#also there’s more dialogue after this and I’m very happy with it

[angst-is-love-angst-is-life]

🌹!!

There’s so many to choose frommmmm

“You really thought you could defeat me?” His low whine turned into a howl as Zoom pressed harder on an evidently broken rib.

This is, of course, from Trophy :)

Rose Ask Game

#thank you for the askkk! #alittleflashvibe #asks #ask game answers #rose ask game #fic snippet #also there’s more dialogue after this and I’m very happy with it #my writing

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Shut up for me, love, |

Toji Fushiguro x Wife!Reader

Toji finds out you're pregnant! (with Megumi)

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, pregnancy, Toji has a job, slightly suggestive dialogue

A/n: I have an idea for a Part 2 (this was so fun)... also opening to take requests if you have any.

It was like floating on cloud nine, where everything was beautiful and happy. You couldn’t help but curl up into a ball on your bed, digging your fists into the covers while clutching the test. Why? Because it came up with two lines. 

You had always wanted kids, that was something your husband, Toji, knew very well. However, there was still something daunting, that translated into a sinking feeling in your gut. Something that you had wanted for so long, something bigger than yourself, was going to happen, and the two of you would face it together. 

There were so many things to look forward to while pregnant. Wearing cute dresses that emphasized your bump just right, a sign to yourself and the world of your lovely marriage and relationship with your husband. Family photos, pregnancy milestones, and finally, the birth that would happen in a bit under nine months. You were so happy to start your family with Toji, and the little bundle of joy that was growing inside of you.

That feeling of euphoria didn’t leave after laying there for five minutes. In fact, it probably never would. It was another version of the feeling you got when you first met Toji, and the one from when you married him, and you still couldn’t believe that it had happened. But, Toji would be home soon. 

Knowing your husband, still as frustrated with your finances as ever, the one thing you could decide was that balloons and cake would not be appreciated on this occasion. Though he knew of your desires, he never explicitly said he wanted a baby either. That was what scared you the most. 

Toji always humered you, when you visited little clothing boutiques and stores, and something in the maternity section caught your eye. Or, when you couldn’t help but offer to take care of your friend’s baby whenever you got the chance, and had the biggest smile he had ever seen on your face, when you held her. 

What you didn’t see, however, was that while you perused the racks of baby clothing, his eyes drifted over to the green dinosaur onesie, with dark green spikes covering the head and going over the back and the tail. He chuckled under his breath, starting to get ideas himself seeing how invested you were. 

When you mentioned getting pregnant, Toji said he wasn’t opposed, though the look on his face showed more that he was uninterested. While you trusted your husband, he was wonderful to you, that sinking feeling didn’t go away either. Part of the reason you were so enthusiastic, after all, was because you’d be raising your child with Toji, and that idea was the embodiment of perfection in your mind. Without him in all the way, would it really be the same?

Toji wasn’t a big fan of fuss anyway, his proposal and your wedding had been small and pretty simple, and you were fine with that. In all honesty it was nice, to not have to worry about every little thing being perfect anyway. For news like this, thinking about decorations would only be a distraction from figuring out what to say. 

“Toji, honey, I’m pregnant,” you repeated to yourself in the mirror, holding the test to give it to him, trying to present it like a gift of some sort. “I have some news for you, Toji,” another option, “It’s great news, I’m really excited,” you tried to make the perfect smile, to show him just how happy you were. But you just threw yourself back on the bed, covering the flush on your cheeks with your hand. 

Everything sounded fake when you tried it. Knowing Toji, if you said any of those things, he might think there was something wrong instead of the truth. And of course, you couldn’t knock that stupid grin off your face for more than a few seconds, butterflies fluttering around your stomach so much that you had to ground yourself. 

Your face heated up at the mere thought of your husband walking through the door, though he would be tired and bothered as per usual. How would he react? Would he be as happy as you are, or… and the sinking feeling was growing again. You lifted your knees, planting your feet flat on the bed so the hem of your dress laid right above your ankles, as you sat in thought, preparing yourself for the inevitable. 

In a way you had given up, on facing Toji head on. Instead you decided to lie in wait, and figure something out on a whim if it didn’t come to you before he got home. You tucked the test under the blanket next to your legs, trying to relax as best as you could. 

The click of the front door was a familiar sound, something that usually excited you. However on this particular day, it was a little bit too exciting, so much so that you couldn’t urge yourself to get up and move your hands from their comfortable spot covering your face. 

Toji made his way through the kitchen and the living room, missing the usual sound of you, his wife, running around doing whatever it was that you were doing when he came home every day. The occasional joking “Honey, I’m home,” something he had grown to secretly enjoy, couldn’t be said despite his relatively good mood - for his ‘honey’ wasn’t there. 

Heading into your shared bedroom, where he typically pulled off his stuffy work clothes and changed into something more comfortable, was where he found you, curled up and about as out-of-it as ever. 

Toji laid down behind you on the bed, leaning over onto his side to see you. He pulled one of your hands off your face, smirking as you opened your eyes and met his gaze. “Hey, stupid,” he laughed as you pulled your hand back, smacking his away. “Why you coverin’ that pretty face, huh?” he asked, settling down with his hand resting under his neck. “What happened to ‘wife’, or something,” you tried to pout. “I called you pretty,” he reasoned, “and I can see that stupid smile on your face, somethin’ happen to ya?” 

Toji reached his hand over, with more force this time, pulling both your hands off your face. The flushed red of your cheeks and cute little protests made him smile. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so flustered, wife?” he kept your hands lightly pinned beneath his. “Couldn’t help yourself from thinkin’ about me while I was at work… really is stupid to be embarrassed,” you shook your head as best as you could. 

“Toji…” you murmured out, trying not to look him in the eyes. You pulled your right hand away from him, reaching into the covers to where you shoved the test. “I’m just… really happy, okay?” you choked out meekly, biting your lip you threw the test back at him. 

Catching it in his hands, he stared at the two lines. “You don’t say, huh?” he breathed heavily, as you eyed his expression with worry. “I just found out…” you blushed as he looked back at you, listening intently. “And… I know we didn’t talk that much about it,” you whispered, feeling his hand tighten it’s grip around yours. “But I really want to be a mother, Toji,” you sighed, still anticipating his reply. 

“Didn’t realize we weren’t on the same page about that,” he turned away, with a smile on his face. “I don’t want to make you unhappy -” he cut you off with a kiss, leaning down as your heart raced even faster. “How ‘bout you shut up for me, love,” your face contorted into a look of surprise. “Am I that bad of a husband? I thought you knew I was on board,” he chuckled. “But you said you didn’t really care,” you whined, as he moved his hand to hold yours more comfortably. “Yeah, that was my way of sayin’ it,” you rolled your eyes at him. “Besides, who do you think did this to ya, I’m not that much of an idiot,” he held up the test again, the surrealness of it all was sinking in.

“So, do you know the gender yet?” he asked, as you squinted. “Toji, I just found out a few minutes ago,” you replied. “Yeah, but I figured you had some kind of mother’s intuition on that stuff,” he yawned, the tiredness from work starting to hit him. “Well, what do you think?” 

“A girl,” he stated quickly, as you thought about it. “Your final guess?” you asked, to which he agreed. “Well knowing your losing streak, it must be a boy then,” you laughed as he frowned, “I should put that on paper… How’s that for mother’s intuition?” You looked back at Toji, who was fully laid down with his eyes closed. “Pregnant women should get a lot of sleep, I’m just setting an example,” he yawned again, pulling your waist to turn you next to him. You snuggled in closer, the sinking feeling was gone though the butterflies were only getting worse by the minute. “Fine, but only for a little while. I have to make dinner,” Toji hummed in response. “G’night, future mama.”

(Part 2)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jjk toji #toji fushiguro x reader #toji zenin x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #fushiguro toji #fushiguro toji x reader

[bokutosbiceps]

don't be afraid to catch feels

eustass kid/monkey d luffy/roronoa zoro/trafalgar d water law/usopp/vinsmoke sanji  x gn!reader | fluff | ~2k words

warnings: some suggestive/18+ themes but nothing explicit

a/n: idk i just really wanted to write so THIS was born !!! how some of the one piece boys realize they have feelings for ya !!  might do this for other fandoms too…actually yeah i will LOL probably if i don’t forget

NOTE: i end them after their confession on PURPOSE so you can choose your own adventure 😆 also there’s more dialogue for luffy’s + usopp’s so they’re a bit longer !!

18+ MDNI | under the cut for length

eustass kid is angry. he's angry that he developed a crush on you. it's so stupid, he thinks. so outta character.

everyone on the victoria punk knows it, including you. and much to kid’s dismay, so does killer. killer talks to him about it everyday, trying to coax a confession out of him in the most gentle yet firm way he can. he wants his captain to be happy, and he knows that you can make him happy, because you already do without knowing it.

kid is completely docile in your presence, and protective. he’s more quiet, because he wants to hear what you have to say. he’s around more, because he wants to keep an eye on you. and maybe because he likes being in your presence.

kid tells (threatens) the rest of his crew that, even though they’re like brothers to him, they’ll be ripped to shreds if any of them so much as glance at you the wrong way.

luckily for you and unluckily for him, you’d heard his very public threat to the kid pirates, save for you. 

you ask kid what the hell all that was about and he simply shrugs, rolling his eyes and trying but failing to keep his cool. you scoff and chuckle at his indignance. you continue to press him till he finally gets annoyed and locks eyes with you, his pupils dilated and his lips spread out into a crazy grin.

“jus’ claiming what’s mine.”

monkey d luffy is seeking out the smartest person he knows, and once he sees her, he’s barreling toward her at lightning speed. hands appear, arising from the wood of the sunny’s deck and forming a net right in front of robin, effectively catching luffy and recoiling him flat onto his butt.

“robin! what was that for?” luffy whines, adjusting his straw hat and tilting it back so that he can look at robin.

“i’d prefer to not be crashed into, captain.” robin shuts her book and gives luffy a gentle, almost maternal smile. “now, what has you so excited?”

luffy is thoughtful as he opts to lay back down on the deck, tilting his straw hat over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. he’s not excited, kinda confused, actually. 

he’s good with his feelings, because he knows his feelings. he's familiar with them. but these feelings—the ones he's been feeling for the past couple of weeks or so—are new. he doesn’t know them, but he wants to learn about them. so here he is, ready to learn with the smartest person he knows.

“well…i wouldn’t call it excited, ya know?” luffy stretches his arms overhead before folding them behind his head. robin chuckles quietly, already aware of luffy’s feelings before he'd even realized them himself.

“what would you call it then?” robin asks patiently.

“like…i dunno! it’s different! it’s different with ‘em…” luffy trails off, sinking back into his thoughts.

“different with who?”

“y/n!” luffy chirps, feeling himself smile at the mention of your name. “i’m really happy they’ve joined the crew!”

“happy like…you’re happy that i joined the crew?” 

“nuh uh, like…i always wanna be near ‘em. i like when they laugh, when they’re happy. their smile’s real nice, too.” luffy pauses. “it’s a lot of fun to be alone with ‘em! makes me feel good…”

robin takes her time explaining what these feelings mean, that that bubbly, queasy feeling in his stomach was not, in fact, indigestion. once robin’s words seep into luffy’s thick, rubber skull, he jumps up off the deck and wraps robin in a tight hug, grinning the whole time and whisper yelling i gotta go tell ‘em!

luffy finds you instantly, almost like his body contains a homing device that always leads to you. you notice way too late that you are in the direct path of the tornado that is luffy, and he tackles you, causing you to fall back. luffy is quick to catch you, stretching an arm around your waist and bringing you to his chest, looking at your face with such intensity you can’t keep your face from heating up.

you’re breathless. due to the adrenaline from almost cracking your skull against the wood of the ship, and from the i’ve got feelings for ya! robin says they're love feelings! do you feel the same? that rushed out of luffy’s mouth.

roronoa zoro is confused. honestly, more confused than he’s ever been in his life. then he’s annoyed. why did he have to develop feelings for a crewmate, let alone you? it would just get in the way of everything. he wants to focus on his dream, on luffy’s dream, and sometimes even on sanji’s dream.

he doesn’t consider himself a particularly selfish person, but he wanted to focus on himself first. 

but then he sees you smile. he hears you laugh. he watches you work and hone your craft, a look of ecstatic determination on your face and the tip of your tongue peeking out between your pursed lips as you focus. suddenly, he realizes it’s really not about him anymore. it’s about you.

he starts to avoid you like the plague—he figures that if he can’t see you, you can’t see him. but he’s oh so wrong. 

when you decide you've had enough of this, you stop zoro, your hand gripping his shoulder and pulling as hard as you can. zoro raises an eyebrow at you and turns around, crossing his arms and waiting for you to explain yourself.

“you’ve been avoiding me.” you state, leaving no room for disagreement or excuses.

“says who?” zoro is very good at playing dumb.

“says me. and luffy.” you huff a bit as you remember your encounter with your captain. how his lips had twisted to the side and how his eyes had shot up to the sky when you’d asked what zoro’s problem was.

“luffy doesn’t know—”

“know why you’ve been avoiding me?” you step closer to zoro, your eyes locked on his and staring into his soul, searching for answers. “i’m sure we’d both love to know.”

zoro scoffs and rolls his eyes, taking a step back from you and turning his face to the sea. the cool ocean breeze feels nice against his burning face. he grimaces as he turns back to you, figuring he might as well get this over with.

“ilikeyou.” zoro mumbles, the words rushing out of his mouth and stopping quickly as they had started.

you shake your head and lean closer to zoro, turning your head to the side so his lips are inches away from your cheek. 

“can you repeat that, please, roronoa?”

“i like you.” zoro says the three, short, quipped words. he’s frowning and his arms are crossed and pulled tightly against his chest, in hopes to dampen the hammering of his heart.

trafalgar d water law is no stranger to stuffing his feelings deep inside of his chest and leaving them there to rot. so he’s wondering why in the fresh hell these annoying feelings for you keep resurfacing. they crawl up his esophagus and reflux into his mouth, leaving a bitter taste behind and making him scowl every time he feels them. 

and to you, it seems as though every time the two of you lock cross paths, he narrows his eyes at you and stalks away. he rarely talks to you anymore, although the conversations you'd shared before were usually very short, yet somehow still meaningful.

you decide to confront him about it, byway of bepo, who happened to know exactly why law was seemingly scarce around you. 

“c-captain? our captain?” bepo stutters, bringing his paw up to his mouth and feigning surprise. “wow! i have no clue why he’d do something like that!”

you frown at bepo. it’s painfully obvious he knows everything about the answer to your question. “spill it, bepo.”

bepo starts to make gestures with his hands and little struggle noises with his mouth. he has no clue how to get out of this one. so he does, indeed, spill it. 

a few minutes later, after bepo was done with his rambling and law’s confession, you approach law with a smug smile on your face.

it doesn’t take a genius to be able to tell why you’re smirking like that, and law immediately pinches the bridge of his nose and tilts his head down.

“that damn bear…”

usopp is sweaty. he’s sweaty, he’s wringing his hands, twirling his hair around his fingers, readjusting his goggles on top of his head. he can’t sit still. he’s been thinking about how on earth to deal with his feelings: does he just shove 'em deep down inside or does he shout 'em from the crow’s nest? he hasn’t had romantic feelings for anyone since he left kaya, and he simply cannot deal. 

“usopp…” nami says softly, touching usopp on the shoulder. he jumps, then flinches at his overreaction to his best friend’s simple and gentle gesture. “can you just tell them, please?”

“n-no! why should i?” usopp frowns at nami and furrows his eyebrows, knowing full well that it’d be best for his health and the crew’s sanity to just come out and tell you.

“if you don’t…” nami grins at him, slowly and mischievously, “i’ll tell them myself.”

usopp immediately springs up from his chosen sulking location and mutters an okay, okay! behind him as he leaves nami. he’s back to sweating, wringing his hands, playing with his hair, and fidgeting with his goggles.

you notice usopp looking particularly dreadful and wait for him to get closer to your position on the deck. you reach out and catch his hand, giving it a light tug so that he’s moving closer to you. he seems so deep in thought that he doesn’t even notice.

“usopp?” you tug on his hand twice, trying to get his attention. usopp meets your gaze and stares at you blankly before shaking his head and becoming aware of the situation. he tries to withdraw his hand from your grip but you’re holding on tightly, and he realizes he’s trapped.

“y/n! fancy seeing you here!” usopp laughs loudly, trying to mask the way that he’s absolutely crumbling and melting.

“what’s on your mind, usopp?”

“you.” usopp covers his mouth with his free hand immediately after the words come out of his mouth. what was he thinking, being so forward? he quickly looks away from you, directing his eyes to the clouds above. “i mean, nami was talking about you earlier. that’s why i’m thinking about you. no other reason!”

a small smile spreads across your lips. “oh, yeah. she told me something super interesting about you earlier today…” you say, drawing out the last few syllables and relishing in the way usopp looks at you in utter horror.

“nami told you that i like you?” he breathes.

“no, but you just did.”

vinsmoke sanji is aware that he actually likes you. that you're not just another pretty face he admires. he’s always known you were gorgeous, the apple of his eye, the object of his affection. you never noticed that it different, though. thinking back on it, you’re glad that you didn’t notice, because you might’ve thought it meant something bad. quite the contrary, in fact.

sanji knows he loves you when he feels calm in your presence. when he’s not acting like a fan boy and when he spends hours talking with you while he cooks or does the dishes or plans the crew's next meal. you’re always around, and yet, he’s never nervous. 

when he really realizes it, though, it’s when he catches a glimpse of nami’s naked silhouette through the crack in the bathroom door and he doesn’t even flinch. not a tingle, not a single palpitation. it’s not you, and his heart knows it, so he’s calm. this is when he knows he has to confess.

“y/n…darling…” sanji says, grasping your hands in his own and looking you in the eyes. “i have to tell you something—something i’ve never told anyone before.”

you look at him, an eyebrow raised in skeptical curiosity. sanji looks worried, and he almost never looks worried. your mind is going a mile a minute, your brain flipping through pages and pages of things he could possibly say to you within the next minute. because of this, you miss the way sanji squeezes your hands, and the way he sucks in a deep breath.

“i’m in love with you.”

taglist: @usoppsstar (i literally can’t remember anyone else rn lolol, i just knew i wanted to surprise ya coco) | @kingofthe-egirls | @pileofmush | @anemptypuddingcup

#one piece #one piece x reader #kid x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #law x reader #usopp x reader #sanji x reader #eustass kid #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #vinsmoke sanji

[taegularities]

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep. 

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear. 

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion. 

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work. 

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching. 

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh… 

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you. 

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too. 

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks. 

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting. 

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

[denwritesandcries]

Hug me Tighter – Sam Carpenter

Pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You’re only trying to make your girlfriend take a nap with you, the fact that it’s in a hospital bed after one of the worst nights of your lives doesn't really matter.

Word count: 1,8k.

Content: post-scream VI, cursing, tooth-pudding fluff, mentions of violence, cuddling, pet names, long dialogues, REALLY soft gfs.

A/N: Damn, this might be the sweetest and cheesy thing I’ve ever written. Could also be an AU, since Anika is alive, or just Scream, if they could actually be happy.

English is not my first language.

You realized that you were waking up at a terribly slow pace, as if everything was suddenly in slow motion and even the smallest movement took hours to run and every second was longer than the previous one. Your body feels heavy and comfortably warm, resting on perhaps the best bed in which you've ever slept. You blinked slowly, failing to keep your eyes open, every movement of your eyelids almost making you fall into unconsciousness again.

Your body shudders with the feeling of a long yawn crossing you and you turn your head to bury your face back in the location and go to sleep again, only to be surprised when you come across hot skin instead of what your brain thought was a really soft pillow. It is only then that you register a movement against your back, light and constant, almost as smooth as your own sleepy state, climbing and descending your spine and enveloping you even more in this security bubble almost supernaturally.

Another weight lies between your neck and your head, right at the point of your wrist and there's another heavier resting on the top of your head, although you're sure of the mess your hair should be right now. Your hands grope and instinctively grab a handful of familiar fabric beneath you, feeling the texture of a sweater you knew very well.

“Sam,” your hoarse voice breaks the silence.

You were tempted to let the darkness and the inviting fog of sleep consume you again as you relaxed and held another yawn, but your resting place vibrated with a low laugh.

“‘M sorry, baby. Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” you denied with a satisfied sigh, sinking against her body.

The chin on your head pulled away and the hand on your back stopped and you immediately missed the contact, finally opening your eyes and lifting your head to protest.

“You're feeling better?”

Sam's question catches you off guard and you pause, staring into your girlfriend's soft brown eyes and raised eyebrow with confusion. Frowning, you finally decide to take a look at the place you are in and come across a messy white room with machines nearby. A hospital room.

The events of the last few hours come back to you in a quick, jumbled flash. The confrontation with the Ghostfaces, the deaths, the police, the ambulance... and the surgery, because of course in addition to all the terror and threats of the last few days you also ended up being stabbed.

Well, that explains why you feel so sluggish then. You're high on drugs. That is, if the IV prick in your arm is any indication.

The hand on the back of your neck moves up towards your face, fingers tracing the contour of your chin and jaw, thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek, your body relaxes and you lean into her touch, sighing all too contentedly at the affection. The memory of waking up a lot more groggy before and convincing Sam to lay down too when you found her sitting next to the hospital bed holding your hand tightly slowly returning to your hazy mind. She was a little hesitant at first, but it wasn't that difficult to convince her to hold you with the excuse that it would only be for a few minutes. You bet it must have been a few hours already.

“Hm,” you murmured absently, stretching against her, “I’m definitely feeling much better now.”

“That's good,” your girlfriend huffed softly, “I can't feel my legs in this position anymore.”

That caught your attention.

“Am I too heavy?” You ask, lifting your head to examine her for any bruises from the previous fight, “I can move if it’s hurting you.”

“No,” She squeezes you tighter quickly, “I’m good here.”

Sam's own eyes were half-lidded, almost closing over the last few minutes you were asleep, but she refused to give in to the urge to doze off too. It would have been such a waste when she could just hug you and breathe properly for the first time since the last few hellish weeks you've all had.

The TV on the wall had long since been muted, with the image of some random animal documentary flickering in the background. Sam's head rested against the pillows and your body lay happily spread over hers – and she looked perfectly satisfied for someone who had complained and complained about your puppy dog ​​eyes before.

Somewhere between convincing Sam to lie down and pretending to pay attention to the screen, you ended up falling asleep, one of your arms hanging lazily over the side of the bed. Sam realized this instantly, feeling your weight finally relax on her. It made her relax too. Not completely. Sam was never completely relaxed, no matter how tired she was, not anymore, especially not after a night like that. But she managed to feel good enough to enjoy the moment.

The environment was as welcoming as any hospital could be, but her embrace brought a sense of security that lulled you perfectly to sleep and the knowledge that everyone was okay and in the next room allowed Sam to let her guard down. Yet falling asleep and losing that, the feeling that nothing could happen as long as she held you tight and ran her fingers over your warm skin, seeing and hearing every sleepy sound and movement you made – from a tired sigh as you fit, to one of your hands founding the collar of her sweater and grabbing it, holding her close – it would be a waste.

“You sure?” You hesitate, searching her eyes for any hint of hidden discomfort.

Sam sighs, nodding: “You wouldn’t believe how comfortable I am right now.”

“Okay then,” you rest your ear on her chest, feeling her head nod and her heart bumping, still a little high. A yawn crosses your lips, “But let me know if you need me to move.”

She hums in response and you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the sound of machines running and your soft breaths in the same rhythm left you trying your hardest not to fall asleep again until you felt your girlfriend's chest vibrate beneath you again in a barely contained laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re tired.”

“Huh?” you muttered, lifting your drooping head and finally refocusing your vision on her.

“I should probably get up now, let you get some rest.” Sam said, reluctantly removing her arms from you so she could move away.

You shook your head, grabbing one of her hands and letting them fall to the side of the bed, swinging freely in the air.

“No, I’m good here.” You echoed, denying nonchalantly. You let your head find a place on her neck, making her lie back against the pillows.

Sam sighed against you slowly, much more out of satisfaction – and relief – than annoyance at your insistence, returning to the task of running her fingers down your back until you spoke again.

“Where’s Tara?” You ask, voice muffled by the face buried in her neck, “And the twins?”

“They're watching Anika.” She responds and you get alarmed, before Sam reassures you, “She's gonna be alright, she just needs to stay in the hospital for a while longer. And also a lot of rest. Like you, by the way.”

“I am resting.”

If Sam hadn't been fighting sleep for over an hour now, she would have a wide, stupid grin plastered on her face at the sound of your indignant mumble. Since that wasn't the case, she contented herself with a small smile.

“Whatever you say, amor.”

She surrenders, completely this time, without any more false attempts to leave. Sam felt as if you were the one rocking her and not the other way around, as if nothing else could touch her, even for a little while. There were no worries about horrible jobs, breakdowns in therapy, pressure with college exams and much less paranoia about the existence of cinematic serial killers. Nothing else could exist in your – literal – white room. Just the two of you in that small bed.

Each synchronized breath of your chest next to hers pressed her own ribs, the delicate breath sending delicious shivers down her spine and making her completely aware of how close your bodies were and shocking her at how it still didn't feel close enough.

“I love you,” she says. Rasped, you barely hear it. “I love you so freaking much that sometimes I just want to drown into your chest and curl up between your ribs, with your heart.” She takes a breath, then pauses, hesitantly: “...Is that too weird?”

“...Well,” you gasp, heart completely racing against your ears, “No weirder than what we already go through on a daily basis, I guess.”

Sam groaned at your response, feeling like a lovesick teenager in one of the movies Tara and Mindy love to make fun of. Rambling poetically about her passion.

But, screw it, that's exactly what she is, right? Sam thought. Let her have it. She deserves it.

(Her therapist would definitely pat her on the back for that thought.)

Unlike what Sam thought she should feel with the realization of that thought, her heart didn't skip a beat uncomfortably, her hands didn't get sweaty and cold with the doubt of how to deal with this. It kept pounding in that same slow, steady, familiar rhythm, with one of the most precious and loved people of her life completely aware of how she felt.

“I feel like drowning into your chest all the time too.”

Her favorite place in the world was anywhere you were together and it was physically impossible to be closer than that at the moment, although she wouldn't give up trying.

It was pure and simple happiness. Warmth and security that captured her stomach and left it churning with what felt like a million bubbles popping simultaneously.

When you first came to her life and Sam realized being falling for you, she thought her love would swallow her. That it would be something she would keep to herself until it exploded. You seemed to have made it your mission to prove her otherwise.

“I didn’t say ‘all the time’ tho.”

Here you were, together and fine.

“Oh, shut up.”

Your grip on Sam's hand tightened in very bad feigned irritation and when you rose quickly to give her a kiss, your girlfriend burst into laughter and your lips hit her strong jaw instead.

“That tickles, baby.”

“I was shooting for your lips, but you moved.” You simply shrugged, leaning into her again and this time she met you on the way, a stupid smile growing between you and breaking the kiss too soon. You lay back down and Sam took a long breath, leaving one last kiss on your forehead.

This time, when her head feels heavy and droops from sleep, Sam does nothing to stop it, letting the feeling finally consume her.

Nothing, not even in her most vivid fantasies, had ever been so perfect.

And if by chance Tara ends up sending Sam a photo of the two of you napping the next day when everyone is getting ready to go home and it becomes the new wallpaper on her phone, well… that's nobody's business.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter imagine #scream x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter #scream 6 #scream vi #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x you #wlw #denwrites

[chaoticace2005]

Thinking about one sided Vox/Alastor has also made me think about Huskerdust, and it’s kind of interesting the way they mirror each other.

Both Vox and Angel (both people who have some kind of relationship with Valentino) push the boundaries of the guy they’re interested in. Both guys turn them down. Both times they react poorly to being turned down. The difference is how the stories begin and ended.

Husk was forced after Angel, jumped in to protect him and made the first step. He started a dialogue that Angel reciprocated in, not because Angel thought Husk would finally return his feelings, but because he was happy to finally have someone who understands him. Their relationship is then created where they care about each other. Whether or not romantic feelings are reciprocated isn’t the point, they formed genuine connection.

Then we have Alastor and Vox, where they were friends BEFORE the confession happened. Alastor must have been willing to be vulnerable to some degree to form attachments with the man, and for a while it was reciprocated, until Vox confessed and pushed. This caused Alastor to leave and then we see the fall out later with Alastor and Vox’s battles.

Huskerdust and radiostatic have the same pieces of the story, just told in very different orders:

Huskerdust: Push boundaries- needle each other- fight- one reaches out- they bond- friendship

Radiostatic: One reaches out- they bond- friendship- push boundaries- fight- needle each other

The difference between the two is not just the order but also the fact with Huskerdust they recognize they needed to stop. Husk was in no way obligated to take the first step because Angel kept pushing him, but he did, because he recognized something in him. Then with Angel’s treatment of Husk later Angel recognized he needed to stop. What Angel was doing was a persona and self-defense mechanism, yes, but that explains why he did it, not excusing it. And to change he must be able to recognize that.

With Vox though, he doesn’t recognize it. We don’t know exactly where Vox’s feelings from Alastor stem, they may not be a persona like Angel’s but they’re certainly unhealthy, and he refuses to recognize it. Focusing only on his own comfort and hurt, which Angel similarly did until he was pulled out of the loop.

I want to again reiterate the reciprocity of these feelings isn’t my point of discussion. Radiostatic isn’t “more toxic” than Huskerdust because Alastor is aroace and doesn’t reciprocate Vox’s feelings, while Husk potentially grows to have feelings for Angel. Alastor isn’t in the wrong solely because he denied Vox. That’s not the point. The point is their similar reactions to rejection and how their relationships changed from it.

In Huskerdust we have the creation of trust and forming of a bond.

In radiostatic we have the loss of trust and fracture of one.

(Literally just exponential growth vs decay)

(Also im just comparing the relationships. I am in no way saying Angel and Vox are the same person or Husk and Alastor are. Everyone has their own separate fucked up shit going on and different degrees of fucked uppedness. Husk and Angel don’t seem near as sadistic as Vox and Alastor are, I’m not equating them to “villains” in that sense. The whole point of this is the fact that their relationships have such different end results BECAUSE Husk and Angel are able to recognize their faults to a degree and WANT to change. With the other two we don’t really have that.

Angel could have continued down the whole “incel” route and told Husk to fuck off every time he tried reaching out. Too snubbed by the fact that he rejected him. Husk could have decided to leave Angel out to try and not help him at the bar. Hell, he could have watched the whole thing happen and fucking enjoyed it. But he didn’t.)

#was literally about to go to bed at 8 am when I had this thought and had to type it all out #hazbin hotel #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust #husker hazbin hotel #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #staticradio #radiostatic #onewaybroadcast #angelhusk #hazbin hotel meta #hazbin hotel analysis

[gamermattsgf]

Coming of age movie hot takes // Matt + Chris

YES, I realise that this is not a proper piece of writing, but don’t worry babies, mommy has got u covered for the weekend coming (hopefully) *nervous laugh*.

You guys can ignore this absolute yapping if u want but it’s really something that I must get off my chest because I think about it an unhealthy amount and make up too many scenarios for each of them in my head with themes and certain plot lines included. Plus, I feel like some of u are absolutely gonna eat this up lol.

But… here are my individual hot takes for both Matt and Chris and what kind of coming of age films they look like they’d star in + with specifically random but accurate details included. (Obviously these are all my own ideas and they may be vastly different to someone else’s, but I felt as though tumblr was the perfect place to brain dump this onto all of u lovely readers)

Matt:

So first up is Matt. Matt gives very much one of those low budget indie coming of age movies where the quality may not be as good but the cinematography is beautiful, as is the plot line. Matt’s movie is the kind of movie you would go to watch and sob at for the entire time because it’s so irrevocably soul-crushing that it tears your heart up piece by piece. If he were to be in an indie movie I feel like it would low-key give off the same kind of energy as something like ‘All the Bright Places’ or possibly even ‘Five Feet Apart’.

Something absolutely tragic is bound to happen in Matt’s movie, and I feel like him dying due to some kind of terminal illness is a high possibility because I don’t know why, it just fits his vibe in a really weird way? Like- his coming of age movie has to be unbareably depressing for some reason.

He’s delicate and gentle, one of those really interesting characters that has so many layers/complications to him. Him and his main love interest share such an odd but heart-warming relationship that you just can’t help but be stuck thinking about the movie days after it’s finished. It bothers you so much that their happy ending was just out of reach.

For the soundtrack, I’m mostly getting Phoebe Bridgers vibes (specifically her Punisher album), something that’s mind-numbingly sad and fits the overall heartache of the cinematography so well that you just want to cry whenever something like ‘Smoke Signals’ or ‘Halloween’ plays beneath the ensuing dialogue. Also, in addition to Phoebe, I also get heavy Current Joys vibes such as ‘In a Year of 13 Moons’ and ‘A Different Age’. The very thought of imagining it makes me want to flat out sob.

Outfit / aesthetic wise for Matt, I envision very much warm brown leather jackets and baggy blue jeans with beat up sneakers and knitted sweaters. He always carries a tattered notebook and drives around a beat up pick-up truck. He smokes red Marlboro cigarettes and constantly seems to have one neatly tucked behind his ear (what-? It would literally look so pretty matched up with his beard and fluffy hair combo… don’t kill me). He’s shy and likes to keep himself to himself but is also hopelessly in love with our main character that also sort of keeps to herself, so he decides to pursue her before it’s too late.

I also feel like this Matt would for sure write 100 love letters to the main character but she would only discover them hidden within his notebook after he had died because when he was still alive he would never tell her what he was writing down whenever they shared moments together. Possibly Matt never got the chance to confess his feelings whilst he was alive, so they stayed forever friends and nothing more right up until he slipped through her fingers at the very end…?

(Bye I’m sobbing, why the fuck does my mind have to be so vivid and imaginative??)

Chris:

For Chris I feel like it’s a little different. His coming of age movie would definitely be a mix between a light-hearted comedy of the classic ‘underdog that finally gets the girl’ whilst also incorporating really important life lessons into the mix of the colourfully bursting screenplay. In contrast, the cinematography is just as beautiful as Matt’s, but in a hazier way, so I’m getting very much party + late night hang out vibes from what Chris’ gives off. This includes darker, more moodier lighting, almost like ‘Euphoria’ in a way. I think his movie would more so correlate with either something like ‘Perks of being a Wallflower’ or even something like ‘10 things I hate about you’. I think the added comedy matches up with Chris’ personality in real life perfectly.

There’s definitely got to be one of those cliche scenes where they lock eyes at a party and all of the other guys on the football team are staring at the most well-known girl in school but Chris only has eyes for our main character. There’s some form of blue/pink/purple flashing lights and everything seems to take place in slow motion as they tentatively peer at each other from opposite sides of the random fish tank before them (Romeo and Juliet style) or some other form obstacle in the way.

For Chris’ soundtrack, I’m thinking something a little more upbeat, and I was possibly debating on Lorde, her songs fit Chris perfectly in my opinion, and no one understands the young mind quite like she does. The emotional vulnerability of her songs mesh together beautifully with Chris’ love language of touch and teenage curiosity and I can just envision something like ‘Perfect Places’ or ‘Hard Feelings’ playing over the back of one of those ending monologues where the movie cuts to a bunch of different scenes as maybe Chris says something really sappy and sentimental over the top of them in his voiceover.

Finally, outfit / aesthetic wise for Chris, I would normally put him in his baggy light-wash jeans and then pair it with a white t-shirt and some form of a zip up hoodie with a backwards cap, but to be honest, most of what Boston Chris used to wear way back when works pretty well too. I’m thinking, typical high school student attire, he’s on the lacrosse team, and is always wholesomely trying his best to impress the girl he’s had a crush on for years with his skills, giving the movie that light, feel-good atmosphere that leaves you with a fuzzy glow after you’ve rewatched it for about the 5th time.

(Again, actually sobbing, I wish these two brief ideas of movies actually existed wtf)

Author’s notes: I’m sorry if this is literally so stupid but I think about it so much, and I think about a lot of other possible movies the triplets look like they could star in. In fact, I even have a whole entire second series sitting in my camera roll of me explaining what horror movies I think each of them would look good in, so if u guys end up liking this one, then I would consider giving u a breakdown of my horror movie ideas if anyone were to wish it hehe. But thank u for listening to my rant and I hope it makes as much sense in your head as it did in mine… 🎀

People who I think would entertain this yapping and enjoy what I have to say here: @luv4kozume @luverboychris @lovingmattysposts @luvmila444 @rootbeerworshiper @nicksmainbitch @lacysturniolo @thesturniolos @strniohoeee @asturniolos @sturniolosreads @sturniolosstar @meanttomeet @sturniolowhore @mattscokewhore @matthemunch @mattestrella @vecnasnose0 @ellie-luvsfics @imwetforyourmom @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @stursweet @bernardsgf @fake-sturniolos @mattslutt @1800chokedathoe @orangeypepsi

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolos #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

[kwanisms]

Kinkuary 12 Seungcheol — daddy kink // sex tape/photos

➥ daddy dom!Cheol × little girl!Reader summary: Seungcheol loves falling into his caregiver role as Y/N's daddy but he loves it even more when his baby lets him take pictures of her for him to use when he's alone on tour. wc: 2.4k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, sexual content (minors dni!): dom!Cheol, sub!Reader, dd/lg themes, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, spanking as punishment, use of pet names (baby girl, little one, angel, etc), unprotected sex (pls use protection!), lowkey love-making, sex tape/photos, Cheol has a big d!ck (sorry, we on the monster cock idol agenda), please let me know if I missed any! Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog @dilfjohnny @fairylixie_0915 Seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @95cheols @niktwazny303 @indigo35 @moonlightsora @witherednotes @cixrosie Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. Join the taglist!

a/n: apologies that this is late. I’m working on getting back on track! I will never get tired of big d!ck, daddy dom Cheol. Ever. I love those themes with him and I can't associate him with anything else. I also love writing for Cheol so much. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

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It was a very well known fact that Seungcheol loved to take pictures. He loved capturing bits of his life and memorializing them forever. None of that changed, even after you started dating. He just had a new subject to photograph. A new muse.

Despite finding his need to constantly photograph you silly, you were happy to oblige him when he wanted to snap a picture of you in the kitchen or when you were out on a date. He just loved to take photos of you so he could look at you even when you weren’t around.

Early on in your relationship, Seungcheol made it obvious that he was in charge in the bedroom and when you finally opened up about your kinks, he was totally on board. Most of the time he was Seungcheol, leader of Seventeen, S.Coups and you were his girlfriend Y/N.

But there were times, especially when you needed to be taken care of, where you were his baby and he fell into the role of caregiver as your daddy and nothing filled him with a strong sense of pride quite like you putting your trust in him entirely.

“You taste so good,” Seungcheol groaned, licking his lips. Your fingers tightened in his hair, a whimper escaping you as you felt his tongue drag against you. He’d always been vocal about how much he enjoyed going down on you. Even if he didn’t get his dick wet, he could eat you out for hours and he’d done it before.

“Cheol,” you moaned as the tip of his tongue swirled your clit before his lips wrapped around it and he sucked softly. “Yes baby?” He asked, pulling away for only a moment. “Nothing,” you breathed, waving your hand. “Don’t stop.” Seungcheol’s lips pulled into a smile briefly before he continued, licking and teasing your clit.

One of his hands held your hip, your thighs over his shoulders, while the other moved to push your thigh back, opening you up to him more. His tongue disappeared sliding into your hole while his nose bumped against your swollen clit. He groaned against you, the vibrations making your body shudder.

Your stomach muscles tightened as you felt your impending orgasm approach only for Seungcheol to pull away, letting it fall flat, making you whine in protest as he sat up, wiping his mouth and chin with his shirt before moving to lean over you, lips finding yours as one of his hands snuck down your stomach, fingers skimming your skin until he was pushing two fingers inside your wet cunt, making you moan against his lips.

“God I can’t wait to fill you up,” he mumbled, his fingers moving slowly in and out of you, scissoring them to make sure you were more than prepared to take him. No matter how many times you had sex, he always had to take his time to properly prepare you before he could get his cock inside you.

One of the many things you loved about him. His laugh, his eyes, his dimples, his morning voice, and his massive—

“Hey,” he said softly, drawing your attention back to him. “Where did you go?” He asked, an amused smile forming on his face. Your cheeks burned and you shook your head. “Oh, come on baby,” he purred, dragging his fingers against your walls. “You can tell me.” You shook your head again, too embarrassed to speak.

“Were you thinking about my cock?” He asked suddenly, surprising you and making you gasp.

“N-no!” You lied but Seungcheol could see through it. “It’s okay, baby girl. I know you love daddy’s cock,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to your cheek as you whined in embarrassment. He pulled back, a grin present on his lips, dimples on display. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed, baby,” he cooed.

“Do you want it now?” He asked, slowing his fingers and waiting for you to answer. Nodding, you mumbled out a yes, cheeks still flushed.

“All you had to do was ask, little one,” Seungcheol answered, pulling his fingers from you and sitting up. You watched as he stripped, removing his clothes and tossing them towards the hamper in the corner of the room, not caring whether or not he made the throw.

“Top or bottom?” He asked climbing back onto the bed. “Bottom,” you whispered as he hovered over you. “Of course,” he said with a smirk. “My little pillow princess,” he added, taking you in a searing kiss. “How do you want it?”

You knew he was asking if you wanted it rough or soft. He always asked this and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on even more, that he was able to prioritize your experience and pleasure over his own.

“Slow,” you murmured. “Hmm?” Seungcheol asked, enjoying the way you blushed and squirmed under him. “I didn’t hear that princess.”

“I want it slow, daddy,” you blurted out, the eternal flush on your cheeks burning just as much as before.

“Slow?” Seungcheol asked, dipping his head to kiss your neck, lips dragging up to your ear. “You want daddy to take it slow?” He asked again, making you nod. “Want me to make love to you?” He whispered. “Yes,” you breathed out as you felt him grind against your soaked center.

“If my baby wants it slow, then she’ll get it slow,” he muttered, guiding the tip of his cock to your slit, brushing against you teasingly before pushing past your folds, gliding the head in. Your back arched off the mattress, one hand gripping the sheets under you, the other grabbing his arm, squeezing his bicep.

“Always so tight for me,” Seungcheol whispered, kissing the tip of your nose. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” As your body relaxed under him, Seungcheol was able to glide in further, your tight walls welcoming him with erratic fluttering as he slid in further and further until he was fully encased inside you.

“Eyes on me, pretty,” he said softly as he stilled inside of you. Your eyes met his and you felt your cheeks burn and the urge to look away but you held his gaze. A smile spread across his face as he reached up to caress your cheek. “That’s it,” he said sweetly. “There’s my girl.”

You whined at the amount of affection he was giving you, your hand on his arm squeezing softly. “Daddy, please,” you whimpered, attempting to move your hips but his weight on you kept you in place. “Please move.”

Seungcheol let out a chuckle and nuzzled your cheek. “Since you asked so nicely,” he murmured, pulling out before pushing back in slowly. It felt good but not enough to give you what you were craving.

“Faster, daddy, please,” you whispered. “Faster?” Seungcheol asked, keeping the same languid pace. “But you asked for it like this. Said you wanted it slow. This is slow, baby,” he murmured, pressing short chaste kisses to your cheek. “Do you want it faster?” He whispered in your ear. “Yes,” you gasped as he gave you a sharp thrust. “Yes, daddy,” you answered.

“Then I guess I can give you what you want,” he muttered, hips moving faster, burying his cock deep inside you with each thrust. You moaned loudly, walls clenching around him. “You’re so responsive,” Seungcheol noted. “You react so well to me.”

Your brain was understanding him but unable to form a response except in whimpers and moans. Seungcheol didn’t seem to mind, instead focusing on keeping a steady pace and not pounding into you like his instincts told him to.

“Oh, shit,” you cursed, immediately regretting the words when you heard Seungcheol click his tongue. ‘Fuck.’

“We’ve talked about this before, little girl,” he said in a darker tone. “I’m sorry, daddy,” you replied quickly. “It just slipped out. I won’t do it again,” you tried to backpedal but Seungcheol wasn’t having it.

You whined as he pulled out of you, sitting back and grabbing your hips to roll you over onto your stomach. “We’ve talked about your language,” he said, pulling you back onto his lap. “You know the rules,” he added as he held you still. “No, please, I’m sorry!” You whimpered frantically, crying out when you felt his hand land a sharp smack to your ass.

“Me too, baby. You know I’d rather be making you feel good but we have rules for a reason.” Your body jumped as you felt another blow land in the same spot. “I’m sorry, daddy. I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, holding back a sob as his hand made contact once more with the same spot before rubbing it soothingly.

“I think three is enough,” he said as he continued to caress the reddened skin of your bottom. “Keep this in mind and think before you speak, little one,” he added, leaning over to kiss your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, checking to make sure he hadn’t hurt you. Nodding, it took a moment to form a sentence. “Yes. I’m okay.” Seungcheol pressed another kiss to your shoulder before letting you go.

You climbed off his lap but only made it a short distance away before he was pushing you onto your stomach.

“Hold still,” he said sternly, keeping one hand on your shoulder, the other gripping your hip and pulling up so your ass was raised. “You still want it slowly?” He asked, his voice low. You nodded, turning your head to the side as your cheek was pressed to the mattress. “Do you trust me?” His voice was even softer now.

You nodded, letting out a sigh as you felt his cock grind against you.

“I trust you.”

Seungcheol wasted no time, pushing back into you from behind, snapping his hips in evenly timed thrusts, his cock hitting deeper in this new position and the angle making you see stars in your vision with each measured thrust.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He growled, watching the way your ass bounced each time his hips hit you. “Feels so good, daddy,” you moaned, fingers curling into the sheets. “Cock feels so good!”

Seungcheol let out a chuckle. “Can’t even form full sentences? Is it that good?” He asked, keeping a firm hold on your hip, his other hand keeping your chest pressed against the mattress. “Is daddy fucking you dumb?”

A whimper left your parted lips but you couldn’t deny it when he was right. You couldn’t form a full sentence. He’d once again rendered you speechless with just a few sharp thrusts.

Seungcheol glanced to the bedside table where his phone sat and had an idea. He loved to memorialize most moments with you and this was no different.

He slowed his hips. “Grab my phone,” he ordered, moving his hand from your back. “W-what?” You asked, being lost in another world from how good his cock felt that you hadn’t heard him properly.

“Grab my phone from the bedside table, angel,” he repeated, nodding towards the device.

You reached out, grabbing the edge of the phone and held it up for him to grab from you.

“Stay still,” he warned, opening his camera and lining up the shot. He snapped a couple point of view pictures before turning the camera to video and pressing the start button. His hips continued to snap forward, thrusting hard and deep into you, making you moan out. On screen it looked amazing.

Your reddened ass from his earlier punishment, the way your ass bounced with each thrust, the base of his cock visible every time he pulled back, even the way your fists gripped the sheets.

He knew he was going to save this for later use.

After ending the recording, he locked the screen and tossed his phone to the side on the bed and gave you a few more thrusts before pulling out with a hiss. You whined as he rolled you over, spreading your thighs and sliding his cock back into you.

Your thighs rested on his as he grabbed his phone with one hand and your waist with the other. He opened the camera again, snapping a couple pictures before starting another recording.

You moaned out, keeping a firm grip on the sheets as your boyfriend resumed the same pace from before.

You looked up to see the phone in his hand and whined. “Are you recording this?” you gasped.

You could see the smirk on Seungcheol’s face. “Shh,” he said, letting go of your hip and moving to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing your lip and entering your mouth when you parted your lips. He let out a growl as you sucked on his thumb, his thrusts increasing in speed.

“Such a dirty little girl,” he grunted. You moaned around his thumb, whining when he pulled his hand from your face, fingers skimming down the skin of your neck past your collar, stopping to cup your breast and squeeze gently. “You gonna cum for me?” Seungcheol rasped out, his hand traveling down your stomach and stopping just above where your bodies met.

You nodded quickly, moaning when you felt his thumb start rubbing against your clit in time with his thrusts. He pointed the camera down where he could see his cock disappear repeatedly inside your warm cunt. “Be a good girl and cum for daddy,” Seungcheol groaned, continuing to record as your walls convulsed around his cock.

“That’s it,” he breathed as your moans grew in volume and pitch until your thighs attempted to close but he pushed them apart with one hand, keeping one thigh pinned as he continued to thrust into you. “You’re gonna make me cum,” he moaned. “D-daddy,” you whimpered as your walls clenched around him again.

“Oh fuck,” Seungcheol groaned, hips stuttering as his cock twitched inside you. He came with a loud moan, his release coating your walls as he continued to fuck you through his high until he slowed to a stop. Keeping the camera trained on your cunt, he slowly pulled out, moving to record your fluttering hole as his cum slowly spilled out of you.

He pushed his cum back into you with two fingers before turning off the recording and setting his phone aside.

“I can’t believe you recorded that!” You finally said after coming down from your high. “Don’t worry, baby,” he said, continuing to push his cum back into you as it tried to escape.

“That’s for my eyes only.”

#svthub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #scoups smut #scoups x reader #kwanisms kinkuary #kinkuary 2023

[imagining-in-the-margins]

New Beginnings CM Challenge 🌱

The following are prompts involving a new relationship, fresh start, etc.!

This event is over (Masterlist of Fics here), but you are welcome to use any of these prompts. If you would like to be added to the existing Masterlist of entries, please check out the Rules below!

🌧 Prompts 🌱

Describe Character's first day at the BAU

Character celebrates a milestone of sobriety

Characters are getting the hang of being new parents

Character goes overboard with New Year’s Resolutions

Character decides to try something new in the bedroom

Character is entering the dating scene after their divorce

Character changes career paths with a very different job

Character introduces their new partner to their kid

Character comes out as trans and introduces themselves

Character finally agrees to get set up with a date after a long dry spell

Character learns to navigate their everyday life after a traumatic event

Character escapes an abusive relationship and the recovery is harder than they thought

Character swears that this year they will definitely fulfill all their New Year's resolutions

Character just came out as LGB and goes on their first date with someone of the same sex

Character decides to cut off a member(s) of their family, and the team reminds them that they still have a whole lot of (found) family left

Character lost a partner and swore they would never love like that again... but that hasn't stopped them from falling in love in a different way

Character got a pet for the first time and they realize how much easier it is to take care of themselves when someone else is counting on them

Character had previously come out as something, but then realized they were something else... coming out is even more daunting the second time

More prompts below + Make your own!

🌤 Dialogue Prompts🌻

"The time will pass anyway." (Earl Nightingale)

"If you jump, I jump with you."

"I can't wait to see who you become."

"I love every possible iteration of you."

"To be brave, you must first be afraid." (Bear Grylls)

"You aren't alone in this. None of us are." (Baldur's Gate 3)

"Is it too late to go back?" "Don't you dare."

"This is all new to me." "What?" "Being happy."

"I don't know what I'm doing." "No one does. That's life."

"There are always a million reasons not to do something." (The Office)

🌒Character Specific Prompts🌲

Spencer's life after prison is nothing like before

Spencer decides to pursue his dream of being a cowboy/rancher

Spencer becomes dedicated to turning his life around after relapsing

Spencer doesn't think about Maeve on a special occasion for the first time

Hotch finally stops wearing his old wedding ring

Hotch embraces his role as a single dad

JJ's children are almost grown, and she struggles to reconnect with who she was before she was their mother

Penelope realizes she doesn’t like the person she’s become after leaving the BAU, so she decides to change

Lauren Reynolds died—it’s time Emily start acting like it

Rossi struggles with suddenly becoming a (grand)father

🍂Rules🍃

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check. Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

Have fun!

The Masterlist of fics will be posted around March 1. If you finish after that, no problem - just send me the fic once you’re done and I’ll add it after-the-fact!

Feel free to message me if you want help developing a plot, have any questions, or just want to gush about your fic. I’m happy to help, and I’m happy you’re here ❤️

Happy Writing!

#cm writing challenge #cm challenge #cm writing prompts #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction

[betterfettered]

This is the part where everyone is nice to me because I haven't written anything like this before T T

Your yandere is your boyfriend's brother, and you feel alone when he creeps you out.

(Gn!reader x AMAB!yandere; I use "tit/ty" for the gn reader; please tell me if there’s anything else non-gn about the reader)(stalking)(noncon)(plus size reader 💖🫡)(18+ readers only please, mdni)[This is fetish content; rape and stalking are disgusting and inexcusable in real life.][edited dialogue to be gn!]

It wasn’t that you hated Beelzebub.

In fact, you thought that he was really nice. Perhaps that was the problem, though: he was very, very nice. Nice to the point that you often looked over your shoulder expecting him to be behind you, nice to the point that you felt anxious talking to other men because he may show up at any moment to abruptly end the interaction. It made sense for him to be so protective over you – he was your boyfriend’s twin brother, so naturally he felt close to you and wanted to see you happy. That was normal, you told yourself.

So why the sense of dread whenever he was around?

It was not possible to escape him, and you didn’t want to cause discord by outright rejecting his helpfulness, but it always left you feeling deeply unsettled. Just like when you’d taken a trip to the human world with the twins. On the train, you and Belphegor had squabbled for a bit about who would take the one open seat, but you pointed out that he would end up falling asleep and hurting himself if he stayed standing, so eventually he acquiesced and sat down.

You stood in front of him and watched as he fell asleep in less than a minute, his head lolling forward uselessly, and just as you were thinking that his gentle snores were cute, you felt yourself being pulled back so forcefully that you stumbled a little as Beelzebub’s barreled chest pressed into your back and his chin settled on top of your head. The arm that had pulled you back stayed wrapped around your thick middle, his fingers pressing into your soft tummy hard enough that you winced a little, while his other hand held onto the overhead strap. You grabbed his forearm to pry it off, but he did not budge in the slightest.

“Hey, what are you doing?” you asked. “Let go.”

He shook his head, his chin brushing back and forth on your head, before he tilted his head so he could see more of your face.

“No." You could feel his warm breath on your cheeks, his piercing eyes boring into you.

“Um,” you started, trying uselessly to pry his arm off again.

“I’m keeping you safe,” he murmured at your temple. “So you don’t fall over and perverts can’t grope you.”

You didn’t want to struggle and make a scene or hurt his feelings or be rude, so you just allowed him to hold onto you and keep you pressed tight to him until your stop was coming up and you had an excuse to grab Belphie and shake him awake.

There was also the way Beelzebub ­would not let anyone else sit next to you in class besides Belphie. You’d made friends with a very sweet underclassman during one seductive speechcraft class, and the two of you had cast childish spells on each other; you convinced him that he would love to clean your locker, he convinced you that you would love to write a newspaper entry for him. You’d been giggling with him and thought nothing when you happened to see Beelzebub who was watching you across the room.

The next time you saw the underclassman, he didn’t give you even a second to talk to him before he scurried away, and that familiar sense of dread settled over you when you saw the awkward way the boy moved, like each step pained him.

Beelzebub appeared by your side soon after, putting his arm around your shoulder and his large hand over your cheek, pulling you closer to him.

“We should clean your locker today,” he said.

Normally you would have joked about how he probably just wanted to plunder your things for snacks, but you felt weak imagining the small freshman boy being hurt for no reason. You felt weak realizing that Beelzebub had memorized his face, hunted him down, and threatened him over nothing. You’d just been talking to him about schoolwork. Was that worth him being hurt? Was that worth the suffocating sense of isolation you suddenly felt?

Your knees buckled, and Beelzebub’s arms wrapped around you immediately, his arm cinching into the cushion of your tummy and his other hand coming to cup the side of your face and hold your head upright enough.

“Are you feeling sick? What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t think of what to say or how to answer. You just wished Belphegor was here to send Beelzebub away. You shut your eyes as tight as they would go and wished over and over for Belphie to appear, even as Beelzebub promised to take you home and take care of you, even as he collected you in his arms, even as he kissed you on your forehead and promised that you were safe with him, that you didn’t need to worry anymore.

You kept your eyes shut as he carried you out of the school,

And through the winter air outside,

And up the stairs of the House of Lamentation,

And into his room, where he dropped you onto Belphegor’s bed.

For a second, he let you go, and your eyes shot open to look for an escape. You tried to sit up and he pulled you closer to him by your ankle, splitting your legs so he could stand between them.

“Beel, stop,” you said, and immediately regretted it, because he shoved his fingers into your open mouth, pressing a medicine pill onto your tongue. You didn’t even have time to properly struggle before he grabbed your shoulder with his other hand and leaned onto it with all of his weight.

You tried to tell him to stop again, but only managed to drool on your lips and his fingers while making incoherent gargles from the back of your throat. The noises coming out of you sounded like some kind of terrified animal, which was really embarrassing, you shrunk back into the bed and  clamped your teeth down on his fingers and gripped at his face with your nails, but he seemed completely unfazed.

“You need water to swallow it, so I’ll give it to you,” he said.

You tried to sit up to drink, but his other fingers closed around your jaw, and his hand pressed you down into the bed. This time, watching him suck water out of the bottle he always carried around, you really started to panic. Your hands calmed, and you rubbed them over his shoulders and up his neck and onto his face to earn good will.

You tried to say “Listen to me, please. I'll be good. Stop stop stop please listen don’t do this to me stop” but nothing could come out with the way his fingers had pinned your tongue, and as soon as he withdrew them he smashed his lips into yours pressing his fingers hard into your cheeks until you opened your mouth and he could push the water into it. The hand still wet with your spit grabbed your nose until you ran out of breath and sucked the water from his mouth just to try and get a chance to breathe.

He pulled away and licked up the entire side of your face, making you squeal. For a moment, your nails dug in, and then you tried to rub his face again gently.

“This isn’t right,” you chided. “I want you to stop. If you stop right now, we can both walk away and –”

You inhaled sharply, feeling his hands slip under your shirt. Panic overcame you again, and you punched him and kneed him and screamed and cried but that dazed look had come over his face, the same as when he could smell an entire hog in the oven and was thinking about eating it and only eating it.

Again, you grabbed his wrists to try and get his hands off of you, but this time you screamed for Belphegor, all the more frantically when you felt his hips push into yours. As though you were not wailing, as though you were lying still and allowing this, he shoved all the clothing on your upper body away and pressed his lips to your chest. You were sobbing by then, so he laid his head against your shaking body and licked up from your belly until he had your nipple in his mouth. His tongue traced up and down over and over as his hot breath spilled onto your skin.

He had just shoved his hands between your giant thighs to grope you when you heard the door open.

“Beel, what the fuck are you doing?” Belphie hissed.

“Belphie, help me, please,” you sobbed. You’d done everything you could to avoid a fight, and didn’t want them to argue, but you were at your wits end.

And help you he did. Belphie rushed over, grabbing Beelzebub by the shoulders and leaning back until he pulled him off of you, the both of them toppling to the floor. Belphegor shimmied out from beneath his brother, smacking his face to get him out of his trance.

“You’re being scary. What kind of welcome is that into the family?” he chided. Belphie kept him placated with rock candy from his pocket, shoving it deep into Beelzebub's mouth and tugging it back and forth to occupy his mouth

At that point, your belly felt like a void, like its emptiness was sucking you in hard enough that you would collapse.

You had wanted Belphie to realize all along, you’d thought your Belphie would rescue you from Beelzebub’s wandering hands.

“Try being sweet and gentle,” Belphie murmured. "You are coming on too strong."

Beelzebub only tried to stand up again, then focused his eyes on Belphegor’s glare and held still, despite how visibly hard his cock was getting in his pants at the thought of you. Belphie stood and then leaned over you and pulled your shirt back down.

At that moment, you understood that he knew how Beelzebub clung to you and grabbed you and forced himself on you.

 He knew it and he did not mind.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he sighed, kissing your eyelids when you started crying. “What’s wrong?”

You could only feel panic as you watched Beelzebub stand up and leer at you over Belphie’s shoulder.

#obey me #omswd smut #yandere #tw noncon #tw non con #yandere x reader #yandere smut #cw noncon #tw: noncon #obey me smut #betty fetty #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me beel #obey me belphie #yandere beelzebub #yandere beel #yandere belphegor #yandere belphie #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader

[reverie-starlight]

{the video call incident ~ MSBY manager!reader}

{sakusa x GN!reader}

aka: you and sakusa are trying to keep your relationship under wraps from the rest of the team and break the news slowly. key word trying. gone wrong.

warnings: none, really, just humor/bantering/insults, fluff. also sakusa is sweet towards you. idc if you think he’s mean, I just think he’s so soft with his partner. miya twins and reader have been friends since before the timeskip but it’s only briefly mentioned. ONE suggestive line by Hinata... mildly suggestive at the very end.

notes: I ADORE this piece, it might be one of my favourite fics of mine. I kinda wanna do an MSBY manager series with the different guys... anyone interested? Also- every time I was mean to Atsumu in this fic I felt actual pain. I love him too much.

there is... a LOT of dialogue in this fic. just so you know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kiyoomi, stop,” you laughed as you pushed you boyfriend back slightly. 

He had an early practice the next morning (technically as his team manager you did, too) but he was currently standing in the front hall of your apartment, arms wrapped around you and pressing kisses to your face. 

“No,” he said in between kisses, smiling slightly, “why should I?”

You didn’t have a good enough reason to give him and he knew that. He continued his actions and you sighed.

“Kiyoomi, you and I both know that I’d be more than happy to let you spend the night, but if we show up tomorrow in the same car for the second time this month, the guys are going to get suspicious.”

Sakusa sighed. “I know, I just want to appreciate you a little longer. I feel bad for keeping my distance at practice today. Meian is probably onto us and I wanted to redirect his focus.”

You smiled at him. “I’m sure he’s already figured it out. Better him than the trouble trio.”

He hummed in agreement.

The two of you had been keeping your relationship a secret for the past eight months. You’d been the MSBY manager for a couple years now, starting around the same time Sakusa was recruited, and at the end of the last season, after a big game, he had finally asked you out. (“Adrenaline and high off of a win,” he had reasoned when you questioned why he chose that moment.)

The only reason it was kept a secret was because some of the team members were rather… excitable.

Namely Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata.

You loved the team you managed, and you loved their personalities. Really, you did.

Despite that love, you might as well be those three’s babysitter.

Add your boyfriend to the mix and things got even more chaotic. However, you did love to see how he interacted with them. Something about it is what drew you to him in the first place. (Your friends had made it clear that your type was apparently slightly mean tall guys who turn to mush behind closed doors. You hadn’t agreed until you met Sakusa.)

That aside, telling the team would result in chaos. The trio would accuse you of betrayal, they’d stare at you both during any small interactions and it would ultimately disrupt the team’s dynamic.

So you both decided to keep it a secret until the end of the current season so they could digest the news easier and have everything be mostly normal by time the next game season rolled around.

You tried one more time to push him off and he sighed. He gave you three more quick pecks and unwrapped his arms from around your waist.

“Fine, I’ll go,” he said, reaching for his coat.

You were about to help him into it when he suddenly patted his pockets in a panic. “I left my phone in the living room, can I go get it?”

You nodded and he moved back into the main part of the apartment just as your phone started ringing. You rolled your eyes when you realized who it was. You swiped the accept call button and groaned when he popped up on the screen with messy towel dried hair and a hyper look on his face. Oh brother.

“What, Atsumu?” You really didn’t want to pick up at that moment, but you knew that if you ignored it he’d either keep calling non-stop or be all pouty about it at practice tomorrow.

Neither option was favourable.

“Y/n! ‘m bored. Ya gotta keep me company.” 

You frowned. “You couldn’t call Bokuto or Hinata? Or Sakusa?”

“Neither of ‘em picked up when I called. And omi-omi doesn’t pick up unless he already knows why I’d be callin’ so I didn’t bother.”

“Well I’m really sorry, Atsumu, but you caught me at a bad time, I’m busy right now,” you tried to sound sympathetic but it came off as rushed.

He was still your friend and you didn’t like ignoring him, but he really did catch you at the worst time.

Sakusa came back into the front hall looking like he was about to say something but stopped when he saw you were on the phone.

“But Y/nnnnn!” He rolled his eyes and let out an involuntary scoff when he heard Atsumu’s voice.

He clapped a hand over his mouth and looked at you with wide eyes.

You hoped the man on the screen hadn’t heard that but even if he hadn’t, the panicked look on your face and the way your eyes flicked to something behind your phone definitely tipped him off.

A wide smirk took over his face when you looked back at your phone and you started shaking your head.

“Do ya have a boy over, Y/n? Is that what this is?”

“Shut up, no I don’t.” you started but you were cut off.

“OH SHIT YOU DO! SHOW ‘IS FACE, WHO IS HE? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US? WHO’VE YA BEEN-“

You ended the call.

Sakusa slowly took his hand away from his mouth and looked at you. It was silent for a good three seconds before he said “That’s on me.”

“It’s fine, he doesn’t know who it was.”

“Do you think you can keep him from telling anyone?”

Both of your phones started buzzing at the same time. 

“Too late,” you said in unison.

Suddenly a video call from the group chat came through. “Shit,”

“Okay, Kiyoomi, I think it’s best that you go now, if you join the call from your place it’ll be less suspicious.”

He nodded. “Good idea,” he rushed to get his coat and shoes on and kissed you once before heading out. “I love you and I’m sorry if this goes badly.”

You returned his affection and locked the door before joining the group call. Hinata was there, too.

“Atsumu. I swear to god, you didn’t need to turn this into a whole thing. Hi Hinata.”

The orange haired boy beamed at you and waved. “Hi Y/n! How are you?” 

“Shoyo! Our dear manager has A BOY OVER.”

“Oh, are you dating someone, Y/n?” 

“I’m n-”

“WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE FREAKIN’ OUT OVER THIS?”

You rolled your eyes once again. “Because, Miya, not everyone is as invested in my personal life as you are.”

He gasped at the use of his last name and was about to throw something back at you when Bokuto joined the call on his evening jog. Just great. If Atsumu successfully managed to rile him up, Hinata would surely follow soon after. You needed to do damage control. 

Quickly exiting the screen of the call, you texted your boyfriend.

I need you to knock Atsumu down a peg, please join the call. 

Oh, my pleasure.

As you were texting him, you heard Bokuto and Hinata rambling on about tomorrow’s practice. The setter looked mildly annoyed that no one was paying attention to him anymore. 

“Bokkun!! Listen to me for a minute!! Y/n has a-”

At long last, Sakusa joined the call from what looked like the inside of the grocery store five minutes from his house.

“Omi! What’re you doing here? You never join our video calls unless Y/n makes you- wait where the hell are ya?”

“It was a misclick, don’t get too excited, Miya. And you interrupted my grocery shopping, if you must know.”

“Well don’t leave! You’re gonna wan’ to hear this.”

Sakusa sighed. “I’m sure I won’t.”

You had to bite back a smile at the faux bored look on his face.

“OKAY, Bokkun, Omi-Omi, Y/N HAS A BOY OVER. AND THEY WON’T TELL US WHO.”

Sakusa blinked. “Miya, why do you care so much about our manager’s personal life? Is your own that boring? Are you so unsatisfied that you have to live vicariously through other people’s? Just watch reality TV if that’s the case, I’m sure Y/n would appreciate it as well.”

You let a small laugh out at the sight of your setter looking like he was just slapped across the face.

“LISTEN ‘ERE, SAKUSA-”

Your boyfriend promptly kicked him out of the call, looking rather pleased with himself.

Bokuto on the other hand...

“WOAHH, Y/N WHO IS IT? TELL US! YOU CAN TRUST US!”

Aaaand now Hinata wanted in on the action. “YEAH, YOU CAN TELL US Y/N!”

Atsumu rejoined the call not a second later. “WHY’D YA KICK ME OUT? Y’know what? Fine. I’m adding someone else to the call.”

You gasped when a familiar contact picture popped up on the screen and the connceting dots appeared. 

“Oh for the love of- Your brother, Atsumu, really?? Don’t drag him into this.”

The other (and in your opinion at this particular moment- the better) Miya twin finally picked up. “Uh. Hi? Whaddaya need, 'tusmu?”

“SAMU, Y/n has a boy over.”

“Okay, and?” You’ll give him credit for at least trying to look uninterested.

“They come into your restaurant sometimes don’t they? Have they ever brought a guy with them?”

“Atsumu, please just drop it-” but your pleas fell on deaf ears. 

Osamu shook his head and you almost, almost thought you were in the clear until...

“They only brought Sakusa in one time last month... and Suna did mention that he saw them together when you were all in Tokyo for some matches.”

Both of the Miya twins were dead to you. You silently took back everything you said about Samu being the better one. Years of friendship down the drain. 

You thought he’d have your back on this one but you forgot that, at heart, Osamu is just as much of a little shit as his twin. 

“Osamu!” You shouted, betrayed. 

He shrugged. “Sorry, Y/n.”

Atsumu glared at the screen. “As if it’d be Omi-Omi. We’d definitely know if it was him. Y/n, it wouldn’t have come to this point if ya had just told us who’s with you right now.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m home alone right now, genius, he’s long gone. And it isn’t any of your business!”

At that moment everything you’d been working so hard to keep a secret crumbled before your eyes. 

Bokuto suddenly had a look of realization wash over his face. 

Shit.

“Wait, if that’s the case, then could it be Omi after all? I ran into him while he was walking in the opposite direction of Y/n’s apartment building when I passed by on my jog ten minutes ago.” He said it totally innocently, as if you having Sakusa over wasn’t as big as Atsumu was making it out to be.

The call went silent for a solid minute before Atsumu started speaking. 

“Bokkun, what did you sa-”

Oops, there goes Atsumu again.

“I sai-”

Oh no, Bokuto too.

You and Sakusa stared at the screen in shock, waiting to see Hinata’s reaction.

Osamu just smirked and waved goodbye before signing off himself. 

Hinata just smiled at the two of you. “Congratulations! I’m really happy for you guys... do you congratulate friends when you find out they’re sleeping together?”

Hinata, your sweet sunshine friend was successful in unfreezing the both of you. “It’s not like that, Hinata-”

“Not normally, no.”

You glared at Sakusa (who was now back in his apartment without a mask) but he just smirked at you. “Kiyoomi.” 

“Alright, I’m sorry.”

“Anyway,” you tried again. “Hinata, we’re dating. We have been for a while.”

“Oh! That definitely calls for celebration then!” 

You smiled slightly before the banished returned to the call. 

“’kay, ya really need to stop doin’ that.” Atsumu said immediately. 

“Why was I kicked out, Y/n? You’re not mad at me are you?”

“No, Bokuto, of course not.” 

“Stop ignorin’ me!”

“Miya, stop being a pest.”

“Guys!! They’re dating! I was right.” 

You froze again. “Hinata... what did you say?”

“...nothing.” 

“Don’t make me kick you out of this call.”

“Fine! I knew you guys were dating. It was kind of obvious.”

“What do you mean obvious, Hinata?” Sakusa asked. 

You shared a glance with him through the screen in confusion. You were both so sure you were hiding it well. Actually... you knew you were hiding it well, considering Atsumu and Bokuto didn’t catch on until now.

“Well, one day a few months ago I may have caught you two making out behind the gym. At that point I thought it was just that kind of relationship and figured it wasn’t my business. But then a few weeks ago, after Sakusa and Atsumu had gotten into an argument at practice, he called Komori-”

“Ah, Shoyo, let’s not-”

“You have my cousin’s number?” Sakusa hissed.

“He does!” 

“Bokkun, seriously, stop-”

“I’m not letting this go, Miya.”

“Hinata, please continue.”

“And Atsumu asked about his relationship status because he wanted blackmail or something. Then Komori said that his lips were sealed, he promised Sakusa he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. I put two and two together, Bokuto thought he was just being a good cousin and let it go, and Atsumu assumed Sakusa was just embarrassed about being single. After that I kinda noticed that you two seemed closer and assumed everyone else on the team knew too. I tried to ask Atsumu about it but he was dead set on not believing you’d date-in his words- ‘an ass like omi-omi’”

You stared at Hinata with wide eyes. “You knew for that long... and managed not to let it slip?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. I was focused on practice most of the time anyway, so it honestly just slipped my mind.”

Maybe you didn’t give Hinata enough credit. 

“Atsumu, you owe me a meat bun now since I was right!”

Or maybe you were justified with your initial feeling. 

“You bet on us being together?!”

It was going to be a long night. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

After explaining everything to the trouble trio about why you didn’t tell them, you were left on call with Sakusa.

“Well... that was certainly something.” He said.

“Mmhmm,” You looked at him. “Kiyoomi...”

He offered you a soft grin. “I’m already putting my shoes on. I’ll be there soon. Now you have no excuses for not letting me stay the night.”

You giggled and rested your chin on your palm. “I guess not. It’s a shame, really, you’re getting to be so clingy lately. Ever heard of the term personal space?”

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “says the one who literally will not let go of me unless I physically detach you from my body most days.”

“You guys are disgustingly sweet.”

“What are you still doing here, Atsumu?! I thought you left?”

“I snuck back in.”

“Well leave.”

“Sure. But I’m telling everyone how soft you are for our manager tomorrow morning.”

Sakusa raised an eyebrow. “You really think anyone will believe you without proof?”

The last thing you heard before Sakusa blew you a kiss was Atsumu groaning as he was kicked from the call one last time upon realizing he in fact does not have proof.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS 2:

You woke up the next morning completely intertwined with Sakusa. 

“My love, wake up. We’re going to be late.”

You groaned and snuggled into his side more, shivering slightly when he traced lines on the skin of your back. He laughed and pried you off of him. 

“Mm no, five more minutes.” 

“Come on, Y/n/n, if we’re late you know we’ll never hear the end of it. We don’t have the luxury of secrecy anymore. Besides,” he poked you in the stomach and leaned in closer to you. “you’re the one who insisted on staying up late last night. I tried to tell you that this would happen, but you were just so needy-”

“Okay, okay, I’m up,” you cut him off, then mumbled under your breath “but I didn’t hear you complaining much.”

You shrieked when two arms wrapped around your waist and you were pulled against his chest. “I’m sorry did you say something, my dear?”

It didn’t matter if you were late or not in the end, because when you entered the gym, you were greeted with a round of applause and some whistles. And your boyfriend was weighed down by the endless teasing about his messed up hair and marks on his chest in the changing room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #msby manager #msby sakusa x reader #haikyuu fluff #msby 4 fluff

[joeshiestyslover]

you promised

pairing: joe burrow x actress!reader

summary: joe promised to come to your premiere, but sometimes, some promises aren’t always kept

warnings: language, hints to smut at the end, very shitty dialogue, angst with a happy ending

lowercase intended

after all the months that you spent filming and working around your busy schedule, you were finally done. your long awaited netflix tv show was coming out in two days. you couldn’t be more excited for both the release and the premiere. this is your big break, this show is going to put you on the map. after this show, more and more people are gonna want to know your name.

you picked out the perfect dress, shoes, and jewelry for the premiere. but you couldn’t forget your perfect date, joe burrow. you and joe met in college at lsu while you were studying psychology. you both immediately clicked and have been together ever since. joe is the perfect boyfriend, the whole package. he’s sweet and extremely charming. it also helps that he’s fine as fuck.

after joe was drafted to the bengals, you made the leap and decided to move with him to cincinnati. it turned out to be one of the best decisions you ever made. the city is beautiful, easy to navigate and you get to be around joe almost all the time.

you’re in the bedroom packing for your trip to brooklyn, new york, where the premiere is scheduled to be held. you’re just about to head into the bathroom to collect your toiletries when you hear the garage door open. finally, joe was home and you finally have the chance to talk to him about what he is going to wear to the premiere.

“babe, i’m home!” you hear joe yell from downstairs. shortly after, you hear his heavy footsteps coming towards your shared bedroom. you then feel his arms snake around your waist and him pressing his lips to your cheek. “whatcha doing?” he asks. “i’m packing.” you respond. “for what?” ummmm. “for the the flight to new york tomorrow morning” you remind him. “my premiere’s in two days remember?” “shit y/n” he starts. oh hell no, you think. “joseph lee burrow, do not tell me you forgot about one of the most important nights of my life.” you slightly raise your voice as you turn around to face him. “i’m so sorry, but i promised the rookies i’d take them out to dinner.” you are beyond pissed now. if it slipped his mind, that’s one thing, but making plans on top of it and basically insinuating that his plans were more important than yours, that’s where you draw the line.

“you promised joe.” you can feel the tears of frustration start to pool in your eyes, but you don’t dare to let them fall. “you said you would be there and i expected you to keep your fucking promise.” “i really am sorry y/n, but i can’t skip this dinner; i promised those guys.” he says regretfully. “promised, my ass joseph. so you can keep your promises to your new teammates, but you can’t keep your promise to me? your girlfriend of three years? are you fucking kidding me?” you’re yelling now, no longer being able to hold back the tears.

“that’s not what i meant and you know it.” now joe was starting to get angry, as if he has the fucking right. “oh really?” you scoff. “then what did you mean? please enlighten me.” “i-” he starts to say, but you cut him off. “save it joe i don’t wanna talk about this anymore. i am going to that premiere because i promised everyone that i would, and unlike you joseph, i keep my promises.” at the last word, you poke at his chest, but you weren’t done yet. “you know i don’t see how it’s fair that i’m at every single event that’s important to you, and i show up to almost every game, and i have no problem cancelling plans with my friends, hell, even my fucking family, but you can’t push your stupid dinner back a couple of days for me? you know how important this is to me, but apparently it doesn’t mean shit to you.” “y/n-” “shut the fuck up joe. i’m going to this premiere, with or without you, but just so you know, if i show up alone, then it will be a very clear reflection of just how much you care about me and my accomplishments.” by the time you’re done with your rant, you’re panting, and you can feel the tears stalling at your chin. joe looks at you with sad eyes, but it’s clear that he has nothing to say.

“so that’s it? you’re just not gonna say anything?” you ask him, hoping he’ll get on his knees and beg to come with you to new york. but you’re met with silence. “okay” you say. “i’m gonna finish packing, then i’m gonna stay in the guest room tonight. if you change your mind, the flight leaves at 9:30 tomorrow morning.” you take your toiletry bag into the bathroom and stuff your skincare products, makeup, and your hygiene products into it. you go back into the bedroom to find joe no longer standing there.

you can feel your tears resurfacing, but you refuse to cry for him. if he would rather go to dinner with his friends, then so be it. you were not going to let him ruin the best night of your life for you. after you finish packing, you grab your suitcase, and walk into your guest bedroom, but it’s already occupied by joe. he’s lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone, acting like you didn’t just yell at him. wow, you think. he doesn’t even feel just a little bit guilty. you walk out of the room and go back into your bedroom. you don’t like how it feels in there. it’s cold and gloomy, much different than the usual joy and warmth it’s filled with. you set your alarm for 7:00 and go straight to bed, not wanting to think about joe and your argument any longer. you toss and turn on the bed for god knows how long, knowing that joe is probably sleeping just fine without you. sleep is different without him, and you don’t like it one bit. all you want is to run into that guest bedroom and crawl into bed next to him, but you will not give into him; not until he gets his head out of his ass. finally, after what feels like hours of just rolling around the bed, you fall asleep.

your alarm blaring wakes you up from your dreamless sleep. after a few minutes of just lying on your bed, you sit up and walk into your bathroom. you look in the mirror, with your reflection looking back at you. i look like a fucking mess, you think to yourself. you brush out your hair and put it up just to keep it out of your face. then after brushing your teeth, you walk out of the bathroom and sneak down the hall to the guest room. you quietly open the door, and see him still sleeping. you want to wait a while, just to see if he’ll wake up and go to the airport with you, but you can’t. you know that the thirty minutes you spend waiting will turn into an hour, then two hours, and you’ll end up missing your flight, and you won’t let that happen.

you shut the door and go into your room to grab your suitcase and backpack. you roll it into your living room, and sit on your couch while waiting for the uber you ordered. you’re on your phone scrolling through tiktok, when you hear a door open and footsteps coming closer to you. you look up and find joe staring at you. joe breaks the eye contact and walks into the kitchen. your worst fear confirmed; you were going to new york alone. you soon get the alert that your uber has just pulled up to your house, so you grab your stuff and walk out your front door without sparing joe a single glance.

the trip to new york went smoothly, and you were able to check into your hotel, but you forgot the reservation was made under joe’s name. oh great! another reminder that he isn’t going to show up! you do everything you can to not think about joe, but everything seems to remind you of him. you hate being without him. you have the urge to text him, but you can’t. he has to know that he fucked up and he won’t be forgiven that easily.

the day of the premiere you’re shitting bricks. you didn’t realize just how much you need joe until you didn’t have him by your side helping you calm down. it also doesn’t help that he has been absolutely radio silent. the tiny voice in the back of your head constantly telling you, you’re not important enough and he has better things to do than waste his time with you.

you try to keep your mind off of him. you try to converse with your hair and makeup artist whilst she gets you ready. it works for a while, but you can’t stop thinking about him. he should be here, spending this moment with you, laughing and smiling with you, but if he didn’t think that you were important enough then fuck him.

once it’s time to go, you hop into the limousine, and it takes you to the theater where the premiere is. when you get there, the limo comes to a stop, and you get out. as soon as you walk out, you can hear thousands of people screaming your name. you plaster on a fake smile and walk over to the screaming fans, signing autographs and taking pictures. you’re soon guided by your manager to different reporters wanting to interview you. the first few interviews going great; the interviewers mostly asking what filming was like and how well you get along with your costars. one of the interviewers however, asks you the question you have been dreading to answer. “so y/n y/ln, where is your boyfriend, joe burrow tonight?” you try to think of an answer without sounding snippy or pitiful. “well you know we’re very busy people” you start to say. “sometimes our schedules just don’t align the way we want them to, so we just have to accept it and move on.” okay, that went well.

you finish up interviews and start to pose for pictures, the flashing of the cameras becoming almost blinding. after a few minutes, your manager walks up to you. “joe’s here.” she says.

what.

you look at her confused until you look over her shoulder to find your boyfriend dressed in a black suit with subtle patterns walking towards you. you don’t know whether to smile at him or slap him. he comes up to you and hugs you tightly as he whispers in your ear, “i’m so sorry baby, you were right. i was so fucking selfish and you deserve the same amount of support that you give me.” you fight the tears and whisper back a “thank you.”

you two pose for a little while longer until it’s time to walk into the theater. you take your seats, and joe takes your hand into his. soon after you sit down, the first two episodes of the show start to play on the screen. about halfway into the second episode, you look over at joe to see him with slight tears in his eyes. he feels your gaze, and turns to you with a smile. you smile back at him and once again turn your attention to the big screen.

once the episodes ended, you and joe socialize with your costars a bit during the after party before deciding it was time to go home. as you both start to walk back to joe’s car, he stops and turns to you. “i know i already told you, but words cannot explain how sorry i am. i was selfish and an idiot, and i was wrong for not taking your feelings into account. i love you and it wasn’t fair to you at all.” joe tells you with tears threatening to escape his eyes. “joe, i love you more than anything, and i’m glad you realized you were wrong, but this cannot happen again. what you did was hurtful, and all i wanted was for you to want to experience this moment with me. you made me feel unimportant, and as though you didn’t care about my successes.” you tell him, somehow holding back your sob, but your tears are flowing freely. “i never wanted to make you feel that way y/n. i’m so fucking proud of you and i’m so happy for you. you mean everything to me; i promise you this won’t happen again, and i know that i’m not the best at keeping my promises, but i intend on keeping this one.”

“good.” you smile. you wrap your hand around the back of his neck and you pull his lips to meet yours. the kiss slowly becomes more and more heated as he slips his tongue into your mouth. after a while of making out in the parking lot, you both break away for air. “you wanna go back to the hotel and celebrate properly?” you ask him, panting. “fuck yeah baby.” he picks you up over his shoulder and all but sprints to the car, unable to wait to get you back to the hotel room.

a/n: i hope y’all liked it. i haven’t written anything in a hot minute so please go easy on me 😭😭

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow angst #joe burrow fluff #cincinnati #cincinatti bengals #nfl #stranger things #actress!reader #angst with a happy ending #angst to fluff

[wispscribbles]

Mw3 spoilers (just a long personal ramble)

Hiii. So

As soon as the pre-release came out on, I hunted down spoilers, because I know myself and knew that if someone died and I got that information out of the blue, I wouldn’t take it well. Jokes on me, because I still haven’t been taking it well lol

I won’t talk about how Soap’s death was handled or the quality of the game. Plenty of smarter people are doing so.

I try not to talk a lot about myself and irl stuff on here, but will just say: I am very unwell, mentally. (Cue silence because that’s not surprising at all) Something I am very aware that I do, is that I latch onto fiction with my whole being, usually one specific character. For some reason, I always latch onto the character that ends up dead, usually in a way that make them only exist to further the motivations of other characters. It sucks.

So my hope for Soap has never been great, but for some reason I was still so shocked?? I don’t know, I tricked myself into thinking this time was different. Such an iconic character with so much good setup for great character development. I knew someone would die, but ow. To me, he was the element that made 141 seem more like family than coworkers. Soap’s interactions with the rest just livened up the games so much and made them all shine. Especially Ghost. Their dynamic, man.

Soap was the character that intrigued me enough to jump into the cod rabbit hole. It feels very hollow without him.

I keep telling myself that it’s silly to be so hurt over something fictional, and that I can just treat it as a mcd fanfic and move on, but nope. Brain’s stuck in the bad stuff. It’s a bad habit of mine to let something like this affect me so much, but well. Logic vs feeling and all that.

I really did find so much comfort in Soap this last year, that I severely needed. It feels a little like losing someone I know, someone who helped me through a rough time. I related to something in him and felt inspired. I only started writing after getting into ghostsoap, I started working out and I got back into art after a very long burnout. It may be fiction, but the impact is not.

So that was pretty much the worst case scenario of what mw3 could be to me. I always knew the risk, but, once again, ow. But there also seems to be plenty of good stuff in the game that I enjoy. I’m happy with the Ghost and Soap dialogue, the whole team working together and seeing Laswell and Farah and Alex and Nik. I hope I can be inspired by some of the new content once I’m calmer.

And I was worried they would ignore Ghost and Soap’s relationship after their development in mw2, but they genuinely seem to have gotten real close. It’s nice. I thought the shipping might scare the game devs into never having them appear in a scene together again, so that’s a plus.

Bottom line to all this is: I probably need a little break to get my head sorted. The grief is surprisingly real, it’s triggered some old stuff for me (haven’t been sleeping or eating, been stuck in some old thoughts). I’ll need to calm down and become a bit more normal about this again. Part of the grief isn’t so much about Soap himself, but also just the safe space that this account has been. The very nature of how the fandom is going to interact with Soap and Ghostsoap is going to change now, and man… I liked how it was, y’know? Could’ve used a little longer in that bubble. There’s going to be plenty of new fics and art, lovely stuff as always, but many of them will be tinged with grief, and I’m not in a place where that won’t break me a little.

I will hopefully come back to posting and making stuff once my brain settles down. I have so many drafts for fics and ideas that I hope I can return to. I’ve gotten so used to drawing these lads that I doubt I can stop tbh

The version of Soap that we love is already evolved from the games due to all the time and care the community has put into the character. The games may have killed him, but luckily, he’s fictional. We can do what we want, same as before.

I’m not even saying that I wish they hadn’t killed him. The games are crafting a story that fits their audience. It makes sense.

But I will choose to live in one of the many universes we’ve created for Soap, where he is alive and cared for, with a found family and a spooky lieutenant with a soft spot for him. Good for him.

Hope you’re all taking care of yourselves. RIP canon Soap (again). Thanks to Neil for a wonderful portrayal. And no matter where we go from here, thanks for a wonderful year of creating with you lovely folks. Seriously, some of the kindest people I’ve met in fandom. <3

Lastly: fuck you Kevin O’Reilly, but more importantly, sincerely thank you. (CallMeKevin video about mw2 got me into this mess. Otherwise I was keeping cod at an arm’s length, but he’s my fav youtuber, so I watched it. And here we are!)

#if u don’t wanna read: I’ll be taking a small break for mental health reasons but expect to be back and creating for this fandom again <3 #mw3 #mw3 spoilers #cod mwiii #mwiii spoilers #call of duty mwiii #ghostsoap #wispy update #always feel anxious posting anything emotional but feel like this one deserved a proper update #you’re all wonderful ppl ily #hopefully see you soon !

[creative-caramel-coffee]

It’s me again, something similar happened to me yesterday when I was moving to school, and could really use the girls for comfort rn

R is stressed trying to quickly move things, perhaps moving into wandanat room? When she falls, to her it’s blank one minute she was standing the next she’s in pain on the floor? Obviously r is stubborn and tries to carry on not wanting to be seen as weak or lazy. But the girls notice and immediately go into caring mode where the see r is actually bleeding and hurt her ankle.

“Oh my sweet girl you could’ve come to us. We aren’t mad. Let’s clean you up”

“You can’t walk darling, you’ll make it worse”

“Lots of love for our love bug”

“Shhh no saying sorry. They are not necessary sweet girl, you can’t help it”

Any fluffy comfort dialogue 🥹

~ 🕯️ I would like this emoji like you suggested so you can see I’m the writer you’ve been on my page recently lmao

Moving in but with crutches

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.5K

Summary: Reader is super excited to move in with her girls but she’s a little clumsy and ends up needing some tlc

TW: light mentions of blood, sprain (implied), injury

A/n sorry this took so long to get done but I hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing it. Also I’m happy for you to be 🕯 anon :)

It was finally time. Ever since moving to the compound your gaze had trailed after them like a lost puppy. Them, being the power couple of the compound. Them, being Wanda and Natasha.

You were sure the mind reader and spy couldn’t have missed the light shades of pink that dusted your cheeks every time they spoke to you. Or maybe they just thought you weren’t very sun safe, either way it didn’t matter now because the three of you had been dating for four months now and despite all the milestones that are in a relationship this one was the one you were most excited for. Moving in with them.

Sure, you had been sleeping in their bed for like two weeks now, but it was never really officially your room. You still had all your stuff in the other smaller room tony had built for you when you joined the team. Wanda and Nat party because they were sharing a room and party because they had been on the team for far longer, had a much larger and your opinion much nicer room. Furnished with Wanda’s touches and Natasha’s tastes. There were enough plants, courtesy of Wanda, to compete with a forrest and it was just beautiful.

You had spent the morning packing your stuff into box’s, sure it was just across the hall, but your stuff was important to you, and you wanted the full experience.

You came to the tower with nothing but your name and the clothes on your back, so you wanted the full nine yards. Wanda and Nat were supportive and had been helping you pack. But as lunch neared all of you were getting hungry so nat and Wanda had gone out to pick up some takeaway. Claiming that the living alone lifestyle was about to change, and you should make the most of it. Of course, that statement led to an argument over who was more of a blanket hog which you did your best not to be roped into.

Once the two had secured their keys and left, still bickering however, you turned up your music and moved over to some of the heavier items.

Pulling the books off the bookshelf and placing them neatly in boxes you moved over to the lamp. But in your haste accidentally pulled on the chord.

One second you were upright and the next thing you knew you were on the floor. As your senses came back to you and you shifted into a sitting position, the pain flooded in. Your ankle was bleeding, the bulb must have smashed, and on top of that the joint hurt like all hades.

Despite the calming breathes you took your ankle was starting to look worse. A light blue bruise that you were sure was only going to darken began to form around the joint and you closed your eyes.

Thank God you had turned up the music or someone would have surely come in to see if you were ok. How embarrassing, being an avenger only to be taken down by a lamp. No. You were not lazy. You were not weak.

Sucking in a breath you carefully got to your feet trying to avoid the glass. Putting any pressure on the ankle made it feel like you were stepping on a thousand suns, but you simply pushed through. You were not weak. You were an avenger. You moved as fast as possible to clean up the mess, which let's be honest wasn’t very fast.

You swept the glass up and placed the seemingly undamaged corpse of a lamp into a box for later. However, it was now no longer welcome in your new room. No. You made a small pledge to hide that box for when your ankle was better and seek some revenge on the stupid piece of furniture.

You had just finished sealing off the box of nightmares with the packing tape when two short raps came from the open doorway. You turned around as smoothly as you could with the pain in your foot and smiled at Natasha.

“Hey baby, Wanda’s gone to start getting the food ready in the kitchen are you gonna join us?” She asked.

“Yeah sure. Like I’d ever say no to that.” You said trying your best to hide a wince as you took a step towards Nat. Her brow furrowed and eyebrows pinched together as she didn’t miss the action at all.

“Baby? are you ok?” She asked. You wavered but plastered on the fake smile you used for Tony’s galas.

“One hundred percent. Did you get pad Thai?” You asked and tried to change the subject. Nat knew something was wrong and looked you up and down doing a mental scan to find the problem. You knew you were screwed when her eyes zeroed in on your sock. You had slipped it on last minute to hide the cut on your foot and in your haste had managed to miss the fact it had bled through the pale fabric.

Nat was over by your side in an instant, she guided you by your shoulders to the bed and pressed down to make you sit.

“Sit” she said leaving zero room for questions. You simply nodded as she crouched down and placed your foot on her knee. Gently she peeled back the sock and sighed at the semi-deep cut that ran down your heel. Your ankle was swollen and looked angry, and Nat was surprised you were able to walk at all but suspected that the fading adrenaline may have something to do with it.

“Wanda!” She yelled and the two of you heard hurried footsteps and Wanda appeared in the doorway.

“Yes?! Whats the matter?” She asked looking panicked. When she saw the two of you were still alive and breathing, she sighed and placed a hand over her heart.

“Jesus don’t do that nat.” She said. Nat shrugged.

“Sorry baby. Can you grab the first aid kit in the bathroom Y/n/n here felt she could hide something from us.” She said gesturing to the ensuite and then your foot which was propped up in her lap. She was holding the destroyed sock to the cut to stop the bleeding which made you wince. Wanda nodded and disappeared before coming back with the kit and placing it down beside Nat.

Wanda gave the injury a proper look now and softened her gaze and took your hand, rubbing circles on your knuckles with her thumb.

"Oh, my sweet girl you could've come to us. We aren't mad. Let's clean you up" she said.

“I-its fine. Im fine. No problem.” You said and went to move your foot from Nat’s lap who had just finished bandaging the cut. She grabbed your calf gently but tightly and glared at you before softening at the sight of tears in your eyes.

"You can't walk darling; you'll make it worse" she said gently and you huffed.

Wanda stood and sat next to you on the bed and began pressing kisses to your cheek and arms.

“It just means lots of love for our love bug" she said and pulled you in for a hug. Nat nodded and joined the hug.

“Sorry.” You said in a small voice. But Nat hushed you with a kiss to the lips it was soft and tender. When she pulled away, she looked into your eyes.

"Shhh no saying sorry. That’s not necessary sweet girl, you can't help it" she said and rubbed her nose against yours in a gentle moment of pure love.

“Do you want me to bring the food here or Natty can carry you into the lounge so we can prop your foot up to eat? Either way you're getting ice and rest on the ankle.” Wanda said and you let a single tear fall at the tenderness of it all. Wanda was quick to wipe it away and press a kiss to the tear track.

“Baby don’t cry love. We’ve got you honey.” She said and you sniffled.

“The lounge maybe?” You said and Wanda chuckled.

“Of course, sweetheart. Nat?” She said and gestured to you who grinned like a feral animal and scooped you up with little to no warning. You squealed and clutched your arms around her. She laughed deeply and you swatted her chest. The three of you went to the lounge and Nat called Bruce to bring you some crutches for later and Wanda finished prepping the food.

After the three of you were cuddled up under a blanket with ice on your ankle and old movie reruns playing in the background. Soon you drifted to sleep as Wanda ran her hands through your hair and nat traced patterns on your exposed thigh. After all you were only in a large t-shirt and boxers. The rest of the team was away apart from Bruce, but he never left the lab anyway. You we’re content. Happy. Safe. And loved. Life couldn’t get any better.

MASTERLIST

#marvel #the avengers #sicfic #wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha romanov #wanda marvel #natasha romaoff #wandanat comfort #wandanat x reader #comfort #hurt/comfort #hurt reader #hurt r #injured reader #injured r #light blood #injury #whump #no angst #maybe slight angst #soft wandanat #Thai food #marvel sicfic #Bruce banner #wandanat x r #fluff #marvel comfort fic #self insert #y/n

[brekkie-e]

I have mixed feelings on the discussion about how "nice" Astarion gets if you go the Spawn route with him. Now, I am not reading fic so I've not personally seen the extent of how far people are running with the “redeemed” narrative. I might be completely unaware of some truly unhinged “Astarion helps old ladies cross the road with a smile on his face and kindness in his heart” takes. And I will be the first to point out his approval in Act 3 doesn’t always point towards a huge change of heart.

The flip side of that conversation that I’m not seeing discussed that much is the way Astarion talks about himself as well as the way the companions talk about him after choosing the spawn ending. In the scenes directly afterwards, and even in the epilogue a bit- you can see a very changed man. Not necessarily a humane society volunteer, but at the very least someone who’s taking responsibility for their life and viewing the world in a way they hadn’t before. Spawn Astarion’s growth cut scenes were almost jarring for me to watch after years of being comfortable with the bitch boy from Early Access.

Astarion is not the only one talking that way though! Karlach, Wyll, Minthara, Jaheira! They all respond to him as though he is a changed man. I scoured to find the actual lines since I’m away from my computer, but no luck. That being said, I do know that pretty much each companion reacts to his decision not to follow through with Ascension and his time afterwards by essentially saying, “You can’t fool me, we know you’re a good person.” In various degrees of intensity.

I know in his dialogue with Minthara he dead ass says, “Yep, love fixed me. I’m better now.” And he says it with zero shame, he’s happy about it.

At points the way the companions and he talk about it makes me frustrated with certain reactions and approvals that remain in Act 3. The further you get from finishing his plot line, the less of a changed man he really seems. His approvals in general still line up with Ascended Astarion’s. Some of his reactions to things seem out of touch with the man seen in the grave yard. For example, his reaction to being cheated on with Mizzora. Not only does his acceptance of that just seem like a different character than the one we see in his scenes after the palace, a man who clearly views your relationship as a serious commitment that he is proud of. But it also seems bizarre that he would be okay with you betraying Wyll at this point in the story. The man we see telling the spawn to go to the underdark, who thanks Tav for standing by him, and gushes about being excited to live again and embrace the good with the bad seems entirely juxtaposed to the asshole he continues to be.

Which is not to say that I want him to be all sunshine and rainbows. It just seems inconsistent. I think a part of that comes from the need to keep his reactions neutral enough that they might work for both endings. The problem with that being that Ascended and Spawn Astarion are such vastly different people in their main story scenes that it’s kind of impossible to line them back up again afterward. For me, it was hard to find it believable. Either his post Cazzador scenes were out of character, or his continued reaction scenes were out of character- it just depends on which you prefer.

Circling back to my original point, I guess what I’m trying to say is that his graveyard scenes and the companion commentary do make me think that he is still heading in a redemption arc direction. That it isn’t inherently out of character for him to be written as a character with a complicated relationship with morality, but more often than not ending up on the good side of the spectrum these days. The way I interpret it, it’s not so much because suddenly he’s altruistic and nice. It’s that he’s actively choosing change, which feels like a continuation of his recovery. He’s surrounded by people who hold him accountable. He’s trying to be better than he was. He’s trying to do right by the people who have helped him. He’s still going to bitch about it, and act like it’s stupid. But he’s going to independently prompt that the group save the kid from the hag because “that’s just what we do, I’m done fighting that reality.” In his post-Cazzador life, his only real loyalty is to his team. If that team is full of annoying do-gooders? Their his annoying do-gooders. He’ll complain about it, but he’d not trade his found family for anything. It kind of gives Loki in Thor: Ragnorak showing up with the ship. Or Megamind saving the city. I’m here. I’m going to be the hero because I guess I have to. I’m going to be positively insufferable about it though.

I certainly don’t think he’d be nice all the time. I think he’d still be a loose canon that lashes out. He’s in the middle of healing, not at the end of it. But I think if his redemption journey ends where it did in the game, the emphasis on how changed he was in his scenes and the companion commentary was a bit over done.

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion #astarion ancunin #brekkie thoughts #idk it’s late this is kind of rambles #apologies #i dont want him to rescue puppies or anything i just think him being the bitchiest hero is fun #like ugh i cant believe i am gonna rescue that old lady #random passer by: you don’t have to #astarion: oh no #im gonna

[thewritingmagician2022]

hii can i req fluffy smut with the side characters + satan? ෆ╹ .̮ ╹ෆ

Sure thing! I’m sorry it’s late but I hope you get to find this and enjoy. (Admittedly smut isn’t really my strong suit, at least in graphic terms, so I hope this still satisfies your request)

Satan: Satan is so, so good at recreating scenes from the more erotic books you read together. I’m not just talking about the kinky stuff (unless that’s something you’re into) but the romantic and intimate things. He loves to ask you what you think of certain scenes, actions, dialogue, etc. so that he can incorporate it into your sex life. He wants nothing more than to fulfill all of your fantasies. This means sometimes things can get a little intense for you both and, while you both enjoy that aspect, Satan is always sure he never takes it too far - he’s a strong advocate for a safe word, even during vanilla sex. Aftercare is also essential to him as well; he loves to snuggle up with you and put his hands on you in the most gentle of alwayss, especially bathing together, while you talk about the experience after. 

Diavolo: Diavolo is usually so careful with you during sex. He’s strong and large for a demon, let alone in relation to a human like yourself. His biggest fear is accidentally hurting you or pushing a boundary; all he wants to do enjoy your love for each other. He really enjoys you being in charge, if only because it soothes his soul and mind to know that you are in control of the intensity, position, power, etc. This way he won’t do anything wrong by accident. There’s also something so intimate about him giving you that control because it is literally the only place in his life where he can do that and the fact that he trusts you so much that he’s willing to be vulnerable means the world to both of you. Sex isn’t (just) a fun thing with Diavolo, it’s a testament to your relationship and your commitment and trust. 

Barbatos: All Barbatos cares about is your happiness and pleasure - that’s who he is at his core. He is there to serve. His ability to make you happy is what he is most proud of. He feels closest to you when he is giving you the most ultimate pleasure and he’s very aware of how important your emotional connection is during that as well. Barbatos can be a mischievous, even a bit sadistic at times, but he’s only going to incorporate that if it’s something you’re interested in. If it is, he’s comfortable doing it only if he knows he’s built enough trust with you and he would be the absolute best at aftercare both in terms of physical touch and words of affirmation so that you know how much he loves you. Conversely, if you’re not into that, he also loves loves loves being so slow and attentive and sweet; it’s essentially as if he’s worshipping you at any given time.  

Solomon: Things with Solomon as always fun. Solomon has seen and done all of it before; there’s really not much of anything you could bring to him that he wouldn’t be willing to do with you, especially if it would make you happy. This means that it’s easier to feel comfortable with him - you know it’s impossible to shock or scare him off, and he never judges you. There’s so much communication in your relationship and this translates so well to the bedroom and it let’s you both figure out what you enjoy the most and that leaves you feeling so connected after each experience together. It really helps foster that mental and emotional connection. Every day is like being with your best friend and it’s the kind of connection that people dream of one day having with their significant other especially in a world where actually talking about sex with your partner is so rare. 

Simeon: Sex with Simeon is always such an intimate and sensual experience. While Simeon is happy to experiment and learn new things with you, he is typically a very gentle lover. He is focused on connecting with you and creating an experience that leaves you both totally unaware of the world around you. There’s no God watching, no brothers or demons looking for your attention, no mortality - it’s just the two of you becoming one and being as close as possible. It’s typically a longer session with him as he’s someone who’s happy to keep the bubble around you two for as long as possible. He’s also the king of aftercare and dedicates equally as much time to connecting with you emotionally after sex to make sure you feel as loved and respected as possible.

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