#my remaining brain cells @ me making dumb decisions

[robert-deniro]

NOPE

2022, dir. Jordan Peele

#filmedit #horroredit #filmgifs #moviegifs #fyeahmovies #userrobin #usernastya #nope #sakshi does a thing #clearing out my drafts. #anyway #my remaining brain cells @ me making dumb decisions #but queue liked me yesterday

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 315: I Didn’t Expect This to Blow Up

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “guess which plot that you thought was dead is actually not dead and is making a comeback!” and we were all “EVIL HPSC??” and he was all “girl you know it,” and that’s the story of how we got a sexy Lady Nagant flashback with lots of guns and murder. Flashback!Lady was all “gotta murder peeps to preserve the people’s trust,” but then a little while later she was like “actually wait that makes no sense,” and so she shot her evil boss and they sent her to jail. Back in the present, Deku was all “okay fair, the hero system might in fact be a little fucked up, but hear me out... have you considered not helping AFO take over the world so he can murder like a bazillion more innocent people??” The chapter ended with the not-all-there Overhaul finally revealing himself to Deku, and I honestly have no idea where this is gonna go.

Today on BnHA: In what is unfortunately the single worst plan ever concocted by anyone in BnHA, Nagant is all “I’m going to try and get this Deku kid to panic and freeze up by putting someone in mortal danger.” Deku is all, “[doesn’t panic and freeze up at the sight of someone in mortal danger].” Nagant is all “omg no way.” Deku, who is now all of a sudden being so OP that even I have to acknowledge that it’s OP lol, is all “[smashes Nagant’s gun arm to bits]”, which sucks but is also really cool, and which also apparently makes Nagant decide that she actually likes this kid after all. Deku is all “NAGANT I REALLY LIKE YOU AND THINK YOU’RE GREAT SO PLEASE JOIN UP WITH ME AND STOP BEING EVIL.” Nagant is all “aw shucks (✿ •͈ᴗ•͈) well okay then” and everyone is all “( ･◡･) ✰ ( ˆᴗˆ ) ( ᵘ ᵕ ᵘ ⁎)” and then Nagant FUCKING EXPLODES LIKE AN EGG IN THE MICROWAVE AND FALLS TO HER DEATH!!!! except not really because Hawks saves her??? In conclusion, (a) THE FUCK, and (b) AFO TURN ON YOUR LOCATION I JUST WANT TO TALK.

so I have to tell you guys something, which is that barely ten minutes after I made that “please don’t send me spoilers” post the other day, someone replied to the comments in a stunning fit of “tell me that you’re twelve without actually telling me you’re twelve” energy and posted what seemed to be the copy-pasted spoiler summary from reddit or twitter or whatever lol. so here is my good news/bad news rundown of all that

good news: I have very well-conditioned ABORT!! reflexes and have trained myself to immediately look away from the screen (usually in dramatic fashion) as soon as I realize that whatever I’m reading is a spoiler

bad news: unfortunately as I was subsequently deleting said comments, I accidentally read the very last one

good news??: said spoiler was so unbelievably, absurdly over-the-top that I’m almost positive this person was just trolling. like, there’s just no way lmao

bad news: but in the unlikely event that it is true I will absolutely lose my shit I swear to god

(ETA: “NAGANT DIES.” that was the spoiler I read lol. like, literally all I read from the person’s comments was “My Hero Academia Chapter 315 Title: “Beautiful Words.” Chapter starts with...” and then I noped out of there, and then of all the comments to read as I was deleting, it had to be that one lol. I seriously was just like “SURE, JAN.” all “just how gullible do you think I am” sob. but I was wrong. a troll, but an honest troll they remain.

but anyways like I’m pretty sure Nagant isn’t even actually dead lol, so in the end this whole little adventure doesn’t even have a point to it, but for me it was a journey!)

anyway, so there are apparently two versions of the chapter today?? no idea what the difference is, but I’m going to go with the Bean version, because it’s the one at the top and I don’t feel like making decisions today

huh, so Overhaul is actually more coherent than Horikoshi was letting on

look at him having a whole back and forth conversation with her. side note, how is he still this jacked when he’s been sitting in a cell doing absolutely nothing for the past six months

anyway so he says he’ll go with her on one condition. I wonder what that condition could possibly be. do you think it could be the thing he literally hasn’t shut up about ever since he reappeared lol

yep! and damn -- maybe this guy will surprise me after all

still would be nice if you also felt a bit sorry for the little girl you tortured and traumatized, but this is something at least. maybe Deku will yell at him for that other stuff lol

(ETA: also can’t help but wonder if he wants to make amends because he put him in a coma, or because his plan was a failure and ended up destroying the family. just hoping you’ve finally had that “hurting other people is bad” epiphany dude.)

anyways so now Nagant’s arm is transforming again, and this particular transformation happens to be the only truly unsexy thing that Nagant has done thus far so I’m just gonna skip right on ahead lol

aaaaand we’re back to the delirious ranting

buddy. just. read the fucking room, guy

wow she really is aiming at Overhaul, then. those theories were spot-on

damn she’s really out here all “it really fucks with kids’ heads when you kill people right in front of them and make them blame themselves” like yo

I’m picturing her saying all this in a very loud stage-whispery tone while making very significant eye contact with Deku lol

uh oh but wait

um. okay. who’s gonna tell her. Nagant I might have some bad news for you about the kid you’re trying to capture here. specifically about the way he tends to do the opposite of what you’re thinking that he’s about to do

holy shit

so it’s basically just “tap x repeatedly to charge up your attack” lol

and okay, so that’s cool and all, but is anyone else wincing at the thought of what that must be like on his knees. oh to be young

anyway, but so to the surprise of basically no one, Deku did not, in fact, freeze. I am very sorry, Nagant. he’s just like this

LMAO

someone wanna tell me how getting yoloed in the fucking ribs by this fucking slingshot kid moving at literal sniper bullet speed is in any way even remotely better than getting hit by the bullet itself lol

(ETA: this is 10x funnier now that we know the bullet wasn’t even gonna hit him lmao.)

anyway so now Nagant is having an extended “!?!?!?” reaction about how Deku just moved with no hesitation, and I’m starting to get an inkling of fear that the rest of this fight isn’t going to go very well for her and maybe that’s what all the “hoo boy” is about

oh my god Deku are you about to Gomu Gomu no Rocket yourself at her you insane little man

now Three is popping up again and he’s all “I see you’ve learned your lesson and are now only using three quirks at once instead of five” like with all this effusive praise about how great and badass Deku is and sob, okay, yeah. this chapter is basically one of those machines that shoots tennis balls at people, except instead of tennis balls it shoots hot piping discourse

OH MY GOD

YOOOOOOOOOO but also, NOOOOOOOOOOO

lol oh my god it’s literally two opposing reactions at once wtf. do I love this or hate this. like just for once can Horikoshi actually let a badass lady character win their fucking fight without getting their arm ripped off, BUT ALSO fucking look at that absurdly cool “SMASH” onomatopoeia though. it looks like it’s about to float right off the page holy shit that’s some seriously good art

anyway so is this really the end?? do I need to break out my ಠ_ಠ faces

lmao okay yeah I can definitely see how this would piss a lot of people off

he basically one-shotted her and she’s all “damn this kid is so amazing that I’m about to do a complete 180 turn on all of my previous angst” lmao. Horikoshi is really shounening it up today

on the plus side though, maybe this means there’s still a chance for her to join up with him after all? unless that spoiler was true lmao, then all hell is gonna break loose

YESSSSSSS

OH MY GOD AND HE SAYS THE BULLET WOULDN’T HAVE DONE MORE THAN GRAZE OVERHAUL ANYWAY, wow, I’m actually more relieved by that than I would have expected. I mean I would have forgiven her either way, but it means that there was still more hero in her than she was letting on

YES!!! FUCKING YES, THANK YOU

lol but I mean, it’s also like, “oh so today they get to have brain cells”, thank you so much lol. sometimes it’s really hard to tell which times we’re supposed to question these character decisions that seem dumb, and which times we’re just supposed to full on embrace them and switch off our critical thinking

but okay, so in this case it really was Nagant going easy on him on purpose, and not just her fucking up for no good reason even though she used to do this for a living and was the best in the game. and I know in this case it’s probably just Horikoshi giving us some consolation headpats to soften the blow of her losing so abruptly, but you know what, shit. I’ll take it

also you guys the light is coming back into Deku’s eyes again for just a moment here and I’m having feels about it?? the way it still comes back when he’s reaching out to save someone, and following his own hero path instead of the much darker and lonelier Christopher Nolan path that’s been laid out for him instead that he never wanted?? it’s both reassuring and also very sad

YESSSSSSSSSSS

DO IT LADY OMG PLEASE?? PLEASE COME BE HIS NEW IRRESPONSIBLE ADULT SUPERVISION YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO

AHHHHHHH SHE’S GONNA DO IT AHHHH

p.s. I am now absolutely scared shitless that that spoiler was actually true sob. swear to god, I will throw this manga into a fucking volcano. but we’re almost at the end of the chapter and this seems just WAY TOO GOOD to be true fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck f

UCK

NOPE NAH SEND IT BACK, NOPE, NUH UH, DIDN’T ORDER THIS. “GULLIBLE” OKAY FUCK YOU?? “COUNTERMEASURES” NOPE, DON’T NEED ‘EM, WE’RE ALL FINE HERE. WE’RE ACTUALLY GOOD SO YOU CAN JUST GO, OKAY. PLEASE

fuck, lol, I don’t wanna do it. I don’t wanna scroll down what have I ever done to deserve this oh my god

WHAT THE HONEY-ROASTED FUCK

WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT FUCKING VOLCANO IN ICELAND THAT I KEEP SEEING ALL THESE PICTURES OF. WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT SHIT. LET’S GO

ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

can someone please give AFO a really good, sharpish kick in the balls. just really let him have it. I’m so tired, what the fuck

-- ARE YOU KIDDING ME LOL WHAT

bro. I was literally going through my Excel folders to find the spreadsheet about female characters in BnHA that I made back when Midnight died. was gearing myself up for a wholeass rant. and honestly I might just let all of that continue simmering on low to keep it warm just in case lol, because to tell you the truth I have absolutely no idea what’s happening right now

my girl straight up does not have a face. she used to have a face. people usually need those, idk. like, even if she’s alive, her gorgeous eyebrows are definitely not making it out of this and I’m gonna throw a funeral just for them

how the fuck did AFO just blow her up?? how did he know what was going on?? and if he had a quirk that could explode people at will, why is this the first we’re hearing of it?? you’d think that might have come in handy at Kamino or Jakku, like what

(ETA: present!me, who’s had more than three hours of sleep and can now actually remember facts about the series, would like to remind past!me that AFO gave Nagant a quirk, and so this is probably just more Vestige shenanigans now on his part. that’s also probably why Air Walk suddenly stopped working out of nowhere. still doesn’t explain why he doesn’t go around blowing people up more often though but maybe he thinks it’s gauche.)

Hawks just straight up out of nowhere. just Mirioed his way straight into the chapter just in time to be too late sob. here I was looking forward to seeing your face when Deku showed up with his new best friend. can’t believe Horikoshi deprived us of that moment

on the plus side, WELCOME BACK, HAWKS’S FEATHERS. I have no doubt that in this chapter of Deku being an almighty threequirk-mastering god, and Nagant losing anticlimactically only to be immediately blown up because girl characters in BnHA can only be cool for one fight and one fight only, there are still some people who are focusing solely on the “how dare Hawks get his wings back when he is a MURDERER this is an outrage what about CONSEQUENCES” discourse, and to hell with all the other discourses lmao

anyway, so yeah. wow. and now it’s just occurring to me that maybe the real reason why Overhaul is there is so he can get a head start on that amend-making by actually doing a good thing for once in his life, and using his quirk to heal Nagant. assuming he can still do that

and so now Horikoshi has got me out here actually rooting for Overhaul. you know what, on that note I think I’m just gonna go ahead and call it a day sob

#bnha 315 #overhaul #chisaki kai #lady nagant #midoriya izuku #all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[beyondd-dazedd]

EPISODE👏 REVIEW👏 hsmtmts season 2 episode 10: get ready for some enthusiastic writing and a little too much looking into details

first off seb doing the intro made my heart happy i love him

ok i know everyone has been saying it but there is no way in hell they’re winning the menkies. unless the writers just go with the main character favoritism route, there’s just no way. however for the sake of comedy, watching ashlyn give us everything in the transformation scene and ricky being an absolute disaster is SO funny to me. like shout out to joshua because that scene made me laugh so hard. also a trio i need more of is kourt, red and ej. i just feel like they would be dramatic gossipy bitches and i love that for them.

normally i think ms. jenn’s reactions are over the top but after seeing the shit show that just occurred 2 mins before... i think her reaction is very valid because oh god.

continuing with the theme of friendship dynamics we haven’t seen a lot of but we absolutely need more of, ashlyn and ricky!! that scene was so sweet and wholesome. i’m so so so glad the writers didn’t fall into the trap of making characters take sides after a break up. i just feel like it’s been done a million times before. but seeing ashlyn being so genuine when checking up in ricky made me so happy. the caswells remain being the superior characters (including gina obvs)

ms. jenn and mr. mazzarra are cute don’t get me wrong but they should’ve spent more time developing that relationship instead giving ms. jenn like 3 random love interests and that’s all i’ll say on that.

i love imagining what characters are saying when they’re just ad libbing. like what could ej, gina, ricky and red be talking about before carlos shows up to start the scene?? my guess is they’re all gushing about how amazing ash is and no i don’t take criticisms on that.

alright i’ll say it. the seblos drama is weak at best. they didn’t spend enough time developing it and kind of pushed it to the background so when it was one of the main focuses of the episode it was kind of like ok?? HOWEVER i did love the resolution to it and the deeper look into their individual characters. (i’ll talk more about this later)

carlos calling ms. jenn mother and everyone immediately knowing who he was talking about sent me omfg. but also who the fuck let these high schoolers try to figure out this transformation scene by themselves?? they collectively have 2 brain cells and they just bounce around between the 9 of them depending on the scene. but playful sleepover competition!! also gina nudging ej when he goes a little too ej 1.0 was everything.

i hate lily and i love sassy red. that’s all.

(im going to talk about the boys/girls sleepovers like they’re each one continuous scene respectively because it’s way easier than switching back and forth)

fun new friendship dynamics!! the boys!! sebbie and the girls! iconic. i know that the show is meant to be in a mockumentary style so we only see parts of the characters lives but i would give my left arm to see the boys getting closer and becoming friends. this is also the first scene where i really noticed ricky’s shirt. ricky is queer disney are just cowards. i’m not a big ricky/ ej shipper but the pretty boy had me feeling some type of way. carlos being worried about seb and their relationship and then red being like well this is why. bc he’s got a spy on the inside was peak friendship. but seriously disney?? just say gay. it’s not a bad word. now imma freak out about PORTWELL OMFG I WAS ALREADY FREAKING OUT DURING THIS SCENE SO YOU CAN IMAGINE HOW WELL I WAS DOING LATER ON. but ej just being like im not ready to put myself out there because of nini i don’t wanna get rejected... again. my heart went out to him. you can really see how much he’s grown as a person. but sure ej y’all are “buddies” also him saying the one thing i’m proud of from my time with nini was letting her go and ricky’s reaction to that hurt me to my core.

alright let’s talk about the girls and seb. first off i love that they’re actually working and the boys are doing fuck all LOL. seb actually talking about how he feels?? good for him. i hate that he thinks that carlos is only with him because there’s limited options but at least he’s talking about it. a moment of silence for ash’s scissor bucket (i won’t make a gay joke. i won’t make a gay joke. i won’t-) anyways... i really thought that maybe ash would know about portwell but it’s fucking EVERYONE. like y’all are that perceptive about other peoples relationships but not your own?? that’s why all y’all have relationship drama. gina not wanting to put herself out there because she’s afraid of getting hurt?? ouch. gina thinking ej is just being nice?? ouch but also gina, sis?? what. also nini reacting that way to the chocolates is so out of pocket. like 1) y’all aren’t dating anymore so what’s got you so pressed? 2) gina made it clear that they weren’t actually from ricky 3) nini you know they had some sort of chemistry before you and ricky got back together so this really shouldn’t be that surprising.

anyways the scene with ricky and carlos broke me. the decision for ricky to not show nini the song was so mature. despite wanting to get her back, he KNOWS that that would only drag her back and that’s not fair to her and he knows it. but his awareness of seblos’s relationship and wanting to help carlos work things out with seb was so wholesome and so sweet and is kind of a big moment of character development for him this season. like he was generally very selfish this season (again i’m a ricky apologist til the day i die but he was so selfish) and seeing him take the focus away from his problems to help carlos out was so sweet. also i need more ricky/carlos friendship moments.

kourt talking about howie learning her love language?? bitch you mean espionage?? i mean me too but that’s so fucking funny

ALRIGHT THIS IS THE PARAGRAPH WHERE I SCREAM ABOUT PORTWELL!!! i am so so so so happy right now about this. the fact that ej asked about risotto but for real was so satisfying and was blatantly like him saying i know we faked being in a relationship but what about it not being fake and omfg that’s so amazing. also gina being skeptical and asking if ash put him up to it and him saying not that i know of?? THE PARALLELS?? also gina this whole season has been talking about signs and finding reasons to stay, finding signs to know if someone is right for her and you can literally see the moment she realizes she said the same thing about the duke sweatshirt to jack. SHE KNOWS THIS IS HER SIGN and that’s so special to me. also ej’s nervous laugh after she says yes?? omfg. let’s look at ej’s character. historically he’s confident, cocky and generally puts on this facade of having his shit together but gina makes him nervous (in a good way). he doesn’t feel like he has to pretend to be confident around her. he’s showing her that he’s just as nervous as she is about this and that is just *chefs kiss* honestly not to be an andi mack stan but ej’s little nervous chuckle and ok after she says yes sounds like he’s letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding which seriously parallels tj after the tyrus confession. i’m just saying. ALSO GINA’S LITTLE EXCITED WALK BACK TO THE GROUP AHHHHHH

the seblos song?? i have no notes. it was incredible. frankie killed that shit. it was such a good song. so sweet. so wholesome. also ricky and carlos’s hug was so fucking meaningful to both of them and you can tell. ricky was absolutely beaming because he helped the two of them and it feels like a little bit of season 1 ricky shining through.

WHO THE FUCK LET A BUNCH OF HIGH SCHOOLERS RIG A KID IN THE AIR COMPLETELY UNSUPERVISED?? of course ricky fucking fell. that group shares 2 brain cells. obviously some dumb shit was going to happen

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts spoilers #seblos #portwell #rini #brenn’s hsmtmts shitpost

[rip-a-dip-dip-you-potato-chip]

Trade ya

based on this ask

TW//Slight violence and a mention of blood

-

Macaque slipped back into the theatre after his little chat with the Monkey Kid.

Boy howdy, that kid had some explaining to do, to his companions. If only he could stick around and watch that mess unfold. But he had to retrieve his lamp.

Honestly, that was easier than he thought it would be.

Wich was concerning.

As Macaque walked over to the stage he paused for a moment, where was (y/n) is all this?

The Monkey King was off doing his own thing for a while, and he'd assumed his kid would be hanging around Mk and his friends, yet the amber-furred monkey wasn't with them when they had entered the theatre.

Did Mk literally forget one of his friends? damn, he was starting to become like the Hero...

despite everything that's happened between them since the whole 'I stole the Monkey Kings powers from Mk and broke his trust leaving him emotionally distressed' thing, he actually wanted to get to know his kid(and maybe convince them to join him)the week of stalking wasn't enough for him to say the least.

Disregarding the thought (though not entirely) he make is way back to the remains of the lap.

And with a little magic it was good an new!

Fuck ya!

As he admirered his handy work for s little longer and sound of clapping caught is attention. Wiping his head around he saw the wired guy in a pin strip suit form the play, if Macaque remembered correctly this was the guy that game my the *Skeleton Key.

"My my, that was such a magnificent performance!"

"Ha, ya well it's over, t-this was the last show actually"

Oh he did not like this for a single second. His fur was standing on there ends screaming for him to just leave.

Just as Macaque was about to use the shadows to escape, in a flash of icy blue light the guy was now behind him, and the next thing he know he was being picked up by the neck and for some reason couldn't, fucking move.

What the actual hell is happening???

"Lady Bone Demon would like a word with you~"

In the blink of an eye, the scenery changed form the damaged auditorium he'd rented out to and underground cave with mechanical parts and machines everywhere.

Just one wif of the musty roten air and he knew he was in the Spider Queens lair. But it looked different then it had been that last time he was there.

Then again it's been centuries since he was last there.

He was shortly let go by the insane suite wareing guy and rubbed his neck where it had been grabbed. And just like that the guy disappeared, leaving the Lady Bone Demon in his stead.

"Why greetings Macaque, its beet long since we last spoke"

" not long enough if you ask me"

The white haired lady let out a hum of acknowledgement as she circled the monkey.

...

"Soo any particular reason why you got one of your brain dead servents to get me?" Macaque questioned, pulling back a bit not wanting to be in her immediate range.

Up purely tactical.

"Ah, well it's come to my attention that you poses something of grate use to me" her icy gaze fixed on the lamp.

"Ya not happening" Macaque said flatly, he went though a lot to get his hands on this thing and he wasn't going to part with it so easily. Besides what ever the Lady Bone Demon was planning, would spell doom for the world as they know it.

Macaque my be a bad guy in some sense, maby even be considered an antihero-that was just more of an ass on a good day- but he wasn't one for wold domination.

In the past he just wanted to wreck heaven with his dear beloved friend befor his change of heart, not enslave mankind. They just wanted to prove there worth nothing more. But this bitch, na she was jack shit crazy. It took the combined forces of Demons and celestials alike to seal her away, himself being one of said demons.

"Ohh what a shame, looks like I'll be keeping this little one then"

In a puff of smoke (y/n) collapses on the foor to her, there fur slightly matted with blood and a visible gash on the left eye.

Similar to where his was-

It wasn't deep and wouldn't cause damage, but it still needed treatment.

Holy hell is this where (y/n) was all this time?

Macaques mind was going a mile a minute but he kept his poker face.

"And I sould care about some random kid because?"

"Oh~ Don't play dumb with me, Six Eared Macaque. You know exactly who this little one is" she started using her powers for lift the amber-furred monkey off the ground there one good (color) eye glosed over and hazy.

"After all this is your child"

"Hate to brake it to ya, but I don't have a kid"

"My sources say other wise"

Several screens descended for the walls and around them, all flicked to like to reveal footage of Macaque during his little stalking mission when he first planed to steal the Monkey Kings powers and found out about his long lost kid, and then some other footage of his watching them from the shadows.

Oh, oh no.

"I had my suspension on the Luner New Years, but your reaction solidify's my assumption"

Wha- shit his poker face slipped! Shiiiit

"So I'll ask again, the lamp or your child- they won't die persay, but I think the underground market would pay a hefty sum for one of such unique lineage"

His heart was beating faster than he thought possible, wait why would it be doing that! He shouldn't care! Should he?

Glancing between the lamp and (y/n)'s beaten form Macaque made a decision he might soon come to regret.

-

(Y/n) was having a good evening, well that was until the Spider Queens minions jumped them while on there way to the theater to meet up with the others(minus Sandy, what he had cats to take care of!)

When the first woke up it was in a dingy cell. And the next thing they knew the Spider Queen tried to get information about the Monkey Kings whereabouts.

"Ya right like the peach loving old man tells me anything! So if you could kindly let me on my marry way that would be fantastic"

You realy needed to know when to such your mouth or just give total bullshit information because Queeni had gotten pissed, and tried to beat the information out of you.

The Lady Bone Demon had to pry the spider off you. Saying you still had a use befor you blacking out.

-

When they woke for a second time everything was hazy, and there was muffled talking almost like they where under water.

Water was nice, you should learn to swim! It seems like fun! Maby you could get Mk or Mai to teach you.

After all the Monkey King was a shitty swimmer- wait no he was crap as under water fights, but wouldn't that require swimming as well-

Uh oh, was you being moved? Nooo das no gooood stop!

Ughhh why won't the muffin voices stop! And why can't I feel my eye!

E-y-e

Y E S spelles yes

E Y E S spells eyes how did that one guy get that confused, and you is moving again ST 0 p

Wait this was more comfy than before, is that red? Oh my moons it is! It's so soft!

And soft it was and you drifted to a more comfortable rest this time.

-

The third and final time (y/n) woke, they weren't in a cell, or had a hazy mindset. Areas not that hazy, but this time it was more so due to medicine than pain.

In fact they lay on a plush mattress, with equally soft pillows and nice heavy blankets tossed other them.

As (y/n) sat up they winced in pain slightly.

Looking down they take notice of the bandages, and a slitting head- and there are bandages on your eye as well fucking perfect.

"Good to see your up" a voice greated. Wiping their head to the side, there stood Macaques with a slight concerned look on his face.

Wha- owowowowowowowow

Probably shouldn't be moving so fast as (y/n) winced in pain again.

As (y/n) tried to steady themselves again and think of a retort, and side of the bed diped and a hand was placed oh your forehead, whilst the other heaped your arm.

"What are you-" "checking to see if you're fever spiked " "I has a heaver?" "Fever, and yes it set is last night after a particularly nasty infection" "oh"

"Wait, why are you-"

"The Bone bitch had you, i-i couldn't just let her harm you any more than she already had"

"That's dumb, you're dumb"

Sigh

"Okay back to sleep with you"

"Where am I?" "One of my safe houses, now sleep"

Sleep but what if...

"I-its okay, it'll be okay I'll be here when you wake again"

(y/n) blinked at him.

"I promise" he said softly as he guided you back down to the pillow, he retucked you in and was about to leave when (y/n) caught his hand.

Well fuck

Uhhh, you know what he's had a long fucking day himself he needs some sleep too.

So discarding his scarf to the side, as well as some armor plating and his shoes, Macaque got into the bed himself and just used himself. As he made himself comfortable, back tuned away for his pup a single thought echoed in his head.

'Im a fucking dad now, geat'

--

*Skelton Keys are said to open any door, plus the cannon key had a skull on it so why not?

UwU Anon you have no idea what this means, you have water my crops cleared my skin and my mind is sane!

I was originally planing to have this thing where the spider queen captured the reader/oc and used the robo parasight to make them a follower, but this, this is so much better sksksksksksk

I did most of this on mobile and my auto correct is bitchy 🙃

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #six eared macaque #macaque #lego monkie kid au #monkie kid problem childern au #problem childern au #au #this is the really good angst #anon your brain is huge #rip a dip dip wrights

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 4 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“By any chance, are you two available after class?” Sakura asked her seatmates.

“No.” The reply, while simultaneous, delivered contrasting connotations with Sasuke being gruff, adamant, eager to be uninvolved while Naruto’s was dripping with disappointment and missed timing.

“I have practice.” The blonde sank further into his seat. “But whatever is it for, Pres?”

Sakura grimaced at the monicker. “What’s up with that?”

“It’s what everyone calls you now,” Naruto replied. “You’re the youngest president too so that’s like a really big deal, you know. So anyway, if our schedules free up and coincide, maybe you can join us in this cute café.”

Sasuke discreetly flashed him a glare which obviously just flew past across the blonde airhead, but it was caught by Sakura who knew where this opening was headed.

“They served the best sweets but grumpy here ordered a tomato dish. Like what’s up with that? They also gave us free food before we left!” Naruto grinned widely, unperturbed by his next statement. “Moreover, there’s a cute barista who looks just like you.”

And Sakura decided to deliver the curve ball. With her chin on her open palm, she looked at Naruto directly. “So you’re saying I’m cute?”

Sasuke swore that was the reddest he saw Naruto turned. He tried to hide the bubbling laughter with his head down and his hand on his mouth, reveling in the blonde’s embarrassed stuttering, but he slowly registered her amused glance at him, and he wondered briefly why his face was also turning hot.

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He shouldn’t be doing this. He should have come home after classes ended and not be entranced with Naruto’s rare offer of free dinner. Obviously, by free dinner, that meant their coach paying for the entire team’s meal as well as the roster of honorary members, which unsurprisingly included him.

So he was just napping the time away in the classroom, away from their go-to hideout because of the noisy dragonboat power yells, when he heard a scream and an ensuing crash of what seemed to be books and stacks of papers. His feet was already at the door before he could think this through, his body moving on its own accord like an innate response to a familiar voice.

Loose pink strands were splayed on the floor, surrounded with likewise loose pages from the confines of the folders.

“Did you hit your head?” he asked as he crouched beside her. “You seem to enjoy injuring yourself.”

“I didn’t hit my head. I landed on my butt which hurts a lot right now but thank God I’m wearing sweatpants because you would have seen such outrageous grandma panties.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose at the TMI. “Try filtering.” He proceeded to pick up the scattered papers and files on the floor and gestured for her to stand up already.

“I need a hand though.”

“My hands are full with your documents.”

“Then let me get your back.”

He muttered an annoyed protest under his breath, but he squatted low enough for her to reach the back of his uniform and pull herself up with accompanying ow-ow-ow-ow. They walked like that until they reached the student council office, her box of files safely tucked in both of his arms, her one hand on the edge of his shirt and the other on her lower back.

“Thanks, Sasuke! And with this, I pronounce you and Naruto my official runners!”

“He’s not even here.”

“He’ll agree. After all, I look like his cute barista.” Sakura winked, riding on the comedic atmosphere.

“But I didn’t even agree?” Sasuke protested, falling into deaf ears as she quickly took the folders from his arms and exited the office with a wave. He was sure warning signs kept flashing inside his brain.

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

He was set on keeping his distance, thus despite her informal announcement, it was mostly Naruto who accompanied her in most errands except in instances when he had to stay behind after class to wait for the blonde.

His latest task was to help write support banners for the preliminary matches of the baseball team. Personally, he found the game season a nuisance, but of course, he wouldn’t admit it to himself that the trainings were eating up most of his time with Naruto. If they weren’t practicing pitches during lunch, the blonde would discuss game strategies, a topic he actually exceled in. Sasuke theorized his brain cells operated most efficiently when used for kinetics. He wouldn’t admit it, but he felt sidelined – with his companion successfully finding something to keep the loneliness at bay – while he remained in the frontlines, waging an internal war between the thundering silence of his apartment, and the raucous chaos of his thoughts.

He stood there awkwardly on the side of the student council office as the rest of the council members hunched on the floor, painting the words haphazardly out of the outline patterns, the worst among them being Sakura.

Frustrated and driven by a compulsion, he grabbed a spare brush and blank canvas and started the lettering. Thank god for his childhood calligraphy classes. This feat earned him interested looks from the members.

“Wow Pres, you really reeled in a talented runner,” one member chided. “He’s still as grumpy as ever though.”

Sakura wasn’t entirely happy as she looked over his shoulder. “Oh come on. Our banners weren’t that bad.”

“If I were on the baseball team, I’d think you would want us to lose.” He finished one cheering banner and gave it to the nervous member beside him. Apparently, his presence intimidated them even though he was but a mere runner. “Can you give me the next one?”

“Why are we bothering though?” asked the vice-president. “Our school team never makes it past the preliminaries.” From the get go, Sasuke felt her slight annoyance of having been bypassed in the selection, and while this was valid, he also thought she shouldn’t project this to Sakura who was caught in the middle of the decision of the advisory board.

He needn’t worry however, as she carried the subtle dig effortlessly, her usual positivity dripping through. “Isn’t it better to put it your all and see everything through than to give up when the clock hasn’t even started running yet? I find regrets more troublesome.”

Flustered with her response, the vice-president shifted her gaze back to the canvas in front of her and started to paint again. Everyone didn’t see it, but he caught Sakura sticking her tongue out to her.

Such a child. He found himself smirking.

Naruto started skipping classes as the day of the preliminaries crept closer. A week of this behavior prompted Sakura to pry his address out of Sasuke. He found out days later that she started coming to his apartment and incessantly ring the doorbell until his neighbors in the complex complained of the early morning noise.

Sasuke’s part in this scheme was the notes he compiled and one-word reminders through texts when there were deadlines or assignments. Somehow, it evolved into a convoluted arrangement among the three of them to keep the baseball rookie MVP afloat in his academics. As compensation for their efforts, Naruto started to buy them convenience store rice balls for morning snacks.

“You idiot. You should save your allowance,” Sasuke said smugly to the blonde.

“And yet you’re swallowing it in full.” Naruto grinned. “You should chew, grumpy! Chew!”

Sakura took a sip of her cranberry juice and smiled fondly at them. “Are you ready for Friday?”

“We’re facing off a top ten school, and Captain Haru said we don’t have that much chance. I don’t believe it though. I think we’ll win,” Naruto replied.

“You have a strategy ready?” Sakura asked.

He shook his head and pointed to himself rather proudly. “No but the team has me.” Sasuke choked on the last bit of his rice ball at the latter’s pronouncement.

“I told you to chew!”

Sakura, in panic, gave her half-drunk juice carton to him, and Sasuke, also internally panicking, grabbed it and downed the rest of it.

“You okay?” Sakura patted his back and snuffled a laughter which Naruto joined with his loud, uncontrollable dry heaves. Sasuke glared at the two, but this only served to amuse them further. “Oh wow, that was the first time I ever saw you uncomposed.” She swiped the tears in her eyes with the back of her hand.

“But really, they have me so we’ll win,” Naruto insisted.

“I’ll wear a cheering uniform for you,” she chirped back.

“Gods, dumb and dumber,” Sasuke sighed, defeated.

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

On the afternoon of the game, Sasuke found himself surrounded with a large female following after Sakura got all the members and the runners cheering outfits, and by outfits, that meant olive green jersey tops and maroon sweatpants representative of the school colors. She also took advantage of his obligated presence by giving him the task to distribute the banners and flaglets to the benches. The genius orphan and the couldn’t-care-less Uchiha roaming the rows? That pulled the student crowd needed for the game.

“Go Naruto!” Sakura yelled beside him. A black bandana was tied around her forehead, and her ponytail was replaced with a high bun.

Sasuke inadvertently covered his eardrums. The noise was even louder when the student council started a yell routine in the bleachers. The side of the opponent was half-full, and surprise was transparent in the other team’s faces. Probably the first time that support with this magnitude was given to the baseball team. Also, it was his first time attending a ball game in person, not that he didn’t try asking his brother before.

He felt a light tap on his shoulders. He turned around to see a raven-haired girl behind him, dressed in a lilac midi dress and sporting the black bandana on her wrist. “Is this seat taken?” She motioned to the space beside him. Her face was familiar – he knew he saw her somewhere but also certain he never interacted directly with her.

“Ah Hinata?” Sakura’s voice squeaked in recognition. She gestured to him to exchange seats with her, and she immediately patted her to sit down. “Cheering for Haru?”

Ah, the Hyuuga, the captain’s girlfriend. They’re actually friends.

“I was actually planning to buy the whole team dinner regardless of the results,” she said to Sakura. He was not good at reading people, but this Hinata was soft-spoken and gentle with her mannerisms that he found it fitting for her to be with Haru. He was, after all, so steadfast and assertive with his members, and he could even get Naruto in line with a look. So much so like Sakura that this exact dynamic was playing beside him.

It was a weird thing though when he glanced at the two and saw that her eyes were not trained on Haru but on certain blonde bloke on the field.

“President Sakura.”

Great, another distraction. He knew that voice even when the entire field was already screaming.

Sakura whipped her head too fast he was afraid she was gonna break her neck. Even when she was already glowing, her face lit up brighter when Kakashi handed her two bottles of water. “Nice job rounding an audience. Here, Give one to your runner.”

It was evident she wanted him to stay as she started to look around and tried to find a space near her. Noticing this, Sasuke tried stand up and offer him his seat, but she placed a firm hand on his knee, followed by a slight shake of her head, and a soft disappointed sigh when Kakashi disappeared from the crowd.

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He was walking out of the bathroom when the announcer declared the winner of the two-hour game. Of course, they would win. Naruto never backed down from his pronouncements, no matter how silly or unattainable they may be. He should buy him a stack of his favorite ramen as prize.

“Yo, Uchiha.”

Naruto’s bullies blocked the path leading to the bleachers – there were four of them, the same people who made fun of him in the hallway last time.

“Your people skills shot up after spending time with that orphan MVP and the chirpy pinky huh?”

“Birds of the same feather flock together.”

Normally, Sasuke would let these insults slide, if one could call them that. They were bigger and taller than him with faces that reflected experienced jabs in their scars and band-aids. To take them on alone, considering also the fact that he skipped gym for almost a year now, would be suicide. Nonetheless, he didn’t feel riled up as they expected him to be.

“Or should we say, they shot up in their society ranks because of you? After all, your dad was a member of the board.”

“Oooh my bad, dead dad.”

His hands started to clench into fists – an involuntary action out of their own volition. This slight shift in his body language gave them the go signal to surround him.

“Heard through the grapevine that it was actually your fault they’re dead. Imagine sleeping next to your dying parents and not looking for help?”

“Pathetic being.”

“Now he parades himself like an entitled son of a chairman.”

A kick to his shin. “Can’t really do anything to us, huh? Afraid to tarnish your dead daddy’s reputation?”

A punch to his side, and Sasuke clutched at the contact. Another right at the center of his stomach, and he doubled over, the water he drank threatening to hurl itself on the ground.

“You’re a better target than Orphan No. 1. You don’t really fight back.” The bully placed his foot on his hand, pushing him down further and making him bow. “You need to show you’re a model student. After all, your brother’s one of the shareholders of the school, and he has no need for trouble from his shunned sibling.”

Simultaneous kicks to Sasuke’s side. They were right, to an extent, but it was the whole process of explaining that would tire him out. Conversing with Itachi was a drag all on its own, like talking to the void, and hearing the senseless blame games all over again. This was all right, he assured himself throughout the whole encounter, since he was already numb. The other pain inside his head was stronger and sharper.

“Then again, you probably pulled some strings to get pinky that coveted position, didn’t you? Imagine a second year being president all of a sudden without going through the motions.”

The bile rose to his throat, and there was an entirely different metallic taste in his mouth. His fists were itching to fight back.

“Let’s destroy your pretty face this time, and we’ll come for the pinky next.”

Sasuke gained momentum to land a kick on the person’s crotch, the force and shock sending him reeling to the side. That was reckless, he knew that, because then he was exposed to the punches of the three others. And so he waited for contact but there was a flurry of bodies and that pink bright contrast in his line of sight.

One fist landed on Sakura’s face.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 5

#SCPS #student council president sakura #sasusaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #narusaku #kakasaku #uzumaki naruto #hatake kakashi #pseudolily

[willow-salix]

(Fluffember Prompt : Picnic)

Day 5 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

“Are you going to eat all that yourself?” Gordon asked as he sidled up to me in the kitchen. I was making noodles, nice, simple, stir fried noodles, a little bit of chicken, some veg and a sweet and sour dippy sauce. Lush.

“No,”  I answered. There was clearly far too much for me to eat alone, I had a Space Hubby around here somewhere… or possibly up there somewhere, it was hard to tell.

“Oh, cool, can I ha-”

“No.”

Cue the pout, the epic Gordo pout. I am immune. I never thought I would ever be able to say that, but I’ve grown stronger, more able to resist the bottom lip of doom. Just about. I remember that I tried that once with John, and his exact words had been “Don’t even try, that won’t work on me, I’m immune, I have two younger brothers.” I’d thought his confident speech had been all bravado and false hope, but he might have actually been telling the truth, my pouts rarely worked on him and the ones that the terrible two dished out never did. Was my man secretly a god? I mean, I thought so, I’d seen him with his top off, but maybe, just maybe he had hidden talents. Hmmm…

“You’ve got that look on your face again.”

“What look?” I asked, needing to clarify his meaning so I could decide if I needed to be insulted or not.

“The one you get when you’re staring at John or that guy from that old TV show, the Scottish one with the time travel.”

“Jamie Fraser is the most perfect of men, he is the ultimate in husband goals, he is…” I trailed off and shrugged. “I obviously have a thing for hot redheaded men.” 

“Urghh,” he made a face similar to the one that Scott made when Alan shoved his shoe under his nose last week. Like he wanted to throw up but wasn’t sure which way to aim.

“Why are you in here anyway?” I asked. “Was it just so you could bug me and judge me? I’m busy here, I’m trying to cook.”

He snorted, a scoffing little noise that was quite rude.

“What now?” I sighed.

“Cooking isn’t that hard.”

“Oh really? Then why is it that barely anyone in this house seems to be capable of it? It’s not just a case of grabbing some random ingredients, tossing them in a pot with a prayer for luck and you’re good to go.”

He declined to comment and wandered off without another word. I should have been terrified, but my bean sprouts were trying to burn so I pushed it aside to worry about later. That was my first dumb move.

My second dumb move was to actually leave the comfort of the couch and John’s recently vacated warm spot.

“What the everloving crap was that?” I yelped when a loud crash sounded from the kitchen below us. I poked John gently when he failed to react. “Did you hear that?”

“Since I’m not deaf, it would have been impossible for me not to,” he casually swiped something away on his tablet and started reading again.

“What did they do?” 

“And since I do not, in fact, have the ability to see through walls, I don’t know.”

“Go and find out.”

You’d have thought I was asking him to go shopping with me again.

“I don’t think so, you go.”

“They’re your brothers.”

“You’re the one that cares.”

“They’re your brothers,” I repeated.

He gave me that look of his that promises retribution as I rolled sideways to let him get up, rolling back to steal his spot the second he moved. I dragged his blanket over my knees (I’m feeling chilly today) and stole his tablet to watch videos on as he walked away. 

I got so engrossed, having fallen down a hole of cute hamster videos, that I didn’t realise for a full twenty minutes that John had failed to return. I had sudden and very detailed visions of my poor boy hogtied and left baking in the sun or some such nonsense. I unwrapped myself from my blanket burrito and started my very slow and reluctant walk towards the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?” I yelled the second I rounded the corner, entered the room and saw the scene before me. They all froze guiltily, including John, who was at that very second groping blindly around in the pantry. And when I say blindly, I mean it literally, he was wearing a blindfold that by the looks of it, had been made by them tying my shawl around his head. I don’t know what they were thinking, if anything I’m a little surprised that I’ve never seen smoke coming out of their ears when their two remaining brain cells rub together to give them an idea.

The other idiots were all standing around in various places, standing guard over small piles of produce like dragons over their gold. 

“What the hell is going on in here? And how the hell have you roped him in?”

“Hang on, he’s got twenty more seconds yet,” Alan told me, clicking a button on his comm again. “Go!”

John resumed his digging around, knocking over two jars of mustard and an open packet of pasta which poured out like a carby waterfall. He ignored it.

“Gordon?” I turned to the likely culprit.

“Why are you picking on me?” he asked innocently. "Why do you always assume it's my doing?" 

“Are you honestly trying to tell me that you had nothing to do with this?  Whatever this actually is.”

“We’re having a picnic,” Virgil told me.

“It’s blindfolded kitchen shopping,” Kayo elaborated. I switched my glare to her, she was involved, I could tell, mostly because she still had one of her workout head wraps around her neck and had her own pile of goodies on the counter in front of her.

“It was Scott’s idea,” Alan piped up, throwing his brother under the bus. “Time!”

John dropped the item in his left hand, retaining the one in his right and backed out of the pantry. He pulled off his blindfold and gathered up his treasures, a bag of donuts, a can of whipped cream and in his hand a tin of spaghetti hoops.

“What was Scott’s idea?”

“Well, when you told me that cooking was easy-” 

“I said no such thing. I told you that it wasn’t as simple as just bunging some ingredients in a…” I trailed off, I could already see where this was going and I wasn’t impressed.

“Exactly, throw some ingredients together and make food. Easy.”

“Not easy,” I insisted.

“So I happened to mention it to Scott, who said that he agreed, you can make anything if you’re creative enough-”

“You should not be learning from the Grandma Tracy school of cookery!”

“The rules are simple,” Gordon continued as if I had never spoken. “One minute to select three ingredients, all of which must be used in the finished dish. You’re allowed to add two more ingredients to aid the construction but that’s all. You can do whatever you want with what you have, be as elaborate or as simple as you like. You must taste your own dish, as does everyone else when everything will be shared as a picnic.”

He looked so damned proud of himself, the little snot.

“How did the rest of you numpties get involved in this?” I sighed, knowing I was beaten. No one answered me. Giving up, my blanket nest calling me, I retreated towards the door.

“Do you want to join in?” Virgil asked innocently.

“No, I really don’t.”

“Do you not have as much faith in your cooking skills as we do in ours?” Alan teased. 

I paused in the doorway.

“Dare you, unless you’re scared,” Kayo threw in, just to stir the pot.

“Dammit!” She knew exactly what she was doing, I can NEVER resist a dare.

“Gimme a blindfold.”

Alan tossed me his, which I think was a football sock, but I didn’t want to look at it too closely, I just prayed it was clean. I tied it around my head and Scott checked to make sure I couldn’t see anything. I don’t know what he did, because obviously I couldn’t see anything, but it made a few of them snigger, so I’m obviously suspicious.

Alan started the timer and I groped my way around the table to the fridge.

“Forty-five seconds!”

Crap! This was actually pretty stressful. How did you pick something without seeing it? I decided to stick to one place and hope for the best, open the fridge, feel around, grab some bits, done! Right?

Easier said than done when you have recently gone shopping, the fridge is packed to bursting and you can’t tell what anything is.

“John! Grab this!” I demanded as Alan happily started counting down from twenty as my time ticked away. I grabbed something small and weird, no idea what it was and tossed it over my shoulder in what I guessed was his general direction, hoping he caught it.

I fumbled around and selected something round and cold, that I hoped might be a tomato and held that out too, then in desperation I yanked out a random box just as Alan called time.

I pulled off my blindfold and looked at the things John was holding for me, which turned out to be an apple and a tiny radish. I was holding a carton of eggs. Could have been worse.

“Let the food prep begin,” Gordon declared. “No helping each other.”

Sighing I got to work. Obviously, eggs would be my main ingredient, I cracked four into a bowl and whisked them together. 

“Do we have to use all of the ingredients we picked out?” I asked.

“Yes, every one.”

“No, I meant do I have to use the entire apple or the entire box of eggs,” I clarified.

“Oh, no you don’t, it just has to have them in there.”

“Cool, OK, and we get two extra ingredients of our choice?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.” That was me sorted then. I grabbed a grater and shredded a quarter of the apple and less than an eighth of the tiny radish. I wasn’t a big fan of those spicy little buggers, I don’t like pepper and they definitely have a peppery quality to them, but I was hoping the sweetness of the apple would balance it out.

I opened the fridge again and selected some cheese which I shredded and some ham, chopping it up quite fine. That would do.

I set a pan on the stove top and waited for it to heat up.

“Do I get to use any kind of oil or something to stop my food sticking?” I asked.

The ringleaders, Gordon and Scott, looked at each other, obviously indulging in some kind of non-verbal conversation I wasn't privy to before making their decision.

“Yes you can,” Scott graciously allowed.

“Thank you.” I dumped in a generous knob of butter. Quickly I sloshed the eggs into the pan, and fluffed them up a little with a fork before I turned the heat down a bit and let them sizzle.

I glanced over at Alan who was constructing something with jam and a pile of cookies. Scott was wrestling with a can of tuna and Gordon was opening a carton of custard.

I sprinkled a little of the apple on top of the egg, then a tiny dusting of radish, followed by a large handful of cheese and ham. I eased the sides of my omelette away from the pan, making sure it wasn’t sticking and checking it was cooking.

John, I noticed, was doing something weird with a lettuce leaf that he had procured from somewhere, it was not one of his blindfolded items so he must have gotten it after. He had the leaf stretched over a small bowl and was spooning a tiny amount of the tinned spaghetti into it. Sometimes I wonder why I agreed to marry into this family. I must have been drunk.

I carefully folded my omelette in half and turned the heat off, letting it rest and continue cooking a little.

“I’m done,” I declared, turning around to survey the chaos that had become our kitchen. Oh the humanity. I would NOT be cleaning this up.

Alan, it transpired, had blindly chosen cookies, cheese slices and curry sauce left over from some McDonald’s nuggets I got a few weeks ago, bringing them and other goodies with me in the space elevator. His extras appeared to involve pilfering a few of the McVities digestive biscuits that I’d brought from home the day I arrived that Kayo had chosen in her blind scrabble around the snack cupboard. 

He’d proceeded to make a weird stacked thing he was calling a cookie burger which consisted of a cookie base, a layer of jam on top of that, the digestive and lastly a slice of cheese with a drizzle of curry sauce on top.

Gordon was constructing something very elaborate, involving a bowl and lots of layers. His random items appeared to be the custard, half a vanilla sponge cake and a tub of left over chili. My mind was boggling. 

Scott was hacking at a rather stale looking half loaf of bread that John said he found in the rarely used bread bin, I don't know how he'd managed to open the bread bin without seeing it, but apparently he had. He'd also blindly chosen a can of Tuna and a packet of fruit gummies. 

Virgil, the adorable chonk, had managed to choose a package of cocktail weenies, a tin of peaches and a few sticks of celery. He had stared at his bounty for a good few minutes, before giving up and wandering over to the pantry. He'd stared into that too, like he was looking into a black hole or contemplating the mysteries of the universe. 

Eventually he'd chosen a pie crust from the baking shelf and had begun to assemble his creation. He tipped the peaches into the pie dish, chopped up the celery and cocktail sausages and dropped them in on top. He'd looked around, rather desperately I thought, and reached over to steal John's can of whipped cream, squirting a generous amount on top of his frankenpie and called it good. 

Kayo appeared to have more sense than the others, she had been the one to find my stash of digestive biscuits and, after Alan had liberated a few, proceeded to crush them into crumbs which she lined the inside of a bowl with.

"What are you making?" I asked, because it didn't look too awful. 

She continued to construct her…whatever it was…adding some cake pilfered from Gordon, some grated carrot mixed into cream cheese that was one of her chosen extras and topping it all with strawberries. It kinda…vaguely…could be a cheesecake, if you tipped your head to the side and squinted. 

I turned to John, my man, the one that I was supposed to trust with all my heart and soul…he was…I don't know how to describe it. He'd taken the donut and hollowed out a little bit more from the middle hole, then he'd gathered up the sides of his lettuce leaf/ spaghetti hoops thing and had made it into a little parcel, twisting the end closed. He then popped that inside the hollowed out donut. I have no idea why. He'd finished by decorating the top with whipped cream and sprinkles. What was it with them all thinking that whipped cream was the answer to all their problems? Because three of them had done it so far. 

Gordon had sprinkled in a handful of peas, actual peas, on top of his custard layer, then added cream on top. I honestly don't know. 

Scott had moved on from his bread and taken some of John's lettuce, insisting it was his first, and put a leaf on the stale bread and topped that with Tuna and sweetcorn, which actually had the potential to taste OK. Time would tell. He'd used the fruit gummies to decorate the plate with, I'm not sure if that counted but since he and Gordon seemed to be in charge I assumed it was allowed. 

I slid my omelette onto a plate and vaguely wondered if I should grab a few sick bags before the picnic portion of this weird event started. 

They all looked incredibly proud of themselves, why I had no idea, no one should be proud of the mess they had made, this was not food, this was barely a step up from mud pies in the yard. 

They all took their food offerings and trooped outside, setting up camp on one of the picnic benches near the edge of the beach and settled in. 

One by one they presented their masterpieces. Here are the reactions.

SCOTT’S

“This bread’s hard, very hard,” Alan said.

“It’s very fishy,” Gordon said, although we don’t know if it was a bad thing or not.

“Not bad, I could eat it if I had to,” Virgil allowed.

“I don’t like the sweetcorn on it, it keeps rolling away,” John frowned. He was always a bit funny with tinned sweetcorn anyway, he prefers it on the cob.

“That isn’t just hard bread, that is rock bread,” Kayo complained.

“It’s edible, with fresh ingredients I’d eat it again,” I said, trying to be nice. Honestly it wasn’t that bad, I’d definitely eaten worse over the years.

“It’s almost exactly like the subs we made in college,” Scott said, popping the rest in his mouth and chewing happily. He’s weird, that one, he pretends he’s not, he offers the illusion of being the capable, responsible older brother, but it’s all an act.

ALAN’S

“Erm…” Scott hedged, spending at least a minute turning the thing in his hand looking for a way to attack it.  

“I don’t know what to do with this, Al…” Virgil was even less sure.

“Give it here!” I had less issues and snatched it away from Scott. I ripped off a bit of the curry sauce topped cheese slice, licked the sauce off the cheese, popped the cheese in my mouth then took a bite of the sweet stuff. It was hard to get my teeth through all the layers of biscuit, but I managed it. It was actually OK, separating it was the way to go. “That’s actually quite nice.”

John copied me exactly, because I’m the sensible one although he’d never admit to that. “You’re right, it’s not bad.”

 “Wimps,” Gordon bit straight through it, cheese, curry and all. Then he gagged.

Kayo took the cheese off her’s, ate the sweet stuff first then finished with the cheese, an unconventional method but it wasn’t like any of this was normal. She made a noise that could have been approval but could just as easily been a whimper of surrender.

Virgil took the whole thing apart and ate everything separately, one piece at a time, declaring it to be, “Not bad.”

Scott glanced at me with that look in his eye that said he was about to do something stupid… He reached for the curry sauce pot… 

“Scott, no!” I warned him.

He ignored me to tip the rest of the curry sauce on top of the cheese and threw it in his mouth. Immediately he let out a noise that sounded like a mixture between a gag and a burp. He chewed frantically then swallowed. We waited to see what would happen. “Not deadly,” was his verdict.

VIRGIL’S

“I’m sorry, no, I’m not eating that,” I told them, flat out refusing.  “I’m semi allergic to peaches, they give me migraine headaches and I’m not risking it. I’m out.”

“I’m excused because she can’t eat peaches and I won’t risk cross contamination,” John said, leaping on my statement as a way to get out of it.

“That’s a flimsy excuse!” Scott accused, he knew it, John knew it, we all knew it. John didn’t care.

“You’re just mad that you can’t use it,” John said, squeezing my leg under the table in thanks for my weird kinda-allergy. I patted his hand in solidarity.

“No one has to eat it, I did my best,” Virgil winced, knowing that his was likely to be the most disastrous yet.

“I’m in!” Gordon declared, picking out a cocktail weenie and dunking it in the cream before popping it in his mouth. He chewed frantically as he scooped up a spoonful of pie crust, peaches and a slice of celery and shoveled that in after the weenie. He kept chewing, his face registering at least six different emotions, none of them pleasant before he finally swallowed. “It could have been worse.”

Kayo copied Gordon and picked out a weenie which she ate first, on its own.  That’s where she got smart, washing it down with a mouthful of water before continuing. She spooned up some pie, peach, celery and cream concoction and tasted it. “Not bad like this, the celery is a slightly weird addition, but it can be ignored.”

“I feel sick,” Alan said, having shoved a large mouthful in. 

Scott, the brave boy that he is, shrugged and cut a whole slice, lifting it carefully to his mouth.

“He’s a madman…” Alan whispered in awe.

“A brave man…” Gordon added.

“A stupid man…” I sighed.

Scott bit into it, chewing slowly, rolling it around his mouth. “It’s fine.”

I stared at him in utter shock.

Virgil nibbled on a corner, made a face and pushed it away. “No.”

GORDON’S

“What the heck is this?” he of the iron stomach and nuclear powered taste buds asked.

“It’s that thing they did in that show,” Gordon answered, yet Scott still looked bemused, as did we all, blank faces all round.

“Which show, babe?” I felt the need to ask.

“The one with the friends in the coffee shop.”

“You mean ‘Friends’?”

“If that’s what it’s called,” he shrugged. “It’s a meat trifle.”

Cue horrified gasps all around.

“With a few modifications, obviously, since I had to use chili,” he hurried to explain, although it was anything but reassuring.

John pushed his fork into the center of the dish, looking more and more scared the deeper it sank.

“Don’t eat it and just say you did,” I side whispered to him, worried about his stomach since he usually lived on simple and non perishable food in Five.

“I heard that!” Gordon accused as he spoons up a big bite, determined to prove it was edible, and chowed down. “Huh…” he kept chewing, “not bad…”

“Not bad?” Scott goggled. “Are you serious?”

“The chili is good, the custard is good, the cream is nice, the peas are a bit weird but overall it's OK.”

Virgil was the next brave soul to scoop up a tiny forkful and I did the same getting the smallest amount I could onto my spoon, mostly trying to get just custard and cream, although I think I did spot a lurker pea in there.

Kayo and Alan both scooped up a spoonful and shoved it in their mouths, obviously figuring that getting it over with was the best way to tackle it. Kayo spat hers out instantly, Alan managed to chew and swallow his. Virgil got his down but there was a fair bit of gagging.

“It tastes like a foot,” Alan declared.

John took a small bite and reacted almost like a cat with a hairball, his body shuddering, neck stretching as he silently gagged. I handed him a tissue and he gratefully spat it out, sagging against me as if he was about to die.

I looked at Scott, who nodded in return and dug out his own small amount. “On three?”

Scott nodded and began the count. “One...two...three!” We both stuffed our spoons into our mouths. Scott made a face but managed to get it down, my plan had worked and, while the pea was indeed lurking and rather weird, it wasn't that bad a bite and I swallowed without issue, pleased to have survived.

MINE

“This doesn’t look too bad,” Scott said assessingly.

“How dare!” I gasped. “Cheek of it, it looks tasty.”

Virgil cut himself a small portion, being cautious, since everything else has been questionable at best, downright disgusting at worse. 

Gordon cut himself an actual slice, a godsdamned slice of my omelette and lifted it up like he would a piece of pizza then wondered why we were all staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused. John just shook his head in utter despair at his dingus brothers and cut a more sensible sized bite. 

“I’m sure it will be edible,” he says diplomatically, it’s never good to insult the wife’s cooking even when it is so obviously crap.

Alan, disaster child that he is, cut a bit with the side of his spoon like a damned savage and spooned it up.

Kayo helped herself to a small fork full and got ready.

I reached over and broke a piece off of Gordon’s mega slice. 

“OK, good luck my friends,” I offered as I popped the eggy weirdness in my mouth… it was interesting. Nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be, the cheese and ham had mostly drowned out the spicy kick of the radish and the apple had added a weird sweetness to it, but at least it was edible if not to my tastes. I managed to chew it and swallow without choking.

“That’s oddly nice,” John said, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. 

“Well, you are the person that likes baked apple pieces on your pizza,” I shuddered in revulsion at the memory of his birthday meal.

“What a man chooses to put on his pizza is his own business,” he told me.

“Not when it’s that weird.”

“It’s no weirder than pineapple on pizza.”

“He’s right,” Scott interrupted, “this is strangely OK.” He took another bite to make sure.

“I don’t like it, it’s too sweet,” Alan said, making a face. “ I like sweet, but not mixed with savoury like this.”

“I agree,” Virgil said, setting his aside, “it’s too sweet, but you did your best.”

Gordon didn’t say anything, but he was steadily munching through his piece, I watched him, oddly fascinated.

“It’s edible, that’s all I can say about it,” Kayo told me, which for her was a compliment.

“Well? Verdict?” I asked Gordon when he eventually finished.

“I don’t know. I don’t like it or dislike it, it just is.”

“You’re being philosophical over a weird omelette?” Scott laughed.

“Had to happen some time.”

“How? How did it have to happen?” John asked, utterly bemused, looking like his brain was going into a meltdown. “Who says to themselves ‘one day I will have to say something deep and meaningful about a randomly concocted omelette’? How do you even assume that?”

“I never say never,” Gordon shrugged, not caring to explain any further. Personally I don’t think he knew what he meant either but was just brazening it out by that point.

JOHN’S

I picked up his donut creation a little gingerly, because I saw what he’d done to it and I was wary. He obviously saw my hesitation because he lent closer to help.

“Just be careful with it and follow my instructions,” he whispered in my ear under the guise of being romantic.

One eyebrow rose in response...I mean, what do you say to that?

He continued, still whispering. “Bite down gently and try to avoid the sack,” he dropped a kiss on my neck before sitting back in his seat. Smooth, boy, very smooth. My other eyebrow lifted to join its sibling.

“I’m just trying to help,” he assured me.

“You’ve said that before.”

“And you listened then and look how well it turned out,” he said as if that was all the proof I needed.

I heard a snigger from Gordon who was obviously eavesdropping. 

“I was referring to the fact that you often use the excuse of just trying to help,” I sniffed.

“Oh...well…” he tried to look innocent but failed, flashing me one of those devastating grins that just melted me on the spot. “Just taste my damn donut.”

I debated the wiseness of listening to him but decided that, as trust is supposed to be the cornerstone of any good relationship, I should probably pay attention.

“OK, here we go,” I bit down carefully, right at the edge, trying to measure the distance between where my teeth were and the no go zone. I think I brushed the edge of the lettuce leaf but managed to stick to just the donut which, though ever so slightly stale, was still good.

“That’s nice,” I allowed, trying to keep my cover as I passed the donut over to John who took a bite in exactly the same way and therefore stayed safe.

He passed it on to Kayo, who had been watching us intently, studying our moves with her usual mix of suspicion and calculated plotting.

 “You’ve got some cream on your lip,” I was told and sat still while he wiped it away with his thumb.

“What do you think, Kay?” Scott asked. 

Kayo, having executed a perfect bite from the other side of the donut nodded before passing judgement. “Edible.” She was now fully on board with our trickery and would never rat us out as she passed it innocently on to Alan.

Alan, trusting baby that he is, bit blindly into the donut, hitting the lettuce sack which exploded, squirting spaghetti hoop juice into his mouth.

“GAAAH what the…” he yelped, gasping in shock, dropping the demon donut with its hidden core of evil.

Scott picked up the donut, the spaghetti sauce now leaking out freely and soaking into the dough. Uncaring he takes a bite. “Not gonna lie,” he mumbles around his mouthful, “it's not great.” 

Virgil relieved him of the donut and studied it from all sides. The artist in him wants everything to look appetizing and pleasant the whole time, this did not. “This looks hideous.” He nibbled a corner. “Disgusting,” he declared, offering it to Gordon.

Gordon reluctantly accepted it and bit down carefully. He chewed, swallowed and shook his head. “Nope, gross.” 

KAYO'S 

Kayo pushed her bowl over quite proudly. “Dig in.”

It didn’t look that bad, and since I’d seen a lot of what she used I knew the ingredients wouldn’t be that bad when mixed. Hopefully it wouldn't be the obnoxious assault to the tastebuds that some of them had been. 

I slammed my spoon  confidently into it and scooped out a mouthful, popping it in my mouth before I could back out.

“Humm…” I chewed thoughtfully, what did I actually think of it? I couldn’t decide so I just spoke my thoughts as I so often do. “It's quite nice. I mean, biscuit, cake and cream cheese is nice, I don't really like the carrot mixed in but it doesn't ruin it to the point of being disgusting. I like the strawberries, so I guess it’s a win.” 

John followed my lead, digging his spoon in. “That's pretty good.” 

“I really like that,” Scott dipped his spoon in for some more. “The carrot is different enough to not bore me but the rest is normal enough to make it nice.”

“It's too sweet for me,” Virgil said, putting his spoon down after his first taste. 

“I'm not liking the carrot but the rest is good, I could eat it,” Alan said, his usual aversion to vegetables or anything healthy rearing its ugly head. 

“It's all good. I don't mind the carrot either,” Gordon said, agreeing with Scott. 

Kayo, obviously emboldened after using us as test subjects, risked tasting it herself. “Not bad.” 

Well, we've tasted everything,” I said, glugging down some of John’s water in an attempt to cleanse my tongue a little. “Was there an actual point to all of this?” 

Scott and Gordon both shrugged, not that I was that surprised, there is never much point to anything that any of these idiots do when bored.

“Not really,” Scott admitted. 

“I wanted to prove you wrong,” Gordon told me, “and I think we did.” 

“How? How did you? Some of this was disgusting, it clearly didn't work. How can you honestly think that you proved my wrong in any way, shape or form?” Seriously, the mind boggles with these guys. 

“It showed that it can be done,” Gordon insisted.  

“It shows nothing!”  

“Just let it go, love,” John soothed, obviously trying to save what little sanity I have left.

“You joined in!”

“So did you,” he countered.

“I give up!” I yelled, throwing my hands up in frustration. “It’s like talking to monkeys, you’re all mental.” I climbed awkwardly off the bench and headed back to the house.

“So, did I win?” I heard Kayo ask as I rounded the corner, leaving them alone. 

Stupid competitive Tracys! I should never have left the sofa, hell, I should never have left England. I knew this would be a mistake. I’d be insane by the end of it.

I stopped off in the kitchen to make myself a coffee, hoping it would take some of the taste away. I grabbed a few abandoned cookies and a non Johned donut and retreated to the sanctuary that was the couch and my blankets, which would be lonely without me.

I settled down, retrieved my book (I’m re-reading Outlander, which might be contributing to my Jamie Fraser love right now, all the best husbands have J names, fact) and got comfy, might as well make the most of what little peace I’d get before the chaos found me.

“Move over.”

I stayed where I was, maybe if I ignored him he would go away.

John, being John and refusing to be either insulted or put off by my rejection, simply lifted my legs and settled in their spot, dropping them back down over his lap.

I looked over my book at him as he reached for my coffee cup and gulped down half its contents. He offered me the mug and I put my book down to take it.

“Thanks,” I said because what else could I do? I sipped the coffee then put the mug down on the little table next to the couch and picked up my book again.

John took that as a sign that he was welcome to stay and started making himself at home, stealing some of the blanket and shifting to stretch out beside me. I moved over to make room, letting him settle his head on my chest as he found his tablet among the cushions.

OK, maybe there were a few good reasons to be here instead of alone at home, but I’ll never admit it outloud.

#Isolation Island #Thunderbirds in isolation #fluffember #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 2015

[bymoonchild]

Microwave (Mis)adventures (M)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader Genre | Fluff, slight angst, smut / college!AU, roommates/housemates!AU, enemies to lovers!AU,  Warnings | Explicit language, lots of sarcastic banter, pillow-humping, masturbation, kitchen blowjob (!!!), eating out, fingering, creampie, cum-eating, unprotected sex  Word count | 20k

Out of all things to be afraid of, Jungkook, the seat-stealer of your 8am class and annoying housemate whom you despise with every fiber of your being, chooses to have a phobia of microwaves, but he loves buying microwaveable food – because come on, they’re irresistible – and you somehow find yourself getting dragged into his microwaves (mis)adventures. Cue chaos, sarcasm-laced banter and an unplanned romance.

After attending college for a good three hellish but somewhat fun (only because you live to torture yourself) semesters, there are six things that you think you’ve mastered. 

Sleeping at 6am and waking up just on time for your 9am the next day and ready to kick some ass. 

Relying on coffee – a true college student’s lifeblood – to survive the day. 

Pretending that you have your shit together – people around you think you have everything under control. You’re part of your faculty club, the editor of your school’s publication and also on the freaking dean’s list and have an immaculate GPA to maintain. 

Being a bitch because college has a lot of dumb people and you don’t understand how there are so many people with just one brain cell, that is almost close to none. 

Making lists because checking off each task from your list is as satisfying as sleeping in on a Friday. 

Making routines and sticking to them. 

So If there’s any skill that you’ve mastered, it should be these few, though it’s highly unfortunate that you can’t list any of the aforementioned skills in your resume. Skill number six is also your pet peeve and you just abhor, detest, loathe, fucking hate it when your routine gets all screwed up and just about everyone around you knows how anal you are about following your routines and you won’t hesitate to throw hands if something goes awry.

You’ve never imagined that you would actually be throwing hands until you see some stranger occupying your usual seat at your 8am lecture, for fuck’s sake. You’re not being territorial. There’s no such thing as assigned seats in college, but after the first week or so, people just got in the habit of sitting in the same spot – it’s like an unspoken decision. But your favourite seat is taken. Rudely taken by a mob of dark hair who’s casually scrolling through his phone. 

The nerve!

As if on cue, your vision flares red and your mind sorely screams at you to throttle him. Look, you’re not a convulsive human being and you’re definitely not that big of a bitch (at least not without a reason), but you spent the entirety of last night sorting out your team’s editorial calendar and making sure that everything is under control and you had to drag yourself out of bed at 7 in the morning with hardly any shuteye. You’re high-key regretting every single decision you’ve ever made and definitely not in the friendliest of moods to deal with a seat-stealer. 

So you stalk over to your usual seat, storming louder than usual with your bitchiest expression that you’ve been training since college started. 

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat, eyebrows raised tauntingly at the boy in front of you, who is settled way too comfortably in your seat. 

“Hi…?” The brunet stares at you unblinking, as if rummaging through the compartments of his brain for an inkling of a name or memory of you. “Do I—”

“You’re in my seat,” you cut him off curtly, impatience evident in your tone, barely giving him any time to register what’s going on.

“W-What?”

“This,” you point unabashedly to the chair he has his butt comfortably on, “is my seat.”

Something about his expression changes and his eyebrows start to crease, as though he’s starting to fathom what the heck is going on. 

At that, you frown back harder, all eyebrows furrowed and tightened jaw muscles. 

“But we don’t have assigned seats in college?” The latter challenges with a tilt of his head, arranging his features into a look of deep confusion.

This only prompts you to roll your eyes in disbelief, a flash of annoyance flitting across your sharp features. You’d like to think you’re not a bitch, at least not without a god damn reason and having your seat stolen during an 8am lecture is a good enough reason. 

“Yeah? I’ve been sitting in this seat for the past eight weeks, so your argument is invalid.” 

You riposte, not minding how lecture has long begun and the students around you are gaping apprehensively at the commotion you’re brewing up instead of listening to the professor. You try your best to ignore the burning gazes on your back. 

He remains silent, but his eyes are lit up as though he enjoys riling you up. 

“Um look—”

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you scrunch your eyes closed, trying your best to resist screaming in lecture as a burning sensation climbs up your throat. 

“Can you just, I don’t know, move? I’m already having a bad morning and I don’t need a seat-stealer to add to my hit list.”  

He gawks at you for a few seconds to see whether you’re pulling his leg about adding him to your hit list and wanting him to move, but raises his hand in mock surrender when he realises that you’re actually serious. 

Giving you his most I-don’t-give-a-fuck-anymore shrug, he mumbles while grabbing his bag, “Okay, fine fine. Geez, it’s just a seat.”

You wait as he moves out of the seat, before sliding into your seat promptly and you find your entire body relaxing out of instinct.

“You’re very welcome, by the way,” the stranger retorts with the same sarcasm that you very much do not appreciate, given your already rotten morning, but it doesn’t match up with the mirth lurking in his voice and grin on his lips. 

“T-Thanks,” you mumble under your breath, unsure of whether he caught it, but you have better things to worry about like catching up with the lecture and trying your best not to have a breakdown because your morning routine just got fucked with. 

Turning back again out of instinct, you see the boy shoot you another weird look before moving to the back of the LT. 

You feel your heart skip. In anger or something. You look away, appalled by the audacity of him – how he can still look at you in the eye when he just did the most despicable thing on earth. 

For the next two hours of lecture, you find yourself incapable of concentrating, mind invaded with thoughts of that seat-stealer. You’re not sure where he has moved to, too caught up in basking in your own internal pit of resentment and memorising every detail of the seat stealer’s cute face so that you can punch him the next time you see him.

Wait…

Cute?

As the overused saying goes, it’s just a bad day, not a bad life – and honestly, you really want to believe in that cliché encouragement. With the same lack of vigour from this morning, you head back to your apartment after class and desperately hope that none of your housemates would be home because you could really use some peaceful alone time. 

You share an apartment with three other friends – Namjoon whom you met through the student union (he’s the Vice President and you work under him as the editor of the editorial committee), Sooyeon aka your best buddy who unconditionally puts up with your angsty ass and Jimin, Sooyeon’s loverboy who’s part of your school’s dance crew.

But instead of coming home to peace and comfort, your eyes land on someone whom you’ve never expected to see again the very moment you push open the door. Let alone in your fucking house. 

The boy, too, seems to be appalled by your appearance. “Hey, you’re—” 

You point at him exasperatedly, mouth agape. “Oh my god, you’re the freaking seat-stealer!”

Your surprise is initially mirrored on the stranger’s face, but he recovers it quickly and even chuckles at your histrionic outburst. “Wow, nice to meet you too?”

For a good thirty seconds, silence and thick tension pervade the air as you smoulder with rage and confusion, until the boy begins to speak up again. 

Scratching the back of his head, he chuckles dryly, “I swear I’m not here to steal your seat whatsoever.”

“Then what the heck are you doing here—shit, are you the new housemate?”

“Yep,” he replies pompously, emphasising on the ‘p’. 

He sees you freeze up, how your eyes twitch a little, before you unabashedly blurt out a “fuck my life”, entirely disregarding your new housemate. 

“Namjoon could have warned me beforehand about having a seat-stealer as our new housemate. Seriously.” 

“Um,” he ignores your blunt cavil and extends out of his hand with a small smile. “I’m Jungkook.” 

You gawk at his hand, affronted that he thinks you’re down for a fresh start because your day has been ruined because of his stupid ass who decided to take your seat. 

Look, it does not seem that deep, but it is, in fact, that deep. 

Everything has gone downhill after your encounter with the seat-stealer. After lecture, you planned on heading to the canteen to grab food before your next class which you had a mini-quiz for, but due to the little fiasco during lecture which involved the unapologetic seat-stealer, you had to stay behind after lecture to clarify the content that you missed out with your professor, and then you missed the bus and couldn’t get to the canteen in time. In the end, you had to do your test hangry, so you definitely have every single right to be angry. 

It is just the utmost unlikely of tragedies to meet this Jungkook dude twice in a day, and now he’s your new housemate? Fuck no. 

“And you are…?” He grins awkwardly, hand still hovering in mid-air. His large, almond eyes regard you with keen interest, but you choose not to relent. 

“Getting the fuck out of here.”

You spit, spinning on your heels to thunder down the hallway and retreat to the comfort of your room. But before you slam the door to get the boy away from your sight, your conscience stops you.

Come on, you’re not that mean to leave him there without giving him the Pep Talk. That would be the least you could do. He should take that as your warm welcome and the last interaction you two would ever have. 

“So um, Jungkook, right? We have a few rules here. First off, don’t leave your trash out in the living room, throw them in the bin or recycling bin if you need to. Secondly, label your food in the refrigerator properly. Thirdly, I’d appreciate it if you don’t talk to me. Ever. Okay, yeah that’s all. Thanks, bye.” 

The words taste bland on your tongue and the distaste is plain as day on your lips as you slam the door behind you, leaving Jungkook standing in the middle of the living room, staring blankly at your door like a lost child.  

Behind him, the door clicks. Jungkook turns around and sees Namjoon at the entrance. Finally, his savour.  

“Hey hyung!” He greets a little too excitedly. 

He first met Namjoon at a music festival, in which the older was in charge of. At that point in time, Jungkook was a freshman and had just joined the dance crew (which was considered a feat for a freshman) and he had the chance to talk to Namjoon, in which he found him a really passionate and capable leader. When he found out that Jungkook was looking for an apartment in his second year, Namjoon being the wonderful gentleman he is, offered him their empty room – they needed someone to occupy the last room and it’s always better to have someone they know than a rando from the streets. 

And that’s exactly what happened. Exactly why Jungkook is standing in the middle of the living room awkwardly after being cursed at by a girl who is not only attractive to him, but also sardonic and sharp-tongued. And he just had to steal her freaking seat during lecture. 

“Sorry kiddo, got caught in traffic. I see you’ve met the wrath of Y/N?”

“Y/N…” Jungkook repeats to himself, but laughter pokes its way across mirthful eyes and tinted cheeks, displaying his bunny teeth in their full glory at the memory of your aggravated face. 

“She’s normally not like this, I swear. I don’t know why she’s so pissy today,” Namjoon shrugs as he removes his shoes. He then walks past Jungkook and ruffles his hair. 

“Maybe because I got on her bad side when I took her seat during lecture this morning?”

“Oh, that explains it. She doesn’t like… changes. She’s very anal about sticking to her routine.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“She’ll get over it soon, don’t worry.”

“It doesn’t seem like her hatred for me will end any time soon though.”

He pats Jungkook on the back, as if another way of wishing him luck. “Anyways, welcome to our humble abode! We have a few rules—”

“Oh, Y/N already went through them with me.”

“Great! My room is just beside yours, you can just pop by whenever you want, but I’m mostly not home. We have a cleaning and errands roster by the fridge, I’ve added your name to the list. Enjoy your stay, yeah?”

At Namjoon’s last sentence, your face pops up at the forefront of Jungkook’s mind. You’re intriguing, he would say. Very intriguing. Well, looks like it’s going to be one fun hell of a semester living and breathing in the same confined space as you. That, he can’t wait. 

It has been a tough two weeks living with Jeon Jungkook. He has come ramming into your life like a bulldozer, obliterating what little peaceful routine you’ve cultivated. Within the first two days, every fiber of your being has come to a consensus: you hate Jungkook’s guts. 

It’s as if he’s designated to cross paths with you to ruin your life. The very fact that you’re sharing a roof with him makes your blood boil and nerves shake with animosity and the number of times your subconscious has proposed strangling him with your bare hands is almost unhealthy.

But to your ultimate dismay, your other housemates have no qualms about accepting Jungkook – the impudent, cocky, dogmatic jerk who does not hold an ounce of consideration in his bones – and making him part of the gang. 

You, on the contrary, aren’t going to be deceived by his façade.

So you refuse to acknowledge his existence or give him the time of day. While it is almost impossible to fully avoid him because he does live in the same apartment as you, it still doesn’t stop you from not thinking twice about walking away in the opposite direction or pretending to be on your phone to avoid any potential social interaction with him when he’s in the proximity. 

Despite your reluctance, you do learn a few things about Jungkook from just pure observation or from your other housemates who, for a fact, can’t shut up about him. He’s a second-year Computer Science major, with a second major in narcissism and sarcasm (but he’s nothing compared to you), is in the dance team with Jimin, and is also a passive-aggressive and cocky jerk and proud anime weeb. 

He’s also very diligent. Diligent in pissing you off, that is. 

Thus, you’ve taken every liberty to flip him off whenever you could and it’s not as though your housemates are oblivious to your ongoing heated war with Jungkook – they just choose not to care, also because they find your discord with him very amusing. It’s their daily entertainment. But they’re mostly unbothered because Jungkook is causing misery to no one else in the apartment except you. 

You’re his only target. 

Which is weird because you like to think that you have a daunting presence which keeps most people away, accompanied by a temper too intolerable for people. But Jungkook, with his one brain cell, is unlike most people and seems to have a penchant for riling you (and only you) up, leaving all proper etiquette aside and pissing you off at the utmost degree. It’s either he’s plain dumb or lives to torture himself. Possibly both. 

Last Thursday, you came home to a battlefield, a war between a growing pile of dirty clothes strewn all over the living room (you’re pretty sure your housemates have started using one of the shirts as a rug) and takeout containers scattered all over the kitchen counter and living room. And all these were caused by the one and only Jeon Jungkook – who else would be this inhumane? Even Namjoon, the messiest person ever, cleans up after himself, or at least has learnt how to after living in a shared apartment. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, is incorrigible. But what you can’t understand is that he seems delighted to witness the consequences of his filthy tendencies.

Whenever you vociferate his name, he’s always carrying a smug and amused grin despite your evident irritation. 

He’s watching an anime on his phone on the couch when you stomp up to him and call him by his full name with your nastiest scowl. You usually try to be civil with him for the sake of your housemates, but your patience grows thinner than a thread every day, especially when he shoots you a cocky smirk, “Yes, Y/N?” 

Eyes ablaze with smouldering anger and fists jammed sharply into the flesh of your hips, tightly gripping onto the final shreds of your sanity, you say between clenched teeth, “Tell me – why are your things lying all over the living room? Do you or do you not have a fucking room?”

“Of course, I do,” he replies impassively, eyes still glued to his phone, engrossed in watching whatever’s captivating enough for the blockhead.  

Picking up a sweatshirt that hasn’t been watched in perhaps a month for good measure, you snarl, “What the fuck are you? A barbarian?” 

He looks up from his phone for the first time, the right corner of his lips curled into a lewd smirk. 

“Probably not that ugly – have you seen my face, Miss Grumps?” 

“You’re so full of yourself I might just barf at your face. And for the record, you’re not that good looking.”

“Really? I’d beg to differ.”

“The only begging you’ll do is at the doorstep when I finally kick you out of this apartment if you can’t learn to clean up after yourself.” 

Satisfied with your riposte, you hurl his clothes that you’ve dutifully picked up from all corners of the living room at his direction, but he catches them all with just one hand without even batting an eyelash. Damn dancers and their quick reflexes. 

“What? Impressed?”

“Hey look,” you assert, throwing your hands in mid-air and Jungkook’s eyes follow accordingly, staring blankly at them. “Look at all the fucks I give.”

His face drops when he realises that he’s been punked. “You’re fucking Satan’s child.”

You raise your eyebrows, mirth dancing in your orbs. Giving him a contemptuous round of applause, you dispute, “I’ve been called worse. Try harder.”

He doesn’t even need to look at you to know what kind of glower you’re boring on your face. It’s as if he has that distinctive expression of yours mesmerised and embedded in his memory. 

“Is that a challenge?” The smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“Only if you don’t come crying to me when you lose.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond and for a moment, you think you’ve got the upper hand. But your eyes gradually narrow to slits as he continues to make no inclination to acknowledge you. You realise that he has increased the volume of whatever shitty anime he’s watching. 

Fucker. 

As you gape at him incredulously, the gears in your mind spinning, there’s an unfamiliar prickle in your chest: competitiveness. You want him to bow down to you. You’re hungry to win. 

So given that skanky attitude of his, you, of course, have to retaliate by annoying the shit out of him as well. For one, you decide to drink his beloved banana milk, slurping generously on his endless supply for the next few days. The dude has two full cartons in the kitchen and you don’t want to know why. 

When he comes confronting you, you show him exactly no fucks given. 

“Where’s my banana milk?”

“Up my ass, bitch.” 

“What the fuck? That was my last one!”

“Oops, couldn’t help that I was thirsty!” 

By the anger that undulates from his pinched features, you don’t know why the fuck, but you have this wholesome sense of satisfaction knowing that he got his comeuppance. You’ve won this time and you want to continue to win. 

Oh, it’s on, Jeon Jungkook. It’s on. 

After the banana milk incident and many more that should not be mentioned, it is a known fact that Jungkook and you are profoundly contentious with each other and should never be allowed in the same room for everyone’s sake. However, God knows what went through your housemates’ minds when they thought it would be a good idea to call for a compulsory movie night. You couldn’t even excuse yourself from it without bearing the brunt of Sooyeon’s annoying pleas. 

“Look who we have here – Y/N!” 

You hear your name being slurred out on purpose a few inches above you. Looking up from your phone, you frown when your eyes land on your favourite nemesis, frowning in an instance. 

“Fancy seeing you here!” Jungkook grins smugly and you desperately want to wipe that smirk off his face. 

“Bitch, I live here.”

“Well, aren’t you just unapproachable today.”

“And yet you are here,” you scowl back. 

“Well, I am something else, aren’t I?” He smirks slyly with a victorious blaze flaring in his eyes. “Especially when you have the temper of a volcano that hasn't erupted in, say, a million years.”

The crease on your forehead grows and you click your tongue loudly when Jungkook settles himself comfortably in front of you on the floor. He even turns around to shoot you a guileful smile. 

“You’re a walking pest. The fucking bane of my existence. The devil incarnated,” you leer and he takes everything in with an amused and sinister grin before turning back to the TV. 

It’s not even halfway into the movie when Jungkook and you come into conflict again. You’re just minding your own business, watching Iron Man for the umpteenth time (you swear they only played it because of Jungkook and his obsession) when the said boy suddenly turns around and sneezes loudly. Directly at your face. He even has the audacity to laugh at your scrunched up expression. 

“Oh, sorry?” he chuckles, tilting his head slightly.  

“Sorry?” You flare up at him, throwing a pillow at his face. “You’re not fucking sorry!” 

At your outburst, a blanket of unease drapes the atmosphere and causes the attitudes of your housemates to go sour. Jungkook looks at the others who are all equally as shocked, except for Namjoon who looks like he’s enjoying what he sees because he is casually shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Um okay? Then I’m not sorry?” 

Huffing in disbelief, you clench your fists, tampering down the exceptional vexation that is tying knots around your throat, “Wow! And you’re taking it back now?”

Jungkook frowns, now completely exasperated and throws his hands in the air. “What the fuck do you want me to do? Make your mind, Miss Grumps.”

You gawk at him in disbelief, pointing to yourself while a humourless laugh escapes your lips, “Grumps? I’m not grumpy!” 

“Wow and I’m not hot.”

“You’re definitely not!” 

“Not only are you grumpy, you’re blind as well!” 

“Guys, stop it!” You hear one of the guys shout, but you’re too blinded by anger to turn to look at them. 

“Hey Y/N, calm down,” Sooyeon whispers, pulling you away from Jungkook. 

A surge of adrenaline through your limbs urges you to lunge forward and tackle him to the ground. But due to the choking rage that thickens at the back of your throat, you can’t seem to scream out coherently. Instead, an incoherent garble of insults escapes from your mouth.

“Jungkook, stop it – you’re going to drive Y/N mad,” Jimin pipes up from the other end of the couch, but has no real intentions of making Jungkook stop. The latter shrugs casually and turns back to the TV screen, leaving you fuming silently behind him. If looks could kill, Jeon Jungkook would be dead by now. 

By the end of the first month living with him, you’re definite that if there’s anything illegal you could do in your lifetime and get away with it, it would be to assassinate Jeon Jungkook with your bare hands. 

Jungkook has done a lot of stupid things in his twenty-one years of living, like any other dumb kid on the block. He has a full list of shall-not-be-mentioned past experiences because they’re really that absurd. Like climbing his neighbour tree and falling asleep till the next morning (and only realising that he had fucked up when a police car came to their house because yes, his parents called the freaking police to find the missing kid) and playing ghostbusters at an allegedly haunted warehouse with his brother (he caught a glimpse of a woman in white and thought he heard pained cries – and that was his consolation prize). 

So, he is proud to say that he is a man with no fears, or at least he likes to think that he is, because he knows that everyone else thinks that way too. He’s that designated friend who will catch your insects for you, go bungee-jumping without any hesitation and walk through a haunted house without screaming at all. He’s conquered all the possible fears little by little over the last twenty-one years of his life… Well, except for one. 

At 3am in the morning, he’s standing in the middle of the kitchen and staring at his one and only fear. He shudders at the thought of going near it and he doesn’t know if the churning in his stomach is due to his fear or just plain hunger – or both. He just needs to heat up his frozen pizza with the—

Oh. 

The microwave. 

The main source of his nightmares when his stomach decides to throw tantrums in the middle of the night. It’s the one fear that he has never been able to overcome because there’s always someone at home to help him microwave his food. If he’s at the convenience store, he’ll beg the staff to help him with it and he’s used to doing that – he’s proud to say that this mere desperate act has thickened his skin and boosted his courage.  

He halts in his tracks, staring blankly at the contraption, frozen pizza in hand. Well, he could just fuck it and eat it as it is, cold and sad but he could only imagine the countless of toilet runs following it. So no, thank you – he needs to heat up his pizza and he needs it ASAP before he faints from hunger. But as soon as he reaches out to the device, memories of his childhood trauma that he has been avoiding like the plague hit him square in the chest and he grimaces.  

He sees red waves of anger and hears roars of malice. Flinching, he takes a step back, fingers hovering over the open button. 

His stomach grumbles in retaliation. He stares at the refrigerator, contemplating whether he should whip up a simple dish instead of eating yet another microwavable junk (no offence to his beloved pizza), but decides against it when he opens the refrigerator for the nth time that night and gets reminded of how it contains not a single item that could be categorised as real food. There’s literally a carton of beer, a small pathetic stick of butter and a tub of kimchi, courtesy of Jimin’s mum. Well, he could just eat the entire tub of kimchi if he’s really that fearless. 

He’s really this close to eating his pizza cold until– 

“What are you doing?” 

Jungkook jumps out of his stupor, gasping unabashedly and almost drops his precious 10-inch pizza on the floor. Whirling around, he sees the bleary-eyed you propped against the entrance of the kitchen and he trips over his words at your sudden appearance. 

“Oh, h-hey Y/N…” He replies, but it sounds more like a squeak. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” 

His mouth does a weird, nervous thing that is probably supposed to be a smile but looks more like a wince.

“Once again, I live here.”

You gawk at him and the gears in your brain start to question the little remains of his own. You’re this close to biting his head off, but decide against it. Let there be peace tonight. 

Shutting his eyes, he wants nothing more than a bottomless black hole to open up before him and suck him in for good to avoid exposing his vulnerable side to you. Even a stranger could tell that you see him as an abomination – yes, you’ve made it that obvious – and he’s more than sure that the wrath of the sleepy you is tenfold worse than your normal contemptuous self. 

“What are you doing?” You repeat, because are you really interested in knowing what Jungkook’s up to at 3am? Not really. You have better things to tend to, like making your fifth cup of coffee of the day and tending to your paper that’s urgently due in less than three hours. 

“Well, the plan was to eat my pizza but I’ve got to heat it up,” he manages to sputter out, still grabbing onto his frozen cling-wrapped pizza for his dear life like a fool. As though you’re out to steal his food. 

“And…?” 

“And…”

“What?” You hiss in annoyance, squinting your eyes at him and he takes a few steps back from you. 

To be honest, you don’t even know why you’re talking to him. You should be cooped up in your room and smashing away at your keyboard, but you’ve been watching your stupid housemate stand idly in the kitchen for at least a good seven minutes, and he doesn’t look like he’s capable (or that he even has the slightest of intentions) of heating his pizza up. Well, maybe he likes his pizzas frozen and hard… Totally no judgment though. 

“Can you… Do you mind…” He mutters under his breath, staring hard at the ground and avoiding all eye contact with you. 

“What?”

“Um, I-I’m afraid of it.”

“Of what?” 

Slowly, he inches his head upwards and for the first time that night, he locks eyes with you. 

“The microwave,” he mumbles under his breath and you manage to catch it, but you question whether you’ve heard it correctly. 

Your mouth opens and then snaps closed. You repeat this in your state of stupefaction as your brain tries to process everything and a disbelieving “what?” floats through the appalled expanse of your mind.

He grunts loudly and buries his head in his cling-wrapped pizza. “For fuck’s sake. I’m scared of the fucking microwave.”

“W-What? Why?” 

“I’m scared that it’ll explode?” He asserts, looking away from you again. 

“Okay…” You inch closer, eyebrows raised teasingly, sarcasm laced in your voice, “So you’re making me microwave your pizza so that if it explodes… it’ll be on me—”

“W-What? No! Of course not! I just—”

A grumble from his stomach cuts him off curtly and he freezes like a rabbit caught in a snare.

Stifling a laugh, you tongue along the inside of your cheek, mulling over the proposition. Seeing how his eyes are glassy with desperation, you take his food from his grasp, stuffing it inside the microwave without hesitance. 

He backs away and cowers meekly near a cupboard when you close it shut. 

You prop your chin on your hand as you quietly watch the microwave roar to life. Behind you, Jungkook watches how your eyes follow the rotation of the plate in the microwave. Maybe because he’s starving and it’s late and he’s not thinking straight, or maybe it’s because he’s surviving on countless of bottles of Red Bull, but he thinks you look pretty like this, especially when you’re not being sarcastic or lashing it out at him. He appreciates how you don’t ridicule him further for his phobia. 

His little jump at the beep that signals that his pizza is done doesn’t go past your notice. Swiftly, you take out the plate and hand it to him. His hand brushes you gingerly when reaching for it and he beams when his pizza is finally not frozen and sad-looking. 

“Wow,” he chuckles dryly, “I didn’t think you would help me.”

"Bitch, I may be Satan’s child,” you grit, mocking his words, “But I’m not that horrible of a person to let you starve. Or eat frozen pizza for that matter. Give me some credit, will you?"

“You want some?” He mumbles with his mouth full. 

You stop to consider for awhile, but decide to fuck eating healthy. 

“Well, if you insist.”

“I didn’t. But go ahead.” 

At that point, Jungkook’s stomach grumbles for the nth time and you cannot help but grin at how dumb he looks. He laughs in return, flaunting his bunny teeth and then scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Sorry, just a little hungry.” 

"It’s okay. At least you’re not eating it straight from the freezer.”

“Hey, I was really… desperate.”

Both of you don’t realise that you’ve spent at least five minutes standing in front of the microwave, bantering with each other. For god’s sake, Jungkook still hasn’t even taken a second slice, too occupied with teasing you.  

“I’ve got to… go back. My paper’s due in," you check your watch, "Fuck, 2 hours."

With a pizza slice shoved in his mouth, he laughs at your fumbled self and mutters something along the lines of good luck and a thank you. 

“Yeah, whatever,” you reply lamely, brushing him off. 

You return to your room with a smile curled up on your lips. But you swear that that doesn’t at all dull the disdain you have for him. 

After that incident, Jungkook has become a ghost. Not in that way, but he and his mop of raven black hair start to appear literally fucking everywhere in your view, haunting you like the plague, as though his mere presence in the apartment is not annoying enough already. Whether you’re queuing for food, getting your daily dose of caffeine or rushing for class, he’s somehow always nearby much to your dismay. The Computer Science block isn’t even near your faculty, so you have no idea why he’s hanging around the places you frequent. He’s a bug, you swear. 

Whenever you see him, he always has a grin on, which is neither snarky or cocky but you can’t deny that he naturally carries an aura of natural confidence, which amazingly moulds into palpable cockiness whenever you’re around. 

You don’t ever acknowledge him, though sometimes he will throw himself on you, begging for your attention to piss you off further. 

Like how one day after lecture, you’ve bumped into someone on your way out of the LT, causing the person to drop his books. You’re about to apologise because it’s only everybody’s natural instinct, but your face falls when your eyes land on the culprit’s face. Jeon fucking Jungkook. 

“Y/N!” He gasps dramatically, voice laced with faux-enthusiasm, “What a great coincidence!”

Rolling your eyes, you huff as you grab his books and shove them into his chest, “You did that on purpose.”

“Now, why would I do such a thing?” He chuckles boyishly. 

“Why are you even here?” 

“To bless you with my presence. Oh and the last time I checked, we don’t have assigned spaces, or seats for that matter, in college. I can go anywhere I want.”

You open your mouth, clenching and releasing your fists to tamper down the vexation that is threatening to escape your throat. You’re cracking your brains for a witty riposte, but all you say is, “Shut the fuck up.”  

You know you’ve lost the fight. 

Shooting him one last glare, you whirl on your heel, storming away from him and out of the building. Though the chilly autumn air is welcoming, heat sits high on your cheeks. 

You’re angry. Fucking livid. You feel hopelessly tormented by his stupid grin, his stupid almond orbs and stupid, stupid smirk. 

With no better place to obtain advice and vent till your mouth runs dry, you’re grateful when Sooyeon and Jimin ask you out for dinner and you spend the entire night ranting about the very bane of your existence, in hopes that they will show you the light on how to deal with that pest. 

“He’s fucking annoying. Like I don’t understand how someone can be this childish. He’s in college, for goodness’ sake! But he’s… so fucking immature like how the fuck!” You cry out as you stab your fork into another fry. 

“I honestly don’t understand why you hate his guts,” Sooyeon says. “He’s really not that bad…”

“Sooyeon, how could you!” You place your hand against your chest in mock offence. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“She’s right though. Jungkook’s one of the most affable dudes I know and he’s not a fuckboy,” Jimin shrugs, biting into his burger. “He’s not that bad, really.”

You mull over every single interaction you’ve ever had with him. Besides the usual squabbling in the apartment, you don’t have that many non-heated (read: civil) interactions with him, but they all fill you with anger and anxiety. 

Your friends don’t understand shit. They will never understand how it feels to be Number 1 on Jeon Jungkook’s hit list. 

“He literally hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t. Why don’t you give him a chance?”

“We are just polar opposites all right. Incompatible. It’s like he’s born to ruin my life.”

“He told me that you helped him with the microwave the other night?”

“He told you?”

“As a passing comment.”

“Right,” you clear your throat as your brows furrow, “Dude, how bitchy do you think I am?” 

“Out of 10? Maybe a solid 12,” Sooyeon teases. 

“Fuck you.”

“I said what I said.”

“I may be a heartless bitch, but I wasn’t about to let that boy starve. He just… looked so dumb standing in front of the microwave, okay? I just had to help him.”

“Who knew you had a nice bone in you?” Jimin shoots you a look and the humorous quiver of his lip is unmistakable.

“I’m nice, okay…” A little affected by their teasing, a bitter undercurrent cruises beneath your words.

“Aww sweetie, you’re nice, okay?” Sooyeon pats you on the back, “Though you act like a bitch, your heart is pure. If only people saw this side of you more often.”

Call yourself competitive, but this streak between you and Jungkook is impossible to be wiped out. He still tries to rob you of your seat in lecture and make your life a living hell with his stupid pranks and lack of proper social etiquette.

Nobody is actually surprised when the two of you come bursting through the doors during lecture at 8 freaking am for the nth time. Even your professor stops shooting you two a look that screams “what the fuck are you two on again”, but what’s more important is that you manage to reach to your seat, yes, your seat before Jungkook could beat you to it. And he spends the next two minutes scrambling to find one in the crowded LT. You can’t explain how satisfied that makes you feel.

Towards the end of the lecture, you find yourself lifting your eyes and turning towards Jungkook’s seat, only to find him already gazing directly at you. You twist your lips, rolling your eyes disdainfully, and shoot him a cold-eyed stare that has most people cowering. But Jungkook of course, is not like most people, and just stares back at you stubbornly, his gaze piercing. 

You try your best not to break the eye-contact, but it’s hard when there’s a heat simmering under your skin, tinging your cheeks a translucent pink. 

“You win,” he mouths out. 

You stick out your tongue at him, who reciprocates your childish antics and soon, both of you fall into a contest of who can make the ugliest face. Jungkook starts to change up his retaliation strategy, flaring his nostrils and crossing his eyes and you have to stifle your laughter throughout the lecture. 

When lecture finally ends, he’s about to pack his bag when he hears the telltale sound of a camera shutter and he whips his head around absent-mindedly. 

“D-Did you just take a photo of my face?”

“And if I did…?” You shrug, waggling your eyebrows.

“Delete it, Miss Grumps!” 

“Pay me, bitch.”

He lurches for you and hooks an arm around your neck in a headlock, hunching over your torso and nestling your face against his stomach as you squeal out of surprise. The students around you stare at the both of you blankly, confused as fuck. 

Do you guys… like or hate each other? 

“Fuck off, Jeon!” 

“Pay me, bitch!” He mimics in a pitched voice to mock you. 

You refrain the urge to screech, but there’s a wide grin playing on your lips. There’s a strange tightness in your chest – your heart is swelling and you can feel it swell everywhere, the tightness fluttering throughout every vein in your body. 

To your housemates’ relief, the intensity of your discord with Jungkook has decreased tremendously and you no longer have a strong desire to bite his head off, but old habits die hard and he’s still up your ass. 

He’d be the reason why the shoes at the entrance are always a mess, why the toilet seat is always up (at least he cleans up, thank god), why your cereal is always finishing so fast, and also the only reason why all your snacks are now on the highest shelf and you’re not exactly the most vertically inclined. It’s like he’s doing this on purpose. 

“Jeon Jungkook!” 

“Yes, Miss Grumps?” He answers from behind and you whirl around, only to shriek when you see a shirtless Jungkook in front of you, hair still damp from his shower, and rivulets of water snaking down his collarbones and down to his bare torso. He is adorned in only a pair of low hanging sweatpants that show off the ripples of his toned chest and arms and the trail of soft hair down his navel.  

“What are you doing?” You screech at him. 

“I just came out from the shower and you called for me…?” He replies in confusion, but the smirk that plays on his lips doesn’t escape your notice. 

“Why the heck are you not wearing a shirt? Do you not have enough white shirts to wear?”

“Why? Like what you see?” 

“I might just have to gauge my eyeballs out.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, grumps. And for the record, I could never have enough white shirts.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. It’s really hard to not stare at his body, or drink in the view (you’d rather die than admit that he is fucking swole), but you remind yourself of the reason why you called him in the first place. 

Pointing to the highest shelf which is painfully out of your reach after rummaging through the kitchen cabinets like a squirrel in November, you glower, “Can you kindly enlighten me as to why the heck are all my snacks up there?”

With a faux-innocent expression, he chuckles dryly, “And why do you assume I know the answer to that?”

“Because no one in this apartment is as annoying and childish as you and your shrivelling one brain cell.”

“Really? I’d say that you’d make an equally strong contender.”

A taunting smirk inches its way onto the edges of Jungkook’s lips and you want to sock him in the face and wipe that vicious smirk off his lips. 

“Next time if you need help, a please would be nice.” 

“I wouldn’t need help in the first place if you stopped putting my snacks on the highest shelf.”

Shrugging, Jungkook uncoils from his slouch, rising to his full height. You draw in a furtive breath, painfully aware of how his frame looms over you, trying to ignore the weird feeling in your belly, but the sheer tactile sensation that sends a chill down your spine is electrifying. 

As he effortlessly reaches towards the highest shelf, you realise that his face is so close to yours that you could memorize the flecks of amber in his dark orbs, the curve of his mouth, the long eyelashes that frame his sparkly doe eyes, the little mole under his lip and the tresses of smooth hair falling into his eyes. 

As if on cue, his eyes land on yours. A stunned silence encompasses the space between you, sitting heavily in your lungs. He stares at you with a scrutiny that has you breathless, like he is drinking every inch of you in. 

A softness settles into the lines of Jungkook’s face, but it disappears instantly when his lips quirk in the corners.

“Now, what would you do without me?” He teases, his voice is deep in timbre and so quietly convinced that it permeates through every last ounce of irritation and you feel a flutter in your chest. 

You don’t reply. 

Jungkook continues to drink in the sight of you and the closeness of you. Heart thumping away, you suddenly find Jungkook’s hands on your waist, startling you out from your trance. He then leans closer towards you until the tips of your noses are brushing against each other. 

A blush blooms over your cheeks and snakes furiously down your neck when the sudden intimacy of the moment draws upon you. His eyes are soft and there’s a wisp of a smile on his pink lips. 

A witty comeback stays bubbled in your throat at the proximity and you forget how to speak. You swear that he can practically hear the gears in your brain turning frantically because right now, you can only think about how his touch on your waist burns, how ticklish his breath is on your face and how warm it feels to be pressed up against his broad frame. 

“You’re very welcome, Y/N.”

Drawing in a furtive breath, your hands fly up to shove him away. How could you think that Jungkook was decent? He’s practically a living devil. 

“Y-Yeah, whatever.”

“Geez, when will you ever start being nice to me?”

His eyes continue to search through yours, but you refuse to give him the time of the day. You just wonder why he always looks at you like that, with the annoyingly bright glint in his eyes. 

“When you stop being annoying.”

“But I will never stop annoying you.” 

He pinches your nose and you freeze once again, warmth scattering over your skin in the rise of gooseflesh at the sudden contact. 

His words are laced with a hint of ardour, but he does his best to conceal it as a small smile appears on his lips. “Good night, grumps.”

“Nights,” you mumble under your breath as he retreats back into his room. 

Gaping blankly at Jungkook’s bedroom door, you raise a hand to rest on your cheek as warmth continues to flare in the full of your cheeks, tipping your ears pink. 

Back in the quiet confines of your bedroom, you spend a lot less time completing your work as you should, and a lot more daydreaming about firm arms and twinkling eyes. You can’t deny that he has really pretty eyes. And a nice bod, if you might add. 

You think back to the smile that he flashes you. His smile isn’t one of those sarcastic ones that he wears when he’s challenging you, but a genuine one that makes the stars in his eyes come to live, waving to you with their little glowing hands.  

This is not good.  

The warmth at the pit of your stomach never leaves – it has wholly decided that it’s here to stay. As long as Jungkook is involved.  

A loud, piercing siren jolts you out of your sleep and you grouchily turn to glare at your clock. The luminous numbers of 3:19am scream at you and it takes every ounce of your being not to scream back at it. 

“Fire drill, guys!” One of your roommates – you think it’s Jimin but everyone kind of sounds the same with hoarse voices at 3am – shouts over the shrilling pain. “Get your asses out of your beds!” 

Groaning loudly while making a mental count of the minutes of precious sleep you’re about to waste, you pull yourself out of bed and rush out of the dorm without fumbling for your jacket. That’s a very bad decision, you realise, because it’s fucking freezing outside. 

Amidst the sea of blur faces, loud groans and unabashed yawns under the moonlight, a particular back catches your attention, alongside the dishevelled bed hair and long limbs clad in a bright yellow jacket. You squint your eyes at the particular colour of the outfit and you realise that it’s a fucking Pikachu sleeping set.

And it belongs to none other than Jungkook. 

“Jeon,” you grumble beneath your breath. 

He does an absentminded turn and gawks blatantly at you, before breaking into a chortle, doubling over. 

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Me? Your eyes trail down to your pyjamas and you freeze for an infinitesimal moment, as if paralysed when your old and worn-out Pooh Bear shirt and pink floral pants come into view. Really, what the fuck are you wearing. Considering that this is hell week, you haven’t had time to breathe, let alone have time to do laundry, so you could only settle with your old Pooh Bear shirt. 

Biting back your embarrassment, you hiss, “What the fuck? At least I’m not wearing a Pikachu sleeping set.”

“Hey, don’t you dare insult my precious childhood friend like that.” 

He feigns aggravation, but the expression on his face is a cross between amusement and endearment, and the way it makes your heart soar terrifies you.

“You’re impossible,” you let out a hearty laugh. 

At this, Jungkook feels a little warm inside his chest. He kind of wants to hear this laugh more and often. Believe it or not, even in your sleepy state, he thinks that you look lovely. 

He opens his mouth, ready to continue the banter, but someone calls your name from behind and you turn away from him.  

“Y/N!” 

“Oh hey, Jooheon.”

You have Ethics class with him, but you’re not that close for him to come up to talk to you. Heck, you didn’t even know that he stays in this block. 

“I can’t believe they have a fire drill at this timing. That’s like… illegal.”

Beside you, Jungkook has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Jooheon notices that the latter’s loitering awkwardly around you and glaring intently at him, but chooses to ignore his piercing stare. 

“Right, so um, you needed something?” You ask, cocking your head slightly. 

“Oh no, just thought I’d say hi. You look cute in your PJs.”  

Even though this is Jungkook’s first time meeting this Jooheon dude, he already decides that he doesn’t like him. Not even one bit. Jungkook’s usually great with psycho-analysing people at first sight and there’s something immediately off about Jooheon. He can feel it in his bones. 

He continues to glare intently at Jooheon and then he realises that the jerk is blatantly staring at your boobs. You’re not wearing a bra and your worn-out Pooh Bear shirt does nothing to hide your nipples that are now perky from the cold. 

“So Y/N, do you want to go out—”

“Y/N!” Jungkook screeches on cue, causing you to jump in shock. 

You jerk your head at your housemate’s sudden outburst and thank god for him, because you don’t really want to listen to the end of Jooheon’s question. Jungkook’s doe-like eyes, which are notably round like a deer caught in the headlights, are now narrowed angrily and the deep crease between his eyebrows mars his honeyed skin, further accentuated beneath the hazy yellow lamplight.

“What—”

You’re about to ask what’s up with him, before he cuts you off by grabbing hold of your wrist, tugging you away from Jooheon’s predatory gaze. 

“For fuck’s sake Y/N, c-can you please?” 

“What?”

Jungkook strips himself out of his oversized hoodie and unabashedly throws it over your head as you scream at his abrupt antic, struggling to rid yourself of his hoodie. 

“Just keep it on!” He seethes in conviction, wrestling the hoodie down on you and you realise that it smells so potently him.  

“Why?”

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he whispers sternly in disbelief, teeth clenched, as his gaze slips southward from your face. His arms fold indignantly over his chest in rage and you blatantly ignore how the lean muscles of his biceps peek out of the sleeves of his thin white shirt. 

“O-Oh… Right. Shit, sorry.”

You flush from the tips of your ears down your neck. Your fingers start to pick at a frayed thread of his hoodie under the weight of his intense starry-eyed gaze. Lowering your eyes, you stare at how your frame is drowning in his hoodie and think about your dear Pooh Bear smiling underneath the soft cotton. It looks big on you, but it makes you feel so warm, causing a tingling warmth of sweet honey gold to reach even to your own fingertips. 

“Keep the hoodie on till we get back,” he mutters, his raspy voice echoing with timber, rich and velvet.

He settles his arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to your other housemates. You ignore how tall he is beside you, how protective he is over you, how gallant you thought he was when he just tugged you away from Jooheon. You ignore how his signature scent wafts through the air. It’s a comforting, homey that rests softly on your nose. 

As you walk to your apartment with Jungkook and the rest with his arm still around you, a subconscious smile pulls at your lips until your cheeks ache and you don’t care if people think you’re on crack for smiling so widely at 3am after a fire drill, because the sound of your erratic heartbeats echoes louder than any siren.  

Vines are entangling the hole in your heart, buds sprouting on the outskirts.

Your heart is blooming. 

And you don’t know how to feel about this. 

It’s a Friday night, which means that you, being the homebody you are, have holed yourself in your room, content with a cup of hot tea and your laptop, while your housemates are out partying and having a life. 

You’re on the way to the kitchen to refill your tea when you pass by Jungkook’s room. His door is left slightly ajar, though the room is dark and your footsteps come to a halt. Jungkook normally leaves his door shut, while the others like to keep it open regardless of whether they’re in or not. Curious, you slowly walk towards the door, peeping in through the side of the door frame.

And the view that lies upon you leaves you in utter shock, rendering you speechless. Your jaw drops, your mind losing all semblance of focus while your train of thought diminishes like an exploded lightbulb. 

The room is pitch dark, except for the moonlight filtering through his gossamer curtains. But you can see Jungkook clearly. On his bed where he lies. Bare thighs caressed by his fluffy blankets, boxers tugged down to his ankles, and thighs spread apart. 

You know he is swole, but damn seeing his naked body in its fullest glory? Fuck. For the longest time, your eyes linger on the very harsh lines and sculpted muscles of his hard toned thighs. You’ve never mentioned this to anyone, too ashamed, but you do know how to appreciate nice thighs. And Jungkook’s? The bomb. Hella thick. But your eyes almost bulge out when you realise the very reason why he has his head tossed back and eyes shut closed. 

He’s jerking himself off. 

Gulping to yourself, your very first instinct is to pretend that you didn’t catch him in the act and simply go back to what you wanted to do in the first place – to refill your tea, but your eyes can’t seem to look away from his hand that’s tightly gripping around his throbbing length, which peeps out every now and then as he pumps himself vigorously. 

Your eyes trail up to his golden skin, his chest that’s glistening with beads of sweat and the hazy expression on his face and then southwards again to the popping veins on his arms, his sculptured abdomen and even lower, to the line of hair and veins trailing towards his aching length. Caressing his slit with his thumb, he spreads pre-cum all over his tip and continues stroking his dick at a fast pace. 

You can’t even count how many times you’ve cursed within the last minute, your mind a clouded, salacious haze. 

What’s dirtier than your subconscious thoughts of wanting to suck Jungkook dry and be fucked by him into the next century is the hoarse moans and sweet whimpers escaping his lips, reverberating through the room. The lucid squelching and sticky sounds from his hand and wet dick are absolutely sinful, but so, so tantalising to your ears and wetness starts to pool between your thighs.

He suddenly sits up and throws his boxers on the ground and for a moment, you think that you’ve been caught red-handed and quickly hide behind the door. But instead, he grabs his pillow and positions it underneath his crotch, slowly rocking his lips against it. Within the slightest of seconds, he starts to grind against it, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. His teeth even sink into his bottom lip to suppress the moans threatening to escape his lungs with each grind. 

"Oh god, Y/N," he whimpers, once more looking down at his pillow between his legs, precum smeared all over the pillowcase. 

You freeze. 

What the fuck. Did he just moan your name? 

You’re supposed to oppose to this, scream at him for getting off to you. But at the sound of your name, a primal instinct has been instigated deep inside you, lighting up a hungry flame within you. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping to Jungkook getting off, but what the fuck. The way he’s moaning your name so keenly, as if it’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world, spikes goosebumps along your arms. His moans are so hot and filthy that you’re panting softly at the increasing volume of his honey-dipped voice and you can’t help but rub your thighs together. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, grabbing the pillow closer to him so that he can buck against it better. “Babe, fuck yeah.” 

As he continues to moan louder, heat travels through your body in electric arcs, paralysing you and tensing your muscles. 

He’s suddenly arching up and you watch as his hands go back to wrap around his cock. He pumps himself faster and sloppier than before, determined to reach his climax. After a few seconds, he stutters before letting out an ardent groan, enjoying the waves of pleasure that deafens all of his senses. You watch with wide eyes as he milks out spurts of cum onto his clenched abs and pillow, still moaning your fucking name unabashedly. 

Chest rising and falling in quick succession, a stupid hazy smile then plays on his lips and heat returns to simmer under your skin, tingling your cheeks a bright cherry red. There’s this insinuating urge coursing your veins, causing your pussy to quiver in need. Your panties are all soaked.

Fuck. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to sit on his dick. 

Let’s be honest here: there have been some changes in your relationship with Jungkook. He has been occupying more and more of your mind. The memory of him in his bed with that fucked-out smile of his keeps resurfacing in your mind like a bad heartburn. It has you weak in the knees. You can’t stop thinking about his face. And his fucking dick. And him dry-humping his pillow. 

You can’t stop thinking about Jungkook and him stroking his dick, coming while moaning your name for fuck’s sake. 

You don’t stop repeating the scene of his hand around his dick going up and down until you hear it: the scraping of a key inside its lock. You listen to the familiar sounds of Jungkook kicking off his shoes on the floor, and then two seconds later, he’s appearing in the entryway to the living room, his charm already so damn loud in the stillness of the apartment.

At the very sight of his face, the many lewd images of your housemate flash before you. You grimace at the taunting visual, suddenly remembering that you were nearly overcome with your desire to lick every inch of his golden skin and suck his aching dick. 

This is going to be awkward. 

Sensing that you are extra quiet because you’re not barking at him about god’s knows what, he saunters over to the living area where you are mindlessly scrolling through your phone, “Hey, you okay, Miss Grumps?” 

“Yeah, just… tired,” you croak awkwardly. 

“Don’t you have classes till 7pm?”

“You remember my schedule?”

“Y-Yeah? You always come back late on Thursdays.”

“O-Oh right,” you mutter. Your other housemates remember your class schedule and it’s totally normal so that they know when to expect you, but somehow it’s different when it’s with Jungkook. 

“Decided to skip class today. Wasn’t feeling well.”

A look of concern flashes across his face. Dropping his bag on the floor, he walks towards you and presses the back of his hand on your forehead, worry burning at the edges of his regularly-cocky tone. “A-Are you okay?”

Your face burns at the touch of his skin and you tense up instantly. 

Sensing that you’re all flustered, like there’s a fire in your stomach and the sparks are floating up into the darkness of your eyes, he jokes, “You’re not extra grumpy for someone sick. That’s strange.” 

“Shut it, would you?”

“Alright, I take it back.” 

He pauses for awhile, looking at you up and down before adding, “Is that my hoodie?”

Tilting your head slightly, you instantly look down and gawk at your outfit. You’re wearing your favourite black Puma hoodie – what is he going on about? You are wearing your hoodie… except that it’s 2 sizes larger.  

You bring up your sleeve to smell the fabric and then it hits you. A familiar and refined homey scent, mixed together with your honeysuckle perfume. The familiar awakening tingle shoots down your spine once again. 

“Oh my fuck, shit I’m sorry,” you proceed to tug it over your head. 

“It’s cool, you can keep it.”

“What? You don’t want it back?”

“What? I-I mean, it looks good on you.” There’s an uncharacteristically softness that invaded his velvety voice, “So keep it.”

You look up at his face. You can’t place his expression exactly – it’s a combination of amusement and endearment, but the way it makes your heart pitter patter terrifies you. It’s like you’ve just been drenched by a downpour. A downpour of something you’re not sure you understand or ready to understand. 

You try to pretend that you haven’t been nuzzling your nose into the hoodie the entire day because it smells like home. You’re just frightened of how much you’ve grown to adore it. 

Jungkook doesn't know if there has ever been a thicker or a more dense tension hanging in the air around the two of you and it only seems to be getting heavier with each bated breath. He has a difficult time trying to develop a grasp of diction as he stands in the doorframe of your room, gripping the doorknob with a bit more force than usual, staring at the girl before him. 

He finds you hacking away on your laptop, surrounded by mountains of papers and highlighters sprawled all over your desk. He knows better than to disturb you when you’re deep in concentration, but he has accidentally bought too much food and figures that he could share some with you. 

Jungkook realises one thing: no matter what you’re doing, he always finds himself sneaking glances at you. He likes watching how your eyes narrow when you’re concentrating, your little mannerisms – like the little pout on your lips when you’re keyboard smashing and how you tend to crack your knuckles when you’re stressed. He doesn’t even know he has taken in all of your little habits and registered them into his brain, but what he knows is that: his eyes always search for you, no matter where and when. Whenever your eyes light up with a smile to match, he feels as if he might as well be caught on fire. 

He hasn’t called out for you yet, because he knows that you love to drown yourself in loud music when you’re studying so he stalks over to your desk and gently taps you on the shoulder. 

You jump slightly when you feel a hand on your shoulder and sigh loudly when it’s just Jungkook and his stupid wide grin. 

But your eyes soften at this smile. His doe eyes are crescent-like whenever he smiles – they’re always so bright and expressive with a mesmerising, enticing gleam. 

“Have you eaten?” 

Removing your earpiece, you shrug, trying to maintain an unfazed expression, “All I had today was coffee and stress.” 

Jungkook gives you the bitchiest eyeroll and brushes off the sarcasm – he probably has grown jaded to it by now. 

“I bought take-out for us but it’s cold now, so…”

You suppress the smile that threatens to play on your lips and nod. He doesn’t even need to say it explicitly – you know exactly what he’s inferring. 

“We definitely need to stop eating take-out and microwavable food. That shit be nasty.” 

You two walk down the corridor to the kitchen in comfortable silence, arms brushing against one another. He turns to look at you quietly and gets so distracted by how otherworldly you look that it takes him a moment to hand you the food in his hand. 

Nobody is hogging the living room – Sooyeon and Jimin are on a date and Namjoon is probably asleep like a log. The windows in the living room are left open and the chilly air is welcoming, embracing you two in a comfortable silence; in your private alone-time. 

After heating up the food while Jungkook sets the table (which just includes getting banana milk for both of you – he doesn’t mind sharing them with you now), you settle down on the seat opposite him and soon become fall into a comfortable conversation. Of course, it includes your usual bantering.  

“So… when did you start, you know, having a phobia of microwaves?” 

He raises an eyebrow before letting out a slight chuckle, “When I was 6… I put an egg in the microwave.”

“You did what?”

“Yeah, I stupidly did that. The egg exploded and it was loud and so scary and I got scarred after that incident… So yeah, I haven’t touched a microwave ever since.”

“But you live off microwavable food, what the heck? Then what about heating up food at convenience stores?” 

“I’ll ask the staff or an innocent nice-looking customer to help me?” 

“Then how are you going to survive in college? You live in a dorm, microwavable food is basically your life,” you chastise. 

“Well…” 

“Well?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” 

His voice is infused with honey and velvet. Something about his tone sets a pit of warmth in your stomach. 

You look back at Jungkook and find him already staring back at you. There’s something in his gaze that makes your limbs heavy. It makes you feel trapped and lost in the depths of his eyes, warm and inviting. 

“W-What?”

You notice Jungkook’s rapidly drumming his fingers against the table, while chewing on his lower lip. 

He’s nervous. 

“Um I-I mean, you’re always here for me to annoy! And the guys are here to help me too, so I think I’d survive.”

“Geez, I swear you’re only nice to me because I’m here to save your ass. If the microwave ever explodes while I’m heating up your food, you’re going to pay by taking care of me till I grow old,” you tease as he laughs, giving your arm a little nudge. 

You observe how his whole face lights up, how his eyes crinkle in the corners and his smile is so large that his nose scrunches up adorable. The laughter reverberates through the kitchen, bouncing off the walls like bells. 

You just don’t know how and when you’ve become so comfortable with his presence, but sarcasm has always been your go-to with him, especially since it helps to cover up how your voice is two tones higher whenever he’s around as of lately. Also, because saying “I hate you” is easier than saying “I actually like talking to you and when you’re not bothering me, it feels weird like there’s something missing in my life” and “your laugh is actually really nice, can you laugh more often”.

Jungkook’s feet are still beating rhythms into the leg of the dining table, his hand mindlessly stirring his long-cold noodles. He feels a little ridiculous to be happy about eating with you, especially now that the conversation has dialled down to nothing more than chewing and sipping. Every so often, he will glance up at you as he brings his chopsticks to his lips. 

"So… How come you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately?"

"Huh?"

"You’re just nicer than usual…?” He trails off, “It’s kind of weird."

"Well, I can kick your shin right now if you want?" You bite with every inch of sarcasm you can muster, but anyone could tell that your tone is fond. 

He laughs again, a low, velvety rumble from deep inside his chest and your lips curl up as well. The smile that you give Jungkook over the rim of your bowl is so unexpectedly bright that it makes something bubbly and yellow swell inside of Jungkook and he reflexively smiles in return, bright and honey-sweet. 

You can feel Jungkook staring at you, only inches away – staring at you like that, like you’re the light of the moon, like you hold the stars in the night sky with your very palm. So you pretend to be occupied with slurping your leftover broth, desperately trying to prevent your cheeks from igniting under the warm gaze that deftly lights upon you. Maybe that’s why you end up spilling your food, but you spill it half the time on your own anyway. 

You jump slightly when the liquid dribbles down your chin and onto your shirt. 

“Ah, shit,” you say, quickly wiping away the mess off your chin. 

You’re about to ask for a napkin when you feel fingers cupping your face. With the pad of his thumb, Jungkook brushes the underside of your chin. It’s a playful gesture, but also so affectionate that it’s very unlike of Jungkook and you freeze up as if paralysed. 

Leaning in, he’s so close that you can feel the flutter of Jungkook’s breath on your face, how it hitches and quickens. You stop fidgeting, eyes focused on Jungkook who quietly wipes away the liquid on your face with his thumb. He’s still staring straight at you without a word, and you see that same soft sparkle in his eyes that does nothing for the wildfire claiming the land of your chest. 

Looking into his eyes is like sitting close to a fire that suddenly blazes up. Slowly, you feel a smile growing steady across your face, and even though your heart has been racing this entire time with Jungkook by your side, it manages to beat a little faster.

Jungkook, for the life of him, suddenly realises that he has a huge, embarrassing and debilitating crush on you one fine day and he doesn’t know what to do with that information. It’s opposite of the saying – surprised, but not disappointed. 

If someone were to ask him exactly why he has fallen for you, in which nobody would since he is insanely good at hiding it and he has never told a soul, the answer would be simple. Underneath your tough exterior and sky-high walls, you’re so full of love and your heart is more delicate and softer than anyone else’s.

After a full semester living together, you two have grown more comfortable with one another and your interactions go beyond just bantering with each other and eating microwavable food together. On Fridays where everyone else would be out, sometimes you two would watch a movie together and that has become a routine that you guys follow religiously.

Today isn’t an exception. You two are huddled on the couch, sharing a blanket and relishing in the warmth and comfort of each other’s body heat. 

Upon coming to a realisation of his feelings, the flutter in Jungkook’s chest has become more obvious and more out of control – his heartbeats are a perpetual merciless staccato rhythm whenever you’re around. 

The Avengers is playing on the screen – it’s your turn to pick this week and while he loves Marvel, he pays no attention to the movie because you’re comfortably curled up beside him. 

Delirious with exhaustion, you roll over to face him, your body already sinking into the softness of the sofa. You snuggle up closer to him, pressing your chest against his arm and you wonder when he started to feel like safe harbour. 

Instinctively, his fingers reach out for yours and he starts to play with them, rubbing circles onto your palm with his thumb. He strokes up your wrist, before bringing your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your hand. You tilt your heads towards his and you can see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes, so warm and soft.

He looks like a dream, tan skin and dark hair, lit golden in the light from the TV screen. 

You heart ricochets in your chest, skipping a beat and you feel the need to hold onto something, so you grab onto his sleeve. Eyes tracking over his face, mapping over every curve of his facial features, you feel a smile slowly growing across your face at this intimacy. 

Silence hangs between the two of you and you can almost feel Jungkook’s eyes tracing the line of your collarbone where it disappears inside your sweater, his thick and dark eyelashes fluttering just a fraction with each breath.  

A cherry blossom blush blooms over his face, crossing the bridge of his nose and spreading over his cheekbones. Jungkook reaches up and brushes the underside of your chin with the pad of his calloused thumb. This gesture, so affectionate and ginger, prompts another smile to creep on your lips. 

He lets out a soft chuckle, locking eyes with you as if spellbound by the sparkly glint in your eyes. 

“Are you okay with this?” He asks in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning into your space. His voice, deep in timbre and infused with honey and velvet, washes every last rational thought of yours and you feel a flutter in your chest, running through your veins like blossoms of gold.

And you nod without thinking. 

In the briefest of moments, Jungkook leans in, palms cradling your blushing visage, and brushes his lips over your grin, so lightly that it feels like you’re swimming in a field of fully-blossomed roses. At the softness of his lips against yours, your stomach coils. 

When you feel the supple skin of his lips meld against your teeth, you push back fervently. It's an amalgamation of teeth, mumbled names and unspoken feelings that are coming to a head and finally bursting – absolutely everything you have imagined and more. 

Hooking your fingers in the collar of Jungkook’s shirt, you inch closer and you can hear his heartbeats, which almost sound akin to the rush of the ocean in a seashell.

It’s a little less gentle now. He nips harder at your bottom lip, rolling the flesh in between his teeth gently before trailing his lips down your jaw and to your neck. You sigh loudly in bliss when he sucks faint lilac bruises into your skin, as if determined to ensure that they’ll be clearly visible tomorrow and that you’ll curse at him for marking you with spots that even your best makeup couldn’t cover up. 

His fingers start to skirt beneath your blouse, tracing circles on your waist and slowly snaking their way up. Even when your tongues are entangled in a hot battle, it is sensual and romantic. It doesn’t help that Jungkook keeps making such sweet, lulling noises, like someone is plucking at his heartstrings, creating a melody just for you. All because of you. 

The very thought of that makes your body tingle with warmth from the tip of your fingers to the hollow space of your heart. 

Hands wandering south, you can’t help but slide your fingers under his shirt and drag them over the planes of his abs. His body is warm and it’s making your head spin, tugging furiously at your heartstrings too. You want to get his shirt off and see all of Jungkook. Your heart feels like summer rain, warm, light and pattering. You want to melt into him. 

Parting from you moments later with swollen lips, he doesn’t break eye contact from you and you see stars in his eyes that shine nothing but ardent adoration and fondness for you. 

There is a sharp tug of fear and discord in your chest and you feel your heart drop. 

Then everything clicks. 

This is wrong. So wrong. 

“Jungkook,” you whimper, his name leaving your parted lips in a dulcet whisper. Your heart spikes in your chest and your stomach unravels and knots again. When you let go of his shirt, you feel like you’ve let go of a piece of your heart. You feel like puking. 

“Y-You’re someone special to me, Jungkook.”

He feels his soul pitfall into the depths of his stomach, knowing very well that there’s a ‘but’ coming next. 

“That’s, um, nice,” he says, feeling his face and throat flush. “You’re special to me too.”

Looking deep into his orbs, you realise this: he has heart eyes for you, like you hold his entire world with your mere breath. 

And to be very honest, you’re terrified.  

“But I-I can’t, Jungkook.”

There’s a long pause and the silence presses against you, weighing so heavy that you feel like you’re being suffocated. The voice that crawls out of your lungs barely feels like your own and you’re not sure if you mean what you say. The words sting like nettle leaves on the tip of your tongue. 

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

A wave of panic cuts through the pins and needles pricking down your spine as he remains quiet. You half-expected him to make a sarcastic comment or smirk at you for punking you with the kiss. Instead, he’s just staring at you blankly and his vacant expression is an abyss – it’s unnerving. 

Jungkook maintains his silence like the moon and the silence in between you continues for moments and moments, as if the world has come to a halt. It’s so quiet that you could hear the erratic thumping of your hearts. 

Then he opens his mouth. “Oh, okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats succinctly, sounding more helpless by each second, “If that’s what you want.”

The raw helplessness in his voice fights against the walls in your heart. It’s tearing down the walls, clawing aggressively at them, hopelessly yearning that they’ll crumble down for him. 

“I’ll just… give you some space,” he starts to stand up, shoulders drooped low, unable to meet your worried eyes. 

When he spins on his heels towards the door, instead of going after him, all you do is gape at his departing silhouette for the longest time and then at the shut door, your heart painfully swelling up to the size of the sun. 

You feel your entire world dissolve in slow motion.

Deep down, tucked within a crevice of your heart, you know you want to be as close to him as possible. You want him all to yourself. But you’re unsure. 

You’re not sure how to express the depth of what you feel for him or how you’ve grown to love the little things about him. Like how he makes a big pot of coffee and comes into your room to hand you a warm cup every morning, how he sings softly to himself in his room when he thinks nobody is listening, or how he’s always teasing you and making you laugh. How he always looks for you whenever he needs to heat up his food, even when the others are at home. How he brings you peace when there’s a perpetual whirlpool in your mind. When you’re with him, you realise that the weight of the multiverse on you doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

You don’t know how to tell him all these in words and actions and you’re a writer for fuck’s sake. But what you do know is that you never want to see that sad expression on his face ever again. 

If there’s one you are especially – and notoriously – horrible at, it would be dealing with your feelings, namely feelings for Jeon Jungkook. Truth is, you hate yourself and you’ve been a complete wreck ever since that day. 

“Jungkook.” 

Ears perking up at the name, you snap out of your trance and tilt your head upwards. “Wha—where?” 

The sound of his name is like blunt nails being hammered into your heart, until the organ is left nothing but a bloody, useless pulp. 

“He’s not here, dumb ass. I just thought that saying his name would be more effective than calling your own name,” Namjoon says, giving your forehead a little flick, “I’ve been calling you for the past minute.”

“Oh sorry—”

“You’re whipped.”

“What?” 

“You like Jungkook,” Namjoon says matter-of-factly. 

You tense up instantly and a deafening silence descends. 

Eyes soft and unassuming, he flashes you a soft smile and his face is doing that thing where he gazes at you like you’re made of glass and he can see through your heart and soul. Namjoon, out of all people, knows that a soft and feeble heart is hidden behind that attitude and sharp tongue of yours. 

An involuntary sigh escapes your lips and you bury your face into your palms as your suspire lowers into an interminable groan. The uncomfortable, electrifying sensation that you associate only with one name crawls up your spine, like a colony of ants marching on your skin. 

Namjoon’s right. 

Jungkook has exploded into your life like a firework: bright, loud, and so dearly ethereal. It’s his bright doe eyes and boyish bunny smile that caught you off-guard during your first encounter with him. And somehow or another, he has waltzed his way into your life ever since, seamlessly, like the last piece to your puzzle.

You do notice how your heart becomes all erratic and out of control when he's around. Throbbing, threatening to demolish your steel, collected demeanour into bits. He makes you feel like the female character of a trashy teenage romance novel and as much as you hate the idea of feeling like a 12-year-old, if it’s with Jungkook, it’s fine. 

It’s as if you two are meant to gravitate towards each other, fill up the void in each other’s lives and soak in each other’s comforting presence. Ignore your initial hatred for him – you’ve actually grown to enjoy the sweet calm of Jungkook’s presence and company, and even that itself is an understatement. He has planted himself into your life so well that it’ll be freaking strange if you decide to push him out of your life. You don’t think you can’t function properly. 

No bathroom singing, no messy sofa, no seat stealer, no microwave adventures. No intimate touches. No bunny smiles or boyish chuckles. No one to make you smile and laugh as though life isn’t tearing you down every second. 

You love hearing Jungkook laugh. His laughter is a metaphor that you’ve been trying to pen down for years. And his smile? It’s a radiance of ardent adoration. Utterly beautiful. 

And then there’s the other thing – something embarrassing that took forever for you to realise and even longer for you to admit it to yourself. 

But you know now and your heart is screaming.  

“Yeah, I do,” you whisper back, feeling like the bits and pieces of your brain are coming together. 

“You want to date him,” Namjoon raises his brows at your confession. 

“I think so?” 

“Hold his hand and cuddle together?”

“Yes.”

“Suck his dick?”

“Ye—God, Namjoon! What’s up with your filthy mouth?”

“Dude, don’t act all demure with me.”

“I’m still not talking to you about wanting to fuck Jungkook.” 

He rolls his eyes, but the grin on his lips says otherwise. 

“But that’s great, Y/N. Took you years to acknowledge your feelings. But just to let you know, the kid has been waiting for you to come back home every night. You should go talk to him.”

No matter what you tell yourself or whatever insecurities you have, there is truth that you’ve always had a place reserved for Jungkook in your heart, nestled between fragile hopes and waning kindness.

The boy makes your heart sing. He’s got a soft, sweet heart, a ripe mango of a heart, yellow and full. In between the bantering sessions and microwave misadventures, you have accidentally and unquestionably very much fallen in love with Jungkook.  

But you don’t know what to do. 

What you know is that you need to talk to him. 

The stillness of the hour makes the walls lurch even more seismic when you open the front door, expecting the apartment to be pitch dark. You assume that nobody would be in the living room at this timing and Jungkook would be holed up in his room watching anime or perhaps at a party, chugging down shots as an attempt to forget you and move on with his life because you’re a heartless bitch and he deserves so much better. 

However, the little lamp at the corner is lit up and when you walk towards the couch, you see Jungkook curled up on it, drowning in his big hoodie and looking softer than ever. His left cheek is squished from where he is lying down on the pillow. 

You heart gnaws at the sight of him and it hurts even more when you realise that he is waiting for you to return. 

He stirs in his sleep upon hearing footsteps and fully jerks awake when he hears your voice. 

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, reaching out to caress his face, fingers brushing against the scar of his cheekbone. He slurs in response, turning his face into the curve of your palm and brings his hand to caress the back of your hand, causing your heart to snap. 

“You’re back,” he announces breathlessly, like he couldn’t believe it. He stares at you with forlorn eyes and you only spare him a half-second glance before turning away, seemingly disgruntled.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly says.  

“What? Why are you—”

“Sorry for making you uncomfortable,” he mutters with a softness that invaded his velvety voice.

“Don’t say sorry,” you reach out to grasp his hand, rubbing your thumb onto his palm, “I should be the one apologising.”

“No—”

“Jungkook – listen,” you settle yourself on the couch beside him, “I don’t know what I want. That’s part of the problem.”

You sigh, “I want something from you, but I don’t know what. I don’t know how to name it or quantify it. I don’t like not knowing what to do.”

Jungkook peers up at you through his bangs, deep in thought and even in his sleepy state, he knows exactly that he never wants to let you go. He doesn’t want to lose you. He wants this.  

“It’s okay, Y/N—”

“I’m too cynical, always too sceptical. Too mean for anyone. I’m also a fucking dumb hopeless romantic. I want a lot of things, Jungkook. I want to love… but I don’t know if I know how to? I’m not sure if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” he whispers, “I really do. I’m scared too, like really fucking scared. What if I hurt you? What if I don’t love you right? What if one day we might not be the same anymore?” 

You lower your head in fear, feeling a ripple of anxiety pass across your chest at the thought of the future and Jungkook swears he can hear the gears in your brain turning frantically. 

“But we never know until we try, right? And I… want to try with you. Because it’s with you.”

You curl closer to him, taking in the pleasantly warm and comforting scent of him and he brings you to a warm embrace, pressing little kisses to your forehead. 

Silence weaves itself into the spaces of everything around the two of you. It’s comfortable – you feel like you’re finally at home. 

It could be due to the fatigue or the way he’s looking at you, so intently, but you find yourself blurting out without a thought.  

“Your heart,” you mumble, pressing your hand over his chest and taking in the ghost of Jungkook’s warm breath on your face, “is beating so fast.”

You gaze closely at his visage and drink in the view – his messy bed hair, slightly flushed cheeks, soft pouty lips – and right at this very moment, you can confirm that you’re really stupidly besotted with him. You swear Jungkook has never looked more beautiful than in that moment of him softly gazing at you with a devotion that you can never find in anybody else. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out with a soft smile, “It’s always like this when you’re around.”

“D-Did you just flirt with me?” 

There’s a tickle that dances across his lips, a sparkle of mirth glimmering in his eyes. “Have been for the past few months, but thanks for noticing.”

A blush paints your cheeks fervently, while your heart is doing a fucking waltz even though it knows shit about dancing, the rest of you nothing but moonlight and air. 

“Do you think… you’ll give us a chance?” He whispers earnestly, a tone three notches deeper and your heart gnaws at how gentle and careful he is with you. 

Us. 

“Jungkook, you have all my heart,” you whisper softly, “You always did.”

The most adorable of smiles slowly forms on his face and it feels like everything stands still around you. You feel the warmth of Jungkook’s palms cradling your blushing features, while he strokes your cheeks lightly with his thumb. A grin moulds on your face that resembles his own.

In that split second where you’re relishing in the ghost of his breath against his face, he leans forward and brushes his lips over yours so gingerly that it’s akin to the caress of a feather. The euphoric feeling of Jungkook’s soft lips on yours directly connects to the bones in your legs and turns them to jelly. 

For moments and moments, you swear you could see fireworks and the galaxies splayed out above you.  

He feels you softening like clay and relenting to the otherworldly sensation as he traces the tender flesh of your lower lip, the shape of his mouth quieting the chaos in your head. He can taste your heartbeat at the tip of your tongue.

Jungkook slackens his jaw, deepening the kiss. His tongue grazes along your lower lip before instantly meeting yours, tangling for dominance. He can’t resist himself any longer. He wants more of you, needs a taste of what he’s been yearning for so long. He nips lightly at your lower lip and smirks when an unexpected gasp falls from your mouth. 

He alternates between licking into your mouth hungrily and sucking on your lower lip and tongue. He kisses you slow and deep, all seeking tongue and teeth, making you into him desperately, all passion and open mouths.

Trailing south, his lips plant a tentative kiss on your jawline and then on your neck. He takes his time, hard muscle of his tongue lapping at your sweet skin, lips sucking until a blossoming bruise begins to form. Your breath catches in your throat, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. He feels you lean against him, craning your neck to give him better access to dust lovebites all over your supple skin. 

“Jungkook,” you gasp, relishing in the warmth from his chest. 

He hums in response, a low rumbling sound that vibrates against your chest and it seems to ignite something in both of you. 

You run your hands over Jungkook’s stomach, down his narrow waist and the bottom of his ribcage, your fingers softly brushing against his happy trail. He tenses up immediately and you stifle a giggle, fascinated by the flutter of his muscles as he breathes when you touch a new spot of his body or graze your teeth over his tongue. 

You don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many times you thought about running your tongue along the tautness of his stomach, or how his jaw might clench when you wrap your lips around his dick. 

You want him.

And he wants you too. You can feel it in the way he kisses. How eager he’d be to fuck you dry even if that meant getting caught red-handed by your roommates with his pants around his knees, balls deep in your guts in the fucking kitchen. 

“You make me so hard all the time it’s not even fucking funny,” he laughs dryly, looking at you in endearment. 

“You know… I saw you masturbating the other night.”

“W-What? When?” 

You bite your lower lip at the lewd mental image. “A few weeks ago, you were…”

“What was I doing?” The smallest of smirks starts to tug at his lips. He’s challenging you. 

“You were… stroking yourself…”

“And?”

“… Humping your pillow and calling out for me.”

“Fuck Y/N,” he groans, nuzzling his face into your neck, “You’ve got such a dirty mouth.”

“You asked me where you were doing!”

“Did you like what you saw though?”

“I—”

Leaning towards your ears, he lowers his tone and whispers, “You always make me fucking hard, I think I need to punish you for that. Bet you’ll like that, won’t you?”

“Jungkook, what—” 

“You got to make it up to me, Miss Grumps. Have a taste of your own medicine.”

“You calling me Miss Grumps totally ruined the mood.”

“Sorry… babe?” He chuckles for a lack of a better response. 

You smile again, feeling a ripple of molten and saccharine sweet longing ease its way up your belly at the endearment. 

Your eyes track over his visage, his dark eyes glassy with unadulterated adoration and love as he attacks you with kisses all over your face. You can’t hold back the little whimpers that escape your throat and Jungkook ardently swallows every single one, grateful for every single noise you make. 

His breath is coming out in warm swathes of air against your collarbones and you glance down to see his eyes, the slow blinks of his heavy lids, each breath laboured and potent with lust.

Pressing his lips all over your throat, wet and messy and wonderful, you whimper when he sucks hardly just beneath your jaw that has got you quivering and that only prompts him to suck on it harder. 

You don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many times you’ve thought of this – him planting hickeys all over your neck, or you running your tongue along the tautness of his stomach, or how his jaw might clench when you took him into your mouth.

“Jungkook,” you break out of your trance and whisper, “I want to suck you off.”

Desire ricochets through his abdomen at your dirty words. He can’t believe his ears. 

“Where?” 

“K-Kitchen.”

He shoots you a look at your response, but doesn’t probe further when he sees a sly smile on your face, eyes clouded with a salacious lust. 

He’s even more turned on by this, smashing his lips on yours again, kissing you so fiercely and passionately. Carrying you over to the kitchen with your legs tightened around his waist, he delights in the friction and warmth of your body against his as your lips are still busily entangled in a hot battle. 

You push him atop the counter while your hands worm their way to the waistband of his sweat, tugging it down his sinewy thighs and you try not to drool at his rippling thigh muscles. 

“You’re so fucking dirty,” he quirks up an eyebrow, his voice noticeably deeper and gruffer, “The guys are going to be so pissed.” 

With a sharp intake of air, he tips his head back with his eyes shut. When he reopens them, he sees you kneeled before him on the kitchen floor, eyes dilated with a virtuous gaiety. You palm his length over his underwear without warning, causing him to groan out loud, bucking forward when you inch closer to give his clothed budge a few kitten licks. 

The desperation of his situation only seems to increase in severity when you tug down the elastic band of his boxers and slide them off his legs, finally freeing his erection which springs out from its confines, slapping hard against his abdomen. 

Jungkook’s much bigger than you expected, his tip angry and red, leaking with pearly beads that dribble down his length and the bulging veins that line it. He is also hard. Very painfully hard and throbbing red, because you are so angelic and sinful all at the same time, and it’s making him really fucking desperate. 

“Fucking hell. B-Babe, don’t tease, please,” his entire body shivers when your hot breath passes through to the sensitive skin of his cock. He’s fucking aching with need. 

Jungkook’s jaw drops, continuing his string of curses, but the words are instantly replaced with a breathy moan as you press his tongue to his navel, licking down his happy trail teasingly. Locking eyes with him, your fingers gingerly trace the soft lines of his abdomen, lingering over the sensitive flesh above his member and nipping at it, teasing him in ways you could have only imagined before. 

Leaning in, you take his dick in your hands – it’s thick, hot and throbbing with need. Eyes still locked with his, you plant a soft kiss at the head in an almost kitten-like fashion and your tongue tingles at the taste of his pre-cum that already accumulated smelting on the saturated expanse. 

You’ve wanted to do this for the longest time. You don’t know how many times you’ve thought of running your tongue along the underside his length from the base to head, taking each ridge and curve into account, your head bopping up and down, pleasuring him to no end and revelling his deep, sinful moans. 

You look up through your eyelashes, vision hazy with lust. Jungkook has his head tipped back again in pleasure, his irises are gone, eyeballs rolled back in his head as he clenches down at his teeth to hold back his moan. 

The very sight sends an electrifying heat down to your arousal. You want to suck him off so badly and make him feel like the man on the moon. So you start peppering light kisses onto the head, before capturing his length into the warm moistness of your mouth, prompting a raspy fuck from him, and hollow your cheeks enough to press against the sides.

Parting away from his tip, your tongue licks the underside of his cock before finding its way to his balls, sucking hard on them and rolling them around in your mouth one by one. Jungkook bucks his lips forward at this as dirty curses erupt from his throat. 

“Fuck babe, that feels fucking good,” he runs his fingers through your dishevelled locks, trying his best to stifle his moans. 

Upon his reaction, you smile to yourself, continuing to alternate your tongue between his balls and his hard shaft. When you take his cock into your mouth again, you thrum blithely at the fullness of him, opening your mouth wider to take him deeper until you bottom out, nose brushing against the tussock of cleanly trimmed pubic hair at his navel. 

“Fuck, you’re so good. I’m so fucking lucky,” he says, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

Saliva pools in your mouth as you start swirling your tongue around the head instead, humming in response at how he tastes and feels on your tongue. The vibrations make him shiver, one hand at the back of your head and the other on the kitchen counter. You pop off audibly after a while, hand still working at the base of Jungkook’s cock, fondling his balls.

“Want to fuck your mouth so bad,” he growls and your entire body quivers. 

Grabbing his cock, Jungkook repeatedly taps his meat against your cheek, waiting for your permission before he steers it into your mouth again. With a low, guttural groan, he wraps your hair tight in his fist and starts thrusting his dick into your mouth harder than ever, filling you to the brim. 

Your jaw slackens while taking in all of him, the tip of his cock hitting the deep back of your throat. You take in as much of him as you can, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he continues to hit the back of your throat. It’s uncomfortable, but the weight of him on your tongue makes your bundle of nerves burn, your underwear wetter than ever. 

“Jesus, you’re fucking good at sucking me off.”

It’s when you hum in pleasure with Jungkook’s cock still halfway down your throat that he lets out something of a wail. His mind is in turmoil and he can’t think straight for the better of him. He can only think about how fucking hot you look on your knees, in between his thighs, giving him the best blow of his life. Eyes hazy and obsidian, he believes that this is the most erotic sight he has ever seen and he’s fucking turned on. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. I’m going to come soon, but I’m not coming unless it’s in your tight sweet pussy.”

“Shit,” you mutter at his filthy talk, pulling back up from his cock to pant for air, but the strings of dibble trailing from his cock to your swollen lips arouse you even more. 

“Come on, let’s go to my room before anyone wakes up and gets the shock of their lives.”

He pulls you to your feet, palms smoothing your ass cheeks and smacking each side hard, before he leans in to smash his lips on yours. Fuck, he can taste himself on your lips and in your mouth and this only increases his desire to fuck you senseless. Impatiently, he sweeps you off your feet effortlessly, carrying you bridal style to his room. You try not to stifle at how frantic he is, his red aching cock still hanging out, while his sweats are still pooled around his ankles.  

Kicking his bedroom door open, he lies you gingerly on the bed before walking over to lock his door. When he returns with a hazy smile, he lowers his body on top of yours and your hands naturally clutch around his neck. Your heart thumps when you can feel the frenzy of his pulse underneath your fingers. 

His fingers secure around your chin, tilting your face up to meet his lips in a kiss, filling you with liquid heat. This one is slow but heated and still leaves you completely breathless. Before you can lick his mouth, Jungkook pulls away from your mouth to slide your shirt up.

You find his fingers carding through your hair as if to soothe your nerves, before they trail down to your neck and over the dark red bruises on your neck from earlier on to rest on your shirt, tapping a rhythm against your chest. You give him a nod and his fingers begin unbuttoning your shirt, delicately ghosting his touch over your breasts and chest so painfully slow that you cry for him to hurry the fuck up. 

A satisfied smirk tugs at his lips at each sound of your unadulterated desire and when your shirt is fully unbuttoned, he pulls you up in one smooth movement, tugging it off and tossing it onto the floor. 

Sliding a thigh between your legs, Jungkook allows you to rut against him while his hands begin their ministrations, wandering all over your body, inspecting every inch of it, grabbing and squeezing every curve of yours. He bends forward to trail open-mouthed kisses over your bare torso and the knot of lust tightens within your abdomen. 

His breath is coming out in warm swathes of air against your skin and you glance down to see his eyes, the slow blinks of his heavy lids that are eyeing your entire body, each breath laboured and concentrated with lust. 

His hands rest on your hips as they squeeze and caress your skin each time you whimper his name like a mantra, while he leans forward to your neck again, the ghost of his breath leaving a trail of fire down your throat until they reach your tits. 

Tugging your bra down to expose the swell of your breasts, he leans back to watch your face as his thumb darts right over your hard nipple, working a slow, lithe circle around your sensitive nipple before he tweaks the bud in between the pads of his fingers. You feel him lick at your nipple tentatively before he engulfs it in his mouth, sucking it hard while his other hand fondles with your other mound. 

It’s a tidal wave, causing wetness to pool between your thighs and you press them together, trying to create some friction or subside the uncomfortable stickiness invading your underwear. 

Lowering himself down between your thighs, you wait with bated breath before he starts licking and bestowing kisses on your navel and then down to your inner thighs, leaving you gasping at the sensation of his hot breath dancing across your sensitive skin.  

You emit a soft whimper which then melts into a desperate moan when he buries his nose against the cotton of your panties, his mouth teasing your bud through the soaked fabric. Very timidly, you raise your hips, seeking friction, and Jungkook receives you with the same hunger. 

“Going to eat you out so well you’re going to forget your fucking name and only remember mine.” 

His eyes, hazy with lust, lock with yours and he smirks viciously. The concupiscent blackness you found within them swallows you whole.

Your nerves jitter anxiously, raising tiny bumps of excitement across your skin as his fingers graze over your clit generously. Your body arches involuntarily when he licks a brazen stripe up your folds with his flattened tongue, taking in all of your juices. The sudden invasion of his tongue has you purring in delight. 

He edges your clit eagerly, flicking it with his tongue, teasing in circles before he sucks on it roughly and then lapping at it hungrily like a starved man. Gasping loudly, you bring one hand to cover your mouth, your breath stuttering as your other hand goes down to tug hard at his raven locks, your hips bucking forward and into his mouth. 

You mewl out loud when he slips his tongue inside your tight walls, fucking you with the flat of his tongue. Just when you think it couldn’t feel any better, he eases one finger into you slowly, smoothly sliding over your soaking wet folds until it’s knuckle-deep inside you. When you throw your head back in pleasure, he adds another finger, pulling his mouth away to focus on scissoring you and hitting all the right spots. 

“You like teasing me, don’t you? How about now?”

Without warning, Jungkook begins curling his fingers inside you, spreading your lower lips wide to allow your juices to flow past his knuckles and drip onto his bedsheets. His fingers continue his assault on your pussy for moments and moments, pounding mercilessly into you, the heel of his palm taking its place on your clit. 

The squelching sounds of his finger delving in and out of you are melodic to his ears, reverberating through the room. He then brings his lips back onto your clit and the cadence of his tongue on your clit is tantalising, tongue either lapping lazily at your clit or sucking on it ardently. 

Adrenaline runs through his entire body, lighting up his nerves like firecrackers. He can’t believe this is happening. “I could eat you all fucking day. You’re so hot, Y/N.”

With the combination of his tongue and fingers furiously fostering your orgasm, you know you’re not going to last for very long. 

“Jungkook, please. I’m going to cum soon. Please, please,” you whimper helplessly on his sheets. 

Upon seeing your rolled up eyes, parted mouth and arched back, accompanied by the loud moans and cries leaving your mouth, the music of your voice pleading for him, he pulls away from your clit, smiling proudly to himself. 

“You’re not coming now. You can only come on my dick.”

You moan disgruntledly at the loss of his fingers and tongue, feeling empty all of a sudden. Shooting him a glare of betrayal, you’re about to scream at him for being a tease, but your eyes widen when you see his flushed skin, plump lips, shiny forehead, your own glistening nectar leaking from his lips and dribbling down to his chin and neck. 

And suddenly, you’re tongue-tied, squirming again. The throb in your core is torturous, your entire body is caught in a crossfire as you lie pliantly under Jungkook as his arms cage around you, helplessly soaking his bedsheets. 

You want him to wreck you. 

He pushes your trembling thighs apart as he settles between them. You whimper when you finally feel the head of his cock prodding at your soaked lips. But he doesn’t enter immediately. Instead, he slaps his cock against your pussy, and the filthy action only turns you on even more, driving your nerves into a frenzy. 

It seems like eons when he finally sheathes himself inch by inch inside you, till his cock is up to the hilt, and god, it feels so fucking incredible. The electricity that shoots through your blood is like a drug. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you hiss, threading your fingers into his hair as he groans at the feeling of you surrounding him. He waits for your entire body melts into him before moving. You can only keen at the surge of fullness, clenching around his thick length. Biting your lip to keep yourself from waking up your housemates, you reach up for Jungkook to pull him into another kiss. 

With his lips still locked with yours, he fucks you so thoroughly, the agonising roll of his hips hits that sweet spot with deadly accuracy, your body writhing in pleasure.

The warmth of your pussy makes his eyes roll to the back of his head, especially when your walls mould around every ridge and vein of his cock. He loves watching how his cock disappears into you, your tight pussy swallowing it up to the hilt with no difficulty, taking him so fucking well. So he draws his hips back, and you can feel every inch of his heat going with the motion before he swiftly plunges his cock back into you. Unrelentingly hard. Over and over again. 

Your back arches at the sensation and wanton desire for more, moaning his name out loud like that’s the only thing you know. 

You can feel the need and lust in his thrusts, from the way his fingers dig into your hips and hold you in place, leaving bruises on your skin as he rams himself into you, without even bothering to muffle the sound of his toned thighs hitting the back of yours every time your hips meet. You fucking love this, fucking love how strong his thighs are, how full his cock is making you feel. 

Each dirty, fast slap of skin and the momentum of his cock buried deep inside of you only makes the two of you needier. Jungkook doesn’t tease this time, probably not able to hold back anymore, and the bucking of his hips builds up to a fast, animalistic frenzy, plunging his cock into your body. He hammers roughly against your g-spot enough to rock your body forward and back with every thrust, warming your body like sunlight.

He reaches to fondle with your breasts, tugging potently at your nipple before sucking hard on it. Looking up, you see him smiling brightly, flashing his bunny smile and it drives you insane how he can fucking you so good, but still look so innocent at the same time. 

“Love you so fucking much,” an enticing lilt caresses the edges of his already hoarse voice, the smile on his lips growing wider. It’s the same fond grin he gives you when he sees you in the kitchen, in the hallways in school and when you’re back home after a long day at school and goes straight to join him at the couch after you two were past the I-hate-you-fuck-off stage. 

“Love you, love you, fucking love you.” 

A saccharine smile dances in the corners of his lips as he kisses you roughly, the shaken quavers of your moans thaw in the heat of his kisses, as his hands grope your ass tightly, still fucking you so well. 

Each slickened thrust is accompanied with a deep roll of his hips so that he is right there inside of you, causing you to feel choked at how close you are. Hazy with ecstasy, you roll your head against the pillow, nails digging deeper onto his back. 

With eyes rolled back, your entire body trembles with pleasure as your cunt suctions around his cock, alongside the burning feeling of fire pooling low on your abdomen. You’re clamping down on him hard enough that he’s delirious, his steady pace becoming more frenzied. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Jungkook. I’m coming!” 

He leans forward to press a kiss on your eyelids, whispering sweet praises into your ear as he brings one hand to rub the small hard bub unrelentingly to relieve your tense bundle of nerves.

Determined for you to reach your high, Jungkook grabs at your knees, hiking your leg over his shoulder and you let out a cry at the new position. 

“You love this? You love it when I fuck you harder?”

You scream out a yes when he taunts you even more, feeling every single ridge of his dick against your walls as he fucks you at a better angle of access. It feels so, so fucking good. 

He speeds his hips up so much so that the sound of skin slapping fills the room, almost overpowering your moans. Almost. You don’t even fucking care if your housemates can hear your filthy moans. 

“Fuck,” you groan shamelessly when the coil inside you grows tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter. “J-Jungkook, I’m fucking cl-close. Please, please!”

“That’s right,” the smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth upon hearing you beg and he continues to fuck you harder than before. Fucking you into oblivion. “Come for me, love.”

Beneath his touch, you feel light and heavy all at once, while a white heat pools in your belly. Your body locks up entirely and then dissolves into an erratic series of spasms. Your legs writhe uncontrollably alongside a torrent of ecstasy that splurges from your center, head spinning to static noises and hot moans as Jungkook holds onto your body firmly to help you through your climax. 

After your high, Jungkook resumes to move in and out you, while a combination of a hoarse moan and your name is strangled out of his throat from the depths of his lungs. 

“Shit, fuck, I’m coming,” his voice trail off and his thighs tense as he slams into you, holding your hips firmly in place. Your small fingers thread through Jungkook’s hair, holding him close and urging him on.

“Come inside me, please. I want you. I want your hot cum.”

He lets out a deep moan, his face burying into the crook of your neck and shoulder as he rides out his orgasm, moaning and whimpering into your ear as he releases deep into you, spurts of warm cum filling you so full and spritzing your walls white. He ruts into you until your pussy milks him for all he’s worth. 

He can feel his pearly cum oozing out of your clenching entrance, slipping down your trembling thighs. He doesn’t pull out just yet, dick still nestled inside of your tight walls, wanting you to feel full with his cum. When he finally pulls out, he collapses on top of you, planting kisses all over your face before nuzzling into the warmth of your neck. 

Still trembling with the power of your orgasms, the both of you stay like that for a few minutes, just catching your breaths and enjoying the swims of your heads in a comfortable silence. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breaks the silence with a chuckle before sliding down between your legs again. 

“W-Wha—”

Prying your legs apart, his eyes land on your pussy that’s dripping with his cum and he lets out a guttural groan at the dirty view. He gives your clit a chaste kiss and your hips buck up into his face as he gathers his juices onto his tongue, tasting the otherworldly mix of your juices. 

“I’m cleaning you up, babe.”

Flushing red like summer cherries with a hazy smile dancing on your lips, you whimper. “H-Ho—”

He cuts you off by diving right back in to lick a stripe up your slit and you jolt, both legs trembling and breath hitching in your throat. Soon, he has his face buried deep in your cunt again, lapping at your cunt and even throws both of your thighs over his shoulders to keep you from slamming your legs shut. 

It’s so fucking filthy. And so unbelievably hot. 

When Jungkook pulls back with his spellbinding smile, licking the leftover juices on his lips, you feel as though you might come for the second time. He surges forward to meet your lips and your head spins from tasting the sweetness of your juices together. 

He places another tender kiss to your forehead before settling onto his back and you naturally roll yourself over, nuzzling snuggly into his warm embrace. 

It’s a cuddle fest in the middle of the bed arms thrown over each other, legs entangled despite the remaining sweat and love juices. Jungkook is grinning hazily at you, breathless, and he feels his heart do a fucking waltz. He sure can live with this. 

When morning arrives, the sun is shining through a different window than you’re used to and you’re not your bed. The air is orange and the sunlight that bounces off the bedroom walls is nothing but welcoming. Rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you see fragments of dust in the air, whirling around like snowflakes. 

Beside you on the bed is Jungkook, who’s sleeping soundly, with dishevelled locks and swollen lips and the rise and fall of his chest comforts you more than you’d ever know.

At this, the memories of last night come rushing back to you almost immediately and your heart gnaws at how real this is. You look around Jungkook’s room. You see the few pictures on his wall and you spot one with you in it, sending your heart ricocheting even more furiously in your ribcage. There’s a fire within you that’s made of soft, satin embers whenever you think about him.

You can still remember the moment you first laid eyes on Jungkook – how you were clouded with anger about the boy who stole your seat during lecture. Who would have ever imagined that you’d be here in his bed, hopelessly in love with him. 

Jungkook starts stirring awake in his sleep when he feels a sliver of warm sunrays permeate the thin skin of his eyelids. When he fully opens his eyes, he’s met with the sight of a beaming you (he thinks that you outshine the sun, but he decides to keep those thoughts to himself) staring straight at his face. 

Your smile doesn't falter or diminish when you’re caught, but only increases, as a soft good morning leaves your lips, while the tip of your tongue tastes of honey sweet and last night’s dalliance. He mumbles a good morning back, planting a kiss on your lips and the two of you look at each other. 

This is something. To be seen by another human being. To be vulnerable and transparent with no filters. To be transparent. This something is love. Love that’s easy. Like a liquid or gas. Love that finds its way in. Love in its simplest form. Love that the two of you understand.  

“Breakfast?” You card your fingers through his locks, before pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“Only if you help me with the microwave.”

From the warmth of your caramel eyes, to the tender slope of your nose and to the apple of your cheeks, his eyes soften at the sight. 

“Actually… Maybe I should do it instead,” he adds, his chocolate brown eyes flicker from you to your fingers, lacing your fingers with his. 

“Huh?”

“Well, I can’t let the microwave explode on you, can I? I’d never bring any harm to you.”

“Dude… That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said,” you grin, humour colouring the corners of your mouth. 

“I poured my heart out to you and you think this is the sweetest? Geez. And you just dude-d me after I fucked you so good last night?”

“Shush, love is a willingness to sacrifice.”

A summer-night silence which lay for a thousand miles envelopes the two of you, both of you just enjoying the swim of your heads. 

Jungkook breaks the silence, voice softer than ever, “I do, you know?”

“Huh?” 

He reaches for your hand and brings it up to his lips, pressing tender kisses on your knuckles, with the little stars glistening in the velvet night sky of his eyes, “I do love you.”

But before you could respond, a beep comes from your phone and you instinctively reach out for it. 

[From: Namjoon]

[12:37] for fuck’s sake… the walls are thin in this humble abode fyi

[12:37] our poor ears…

[12:37] you guys went from figuratively fucking each other up to literally fucking each other

[12:37] as least you guys… are happy and not trying to kill each other

[12:37] happy that you all have found love uwu i can cry right now 

“Fucking loser,” you mutter as you hand Jungkook your phone to view the incoming messages. “Namjoon’s onto us. This is so embarrassing.”

“I think we were a little too loud last night.”

“And whose fault is that?” You tease with a waggle of your eyebrows. 

“I’d take credit where it’s due,” he laughs and you don’t miss the glint of mischief that hides underneath the flutter of his eyelashes as he engulfs you in another tight embrace. 

You think you like this, maybe a little too much: your head on his broad chest, his chin on your head as you lie snug in his arms, fingers interlaced, heartbeats as one. You adore how perfectly your body fits in Jungkook’s calming embrace, how he holds you like you are his world, not too tight and not too loose. Like you hold the stars in his eyes in place. 

“You make me weak, Jungkook,” you murmur softly like the way a snowflake would fall, lips hovering over hips. 

He hums in response and presses a kiss to your forehead. Brushing your hand gingerly over the latter’s jaw, a smile flutters on the edges of your lips with utter adoration, with a love so blazingly radiant that it rivals the intensity of the sun. 

Pressing your lips onto Jungkook’s, you whisper, deciding to dismantle the high walls of your heart for good, “But I love you. So much that I don’t mind being weak with you.”

Note | Finally.... it’s up. A big phat uwu, everyone!! 45 pages on word doc. It has been a long, insane ride writing this – I think I started in August after posting Set On You. For my lovelies who’ve been waiting for this fic since forever, thank you for waiting and expressing your excitement for it! I love you guys so much :( I’m such a slow writer sksdjsdsdsd and I don’t know why my fics are always so long – it’s like I have so many things I want to write and I can’t leave out any scene?? Formatting it on this site takes up like an hour,,, but wbk. 

Thank you for reading this and if you enjoyed it, hit that like or reblog button or/and hmu in my inbox/dms! ♡ Merry Christmas and have a great 2019! There will be more fics to come (probably shorter ones... pl0x)

Also, I added my thigh kink for you Ash uwu @jiminspjm 

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#bangtan bookclub #thebtstown #ggukienet #bts fics #bts smut #jungkook smut #bangtan smut #bangtan fics #jungkook fics #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bangtan fluff #jungkook fluff #bangtan scenarios #jungkook #bangtan #bts #bymoonchild #microwave (mis)adventures #jungkook scenarios #jeongguk scenarios #jeongguk smut #jeongguk fluff #jeon jungkook #enemies to lovers #roommates au #jungkook fanfics #bangtan fanfics #bts fanfics

[senpai-no-lie]

Black Eagles Route

Finally, with a certain level of dread in my heart, I completed Crimson Flower

Why I chose Black Eagles (specifically Crimson Flower): I had already completed Azure Moon and Verdant Wind, so it was just a matter of picking between Crimson Flower or Silver Snow. I figured it’d be best to just knock out Crimson Flower, since I still needed Hubert, Jertiza, and Edelgard’s supports.  

Who Was My Dancer: Sylvain! I kept my recruits for this route only to characters I needed to complete supports, and then also Sylvain, because his aesthetic sense just seemed to jive with the Black Eagles. As a dancer, he did okay, but I think I much prefer him on a horse. However, his dancing was crucial to killing Dimitri before Dedue turned into a beast, and a few other pivotal moments. I just don’t think Sylvain has the magical firepower I like with my dancers (It should be known I don’t typically use the dancer character at all in other FE games, but I really enjoy the magic-utilty they have in 3H) 

What Paired Endings Did I Get:  

Edelgard & Hubert (I actually feel really bad for Hubert; it wasn’t my intention to do this)

Linhardt & Hapi

Dorothea & Petra

Jeritza & Bernadetta 

Ferdinand & Mercedes

Not as many paired endings as usual because I really only cared about filling out my missing supports

Who Did Byleth Marry: Sylvain. Totally, totally not who I meant to marry; my intention was Yuri, but then I never used Yuri. And I just have a soft spot for Sylvain. I stand behind my decision. 

Which Edelgard Do I prefer?: Purely on aesthetics, post-timeskip Edelgard is p hot, ngl, but I find her to be more intolerable because of how hard they push that weird sort of gap moe waifu bait with her. So I guess pre-timeskip, even if that’s not much better.

General Thoughts: I tried, oh so hard, to go in with an open mind about Edelgard and the other route exclusive characters. Edelgard leaves about 0 impressions in the other routes, as far as being an antagonist goes, but from the opening chapters on my first playthrough, I found her to be manipulative, condescending, and perhaps a bit immature. And yeah, she’s all of those things and more.... But Hubert, Hubert I love and I’m so mad that I can see the appeal of Hubert x Ferdinand now. My only point of contention remains the fact that in canon they remain subservient to her in their paired ending. 

I also went out of my way to kill every single named character throughout the route, and it was both satisfying and heartbreaking. That Dimitri and Dedude death scene, Seteth’s shouts as I struck down Flayn, the dialogue between Sylvain as he fought against his childhood friends.... so good. 

The Black Eagles Characters:

I did almost all the supports possible, sans route exclusives and DLC on my first playthrough, but I’ve yet to hash out my general feelings about the Black Eagles. 

Edelgard: Plain and simple, I do not stan Edelgard. I found a lot of her behavior more reasonable if she was 13 pre-timeskip and 18 post-timeskip, but a 23 year old being so cringey and unaware of the greater political climate (Hubert regularly does things behind her back that she doesn’t even notice or care to notice, while complaining that Hubert makes her work for ambitions rather than letting her eat sweets or stare at the sky all day, ugh) is just unappealing as hell. The whole sequence where I had two opportunities to call her fear of rats “cute” was super off-putting, and the don’t get me started on her drawing Byleth fanart. She’s constantly looking for affirmation from Byleth (despite insisting she doesn’t need praise in lecture), while being manipulative and condescending to everyone else. Her calling Lysithea “good girl” when Lysithea is 20/21, only three years younger, and an entire inch taller than Edelgard post-timeskip is pure cringe. Also the name Black Eagles Strike Force is an awful name and I’m not sorry I told her as much. 

Hubert: I’m torn on whether or not Hubert is my favorite Black Eagle. I really enjoy devoted servant characters, and I find him more endearing because Edelgard doesn’t deserve him. He’s so visually unappealing (though, not as bad as I find Lorenz to be) and weird, but I respect that about him. 

Ferdinand: Sweet, dumb Ferdinand. I love him; his supports are a delight and I am consistently charmed by how sweet he is in his supports. I prefer him in other routes than how he has to behave in Crimson Flower, but what can ya do. Truly, the noblest of nobles

Linhardt: I’ve heard mixed opinions about Linhardt, but I for one like him. He’s a fair-weather sort of guy who only cares about a few things, and I support that. He’s just strange and intelligent and a dry sense of humor I can appreciate.

Caspar: This moron, I love him. Caspar is the one person I’d expect to follow Edelgard unquestioningly because he just doesn’t have enough brain cells to do otherwise. I think he’s funny, even if his tone-deaf screaming in eagerness to kill and conquer Fodlan grew taxing. 

Dorothea: I like Dorothea alright; I think she has a lot of personality in her supports, but she’s not really the sort of character I find especially endearing or relatable. Nothing wrong with that.

Petra: A great girl! I find her manner of speech endearing, and I’m personally grateful that didn’t try to do some sort of accent for her that’s 1:1 for the real world. I was a bit put-off by how gungho she is with siding with Edelgard and dismantling Fodlan, but ya know, what choice does she have a political prisoner shoved into the black hole that surrounds Edelgard?

Bernadetta: People complain that Sylvain doesn’t mature post-timeskip, but Bernedetta still does that awful screeching and being a recluse routine up until the very end. I don’t like her or find her funny, but I do enjoy the sort of moral relativism she employs. Her supports with Yuri made me feel exceptionally sorry for Yuri. 

Jeritza: His voice and cadence irritates me to no end, but he was enjoyable as a unit, at least. I think his “personality” or “two personalities” is troupey to the max, and his supports with Byleth were especially off-putting. I feel like if you’re going to make a murder-happy character like Jeritza, especially one with like a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde thing going on, it needs to be way more campy or bombastic. 

I could honestly write a bunch more, but it’d mostly be me bitching about specific cringe-inducing moments with Edelgard that I’m sure other people who aren’t aggressively stanning her have brought up. If you like Edelgard, good for you, but I’m of the opinion that she’s a snake, and not even a clever or tactful one. Crimson Flower is so painful with how obvious it is with it’s Edelgard-pandering that it took me out of the game multiple times. All their routes have their flaws, but I guess the last (and only) animated sequence for CF was pretty dope, at least.  

#my opinions about fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem 3h #fe:3h #fe: three houses #black eagles #crimson flower

[smores100]

once again we’re in full agreement lol. What’s your take on s3 remakes you’ve watched? Wondering how you feel about Skam FR as it’s kind of a similar situation to me where the chemistry & beauty is there but the writing and style is iffy (overwrought &overdramatic). My favorite s3 is druck. As a wlw I had high hopes for españa but it was p slow/v desexualized—a whole discussion, but my other gay friend & I were disappointed given how remakes with guys don’t hold back in that respect.. Thoughts?

Honestly re: wtfock tho I really do wonder if they had like one good writer in the room surrounded by fools. Bc it really does feel like some group projects I’ve been in where I feel like I’m the only one who’s not a fucking fool and carry the whole thing while having to fend off bad ideas (but when the majority rules, those bad ideas/execution get put in). I wonder if that’s what happened w wtfock.

re: wtfock, lol group projects are the worst….idk what wtfock’s writing process was like, but i’d love to know it. according to their wiki there were 3 writers this season? all seem to be male, naturally. did the two other writers have good ideas but there was a main writer who overruled them and did his own thing? or maybe they’re the rl one brain cell squad, that would explain a lot :p in any case, i’m unimpressed (friday’s clips did not help with that).

as for the other part of your ask….oh damn i have so many Thoughts on that, lol. this is probably gonna get long and messy, but you asked for it!

* druck - my absolute favorite. it’s the only one i’ve watched since s1, so that definitely played a part in my emotional investment and attachment. still, there was more to it than that. it was the closest to og imo in vibe and style (it felt small, real, lowkey, quiet, natural like og, as opposed to - as you said - overwrought and overdramatic + overproduced like the others); they cast an actual trans guy to play a trans character, if you wanna talk about a skam remake doing something REVOLUTIONARY? druck is the one; i loved matteo’s and david’s characterizations, how they both had a bit of isak and even in them, and the role reversal in some scenes, made things feel fresh *and* fit their characters/story; i LOVE that teens matteo and david were played by actual teens michi and lukas!! they’ve completely ruined me for all other remakes, bc thissssss is how it’s supposed to be! thisssss is how it should look like! THEY ARE KIDDOS. and they (druck and michi/lukas) truly captured what it’s like to be young and fall in love for the first time, the awkwardness and the nervousness and stuttering and fumbling around, the softness and pureness and innocence of it all!!! also they have THE BEST dynamic - other people might prefer all the hot kissing and steamy making out and the smouldering looks, but me? i just couldn’t get enough of their dumb chaotic energy, best friends who love each other deeply and are also constantly little shits to one another. gimme them pranking each other and playfighting every day! and then being soft and THE HANDS and matteo being a clingy koala basking in david’s affection :3 i also loved how for the most part they didn’t just copy/paste og’s storyline, they made some changes and knew how to make *other* changes accordingly for it to make sense and fit the story *they* were telling - for example, replacing the ‘call your gf’ scene with matteo’s panic attack/breakdown (one of my fave scenes), or their reunion at the end of ep 7 (replacing the desperate kissing + sex with a comforting and relieved yet also bittersweet and melancholic hug), or even matteo getting advice from his drug dealer instead of the school’s doctor, lol. also THE BEST BOY SQUAD, hands down. and matteo is my favorite isak bc to me he felt like his own character instead of just another isak, he was different and reletable and a constant Mood. that being said - it wasn’t perfect and it had its issues. there were a few times when i did feel they stuck too close to og scenes and it didn’t *entirely* work for me, just felt a bit off; i will forever be disappointed that they didn’t directly address and acknowledge matteo’s mental state/depression, bc there were enough signs imo to indicate that he did suffer from something. they mentioned ‘therapy’ in mia’s, alex’s and kiki’s cases, i truly thought they would with matteo as well, but alas, they dropped the ball on that one; i was extremely upset with david’s outing, but i’ve since calmed down and have managed to see it in a more positive light, tho i still have mixed feelings about it and am not fully on board with that decision, still wish it had been done differently (but at least! it wasn’t brushed off and was addressed immediately and eventually led to david having agency and yelling out his pain!!! which was good and important and cathartic); also eps 8 and 9 were pretty messy writing-wise, things either didn’t make sense or would’ve made more sense had the clips were organized differently (that random ping pong clip….?). overall tho, the good outweighed the bad, and it remains my fave

* skam france - now that’s a tricky one. the way i felt about it in the first half of the season, is different from the way i felt about it in the second half of the season, is different from the way i feel about ever since watching druck’s s3. it’s funny you should say how similar it is to wtfock for you, bc i’ve been thinking the same thing for quite some time. those neighboring countries sure have a shared flair for the dramatic! fr’s s3 was pretty much the first s3 i watched (i gif-watched half of skamit, couldn’t get into it). i wasn’t planning to (i was extremely unimpressed by the couple of s1 eps i tried watching, and same by axel’s acting in those first two seasons), but even is the loml and they got me gooood with their eliott pov trailer, which might have affected my excitement over it during the first half. back then i really enjoyed it for the most part, despite some clips being rushed or missing the point thus not fully having the required effect (their locker room scene, for example, or the ‘generalizations are bad’ convo), or how much i hated basile (a character so obviously written by a man it’s amazing), or the cheesy piano music. there were enough good things for me to focus on instead (more in a bit) that i could ignore the things i didn’t like or weren’t as good imo. however, all the positivity got sucked out of me when yann noped tf out after lucas came out to him bc WAY TO MISS THE POINT OF SKAM!!! and things went downhill after the director’s IT’S NOT DISNEYLAND IT’S FRANCE 2019 comment. i’m getting all upset just thinking about it, but to say *that*, to explain that horrendous decision bc lowkey homophobic reactions are realistic!!! only to THEN be all ‘haha jk yann isn’t homophobic! we just wanted you to *think* he was! he’s actually an awesome friend who took several days to reflect on all his past wrongdoings while his bff was at home having a nervous breakdown bc he believed his bff hated him!’ ughhhhhhhhh, miss me with that shit. great that they had yann apologizing for his past comments, but the way in which it was done was for pure shock value and angst, completely ooc for his character (all season he was all ‘tell me tell me tell me let me help let me help let me help’ only to do *that*?? nahh), and interesting how out of everyone the only black character was the only one with a negative reaction (remind you of anyone), highlighted even more during ep 7 aka the ott lucas coming out tour. then ep 8, that should have been 100% all lucas and eliott and building up to eliott’s manic episode suddenly had that weird random pov changing clip in the middle of it which truly wtf, basile was still basile, lucas thanked chloe for outing him, more scenes felt rushed, they had sex in school where people could come and go in front of huge windows in broad daylight and luckily didn’t get poisoned from licking all that paint! and i did not like the flatshare, i absolutely hated mika and lisa kicking lucas out of his room - which he pays rent for! - and manon not even trying to put up a fight, and them being like ‘roommate isn’t just a place, it’s a way of living. that’s a family, and you’re more like a cousin.’ ‘a second cousin.’ ughhhhhh and then when eliott was recovering from his depressive episode, they *still* didn’t give lucas his room back or at least let eliott stay there, he was sleeping on the couch, i’m aldjlajdafj. can’t believe i’m gonna say it, but TAKE NOTES FROM WTFOCK. tl;dr there were some good moments in the second half, but i was feeling bitter more often than not about certain things, so my enjoyment wasn’t as high as when it first started. and after watching druck, druck’s brand is definitely much more my style. plus, i was already struggling with making myself believe axel and maxence were in their teens, but after druck it’s completely impossible, so i just pretend they’re in college or something lol. all my issues with it aside, i’d still rate it higher than wtfock, bc overall the writing was better, more coherent, and made much more sense. i also liked lucas’ friendship with the girls; i loved that instead of copying the underwater kiss + 21:21 like some others have, they came up with their own thing i.e. polaris, which i thought was lovely; the lucas/manon crying in the middle of the night together in front of the tv was one of my fave scenes of the season; also love how we were introduced to eliott on the first week! and they spent time together! and specifically the piano playing scene, ohhhh; and in general elu are sweet and i reeeeally like axel and maxence and their friendship. so yeah, it had some major issues, but i’d rather have a coherent story with something done for shock value and drama ONCE than an incoherent story with several shock value moments.

* skam espana - sorry to hear you girls were disappointed! i only watched half of it, so i can only comment on what i saw. i decided to binge watch s1 and give s2 a shot when i heard they were giving cris isak’s story - it felt a bit weird to me, but it was also something different and new, and i did have an appreciation for their decision to have a wlw season (also much more revolutionary to me than showing a gay bashing), so i was intrigued and willing to try it. sadly i didn’t really vibe with s1? it’s totally a personal preference i think, maybe even a cultural thing idk, but it felt very fast and loud and hectic to me, idrk how to explain it. i was just more into the chill more lowkey vibe of druck and skamnl. but i still gave s2 a shot, and idk, it still wasn’t my cup of tea. i thought it was ok for the most part, but there were some things that bothered me - joana/cris felt underdeveloped to me? and things b/w them felt like they were moving so fast from the second they met, like jona was so intense and forward ALL THE TIME, they had like 6 almost kisses in a really short time, like shhh slow down. i remember disliking their ‘call your gf’ scene, it felt really petty and kinda mean to me? bc i felt like joana came on to cris *really* strongly and *very* frequently, so cris was more than entitled to feel hurt and betrayed when she found out joana had a bf, but then cris was kissing a dude and joana positioned herself and her bf in front of cris so she’d see them kissing too, and i just didn’t like bc seriously?? cris is valid, just apologize to her and explain?? idr much else tbh, they had some really cute and sweet scenes afterwards, i’m still against doing the underwater kiss + 21:21 so i was kinda meh about that (tho aesthetically speaking it was BEAUTIFUL, and i’m like, fiiiiine girls deserve an underwater kiss too, i’ll allow it just this once!), and that cuddling clip in ep 6 i think was sweet and the last one i watched. like i said, i was less vibing with this remake, and iirc it was going on during druck’s s3 and skamnl’s s2 - which were my faves, plus skamfr was on too i think and i was lowkey following it too, so….there was just too much all at once and something had to go, and it was skamesp. it was also around the time when panaphobia-gate happened, so *shrugs* i’m not wlw myself so your opinion on it being desexualized is probably more valid than mine? i just know when i did watch, there was a lot of kissing and making out and being cute and touchy with each other, so i thought it was ok? as i’ve mentioned before, i don’t need to see a naked butt or anything like that to *get* it lol, i thought they were lovely! but that’s just me. i will say that my faaaave part was most definitely the cris/amira friendship. they were so wonderful! one of the best skam friendships imo. i might one day go back and finish the season just for the heck of it, but they didn’t do anything major or highly offensive that made me have negative feelings towards it, it was just a personal preference + circumstances (too many remakes!) that made me be less into it and drop it before the end.

#phallusophical #replies #sorry for the gigantic wall of text! #but like i said - you asked! haha #i'd put this under a read more but my blog theme makes it harder to read there so....sorry! #all those who aren't interested in my opinions just quickly scroll past this just this one time ty #aaaaanyway hope this answered your question??? 😊 #skam remakes #long post #druck #skam france #wtfock #skam spain

[dcbicki]

Why D&D might not have completely fucked up Jaime/Brienne

Look, I know we wanna drag D&D for all their many faults — and there are a fucking lot! of them — but I haven’t lost all hope on the Jaime/Brienne front. They wrote 8x04 and the final two episodes, so everything that happened in *that* episode (as shitty as it comes off at first glance) isn’t going to be forgotten about or ??? in the next episodes because of a shift in the writer’s room. Moreover, they’re also directing the finale. They’ve only co-written and co-directed two episodes before: 3x03 “Walk of Punishment,” and 4x01 “Two Swords.” Two episodes that feature important elements of the Jaime/Brienne relationship. Now bear with me here.

Interestingly, 4x01 is when Jaime first mentions “killing people so he could get back to Cersei,” —  which is not what he does in 8x04. He just reminds the audience of these things. She responds in kind that their relationship is fractured because he’s not the same, and he’s too late: they’re different people now. (And oh, if only, the show would have kept this up.)

It’s also the episode that starts off with the forging of Oathkeeper and Widow’s Wail. And it’s when Jaime and Brienne have their first discussion about Sansa’s safety; something that plays a vital part in their relationship.

But if we rewind back to 3x03 “Walk of Punishment,” we’re treated to one of the best closing scenes this show has ever given us (in my totally, totally biased opinion.) Both captives of Bolton bannermen, Jaime shows the first signs of his humanity when he convinces Locke to stop his men from r*ping Brienne in exchange for a ransom demand. Deal struck, he’s back to being his usual self, only nobody is having it, and Jaime loses a part of himself for it: his sword hand. He was that hand; this is part of the reason his relationship with Cersei is so fraught when he returns home.

Of all the punishable things he’s done, all the hateful things he’s done for a hateful woman, his punishment comes after he does something good, for something other than his sister or his family. He loses his reason for being, but Brienne is there to pull him out of his funk and convince him to live long enough to seek revenge. Granted, he doesn’t get his revenge, but from here on out, we see a different side to the man everybody despises.

For the next few seasons, his storyline goes all over the place because the writers didn’t have a clue what to do with him. So, for the most part, he remained Cersei’s lapdog and did her bidding; only he did it differently. The people he killed for Cersei, he killed before he knew Brienne. The people he threatens for Cersei, he lets live because he knows Brienne, and he would now rather live up to her code of honour than kill people with bloody violence (as his sister would want).

He realised last season that Cersei’s ways of dealing with her enemies aren’t the right way, and he up and abandons her when she refuses to see the bigger picture, the bigger threat, and she outright orders his death — and I have a lot of thoughts on this, but I digress. And then we end up here: he goes to Winterfell, promises to fight for the living under Brienne’s command, and seemingly accepts Daenerys as his new Queen. They win the war, and Jaime doesn’t bail on everyone. He settles. He stays. When everyone is heading South to wage war against his former sister-lover, or leaving to go God-knows-where, Jaime stays. “Ser Jaime has chosen to remain here, as a guest of the Lady of Winterfell,” in other words, Sansa offered him a place in the North and he took it, and he took Brienne as a lover.

Time fucking flew by, and he seemed fine with the idea that Cersei could be taken out by Dany/Jon’s army. But then she somehow got the upper hand, and word got out that the army he just fought for was losing, so Jaime made a snap decision. It would make no narrative sense for him to up and bail on everyone now. He’s not a cutthroat who just swaps sides. He’s a knight with honour, and a knight’s duty is to protect their lord. Jaime’s lord now would be, I’d say, Jon (?) And if his wildfire-crazed sister is threatening to unleash chaos on innocent people (not dissimilarly to the way Aerys II did, and we all know how Jaime felt about *that*), and now his lords’ army, dragons and advisors are under attack when they’d thought to be in a position of power, You can sure as shit bet it would fit Jaime’s character to try and stop her. Only, to do that, he has to /ruin/ the little life he’s making for himself in the North.

“You know the first thing I learned in the North? I hate the fucking North,” he says. “It grows on you,” Brienne replies. “I don’t want things growing on me,” he retorts back without a single stitch of distaste in his voice.

You know what grows on him, very quickly? The North. Brienne. Life there. Tyrion literally says, “I’m happy that you’re happy.” You know what doesn’t make him happy? A mad sister who’s going to kill thousands of people, not when there’s a chance he can stop her. They’re connected, they’re twins. And he’s committed terrible crimes for her because she, for whatever reason, couldn’t do them herself. But he’s reformed (for the most part), and he’s aware that the things he did for her — for her love, for the love of their family — were essentially wrong. And if he can learn from his fuckups, and seek redemption, then surely Cersei can, too. They're supposed to be one and the same, after all; the only difference is that Cersei is beyond repair, and Jaime had Brienne to repair him. And so he leaves Brienne for the same reasons he murdered in Cersei’s name — “the things we do for love”. She (and Sansa, who she’s sworn to protect) won’t be safe in the capital, given the way everything is transpiring down there, and thus his only option is to ~betray~ her trust, her love, and depart on what could easily be a suicide mission. Cersei doesn’t want him down there; she sent a fucking armed cutthroat after him after threatening him with the Mountain, and Jaime isn’t that dumb to think she might just accept him back with open arms. Not that he wants that. I think he wants peace, but sadly he probably won’t ever get it. But if it means innocent people, and the woman he now loves have a shot at survival, then wouldn’t it make sense for him to paint himself as a monster, as who he used to be before she changed him for the better. “And so am I [hateful].” We’re in the final act, guys. “Nothing is more hateful than failing to protect the one you love.” A Brienne quote that applies here because, well, how badly would he hate himself if he failed to protect all those he now loves? And let’s not forget where they started;

“If he could learn to love another, and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?” — Beauty and the Beast

So, yeah, D&D writing and directing the finale somehow actually makes me more optimistic for Jaime/Brienne’s prospects. And if I’m wrong and they’re actually just ~fucked~ now, and D&D are actually just dipshits who committed character assassination of the highest degree, well then... Guess I’ll go live under a rock with my books and brain cells.

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #text #tp* #i popped the fuck off #long post #meta #ship: jaime x brienne

[spoilersfm]

*   𝗽𝘂𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝗲   :    violence incited on his buddy boys at a denny’s parking lot? he's On His Way! from his lil cousin's bat mitzvah with a borrowed sword right now.     sound equipment bought on sweet ass deals, babey!       a bike only used to make a point.       that one vine that got you in detention for playing loud on accident in class.       a ride at a pier taken one too many times in a row;   bleary-eyed and reminiscing of a better time where he didn't straight up moan after that first bong hit.         the shocker of an earburn through a movie marathon that you can't say shit to because he's hosting.         "let's start a podcast."  "i will find your parents."       the mole you thought was cancer when you were twelve. .     ／        𝗝𝗢𝗘𝗟   𝗠𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟   𝗩𝗔𝗡  𝗗𝗬𝗡𝗘.   𝗘𝗦𝗧.   𝟭𝟵𝟵𝟴

named  joel mitchell van dyne.       his parents think they’re on some riverdale shite and named his older brother jason and their two dogs jack and jellybean.     their names? robert and goddamn barbara van dyne.       goes by  joel mainly bc fuck else is coming out of that.       jole the eternal gag and the one that will get your feelings hurt,   mole.

born in jersey city, new jersey.       once a minor threat like every other child in the community until he managed to slap on a ankle bracelet and be on house arrest for his fuckshit at sixteen   /   a feral youth. a juvenile idiot tracking down cars to vandalize right in front of god and everyone because the owner tried to ban him and his brother from a theater in a town nearby.         aged  twenty one,  turns twenty-two in rex manning day april 8.     id’s as a cismale with absolutely no rights!       bisexual with no preferences     /   every hole could be a goal.       romantically there but it’s usually these random bouts of fuck mode that cease into a solid period of i don’t exist to anyone, not even to myself but we’ll run mallrats about it in the bg of a dark room,  stoned and sometimes crying just to cry, in two-days old cum-crusted boxers or stark nude with our hair tied up looking like gollum with a sick bush editing vid essays for cash but it’s fine,  he’s fine.       studies  film at lockwood and is on his way into his third year.       wasn’t really his first choice because college wasn’t but he was persuaded  -  doesn’t regret that shit!       resides in peregrines for the sexy wifi situation and later the general comm of it.       community crew member     /     freelance editor for youtubers and local filmmakers.   u want ur shite edited or need the hookups around town,  he’s there, garbage-humored and broke pay him.    

has   somewhat of an unknown legacy online that summarizes his presence     /    made a viral vine that’s basically a 7-secs porn clip but had an audio of guns getting cocked and gunshots over the oh-so-musical sounds of skin and balls slapping and the eventual facial  -  no one knows he did it and he wasn’t high at the time but that post nut clarity sure was a #moment.      "talent" he very clearly misuses.         trust issues but don’t we all.       a knack for not shutting the fuck up throughout films and it worked for once     /     what started as ridiculous themed movie marathon parties hosted at the van dyne’s basement two years ago turned into a movie commentary channel on yt named van dyne and friends*  ( wc )     ━    think pretty much it type content but less quality;   all jokey,  lighthearted but passionate hate watches,  regular guests of close friends who either love or hate certain movies, genres, etc. hosted by joel and his brother and it’s a fully a hobby he refuses to stress over but managed to have it be a source of income thank god;  primary to his freelancing.         no actual reason as to why he picked tatiana   -   his personal onion on her doesn’t count even if it did influence the last decision so it does nvm  -   a dear friend of his ( wc oh wow look we’ve learned ) got screwed somehow and he was like oh word? say no more baby bitch.        a mishandled anxiety disorder if you couldn’t tell by now     /    been a problem he refused to acknowledge and then he was introduced to oui’d at fifteen ish and that worked until he realized how much he used it to regulate his day to the point where he couldn’t eat at all without getting zooted so it’s less of that now.          a liking for the horrific,  the horny and the artistically crackheaded and you’d be distraught as to what he personally categorizes as any of each.      a jersey accent he couldn’t mask if he tried.         a twitter account he barely uses other than to get recs for comm tracks and tweet dumb shit to delete an hour later for the fun of it but he’s fairly active on instagram.               

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗪.

is this chaos? u tell me. is everything actually written? of course not but it only took me a few days and my remaining four brain cells holding on for dear life and begging me to go the f*ck to sleep to get it out there + there’s always time 2 flesh out shite on the side! wcs are still a process for me to list down but i do have a bunch in mind  /  would love to bounce a few ideas back at ur muses to see what works ! like this post or hmu in the ims or hmu on disco @ clowncore claudia#5377 where i truly shine as a mess xx

#* ━ ━ INTRO : JERSEY CITY STABBING VICTIM SPOILS ENDGAME AT A NIGHT CLUB. #water:intro #tw anxiety #tw disordered eating #is it the bfcu ( bar fight cinematic universe ) ? i wish. drunk dipshits assemble cept he's sober doin this bullshit #ive been up for 24 hrs and for what... #theme coming tmrw since tumblr wants 2 be itself or soon lemme see but ya!

[clareguilty]

McSombra Commission Fic!

This commission is for @itshigh-boop ! This is a $25 piece. It was loads of fun to write! I actually really enjoy McSombra and I’m honored to have been able to write for such an underrated ship!

Word Count: ~2500 Rating: T/M  Warnings: Light violence, Mentions of sex

Jesse McCree was no fool. At least that was what he liked to tell himself. He had done enough-seen enough-to know what trouble looked like, and he did his best to stay out of it. The woman across the bar was trouble personified, all dolled up with cybernetics and purple lipstick. Her eyes hadn’t left Jesse since she had sat down half an hour ago.

Despite the threat lurking three stools down, the cowboy had kept to himself. He had every intention of finishing his drinks before heading back to his hideout and getting the hell out of dodge. There was no point in staying in Castillo if he was being watched.

His plans changed when the purple-haired woman moved to sit right next to Jesse. Her too long nails sent shivers down his spine as she placed a hand on his arm.

“What brings you to Castillo, Jesse McCree?” her voice had a strange melody, curious but all-knowing at the same time. Jesse was instantly on edge at the sound of his name.

“I imagine you must already know that,” He said, voice cold and defensive.

“You’re right, but it’s always polite to ask,” She shrugged.

“What do you want, Sombra?” Jesse allowed himself a smug smile as the hacker’s eyes widened. She wasn’t the only one in the business of information. “I thought you were Talon’s lap dog.”

“Talon is a joke, and you know it. I’m much more interested in why an ex-Blackwatch operative is monitoring the arms trade in Dorado.” Sombra raised an eyebrow over the rim of her glass.

“Let me know when you figure it out.” The wink was an accident.

He shouldn’t have taken her back to his hideout. Shouldn’t have helped her out of that purple bodysuit. Shouldn’t have fallen into bed with her only to wake up alone.

He should have skipped town that morning.

But he was back in the same bar two days later and she was trailing those freaky long nails over his shoulder and he made the same mistake twice. At least the sex was great.

She was gone when he woke in the morning, unsurprising. So, Jesse gathered up his pride along with his boxers and skipped town at the earliest opportunity.

He had no intention of ever seeing Sombra again. They existed in two different worlds, equally dark as they were. A cowboy living on the edge of the law and a trickster working alongside an international terrorist cell. Jesse was not the kind of man to give his time over to a disloyal, arrogant, blackmailing hacker.

Jesse reckoned he must have more in common with Sombra than he originally thought when he found her again in Dorado. Los Muertos apparently took issue with her leaving the gang like she did, and Jesse found her in a field of bodies, blood spattered on her cheek as she clawed her way out of an ambush. He had had the exact same fight with Deadlock back in his Blackwatch days.

The Deadeye took care of the remaining assailants no problem. He picked his way through the mess of corpses, snagging anything that looked valuable before making his way to where Sombra had collapsed.

She tried to fight him as he lifted her into his arms. He chuckled at her feeble punches and ineffective scratches, “Can you settle down for a bit?”

Sombra grimaced but stilled, conceding to the vaquero as he carried her to safety.

If Sombra had been of a better mind as Jesse laid her gently across his bed, she would have been predictably disgusted with his living conditions. Jesse was staying in an older building far removed from the town square. The bed was lumpy and moth-eaten, and the light flickered every few minutes. The cowboy was used to the squalor, but he knew Sombra had much more refined tastes.

The hacker seemed understandably disgruntled as Jesse tossed his ratty blanket over her shivering form and cracked open his only biotic field. He slumped against the wall and pulled his hat over his eyes, not committing to sleep, but allowing himself to doze.

Jesse rose several times in the night to check on Sombra, dampening a cloth to wash the grime and blood from her face. He wanted to do more, to dress her wounds and make sure she didn’t have any broken bones, but he didn’t want to push anything. Sombra would have no qualms about killing him if he made a move she didn’t like. He kept his distance and watched with desperation in his eyes.

It hadn’t taken Jesse long to figure out he had feelings for Sombra. He wasn’t the kind of man to take just anyone to bed, especially not twice. Danger or not—intel or not, something about Sombra struck Jesse’s heart. He had always been a sap that way, letting his heart make decisions that his brain should know better.

He wasn’t dumb enough to say anything about it. He knew that Sombra would never return his feelings, she was using him. He reckoned that he didn’t mind being used as nothing but a good fuck and a source of useless intel if it meant he got to hold the hacker in his arms for one night every few months. It was pathetic—he knew, but it was more than he had had in years.

Sombra turned in her sleep, groaning softly in discomfort. Jesse hated the way his heart twinged. He wasn’t often in the business of caring for people, and he knew that wanting to protect Sombra only created another weakness for his enemies to exploit. Her being one of them. He watched her brows furrow as she dreamt about things Jesse would never understand. There was no way things would end well for him.

Sombra jolted awake several hours later, bright hair all mussed up from her restless sleep. Her eyes searched frantically around the room, fingers reaching blindly for a weapon. Jesse had stowed her machine pistol well out of reach for that exact reason.

“Where am I?” she demanded. Her expression was fierce despite her rumpled appearance.

“Dorado. My hideout. I have a med kit if you want to dress your wounds.” Jesse got straight to the point. He was usually a man of many words, but he had to think quickly if he wanted to keep Sombra from leaving at the earliest opportunity. Jesse kicked the box across the wooden floor, keeping his distance from the bed. He hated having to tread so carefully with the hacker, but he couldn’t risk scaring her off. He didn’t know if he would ever see her again.

“At least make yourself useful and help me out,” Sombra rolled her eyes, tugging her top over her head. She winced and hissed in pain as many of her wounds reopened from the movement, the fabric of her shirt pulling at her scabs. Jesse hoped he didn’t look too desperate as he snatched up the med kit and took a seat on the bed.

Sombra was in bad shape. Covered in bruises and cuts, dried blood had caked to her dark skin. Jesse let her take the lead as she tore open several packets of disinfectant wipes and began cleaning the various scrapes that littered her upper body. The cowboy trailed after her with biotic ointment, carefully coating each gash with the honey-colored gel.

The process was meticulous and slow. Los Muertos had been close to killing their former member when Jesse had intervened. Both he and Sombra were surprised at the extent of her injuries. If McCree hadn’t shown up when he did, Sombra likely would have died. He shuddered at the thought and focused on bandaging any cuts that looked too deep for his liking.

“You can borrow one of my shirts if you like,” He offered, scooping up the mess they had made on the mattress. “I can take your stuff to get washed and it would give your scrapes some room to breathe.”

Jesse realized just how badly Sombra was hurt when she didn’t even speak, didn’t even fight. The exhausted woman just nodded and pulled the button-down Jesse had offered her over her shoulders. She dragged herself out of the rest of her dirty clothes for Jesse to take to the wash.

She was asleep when he got back, clean and freshly folded clothes tucked under his arm. Jesse noticed even more scrapes and bruises on Sombra’s legs. They hadn’t even made it that far after the first hour of cleaning and bandaging.

The outlaw sighed. He had dreamed about having Sombra in his bed, wearing nothing but one of his shirts. Now that he was staring at the reality, he realized how cruel the fates would always be. The Curse of the Monkey’s Paw he thought scornfully, fully intending to blame Winston for all of his bad luck.

Several more hours passed in silence. Jesse finally allowed himself to sleep for a few minutes at a time, but he couldn’t rest for very long before feeling the need to check that Sombra was still breathing steadily on the bed. She was always fine, but he always checked.

Jesse must have been asleep when Sombra woke next. The bed was empty. He scrambled for a few seconds, looking for any trace of the hacker, any sign that she wasn’t gone for good.

The machine pistol still lay next to his peacekeeper.

Sombra was still around. Jesse hated how relieved he felt knowing that he would get to see her again. Why did he care so much for someone who would never be able to return his feelings?

“Do you have any food, vaquero?” a clear voice snapped Jesse out of his self-pity. Sombra had returned from the restroom.

“Sure, uh, mostly non-perishables,” Jesse found a few cans of fruit and a package of jerky. Sombra didn’t complain as she took the food, but Jesse could read the disapproval in her eyes as she ate. Jesse’s lifestyle would never be good enough for her. He would never be good enough for her.

Sombra ate quickly. She was still dressed in nothing but his button-down, open in the front. The two had never really encountered each other fully clothed, and there was no need for modesty. Two sexually charged flings and one rescue from a near-death experience did not count as activities that required a full wardrobe.

Jesse did a good job of not staring as he checked his supplies and tidied up as much as he could. He prided himself on being respectful, even if he was an outlaw. Averting his eyes, all of his focus went into cleaning peacekeeper so he could distract himself from the woman sitting cross-legged on his floor. He didn’t even notice when she had finished and was surprised when Sombra appeared at his side.

She plucked the pistol from his hand and settled herself firmly in his lap, bare thighs on either side of his waist as she clung to him. Lips brushed his jaw. Fingers trailed down his chest.

Not again. Jesse thought as he tried to push Sombra away. He couldn’t let himself make this same mistake over and over. His heart couldn’t take it.

Sombra turned out to be very persuasive. Jesse let himself be dragged to bed. He just hoped she would be gone when he woke up. She would be gone for good, and he could move on. Curled against his side, expression softer than he had ever seen it, Sombra slept on, oblivious to the storm raging in Jesse’s heart. He tried to commit her to memory, the softness of her skin, the strange melody of her voice, the brightness of her eyes.

Dawn had never felt so cold. Jesse bit back tears and tore himself away from where the sheets were still warm. This was the life he had chosen. This was what he deserved.

It’s better this way. He repeated to himself as he packed his things. The day was still young, and he could make it back to the states by nightfall if he hopped the next hyper train. Dorado could be nothing but a memory by next week.

A shuffling noise at the door snapped Jesse out of his misery. Peacekeeper was aimed and ready as the old wood creaked open.

“Buenos Dias, vaquero,” a cheerful voice called “I have breakfast.” Sombra froze as she caught sight of the pistol trained between her eyes.

“Not a morning person. Got it.” The hacker nodded and took a careful step back.

Jesse holstered his weapon immediately as he realized what was happening. “Sorry,” he raised his hands and hung his head. “I didn’t think you were coming back.” The racing of his heart was making it impossible to think. He sat heavily on the bed, running his palms over the tops of his thighs as he tried to ground himself.

A warm, wrapped package landed in his lap. Food. Sombra had already started eating, devouring her own burrito with an almost comical ferocity.

Jesse didn’t even taste the food, too caught up in his own head.

Sombra had come back. She was here. This was her choice.

“You’re leaving.” Her voice called him back to reality.

“I-“ Jesse faltered, without the right words for the first time in his life. “I’ve been here too long already.”

“Were you even going to say goodbye?” The question was more sincere than any Sombra had posed before.

“I didn’t know you were coming back,” there was a note of bitterness in Jesse’s voice that he tried to catch between his teeth.

“That’s fair,” Sombra nodded. “I guess you’re not coming back?” Jesse tried to tell himself he was imagining the sadness in her eyes. He meant nothing to this woman; she had no reason to miss him.

“Don’t have much reason to,” Jesse shrugged. If he was going to leave, he was running out of time. The next hyper train left in an hour.

Silence reigned for a long moment. Sombra spoke first.

“Thank you,” her voice was quiet.

“For what?” Jesse looked up in surprise.

“For helping me. I don’t have a lot of people who would help me.” Her lip trembled. Jesse couldn’t stop himself. He pulled Sombra into his arms, holding her close. A shaky exhale into his chest made his heart fall.

Sombra pulled away. Jesse let her.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight back every emotion that was clawing its way out of his chest.

Lips brushed his. Soft and gentle, barely there.

Jesse took Sombra’s face in his hands, kissing back with more passion than ever before. She responded with matching enthusiasm, fingers tangling in his hair. He grabbed at Sombra’s waist, her hips, her thighs. As close as he had held her before, nothing felt like it would be enough. Weeks of longing had finally brought him to this moment, Sombra gasping softly into his mouth.

Jesse missed the hyper train, but he didn’t mind.

#mcsombra #jesse mccree #sombra #olivia colomar #jesse mccree/sombra #mccree/sombra #overwatch fanfic #Overwatch #ow fanfic #ow #clareguilty #Commission fic #commissions #itshigh-boop

[distant-rose]

Hey Rose! When do the Little Pirates stop believing in Santa, since it is the holiday season? And how did they find out? I love Little Pirates so much!

Hi wonderful, I know that this question has been sitting in my inbox for like a week and I’m sure you didn’t think I was going to answer it but the reason it took this long was because I was already planning on a fic in regard to Neddy founding out that Santa doesn’t exist and Wes causing chaos. Therefore, your answer is going to be a 2600 word ficTitle: Claus ChaosSummary: Emma Swan didn’t have a good track record with Christmas as a child, which is why she tends to go all out with the holiday spirit now that she has children. Unfortunately for her, her children aren’t so appreciative of it.Word Count: 2,900+Rating: T+

Emma Swan did not have a good track record with Christmas as a child. Christmas was meant for kids who had families and people who loved them. It wasn’t a holiday for lost girls. Didn’t matter how many donated barbies or dollar store toys she got from the local charities, it didn’t make up for the fact that most of her classmates were home and enjoying the Christmas season with their families while Emma was stuck in foster homes who ignored the holiday more often than not.

Christmas had been a time when she had felt the most alone, which was now why she went out of her way to ensure her kids had the best memories ever. Where her holiday memories were nothing but bad cable and microwaved meals, Emma now baked cookies, decorated trees, risked her neck to hang fairy lights off the roof and Frank Sinatra’s Christmas classics blared in her kitchen nonstop. 

Killian thought Christmas was odd. He didn’t understand they celebrated it, especially when it was a part of a religion virtually none of them followed but he understood Emma’s need for their children to have good memories, especially when their own lives where so dark. Therefore, he indulged her need for crazy Christmas traditions and observations.

Including getting pictures taken with Santa Claus.

The tradition had manifested during her time in New York. According to the fake memories provided by Regina, Emma had taken Henry to the Macy’s Santaland every year to get his photo taken with Santa. It had been something that they had continued to despite recovering their memories in a way to keep some normalcy in their lives. Even when Henry was quite clearly aware that Santa wasn’t real, he had indulged his mother and had even continued to be in the photos well into his late teens in order to keep his little siblings happy.

Now, Henry is grown up and his own Santa Claus traditions with his daughter while Emma was left with two teenagers, a preteen and a six-year old.

Harrison, Wes and Beth were now very much aware of the fact that Santa Claus was not real. They had discovered the truth about Santa roughly seven years ago when Harrison and Wes had made a bet on the existence of Santa. In the middle of the night the three of them had come down in hopes of getting a glimpse of Santa but had only managed to catch her and Killian in the middle of pulling presents out from the storage cabinet under the stairs. Needless to say, it had been it had been a bad year. Harrison still wasn’t over the fact that he had been “repeatedly and systematically lied to for years and would need therapy for the rest of his life.” Those were his words, not hers.

Her kids had a flare for the dramatic. She blamed Killian for this.

Since that incident, they had been less willing than Henry to keep up the guise of Santa for their six-year old brother. In fact, Harrison had sat her down last week with a pro and a con of lying about Santa’s existence. It had been as entertaining as had been worrisome, but she had remained firm in her decision and her son had begrudgingly decided to respect it.

Despite their reservations, they had been relatively good about driving to Portland and taking their annual Christmas photo with Santa. Emma had always been ambivalent on the fact they had given their kids cell phones before high school, as they had a tendency to sit on the couch and stare at them like mindless zombies but right now it was a blessing. All of her kids had their eyeballs glued to their electronic devices as they waited in possibly one of the longest lines that Emma had ever seen for a picture with Santa.

All of them except Wes who was now looking up from his phone with the most cankerous of expressions. He looked like the definition of malcontent and Emma could feel her good luck sliding down the drain.

“We’ve been in this line for over an hour.”

“I’m well aware of that, kiddo.”

“Why are we doing this again?” Wes asked, pocketing his phone and crossing his arms in front of his chest like the moody teenager that he was on the verge of becoming. Emma had a feeling his transformation from chubby cheeked scamp to teenage dirtbag was going to be worse than both of his older brothers combined.

“Because it’s what we do every year,” Emma replied through gritted teeth, starting to lose her patience with the amount of attitude she was receiving at the moment.

“Yeah, but why?”

“Because it’s nice,” she snapped. “And because your little brother is excited.”

Indeed, Neddy had been excited. Meeting Santa was all he had wanted to do for the past three days and he had talked about it nonstop, writing and rewriting lists that he wanted to give to Santa, dealing all of the presents he wanted. It was a cute list but there was no way in hell that kid was getting a rocket launcher. That was just asking for trouble.

The sad part was that a rocket launcher wasn’t the oddest thing her children had ever asked for; highlights included a mind-control helmet, a cursed bracelet, Thor’s Hammer, Wonder Woman’s lasso of truth and a deed of ownership for the Jolly Roger. Thank you, Westley Graham and Elizabeth Alice.

“Cool for Neddy, but I don’t see why I have to do it,” Wes replied, not impressed.

Emma immediately looked down at the boy in question to make sure he wasn’t listening and sure enough, her six-year old was more invested in playing Super Mario than he was in the ever-heating conversation taking place between his mother and brother. The same couldn’t be said for Harrison, who was now watching them with avid interest.

“Because it’s a family thing and you’re a part of this family whether you like it or not.”

“Henry is a part of this family and he’s not here. Neither is Lucy.”

“Where is Henry?” Neddy piped up, tearing his eyes away from his Nintendo Switch and looking around frantically for his eldest sibling.

“He isn’t here,” she said with a gentle sigh. “Henry is an adult and he can do what he wants, but keep in mind that he was always willing to do this for you guys when you were little.”

“Well, I bet he didn’t have to wait in this big-ass line. We’ve been here for, like, hours and it’s all for no—” “Finish that sentence, you’ll be grounded until you’re thirty-five,” Emma cut him off with hiss.

“Fine!” he snapped, rolling his eyes. “But this sucks and I’m bored.”

“Just play with your phone. Your brothers and sister are doing that and they’re not complaining.”

“My phone is dead,” he replied, scowling. “Can I play with yours?”

“I’m on twenty-percent battery, kid. Sorry. It’s not happening.”

“Well then, can I go to GameStop?”

“Westley, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”“That’s what adults say when they don’t have a real reason for it.”

“You really want to know? Because I know you and I know exactly what’s going to happen if I let you go to GameStop! You’re going to cause some sort of trouble like burning the place down or causing some sort of gamer revolt! I’m sorry, kiddo, but after you made the toilets explode, you’re not leaving my sight, which means you’re not leaving this line!”

“That’s racist, Mom.”

“Okay, one, that’s not remotely racist,” Harrison stated, holding up a finger and rolling his eyes at his youngest brother. “And second, you’re an idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Wes snapped. “Don’t tell me that you don’t find all of this stupid.”

“It is,” he conceded, giving his mother an apologetic look before continuing. “But we’re doing this for Neddy, so shut up and stop talking.”

“You stop talking!”

“You don’t make any sense.”

“Oh my god, both of you are dumb,” Beth snapped, looking up from her phone. “I’ve got some major drama going on and I need you to be quiet.”

“You’re twelve. Twelve years-old don’t have drama,” Harrison replied with a roll of his eyes.

“You would be surprised,” Beth replied, sounding closer to sixteen than twelve. She was going to be an even bigger handful than Wes, Emma was calling it now.

“Look, no one cares about sixth grade babies. Give me your phone,” Wes snapped, holding out his hand and gesturing for her to hand over it.

Beth glanced down at his and back at his face, snorting. “No way.”

“Give me your phone.”

“If you try to take my phone from me, not only will I hit you so hard you’ll throw up but I will also shove my phone up your butt so high that I’m going to be able to pull it out of your throat,” she replied with a sweet smile on her face.

Harrison looked between the two of them with a hint of amusement. “I would listen to her, Wes. She has a mean headlock and you’re kind of a wuss.”

“I’m not a wuss,” Wes shouted back defensively while simultaneously taking a step back from his older brother and sister.

“You are so a wuss,” Harrison replied with a snort of amusement. “I beat you all the time.”


“That’s because you’re giant fattyzoid.”

“That’s not a real thing, shit for brains.”

Emma counted to ten under her breath in an attempt to keep from murdering her own children. A few of the mothers who were line were now openly glaring at her kids and she could feel the judgment of every single parent in line. She needed to get them back under control.

“All of you seriously need to knock it off!” she snapped at them, placing her hands on her hips and giving them her patented Angry Mom™ look. “If you don’t quit it, there will be no presents this year.”

Harrison, Wes and Beth all turned to her with their eyebrows raised, clearly not taking her threat seriously. They looked absurdly like Killian.

“Look, I know this is a long line and tempers are flaring up, but you guys got to pull it together. If not for me or for Christmas spirit, at least for your brother.”

“Sorry Mom, that’s not good enough,” Wes replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring at her. “Let me go to GameStop or I’ll pull out the big guns and say the words.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“She means that she doesn’t negotiate with terrorists,” Beth replied drily. Harrison held up his hand to give her a high five, which she returned enthusiastically. Emma opened her mouth to tell them how ridiculous they were but her youngest piped up with a question.

“What’s a terrorist?” 

“It’s a really mean bad person, bud,” Harrison replied, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair.

“Oh,” Neddy blinks. “Yeah, he is definitely a terrorist.”

“I’m not a terrorist,” Wes scoffs. “I’m a simply freedom fighter against maternal oppression.”

“Maternal oppression,” Emma repeated, staring at him in disbelief. “That’s really what you’re going with.”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s not happening.”

“Then I’ll say it!” Wes stated, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Don’t you ever dare!” 

As soon as she said the words, she immediately regretted it. It was probably the worst thing she could ever say to Wes in a situation like this. Give him an order and he would find a way to undermine it in a second. The kid honestly had a real thing against authority and a cynical part of her mocked her for being surprised. What had she been expecting from the offspring of a pirate and a former juvenile delinquent?

Her son’s eyes burned with defiance as he squared his shoulders and looked around at all the families surrounding them. There was a determined set to his jaw that was entirely too similar to Killian’s for Emma to handle. He gave her an evil smirk before he opened his mouth and all hell broke lose.

“I just don’t understand why you’re wasting everyone’s time, Mom,” he shouted as loudly as he could. “It’s not like Santa actually exists.”

The reaction was instantaneous. The small children surrounding them burst into tears, clinging to their parents’ legs. Emma’s ears felt like they were splitting from all the noise. It felt like they were being barraged with a batting ram made of sound.

“Santa isn’t real?” A little girl shrieked.


“Nooooooo!” Another kid cried, falling on his knees and cradling his head.

“It cannot be true! Mommy how could you!”

Emma watched in horror as one child curled into the ball and beat his fists against the floor, his face turning red. His mother bent down to try and placate him, but to no avail; he just continued to scream. She looked up at Emma with a murderous look. If looks could kill, she would have been eviscerated.

Every parent was glaring at her and she couldn’t say she blamed them.

Her own child looked ready to cry himself. Neddy’s brilliant blue eyes were wide and his lip was trembling. She was going to murder Wes.

“Is it true?” he asked in a quivering voice.

“Neddy, kid, don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to upset you,” she said in soothing tone.

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to them!” he said stubbornly, gesturing at Harrison and Beth. “You could be lying to me and you always say lying is wrong.”

They exchanged a look, extremely uncomfortable with the chain of events while Wes looked positively gleeful with the absolute chaos he had wrought.

“Ummm…” Harrison looked to Emma for help, unsure of how to proceed but there was little she could say to help him. She hadn’t necessarily handled their discovery of the truth well at all. 

She could still hear Beth’s angry screaming.

Correction, she wasn’t hearing her daughter screaming. She was hearing some other girl having a meltdown because her kid is a kind of dick.

“He’s real, I mean records show that Saint Nicholas was a real person and that he was from, I think, Norway? Anyway, he helped some young women out with their dowry, I think?”

“The key term there is was, Neddy,” Wes said with a smirk. “He’s saying Santa did exist but doesn’t anymore. Therefore, I’m right.”

“Stop talking,” Emma hissed, pulling his ear. “You’re so grounded that you’re probably never going to see natural sunlight again.”

“Ouch, ouch, ouch! Mom! Stop! You’re hurting me!”

“I’m not listening to you anyway,” Neddy said, glaring at his older brother. “You’re a liar.”

“When have I lied ever to you?” Wes asked in outrage.

“When don’t you is the question I would be asking,” Beth replied with a snort.

“You told me I was adopted and Mom and Dad weren’t my real parents!” Neddy shouted, shaking a tiny fist at him.

“Oh…I forgot about that but trust me when I say Santa isn’t real. It’s just Mom and Dad trying to trick you.”

“Neddy Bug, listen to me,” Beth said, placing both hands on her younger brother’s shoulders. “Mom’s right. Wes is a jerk and is trying to make you sad. Santa is…as real as you want him to be. As long as you choose to believe…”

Neddy looked back and forth between Beth and Harrison. As mad as Emma is at Wes, she’s incredibly proud of her other two children for being so good with their younger brother. She had honestly expected Beth to play along with her brother’s scheme.

“He’s not real, isn’t he?” Neddy asked quietly.

“No, but it’s fun to pretend isn’t it?” Emma said softly, releasing Wes in order to crouch down in front of her youngest.

“Yeah, I guess…” he replied, sounding sure. “If Santa’s not real then, who are we going to see?”

“Some weirdo the mall is paying to let little kids crawl on his lap,” Wes replied, only to receive a jab in the gut from Harrison.

“Look, if you don’t want to do this then we don’t have to do this. We’ll just go to Mrs. Field’s and get some cookies and then go back home. It’s just…I didn’t have much going up, okay? I didn’t have a lot of presents or cookies or Christmas stuff. I never got to see Santa or take photos with him and I just wanted you guys to have everything I missed out on….”

Neddy frowned. “You really had no presents?”

“No presents,” Emma confirmed with a small sad smile.

“You really like Santa, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“We’ll meet him then.”

“Are you kidding me? Seriously, Neddy, you still want to do the weird Santa picture?”

“Yeah, because it makes Mom happy,” Neddy answered simply, shrugging his shoulders.

“You have absolutely got to be kidding!” Wes repeated, shaking his head.

“How does it feel to sacrifice your freedom and get grounded in a ploy to not get the Santa photo and still have to take it?” Beth smirked.

“Shut up.”

It was the last photo with Santa Claus her family ever took but it became one of Emma’s most treasured memories because despite the fact that he no longer believed in Santa Claus and Wes had literally ruined Christmas for him, Neddy did something just for her and that was something she cherished even more than the misshaped clay bowl he had made for her as a gift.

She put the photo next to the bowl on the mantle in the living room and smiled at it every time she saw it thereafter.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #claus chaos #asked #answered #anon #little pirates #little pirates fic #my fic #my shit #harrison jones #wes jones #beth jones #ned jones

[youngblood-2120]

Send me a prompt(s) and a person!

- 5SOS

- One Direction

- Shawn Mendes

-Harry Potter

- Riverdale

“I just know something bad is going to happen.”

“You don’t look like an angel.”

“This is who I am. Nobody said you had to like it.”

“Don’t talk. Please.”

“I’ll make my own decisions, thank you.”

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“Whoop! Whoop! Over-reaction alert!”

“It’s so ugly… I LOVE IT!”

“You lucky bastard.”

“We’re young. We’re fine. Let’s do some damage.”

“Who’s the bitch now, bitch?”

“I picked a helluva a day to quit drinking.”

“What’s that? Your stripper money?”

“Don’t you just hate those things you say that make you feel really blonde?”

“When I say problem, I mean global crisis.”

“Well, you don’t need to be snarky about.”

“If KARMA doesn’t hit you, I’ll do it.”

“Did you just fall?” “No, I attacked the floor.” “Backwards?” “I’m freaking talented!”

“Of course I can see you. I’m not blind you know.”

“The world can be amazing when you’re slightly strange.”

“Life is too short to wear boring clothes.”

“You throw punches, I throw insults.”

“Wow, I wish I could speak whale.”

“Sometimes I forget my middle name.”

“Let me just pound your head into the cement quick.”

“Yeah, I got that from your 600 voicemails.”

“I love the way your foul little mind works.”

“Haha, made you look.”

“Have you ever tried to run in heels?”

“Oh honey, I have a fake laugh with your name written all over it.”

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“All due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.”

“Generally speaking, you aren’t learning much when your lips are moving.”

“Brains aren’t everything. In fact, in your case, they are nothing.”

“How did you get here? Did someone leave your cage open.”

“I hope karma slaps you in the face before I do.”

“Well aren’t we just a freakin’ ray of sunshine.”

“I’m the dumbest smart person you’ll ever meet.”

“You say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing.”

“Do you want me to accept you as you are, or do you want me to lie to myself and try to like you?”

“I could do that, but I won’t.”

“How come you’re here? I thought the zoo is closed at night…”

“You’re just jealous because the voices are talking to me.”

“Oh, honey, don’t feel bad. There’s a lot of people out there who don’t have talent!”

“I’d like to kick you in the teeth, but why should I improve your looks?”

“Sorry… I wasn’t born with a filter.”

“At least there’s one thing good about your body. It isn’t as ugly as your face.”

“I’d like to see things from your point of view, but I can’t seem to get my head that far up your ass.”

“People would follow him anywhere, but only out of morbid curiosity.”

“You grow on people, but so does cancer.”

“It’s always darkest before dawn. So if you’re going to steal your neighbor’s newspaper, that’s the time to do it.”

“Always remember that you’re unique. Just like everyone else.”

“If I throw a stick, will you leave?”

“Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.”

“And that’s why women living longer.”

“Well, this day was a total waste of makeup.”

“I’m trying to imagine you with a personality.”

“If we killed everybody who hates you, it wouldn’t be murder, it would be an apocalypse!”

“This is an excellent time for you to become a missing person.”

“Are you always this stupid or are you making a special effort today?”

“I’m busy now. Can I ignore you some other time?”

“Don’t let your mind wander, it’s far too small to be let out on it’s own.”

“Don’t you realize that there are already enough people to hate in the world without you putting in so much effort to give us another?”

“I don’t know what makes you some dumb but it really works.”

“Don’t thank me for insulting you. It was my pleasure.”

“I’m impressed. I’ve never met such a small mind inside a big head before.”

“You are not as bad as people say. You are much, much worse.”

“Please keep talking. I always yawn when I am interested.”

“What do I say?” “I hear “hello” is really popular.”

“My ex had one very annoying habit. Breathing.”

“Please don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to myself.”

“You did what with who for how many muffins?”

“Heaven won’t take me and hell’s afraid I’ll take over.”

“I’m still drunk from last night.”

“I’m sorry for the mean, awful, accurate things I said.”

“Zombies ear brains. You’re safe.”

“If only closed minds came with closed mouths.”

“I’d agree with you, but then we’d bot be wrong.”

“Babe, if a woman tell you “You’re right” that’s called sarcasm.”

“Some people just need a high-five. In the face. With a chair.”

“There’s someone for everyone, and the person for you is a psychiatrist.”

“I want to say I’m hear to listen to your problems, but I’m not a therapist and I don’t like you.”

“Your flexibility amazes me. How do you get your foot in your mouth and your head up your ass all at the same times?”

“I’m actually not funny. I’m just mean and people think I’m joking.”

“Oh, you don’t like me? Well have a seat with the rest of the bitches waiting for me to give a fuck.”

“I’m sorry I slapped you… But you didn’t seem like you would ever stop talking and I panicked.”

“It’s called karma, and it’s pronounced ‘haha fuck you’.”

“I’m not jealous, I just don’t like the bitch.”

“Wanna see how far my six inch heel can go up your ass?”

“Oops, my bad. I could’ve sworn I was dealing with an adult.”

“You look like something I drew with my left/right hand.”

“Keep rolling your eyes. Maybe you’ll find a brain back there.”

“I’ve got a good heart but this mouth…”

“I don’t have the energy to pretend to like you today.”

“I take super hot showers to practice burning in hell.”

“If you don’t like me and still watch everything I do, BITCH YOU ARE A FAN.”

“Sweetie, I’m gonna need you to put those few remaining brain cells together and work with me here, okay?”

“Have you ever had those days when you are holding a stick and everybody looks like a pinata.”

“The trash gets picked up tomorrow. Be ready.”

#5sos #5sos preferences #5sos imagine #luke hemmings #luke 5sos #luke imagine #luke preference #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #ashton imagine #micahel clifford #michael 5sos #calum hood #calum 5sos #Harry Potter #riverdale preferences #shawn mendes #send me prompts #prompt #send me asks #asks

[hasanthedon1000]

Don’t find a way out, find a way in.

For me, my way out was anime & video games.(it still is) For a lot of children it’s social media. That’s y u have folks running around thinking women are stronger than men (physically) and we’re all the same, and race doesn’t matter 😒 (Common sense ain’t so common anymore) Like idk if these kids will be able to handle this world, cause it’s the opposite of what’s on the internet…

We’re always trying to get away. Never facing what’s right in front of our faces. Most of the time all the right answers are right there, literally. There have always been good people present, but our focus is always on what we can’t have. Never on what we have.

It’s like this….we can’t have it our way, which is good. When I was little, I wanted everything. And in having such an unrealistic frame of mind I neglected the friends that were right in front of my face. I still think of them to this day.

But it’s too late. Sometimes I wish god could let us go back in time so that we could reverse our dumb decisions into smart decisions. Give our immature minds the focus we needed to appreciate what we had. Too bad that’s impossible…

We could’ve been friends if I wasn’t so stupid.

And now I’m alone….But it’s okay. I don’t deserve friends, because at the end of the day if I did, they’d be here.

(Back on topic) You rarely here people say, “ok cool that makes more sense”, or “hmm I never thought about like that”. There’s not much self reflection these days. It’s always “me me me me me.” You could be wrong, and sometimes people know they’re wrong and still just want to be right. That’s the part where I exit the scene.

“I don’t deal in legends, I deal in facts” TFS Freiza

Most people don’t, especially women. I’ve heard more bullshit(delusions) come out a women’s mouth than any other creature on this earth 😂. It’s really fascinating. I wish I could be in denial that much and still be sane. But it’s all good. Ig that’s just what we got now. And why I’m single. Also, that’s just my experience with women. I hate to argue facts with anyone because it’s stupid. What’s real is real and it’ll never change. Get over yourself and own up to your shit. And women (from my experience) don’t accept reality. If you know some women that do then lmk.

“I dislike stupid people. Especially those that can’t admit that they’re stupid. I mean you’re(my past self) pretty stupid but at least you know you are. So when I tell you that you’re stupid maybe you’ll become less stupid.” - Saya Takagi

I didn’t get it back then, But I do now.

It a waste of time. I’ll have more luck talking to hamsters than those kinds of women. But I’m cool.

If I have to devalue & lower my standards for anyone, then I’ll be alone forever. I’m talking friendships, relationships, situationships, companionships, whatever. Dumb people hang out with dumb people, which is why they remain dumb. That shit’s contagious. Just like rage, sadness, ingratitude, laziness, greed, hate, etc.

I’m damaged enough, don’t need anyone fuel to this fire.

Now hold up a sec…I’m only referring to women who deny facts. Not women who have they’re own opinions and outlooks on the world. I love hearing different perspectives and would gladly spend time with women who were open to discussion, I’m not a narcissist 🤪. But I’m not debating what’s been proven factual to anyone. That’s ridiculous and a waste of brain cells.

I feel like I went off topic. Happens allot when I write from the soul. Sorry🙏🏽. I’m not trying to bash women either, or men. Just the stupid ones. The world is what it is, not what we’d like it to be. Accept it, because if you do then you can deal with it, work around it, and do what you want happily. Denial breeds dissatisfaction. I’ve seen it….

I’ve lived it.

(Switch) You know, A big piece of me still wants it to be real.(Anime) Even though ik it’ll never be. My mind won’t accept it. I still want to fly even though ik I’ll never be able to.

Truth is, I’ve never liked this world. That’s why me & my brother told stories and created characters. Why we wrote. I picked up the pen because of my own sort of denial in a way.

But I never project it. Not anymore. I know what’s real. I’ve accepted it and it’s okay, because I know they’re beautiful places in this world, wonderful creatures and even wonderful people. That’s worth it to me. So Even if my mind is corrupted by fantasies, I can still be happy in the real world. I can try. When you know what’s real, you can deny it to everyone but yourself.

My way in is threw the beauty of this world…🌏

#my thoughts #lets discuss #my reality

[eternalmikaelson]

Prompt List of Sarcasm [2]

Prompt List of Sarcasm: One 

“I just know something bad is going to happen.” 

“You don’t look like an angel.” 

“This is who I am. Nobody said you had to like it.” 

“Don’t talk. Please.” 

“I’ll make my own decisions, thank you.” 

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” 

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” 

“Whoop! Whoop! Over-reaction alert!” 

“It’s so ugly... I LOVE IT!” 

“You lucky bastard.” 

“We’re young. We’re fine. Let’s do some damage.” 

“Who’s the bitch now, bitch?” 

“I picked a helluva a day to quit drinking.” 

“What’s that? Your stripper money?” 

“Don’t you just hate those things you say that make you feel really blonde?” 

“When I say problem, I mean global crisis.” 

“Well, you don’t need to be snarky about.” 

“If KARMA doesn’t hit you, I’ll do it.” 

“Did you just fall?” “No, I attacked the floor.” “Backwards?” “I’m freaking talented!” 

“Of course I can see you. I’m not blind you know.” 

“The world can be amazing when you’re slightly strange.” 

“Life is too short to wear boring clothes.” 

“You throw punches, I throw insults.” 

“Wow, I wish I could speak whale.” 

“Sometimes I forget my middle name.” 

“Let me just pound your head into the cement quick.” 

“Yeah, I got that from your 600 voicemails.” 

“I love the way your foul little mind works.” 

“Haha, made you look.” 

“Have you ever tried to run in heels?” 

“Oh honey, I have a fake laugh with your name written all over it.” 

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth.” 

“All due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.” 

“Generally speaking, you aren’t learning much when your lips are moving.” 

“Brains aren’t everything. In fact, in your case, they are nothing.” 

“How did you get here? Did someone leave your cage open.” 

“I hope karma slaps you in the face before I do.” 

“Well aren’t we just a freakin’ ray of sunshine.” 

“I’m the dumbest smart person you’ll ever meet.” 

“You say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing.”

“Do you want me to accept you as you are, or do you want me to lie to myself and try to like you?” 

“I could do that, but I won’t.” 

“How come you’re here? I thought the zoo is closed at night...” 

“You’re just jealous because the voices are talking to me.” 

“Oh, honey, don’t feel bad. There’s a lot of people out there who don’t have talent!” 

“I’d like to kick you in the teeth, but why should I improve your looks?” 

“Sorry... I wasn’t born with a filter.” 

“At least there’s one thing good about your body. It isn’t as ugly as your face.” 

“I’d like to see things from your point of view, but I can’t seem to get my head that far up your ass.” 

“People would follow him anywhere, but only out of morbid curiosity.” 

“You grow on people, but so does cancer.” 

“It’s always darkest before dawn. So if you’re going to steal your neighbor’s newspaper, that’s the time to do it.” 

“Always remember that you’re unique. Just like everyone else.” 

“If I throw a stick, will you leave?” 

“Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.” 

“And that’s why women living longer.” 

“Well, this day was a total waste of makeup.” 

“I’m trying to imagine you with a personality.” 

“If we killed everybody who hates you, it wouldn’t be murder, it would be an apocalypse!” 

“This is an excellent time for you to become a missing person.” 

“Are you always this stupid or are you making a special effort today?” 

“I’m busy now. Can I ignore you some other time?” 

“Don’t let your mind wander, it’s far too small to be let out on it’s own.” 

“Don’t you realize that there are already enough people to hate in the world without you putting in so much effort to give us another?” 

“I don’t know what makes you some dumb but it really works.” 

“Don’t thank me for insulting you. It was my pleasure.” 

“I’m impressed. I’ve never met such a small mind inside a big head before.” 

“You are not as bad as people say. You are much, much worse.” 

“Please keep talking. I always yawn when I am interested.” 

“What do I say?” “I hear “hello” is really popular.” 

“My ex had one very annoying habit. Breathing.” 

“Please don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to myself.” 

“You did what with who for how many muffins?” 

“Heaven won’t take me and hell’s afraid I’ll take over.” 

“I’m still drunk from last night.” 

“I’m sorry for the mean, awful, accurate things I said.” 

“Zombies ear brains. You’re safe.” 

“If only closed minds came with closed mouths.” 

“I’d agree with you, but then we’d bot be wrong.” 

“Babe, if a woman tell you “You’re right” that’s called sarcasm.” 

“Some people just need a high-five. In the face. With a chair.” 

“There’s someone for everyone, and the person for you is a psychiatrist.” 

“I want to say I’m hear to listen to your problems, but I’m not a therapist and I don’t like you.” 

“Your flexibility amazes me. How do you get your foot in your mouth and your head up your ass all at the same times?” 

“I’m actually not funny. I’m just mean and people think I’m joking.” 

“Oh, you don’t like me? Well have a seat with the rest of the bitches waiting for me to give a fuck.” 

“I’m sorry I slapped you... But you didn’t seem like you would ever stop talking and I panicked.” 

“It’s called karma, and it’s pronounced ‘haha fuck you’.” 

“I’m not jealous, I just don’t like the bitch.” 

“Wanna see how far my six inch heel can go up your ass?” 

“Oops, my bad. I could’ve sworn I was dealing with an adult.” 

“You look like something I drew with my left/right hand.” 

“Keep rolling your eyes. Maybe you’ll find a brain back there.” 

“I’ve got a good heart but this mouth...” 

“I don’t have the energy to pretend to like you today.” 

“I take super hot showers to practice burning in hell.” 

“If you don’t like me and still watch everything I do, BITCH YOU ARE A FAN.” 

“Sweetie, I’m gonna need you to put those few remaining brain cells together and work with me here, okay?” 

“Have you ever had those days when you are holding a stick and everybody looks like a pinata.” 

“The trash gets picked up tomorrow. Be ready.”

Request: [x] Masterlist: [x]

#prompt list #imagine #oneshot #drabble #preferences #smut #writer #the vampire diaries #tvd #the originals #klaus mikaelson #kol mikaelson #damon salvatore #kai parker #sons of anarchy #samcro #happy lowman #juice ortiz #jax teller #tig trager #law and order svu #svu #sonny carisi #rafael barba #the flash #teen wolf #supernatural #chicago pd #shadowhunters #prompts