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btsgotjams27 · 1 month

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things you didn't say | jjk

summary: with the recent interactions with jungkook, you try to downplay your feelings, but your friends encourage you to acknowledge your past and move forward.

✨ title: things you didn't say | tydk couple ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex-best friends to friends/lovers(?) ✨ rating: R/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.3k | ✨ playlist ✨ warnings: minor language, lana threatens oc with a fork, drinking, game of truth or dare, confessions, kissing ✨ a/n: hii--i'm sorry i've been a bit MIA in regards to writing. it's been such a struggle to get anything written. i've been thinking a lot about these two and i hope this last part gives us all some kind of resolution. enjoy. (and there's a small nod to something that'll happen in a different jk wip i'm working on hehe). and if you haven't read part one or two, please do so before reading this part.

✨ read part one | read part two ✨

The clock is nearly midnight, and you’re not ready for the magic to disappear.

All night, you’ve kept your heart at bay, questioning every move and word being spoken. Only you can see it, but a dark cloud is looming over you. Doubts linger like a predator waiting to pounce and take its prey. You want to avoid getting it wrong or being let down.

And your heart is the ultimate betrayer, but it doesn’t lie.

You’re caught up in sentimental memories from the past. His nose scrunches and boisterous cackles are reminiscent of the boy you remember. Hanging out and reliving past adventures felt like no time had passed, yet life updates from then to now made him feel like a stranger.

Giggles and claps, along with snorts and dribbles of wine, glide down the side of your mouth. The third wine bottle is on its way to being destroyed by the pair of you.

He’s careful to avoid the subject of Josie, for which you are grateful. If you could be honest, you would ask him why he was still with her and what he saw in her. But it’s not your place, nor are you in the position to pry.

Your eyes fall on the plants sitting on the corner shelf in the dining area—an array of pothos, snake, and rubber plants. They’re your typical plants, but it’s the planters that they’re sitting in that make you smile. The planters have stubby arms and legs with smiley faces.

Jungkook follows your gaze. “What are we looking at?”

You point to the planters. “Those little guys. They’re cute.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says. “I made them.”

“The planters or the plants?”

He swirls his wine glass, letting out a small laugh. “The planters.”

“You made those planters?” You stand, walking over to them.

“When I get bored, I try new creative outlets and ceramics was one of them,” he says, taking a sip of wine.

“Wow, you have a knack for things like that, huh?” You pick up a planter, inspecting it before setting it down. “You could open up your own Etsy shop or something. People would buy these in a heartbeat.”

“Eh, I suppose. I just like doing things with my hands. It makes me feel useful.” Jungkook shrugs. He watches your every move as you continue eyeing the different ceramic pieces he’s made: vases, candleholders, etc. “Do you think people would buy the things I make?”

You lift a coiled vase, turning to him. “Are you kidding me? People would eat this shit up. Once your pieces sell like hotcakes on Etsy, Urban Outfitters will slide in your DMs.” You’re not surprised Jungkook easily excelled at something like ceramics. He’s always been talented at anything he picks up.

“And you were good at anything creative when we were in school—art class, wood shop. I would’ve failed wood shop if you didn’t help me finish my project.”

“Yeah, your birdhouse was fucking terrible.”

You scoff, walking toward him, playfully shoving his shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad.”

He deadpans. “Even birds would avoid your birdhouse.”

“Shut up! I tried my hardest.”

“Didn’t try hard enough,” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a grin on his face.

The pair of you continue to bicker about nothing, but the constant buzzes of notifications from his phone are hard to ignore. You’d catch Jungkook peering, tapping his fingers, debating if he should reply.

You sip from the bottle of dessert wine, you find it sweet and refreshing on your lips. “If you need to get that, then don’t let me stop you.”

Jungkook lifts his phone. “Nah—it’s nothing,” he protests before his phone vibrates in his hand. He glances at the illuminated screen and he finally picks it up. “Sorry, let me answer this. I’ll be right back.”

He hurries out of the kitchen and into the darkened living room. You can only hear Jungkook’s stern, hushed voice, but you can’t make anything out. His change in demeanor hints at one person, and it’s Josie. Which meant it was your cue to leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome.

You raise your wine glass, gulping the golden honey peach Moscato. Thank goodness they’re easy to guzzle. A drop runs down the side of your mouth, and you swipe it away as Jungkook walks back in.

“I’m so sorry about that.”

“Hmm? Oh—don’t worry about it. I, um, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome, so I should get going.”

“What? No, stay. We have to finish our Moscato.”

A nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you contemplate his proposition. There’s a tug in your heart, wanting to stay into the early hours of the morning, but there’s your brain telling you to take it slow and go home.

“I wish I could stay, but I should head home. I have a load of laundry to fold and sadly, it won’t fold itself.” You stand up from the bar chair, feeling a bit wobbly on your feet. Jungkook rushes to your side, gripping your waist, but you catch yourself by holding onto the counter.

“You can’t hold your liquor?” He asks with a wide grin, pulling you upright.

Clearing your throat and flattening down your jeans, you spit out, “Ha-ha. I can hold my liquor just fine. I merely tripped.”

Jungkook chuckles. “You’re a terrible liar—see, I still remember that.”

You gasp sharply, with a hand over your chest. “I’m surprised that big ‘ol head of yours can remember anything. I thought it was only filled with games and girls.” Sticking out your tongue, you conk him on the head with your knuckles.

“Ow.” He rubs the spot as if you had knocked him with a bat.

Taking out your phone from your pocket, you pull up Uber.

“Let me take you home, at least.”

You give him a look, slowly blinking your eyes at the devilishly handsome friend. Could you even call him a friend again? Maybe it was too early for that.

“Did you forget that we both had too much to drink tonight? So, you shouldn’t be driving me. It’s fine, Kook. I’ll get an Uber.”

Jungkook sighs, knowing he can’t convince you otherwise. “Fine. I’ll wait with you outside until it gets here.”

“Well, it’s not like I can stop you.”

The pair of you are sitting on his front steps, watching cars drive by and cats strolling through the neighborhood. His place is in a newer part of town, one that was built while you were away. It’s familiar and odd, just like you and Jungkook. As much as you want to forget the past and move on, there’s a part of you holding onto what the two of you had. Would you ever become best friends again? Would you even consider letting him be a part of your life? Those were questions for another time, but it felt like you had your best friend back, even if it was just for tonight.

As the alcohol in your system dwindles, the brain fog becomes clearer, along with your hearing. A nudge from Jungkook makes you come back to reality. “Hmm?”

“I asked, ‘Do you still go stargazing’?” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I do, but the spot I went to during college isn’t as good as the one we used to go to.”

Jungkook hums, avoiding your gaze as he picks up a small pebble from the ground. “We should go there sometime,” he mumbles under his breath. He continues toying with the pebble before throwing it into the bushes.

You’re trying to suppress a smile and swat away the butterflies growing in your stomach. It’s dumb to think things could go back to the way they were. It’s unrealistic and you don’t want to get hurt again.

Turning toward him, you want to set the record straight. “Let’s um, take this whole friendship thing slow, Kook. Dinner was great. It was nice talking to you again, but you do understand where I’m coming from, right?”

He nibbles on his bottom lip and nods. “I’ll follow your lead.”

You check your phone again. The Uber is two minutes away. As you click it off, you turn and see Jungkook staring. Something is brewing behind those starry eyes. With a raised brow, you ask, “What?”

“Can I call or text you sometime?”

“Just don’t, uh, go texting me all day and night. Your girlfriend might get jealous. Might even put a bounty on my head,” you tease, reaching to pull his black CK cap over his face.

He takes his cap off, carding his hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. As you’re immersed in your phone and looking up at the street for your Uber, Jungkook silently observes you like has for the past few years. Some might say it’s a red flag, but how else was he supposed to know if you were happy? That’s all he’s ever wanted—for you to be happy, loved, and have all your dreams come true, even though he wasn’t there to cheer you on. For seven years, he has been tormented by what he did, and he didn't want to jeopardize any possibility of any kind of relationship with you. It doesn’t even have to be like before, just as long as the two of you are on speaking terms. He could live with that.

A dark sedan pulls up alongside the pair of you. You grab the door handle, pause for a moment, then turn back to Jungkook. “We’ll talk soon?” He raises both eyebrows and hums softly, giving a thin smile. “Bye, Kook.”

Two weeks passed, and there was no text or call from Jungkook. Plenty of thoughts ran through your mind, the number one being Josie had found out about your little dinner and locked him in a basement, cutting off all contact with the outside world—especially if it was with you.

But you’re a big girl. Why should you be waiting around to hear from him, anyway?

If there’s one thing you hate about adulting, it’s cooking. You missed the days when you were in your angsty teen phase, headphones in, and hating the world, then your parents would yell ‘Dinner’s ready’. And as much as you missed home-cooked meals, you loved that your parents were off gallivanting around the world, living their retirement dreams. One day that’ll be you, living off your retirement and eating out 24/7, but for now, there’s a decision to be made about what will go in your salad for the week.

Cucumbers.

Strolling in the veggie section, your eyes scan for the green vegetables before landing on them. You stood debating on which one to get. Why are there so many varieties? But according to Google, Persian cucumbers go great in salads.

As you grabbed a second cucumber, you looked up to see the man who betrayed your trust. And no—it wasn’t Jungkook. It was his roommate, Jimin, aka ‘the trickster’.

With a stomp in your step and a cucumber in your hand, you march over to him, striking him on the shoulder with it.

“Ow!” Jimin exclaims, rubbing his shoulder as he turns around. His brows furrowed, lips in a full pout when he finds you standing behind him. “What the hell?” He looks to see the weapon in your hand. “Did you just hit me with a cucumber?” You hum. “Why’d you do that?”

Tossing the cucumber in your basket and crossing your arms, you huff out, “Because you deserved it!”

“Deserve what?”

You roll your eyes at the not-so-innocent man. Was he trying to play Cupid or something with you and Jungkook?…Because his stupid plan kind of worked. You truly had a great time at dinner, and it was nostalgic, just like how things used to be.

“Mmhm. Count your days, Park,” you quip, turning around to head in the other direction. Jimin’s calling after you to wait for him, but you keep on walking.

As he catches up, standing beside you, he nudges your arm. “Oh, come on. I was just trying to help a friend out,” he finally admits.

“Well, don’t.”

Jimin strides in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey—” You attempt to go around him, but he’s unrelenting. “Just hear me out, okay?” You sigh, waving for him to continue. “I’m sorry I ambushed you, but it was the only way you’d hang out with Jungkook. I know the two of you had shit go down in the past, and I just wanted to help you both move on to being friends again.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because,” he pauses and straightens his back with his chin up. “I like you and I like Jungkook, and who wouldn’t want to see their friends be happy, hmm?”

Jungkook’s laughter echoed in your mind. You knew it was dumb to miss something as simple as a laugh, but you had heard it for so many years, and then it stopped for a long time. It felt nice to have a piece of an old friend back.

Jimin gives you a look and a grin sweeps across his face. There’s a satisfaction behind that grin and you wish you could wipe off.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Park Jimin,” you say, stepping off to the side as a customer rolls by with their cart through the two of you.

He laughs, showing off his pearly whites. “I should check out and head off—don’t want you to start getting any ideas and start a food fight here in the grocery store.”

“Yeah, you should run.” You pretend to grab the cucumber and watch him run off to self-checkout.

A buzz from your back pocket alerts you of a notification and, to your surprise, it’s a text from Jungkook. It looks like he hadn’t forgotten about you.

Jungkook 1:34 PM Hey. I’m throwing a small dinner for Jimin’s birthday on Friday at 7 pm. Say you’ll come.

You 1:35 PM Define small.

Incoming Call Jungkook

“If I come and it’s a big party like last time, then count me out.”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Right—hey. No, but seriously. I’m not a big crowd kinda gal.”

“Including me and you, there would only be six people. That’s not a lot, right?”

It’s not, but you’ll have to save your social battery for the dinner party.

“No, yeah, that’s fine.”

“And don’t worry, you know everyone—Lana’s going too.”

The big question is: will Josie be there?

A beat passes and you realize you’re standing in the middle of an aisle, probably blocking someone’s way.

Jungkook’s voice comes through your phone, calling your name a few times. “Hello? Hey. Are you still there?”

You turn to make sure no one’s around. “Yeah, sorry. I’m still here. Is, um, ‘who-shall-not-be-named’ coming?” You ask, nibbling on the inside of your cheek. It’s a name for fuck’s sake, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

He chuckles at your subtle attempt to avoid the Josie topic. “I can promise you that she’s not coming. Is that why you’re hesitant to say yes?”

“Pfft–what! No!” you blurt out, lying through your teeth. Truth be told—yeah, it is. You don’t want a repeat of Jimin’s party.

You clear your throat, “Anyway, yeah, I’ll come. Count me in.”

“Cool! See you on Friday.”

“Can I bring anything?”

“Nope–just yourself. Oh, and it’s a surprise, so don’t say anything to Jimin.”

“‘Kay…sounds good. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he said with enthusiasm before hanging up.

As you’re mixing the salad, you’re staring absent-mindedly at the abstract painting that’s framed on your wall because those five words rang in your ears on the drive home.

You mumbled those words in different tones, trying to make sense of the innocent expression. It’s completely normal for Jungkook to be excited. He hasn’t seen/hung out/talked to you in almost seven years. Yeah, that’s it—at least it’s what you’re telling yourself.

Lana waves her hand in your face. “Um, hello! I don’t think you can mix the salad anymore!”

Looking down, a few springs of leaves have been tossed out of the bowl and onto the counter. Oops. You pick them up, throwing them in the garbage bin. “Sorry—I was distracted.”

“Clearly.”

As you push the bowl aside, your focus is on the unopened bottle of wine.

“Are you going to tell me what’s distracting you, or should I wait until the wine settles in?”

“You can wait until the wine settles in. It’ll give me time to forget about it.”

Lana picks up a fork, threatening you with it. “I swear to god if you don’t tell me—”

“Okay, okay. The other day, Jungkook called to invite me to Jimin’s dinner party.” Lana narrows her eyes and hums, intently listening. “At the end of our conversation, he said, ‘Can’t wait to see you’, and he seemed excited.”

She nods her head, waiting for the rest of the story, but you don’t say anything else. “That’s it? God–that’s so boring. I thought you guys kissed or something.”

“Lana!” you cry out, almost knocking over the wine bottle.

“What? I thought he would’ve made his move by now.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s no move to make. He’s with Josie, remember?”

“Josie Schmosie—she’s old news, but you,” she points and grins, “You’re back and here to fuck things up,” she claps with a gleeful smile.

“Oh, will you stop it? I’m not back to do anything—and what the hell, Lana? You’re not helping!”

Lana chortles, covering her mouth. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sure what Jungkook said to you is just a simple expression of how much he can’t wait to see you and get you underneath his sheets.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I bothered you with this.”

“Okay, I’ll stop. I promise—just kidding. Can I ask one more thing?” You wave your hand for her to continue. “You’re telling me you don’t even want to revel in the idea of the two of you being something more than just friends?”

The iciness of the tiled counter becomes apparent underneath your fingers, and you’re faced with a question you never wanted to answer—aloud, at least. Considering that he’s tried breaking up with Josie multiple times, but somehow is still with her, you’re unsure what will push Jungkook to cut off the head of the snake.

You hate that Jeon Jungkook has been—scratch that—is your Roman empire. He’s the one thing you’ve come back to even when you didn’t want to. It’s the same three questions you’ve had: Is he okay, is he happy, does he miss you too?

And if you’re completely honest, the answer is yes. Of course, you’ve reveled in the idea of you and him.

“I don’t know, Lana. I mean yes—the thought has crossed my mind. I’ve liked him since senior year, but it takes two to tango, and Jungkook can’t do that right now. Besides, I won’t wait around for him to come to his senses.”

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, that’s the expression, isn’t it?

You can’t imagine going through another heartbreak from the same boy.

Things happen in life that don’t make sense.

Especially for the price of a pair of earrings, you’re currently looking to purchase as Jimin’s birthday present. The sales associate senses your hesitation and brings out a similar pair that’s on sale.

“Ah—that’s more like it. I’ll take those and do you still provide gift wrapping?” you ask, looking at the sign you saw on the way in.

“Yes, we do. Let me go into the back and wrap it up for you.”

The associate disappears through the back door, probably to talk shit about you to their co-workers, but hey–a girl has to save money where she can. It’s a fragile economy.

You roam, looking through the display cases of bracelets, rings, and watches. A gold Casio watch catches your eye–it looks like one Jungkook used to wear. He treasured the vintage-looking watch because it was his father’s. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen him with it when you saw him. Maybe he lost it or replaced it with something else.

Either way, you continue eyeing pieces of jewelry you’ll never purchase for yourself, and it’s when you look up to catch a glimpse of a girl you recognize. But it’s the man marking her neck that isn’t your ex-best friend. You’ve locked eyes with which she-who-must-not-be-named, and maybe it’s not too late to pretend you didn’t see her.

The sales associate returns the wrapped gift along with your credit card. You quickly thank her, looping your arm through the gift bag. Your eyes scan everything in view to see if the coast is clear. There’s no sign of your enemy, so you dart out of the store only to find Josie and this mystery man looking at the window display at the neighboring boutique.

Fuck, just go on your way and don’t engage. Don’t engage! You say to yourself, swiftly walking past them.

You’re busy berating yourself to hear someone calling your name. Stopping in your tracks, you sigh, waiting for Josie to catch up.

“Hey!” Josie chirps like the two of you are friendly.

“Hi…” you say glumly, with furrowed eyebrows. She’s never been nice to you before, so why should you start now?

“Can you not tell Jungkook what you saw?”

You tut, blinking your eyes at her like you owe her a favor. “Look Josie—what you do doesn’t concern me, okay?” you say, walking past her. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her and she’s cheating on Jungkook with some guy? God, if only you could smack him upside the head right now—Josie too!

You’re a few steps ahead before you stop in your tracks and turn, walking back to her. You huff, “Tell me one thing. If you’re off with some guy behind Jungkook’s back. Why are you still stringing him along, then?”

Josie looks at you, ready to answer, but you raise your hand, stopping her. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”

As you walk off again, there’s a revolting feeling in the pit of your stomach having to keep this to yourself. Jungkook deserves to know the kind of person Josie is, but it’s not your place to say anything. You’re not his best friend anymore. Honestly, you’re unsure what the two of you are and sometimes, there are some things you just shouldn’t say.

Whenever you think about seeing Josie and that mystery man, it makes you want to gag, and throw something at the wall, but mainly at her. Who knows how long she’s been cheating on Jungkook? You tossed and turned in bed, debating whether you should say something to him.

The dinner party is tonight, and if you happen to be alone with him and the Josie topic comes about, then you’ll mention it.

Another thought crosses your mind, what if he thinks you’re making this up because you’re jealous of Josie? Ah, fuck. Either way, you’ll turn out to be the bad guy, right? You’ll either break his heart or you’ll sound like a jealous person.

You don’t want to ruin whatever the two of you have, because you’ve missed the comfort of an old friend and you don’t want to lose it again.

Even though you know the code, you don’t press the four digits. Instead, you knock, waiting for someone to open the door.

“Hey!” Jungkook says, eyes dropping to your hands. “I said you didn’t have to bring anything.” He takes a step back, letting you through, and grabbing the box of Soju.

“I know, but Lana always says, ‘Don’t go anywhere empty-handed’,” you say, flashing a small smile.

“Ah, well, the Soju will go great with tonight’s menu.”

The aroma from Jungkook’s cooking is immaculate. You can almost taste the different dishes he’s prepared.

“Oh my god, it smells so good–like how your mom used to make food for us all the time.” You walk over to the dinner table, displayed with grilled meat, japchae, tteokbokki, buddaejjigae, and a plethora of banchan. “How is your mom? I miss her and her cooking.”

Jungkook chuckles softly. “She’s doing great. Her cooking, though? Not so much. It’s become too salty for my taste—Don’t tell her I told you that.”

You rub your hands together. “Oh, you bet that’s the first thing I’ll say after giving her a hug.”

“Don’t! She’ll disown me. She already hates that I’m a better cook than her,” Jungkook says, opening the box of Soju.

“You should become a private chef or something.”

He opens the refrigerator door, placing the Soju to chill. “Nah—I’ll just cook at home. I’m still learning, testing the waters, y’know?”

“I hate you.”

His eyes perk up with concern. “What did I do this time?”

“You’re good at everything you do—it’s unfair to the rest of us peasants.”

Jungkook relaxes at your answer, thinking he did something wrong again.

Placing the last Soju bottle in the fridge, he turns back, scanning you from head to toe. You’re dressed in an oversized Linkin Park band tee and jeans. He recognizes the shirt, the one you wore religiously during your emo teenage years.

“What? Is there something on my face?” you ask, touching your cheeks.

He shakes his head no and clears his throat. “I, um, wanted to talk to you...about something.”

“Oh?” Your eyes and ears perk up, but you’re interrupted by a commotion coming from the front door.

“The birthday boy is coming! Hide!” Lana says in a hushed tone. She rushes over to you, crouching down behind the counter, pulling you down with her. You chuckle, shaking your head.

With the front door open, Jungkook’s other roommate, Namjoon, walks in first–hand in hand with his girlfriend, and then following is the birthday boy.

Lana peers above the chairs to see if they’ve come in. “Surprise!” She cries out. Everyone’s ears must be ringing at this point.

Jimin gives a half-smile along with a chuckle. “Lana, you ran past us in the driveway.”

Her mouth turns into a cheesy smile. “You caught me. Sorry, I kind of ruined the surprise.”

“Happy birthday Jimin,” you say, walking over to him, arms out for a hug.

“I’m glad to see you and Kook have made up,” Jimin utters. “He needs someone like you around.” He pulls back, squeezing your arms before letting you go.

Namjoon and his girlfriend, Nora, greet you and Jungkook and then take a seat at the dinner table.

You look at Jungkook. “We’ll talk later?”

He hums in agreement. “Yeah, later.”

You’ve missed this—hanging out with old friends. It’s fun to be around people who you’ve known for a long time. You remember Namjoon being a senior when you were a freshman and the stories you’d hear about him—prom king, valedictorian; he did it all when he was in school. And Nora was the perfect woman for him. They’re both working toward their doctorate in philosophy. Their IQs were the equivalent of yours, Lana, Jimin, and Jungkook’s combined.

“Wow, I feel unqualified to be sitting at this table,” you say jokingly. Being an HR specialist was never the plan, but you’ve come to enjoy your job because you like to think you’re a good judge of character when it comes to hiring.

“Let’s stop talking about work, and have some fun! After all, it is Jimin’s birthday. How about a game of Truth or Dare?” Nora asks, looking around the dining table to get some confirmation. “I need verbal consent, please.”

Everyone glances at each other, awaiting answers. There are various responses, and everyone agrees to play.

Nora claps with a joyful squeal. “Okay, Jimin gets to ask first since it’s his birthday. Choose your victim, and anything’s fair game!”

There’s a groan from you and Jungkook. You have a feeling this night will become interesting.

Jimin rubs his hands together and then points to each person. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…” He continues the rhyme, and you know he’s itching to choose you or Jungkook, and his finger lands on Jungkook.

“Oh-ho-ho. Please pick dare, or I’ll make you answer something you don’t want to,” he says, playfully sticking out his tongue.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at his devilish roommate. “Don’t test me, Park. I can make your life a living hell, too.”

“Ah yes, I’d like to see you try.”

Your heart’s racing, and your hands are sweaty while gripping the chair’s armrest. Jimin has always been sneaky, and you’re sure he’ll make Jungkook kiss you.

Everyone’s waiting for Jungkook’s answer. He groans before replying, “Fine. Dare.”

Both Lana and Nora let out muffled squeals while you’re holding your breath.

“I dare you…to say something dirty to ____.” Jimin grins from ear to ear, staring at you.

You knew Jimin would be unrelenting when it came to you and Jungkook.

Turning to Jungkook, you say, “If you’re uncomfortable, don’t do it. It’s just a dumb game.”

“Hey! Nora said anything’s fair game and my dare is completely harmless. I could’ve asked you to do something else, but I didn’t,” Jimin refutes.

“It’s fine,” Jungkook says with a scowl. Turning to you, he leans over. His breath is warm against your ear, goosebumps are trickling on your skin, and your hair is standing on its end. He whispers, “You look so pretty—wish I could do this forever.”

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re supposed to say it aloud for everyone to hear,” Jimin protests.

You visibly gulp, returning to a straightened position in your chair. The ten words he said shouldn’t affect you, but it does. The room has grown warmer and you’re practically melting like butter in a hot pan. It’s just a silly game and you’re so over Jimin and his antics.

“Your dare was ‘to say something dirty to ___’. You didn’t specify if it was a whisper or if I had to shout it from the rooftop,” Jungkook chirps, quickly glancing in your direction to make sure you’re okay.

Jimin glares at Jungkook with a blaze of a thousand suns. “It’s implied that you say it out loud so everyone can hear.”

Lana elbows Jungkook. “What did you say? How dirty was it? Like, give us a rating, PG-13, R, NC-17?” He doesn’t answer her, but she looks at you, pointing her fingers to her eyes and then back to you, indicating that you’ll tell her later.

“I’ll let it go this time, but from now on, no whispering, and everyone has to hear what everyone says,” Jimin demands, awaiting confirmation from the group. “Okay, Jungkook, it’s your turn.”

He turns to Lana and bluntly asks, “Would you ever sleep with Jimin?” Jungkook peers at Jimin because he knows that Jimin’s had a crush on Lana since high school.

Lana’s mouth twists before answering, “Yeah, I guess.”

Jimin scoffs, offended by her response. “You guess? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!”

“And I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!” he chirps back.

“Please—I’ll be the best sex you’ll ever have,” she jeers, crossing her arms.

Jimin stands. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He retorts, raising his chin in defense.

Everyone ‘oohs’, staring at the two like they’re in a stand-off.

“Prove it! Prove it!” Nora urges, pounding her fists on the table.

Namjoon fakes a laugh, muffling his girlfriend’s pounding. “I’m sorry. She’s had too much to drink. Don’t listen to her.”

Jimin leans forward, hands on the table. “Yeah…prove it.” He raises an eyebrow, wondering if Lana will back down or take on the challenge.

“Right now?” She tilts her head, scanning him from head to toe.

He shrugs. “Mm, what a shame. I guess you’ll never be able to prove it,” he says with a tut.

The chair legs squeak when Lana pushes herself to stand. “When’s the last time you got tested?”

“A month ago,” Jimin quickly replies like no one else is in the room. “I’m clean. You?”

“I’m clean too. You got condoms?”

You sink in your chair, wiping your face, watching these two go off on each other. Honestly, you can’t believe you’re witnessing this.

“Got a whole box ready for you.”

Lana marches over to Jimin, grabbing his hand. “Well, come on birthday boy.”

Your mouth drops, watching the two-run upstairs. “They’re not gonna fuck, are they?” Lana has been in a dry spell for the last year, so you don’t blame her for wanting to get laid.

“Yeah, I think they are,” Jungkook answers. “Yah—” he turns to yell toward Jimin’s room. “Keep it down, will ya?”

The rest of you continue the game, but they’re just questions to get to know each other.

“Jungkook, if there’s one thing you could take back. What would it be?”

He looks in your direction, then plays with his Soju glass, spinning it a few times. You’re biting the inside of your cheek, eyes bouncing from him and then to Nora and Namjoon.

“Um, I’d go back to the day I broke ___’s heart—take everything back.”

The couple looks at each other, forcing a fake laugh. “Well, I can sense the tension between our friends here,” Nora says. “Joonie, baby, didn’t you wanna show me that thing in your room?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow. “What thing?”

Nora stands, tugging his hand, and drags him down the hallway to his room. You can hear the two bickering before the door closes.

You’re silent. Unsure of what to say. You want to move forward, but the past keeps haunting you. Will it always be like this with you and Jungkook? And certainly, there are things you didn’t say that you should say now, but what’s the point?

“We should clean up,” you say, picking up a few plates to stack them. Jungkook follows your lead, helps clear the table, and walks over to set them in the sink.

Turning on the faucet, you rinse off the plates. Jungkook leans back against the kitchen island, eyes scanning over you.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

You close your eyes, then breathe out a sigh. Looking at the boy who used to be your best friend. His eyes hold the galaxy and you get easily lost in them. You’re an explorer longing to find the next big discovery. It’s right in front of you, but at a moment’s notice, you might lose him like you did before.

“Kook…we were kids back then, and you can’t change the past.” You continue to wash the dishes, but it’s hard to focus when he’s near.

Jungkook reaches to turn off the water, gently squeezing your arm to look at him. “Yeah, I know, but I can try to fix it now, right?”

Your hands grip onto the sink, your eyes focused on the water dripping from the spout. You fixate on Jungkook’s words. How can he reconcile a friendship he tore apart? And for what? A girl?

He calls your name, breaking your focus. “Talk to me.”

There’s a tightness in your chest as you turn to him. “Fix it? I don’t want you to fix it.”

“O-kay…then tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

If it was only that easy.

You close the distance between you, looking at him. “What do I want?” He hums. “I want you to be broken. Wrecked—just like how I was. It took me years to get over you—our friendship. I hate it, Jungkook.”

“I hate what I did to you—”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t understand, Kook.” Your heart is aching—like someone reached in, squeezing it as hard as they can.

“Then explain.”

Your eyes meet his. “You. Own. Me,” you say, your index finger pressing into his chest with each word. “These last few weeks have been excruciating. I don’t know who I am when I’m around you. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I’ve moved on. You’ll always be the one thing that I’ll never be over.”

Your heart is pounding, and every inch of your body is burning to the touch. You didn’t think anyone could ever make you this livid. But as much as you want to hate him, moving back home simply confirms everything you’ve been attempting to hide for the past seven years—you love him.

“I was hurt, too. You don’t think I was?” Jungkook says softly, lifting your chin so you can meet his gaze. “I was devastated, knowing how much I hurt you. I couldn’t eat or sleep for days. Seeing and talking to you every day and then it just stopped. My world was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I watched you go off to live your life while I was stuck here with you, haunting me everywhere I went. Philz, the damn grocery store, the park–you were there. There was no escaping you. So yeah, I was wrecked and broken, just like you.”

The narrative you created in your head of Jungkook and Josie was something out of a fairytale. Boy meets girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after. But according to Jungkook, it was hardly the case. You haunted him as much as he haunted you throughout the years.

Chuckling to yourself, you think about how this could've been avoided if one of you had just spoken up. Stepping back from him, you take a breath to calm your nerves. You lean back against the sink, arms folded. “Can I ask you something?”

Jungkook’s eyes flick to you and his body mirrors yours. “I’m an open book, ___.”

“Why did you give up so easily? Why didn’t you fight for me? Our friendship?”

A beat passes, and he doesn’t respond. It’s foolish to think he’d have an answer for you.

Your lips thin, and you breathe out a sigh of frustration. “It’s fine, Kook. Don’t answer. We’ll just go back to the way things were. Have a good life.” You walk off toward the living room and he follows.

“You don’t get to walk away,” he says, shutting the front door when you try to open it.

“Yeah? Watch me!” You turn back to the door, attempting to open it, but Jungkook’s hand is holding it shut.

He grips your arm. “I was scared, okay? I was young and stupid, and scared.”

You turn around and push him back. “Scared? You’re still scared! That’s why you can’t even break up with Josie! She’s cheating on you, by the way! I saw her with some guy glued to her neck. I don’t understand why you can’t just let her go.”

“I’m not scared of breaking up with Josie. I just got comfortable with her being around and didn’t think I could do any better.” Jungkook steps back and reclines on the couch’s armrest.

“You don’t think you can do better than Josie? You’re Jeon Jungkook, of course, you can.”

He forces a laugh, shaking his head no. “I barely graduated high school, practically failed my college classes. I don’t have a steady job and I have no idea what I’m passionate about. So yeah, I didn’t think I could do any better than Josie, until…”

“Until…?”

“Until I saw you at the party. I know it sounds cheesy, but when I saw you standing in the living room. It was like a sign from the universe, waking me up from this auto-pilot life I was living in. Seeing you again really shook me up.”

You could say the same thing about seeing Jungkook again. The universe loved to toy with the two of you, didn’t it?

“And then after our dinner two weeks ago, I broke up with Josie–like officially. I gave all her stuff back. I’m not answering calls or anything. So, I guess when you saw her, she must’ve moved on to the next guy–that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, me breaking up with her.”

There was a sense of relief when he said that because you were ready to fight Josie.

“Oh,” you say softly, taking a step toward him. “I guess I was wrong about you—being scared, I mean.”

Jungkook’s toying with his necklace, circling it around his neck. “I’m still scared.” He steps toward you, waiting for you to look at him. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess this up,” he says.

“How are you going to mess this up? We’re just friends.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be ‘just friends’.”

Your gaze flicks to him and then drops to his lips and back up again. You know what he’s alluding to, but you need to hear those words leave his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He knows you’re teasing him. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Because I love you, okay? I’m in love with you. Have always been in love with you, and I’m scared to lose you again.”

Your eyes are glossy, fighting back tears. You’ve longed to hear those words from Jungkook, and like him, you’re afraid of an unknown future, but right now, all that matters is him.

As a tear falls down your cheek, you’re ready to let love in. Let him in. Discover new things. Rediscover old things. You’re ready to be vulnerable, move forward from the past, and let go of the heartache and pain.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe.

Jungkook steps toward you, cupping your face. “No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You shake your head. “No, I do. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you–for our friendship. It’s my fault too.”

His thumbs caress your cheeks. “Hey, can we agree to let the past be in the past and just focus on us now, in the present?”

Your hands cover his, and you nod, flashing a soft smile. “Mhm. I’d like that.”

Jungkook wipes your tear-stained cheeks. “Now, can I do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time?”

“What’s that?”

His lips finally touch yours. It’s not fervent or haste. It’s soft, uncertain. But you kiss him back. You’re savoring each point of contact. His lips overlapping yours, capturing a hint of your cherry Chapstick. Your eyes are half-lidded and you pull back for air, but he leans in, bringing you back in for more. His nose bumps into yours as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. Your body presses against his, your fists balled up, tugging on his white t-shirt. There’s a glow of excitement and nervousness rushing throughout your body when one of his hands grips your waist and the other is on the small of your back, pushing you further into him.

A low whine leaves his lips when you withdraw. He reaches for another kiss, but you stop him.

“Kook—” you whisper as his forehead touches yours.

“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” he says, kissing your cheek and tracing your jawline. “Don’t think I can ever stop.”

You chuckle. “I don’t want to stop kissing you, either. Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?”

While lying in bed next to Jungkook, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. Your fingers trace stars across his chest and you love how he breathes–his chest rising and falling ever so softly. The sound of his voice vibrates through your fingers and into your body. With one arm wrapped around you and the other resting behind his head, Jungkook tells you about the dreams he had but never dared to pursue–you being one of them.

And as the clock strikes midnight, the magic of you and him didn’t dissipate. It’s here. It’s real.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #fic: things you didn't say

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kisakis-boyfriend · 7 months

Note

I wanna have public phone sex with Fremmy via the speakers in his diving helmet

Public Phone Sex

Pairings: Freminet x reader

Warnings: GN!reader, dom!reader, sub!Freminet, slight exhibitionism

Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshot

Author's Note: Oooohh noooo, he's going to be so flustered 😳 Freminet is 20+, as always~ Reader is gender neutral, but there is a focus on penetrating Freminet

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

Freminet was strolling through the city streets, helmet secured on his head so that he could drown out the people's chatter and the many possible sets of eyes that might point in his direction. He wasn't expecting you to contact him out of the blue like this. “Hello?” he answers meekly

You greet him with a smile in your voice, “Hey cutie, whatcha up to?” The little pet names you called him always made his heart skip a beat. He explained that he was simply on his way to drop off materials at the blacksmith's so that Estelle could create the magic pockets that Lyney had ordered before visiting you at the hotel

“Ah, perfect.” Was all you uttered, leaving Freminet confused for a moment. Perfect? What did you mean by that? Were you going to ask him if he could pick something up for you? This endless stream of questions was cut off when your sultry tone came through the speakers again

“I have a bit of a problem right now, and only you can fix it.” Now this made Freminet a bit nervous, what exactly does that have to do with his being in public? He gulped before attempting to ask what you meant, his question being promptly cut off by your next sentence, “What...what do you me–”

“I've been thinking about you all morning. Thinking about your pretty face and how hot you look when I fuck you.” Freminet's eyes shot open, inhaling a shaky breath as he stopped dead in his tracks. His cheeks burned within the confines of his helmet, unbeknownst to everyone around him

Every last shaky exhale of his could be heard from your end, seeing as the noises had nowhere to go. Freminet gulped, questioning you further, “D-don't say things like that... what are you even talking about?” He began fidgeting with the box of materials carried in his arms, kicking his feet against the ground shyly

The dark chuckle that hit his ears made him shiver, becoming antsy with each passing second. “Aw, my sweet boy, keep walking and I'll explain it to you, ok?” Freminet blinked a few times before working up the courage to continue towards his current destination. A stuffy warmth clinging to his skin while he walked on. “You've been gone for a few days now, ya know? I've missed you. So. Fucking. Much. Shit– ” Each word was punctuated with a sloppy wet noise, which earned a mewl from the timid cryo user

“Hear that? Hear what you do to me, my love? ” You growled, holding the microphone between your legs and moving your hand faster, letting your head fall backwards as wanton moans reverberated throughout the hotel room. Freminet's knees buckled, nearly causing him to trip in the middle of the street. He managed to recover quickly, clearing his throat and walking faster toward the blacksmith as if nothing has happened

“Y-y/n...please... this won't take long, can't you w-wait until I arrive?” He pleaded, breath labored as the growing need for your touch spread to his hardening member. Embarrassment flooded his being when he felt the wet spot forming in his shorts, thank the archons that they were dark blue...

Finally arriving at his destination, Freminet hurried to the table and set the box down in front of Estelle, praying that she was busy so that she wouldn't want to talk today. ...Luck was not on his side. Estelle greeted him cheerfully, waving and asking him questions such as how his siblings were doing, what he'd been up to recently, and asking him if he'd cobbled up any new contraptions or made any upgrades to Pers lately. Questions that honestly went in one ear and right out the other as the sounds of you touching yourself filled his head

Freminet fumbled his words as he attempted to respond, just trying to hurry out of there without coming across as being rude... His breath hitched when your voice broke the awkward silence between the two of them, “Baby...oh god– ” You moaned, raising the microphone back up to your lips. “Need you... I need that tight ass bouncing on me right now... Ooohh fuuucckk~ ”

A whimper unexpectedly escaped through his lips, followed by a twitch in between his soft thighs. Freminet desperately tried to keep it together, clenching his fists as his nails left crescent shaped marks on his palms. Estelle noticed that something was amiss, placing a hand on her hip as she asked him, “Everything alright? You seem a bit preoccupied.” Freminet nodded quickly, explaining that he actually had somewhere very important to be right now

The young woman nodded her head affirmatively, albeit still suspicious of his behavior but not wanting to upset him, apologizing for keeping him then bidding him adieu as she picked up the materials and headed towards the back of the shop to begin her work. Freminet sighed in relief, swiftly turning on his heels and speeding away

“My my, nearly got caught there, didn't we?” You teased as your partner sped down the busy streets, desperately hoping that no one would see the bulge in the front of his shorts. “I bet you're hard right now, aren't you? Probably dripping down your thighs too, yeah?” Freminet stifled a moan, swiftly ducking behind a large building and leaning against the back wall as his hand reached down to cup his erection, whining at the sudden contact

“Baby, I won't last much longer–” Your hips jerked as you continued pleasuring yourself, “I need you here to take all of it~ ” Freminet involuntarily humped his hand, his body chasing relief before his brain could do anything to stop it. Your desperate moans on the other end only stirred him up even more

“I need you t-too but... I-I can't walk around like this...” He whispered, heart pounding inside of his chest as his dick leaked more slick precum on the fabric of his clothing

“Then touch yourself.” You demanded, imagining the look on his face from such an idea. His eyes were probably blown wide open, mouth agape as he sputtered some excuse because he's too embarrassed. “C'mon, be my good boy? Lemme hear you work that pretty cock for me?”

Groaning while his dick twitched at the words ‘good boy’, Freminet relented, nervously unzipping his pants and pulling his wet cock out. Glancing around one last time to make sure that no one could spy on him from his hiding spot, Freminet wrapped his slender fingers around the shaft, pumping his aching length as another loud whimper escaped him

“Shit...I can hear how wet you are...” You moaned, licking your lips as your hand sped back up. “How's it feel?”

“Hurts...‘s wet and– Haah—!! ” Freminet cried out as he touched the head, mimicking the way you massage his tip, though it didn't feel exactly the same... He began stroking himself faster, the slick sounds of his ministrations coming through on your end only turned you on more. Just knowing that your shy little boyfriend is probably hiding in some corner or behind a building and pumping his hard, messy cock all because you did that to him

“Fuck...yeah– Harder, be a little rough with yourself.” At your order, Freminet pumped his dick harshly. Thinking back to one of the many times where you overstimulated him, jerking him off as if the world would end if you didn't. His dick throbbed within his hand, the tip an angry red and dripping precum into the bricks under his feet. Another minute of jerking himself off to the sound of your lovely, commanding voice and Freminet felt the familiar sensation of heat pooling within his gut, inching closer to a sweet release. “Hah...y/n I'm g-gonna...” He squeaked, voice cracking slightly while his hips bucked into his hand

“Cum with me, sweetie...make a mess for me~ ” You purred, matching the speed of his strokes based on the lewd noises coming through the speaker. Biting your lip as Freminet stuttered out a moan, the previous wet sounds decreasing as he came, breathing intensely while your own orgasm hit you

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

#my writing #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin x reader #freminet #freminet smut #sub freminet #oneshot #requested

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for "casting a curse" on my superstitious aunt?

I (32NB) have been out for almost a decade as trans (and more recently nonbinary) with the great support of my friends and partner. My family is another story. when I came out publicly they were very messy, my Aunt was the worst of it- telling people to stay away from me if they were being publicly supportive, DMing my friends to chastise them for being the wolves of Satan tearing at my flesh and basically trying to rebuke them in the name of Jesus or something like that.

I had her blocked for quite some time, but after about 8 years, I started coming around family functions again because it was a lot harder to misgender me when I look and sound completely different. because it was hard to coordinate holiday bullshit with her blocked (my family all uses FB for scheduling and organizing who brings what) I unblocked her. Plus, my mom promised she was going to be nice and was turning over a new leaf or something.

quite recently I found out my family have all been pretending to respect my pronouns and legal name and have been using my deadname and incorrect pronouns behind my back. I've been keeping my distance from family because this has been so hurtful to me, but I broke this unofficial silence to get into an argument about some unrelated political stuff. My aunt chimed in on this public thread by tagging me and then deadnaming me. I said "that is not my name, do not call me by that name." very firmly and just disengaged from the conversation entirely. she responded by saying, "Would shit head be more appropriate?"

I saw a red, I have never name called her despite her constantly being a menace to me and my friends and supportive loved ones. So, like the title says, I DM'd her and pretended to cast a curse on her, since she thinks I'm possessed by Satan anyways I might as well play the part. I then blocked her so she couldn't respond, and now no one in my family is talking to me so I don't know if she told them I did that or if they all just are tired of pretending to love me now.

uhhh, AITA for doing that?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 10 days

Note

I've been recently checking bibliography from one of our professors, and 1/3 of books references *don't exist*. Like, at all. Authors, titles, publishing houses.

I think he generated his bibliography in chatgpt, and it hallucinated the books.

He's a professor.

... report that shit

#asks #the professional world of careers and tasks #again see this is caught by external verifiers in the UK system

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nervoussagittarius · 17 days

Text

20191009 I Like Her

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: y/n shows matt a song that explains the way he's been feeling

warnings: none just fluff

"matt, have you ever listened to mac demarco? " you ask as you lay on his bed. there's been a comfortable silence between the two of you as you search for new music and matt sits at his desk playing around with his computer settings.

somehow you had come across one of your old playlists that focused primarily on the album "2" by mac demarco.

while he was one of your favorite artists growing up, you never got the chance to listen to his newer music. matt looked at you for a second and held up a finger signaling that he'd answer you shortly, after he finished changing his desktop files around.

matt was trying to play it cool. he had been having these weird feelings towards you for the past couple days. he didn't know how they developed or what they meant. what he did know is that he didn't want to come off strong or seem overly interested in you even though his mind was screaming at him to say how he's been feeling.

truth be told, he didn't really know how he felt. he had only known you for a couple of months and you started coming around the house more because you were close with nick. though, as time went on you formed a bond with matt that was comfortable and safe. matt was always able to tell when he started liking a girl, but it was harder to find the words to explain how he felt about you.

matt felt the need to keep any relationship between you two strictly platonic. you were nick's friend first, and while he didn't think nick would care he didn't want to lose the trust that he had built with his brother. he vowed to himself that nothing romantic could happen between you two, but as days went on that thought flew further to the back of his head.

"mac demarco," matt asks, he looked at you again. "is he the one who sings salad days'"

"yeah and he has a lot of other good music, but i just found his newest album and there's one hundred and ninety nine songs on it"

you pressed shuffle on the album. it was intriguing that a majority of the songs just had numbers for titles,and no vocals to them, just melodys.

"this song is '20200821 cowboy shit' its different" you said as you both laughed listening to the lyrics.

"it's definitely something" matt replied still not taking his eyes off of you. he admired the way your eyes sparkled as you flicked through the songs. he noticed how your lips turned up in a twinge of a smile when you heard a lyric you liked. he loved moments with you like this. he could sit here with you forever.

"y/n" matt said as the next song started playing. he was nervous to ask the next question. he wanted to know if you could put a name to the emotions he was feeling. you had always been better with this kind of stuff. you knew how to communicate how you felt, and you were always an open book with him. "do you think it's possible for us to like each other as more than friends? i don't really know how to explain it but i've been having these thoughts recently and i cant tell if they're just plationic"

you stared at him in shock of what he was saying. you've had feelings for matt for a few weeks now, but you didn't want to make things weird by saying something.

the words to '20191009 i like her' played in the background as you two just looked at each other. you kept replaying matts question in your head to think of the best way to answer, while matt was focused intently on the lyrics to the song to try to distract himself from the tension that had begun to rise in his room.

i'd give the world to her

as long as my heart's still beating

as long as she's next to me

as long as this love still fleeting

because i like her

matt thought you looked beautiful even though it felt like he could see the wheels turning in your head as you tried to answer his question.

listening to the lyrics, he felt this thought clear, and he knew in this moment that he couldn't say his feeling were just friendly anymore. sensing this, you made your way over to him. he looked at you warily, almost expecting you to yell at him and tell him that that he was crazy.

there was another beat of silence. "i like you y/n, a lot. i would do anything for you. will you please give me a chance?"

without second thought, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed the boy that you had quickly come to like.

could it be make believe?

am i just walking through a dream?

haven't felt this way in

such a long time, i do believe

that i like her

an: i've never written anything like this before so please tell me if you liked it or if you think i should change something. i'm always open to receiving feedback. i really appreciate you guys being here and if i could give each of you a forehead kiss i would

#matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #Spotify

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sapphixxx · 4 months

Text

there's a lot of reasons more people aren't into yuri that are troubling to consider, but equally, I genuinely think it cannot be understated how much of it comes down to most yuri being boring as hell. Like truly. I've been reading the front page of Dynasty Scans like it was the newspaper for 15 years I am not exaggerating I can show you the download file data 15 years.

You know what the complaint about yuri by yuri readers was back in 2009?

"wow that really was just 5 volumes of them blushing at each other and then they don't even kiss"

You know what the complaint about yuri by yuri readers is today in 2023?

"wow that really was just 5 volumes of them blushing at each other and then they don't even kiss"

Don't get me wrong, Yuri has grown a LOT in that time, to the point that most people today wouldn't even understand a Maria-sama reference if it were dropped in front of them (thank God). It's expanded and evolved to encompass more stories about adult women, wider varieties of scenarios, a greater acknowledgement of real life lesbianism, and is more comfortable showing girls kissing with tongue and having sex.

Yuri Manga is maybe the best is it's ever been, and it's also getting the widest readership it's ever had in the English speaking world. The titles we carry at work are always on back order with long queues, and, when I've asked them, most weebs of all gender or sexualities report keeping up with at least a few Yuri series.

At large though? Most of it is still really boring. That's not a bad thing necessarily. I like it because it goes down easy. For the most part any series you pick is gonna be pretty chill. Even shit from Sal Jiang which is PRETTY EDGY for yuri is a pretty breezy read. More serious ones like How Do We Relationship? cover some pretty real subjects about how intimacy is actually quite difficult even when both of you love each other, but it's not like... Exciting. Yuri isn't where you go to pump your fist or get perched on the edge of your seat.

So when the comparison is made to yaoi, well, I mean, have you READ any yaoi? Even in some of the more restrained titles those boys are likely to be sucking and fucking balls and all within the first volume or two. There's gonna be drama, intrigue, shit is gonna get messy, passions are gonna get heated, clothes are gonna be ripped off, people are gonna get sold to One Direction, it's stuff you can sit down with a bowl of popcorn with you know? Stuff you can message your friend and gush Hey Can You BELIEVE? A lot of it is pretty trashy, but that's the appeal. The generic state of yaoi is torrid and exciting and sexy. Ultimately, as a species many of us like to see pretty people fuck. In yaoi you'll get that. In yuri you won't. Nothing wrong with that, but it is gonna be a major contributing factor to their relative popularity.

It's also worth making the comparison to hetero romance manga, which has undergone a renaissance of it's own in recent years. There's now a whole meta around crafting a handful of mean shitty grouchy dysfunctional bully women and flinging them at the protagonist of the day who, unlike in years past, may actually have a face and personality. Most of these are also very trashy and truly scrape the bottom of the bucket in terms of writing.

AND YET?

I would bet money on the fact that you'll have heard of these women and probably even have a good idea what they're like without ever having touched a page of their manga.

I'm sorry but the straights are whipping donuts around the yuri girls in terms of delivering a wide variety of weird compelling fucked up women. How many yuri leading ladies by comparison can you point to as standout recognizable characters even divorced from their story? There's definitely a few, but not many. I'm not talking quality or depth of writing, I'm talking straight up pure recognizability. There are many beautifully written women in yuri, now more than ever. I can't think of many who'd like, get a figure made or have their face splashed on merch, though.

I don't really have a conclusion here. I love Yuri a lot, but at the end of the day this is just kinda the state of things right now.

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earthstellar · 2 months

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Brave Bang Bravern!: A Review for Transformers Fans

I've seen so much about this on my dash that I had to give it a try, and I gotta say, as someone who hasn't watched any new anime series since around 2008 at the most recent and I also hate the fucking military, this is a pretty good show.

THERE WILL BE SOME MILD SPOILERS. Nothing major. I'm not gonna spoil anything critical or mention characters that are introduced later etc. At of time of writing, only 6 episodes have been released.

Understanding Genre: The Trailer is A Lie

Now, while there is a trailer here, I want you to largely disregard it.

Why is that? Well, we need to talk about the "big two" robot show genres in Japan, which are as follows:

Real Robot -- This refers to a typically military setting or other serious setting, in which robots are handled as realistically as possible in terms of how they work and how they are applied. There tend to be less individual/sentient robots and more "suit" type mechs right along side human-made, more realistic machinery and mech designs, although that isn't entirely unique to this genre. Usually this stuff is labelled as sci-fi/action outside of Japan.

Super Robot (THIS IS THE SHIT TRANSFORMERS FANS GENERALLY WANT) --Essentially borderline seemingly magical robots with their own rules and in universe backstory for how they work, which isn't necessarily tied to realism. Usually this stuff is labelled as sci-fi/fantasy or space fantasy outside of Japan, since a lot of these tend to be space robots. They can be "driven" by pilots or just straight up sentient robots who are vibing with some human companions, although it's not exclusively that. It can be both, it can be neither, but no matter what, Super Robot shows are less about strict realism and more about really cool shit with robots that are basically their own people and exist according to their own rules.

Now, the trailer for BBBB (the acronym for the show is based on the Japanese title, which is Bang Brave Bang Bravern) is a COMPLETE FUCKING LIE.

It wants you to think this is going to be some dumbass GI Joe shit.

While there are elements of dumbass GI Joe shit, this is largely just to set up the premise for why shit is happening in the first place, and to help introduce the main threat (alien space creatures with fucking light beam lasers) as well as bring in our main characters under the premise of everyone having to work together to address this alien threat to Earth.

What we care about here amongst Transformers freaks is gay space robots, and this show delivers.

Getting Into Bravern: First Episode, Mild Plot Spoiler Summary

It wants you to think this is a Real Robot show.

The first episode sets things up as though it will be a Real Robot show.

There is a threat to Earth, a mystery space alien mechanical enemy, and nobody knows what the fuck to do. A military exercise between multiple nations using Titanostriders (which look very much like Shiro Masamune Appleseed-style mechs, human made in nature) to practice battle drills who are now instructed to swap over to real ammunition and go to fucking town.

Nobody knows how to do that.

They're skilled with the Titanostriders, sure, but it turns into a shit show. The alien mechanical enemies are using fucking space laser shit, it's a disaster---

--And then Bravern drops in from the fucking sky and it IMMEDIATELY TURNS INTO A SUPER ROBOT SHOW.

There's a "get in the robot, Shiji" moment where one of the Titanostrider operators, Isami Ao, is encouraged by Bravern to get inside of him.

He does. And immediately has no idea what the fuck is going on, Bravern is largely in control, and starts to blast his own theme song inside his cockpit as diegetic music while Isami is generally losing his shit, as one might do.

Humanity's reaction to Bravern is Real Robot genre type, where it is handled seriously by all the characters and organisations involved in universe, however Bravern is very much a Super Robot genre character who brings more of a Super Robot energy to the show at large.

The serious elements are mostly balanced by how fucking silly Bravern is, and there are some excellent moments in this show (currently only 6 episodes have been released) which make it entirely worth a watch.

Fun Things About Bravern Himself

Braven is very, very, very gay for his pilot.

Chances are, you've seen the screenshots of some of these moments on Tumblr already, but the delivery of these lines is magnificent.

Bravern sings his own theme song. It's the voice actor for Bravern doing the vocals, and the song itself is reminiscent of 1970s orchestrated big band energy mecha themes. For Transformers fans, it has a very Transformers Victory theme kind of vibe to it.

You gotta hear it, it fucking rules. The album cover shows Bravern holding a giant microphone.

Bravern is generally light hearted, doing his best to motivate his pilot while not hesitating to enter the action and try to defend humanity.

Now, why does Bravern care about humans so much? We don't know, but we'll talk about some mysteries in a later section below.

He is surprisingly insightful at times, while also fucking around and enjoying himself. (You may have seen screenshots going around Tumblr of Bravern with a loop of hot dogs strung around one of his chevron points on his forehead. This follows a scene in which he wants his pilot to take a break and associate with his peers for once, as a way to relieve stress. So they go to a bar, it turns out reception is positive and someone even brings weenies out for Bravern since he's too big to fit inside, lol.)

Generally, he's a very interesting mech, because we have so little information about him. He's fun, and clearly vibing, but he's also borderline if not outright obsessed with his pilot and has unknown origins, which has lead to some darker interpretations and audience discussion.

A lot of people have compared Bravern's energy to Rodimus, and generally I would agree with that. He has his high-energy silly moments, and his more serious personal moments (primarily with Isami, but also with Smith), and I think these aspects of his character work well to create a fun mech with the potential to be deep in a believable and effective way, with an equal capacity for being a doofus.

Bravern is obviously the number one reason to watch the show for most people, and I would say that if you're purely here for a giant gay space robot, then this is going to be a decent watch.

The Military Sucks: There Are Militaries Involved Yet Somehow This Is Still Watchable

I hate the fucking military, so at least the military here is depicted in an acceptable way (so far, at least). In episode 2, they waterboard Isami to interrogate him for information he doesn't have regarding Bravern, which is a realistically shitty and awful thing for the military to do-- They don't sugarcoat how fucked up the military is. These people very much have the capacity to harm their own staff, and they will do so if it means they might get an edge over the enemy.

At the same time, the actual characters in the military are depicted as primarily doing this shit out of a genuine personal desire to defeat these horrendously destructive space entities, which have attacked at least some of their home towns and home countries, so it's more personal rather than purely being a military directive that people are being forced to follow.

In this way, it's not really realistic, but everyone is on board for their own largely humanitarian aid type of reasons (there is a mission which is basically just locating survivors of an attack and then getting the fuck out) which makes the military context feel less oppressive and shitty.

Part of why this is more OK than other military depictions is because the military forces involved here are international (collaborating to defeat a global threat rather than kill each other's civilians) and because the military is clearly losing this war.

Because it's an international effort, this brings more diversity to the show-- There's a surprising amount of English interspersed between dialogue in Japanese here and there, and the military board consists of representatives from multiple nations, including some Germans who at first believe Bravern is some kind of secret American operation, lmao.

Bravern calls the military out on its shit, and essentially tells the military board to stop with the suspicious infighting bullshit and drop the internal tension because otherwise they'll all die to this mechanical nightmare creature threat.

They actually listen, which means this is an unrealistic portrayal of the military, lmao. I think they struck a good balance so far between showing that the military sucks and has problems, while also making sure that you're not really cheering for any given military force, but rather, you cheer for individual characters who just happen to be stuck doing this military shit as a premise for anything to be going on in the show at all.

So it's not the worst when it comes to the military shit; At least so far, it's watchable, which as someone who passionately hates the fucking military, is surprising to me.

It's less GI Joe and more "we just needed a reason for these characters to be involved in this situation".

Of course, your mileage may vary, but personally I found it easy to tune out or just skip through any military shit that got grating and I didn't miss anything important by doing so. At the very least, you can skip around and ignore a lot of this stuff and get right to the gay robot if that's all you want to do. It becomes clear pretty quickly what's going on if you skip around a bit, so no worries there.

Fun Speculation: What is Bravern?

Only 6 episodes are out at the moment, so there's tons of shit we don't know yet.

Bravern has a notable resemblance to a type of enemy in the show, called a Death-Drive.

Death-Drives are mecha who are distinct from the "minion" type enemies (which almost resemble flying saucers with laser gun arms and light shields), and have their own unique character designs and names.

Why these things are here, how they are here, why they are interested in Earth, and everything else is currently unknown.

Bravern looks like he could possibly be of the same mechanical species, although we don't know if that's true (yet). He has abilities that the other mecha don't seem to have, but how far this goes and what it might mean is not yet clear.

Bravern also seems to have knowledge of human media (he references The Abyss at one point and he likes 3D printing figures of sentai show characters lmao), and was immediately able to speak to the humans using language they would understand, so it's unclear if Bravern may have been studying Earth for some time before his arrival or why.

He is obsessed with his pilot and cares for him so much that he extends some care towards others purely based on their relation to Isami as co-workers; Why? What makes Isami special?

How does Bravern know seemingly every human language? How does his piloting system work? How similar is he to the Death-Drives-- Are organic beings critical to them in some way? If so, why are the other mechs killing so many of us? (These are big questions especially by the end of episode 6, due to some spoilers and a spoiler character who shows up later.)

We know little to nothing about a lot of the key elements of the show, including any motivations for the Death-Drives or what they are, what's up with the fucking UFO looking laser things, etc.

There's more to speculate on, but that would be getting into deeper spoiler territory so I'm gonna hold back on that for now.

Summary: It's Gay and Cool and Has Interesting Ideas

Bravern's not the sole source of gay vibes in this show, but it's fun that he is also a source of gay vibes in this show.

The designs are great, the Titanostriders remind me of Appleseed style mechanical suit designs which is nice, the Death-Drives are super interesting, Bravern is fucking fabulous but he's not too goofy to take seriously, and the military is unfortunately present but it's clear that they suck and are generally losing (and since the conflict is not between different groups of humans but rather is about human collaboration to defeat a non-human shared threat to our entire planet, this goes a long way to make the military shit tolerable).

It pretends to be a Real Robot show but has so much Super Robot show sprinkled in that you might as well consider it a little bit of both which the show balances pretty well.

I haven't watched an anime since around 2008 at the very latest, so I don't know how this might compare to any other robot animes since then and I am certainly not an anime expert by any means LOL, but this has been a fun show to watch so far.

It does have its problems, of course, but if you can get past the setup for the first episode (when it's still pretending to be a Real Robot show), from the moment Bravern arrives towards the end of that first episode, the show gains momentum and starts to get interesting very quickly.

It has some issues. But we're only 6 episodes in, so at the moment, they have plenty of time to potentially address those issues and we'll see where things go.

I'd recommend it if you want to give it a try!

I think there's enough here to appeal to the usual Transformers crowd and you might end up liking it, or at least having fun while watching it in the background.

If you end up wanting to to tap out then no worries-- I think it's worth giving it a shot and if it's not your thing, no problem.

Each episode is around 25 - 30 minutes, so while the first episode might feel like a slog to get through because fuck the military, once Bravern shows up the show actually gets started and I wouldn't blame anyone for just skipping to that point in the first episode and going from there, because there's nothing in that opening that you won't be reminded of or be able to figure out. It mostly just sets up the intro to the human characters and the collaboration training session, introduces the Titanostriders as a thing, and you can always go back and watch that part later if you want to.

All in all, pretty decent! Obviously we're Transformers people so we're here for the robots, and the robots are interesting and fun, and that's all I need to have a good time.

Hopefully this was a useful summary if you're interested or have seen Bravern stuff on your dash! :)

Thanks for reading!

BONUS: I forgot to mention this somehow, but there's a lot of overlap between Transformers and other Brave shows involving actual Transformers re-used in Japan for these shows; There's a good video about it here on YouTube which explains some of this, but if anyone's wondering, yes Bravern has a grounder alt-mode and it's pretty cool. Will we get a transforming Bravern figure??? We can hope!

There's another video here which mentions some of the Transformers elements in other Brave shows/Yuusha, which might be interesting for those of you who are unaware. :)

#maccadams #maccadam #bravern #bbbb #ba #bang brave bang bravern #long post #bravern review #transformers

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chouxsardine · 4 months

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Permission to Fall -- Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: "Don't be afraid of falling, because he will catch you everytime" --Where things became too much at your company's Christmas party and Jake comes to the rescue as the most thoughtful boyfriend that he is.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 3211

Warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, feet (nothing gross or super detailed), a drop of superstition (let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Author's note: This is originally an idea inspired by @jakesguitarsolo and written for her. I hope you feel better now, dear. One idea spins into me pulling an all nighter...And here it is. This also goes to whoever feels stressed around this time of the year. Yes, things are tough, but you are stronger. I am so proud of you. If you want to talk, feel free to send me an ask or message. This is my first gvf fic and my first time writing anything for threes years. I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it too.

🎧: I am listening to I Need You Most of All by Stephen Sanchez while writing this (you can tell the title is taken from the lyrics)

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Suddenly everything is too much.

But you know damn well that it doesn’t just happen “suddenly”. In fact, shit has been building up for days, or even weeks. You don’t know if it’s the end-of-year frenzy getting into everyone’s head, Mercury is in retrograde, or the depleted Vitamin D levels due to shortened daylight, you’ve had it particularly rough recently, from small inconveniences like your favourite snack being out of stock at the local grocery store for three consecutive weeks to mishaps like you taking the blame for your impotent coworker. You are exhausted, to say the least; you couldn’t wait for the holidays. Not entirely for its cheer, but for the few precious days off. You just need a break from everything.

Now you are stuck in your company’s holiday party. The annual event that you dreaded the most. It involves too many fake smiles, false-hearted small talk, and tooth-rotting-sweet cupcakes that clearly have too much food colouring. All the mental preparing goes south as you stand in the room, the stabbing pain from your high-heels growing more and more unbearable by the second. Too many people.

“Just another thirty minutes, you can do it. Just another thirty minutes”. You hopelessly glance at the clock on the wall, flashbacking to your childhood self squirming in the seats waiting for math class to end.

But of course, something has to make matters worse. The real straw that breaks the camel’s back is your clumsy coworker accidentally bumping into you and spilling her drink on your shoes.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry, y/n!” She hastily apologizes in a high-pitched squeal. A few people turn their heads toward your direction.

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Embarrassment. Embarrassment. Panic. Trouble. You try to wave her off. The shoes aren’t even your top concerns right now; you just want her to stop talking and stop attracting more unwanted attention.

“Really? Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! It’s just—”

“Please.” You take the handful of tissues from her, look her in the eyes, almost pleading, “It’s fine. Please excuse me, I’ll just go to the washroom real quick.”

Once the washroom door is closed behind you, you feel like collapsing right there on the floor. You wobble your way to the sink, arms propped up on the cold marble surface. You don’t dare to look at yourself in the mirror. Your ears are buzzing and the twisted feeling in your lungs tightens. As if a cold hand is wringing a wet towel inside your stomach, as if someone is shoving your head into cold water, you can't breath properly. You try to draw a breath, but end up sounding like a stranded whale. Before it develops into a full-blown panic attack that you can’t handle, you managed to muster the last bit of your sanity and dial that number with trembling fingers.

Jake picks up on the second ring.

“Hi, love. What’s up? ”

Upon hearing his voice, your tears break free. You are sobbing so hard that you have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the volume down. God forbid any busybody out there overhearing sobbing coming out of the washroom. “Ja—Jake—-”You struggled to form a coherent syllable.

“What’s wrong, y/n? Are you hurt?” His voice immediately grows sterner, stripped of of the previous languidness.

To talk under this state feels like squeezing words out of your veins. “Ca—can—you..come p—pick me up? Company—p-party.” You stutter through gritted teeth.

There is some shuffled noise over the phone, a loud bang sounding like he had bumped into something, a silent “fuck” under his breath, then his voice reaches your ears again: “Coming right now, baby, take a deep breath for me.”

You hear the faint beeping of car keys. More shuffled noise. More beeping. That means he has started the car, right? That means he will be here soon, right? You mind is racing and spinning and your lungs are still acting up, only allow silvers of oxygen into your body. You feel like you are watching the world through a distorted filter. A scarier thought jumps into your brain: you whiny puny thing, continue crying and your panic will affect Jake. The roads are slippery now, and it will be all your fault if he ends up in a car accident.

As if being slapped in the face, you manage to suck in a deep breath like a scuba diver resurfacing to the water: “Drive safe please, please Jake, please—I will wait for you.”

Jake makes a sound that is somewhat between a relieved laugh and a resigned sigh. He knows instantly what’s going on in your overthinking brain; you are worried about him. The thoughtfulness must be engraved in y/n’s brain, he thought, always, always putting others in front of herself, even when she’s having a panic attack. And Jake knows you are correct. It is only upon hearing your words that he realizes how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He recomposes himself, relaxing his shoulder, “Don’t you worry about me, love. I will stay on the phone if that makes you feel better, yeah? Ain’t nothing gonna happen to me.”

“Knock on wood!” You hiss between sobbing, frantically searching for any wooden material around you. Damn it, why is everything so shiny and glassy?

Jake is amazed that he even lets out a short laugh under the circumstances. Yes, his heart aches hearing his girl being a mess over the phone, and he wishes he could grow wings and fly to her side. But meanwhile, he can't help but find you cute like this. He knocks three times on the mini wooden tissue box that he keeps in the middle console.

“Yes, knock on wood. You hear that, doll?”

“Hmm.” You would honestly believe anything now. Hearing Jake’s voice and imagining him coming to you is like brown noise for babies. Your lungs finally decide to have mercy on you, and you can now somehow draw in shallow breaths albeit the pain in your chest.

Jake is relieved as he sees the green lights shining at the last intersection before turning left onto the side road where your company is located. “I’m here. Can you come down by yourself, love? Or do you want me to get you?”

“I can come down.” You say. The thought of him finding you in a messy pile on the bathroom floor makes you wince, even though he’d probably seen worse.

“Okay baby, see you in a second.”

You don’t remember how you collected your coat and pushed your way through the crowded room without many people noticing. The next moment, your sensations are restored, and you find yourself already in Jake’s arms. He's waiting for you in the area between the automatic glass door and the revolving door outside, a place that is warm with air conditioning but won’t attract nosy people. He wraps you in a hug with his wool jacket. His comforting scent fills your nostrils, a powerful pacifier for your naughty lungs. For the first time this evening, you can finally breathe properly like a normal human being. The rush of fresh air makes you release a loud sob like a newborn baby. The relief of seeing him safely standing in front of you and the release of finally being free from the stressful and stuffy environment ushers more tears to stream down your face.

“Shhhh…..you’re okay now, y/n, safe now. I’m here.” His hand wraps protectively around the back of your head as he plants kisses into your hair. “Poor girl, let’s get to the car and go home.”

Home. Home sounds heavenly to your right now. You couldn’t think of a better combination of these four letters in the whole of human history.

On the way back, you curl into a ball on the passenger seat like a battered puppy. Jake holds your hand whenever he gets the chance, his strong calloused fingers gently massaging yours, tracing the patterns on your palm, his thumb brushing the back of your hand, providing warmth. No longer crying, your shoulders occasionally shudder with involuntary sobs that escape you. But other than that, you are falling into a trance. Your gaze concentrated on Jake’s perfect side profile through hooded eyes, watching in awe as the passing streetlights formed patterns of shadow on his graceful nose and cheeks; your mind numb without a single thought.

It is only when Jake wakes you up that you realize you have fallen asleep. The car is already parked in the garage, the familiar and comforting damp smell seeping in.

“We are home now, sleepyhead.” Jake smiles at you, tapping on your wrist to signal you to wait as he gets out of the car and opens your side of the door. Just as you were about to step off, Jake reaches to cradle you by the shoulders and knees, carrying you bridle-style into the house. You hide your face shyly in the crook of his neck, secretly grateful because your feet are indeed sore in those heels.

Jake puts you down by the shoe rack, motioning you to put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he squats down in front you, holding your ankles and taking off your shoes. If he did see the stains, he didn’t ask any questions, only cooed when he saw the blisters on your heels.

“Let’s go upstairs and get your makeup off, then we’ll cuddle and go to bed, yeah?” Jake stands up, hanging up your coat before cupping your cheeks and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You never hated makeup more than now, regretting to put it on in the first place, now that it has become the annoying barrier lying in your way to bedtime. But Jake says “let’s,” that means he’s going to do it together with you, right?

“Jake?” You whine bashfully.

“Yes, love?”

You tilt up your chin and close your eyes, “One more kissy, please?”

Jake swears he feels a part of his heart melt right there. Who is he to deny you?

“Of course, as many as my princess would like.”

Stepping into the bathroom, Jake sits you on the closed toilet seat. He opens the drawer, grabs your makeup remover and some cotton pads. He applies some liquid onto the wipes and lifts up your chin.

“Close your eyes for me, love.” The cool liquid on your eyelids makes your eyebrows twitch, causing Jake to chuckle, “I know, I know. Just a little longer.”

You sit quietly, mesmerized and hypnotized under his touch. His movements are almost rhythmic. Is this how cats feel when their owners scratches behind their ears? You fear that if you make a sound, you will actually let out a purr.

Jake continues until most of your makeup is gone. “Hold out your hands,” you hear him say and complied. Two dollops of foamy liquid landed in the centre of your palm, and you opened your eyes to recognize they are your face wash. Jake tugs on your wrist, leading you to stand in front of the sink.

“Can you wash your pretty face now, darling? Wash up, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

You nodded, feeling lighter and more relaxed now without your makeup and even more content when you turn on the tap and find out that Jake has already tuned it to a lukewarm temperature for you.

When Jake returned, he was calling you from the bedroom. You have already brushed your teeth and let down your hair.

You walked into the bedroom and are welcomed by the scent of bergamot and sandalwood from your favourite candle glowing on the night stand. Jake was pulling an old T-shirt out from the closet. It was the vintage Joan Jett and The Blackhearts shirt, the patterns half faded, and materials worn-out soft. You saw him laying out one of his boxers for you too. He knows you always prefer them to your own underwear as pyjamas.

“Come sit, angel.” He patted the bench at the foot of the bed, him sitting across from it on a small stool.

It is only when you walked close that you saw the wooden foot spa basin, with clouds of steam rising from it. As you sat down, he gently took your ankle and balanced your feet on the edge of the basin, so that the hot water is steaming your sole.

“It’s still a bit hot.” He looks up to you. “I put Epsom salt and eucalyptus oil in it.”

“Where did you get this?” You feel like the heat from the bottom of the feet is slowly being absorbed into your veins and rising up to your cheeks. You wiggle your toes nervously.

Jake lets out a giggle, “Well, mum suggested once to Josh about the foot spa thing, said it helps with stress and tense muscles. You know, with him running barefoot on stage and all.” He reaches down to sprinkle some water onto your feet, letting you adjust to the temperature. “But Josh got the fancy electric ones. I thought this is better. More authentic, don’t you think?”

“Uh-hmm.”

“Your nails are all chipped,” Jake looks down, “maybe tomorrow we can repaint them? I saw you bought a new colour the other day.”

Tender. So tender. From his tone to his caramel brown eyes. The light from the lamp illuminates the left side of his face, giving it a solemn, smooth glow like a wax statue. Your heart swells; love makes it rise like Soufflé in the oven. The soft surface rises up until it touches your ribcage, threatening to spill those tears again.

“Thank you, Jake.” You dare not raise your voice, fearing that it will break, “I just got a bit overwhelmed at the party, is all.”

Jake eases your feet slowly into the water now that it’s the perfect temperature. The slight sling of your blisters is soon overwhelmed by the all-encompassing warmth that rises all the way to your ankle.

After a few heart beats, he speaks again. “You’ll always have me, y/n. You are allowed to fall, to break. I will be here to catch you, to piece you together. Whatever you need.”

Finally you were snuggled together in bed. You, a human koala, cling to Jake with your face pressed against his chest. His arm snakes around your shoulder, fingers mindlessly tracing your collarbone, strumming some unknown patterns. His heartbeat thumping in your ear, the perfect lullaby. The steady rise and fall of his chest is like waves, rocking you into a sweet slumber. Your eyelids feel heavy like velvet drapes. There’s still a stubborn voice in your brain keeping you from falling asleep. There’s still one more thing you need to do, even though you understood each other perfectly.

“Jake?” Your voice low like a murmur. Jake almost didn’t hear you at first.

“What is it, babe?”

“I love you.” Those words come out as a slur, and like a magic spell, you fall into the deep embrace of sleep as soon as the last syllable leaves your lips. Now clear of any stress and worries in the arms of your lover, the strained string in you brain that has been holding on for dear life the whole evening finally snaps. You’re out like a light.

“I love you back, y/n, through and through.” He whispers into your dream.

You woke up to an empty bed, the sheet on his side still has the human-shaped imprint. Jake is a night owl; it is pretty common that he just gets up in the middle of the night and ends up doing some random things around the house. Most often it’s him strumming the guitar and experimenting with his ideas for new tunes in the home studio downstairs. But you have also caught him fixing chipped paint on the walls, repotting the succulents in the garage, and pouring broth into the crockpot with chicken thighs and smoked ham hock (“so we could have warm chicken chili in the morning!”; to be honest, it’s indeed delicious; you had two bowls and had to skip lunch that day). Just to name a few, so the possibilities are endless.

You get out of bed, creep cross the corridor and tiptoe your way down the stairs. The lights at the doorway are on; you thought Jake forgot to turn them off. However, as you approach, you see Jake squatting down next to the shoe rack, his back towards you, and a brush and some spray bottles laying nearby.

You move closer and see him holding the clothes steamer near your wine-stained shoes. The heels you wore have a suede tip in the front, and unfortunately, that’s where the wine was mostly spilt on. After a few moments, Jake uses the wire brush to clean the surface. He stops from time to time, holding it further to inspect the result.

You waited until he stops again to make some sounds, announcing your presence. Jake immediately turns around. His eyes softens upon seeing you.

“What are you doing up?”

You go to squat down next to him, kissing his temple before resting your head on his shoulder.

“You just bought these not so long ago, yeah? It’d be a shame to leave them stained.” Jake lets more steam soak into the fabric before brushing them again. “I’m almost done. I saw this trick online, and it looks pretty legit.” It’s only then that you noticed his phone on the side, the screen showing the replies from some Reddit post.

“Thank you, baby.” You rub your cheeks slightly on his T-shirt; the feeling of warm pastry once again fills your heart.

“No worries, doll. I think it’s good for now. Let’s leave them here and check in the morning.” Jake starts putting away his tools before pulling you up and wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you back upstairs.

On your way, something familiar catches your eye. You must’ve missed it earlier.

“Wait, where did you get that?” You stop, pointing at what happens to be a whole case of your favourite snack lying on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, I saw the stores are out of them, so I ordered them online. They just arrived today.” Jake scratches his head, his tone tainted with slight disappointment.“I thought they’d be a nice surprise as stocking stuffers, but…”

You stopped him mid-sentence with a kiss.

“I love you.” This time you said it clear against his lips.

“Oh doll, I love you back,” he smiles, showing the cutest wrinkle on his nose. His hands brush your shoulder as you resume your steps upstairs. “Let’s get a few more hours of sleep now. And when you wake up, you will wake up to some yummy pancakes and a pair of stain-free shoes, huh? How does that sound?”

Oh Lord, that sounds heavenly. That sounds just like home.

“I’d like that, Jake. I’d like that very, very much.”

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

Thank you for reading :) any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated

(The stain-removing tips comes from malccy72 on reddit :D

If you also feel like reading a smutty (but also fluffy?) piece🤭: Mariner's Complex || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

or some Christmas fluff: Ticked (all my boxes)

#jake kiskza x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fluff #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fic

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granolawriting · 7 months

Text

"Do you have a boyfriend?" •°. *࿐

pairing: no breakout! Cowboy costume!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your best friend holds a halloween party at her house, where the often brooding Joel you often disregard adorns a new attire that sparks something in you. And he makes it clear he feels the same.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap (college senior and 50 year old), grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he’s the sexiest, porn with lots of plot, p in v, creampie, HEAVY praise, you guys are wearing matching costumes on accident, he fucks you IN costume if you're wondering, nice aftercare, pet names (darling, sweetheart, doll), southern hospitality misconstrued for shyness, sarah is your best friend

word count: 7.4k (holy shit)

masterlist

A/N: christ almighty. This took me all day. it has clouded my mind, overtaken my senses. finishing the final lines of this fic made me feel raw, completly finished. I have never written a fic this long in my entire life I'll be so honest. Anyways, I've been delving so deep into pedro stuff recently that reignighting the Joel adgenda made me quiver at night thinking about it. ANYWAYS. THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!! confetti thrown everywehere.

and in other news, I hope u enjoy the 4th installment of my kinktober list, I'll see you all again on the 20th with some bondage!Joel.... Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

P.S. The title was made with scream in mind but since I changed up him from wearing a mask to a cowboy because christ how could I not I decided to just keep it as is.

Monotonous noise of worn out wheels against tired linoleum floors squeak softly at the turns of your cart against the rows of aisles that comprised the small store. Dimly lit bulbs illuminated the rows of supplies— plates upon masks upon streamers of different colors and themes overtake your senses as the whole display seems ostentatious and unflattering to you.

“How's this for a Halloween costume?”

A wolf mask hides the face of an otherwise non-furry Sarah Miller. Who seemed to not share the same sentiment as you regarding distaste for the design.

“I don't know, how are you going to drink if you have a mask on your face?”

“Straws exist.”

“I'm not convinced”

She takes it off with melodrama, sullen disdain for your lack of halloween spirit as you push the cart further down the aisle.

A soft squeak of tires indicates a stop in your steps as you stand before a wall of costumes— what you needed more than anything to hold an answer for you.

Eyes tracing up and down the rows floor to ceiling coated with cheaply made, scantily clad costumes makes your vision blur. Until it lands on a single item; one that stood out to you above all else.

“A cowgirl?”

Sarah sounds unimpressed. Eyeing the plastic wrapped costume labeled “ride my rodeo” with a model on the front wearing small red and white plaid tied to her front, small jean shorts cut at most with an inch’s inseam, and a cowboy hat— sold separately.

“It's the best I've got. It's either this, or I repeat last year’s costume.”

“You are not dressing up as Adam Sandler to my party.”

You put the bag in the cart.

Ever since moving to college, your career as a party-goer has been less than prolific, as a freshman assuming that time away from home was means to let yourself go, slowly turned into a reluctant senior year where parties were oftentimes the last thing you wanted to do on a given day. However, as Sarah lived in the area, she at the very least dragged you to her neighborhood functions. Which, was marginally better than what any Greek life could pull together. And as your car pulls into the empty spot within the miller’s lot, you become privy as to why; because you always had to help put it together.

As smooth concrete lays beneath your car while you park, the truck parked beside you was none other than Joel Millers— Sarah's bachelor dad.

Bachelor was an overstatement, a compliment that wasn't quite applicable to him. He wasn't looking for love, a bachelor without a cause, he was purposefully distant. A brood coated his face from eyes to lips that only ever contorted to something positive in the sight of his daughter. A contractor seemingly married to his work he had no means to find love. A part of you wonders when the last time he even had anyone was, romantically or sexually. Or even how he got ahold of one to make Sarah happen in the first place. You could never picture Joel as someone sexually active, if Sarah told you she was immaculately conceived you would have believed her.

The click of boots against concrete greets the Millers doorstep as your cowgirl boots are adorned, the rest of your uncomfortable costume shoved in a bag across your shoulder as means to at least dress the house in comfort before having to walk around in costume for hours on end.

Walking directly in you’re faced with a Mr. Miller, with a similar idea. He wore nothing at all, costume-wise. Something that you wish you could have done, as every year he seems to escape the wrath of Sarah’s demands regarding spirit, to be met with the regular weathered jeans and loose long sleeves. Standing tall upon a stepladder was he already being put to work however, thick fingers pushing small thumbtacks into the open space of his home, orange and black streamers littering the front room as he works.

His head turns to you at the sound of his door being opened and shut,

“Well, what’re you supposed ta’ be?”

His eyes size you up and down, southern drawl brings sound to the quiet of the room, only otherwise broken by soft halloween music traveling its way downstairs from Sarah’s bedroom. If there was one attractive thing about him, it was his accent. The way he would slur his words together, the charming yet teasing air to everything he says. Having moved to Austin 4 years ago you would’ve thought you’d have grown used to it by now, and you have, besides Joel. The age that honeyed his voice like old whisky was unprecedented, and never paralleled by any other man you’d yet to mean in your time there.

“Haven’t put it on yet Mr. Miller. But I can see that your costume is quite the classic.”

“Oh quit it. Now, Sarah asks that you go upstairs when ya’ came in. Bosses orders.”

You give a stern look to him and nod as though you were to be sent on the front lines, and he only gives a small chuckle before returning to his work.

“Oh my god you’re finally here. Look—”

She opens the door in hurried fashion, and quickly centers herself in the middle of the room to do a spin for you. A small gust of wind as she twirled letting her skirt float as she moved to reveal her outfit. Bells and jingles fill the room at the movement of her body.

“Does it look too corny? Can you tell who I am?”

Looking her up and down, large bundles of curly hair hiding a stuffed serpent around her neck as a green top wraps around the back of it, paired with loose bells and metal pieces adorning a small blue skirt with layers of tulle, it was quite obvious who she was meant to be if you were born prior to 2006.

“Britney spears. And you look perfect, but don't you think it’s a little early to try on your costume?”

Her eyes pierce you with only the gaze of a woman who thought you clearly misunderstood what was going on.

“The party is in 2 hours. I've yet to even do my makeup, or take photos before I get wasted. Time is of the essence. Here, put your costume on and help get ready with me.”

Sarah, despite being in the same grade as you, was marginally less mature. Mostly driven by her intelligence boosting her into higher grades when she was younger, she was around 2 years younger than you despite graduating the same year as you. And despite her efforts sometimes her stress levels were purely driven by the fact she was barely 21. Still obsessed and enamored with arguably, menial things. Though through her age, you always attempted to discern her fathers. With grey growing into the roots of his head, speckling his beard as it traced the lines of his jaw, you had ventured to guess he was around 50.

…

Ding Dong

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh—”

“It's okay Sarah, I'll get it.”

Feet scrambling up and out of her bedroom, you quickly find your way to the front door as the clock shone at 7:30, cursing the people who find joy in showing up so early to what is not a dinner party. Dressed in your cowgirl costume do you answer the door, expecting either trick or treaters or an older neighbor, does someone entirely different greet you as it opens.

Joel towers before you within the doorway. He no longer wore the loose fitting shirts and jeans omnipresent on his person, moreover it was swapped for a much more form fitting attire. A cowboy hat for starters, sat upon his head of hair, usually messy and combed back did it now fall in front of his face, sculpting his jaw as it fell to the sides of chocolate eyes. Strands peppered his face as you took him in, a worn cowboy hat that complimented the tan of his skin, equally as sun bleached did it seem almost natural for him to adorn it. Followed by a small toothpick sticking from his lips, did it draw focus to the pink of them, shaped and contrasted by the peppered beard freshly trimmed, longer pieces of hair falling over his top lip to establish a thicker mustache that became the centerpiece of his look. As your eyes trailed down the rest of his body, you’re met with a form fitting tan tuscan button up as his underlayer, slightly unbuttoned at the top to reveal his chest lines do you notice fabric rolled to his elbows to reveal thick hairy forearms that held muscle visible unflexed. Trailing up to see the definition of bicep within the confines of cotton fabric almost bursting at the muscle he carried, only to be met with an overlayer of a dark brown vest seemingly made of corduroy or something similar, tightly buttoned around his waist to accentuate it's contrast to the broadness of his shoulders. The pants worn in tandem with the outfit were a chocolate brown, thick leather-like material clung to his quads as they tapered at the ends of his calves, square toed cowboy boots finding home beneath the heavy fabric of his pants. Around his waist was there a detailed belt, a worn leather belt held up the tie of his pants, and to his hip was a holster, housing a small toy gun that fell to his side as his hip stayed slightly cocked at the entrance. His thumb looped in the side of his pocket as he stood waiting at the front door. The scent of cologne fills your senses as it breeds with his natural scent to produce what was to you somewhat of an aphrodisiac. This was no longer the grumpy old man that wore clothes a size too large because he was too lazy to check the charts, no longer the father of your best friend— in this moment he was nothing but insatiably attractive.

“Oh, Mr. Miller I— don't you have a key?”

Only now do you notice the look he gave you. The equal look of awe as his eyes unabashedly trailed your body and it's curved. Much more revealing than him though equally as hidden from what he wanted. You watched as lips became slightly pursed, taking in the fit of your jeans and the curve of your hips, eyes falling for far too long upon your top and how it complimented you.

He skips a beat.

“Oh— uh, sorry kid. Though Sarah’d be comin’ down. Wanted to show her my outfit. S’ the last halloween we’re gonna have fer a while.”

You feel yourself heat up, his eyes connecting with yours have a whole new meaning to it now. He seemed embarrassed, even, as his eyes darted from side to side, unable to connect with yours for more than a few seconds as he asked for his daughter.

“She's still upstairs getting ready. Do you, do you want me to call her down?”

“No, no that won’t be necessary. ‘Supose I’ll wait fer her inside.”

It takes you a moment to register that as means for entry into his own house as you stood there agape in the center of the doorframe. Though quickly do you move your body to make room for him, as he dips his head to you in thanks before heavy boots hit the wooden floors of the downstairs in his entry.

The tension that builds within the room is deafening as you both stand there in silence. Unable to remove yourself from his proximity does the air fill with feelings foreign and impure.

“That’s a um, nice costume ya’ got there.”

Joel breaks the silence with soft spoken words as he begins to pour a drink in the kitchen. Though not looking at you, the image of you within his mind pierced the darkest parts of his consciousness with glaring extremity as he felt himself grow hot in so many layers.

“This? Oh, Sarah, she made me do it. But uh, I really like yours as well. It, it suits you well. And we’re matching, that's funny.”

This was your poor attempt at flirting with a mind so foggy with memories completely turned on their head as your perception of Joel did that same.

“WHO IS ITTTT!!!!!!!!!”

Sarah screams from the closed door of her upstairs bedroom. Clearly your time downstairs was limited before she began even more antics from the confines of her unkempt bedroom.

He hands you a glass, amber liquid sloshes upon crackling ice fills up a quarter of the cylindrical glass.

“Hope ya’ have fun t’night sweetheart. Make sure Sarah’s doin’ alright.”

You flash him a shy smile as you take your drink to go, climbing the hardwood stairs leading to her bedroom as quickly as you can without spilling it.

“Who was it? What took you so long! Is that whisky?”

“Can you ask one question at a time?”

“Well I already asked all of em so what's the point?”

“Just for future reference.”

“Maybe. Well?”

“your dad forgot his key, I helped him inside, he gave me a drink. Tis the story.”

She looks you up and down as the recollection of her father instills newfound meekness at the mention of him.

“Ok weirdo. Here, take candids.”

…

Halloween music blares from speakers as the party comes to a head, the myriad of costumes all still holding creases from the cheap packaging they were purchased in become clustered together as the drinks you have begin to get to you. The smell of alcohol and pumpkin fill the room as a cacophony of laughter takes you out of a spell of staring thankfully focused on the floor and not upon unsuspecting persons.

The only person who seemed to stand out amongst the crowds of duplicate costume and cheesy innuendos was a certain Mr. Miller— a prolific wallflower that only hosted these things as a means to keep Sarah close in situations like this. For if not here, she’d be somewhere else doing the same thing.

Eyes scoured the home every few minutes, looking to catch a glimpse of Joel within his costume, politely smiling at guests through small talk or taking slow drinks of his flask.

“Hey you!!!”

You’re startled by the sound of Sarah's boom from across the room as she calls for you, a caramel hand stuck high in the air to signal you to her, drawing you out of the trance of Joel’s small movements.

You walk to her with careful steps, trying not to step on capes or trailing costumes in the process.

“What’s up with you! I’ve barely seen you at all tonight! I know you’re not a party girl anymore but please, try and live it up for me!”

Something catches her eye as she speaks to you, her smiling face turning into an O with excitement;

“And—”

She points behind you.

“I think that guy over there is checking you out. Go have fun! Let me hear all about it later!”

Later. You forgot you’d promised to sleep over at her place too, rehashing the night's events as soon as they came to a close as you always did over the years. Though the first thing that comes to your mind is not the man behind you eyeing you, tacky tie-dye making up for a lackluster hippie costume, but Joel. the man who in fact owned the home you would be sleeping in, the man who kept eyeing you from the side of the room with a gaze you accepted much greater than the mans behind you, and above all, the man that had caught your heart in a way that led to it's seeping out between your thighs.

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? This isn't right it's, it’s Sarah's dad. She’d be heartbroken to even know I think like this.

You decide to throw away all the Clint Eastwood movies you stole from your dad and uninstall red dead redemption 2 when you got home, and blame your attraction solely on your overconsumption of cowboy media. You need a breather.

There's a balcony, facing the back of the property that was off limits to the party guests. Entered only through Joel’s bedroom, anyone would be stupid to test their luck if getting caught within his personal dwellings. However, you were Sarah’s best friend. And was even shown this entryway by Sarah herself— of course when her father was not home. And so you decide with cautious steps to ascend the stairs of his home, the liquor giving way to uncertainty in every step as your eyes are glued to the placement of each foot upon the step one by one. Though as you reach the top with great pride, you venture into Joel’s room, to the left of the stairs as Sarah’s is farther to the right.

You had never been in his room by yourself before, only for a brief moment with Sarah as she showed you one of her favorite spots in the house. It was secluded, of course looking over the backyard she lamented years past as a girl playing within the pool below. She was at the age where she wanted to be independent, but in no way could be yet; and for her that was about 10. And as means to give her her freedom but keep her close, he would watch from the confines of a balcony she paid no note to as the splashing of waves kept her occupied. And he doted on her from a distance.

As you walk through his bedroom, walls covered in guitars and desk littered with wooden sculptures while a record shows to be finished upon his player. Sheets properly made upon his bed, and a sense of intimacy looking around at the things littered upon his shelves and tables. The framed photo of him and his daughter, his old watch he took off specifically for the occasion of dress. The distinct smell of him that enveloped your senses.

Opening the door to the balcony does the feeling of cool air hitting a flustered face sober you everso slightly. Bracing yourself on the edges of the platform, you drift into a calm. The first time you’d felt that since the moment you opened the door for a cowboy Mr. Miller— as you force yourself to call him in your mind.

“Now what do you suppose yer doin’ in my room?”

Your heart sinks. You knew you’d be fine, if caught, but the thing that sinks your heart is the uptick of your heartbeat and the twist in your stomach at the sight of familiar drawl sounding behind you.

You hear heavy boots break the threshold of the doorway into where you stood as the sound of wood upon his feet changed to a scratch of concrete.

He stands next to you, forearms pressed against the railing as his back curves along casual footing aside of you. The moonlight illuminates his face, the curve of his nose complimenting the side profile that gifted you sight at the tufts of hair poking out from the ends of his hat, and the proximity to him gave you the insight to the smell of whisky on his breath as he spoke.

“Needed ta’ take a breather' myself. ‘Spose we had the same idea.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Ya’ having a good time t’night kid?”

“Oh yeah, I haven't seen all that much of Sarah though did you—”

You stop as he shifts his body to turn to you.

“Now, can I be honest with ya’?”

As you turn to look at him, mirroring his stance he dwarfs you in the process, standing at around 6ft the broad of his shoulders shadowing your whole figure.

You nod your head meekly.

“I just— now, I don't know how ta’ say all this quite right. But, don't get me wrong darlin’, I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ fer me all night. I don't know if ya’ think i'm blind or somethin, but i’ve seen ya’ all night, watchin me.”

He pauses for a moment and within that silence does your heart shatter. The whole time you thought that he was eyeing you, looking you up and down, it was just a one sided coincidence that led you to this awkward conversation with a man twice your age. You start;

“Oh listen I'm, I'm so sorry Mr. Miller I must have given the wrong impression or something I don't know i'm just so—”

“Please, call me Joel. And don't hafta’ be so sorry sweetheart. Just callin’ it how I see it.”

He pauses once more as he considers what he’s going to say next, a tinge of uncertainty covering his face as he decides how to follow up.

“And I don't quite mind it, if that's what you’re worried ‘bout.”

The tense of your muscles releases as he continues.

“Just, wanted ta’ tell you you looked quite well yourself that’s all.”

He’s holding back, you can tell by the sway of his legs as he goes on and the grip of his fingers upon the pocket of his pants. The way his gaze averted yours and his glancing upon the floor; for any look at you from your eyes to your body seemed to be hard for him to swallow with proper manners.

Your eyes lock in silence, the pale moonlight illuminating you two as the distance from Joel grows unconsciously closer as you take in his face, his body looming over yours and the prospect of their being more within his mind that he’s willing to give you. The southern hospitality still overshadows his true means.

Rough fingers graze your face, tucking hair behind your ear as it falls in front of your face. And as he leans forward to do so, you lean in as well. Blinded by desire and complicated by liquor and closing the gap between the two of you. Tasting his lips reminiscent of whisky and the frosting of halloween cupcakes you feel him kiss you back for only a moment before shooting himself backwards.

He almost trips over his own feet in adverse reaction, stumbling to the other side of the balcony as you watch him.

“I'm—”

“No darlin’ ya’ don't have to say anything. But I've probably got to get back down to company. Feel free to stay up here ‘s long as you want.”

You watch as he rushes out of the room and the urge to chase after him grows weak as the taste lingers on your lips. The sense of defeat wells in your chest but not entirely, because for a moment he kissed back. A moment you felt him push forward on your lips and savor the flavor of them as you did for him.

Later.

Now, a sleepover with Sarah is what you needed most. A sleepover with her, is a sleepover with Joel right across the way. And the mere feeling of that made your knees weaken with rushing dreams of him.

The party seemed to drag on after that, only satiated by more drinks were you able to bear a night where you could feel him from across the room, sense his body and the heat that came with it. You felt naked for him, utterly exposed at the sight of his eyes trailing you— ones you could only hope followed you the way yours did for him whenever you noticed him with back turned. Drinking in every part of his body as he was none the wiser, finding joy and security within the turn from you as means to make him in for as long as you pleased.

…

“Alright ma’am, seems ya’ need to be goin’ home, me ‘n Sarah got a lot of cleanin to do in the morning.”

An outstretched arm grabs the bicep of a polite Joel, ushering out the final guest that had an affinity for his touch so it seemed.

“Ohhh but darlin when will I see you in such a getup again? Oh i'd never want to leave.”

“‘S a shame I’m about to take it off though ma’am. Now go walk home alright?”

Her eyes hooded everstill she demands even more of him;

“Oh but will you take me? Don't think I trust myself in these conditions.”

He closes his eyes and a heavy sigh leaves his nose.

“‘Spose so ma’am— Sarah, I’ll be right back.”

Her arm loops around his bicep as he leads her out of the house, jealousy overtaking you purely at the close proximity she had to him, for much longer than he ever had with you.

Sarah turns to look at you as you stand a few feet back from the scene, a bemused look painted on your face unconsciously demanding explanation.

“Oh- that was miss carey she uh, she’s had a thing for my dad for years now. It’s kind of funny if I'm being honest, given I didn't see her drink all night.”

You let out a halfhearted laugh for a response, trying to deny the yearning within your stomach to feel Joel’s arm as she did, to touch him, fall over him. Just be close enough to smell him again, feel his warmth. It had felt like decades since the last feeling of him close to you. your body remembering calloused fingers grazing your heated cheek; contrasting with the cold tips that crept upon his hands as the air finally showed hints of the coming winter season.

“Sorry to be a bother, but doya think you could start cleaning up? I’ve gotta get this costume off and shower before I vomit. Thanks!”

As Sarah zips up the stairs all that’s left is you alone, standing within the living room of Joel Miller’s home. One where he could return any second.

You decide to busy yourself with chores, cleaning up stray glasses and bottles littered across the house, fallen decorations and dessert trays now only holding wrappers and trash. It’s a hefty job, one that helps for a short while as the weight of hours prior looms over you with darring intent to seep deep within your mind, allowing visions of the taste of his tongue, the feel of his body pressed against you to consume you. What you would give to feel his nose clash against yours through sloppy kisses, lips puffy with desire as small nips and clashing of teeth is all that can fester in your mind as candy wrappers stuck to the floor fail to give enough distraction anymore to keep Joel off your mind.

“Fuckin’ christ man I— oh.”

You didn't even hear the door open, or the creak of boots as they settled into their first steps within the home. Only the sound of his voice did you perk up with your mind unable to shake your thoughts as you stand before him. Feet away with a small trash bag in your hand.

He continues.

“Didn't know you’d still be here, my apologies.”

“Oh yeah uh, Sarah didn't tell you I was spending the night?”

“Spendin’ the night?”

He repeats you, barely able to hide his shock. Clearly, she hadn't. And as you stand there, beginning to hear the water running for a shower she’s yet to even get into, the tension of the two of you grows immanent as he realizes just how alone he currently is with you.

He didn't know what to do, feeling palms grow sweaty as his desire clashed with his sense of respect and responsibility as a father and his yearning grew too prominent to hide behind the unforgiving stretch of tightly fitted pants he busied himself once more.

“Oh, right then. Well I ‘spose i’ll be in the kitchen if ya’ need me.”

Walking past you with a heavy stride does the scent of him once more draw you to him— something primal, wanton is elicited from him when in close proximity. One that with a room now void of people to maneuver through, you refused to ignore any longer. You followed his quick steps into the kitchen, separating yourself even further from Sarah as the stairs fell into your purview as you ventured deeper into the home.

You greet Joel at the counter of the kitchen where he stood, pouring another drink for himself does the hand gripping his drink suspend mid air at the sight of your trail behind him.

“Ya’ need somethin’?”

You don't know if it’s the liquor talking, or the suspense and tease of a night full of dreaming for a moment like this to arise but you don't allow yourself to beat around the bush anymore. If this old man failed to make a move, you would.

“I do Joel, really— I think we both do.”

He sets the glass down on the counter with a light chink filling the air. His demeanor changes; you watch as both hands lean forward on the counter to inch closer to you, arms outstretched flex his forearms to reveal muscles only garnered by heavy and hard working. His hip cocked to his left as he made unwavering eye contact with you, a smile forming slightly upon his face.

“And what would that be darlin’?”

He made you nervous. This was a first. The mild mannered gentleman that often stood before you, speaking only when necessary and smiling only when compelled to. You always shook him off, an old man not worth anything but a gracious thank you as he catered to you and his daughter when times came. But as you looked upon that man now, face shadowed by a cowboy hat perfectly curved at its edges lining his head, hairs falling in just the right places over the sides of his face, and the hooded eyes coated with lust you found yourself hard to speak. Hard to even think.

“Well? Cmon’ now I ain't got all day.”

He's taunting you. Watching you grow nervous under his gaze as you become the one that can't hold it anymore.

“You, and me I mean. The way you look at me— I want you Joel. And so do you, right?”

Without skipping a beat, Joel retorts

“So come closer then sweetheart. Can't do anything with ya’ so far away.”

your heartbeat picks up again. Shaking steps inch around the bend of the countertop, until you’re no more than an inch away from him. Watching, as he looks down upon you.

“Good girl— now, what’s this about wanting me hm?”

“What?”

“Oh don't play coy darlin’, I love hearin’ you tell me all about how much you need me. The look in those pretty little eyes.”

A coarse finger falls upon your cheek once more, this time lingering there before toying with stray hairs. His fingers trail to your chin and jaw, gripping onto your face to lift it higher to lock dark eyes with his.

“Such a doll. I wanna hear ya’ beg for it.”

You feel a pool of slick well between your thighs, heating and dampening already ruined underwear at the sight of him as the night went on. Though as you listened to the sink in his voice, demanding you to beg for him. You don't even know what you were so needy for, his kiss? That was too little. You wanted all of him, and as knees felt weak at the thought of it— him, and you completely at his disposal. He dwarfed you from this closeness, you realized this as you approached him. He overpowered you in every way, and that made it even harder to say what you wanted. Every semblance of confidence leaves your body as all you want to do now is whatever he demands, whatever he says.

“Please Joel I— I need you. Every part of you. I can't take my eyes off of you. Every part of you looks so perfect no matter the angle or the lighting. Id, i’d never noticed it before but now I…”

The gust of articulation you had quickly dwindled as his face lit up from such compliment, such desperation. You were desperate, needy for him. That much was true. And he knew that.

“Mmm that's all ya’ had to say sweetheart.”

Now he is the one that closes the gap between you, the yearning for his taste finally satiated as your lips collided once more, the fantasies of clashing of teeth against one another with impassioned touch as his hand falls from your face to trail bare stomach. Feeling the large of his hands take in every inch of you with precision, like he had memorized exactly where he wished to be. Feeling as his hands trace down to your hips, and slowly maneuvering up to the wire of your bra.

“Take it off. Please.”

You beg through breathy moans as you stay inside his mouth, taking into him as you refuse to open any gap of distance between the two of you.

“Since ya’ asked so nicely.”

His fingers trace the center of your chest where a simple tie kept together thin fabric that complimented your chest. Unraveling it's knot does he guide it off your arms and onto the floor, a free hand snaking to your back to unhook your bra, leaving you with nothing but the shorts you wore and the hat upon your head to constitute a costume.

His mouth lets up from you to look down on your chest, his palms engulfing them as he kneeds them within his hands, letting the weight of them move with his fingers as he massages them. Fingers slowly trailed down to the mountain of your nipple, toying with them with two fingers as his eye flitted back up to you to watch your reaction. Sighing in relief, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of his cool touch against a body so overwhelmed with heat for him.

He leans in to you, his lips pressing softly against your ear his voice no matter a whisper is still laced with lust creating deep tones otherwise foreign to you to emit from him as he speaks to you;

“God you don't know what you do to me darlin’.”

“Then show me.”

His hands make quick way to the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his hips where you can feel his bulge pressing into you, the thin material of your shorts leaving little room for imagination.

Walking to the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, he sets you on a table that meets him at about hip level, lowering your back onto the wooden finish that often held dinners with the three of you now making way for just the two of you as you watch the buckle of his pants become the main spot of his attention.

“Bet ya’ could feel what you’re doin’ to me sweetheart, you like that hm? Feelin’ my cock against you even for a fuckin second?”

He talks down to you as he undresses his lower half, relieving himself to only his boxers as he now knelt down to face your heat, legs dangling off the edge of the table to uses that as means to slide your shorts off with ease, revealing the soaked underwear that gave you constant reminder of the eyes you held the whole night.

“All this for me hm? Ain’t I lucky.”

He lifts a finger to massage the outside of your heat, slowly pressing on the wet spots as he toys with you, making your breath hitch at the feeling of his touch, the sensitivity only growing overtime as you were denied for so long.

Slowly he peels off your underwear, allowing your slick to trail down the side of your thigh as it leaves a trace when it hits the floor. The cool air hitting your clit makes you jolt, but Joel wasting no time allows himself to dig straight into you. Feeling his tongue explore every crevice of you, every place where you have leaked for him he wants to take in every drop of it. Tasting you was like heaven to him. As his lips were pressed against your heat as his tongue began to make a repeated circular motion along your clit.

your fingers beg for his hair, grasping it in desperate fingers do you confine him within the bars of your thighs as they squeeze against his head.

“Mmng— god Joel it feels so nice please I-”

He waited for you to speak before sticking a finger inside of you. Thick callused fingers grabbed at your core and pushed its way into your center, hooking at sponge from inside you right at the spot that felt best. No longer could you ever think he didn't know what he was doing, it’s as if he knew your own body in and out, and with the whines you have to bite back out of fear of it drowning out the shower's thud of water upon a clueless Sarah.

“You like that sweetheart?”

Joel groans into your pussy, he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Hearing your stifled yelps and desperate moans over his tongue, his finger inside of you.

“Y..yes please Joel I need more.”

He slides in with a second finger, though lets up from your clit. Slick drips to his chin as he rises to face you, leaning over you as fingers still pump inside of you.

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, is that it? Whaddya need darlin’ hm? How about ya’ use those words for me.”

He made it hard for you to speak or even think as the steady grind of his fingers inside of you overtook your senses. But you obliged, trying through breathed heaves to try and relay what you desperately needed from him.

“Fuck me. Please fuckme Joel I cant— ngh I cant fucking take it anymore.”

“Good girl. Guess you’re in luck ‘cause I aint ever wanted to fuck someone this bad in my entire life. And I’m not gonna be gentle on ya’ alright? I know you can take it.”

Slowly removing his fingers from you, he lifts them up to his own mouth to let him taste you one last time, slowly licking clean what was just knuckle deep within you. You watch as he slithers his boxers off, revealing what seemed to be impossible to fit inside of you. His cock was pulsating, almost red as it yearned to be touched, it yearned to be inside of you. You watch as beads of precum already coat its tip, and veins throb against the slight curve of him that twitches at the feeling of release.

Inching towards you you feel his tip graze your core before pushing into your folds, covering himself with your slick does he push himself flush against you as you see how far his cock rides up onto your body. You see him smile at the sight of it lying on your stomach, predicting how deep it’ll push inside of you before he centers it once more at your entrance, slowly spreading you open as you feel a fire burn within your stomach at the initial pain of it. It felt as though he was ripping you apart slowly, legs instinctively closing did his hand grab onto your thighs to push them open.

His body flushes against yours with a deep groan, letting your walls warm his cock for a moment as he looks down on you.

“You’ve got a pretty fuckin’ body ya’ know that? All done up fer me, feel so lucky finally gettin’ to do this.”

He begins inching in and out of you with slow pace, your body moving with every stroke of his cock around you as you fell hopelessly obsessed with the feeling of him inside of you.

“Been wantin’ to do this all night— imagining what ya’ looked like under that pretty little costume of yours. Fuck, woulda fucked you right on that balcony if I could’ve. Nngh—”

His thrusts in you grow faster as he speaks to you, talking you through the whole thing makes you only look at him with wide eyes, desperately needing his cock and drinking in the southern drawl that detailed how he felt the exact same.

“Body’s fuckin’ perfect. Pretty little pussy all fer me, yaknow that? Right now you’re all fuckin’ mine hm? Ain't that right doll?”

“Yes, yes Joel— all for you nngh. My body is all yours please, please don't stop.”

His finger trails down from your thigh to your clit, throbbing with pain at the need to be touched does he satiate it with a thumb beginning to circle where his tongue did moments prior.

“Fuckkk please oh my god”

your breath grows irregular as the fire burning in your stomach grows white hot, unable to utter anything coherent as babbling of desperate please escape your mouth as your body becomes addicted to his every touch. The push of his cock directly against your cervix, the circle of his thumb perfectly against your heat, you felt it bubble inside you. Nearing on toppling over all you can think of, unconsciously chanting as he fucks into you Joel Joel Joel Joel

“Ya’ gonna fuckin’ come for me? Cmon, I wanna feel it darlin’ I want it to swallow me I want you to cum on my fuckin’ cock hm? Can ya’ do that for me?”

He groans over you, thrusts growing irregular at the desperation of his own climax reaching a head at the same time yours does. Only letting a few more thrusts greet you before you feel it toppling over, every inch of your body becoming utterly ruined below him. Feeling his cock inside of you pistoning into you through your orgasm, legs lock around his clothed waist as your hips buck up, shaking as your back arches against the table with legs raised, most of your body not even on the table anymore as he holds your legs stable to fuck through his own orgasm.

“Fuck fuck darlin’ you’re so fuckin’ tight— shit you feel so good.”

“Inside of me”

You manage to breathe through a fogged mind and blurry vision as the sensitivity of your body makes his use of you mind numbing.

“Please. Please Joel please cum inside of me please—”

You feel heavy liquid fill you as he slows his pace, heavy groan being the only thing that fills the room now as he pumps in and out of you, softening inside of you as his seed leaks from you. He slowly removes himself from you, a collection of your own fluid and his trails down the side of your thigh as you both stay there breathless. Watching as he slowly shifts on his boxers, and loosely does pants that are soon to come off later.

Before you’re able to right yourself or even get up, you watch as Joel slides your clothes back on you, latching your bra softly as he raises your back up to do so. Slipping your top on and tying a proper knot is the only thing missing from your wardrobe, the underwear he took off of you, that of which becomes missing as he slips your shorts onto you.

“I think you forgot something.”

“Think I deserve a little trophy don't you darlin’?”

You flush at the implication, Joel keeping them as a sort of token of remembrance of you, of this night.

Straightening yourself up as he finishes clothing you do you stand there, as you watch his back once more fill up glasses of water for you and him. Taking in all he is, form fitting cowboy attire still decorating his body, do you outstretched a hand to feel his bicep, a desire you’d had the moment that woman did. As he turns to face you, feeling your hand brush against his body once more he smiles slightly, teasing;

“Ya’ like what ya see sweetheart?”

“I just wanted to feel you.”

“Already did a lotta that don't ya’ think? But be my guest.”

He hands you a small glass of water as he drinks out of his own, and as silence engulfs the two of you you hear the dreaded creak of a shower turning off sound from the upstairs as reality sets in for the two of you once more.

“Think ya’ best go check on Sarah now.”

“Yeah that’d be smart.”

You avert his eyes as you’d done once prior, engulfed by embarrassment as you remember Sarah after the intimate moment you shared.

“Well, I’ll be down here for a bit longer, then headed ta’ bed. You just uh, let me know if ya need anythin’ right? You know where my room is.”

A small smile across his face implies a very different definition of ‘needing’ something, depending on how you view it. But as you ascend the stairs to help deal with Sarah once more, part of you knows that you’ll be asking him for some more help, cleaning, before night's end.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro x reader #pedro pascal #cowboy pedro #cowboy joel #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction

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archangeldyke-all · 5 months

Note

reader & Sevika start as co-stars on a netflix series (fans are shipping them bc their press run chemistry is amazing) and they actually end up together irl? sorry if this is a lot 😭😭

aweeeee

men and minors dni

like imagine before you realize you've got feelings for sevika, your manager keeps asking "is there something going on between you guys?? because i need to know before the press finds out!!"

and you're like what???

because you're starring as co stars in a romantic movie, sure, and sevika's been a celebrity crush of yours for years, but you're both professionals!

and just because you guys have amazing chemistry and have become great friends off set doesn't mean you're in love with each other or anything... right?

and then your manager sends you a youtube link to some fan compilations of you and sevika 'being in love for twenty two minutes straight'

you watch it. clip after clip after clip of you and sevika laughing together and sharing inside jokes and nudging and flirting with each other during press interviews.

at first you just roll your eyes. when the cameras are rolling, you and sevika are working. obviously you guys are acting flirty and couple-y, you're selling a rom com.

but then, ten minutes in, a title card flashes. it reads, 'now for the good stuff.' you blink, and then a cropped and zoomed clip of a red carpet interview of a completely different celebrity pops up.

the audio is just the reporter and actor talking, but in the background with the way the editor's cropped the video, you can clearly see you and sevika at a bar, cheersing then downing tequila shots. sevika takes it like a champ, but she giggles and rubs your back as you suck on your lime and cringe in disgust at her.

the video cuts to another clip. footage from a 'behind the scenes' video following the crew on the set of your movie. again, the video's been cropped to only focus on you and sevika running lines in the background. sevika stumbles over her words and you burst into laughter. she scoffs and punches your shoulder, then quickly rubs it when you pout at her.

the next clip is the same-- you and sevika in the background of some video. except in this one, you're chattering away and sevika's nodding along, and the whole time her eyes are on your lips. when she licks her own lips as you babble, your stomach flips over.

oh shit. you totally like sevika.

your manager almost kills you.

"i told you to tell me if there was something going on between you two!"

"but nothing's going on between us, marge, that's what i'm trying to tell you! i just... you sent me that video and it made me realize that, you know. maybe i wouldn't mind if there was something going on between us." you say.

marge heaves a horribly dramatic sigh down the receiver.

the next time you see sevika, you're stiff and awkward.

she pulls you to the side between interviews.

"what the fuck's goin' on with you?" she asks. you blink at her.

"what?" you ask.

"you're brushing me off. you keep acting all jittery and weird around me. for fuck's sake, you're not even looking at me right now!" she says.

sevika looks really upset. your stomach drops.

"i'm sorry. i didn't mean to make you feel like i'm ignoring you or something." you say, honestly. sevika's anger falls from her face, and all that remains is concern.

"just tell me what's up." she whispers. you gulp.

"i just. i recently realized something that's. less than ideal." you say. sevika blinks at you.

"what?"

"uh. i think i have a crush on you." you admit. sevika blinks again.

"what?!" she asks. you sigh

"i know. i'm sorry, it's unprofessional and gross. i mean. i've always found you attractive, obviously, and we get along great... but i promise i didn't realize i have actual feelings for you until filming wrapped. i swear." you ramble. sevika scoffs and you shrink in on yourself, looking away from her.

she quickly reaches her hand out to grab yours. "no, hey." she says. you blink up at her. "that's not-- i'm not laughing at that." she rushes out. "i'm just laughing because i've been waiting for the press tour to end so i can finally ask you out." she says, a little blush appearing on her cheeks. you gawk at her.

"what?" you say. sevika chuckles.

"that's what i said." she says. you punch her arm.

"are you serious?" you ask. she nods.

you quickly look around. no one's looking at the two of you. your next interviewer is shuffling through their cue cards, your managers are quietly chatting, a few PAs are checking audio meters and wrapping up wires. you look back at a grinning sevika and bite your lip.

"do you want to get dinner after this?" you whisper. she grins.

"yes." she says. "but we probably shouldn't go out with the press and all. i can cook for you?" she asks. you giggle and nod, and then shoot up to press a quick kiss to her lips.

sevika's giving you heart eyes for the rest of the interviews that day.

marge sends you a viral tweet that night-- a clip of you kissing sevika from earlier in the afternoon, taken on a shaky camera phone.

marge's caption is just a series of angry emojis. you giggle. beside you sevika nudges you.

"what's so funny?" she grunts. you show her the clip and she grins. "thank fuck. now i can take you out in public." she says.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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rorywritesjunk · 4 months

Text

Suppose I never ever let you Kiss me so sweet

Your healing powers are limited to one person a day but that doesn't keep Buggy from demanding you heal him. Rating: PG-13ish. They kiss. It's kinda fluffy as well. Warning: Broken ankle, bratty Buggy, Reader teases and mocks Buggy (playfully). Established relationship. I think they're married? Kissing. Suggested themes near the end. Devil Fruit powers causing discomfort (Not sure if that's really a thing but I've seen folks talk about it lately and decided to run with it). A/N: Request from @chochotorianime10 "hey Love your buggy stories. I was hoping I could request a buggy and s/o that has healing powers like Karin from Naruto thank you!!!(sorry if I spelled anything wrong.)" This was fun to write. Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy it. Title comes from "Fidelity" by Regina Spektor.

“Listen, Cabaji, just bite my arm and you'll heal, okay?”

The acrobat could only stare at you in mild horror, eyes darting between you, your arm, and the captain that was hovering over the two of you, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched how this would play out.

It was just a broken ankle, that much you were able to tell when he fell off the unicycle with his foot catching in the spoke and pulling it down on top of him. While it had been hilarious to watch, almost happening in slow motion, you were at his side immediately, untangling him from the small wreckage before looking for injuries.

“I-I 'm just fine. I don't need to… bite you.”

“Oh, so you don't want to walk properly again?” You shrugged as you started to stand up. “Okay, then that's fine with me. I can't force you to do anything.

“Cabaji, stop being an ass.” Buggy said. “Bite her damn arm.”

He knew what your abilities were capable of. While Buggy found it a little harder to get hurt with his Devil Fruit powers, he wasn't invincible. He sometimes needed healing and while the first time you told him to bite you, he thought it was some weird kind of foreplay, but now he was used to it.

Cabaji really really didn't want to do this but you knelt back down, holding your left arm out to him. He saw blue marks along your arm before he bit into your skin carefully. You didn't move, keeping your eyes on him as a warm aura surrounded him, the pained look in his eyes fading as he started to relax from the pain relief. He pulled back and looked at you with fascination as you stood up, holding your hand out to him. He took it and allowed you to pull himself up, stumbling for a moment but you caught him, steadying him on his feet while he hesitantly put weight on what was his injured ankle.

“How did you-”

“Good, you can walk.” You pulled back from him. “Get your shit out of the way and fix your damn unicycle.” You glanced over at Buggy. “You done with me now, Captain?”

“For now, but don’t go too far.” He told you. You put your hands on your hips and looked at him, giving him a look that said You’re an idiot. It took him a moment to realize why you were looking at him before it dawned on him. “Go get something to eat then, don’t crowd the place! Geez, Doc. Go away, we don’t need you now.”

You grinned cheekily at him before heading off to get a snack. Cabaji couldn’t help but watch you leave before Buggy turned on him. “What are you staring at?! Get back to practicing! Did you hit your head? You should know what to do by now for this shit, Cabaji!”

The acrobat did as he was told, not wanting to face the wrath of his captain.

You grabbed yourself a snack before retreating to the bedroom to read a book you found in one of the towns you recently stopped in. You managed to get some supplies you needed before Buggy launched some of the Buggy Balls at it, one of the items being a book to read while you rested. Being able to only heal one person a day was frustrating at times, you wanted to be able to help more people and you had to make the decision on what injury was a priority. Cabaji breaking his ankle was a priority, and you hoped no one else needed help until tomorrow.

So to keep yourself from overdoing it, you made sure to rest, snack, and do something to pass the time until Buggy finished up for the day, demanding your attention for the evening which you were more than happy to shower him with.

You were an hour into reading, eating some crackers and cheese when Buggy showed up, looking grumpy as he tossed his coat and kicked his boots off. He was making a fuss about something but you were tuning him out for now, knowing he needed to get that excess bit of energy out before he would relax for the evening. It often meant him pacing around the room, kicking things away if they got into his path, maybe punching a wall before he would settle onto the bed beside you.

Today, however, he paced a few times before stopping at the end of the bed with his arms crossed as he faced you. He cleared his throat a few times, trying to get you to look at him, and finally a hand came and pulled your book out of your hands and tossed it aside.

“Rough day?” You asked, annoyed that you lost your place in the book. “Y’know, you could have just said something.”

“I shouldn’t have to say something!” He insisted, stomping his foot before he dramatically threw himself down onto the bed beside you, voice now muffled with a pillow when he spoke. “My body hurts and you can’t help me now because you helped Cabaji instead.”

You rolled your eyes and reached over him to grab your book to set it on the nightstand. “You wanted me to. He was a priority, Buggy.”

“Yea, but so am I.” He whined, raising his head just enough to look at you. You patted him on the head and he frowned. “Don’t mock me and my discomfort.”

“Well, Buggy, I’m tapped out for the day.” You reminded him as you leaned down to kiss him on the top of his head. “How about I kiss your boo-boos and make you feel better?”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No, of course not!” You insisted as you took his bandana off and tossed it aside, running your fingers through his hair. “Well, okay, actually, maybe a little, but mostly because you know Cabaji needed my help more.”

He rolled onto his back and huffed, looking up at you with a frown. “Maybe, but I still deserve your attention.”

“Well, obviously.” You said, rolling your eyes. “How can I forget to shower the Great Captain Buggy, the Genius Jester, with the attention he deserves?”

“Now I know you’re mocking me.”

“Never!” You feigned innocence, both hands on your cheeks as you stared at him, aghast he would accuse you of such a thing. “I love you too much to ever mock you.”

Buggy glared at you before rolling onto his side, his back now to you as he crossed his arms to sulk. You stared at him, the fearsome Captain Buggy acting like a petulant child in that moment. Honestly, you loved him but sometimes you couldn’t help but tease him just a little. Still, you felt just a bit bad, wondering if maybe you went a bit too far, so you leaned over him, your hand on his shoulder as you kissed him on the cheek.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Buggy.” You murmured softly. He huffed, refusing to look at you. “I can’t heal you but I’ll kiss your booboos to make them feel better, how about that, love?”

“Hmph. You don’t deserve to.” He mumbled back, refusing to look at you. You managed not to roll your eyes, pressing your lips to his cheek, trailing kisses down to his jaw while your hand moved beside his face to turn his head to look at you. Thankfully he toned down the brattiness because he didn’t pop his head off to get away from you. He definitely wanted your attention.

You pecked him on the lips, grinning down at him as he moved onto his back once more, arms crossed as he glared up at you. “Tell me where it hurts, Buggy, and I’ll kiss it to make it feel better.”

“Everywhere.” He sighed in frustration.

Buggy had told you how his body sometimes ached from his Devil Fruit powers, the constant popping of his limbs off his body causing some discomfort if he did it too often in a day. He wasn’t in need of healing most of the time, he just wanted your attention which you were fine to give him.

“Okay, so here?” You asked before kissing him once more on the lips as you moved to straddle him carefully, being mindful in case he was having more discomfort than usual. He uncrossed his arms, resting his hands on the top of his thighs as he relaxed underneath you. When you pulled back, looking down at him, he looked just a bit calmer than when he first came into the bedroom. “Where else, my love? I need you to tell me.”

“Here?” He pointed to the nape of his neck and you wasted no time in leaning down to kiss the spot where he was pointing, nibbling gently at his skin before sitting back up to look down at him. Buggy looked back up at you, obviously trying to think of where else on his body he needed some ‘healing’. You didn’t wait for him to tell you before taking both of his hands in yours, softly kissing his knuckles one by one, the backs of his hands and finally his palms, each brush of your lips over his skin lasting just a few seconds before you moved on to the next one.

“Where else, Buggy?” You asked as you lowered his hands back down. He didn’t respond so you leaned back down to kiss him on the forehead, holding his head carefully in your hands before you began to list off some options for him. “Shoulders? Elbows? Tell me, love.”

“Everywhere.” He mumbled, his eyes wide as he watched you unbutton his shirt, pushing it open before you kissed the base of his throat. He let out a soft moan, his hand back on the top of your thighs as you lingered there, sucking on his skin softly. “Y-Yea, there too, babe. The neck really aches.”

“I know, Buggy.” You chuckled as you pulled back. “Y’know, if your body hurts this much, I may need you to remove the rest of your clothes so I can give you a proper look over.”

He perked up a bit, a mischievous grin appearing on his face. “Is that what the Doctor orders? Get me naked so you can examine me?”

“Afraid so, Buggy.” You told him, shaking your head. “That’s the only way I’ll be able to treat you is if you’re completely naked.”

“You should have said something earlier then!” He sat up abruptly as he started to remove the rest of his clothes. “What else do you recommend, Doc?”

“I recommend staying in bed for the rest of the night.” You said as he tried to remove your pants while you were still on his lap. You put your hands on his to halt his actions for just a moment. “No strenuous exercises, rest, and to let me take care of you.”

Buggy looked up at you, head tilted to the side as he smiled softly at you. His eyes were almost sparkling, full of love now and trust for you, knowing you would always be there to take care of him. “That all, Doc?”

“That’s what the doctor orders, Buggy.” You told him as you gave him a kiss. “Just let me care for you, okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded, leaning into your kiss. “Whatever you want.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc

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