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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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Head spinning from blood loss, Eddie still manages to keep up a steady stream of curses as he lies in Steve’s arms, as he feels the jolt of Steve sprinting through The Upside Down.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking bullshit, fuck.”

“Good,” Steve says, frantic and out of breath. “Good, that’s—keep it up, Henderson says it can be, like, a sorta pain relief? Something about—”

“Fuck.” This time, Eddie chuckles through it. “S’not why I’m saying it.”

“No?” Steve says in that weird, measured tone that just silently screams panic, panic, panic. “Why?”

“Jus’ making sure,” Eddie says, and he knows that doesn’t make sense yet, can’t quite get his brain to work everything out. “Those’d be shit last words, so. They won’t be. You… fuck, ow. You know? Here lies Eddie Munson: fuck.”

Steve laughs, maybe a little hysterical, a little desperate, but mostly genuine. “Yeah, you’re right. That’d be really embarrassing, man.”

Eddie suddenly can’t find the energy to act insulted, even though he badly wants to make Steve laugh again—but it turns out, he doesn’t need to say anything, because Steve keeps talking.

“D’you know what that would be, though? A damn good yearbook quote.”

And Eddie laughs, too—laughs even though it hurts. “C’mon, man, Higgins would never let—”

“Eddie,” Steve manages to drawl out, even as he dextrously weaves through the vines on the ground, like Eddie’s just said something particularly naive. “You think Higgins looks over the yearbooks? You just gotta sweet-talk the yearbook committee, they pay the printers to turn a blind eye, and—”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what I’m known for. Sweet-talking,” Eddie says. He tries very hard not to cough, has the horrible feeling that he might tear himself in two if he does.

“Don’t sell yourself short, dude,” Steve says.

And Eddie would blame that on the blood loss for making him hear things, but then Steve’s hands gently squeeze around him like he means it, and…

“So what… what was your yearbook quote, Harrington?” Eddie says. He firmly ignores the fact that his voice is becoming increasingly slurred.

Steve picks up the pace, kicks through the door into the trailer. His breath hitches once, but not from physical strain; Eddie knows that he’s frightened.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Steve replies, chiding, because he’s so goddamn brave, too. “Not telling you that until we get out of this.”

“Tease,” Eddie says.

But he must not get it out very clearly, because as Steve heads to the Gate, he murmurs, “Stay with me, Eddie.”

There’s some rope Steve had stashed in the corner of the living room, just in case, and Robin and Nancy must’ve made use of it to get Dustin through, because it’s already hovering in the air, waiting for them.

“Okay,” Steve says, half to himself. “I’ve got this.”

Eddie attempts a nod. The room spins.

Or maybe it’s just that they’re moving somehow, that Steve’s pulling them both up the rope, somehow not letting go of Eddie; and then he can hear muted yells from the other side, and he’s being lifted up on his own, like he’s ascending to heaven or some bullshit like that, and he almost wants to demand a re-mark on his English paper, because religious symbolism is fucking hilarious, actually.

“You’re a goddamn trapeze artist, Harrington,” he says, and Steve must hear him this time, because there’s a laugh from just behind him, a fucking beautiful laugh, and then Eddie’s falling, and he’s—

“Oh,” Eddie gasps, and his hand goes to his side instinctively, and he didn’t think he had much more blood in his body left to lose, but… “Oh, shit.”

His vision tilts sickeningly, and right before he passes out, he sees Steve appear in front of him, sees his face turn white.

“Eddie,” he’s saying, “Nance, what do I—oh my god—”

When Eddie wakes up, everything is fuzzy, his head full of cotton. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth that he has enough awareness not to panic about, that he somehow knows isn’t blood.

“So?” he says through the fog, lifts his eyelids just enough to see Steve is beside him. “What’s your yearbook quote?”

“Christ, you’re annoying,” Steve says with a smile, but he’s speaking in the thick, nasal tones of someone who’s been crying. “Thought you were on stuff that makes you forget all the stupid shit.”

“S’not stupid,” Eddie says indignantly.

For some reason, Steve’s eyes soften. “If you say so. Just rest right now, Eddie.”

“Can’t,” Eddie moans. He’s already made the mistake of looking up: the lights are too bright, quickly turning into nauseating swirls. “Feel sick.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “They said that’s normal. Hey, shh, just lie back. It’ll pass.”

But Eddie shakes his head and—ooh, shit, not a good idea.

“Y’should move, man,” he says. “Don’t wanna puke on you.”

Steve scoffs. “Eddie, you could literally throw up in my hair, and I wouldn’t give a shit.”

Eddie laughs, feels a bit pathetic that it comes out wet around the edges. “I just… wanna sleep,” he says, because he does, but he knows the nausea will keep him up—feels abruptly tearful, like he had done as a child with whooping cough, up for the whole night despite his fatigue.

“Here,” Steve says. “Close your eyes.”

And as he does so, Eddie feels a soothingly cool palm across his forehead. Steve. It’s such a gentle touch, such a kind touch that Eddie thinks he might cry—thinks he can only partly blame whatever drugs he’s on.

“Better?” Steve asks.

“Better,” Eddie agrees. And then, like a fool, he hurriedly says, “Don’t stop, though,” out of fear that Steve will draw his hand back at the answer.

Steve doesn’t laugh, doesn’t tease him even the slightest bit.

“I won’t,” he says, like an oath. His thumb rubs over Eddie’s temple. “M’sorry you feel shitty.”

“It’s okay. You’re right, it’s passing. Think… think it was just… lookin’ at the lights.”

Eddie sighs without meaning to, lulled by the repetitive path Steve’s fingers are tracing, over and over.

“Mm-hmm. Keep your eyes closed, then.” Steve hums softly, just in thought, not even close to a lullaby, but Eddie feels himself starting to drift off to it anyway.

“It’s a nice room you’ve got,” Steve says. “I would’ve rioted if it wasn’t. Big window. Just a view of the parking lot, sorry, not exactly five stars.” Another hum. “Kinda pretty in its own way, though. It’s getting a bit warmer. I saw—the other day, I looked out and saw these kids, there’s some grass a little bit away from… they were making daisy chains, I think. Was never good at… couldn’t get ‘em to tie right. So I’d just kinda tug at the grass, and… Hey, d’you know, some of the kids—like, our kids, I mean—they don’t even know about the buttercup thing, holding it to see if it like, glows, under your chin? I told Max about it when she got outta here—shh, she’s okay—and she just looked at me like I was crazy. She’s good at daisy chains, man, she told Lucas it was five dollars per flower and he paid it all, wore the damn thing on his wrist for the whole day. Stupidly sweet, but I couldn’t even say so or she’d, like, punch me.”

And Eddie’s used to painting a picture with words, used to creating fantastical landscapes out of thin air during campaigns. But as Steve goes on, talking about the kids (their kids), and flowers, and all the little signs of spring that he can’t see, Eddie falls asleep thinking that Steve’s given him the most beautiful, ever-changing view: how he sees the world.

Eddie doesn’t forget about the yearbook, but he doesn’t bring it up, simply because Steve keeps quiet about it.

It’s after a few weeks of the dust settling, reassurances that the nightmare’s over: of seeing Wayne and breaking down in tears of relief, of countless visits from everyone—mostly Dustin, second only to Wayne, of course; Eddie still says Steve’s tied for second place, at least, but Dustin insists it doesn’t count whenever Steve’s only there fleetingly to drop him off before heading to work.

It’s on an afternoon when he’s not expecting anyone, and Steve comes in, drops the yearbook right on top of his blankets.

Eddie looks down at it, hovers his hand over the front cover until Steve raises one eyebrow, as if to say, go ahead.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to find him. The picture is… there’s something beautifully imperfect about it, as if Steve had been caught by surprise by the flash going off when it did, lips tilted into a smile that’s relaxed rather than the typical rigid, picture-perfect look.

Eddie thinks that he finally gets what Wayne means whenever he says someone has ‘soulful eyes.’

And underneath the little box framing Steve’s picture, there’s…

There’s nothing. It doesn’t stand out, because not everyone on that page had opted to have a quote, but…

Eddie looks up. Steve shrugs, but his eyes are downcast.

“Yeah, sorry.” His voice is quiet; Eddie can hear a touch of embarrassment, and he hates it. “It’s not even… I didn’t even choose to keep it blank, really, the yearbook committee gave the deadline so far in advance, it… I had the time. Could’ve put anything.” He shrugs again. “Guess I couldn’t… guess I just, um… had nothing to say.”

Eddie closes the book. Sets it aside. Doesn’t take his eyes off Steve.

He gets it. If it’s even possible for him to be included in a yearbook, he’s confident he’d do the same—how do you even begin to sum up…? There’s nothing he could say about this year.

There are no words for it. For any of it.

But Eddie knows the ones that count.

“Tell me about work,” he says. He has the feeling Steve’s determinedly squeezed in a visit during his lunch break, his name tag askew.

Steve smiles, wrinkles his nose uncertainly. “But that’s so boring.”

“Nah,” Eddie says. “Maybe I like hearing what you have to say.”

Steve looks up finally; he smiles a little like he had in the photograph, as if something like a flash has surprised him.

And he talks about work.

But it’s more than that; it’s so much more. Eddie’s getting to see through a precious window.

He hears about how Steve noticed Robin wearing odd socks, and he only teased her about it when he was sure it wasn’t a deliberate twist on fashion she was trying out. How the sun meant it was hard to see the T.V, so he drew the blinds when no customers were around, made it feel like him and Robin had their own private cinema. And Eddie smiles fondly when Steve recalls smelling some kind of coconut perfume he couldn’t place, and Robin had started a list guessing names, just because he said it reminded him of a family vacation when he was four.

Eddie sees it all.

He doesn’t need clever one liners, or statements of grandeur.

He just needs Steve’s words.

#a thank u ficlet for all the kind messages ❤️ nbtdad getting worked on will be ready as soon as i can make it❤️#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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lazarusemma · 7 months

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Nov 6 - Cas is

Nov 11 - He’s

Nov 18 - Sam says Mia says journaling helps. Sure.

Nov 19 - Should’ve been me.

Nov 20 - Sam, if you’re reading this thing, I’ll kick your ass.

Nov 21 - Spaghetti for dinner. Cas still dead. Journaling still stupid.

Nov 24 - I should’ve said

Nov 25 - Should’ve told him.

Nov 26, Thanksgiving - Not a whole lot of thanks around here. Thanks for dying in front of me, man. Thanks for saying all that. Thanks for disappearing again before I

Nov 30 - C not back.

Dec 5 - 1 month. C gone. J quiet. S annoying.

Dec 6 - Least Sam’s alive.

Dec 8 - [drawing of Castiel, half sketched]

Dec 10 - Not much of a friggin’ artist huh.

Dec 26 - No miracle.

Dec 31 - Gonna be another year without

2021

Jan 1, New Year’s - Midnight alone. You should be here. You should

Jan 2 - I should’ve

Jan 5 - 2 months

Feb 5 - 3 months since I should’ve fucking kissed you.

Feb 28 - If this was a leap year man I bet you’d be back tomorrow you always did shit like that surprised the hell out of me.

Mar 1 - So it goes.

Mar 2 - S thought the library here had Vonnegut. Didn’t.

Mar 5 - 4 months Went to get a library card in town.

Mar 11 - “And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.”

Mar 30 - Sam might have a hunt for us. Don’t know if

Mar 31 - Turned it down. Passed it to Jody’s crew.

Apr 1, April Fool’s - Real funny C. Joke's over. Come back already.

Apr 9 - There’s things I can’t say things I’ve never been good at saying but you gotta know

Apr 29 - He didn’t know he didn’t know he didn’t know he didn’t

May 5 - You died not knowing, you asshole. 6 months and you’re not back so I can’t tell you.

May 6 - You missed Star Wars day, you know.

May 7 - Didn’t even Han you. Well I didn't know did I.

May 8 - Did I?

May 9 - Maybe I

May 26 - “How nice — to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.”

June 5 - 7

July 5 - 8

Aug 5 - 9

Aug 6 - What if you don’t

Aug 10 - You missed my birthday. S’s too. J’s.

Aug 11 - If you can hear me

Aug 12 - What would he even

Sept 5 - Nearly crashed the car today. S had to drive. Banged up my head leaning on the window in the backseat like a kid. 10

Sept 6 - Researching.

Sept 7 - Ain’t fair you missed a whole year. Gonna have a lot of catch up to play when

Sept 8 - …when we get you back.

Sept 18 - Been 12 years. You believe that, Cas? Since I came back. Since you brought me back. Guess I hoped today would be the magic bullet to getting you back. Like you’d tip your head at me and say Hello Dean. And I’d tell you how I raised you from perdition. Whatever. Just a day I guess. Universe doesn’t care it’s our anniversary

Sept 19 - Still gonna say it though. When it works.

Oct 5 - 11. It’s gonna work

Oct 31, Halloween - Never got to put you in a dumb matching costume. Next year though.

Nov 4 - Can’t sleep. Sam says time is powerful magic or some shit like that. Says an anniversary can have echoes. So we’re trying it tomorrow. God, this better work. Cas, you hear me? We’re coming for you. I’ve been praying all year and I’m hearing nothing back. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Gonna get this stuck mouth of mine to make good. It’s just the words, even on paper, they don’t—Tomorrow though, tomorrow I’m telling you everything. Promise.

Nov 5 - Today.

Nov 6 - !!! 🙂🙂🙂🙂

^ heh. check out this dork

#spn #supernatural #destiel #remember remember the fifth of november #my writing #tumblr fic #em og post #wrote this at work lol

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feyhunter78 · 4 months

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Lab Partners

(Image taken from Pinterest, I believe the artist is teletwobees) More Nerd!Miguel here

Also, plz feel free to ask me about college/nerd!miguel bc he is in my thoughts now

Regret, that’s what you’re feeling as you bury your face in your arms, the lab table cool against your skin. You should’ve brought a jacket, but you didn’t have time, just raced out of your apartment to your car in leggings and a t-shirt with your letters printed across the back in purple and white bubble letters.

“Y/N are—are you okay?” Miguel’s voice is soft, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor not as soft, your head aching, pain piercing through your brain at the noise.

Your stomach rumbles and a wave of fatigue washes over you as you lift your head to look at him. “Got dragged to the bar last night.”

He’s wearing a soft looking, long sleeve dark blue shirt, the sleeves pushed up exposing his forearms, his glasses flecked with raindrops, his hair is tousled and slightly damp curling slightly at the ends.

“On a Thursday night?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing as he unpacks the lab equipment.

“It’s the night everyone goes out, I don’t know why, and I hate it.” You whine, massaging your temples.

Miguel’s large warm hand presses against your forehead, and you startle for a moment, causing him to jolt back, stuttering apologies.

“I—I just wanted to make sure you weren’t sick.” He says, a light dusting of pink across his tanned cheekbones.

He’s got great cheekbones, really, he’s got great everything. Maybe it’s just the hangover talking, but you really want to kiss him. Well, you’ve wanted to kiss him since he sat next to you on the first day of class. And when he slid his notes over to you the month after when he saw you struggling to keep up with the professor’s supersonic lecturing speed.

“I mean, a hangover is a kind of sickness, I’m pretty sure.” You say, your own face burning, but you can’t tell if it from his touch or the hangover.

“Don’t they say to drink something for a hangover? A Bloody Mary or a mimosa? I heard the café off campus sells them until noon.” He suggests, nerves coloring his tone.

Is he trying to ask you out? No, he can’t be. He’s Miguel, the genius, shy and sweet, and definitely not interested in you, and your hectic, dramatic life with sisters you both love and hate depending on what week it is.

“Can’t drink in letters.” You tell him, fumbling for your water bottle and taking a long drink, your eyes fluttering closed as the cool water soothes your sore throat.

“Really?” He asks, and his eyes are on you when you open yours, lingering on your lips, then darting away.

“Yep, it’s like the number one rule for all sororities all across the U.S. movies always get it wrong, really pisses me off.” You grumble, putting your water bottle back in your bag and trying to muster the energy to focus on the assignment in front of you.

“Interesting.” Miguel says, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt.

Like an absolute pervert, your eyes shoot down to the exposed sliver of skin. Tanned and toned, you swallow hard as you rip your eyes away.

“Yep, Hollywood, they always try to make us look like drunk sluts. And look, I may be drunk occasionally, but I’m not a slut.”

Miguel’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “I would never call you that—never think you were one, ever.”

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know, Miguel, you’re too sweet for that.” You can’t help but let your hand drag down to his bicep, his stupidly firm bicep. “My sweet boy.”

His glasses clatter onto the lab table and Miguel scrambles to pick them up, slipping them back on. “Did you get to finish your assignment yet?”

You screw your eyes closed, swearing under your breath. “That’s what I forgot.”

“It’s due tomorrow.” He reminds you.

You nod and press the back of your hand to your forehead, willing your headache to recede. “Yes, yes, I know, I just shit, I totally forgot, and I’ve been so busy, we have this major philanthropy event coming up, and I’ve been up till two am all week helping paint the banner and I really don’t get anything we’re doing in here.”

You pause, sniffling, your eyes welling with tears, as you bite the inside of your cheek trying to keep from crying in the back of the lab.

“I could help you?” Miguel offers tentatively, fidgeting with his pen, his eyes darting between you and the table.

“Really? Miguel, that would be amazing.” You say, unable to resist the urge to lean over and wrap your arms around him.

He smells good, like expensive cologne, and old books.

You take a moment longer than necessary to pull back, basking in his warmth, in the way his strong arms wrap loosely around you before he gains the courage and crushes you to his chest.

“It’s no problem, why don’t we meet in the library around four? It looks like you’re almost done with it, so we shouldn’t be there for too long.” His voice low, calm, and warm vibrates in his chest, and you relax into his hold before pulling back and nodding.

“That would be perfect, thank you.” You beam at him, headache receding, the knot in your stomach unraveling, there’s something about him that’s so comforting, makes you feel safe.

He nods and focuses in on the PowerPoint the professor is going over. He looks so handsome, warm brown eyes flickering over the typed words, his broad shoulders still half turned towards you, his full lips parted ever so slightly as he mumbles to himself.

You rest your chin in your hand and watch him out of the corner of your eye, unable to keep from daydreaming about what it might be like to be his.

Miguel is going places, you know it. And you? You’ve always thought it might be fun to be a trophy wife, maybe Miguel needed a trophy wife?

You can see it now, standing next to him in a gorgeous red dress, your hand around his bicep as he accepts some award for genetics. You can almost feel his lips against yours as he thanks you for your support and dips you old movie style.

“Y/N I’ll see you at four, yeah?” Miguel’s voice pulls you from your daydreams. Class is over, you’ve taken zero notes, and he definitely caught you zoning out.

You nod, and quickly gather your things. “Yeah, yeah four, I’ll meet you there!”

(Also ummm I was in a sorority my entire time at college, so I am actually the expert and Hollywood gets everything soooo wrong it makes me legit angry😭)

Miguel TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #nerd!miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #college!miguel #college!reader #college!au #sorority!reader #nerd!miguel O’Hara #nerd miguel

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yok00k · 4 months

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coming down

pairing: non-idoloc! x idol!jk

genre: angst

“i always want you when i’m coming down”

sypnosis: although you sleep next to jungkook every single night, it feels like you’re million miles away from him.

wordcount: around 1,000

warning: in 1st pov, it’s a little sad (for me), open ended ending, one sided love, allusion of cheating, oc’s world revolves around jk (don’t be like her)(lowkey im her), toxic relationship, lack of communication

author’s note: this did not go as I initially planned help-_- i was gonna make light jealousy oc/jk drabble idk how I ended up with this. i hope yall sob w/ me or lmk ur thoughts

an absolute ideal.

his performance. the concept. the way he sang his new released songs flawlessly. how smooth his dancing movements were. how the stage composition and development were so sumptuous.

and most importantly, how romantic the live performance was, given the fact that there was an actress involved in the show.

calling Jungkook an amazing artist would be an understatement. He’s creative, unique, and original in his masterpieces. Everything he does, no matter what, is just mesmerizing and astounding. He’s indeed a true performer.

Jungkook dedicated several months to work on his solo album. The time and effort he had put to his work is just admirable. On most days, he stays up late, trying to come up with so many possible ideas and options he can add on his album.

and I was there by his side. I chose to be.

I was there, waiting for him to come home every single night, or usually midnight, in our noiseless living room, wrapped with a thick blanket and loneliness. He would arrive home, but as night by night goes, I was accompanied by nothing but solitude. it feels like it’s taking over me.

I was there, in bad days where Jungkook is focusing on the negatives and having doubts in himself. Days where his standards for himself weren’t being met. both of my shoulders were closely next to him if he needed something to lean into. Reminding him that it’s okay and he’s doing wonderful.

I was there, even in times when he didn't want or need me to be there. times where he just wanted to be by his own with no distraction. but here I am, continuously showing him my undying love and support for him.

I chose to stay there. on nights where he stopped saying “i love you” back before going to dreamland. I hugged him closer as I convinced myself to believe that he just didn’t feel like saying those three words at those moment because of all the stress he undergoes through day to day.

I gave all of myself, I’ve done my part as his other half. Just like how Jungkook produces his works, I poured all my love and time to him, leaving not a thing for myself. It sounds foolish, but that’s just how I love

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

we’re both lying on the massive bed, only inches apart from one another’s body yet it feels like he’s millions of miles away from me as I stare at his cold, broad back that’s facing me.

I’ve got to used to this upsetting scenario at this point but that doesn’t mean it hurt less.

The whole bedroom feels chilly. I’m freezing, solely due to the fact that his warm arms weren’t wrapped around me like they used to be. as i’m not hearing his snores, I know that he’s still awake

“Do you still love me?” I manage to ask out loud and clear, immediately regretting the words that came out of my mouth even though it’s simply an inquiry.

a question that’s been going around my head for quite some time now. a question that i’m afraid to know the answer to because his response might be the response my heart doesn’t wish to hear or else it will shatter into millions of pieces.

my hope for an answer rapidly decreased as seconds went by filled with silence. The absence of noise that surrounded me was deafening; abundantly mocked the emotions I was feeling at the moment, screaming at me that my feelings didn't matter.

It's alright.

I did nothing but wipe the single tear that uncontrollably rolled down my cheek.

it’s stupid. I should’ve just kept it to myself. maybe that would be less embarrassing. less problematic. less painful than I was feeling minutes ago.

I turned my back against his as I accepted my defeat. maybe I’m just tired. maybe drifting to sleep will make me feel okay although I know deep inside that I won’t take the pain away. this is not some type of feeling i’m unfamiliar with to begin with.

I shut my eyes, as I try to put myself to sleep. but in that process, i felt his body moving, turning around, and finally snakes his warm arms around me. a pair of arms, the same ones I longed for so many nights.

“____, why would you ask that?” he giggly asked, sounding like he just heard a silly question. as if i was just being clingy and wanted some piece of his attention.

‘because i don’t feel like you love me anymore’

the man waited for a response, waiting to see if I was just fooling around or that was really genuine. the noiselessness, just like all times, answers the question we both interrogate to each other.

the heavy feelings just got worse, if not heavier. even so when he talks more. “i won’t be laying next to you if i wasn’t.” as if that makes me feel better.

indeed, he’s physically here by my side yet distant. Jungkook is so far off that I’ve lost him. numbness was all I felt as I heard his words. I couldn’t be more content now that I have my answers.

his indirect answer to a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question is enough for me to know where we stand.

I can’t help but to turn my body to face him, just to stare at his doe eyes that I easily get lost in due to the fact that they hold thousands of stars, if not a whole world in them.

regretfully, my eyes should’ve just maintained contact with doe-like eyelids. but rather, they drop their focus on the side of his neck, detecting a foreign lipstick shade that he might have forgotten to wipe off. a shade that will be tattooed in my brain and will forever hate.

Inhale. Exhale. I chose to shrug it off, bringing my attention back to his worn out face.

“I love you” truthfully and whole-heartedly confessed to him once more just like I always do. although this was a little bit different because I don’t expect him to say it back anymore.

and with that in mind, this was also the last night that I will to express my love for him.

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #jungkook angst #jungkook ff #jjk angst #bts angst #bts ff #jeon jk #jungkook #bts jk #angst #emocore

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trashmouth-richie · 7 months

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masterlist

eddie x fem reader

chapter summary: how sweet it is, to be loved.

series summary: You were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

special thanks: to anyone and everyone who read a single chapter or kept up with this series to the end, thank you so much- this story wouldn’t be possible without your support.

author’s note: I can’t believe this is the final chapter for this series, I’m feeling so many emotions right now but mostly just love for Eddie and Tooty and everything in between. Thank you to anyone who has helped me beta ( @sweetsweetjellybean especially!)this story or fan girled with me over upcoming chapters. To any of the very talented artists who have made any art for this series, thank you so very much, each and every piece holds such a special place in my heart. To anyone who is mentioned in this story, thank you so so much, @loveshotzz @chechelia @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse and everyone else— thank you for allowing me to include you in this series. To everyone who has liked, rb’d left a comment or interacted in any way with this series— THANK YOU. This series has brought such joy & heartache to me, and I’m so lucky to have people enjoy it. 🖤

Cereal

Hotdogs

Bananas

Jelly —grape, not strawberry

Bread

Crackers

Toothpaste

Noodles

Chicken thighs— babe are you making fun of me?

Heartburn medicine

You tap the chewed cap of your pen along the lined paper of a scribble heavy grocery list. Desperately wishing you had x-ray vision to see inside your cabinets and remember what you were in need of, you chew the cap again.

Giggling to yourself every so often at Eddie’s notes on the grocery list. Crossing off items he thought weren’t needed, mostly vegetables he didn’t like. And always making sure you got his favorites. And not, “that healthy bullshit cereal, give me sugar or kill me babe, I will not eat Raisin Bran”

Peanut butter

Sunny D

Thyme

Heavy cream

Basil

Carrots

Onions

Chicken stock

Hey sweetheart can you please get me some candy? I like skittles but you know I love m&ms.. and twizzlers, it’s for the shop. :)

The lady behind the desk chirps a name again, but you are still racking your brain on what else was needed. The soup you had planned on making tonight would be perfect for the chilly weather rolling in. November was coming in like a lion, ferociously cold and temperatures already dipping below zero.

Eddie loved your potato soup, so much that he begged you to make it after another long, grisly week at the shop.

He loved everything you made, even your chili that he doctored up by adding sour cream and Doritos to it. Bon Appetit he would say with a smirk on his lips, a heaping bowl steaming in front of him.

The clerk behind the desk tutted and huffed, the schedule was getting behind.

“Tooty Munson! Is there a Tooty Munson here?”

You glance up quickly at the sound of your name, “shit,” you breathe, “here, yes,” you scramble shoving the list and pen into your purse, buried amongst the gum wrappers and a spilled container of tic-tacs.

The receptionist clicks her papers against the formica counter and holds her nose in the air, as if this job and you were beneath her.

“He’s ready for you now.”

—-

“…alright, Ed, did ya look o’er those applications yet? ‘Tween you D and Mike I don’t think we are going to be able to keep up everything that we got on the schedule.”

Wayne’s eyebrows are raised as he looks over the bifocals perched on his nose. He had been scouring over the schedules and the books for the better half of the afternoon since lunch hour—trying to figure out how to swing their overloaded schedule.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t do the work, they were simply short handed. After Boom closed his doors in Hawkins, he had recommended to his regulars that they travel to Bridgeport to Master Mechanics to see Eddie and Wayne. Business was booming, and the Munson’s could barely keep up.

Early on, Wayne and Eddie decided they would only be open until noon on Saturday’s but now with the packed schedule, they worked til almost dark every night of the week, including some Sundays.

Wayne rubs his short nails through his scratchy mostly white scruff, “we can’t have these boys workin’ like this, they’ll quit on us before you can slap a tick.”

Eddie was leaning against the doorway, a bottle of Coca Cola held limp in his hand, a greasy rag stuffed in his back pocket.

“Yeah,” he yawns, stretching out his back, “let’s hire ‘em all, we need the extra hands, or I’m gonna need an extra back.”

Wayne grunts in confirmation. The highlighter squeaks as it’s drug across the phone numbers on the applications, “I’ll call ‘em first thing in the morning,” he straightens up his desk and shoves the papers into a drawer.

His glasses clink as he folds them up and lays them next to a picture of the newlywed Munson’s. He leans back in his chair, the leather crinkling beneath his worn coveralls, “I’m callin’ it for the day,” he exhaled, staring up at the ceiling, “it’s been one helluva week and I’m shot, tell the boys to go home to their wives.”

“and you too,” he points, “go take care of your wife, Ed, tell her I hope she starts to feelin’ better.”

Eddie’s curls bounce as he nods his head, completely drained from the week, shit maybe he was getting sick too? “she went to the doctor today, probably just the flu, Max told her it was going around.”

“Well then,” Wayne says, standing up and clicking off the table lamp, “take tomorrow off and rest–

both of ya, hear me?”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.”

—

Eddie’s tires crunch on the ice and hard packed snow of the driveway, a silent serenity, meaning he is only moments away from holding you in his arms, seconds away from kissing your lips, and if he was lucky, minutes from eating something delicious to fill his grumbling stomach.

He throws the truck into neutral, killing the engine and tossing the keys around his finger. Tracks from your Jeep tires lead into the garage he had built last spring. A huge project that your friends were paid in beer and a bonfire when it was all finished.

Thrusting his sore hands into his canvas coat, he ducked his chin into the zipper and braved the asthma inducing gust of wind to the front door as it whipped through his curls.

The house was oddly quiet, only the hum of the refrigerator making any sort of sound. Usually when he came home you’d be playing the radio, or talking on the phone to Max or Nancy, greeting him with a pop of your head around the wall in the kitchen or from the hallway, the prettiest smile put on your lips.

“Princess?” he called out in endearment as he untied his boots and put them on the shoe rack. His coatwas already hanging on its hook, usually next to your purse but your purse was thrown onto the arm chair, and your shoes were in the hallway like you had walked right out of them.

He undid the buttons of his work blues, letting them hang at his waist like a mechanic cape. Socked feet trudge down the carpeted hallway, you must not be feeling any better, probably too exhausted to make it out of bed.

But Eddie was wrong.

You were perched on top of the comforter, coat still on but unzipped staring at the door waiting for his arrival, fuzzy socks on your wiggling toes.

“Hey, handsome,” you said, trying to keep your pitch even.

“There’s my girl,” his velvet voice wrapping around you like a hug as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for your left hand and kissing the finger that adorned the prettiest ring he’d ever bought, “how’s my beautiful wife?”

It had been five months since you said I do. A June wedding in your own backyard, filled with friends who had served as family for years, gathered by your sides.

“I forgot the potatoes,” you say blankly, a weird little smile on your face.

Eddie sits down next to you, rubbing your thigh back and forth and letting out an exhausted yawn, “That’s alright, I can make us some grilled cheese if you’re up for—”

“I was looking at my grocery list, and couldn’t remember what I’d forgot.”

Eddie’s confused, but wants to reassure you that its no big deal, he’s a grown man he can certainly make supper for himself and his wife. “Sweetheart it’s okay, don’t beat yours—“

“Can’t make potato soup without potatoes.” And this time you laugh, kind of whimsically and in disbelief.

His brows turn inward, still he just keeps reassuring you that everything is fine, “It’s okay Tooty, seriously. Let me go make you some—”

And for the third time tonight, you interrupted him, “doctor said that’s normal.”

He’s exhausted and is honestly more confused than he would like to admit, “what? The flu?”

“No, no. “ you say, a twisted little smirk on your face, “forgetting things, throwing up in the morning, being exhausted… totally normal.”

“Babe?” He moves to touch the back of his hand to your head, wincing when he realizes that he’s probably freezing.

“I was so scared the last time,” you whisper, teary eyed, “terrified.. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but now—.”

Eddie reaches for your cheeks, holding them softly, his eyes searching yours, desperate to figure out what the hell is going on, “what am I missing here? It’s normal to have… the flu?”

“No, it’s not the flu,” you finally admit, looking up at him and rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs,

“Eddie, I’m pregnant.”

—

You could fill an empty pool up from the tears that sprung from Eddie’s eyes that night. He was overjoyed, holding you tight while he wept into your hair. Kissing your belly and whispering to the baby. Small streaks of tears flowing down your swollen skin and the faded scar across your lower belly.

Each month that ticked by, Eddie’s worry only doubled.

The day after you had found out, he woke early. Watching as your chest rose and fell as you slept soundly in the original mock up of his hellfire shirt.

It was threadbare, cotton worn so thin it was practically see through— but you claimed it as your own back in the early days of your new relationship, hands on your hips and the infamous pout on your lip as you playfully argued with him about how it was now yours.

Dusk painted the diamond covered ground from the fresh snow over night. Falling as delicately as his lips allover your skin. Soaking up the dainty noises from your throat when he carefully slid into you, tears spilling from both of your eyelashes, love filling the room more sweetly than it ever had before.

The soft cotton of the blankets hugged your curves, and he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he gazed down at his beautiful— now pregnant— wife.

His sweet Tooty, carrying a gift more precious than gold.

Kissing your cheek—he dressed quietly, scribbling a note on the bedside table about going into town for a bit, but to just relax in bed until he got home.

You were having a dreamless sleep, not even sugarplums could dance in your head with the overwhelming exhaustion that your body was trying desperately to catch up from.

Something cold then silky smooth brushed against your cheek, and a velvet voice sang a little good morning greeting into your ear. Your loving husband. Pressing sweet angel kisses behind your ear and on your eyelids.

Your bedroom was lit with the glow of a warm sun in the afternoon light. Playing a yellowed hue of warmth across your comforter, pulling the caramel color from Eddie’s curls and making his eyes look like a dreamy cup of coffee swirling with creamer.

His lips hug yours, both smiling into one another. Heart swelling more than your toes would in the months to come.

C’mon, got a surprise for you, princess.

The spare bedroom that was once a room for band equipment, then Max’s bedroom for almost a year before she eventually moved in with Gareth and Will, now held storage, was completely organized, and held a wide array of items.

A crib, brand new and still in the box, a pack n play, a swing, every box of diapers ranging from size 1 - 5, baby gates, outlet covers, fancy locks for cabinets and drawers, rubber bumpers for sharp corners and edges of tables.

A bookshelf full of baby books, how to’s for new parents, nursery rhymes by mother goose, books suggesting baby names and their meanings, and a guide on how to quit smoking.

Tucked into the corner of the room by the bookshelf and near the window, was a rocking chair.

“Eddie,” you gasp, running sleep from your eyes, “wh-what is all of this?”

He’s smiling ear to ear, trying to curb his enthusiasm a tiny bit. “I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Turning towards the shelf you see a plastic sack, full of candy and bubble gum, and mints. “Edward Joseph Munson.”

“Don’t scold me, mama,” he jokes, grabbing onto your hips and kissing your hairline, “I’m just spoiling our baby.”

God you loved this man, he’d break his neck to give you the world. He was the most loving husband, and now you got to see him step into a new role. One completely foreign to you both, only have shared the idea for a few moments before it was ripped away.

You lean into him, holding him tight and working your nose into the crook of his neck. “You’re gonna be the best dad, Eddie.”

He doesn’t hide the tear that slips down his cheek, just lets it slide and collect under his chin, his voice is quiet when he asks, “you really think so?”

“I know it.”

—

Wayne and Karen followed behind the new family in his pickup all the way home from the hospital. They were going to stay for a few days, help you both get adjusted to life as parents.

Karen and Nancy had filled your freezer with casseroles, soups and fresh bread. It was a hot July day when you were scheduled for the c section, and when it was all said and done four days in the hospital was more than enough and you were ready to be at home, snuggled up with your new family.

It was a battle of which Munson man could shed the most tears. Eddie and Wayne were both wiping away tears for hours. Overjoyed with emotions that everyone was healthy.

“No you don’t,” Wayne said as you reached for the back door to grab the diaper bag, “you go right inside and get comfy, get them legs up!”

You do as your told, leaving Wayne, Eddie and Karen to carry the load in. The hospital stay was overwhelmingly sweet, but you knew Eddie was itching to get back to normalcy, still not liking the way he felt cooped up in the hospital even though it had been years since you both had the horrifying visit.

Bags and suitcases are carried in and set into your master bedroom to be unpacked later, bottles and diapers are stacked and put into their respectable places. Karen starts warming up the chicken casserole she had prepared earlier that day. Wayne fussed around with the new dishwasher that he and Eddie had installed the month prior.

Throughout the commotion you had fallen asleep, legs propped up in the recliner, but you woke to the sound of the front door closing, and there he was.

Eddie was holding them both, large hands cocooned around their swaddled little bodies, crooked into each of his arms. Something he was nervous about but slowly getting the hang of, the nurses told him he was a natural, and Wayne wept into Karen’s shoulder when Eddie introduced the twins to their grandpa.

His normal obnoxious voice was murmuring low and quiet like a soft lullaby so as not to stir awake the sleeping little babies.

He looked at them both, adoration and tears springing into his eyes. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. How he could have helped make something so small and delicate, he wouldn’t understand. But, he didn’t need to.

A boy, born first— with his dark eyes and brown hair, and later the little girl, almost identical to his Tooty, and just as stubborn, both already wrapped around his fingers.

He murmured their names, and caught your eye as he said it, a smile so wide on his face that you were sure new dimples would bust through his cheeks, and you only heard the end of what he was saying.

If you would have told yourself five years ago that you would one day own a home, get married to and have twins with Eddie Munson, you would have laughed on the spot. That loud mouth jackass of a guy you had once regretted letting move into your home, had moved right into your heart and never left.

The demons inside you both were finally at bay, finding solace in one another in more ways than you had thought possible. Being loved by Eddie was everything you had thought love should be like.

And you pinch yourself to make sure it's real, and each and every time, it is.

“…babies,” he says, a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes as he looks over at you, his family, “we’re home.”

The end

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @crybabyddl @zenathebeautiful @astela17 @taintedcigs @bettyfrommars @munsonsuccubus @munson-blurbs @hollandweather @serasvictoria @steviesgrl @curiositydooropened @ashyyboyy @urlbitchin @sllooney @lame0o @ali-r3n @bangaveragewhitewine @b-irock @enam3l @luxaeterna13 @manda-panda-monium @elthreetimes @joejoequinnquinn

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #honey i’m home #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things

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itjazzbicch · 8 months

Text

Safe Haven

Pairing: Tomas “Smoke” Vrbada x Reader

First time writing for Smoke so I hope I did well!

Summary: Originally brought into the Lin Kuei as the reader was arranged to marry Bi-Han, they learn that he is not the man they thought him to be and when he goes off the deep end, the reader seeks help from someone in the Lin Kuei that they have true feelings for…

Warnings: Arranged marriage situation, MK1 Spoilers obvi, reader has a break down

Word Count: 0.7k

Being arranged to marry Bi-Han of the Lin Kuei, I thought this new chapter of my life would be the beginning of many good ones.

That turned out to be far from what I expected. Bi-Han wasn’t exactly the lover that I was looking for.

Although he became grandmaster and I was soon to be his spouse, he had business to handle with Lord Lui Kang and I had no knowledge of what exactly was going on.

Not till Bi-Han returned, claiming his brothers Kuai Liang and Tomas were no longer a part of the Lin Kuei, and that he’d no longer be working with Lord Lui Kang.

Any question I had, he didn’t answer, told me that it was none of my concern.

Bi-Han wasn’t exactly the man I dreamed of being with my entire life. I already doubts in the past and this was my breaking point.

He must’ve forgotten that I was a highly skilled martial artist like himself. One night when he finally rested, I snuck out, needing to find Tomas.

I learned that he and Kuai were making their own clan, the Shirai Ryu, and looking to take down Bi-Han and restore the Lin Kuei.

There was so much I needed to get off my chest and I knew I could do so with Tomas. Out of their entire clan, I bonded with him the most and I knew that he’d help me.

It didn’t take me long to reach the Shirai Ryu’s minka, stumbling upon a beautiful garden full of red trees, lit in the night by lanterns.

“Y/N?” Tomas’s voice alone had me ready to burst into tears, running to him, “What are you doing here? How did you find this place?”

“I’ve been following you, but it’s not what you think,” I said quickly, fighting tears and running out of breath, “I can’t stand Bi-Han anymore. I can’t take it. I don’t want to marry him. I don’t want to be in his Lin Kuei anymore.”

“Y/N, breathe. Try to calm down,” Holding my shoulders, trying his best to comfort me, “Are you-“

I already knew what he was going to ask and cut him off with tears flowing down my face:

“I’m positive and mean every word I say, Tomas. You don’t know him like I do and just how terrible he is. I don’t want to go back. Please-“

“Shh, it’s okay,” He whispered, pulling me into a warm hug, “I believe you.”

His hug was everything I needed and more, my tears slowed and after some deep breaths, I didn’t feel so weak and brittle anymore, answering his question from before:

“I have been doing work of my own while Bi-Han has been gone. That’s how I found this place. So I could come talk to you.”

“Showing off your skill I see,” He smiled while rubbing my back, trying to raise my spirit, holding up my head some to connect a gaze, growing serious again as he asked, “I know you’re upset and dealing with a lot right now, but everything you said, you’re sure that you mean it?”

“Tomas,” I breathed in deeply, failing at fighting my tears as I confessed, “He’s never loved me. The only thing that kept me there was you, b-because, I love you.”

I didn’t realize at first how big his pupils expanded, my heart pouring and continuing to confess:

“You’re the one who always made sure that I was okay, spent time with me, made me feel special, instead of treating me like some object. I’m sorry I waited till now to tell you. I was just so scared of Bi-Han and now he’s completely lost it and I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“It’s okay,” He breathed, thinking and pulling back into his hug, his whisper making me cry silently, “Im so glad that you came to me.”

The tears wouldn’t stop coming, shaking as a chilled wind blew past us in the garden, but those shakes coming to halt as his embrace grew a bit tighter and warmer, his voice helping me ease down:

“You don’t have to worry about Bi-Han anymore. You never have to go back. Never.”

“I don’t know what I’d do with you,” I whispered, looking up from his shoulder as he whispered back:

“Don’t trouble yourself thinking about it. I love you too much to let you go back to that monster of a man.”

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

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harrysfolklore · 1 year

Text

grammys night

not my best but i needed to post something for the grammys, congrats for the wins harry ilysm

gif credits to @chriswevans

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Adrenaline and anxiety ran through Harry's veins as he sat on his table, the night had been excellent for him so far, winning the first award they announced and delivering an outstanding performance that he was very proud of despite all.

However, you knew that his nerves were through the roof before the most important moment of the night was coming up. The Album of the Year category.

You had endless conversations with Harry about how he made an amazing album and he didn't need any awards or nominations to validate that he's a great singer and songwriter, and you were still going to be proud of him no matter what, but he still felt pressured and nervous when it came to award shows as prestigious as the Grammys.

"Baby," you quietly spoke, making him look up at you after spending minutes staring into his clammy hands on his lap, "It's going to be okay," you smiled softly grabbing his hand and caressing his knuckles, "Even if you don't win it, you still owned the night and I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," Harry simply said, and pressed his lips to the back of your hand for a moment, "For being here and for everything, really."

"Oh don't mind me, I only came with you because I knew Taylor Swift was going to be here." you joked, and the small laugh he let out made your own never cool down.

"I love you," he stared right into your eyes, as if you were the only ones in the room, "I know I've said it more times that I can count, but none of this would be possible without you."

"I love you too, baby. More than you can imagine."

And despite not being a fan of PDA, he connected your lips with his in a small kiss, a kiss you knew he needed.

"It's show time." you heard Jeff say when the lights went down again and Trevor Noah came on stage to announce the most important award of the night.

Harry's eyes were fixed on your hands holding his own on your lap, his nerves not allowing him to put his gaze anywhere else.

The fans the recording academy invited to talk about the artists nominated for album of the year stood in a line behind Trevor, and you couldn't help but smile tenderly at the old lady that adored Harry just as much as you did.

"And the Grammy goes to..." Trevor spoke into the mic, and when he opened the card and moved to stand in front of Harry's fan, you knew the award was his,

"It's you, baby!" you whisper-yelled into his ear, and he turned his head to give you a confused look.

"What do you-" and before he could even finish his sentence his name was being called out and the trumpets from Music for a Sushi Restaurant filled the place.

He covered his face and shook his head in disbelief, and you could only let small happy tears come out of your eyes.

"Baby! You did it! It's yours!" you said as he stood up in shock and wrapped his arms around you, swaying you for a moment before grabbing your face with both of his hands and placing a firm kiss to your lips, the cameras capturing the moment that you knew would make his fans go insane.

"I love you so much." he pecked your lips one final time before he got on stage with Tyler and Tom.

With his Grammy in hand, Harry stood in front of the mic, "Shit!" he begun, "I mean—shit! Man—um—I’ve been so, so inspired by every artist in this category with me. At a lot of different times in my life I listen to everyone in this category when I’m alone.” he took a breath, "I think on nights like tonight, it’s obviously so important for us to remember that there is no such thing as best in music. I don’t think any of us sit in the studio thinking, making decisions based on what is gonna get us one of these.”

You looked at him in complete awe, you weren't looking at a Harry Styles winning album of the year at the Grammys, you were looking at the love of your life accomplishing one of his biggest dreams.

"I would like to thank my family for always supporting me, my collaborators for creating this record with me," he paused to smile, "And I would love to thank the amazing woman who's here with me tonight, my girlfriend. Thank your being my muse and my biggest supporter, I love you."

And as if it was the first sentence you ever learned, you instantly mouthed an "I love you" back to him, unaware of the cameras catching your reactions.

"This is really, really kind. I'm so grateful. This doesn't happen to people like me very often. Thank you."

After Tyler and Tom took the mic to say their speeches, the three of them were off the stage.

"How do you feel?" he asked you as soon as he approached you, wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

"I'll give you a sappy speech later, right now I just really want to kiss my Grammy winner boyfriend."

taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches s @golden-hoax @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles s @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @noitsmebecky @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @eviesaurusrex @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @harrybabyyyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things @juiceboxrry @lomlolivia @itsgigikay @goldensstateofgrace @missmielyhoran @fdl305 @lightsoutstyles

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lemonlover1110 · 2 years

Text

Father's Day

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: A gift to the "best" father.

Warnings: Car Sex, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Breeding Kink, Fluff

*Based on my story “You, My Angel And My Saint” which is the sequel of “A Pearl”. Neither are necessary to read to enjoy this short oneshot:)

Toji loves Father's Day. Although the holiday isn’t celebrated as much as Mother’s Day, in his house it’s very different. First, his lovely wife and children wake him up with a delicious breakfast.

“Happy Father’s Day, daddy!” Misumi says, entering the room first. He’s awake by now, just not out of bed. He sits up and watches the three of you walk in. Megumi walks behind Misumi, and you walk behind them, holding a tray with his breakfast on it. Four-year-old Misumi manages to climb on the bed, quickly wrapping her tiny arms around his large neck, and giving him a big kiss on his cheek. The man grins.

His son doesn’t climb on the bed, instead he walks to his father’s side and also kisses his cheek, repeating Misumi’s words, “Happy Father’s Day, dad.”

“You're so sweet. Thank you.” Toji responds. You finally reach him and give him the tray which he takes with a big smile on his face. He covers Misumi’s eyes before pecking your lips. She’s at that age where she gags every time you show any sort of affection to each other.

“We have some gifts for you.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrow at what these gifts might be. He hopes that your gift is sex, or something along those lines. He expects Misumi’s gift to be a drawing or something of that sort, but he has no idea what Megumi would get him. He begins to eat breakfast while you three collect your gifts.

Misumi got off the bed to run to her room and get the gift. Megumi goes to his room as well. You kept the gift hidden in the bedroom, and surprisingly enough Toji didn’t find it. You got the bag and gave it to him. He didn’t look too happy with the gifts, which you expected but after all he does get another gift. For the time being, he receives a couple shirts and a wallet. It’s the best you could think of since shopping for Toji is extremely difficult.

“This is so… Cute. I love it, honey.” He responds and you bend down to peck his lips again before sitting down on the bed. “Am I getting another gift?”

“What more could you want?” You question, acting oblivious. He’s about to respond but Misumi comes running to the bedroom, holding the drawing she made. She puts it on the bed before climbing on it. She has a big smile on her face, showing her father the drawing that she worked so hard on.

“Mimi, you’re an artist!” He exclaims, looking at the doodles on the paper. He’s just so proud of anything and everything she does. He loves encouraging her.

Megumi walks into the bedroom, also holding a piece of paper. Toji is beyond curious to see what his son got him. He gets the paper and reads the receipt. Megumi says, “I got mom’s permission to use her card so I bought you some worms. They’re supposed to get here on Wednesday.”

“Megumi… Son… I love you and I want to thank you for the gift but what am I supposed to do with worms?” Toji questions and the young boy shrugs in response. Megumi doesn’t even know why he got the gift, he just saw an ad while scrolling online and thought he’d buy it for his father.

“Whatever you want. I heard their poop makes great fertilizer.” Megumi responds and Toji blinks. He attempts to figure out what to say because nothing truly comes to mind.

“I’m not a gardener.” Toji responds.

“I know.”

Then after receiving his lovely gifts, he’s dragged to your parents’ house to spend an hour or so of time with them. It’s been the routine for the past two Father’s Days. It isn’t anything too exciting. Your mother just makes a cake for the both of them and you eat lunch and spend some time with each other… It would bore him to death if he wasn’t listening to all the stories from your childhood.

“Here.” Your father pulls out his wallet and gets some money. Some for Megumi and some for Misumi. They love coming to their grandparents’ house mainly because their grandfather always gives them money. Misumi now understands the power that money holds. Every other day she wants ice cream and tells her father to stop the car at an ice cream parlor, and when Toji asks if she has money for ice cream, she pulls it out. Not to mention she’s great with saving and putting money to the side.

“Thank you pa!” Misumi responds, kissing his cheek.

“Thank you grandpa.” Megumi says, smiling.

“Misumi, can you please go check on your grandmother?” Your father says and she nods before walking away. When she isn’t near, your grandfather looks at Megumi and is quick to say, “Don’t spend that money on drugs. I don’t know what you youngsters do nowadays but whatever it is, don’t do it. Your mom told me about your little friend Sukuna and don’t follow in his footsteps.”

“Sukuna is not a drug addict, grandpa.” Megumi answers, and your father furrows his eyebrows and looks at Toji.

“He isn’t. He’d most likely be a cult leader.” Toji says, causing your father to laugh.

“Will you two stop bullying a thirteen year old?” Your mother yells from the kitchen. Misumi walks back to the living room and goes straight to her father.

“They’re not bullying him! They’re right!” You defend them. Megumi doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t care about Sukuna enough to try and defend him.

Lunch is served, you eat, take a couple of photos with your dad and husband before going back home. Toji spends the day with his kids, watching a movie with them, then playing board games until dinner time. And of course, one of his favorites is made.

He eats at the dinner table with his family, happier than any man to ever walk the Earth. He listens to them talk and thinks about how lucky he is. When everyone is finished, Megumi and Toji clean up while you go upstairs to bathe Misumi and put her to bed.

Megumi is allowed to stay up. He goes to his room, while you and Toji remain downstairs. He’s about to go upstairs, but you stop him. “Can you help me get something from my car?”

“What?” He asks and you don’t say anything as you grab your car keys. You drag him out of the house and to the car, and when you open the backseat door, he notices that there’s nothing there. He looks back at you and raises his eyebrow.

“Get in.” You order and he’s confused until it strikes him, then he willingly gets in. You get in after him. You quickly unbutton his pants, a giggle leaving your lips. “You used to love car sex so I’m surprised you didn’t catch on sooner.”

“I really thought you were going to leave me with no sex today.” Toji responds, cupping your face and bringing his lips to meet yours. The kiss escalates quickly, and soon enough his tongue enters your mouth and presses against your own. Your hand goes under his boxers and you begin to palm his cock.

He pulls away from the kiss and lets a couple of moans into the air, a bit touch deprived after nearly a week of not being touched by you. He loves his kids but they’re the definition of cockblockers. Yet tonight he has a very specific request.

You pull his boxers down and lower your head, your tongue circling the tip before hollowing your cheeks and wrapping your mouth around his cock. At first you only take as much as you can without gagging while your hand strokes the part that isn’t on your mouth.

That’s so good for him. He’s so deprived that he can come in just a couple of seconds, but he manages to contain himself. Your mouth just feels so good, and he can’t even begin to imagine the main course. The pure bliss that it’ll bring him.

But right now your mouth feels so good. That’s more than enough. You take his whole length in your mouth, gagging in the process because his cock isn’t something you just get used to, but despite the tears that cloud your eyes, you continue.

Your hand begins to massage his balls, hoping he’ll finish quick, because even though he loves, or at least used to love car sex, reality is you hate it. The space is cramped and barely anything is possible. At least in your car.

“Fuck- It feels so good-” He moans, throwing his head back. He bites his bottom lip, muffling any sounds. And he can’t hold back any longer, so he empties himself inside your mouth. You remove your mouth.

He grabs the back of your head and pulls you into a sloppy kiss that lands for a couple of seconds before you get on top of him, each knee on either side of him. He loved your choice of dress of today but now more than ever he appreciates it. He pushes your panties to the side and teases you.

“Toji.” You say in a whiny voice, causing him to smirk. He continues teasing, ignoring your whines. You take charge, and grab his cock, aligning it with your entrance before slowly sitting on it. Once he bottoms out, you take a couple of seconds to move.

His hands land on your hips and he guides you while you move up and down on his cock. And it’s so much better than what you could imagine, either of you. Your pussy just feels so good around him, and he can only think about one thing while your cunt is wrapped around his cock like this, “Give me another baby.”

“Fuck-” You can only manage to moan, his cock hitting all the right spots. He doesn’t leave the topic alone.

“Make me a daddy again.” He tells you. “Let me fuck a baby into you.”

“Toji!” You moan when he takes charge, moving his hips and thrusting in and out of you, more than what you could’ve managed on your own. It all feels so fucking good, his cock is giving you great pleasure, it’s clouding your mind and all you can say is, “Do it! Fuck! Do it!”

“You gonna make me a daddy again?” He questions. It all feels so good. So so so good. You can’t think rationally.

“Yes! Fuck a baby into me, Toji!” You respond. And it all sounds so beautiful to him. Music to his ears practically. And your face is art to his eyes. And he can’t help but think about all the times that he’s missed this.

His hand goes under your dress and begins to play with your clit. It’s all so much for you to take, at any moment you’re going to come around him. He feels how you tighten around him, making it all somehow more delightful.

“You gonna come, baby?” He asks and you hum in response, at this point not being able to formulate any type of verbal response. You’re so drunk on his cock. It’s too much for you. You come around his cock, a loud moan escaping your lips.

“S’ good baby-” He moans. His thrusts become sloppy and soon enough he comes inside you. The both of you stay still, catching your breaths. He takes his cock out and fixes your panties. “You gonna carry my baby?”

“When Mimi turns five.”

“That’s soon enough. Just make this an early Father’s Day gift.” He tells you before pecking your lips.

“Hmmm no.” You respond.

“I bet we’re going to have twins.” Toji says, making you click your tongue as you get off him.

“Let’s go back inside.”

#toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #anime #jjk #smut #jjk smut #toji x y/n #daddy toji #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji

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littleredwing89 · 11 months

Text

FAMOUS - PART ONE

Bodyguard!Jason Todd x Singer!Reader

Warnings: Language. Mentions of death threats.

A/N: So part one is finally here!!! Woohoo!!! Enjoy all. More to come soon xoxo much love xoxo @offendedfishnoises thanks again for all of your help with this - all the love xoxo

————

DEATH SHALL FIND YOU

————

The Gotham Sirens.

You never imagined that this would happen to you. Not in a million years. The group had taken off almost instantly and you’d become world famous. You stared up at the stage, the neon blue of your band's name glowing. Several technicians ran past you and smiled, altering the mic stands and taping down the wires so no one would fall. You loved the hustle and bustle just before the performance. Even standing on that stage in front of millions of people, nothing made your soul buzz like the beginning set up of a show.

You, Selina, Ivy and Harley had met at Gotham University majoring in Dance and Music. At first it had been nothing more than just a class assignment. Create a song. But Harley uploaded it onto Instagram and it blew up the internet. The next thing you knew, Mr Roman Sionis - headhunter for Dent Sounds Record Label - himself had arranged a meeting with the four of you.

And well, as they say, the rest was history. That was over 3 years ago now. It had been a complete blur. You were still catching up. You were no longer having to scrimp and save for cash. No. Now, now you had everything. Everything you’d ever dreamed of. Everything but your privacy. Especially after the meeting this morning with Roman.

——

“You’re not being serious are you?”.

You looked into the mirror whilst the make up artist finished off your eyelashes. Your manager, Roman, stood behind you with his arms crossed. A stern look stitched onto his face.

“Of course I am”, he huffed and his stare burned into you, “You’ve received another death threat and someone tried to break into your condo last month. You need more security. Something more personal”.

You rolled your eyes and the make up artist scolded you by smacking her brush on your wrist. You grinned cheekily at her before resting back in your chair, putting on your sickliest, sweetest voice, “Romy…”.

Your little nickname for him. It worked every time. He’d never allow anyone else to call him that. Just you.

“No”, he growled, “This is my final decision. You’re getting a personal bodyguard. I don’t want to find you chopped into tiny pieces”.

“How come Ivy doesn’t have to have one? Or Selina...even Harley doesn’t! So why me?”.

You didn’t need a bodyguard. You knew the second you got one, you would be kissing your freedom goodbye. They’d be with you 24/7. Your apartment would be shared. You wouldn’t even be able to sneak off to McDonalds for a McFlurry at 3am without having to confirm it with them. Or even worse, have them go with you.

“They haven’t had any psychotic stalkers”, Roman rested against the wall, sighing deeply, “yet”.

You scowled and refused to meet his eyes in the mirror. This was a complete over reaction.

“Look, I know you’re not happy but this goes way over my head. Mr Dent, the CEO—insisted. And to be honest Y/N, I think it’s a good idea. You girls are only getting more popular and that means more weirdos will crawl out of the woodwork”.

“Romy…”, you tried once more, turning to him and fluttering your dark, thick lashes at him, “Can’t you talk to Mr Dent?”.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, the muscles in his forearms contracting. You noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and silently wondered when he last got a good night's sleep.

“I’m sorry”, he muttered, “But I agree with Harv on this one, I’ve already been in touch with a firm. They’re highly recommended…you’ll meet them tomorrow”.

He turned quickly and strode out of the changing room as his phone rang, ending the conversation abruptly. You could hear his booming voice bouncing down the corridor and you glared at yourself in the mirror.

Fucking perfect.

————

Dumping a wad of paperwork down onto the desk, Jason sighed and took a long sip of his coffee. He knew high profile clientele came with difficulty but the stack of paperwork Sionis had sent him was nothing short of ridiculous. They even wanted to know where he’d bought his new leather jacket from last month.

“Alright?”, Roy sauntered over with his own coffee cup shuffling some of the papers. He was awfully chipper this early in the morning. Jason hummed in response and grabbed a pen from the side beginning to fill in the required forms.

He’d started this business with Roy a few years ago. Dropping out of university was tough but it wasn’t for him. Jason remembered worrying about telling Bruce. What his family would think of him but they showed him nothing but support. Unconditional love. They’d both managed, with countless hours, to build ‘Outlaws Security’, into the most successful security firm in Gotham.

Roy’s eyebrows lifted upon seeing a photo of the new client, “Isn’t that the chick you had on your wall at uni?”.

“What? No!”, Jason bristled and shoved the photo of you back under the documents. He inwardly cursed. Fucking Roy.

“So, you're saying that if I look inside your office locker, I won't find a poster of her?”.

Jason heard the cocky smirk on Roy’s face and groaned in irritation running a hand over the front of his face, “Touch my locker and I’ll break your legs”.

Roy cackled loudly and sat on the edge of Jason’s desk, “Ok so you do still have it. Better not let her find it”.

“You’re a real jackass you know”.

“So I’ve heard...maybe she’ll sign it for you if you ask nicely”, Roy continued to mock Jason, making kissy faces at him.

“Why don’t you shut your mouth before I shut it for you”, Jason scowled and turned his chair around pretending to look for some files in the cabinet behind him. Hoping Roy would get the hint and leave him alone.

“This must be like your dream job come true, pretty boy—better not screw it up”.

Jason sighed deeply and threw his head back in exasperation, “I need a new best friend”.

Roy gasped dramatically and held a hand over his heart, “What?! You love me and you know it!”.

“Whoever told you that was lying”.

————

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader insert #red hood imagine #jason todd fanfiction #red hood smut #red hood x reader insert #red hood fanfiction #Jason Todd x you #red hood x you #bodyguard!jason todd x reader #bodyguard!jason todd x singer!reader

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kookslastbutton · 11 months

Text

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || ch. III

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,375

Warnings: 8-year age gap, big flashback of bromance between Tae and JK, slight drunkenness, family drama in-laws, imperfect relationship with parents, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, mentions of therapy, kookie trying to be a good husband, needy kook 😶

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: chapter 3 is here! I know its so short 😩 but I promise it sets up the next chapters really well! Also, I wanted to get into jk's background a little this time, his undergrad days, and Taehyung of course. It's a big leap but they're older now so...meh. Tysm for everyone's patience! 💞

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

There weren’t many people Jungkook envied in his life. He was 34 years old, had top-notch experience as an economist within the business and legal sphere, and taught at one of the finest universities in South Korea. He also earned his Ph.D by the time he hit 30, which was undoubtedly the cherry on top.

But if there was one person who could shake the ground from under his feet it would be Kim Taehyung.

The pair met during undergrad through mutual friends. Jungkook had been invited to an off-campus party his first year and Taehyung was an unexpected third party. The man was so put together that it was as if Michelangelo himself reached down and sculpted him from the clay.

16 years ago

“Hi,” a low, baritone voice rumbles. “I’m Taehyung.” He sticks his hand out, waiting for a shake. He’s a little timid but mostly stands upright with a few pieces of his caramel hair falling over his eyes.

Jungkook chuckles at Taehyung’s stark formality. “What’s up, man!” He slaps Taehyung’s hand casually. “Jeon Jungkook.”

Taehyung reeks of sophistication and has the most annoyingly gorgeous face. His boxy grin could charm the pants off anyone who was two feet from him. Hell, even Jungkook feels a little starstruck by him.

Though barely acquaintances, it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to realize they are on opposite ends of the same stick.

Taehyung comes from a wealthy upper-class family. They have four mansions plus a beach house. Every Christmas, he goes to Italy to visit his aunt and uncle. For his 18th birthday, Taehyung got a brand-new Corvette, red with black rims. Everyone wants to be him…everyone wants a piece of Kim Taehyung.

But underneath the surface of his flashy lifestyle is something oddly endearing. Jungkook can’t quite put his finger on it but as the night goes on, he enjoys the man’s company. Taehyung seems to latch onto him as well which shocks both of them to the core.

“Seriously hyung,” Jungkook slurrs. “I don’t know why you’re hanging around me this whole night when you could be getting off with one of the fifty girls who’ve come up to you. Are you playing it cool are you really a loner or something?”

Taehyung snatches the beer bottle from the younger’s hand. “That’s enough drinking for one night Jungkook. You’re about to pass out, I can tell.”

“I’ll decide when I’ve had enough.” Jungkook grabs the bottle back, taking a big slug before wiping his mouth off with his arm. “Something to know about me Taetae. I live by the work hard, play hard kinda philosophy.”

Taehyung cringes at the pet name but chalks it up to Jungkook being off his rocker. “That’s the type of philosophy that’s gotten my family to spend millions on useless crap. It’s fun for a while but it never lasts. I don’t recommend it Jungkook.”

Jungkook snorts. “So you are a loner huh? Because my parents have been stuck in the same loop for years. All work, no play. It’s caused them both to lose every hair on their head. Do you wanna lose your hair by the time you’re 45 Tae? I wouldn’t think so with those luscious locks of yours. Bet some chick would love to yank on them while–”

“I’m not a loner.” Taehyung interrupts, feeling a surge of embarrassment creep up his cheeks. He knows the looks people shot at him and while he didn’t entirely hate it, it always took more than it gave. All he wanted in those moments was to retreat into himself with his paints. Taehyung loved art and like many, found it therapeutic. “I’m not a loner,” he repeats. “I’m just not interested.”

“Sure you’re not buddy.” Jungkook gives a nod but remains largely unconvinced. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why you hanging around me? I’m not that cool ‘cause if I weren’t here, I’d be at the library right now with my nose in the books. Economics doesn’t slap all the time you know.”

Taehyung is silent for a moment before answering.

“I feel like a normal person with you," he starts. "Everyone looks at me like I’m some spoiled golden boy who they can get a free ticket of off if they talk sweet. And yeah, I’m aware of the advantages I’ve had…the struggles most people have that I don’t. But I’m still a real person that wants what most people do...purpose, belonging, someone that just gets them.”

Taehyung takes a breath before continuing.

"I really fucking love painting. It’s my heartbeat honest to god and I’m tired of being looked at as merely an object of someone’s unfulfilled wishes and desires. I like that I don’t need to worry about that with you. I think...we come from different backgrounds but we’re cut from the same cloth Jungkookie. Oh, are you-are you crying?”

“Fucking beautiful Taetae. You’re straight out of Vanity Fair you know that? I’m more of a Forbes magazine guy myself though.”

Taehyung throws Jungkook a puzzled look. Is he being condescending or is this just the booze talking?

“‘Cause I’m a small-town boy with great ambition, intelligence, and gall? We covered this earlier man, keep up!” Jungkook emphasizes his words, hands flying about.

“Right,” Taehyung joins in, recalling the conversation. “You’re father is an analyst for the city and your mom’s an accountant. They want you to get a job nearby after graduation but you don’t want to because–“

“Because it’s too small, boring, set in its traditional ways, and I for one am not fucking with it.” Jungkook sends Taehyung a lopsided grin. “You got a pretty good memory man. Maybe we can be friends after all.”

“I’m so glad,” Taehyung drawls, a slight trace of sarcasm. Jungkook doesn’t notice, however, too busy staring at the strobe lights dancing across the ceiling.

“Hey!” he suddenly pipes up, eyes wider than before. "What are you doing next Friday?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Why?”

“I got this boring family reunion to go to. Happens every year. I don’t wanna go but my parents force me to. You wanna come?”

Taehyung hesitates. “A family reunion? I know I said we’re cut from the same cloth, but we’re not…related Jungkook.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll ask my parents if I can bring a friend. They won’t give a shit as long as I’m there. Also, I heard from my brother that Ha-Yun’s gonna be there.”

“And Ha-Yun is…?”

“Some girl that my parents want to set me up with. Family friend’s daughter. I went to high school with her.”

“So you think that if I’m there I can be your right-hand man or something? Make you look good in front of your future wife?”

“Fuck no. I’m hoping she’ll go to you instead.” Jungkook laughs when he sees the color draining from Taehyung’s face. “It’s nothing against her bro. She isn’t weird or anything. I say this lightly but, I just don’t wanna go out with her and she’s not my type.”

“I’ll think about clearing my schedule for this but I’m not being your meat on a stick,” Taehyung seethes. “But since we’re on this topic, what is your type?”

“Mm, not sure.” Jungkook shrugs. “Someone who’s unexpecting I guess. Like you shouldn’t be together because it's outside of the usual. But you can’t help it. You gotta have this person or it’s over. What about you?”

“Easy,” Taehyung mutters. “I like artists.”

“Artists huh? Like you? Well, I guess I can understand.” Jungkook smirks before leaning his head back against the couch. “One day, I’ll find an artist for you Tae. I promise.”

Oh, the irony.

present

“Jungkook, stop! I need to get up.” You struggle in his arms, biting back a grin. Jungkook has you in a locked position. His hard chest presses close against your back and his leg hugs your body.

“Mm,” he groans. “It’s not time yet.”

“Yes, it is. Also, you’re nearly suffocating me.”You wiggle your body but to no avail. Your husband always tends to get needier as the school year approaches.

"I just don't want you out of my arms yet. Is that a crime now?"

No. No it's not, you sigh to yourself. By this time next week, you’ll be waking up to an empty bed. "Okay." You glance at the alarm clock. "Ten minutes and then I really need to get ready for work."

"Fifteen," Jungkook mumbles.

"Twelve."

"Thirteen."

"No. It's twelve or I'm going now." Jungkook gives a cute grunt and tightens his grip. He really doesn't want you to leave this morning.

"Fine," he says. "Twelve. But we're snuggling again tonight."

"Jungkook. Can't. Breathe." Being spooned by your husband is nice but this isn't spooning anymore. He's completely cacooning himself over you. As soon you feel him shift his weight off you, hand loosening from your waist, your ribs hum in relief.

After what seems like three minutes of complete silence you decide to bite the bullet and ask the question that's been on your mind for the last couple of days.

"Um Jungkook?"

"Yeah?"

"When we went to get ice cream the other night. There was something that happened...to you." You're uneasy bringing it up but you can't shake your concern. When Jungkook saw the little girl with her dad, he went into a bit of a trance. He didn't talk, didn't move, and was pretty numb to your presence all together.

"Oh god," Jungkook groans. "I was hoping you didn't notice but you're my wife so I guess it's fine."

Crap. Was this a sore subject for him? You twist your head over your shoulder, just enough for your ear to be near his lips. You're in high alert now. "Why weren't you hoping I noticed?"

"Isn't it obvious? It's embarrassing." Jungkook smacks his lips before continuing. "But do we really have to talk about it? Spilling ice cream on my shirt at 34 isn't something I really wanna relive through early morning conversations."

Oh he thinks....of course he thinks that's what you're refering to.

"I'm not talking about you being clumsy Jungkook. I'm talking about the little girl with the ribbons. When she was with her dad, you kinda went a little frozen."

Jungkook doesn't reply immediately so you prod him a little. "I just wanna know if everything was alright. I suppose with our current situation I get it if it hit you in a sort of way. Good or bad, whatever the feeling was, you can tell–"

"They seemed happy is all," he croaks, voice dropping an octave. "The kind of happy that makes someone's entire soul stop, I guess. Like they had something special that no one else could. Does that make sense?"

If you look down you think you'll see goosebumps. The words coming from your husband's mouth are, at most, mumbles but they aren't coming from a place of unease or hesitation. Instead they allude to something warm, wholesome, and new.

"Yeah of course, it makes perfect sense. I had a similar experience when I met Si-woo. The way his face light up when he saw his mom comforted me but I felt envious too. Is that wrong of me?"

"Not at all. I think it's a natural response when you see something you want but don't currently have. You know, there was one thing that popped in my thoughts while I watched that father and his daughter..."

"Hm?"

"I thought, maybe I'll be happy too. If we actually have a kid, we'll be happy together like them or something." Yawning, he continues. "I dunno, honey. Kinda sleepy still so if I fall asleep I love you and I hope work goes well. But we can keep talking if you want."

You untuck your hand from under your head and close it over your husband's arm; the one draped around your waist.

Hope. Real hope.

"Dammit why won't you open?!" Jungkook bangs the jar on the side of the kitchen counter. He's been trying to get it open for the last five minutes. With you at work, it's his turn to prepare dinner.

"Take a breath kid," Yoongi says from the other line of the phone.

Jungkook ignores him of course, continuing beat the shit out of the jar in his hand. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You stupid jar!"

"Kid!" Yoongi tries again, this time grumbling. "Stop doing that and go get a butter knife or something to hit the side of the lid with. It'll pop right off and I won't sue you for making me go deaf."

"Hyung–"

"Oh I thought you didn't call anyone that anymore. Now that you're a real boy and all. With big boy things." Jungkook shakes his head, hearing the older man snort through the speaker.

"You been talking to Taehyung?" That big mouth, he's become as bad as Jimin. What happened to the more reserved Tae he met in undergrad. He likes him better than this new, cocky mf.

"He may have slipped out a thing or two. But I'm glad to see you're still scared shitless of me that you'll keep calling me hyung."

Jungkook slams the jar on the counter, having enough. "Why the fuck did you call hyung? Can't you tell I'm a little busy right now."

Yoongi chuckles. "Alright I'll stop picking on you. I need a favor. The wife and I want to go out just the two of this weekend. I know you got your professor duties starting but would you and __ be willing to look after our gremlins for a couple hours Saturday?"

"Uh–I'm gonna have to talk to __ about this but maybe?" You and him have babysat for Yoongi's twins a handful of times before. They get a little rowdy but it's been mostly fine. Jungkook's not sure if either of you have the energy or time this weekend though. "I thought you usually got a babysitter."

"Yeah, usually but they're unable to this weekend. I'm hoping this time the babysitter will be you and __. We won't be long but we'd really appreciate it if you guys could do this for us. Could you maybe let me know by Thursday if you can?" Yoongi waits for an answer.

"Yeah alright," Jungkook finally responds. "I'll talk to __ about it when she gets home. No promises though." Jungkook wipes the sweat from his brow. It was a little hot in the kitchen. "Listen Yoongi, I gotta get back to prepping dinner but thanks for that tip about opening the–"

"Jungkook! Hello?" A familiar but muffled voice hollers from the front door. "Are you home?" The door bell is pressed continually without rest.

"Uh my ears," Yoongi pipes. "Who the hell is at your door?"

Jungkook walks towards the front of the house, peaking out the window. What the fuck are those two doing here? "Damn it, I gotta go hyung. My parents have decided to pay an unexpected visit." Before Yoongi has time to reply, Jungkook ends the call.

fuckfuckfuckfuck, he repeats under his breath. Could they not have called beforehand? It's a friggen' ten hour drive. Did someone die or something? Why are they here?

"We can hear you Kookie," Jungkook's mother coos in a sing-songy tone. "No one died. We just wanted to see you and __."

Jungkook opens the front door, not even caring if his face shows he's pissed off. "Mother it'd be nicer if you, I don't know. Planned these things?!"

"I told you," Jungkook's father grippes. "I told you woman, didn't I? We should have called. You never listen to me!"

"Oh shut up you goat," Jungkook's mother pushes her way through the door and into the house. "My son loves me and he's happy to see me." She wraps her arms around Jungkook's waist and presses her cheek against his arm.

"Yeah," his father steps in the house. "He's just jumping with joy with that silly apron on. C'mon, he was obviously in the middle of something. Ugh I'm sorry son. Your mother is, well, you know how she is." He slips out of his shoes and shuffles to the kitchen. "Whatcha cooking anyway? Something good I bet."

Jungkook rubs his face in agitation. __ is not gonna like coming home to his parents running around the house.

"You're not mad at me are you?" His mother lifts her chin, big doe eyes just like his own. "We just missed you and we figured you'll be busy with teaching soon so...we just decided to drive down last night."

Trying to smile, Jungkook brings his arm around her. "No, no I'm not mad. I'm glad to see you and __ will be too."

"Jungkook, why the hell are your parents here?" You force yourself to keep a low voice. Your in-laws were steps away and they had the sharpest pair of ears you knew. You didn't want them to hear a single beat.

Your husband pulls at his hair, pacing small circles around the bedroom. "Trust me, I didn't invite them. They just showed up. I don't even know why they're here besides they just wanted to. I'm really sorry."

You yank your silk blouse over your head, tossing it in the hamper. "I love your parents but you're gonna need to tell them this can't be happening." You change into a basic t-shirt and jeans. "I know they're probably a little lonely with you and your brother so far away but I'd be a far better host with some pre-warnings."

"I know. Mom's just so-" Jungkook pauses, scratching his head. "Persistant...and dad will do whatever she wants."

"Look I get it. Saying no is hard when they just want to see us. But what if we had something going on tonight?"

"You're right, you're right," he sighs. "I'll try bringing it up to them."

"Anything else new happen while I was gone?" You mean it as a joke. You really do. Jungkook gives you a look that says yes though. Excellent.

"Well, uh...Yoongi hyung asked if we could babysit Saturday. Him and the Mrs want to go out but thier regular babysitter isn't available that night."

Groaning, your shoulders slope down. "Wha–uh at this rate why the hell not? I was just looking for more things to do."

"Honey," Jungkook makes his way over to you. "We don't have to if–"

"You guys still in there?!" Jungkook's mother intrudes, pounding on the door. "You better not be having coitus! Though grandchildren would be nice if that were to ever be in the cards."

"Coitus?" You mouth silently. Jungkook's parents were a little old fashioned sure but who the heck still says coitus?

"We'll be out in a second. Can you and dad set the table?" Jungkook responds, girmacing at his mothers word choice.

"Okay but wrap it up in there. I'm only here for two days. I wanna see my beautiful daughter in-law!"

You and Jungkook immediately exchange a slack-jawed expression. "What?" With the door thrown open, your husband's eyeborws furrow. "Mom you can't be serious."

"Oh don't look so worried!" The older woman lets out a restrained chuckle. "We're not gonna stay in the house with you or anything. We got a hotel. But ten hours is a long drive and I really wanted to see you. Your father and I don't hear from you often and you didn't come to the last family reunion. What do you expect us to do? Just not see our son?"

"Please don't say it like that Mom," Jungkook combs his fingers through his hair, teeth grinding together. "You know that __ and I are–"

"Always happy to see you!" You rush next to your husband who's startled by your sudden change in demeanor. "Jungkook's just been a little anxious about returning to the university. But we'd love to spend a couple to days with you and dad. Let's start with dinner!"

You usher everyone down the hall and towards the dining room. Jungkook's mother is filled to the brim with joy while your husband slightly, actually very, concerned.

A/N: Apologies for any editing errors! Also close to adding some spicy stuff but we gonna wait on that a little longer 😉 Lmk what you think and if you wanna join taglist comment or send an ask. Thanks!! 😙💗

Masterlist

Taglist:

@frieschan @oldermenluverrr @tatamicc @kookswifesblog @llallaaa @sunnybyeol @namtaeh @exactlygreatcoffee @whipwhoops @yoongisducky @ktnj91 @junecat18 @thvlover7 @yoongiworshiper @ellesalazar @monbebe234-blog @parkinglot-nights @borahaexoxo @hobiswhore @kimseokjinbangtan @jjk97091 @mk-id @blueberry711 @givemethemaknaes16 @iammartian07 @jjkluver7 @jiminshi20

#bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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kifkay · 1 month

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Winx & Specialists Dynamics that are so Precious to me

it makes sense that in the show, winx and their non-boyfriend specialists don’t interact much. but!! i’m very insane about codependent found families, and I want them all to love each other. so here’s my take on some tet-a-tet dynamics:

rare pairings:

Musa & Timmy: childhood frenemies. they used to go to the same middle school on Melody, and as type-A tweens do, had an intense, “you’re the only person I match myself to” kind of rivalry. they lost contact after Timmy moved away, chilled out considerably, reconnected in Alfea and had a wonderful banter-filled friendship since. because of how fast they slotted back into a friendship, some of their classmates genuinely thought they were siblings.

Tecna & Riven: got up from a rough patch. from “I dislike you but we both love Musa, so we have to be civil” to “you have more depths to you than I expected” to “now that I understand you, I can’t help but admire certain things about you” to “bitch, you are the only person who is as weird and clueless as I am, ARE YOU READY TO GO TO THE ARCADE AND ANNIHILATE KIDS FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES”

Flora & Brandon: little sister, older brother vibes. of similar temperaments and views, they enjoy spending time over a cup of tea — talking about everything and nothing. it’s therapeutic, almost.

(no one in the group knew that Brandon and Flo were good friends. once, when the two had to team up during a mission, Bloom couldn’t even finish saying: “it would be a good opportunity for you to get to know each ot-“, before the specialist-fairy duo were re-creating the most complicated and choreographed hand shake ever. jaws were on the floor.)

Aisha & Brandon: they are sporties, and they like doing sport things together! they don’t talk aside from exchanging brief encouragements and advice while out, preferring to spend their time in companionable silence. sorta like those dads who never talk to their buddies, but somehow have the strongest and longest bonds ever?

Helia & Bloom: artist besties. Bloom drags Helia out on picnics, where they practice observational drawing (and tiktok trends that Bloom desperately wants to reenact but none of the winx are good at arts); Helia responds by taking her out to see art museums in Magix. it’s a fun dynamic of Bloom being the bubbly gold retriever, and Helia being her black cat.

Tecna & Sky: they didn’t have much of a relationship until year 4. somehow, they both got really, intensely into weaponsmithing and built a joint workshop. they found that they enjoy working alongside each other and value each other’s insights. sky goes to tecna when he needs frank, un-sugarcoated advice, and tecna accompanies sky on hikes and other spirited adventures, for “bonding activities” (because he told her she doesn’t get out of her comfort zone enough). it’s a relationship of deep mutual respect.

Sky & Stella: childhood friends. they knew each other as children and enjoyed playing together (which is how Stella also knew Brandon pre-Red Fountaine). at least, until Stella was unofficially banned from Eraklyon because shenanigans, and they lost contact. they still jokingly call each other “My Lady” and “My Lord”.

Stella & Nabu. Both are flirty and extroverted people, who enjoy the spirit of showmanship. They have a friendly rivalry going of who can fluster the villain of the week the fastest.

canon bf-gf dynamics (dating in canon, open to interpretation otherwise):

Bloom x Sky: liked each other since the first meeting; bonded over being the friend group moms. (on unrelated note: bloom gentle parents her friends, while sky goes all exasperated cig mom on his team and repeats things like: “you better go to sleep right now, or so help me Dragon I will take away your Owl pilot privileges-“)

they are not the most outwardly affectionate couple of the winx, yet they are so wordlessly devoted to each other. sky will follow bloom to the ends of all dimensions, when she gets a calling from powers as mystical as she. bloom will always believe in him and see him as his own man, unlike the many who see him only as his father’s son. they were entwined by fate, long before one had met the other; yet, there’s the trust, the respect, the faith so strong — that could have only come from friendship forged and tested by fire.

Stella and Brandon: the hottest power couple; sole reason behind 60% of all student fairies/specialists/witches queer awakening.

they banter all. the. goddamn. time. these dorks are speaking a whole different language.

they are also most comfortable in each other’s company, being able to be their genuine, less polished selves. stella and brandon are both performers bred and born, playing the roles of a noble princess and a knight. it’s nice, to have a safe reprieve from all that acting.

Aisha and Nabu. their love was one that sneaked up on them. their distance, set by their discomfort at the idea of an arranged marriage, bridged as they transitioned from being reluctant comrades to friendly rivals to unwilling friends to best friends to “if someday the moon calls you by your name, don’t be surprised — because every night I tell her about you”

Tecna and Timmy: partners in crime, ride or die, sunny faith in each other — even when the other person doesn’t believe in themself. I have a whole post about them, go read that ;)

Flora and Helia: they are so. they are. they-

icons. the most romantic couple, the one that sets the standards, the one that gives their friends advice. they are extremely attentive to each other’s needs and tender with each other’s feelings.

flora can recite helia’s poems in her sleep, and trace his drawings with her eyes closed. helia brings mielle presents every time he stops by. flora has tea with helia’s dad every other tuesday; she keeps note of every time helia and saladin are supposed to meet up, to be able to whisk helia away after and distract him from his troubles. helia knows how to care of flora’s plants, and sends her lovingly assorted gift baskets semi-regularly.

Musa and Riven. their relationship is push and pull, is joy then sorrow.

it’s all in a drag of a cigarette, in the vortex of a starless night, in the hoarse laughter. “of all the people in the world, why did it have to be you?” she’ll say and smile.

“ ‘m afraid we’re doomed, lover,” he’ll reply, faux-casually, and smile back. both of them know it’s the truth.

their relationship was not built to last, not for the lack of love or try. maybe they were too similar — both headstrong, unbending, bleeding hearts. maybe they were just different enough not to understand their hurts. nevertheless, it was not built to last — but neither of them would ever bring to regret it. love prevails, no matter in what form in comes, or something like that.

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forestdeath1 · 22 days

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Where does this idea come from that the Black brothers are all dramatic and theatric? Regulus writes sad poems and lies on the floor soaking in his teenage tears and sorrow, while Sirius makes up fancy insults and tries to look artistic, entertaining everyone around him.

None of what they did or said is really dramatic or theatrical.

Sometimes their words might sound a bit lofty, but that's because all the Blacks were raised in a family culture that was a bit "elevated". It’s not about them being "naturally" dramatic or theatrical; they’re brought up differently, part of a family culture where honour, dignity, and "knightly" behaviour are more than just empty words. As the saying goes, some are into painting, some into literature, and some into sausages the Malfoys.

So, it's not just personal; it's the upbringing imposed on the Black character. These attitudes don’t just appear out of nowhere; one isn’t born with them, yet all the Blacks (even Narcissa to some extent, and she’s got more guts than Lucius) have them. Honour means different things to them, but it is still honour. They all stay true to their ideals, what’s important to them, they are fearless, not afraid of death, and honest in their actions and thoughts. I think it’s more family than personal.

Both Regulus and Sirius are very focused on the concept of honour, though they see it differently. You could write this on their tombstones:

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one. Take honour from me, and my life is done. Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; In that I live, and for that will I die.

(I’m purposely ignoring whose words these are — it doesn’t matter here)

Regulus "I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more"

And Bella "You should be proud! If I had sons, I would be glad to give them up to the service of the Dark Lord"

And Sirius "I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for..." and "THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS"

It's not about their personal theatricality; it's about how such people see the world. These people view the world through a lens where pride, honour, and dignity aren't just idealistic, they're real and ingrained structures that live within them. It's the morality of knights versus a utilitarian approach, choosing what's right over what's just beneficial.

The independence of the Blacks’ thinking leads to unique outcomes — each person has their own idea of what's "right."

Regulus isn't just a sad boy with poems, forced into a vile organisation, then betraying Voldemort out of immense pity and love for a house-elf. And Sirius isn't just an artistic dancer on the bar with witty insults.

Both Regulus and Sirius have very clear views of what's right and wrong. Sirius is incredibly brave, as is Regulus in his own way — joining the Death Eaters at 16 is brave and dangerous, but if it's the "right" thing to do, it's worth it. And if the "right actions" lead to the destruction of the entire line—well, you know... He writes such a letter believing he is dying with honour, in contrast to Voldemort, a dishonourable being who, indeed, views honour as nothing but an empty word. I believe Voldemort was quite adept at manipulating these notions of "honour" among some purebloods. Voldemort is utterly utilitarian.

The same goes for Sirius — his upbringing and ideals are mistakenly attributed to excessive drama and theatricality, as if he's some clown who deliberately makes up fancy insults and entertains the crowd by dancing on tables. This destroys the essence of Sirius, turning him into an aesthetic leech created for amusement and consumption (of attention, things, pleasures, etc.), and turning everything into an aesthetic object. Consumption and Sirius are completely opposite concepts. Nothing he does is for the Other; there's no theatricality in his actions, no fashion, no aestheticism for the sake of it, no consumption for the sake of consumption. Sirius is a man of Grand Concepts, as is Regulus.

#sirius black #regulus black #the noble and most ancient house of black #sirius black meta #regulus black meta #bellatrix black

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starsomens · 7 months

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Mother

I would like to request for a Noah x reader where they’re both friends who are pining for each other.

At one point they were talking about Noah’s hand tattoos and one thing led to another, they both realised the size difference between their hands and they both went 👀👀👀👀😳😳😳😳

MY CHILD!

"Honestly, I really want the next album to progress but I'm really glad the meeting was canceled this morning" Nick sighs as he leans back in his chair. They were currently visiting LA again after traveling. You had asked Noah if he was free to catch up for an hour or two like you all used to before their recent tour.

You had Known Nick for basically you're entire life and you were then introduced to Noah around your teen years. Of course you stuck around for their success, new members and their latest hit album and tour. You had even went on the first half of their tour with them.

“ oh yeah, did I tell you that Y/N is coming to visit after so long?” he informed his friend. “ she should be here pretty soon actually.”

“ oh, so are you gonna finally make your move?” Nicks Eyebrows danced at him,

“ come on, it’s just a meet up. We’re just gonna catch up.” Noah couldn’t help but play with his hands at his friend poking fun at him. Truth was you and him kind of had a little thing going on. A lot of people thought that you would’ve ended up together, but no one ever made a move. There were times where one of you was going to confess to the other, but chickened out last minute. Eventually, you both had kind of ignored it, and just kept being friends.

Oh, and he thought you would’ve felt too overwhelmed with his lifestyle and everything that was going on. You wouldn’t want to settle for someone who is always traveling doing work and writing, and thought it would scare you away. You were one of the most beautiful girls ever eyes and he thought You guys were dying to be with you and you would not settle for him.

You thought that you weren’t enough Noah was an uprising artist, along with the rest of the band, and you thought you were gonna just weigh them down. It didn’t help that Noah was very handsome and it honestly intimidated you into feeling as if you were not pretty enough for him.

Everyone else around you thought you would’ve made a great couple. They found both funny and annoying how long it’s taking you both to realize that you have feelings for one another.

“ I’m telling you you guys guys are running in circles. She clearly likes you and you definitely like her just make your move.”

“ we’ve been over this. I’ve already said it if it-“

“-was meant to happen you wouldn’t feel a certain way when you try to talk to her. I know you say that every time how about you just make a move I promise you dude it is going to work.”

Just before Noah could answer his doorbell ring

“ speaking of the devil herself, there she” side, feeling more anxious than he was before, since the conversation was brought up

“ make your move. This might be your last chance.” And Nick hung up the call, and Noah was face with his fears on his own. He feels his ears, lungs as he pushes himself from his desk and goes to answer the door.

Why am I nervous? She’s just a friend…. It’s not like she would want to be more than that….. even if I wanted it to be

He thought himself as he started to unlock the door. They did you who he would consider one of his best friends but also his secret love. He just wish that he could tell you that.

“ long time no see” you smile up at him just like you used to. How he missed that smile. The way your eyes would slightly squint and how your smile can brighten up any dark day. Oh, how he wished you were his so he could hold you and kiss you and stare at you all day long. Was that weird for him to think about?

“ the same to you look at you really covered in tattoos now” he teased you only seeing about three of them on your arm

“ says the one covered from neck to toe and tattoos all you’re missing or some face tattoos and you’d be complete “ you both give a giggle before he steps aside, and let you .

He watched you as you walked in. The way your hair gently flowed in the wind. Your hips swing with each step that you took.. and that ass . Noah was an extremely respectful person, especially towards women, but he couldn’t deny that you had a great ass on you, and it was one of the features that he really liked on you physically

“ so anything new going on? Aside from resting, of course.” You asked as you popped down on the sofa, making yourself at home as you would usually do

“ oh you know just working on the new album, all that junk. But we got the day off today, so just another day for me to center myself” he sat down close to you

"That sounds really productive and honestly relaxing” you kick your shoes off and fold them underneath your weight

“But tell me about you, you’re the one who’s been traveling and gotten some new ink” he said looking to your new inked skin. Out of all of the friends you were the only odd one out with no tattoos. You had finally gotten one with Nick, and once you left you had gotten one from each state you visited.

“Well, New York was obviously amazing and fluent a great artist for this one,” you pointed to the one on your shoulder “then after went to Virginia, visited some old friends of course and got this one. And finally stopped at Vegas and got this lil cutie” you pointed to a delicate design that wrapped around your wrist and went just about half way into the back of your hand.

Without thinking twice, Noah takes your hands in his and observes the tattoos. Face. You could feel your palms starting to sweat and your heart rate begin to race. You really hope you couldn’t feel how sweaty your hands were getting. You really hope you couldn’t hear how heavy you were breathing all the sudden. You had tried to convince yourself that those feelings were simply just teenage hormones, but now that you say here, again, with him in his living room. Your hands in his as he looked over your tattoos you had realize that those feelings truly did not go away…. However, you didn’t want them to go away either. Something with you hoping he would also reciprocate those feelings.

Then looked up from being much closer to your face than he had thought he was, and he giggled. He struggled to make eye contact with you know that if he did, he would say he’d regret. So, instead, he simply sat there in silence, while you looked at each other.

“They’re um….really pretty..” he said staring at your orbs. Mentally he meant your eyes, but verbally he said. “The tattoos…you found some great artists huh?”

Damn it! That was your chance! Artist? Come on!

“Y-yeah they were great, but compared to yours these are nothing” you blush trying to change the focus of the conversation

"which one is your favorite?" he asks

"I mean it would be hard to chose there are so many..." you chuckle trying not to sound nervous

"well take your pick" he said displaying his arms. You instantly look to his arm covered in a beautiful scarlet from wrist to shoulder. It was your honest favorite. You take his hand in yours as your other hand glides up his arm and trace along the beautiful design. You thought it was one of his best pieces

"this one.." you said softly. You hadn't even noticed he was now holding your hand in his. Your eyes fall down to them as you notice the size difference between you and him. How his hand encaged yours in warmth and comfort. Both your hands lining up finger by finger in front of your faces as your fingers slowly come to intertwine together. His hand lacing with yours nearly perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece finally put together.

"Y/N..." he called you and you finally snap out of your mind. Realizing the position you were in

"O-Oh Noah I'm sorry I didn't mean to do th-"

"I really like you." he blurts out

"....."

"I think..I've alwasy thought of what an amazing, smart and funny girl…I uh…lost my chance when you left to travel but I want…to want know..if you would- if you! If you feel the same way?” He asked cautiously

“…” you remain silent making Josh very nervous

“…if you don’t that totally fi-“ the poor boy was then shut up by your lips on his. It was 100%, defiantly a yes from you. His hand lets go of your as his arms wrap around your waist and brings you closer to him. You both pull back slowly and rest your foreheads on each others

“…well that took long enough” you giggle whisper

“Yeah…just pissed I didn’t do it sooner” he sighs as he rests you in his lap, feeling at home and comfortable with your weight in him

“Well we’re where now,” you smile “and you can make it up to me of course”

“And how’s that?”

“With some more kisses Mr,Sebastian”

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @cncohshit @vir-tual @tdopomymind @concretenoah @misspygmypie @fvckmeorchokeme @lust-for-sacher @thescarlettvvitch @cind6547 @itsmrsfuentes @purple-lili @lma1986 @daylightlvrs @darling-arwen-rose

#bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #star’s anons✨#bad omens cult #noahsebastian #badomens #bad omens fanfiction

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