend to catch on the situation.
“This is a 2023 season baby?” Charles asked.
“Looks like it,” Max answered with a smug smile on his face, but in reality it was an excited grin which reached his blue eyes.
“No…” Charles jaw dropped and had to put Luca on the floor.
“No what?” Max counter asked, even if he knew the answer. This time he started drawing mindless shapes on the clothes over your swollen stomach.
“Max… is this your championship child?” Charles whispered, shocked.
“What can I say? Winning on and off the track!”
And Charles almost passed out as both you and Max laughed, beaming while interlacing your fingers over your belly, knowing cameras wouldn’t catch you there.
user1: Max knocked y/n up the night of the third championship change my mind
user2: Max Verstappen pulled a k-mag and I respect that
user3: do we know the birthday of the verstappen twins? Asking for a friend
user4: y/n and max will have a full kindergarten if they have a kid every time he wins the championship💀
user5: are we really surprised after those videos leaked of max squeezing her ass while they were celebrating the 3rd wdc
user6: if the maths are mathing this baby will be born around the Monaco gp. GODS PLAN
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thvhoe · 5 months
Text
SWEET NOTHING | JJK (M)
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PAIRING: Boxer Jungkook x Ballerina Reader
GENRE: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, BOXER AU, DANCE AU, SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST
WORDS: 10k
SYNOPSIS:
They say home is where the heart is, but what if Jungkooks home is you, and you're not here to soothe his pain?
WARNINGS: abusive parents, drugs, Jungkook is mad and sad and curses a lot, ANGST, yall they love each other, blood(?), strict parents, JUNGKOOKS GRANDMA SLAYYYYY, SPICY SHOWER TIME (jk needs release), jerking off, cum shot, its kinda sad tho-, cursing, they're complete opposites, cringe nicknames (lol you should know me by now), ANNOYING inner thoughs AGAIN, lots of inner monologue, reader is insecure (even more now) shes sad :(, emo boy Jk, inexperienced reader, Oc travels🙌, she feels anxious and alone, bad thoughts
An: tysm for helping me along the way and motivating me every day to finish this one! Big thanks to all my readers and @erica2283 for always taking some time to help me out! Hope you enjoy, have your tissues ready and something warm to drink in this cold weather or vise versa! Dont forget your snacks either🙌🥹
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Since that night, there has been radio silence. Neither of you were in the proper mood or at the right time to send that initial text. You're not sure how to handle things right now. He'd only stared at you for a few seconds after his last words before leaving. His dark hair, now shorter, was concealed beneath his beanie–the one youd bought together on his birthday a few weeks prior. Youd chosen it. A bright blue colour to contrast his usual dark clothing. His jaw was tenser than normal, jawline sticking out even more.
Was he upset with you? Or perhaps at himself? You can still hear the roars of his engine as he drove away with his bike and your heart.
As your window remained open, the bitter winter wind made its appearance. What made him stop you? That's all you've been thinking about since.
It was such a sweet night, sweet kiss, sweet nothing
2 days. Two days of self-isolation disguised as illness so your mother would let you stay at home.
Two days of eating nothing but soup, as your mother urged, to get rid of your cold.
Youd gotten sick of it too quickly, after the third portion that day to be exact. So you didnt hesitate to order in tonight–thank god for your parents being somewhere else.
Although the prospect of some fresh food seemed delightful a few hours ago, you didn't even touch it when it arrived. You did give the driver a big tip, hoping hed have a better day than you.
The food was now sitting on your window counter, perhaps as depressed as you were. Am I not enough? Was the food not enough to be eaten? Great.
Now, you were even pitying your food.
Grabbing the fork, you swirl it a few times, no need to blow it in case it was hot because it wasn't.
Youre happy for about 5 seconds before you swallow and put your fork back down–you weren't hungry anymore.
He's been gone for two days. Isn't it a thing that some people experience heartbreak? Perhaps that's what you had-
Nope, not the time
This was not the moment to self-diagnose.
You didnt break up
That's not how things worked right?
Right?
So you shake your head and hum along to the gentle music in the background. It didn't help–who would have guessed that playing Right Where You Left Me while depressed was a bad idea? Everyone but you, most likely.
You sigh as you examine your chipped nails, which you haven't even redone since that day. Your motivation close to zero, your body shutting down as you simply wanted to lie in bed and stare out the window–fall asleep and wake up the next day, perhaps it was all a dream.
"Cross-legged in the dim light. They say what a sad sight". the lyrics sing.
I know
Your lips curl upwards for the first time, but for all the wrong reasons–self pity. Its anything but new.
You hum to yourself as you chip off the last of your green nailpolish, which both you and him laughed at when you showed him. The way his hand cradled your waist as he drew you in, his nose brushing against your hair as he chuckled. "What a stupid colour". It was a stupid colour.
-
Jungkook isn't sure when he arrives–all he knows is that he's standing on his grandparents' porch, his Harley parked somewhere up front. He usually double-checked, making sure it was actually parked and switched off, so that anyone attempting to steal his prized possession would have a more difficult time. But not this time.
He was still in your room 25 minutes ago, his hands all over your body. He tries everything he can to get the image out of his thoughts. Not because he didn't want to see you, but because he loved you for fucks sake. Handling emotions was sometimes the worst thing anyone could expect him to do. Love wasn't all horrible.
He knew it wasn't.
But there was always something bad before there was something good.
Always
He just didn't want the good you two had to come to an end. So, yes, he was afraid, panicked, and left
He felt like a complete dick. Coming to a halt he thinks for a moment. He was a dick.
Theres silence, maybe a few leaves rustling in the background as he cracks his knuckles and tilts his head, cursing
His hand reaches inside his back pocket, where only two items are hidden away; His keys and a pack of cigarettes.
He decides not to go for a smoke right now. Progress
He always knocks out of respect, but he didn't have time to wait for his grandmother to open the door right now, so he let himself in. He was confident they wouldn't mind.
They never did. Unlike his parents.
Whatever mood he was in now–confusion, sadness, anger–it was no time to think about the poeple that liked to call themselves his parents
Before entering the cosy place he loved to call his second home, one final gust of wind passed his face. Sending one last cold shiver down his spine, but he doesnt regret leaving his jacket at yours.
Hed rather freeze out here than picture you sick in bed. He knew how easily your body caught colds
The smell of food and the fragrant lavender candle that his grandmother has lit every night since he was a child causes a grin to come across his face. This time, only happy recollections from his childhood flooded his head.
Christmas, birthdays, holidays. Hed spend them all here
He wonders why he hasn't brought you here before, so he nods and makes a mental point to do it soon.
"Jungkookie?" His grandmother screams out from the kitchen, having grown accustomed to his unannounced visits. He was bracing himself for a reprimand to get asked where he had been for the past few weeks because he hadn't passed by. He smiles once more.
He didnt mind the scoldings.
"Yeah, it's me," he says as he removes his boots, cringing as he notices some dirt fall over the clean floor, yeah, his grabdma was going to scold him later for that.
"You come just in time for dinner," her soothing voice directs Jungkook to the marginally warmer kitchen, where he properly welcomes her with a kiss on the cheek.
Dinner looked delicious now that he was looking down at the pots
"I'm not hungry," he says, drawing a frown and a slap on the arm from her.
"You come to my house to eat," she simply states, "and you've gotten so skinny!" she exclaims now fully facing him, "look at you!"
The smile on his face fades to an annoyed expression "im toning down-"
"Tone down tone up-" she shakes hear head motioning her hand at him "tomato tomato". Mumbling something under her breath, Jungkook only manages to make out the words "not taking care of yourself". He smiles.
As he leans on the counter, he lets out a chuckle. "Wheres grandpa?" After a few seconds of silence, he asks over the old radio–the one he had to fix one too many times but his grandmother wouldn't let go of–still playing in the background.
"Old guys at the bar watching the football game," his grandma scoffs. Jungkook simply lauhs, understanding that the love his grandparents shared was more than just love–it was friendship, trust, and adoration. His thoughts immediately return to you. And he chews his lower lip. As his grandmother prepares the pots for brewing, she cleans her hands with a wet towel.
"so whats on your mind?" She hums, turning to face him and placing her loving palm on his cheek.
"Im not-"
"Don't make excuses," she says sternly again. "come on tell me whats wrong, ill prepare us some tea while dinner finishes cooking" turning away once more she starts heating up water, gathering the things together
Jungkook simply nods, knowing that arguing with his grandmother never worked. He was relieved it didn't.
And it's not like he came here for no cause. He was originally on his way home, but something happened along the route that brought him here.
He quickly grabs two tea cups from the cupboards to assist his grandmother in setting the table, sitting down when she tells him to as she brings the kettle of freshly brewed tea. It smells even better now, and even his sensitive nose can appreciate the scent of warmth and affection.
-
He has no idea how much time has passed since he began talking about everything, and he means everything. It was as if his tongue couldn't stop. From the day he met you until your first kiss, disagreement, and reconciliation.
Of course, his grandmother was not new to the idea of you–Jungkook was always good at showing her pictures of you when he visited, and he wouldn't keep his girlfriend a secret from one of the most important ladies in his life.
She'd insisted on him bringing you here so she could meet you and bond over girly things many times.
Jungkook smiles at the thought, but he didn't want to push things, and you were a busy person anyhow, so it would have been hard.
"And now I'm here," he says, having described all that happened from beginning to end, possibly omitting the part when he argued with Jimin, which wasn't relevant anyway.
His grabdma frowns and sits back on the sofa, the big lights in the living room switched off as she turned on the smaller ones. "Youre afraid of love?"
She only wants to be assured. Jungkook sighs, frowns, opens his mouth to speak, but quickly closes it again. In annoyance, he runs his hand through his hair and closes his eyes. "Maybe"
-
Jacket, bag, another pair of shoes in case you lose yours
Your eyes scan your room, words repeating in your head.
Jacket..., bag..., shoes...
Oh
Your phone.
You walk from your door to your bedroom and disconnect the device, tapping it once to see whether you have any new messages. Of course you didn't, all it shows is your lockscreen, a picture of Jungkooks and your hand forming a heart. It couldnt be something obvious, too scared your mom would ask questions.
A sigh escapes your lips as you slip the purple phone into your back pocket, eager to forget about jt for the few hours it will take to drive to Busan. Another sigh escapes your lips–you're on your way to a competition. It was unexpected, and you couldn't pretend to be sick for any longer than necessary, so as you gather your belongings, you make your way downstairs, your mother already there at the door, hushes you inside the car.
You didn't have much time to practise, especially since you hadn't been to the studio in two days due to being 'sick'. You felt horrible for lying, but it was better than telling your mother that a boy had broken your heart. She'd freak if she found out. If she knew what he did for a living, she'd flip.
Nothing irritates you more in life than being judged, and people who judge. Jungkook was a decent person. You don't care what your mother thinks of him, and sure, if she ever found out–which was unavoidable–you'd choose him. The only question was, would he also choose you?
Again, you bite your lip as you connect your headphones to your phone, putting them on and switching to noice cancelling. Whatever your mom was talking about on the phone with one of her friends, you didnt care. Yet your gaze drifted to her manicured hand every now and then. Maybe for reassurance? Maybe to see she was still here in the car with you. It was weird, but the thought of being left alone was horrifying, especially now that Jungkook had left and you didnt know if hed be coming back.
Thank goodness for your earphones–a perfect way to shut your eyes and let you slip into a dreamworld
Sleep wasnt what you needed, youd plenty over the past days. It was easier to sleep than to deal with your emotions now anyway.
So you stare out the window, watching as the building gets smaller, roads lesser and sky bluer as the morning arises. Your stomach grumbling was a good sign at least, the will to eat was close to nothing since he left. Youre glad your hunger is back and healthier than ever. What youd give for a fresh coffee and sandwhich from your favourite backery now.
Sighing your eyes drift back to the sky, trying your best to distract yourself from the long ride ahead of you. But even the clouds seemed to remind you of him. As one of them looked exactly like his silhouette.
You close your eyes. Fine. If this is what it took for some peace of mind so be it.
So you skip to the next song, leaning against the window, trying to replay Britney Spears Gimme More music video in your memory. And it worked for a while, until the song ended and you felt like crying when your and Jungkook's favourite song came on.
Should you send Jungkook a brief text message? Notifying him that you'll be gone until tomorrow night?
Pursing your lips, you sink into your seat, playing with the phonecase as you think
You decide against it after grabbing your phone and monitoring your chat. Why would you text him, if he didnt seem to care?
Your mother notices your frown and swiftly snaps you out of it as she turns around and continues the call with her friend. Taking one last peek at the chat–specifically, his profile photo, a picture of you two and bam–you switch off your phone for the rest of the travel as you let your music play.
-
Jungkook made the right decision by cancelling his classes with Coach Chan for tomorrow and spending the night at his grandmother's. It had been a while, and he felt awful for not spending enough time with them, while he still could.
Besides, the breakfast was always a 10 out of 10
But he preferred to be alone, unbothered and alone with his thoughts.
That wasn't an excuse not to come over more regularly, though. So while he lies in bed, closing his eyes–images of you cross his thoughts, your laugh, your smile, your eyes, your lips–everything.
With a grunt, he turns around, turning on the modest lights on his nightstand as he grabs his phone and clicks on your chat without thinking.
Y/n 🍓
When he sees your profile picture–you in your favourite yellow sundress laying on the grass–his lips curl up.
Nobody else knew hed taken the photo, and you collapsed into his arms and lips not long after.
He sighs at the memories, and his fingers begin to type before he can think clearly.
Miss you miss you miss you
When he jerks out of it, he comes to a halt, his eyes scanning the text. 'Are you awake?' Shaking his head, he deletes it, briefly terrified when he noticed you were online. He just hopes you didn't notice the 'typing' icon.
He wanted to know what you were up to, to apologise, to hug and kiss you. But you wouldn't want him to do that.
He thinks for a second then shakes his head
No, you probably didnt.
He physically left you when he climbed out of your balcony and back to his bike. "Idiot," he mumbles to himself as he reclines and rubs his tattooed palm across his face. "Fucking idiot," he says again.
This was the time for him to relax, go to the gym, and let his frustrations out. But he couldn't. He was too far away from home and his responsibilities.
The thought causes his gut to clench. What if anything bad happened to you while he was away? What if something bad happens and it's all his fault because he's scared? The word causes him to flinch. Scared.
He was never scared.
Was taught not to be.
He was strong and scary. But never scared. Perhaps this was the first time he had genuinely felt it
It wasn't for him. It was for you. He closes his eyes again, deciding not to get too caught up. Finally, he drifts off to sleep.
Jungkook's body wakes him up again at about 2 am, the sudden need to use the bathroom being too intense for him to fall back asleep.
So he stands up, moaning as he glances down, his morning boner inescapable as he proceeds to the guest toilet, briefly gazing at the shower before heading to the toilet.
He leans against his legs, closing his eyes, trying his hardest to stay awake. And when he stands in front of the mirror a few seconds later, his eyebags larger than usual, he thinks that a few minutes of sweet relief is worth a few minutes of less sleep.
Thank heavens that the guest bathroom is downstairs, for the shower, which was now on full blast, cold water hitting the tyres, wasn't waking up his poor grandparents, who were completely unaware of his shenanigans this late at night.
Jungkook could care less that the water was freezing cold as he stripped off his clothes and checked the temperature, shivers running down his spine as he let the water cover his torso, hair, and legs.
It isn't long before his gaze returns to his length, his fingers toying his manhood for a few moments before deciding that this isn't the time for teasing, especially when you aren't around to be the one doing it.
So he tugs at it, a hiss departing his lips before he finds his rhythm, hand on the cold shower wall as he attempts to find his release as quickly as possible, curses erupting one after the other.
He bites his lower lip, groans, pauses for a second, then doubles his speed till his cum is coating his lower belly and parts of the wall, which he cleans up afterwards.
He feels empty when he falls back into his bed, head resting on the pillow, wet hair making it slightly uncomfortable.
"Fuck"
-
You arrive at 12 pm, streching your limbs as you climb out the car, the sun hitting your face, and a gentle breeze flowing over your shoulders, making you mentally thank yourself for not forgetting your jacket.
Surprisingly, the venue is in the countryside, which you don't mind at all, the sight of cows and horses in the region provides you with a seratonin boost that you definitely needed today and for the rest of the week.
Your thoughts wander back to Jungkook, your stomach clenching at the prospect of not telling him where you were.
Its all you did over the months youve been dating. You told him what you were doing at all times. Because he cared, he wanted to know youre alright.
And so did you. You loved the little "gym", "home", "bed" texts. You loved knowing he thought of you.
So what if he wants to apologize, climb up your balcony and you aren't there?
You quickly shake your head when you grab your phone, realising he could just send you a simple text asking where youre at. So you unwind.
Your mothers already left for the hotel she reserved, while you midlessly inform her that you will follow her later, as you want to wander about the region a bit before heading out for the competition tonight.
You've always been drawn to farms, animals, and the fresh air of the countryside. You recall your aunt taking you to a farm every summer for a few years until your schedule became too hectic.
You purse your lips, remembering the fantastic times you had everytime you were there.
The laughter, the crying when you fell and scraped your knees, the calmness of zero responsibilities
As you set your bag down, you grab the boots you packed, shuddering at how muddy it got when it struck the floor. Regardless, you take off your white shoes and replace them with rainboots before standing back up, brushing your hands over your pants and crossing your arms as you observe the landscape.
Thats at least, until a cat approaches you, wrapping its tail around your legs as you lean down to pat it. For the first time in days, you chuckle.
Again. Your thoughts turn to Jungkook.
"Hello Missy."
As she purrs, your manicured fingertips sweep over the silky furr, a smile forming on your lips.
Strands of hair fall into your face over the minutes you spend patting it, the messy bun youd done 2 hours into the car ride slowly undoing itself
"I wish I could take you with me, you'd get along great with Bam," you start talking to her like a crazy woman. But you didn't mind because no one was here to make you out to be one.
"Bams my boyfriend's dog," you remark, the cat hissing as if she understood the word dog and associated it with something bad. You laugh once more. "i swear hes the nicest dog ever"
Seems enough for the cat, who leads you two to what appears to be an abandoned barn. It's still in good condition, despite looking pretty old. "This is where you live huh?" You ask, catching her gaze as you sit on some hay, which is remarkably comfortable.
The cat does nothing more than lie alongside you, having evidently entertained you enough as she closes her eyes. You grin as you continue to pet her, looking out at the open hayfield and keeping an eye on the cows who munch away on some grass or lay down. Your lips purse. "I should probably go back now," you groan, standing up and grabbing your suitcase, but not before halting abruptly as you recall something "ah."
When you open your bag, you find a small bag of treats that you always kept in there in case you went to Jungkooks and saw bam. You empty the bag on the floor and tap alongside it to get the cat's attention.
"Bye now," you say as you make your way out making sure youve got everything with you before walking straight to the hotel your mom booked nearby.
-
Jungkooks home. He realised he had to get his shit together and talk to you after his grandma basically kindly tossed him out after his second day staying there.
His grandma was right
Even if he was terrified. He had to talk tk you.
"The Jungkook I know has never been too scared to do anything," his grandma told him, and she was right.
There was not ever a single situation or challenge Jungkook had turned down. No matter how hard or impossible it seemed
He cracks his neck and knuckles when he finally sits up from his bed after being there all day. His eyes locking onto an empty spot on his arm that hasnt been inked up yet. Hed been thinking, but now was not the time to braintorm design ideas for it
Even if this situation was opening up his creative horizons. Somehow he knew that the time to fill the gap was close–hoping you'd be by his side when he got it done
He sighs, looking at the clock on his bedside table, and decides it's time to go. 6 pm. Thats when you generally finish practise, and as much as he wanted to text you first–like you'd always told him to–he decides not to.
What if you told him you never wanted to see him again?
Getting dressed–perhaps a little better today than on others–he heads straight out the door. Bam trailing him till the doors closed, a little whimper escaping his mouth. Even he could tell there was something wrong.
Due to the severe rain outside, he should have picked his car today, but he sought the thrill of his harley–the way it roared to life beneath him and gave him that last bit of confidence before he talked to you.
Even through the loud noise of his bike on the quiet streets, he could hear the rain splash against his leather jacket as he drives. He was playing a dangerous game, riding his bike at this speed on a rainy day.
But, to be honest, this was the least of his problems right now
Perhaps he should have worn a warmer jacket, and hes sure if you were here with him right now, you would have told him off the moment he walked out the door.
He smiles at the memory of the time you actually did send him home after he came to the studio on your break to hang out with you. Even if he refused to leave after your break until you were finished at first. But wait then again.
Mrs. Chuu.
Your mother.
He would have been caught anyhow. He doesn't really meet the academy's ideal. He doesnt fit in.
His lips form a scoff. He doesnt want to fit in
But then he bites his lips, and his thoughts wander again, his hands holding the bike handles tighter as he approaches his destination.
What the hell would he say? How would he begin? He dismisses the concept with a simple groan.
Once he's there and in front of you, I'll figure it out. Oh, how he longs for your touch and your hugs when he did something you liked or felt was nice, you would give him those little kisses on the cheek.
The way you always colmed your nicely done nails through his hair. And how his head fit surprisingly perfectly on your lap
His mind was racing with thoughts. But his heart was as well.
He missed your hair and how it smelled like vanilla all the time. The fact that you were the only person who could make him smile so stupidly that it was humiliating. But he enjoyed it. The pda, the ridiculous nicknames. The affection you shared. It seemed ridiculous to think that only two days ago he was too afraid to admit it. But fuck it. He loved you.
The last red light before he arrived on the road stopped him. Allowing him time to collect his thoughts. Because he knew that soon he arrived, his legs would naturally lead him to the studio where you practised.
You would be mad. He smiles as he imagines you scolding him for not warning you of his visit.
He'd promised himself that he'd be cautious when he walked in. But now that he's thinking about it, all he wants to do is walk up to you. Lift you up and kiss your–everywhere.
When the light turns green and allows him to proceed, his engine rumbles beneath him once more.
Because of the wetness of the rainy night, his leather booths and trousers glistened in the light. Somehow making him look like he was covered in glitter. A star.
-
You're very sure you're fashionably late to rehearsals, with everyone already in their assigned spots when you walk in.
Your mother is behind you, scrutinising everyone from head to toe. You smiled, you somewhat liked her give no fucks attitude, even if it was occasionally towards you. Your mother had it in her, and if there was one thing she was going to do, it was boast about you to the other mothers who were conversing in the allotted parents and family area near the stage.
You hand her your jewellery, knowing that you won't be needed for practise or the competition later, and bid her goodbye, while she only mumbles a 'good luck'.
You can tell she means well. And she will be cheering for you. Even if she hated showing it. Shes your mom after all
Before putting your phone in your bag and getting ready with the other participants, you check it one more time–and definitely not for any messages from Jungkook.
You bite your lip when the lockscreen shows no new messages.
You spot a few familiar faces among the approximately 100 participants in attendance, and you smile or say hello to several of them before you begin stretching.
Some of them compliment you on winning the last few competitions while others look you up and down the way your mom did earlier to everyone else. You dont blame them.
You were a nice person at heart, but this didnt mean youd purposefully underperform so they could win.
Competitions were fun, but you didnt come here to lose.
Mrs. Chuu usually accompanied you on these occasions. But she was still feeling under the weather, and this competition was just for funsies anyway–a distraction.
Besides, she'd already told you she needed to fix something at the studio, something along the lines of new mirror installments.
In some ways, you missed her soothing presence, but this was likely the smallest and shortest tournament you'd attended in the previous two years, so nervousness should be the last thing on your mind right now.
As you tighten the laces on your ballet flats to avoid eccidents, your sight wanders over the crowds. From women to men, tall and short, you enjoyed how everyone in here was so diverse yet shared the same passion for this sport.
You sit on the floor, sighing, watching others practise and chat while nervously biting your lip, feeling a little alone. You shouldn't. Everyone seemed pleasant, but courage is what you lacked at this time. So you wait, and you wait, and you wait. Until your name is called out
-
The pavement is as wet as Jungkook himself–he's lucky his hair is still in place, and he appears somewhat presentable. It's not like he cares what others think because he knows you'd never judge him anyway. Bit still, theres not need to look a mess.
As he approaches the entrance door, his boots hit the floor step by step, almost making him feel to be walking in slow motion.
It's strange because the parking lot is usually filled with cars–maybe it's because of the rain that people called courses off–he just hopes you arrived safely and didn't get wet or catch a cold on the way.
As he looks to the side, he adjusts his jacket, his jaline visible as he clenches it. Weird.
Usually, there is at least one guard who refuses to let anyone in who does not belong there–like Jungkook. But no ones here.
He doesn't think about it any more than he has to when his tattooed hand grips the door and opens it. The corridors are emty, and there is no one to throw him out. His luck, he thinks to himself as he navigates the corridors till he finds room 127. Your room.
It's a bit after 6, and he's hoping you haven't left yet. You shouldnt have. You generally take your time getting changed and conversing with Mrs. Chuu, assisting her in cleaning up a little before leabing.
As he reaches the last door, the doorknob is silver and neat. There is a dramatic contrast between it and him when he touches it, between clean and pretty, hes cold and rough.
He clears his throat before opening the door, his gaze fixed on the ground until he opens it. Just to discover the emty room.
You'd already left.
A sigh escapes his lips as he realises his next stop will be your house.
"Fuck"
-
The spotlight is on you, and you think you cant see everyone in front of you as the lights shine in your eyes, blinding you of your surroundings.
The spotlight, the loud music, and the attention is nothing new to you. You want to scream, escape this place, and fall into the arms of the person you thought loved you the most.
But he isn't here right now, and he may never be. So you dance, your feet hitting the floor to every beat, the choreography you'd learnt with Mrs. Chuu over the previous few weeks, fitting flawlessly as the audience applauds. And you understand it's all about you.
You are well aware of your abilities. You know you're going to win. That's all that matters, right? To win?.
The song finishes before you know it, and your ears go numb somewhere between the cheers and applause. Your feet take you backstage, where your mother is talking to you, and you nod along.
You remove your ballets and place them in your bag before putting on the shoes you came here with. You decide to undo your hair on the way back to the hotel, knowing that the results of today's event will be available online in a few days.
"You shouldnt be surprised to find your name at the top of the list in the coming days" your mom says as she rushes you out
Its nothing new. Same old same old.
People are coming to talk and praise you but you continue to walk along, not in the mood for conversation.
And you know you seem like the biggest bitch right now. But you have to put yourself first. You werent in the right mind to talk to anyone right now
You should be excited, and you typically are. But not when the person who should have been thrilled the most for you was nowhere to be found.
You want to curse at him, scream at him, and throw the stupid shirts he left at your house at him. And maybe it's a good thing you're not home right now. Perhaps it's for the best that you left.
Maybe it's a good thing he's waiting for you outside, but you're gone. Maybe it's a good thing he's hurt.
You don't want to feel like this. Tears gather in your eyes as soon as the notion of Jungkook being sad crosses your mind. You should not be thinking this right now. Even if he may have deserved it.
So you get into the car without saying anything. Your mother doesn't ask questions, she never does. She just urges the driver to get going.
Your head leans against the window, and like the raindrops that are falling down the window, tears stream down your cheeks
-
"Whats this grand entrace for?" Jungkook's head jerks around again as he hears a woman's voice, her hair grey and clearly in her fifties.
He clears his throat–he wasn't like the other guys who attended this school, therefore there was no need for him to make excuses and pretend he went here. He clearly didnt
"I was about to leave," his voice is firm, but the woman notices the disappointment in it.
"That's not what I asked, young man," the woman says, placing the towel she was using to clean the mirrors before leaving to retrieve something from the back on her shoulders, crossing her arms.
Jungkook clears his throat again, this time annoyed.
"And i said i was just about to leave." He says again, louder. His muscles bulge from behind his jacket, and his tattoos are anything but hidden.
That's when the woman's eyes widen and her lips open and close. Trying to appear unconcerned.
Jungkook looks at her, waiting for her to say anything, but when she doesn't, he scoffs and walks away. That is at least until the woman speaks up again. "Its you isnt it?"
That's it. That's all she says, and Jungkook stops in his tracks. What the fuck was going on today? Everyone irritating him to no end. "Me?" He turns around, rolling his eyes.
"The guy," she says, her voice unsteady, puzzled, and annoyed.
"Listen, lady-," Jungkook sighs.
"Mrs," she interrupts. "Not 'lady'. I'm married," she says, making him scoff. He didn't expect to hear more than 7 words from anyone today.
"Listen missus" Jungkook starts again "Im not here to talk, i was looking for someone but that person is obviously not here, so im gonna get the fuck out now-"
"Language," she interripts firmly, yet her brow furrows as she scrutinises him from head to toe, from his tattoos to his piercings to his black long hair. Except for the tattoos, everything fit pretty well to the description you gave her of him
Youd purposely not mentioned that last part
Long black hair, tall, and typically wearing black. Its him.
Again, when she doesnt speak up, he turns to leave, this time for good. But its not until hes halfway down the hallway, pack of cigs already in hand to wind down outside, that mrs. Chuu catches up to him
"Youre looking for y/n" she breathes out. And Jungkooks world clashes down.
Fuck.
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lecsainz · 2 months
Text
˒ ⌕ CUTE MOMENTS
summary: some cute moments if you were dating one of the characters from the riordanverse.
an: my inspiration is running low 😭
( my last work for riodanverse || go to main masterlist )
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˒ ⌕ CLARISSE LA RUE
Clarisse returned to her cabin after a day of training, only to find you cozily wrapped up in her oversized hoodie. The sight made her heart skip a beat. "Hey, that's my hoodie," she grinned, a playful glint in her eyes.
You looked up, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "I hope you don't mind. It's just so comfy."
Clarisse chuckled, walking over to you. "Nah, looks better on you anyway." She slid her arms around your waist, pulling you closer. "Besides, it's not like I mind sharing with my girl."
You blushed at the affectionate words, leaning into her embrace. "You're the best, Clarisse."
"Damn right, I am," she teased, leaning down to steal a quick kiss. "But you make my hoodie look even better. Maybe I should let you borrow it more often."
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˒ ⌕ PERCY JACKSON
Percy returned to his cabin, tired after a day of training and quests. As he entered, he noticed a familiar figure curled up on his bed. It took a moment for him to register, and when he did, a surprised smile crept onto his face.
"Y/N, what are you doing here?" he whispered, not wanting to wake you.
You stirred, blinking sleepily at him. "Hey, Percy. I...uh, might have dozed off waiting for you."
He chuckled, finding your presence more delightful than any surprise. "You're adorable when you're asleep, you know that?"
You blushed, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. "Sorry for intruding. I'll go back to my cabin."
Percy shook his head, moving closer. "No way. You're staying right here." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back onto the bed. "This is the best surprise ever. I wouldn't want to come back to an empty cabin anyway."
You snuggled into his embrace, feeling completely at ease. "I might have left a surprise for you too."
Percy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What's that?"
With a sly smile, you pulled out a small bag of blue cookies. "Blue chocolate chip cookies. A little something I whipped up for you."
Percy's eyes lit up, and he grabbed one eagerly. "I love you, you know that?"
Your cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and Percy's laughter filled the room. He placed a gentle kiss on your blushing cheek.
"I love your cookies and you," he teased, his expression softening. "I mean it, Y/N."
Your heart fluttered at his words, and you replied with a shy smile, "I love you too, Percy."
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˒ ⌕ LEO VALDEZ
Leo couldn't help but grin as you fussed over a small scrape on his arm, your eyes filled with concern.
"Hey, Sunshine, what's with the worried face?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
You sighed, "Leo, you need to take better care of yourself. You're always getting hurt."
"Ah, it's just a little scratch. I'm practically fireproof, babe," he teased.
You rolled your eyes, but your concern persisted. "Seriously, Leo, let me help. I don't want you getting hurt all the time."
Leo's expression softened as he looked into your eyes. "Alright, alright, Nurse Y/N, do your thing."
As you rummaged through a first aid kit, Leo couldn't help but admire how adorable you looked, completely absorbed in caring for him. The thought crossed his mind – he was the luckiest demigod in camp.
When you returned with antiseptic and a bandage, Leo flashed a sly smile. "Does this mean I get a kiss for being a good patient?"
You blushed, trying to hide a smile, and replied, "Leo Valdez, you're impossible."
He winked, "But you love it."
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˒ ⌕ LUKE CASTELLAN
As moonlight spilled across the camp, you emerged from your cabin, a sheepish expression on your face. Luke, who was sitting by the fire, noticed your arrival.
"Hey, couldn't sleep again?" he asked, sensing your restlessness.
You nodded, a slight blush coloring your cheeks. "Yeah, I thought... maybe I could sleep with you tonight? If that's okay."
Luke's eyes lit up, and he patted the space beside him. "Of course, come here."
You settled beside him, feeling the warmth of the fire and the comforting presence of Luke. As you nestled into his side, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.
"Much better?" Luke inquired, his voice filled with tenderness.
You nodded, appreciating the security of his embrace. "Thanks for always being here, Luke."
He smiled down at you, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Anytime, sweetheart. I love having you in my arms."
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˒ ⌕ ANNABETH CHASE
You were quietly sketching in your notebook, capturing the essence of Annabeth's features with each stroke of your pencil. Lost in the moment, you didn't notice her approaching until she peeked over your shoulder.
"You drawing something interesting?" Annabeth inquired, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.
You looked up, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Maybe," you replied cryptically, revealing the sketch of Annabeth you had been working on.
Annabeth's eyes widened as she saw herself on paper. "You... you drew me?" she asked, a hint of surprise and shyness in her voice.
You looked up, a warm smile on your face. "Guilty as charged. Couldn't resist capturing your beauty on paper."
She blushed, clearly not accustomed to being the subject of someone's artistic attention. "I didn't know you could draw so well."
Leaning in, you pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Wise Girl."
Her blush deepened, but she couldn't hide the small smile that played on her lips. "Well, keep drawing, then," she said, feigning nonchalance.
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˒ ⌕ JASON GRACE
You sat in front of your vanity, engrossed in the process of applying makeup. The soft hum of a song played in the background as you carefully blended shades on your eyelids. Unbeknownst to you, Jason lay comfortably on your bed, observing your every move.
"Wow, you really know what you're doing with that stuff," he remarked, a lighthearted smile playing on his lips.
You turned to see him lounging there, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I'm just experimenting. What do you think?"
Jason propped himself up on his elbows. "You don't need any of that to look amazing, you know?"
You felt a blush creep up on your cheeks at his sweet comment. "You're biased."
He chuckled, getting up and walking over to you. "Maybe a little, but you're beautiful with or without makeup."
With a gentle touch, he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. The sincerity in his eyes made your heart flutter. "I'm the luckiest guy to have you," he whispered, leaning in for a soft kiss that lingered, leaving you with a warm and fuzzy feeling.
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shocymer · 27 days
Text
Want me to teach you?
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"Starting off as journalism clubs buddies, you never know how your relationship will take turns after he offered to give you a lesson."
Pairing : Yunho x f!reader
Word counts : 2.3k
Contents & warnings : smut mdni! , college AU, gamer yunho, oral (receiving), size kink, big dick! yunho, slightly pussy edging, overstimulation, semi public sex, unprotected sex, creampie.
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“There’s something between you and her. I mean like you’re in relationship or..?” Wooyoung asked him carefully.
Yunho’s eyes goes widen. He never thought of dating you in the first place. After breaking up with his longtime ex lover, he completely avoided the topic of romance. He’d been dating his ex since high school. But at the certain time they’re in college, she became a campus crush and immediately dumped him.
He let out a soft chuckle in response, “How could that be?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The atmosphere.. ehhm kinda heavy around you two.” Seonghwa suddenly chimed in while his finger moved in circle towards Yunho.
He raised his eyebrow, a thin smile form his lips after ridiculed by them.
“Nah we’re not. We’re just friends, that’s all.”
To be honest, he wasn't that surprise when they asked about it. It all started from two months before. You accidentally took a glance on Yunho’s phone. He’s immersed in Detroit: Become Human walkthrough video while waiting for other faculty journalism club’s member to come.
Then you happened to be walking behind him before taking a seat. “Oh you’re into that game too?”
“I want to give it a try.” He turn at you for a moment before his eyes glued back to the screen. “But I still figure it out whether this one worth it or not.”
You crossed your arms then slightly lean towards him in attempt to get a better view of the video. “Hmm.. It’s a shame if you know most of the plot through this. Like I want you to experience the true ending by your own choices.”
“Wait, you ever played this?” Surprised that you’re into gaming stuff.
“I did, but on PC. I don’t know if there’s any differences if you play it on your console.” You lean away from him.
Now, he’s more interested in you and leaving the video played alone in the background. Distracted by your little fingers fidgeting on the back of your phone unconsciously, as both of you deep in talk. He’s wondering why is it so small and weirdly cute. Then he glanced back to you.
“So you’re not used to play with the controller right?”
You nod at him, “yeah, last time I try it when I was in 7th grade or something. The grip was uncomfortable. Right after that, I decided PC is much more easier.” You paused for a second, “but sometimes I would love to try it again.”
He chuckled seems to know the reasons why. Proceed to clear his throat before he answered you back, “Want me to teach you?”
Deep sighed left from your mouth, “I’m pretty sure you’ll be mad at me the second we’re in.”
“No no, definitely not. I got patience as deep as the ocean. You sure know that.”
You rolled your eyes. “Right, definitely a saint in your past life.”
He laughed at your remark and how annoyed you’re right now. You smacked his arm, telling him to stop. Not to long, both of you getting ready for the club’s meeting as everyone already gathered in.
You thought he’d be joking. He never brought that idea again after the last conversation with you. He occasionally texted you only about the club’s activity or college stuff. Until a week after, he slide a brand new box of controller towards you.
“Better started now or never.” He slightly tilted his head, pointing to where the box landed.
“Yunho, you don’t need to buy me this. I- like just tell me when you’re-”
“Shhh.. save that nagging for later.” His delicate hand started to unbox it with care. Then he handed it to you.
It’s mostly dominated with white and soft blue colors on the side. Plus the kitty paw shaped the thumb grip, make it seems like a customized controller. You reach it in fascination. That’s super cute. Both of you think the same way, but completely on different matters.
Yunho kept looking at your fingers which is nicely wrapped the controller. His eyes following the direction of your little thumbs that moving uncoordinatedly, mimicking the way you’re gonna use it in game. Then, his gaze turn to your lips, looking at how cute and plump it is.
He shook his head, after that he explained to you about it’s feature, how to turn it on and how to charge it. You listen to him just like in one of your lectures. Remembering everything that he told you while nodding at the same time.
“Thanks Yunho, that’s so cute.” You looked at him in guilty. “I bet this was expensive right?”
“Well, actually not that much. I just want you to use it more if it looks like that.” He flicked your forehead. “This is my own wish. Don’t ever feel bad about it, okay?”
After that day, you spent almost every weekend playing co-op game with him. He patiently guided you from the voice chat. Dealing with how forgetful you are and a lot of complaints about your sore fingers. With that antics of yours, he only let out small chuckle or teasing you even more.
On the weekday, sometimes you met him in the club’s room. Mostly during the meeting or when you do the project. The moment you asked him to check your works, he’ll lean over from your behind and randomly put his hand on top of yours while the other hand is scrolling the mouse. There’s also a moment he covered the shelf corner with his hand when your head nearly bump it or he’ll immediately fetched the things you needed where it’s difficult for you to reach.
You never realize that, but not with your other two friends. Seonghwa and Wooyoung, they keep exchange glances across the room whenever Yunho and you act like a new pair of lovers. They’re a hundred percent sure sensing something more than platonic relationship, when the actual truth is not. There’s nothing between you two, yet.
⁠✧
It's 3 days before the exam period. The faculty journalism club already in chaos for past few weeks. They’re divided into two teams. First team is responsible with the faculty website news update, and here you are in the second team handling the semester end magazine. Your leader pushed the deadline earlier hoping the only left to do is printed it out at the end of exam day.
Your tired ass have been proofreading for solid three hours non-stop. Flipping through the revision sheet and going back to the laptop. Luckily you don’t have any class today. All of you agreed to finished it today. But alas, there’s only four of you left, and making it worse the other two need to leave too.
“Shit, I forgot to consult my thesis. I’ll be back at evening!” Seonghwa barging out in hurry. No wonder he’s literally your senior a year above you.
Not to long, Wooyoung following around as he got notification with a sudden class at noon. He’s cursing along the way. Of course all of you haunted with the leader’s wrath, considering how strict he is. You still remembered the looks on his face when the last project failed.
There’s only Yunho and you left alone. Silence along the typing sounds are the only sound that filled the room. At this exact time, most of the clubs room are empty. Either everyone still in the class or diving in the library preparing for the exam.
The work flow with him lasted for more than an hour. He’s occasionally sipping his iced coffee while working on it. He took the editing part, after that passed it on to you. But this time, his hand slipped, nudging the cup of his coffee. He could save it, but not with your pile of revision papers. It scattered all over the floor.
“Oh fuck, I’m sorry.” He immediately crouched down as you do the same to collect the papers.
While collecting it in a rush, your fingertips brushing the back of his hand. Your face only a few inches from his side, making him shiver from the feeling of your warm breath against his skin. Then he turn to face you, staring deep into your eyes. Your heartbeat increase rapidly as he turning his hand to hold yours. His gaze shifted from your eyes to your small plumped lips.
When the tip of your noses touched, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You crushed his lips, kissing him hungrily. He pulled you in, till his back hit against the wall only to bring you on top of his lap while the kiss still not broken. He peeled off his denim jacket as the temperature keep raising between you two.
Gasping for some air, you pull out from the kiss. His index finger caress your cheek trailing down to you lips. You open your mouth to let it in wrestling around with your tongue. He let out small groaned at the sight of it. “I always curious how it taste like.” He lean in to you, whispering into your ears, “and that’s incredibly sweet.”
He picked you without a warning, gives you a quick kiss before plopping you down to the couch, then closed the curtains in swift motion.
Now he’s back to you, nibbling the nape of your neck, sucking on it, sometimes sunk his teeth beneath your skin. You’re squirming under him, gripping onto his hair as the sensation wash over you. He looked up to you, searching for your permission to go lower.
You nodded at him. He’s devouring your lips again while his hand pushed up your tight knee-length skirt, revealing wet trace over your panties. His fingers caress your clothed clit, moved in circular motion. You moaned between the kisses, you can feel he’s smirking on top of your lips.
He moved the panties to the side, then dip his finger into your folds. He chuckled, “you’re already this wet hmm?” Then he’s slipping in another finger, makes you gasped at how full it is inside. At first, his fingers moved back and forth slowly, but over time it’s moving faster making squelched noises due to how wet your pussy is.
He's amused by looking at the face you make right now, moaning out his name when you almost at the edge. He’s stopped in the middle of it, pulled out his fingers. “It’s not enough if it just like that.” He's immediately going down to yank out your panties, then sticking his third fingers into you, moving abruptly while his tongue flicking your clit, sucking on it hungrily. You grip onto his hair tighter, only strangle moan left out from your mouth before his another hand tried to cover it. You buckled your hip as you reaching out the orgasm, biting the palm of his hand trying to stifle your moan. He flicked his tongue few times makes your body spasm due to overstimulation. When you chasing down from it, he licked clean your pussy, then going back to kiss you, giving the taste of yours.
He take a step back, unbuttoning his jeans then pulled down the zipper, letting his cock sprung out from his brief. You took a peek on it with your half lidded eyes, still recovering from the last orgasm. It looks swollen, the unbelievable girth with it’s veins pop visibly, and the tip is glistening with the pre cum. He's stroking it for few times before lining it on your entrance. The tip is slowly in, you can feel the pain as it bigger than your thought.
He's leaning down to you, holding your hands, then trailing kisses on your neck hoping you to relaxes. “I’m sorry is it hurting that much?” He’s stroking your hair while looking into your eyes. “Not.. that much.” You answered him in teary eyes. He kisses your forehead then to your eyes. “It’s a still little bit more baby, can you take it?” You nodding at him. When it’s all in, he let it still for a moment so you get used to it. Then he start moving slowly while his hand unbuttoned your shirt, cupping your breast and slightly fondle it.
He thrusting it faster after he hear you moan in pleasure. His hand grip your waist, while the other hand busy teasing your clit. Your pussy tightened at every deep thrust, making him groaned at the feels. His hips moved erratically after pressing his hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge whenever his cock in you completely. Your nails digging in his clothed back as you feel the knot in your stomach. You squirted over him, making a mess on his shirt. He didn’t stop while your walls clenching on his cock, “you felt so good baby.” After few thrusts he filled your cunt, milking his balls empty. He pulled it out, then plopping himself beside you. Both of you breathing heavily while staring at each other. After realizing it, both of you laughing at how messy you’re right now.
⁠✧
“I’m baaack!” Wooyoung slammed the door open, his eyes goes widen at the sight of you two.
“Aren’t you guys tired? You didn’t move an inches since I left.” He saw you typing furiously on your laptop, meanwhile Yunho sorting out the papers beside you.
Yunho turned to him, “actually I need some snacks.” He gets up from his chair, then put his arms around Wooyoung’s shoulder.
Before they go, Wooyoung looked at you. “You don’t need anything? Or maybe you need some fresh air, you can go with Yunho instead. I’ll continue the rest.”
“I’m fine.” You paused for a second, “uhm.. well, maybe I want a smoothie.”
“Okay got it!” he gives an okay sign to you, then dragged Yunho along out of the club room. Yunho stopped his step, “wait I think I left something.” He ran back to the clubs room.
When he got there, he whispered something to you, “After this, do you still want me to teach you? My lesson isn’t done yet.” You flinched at his sudden peck on your lips. He smiled cheekily while leaving you speechless alone, squirming on your seat as you feel his juice spilled down over your thigh.
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buckys-wintersoldier · 3 months
Text
I only want you | Bucky Barnes
Pairing -> BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x BestFriend!Female!Reader
Summary -> During the party he confesses his feelings for you, he kisses you but the next day he isn’t the same anymore. Your best friend is the biggest idiot you have ever seen and you don’t know why.
Warnings -> Bucky being an idiot, mention of Bucky’s past/trauma, Sharon being a bitch, hurt/comfort, angst, crying, kind of insults, fluff
Wordcount -> 7.1k (it’s long but it’s worth it, I guess)
A/N: I want to thank @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for listening when I came up with that idea as well as supporting me to find the way through all the ideas, and thank you so much for proofreading it, I really appreciate it. I’m sorry when I hurt someone, trust me I cried a lot while I wrote that oneshot but I just needed to write something to calm down my feelings and yeah here we are. I hope you all enjoy it.
Divider made by @firefly-graphics.
Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist
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Bucky isn’t really a drinker, especially not since he became the Winter Soldier. He enjoys the taste, but the serum that is constantly running through his veins makes it impossible for him to experience the effects of the alcohol. It isn’t rare that he wishes to get drunk so he can forget all the memories of the things she did during the time with Hydra. It’s like Thor knew exactly about his thoughts because he is waving a flask of Asgardian Ale in front of Bucky, and the brown-haired man decides it is the perfect opportunity to drink his troubles away.
“Buck, you shouldn’t drink too much of that Asgardian Ale,” you mumble while you sit next to your best friend and look at him. You know about his trouble and about his traumatic past, but you also know it’s never an opportunity to drink it away. He has the glass completely full again and smiles at you.
“It’s oke; I can’t get too drunk. I’m the Wiener Soldier,” he says and bursts out laughing. Then he lifts his glass and turns around. "Cheers!" he shouts through the room, even when it’s almost impossible that someone hears it.
The music is way too loud to hear your own words without shouting. So it isn’t surprising when the people in the room don’t hear what Bucky shouts. Except for the two next to him, you and Steve.
“Cheers, pal!" Steve shouts and lifts his glass as well. He smiles at Bucky before he pours the liquid down his throat. You shake your head and turn around. Your back leans against the counter, and you place your forearms on top of the counter, looking at the people dancing in the middle of the room.
“Haven’t felt like that since the 40’s,” Bucky groans, filling his glass again. Then he turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. “I feel like I’m 20 again; it feels better than I thought. Do you always feel like that?” he asks and places his hand on your shoulder, standing up slowly to stand in front of you.
Then he winks at you while he almost falls to the side. You almost burst out laughing when he tries to grab something to not fall.
���Woah, the room is spinning. I didn’t know Tony was able to build something like that,” your best friend says while holding your shoulders so he won’t fall down.
You look at him and grip his arms to lead him to the seat next to you again, but he doesn’t want to move. You giggle when he leans closer, and the stubble from his beard tickles you. Bucky kisses your cheek softly.
“My lady, wanna dance with me?” he asks and looks at you with the most adorable puppy look.
His blue eyes are almost begging you to dance with him, and even when you would prefer to bring him into his room and make sure he goes to sleep, you can’t say no.
With a nod, you stand up as well, and he wraps his arms immediately around your waist. He doesn’t walk far away from the counter, just a few steps, so the two of you can dance without crashing against something. Bucky spins you around while he holds you still, pressed against him.
You wonder how it must feel for him when the room is already spinning, but the way he smiles and looks at you makes your mind dizzy, and you can’t think of anything other than him. You lay your head against his shoulder, and the heat of his body warms you. His hands are around your waist, making you almost melt in his embrace, and you could stay like that for the rest of the evening.
After a few minutes and Bucky almost lying on the ground and sleeping, you push him to the seats. Making sure he doesn’t miss the chair, when he sits, he immediately looks for his glass.
“Where is it? I’m thirsty," he says, looking at you with a slightly sad gaze.
You feel a bit sorry for him, but you reach for another glass, this time with water. Bucky looks at it skeptically, but then he pours it down his throat. Shaking his head like it’s something awful he doesn’t like. You chuckle, and it makes him look at you.
“Have you ever tried that? That’s awful,” he tells you and offers you the glass even when it’s empty.
“It’s not that bad,” you reply, and you take the glass to place it on the counter next to you.
“We should bring you into your room, you should sleep a bit,” you say, taking his hands into yours.
Before you can pull him up, and with you out of the room, he pulls you closer, and his lips are just a few inches away from yours. He is so close that you can feel his breath against your lips; it's warm and smells strongly of the ale he has consumed. You need to close your eyes for a moment. The man in front of you is making you go crazy.
“I don’t want to go to bed, not yet. I want to kiss you first, can I?” he asks you, and you immediately feel like he is Bucky from the 40’s again. And even when you don’t agree to drink his troubles away, you’re happy that he doesn’t have to suffer with his past right now. And let’s be honest, the 40’s Bucky is a gentleman, and you always wanted to know him; now you have the chance, at least for tonight.
“Doll?” Bucky asks, and you feel a shiver along your spine because of his soft voice.
You look into his eyes and smile softly.
“Of course,” you answer, not sure anymore about the question he asked.
He leans closer and kisses you softly. Bucky’s pink, plumb lips are so soft on yours, you never imagined them being that soft. You slide your hands through his hair, playing with his light curls. His lips move slowly against yours, while he lets you feel everything you tried to avoid when you’re around him. The feeling in your stomach whenever he touches you, the way he looks at you, or talks to you. You adore the way he tells you ‘Doll’ and you enjoy every moment you can spend with your best friend.
And that’s the point where you thought he would never feel the same for you. He is your best friend, and he was always a gentleman, so you were sure he was just nice. And now he is kissing you, with his hands at your waist, holding you close. Bucky is drunk, so you aren’t sure if it’s just a situation of his drunken state, but they always say: drunk people tell the truth, so he would feel the same for you as you feel for him.
When the two of you move a few inches away from each other, you still look into his eyes. His gaze looks a bit foggy, but you can also see the storm in his blue eyes.
“I love you; you’re the most adorable girl I know. You don’t know what you do to me whenever you look at me or just touch me softly. My feelings go crazy, and whenever another man walks close to you, I want to push them away and tell them you’re mine. I can’t sleep because I think of you; when you’re in a room with me, I can’t concentrate on something else, just on you,” Bucky says, and he smiles softly, his cheeks turning slightly red. “I have loved you for so long, but I thought you would never love me the same way. I was the Winter Soldier, and I don’t think I deserve someone brave, strong, wonderful, and perfect like you,” he adds, leaning his forehead against yours, wanting you to be as close as possible and feel your warmth.
You smile and press your lips against his again. The tingling feeling in your stomach grows again, and when he stands up, he towers over you, placing his hands around your cheeks, and he pulls you closer.
“I love you so much, my doll,” he whispers and slowly lets go of you, his hands gripping your waist again.
“I love you too, Buck. And you deserve everything good; it wasn’t you when you were the Winter Soldier. You’re a gentleman and the most precious one; I love the way you care about everyone you love,” you tell him, and he blushes.
Bucky lifts one of his hands and presses two of his fingers onto your lips, trying to make you shut up before you can compliment him more.
“You need more than two fingers to make me shut up,” you giggle, and his smile grows before he leans down and presses his lips on yours. He makes you speechless with the way his soft and warm lips move against yours.
“You two are almost disgusting,” Steve mumbles next to you, making you chuckle.
When you and Bucky break the kiss, you look at Steve. He still looks at you and blushes when he recognizes that you caught him looking at you and Bucky.
“You think it’s almost disgusting, but you can’t stop looking at us, huh?” you ask, and he immediately turns his head away while his cheeks get deeply red.
When you turn your head back to look at Bucky, you feel a burning look in your back. Without looking around, you already know the person who is staring at you with the same angry gaze; she always looks at you. Bucky recognizes your thoughtful look and looks up to see the person behind you. His hand clenches around your waist, and you hiss softly.
“Sorry, doll,” he mumbles, immediately losing his grip around your waist.
“Tony is staring at mine,” he growls, and you look around. You see Tony standing on the other side of the room and looking in your direction. He looks annoyed, and when you look a few inches further to the side, you see the person who is burning a hole in your back. Bucky thinks it’s Tony who is looking at you, but you know he is just listening to the person next to him. She is the one who hates you for being Bucky’s best friend, and now she will hate you more because Bucky kissed you. Sharon has had a crush on Bucky since you met her the first time, and he sometimes looks flirty around her, but he is always like that around friends. Otherwise, he would date Tony, Thor, or Steve as well.
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The next morning, you wake up to the sun slowly brightening your room. You open your eyes and smile when the flashbacks of the last night come back into your mind. You and Bucky shared a lot more kisses, soft touches, and dances during the night.
You sit up slowly, stretching your limbs, and look at the clock. It’s just a bit after ten in the morning. After a few more minutes where you just look out of the window and enjoy the sun and the comfortable silence in your room, you stand up and walk through your bathroom.
With a few movements, you get out of your clothes and walk into the shower. The hot water runs along your body, and you feel your muscles relaxing under the warmth. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment just for you. In front of your eyes, you see Bucky kissing you the way he did last night. Your fingers are brushing softly over your lips, and for a moment, you feel like he is kissing you again. His hands are around your waist, and his body is pressing against yours.
But when you open your eyes, you just hear the sound of the water and your towel in front of you. No Bucky, right now. Just the thoughts making you smile again and the feeling in your stomach are the most wonderful you have ever felt until now. You are already excited to see him in a few minutes, but first you need to finish your shower and choose some comfortable clothes to wear.
With the biggest smile on your lips, you walk through the floor and into the shared kitchen.
“Someone looks really happy today,” Tony says, and you blush immediately.
Your eyes scan the room, so you can find Bucky and go to him. Talk to him about the last night and make sure you meant what you said. When you walk a few steps further into your room, you see Steve lying on the couch, holding his hand and groaning.
“I don’t know what happened last night. Tony, how can you manage to never have a headache?” he asks, and Tony laughs before he places his hand on Steve’s shoulder.
"Painkillers are really useful. It doesn't help to remember, but they help against the other effects after being drunk,” he says, and Steve nods. He doesn’t want to get up, so he just closes his eyes and tries to sleep a while longer.
You look around and see Bucky in front of the counter. Sharon stands next to him, and her hand rubs his back up and down. You roll your eyes, disgusted about the other girl, as you walk to them.
“Hey, Buck,” you say with a smile, and when the brown-haired man turns around, he smiles softly.
But in another way, as usual, he looks a bit sad, and instead of looking at you, he looks to the side.
“Hey,” he mumbles and takes his bowl with cereal.
Then he walks to the table, and Sharon follows him. You look at them both; maybe he has a hangover? You try to push the negative thoughts away and make yourself a bowl with your favorite cereals. You walk around the table and sit down in front of Bucky; he doesn’t look at you, and he doesn’t talk to you. He was just focused on his cereals and probably deep in his own thoughts.
“Buck?” You ask carefully, and he hums but still doesn’t look up from his bowl. “Can we talk? I mean just you and me?”
He nods in response and finishes his breakfast, then finally looks up to see you. But something is still different when he just loves to look into your eyes and adore the colors, but this time he looks at you like you’re someone else.
He waits until you finish your breakfast as well, and then he follows you through your room. Your best friend closes the door behind himself and looks at you.
“What’s up?” He asks with a cold voice, and you shiver immediately.
“Do you remember last night?” you ask, playing with your hands. You don’t want to look at him; you’re scared about the way he looks at you.
“No, but Sharon told me about it,” he tells you, and you nod softly.
For a moment, the two of you are quiet. You don’t know what to say, but the silence is uncomfortable as well. You shift from one foot to the other, your hands sweating, and you feel like you need to throw up.
“Why are you so cold?” you then ask and look at Bucky.
He clenches his jaw with his eyes staring at you, and the way he looks at you makes you even more uncomfortable. He never looked at you like that; the coldness almost showed hate in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel the tears burning in your eyes. He notices the tears in your eyes, and a sarcastic grin forms on his lips.
“Why are you crying now?” Bucky asks you loudly; you hiss and feel so small in front of him.
“You- Buck, yo-” You start to say something, but he interrupts you.
“Don’t call me ‘Buck’ or ‘Bucky’. You have no right to say that. You don’t deserve to say that,” he shouts, and your eyes widen.
“What do you want me to call you then?” you ask, trying to wipe the tears in your eyes away.
“Use my name. I have it for a reason,” he says, and you nod, not able to say anything.
You don’t know what happened to him. Last night he confessed his love to you, and now he acts like he hates you and has never even thought about loving you.
“Want to talk now or not? I have better things to do,” he says, rolling his eyes annoyed.
You feel a tear slowly falling down your cheek, not knowing the man in front of you anymore. He isn’t like your best friend; he isn’t like the one you fall in love with; he isn’t the one who kissed you yesterday; and he isn’t the Bucky, you know.
You shake your head. You want to talk; you really want to, but you can’t. At least not with the man in front of you. Was it all a lie? Was it all just fake? Or what happened that he is the way he is right now.
“Good,” he says, and he turns around to leave the room.
The moment he closes the door behind himself, you break down on the floor. You fall on your knees, the tears streaming down your cheeks, and you’re sobbing loudly. There is no feeling inside of you right now; you feel empty. You stare at the wall in front of you, his face in your mind, his smell, and the way he kissed you last night. You hear his words, like he is standing next to you and saying them to you. The ones of the night when he confesses his love to you and the ones he said a few minutes ago when he was looking at you with his cold, blue eyes.
“I love you; you’re the most adorable girl I know.”
“Don’t call me ‘Buck’ or ‘Bucky’.”
“I can’t sleep because I think of you; when you’re in a room with me, I can’t concentrate on something else, just on you.”
“Want to talk now or not? I have better things to do.”
It takes a while until you slowly calm down. You're curled on the floor, and the tears are still streaming down your cheeks. But your sobbing is quieter, and you slowly fall asleep on the floor. All the tears and the crying make you so sleepy that you don’t recognize Steve walking into your room and lifting you up to place you in your bed.
He sits next to you, his fingers stroking your hair softly out of your face, and he looks at you with a soft but sad smile. He saw Bucky walking out of the room, his gaze as cold as the whole morning, and even when he doesn’t know what happened at the party, he doesn’t want to leave you alone. But he also doesn’t want to interrupt you while you’re crying because he knows you would have to hide it, and he knows you need to let the feelings out of your body.
You don’t sleep well; nightmares interrupt your sleep every time, but you’re too tired to stay awake for a while. In every dream is Bucky; first he helps you, but in the next moment he shouts at you, laughs at you, and does everything you never thought he would do to you. You’re sweating and whimpering in your sleep, turning from one side to the other.
Steve tries to comfort you with his hand on your thigh, but it doesn’t work. With widened eyes, you wake up, starting to cry again for a few minutes before you fall asleep again. You don’t mind if someone sees you crying or not; you can’t escape Bucky, his coldness, not even in your dreams, and it robs you of all of the strength you have.
“Y/N?” Steve asks when you’re awake, but you turn around so you don’t have to face him.
You mumble a soft ‘mhm’. Steve sighs, his fingers drawing small circles on your thigh.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks, but you shake your head.
You just want to be alone right now. Steve nods and stands up, walking through the door, but before he leaves the room, he turns to you.
“If you need me, you can call me or just come to my room,” he offers.
“Thank you,” you whimper, and the tears are streaming down your face again.
You can’t stop thinking about Bucky; he is burned in your mind like something you need to be. Something you need to be happy, and yes, he is someone you need to be happy. Without him, it doesn’t feel the same; watching your favorite movie wouldn’t be as fun because there is someone missing who holds you when you cry out of joy because they are married. Playing board games wouldn’t be the same because the one freaking out because he doesn’t get what he wants isn't playing the board games with you. Eating your favorite snacks and ice cream wouldn’t be the same because the one man who always laughs about your snack and ice cream decisions wouldn’t laugh. The one cuddling up wouldn’t let you cuddle with him, and you would miss HIS warmth and HIS scent. It’s not just a man; it’s the ONE man; it’s Bucky.
Wrapped in your blanket, you sit against the headboard of your bed. Looking through the channels for something that could distract you. But you feel like Bucky is manipulating the television because every channel shows a movie you used to watch with Bucky.
Everything reminds you of him: every place, every movement. Every second reminds you of Bucky, the memories you both have, and the moments you shared. And now he treats you like you’re the worst thing he has ever seen, and there is no reason why he does it, right?
You don’t want to sit in your room, but you don’t want to see Bucky somewhere as well. But you feel hungry after some time, and even when you wish you didn’t have to stand up to get some food, you don’t want to make yourself feel worse just because of Bucky.
So you slowly get up; it’s already afternoon when you walk through your room. Before you reach the door, you see the pictures on your wall. He and you took so many pictures during trips or parties, some when he was joking and others when he tried to look mad. Even when he really looks like a pouting puppy, when he tries to look mad at you, you always laugh about his pouting face.
You open your door and immediately hear the voices of the others. But there are not a lot of them; just three of them are there and talk. Steve, Bucky, and Sharon. With quiet footsteps, you walk closer to the room. You look at the floor, hoping that no one will see you.
But when your feet meet the ground in the room, the gazes of the three of them are immediately on you. Steve smiles sadly when he sees you. You probably look like a wrack, with red eyes and tears all over your face, but you don’t mind. Sharon looks at you with a smile, and Bucky is as cold as before.
When you make your way to the counter, you hear Sharon flirting with Bucky, and you feel like you want to throw up. You hate her, especially since she is a jealous bitch when you’re with Bucky. And now he has him for himself - exactly the plan she had.
“Buck, look at me,” she says, and you look around to see what they do. That’s the moment you wish you wouldn’t be in the room right now. Sharon leans closer, and her lips meet Bucky’s softly. His arms are wrapped around her waist, and you see yourself in her. The moment you had last night, and now he kisses her, not the one he confessed his love to last night.
The tears forming in your eyes - they're burning. They slowly stream down your cheeks, but you don't make a noise; you just look at them until they break the kiss, and Sharon looks at you with a wide bitch smile again.
“You’re right!" you shout, and Bucky turns around to look at you as well.
With a confused gaze, the two men look at you, and you chuckle sarcastically.
“You don’t deserve me. You’re an idiot, and I would prefer to be killed by the Winter Soldier instead of being your best friend,” you shout, and you see the change in his gaze.
You don’t mean it, not really, but the anger inside of you lets you say things like that.
You see, you hurt him by saying that he has nightmares because of the Winter Soldier; he blames himself for that, and you were the one who was able to give him moments where he didn’t blame himself, but now that you mention the Winter Soldier in a way, you hurt him the most you can. And you’re sorry for that, but you hate him so much right now that you can’t stop yourself from telling him things like that.
“I feel like he would love more than you ever can,” you say, and you walk a few steps closer to him. “I hate you, in a way I never thought it would be possible,” you hiss and turn away to grab some food from the counter before you leave the room.
Bucky looks at you, and the moment those words leave your mouth, his small world breaks a bit more. The only person who loved him so much hates him now. But he deserves it, doesn’t he? And he can’t bring himself to walk to you and ask what he did because he is way too mad at you for a reason he doesn’t want to admit in front of you.
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It's been a week now since you saw Sharon and Bucky kissing each other. The day he started to be an ass and the day you told him he didn’t deserve you. And you didn’t change your mind; he hasn't been nice to you since that day; he ignores you; he doesn’t even look at you. His arms are always around Sharon’s body, and his lips are on hers.
You don’t really care about yourself anymore; you’re mostly in your room, crying or just laying there and waiting until you finally fall asleep. Steve tries every day to get you out of bed and wants to plan your favorite trips, but every one of them reminds you of Bucky, and you prefer your warm and comforting bed.
Someone knocks at your door, and you hum in response before Steve opens the door.
“Want to eat something? I cooked, and you need to eat,” he says, but you shake your head and turn around so you don’t have to face him.
Steve sighs softly and walks closer to you. He sits next to you on your bed and runs his fingers along your side.
“Do you want to tell me what happened between you and Buck? He looks different as well since the party,” Steve says thoughtfully, and you slowly turn around to look at him.
Your eyes are red, and he can see the tears all over your cheeks. Steve lifts his hand and wipes the tears away, smiling softly at you. You slowly sit up, your back against the headboard of your bed, and you pull your knees against your chest, wrapping your arms around them and placing your head on your knees.
“I thought-“ you sob quietly. “He said he loved me, and then he suddenly was with Sharon,” you mumble, and you can’t stop the tears again.
“He told you he loved you? When? I mean, I know it, but when did he tell you?” Steve asks, and your eyes widen for a moment.
He knows that Bucky loves you? What happened to Bucky being the way he is when he really loves you? Why is he kissing Sharon when he could have you? He could have the one he really loves.
“At the party, he told me he loved me. He kissed me,” you mumble, and Steve’s jaw drops.
“He finally managed it?” he asks, and you nod.
“And the next day he was the idiot he is, kissing Sharon, and it looks like they are happy together,” you tell him, and he shakes his head.
“I need to talk to him,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.
You look at him while he leaves your room. He almost runs out of it, and you don’t know why, but you don’t mind. Steve wants to talk to Bucky, but it won’t change his feelings for Sharon. And maybe Bucky thought it was her when the two of you kissed. Maybe he thought it was her when he confessed his feelings.
Meanwhile, Steve rushes into Bucky’s room. He sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the television. He doesn’t want to see Sharon today; he misses you, even when it’s just looking at you or hearing you talk. But since you’re in your room and only outside when you’re sure no one else is outside, he hasn’t heard or seen you in days.
“Buck?” Steve asks softly, and Bucky turns his head to look at the brown-haired man. He looks more broken than ever before. Steve walks closer to Bucky and lets himself fall next to his best friend in bed. “Where is Sharon?” he asks, and Bucky shrugs.
“Don’t care,” he says, and he stares in front of him again.
“Pal, what happened that you’re the way you are with y/n?” Steve looks at Bucky and sees the small tear escaping the corner of his eye.
"Nothing; she doesn’t want me,” he answers, and Steve chuckles softly. Stubborn idiot, but still his best friend and the idiot in love with you.
“She told me you confessed your love for her. And the two of you kissed. When she told me, I remembered, and it was her; it wasn’t Sharon, pal,” Steve continues, and Bucky’s eyes widen before he looks at his best friend again.
“We did what? And Sharon, what?” he asks.
“You kissed. You and y/n. But Sharon was just standing next to Tony on the other side of the room and was staring at the two of you,” he repeats, telling Bucky what he remembers. Bucky shakes his head, thinking about the version of the party and then the version he heard.
That’s definitely not what he heard about the evening. That’s not even similar to the things someone told him about.
“No, that’s not true,” Bucky says thoughtfully. “But even when, don't you know anymore what she said? She hates me, Steve." Bucky mumbles, and he feels even worse when he thinks about you, the way he treats you, and the things you said to him. Even when he understands it now, he understands why you said those things.
“I need to talk to her,” Bucky mumbles, but then he shakes his head. “Do you think she would listen?” he asks and looks at Steve, who nods.
“She is in love with you. Even when you’re such an idiot,” Steve tells him, pushing his best friend up. “Talk to her, pal,” he says, and Bucky smiles softly before he walks through the door.
He isn’t sure what to say when he talks to you. Maybe you don’t want to listen; maybe you won’t understand. Or do you really hate him now? Do you want to see him? So many thoughts run through his mind while he walks along the floor, unsure what to do or say when you ignore him or if he messed up after all the things with Sharon.
Bucky reaches your door and knocks softly. He hears your softy ‘come in’ and he opens the door. Now it’s too late to turn around; he has to talk to you now. You look at him, and your gaze gets. immediately cold.
“James,” you say, and he shivers slightly.
He didn’t know something inside of him could break more, but when you called him ‘James’ with that cold voice, something inside of him broke more.
“Doll,” he mumbles, closing the door behind him.
“Don’t call me that; call your new fucktoy that,” you hiss, and he looks at the floor.
You’re mad; he has never seen you like that before, but he can’t blame you. You’re hurt, and he is the reason for that. He hurts you so badly, but he loves you so much more than he can ever tell you. He can’t and doesn't want to be without you when there is just a percent chance for him to be yours. He would do everything to be yours.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He hates when you’re so harsh and cold, but he understands it.
“What do you want here?” you ask, and he plays with his hands before he answers.
“I want to talk to you,” Bucky says quietly, and you chuckle sarcastically.
“I don’t want to talk to you, James,” you say, and you see him wiping some tears away.
“Please,” he begs, but you shake your head. “Can you please listen to me? Please?” he tries again, and he doesn’t want to go without telling you everything he feels, everything about the way he acted, especially why he acted like that. “Doll, please listen to me. Just this time, if you want me to go, then I will, and I will never talk to you again if you don’t want me to,” he says and sobs quietly.
You haven’t seen Bucky crying; sometimes he looked like he was about to cry, but he never cried. And now he stands in front of you, begging and crying for you to listen to him. And you want to listen, but the anger inside of you gets in control of you.
“You could have talked to me earlier. I fucking- I don’t care anymore,” you shout, and he flinches.
The strong super soldier looks like a small boy.
“Please, I love-“
“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear all those lies anymore. Just shut up and go with those lies to your new girl,” you say, anger in your voice, and Bucky can’t stop the tears streaming down your cheeks.
He hurt you more than he thought he did. But he was so mad at you; he was mad about the things he heard. And now he is about to lose the most important person in his life. He loves you more than everything; he never loved someone as much as he loves you.
“I’m sorry for hurting you. I really am. I love you,” he whispers, and you shake your head sarcastically, laughing.
“I saw that. You treated me like the worst person you know; that’s love for you?" you ask, and he immediately shakes his head.
“No, but I didn’t know about the things that happened during the party,” he says, and he walks a step closer, slowly, to make sure you’re oke with it.
You want to throw him out of your room, but you also want to know what happened and why he was the way he was. He wouldn’t beg and cry when it wasn't important to him. So you accept when he takes a seat at the edge of your bed and looks at you. His eyes are red, and you can see the traces of his tears on his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, still blaming himself for doing all this to you. Bucky wants to touch you; he wants to hug you; and he wishes you would tell him it’s oke. But he knows he needs to explain his behavior before he can get some of that; when you’re ready to do it, then.
“What happened that night?”
He is interested in knowing what happened, and you clear your throat before you think about it again. When he turned into an idiot, you tried to avoid all his touches, his words, and his kisses so you didn’t need to cry all the time. And now he wants to know the truth, and you want to tell him, but you don’t want to cry because of that.
“Thor had some Asgardian alcohol there, and it made you drunk. We danced a bit; you told me you loved me; you kissed me,” you tell him, and he nods.
“You didn’t flirt with someone else?” he asks, and you shake your head.
“No, why should I? I love you, and I was happy you felt the same, but then you acted completely different the next day,” you mumble and look at him.
Bucky is playing with his fingers; you see the way he suffers because of his metal arm, and you remember the things you said about the Winter Soldier, and he probably hates his metal arm even more now.
“Why did you do it the way you did, and why are you suddenly so nice again?” you ask, and his jaw clenches slightly. Not in an angry way, but more in a thoughtful clenching.
“The morning after the party, I had a bad hangover and didn’t remember much of that night. I know that I kissed someone, but I don’t know the person. Sharon came into the room, and she asked me how the party was, and I told her I didn't know because I had too much alcohol. She wrapped her arms around my waist, and when I asked her why she said I kissed her that night,” he tells you, and you nod, blaming yourself for being the same way to Bucky as he was to you, even though it’s not his fault.
“I told her I don’t love her because I love you. And she told me about your night with a guy I don’t know. Sharon said you were flirting with me, but you have someone else, and you were flirting with me so you can make jokes with your boy about me being so dumb and really think you could love me the way I love you,” he continues, and your jaw drops slightly.
“Bu- James, there is no one else. I love you, and when you changed into the idiot you were, I hated the thought of you touching Sharon and the way you kissed her. But when you love me, why did you kiss her?” you ask, and Bucky runs his fingers through his hair.
“I wanted a distraction,” he whispers quietly, ashamed of that.
For a moment, you both sit in silence, looking at each other. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
"When you said those things about the Winter Soldier?” He asks, and you see his hands shaking softly. His anxiety gets worse when he thinks about your answer; maybe you could really mean it? Maybe you really think the Winter Soldier could love more than Bucky can?
“No, I was mad. I’m sorry, Buck,” you say, and he nods. You smile softly when he doesn’t tell you to stop calling him ‘Buck’. “I’m really sorry, but I didn’t see how much I would hurt you with that,” you add.
“I think I deserve it,” he replies, and you want to agree, but you also know it would make him feel worse.
He was an idiot, but now that he sits there, he begs and cries that you listen to him so he can excuse his behavior. He blames himself for so much; you don’t want him to blame himself for more.
“Buck?” you ask, and he hums in response. “Tell me the truth, please.”
You look into his eyes; the blue is as warm as the one you’re used to seeing when he is with you.
“I love you, doll. I never wanted to hurt you; I want to be yours. I want you to be mine,” he says, blushing slightly. You don’t know what to say. You want to tell him you feel the same, but at the same time, you’re scared he will go to Sharon when you’re not enough for him anymore. “I’m sorry, you had to listen. But thank you for listening,” he tells you and stands up to leave the room.
You reach for his metal arm, and he flinches when you touch it.
“Sorry,” you say, slightly shocked, and let go of his arm. Bucky turns around and smiles softly.
“Just didn’t think you would touch it.” His voice is so soft, exactly the way you love when he talks to you.
“Can you stay?” you ask and look down; maybe he would prefer to go to Sharon because you were really mean?
Bucky’s smile grows, and he lets himself fall down next to you and wraps his arms around your body, pulling you into his lap. His hands slide your back up and down, and he looks into your eyes like they are the most adorable things he has ever seen. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, and you play with his soft hair.
He leans closer, his lips almost touching yours, when you stop him.
“Did you brush your teeth and clean your face after she kissed you?” you ask with a raised eyebrow, and Bucky can’t stop himself and bursts out laughing.
“Yes,” he whispers, and he places one of his hands on your neck to pull you closer. His lips touch yours softly, and you almost melt in his embrace. Bucky moves his lips against yours, and a small smile appears on his lips.
“I love you, James,” you mumble against his lips, and he rolls his eyes.
“Can you be serious for a moment, doll?” he asks, laughing, and you look like you need to think about it before you answer him.
“I don’t know what you mean, James,” you giggle.
“But I love you too, doll,” he chuckles, pressing his lips on yours again to make you shut up and feel you as close as possible in that moment. He feels complete and comfortable now, being with his girl, the one he loves more than everyone, the one who loved him even when he was the Winter Soldier.
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