#or like he starts out with just normal color change contacts because the white out kind usually fucks with your vision

[uncharted-constellations]

Also knowing me ill edit this post 900 times as i think of things to add or change but a Dick Timeline, obviously i cut out a lot of suits but sliding timeline means that many costumes is ridiculous and also my poor wrist. I drew him as tiny as physically fucking possible for the first one until i wanted to wrap him in a blanket and give him a juice box so i figured it was Correct regardless of how tall an actual 8 year old should be because my only reference is my youngest cousin who is a giant

Also i made discowing both more edgy and more tacky, he’s mixing metallics like a goddamn fool, theres sparkles everywhere, the mullet is terrible, he absolutely still has and wears that jacket.

I put red nightwing Early and then had blue nightwing later because going blue -> red -> blue makes no sense in terms of realistic costume development, just assume he briefly went back to the red costume after batman while he was finishing making the blue suit or he finished it after the agent grayson shit or whatever that arcs called. “Theres not enough nightwing costumes for the ric grayson arc” you say, making up a whole arc that clearly never existed, dick was merely in a coma for several months while the others covered as nightwing, dont worry about it

#dick grayson #robin #discowing #nightwing #batman #art #my art #redesign #but yeah im trying to give them all some kind of design element that exists throughout all of their costumes #so for dick its the trapeze boots and the kind of angling that starts on his chest snd later also occurs on the hips #also i wanted to include the sort of super tech advancements #so like its not one of those things where necessarily dick Couldnt’ve had a domino mask younger than he did #but at the time it wouldnt have been practical for him because a) #super people didnt really have side kicks yet so the domino mask wasnt very popular #and b) he is a tiny boy and it would not have been comfy #i wanted there to be a kind of line where like #yeah theres enough people doing this kind of style of mask where they figured out #a domino mask that you Could wear for 8 hours and not get skin rashes #or like he starts out with just normal color change contacts because the white out kind usually fucks with your vision #Until they later find some kind of advancement where its feasible #its not necessarily accurate for a sliding timescale #which is why i didnt really go into knifeproof or bulletproofing details #but since the domino mask is Visual i thought it was neat to think about #also i love those camera contacts from the new movie #but are they feasible for that early in the comics timeline? absolutely not #but yeah so little baby robin has green contacts #also kind of like the steph batgirl redesigns i imagine theres a few different pieces for each version #so hes probably got a black domino for his current outfit and a red one for his old one #different aerial/trapeze boots for over his shoes etc #also yes i do darker skin and lighter hair for kids because its usually true or it was for me anyways

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

random percy headcanons:

wants to be the photographer friend SO bad and he technically is but like 70% of the pics come out blurry or weird bc there was a monster attack in the middle of them. his instagram is truly so chaotic looking.

literally always has seashells on him someone will ask him for a pencil or spare change and he has to empty all his pockets of shells to find it. drops his backpack and a bunch of shells fall out. kicks his shoes off and sand and shells fly out and his mortal friends are like percy What the Fuck

his eyes glow underwater!! bioluminescent king. no one told him though and he didn't find out until he joined his school's swim team and terrified everyone (he managed to convince them his contacts were having a weird reaction to chlorine lmao)

he really likes art!! he doesn't just pretend to for rachel's sake he genuinely enjoys painting with her. he likes splatter paint, collages and pop art styles the best. one day after splitting some edibles they realized percy could manipulate water colors and went CRAZY with it

will ask to be excused during class and comes back like an hour later with scorch marks all over his face bleeding from one of his ears covered in dust missing three fingernails rips in his jeans and a fat lip and the teacher is like percy what the actual hell were you doing in the bathroom all this time and he's just like uhhhhhh I have ibs

the brand from camp jupiter did unfortunately (for sally) Unlock something in him lmfao he keeps getting shitty little tattoos. usually stick-n-poke but someone's friends cousin's girlfriend's brother has a gun that gets brought to parties every now and then. most of them are sloppy but you can tell what they are HOWEVER he has one that was supposed to be a seal that came out looking like one of those shitty ms paint crying memes. annabeth laughed at him for ten minutes straight when she saw it.

he wanted to dye his hair blue but he was too chicken to bleach his entire head so he just did the tips. his hair is curly though so it looks absolutely ridiculous but he loves it

percy and annabeth get a crusty little yappy white dog in college and he carries it around like a baby lmao

back to his chaotic instagram, he's got so many pics of him like, relaxing at the bottom of the mariana trench or hugging a giant squid or riding on a whale shark and his mortal friends all think he's just really good at photoshop and this is a very specific bit he decided to commit to. they're always like lol percy where do you even FIND these pictures are you subscribed to like scientific journals for the laughs? but no he just took them all on his shell phone

has an ongoing prank war with annabeth's little brothers bobby and matthew but like it's Unhinged. they're playing 5D chess and she has no idea whats going on

weird tshirts!!! he loves them! like

shit like this or those 'women want me fish fear me' shirts, anything with a funny or incomprehensible slogan is going in his closet right along with his band tees lmfao

bought estelle a panda pillow pet when she was born 🥺

can NOT bring himself to eat seafood no matter how many times poseidon has told him its fine. he's like NO these are my FRIENDS JONATHAN WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HIS GRANDDAUGHTERS WEDDING LITERALLY YESTERDAY WHY IS HE ON A PLATTER DAD. they had to give up and just start eating normal land food at the palace every time he comes to visit lmfao

gets into horsegirl antics with hazel she NEEDS to know everything the horses have to say. they spend hours gossiping in the stables.

movie nights in the poseidon cabin were 10000% a thing and when he was missing annabeth and thalia and grover (and a few others) would still sleep in there every now and then and talk about how much they miss him :(

percy and beckendorf had the worlds most elaborate handshake

he DOES impulse buy stuff just because they're ocean-themed. stuffed animals, home decor, school supplies, clothes, you name it he bought it if theres like a fish on it

has more scars from crashing off his skateboard than he does from monster attacks

grover is somehow the only person who's ever noticed percy is severely claustrophobic

has a deep passion for adele. I can't explain this one I just feel and know it to be true.

he and annabeth both proposed to each other at the same time and they were SO mad about it they kept yelling over each other's speeches lmao

he can SING but he doesn't know it. sally keeps trying to record him singing to himself but something always happens to the camera and she loses the evidence

called chiron a brony one time and mr d thought it was so funny he was nice to percy for an entire week

the camp keeps trying to convince him to teach sword fighting lessons to the younger kids but he can NOT bring himself to swing a sword at a 9 year old so he keeps getting injured

has the most complicated iced coffee order in the world his go-to local coffee shop finally just put the damn drink on the menu and named it after him

he IS the quiet kid in the back of your math class that always has his hood up to try and hide his headphones and eats increasingly elaborate meals out of his backpack when the teacher isn't looking. one time someone caught him with a rotisserie chicken in the middle of a geometry final.

he argued that he DID have enough to share with the class

currently obsessed with the image of him knocking back a container of sea salt as if it was a shot and his mortal friends being like hey! what the actual fuck! and he's just like uhhhhh anemia kills!

its his birthday<3

#percy jackson #pjo #hoo #toa #percabeth #molly mumbles

[fountainpenguin]

"Always hear the same kind of story; break your nose and they'll just say 'Sorry...'" (x)

---

Pixels Imperfect series ~ Double Life - Boat Boys

“Canadian Idiot” - 23k words

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Paper Boats [Etho & Joel series]

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

I've been drawing preview images for some of my 'fics that didn't have them yet. Here's a pretty post for a personal favorite!

---

Summary: Etho is a fox hybrid who aggros on people who cause him damage. During Double Life, Joel and Etho are soulbound. And Joel causes Etho a lot of damage. The mob-strengthening full moon doesn’t help.

AKA - That one 'fic where Etho bites Joel a bunch of times and Joel stomachs it like the good little soulmate he is.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Canadian Idiot

"Where is Etho? Why hasn't he come home? I'm SO worried…"

🖤  💛  ❤️

Act 1. Scene 2. Introductions are behind them; the Hero's Journey has begun. They balance on the precipice hand in hand, except they're nowhere near hand in hand because Joel has done nothing wrong and Etho's about to bring him crashing down. With a label like Act 1, Scene 2 melting in your brain, you're practically encouraged to overstep; make mistakes. Isn't that a proper story outline? You start by introducing goals. Then faults. 'Tell me one thing your protagonist does wrong…'

It's Etho, not Joel, who does something wrong. Wrong and immoral and without consent, and he's shaking - he's shaking - as he slips his hand above the milk-white bed sheets. He slightly cranes his neck, lifting just a little from his pillow. He's already squirmed closer to Joel more than he'd admit to anyone outside the Boat. Joel's cradled against him, stomachs and knees and hips flush and ticklish and warm. Joel's hand rests atop the blankets. Atop Etho's chest, pretty much.

And Etho's itchy, pain swelling deep inside. His breath's all clogged in the back of his throat. A problem that Joel doesn't have, because Joel's some kind of insect hybrid and he breathes through the spiracles down his torso… which Etho can feel both on the outside of his legs (because Joel is shirtless under the blankets) and threaded through his own body (because they share every flickery touch, even in the way they breathe).

I wonder if Joel ever gets sick of feeling "my" breath in the back of his mouth. That's gotta be a weird feeling when he doesn't have lungs…

In Act 1, Scene 2, Etho initiates the Rising Action. He lays his own hand on the far side of Joel's. His eyes are glowing - the candles and furnaces are glowing too - and it's warm and rosy and golden brown down in the depths of The Relation. Etho's shaking as he nudges Joel's fingers higher up the blankets, from their random flop (is it random?) across Joel's chest and up to Etho's neck. Conflicting pixels bristle when they come into contact. They tense up, even while Joel stays sleepy and mild-mannered. Etho stares down at those gleaming pixels and watches them re-situate themselves, building up their little barrier so they stay firmly Joel's and his own pixels remain firmly Etho's.

There's unwavering trust in the way Joel lets himself sleep, curled against Etho's side. The pixels in their legs blended together long ago, making mermaids out of them. They don't even itch. They're perfectly melted inside each other, heels and toes overlapping as easily as the edges of their hitboxes do.

Etho can feel the easy flutter of mingled bits and pieces shifting between them, pixels bumping and evaluating their neighbors and occasionally switching back and forth. He's got bits that used to belong to Joel in his ankles, probably. The colors have probably already changed over. You wouldn't even be able to tell. It's nothing. It's normal. Everybody does this. They're sharing a bed. They're sharing hearts and health and pain; exchanging pixels during hitbox overlap isn't nearly as weird.

It's not like I'm anxious and 65 anymore. I've got a couple thousand years in me. I've shared my bed before. This isn't weird.

It's not like this in the singleplayer, though, where he sleeps alone.

And it's not like this on Hermitcraft. Where he sleeps alone.

And it wasn't like this in his wool castle on 3rd Life. Where he slept alone.

And it wasn't like this in Last Life. Bdubs slept on the far side of their shared room, his narcoleptic phantom soul knocking him out cold hours before Etho crept to bed. And slept alone.

Etho squirms, which blurs his foot with Joel's and sends a static ripple up his leg. He stops so it won't seize up in the pit behind his knee. His pixels need a minute to orient again, sluggish in their sleep just like the softly breathing Joel. The air is stuffy inside The Relation's lower room. Etho already pulled his mask off before bed; it lies (rumpled and unfolded) on the crafting table to his left. Though dry, the air is cool against his exposed skin. His tongue traces across the curve of each and every pointed tooth inside his mouth.

I have to.

The closest he'll come to voicing it. He tries to fold his hands away. He grips his own wrist, grinding it in the wrinkles of blankets tucked against his stomach. Candles flicker in the edges of his vision. He stares across the captains' quarters, rotating his hand back and forth, forcing it to press his stomach. To calm some kind of hunger that doesn't stem from there.

He does not personify the aggro instincts creeping up his spine. They don't envelop him in words. Offering words to the thought would mean caving in, admitting its strength and hold against him. Etho stares without blinking at the far wall and twists his wrist in that space between stomach and guts. Tight. Unyielding. Firm.

It's never been this bad on-server before…

It's twisted. It writhes in him, like a snake dropped down his pants, spiraled around his leg, and looped to slither up his spine and wrap around his throat. It's a full-body shiver that leaves him opening and closing his hands, palming his knees through the bed sheets. He has really pointy knees. Etho presses, rubbing his hands up and down and all around in circles, but it doesn't help.

He needs to. This. He needs- he just does. He can curl his legs and writhe and grimace all he wants to, but he can't hold it in forever… like Bdubs can't help but lunge when Etho's pushing at the boundary of long nights with no sleep.

Can't.

He sinks down in the pillows, exhaling, and tugs the white covers of the bed up to his chest again. It shifts Joel's arm. Etho can feel it through the blankets. He can feel the touch of soft, carefully crafted wool on the back of that hand as clearly as his own. Joel's expertise with wool leaves absolutely no question that he thrives on the Empires server, weaving banners on a loom. There's no itchiness to the blankets. They're so soft, they may as well be silk or cream.

This ship feels like a cake, lit by the candles on the wooden shelves. As the wind gusts against the outside of their base, it creaks the boards and Etho shivers, shifting one leg a little tighter between both of Joel's. Pillager grunts carry down the hill. He can hear their distant pacing. The constant loading of crossbow bolts. The way they mutter, bending heads.

Do pillagers ever snuggle with their friends late at night? Maybe not. They're just mobs; maybe they aren't programmed with a sleep schedule. He's never charged inside an outpost to find them startled and fumbling out of bed.

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

#Boat Boys #EthosLab #Joel Smallishbeans #trafficblr #Double Life #traffic soulmates #traffic life smp #ridwriting #apparently art #I have more of these but they'll be spaced out #mcyt #Particularly excited for Friday <3 #Pixels Imperfect #Canadian Idiot #traffictober #clock duo #impulseSV #BdoubleO100 #fic announcement #trafficfic

[not-a-space-alien]

K&J x MMSS 3: Kane & Valen Part 10

Chapter 10 of the third crossover with @whumpsday!

K&J masterlist

MMSS masterlist

K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist

SERIES IS 18+ ONLY.

Warnings:  Aftermath of torture

To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday

In this chapter:

***

It's apparent Valen will be able to speak again any day now. Jim tries to hide it, albeit unsuccessfully, but he's nervous about the situation. But he knows that his own anxieties shouldn’t trump Valen’s comfort. If Valen hasn’t used persuasion on him through writing, he won’t use it through speech, right?

"Just so you know, I'm not gonna bother with the muzzle,” Jim tells him. “We're cool, right?" 

Valen's heart swells. Jim is so very brave. We're so cool, Jim. He gives two thumbs up, then shapes his hands into a heart. I'll show you there's nothing to be anxious about. Thank you for trusting me.

Jim smiles and makes a heart right back. "Awesome."

He’s been having a lot of thoughts about the situation. Holding just Kane here would be different, because that would be fair. Kane kept him, he keeps Kane. But Valen is innocent. He's holding an innocent person captive, and he hates that. But if he lets Valen go, he'll obviously take Kane, and he's still worried about Kane taking a human.

But his worries about Kane taking a human are... low. Normally he'd think I can't take that chance even if it's small. But now, not taking that chance involves imprisoning an innocent person.

Well, it’s not really imprisonment if Valen could just use persuasion, right?

Maybe Kane is less likely to take another human than he’d thought.

***

Valen's vocal cords heal enough to speak later that day. It happens when Valen instinctually clears his throat and finds that it makes a sound.

"Oh?" he says, and finds that the exclamation comes out aloud as well. "K-Kane, my dear!" He grins widely and rushes to Kane to hug him.

Kane wraps his arms around Valen, lifts him into the air, and spins him around. "Valen! Your voice!" he exclaims with a huge smile.

Valen revels in being spun before Kane puts him down, and he immediately decides what to do next. Announcing his good fortune to Kane had been the first thing he'd wanted to do when he got his voice back, but he knows the second thing: He quickly gathers up the clothes he and Kane had been making for Jim, which were just about done, and rushes to go find Jim. 

Kane trails behind him as Valen tromps upstairs, now healthy enough to get around on his own at a moderate pace, and finds Jim in the living room.

"Hey, what's up?" Jim asks.

Valen holds up the outfit they'd made for him. He’d previously asked Jim's favorite color and taken his measurements, so the gift is probably not entirely a surprise. It's in the style of vampire nobility formal wear, not at all Jim's style and probably gauche from his perspective, but Valen is proud of it. It's a white ruffled top with a brocade vest, the pattern Jim's favorite color, and black slacks. There's also space for a pocket watch, but obviously Valen didn't have one or the ability to make one.

Voice still low and hoarse, to keep from straining it too much, Valen says, "Kane and I made you a gift, as a thanks for letting us stay here."

Oh, it's so not Jim's style, but he's very touched by the thought that went into it. He takes it gingerly. "First of all, congrats on talking again! This is awesome, thank you both. This must've taken you guys a while."

"Valen's been teaching me how to sew!" Kane interjects proudly.

"That's great, Kane," Jim says with a smile.

"Try it on!" Valen enthuses, oblivious to the fact that wearing this is about as in character for Jim as wearing a trash bag.

Jim laughs. "Okay, yeah, I gotta try it on, right?" He shoos them out of the room while he changes, then goes to show them, posing exaggeratedly.

Valen claps his hands to his chest and sighs, like a proud mother. "Ooh, you look so handsome." He reaches out and straightens the cravat. "My mother was so disappointed when I started wearing clothes like this. She was infatuated with the beautiful dresses Priscus always got for me.” His voice is getting tired quickly, but he’s caught up in the euphoria of being able to talk again. “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been more fulfilling for her to have a baby doll than a child." His hands falter. "Well–well, I'm not sure to what events you could possibly wear this, but you look quite handsome. I'd love to make something for Liz as well, but I'm not sure if she wears dresses or something more like this."

"Sorry your mom didn't respect you." Jim says sympathetically. "I don't think I've seen Liz in a dress since she was like, eleven. But I'm sure she'd rock whatever you make her."

Valen beams. "We should have a party. You and Liz can invite whatever friends you like, and Kane, you can invite your lovely friend Bellamy, it sounds like he has lots of human friends as well, and I..." Valen trails off as he realizes he doesn't really have anyone to invite. The pause also makes him stop to actually consider what he'd just proposed, as though just now only realizing why it might be a bad idea. "Well, well it was just an idea. I shall ask Liz what she would like me to make her next time she is over."

"Bellamy's not my-" Kane starts, realizing Valen must have a very different impression of his relationship with the childhood friend he’s spoken to exactly once in the past century.

"Valen, you're great, but I think if there's any more vampires in this house, I'll have a heart attack," Jim says gently. "We can probably get Liz and Laken over for something, though."

Valen blushes. "Of course. I apologize, it was insensitive of me to suggest." He gives a polite little bow. "But that sounds lovely, I would certainly love to meet Laken."

"Laken's a hunter, just so you guys know,” Jim warns, wanting to avoid any more freaking out. “Liz's partner. They're cool, they won't hurt you.”

The smile drops from Kane's face and he whimpers, clinging to Valen.

"Or maybe not," Jim amends. "It can just be the four of us."

Valen gives Kane some taps. "Kane, dear, come now. Liz has been so generous to us. It would be unfair for us to shun her partner. Do you think someone like Liz, who would feed us, would partner with someone who would be cruel to us? Can you picture Liz doing anything like-" Valen breaks off, eyeing Jim, walking back the grisly details he was about to divulge. "-that?"

Kane hesitates. Yes, yes I can picture that. Liz hates me, she only likes you. If you weren't here I am 99% sure she would hurt me. “...Okay. If, if you think it'll be safe, then, then okay." he settles with.

"Laken's cool, I promise." Jim gives a thumbs-up. "Then it'll be the five of us. Laken has a karaoke machine, I think. Maybe you can use your new voice on that."

Valen taps Kane three times, like he had before when he couldn’t speak. "It will be nice, my dear, I'm sure it will. And you want Liz to like you, right? If you can get Laken to like you, I'm sure that will win her favor. After all, a good relationship with someone's partner is a sure shortcut to getting on their good side." This with a wink at Jim. "And a karaoke machine sounds wonderful." A pause. "Except, tell me, what exactly is a karaoke machine...?"

***

Liz is not pleased when Jim tells her Valen's speaking freely and not muzzled, but the fact that it went well is proof it wasn't needed. She chides Jim for taking a stupid risk, then lets it go. A full-strength vampire with persuasion and Kane living in Jim's house makes her anxious, but she doesn't really see Valen as too much of a threat.

Next time Jim is talking to Liz on the phone, Valen pipes up in the background demanding Jim to ask Liz what sort of outfits she and Laken would like to wear, and to dictate their measurements to him. After getting the information he needs, he works furiously in the days leading up to the planned get-together. He’s very excited to have something constructive to do with his hands, and plans a flowy gown for Laken, and a suit with coattails for Liz. He is not sure if anyone will want to actually wear theirs, but he plans to wear his nicest outfit, which is similar to the one he made for Jim, but in a darker color palette.

When the day they’ve planned the party for does come, Kane is inseparable from Valen, clinging to him anxiously. He's already scared of Liz, and now there's going to be a second hunter, and it's daytime.

Valen tries to distract Kane by having him help finish the clothes in the hours leading up to the planned event. 

"Kane, darling, what do you think is going to happen?" Valen asks, keeping his hands busy with the needle and thread, weaving in and out with practiced ease, like a spider spinning. "Do you think Laken is going to start getting violent with us, and Jim and Liz will just stand by in silent approval? Why do you feel like the addition of Laken is going to change anything when it's Liz you're scared of?"

"Sometimes the... the hunters would goad each other. There were hunters who never touched me- you were only there for a couple of weeks, I don't know if you saw them, we were apart for a few days- there were some hunters who wouldn't hurt me themselves, but would encourage their friends to be meaner. Maybe someone would be about to give in to my begging, and they'd convince them not to. Or they'd be about to use a regular whip, and they goad their friends into a silver one. More hunters is worse." Kane rambles, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "And Liz already hates me. And Jim... he's been kind, but he probably does, too. He's at least scared of me."

Valen sets down the sewing supplies, taking Kane's face between his hands, tilting him to look at him. "Dear. Liz and Jim are anxious around you, but they still help you. They feed you. They're scared that you're going to hurt them, but they put in the effort to be kind anyway. It's alright to be anxious, but they are already doing this for us. It would be uncharitable to assume the worst of them, and refuse to do the same." He removes one hand from Kane's face and takes his hand with it. "And I will be right there the whole time.”

"Oh. I... I don't know how to stop being scared. I didn't know it was... bad, or ungrateful. Do you think it would be enough to just pretend I'm not, in front of them?" Kane asks.

"You don't have to stop being scared. It's only natural to be scared. You can't help it. But you can choose to be kind and trust them anyway, because they're already trusting you and I, when they didn't have to. You can see it when Jim and Liz are scared. They don't hide it well. Do you wish they would just pretend to not be afraid?"

"I don't wish that. You're right, I'll try to trust them," Kane agrees.

Valen smiles. “Now, do you want to wear the outfit I made you? It matches with mine."

Kane takes the outfit. "I'd love nothing more than to match with you." Even through his fear, he smiles a little.

Kane's outfit is white with gold trim, and Valens' is dark blue with silver trim. Valen's has a small moon embroidered on his breast pocket. "Um..." he says sheepishly. "I thought this color scheme would look good, and it reminded me of how the first song you sang to me was Fly Me To The Moon, and it made me want to add a moon, and then I thought a motif of day and night would be delightful, before I realized it may be in poor taste to embroider a sun on yours. So I didn't. But if you would prefer some other symbol, I can add it in not too much time."

Kane’s delighted about the matching outfits. "They're wonderful, Valen. I love it. Thank you so much." He gives him a peck on the lips. "Maybe mine could have a star? If, if you want to. That's still kind of like the sun, since the sun is a star, and it matches." He chuckles a little, thinking about that first time he sang to Valen. "I guess Cyril was right about us after all."

"Hah. If Cyril was ever right about anything, it would have been entirely by coincidence only." Valen takes the top and quickly starts stitching a star over the breast pocket. "And we can give Liz and Laken theirs as soon as they get here. I'm positive if we spend some time with them, and have some positive interactions, they will start to view us less as predators and more as friends. I'm glad my face is finally starting to look a little less ghastly. For the longest time I looked hardly more than a skull. Dreadful."

"I don't think you looked dreadful, but maybe I'm biased. But I'm very glad you're healing." He puts the outfit on. It reminds him of when he would model Bellamy's creations when he was a boy.

Kane, Valen, and Jim are already in their outfits when Liz and Laken arrive. Liz carries a karaoke machine, and Laken a small cake.

"What's up, party people!" Laken shouts. They grin at Kane and Valen. "Hey, vampires. Sorry, no cake for you. Got some extra blood if you want it, though. I'm Laken."

Kane is kind of half-hiding behind Valen, but he does a little wave. "Hi."

Valen smiles broadly. "It's wonderful to meet you, Laken." He gives a quick curtsey. "I'm Valen. And this creature lurking behind me is Kane."

Kane blushes with embarrassment and comes out from behind Valen a little bit. "I am indeed Kane. It's nice to meet you. Thank you for coming," he says politely, trying to work past his fear.

Laken copies Valen's curtsey. "Cool. Nice to meet you guys, too."

Liz and Laken are both delighted with their gifts. Laken gives Kane and Valen each an extra half-meal, which they both accept gratefully. Kane quickly becomes okay around Laken, disarmed by Valen's presence and the calm atmosphere.

Valen is upon Laken instantly as they’re setting up the karaoke machine. “Jim told me this is basically a singing machine.”

Laken laughs. “Yeah, it’s totally rad! Vampires don’t have karaoke? You wanna give it a try?”

Valen is horrible at singing, and knows he’s probably just going to humiliate himself, but it’s been so long since he’s done anything lighthearted in a group like this. “Yes,” he says emphatically. “I would love to.”

Laken sets the machine on the table and starts flipping through the songs it has. “What do you wanna sing to?”

Valen doesn’t know anything about music. He turns to Kane. “Um…I’m not really familiar with human composers. Kane, would you help me pick?”

“Sure!”

After they all fiddle with the machine to set it up and pick a song, Valen stands up at the front of the room, taking the little microphone to sing a song Laken had assured him would be a great karaoke song.

“Toniiiight, I’m gonna have myself a real good time. I feel aliiiive.”

Valen squints to read the lyrics on the machine, regretting that he’s never heard this song before. “And the world, I'll turn it inside out, yeah, I'm floating around in ecstasy. So don’t. Stop. Me. Now. Don't stop me.”

Valen’s eyebrows shoot up as the music swells unexpectedly, and he stutters to try and keep up as the pace increases. Everyone laughs good-naturedly.

“'Cause I'm having a-time, having a good-I'm a shooting star leaping through-like a tiger–Kane, I think whoever wrote this has unrealistic expectations on what tigers can do–”

“Don’t stop singing!” Laken calls. “You can’t just stop, you have to keep going!”

Valen scrambles to try and pick up his place. “-r-racing car passing by like Lady Godiva–Am I supposed to know who that is? Should I-”

“Don’t stop singing!” comes the chorus of gentle heckles.

“I’m burning through the sky, yeah, 200 degrees that’s why they call me Mister Farenheiiiight.” Valen is starting to get more comfortable and starts to walk away from the machine, forgetting it’s connected by a cord, accidentally pulling it taut and being slightly yanked back. “Kane, you should call me Mr. Fahrenheit, that’s delightful.”

Kane gets up and joins Valen at the mic for the next part, trying to be brave. “I wanna make a supersonic man outta you!”

Valen flushes beet red. They continue to duet for the rest of the song–Kane is a much better singer than Valen is, but both of them seem to trip up over the more explicit parts of the song–neither of them can bring themselves to say I’m a sex machine ready to reload out loud, and Valen hides his face when he realizes that explode is in this case a euphemism for orgasm.

Valen does have some confusing but positive feelings when he sees the lyrics say “I wanna make a supersonic man out of you” and “I wanna make a supersonic woman of you” and he realizes you can do that. He’s definitely not the first person to have their bisexual awakening via Freddy Mercury, but he’s probably the first vampire (but not the last).

When the song is over, Valen sits on the couch, happy he did it, but resolving to never sing in public again.

“You did great,” Kane says. “Your voice is beautiful.”

Valen flushes and squirms, unsure of how to handle the praise.

Laken does karaoke next, then Jim takes a crack at it. They even manage to coerce Liz into trying it at one point, after the humans have loosened up with good food and beverages. It’s about as good of a party as can be managed with three humans and two vampires.

As their day of hanging out winds down, Jim says, "So, I wanted to say something. Um, you guys are free to go. I've been thinking about it, and... I don't wanna like, hold prisoners." He looks to Kane. "Just... as long as you're not gonna take anyone else."

"Never. Never ever, I'd never take anyone else." Kane promises. "Thank you so much for trusting us."

Valen is shocked. That was so fast. He'd expected to be kept here for much, much longer.

But it's also a little scary...where would they go? The thought of returning to normal life suddenly seems so overwhelming and impossible. What would he do?

"Thank you, Jim," says Valen. "I assure you that I would never let Kane do such a thing, even if he felt so inclined, though I know he doesn't." Valen turns to Kane. "I suppose we need to...talk about what we want to do, then, later when we're alone?"

Kane nods at Valen's question, but he's staring at Jim. He held Jim captive for five years, and Jim's letting him go after less than two weeks. He knows it's probably because of Valen, but still. "I'm so sorry for everything, Jim. Thank you for everything you've done for us."

Jim shrugs. "'Course. You were all fucked up. I wasn't just gonna leave you there. And, I mean, you could pretty much leave any time you wanted anyway, considering you can talk now and all. Figured I'd make it official. Plus the blood thing can't really go on forever, 'specially with the both of you." Jim explains. "Don't feel rushed or anything, though. This's gone... pretty much as great as it could possibly go. You've been awesome guests. Glad I could give you somewhere safe to heal up."

Valen deflates a little bit. It seems like Jim is mostly letting them go out of practicality, because he doesn't want to feed them anymore, rather than sentimentality. Part of Valen wants to stay longer, but it wouldn't be right given Jim and Liz have to feed them from their own bodies. He understands that no humans would really be eager to have them around, but...

"Um," says Valen nervously. "Would it be possible for me to ask for a favor? I...was on human territory originally to gather ingredients for an experiment I was conducting, but I'm not sure if I'll have the courage to work in human territory anymore." He reddens. "Would you be opposed to helping me gather some before we leave?"

"Yeah, I could help with that. Um, what was the experiment?" Jim asks.

"Valen was making blood!" Kane says excitedly. "He was making blood from mushrooms!"

Jim's eyebrows shoot up. "Really?"

Valen flushes, embarrassed. "Well–well I was trying to test various methods of making artificial blood...none of them were exactly successful, but...yes, that was my goal. Th-thank you in advance for your help." Valen ducks out of the conversation, regretting asking. He's not good at being confident in his experiment, since everyone says it can't work, and he hates talking about it --it makes him feel exposed and embarrassing.

Jim and Kane keep talking about the experiment while Valen goes to sit with Liz and Laken.

"He told me it's not enough to live off of, but it makes you feel full, staves off hunger." Kane says proudly. "And it just wasn't done yet. I'm sure Valen could do it if he kept trying. He's really smart."

"That would be amazing, I'll totally help." Jim agrees.

Valen goes to the table, sitting in front of the cake that Laken has brought. "Laken, I barely ever see human food. What is this, exactly? It looks delightful." It looks delightful in the way an oil painting looks delightful, with the icing shaped into flowers, and it smells about as appetizing to eat as an oil painting as well.

"Baking's kind of a science. You're into that stuff, right? If you get a bunch of chicken eggs, flour- that's from wheat- butter, milk, sugar, and baking power together, and you mix up the right amounts and cook 'em at the right temperature, you get this. I actually dunno what's in baking powder." Laken says.

"I've never been good at that stuff. Jim always cooked for me, and now I mostly do just the easiest stuff. I tried to make a birthday cake for Jim when I was 14 and it did not go well," Liz laughs.

"What are you guys talking about over there? Don't let her in my kitchen!" Jim calls.

Valen listens to Laken's explanation with fascination. "I would never have guessed. The artistry behind it is commendable. Humans are so clever." He taps a fork. "I know this is unconventional, but I'm...very curious as to what actually happens if I try to eat human food. I've never done it before. May I try some?" He knows he's probably really, really going to regrets this, but he's always had a hard time stamping out his curiosity. And they all look like they're enjoying it so much. This must be one of the more delicious human foods.

"Fuck yeah, I wanna know too! I already know blood tastes like copper. Tell me, too." Laken pushes their plate toward Valen. "Hope it doesn't make you sick, though."

"I don't think vampires get sick," Liz says with a shrug.

Valen cautiously takes a fork and cuts off a small piece. The texture looks like it would be interesting in his mouth, far more solid than anything he's ever eaten, and the icing is creamy. It looks like it should taste very good, but it smells just about like paint thinner. His nose warns him with increasing urgency to abort the mission as it gets closer to his mouth.

If vampires don't get sick, this must be as close to feeling sick as they do get. Valen immediately spits it out, unable to even keep it in his mouth long enough to swallow. "Oh--oh my," is all he's able to say.

Kane looks over. "Did you just eat human food?" he asks incredulously.

Laken laughs. "Yeah."

"No, he spit it out," Liz corrects. "You okay?"

"Physically, yes," he says. "Emotionally, I may be compromised from hereon out at the sight of cake." He bows his head mournfully. "A small price to pay for satiating curiosity." He grins. "Kane, you should try it too!"

"No thank you."

Liz and Laken eventually go. Jim makes plans to help Valen get the stuff from his house plus gathering materials. After that, Jim says, "Hey, I just wanna say, thanks. I dunno if I'd be able to handle being at home with Kane after everything if you weren't here too. And you're sweet for making me a whole outfit and everything, and you're really cool to hang out with. I know we haven't known each other that long, but I'm glad we're friends." He smiles.

"I'm so happy too, Jim,” Valen agrees. “You're so kind, and I owe you so much. If...if you'd like to, we can keep in touch?"

"I would be sad if we didn't!" Jim hadn't even considered the possibility that they wouldn't. He hugs Valen. "You don't owe me anything. I know it's not... the same, but I get how hard it is to come right out of captivity. I'm glad I could help it suck less."

Valen is so happy to be hugged. He'd wanted to, but knew Jim might be too afraid. Jim is the first friend he's made ever since he'd upended his life to try and live authentically and lost all his old ones... Though they could hardly be called friends after that.

While they're still hugging, Valen says quietly, "I do owe you. You have every right to kill Kane, but you let me keep him. I know it is little comfort to you now, but he really has changed completely. I know that...such a thing would be difficult, if not impossible, but I would love to see him make it up to you and the two of you become friends. I know I'm full of such lofty and impossible ideas, but I at least have to try."

Jim gets somewhat uncomfortable. "I can't do that. I can't just... be friends with him, after everything. I really can't." After he pulls away, he nervously palms at the neck of his turtleneck to make sure it's still there.

Valen folds his hands neatly in front of himself. "I understand completely. Forgive me for being so bold. Still, I hope you can find some sense of peace. He isn't dead, but the man who abused you is truly gone. I hope you never feel anxious about your safety again. You deserve to feel in control of your body. Everyone does."

Jim gives him a tiny smile. "Thanks. I've been trying. I think feeding him again's helped, in a weird way. 'Cause it's my choice now, I'm in control of it. I hope you and Kane can feel safe again, too."

***

Later that night, after the party is over and the humans are gone or sleeping, Valen and Kane lie interlocked on the air mattress in the basement. They both know it’s going to be the last time they sleep here–the last time they’re going to be here, under the authority of humans, and the thought is hard to wrestle with for both of them.

They’re going to be free. They’re going to be able to do whatever they want. It’s what they want, of course, but it’s still going to be….scary. And hard to adjust to.

Kane rolls over, red eyes shining in the darkness. 

"Valen... after this, wherever we end up... would you want to stick together?" Kane asks timidly. "I had no one, in my old life, not really.”

Valen rubs his hands on Kane’s. "I also don't have much to go back to. Ever since I left my husband, I've had a very hard time making friends, or keeping the old ones. So...I think I would like that."

Kane slowly reaches out and brushes Valen’s hair out of his face. “I just want to stay with you, whatever you want to do."

Valen smiles, feeling warm, and puts his hand over Kane’s. “And I would be delighted to have you.”

***

K&J x MMSS crossover taglist:

@barebarb

@cc1010foxy

@emcscared-whumps

@hurtpluscomfort

@melancholy-in-the-morning

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@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

#whump #vampire whumpee #MMSS #K&J #angst #whumpblr #hurt/comfort

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I Knew Finn Schneider

For @whumptober 2022, day 31: “You can rest now.”

CW: Referenced noncon, pet whump, beating, blood, brief emeto, murder… the works. But this, my friends, is the light at the end of Finn’s tunnel.

Death Valley | Lüge | Welcome Home | Didn’t Make It | Dead Body | Why Me? | The Next One | That Was All | I Knew Finn Schneider |

-

Somewhere near Highland Peak in California, 2005

"Checking in?"

The young woman sitting at the desk was bright and cheerful, her voice more chirping than speech. Her thick black hair was pulled into a no-nonsense bun at the nape of her neck and she wore a plain navy sweater with a layered necklace made of brightly colorful beads and she had a pink glitter barrette at one temple, with some rhinestone stickers. 

She must have caught Finn looking, because she gave him a slight smile. "My little sister helped me get dressed today," She offered, and he tried to smile back. What did a normal smile look like? He wasn't sure if his was right. 

She didn't change expression, so he must have managed it. 

"Kids are great," Noah said, matching her cheer as he leaned forward on his elbows, carefully taking back her full attention. "I called and made a reservation this morning? Under Ransom?"

"Ransom, Ransom… that's some last name." She had an accent, Finn thought, her consonants soft, faintly rolling her r’s.

"Yeah, we like to joke my grandpa made it up." Noah grinned, sunny and shining. Charming. Finn watched them, distantly wondering if he would smile like that ever again. “He was maybe a little bit of a criminal.”

"Nice. You're Noah?"

"That's me."

"All right, room for two, got it." She stood up, humming to herself as she fiddled with the hotel keys. "Hope you don't mind, we still do things the old way. The owner just wants to keep it all historic, you know?" 

"Yeah, sure." Noah glanced sideways at Finn, who looked away. Afraid if he made eye contact, all of this would start to melt and he would wake up naked on Robert's bedroom floor. Or in his basement.

The movement made a paper on the check-in desk flutter and it caught his eye, freezing him in his tracks. 

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?

It was a blurry printed out still from a security video, a man walking with hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. 

It was Robert Weber. 

Even with his head ducked and a ball cap pulled low over his face - even with the photo so blurry Finn could see individual pixels - Finn knew the clothes he'd been wearing at the motel before he tied Finn up and went for breakfast, that first morning he’d been in hell. This looked like they had caught him leaving the restaurant, heading back for his truck. 

Heading back to murder the hotel worker while Finn watched, leave him bleeding on the floor while Robert dragged a weeping, dripping Finn to his truck. Robert was smiling in the photo - the edge of his turned-up lips just peeked out from beneath the brim of his cap. 

Excited, Finn thought with a flip of his stomach, knowing what he had waiting for him in the hotel.

Highland Peak Police, California State Police, and the FBI are looking for more information on a person of interest in the attempted murder of Kent Reyes on October 15th, 2003. A reward of $100,000 for information leading to an arrest is being offered by the Mountain Motel's owner, Charles Reston, with another $100,000 from Reston's company WRU. 

The individual stayed at Mountain Motel from October 14th, 2003, through October 15th. He is described as a white male, with a slim build, approximately 5'10", with dark hair and dark brown eyes, between the ages of 45 - 55. 

He drove a blue and white Ford F150 with the license plate V5G667R. 

Donations are being accepted for Kent Reyes's family. Ask at the desk about donating or mail checks to-

The words blurred as tears suddenly burned Finn's eyes. He blinked rapidly, wiping at his eyes and clearing his throat. 

"Are you okay, man?" The desk worker looked concerned, but Finn's throat had closed, his heart pounding. He tried to open his mouth. No sound came out. 

I’m sorry, it’s my fault, it’s my fault-

"Oh, man. Hey." Noah's sympathy was perfect, smoothly focused, and he turned to put a hand on Finn's shoulder, leaning in. Finn knew not to flinch, meeting Noah’s gaze through a blur of sudden tears. "Let’s get into our room, yeah? Sorry," He repeated over his shoulder to the woman. "I'm actually driving my friend home for a funeral. It’s rough.”

"Oh, I'm so sorry. We lost one of our staff recently-“

Finn nearly choked on his guilt. 

"My mother… my mother, actually. I mean, she had been sick for a long-… never mind, you don’t need to hear about my family problems.” She waved her hand, and Finn wondered with a jolt that felt like a blade in his ribs if his own mother was still healthy, if she had gotten sick and he hadn’t been there for her.

The desk worker was still talking.

“-plus, we had another just barely survive being attacked before that. I feel you.” She looked up at Finn – she was so short – and gave him a slight smile. “You be upset if you need to. It's just us, right? No problem. I’m right there with you some days. It doesn’t get easier, but it gets… it gets less heavy.”

What if the person who died is me? Does it get less heavy to mourn my own death?

"We appreciate that." Noah spoke before Finn could and squeezed Finn's shoulder once, hard, before he mercifully released his grip. He leaned over to look at the paper, briefly stilling at the image of Robert. Almost immediately, his friendly smile was back - never left, even - and he leaned over at her. "What's this about? Person of interest?”

She craned her neck, then sat back with a sigh. "Oh. That… our hotel manager, Kent. One of our staff… well. It's a hell of a story, but Kent was attacked and shot. He survived, barely, but he's still recovering."

Finn looked up sharply. "He survived?"

Noah shifted, and his fingers closed around Finn's wrist, not quite tight enough to hurt. Just a reminder that he wasn't supposed to talk unless he had to, to keep people from hearing his accent. He had to remind himself that Noah had promised that it would not be like it was with Robert, that he would live a different life now.

But the grip on his wrist made it hard to believe.

The desk worker's smile widened, a little. "He did. He's a hell of a fighter. He's doing physical therapy learning to walk again, he had to relearn… just everything. He has this goal of getting back to hiking by next winter, rock climbing the year after. He's amazing. The medical bills, though… well. I don't suppose you'd like to donate to help his family with the costs?"

Noah looked over at Finn. “What do you think? Should we donate?”

Finn thought of the hotel manager who had looked so worried for him, who had been about to go get him some help. Who, with a few more minutes, might have been able to save him. He gave the slightest, smallest nod, trying to plead with his eyes alone. 

Noah sighed, then turned back with his charming smile back in place. "Sure. Add fifty dollars? Will that do any good?"

"Every dollar helps, every single one. Thank you so much." She ran Noah's credit card and then handed over the little key dangling off a piece of plastic with a room number. The sound of metal made Finn a little sick, remembering it in Robert's hand. "Here you go. Room 14, ground floor. You'll get your printed final receipt under your door in the morning. Check-out is at 11, breakfast options are available beginning at 7 am but we clear them out around 10. If you need anything, just pick up your room phone and hit 0, it'll go straight to me." She pointed at her name tag. "I'm Martina Ramirez, you can call me Marty. The night manager will be in around six, her name is Melinda."

"Got it. Thanks!" Noah jerked his head at the door, and Finn started to move, automatically following orders, taking slow, careful steps to minimize his limp. 

"By the way-" Marty called out. Finn looked back, heart briefly in his throat. He felt Noah tense slightly beside him.

Marty gave him a soft, sympathizing smile. "I really am sorry for your loss. I’ve been missing my mom a lot these days, she loved this time of year up here.”

His mouth opened, closed again. He managed a half-whispered, "Thank you, I’m sure she’s proud of you," before following Noah the rest of the way out the door. 

He appreciated the sympathy, but she didn't know she was sympathizing with the death of Finn. 

They stepped back out into the warmth, and Noah took a breath, running a hand back through his hair. "Don't tell me I stopped at the same goddamn hotel. How the absolute hell did I manage that?”

It was the same one. Finn had known from the moment they came up the drive, the long and winding road. But it was… so hard to remember he had a voice. He kept feeling the straps of the muzzle, the pressure over his nose, as if it had never been removed. He hadn’t remembered how to speak in time to say anything about it. "Yeah," He tried, then winced as it came out like yah, unintentionally heavy with his accent. "You did."

"Fuck. Okay. Uh, well." Noah looked over at him, fiddling with the hotel key in his hands. The clinking metal and plastic would drive Finn crazy if it didn’t stop soon. "Can you handle it? We can keep going for a while?"

Finn's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"I want you to feel safe. Can you feel safe here?" 

The words were all words he knew, but the combination baffled him. "You are… asking me?"

"Yeah. I am. Hey." Noah turned to look at him, and Finn went still, waiting for the screaming, the spit in his face, the terror. Instead, Noah paused, and then said in a low voice, "I promise you, this is not to hurt you. I am not going to hurt you."

"Yes… yes, sir." Finn didn't believe him, but Noah only sighed, glancing at the window to see if the hotel worker was watching them. Marty was on the phone, and it made Finn’s heart go cold. What if she knew, somehow? What if she was calling someone?

What if-

"You know what?” Noah sighed. “Let's just go to our room. We can talk more there." Noah walked to his truck, pulling two duffel bags out of the back, tossing one to Finn, who just barely caught it. He limped more with it in his arms throwing off his balance, but Noah didn't seem to notice. Finn trailed him to the fourteenth door, painted green with gold numbers. With a turn of the key, they stepped inside. 

Finn felt his stomach twist at the familiar scent of lemon cleaning products – the same ones Robert used – closing his eyes and swallowing back the pile that threatened to rise even as a cold shiver went down his back. Still… there was no smell of decay and death beneath, and it helped him take one deep breath and then another, through his mouth, stepping into the dim space. 

Two queen beds, side by side with a small cheap table between them. A phone, a lamp, a TV on a low dresser and the door to a bathroom at the end. Basic, comfortable, and clean. Finn's hands shook and he dug them into the sides of the black leather duffel bag to hide it. 

"You can have the first shower, I'll go later." Noah set his bag on the bedspread and unzipped it, pulling out a thin t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, red and black against the cool pine green comforter. He glanced up at Finn still standing in the open doorway, staring inside "Listen… if this is too hard for you, we can still go somewhere else-"

"It is fine." Finn stepped forward and shut the door with one foot, pretending he didn’t almost lose his balance doing it. He shuddered as the room went dim, goosebumps rising on his arms, the outside light blocked by heavy curtains. Noah flicked on the little table lamp, adding an eerie yellow definition to everything, like a horror movie from decades ago, when everything felt like it had a film of grime over the lens. Finn dropped his bag on the other bed, hoping against hope that he was making the right decision to do so. "Do I… sleep on my own?"

"Yeah, you do. From here on out, man." Noah paused in the midst of pulling out his toothbrush and toothpaste, giving Finn a long, searching look. "Okay, listen. Now that we're alone, I have to admit-"

Finn tensed. 

"-you aren't what I expected."

"I-... what?"

"Well, you were supposed to be-... I didn’t expect you to be… you."

Finn felt like he had forgotten every word of English he'd ever learned. He swam in confusion. "To be me?" He looked down at the blue-tinged veins under the thin skin just near his palms. Scarred from cheap scratchy rope but otherwise unmarked. “What did you expect?”

"Well, look. This is kind of a thing I do for work. But it’s all under the table, we don’t make a big deal out of it. Usually I pick up people who… you know what, I'll just tell you. I work with some people who buy or trade trafficking victims we find online and then free them. Usually, we get people who, you know, they got caught up in some bad shit and ended up stuck, they know the people who are hurting them. We can get them into rehab, or whatever, if they still have their passports we can just slip people out of the whole… all of it. Stranger abductions are literally less common than a one in a million chance. Plus... the news.”

“The... news?”

“You’re pretty famous, Finn. There was a nationwide manhunt when you first disappeared. It would compromise our security. You know? If I just go to the cops. Too much attention, too much scrutiny. The only way what we do works is if no one knows what we’re doing.”

Finn swallowed. His heart felt cold. Everything did. "I don't understand."

"No. Probably not, it's… a lot to explain and I’m used to not being able to, I don’t exactly have a speech ready. Just… let's get through the night. Then you and I can talk about what comes next. I'll find you someplace where you can go to the cops yourself, for home, or… whatever you want. Just don’t tell anyone about me, okay?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Okay… okay, good, that simplifies a lot-“

“No, I mean… I don’t want to go home.”

Noah blinked. “You don’t?”

“No. My mother… my mother would have to know he-... She would… that… Ich wurde vergewaltigt. I don't want anyone to know what he did t-to me. I don't want to g-go home." His voice shook so hard he was nearly indecipherable, but Noah didn't interrupt or tell him to shut up, quit whining, to go back in his cage and be silent. "I don't want-... I cannot."

"I understand. I get it, I do… Just… nobody has to make any choices now. It's not going to happen anymore, okay?”

Finn didn’t believe him. But he nodded anyway.

Noah exhaled, roughly. “Okay. Take a shower, I'll head down the road for some pizza or something, and then… you can get some sleep after we eat. You can rest, now, Finn. But… I think you probably want to be clean, first.”

He would never be clean again, but he nodded, throat tight and nearly closed with something between dread and relief. He leaned over and picked out a shirt and pants from inside the bag, travel-sized toothpaste and toothbrush, and went into the bathroom. The light was bright compared to the dim yellow in the room itself, painting everything with unflattering overdone contrast. The lemon smell was stronger in here.

When he saw the tub with its familiar shower head, for a second he felt the water, cold as ice, as it had hit his skin like a thousand knives while Robert laughed. Then he realized that it was a cold sweat breaking out over his skin, trickling down his cheek and the side of his neck. He felt stretched too thin underneath his skin, heart pounding with a dull violence. Terror washed cold down his back, and Finn knew all over again that he was about to die.

The heavy scent of blood and gunpowder surrounded him, his own muffled cries around the terrible gag as the hotel manager had jolted to the side and then collapsed, like a ragdoll thrown by an angry child. He hadn’t moved, after that.

Finn had been sure he was dead.

Robert had been sure he was dead.

Finn had been certain he’d die, too, when Robert had turned to look at him. Somehow, he hadn’t. Somehow, he had survived to be here almost two years later, looking down into the same kind of bathtub, the same shower head, and the same little bottles of travel-sized shampoo and conditioner, the same bar of soap.

He wanted to scream. It tired to tear its way up his throat to escape him, and he couldn’t quite force it back down. Finn swallowed, once and then again, but his heart felt like it would beat itself bloodily out of his chest. His stomach flipped and he turned, throwing himself towards the toilet and slamming the lid up so hard it bounced off the tank and almost hit him in the head as he dropped to his knees.

He leaned his head over and lost everything he had eaten during the drive. He threw up over and over again, until all that happened was his stomach clenching, sour spit and bile and nothing at all left beyond that.

It… helped, a little. 

He was shivering by the time he could stop, but his heart had stopped pounding.

“Hey, you okay?” Noah called, voice faint and muffled.

“I am fine!” Finn yelled back, voice ragged and hoarse. “I get carsick!”

It was a patently ridiculous excuse, but Noah didn’t try to ask him to open the door, and Finn had never been so grateful to have someone be silent. He took deep breaths of the little soap in the package on the sink until the fake lavender smell overrode his memories. At least they had changed the scent of soap they used. Eventually, the lavender smell started to make him feel sick, too.

He turned on the shower and locked the bathroom door, shivering under the cold spray until it began to warm. When it was scalding, he scrubbed himself raw, washed his hair with cheap hotel shampoo.

When he came out, hair still dripping and dressed in the new, loose clean clothing with that thrift store smell, the room was empty.

Noah had left a note that said gone for pizza, watch whatever you want while I’m gone.

Finn looked through the curtains to see the truck was indeed no longer in its parking spot.

He could walk right to the desk if he wanted.

My name is Finn Schneider. I was abducted in 2003. My abductor is the one who tried to kill Kent Reyes. Call my mother or the German embassy. Call someone. Call anyone.

I'm not dead. 

But in his heart, he knew better.

I knew Finn Schneider. Tell her her son died in October 2003.

His mother’s son never made it out of the house. Whoever he was now, whatever Robert had left after he had scraped Finn clean… he didn't want anyone to see what Robert had made of him. 

So instead, he pulled back the covers and climbed into one of the beds. He was already crying by the time his head touched the too-soft pillow, nearly flattening to the mattress at the slightest weight.

He wept, hands over his face, in the silent way he had taught himself to cry inside the cage, until he had no more tears left. Then he took the remote and turned on the television just to have some noise, shivering as he changed channels until he found something other than the news or the sitcoms that Robert loved.

He settled on a cooking show, the voices a dull and comforting nonsense. The bed warmed around him, and he felt his muscles beginning to relax, one by one, against his will. By the time Noah came back with the pizza, Finn Schneider was fast asleep.

He was curled up in a ball, his hands pressed to the lower half of his face, pressing just a little, covering his nose, mouth, and chin.

He hadn't been able to fall asleep until it felt like he was wearing his muzzle. 

-

For whumptober: @whumpworld

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#whump #whumptober2022 #no. 31 #you can rest now #rescued whumpee #recovering whumpee #trauma recovery #ptsd tw #brief emeto #referenced noncon #referenced murder #referenced beating #traumatized whumpee #muzzles #pet whump #bbu #box boy universe #horror writing #original horror #original writing #horror fiction #captivity

[shegatsby]

The Last of Us

Warnings; Post apocalyptic world.

Words; 2.941K

A/N; Hi guys! How are you? I hope you're all well. Joel and reader are getting more close to each other don't worry there will be smut in the future chapters. stay safe and love you!

TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Summary; Ever since childhood you had to survive, you were born before the disease so you kinda remembered what was it like, to have a hot shower, clean food etc. You didn’t know what happened to your parents because they were on a vacation and left you with your grandma who passed away during the chaos. You were 10 when it happened, a child who had to be a woman over night. What happens when you are a brink from killing yourself and find purpose again?

Chapter Four- New chance in life

When they reached to Bill and Franks house it was a relief for her because the house had warm water, it had been years since she had a shower with warm water, ‘’Let’s take a shower because honestly we all stink.’’ She announced and Ellie was the first to take a shower, after her Y/N followed, the house was so tidy yet there were dust everywhere, as soon as she made contact with hot almost boiling water she smiled, as a child she loved warm baths and her parents were kind enough to let her take showers or baths for almost an hour, she closed her eyes as she was washing her long hair, even though she was careful with hygiene it was hard to maintain it in this world. She washed her body and hair, made sure everything was clean and didn’t forget to shave, she had spare razors just in case. When she was done she looked at her reflection in the mirror, the glass was blurred with steam but she could see her silhouette, her hands went to her throat, still burning and bruised. She wondered what would’ve happened if Joel wasn’t there to save her, she would choke to death. Why was he there anyways? A question which will be asked later, she found a white towel to cover herself and left the bathroom to face Joel bringing a box full of women’s clothes, when he saw her like that his footsteps came to a halt and dropped the box on the bed, ‘’it’s uhh women’s clothes for you and Ellie..’’ he said and cleared his throat, her body was wet and hair loose, sticking to her shoulders, he could feel his heart beat go faster than usual, this was the first –he hoped it wouldn’t be last- time that he saw her like this, almost naked and she smelled so good he wanted to hug her and inhale her scent, ‘’Thank you.’’ She smiled kindly, and approached to the bed, there was only a small space between them, he looked at her for the last time to carve that image to his brain and he left without a word, on his way out he heard her giggle to herself.

Their journey began, a man whose heart is aching with heavy mistakes, a kind hearted woman who almost killed herself and a little girl who could change the entire world. A perfect trio if you will, the  truck they took from friends of Joel got them so far but the fuel kept dying out every hour. The cars were left behind and the colors of them faded but they had fuel. Joel used a plastic pipe to get the fuel out, ‘’No wandering!’’ he said sharply to Ellie, it had been a few days since Tess’s death and no one talked about it and they were all tense, ‘’Alright! Let’s address the elephant in the room.’’ Y/N said as she stood up from the top of a car nearby, Joel looked confused, ‘’Ellie, would you like to say anything to Joel about Tess or what happened throughout the days?’’ Ellie as stubborn as Joel shrugged her shoulders, ‘’Joel?’’ Y/N asked crossing her arms in front of her chest which caught Joel’s wandering eyes and didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, ‘’About what?’’ he asked and swallowed, she could see the exact movement on his throat, ‘’About Tess.’’ Y/N, even though she started the conversation confident she wasn’t so sure anymore. ‘’There is nothing to talk about.’’ Joel as usual dismissed her and everyone around him, the car ride was normal, well, normal for Y/N and Joel because they were alive before the pandemic. ‘’So you used to drive one of these to everywhere?’’ Ellie asked, Y/N could see the shine in her brown eyes, ‘’Well, not me. I was 10 when it happened but my parents had their cars. Almost every adult had a car.’’ Ellie found a cassette of Hank Williams, of course she found a magazine that she shouldn’t have. Y/N was sitting on the shot gun, Ellie at the back and Joel driving the car, if it was normal times someone could look at them and think ‘’What a lovely family.’’

‘’Ellie! Put that back.’’ Y/N’s hand went back to get that magazine from her, ‘’Listen to her Ellie, give it back.’’ Joel said trying to focus on the road. ‘’Why are the pages stuck together?’’ and crickets, Joel and Y/N looked at each other, her cheeks flushed deep and Joel’s lips parted. ‘’I’m just fucking with ya!’’ Ellie laughed and threw the magazine out of the car window. Y/N focused on her hands which lay on her lap and they listened Hank Williams. Y/ N laid her head against the window and watched the world pass her by, buildings were covered with ivies and no one was around not even the infected which was good but once these streets and roads were crowded with people but now nothing was left from them. She wondered what happened to her parents she often found herself thinking about them. They were on a vacation, visiting Europe when everything started and she never heard from them again, it had been 23 years… they must be dead or roaming the streets of Europe as infected. Even if they were alive they must be 65-70 years old.  Without realizing, her face fell, since there was silence in the vehicle Joel checked on Ellie first, she was smiling and reading her novel, and Y/N, he gave her a side eye, trying to be not frank about his intentions but he couldn’t help it. He noticed the sudden change in her demeanor, shoulders shrunken and a sullen face, she must be thinking about her past so Joel left her to her thoughts. It was getting late when Joel pulled the car into the forest, thanks to his friends Bill and Frank he got a lot of food supplies. Y/N was the one who cooked in their found family, the first time Joel cooked for them Ellie threw up and frankly said she didn’t like it at all, when Joel looked at Y/N to get reaction she only kindly smiled and finished the food on her plate unwillingly and Joel said that from now on Y/N is cooking. The first time she cooked dinner for them was still in his mind, it was late and he hid the car among trees just like before, placed the heavy equipments for her to do her thing and backed off. When the dinner was ready they sat by the fire and the first one to try was Ellie, at first she had suspicion in her eyes but as soon as she put food in her mouth she closed her eyes, ‘’Fucking amazing! How is this possible with same ingredients and Joel sucked.’’ Joel looked at the plate and Y/N and put a piece in his mouth, Ellie was right. Y/N thought that he didn’t like it or just didn’t want to say anything but later that night while she was at a small pond washing the plates and spoons he came up to her, ‘’That was delicious.’’ That was all he said and before she could say anything he left. She thought tonight would be the same, she cooked and they ate in silence, ‘’Thank you Y/N, that was so awesome!’’ Ellie as usual gave her compliments and went to the car to get her sleeping bag. Y/N stood up to get her now empty plate from the floor to wash the dishes but Joel beat her to it. ‘’I got it.’’ Their fingers caressed for a split second, ‘’But you’ve been driving all day.’’ She protested with her kind and sweet tone, eyes dove, he didn’t say anything to that and changed the subject. ‘’I’m sleeping tonight and drive tomorrow all day all night. I’ll get us to Wyoming next morning.’’ He said as he was walking with the plates, ‘’Why can’t we lit a fire I’m cold as fuck.’’ Ellie complained as she was struggling with her sleeping bag. Few days ago they lit a fire but ever since Joel was persistent of not doing it again, ‘’She is right, why?’’ Y/N asked, ‘’People.’’ That was enough and Y/N thought she saw something in his eyes, something dark and she almost thought he was afraid…

When the night came they went to sleep, Y/N had to share the sleeping bag with Ellie because the house they took supplies from had only two sleeping bags and sharing it with a strange man was not even an option, even though he was insanely attractive… Usually she was a light sleeper so she would hear things around her, and she noticed that every night, it didn’t matter if Joel was tired or not, he would sleep for maybe 3 hours and lay there, awake, sometimes he would get out of his sleeping bag and just sit, take care of his gun, or just stare at her and Ellie. She couldn’t figure out if it was cute or creepy but knowing that he somewhat cares about them made her feel warm.

In the morning Joel quietly packed his things, started to make coffee, poured the coffee into two metal cups and approached to the girls, Ellie was turned to Y/N and hugging her, her head against Y/N’s chest, even though they were out in the middle of the forest and in a shit situation they seemed peaceful within each other, he knew that they had history together which made them even closer now days. He remembered the times where he would wake up and go to his daughter’s room to wake her up, before waking her up he would just stare at her beautiful face and couldn’t imagine a life without her… and now he had to take care of two girls. Bill was right in his letter to Joel, they were alive because they had a purpose, purpose to keep their loved ones safe and they didn’t have to know it. He cleared his throat to wake them up, Ellie didn’t care but Y/N shifted slightly, opened one of her eyes, ‘’Morning Joel.’’ She said with voice like honey, he had to look away to keep a straight face because he almost caught himself smile, ‘’Here.’’ He extended his hand to give her coffee, they both knew it tasted like shit but it made them wake up. She lifted herself up, and reached with both of her hands, ‘’Thank you.’’ This was their morning conversation, nothing more nothing less. Y/N knew that he had more to say but kept everything inside, like locked vault and only he had to key. Ellie woke up to the smell of coffee, ‘’Ew what the fuck is that?’’ she asked, ‘’You don’t like coffee?’’ Joel asked, almost in shock. Without a word she fell back to sleep, Joel was going to wake her up but Y/N stopped her with a gentle hand movement, ‘’Let her sleep for 5 more minutes, in the mean time I can help you.’’ Joel looked at Ellie’s peaceful face and then Y/N’s  and he only nodded.

She got up from the ground and took a large sip from the coffee, it woke her up immediately, and also the cold morning air did its work, he was organizing the back of the truck, ‘’You didn’t answer my question.’’ Joel started the conversation, the birds were singing their morning song and adding a nice undertone to the atmosphere around them, Y/N was confused, still holding the cup with both of her hands to keep the warmth, ‘’What answer?’’ she watched him manhandle the bags and boxes, it was a sight to sore eyes, ‘’That night, when  I broke down your door and-‘’ Y/N immediately cut him off, ‘’I don’t have a purpose anymore, well..’’ she thought better, ‘’I didn’t had one until that night, when I saw Ellie again. I had given up and you saved me. Thank you by the way, last few months were hard.’’ Joel lifted his head to look at her, his brown ones locked on her soft ones, before he could say anything he saw a mischievous smirk on her pretty lips, ‘’Since we’re talking about that night, tell me, why did you come to my flat that night?’’ she was leaning against the truck, coffee finished, arms crossed and smiling a dangerous smile, ‘’She is going to be the death of me.’’ He thought, ‘’Uhhh-‘’ and Ellie woke up, ‘’What are you two talking about?!’’ she literally screamed and Joel turned to face her, which meant the conversation ended.. till next time.

Ellie wanted to sit on the front so Y/N was at the back this time which she didn’t care, as long as Ellie was happy she was happy, Joel did an explanation about his brother and why they have to find him, ‘’I don’t blame you, if I knew any of my family was alive I would look for them too.’’ Y/N said which she didn’t mean it to be sad but it was sad, she had no one… until now, ‘’So you don’t know what happened to them?’’ Ellie asked, Y/N shrugged her shoulders, ‘’I was staying with my grandmother when it happened, the outbreak,’’ she didn’t want to give much detail but Joel’s comforting eyes checking her every once in a while gave her strength, ‘’because my parents were on a vacation in Europe, I’ve never heard from them again. The soldiers came to took us, my grandmother couldn’t take the stress and sadness so she passed away after a year, I’m on my own ever since.’’

When he heard the last sentence he just wanted to tell her that she wasn’t on her own, she had him and Ellie now but he stopped himself, too soon maybe.

Their car ride came to a stop after hours, there was a huge lorry blocking the way to the other side, ‘’Stay inside.’’ Joel said to them and left the car with his gun to check, they were in Kansas City right now, he checked the map again and took a new rout. Things were smooth until they weren’t, they were in an empty street when a injured man jumped in front of the truck turns out he wasn’t injured and it was an attack from the raiders. People on top of the buildings were shooting at the truck and Joel was driving so fast that he crashed the truck into an old shop, ‘’Are you okay?’’ he checked to see if they were injured, they were fine, Joel could see the fear in their eyes, raiders kept shooting at the cars, ‘’Belts off! Fast!’’ he yelled and they left the truck, there was a long and wide crack at the nearby wall, ‘’Go, I’ll cover you.’’ He said to Y/N, and she grabbed  Ellie by the shoulder, he was right he did cover for them and they climbed inside. Y/N could see that Ellie was panicking so she held her hands, ‘’Everything’s gonna be fine Ellie.’’ She reassured her, they could see Joel from the crack of the wall and he looked like he needed help, he was ambushed by a young man, and he was on top of Joel, chocking him, ‘’We have to do something.’’ Ellie said looking at her, ‘’How? I don’t have a weapon?!’’ Y/N cried in despair, Ellie, with shaking hands digged into her bag and pulled a gun she took from Bill and Franks, ‘’You weren’t suppose to-‘’ Ellie cut her off, ‘’Save him.’’

Y/N never had to shoot a guy or even a slap one across the face, never in her life she had to choose violence but right now she had to make a choice, whether leave Joel to his fate or do something.

She slide through that crack in the wall silently, hands shaking, she had to hold the gun with two hands, safety was off, she pointed the gun at the guy whose back was turned to her. With teary eyes she pulled the trigger, and the guy fell to Joel’s side, Joel was still on the ground trying to breath, his eyes met hers. She was still pointing the gun at the guy, ‘’No,no,no its okay please don’t shoot.’’ His back was bleeding, the guy on the floor kept mumbling about his legs not working and his mom but Y/N’s ears were ringing, she could literally hear her own blood pumping in her veins, Joel stood in front of her, blocking her view, he reached out to take the gun from her shaking hands, she felt the electricity from his touch, he turned to face the guy, still blocking her view, he was doing this for her own behalf. Clearly she was in shock, he was in shock too, seeing such a kind woman shooting someone to save him, his debt was paid. Now they were even, and he faced her, ‘’Get back behind the wall.’’ Her vision was blurry, she didn’t notice that Ellie was watching them, she was like a puppet, empty and following the orders, as soon as she went back Ellie hugged her and made her sat, they heard a thud, and the guy stopped crying. Since Joel couldn’t fit through the crack of the wall together they moved the stuff behind the door for him, he walked in, ‘’Are you okay?’’ he asked them and saw Y/N wipe the tears on her flushed cheeks, ‘’Yes.’’ They both sang in harmony, they moved together.

Tag List;

@psychomanias

@stitchattacks

@anxiousbeech

@elmontsmile

@cheyxfu

Thank you for the support, see you on the next chapters! xxx

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fan #last of us #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou show #tlou series #joel tlou #ellie x joel #joel and ellie #ellie the last of us #tlou #fanfiction prompt #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #reader fanfiction #reader insert #reader #female reader

[burning-fcols]

"Hold on-when was the last time you preened your fucking wings?" Adam lifted a brow at the King, who had seen the...questionable condition of them not too short a time ago. They were arguing, again about something or other, Adam doesn't think it's that important right now. When Luci transformed into his horrifying form, while Adam was focused on actually surviving the encounter this time, he couldn't help but notice the fangled and unkempt look of those red and white wings once everything calmed down. The former head excorcist may not have had his wings anymore, but he still remembered how to take care of them. - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱᴍᴀɴ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Lucifer hadn't been intending to ACTUALLY kill Adam... this time. Consciously reminding himself to hold back ever since he'd been an indirect cause of the First Man's demise. Especially since he would have been THE cause, had Charlie not snapped him out of his bloodthirsty exhilaration. Although he'd be lying if he said it wasn't satisfying– in the moment —to see the former exorcist dodging bouts of Hellfire that ❛ barely ❜ managed to miss the aggravating man. Just because he wasn't intending on making contact didn't mean he couldn't be convincing.

Later, the guilt may settle in at toying with the other as if a cat with an injured bird. But Lucifer can't shake away his smug grin at having made the fellow fallen angel ❛ dance ❜ for him... Until Adam completely takes the King off-guard.

Red eyes flicker back into pale yellow with a start, widening as lips slightly part with surprise. Demonic form dissipates in a blink, horns and tail ( and aforementioned wings ) tucking out of sight as if startled out of him. Standing in front of the other in stunned silence, one would be hard-pressed to believe the ❛ rampage ❜ Lucifer had been on earlier. Dynamic feeling as if there's been a sudden shift, the Sin of Pride would wonder if this abrupt helplessness could be karma for his earlier actions... if his mind was coherent enough to do more than let him utter an awkward,

❝ Uhhhhhhhhhh... ❞

Truthfully, it's been... an unforgivable amount of time since he's preened. Hiding them away much like he hid himself in shame, people normally don't get a good enough look at them— or are ignorant to how imperfections and neglect appear on wings —to question their grievously worrisome condition. Frankly, they're lucky to be used at ALL when not wrapped in the throes of anger. It wasn't always so, Lucifer trying to tend to them shortly after falling. But it's always been a formidable task for the small man, even when he WASN'T restricted by loathing. What should have been a comforting action making him feel sick and alone... Reluctant to closely look upon his plumage, formerly reminiscent of clear blue skies and purest of white.

Now tainted a blinding, bleeding red... Changed by his deed like the hands that tried to care for them, porcelain skin burned when he fell. Hands and limbs stained the color of soot, never to be clean again. Preening was as much a curse as his new home, Lucifer refraining from it in an ironic mix of cowardice and self-punishment. Not to say he fully ignored his feathers. During times when he was at his lowest, plucking at his plumage became... habit. Still is, not that Lucifer shall admit it.

❝ That's none of your business! ❞ Lucifer finally spats, retort not nearly as biting as he'd like. Sounding more like an indignant bark to try and stop the conversation before it can truly BEGIN. Response likely already giving an adequate ❛ answer ❜ to Adam's inquiry. Fists clenched at his sides, he stomps his foot and adds in a huff, ❝ They're MY wings and I'll decide how to care for them! ❞ Or rather, how to not care for them. 「 ☆ 」

#burning-fcols #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴍʏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴᴅ ❞ ¦ 「 Lucifer IC 」 #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴄʜᴀᴍᴘᴀɢɴᴇ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ; ᴄᴀᴠɪᴀʀ ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ— ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ! ❞ ◌ ᴍᴀɪɴ ¦ 「 Lucifer 」 #meansman #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀ�� ᴅɪᴄᴋ ❞ ¦ 「 Adam 」 #♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴄᴏʟᴅ; ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴇᴀꜱʏ ❞ ¦ 「 Lucifer and Adam 」 #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ꜱᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱʙᴇʜᴀᴠᴇ? ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ ❞ ¦ 「 Answer 」 #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ— ❞ ¦ 「 Queue 」

[momowritings]

A Pearl

Pairing : Satoru Gojo x Reader

Summary: You're a stripper. Or maybe a therapist?

Warnings: SMALL JJK SPOILERS: If you read/ watched JJK 0, then you're good.

Song Inpso: A Pearl- Mitski

You lazily spun yourself around the pole trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone on the floor. You were tired, so unbelievably tired, but you had bills to pay so you came to work. You wished the world would take mercy on you and ease up but alas there was no such thing. You realized you were just dangling on the pole for far too long and placed your other hand to hold yourself perpendicular to the bar to hold your shoulder against the pole and spread your legs wide. They weren’t even playing a song that you like to get in the mood. You sighed again and opened your hand slightly to slide down the bar and twisted around so you were right side up to wrap one leg around and lean back. Dollar bills were thrown at your performance but you couldn’t put your heart into it. You were tired. 

The club was lit green with strobes of blue and yellow piercing through. You finished your routine on the pole and walked off the stage, leaving the sweepers to collect your earnings. The club was dead now, as expected on a Wednesday night. There were a few older regulars in private rooms but not many people in the booths and floor besides that. You headed over to the bar and they silently poured you a drink and you downed it without hesitation. Your back was facing the entrance but you felt the hairs on your neck stand up as someone walked in. You didn’t know what was going on but you’ve been seeing more demons than normal as of late. 

You weren’t sure if that’s what they were, but you know that you were seeing things that most people couldn’t. Grotesque creatures that hardly ever resemble humans would creep around in crowded places. They would attach themselves to unsuspecting people and you could see them draining the life out of them. You didn’t do much to them because they never did anything to you. 

You learned long ago that you couldn’t tell everyone what you saw, because your mother called you a witch for saying such things and detested you until you managed to convince her it was a childhood prank that went too far. As long as the demons did nothing to you, you saw no reason to upset them. It’s not like anyone went out of their way to help you. 

You felt the presence of the newcomer well before hearing him and it sent chills down your spine. You looked at the few patrons that were hanging around to see if they had a change of attitude but no one moved. You turned your head to the side to take a peek behind your shoulder to see an angel. Well, he wasn’t really an angel, but it was as close to heaven you were going to get. 

Icy white hair and the palest skin you have ever seen. He was wearing a black blindfold, a strange choice of eyewear. You wonder if he had a kinky partner and this was punishment for him. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen something like that in the club. Despite the blindfold you felt his eyes meet yours and you put your head forward to avoid talking to him. It was too late though because you could feel him heading towards you. You sighed and faced the stage to see your coworker starting her set. The man of white sat behind you and you suddenly felt exposed in your clothes despite wearing scandalous costumes almost every night. 

“Can I have a Shirley temple?” You heard him say. You had your back turned to him as you tried to pay attention to your friend. She was at the top of the pole and made an unexpected drop while twisting her body around, gaining a few whistles from the small crowd. 

Another guest walked in and you gasped. He had a demon on the back of  his neck, one with no eyes but had two mouths with many hands wrapped around his victim’s throat. It was a sickly green color and its tail flicked around behind it. You noticed that compared to the general public, the general public being those who didn’t go to strip clubs, there were too many demons to count. When you went to the grocery store you felt maybe three or four total, but almost all of your regulars had them. You wondered if they had anything to do with morality. If that was the case you should have one leeching away on your body but you checked everyday and there was none. 

You got up and headed towards the stage again, trying to put as much space between you and the newcomer. His energy was prickling you, and it almost felt…minty? You fixed your bra as you walked back to the stage for another set. Since tonight was a weeknight with no specials you were allowed to choose what you wear, so you had a pink fuzzy two piece “bikini” with one pink lacy garter on. You had on pink heels to match and put on red lipstick to complete the look. 

You took the stage and began to swing with one arm attached as the music changed from some rock song from the previous girl to The Weeknd for you. You did a slow and sensual routine, spending a lot of time with your legs in the air. You could feel the white haired man’s eyes on you but you tried not to focus on him. You twisted and turned and flipped your hair to entrance the audience, but he was already creeping in the forefront of your mind. When your piece ended you got off the stage to head to the bar again but he changed his seat to be next to you. You didn’t even sit down fully before he asked you a question.

“Can you see it? The curse on his neck.” You gave him a side eye. “I don’t know what you're talking about,” you answered. 

“Sure you do. Your heart rate went up the moment you saw me, and it went up again when he walked in. You see how many hands are wrapped around his neck? He probably feels like he has a sore throat all the time. Either that or he talks like he’s running out of breath,” he said as he sipped his drink and turned to the side so that you could feel his knees in your back. His words took you by surprise but you didn’t give in yet. 

“Look man, I don’t know what you're talking about. I’m on a break can’t you see?” 

“You’re powerful enough to take it down. Are you not a sorcerer?” 

You whipped your head around to him to take a look at him fully. He was truly handsome and that’s without seeing his eyes. Despite the playful exterior he carefully curated around him, you could tell he was just as tired as you were. You knew the look well because it was something that you used to hide but now you didn’t fake a smile because you didn’t want to. 

“Come with me,” you said, dragging him by the arm and heading down the hallway into a private room. 

“The curses are over there, Barbie,” he pointed behind him. 

“We’re not dealing with them right now, and do I even remotely resemble a Barbie doll to you?” 

“No, you’re prettier. More like a Bratz doll if I’m being honest. So you can see them too?” 

You bit your lip but didn’t look back at him. You got to a room and it was empty with a bed in it. You pulled him inside and locked the door behind you. 

“A private show? I didn’t order one but I won’t say no,” he chuckled. He sat down on the bed and removed his shoes to swing his legs on the bed. 

You crossed your arms and stared him down.“So you can see them? The demons?” 

He looked over to you and back to the ceiling. “If you’re talking about curses , then yes. Always have,” he said the last bit bitterly. You paced at the foot of the bed and asked him more questions. 

“What does this mean? Why can I see them? Why don’t I have one attached to me? Are they bad? What can I do to have them leave me alone?” 

“How about a ‘hello’, or a ‘how are you’? You didn’t even ask for my name,” he pouted. You sat down at the foot of the bed and looked at him. 

“Take off your blindfold first.” 

“No can do. My eyes will probably scare you anyways.”

“It’s okay, not everyone is as pretty as me but I don’t judge,” you put your hand below his knee. He scoffed in return. 

“I won’t argue with you because you really are that pretty.” 

You still didn’t ask for his name. You never asked for names. It was the start of building a relationship and you just wanted to know about the curses that have been plaguing your mind since you were young. Nothing more, nothing less. You looked down at your hand on his leg and lifted it then put it back. You noticed that you weren’t really touching him. It’s like there was a thin layer of energy stopping you from feeling his clothes. You placed it on his knee and squeezed but still couldn’t feel anything but cool air.

“Yeah, I can’t let people get too close,” he said, noting your confusion. 

“Scared of something? Or should I say someone?” You teased. 

“I’m not scared of anything, but I do love to see the frustration in others when they can’t touch me,” he said as he sat up. 

"So you're like, invincible, or something?"

"No one else can beat me."

"You have mad confidence. I'm going to take your word for it. But does that mean no one can touch you? Like ever? Not even for a blowjob? Must be lonely,” you removed your hand from his leg. Gojo wished he could feel the warmth of your touch. You put your hand in your lap and stared into the empty wall. “Can you turn it off?”

“Yeah, I can.” You hummed in response. There was a silence between the two of you but it wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable so you didn’t want to fill it with conversation. You heard the soft bass of the club from outside but it was a slow song, similar to the one you danced to on the pole. You quietly hummed along to the song as it played and looked back at the man. He had his hands locked behind his head and looked like he was peacefully sleeping. The slope of his nose was high but soft and his lips were baby pink and shiny. You wondered why he came to a club in the first place. 

You got up to try to leave but suddenly a hand shot out and gripped your forearm. This time there was no cool air between you. 

“Clingy much?” 

“Where are you going?”

“Back on the floor. I’m still working, you know? And it’s not like you're paying me to be here, pretty boy.”

“I’ll pay you then. Just.. stay.”

You looked down at your arm. His hand was freezing cold, like there wasn't enough blood in them. He let go of you and you stood in front of him. 

“What’s your rate?” 

You thought it over in your head but decided to fuck with him. “$7,000, cash, for an hour but we can’t kiss.”

“That’s a damn shame,” he said as he pulled out an envelope from the inside of his jacket. He opened it and counted the inside before handing it to you. 

“I think that's 10k but you can keep the rest.” 

You flipped through and can tell it was way more than ten thousand dollars. You almost felt bad but it would take care of your rent for the next few months so you tried not to think about it too hard. You placed the cash on the side dresser and started to untie the back of your costume before he stopped you. 

You gave him a questioning look. “What, are you gay or something? The first thing people go after are my boobs,”  you pushed them together and pouted. 

“What? I just didn’t expect you to strip.”

You gave him a blank stare. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I mean, I just wanted to lay down and talk. I don’t know why but your aura is very calming.”

“Should you trust a stranger so flippantly? What if I was a serial killer?” 

He shook his head and put his arms behind him to lean back. Even the muscles in his neck were attractive to you. “I would be able to tell. But you don’t have any malicious intent. You have never killed anyone,” he said the last part quietly. 

“Have you?” 

“Have I what, Barbie?” 

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “Have you killed anyone? Sounds like you speak from experiece,” you sat beside him and leaned back as well. 

The room felt heavy after that. You nodded your head slowly but didn’t feel scared. The same way he knew you weren’t going to hurt him was how you felt about him too. The only thing is that his aura felt too big for the room, like it was trying to escape and stretch itself out. 

“Do you want to talk about it? I mean, you did pay me.”

“You’re not scared?”

“You should know that already, pretty boy.”

Another stretch of silence. 

“Oookay, let’s talk about me instead. We still have an hour and some change to kill together.” He nodded and you rubbed your hands on your thighs. 

“Was that supposed to be a pun?” 

Your eyes widened. “No, I swear it wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I thought it was kinda funny,” he smirked. 

You looked down and picked at your palms. “So you said something about sorcerers earlier. I don’t know what that is. All I know is that I’ve been calling curses ‘demons’ up until I met you. I can tell how many there are in a building at any given time. I usually leave them alone, and some of them run away from me. What does this all mean?” 

He sighed and plopped his back on the bed. You followed suit and now your shoulders were touching. He then explained the sorcerer world to you. The different levels of sorcerers and curses.  Curses themselves and how they come to be, cursed objects, cursed people. How curses can be formed from fear and death and anger or even simple promises. He explained that your ability to see curses meant that you had the blood of sorcerers’ running through your veins, and they were particularly strong despite you not learning a technique yet. 

“My birth mother was neglectful. I don’t know my real family and I had a closed adoption, so you could be onto something,” you stared up at the ceiling. 

“I can find out your family tree if you’d like. Sorcerers who didn’t want to alert enemies to their families would try to dilute or hide the real connection.”

You shook your head and sighed. “If they didn’t want me to know then I just won’t know. It’s been a hassle more than anything else. Plus, I’m not fit to fight. I don’t even know what my weapon would be.” 

He turned his head to face you. “Sure you are, I’ve seen you move on the pole. And I could teach you. We have an array of arsenal back at the school.”

“School? You’re a teacher?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“That’s surprising.”

“Why?”

“I just didn’t expect it. What kind of kids do you teach?”

“High schoolers. They’re really great kids,” he said fondly. You turned to face him but his face was obscured by his blindfold. You slowly reached out your hand to pull at the cover to see if he would stop you. You made sure not to touch his skin but it was hot all over. You tugged it up and gasped when you saw his eyes. They were blue, an inhumane blue that was almost transparent. His lashes were long and white as well, letting you know the hair on his head wasn’t a fashion choice. His eyes were so bright and beautiful but they were rimmed red, like he was on the verge of crying. You gently caressed the side of his face and his eyes fluttered closed. 

“What’s really going on?” 

“I’m sad about a friend of mine.”

“They're not a good friend if they make you cry.”

“They’re dead.”

“Oh.” 

You moved your thumb over his cheekbone. You still couldn’t believe how pale his skin was. He had his eyes closed still but placed his hand over yours. Again there was no barrier. Your skin was fully touching his. “This friend of yours,” you started. “Did you…” You decided to change your question. You didn’t want to know if his friend is the one he killed.

“How long ago was this?”

“A few months ago.” 

“And you came to a club to drink away your sorrows with a non alcoholic drink?” 

“No, Barbie, I came because I’m on a mission and I wanted to scout the place before my target would come in tomorrow.” 

“Good thing I don’t work tomorrow,” you mumbled. “You can’t call off? Are there not enough sorcerers to, I don’t know, cover your shift?” He shook his head again. 

“You wanna talk about your friend?” Another beat of silence. He gripped your hand harder and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I… I should’ve known. I look back and I see the signs all there but at the time I thought things would go back to normal. That he would come around and tell me when he’s ready. That we’ll always be together.”

“Sounds like you really loved him.” 

“With all my heart and soul.” 

“So why are you working again? Shouldn’t those so called ‘higher ups’ cut you some slack? In fact, is there a way to teach non sorcerers a way to control their feelings or something? I don’t know, but it seems very unfair to you and other sorcerers if you can’t even take time off to mourn a loved one.”

“You sound just like him,” he chuckled. 

“Maybe he was onto something.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not. He went about it the wrong way, though. It ended up costing him his life.” 

“Were you the one who found him?”

“You could say that.” You rubbed the side of his face again as he looked up at you. He really was gorgeous and you were fighting the urge to give him a forehead kiss. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir, but you can’t get caught up in the what if’s. He’s gone and no amount of thinking will change that. I could tell from the moment you walked in that you try to stay lighthearted all the time. That’s not good either. Allow yourself to process what happened properly and really try to enjoy what you have left. You have kids that look to you, right? They look up to you but you gotta show them that it’s okay to be sad. It can’t consume them, of course, but it’s okay to let it out. No one wants to talk to someone who only shows one emotion. Then it feels like they let you down.”

"But they need to be strong. Not for my sake but for theirs as well," he sighed.

"Strength comes in different forms. Teach them how to be better."

“Are you always this blunt?”

“Funnily enough I have a psychology degree. Never wanted to work with people though.” 

“I wouldn’t have known. You did pretty well with me.” 

“That’s because you're not annoying,” you said, removing your hand and sitting up. You stretched your arms over your head and before you knew it his head was in your lap. 

“Excuse me?”

“You're excused. I technically paid for this, right?”

You rested your hand in his hair. It was unbelievably soft and feathery. “You didn’t have to give me that much money. I was lying about my rate.” 

“I know,” he snuggled the side of his face in your thighs again. “But I am taking your time so I don’t mind. Plus, you smell really good.” 

“I taste even better,” you whispered in his ear and laughed when his ears had a pink tinge to it. “Go ahead and sleep. I won’t move, I promise. Something tells me that you might have insomnia.”

“How could you tell?” 

“I just can. Now hush,” you stroked his hair back. The contrast between his and your skin was jarring, but it would make a really pretty picture. 

“You never told me your name.”

“Barbie.”

“Your real name,” he pinched your thigh. 

“Ow. It’s Y/N,” you giggled. 

“That’s such a pretty sound,” he mumbled, his words slurring together. “I’m Satoru.” 

“Sleep, Satoru. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Promise you’ll still be here?” 

“I promise.”

#jjk fanfic #gojo saturo #gojo needs a hug #no smut #oneshot #gojo satoru x reader #hurt/comfort #jjk spoilers #black fem reader

[mwrgwt]

𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

hi everyone!!! im new on tumblr and i write on wattpad. here’s a trailer of my new fiction. enjoy an and tell me if you liked it !

𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 open slowly as the light passes through the window of my room, as i close them gently trying to sink again into the land of dreams. my little sister collapse on my stomach still covered by the blanket of my bed and i hear her burst out laughing. 

— wake up, 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 ！

i chuckle as my sister face me, her dirty blond hair all messed up from her bun. the more 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞́𝐞 grow up, the more she look like me. i run my hand trough her rebel hair and place them correctly, her nose and blue eyes scrunching  tightly, as she form a slight pout on her lips.

— hello to you too, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑦’．

she chuckle at the nickname and get off of my bed as i follow her to the kitchen. our house is really pretty, if i had to describe it. it’s right in front of the ocean, you just have to walk five meters and it’s there.

 the blue shutters form a nice contrast with the rest of the house painted white, even if the boards begin to turn gray because of the salty air. a shiver runs through me when my feet come into contact with the cold tiles of the small kitchen. i quickly grab water and pour it to heat in a small kettle that my mother inherited.

— where are mom and dad?

i ask percée who is sitting at the table. her feet don’t touch the ground, her legs are not tall enough to be able to sit properly.

— mom is at the market and dad is fishing.

i nod quickly and move a strand of my dark blonde hair back into its place. at percy’s age, my hair was the same color as the sun, but because of the salt air it became darker. the boiling water takes me out of my thoughts and i pour it into two bowls that my little sister brought out for us. 

my eyes land on the wall in front of me, being practically covered in sea shells and some painting of my mom, mostly of the beach in front of the house.

i take two tea bags and place them in the bowls then sit on the chair opposite the little blonde’s one.

— are you stressed about tomorrow?

she asks me, blowing on her tea. i sigh softly but smile at her. of course i’m stressed. all the teenagers in Panem are stressed by the hunger games, with the fear of being drawn.

— no.

𝑙𝑖𝑒. she smiles at me and takes a sip of the hot beverage. she frowns when she tells herself that she didn't wait long enough and i laugh.

— what about you. stressed?

i ask, taking a sip of my tea, right at the good temperature. i see my little sister shrug her shoulders.

— maybe just a little.

i smile at her again. it's her first year, after all.

- it's normal. but it won't fall on you, i swear.

she smiles weakly at me and I see in her eyes that she is terrified of being linked to these games. i sigh as we drink our teas in silence.

              𓆞༄･ﾟ𓆝࿐ ࿔*: 𓆟

— i'm sick of this shit.

i chuckle lightly as 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧 smiles.

- what? it's true after all.

he smiles again and i laugh harder. he pushes my shoulder slightly and laughs a little too.

— maybe you're right. but we can't change things.

he sighs and i sense in his eyes that he is sad. i can read my best friend like i can read a book. i gently caress my hand over his and he gives me a sympathetic look.

— 'm scared for my siblings.

i stop smiling immediately.

— they will not be drawn, 𝑂'. 𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐡 is twelve and 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 is fourteen.

I hear him sigh and he looks out to the ocean which is starting to turn orange as the sun sets. it’s truly sad, the way that we are preys and that a twelve years old child can be pick to participate to a deadly game.

— if blake is chosen i will volunteer as tribute. 

my eyes open wide. i can’t loose him. he has been my best friend since i was seven years old, he had accompanied me through so many trials that my heart aches at the thought of losing him.

— stop.

he looks into my eyes as mine get wet. i say nothing and nod my head. he's too stubborn for me to protest, so he opens his arms and i snuggle into them while i gather myself, lulled by the sound of the waves.

             𓆞༄･ﾟ𓆝࿐ ࿔*: 𓆟

my hands run over my pale pink dress as i look in the mirror. i am pretty. i sigh, trying to stay calm, seeing the reflection of percée  getting her hair done by my mother. my hair is braided but two flyaway strands frame my face as i tuck them behind my ears. my sister smiles at me and i do the same, turning towards her.

— you look lovely, lil' fish.

i tell her with a smile as my mother finishes putting the last pin in her braided bun. her white dress suits her very well, and for a moment i recognize myself in her.

— you do more than me.

she smiles and my mother looks at us with a loving look in her eyes. her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders and i see her eyes water. my father places his hand on her hip delicately and smiles at me, his gray irises full of love for his family.

— they'll just take a little blood from you, you won't feel anything and you'll go with your friends, okay percy?

my sister nods her head and i sense that she is anxious. my poor baby.

— c’mere.

i say grabbing her in a hug. she's shaking. i sigh but smile at her saying that everything will be fine and that we will see each other at the end of the ceremony. i stand in line and quickly a peacemaker takes a drop of my blood. a few seconds later, there i am in the rows of teenage girls while i look for orion.

— welcome, welcome, welcome.

a voice exclaims from the stage. i look up and see a woman with off-white hair and kind of strange makeup.

— happy hunger games, and, may the odds be ever in your favor.

like if they could be. i think, sighing softly. she continues talking and announces the annual film projected on the flat screen. I take the opportunity to continue looking through the crowd and I hear the film start while my eyes meet those of orion who was already looking at me. 

he whispers “war, terrible war” and i chuckle silently. this is his last edition, and my penultimate. i smile at him and take my eyes off him to concentrate on the film that i already know too well. the film ends and the presenter smiles at the audience.

— now, time has come for us to select one courageous man and woman, for the honor of representing district four in the 74th annual hunger games. as usual, ladies first.

my breathing stops when she approaches the glass skin where the names of all the girls are marked. mine is there five times.

her hand stops and she takes out a paper before returning to her microphone. i bite my lip, praying it isn't someone i know as she opens the paper.

— 𝑳𝑬𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑯 𝑲𝑵𝑶𝑾𝑻!

𝑛𝑜.

reblog and votes are appreciated, please tell me if i should make a story of it 💌

#hunger games au #hunger games fanfiction #fypage #tumblr fyp #fypシ #cato hadley #katniss everdeen #the hunger games katniss #thg katniss #thg #thgedit #thg fanfiction #the hunger games

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Style- Garrett x OC

Garrett x Lucy

Description: Garrett likes Lucy’s style.

Word Count: 1.3k

Lucy, in general, was well known for her fashion sense all around Forks. People considered her clothes to be…eccentric at best and just plain odd at worst. She, like Alice, was a fashion designer. Their styles were drastically different, though. Alice loved to work with darker colors. It made sense considering she, along with the rest of her “family,” were extremely pale and darker shades worked best with such a skin tone. Lucy, meanwhile, always went with more colorful pieces. She took more risks and honestly, they usually paid off. She made brighter colors work for her.

As a matter of fact her bright clothes were what first caught Garrett’s attention. All the other vampires in the Cullen home (permanent and temporary) wore dark and muted colors. It seemed that black, white, tan, dark blues, etc were the unofficial dress code. Well, except for the second shortest girl of the Cullen clan. Instead, she wore a seventies inspired dress with white, yellow, pink, orange and brown vertical stripes as well as long white flower lace sleeves along with three inch white platform shoes to get her up to a solid five foot three inches.

Almost as soon as he saw her, their eyes met. It didn’t take them long to understand the bond between them, which brought a smile to both their faces. Their eye contact didn’t last long before Garrett’s eyes trailed down to her outfit, examining it. She took the time to do the same to him. Normally, she absolutely detested dark colors because they just felt so basic and flat to her. But that all seemed to change when Garrett wore them. He made them look good to her, which was not an easy feat.

With her study of him done, she found herself looking at his (admittedly handsome) face and trying to gauge his reaction to her clothes. By this point she was used to the looks she received from the other residents of Forks and even a few vampires that were now in her home, but for some reason Garrett’s gaze felt different to her. Perhaps it was the fact that he was her mate? That was the best she could come up with as she watched him.

It looked like he was trying to figure out whether he liked it or not. For the first time since she’d started designing she felt…self conscious. She hated it, it made her feel awkward and shy, not wishing to know what he was thinking. Either way it was hard to tell as he kept his face totally neutral, which did not help in the slightest.

Just when she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, he finally looked at her. Once again their eyes met, though instead of having an impartial gaze, his eyes now had a hint of mirth in them. They matched the small smile that formed on his face as he spoke.

“I like your style.” That was all he said, but it was more than enough for Lucy. She found herself smiling in relief as she thanked him.

Garrett was pleasantly surprised to learn that her attire wasn’t just for special events, but were in fact her everyday outfits. It was a breath of fresh air for him, which in turn made Lucy pleasantly surprised. She found herself becoming giddy that he liked her style. And it seemed that her fashion sense wasn’t the only style he liked about her.

The next morning Lucy, Garrett, Zafrina, Bella, Edward, Carlisle, Ramona, Benjamin, Eleazar and Kate had gathered in the woods a few miles away from the Cullen home. They’d decided to practice channeling their powers and train for whatever could potentially come from the confrontation with the Volturi. The others watched as Bella took hold of Edward’s hand as Zafrina focused her gaze on both of them, presumably making him see something that the others just couldn’t. The man shook his head as he looked around, eyes looking rather distant compared to the rest of him.

“If she weren’t holding my hand right now, I could swear this was real,” Edward muttered as he shook his head, impressed. Bella also shook her head, but for a different reason than her husband’s.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Edward, you didn’t tell me your mate is a shield,” Eleazar piped up. While a look of understanding appeared on the boy’s face, Bella just became more confused.

“What’s a shield?”

“It’s a defensive talent,” Lucy explains.

“It’s why I couldn’t read your mind, even before. And why Aro couldn’t,” Edward adds, looking at her.

“You have a very powerful gift,” Eleazar concluded. Lucy then watched as Kate suddenly grabbed Bella’s hand. They stood there for a moment, then the Denali girl dropped her hand with an impressed expression.

“Oh yeah, she’s a shield alright. Should’ve put her on her ass.”

“Or your voltage has been exaggerated,” Garrett spoke up from beside Lucy, making the others look at him. Kate turned to him with raised eyebrows, holding her hand up as if she was daring him to touch her. It seemed that the man wasn’t one to back away from a challenge because he took a step towards the blonde and began reaching out.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Lucy warned, though he took no heed. As soon as their fingers touched Garrett was electrocuted enough that it caused him to fall to the ground. A gasp escaped Lucy at the sight, and she watched worriedly as he stood up. He didn’t seem to be hurt from what just happened. Instead he looked impressed.

“You are an amazing woman,” he said simply. A twinge of jealousy shot through Lucy as the duo shared a smile. She hadn’t felt this way since 1948, when her sister and Jasper met and almost instantly fell in love, and she instantly remembered how much she hated it. It wasn’t a good feeling seeing something like that and she was tempted to leave. Before she could do so, Benjamin suddenly faced her.

“Lucy, Edward tells me that you have a unique gift. I’ve been meaning to ask what talent you possess,” he said, which effectively turned everyone’s attention to her.

“Oh, you wanna talk about a powerful gift?” Laughed Ramona from the other side of Benjamin. That instantly eased the tension in Lucy’s shoulders and she found herself smiling at the girl.

“Well? What is it?” The Egyptian boy asked curiously. Before answering Lucy took a deep breath and closed her eyes, feeling her body morph into who she wanted to look like: Benjamin.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” she finally responded. What surprised everyone was how similar she sounded to him. It was almost creepy how uncanny it was. An amused smile appeared on Carlisle’s face.

“If you couldn’t tell, Lucy has the power to shapeshift and perfectly mimic whoever she thinks of,” he explained to the others.

“And that includes power recreation,” Lucy added. She looked down at the ground and hovered her hand. Just moments later a Juliet Rose bloomed out of nowhere. Within seconds she looked like her normal self, and she looked around at everyone else. Those who hadn’t seen her powers looked thoroughly awed by the show, but no one more than Garrett.

“Incredible,” he breathed out, which made her look at him. If she thought he looked impressed by Kate’s show of powers, he looked absolutely amazed by hers, like he’d just seen something life changing. Lucy knew that if she was still human, she’d be blushing with the way he was looking at her. She watched as he crouched down and picked up the flower. He kept his eyes on the flower as he stood back up, and their eyes met once he was at his height. A small smirk appeared on his face as he brought the flower up and nestled it into her hair.

“I like your style.” And just like that, things felt normal to her again.

#twilight #twilight imagine #garrett denali #garrett denali imagine #garrett denali x oc

[noroi1000]

hi! could i get a romantic jjk matchup? if they're still open that is.

i'm a trans guy (he/they) and bisexual with a slight male preference.

i'm about average height with wavy brown hair, green eyes, freckles, and somewhat tan skin. i wear a lot of dark, muted, and cool colors. jeans and t-shirts are staple items, and there's a lot of flannel when it gets cold.

usually i'm laid back and a little bit awkward, especially in big groups of people that i don't know so well. but with my friends i can get clingy and annoying, i say a lot of dumb things and usually carry out the bad ideas. my personality type is intp and enneagram is 5w4. i was considered gifted as a kid and now i'm starting to burn out, but i hide it with a cheery attitude.

i'm pretty nerdy, with my biggest interests being chemistry and math. i also like food a lot, both making and eating it. being outdoors gives me a lot of energy, so i like to spend time exploring in nature whenever possible.

hope you have a lovely day/night :)

I think your Jujutsu kaisen matchup is:

Yuta is just a man who hasn't had friends most of the time in his life. And also couldn't find them. Not only because of Rika, but also because he has already lost the habit of meeting new people during this time. Therefore, he is often awkwardly quiet when he does not know anyone in a given company.

But he is not a very tense man. He is also often more laid back, but behaves awkwardly. He is quiet and does not look at people. Honestly, he doesn't look at strangers at all. He can often look straight ahead, but not at anyone's face. This is only of course when he doesn't know people.

Later, when he has a friend, he is almost completely different. He smiles, makes jokes. Basically, when this is the case, he often stops even thinking about what he is going to say. He will just say what he would like to say, and then he will understand that what he said was wrong. And then it may turn out that he has already pissed someone off.

With him, he was a normal child from the very beginning. Later it got worse. He felt bad, reacted badly to the world. He could never find himself or do anything happily. He wasn't doing anything at all, or even having a hard time trying. Therefore, he could resign. Later his life changed and he began to be considered a man worth a lot. Strength, skill. Even if he got it all, he was still the same man who needed his friends to be happy. He has a lot of talent, and he may not be suitable for many things. He just can't do it. But what he can do, he will do. And what he cannot, he can try. He doesn't want anyone to think badly of him, so he tries to smile while doing it. Even if there is no chance that he will be able to do it.

You can tell from is also clever. In your own way. He knows something from this field, then he learns something from another. But he never knows anything completely. He knows a lot, but everything is gathered together by the specks of his knowledge. But this is still some wisdom. Besides, he likes to learn new things. It is enough for him to be interested in something.

So you can easily teach him new feelings. ♡

Headcanon:

• He is a person who loves people. So he will never judge a person by their appearance or by their first meeting. He will always at least try to make some contact with that person. He will be very happy if any of this comes out. This is why he never rejects people after meeting them for the first time. Always trying to get to know someone better somehow.

• In my opinion, Yuta would be a person who doesn't care about human appearance, but about character. Same with gender and beliefs.

He may love you even if your beliefs differ from his beliefs. However, he will not stand if your beliefs were wrong, and you would also do something to hurt people around you.

• You have a similar style of dress. Likes it. He usually wears dark clothes. His uniform has a white shirt, but the colors are subdued anyway. Black, white, gray. Sometimes other dark colors. He wears looser clothes because he prefers it more. But there aren't that many preferences. You can even steal his T-shirts or sweatshirts. He'll even be happy.

• Welcome it in your arms as your personal winter heater. When he's cold, he'll cuddle up to you, also warming you up in the process. He doesn't want you to be sick, but he doesn't want you to be sick any more. So accept from him the kind and sweet gestures he gives you. He is a very sweet boy.

Besides, no matter what you do, he'll blush. Suddenly hug him lightly. Kiss on the cheek. You will surely see a tiny blush on his cheeks. But he'll smile at you anyway and do the same. This boy loves touch and the feeling of closeness. Especially when it's you.

• Yuta is not demanding. And if you demand a lot of him, it doesn't bother him.

• He will admire that you learn well and quickly. Especially when you know more than he knows. He will find it wonderful.

• Favorite date you've had: For him, home dates or a walk are best. At home, you can watch a movie together, play games. You can even spend your time cooking. If you like. He will gladly eat something good. He will also help you, but you have to control his movements so that he does not spoil anything. But he likes it so much anyway. Especially when you can eat it together later. Walks are also his favorite. Easy walking in the park when you are holding your hand. It may be quiet, but he will hold you so that you can feel he is close to you. He must confirm that nature gives energy. Because it's also reassuring for him. And it's very nice to be there with you.

"Um… I have something for you." *He hands you a bouquet of small flowers* "Thought I might give you something… You know… Nice little thing… I've thought a lot about it… I know that such small flowers are not enough, but I had no idea… I just thought they were pretty and match your eyes…"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen matchups #anime matchup #jjk headcanons #jujustu kaisen #yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu #jjk yuta #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuta x y/n

[greenekjeldsen93]

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[1kook]

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast. 

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.  

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office. 

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5. 

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses. 

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful. 

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.” 

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.” 

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.” 

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking. 

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever. 

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours. 

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together. 

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.) 

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be. 

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you. 

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber. 

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend. 

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary. 

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days. 

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.  

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.) 

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like. 

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites. 

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.” 

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind. 

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into. 

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway. 

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin. 

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear. 

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass. 

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you. 

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak. 

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead. 

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat. 

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts. 

They go like this: 

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively. 

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once. 

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you. 

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome. 

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve. 

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek. 

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts. 

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.” 

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles. 

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild. 

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums. 

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again. 

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning. 

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.” 

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment. 

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“ 

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him. 

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned. 

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.” 

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.” 

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.” 

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.” 

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“— 

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear. 

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer. 

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole. 

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips. 

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise. 

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath. 

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. 

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue. 

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger.  “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…” 

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?” 

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles. 

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over. 

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more. 

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them. 

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub. 

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face. 

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention. 

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock. 

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand. 

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane. 

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh. 

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be. 

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds. 

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter. 

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic. 

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock. 

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you. 

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip. 

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl. 

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully. 

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin. 

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said. 

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away. 

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself. 

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you. 

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once. 

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth. 

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets. 

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever. 

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you. 

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question. 

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest. 

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

[wpdarlingpan]

Hey I just read the yandere Jason's todd and I was thinking about how you said Dami was still looking for his darling/soulmate. What if yan damian found his darling at his Schools art room and she has a service dog? Like she loves painting and I saw on TikTok that a dog can paint to so there is a little set up for her dog and another for her. Can I request a story about this? Hope you are having a good day/night!

Thank you so much for this request! I love the idea.

Y/N= Your Name

Y/L/N= Your Last Name

Y/E/C= your eye color

Warning: Major Fluff

~*~

Damian Wayne had been stopped after school but a group of squealing girls he had not interest in talking to. They all wanted the same thing, his last name and his money. They didn’t understand he had no interest in any of them.

“Damian! want to go get ice cream with me?”

“Damian! will you help me study for the math test?”

“Damian! Will you be my boyfriend?”

All he heard was them just shouting his name, if those insufferable people wanted to talk so badly why couldn’t they even just talk like normal people? But he had to admit even then he wouldn’t give them the time of day. But he knew with his name he had to seem polite even if he wanted to run away, so he decided to combine the two.

“Sorry, I must go. I need to go get something from one of the classrooms.”

A chorus of shouts started up again with every one of them saying they would go with him.

“Alone.” He stressed before quickly walked or more so ran back inside the school building. He heard them rush after him so he quickly darted into the nearest classroom and shut the door behind him, which happened to be the art room.Damian had his back to the door and he heard the footsteps rush past the door in search of him.

“Hello?” He heard, at first he was worried it was another fan girl that one bombard him but when he looked up and stared into beautiful Y/E/C eyes, it felt as if time had stopped. He admired the girl who was standing in front of an easel in the center of the room. She had on a white shirt with denim overall and a pair of converse. But she was covered in paint, blue in her hair, white on her hands, even more colors covered her legs, shoes, face, pants, and even her white shirt.

After he gained some awareness of how it would come across as creepy if he kept staring he looked down to the smaller easel that was on the floor next to her and saw an adorable dog with their own painting in front of them. There was a plastic sheet on the floor so they didn’t get paw prints all over the floor as their paws were covered in purple paint.

“Hello?” The girl questioned again before he looked back up at her and he finally moved from the door, closer to the girl.

“Hi, sorry to barge in like that.” Damian apologized in a apologetic manner.

“Oh! No worries. It just startled me a bit but then I heard all the foot steps pass the door, too which I assume you were running from people.” She spoke very analytically. Damian feel even more in love. She had a dog, she wasn’t squealing, she was very aware, and she was also very adorable as he saw the paint on her.

“You are very clever.” He replied smoothly making her blush to which Damian smirked.

“Thank you.” She spoke shyly. Damian could tell she was rather anxious so he kept talking to try and ease her nerves. Damian knew he wanted her to be his soulmate as the other bats. But he preferred the term beloved.

“May i see your paintings?”

“Sure.” She spoke nervously. Y/N wasn’t too confident as a person do showing her art to someone was very nerves racking, that was why she was there after school so she could finish her painting and not worry about the people around her, also because her teacher said she could try and see if her dog could paint like she saw others do on Tik tok.

Damian walked over to the girl and he dog and stood rather close to her, looking at the painting quite closely as to have ma excuse to stand next to her.

He looked at the painting and saw a silhouette of Gotham at night, he knew this because there was a image of the bat signal painted towards the night sky.

“This is amazing.” Damian complimented making her blush. She really wasn’t blushing because it was Damian Wayne making the comments but just because someone was making the comments in the first place. Damian then crouched down on the side closest to the dog and let the dog sniff his hand before he pet them while he looked at the dogs painting.

“This is a very cute idea, I might have to try this with my dog Titus, whats your dogs name?” He spoke as he looked at the purple paw prints at were on the canvas.

“His name is Padfoot, after the-“

“Harry Potter series? Sirius black right?” Y/N glowed at the thought of him knowing where her dogs name came from. She was really expecting him to be mean like some of the other people at school when they asked her dogs name. They thought the name padfoot was stupid and she should have named her dog like shadow or something based off the dark fur.

Damian saw her change in demeanor and smirked before continuing.

“I love the Harry Potter series.” 

“Me too! Well you probably already knew that because of the name but-“

“Hey, it’s fine.” Damian reassured as she started to rant and stumble on her words. Damian loved Y/N’s shyness. It meant he had to worry about a lot less people being in the way. Then he realized he didn’t even know her name yet.

“What’s your name?” He questioned in subtle flirty tone.

“I’m y/n! What’s yours?” She did already know his name but she assumed that he would like to introduce himself. He liked that.

“Wayne, Damian Wayne.” He held out a hand for her to shake and she went to do so before noticing all the paint of her hands.

“Nice to meet you, I’d shake your hand but I’d feel bad getting paint on you.” Damian smiled slightly at her kind nature and proceeded to shake her hand anyway that seemed to fit perfectly in his. He didn’t even hardly pay attention to the white paint that was in his hands.

“It’s alright.” He said as he saw her looking alarmed at the paint on his hands.

Damian wanted to move quickly. He wanted to make her his as soon as possible. So he began another conversation and asked her about her life such as her friends, family, what area of Gotham she lived in, if she was single; to which she blushed brightly at as she replied with a quick yes as she never even held hands with a boy before. Damian was pleased with all the answers, and he felt very protective over her as she told him her address. He had to keep her safe if she was just waking around telling her address to anybody. Of course he wouldn’t be just anybody to her but it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t go telling other people who he knew didn’t deserve it know.

Damian didn’t want to go the route Timothy Drake did. He didn’t want to immediately force her to be his. He wanted something that made him feel the love that he was neglected of for years. He found his beloved and he knew that he had to be gentle in a way. But he could tell she was perfect for him.

She had finished her painting and put it over but the others from class the day and Padfoots had dried so she picked up the small easel and put it in her bag.

“I should probably head home now.” She spoke after she put Padfoot back on his leash and washed most of the paint off his paws. Damian panicked slightly as he didn’t want their time to end but, he also knew he could go home and search up everything he could find on the bat computer.

They walked out to the front together and saw Alfred patiently waiting in the car while reading a book. He looked up and saw Damian walking out alongside Y/N and smiled to himself slightly. He knew the boy deserved love, and it seemed that he had found his.

Y/N was tempted to ask for his number, but she didn’t want to come across as clingy or pushy. She had deeply enjoyed talking to him and she wanted to further.

“Pass me your phone.” Damian said with a slight demanding tone. Y/N did so without hesitation making Damian smirk as he typed in his number and put his name in the contact. He sent a messages to himself after and discreetly changed her contact name to ‘My Beloved ❥’ and handed back her phone.

“There, I texted myself from your phoen so we have each other’s numbers. Text me whenever you want.” Y/N smiled brightly at him making him smile back.

She began to wave goodbye and make the walk back home but he stopped her once he saw her start walking.

“Wait you’re walk home? Alone? But you live so far.”

“Yeah, my parents are always working so they can’t come get me. But it’s okay, I’m used to walking home .” But Damian immediately begins shaking his head. He knew the dangers of being in Gotham as he has seen many first hand. He wouldn’t allow his beloved to be so unprotected.

“I’ll give you a ride home from now on okay?” He spoke decidedly. She began to shake her head no.

“I couldn’t ask to do do that-“

“You didn’t ask, I told you. I’m going to give you a ride home, it’s too dangerous out there by yourself.”

“But I got Padfoot to protect me!” She spoke innocently while holding up the shaggy black dog.

Damian looked at her with a look that left no room for argument.

“Fine… but just this once.” Y/N said before following him over to the sleek black car.

“Definitely not only once, but believe what you want to believe. I can be quite… persuasive.”

Damian opened the door for her to get it and he helped her inside before getting in on the other side while Alfred glanced in the mirror every so often.

“Hello. Nice to meet you, what’s your name sir?” She spoke politely looking at Alfred as he looked up in the mirror.

“I’m Alfred Pennyworth. And you are?”

“Y/N L/N.”

“Nice to meet you as well Miss L/N.”

She smiled at him as he saw in the mirror and he slightly smiled back and could already tell she was a kind person. Perfect for Damian and the Wayne family.

Her and Damian talked the whole ride to her house after she gave Alfred her address. Once they arrived Damian tried not to look to disappointed and continued to reassure himself that he would see her the next day for sure. He would also look her up on the bat computer.

They pulled up in front of a nice house that resided in a sketchy area, well all of Gotham was sketchy but Damian remembered one of the warehouse down the street was one of Jokers hold hideouts and he stopped a drug sale a few houses down and not to even mention the-

Before he continue she opened her door and stepped out of the car.

“Thank you for the ride Mr.Pennyworth. Bye Dami!” She said happily as she set Padfoot out of the car as well and made her way into the house. As the door shut behind her he snapped out of his trance of thinking of all the dangers and the fact she already gave him a nickname.

“Beat that Todd.” Damian thought to himself as he was already making more progress in a day than Todd and Grayson had in weeks with their soulmates.

“I presume that’s her Master Wayne?”

“Definitely Pennyworth. She’s My Beloved.”

~*~

I hope you liked it ♡

#yandere damian wayne x reader #yandere damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #batboys #batman #Damian Wayne #x reader #dc universe #yandere #soulmate

[sariahsue]

Jealousy

"If it weren't for that other guy, do you think you would have fallen for me?" "Please, chaton," Marinette said. "Don't do this to yourself." "I just want to know." Softly she said, "It would have been so easy."

***

Marinette leaned into Chat Noir's side as she stared at their abandoned Uno cards (she had won three rounds in a row). They were on the floor in her room, surrounded pink fabric and dim twilight.

"Hey, Bug?"

"Hm?" It was strange, how easily she'd gotten used to him knowing her identity. It had been an accident, but she wouldn't change anything now.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice rumbled through her.

"Aren't you asking something now?" She'd expected a laugh or at least a resigned sigh, but he said nothing. Marinette pushed a wild card with her toe. "Sure."

"If it weren't for that other guy, do you think you would have fallen for me?"

Every point of contact her body had with his seemed suddenly electrified, her head on his shoulder, her arm against his, where her knee brushed his leg, and she shifted away to give herself some breathing space.

Her walls were bare. He'd asked permission to visit her at home, and she'd taken down almost every picture of Adrien. Evidence of her crush on someone else was not something she wanted to push on him every time he came over. He didn't deserve that.

"Um... do you want to play another round of Uno, or should we do something else?"

"Marinette, I'm serious. Would you have?"

Chat Noir wasn't often serious. If he wanted to go down this path, the best she probably could do was make his pain quick.

She shrugged in response. "Maybe, I guess. Video games? I have UMS 4."

"Really, that's it? You guess? That's not a real answer."

"Please, chaton. Don't do this to yourself."

He slid closer, closing the tiny gap between them that she'd opened up. "I just want to know."

Twilight was slipping into full dark as they sat. The streetlamp outside her window blinked on. He wasn't going to back down on this, was he? Fine. As quickly as she could, then.

"You're kind and compassionate. You're reliable. You're funny." Again, she waited for some reaction, a laugh, a self-satisfied "I knew it!" but he only waited for her to finish. "We have such a strong connection, and I trust you with my life. You're brave. You're my best friend." Softly she added, "It would have been so easy. That's the real answer."

The room was quiet enough that she heard how fast his breathing was. They were so close together that she swore she could feel his pounding heart. Or maybe that was hers. Sitting side-by-side made her feel like a coward. It was too easy to avoid his eyes.

How badly had she hurt him?

"So why haven't you talked to him yet?" Chat Noir asked.

"What?"

"If you'd pick him over all that, then you must like him a lot, but you aren't together. And I can't imagine anyone rejecting you, so you must not have asked him out yet."

Maybe she should have added perceptive to the list, but to be fair he'd never been so devastatingly accurate before.

At least this was something they could laugh at together. "I'm... very awkward around him. I'm pretty sure I make him uncomfortable sometimes."

"I doubt it," he said. "So who is he?"

Marinette got up. She suddenly needed some movement. Time to think. More space. "We shouldn't be talking about this."

"Why not?"

"Because I hate this!" Marinette turned to face him for this first time that night. "I hate hurting you every time you bring it up."

He leaned back like he was unconcerned, but he didn't return her gaze. "I'm only curious," he said. "I just want to know what type of person attracts Ladybug. That's all."

"I'll tell you under two conditions."

He stopped studying her mannequin to peek at her from the corner of his eye.

"One, you stop asking about it. Two, you don't laugh at me."

He finally turned to her completely. "Laugh? Why would I laugh?"

Part of her wished that he would. His laugh would be a welcome sound right now.

"Because you're going to think it's a celebrity crush, and it's not."

He raised an eyebrow and gestured for her to continue.

Marinette groaned. Nothing to do about it now except get it over with. "Adrien Agreste."

Chat Noir was on his feet so fast Marinette almost didn't see him move. "Plagg, claws-"

She didn't hear the rest of his sentence over her shrieking "NO!" but did she see the flash of green light behind her eyelids. "What are you doing? Put your suit back on!"

"No."

"I'm not going to look at you."

Where were the kwamis? Why weren't they telling him this was a bad idea?

"You have to retransform." Marinette backed up until she hit her desk. What on earth was he doing?

"No, not until you look."

"You'll have to," she said. "You can't walk out my front door and let people see you. You'll have to leave the way you came in."

"You're just going to keep your eyes closed for the rest of the night?"

She nodded.

Soft footsteps walked toward her. It wasn't the normal tap of boots that she was used to. It sounded wrong. Another reminder that one mistake from her would put his identity in jeopardy. He stopped right in front of her, circled his arms around her loosely and waited. It wasn't until she let herself sink against his chest that he tightened his grip.

"I'm not opening my eyes," she said.

"Then please just listen to my voice," the boy who was Chat Noir said. "I won't tell you my name, but please just listen?"

She nodded, her face buried in his neck. Even if she did open her eyes, she wouldn't be able to see him.

"When I'm not transformed, I'm much quieter."

"A quiet Chat Noir?" Marinette asked. "What must that be like?"

"I don't show off either. I try to avoid attention, actually. I get too much of it."

As he spoke, his voice started to change, matching the quieter, more gentle picture of himself that he painted for her. It sounded like... like...

"Did you know that we know each other outside the masks? We go to the same school."

With each sentence, Marinette began to realize that his voice was achingly familiar. He still sounded like her partner, on days that they were just talking or when they'd share sad stories. But he also sounded like someone else, someone whose voice she'd thought she knew by heart.

He stopped talking, letting her figure out the truth in silence.

She couldn't open her eyes. She couldn't. But her fingers could wander. They found his ungloved hand first, then moved up to his wrists. His forearms were bare, and as she expected, his sleeve had been rolled up above his elbow. Her fingers skimmed his upper arm and across his shoulder to his neck. She found the buttons of an open overshirt with a soft cotton tee underneath. If she wanted to, she could have reached up to touch his hair or trace her fingers over his nose and cheeks and eyelids, everything his mask usually hid. He would have let her.

Instead she leaned into his neck and felt his head drop on top of hers. Marinette finally opened her eyes. The overshirt was white. The tee underneath was black with colored stripes. Exactly how she remembered.

"You're kind and compassionate," he said. "You're brave and creative and amazing."

A tear slipped across her cheek. She was crying. When had that started?

"It was so easy to fall in love with you, Marinette."

Her hands left his shoulders to wrap around him and pull him closer to her. "I love you too, Adrien."

***

A/N: Written for Marichat May 2021. Prompt: Jealousy. @marichatmay

#marichat #marichat may #ml #mlb #miraculous ladybug