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pennyellee · 9 months

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CHAPTER IV - ustulation

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of God, blood, incision wound, fictive mafia clan traditions, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of death, overwhelming, violence, threats, intimate encounter, kissing

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 5,6K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III GAME OF GO CHAPTER V

ustulation (n.) a burning lust

In the hidden embrace of a secluded mountain valley, a village of hanoks stirred to life on a tranquil winter's morning. The air was crisp, a symphony of silence. The Song of the Dead toned down for some time.

The dawn’s gentle light bathed the valley, wisps of mist from the frost-kissed earth, adding an ethereal veil to the scenery she watched carefully from the closed window.

The majestic mountains, ancient pines and stoic rocks stood as sentinels of the valley's serenity. She could see them from this side of the house. Y/N sighed, holding a cup of tea in her two small hands, warming herself up on this chilly morning.

“Is something bothering you, my love?”

Yoongi had tried his hardest the past month to get under her skin. There were times when he thought perhaps, she would welcome him into her heart one day. However, her repeated escape attempts made him think otherwise. He was giving her the space she needed with carefulness in every action he took. The young leader knew well that she wouldn't be able to escape while they resided here, in the core of the village. That did not stop her though.

As if nature herself wished to bestow a gift upon him, the first snowflakes began to descend from the heavens just as they were returning from that unfortunate, eventful day in Seoul. The snowflakes floated gently, even now, like fragile dreams.

“Are you feeling well? You spent a lot of time in the snow yesterday.” He murmured after she didn’t grant him an answer to his previous question. They had to postpone the wedding as the snow and frost reigned, making it unsafe to pass through the tunnels. The passage was being cleared by workers for more than a week now. Time seemed to stand still as they absorbed the grace that enveloped their world.

“I feel fine,” she muttered back, not even looking his way at the table.

“I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?” He asked, demanding to speak to her.

“After all the stunts you pulled, you’re still free to roam around without anyone guarding you. Not speaking of the fact that I’m letting you sleep alone—” he was going on rumble.

The young leader is patient, but he longed for her more than ever. The fact that they’re still not newlyweds, and he cannot show love to every inch of her body, make her swell with his child, was frustrating him beyond repair. She had let her guard down once and allowed him to take the chance and kiss her on the cheek, startling her yet again.

“—you’re so blinded,” she said suddenly, turning back to face him.

“Excuse me?” said he, very surprised.

“You go on about how you’re good to me, how this is God’s doing, and that I should be grateful—” she threw her hands in the air, frustrated by his demanding nature.

While the leader thought he was granting her the time she needed, Y/N felt more and more anxious every day. Her heart is still itching to be free, yet she cannot stop thinking about what her selfishness would cause if she indeed managed to escape.

“Well maybe if you didn’t run every time, I tried to show you affection, I wouldn't have to remind you of all this.” He spat angrily, smashing the chopsticks on the table, standing up.

“I’m patient—” said he, getting closer to her standing form by the large windows. “—but I swear to God, you’ll disobey me again, and that’s where my hospitality ends, Y/N.”

“I just—” she stammered, making him stop in his attempt to close the distance between them. “I’m scared,” she whimpered. Y/N didn’t know why these words came out of her, nor why there were tears. All she felt was exhaustion.

The scarred leader’s expression softened. Is she finally confiding herself to him, opening up?

“My love…” He approached her, taking the cup from her shaking hands, putting it aside and lastly taking her face into his hands, his thumbs wiping her tears away.

“I can make you happy. You just have to let me in.” He whispered, moving his face closer to hers. Y/N knows they will cross the boundary sooner or later. The winter is making it impossible for her to both run away and survive. Should Y/N listen to her mother’s words and let him make her his queen? The older female’s proclamation circled her mind at night while listening to the cracking of wood in the fireplace.

“Please let me in, dove.” He pleaded again, his eyes filled with sincerity and longing.

And once she nodded her head in approval, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips softly against hers. Time stood still, and the world around them faded into a blur of insignificance. Their hearts pounded in sync for a brief moment. She felt a warmth she couldn't admit, even to herself. Y/N wanted to hate him so much. Despite her inner conflict, she could sense the unspoken longings from his side, his desire to deepen the kiss carefully without overwhelming her. He wished to never let her go and feared that she would vanish in his hold. His lips were tender and tentative, like the brush of a butterfly's wings upon a fragile petal. Y/N knows he is holding himself back. The kiss was addictive, momentarily lifting the burden from her chest.

As he went to slide his hands on the swell of her heart-shaped bottom, a sudden cough interrupted the intimate moment. Y/N quickly pulled away, feeling shame and embarrassment wash over her caused by the sudden intrusion. She stole a single glance at the man standing by the door, grinning mischievously. Her cheeks turned crimson as she felt shy and exposed, but the young leader kept holding her in his embrace, not letting her go so soon after their first shared kiss.

Smiling like a teenager, he said: “What’s going on Hoseok-shi.” Y/N could imagine he is smiling widely as she had observed when she apologised to him for hitting his head with the stone. He waved it off quickly stating ‘I would be a fool to not forgive my new sister.’ She pretended not to be affected by his words, but it made the man she was to marry smile even more mischievously.

“I need to speak to you, and Y/N should get ready for Hyung’s wedding,” Hoseok said, his eyes gleaming with some secret knowledge.

Y/N exchanged a puzzled glance with Hoseok before nodding and extracting herself from the young leader's embrace, her cheeks still flushed from the kiss. Uncertainty hung in the air as Yoongi let Y/N go and walk away, admiring her graceful figure.

“What?” Yoongi asked, turning his attention to his trusted friend, who wore a smirk that hinted at hidden amusement.

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still smiling under his nose.

“Shall we?” Yoongi said, collecting himself and walking towards his brother.

“You won’t fancy what news I bring, brother.”

Silk banners fluttered in the breeze, announcing the joyous union to all who ventured near. The bride, a vision of grace and elegance, is adorned in a hanbok of flowing silk and intricate embroidery.

The groom, dressed in the timeless attire of a traditional hanbok, stood tall and resolute. His eyes fixed unwaveringly upon his beloved, as though she embodied the very essence of his being — a force that fuelled his heart.

Amidst the enchanting spectacle of celebration, the weight of tradition resonated with each uttered word.

The outside picture portrayed the unbreakable bonds of family and the beauty of two souls finding solace in one another. Y/N, however, couldn’t help but have a feeling that the poor girl the doctor was marrying did not find herself at the altar because of true love but fearful coercion. It reminded her of her circumstances — a pawn in a larger scheme.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow upon the snow-covered land, Y/N sat beside her to-be husband, observing his unusual joy. Accordingly. Today, one of his brothers was finally taking a wife and his bride in a momentary vulnerability that had allowed him to share a tender kiss with her, amplifying his joy to an even greater extent.

Her ears perked up once she heard the celebration of the union before her. She couldn't resist side-eyeing the other brothers she had encountered over the past month, and her gaze locked with Kim Namjoon, Kkangpae’s right-hand man.

Y/N remembers Kim Namjoon. His piercing, cold gaze bore into her soul, especially so during one of her escape attempts, when he forcefully brought her back to the main house, reprimanding her for disobedience.

‘I can either give up my life to save you or I can be your enemy Y/N.’ Namjoon had warned her on a night when she sought solace near the fireplace in Yoongi's office, wrapped in blankets to warm herself even more. She was rarely allowed in this sacred room unless her actions demanded attention.

That night, Yoongi was dealing with business matters. He came back to the main house to her shivering and crying form. It is breaking his heart every time he sees her in such a state but simultaneously, he wishes she would cross the border of submissiveness and obey him.

Y/N ignored his warning just yesterday when she attempted to run away again. Hence, the gaze. If she was afraid of his next steps, she wouldn’t let him decipher that.

She snapped out of her mind as Yoongi rose from his seat, taking her hand to help her up. Y/N looked at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. He gently nudged her behind him, positioning himself as a protective shield. She looked around her, seeing that everyone else was still seated. Their looks show emotions —excitement, joy, and pride.

Her confusion heightened when Yoongi began unbuttoning her fur coat that was hiding her long red qipao, and panic swelled within her.

"What are you doing?!” She whispered in distress.

“Behave.” He whispered back to her, leaving the coat open revealing her breasts and tummy.

Leaving her standing close to him, he held her hand tightly, as if afraid she might flee at any moment. Y/N noticed that Namjoon's attention had shifted to Seokjin's new bride. The bride's trembling form approached them, and Y/N observed the gleaming knife in Seokjin's hand, quickly realizing what was about to happen.

It whispered promises of power, of secrets that could be revealed with a single stroke, but it also carried the weight of consequences and a toll on the bearer's conscience. As the girl's hand was carefully sliced with the knife, Y/N couldn't help but empathize with her pain. Her father had a similar tradition; however, women weren’t involved; she was still left in the dark about her role in all this.

The girl then knelt, extending her bloodied hand toward the leader, reciting her pledge of loyalty to Kkangpae Min. Yoongi covered her hand with his other one, acknowledging her devotion and signaling for her to continue with the moving tradition.

The leader then used his left hand to guide Y/N forward, leaving her yet again puzzled and bewildered. A moment later, she gasped with shock as she felt the girl's bloodied hand touch her lower belly. Yoongi held her firmly in place, preventing any instinctual step back.

"I, with my blood, pledge my loyalty to you, Min Buin. Blessed be the fruit of your future legacy, Kkangpae Min," the girl recited, her words carrying both reverence and a touch of melancholy. The significance of the moment and the responsibility it bestowed upon Y/N left her grappling with a maelstrom of emotions.

“Well you handled that well,” a voice came from behind her, and Y/N turned to find Namjoon standing there, watching her by the fireplace in Yoongi's office. She had been curious when he would approach her, knowing that Yoongi had gone to check if the tunnels were passable.

Y/N couldn't quite discern the tone of Namjoon's remark—whether it held irony or genuine praise. Such was the enigmatic nature of this man.

“I suppose,” she muttered, hugging herself for comfort.

“I personally thought you’d slap her hand off. Such an act would undoubtedly stir up trouble,” said he as he settled down in one of the armchairs.

Her mind replayed the events of the pledge, and she confessed truthfully, “I was too shocked to do so.” The new bride's pledge of loyalty to her and her empty womb had caught her off guard, leaving her uneasy.

“Your father is not demanding newcomers to pledge loyalty?” He asked, curious about their inner circle practices. She smirked, sensing his attempt to pry.

“Yes, but not to my mother,” she revealed.

“You hold an important position within our ranks,” the right-hand man noted. “And that, my dear, is why we are having this little conversation.” Y/N looked up, finding him extending a glass filled with what she presumed to be rice wine or soju.

“I genuinely want to be your friend Y/N—” he said while passing the glass to her. “But you’re very hard to please, princess,” he exclaimed.

“By ‘wanting to be my friend’, you mean the part when you threaten me again,” she retorted with a scoff, alluding to his past warnings.

“That is a necessary evil,” he conceded. “But on a serious note, Y/N,” he drew closer, taking a seat slightly further away to grant her personal space, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” she asked, feeling dumbfounded by his question.

"Is life here truly so terrible that all you can think of is escape?" he sighed, genuinely curious about her state of mind.

“Not all I can think of—” she began, trying to defend herself.

"Oh, so you did not attempt to escape just a day ago, and two days before that, and so on," he interjected, pointing out her recent attempts.

“What do you want to hear from me Namjoon?” she countered, feeling the pressure of his questioning.

“Hoseok hyung overheard your conversation,” he finally gave away the one piece of information he sought to address “What are you afraid of?”

Y/N gazed into the dancing flames, his words echoing in her mind. Memories of the recent kiss with Yoongi and the ensuing events flooded her thoughts. She felt her spirit on the brink of collapse, her attempts to escape repeatedly thwarted, causing harm to others in the process. Y/N was exhausted.

“I suppose I expected my life to take a different trajectory than this,” she admitted, reflecting on her circumstances.

“I can assure you that this will be the best that ever happened to you—” Namjoon insisted, trying to be reassuring.

“And that, Namjoon, is where my disbelief lies,” she interrupted him, peering straight into his eyes. He sighed, running a hand across his face, expressing a sense of frustration mixed with genuine concern.

“You didn’t give it a chance!” He raised his voice, unable to hide his emotions. He wanted this clan to function as it did for countless years and what’s more, he wanted his hyung to be happy.

“I’m going to ask you once again, and I want the truth,” he implored, trying to get to the heart of the matter. “What are you so scared of?”

Y/N decided to remain silent, knowing that her response would likely incite further frustration from him. "Is it sex?" he suddenly asked, shocking her with his explicitness. "Are you scared to be punished for your sins?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she returned his rage, denying his accusation.

“Am I?” he continued probing.

“Yes, Namjoon! You are! You think I’m this shallow?!” she lashed out.

“No, but all you let us see is the shallow version of you. Apart from this morning,” he declared, referring to a rare moment of vulnerability she had shown.

“And it wasn’t meant for anybody to hear nor see that,” she snapped back at him.

“I understand your reasoning, Y/N. But we’re your family now, you don’t have to shield yourself against us,” he pleaded, hoping to break down her walls.

“He loves you, Y/N,” Namjoon continued, trying to make her see the sincerity in Yoongi's feelings.

“That’s very hard to believe too.” She remarked, still sceptical, looking right through his eyes. He took a deep breath, lifting his hand to touch his face.

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he proposed, catching her by surprise and piquing her interest.

“About?” She asked, curiously.

“Give it a year,” said the right-hand man. By making a deal with her, he is going behind the back of his leader and, even more importantly — his dearest friend. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to do this for him.

"If you're still 'scared' of whatever you say you are, and this is not the life you'll be comfortable living, I'll personally see to it that you'll be transported to America," he promised, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“What is the catch?” Y/N wasn't naive. She knew there must be some ulterior motive.

"You'll stop being a flight risk. If you attempt to run again, the deal is off, and I will personally eliminate each person foolish enough to aid you since your arrival—one by one, ending with your cousin," he stated, laying out the condition.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she absorbed his chilling words. Her mind raced as she contemplated her choices. "That's the only condition?" she asked, ensuring she understood the terms before giving her answer.

"Well, naturally, I expect you to genuinely give it a chance, meaning that you will accept Hyung as your husband, leader, and lover," he emphasized the last noun, urging her to take his words seriously. Y/N stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts together.

“This is a one time offer Y/N. I won’t be this generous again,” he added. She struggled to read him, but she couldn’t. Namjoon was well known for being unpredictable — a quality that made him a perfect fit as the right-hand man. No one could ever say with certainty what his next move would be.

“Fine,” she finally relented, her voice barely a whisper. Namjoon extended his hand, sealing the deal with a firm shake. He leaned in closer to Y/N.

“I trust that you’ll be on your best behaviour from now on.” He whispered to her. There were so many emotions in her eyes right now that she was working hard to process. She barely nodded and averted her gaze down. Y/N couldn’t bear to look into his intimidating eyes no more.

“Very well,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on her. “The tunnels have been cleared, and the wedding will take place this week." He told her.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the impending wedding. She was praying that perhaps she has more time to think of what to do with her situation. According to Seokjin, who came to visit and spent some time on occasion with her when his leader could not, the tunnels wouldn’t be cleared out until the end of December, giving her another month in total.

“Brother!” exclaimed Namjoon suddenly, breaking her train of thought. Y/N followed his gaze to the sliding door, where Yoongi stood, undoing the cufflinks of his shirt, the suit jacket already gone. "I was just telling Y/N the good news," Namjoon smiled at him.

Throughout this month, Y/N observed the strong brotherhood among Yoongi's most trusted and closest men. The deepest connection Yoongi shared was undoubtedly with Namjoon, which explained why he was the right-hand man.

Yoongi displayed a particularly protective nature towards his younger brothers. She had yet to meet Jungkook, the youngest, who had been recently assigned as captain of the front unit, as she overheard. On the other hand, Jimin was more involved in the open, managing the front business and whatever lay beneath it. The Chosen Hotel was highly popular among Koreans but was eagerly open to international guests too. Y/N suspected that the true core of the business was settled elsewhere, and she was eager to uncover it.

Seokjin, recently married, primarily served as the inner family's doctor. However, the Min clan also faced a shortage of actual medical staff like, so he had to run between the sanctuary, as she had learnt this place was called, and a front hospital.

Taehyung remained a mystery to her, despite seeing him in family pictures and hearing Yoongi mention him occasionally. He was supposed to represent the law in Yoongi's business dealings, ensuring the safety and legitimacy of their operations, including the handling of illegal earnings. Therefore, Taehyung is the safety pin of this organization. Whomever fucks up, he is there to defend them.

And lastly, Hoseok, a surprising contrast of joy and darkness. Y/N was taken aback that such a buoyant personality could be involved in such sinister activities. He was the arsonist who also took care of assassinations. Additionally, the clan engaged in money laundering, and Hoseok was responsible for collecting debts, often involuntarily.

Her eyes swelled with tears she was refusing to let out. Yoongi’s eyes met Y/N's, and she could see a mixture of concern and worry flicker across his face. A silent understanding passed between them, and they knew that they would need to have a private conversation later.

“Well, it seems you two need more privacy,” said Namjoon while he was collecting himself from the cushion he was sitting on.

“Did Tae call?” Yoongi asked before Namjoon could leave. “He did before Hyung’s wedding, to send his good wishes and—” he gazed over to Y/N who was carefully listening to their conversation, hanging on every word.

“—and?” Yoongi asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, a sight she had seen far too often for her liking. He was not shy with her; he could easily undress before her without a second thought. His attempts to walk in on her while she was changing didn't go unnoticed either, though she made sure to show her displeasure by throwing vases at him to keep him out.

Only now did Y/N remember the glass of alcoholic beverage that Namjoon had offered her, remaining untouched in her hands. She decided to take a sip, trying to ease her nerves before the conversation she was dreading.

“—and everything went well, as expected,” said Namjoon observing her as she downed the burning soju.

“Send telegraph to Wang and other families. We’re leaving for Chosen in two hours.” Y/N straightened herself, eyes wide open in disbelief.

“W-what do you mean in two hours?” She stammered. It was just past eight when she gazed at the clock on the wall. That would mean they'd depart at ten and arrive in Seoul around midnight.

"—I thought they just cleared the way. Why are we—" Yoongi cut her off abruptly. "I am waiting no more," he said firmly, locking his gaze with hers, leaving her in shock once again.

"On your way, please inform the maids to pack, and I want the cabin ready," Yoongi instructed Namjoon, who memorised every task with a sense of responsibility, seemingly disregarding Y/N's shattered spirit in the wake of this sudden rush.

“Can we at least talk about it?!” she raised her voice, causing the two men to stop in their tracks. They exchanged knowing looks, making it clear that this was non-negotiable. Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting his cheeks from inside, then turned to face his fiancée with a deceptive sweetness in his tone.

"Of course, my love," he said.

He nodded to Namjoon, who immediately took off, glancing at Y/N with a silent reminder to behave.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked nonchalantly as if this were a perfectly normal scenario.

“I don’t know, do you think this is right?” Y/N kept her tone tense, signalling her discontent.

“Nothing is more right than this,” he answered, pouring himself a drink while taking her empty glass and refilling it with soju.

"Yoongi—" she began to protest, but he didn't let her speak further, having heard her excuses countless times.

“No Y/N. I’m not negotiating this time. We’re getting married tomorrow afternoon and that’s final,” he stated sternly.

"You could at least wait a day! Do you think everyone will just jump because you said it's happening right now? And more importantly, let me mentally prepare for it?!” Her frustration grew, and she gestured wildly, almost knocking over the refilled glass that Yoongi handed her.

“They are already in town. The telegraph is just a confirmation that it will happen tomorrow.” Her distress and panic were understandable; she had believed she had more time than a few hours.

“And you didn’t think of telling me first?!” she raised her voice even higher. That she was in distress and panic was very understandable. Y/N thought she had more time than a few hours.

“No, because you were finally letting me in—” said he, downing the contents of his glass in one go.

“You knew this would happen for a month, and you would have had more time to prepare yourself if running away fifteen hundred times a day wouldn’t be on your mind,” he fired back, raising his voice at her, and immediately asserting dominance.

"I'm getting very tired of this. One step forward and ten million miles back, damn it!" he cursed, slamming the glass down on his desk in frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, and Y/N felt her heart sinking as she realized that her hopes of a slower pace for their relationship had been shattered.

“I have a very easy solution to that—” she said, raising herself to stand up to him.

“—Let me go,” she emphasized every single word, her frustration boiling over, and momentarily forgetting about her deal with Namjoon.

Her emotions were running high, and she went to pull the ring off to prove her point, but he forcefully grabbed her right hand, stopping her in her tracks. Anger filled his eyes as he crossed his other hand, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and crashed his lips onto hers, pressing their bodies against the nearest wall. He didn't give her a chance to catch her breath as he passionately bruised her lips.

He let go of her hand once he was sure she wouldn't resist. With his now free hand, he lifted her leg, wrapping it around his waist, squeezing her ass cheek, making her yelp and by that creating an opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. Y/N had no idea how long their intimate encounter lasted, but she could feel her head spinning from the lack of oxygen. Just as she managed to stop his other hand from slipping under her dress, aiming for her pulsing heat, he parted from her, both of them breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he apologised, his eyes fixed on her now swollen lips. Y/N was taken aback, her head still spinning, and she couldn't think straight. He had such a powerful effect on her, and this aspect of life was entirely new to her, having been kept away from such experiences.

"I wish, —" he started, nibbling at her lower lip while he continued to speak, "—you would acknowledge my love for you." Yoongi kissed her again, not giving her a chance to recover or speak up, moaning softly into her lips.

"We are too close. I will never give you up.” he declared, wiping her tears away gently.

��I can’t have you running though—” he leaned into lavish attention on her neck, placing butterfly kisses up to her jaw and stopping at her lips again—

"I'll overlook this lapse of senses if you keep up this good behaviour, my love, but the next time you disobey me, I won't only discipline you; someone will lose their head.”

She trembled against him, feeling lost, scared, and vulnerable. Her breath hitched as she tried to speak up. Yoongi was beyond himself for getting her into this state where she didn’t dare to oppose his words and stopped fighting him. If she won’t let him in willingly, he will force her to open up to him.

“I told you to not take that ring off your finger ever again.” She remembers the words he uttered to her in the garden where he proposed to her. That she agreed still feels surreal to her. Running got her nowhere, but she still had a selfish feeling inside her that he was bluffing and wouldn’t dare to seriously hurt anybody.

“Now be a good girl and apologise for disobeying me.” He tightened his grip at her waist, finally staring right into her teary eyes. Y/N felt lost, scared and vulnerable. Her lips were trembling, and her breath hitched again once she opened her mouth to speak.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby, just say it.” He cooed, lifting his hand to caress her cheek gently.

“I-I am sorry,” she finally sobbed. If there was one thing the scarred boy excelled at, it was getting his way. He smiled at her, pleased with her response.

He smiled at her. “That’s more like it, baby.”

Y/N longed to curl up in her small apartment, where she resided while studying at college. She desperately wished she could turn back time.

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, looking for any sign of curiosity from her. Yoongi stepped away to his desk, leaving her pressed against the wall, hesitant to move an inch. He opened one of his drawers and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn't make out the handwriting, but her eyes widened as she recognised it.

“Your aunt entrusted me with this letter when we came to the conclusion that you should be mine one day,” he said, holding the envelope in his hands. Y/N desperately wished that the answer and a solution to her fears would be contained in that envelope. She was mulling over the platform of this match-making her aunt orchestrated.

Wang Xiaoqing very much upheld the meaning of her name in the time she lived. Blessed with intelligence. And she was a fearless mafia wife who brought pride to her late husband. There are other intriguing things about Y/N’s beloved auntie. Xiaoqing is by far the only member in her large family tree that married for love. Y/N admired her aunt and, perhaps, seeing that it was possible to marry for love, made her blindly believe she could also have the freedom to choose her partner.

She dreamt of a little house in the woods, not far from a lake or a small town. Growing some goods in the garden, by night sitting near the fireplace, the love of her life holding her. She would work in a nearby hospital, or study overseas to become a doctor were all part of her fever dream. She knew it was unlikely to come true, given her family's ties to the syndicate.

But she could least dream about it. For a moment, when she was on the ferry to Jeju Island, she thought she would make it. Y/N knew the risk she was taking once she entrusted her well-being to Chan-yeol. She knew his role was insignificant and not a threat to any syndicate and it wouldn’t certainly attract Yakuza, but she was also aware that he could have been the only one to send her to the far land. She believed that God chose this path for her instead of being an arm jewel to some Yakuza brute.

Reality snapped her back from her swirling thoughts as he put the envelope back in the drawer.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked, taking a step forward.

“I will give it to you—” he promised “and tell you everything you want to know—” locking the drawer with a key.

“—After you’ll walk the aisle to me, without any of your misfits,” he finished his sentence.

"To strengthen your cooperation for tomorrow, I'm having your cousin and her husband at gunpoint during the ceremony," he added, making her scream in protest.

"I won't do anything stupid," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Just let them be, please. They have little son, Yoongi.”

“I know, that’s why they are the perfect bargain to make you obedient. If this doesn't work, you still have other family members—," Y/N couldn't bear it any longer; she closed the distance between them, standing just inches away from him.

“If you would love me—” she started but before she could finish, he grabbed her waist and pulled her even closer, pressing his body against hers. She could feel his torso and lower body. He bowed down next to her ear.

“I’ll stop this necessary coercion when you’ll learn your place, my love.”

Yoongi loved making her squirm and overwhelm her. He was basking in the effect he had on her. The fact that she will be his wife in less than twelve hours was a source of satisfaction for him.

“You were my woman for a long time now, and you will be my woman till death do us apart.”

I N T E R L O G U E

“—And you’re certain that the man is on his way to Seoul.” The leader inquired of his trusted friend and partner, seated in the quiet confines of his home office.

“Yes,” Hoseok affirmed with a nod.

"Is there any additional information that I need to be aware of?” Yoongi's voice carried a hint of tension, his teeth gritted in anger.

"As of now, there's nothing more to report," the younger male replied, keeping the conversation concise.

“Do you want me to eliminate him?” Hoseok offered, waiting for his leader's command.

“Not just yet, I was hoping to have the pleasure myself.”

to be continued

author’s note: so here we are at chapter IV!! ♥ Thank you all so much for for sticking around chummers ♥ They kissed and much moreee!!! We'll see what we'll happen next. I hereby promise to post the chapter sooner than the end of Semptember, or I hope so xD Tho I have some wips to write and if I'll finish some then I'll post something new too ♥

Massive shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you!!!!

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love,

𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17 - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss @secfir @btspurplesky @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin

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morallyinept · 6 months

Text

COWBOY CHRISTMAS - A Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) Christmas One Shot

Summary: Your husband Jack takes you out on a snowy Christmas Eve horse ride around the ranch, then helps you thaw out after.

Pairing: Husband!Jack Daniels x Wife!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 5k

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Husband Jack hits differently and I'm here for it. Horsey speak researched because I'm not a horsey person. Neigh. I hope you enjoy spending Christmas with Jack. 🎄

Tagging @ladybess-a03 as Jack is her husband 🤠🖤

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

“Now, you hold on tight to them reins there, sugar. Don’t want ol’ Thunder here gallopin’ off into the breach.” Jacks says to you with a wink.

You watch as he buttons up his denim jacket; a woolly sheepskin lines the collar inside around his neck. “Hoo, it’s a chilly one this mornin’!” He exclaims in that Southern twang making sweet, unbashed love to his vocal chords.

“Remind me why I let you talk me into this?” You say, feeling the cold rake it’s sharp fingernails down your spine.

“'Cause I can talk you into anythin'." He grins. "Besides, you’re gonna love it.” He assures.

“I love our warm bed more.” You mutter, trying not to smirk.

You grip tight on the leather reins with your gloved hands as the horse snuffles gently; the cool air wisps out of his large, wet nostrils in gossamer tendrils, floating into the air.

The snow is fresh and crisp on the ground; the Ranch is covered in billowy marshmallows heaped on the roof like someone let the powdered sugar pour overnight. The whole scene looks as though a snow globe has been shaken up and long since settled with the coarse glitter of it all glimmering under the pallor of the winter sun; a pale blue orb lingering in the sky.

A Christmas Eve morning horse ride with your husband Jack sounded appealing when he suggested it, but now that you’re the one in the driver’s seat so to speak, you're not so sure, as your stomach tosses about with the anxiousness of it all.

It’s not that you’re not a keen rider, it’s just that Jack’s array of Appaloosas and Mustangs from the rodeo show - that’s been a lucrative business for you both, if not but a hectic one - can always seem to sense your trepidation, and do everything they can to keep you from venturing near them, let alone mounting them.

But Jack’s a determined son of a gun to get you used to it, and a few lessons with a deep brown Lusitano named Thunder, seem to be paying off, as the two of you bond the more time you spend with the stallion.

Thunder stands at a regal sixteen hands, his physique a perfect blend of strength and elegance. His coat is a rich chestnut, gleaming under the dappled sunlight like polished mahogany. He's probably the most handsome thing you've ever laid eyes on, aside from your husband, of course.

Jack had assured you that Thunder’s physique, combined with his gentle demeanour and keen intelligence, made him not just a stunning horse, but also an ideal companion for you.

And that smooth talking cowboy hadn’t been wrong yet.

Jack hoists himself up, grunting with a steely puff as he settles on the double saddle behind you. Not brave enough yet to go it alone in the snow, Jack rides tandem with you this morning.

The front of his Stetson knocks gently against the back of your head as he adjusts, and the horse pads his front hooves in anticipation to get going.

“Easy, Thunder,” he soothes as he reaches around and checks the reins. “You good to go, sweet thing?” Jack asks you.

“What are you going to hold on to?” You query as he lets go of the reins, turning to glance at him over your shoulder warily.

You’ve seen Jack ride plenty of times, to the point he trusts his stallions and mares implicitly. There's some magical fluidity between them as you watch from the sidelines of the paddock when they practise together.

Although each time he rides free and un-reined, you can’t help but grimace and worry, especially when he shows off in the rodeo ring.

“Why, your gorgeous self, of course!” You feel him pinch your hips playfully and then his arms wrap around your waist. He pats your belly softly.

“I got you, nice n' tight.” The wetness of his lips are cold as they squish against your cheek where he kisses you affectionately. You giggle as his fuzzy moustache tickles against your skin.

“Now, you’re the one in control, remember. Just like I taught you. Pull back gently if you want him to slow down.”

“Okay.” You nod, taking in a deep breath and sounding much more confident than you actually feel. And Jack picks up on it and rubs your arms down.

“You’ve got nothin’ to worry about, sugar. He’s infatuated with you.” Jack reassures. He holds you tighter and runs his nose against the side of your face. “And he ain’t the only one.” he murmurs.

“You keep doing that and we’re never getting out of this damn paddock,” you groan as he nips against your lobe, tonguing it slyly.

Despite the cold, you suddenly feel the warmth creeping up under your jacket trying to strangle you.

He chuckles and pulls back, sitting himself upright and placing his hands together around your waist again.

“Let’s skedaddle.” He instructs.

You breathe out, clicking your tongue twice and squeeze your legs gently against the underside of Thunder. He immediately trots forward languidly.

“There you go, nice n' easy there. See, he ain’t so buck wild after all, is he now?” Jack says.

“No, he’s a good boy,” you say, leaning forward and patting Thunder’s head as he strides forward out the paddock. “A good boy that’s going to go nice and slow, okay?” You whisper, imploring the horse.

Thunder simply snorts in response.

You settle into it; a gentle trot across the acres of the Ranch on this wintery morning. You can feel the cold biting against your face as you tuck your chin into your scarf to ward off the nip.

The scene is magical; treetops covered in plumes of glittery white, and every sound seems more muted somehow, wrapped up in a bundle of snow that acts as a cosy insulator.

The soft pads of Thunder’s hooves against the cold ground, and Jack's breathing just behind your ear, are the only sounds you can hear around the exquisite peace.

And you lose yourself to it, closing your eyes and resting back against Jack’s chest as you relax into the ride together.

“You doin’ alright there?” Jack asks, and you feel his gloved hands rubbing back and forth against your stomach creating fluttery wings to beat and flap around inside of it.

“Mmm,” you reply. “This is just beautiful.” You confirm feeling more taken with it all. “This was a great idea.”

“I’m mighty glad you feel that way, darlin’. We gotta get you out ridin’ some more.” Jack suggests.

“I do plenty of riding, cowboy.” You toss a hot smirk at him over your shoulder.

“Christ. Ain’t that the truth.” He chuckles.

You feel his hands squeeze your hips again and his breaths are felt warming in the crook of your neck.

“Wanna kick it up a notch?”

“Go faster?” You peep with alarm.

“Sure, you can handle it.”

“But the snow, isn’t that dangerous?”

Jack scoffs. “Snow’s fresh, darlin’. No ice.”

“But-”

“Gotta trust in your horse.”

You make an uncertain noise in the back of your throat.

“Ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to you.” Jack reassures and your uncertainty begins to waver as you feel yourself melt in the sincerity of his eyes.

“Okay.” You nod, smiling.

“That’s my girl. Go on, now. Squeeze your calves against him. That’s it, you’re doin’ real good.” Jack praises as Thunder ups his paces to a gentle canter, full of brio and a little faster than his previous meandering.

He bows and nods his large head, whinnying.

“Oh see, he likes that. Our boy here was bred for speed.” Jack pats the back of the stallion’s neck and Thunder snuffles in response.

You can feel your fingers gripping tighter on the reins, your body tensing up.

“You trust me, sugar?” You hear Jack pollute in your ear.

You turn to look at him incredulously.

“He wants to run. Gotta give it to him.”

“Oh God.” You wince.

You steady yourself as Thunder nickers and snuffles again. Jack takes your hand and weaves it around Thunder’s mane. A trick he does himself whilst on the rodeo to be sure to stay on if the horse should suddenly veer off.

Your gloved fingers hold tightly through the silken hair whilst your other hand grips on the reins as tight as you can.

“He’ll take care of you. We both will.” Jack takes a hold of the reins with you, his arms either side. “Hold on tight, darlin’.”

You steady yourself, holding on tightly as he instructs and bracing yourself.

“Hup! Hup!” You hear Jack instruct Thunder with a sharp command, and the horse bolts forward.

He attacks the gallop at full speed, like he's running for his life. Like he was born to do nothing else other then run.

“Shit, Jack!” You gasp, as he takes full control.

The sounds of Thunder’s hooves are louder and feel like they crack and echo across the sky. Your body is forced into a galloping rhythm; your butt bashing up and down against the saddle as you try to find some comfort with it.

You rise up, remembering to anchor yourself in the stirrups, leaning forward like your body is floating as Thunder moves under you.

You can feel Jack’s body against yours, moving with you. He has both hands on the reins, but has manoeuvred so you're safe inside his arms too.

“See why I named him Thunder now?!” Jack muses as he bears down on the reins and the horse’s speed increases furthermore.

You can feel Thunder’s muscles bunch and release. You can feel and hear his hooves hit the ground in heavy thuds that ricochet through your skeleton, and see the hypnotic, rhythmic motion of his head, which you’re following with your hands.

It’s exhilarating.

The cold wind whips through your bones, despite the jacket and scarf’s protection. You hear Jack holler and chuckle behind you.

“Alright now!” He cheers triumphantly as Thunder takes a sharp turn, effortlessly, and you cling on for dear life grounding down on your teeth and steadying yourself with your stirrups.

“Oh my God!” You wail as the exhilaration begins to twist that fear into utter elation.

Your teeth feel the cold as you can’t contain the wild smile opening up your lips as you giggle and holler alongside Jack; his enthusiasm and passion for the ride infecting you.

The wind is blowing so hard that you really can’t see or hear very clearly and Thunder’s ears twitch up as you holler an enthusiastic woo! Into the air. It feels like you're flying as the wind streams tears from your eyes.

Thunder’s hooves beat frantically against the snow and the ride through the acres soon comes to an end as Jack instructs you to slow Thunder to a steady trot once more.

You can sense Thunder’s reluctance, he would run forever if he could, but you pull on the reins and announce for him to slow and he does.

“Woah, easy. Easy…” you soothe as he tries to resist, but eventually settles back into that steady canter as you all catch your collective breath.

You wipe your eyes with the back of your woolly hand and Jack smiles at you.

“That was amazing,” you admit, your body shaking, not just from the cold now.

“I knew you’d love it.” He replies, grinning. “Your husband knows you better than you think.”

“Sometimes,” you tease.

“Sometimes?” He scoffs and stamps another kiss on your cold cheek.

Once in the paddock, Jack jumps off and helps you down. You lunge for him, planting a heavy kiss on his lips and slip your tongue into his hot, wet mouth.

“What’s got you so hot n’ bothered, hmm?” He murmurs against your lips.

“Adrenaline.” You shrug giggling, as you stroke the back of Jack's nape where his brown curls gather under his suede Stetson.

His hands sweep through your hair, messy from being wind-whipped and he studies your face with chocolate mocha eyes. You shiver as he pulls you to him.

“Fuck, sugar.” He groans as you press your mouth to his again; your kiss mutating into something desperate and untamed.

You both stumble backwards and Jack loses his footing and pulls you down with him in the muddy slush around the paddock.

“Ah shit,” he groans, chuckling.

You squeal as you feel the cold and wet instantly soak into your jeans. Scrambling, you try to get up, but slip further into the mud as Jack gives up and howls loudly at your plight.

He’s rewarded with a glop of mud thrown at his chest.

“Need a hand there, darlin’?” Once he’s contained himself enough, he helps you up and you both head back to the Ranch to warm up.

“Go on n’ get yourself inside. I’ll wrangle Thunder back into the stable. Reckon it might snow again soon.” He glances up at the sky, the sun long since besmirched by clouds of grey.

“Don’t take too long, handsome” you smirk.

“Lickety-split.” Jack breathes into your mouth as you kiss him again.

You look at the state of you both, covered in freezing mud, and Jack has some splashed up on his forehead, and you can’t help but laugh at the state of you both, despite shivering.

“Why don’t you run us a bath?” Jack suggests with dark eyes, and you nod as if under a captive spell.

You leave your muddy boots on the porch and head inside. The warmth hits you immediately and you shimmy yourself out of your wet jacket, blowing into your hands that feel like icicles, despite the gloves.

You pace up the stairs, wading somewhat as your jeans stick to you, to the bathroom and fill the large jacuzzi-style tub with hot water, stripping as you notice snowflakes starting to billow lightly outside.

“Missed your calling as a weatherman, Jack.” You snicker to yourself.

You toss in a fragrant bath bomb and light some incense filling the bathroom with heady notes of sandalwood, patchouli, and exotic florals; the swirling tendrils evoking a sense of tranquillity as your skin starts to perspire.

You step into the sizzling, enveloping water that seems to wrap its arms around you with the inviting warmth as you succumb to it wholly.

You breathe out slowly, moaning in relief as you slide your shoulders under the water, the temperature burning you slightly and relishing the feel of it.

You swill the water around; lavishing yourself in the foamy remnants of the bath bomb. You eventually lay still in the water and breathe in and out a few times, keeping your eyes closed.

Your cold, aching muscles from the ride find some sedated bliss in those first few moments; like someone has slowly squeezed the angst and stress out of you like juicing an orange.

You close your eyes and relax, feeling the weight start to drop from you.

The invigorating peace is interrupted by the bathroom door slowly creaking open and footsteps pad in lightly on the tiled floor.

You turn your head, smiling at Jack as he unbuttons his plaid shirt and drops it to his feet.

You sit up, watching him, and try not to obscenely salivate over your husband as he unbuckles his belt with a slow, deliberate simmer at you, but it's hard not to. He’ll always have that effect on you when he gets naked.

Your eyes roam over tan, sculpted arms, a svelte waist and long legs smattered with dark hairs, before you settle in on the thick, hardening cock between his legs.

“Scooch on forward, sugar,” he says softly with a wink, standing at the side of the tub; that semi hard-on already taking shape and protruding out from his lean, muscular body.

He steps in and sits down in the water behind you; his long legs running parallel either side of you.

“Couldn’t resist,” you hum.

“You gettin’ started without me, hmm?” Jack queries as he pulls you back into his chest, wrapping his arms over your stomach again.

You feel him plant kisses into your crown as you nuzzle into him.

“Scrub my back for me?” You question coyly over your shoulder, and flutter your eyelashes at him.

The steam in the bathroom makes the mirror frost over with condensation and the air seems to vibrate around you both and stick to your clammy skin.

You sit upright; the water making your back glisten at him and he licks his lips as he regards you.

“Well, how can I resist such a tempting offer?” Jack smiles and reaches for the soap on the side of the bath behind him, lathering it up in his big hands.

You feel his hands massaging into your shoulders; his fingers kneading away all the tension and the slippery feel of the soap foaming on your back, squelching through his thick digits.

“Mmm,” you sigh as he works his thumbs down either side of your spinal cord.

“That feel good, hmm?” Jack husks from behind you, squeezing and manipulating the muscles under your skin. He knows it’s good - knows it will drive you wild.

“Real good…” You utter, eyes closed and lost inside of his hypnotic rhythms and magic hands.

You can hear him breathe in your ear and feel him plant lascivious kisses down the side of your damp face. The faint scratch of his shaven jaw runs prickly against your skin; the soft fuzz of his moustache counteracting it begins to tickle again.

It begins to wake your nipples up; sending goosebumps to bloom around your areolas pulling them tight and tingly.

He runs his fingers down your back and up under your arms sitting forward himself, and slathers the soapy lather in his hands across your collarbone and down towards your breasts.

Your breath hitches as his roaming fingers tease your nipples, pulling and rolling them gently, and you sink back into his chest once more as he massages. He runs the open palms of his hands all over them; cupping, squeezing, fondling.

“That’s so nice,” you groan as he kisses the side of your temple.

“I told you, I know you well.” You can hear him grin, a graze inside your ear.

His wet, soapy fingers continue to work their way down your torso, gliding across your navel before he gives it a gentle squeeze and strokes gently.

“What’re we gonna name this lil’ dill pickle in here, hmm?” Jack asks, and you glance down at your tummy, still flat, but in a few months time it’ll be swollen and rotund as the baby grows.

“Depends what he looks like when he comes out. Hopefully not like a dill pickle. I hate pickles.” You say, crinkling your nose.

You hear Jack snort behind you into your hair. “Hates pickles. I married me a mad one.”

“You knew what you were getting yourself into, cowboy.” You chuckle.

“Mmhm. He?” He queries.

“Feels like a he.” You say, placing your hands on top of Jack’s. The light of your wedding band shimmering in the wet. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Jack breathes in, his lips grazing your skin behind your ear “as long as it’s healthy, darlin’, it don’t matter. Gonna love it all the same.”

You smile, reaching up behind you to stroke his face. You feel him peck your fingers.

“When he's out, I’ll put another one in there.” He confirms.

“Woah, hold your horses,” you say.

“You just try n’ stop me, sugar. Got yourself a virile man. Gonna have a whole bunch of lil’ rodeo riders gallopin’ about the joint.” Jack pinches your hips gently and you giggle when he hits a ticklish spot as he gruffs another chuckle in your ear.

He feels you flinch and the top of your buttocks push against his cock that has long since hardened completely under the water.

“Besides, I'm waitin’ for these to grow nice n’ big, too,” Jack smirks.

Jack kisses down the side of your face once more; his lips searching yours out and finally making contact with them as you twist yourself in the water to reach them.

His tongue darts into your mouth as he squeezes onto your right breast, and a satisfied grunt escapes into your mouth from him.

You splash water at him as he growls playfully into you, moaning as you kiss him again.

It makes all the hairs of your body stand tall to order, hearing him moan like that - moan for you. Warming you as you inhale them in; oxygen to your lungs.

Filling you deep with sweet images of him teaching your child - or several of them - to ride horses and take care of them. The thought of Jack’s paternal instincts rile you up even further.

Although it doesn’t take much with the hormones either.

His kiss is hungry; swallowing you up and you raise your wet hands to finger inside of his hair, weaving through it gently at first, but becoming fiercer with tugs as he reacts to it.

You wonder what else it’ll be that you’ll crave this much as your pregnancy advances, because you're constantly craving your husband inside you, night and day it seems.

And neither of you are complaining about it.

He follows the track of bubbles down your body with his hand, slides down over your torso and abdomen until his fingers reach forward and disappear between the middle of your legs inside the bubbly pool.

You gasp, breaking the kiss as you feel them instantly finding your clit and shudder as he swipes across it with the pads of his tips. They tease between your soapy folds. His middle finger starts tapping and rubbing against your hub, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Suck, darlin’... just like that.”

His other hand grips gently around under your face, stroking your jawline as his digits run over your lips when he breaks the kiss.

Hooded brown eyes regard you before inserting his index and middle finger into your mouth.

You suck on them gently, and run your tongue over them as his other fingers thrum heavier on your clit under the water, causing it to swill around you as you fidget, grinding against his fingers as he slowly teases you with them.

He can still feel the viscous slickness of you around them, feeling silkier in the water.

“You feel that, sugar? What you’re doin’ to me? Got my cock all big n' hard for you.” His fingers move off your clit and begin to take a walk inside of you, and you gasp again in delight.

Jack marvels with mud coloured eyes as you lap at his fingers, imagining they’re his cock. They taste slightly salty like it; rough and calloused skin being soothed by your tongue.

He groans into your ear nipping at your lobe, as you feel him pressing against your lower back and getting harder by the second.

“Mmm, Jack…” His name escapes out of your mouth, dripping in honey and all things sweet.

The fingers you’ve been sucking on run across your throat and he kisses you more forcefully as he slides his digits in and out of your pussy, gaining momentum.

Your part your legs wider so he can delve in further to you, arching back up against him as the sensation of tingles flood outwards from your core all over your body and skin, crackling outwards like fuzzed lightning.

“Fuck!” You pant as he works you up and pushes you closer and closer to the edge until you finally leap off.

An electrifying sensation courses through you, sparking an intoxicating blend of satisfaction and euphoria as you gasp out.

“Jack!”

“Fuck, darlin’, that’s it.” Jack encourages as the heel of his palm grinds heavily against your clit as he fingers you through your pulsing orgasm.

Your thighs jolt and shudder as he strokes gentler now, teasing circles around your sensitive bud after withdrawing his slick soaked fingers.

You twist around in the bath completely to face him. You want him; want him hard and are going to take him - hard.

“Fuck,” you moan, taking him in.

He lays back in the tub, knees open wide with plumes of suds, and cock resting heavy and thick against his stomach.

It makes you salivate to see him like this; so fucking gorgeous and wet, and all yours.

“See somethin’ you like?” He smirks.

You run your drenched hands over his cock, nodding. Feeling how he pulses and the veins throb around your grip as you jerk him slowly.

“Show me again how well you can ride, sugar.” Jack challenges, as you grin.

You straddle him, sliding up and down against him; your lips teasing him as you rub against his hard, thick length.

“Gimme that pussy, darlin’.”

“You want it, cowboy?” You utter as you slip back and forth over him.

“Oh, you know I want it.” He hisses through his teeth as you rub your cunt up and down his length, groaning as it still tingles on your clit. “Always want this fuckin�� gorgeous pussy.”

You sit down on his thick cock that’s poking out of the water at you, inviting you onto its swollen, wet head. The water sloshes around you both as he grabs at your hips and grinds you down onto his throbbing dick.

“Fuck,” he grits as he fills you.

You balance your weight on your arms, holding onto the edges of the tub, sliding up and down him; bouncing that pussy of yours off of his cock.

“C’mon, sugar. Ride me. Ride your cowboy.” Jack tempts.

Jack thrusts his hips upwards to meet you halfway as you thud back down on him, making you both cry out.

“Fuck, like that!” He hollers, the water now splashing over the sides of the tub onto the floor with your intense determination to get off.

“That feel good, darlin'? Lemme see you. Eyes on me, sweet thing. Christ, look at you... So fuckin’ gorgeous on my dick. That's it now, work it... Like that. Aw, hell yeah, like that…” he croons, panting.

He can feel himself becoming more and more frantic with you and you love it. You grip onto his hands, anchoring yourself as he bucks underneath you; lifting his hips as you ride him deeper and faster.

“Jack! Fuck!”

You’re wailing as your head snaps back, suds flicking up the tiles, and the water in the tub is nothing more than a swirling whirlpool around you both.

You can feel the brewing of your orgasm; the tightening inside your stomach and the deep pull of your cunt cinching around him.

It’s a delicious feeling as you unwind yourself completely. The air in the bathroom carrying a heavy, languid heat, wrapping you in a heady cocoon of sensual bliss.

Jack gorges on the vision of you, sitting atop him; breasts shiny with the soapy water dripping down them, jiggling up and down. Panting and groaning for him as your body runs slick with water and bubbles.

The blooming feeling, like a sunlit daydream, unfolds with gentle intensity that bathes you in a soft, golden glow as it builds from within.

A velvet touch of warmth that lingers dreamily through the marrow of your bones, leaving you submerged in a haze of dizzy serenity, where time slows and the world takes on a muted hue around the fuzzed edges of your vision, condensating your eyes as you enjoy the deep thrusting inside you.

“Darlin’. Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He groans. He can feel himself beginning to lose it, grunting and getting ready to fill you up.

You let go of his hands and slap them down on his chest, riding him ragged over the final hurdle; cunt tightening and pumping his cock.

He can just about bear it as your position means he’s gone that little bit further inside you still, and your walls are rubbing deliciously against him.

“Ah shee-it!” Jack curses out with a snarl pulled around his beautiful lips. “Gonna fill you up, sugar. You’re close now… I can feel it. Want you comin’ all over my cock as I fill you, okay?” He drawls in that thick, Kentucky squall.

Nodding, you go faster; twerking on his dick and feeling the build up inside you reach epic proportions - your own release imminent. You want this; crave this from him, as you let yourself let go.

“Come for me, Jack!”

“Fuck, yeah!”

He shudders against you, cursing out and biting his bottom lip as he begins exploding inside you. Veins in his neck twitching and bulging as he howls.

You slump forward onto him, kissing his wet, smooth chest delicately. The water finally comes to a still as you lay in the hot suds with him.

You combust around him; calling his name out over and over; your rocking takes on a slow and steady pace until its eventual stop as you both shiver and judder from the come down.

Your body tingles all over and legs feel like wobbly jelly.

“Fuck me...” Jack sighs contentedly, grabbing a hold of your ass and squeezing it gently between the wavy, foamy froth.

“I just did.” You titter and he chuckles.

“And then some.” He tilts your chin up to him and plants a lingering sensual kiss on your lips.

“Jesus Christ, I love you, darlin’.” He wraps you tightly in his drenched arms. “You n’ that lil' dill pickle in there.”

You smile contentedly. “We love you too, cowboy.”

A little while later, you’re both dressed in warm clothes by the fireplace, as Jack sips from a glass of honey coloured whiskey.

You’re both exchanging cosy, satisfied smiles as you both wrap the gifts in coordinated teamwork, that you’ve picked out together for the staff that work at the Ranch.

You crease the folds of the metallic paper, and he tears off the tape strips holding them out to you on a lone finger. He holds the ribbon in place, whilst you tie it into a bow over his digits.

He writes out the cards in a messy scrawl, whilst you place some food down in front of him, and he leans up to kiss you, patting and rubbing your tummy gently.

He lifts up the chunky knit of your sweater to reveal your soft, clean skin. You run your hands through his deep chocolate locks as he beams up at you.

“Happy Christmas, sugar.”

“Happy Christmas, Jack.”

You watch, smiling fondly, as he then runs his nose against your belly, inhaling the perfume of you, and you giggle at the tickle of his moustache.

Jack gazes up at you before pressing his soft, pursed lips below your belly button. A lingering little smooch sinking into the layers of your skin.

“Happy Christmas, lil' dill pickle.” Jack says.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey smut #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey kingsman #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #christmas stories #jett's writing

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ghcstao3 · 6 months

Text

(inspired by this tiktok)

There is a lake nearby to where Johnny lives.

It’s about a fifteen minute walk, hidden beyond the thick copse of trees that surround one side of Johnny’s home, and it’s something he’d discovered only a week after having moved in several years ago.

This lake is important to him only in that it’s his place. It’s small, secluded, ideal for when he needs that fresh breath of air away from the bustle of life. It’s where he goes to draw, to read, to just exist. It’s his place, and he thinks if anyone else were to discover it, or at the very least be present when he’s also there, the magic of it all would be ruined.

So when he goes out one winter morning, chilly but not so cold that a few layers won’t do the trick of keeping him warm, and sees the figure of someone moving along the shore of the frozen-over lake just as Johnny breaks the sightline of the area—he can’t help the way his heart falls.

But he doesn’t turn to leave, no. Not yet. Because as Johnny gets closer, he finds the figure isn’t moving along the shore, but is instead skating on the ice.

Even with the dusting of snow that blankets the ice, they move with fluidity and a natural grace, and just watching has Johnny’s discouragement temporarily replaced with awe. They pirouette and jump and glide, and for a moment Johnny considers pulling out his sketchbook with cold fingers to capture the scene.

Before he can, though, Johnny is reminded of his irritation and the disturbance that is the skater.

Anyone, anything else and Johnny thinks he would’ve turned and left, maybe trekked elsewhere through the forest to find himself a new spot. Instead, he cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Is that even safe?”

The intruder startles and stumbles mid-stunt, tripping and falling back onto their ass as their skate must catch a divot in the ice. Deserved, Johnny thinks.

They sprawl out for a moment before sitting back up and carefully getting to their feet. They shout back, “Was ‘til you got here!”

Johnny is taken aback by the gruffness of the skater’s voice, a stark contrast to the elegance of before. Johnny shakes his head and marches up to the shore just as the skater moves meets him.

He’s just as surprised by the skater’s height once they’re close. From afar, the idea of confrontation had seemed much less frightening.

The skater then pulls off the balaclava they’ve donned and… Johnny is suddenly much more intimidated for all the wrong reasons.

Even in spite of the garment, the man’s face is stained red from the cold, rosy against otherwise pale skin. Near-white eyelashes frame dark eyes, warm as the hot chocolate Johnny plans on making himself when he returns home, and Johnny is very upset that he feels obligated to be annoyed with this man.

Johnny jabs a finger at the man’s chest regardless, lifting his chin to make a show of his displeasure. “How’d you find this place anyway?”

The man snorts, and throws a thumb over his shoulder. “I live on the other side of the lake,” he says. “Why? This private property or somethin’?”

Reluctantly, Johnny shakes his head. “No,” he grumbles. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone else here before.”

The skater hums, cocks his head. “Then I don’t see the issue.”

Johnny decides he’s not intimidated anymore, not when this stranger is so frustrating, because of course he is. Johnny just wishes he knew how to articulate that this is his spot without sounding like a petulant child.

A gloved hand is offered out to Johnny at his lack of response. Johnny stares at it with disdain.

“Simon,” the skater says.

Johnny glares at Simon. The only reason he finds himself giving his own name, he thinks, is because of those stupidly brown eyes.

A small smile appears on Simon’s face when he does. His hand falls away as he moves to slip his balaclava back on.

“I’ll see you around then, yeah, Johnny?” Simon says.

Johnny doesn’t get the chance to curse him out before Simon is skating away, back across the lake to where he supposedly lives. Whatever.

Johnny retires early that day. He’ll try again for his peace tomorrow, once he’s had time to recover from his encounter with Simon.

And if there’s a tiny voice in the back of his mind that secretly hopes Simon will be there when he returns anyway, then Johnny does his very best to ignore it.

Because it’s his place. His. Not something to be shared, even if it’s with the perfect stranger.

#love me a good first meetings alright #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing #alternate universe

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kseung · 1 year

Text

Wednesday x Reader

Not Yet

Requested

Warnings: Blood, self-harm, suicide ideation, descriptive suicide scenes.

Proceed with caution.

Words: 2,530~

Before y'all read it; if you feel down or blue, please talk to someone or find a healthy coping mechanism. I volunteer to be someone's virtual reader, in case someone wants it or needs it.

Life is difficult. That's common knowledge. Still, you didn't imagine that yours would last so little. It all was so fast yet so slow.

Despite being an outcast, creature, non-human, and weird school, Nevermore wasn't quite big on gore. Which you thought you'd change. Not everyone has seen a suicide scene. Certainly less that of a friend of theirs.

"Guess I'll do it today," you thought. It gave you peace. It really did. You had no more reason to feel dread or tiredness since everything would end soon. But of course, you needed to make sure you'd actually do it. You can never plan too much.

Wednesday noticed that you were in a better mood, as did Enid, Ajax, and Xavier... everyone knew you were happy. Which was weird because you were usually gloomy and serious. But they didn't mind. They didn't know your thoughts. They believed you were happier that day. In reality, you were just grateful to have your end so near.

You didn't let Wednesday touch you at all. She thought it was odd since you were usually the one craving for physical contact. Despite that, she accepted it. She didn't like affection too much herself, so it did not offend her. You just didn't want her to have a vision.

Miss Thornhill dismissed the class. You, like many others, gathered your stuff, packed it, and left. You went to your room, taking out the box where you kept all your letters. Letters you made for everyone. It was a little detail you wanted them to have, just in case they wanted to remember you. They were completely free to trash it.

You took them all, placing them in a little bag you had. You changed clothes, too. If you were going to die, it wouldn't be in this sickly blue uniform. You got some black jeans and a white shirt.

You had an eye for harm, much like Wednesday herself. Though yours was mainly a really bad coping mechanism. You wanted your death to be impressionable. And blood shows better on a white shirt.

Much like Enid and Thing, even, you had style. You were going to be found looking good despite death. Fuck death and life.

You threw the bag over your shoulder, across your chest. It was chilly, and you wanted to feel it. Feel something. Anything. Even pain was better than nothing.

You took one last look at your ordered room before closing the door, for the last time.

•••••

You decided that the next thing you'd do was visit the library. You went there sometimes when things were bad. It gave you comfort for a final time, as well as nostalgia. You hoped the books wouldn't miss you too much.

It was empty this time, not even a couple having extreme displays of affection on the back. You turned around, bidding a mental goodbye. If you took too long you wouldn't get to the place in the forest by sunset.

You reached into your bag, taking out a bottle of painkillers. You took enough to make you drowsy, but not to kill you, yet. You just wanted your blood to thin, and anything else needed a prescription.

Sunsets were early, especially during winter. By 16:00, there'd be no more light. It was barely 3, and snow covered the way. You needed to be quick.

You arrived at Xavier's. You knew he'd be in fencing, probably, or painting. You took your chance and slid the letter under the door.

Enid, Yoko, and Ajax, they all received one. You even wrote one for Thing. Your hand was complaining, but you cared not.

You entered Wednesday's room, seeing no one. You expected that. They were busy women. You left Enid's at her bed. Wednesday's and Thing's were on her bed.

You gave their room one final look, taking some time to let your mind be filled with good, past memories. You couldn't help but fill your senses with her side of the room. You hoped Wednesday wouldn't miss you too much. She wouldn't, probably.

You walked to the balcony, stepping through the glass window. One final look at the quad, and you'd be off to the forest. It made you smile now, instead of a scowl. Life always goes on. It was especially demonstrated by the quarrel excited teenagers make when with friends. You wouldn't be too missed.

You returned inside. You had wasted too much time already. It was still empty, so you took your chance. Having someone find you right now won't be nice.

You ran until you reached the forest. Then, with the last minutes of sunlight, you directed yourself to the clearing a little far off. It was peaceful, really peaceful.

Now, you had to choose what to do. Quickly. Blood was always the prettiest way.

You started by cutting yourself on the forearm, vertically. It hurt, but not as much as you had expected. It felt good. You knew it'd last a while.

Your shirt was already blooded a little, just like the snow beneath you. All crimson. Your other arm made it redder. It was pretty. Hm. You wouldn't know what Wednesday would think of this. Would she see it as a feeble attempt to scream for attention? Would she like to see the ostentatious scene of a suicide in the woods? Would she care?

You wouldn't know.

You took the rest of the pills. If one thing doesn't kill you, the other one certainly would. It made you smile to be so peaceful. You sat on the ground, despite the cold, taking in the picturesque scene of the sun kissing the moon goodbye. Much like you and Wednesday, it was time for the night to come.

You closed your eyes when you felt dizzy, deciding that lying on the snow wouldn't hurt you. Or save you. You wanted the peace you were finally taking for yourself.

•••••

Wednesday felt uneasy. It was strange. She wanted to brush it off, except she didn't. She's not the feeler type, so whenever she felt something so strong she knew she had to act on it. She learned that from you.

She walked quickly through the quad and the halls, searching for you. She did not see you. Intending to find you, she walked even faster. But you weren't there, at yours. Must be at hers.

She opened the door before her, not bothering to fully close it. Expecting to find you on her bed, she looked to her right. However, you weren't there. Despite your absence, she noticed the presence of two differently colored letters on her desk.

"For Wednesday", one said. The other one was addressed to Thing. Said appendage climbed up Wednesday's arm, resting on her shoulder as they looked at the letters.

—Let's not wait.

She took hers, and let Thing be.

"Howdy, Wednesday,

How are you? I hope you're doing well. I trust that you will be able to find who the Hyde is. Yeah, I sneaked around a bit. But don't worry. I won't burden you.

Don't try to find me. But who am I to tell you what to do, anyway? You always do what you want. That's also one of the reasons why I liked you so much. It's odd, right? Hopefully, you'll get used to past tenses.

I love you, a lot. I hope you know that I'll never truly be gone unless you want me to. I have no problems with that either. Burn this letter, if so you will. No flames will stop me from loving you, but yours.

For being so hateful of affection, you're the clingy type, Wednesday. But in a terribly endearing way. Feel free to take all the coats and jackets you want. I know you have interesting likes, so, if you want, keep my bones too, or whatever. I'm tryna be nice.

Don't miss me too much. (Yes, I'm flattering myself that much.)

Eres mi luna.

–Tu sol"

She had only felt this much sadness once before, and she didn't like it. Not again. It made her panic inside. She knew you weren't always at your best, but she didn't imagine she'd have to bid goodbye so soon. She was not willing to take it.

She tried to think like you. Where would you go? What place would you select for your demise? She was desperate, and she hated that feeling.

She turned around, intending to head out of her room. "Has to be the forest", she thought. She slammed the door behind her. Damn. This was, probably, the only time when she wanted to have a vision. She didn't expect this to be the reason for her first-ever wish of a premonition.

Maybe Enid's nose could be of help. She ran to the quad, where she knew Enid would be. Wednesday took Enid by the hand, uncaring of whatever the werewolf was doing. She was about to complain, but the expression on the shorter girl's face was too indecipherable. She looked worried, angry, sad, and murderous at the same time. Quite the emotional mix for her.

—Find them, now! Please.

Enid wanted to tease, but she knew better than to do that. It was good that you spent that much time in their room. Now, Enid could just tell where you were, since she remembers your smell.

—Follow me.

And they were quick. Enid was surprised that you had gone out that far. But she understood why quickly. The smell was quite strong, but it was nothing compared to the red mess she saw before her. Wednesday was already expecting it, as bad as it sounded.

She kneeled by your side, checking your heart rate. With how cold you were, she was surprised you were still the littlest bit alive. She sighed in relief as her eyes watered.

—We can't wait any longer—, her voice was shaky. She gulped, forcing herself to be composed. —I can't carry her. Can you? Please.

Enid did not have to be told twice. Wednesday took off her coat, draping you in it before Enid took you in her arms. She didn't like to hear Wednesday pleading. It wasn't her.

They reached the school more rapidly than they reached you. She hoped she wasn't too late. The nurse was surprised when they arrived with you so suddenly. Still, work needed to be done.

Wednesday sat aside, watching everything happen in front of her. She wanted to scream off her voice until she'd be as silent as you. She took a moment to calm herself, deciding that the best thing she could do was patch your arm while the nurse did the other arm. Silently, they worked faster.

Of course, Wednesday had called for an ambulance to get you to the hospital. Now you just needed to wait. Time had never been such an unpleasurable torture before.

•••••

Everyone was shocked. It was not what they were expecting. But knowing you, they were sure you did not want pity. They were patiently waiting for your return.

Except Wednesday, regarding the "patiently" part. She was counting every second, exactly. All of her free time was spent with you. Sometimes, when she was left alone with you, she'd talk to you. It was better than any therapy Jericho could offer.

She was glad you weren't lucky enough to get away with your plans. The dosage was too little, and, despite deep, the cuts weren't enough to end you. Maybe the cold would've been the one to take you out. She looked at you once more, feeling glad that she was able to find you before it was too late.

Enid watched through the glass window, sighing. Ajax nodded and they stood there, in the hall just outside of your room. They hugged for a while before entering the room.

As expected, Wednesday was there.

—Hey. We brought some food, and a quad—, Enid said. Ajax nodded and held up the drink and bag. Wednesday pointed to the little table on the back side of the room.

—Thanks.

They just smiled in return.

—Just know that we're here whenever you want to not talk.

Wednesday looked at you, but eventually agreed. She knew she could, possibly, count on them. She closed her notebook, leaving it on top of the chair she was using before eating the food they'd given her.

She had been so preoccupied that her appetite had eluded her. It was taking a toll on her now. She had to take better care of herself if she wanted to take care of you later.

After a while of mainly them talking, and Wednesday listening, Enid and Ajax returned to Nevermore. She was alone with you, again. She liked her moments with you. She smiled and took the chair right next to you.

She decided that perchance it would be okay if she slept there, taking your hand in hers. So she did. She took your hand in hers and crossed her arms for (mostly un)comfortable sleep to overcome her.

•••••

Hours later, Wednesday woke up to some strange sensations. It was none other than you, caressing her hand. She almost cried.

She looked at you, watery eyes and quivering lip included. You had so little energy your only expression was that of guilt. She wanted to scream at you for being so stupid, but she contained herself. This was neither the place nor the moment.

—I'm sorry, Wednesday—, was the first thing you said. It made her furrow her brows.

—As you should be—. Her words were rough, but you knew that was just how she was. She was a prickly rose, however painful, yet still, a rose. —I'm just glad you're alive.

—Death does not suit me alone—. You wanted to cry. You let your tears fall, yet maintained eye contact. Tears meant so little now. —Thank you for being here, Wednesday. I know it was difficult for you. I'm sorry for burdening you once more. I-

—Shut up—, she said in a weak voice. It was almost a whisper. Her hand gripped yours tighter, but still gently enough. —Never do this again, or I'll...—, she paused. Torturing you would be your pleasure, so that was not an option. —I'll make you record those goddamn TikToks Enid never shuts up about—. It was a threat that came out of love, so you nodded, smiling.

—I see Enid is still the same Enid. Just like you're still my moon.

You shook off her hand, only to caress her cheek softly. She did not push you away. It made you wonder just how much you had hurt her.

—My sun.

The looks she gave you were equal to all the kisses you could ask. It was one step further in the healing of your soul. You smiled again.

—Can I hug you?—, you asked. —I want you to hug me, but if not, then maybe just let me do it?

She responded by wrapping her arms around your waist. It nearly made you cry again. The moon could, sometimes, be as warm as the sun, just like the sun could be as obscure as the moon.

🫂 hug if you need it

#wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday adams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday x reader #fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday imagine #wednesday imagines #fanfiction #wednesday fanfic #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday netflix

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taetaespeaches · 1 year

Text

“I thought you were cold.”

jungkook x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.4K

a/n: Hi lovelies! Here’s just a little scene in which Jungkook comes home all cold from the winter weather and finds that reader/Holly is wearing his hoodie all cozy on the couch. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

The moment Jungkook barged into your apartment, carelessly dropping his bag to the floor, he let out an exaggerated shiver. You stared at him as he shed himself of his coat, once again letting it drop to the floor. Only then did he look at you, his bambi eyes pleading with you to understand his pain.

“It’s so cold out there,” he exclaimed, his eyes only widening when you didn’t give him the response he wanted. “It started snowing.”

Glancing over your shoulder to the window, you noted the flakes dropping from the sky. “Well look at that,” you simply stated in an effort to tease the man, looking back at Jungkook. You found him on his knee as he unlaced his combat boots, peering up at you underneath his fringe with a boyish smile on his face.

“Don’t you feel bad for me?” He quizzed, an edge of flirtiness coating his tone.

“I’m sorry, am I not giving you the attention you want?” You teased, smirking at him as he kicked his second shoe off and rose to his toe sock-clad feet, a mischievous smile on his face.

“More like empathy,” he countered, eliciting a playful scoff from you.

As he stepped toward you, you snorted at his presence. He looked so good with his baggy black tee and loose black cargo pants, cool from his head to his ankles, and then… “Those socks clash with your fit,” you noted, making Jungkook pause as he looked down at his feet.

“What do you mean?” He asked in amused defense. “White goes with black.”

“It’s not the color, Jungkook, and you know that.” Raising your eyebrows at him, you barely bit back the smile that threatened to spread across your face in response to his giggle.

“One of these days you’re gonna jump on the toe sock train,” he assured you, making you roll your eyes as he moseyed closer. “They’re like gloves for your feet.”

“I thought you were cold,” you questioned, cocking your head as you carefully watched him approach the sofa.

“I am but my feet are warm,” he beamed, just before stopping right next to the couch where you remained lying across. Jungkook eyed up your frame, taking note of your leisurely outfit, lounge shorts and a hoodie. However, it wasn’t in the sexy way you liked but rather in a much more strategic manner, as though he was plotting against you.

Pulling your eyebrows together as you studied him, you realized a moment too late what he was up to as he quickly bounded atop you and trapped you under his freezing form, his arms instantly slipping beneath your top to press his icy hands to your warm tummy, the chilly material of his pants frigid against your legs. You screamed in protest, but your writhing was to no avail, the man relaxing against you with a sigh of content as he nudged his cold face against your neck.

He left kisses to your skin as you shoved at his shoulders, finally going limp beneath him as you accepted your fate with a whine in complaint. “Koo,” you mewled, his warm breath blowing against your neck in puffs in accordance with his entertained laughter. “You’re so fucking cold, you jerk!”

“I told you,” he reminded you. “Should have doted on me when you had the chance, now I’m your problem.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you found yourself giggling at his dumb antics. “You’re always my problem,” you pointed out, Jungkook lifting his face to smile at you.

He prepared to speak but stopped himself as his eyes lingered on your chest. Again, not in the sexy way but rather in the accusatory way. “Is this my hoodie?”

“No,” you instantly denied, a bald-faced lie.

Pursing his lips, his eyes met yours. “I think it is.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re a gaslighter,” he shot back, twirling one of the strings of the hoodie around his tattooed digit. The little crown between his knuckles caught your attention, as his ink so often did. You could gaze at the art forever, all of it an actualization of Jungkook’s passion and creativity.

“Am not,” you defended, your eyes bouncing back to meet his.

“And I wanted to wear this today, you’re the reason I froze out there,” he whined cutely, a small pout forming on his lips.

Rolling your eyes, you tugged the string out of his grasp. “You have a closet full of hoodies.”

“So it is mine!” His eyes were so round and pretty as he watched you, anticipating your next defense.

Sighing, you internally scrambled for your words. “No,” you started, Jungkook’s cocky grin just barely making an appearance on his beautiful face. “I’m just saying even if this is yours,” you started to rant, Jungkook catching your choice of words, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “Which it’s not,” you added with a smirk. “It still wouldn’t matter because you could have easily chosen a different one.”

“But I wanted this one,” he spoke, giving you that boy-like charm once more. It was unfair that he weaponized his cuteness like that.

“It’s not yours!”

“My reality is real,” he teased, calling back to his gaslighting comment, making you giggle. The man nuzzled his head against your shoulder, his forehead resting against the side of your jaw.

“How was your day,” you whispered to him. Your fingers worked through his strands, combing his hair away from his face in a soothing repetition.

“Good,” he muttered back, wrapping an arm around your body, allowing you to eye the colorful ink that decorated his forearm. He was so cool. So pretty. “Got some recording done,” he then added, giving you the tiniest detail from the events that filled his day. Before you could ask him more, he was directing the questioning to you.

“How was your day, baby?”

Smiling softly, you told him the same. “Good. Got home from work and haven’t moved from this spot since.”

“Good,” he giggled, lifting his face to look at you. “You know, I’ve been looking for this hoodie for two weeks, actually,” he circled back, drawing a groan in response from you.

“Oh my god, enough with the hoodie,” you told him, acting annoyed and exasperated that he would dare accuse you yet again.

“But it’s mine,” he giggled, making you hold back your own laugh of amusement.

“Jungkook, if you want this hoodie you’re gonna have to pry it off my body,” you ordered him, immediately realizing you misspoke. A smile overtook your features as you tried to stop him before he could respond. “Wait, wait-”

“You- wait- is-” he stuttered, making you stall your own backtracking, too amused and endeared by him. Then a beam spread across his face. “You know I’m happy to do that,” he finally got out, a flirty smirk replacing the adorable smile.

“Do not,” you lightheartedly and unseriously warned.

“Are you flirting with me, Holly?” He had lowered his tone to sound more sexy, and you hated how easy it was for him to appear that way. Damn him.

“No,” you said shortly, trying to bite back your growing grin but failing as you beamed up at him.

“Was this your plan all along?”

You couldn’t hold back the giggle he triggered with his playful comments, that is, until he winked. Rolling your eyes and shoving at his bicep to try to push him off of you all while you wore a smile, the man giggled adorably, only moving his arms to cage your head between his body and the couch cushion below you. Before either of you could say anything, he slowly lowered his face toward yours, his eyes bouncing from yours to your lips. He placed one kiss to your lips, soft and lingering, but one that didn’t last near long enough for either of you. He pulled away, teasingly, trying to trigger you into taking control or at least some kind of action.

“You know what?” You smirked at him, Jungkook letting a lazy smile spread across his mouth in response.

“What?”

“It’s very bold of you to think I need a plan to get you to remove my clothing as though you’re not so obsessed with m-”

Jungkook, giggling cutely, cut you off by pressing his lips to yours once again, meeting you in a messy kiss full of smiles and laughter. You easily fell into it, into Jungkook, smiling and laughing along with him as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. You kissed him for as long as you could, until the giggles and grins stopped, until you were breathless, and until the hoodie was finally removed from your body and discarded on the floor, far away from Jungkook’s attention.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts reactions #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfics #bts fics #bts drabbles #jungkook drabble #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot

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agaypanic · 4 months

Note

Okay listen a fix based on this tik tok

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8fK6cmv/

It was made like last year and I still have it stuck in my head. Love your work btw🫶

If You Really Love Her (Bernard the Elf X Human!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Your friendship with Bernard has turned into silent infatuation, unknowingly from both sides. Jack Frost, loving to cause trouble, talks Bernard out of giving you a gift when he realizes that the elf has fallen in love with you. After all, how could an elf ever be with a human?

A/N: the fact that this fic is written from a request about a tiktok where the plot is based on a scene in shrek 2 is insane lmao changed the snow globe from the tiktok to a locket btw. also i left it on a bit of a cliffhanger so if yall want a part 2 lmk

***

Bernard was known to become very high-strung during Christmas. How could he not? Being in charge of hundreds of elves and a workshop and having to help make sure one of the biggest holidays of the year was a worldwide success was sure to take its toll on a guy. But for a few years, Bernard’s saving grace in the intensity of Christmas has become you.

You were quick to become friends, despite his somewhat grumpy disposition. You didn’t mind that he was a thousand-and-some-year-old workaholic, and he didn’t mind that you were a peppy human.

After a while, he wasn’t exactly sure when the turning point was; Bernard’s platonic feelings for you had evolved. At first, he thought that it was just because he didn’t see you much, so he basked in all the moments you had together. But then he started wanting even more time with you, doing things that friends didn’t usually do.

After a few years of being silent about his growing feelings, Bernard felt the need to do something about it. He was getting sick of pretending that he was content with friendship. He decided the perfect opportunity to tell you was when you came to the North Pole with Santa and Charlie after the Christmas Eve rounds.

Which, if Santa was on schedule, was in a few hours. The whole night, nerves and anxiety-riddled Bernard, more than usual anyway. He paced around his office, your Christmas present jingling in his pocket.

Eventually, he decided to get some fresh air. Being cooped up in the small room and constantly overthinking couldn’t be good for him. Besides, he didn’t want to be a nervous wreck when you came.

Walking out of the workshop, Bernard took a deep breath, watching a cloud leave his mouth as he exhaled from how cold it was. Surprisingly, it was colder than usual.

“Hey, Bernie.” It immediately became less surprising when Bernard heard that annoying voice.

“Jack.” The elf greeted shortly, not bothering to turn around to look at the insufferable being. It was bad enough that he was overthinking his confession and your possible reactions. But now Bernard also had to deal with this winter spirit who seemed to have a knack for tricks. “Don’t you have another volcano to go freeze over?”

“Oh, Bernie, Bernie, Bernie.” Jack ignored the elf correcting him on his name and placed a chilly hand on his shoulder, making him jolt. “Why so blue? It’s Christmas!”

“I’m aware.”

“Whatcha got jingling in your pocket, bud?” Before Bernard could answer or tell Jack to mind his business, Jack stuck his hand into Bernard’s pocket and pulled out a silver heart-shaped locket. “Ooh, who’s this for?”

“None of your business, Frost!” Bernard tried swiping the necklace back, but Jack raised it out of reach.

“I think I’ll take a little look if you don’t mind.” The man said, knowing that Bernard minded extremely. He read the small inscription on the heart. “‘I’m just a call away.’ Aw, how cute, Bernie. Didn’t know you were such a romantic. Now, what’s inside, I wonder. Let’s see… oh my god.” Bernard cringed at the reaction, watching Jack’s mouth gape wide open as he opened the locket and saw the picture that was inside. The winter spirit laughed, tilting his head towards the elf. “A human? Really, Bernie, I’m surprised at you.”

“Give it back.” Bernard hissed but was ignored.

“I’ve seen this girl before!” Jack realized. “She’s Santa’s kid’s little friend! What, were you gonna give this to her when she came to the North Pole? I bet you were.” Jack shut the locket, reading the inscription once more. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in love with this girl.”

Bernard didn’t answer. He hadn’t really thought about that before. Yes, he knew that his feelings for you were no longer platonic. He liked you very much. But love?

The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

“Good thing I know better.” Jack tossed the locket back to Bernard, who barely caught it, having been too wrapped up in his thoughts. But Bernard also caught Jack’s tone, like he knew something that Bernard didn’t.

“So what if I do, Frost? It’s none of your business either way.” Bernard quickly pocketed the necklace so Jack wouldn’t take it again.

Jack raised an icy eyebrow, leaning forward to become face-to-face with Bernard.

“So what if you do?” Jack mocked, soon laughing. “She’s a human, short stuff. And you are an elf. No amount of magic could ever fix that.” Jack straightened up, taking pride in the way Bernard’s expression fell. “Unless, of course, you retire, which we both know would never happen. And she could never stay here; she has a life to live in the real world.”

“But I love her…” Bernard said it half as a realization and half as a counter to Jack’s argument. He gripped the heart-shaped locket tightly as if it could shut Jack Frost’s mouth for good.

“If you really loved her, Bernie, you’d let her go.” Jack grinned at Bernard’s gloominess. But the elf didn’t see that, because he kept his head down and eyes locked on his shoes. “It’s only fair, really. She’d eventually become miserable, being stuck at the North Pole with you. Growing older and older while you don’t age a day. Wondering what kind of life she could’ve had.”

Bernard took in Jack’s words, each one making him panic more and more. Jack Frost was right, as much as he hated to admit it. You would be miserable here. And he didn’t want to leave, at least not now. But time was on his side and not yours.

“But hey! What do I know?” Jack slapped Bernard on the shoulder and skipped off, probably reveling in the fact that he had caused such trouble and was now wandering off to see if he could cause some more.

But Bernard felt frozen to the front steps of the workshop. He couldn’t face you, not right now, not when he was like this.

Realizing your arrival time was in just a few short hours, Bernard raced inside and to the lodging area of the workshop. He skidded to a stop in front of your room. You had become such a regular guest during the holidays that Bernard had taken it upon himself to put your name on the bedroom door.

He walked in, seeing that the room was exactly as you had last left it. He took the locket from his pocket and gently placed it on one of your pillows. Bernard was about to leave it at that, but he quickly decided it wasn’t enough. You deserved more than a little trinket left on your bed.

Bernard decided to write a little note for you to accompany the locket, using the stationary on the desk that sat in the corner of the room. But the little note became a long note, containing confessions and anxious thoughts and apologies.

Bernard placed the note on the pillow with the necklace when it was finally finished. He stared at it for a few seconds before rearranging the two objects differently, hating the sight more and more. In a moment of frustration, Bernard shoved the locket and the note underneath the pillow, not wanting to see it anymore. Then he stormed out before he could freak out any further.

It was better this way, Bernard tried to convince himself. If you found his gift and read the note, you understand. If you didn’t, he supposed that would just be less heartbreak for the both of you. In the end, you’d be happy. Even if he was miserable, Bernard just wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.

Because, after all, how could an elf ever be with a human?

***

Bernard the Elf Taglist: @katerinaval

#agaypanic #bernard the elf x reader #bernard the elf #the santa clause x reader #the santa clause

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midnightcowboy1969 · 1 year

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I know too much

#this stuck with me #its relatable #it's interesting how Charles knows so much about freud #freud making him nohomoing himself in the tub #reading chilly scenes of winter

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bookdepositori · 1 year

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Just finished Chilly Scenes of Winter this morning. Definitely not what I was expecting, but I think I got a lot out of it.

The book follows Charles, a miserable, lonely, selfish man who is constantly longing for his ex who married a different man. There are countless stories about men like Charles, written by men like Charles in an attempt to achieve catharsis or validation in their unpleasantness. This book caught my attention because while the plot description sounded familiar, this book was written by a woman, which was a bit surprising.

The entirety of this book is told from Charles’s perspective in extreme detail. Conversations and events Charles participates in will echo and resurface several chapters later, eventually fleshing out his inner world in a way that makes the reader feel like they’re actually living in this character’s head. The more this goes on, you begin to notice all of the pretension and cognitive dissonance Charles employs in his efforts to “win back” his ex.

I overall really liked this book, though the writing style did trip me up a little initially. This book is written with almost exclusively dialogue or Charles’s thoughts. There is very little scene description in this book, and sometimes there will be scene changes which the reader must infer through context clues. This style is definitely interesting, it almost felt cinematic in a way, though it took a bit for me to get used to.

This definitely isn’t a book for everyone, I doubt many would want to spend 300 pages inside the mind of self-pitying misogynist, but the verisimilitude of Charles as a character was very impressive to me and I appreciated the experience.

(And a side note: theres is a character in this book who is impatiently waiting for a new Bob Dylan album to come out, and I’m glad I know enough about Dylan to infer that the book was referring to Blood on the Tracks despite never naming it.)

#books and novels #books #fiction #reading log #reading #book blog #contemporary literature #tbr #reading blog #chilly scenes of winter #Ann Beattie #used books #hardcover

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1d1195 · 11 months

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Screens II

Read the first part here: Screens

Another thank you to my 🪁-anon. Without you and your kind request, this story would not exist. I hope you enjoy this part as much as possible. Thank you to the following anon's for their support, I don't have names or emoji's for you but here are the kind messages I've received patiently waiting for a part 2: one and only Screens fan, #1 Screens fan, and this one that sobbed while trying to finish reading it. I did not mean to exclude anyone, I typed Screens into my blog's search bar to gather this information.

Finally, this anon provided a good chunk of the inspiration.

I hope you all enjoy it. I wrote it in a sense in a series of flashbacks and you will see this ◊ to indicate the difference in flashback scenes vs. my standard * to indicate a bit of time has passed.

"Okay on with it, lady. You talk to much." --Everyone reading this (probably).

Harry wasn’t so distracted by how pretty she looked with hair and paint falling across her pretty skin and over her beautiful face that he missed her saying the word ‘if.’ A hopeful sign that she believed in a miracle even if she was too scared to say so herself on any given day. Part of him also noted and hated the idea of her finding an apartment without him; even after a mere nine months of being in absolute love with her. He wished he had asked her to move in right then.

December | Holiday Break | 8:30 AM

Harry was extremely mindful of announcing his presence around her because he hated how jumpy she got when anyone else spooked her because she didn’t always see them coming around the corner or something. He especially did so in the quiet of the morning or the stillness of the evening. “Angel?” He called into his apartment. It was chilly on their first day of holiday break from work. Harry wanted her to stay the whole week with him. She couldn’t deny she didn’t want the same thing. He ventured into the winter air and returned with hot coffee, foam on top just as she liked.

They’d been together, officially, for a little over a year. But having known her a bit for the better part of a decade, it was easier than he ever thought to be in a relationship with her and he wished that he had thought of it long before last November. “Mm,” she hummed barely loud enough for him to hear as he approached his bedroom. “M’sleeping,” she mumbled against the pillow as he made his way across the room.

He chuckled quietly and set the coffees on his nightstand before slipping back under the covers with her. She rolled herself on top of him, legs on either side of his hips and her face pressed against the front of his shoulder. She was scrunched against him like a little ball. “Don’t move.”

He wouldn’t have if someone tried to force him to move. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her head. “Coffee’ll get cold,” he mumbled, rubbing his fingers against the back of her head. She sighed but said nothing. “C’mon, kitten. Y’told me t’not let y’sleep late,” he cooed and kissed her again.

“I lied,” she murmured. He chuckled. “M’too heavy, that’s it, isn’t it? Want me off you?” He rolled his eyes and squeezed her tight against him.

“No, y’silly thing.” She lifted her head up and hovered above him for a moment. She didn’t speak but she lightly drew her finger over his features. He watched as her eyes squinted, sliding over the trail of her finger in silence. She did this at least once a week. Usually when they saw one another on the weekends because they had more time than their Thursday night ritual. “What are y’doing?” He asked her.

Her cheeks reddened and she shook her head. She didn’t say and Harry let it drop. He always let it drop when he asked. Part of him thought nothing of it, surely it was for a portrait—a painting or a drawing she was working on. She had seen her do it with a rose, tracing the thorns carefully; or the arm of a park bench, admiring how it looked in the afternoon light.

Nonetheless, he enjoyed the way her fingers felt on his skin. It was one of the many things she taught him: using his sense of touch so much more.

Carefully he tightened his grip on her as he rolled the pair of them onto their sides to face one another. He brought his hand to her face and gently brushed his thumb across her lips and then traced his finger over her brow line, over the bridge of her nose, before settling his hand firmly against her cheek. “When’s your appointment?” He asked.

She sighed and shook her head. “Noon,” she mumbled. He gave her body a gentle squeeze as he held her.

“It’ll be alright, kitten.”

“I can’t teach if I can’t see,” she reminded him. “I’m sitting right in front of you, and I can hardly see you,” she whispered quietly.

He frowned and reached behind her for her glasses on the other little table beside his bed. He slid them into place, mindful to not catch her ear or pull too hard against her hair. He smiled at her. It made her stomach flip because Harry was by far the most beautiful person she had ever met. “I love your glasses,” he whispered. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I look like a librarian.”

“The sexiest librarian ’ve ever laid eyes on,” he promised and ignored her snort. “Not only do they help y’see, but they help me see. S’like they magnify your eyes. Swear I can see everything you’re hiding in that beautiful brain of yours,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to her forehead, right between the rim of the glasses hovering over her eyes.

“They look like coke bottles.”

He shook his head. “I think you’re gorgeous,” he promised and pulled them down slightly and pressed a kiss to each of her eyelids. Silently he hoped and prayed to whatever god was out there that her appointment would give her good news and make the ache in her mind and heart lessen just a bit. He didn’t care if she needed glasses by any means or if her eyesight got worse. None of that mattered to him at all. He just wanted her to be a little happier than she was before.

Over the past year, he had seen so many stages of her grief. He saw the anger she felt when she missed a step and dropped her food outside the restaurant causing a mess all over her shoes and the entry way. It made her eyes water as she asked the hostess if she could have some towels to clean it up so no one would slip on their way out. Harry helped her clean it up and even placed the quickest to go order ever made so she could have extra for lunch the following day and promised her it was no big deal that she spilled.

He watched her sadness as she couldn’t see things in plain sight—like the ever-hiding remote always evading her vision. Or when she accidentally put cinnamon in her pasta dish because she swore it was paprika.

The pain that puckered her eyebrows together all because her glasses and the screens at work bothered her so much.

Harry begged her so plainly to ask him for help. He had the phone pressed to his ear as he laid his head back against the sofa. Her voice made his stomach knot in the best way—she made him weak in the knees and the only thing he regretted about dating her was not doing it sooner. “I’ll bother you,” she whispered into the phone.

“Kitten, of course not.”

“If you’re hanging out with friends, and you need to come get me because it’s raining at night...and I can’t drive myself home?”

“Then I’ll say, ‘sorry lads, m’princess needs me.’ If they have a problem with that, s’on them,” he said simply with a shrug.

She released a quiet giggle despite how much she didn’t want to. “You’re much nicer to me than anyone I’ve ever known.”

◊

But she wasn’t always so down about it. Sometimes she had a really good sense of humor about it. Harry didn’t love it all that much though. It hurt him to hear her joke about something he knew in his heart hurt her quite a bit. But he was glad she could be in good spirits about it.

“Listen,” she said almost a month after their first kiss. “You’d be surprised how often someone says, ‘what are you blind?’ You’re just going to have to roll with it. It’s okay. I’ve heard it a lot and I say it to myself sometimes. I’ve been working on new comebacks but so far ‘legally, no; spiritually yes,’ is my favorite.”

Harry felt a wave of awkwardness wash over him, but she just continued to smile this gorgeous, bright smile that he had no choice but to let her make her joke.

And if he did say ‘What are you, blind?’ a few days later, well... at least she had warned him.

◊

Harry read to her sometimes. It made her feel like a little kid, but he didn’t dwell on it. He acted as if it was completely normal for a boyfriend to read out loud like a kindergarten teacher to his girlfriend. She snuggled up to him in his lap and glanced at the pages every so often as he held the book in front of them. She had to be careful though because Harry’s voice was so soothing and even though she loved to hear him talk, there had been many chapters she missed because he accidentally put her to sleep with his melodic voice.

◊

Sleeping together in the quiet parts of the night were some of his favorite times. Whether something more intimate happened between them or not. Night was when he felt most attuned to her. Harry couldn’t see any more than she could. Touching her, feeling the goosebumps he left in the wake of his fingertips against her skin made him much more aware of how touch could bring him to his knees for her. He also paid close attention to her near silent, soft whines of pleasure or how her laugh seemed so much brighter in the dark.

But listening to her speak at night might have been one of his most favorite things. “Why did y’leave me after that party?” He whispered. It bothered him a bit when they first started dating.

Her face was pressed to his chest, her finger moving over his face as it always did, this time focusing on the shape of his jaw, outlining the scruffy remnants of hair growth since he last shaved. “Why would you want to be with the near-blind girl?” She shrugged.

It took him no time at all to answer. “Cause she’s perfect.” She smiled and pressed a kiss almost touching the cross necklace that dangled between the sparrows on his chest.

She never asked him again if it mattered to him if she’d go totally blind. Not since she asked after their first kiss last November. He said it all right then at that moment. She believed him so easily because no, she hadn’t ever thought about it. There wasn’t a time when she thought that maybe she wouldn’t go blind. So, for Harry to believe it was possible was more than enough.

◊

Harry worried about her a lot more than most people did a lot of the time. More than her family who were so used to her poor sight it didn’t even phase them when she handed them the wrong cups or passed along the wrong items because they weren’t clear enough about where they were. More than strangers who would roll their eyes at her when she bumped into them on public transport.

But mostly herself because while she had been living with bad eyes for so long, it took Harry some getting used to the ins and outs of the harder things she had to do. One day they painted two canvases together, spinning them back and forth between them for five minutes creating fun little landscapes that didn’t make any sense. “Would y’ever want a seeing eye dog?” He asked. Harry was a terrible painter, but he’d do anything to spend time with her doing her favorite things. “Bet we could get you a really cute pup,” he smiled.

She smirked so cutely, and she wiped her hand across her forehead to get a piece of hair out of her eyes. In doing so, she painted a stripe of pink paint across her forehead, making his heart feel so jumpy with love for her. “Maybe if I went totally blind,” she shrugged. “Would need to find an apartment that allows a cute dog too,” she reminded him. As if a seeing-eye dog wasn’t an exception to most places.

◊

Loving one another didn’t come without some hardships either.

Once more she found herself bumping into someone. Harry had gone ahead to the car to get to her door and naturally the moment he left her side she was nearly falling flat on her bum. However, the person bumping into her was quick, caught her around the waist before she hit the ground. “Oh, easy love. You alright?”

“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly.

“Hardly your fault, love. Don’t be sorry,” he smirked. “S’easy to fall for me,” he winked at her.

She gaped in surprise. Harry wasn’t surprised in the slightest because she was by far the most adorable person on the planet let alone that street. “Excuse me,” Harry said flatly. Harry eyed the arm around her waist that didn’t belong to her or himself, and the man turned his attention to Harry.

“Oh, of course you’re taken...Someone as beautiful as you would have to be,” he released his grip from her. “Sorry, mate,” he said to Harry and then winked at the beautiful girl.

Harry grabbed her hand and marched quickly toward his car without so much as another glance in his direction. “Harry,” she whined as he tugged her. He wasn’t rough, exactly. She didn’t think it was possible for him to be rough with her even when he was grumpy. Her mind flashed to that very first day when he looked at her with so much annoyance for getting food all over his clothes and then separating him from his friends.

Harry often got so protective of her that it came across as overbearing and every so often, he couldn’t help but feel jealous when someone else helped her. She had done so much on her own for so long the idea that she didn’t need him or worse, needed someone else made him so utterly sad that he had a hard time expressing how upset it made him. “M’sorry,” he whispered.

“Sorry? Why?”

“Jus’...I get so sad when other people help you,” he frowned. She turned toward him in her seat. “Not because I don’t want them t’help you. But because...I jus’ like helping you. Makes me think y’don’t really need me,” he mumbled. “I know I wasn’t always...so outwardly nice t’you. Think I was a bit of a dick,” he said quietly. “Think it would make a lot of sense if y’found...someone that swept y’off your feet right away.”

She reached out and cupped the side of his face and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips briefly. “I need you, always. More than that...I want you,” she said softly. Harry felt like a lovesick teenager at her words. Wanting him really was so much better than needing him. Because she didn’t. She was wonderfully independent and had done so much on her own for so long, she really didn’t need him. But wanting him around? Harry loved her so much he wondered how he ever could have been without her. “So much it feels like I need you.”

He leaned forward to steal another kiss and she smiled, her glasses bumping his forehead a bit. “I love you,” he promised.

She smiled. “Would you like to know when I fell in love with you?” She asked.

He blinked at her response. “Well, sure,” he nodded.

“When you held my hand at the party and walked me to your room...it was like...I don��t know, I felt like a princess,” she told him. “You totally saved me. I had no plan. No escape. I just didn’t want to bother anyone.”

He smiled at the memory. “I loved sleeping with you,” he winked. She pushed him gently and shook her head. “No really, y’looked so cute in m’clothes. Wanted you t’stay in my bed forever.”

“I bet you did,” she mumbled.

“Ha-ha,” he rolled his eyes. “Never would have thought your cute mind would constantly sit in a gutter, kitten. Yes, of course I wanted that,” he grumbled making her laugh. “Really I jus’ wanted you.”

“You want me too?” She wrinkled her nose making her eyes crinkle at the corners and Harry turned fully to hold her face between his hands. He leaned in to brush his lips over hers like he did the first time he kissed her. She gave the same little whine she did. It went right through his heart.

“What gave it away?” He mumbled against her lips.

◊

“What if it’s hereditary?” She whispered in the dark.

Harry turned to face her even though he couldn’t see anything in the darkened room. He could feel her breath and the anxiety in her voice was so palpable he could feel her voice. “Then...who better to help them than you?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t wish this on the people that made fun of me,” she mumbled. “I can’t imagine a child like me,” she admitted quietly. “It was so hard.”

Harry frowned and inched closer to her. His nose bumped into hers, he brought his hand up to her cheek. What he said next, he meant whether he was part of the future or not. With everything in him, it was one of the truest things he ever told her. “I can’t think of a luckier child than one like you, m’love.”

◊

It wasn’t always about her eyes. There were pictures they took and vacations they enjoyed. He loved her family and how they made him feel like he was part of her holiday traditions. Gemma and his mum adored her and asked about her more than they asked about Harry.

She had the best jokes from books she read. Her art was beautiful and taking walks through the park with her were some of his favorite dates he’d ever been on.

It was five months in when he told her he loved her for the first time. “You are the most beautiful woman I know,” he said. She smiled at him with the lightest touch of pink painting her cheeks. She made him stop and proceeded to lie in the middle of the sidewalk to capture a picture of the sky between the branches of a tree on the unseasonably warm April day. Harry took his own picture of her doing just that. “See?” He asked, showing her the picture he took.

She looked at the picture momentarily and then back at him. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course, kitten,” he rolled his eyes. “Inside and out; the kindness and warmth you have inside you is probably jus’ a fraction of the beauty y’display outwardly for someone like me that falls in love with you every time y’smile,” he grabbed her hand continued walking down the street enjoying the spring air. She was quiet for the length of the road and when they stopped to wait for the light to change at the crosswalk, she looked up at him at her side.

“You’re in love with me?” She asked.

He blinked in surprise, feeling a bit tongue tied. He chuckled awkwardly as he glanced at her. “Uh...sorry... I should have waited...said that in the privacy of your apartment...or mine, or something. Not in the middle of a busy street.”

She smiled and shook her head at him. “I love you, too.”

The light changed and back again, but neither of them noticed because he was too busy kissing her while the crowd moved around them.

◊

Sometimes she got so angry and frustrated with herself that she would accidentally take it out on Harry. Like the time she didn’t see how close her fingers were to the knife and nicked herself good. Not enough to need stitches or even a trip to the minute clinic, but enough to make Harry ooh and ahh over her. “Angel,” he murmured after she ripped her hand away from him.

“Stop,” she sniffed. She wasn’t in pain—at least not from her little wound she inflicted upon herself. “Just stop.”

He frowned and pressed his lips together trying not to overwhelm her with his worry. In those moments, he stood waiting patiently. Eventually she would say sorry, and he would shake his head. “You don’t have t’apologize t’me ever, m’love...not ‘bout this.”

He knew this was hard for her. Every time she hurt herself or dropped something, it was a reminder that her eyes weren’t working the way they were supposed to. The last thing he wanted was her spiraling and worrying about what would come next.

But he wanted her to know that whatever it was, he would be right beside her. Seeing for her even if she couldn’t.

December | Holiday Break | Lunch time

She never let Harry go into her appointments with her. However, he made sure he was the first one to meet her at the door right outside the office because her eyes were almost always dilated. It amplified how difficult it was for her to see where she was going. After nearly bumping into someone as she exited, she apologized awkwardly. Almost instantly, Harry was there looping her arm through his elbow. “Hey beautiful,” he said kissing the top of her head. He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t ask about the appointment. He knew better. She would say something if needed.

He opened her car door, helping her into the seat and placed sunglasses over her eyes to protect her widened pupils. He kissed the space where her forehead met her hairline and closed her safely in the car. Once inside the car himself, he drove off, planning to get her more coffee because she hated these appointments and Harry wanted to treat her for being brave even when she didn’t want to be. She leaned against the window and didn’t speak. Harry placed a hand on her leg, and she wrapped her fingers around his. He gave her a squeeze and continued driving silently.

“They have a new... cutting edge surgery they want me to try,” she whispered to the window.

He squeezed her hand again, glanced long enough to see her contemplative reflection in the glass. “How d’you feel about that?” He asked.

“Nervous.”

He smiled weakly. He wished he could look at her, but he knew talking about it was easier when he wasn’t looking at her—even if she couldn’t fully see him. Harry ordered at the drive through and then continued driving to a little spot by a lake. It was still so chilly outside—even at the warmest part of the day. There was steam coming off the water from the warmth of the sun beating off it. She took a picture of it on her phone and Harry knew the look of concentration on her face was trying to figure out how to recreate the steam in a painting.

They were sitting on the hood of his car. It was still warm from the engine and Harry had a blanket laid over their laps. She leaned back against the windshield holding the coffee cup upright to keep her hands warm. Harry turned to his side to look at her. He brought his hand to push her hair away from her forehead and he traced along her hairline. “Do y’want surgery?”

She sighed. “I wanna be able to see.”

He smiled gently and gave her cheek a kiss. “Will it...get worse? If y’try it?”

She shook her head. “No more than the risk of a regular surgery. It won’t be perfect. I’d still need glasses. I’ll still have trouble seeing. But...I won’t go blind. It’ll either stop it from getting worse or it won’t work,” she shrugged.

“Sounds like you have nothing t’lose then, angel,” he murmured.

She was quiet for a second. “I trace your face so much because I worry, I’ll never see it again,” she whispered. Harry was speechless...all those times he asked her what she was doing... He never thought that was her reason. “I want it to be muscle memory,” she explained. “So... if my eyes...if I can’t see anymore...I hope I can sculpt it from memory,” she whispered.

That beautiful word ‘if’ made his heart so full of love for her.

But, by far that was the most...genuine thing anyone had ever said to him. “God, I wish I dated you so much earlier,” he mumbled and leaned down to kiss her as deeply as he could manage while the cold December air cooled her coffee down once more while he gently traced his tongue along her lower lip.

Her cheeks turned this beautiful shade of red that Harry loved so much. The sunglasses over her eyes hid so much from him. He meant every word earlier. He loved her glasses so much, if only allowing him to see deeper into her soul. “If...it works though...” she whispered after a minute of kissing. He didn’t say anything because he sensed there was more, and she swallowed hard. “I’m scared I won’t be me...I feel like my whole life has been put on hold because of my eyes. I don’t know if I know how to live without... thinking about them.”

“Then we’ll learn t’live without thinking ‘bout them,” he shrugged reaching for a piece of her hair and stroking it like a paint brush across her face. “You’re more than your eyes, kitten.”

Her heart felt so warm at his words. Harry always made the well-being of her eyes an effort for the two of them. It wasn’t a battle she faced alone. Harry was there the whole time encouraging her, helping her, keeping a literal eye on things for her when she couldn’t. It didn’t bother him when she cried about not seeing something. When she bumped into walls or doors, he never said anything other than to make sure she was alright. If she dropped something and made a mess, he simply helped her clean it up. Harry was her personal chauffeur, and he didn’t care at all.

“To be fair m’love, I would be driving y’around anyway because you’re a lady and I adore you and m’mum taught me t’hold car doors open for the women I adore. And I’d rather drive and keep y’safe... plus you’re a terrible driver even when y’can see. S’a danger to you, me, and everyone else on the road.”

“We wouldn’t...” she whispered quietly and shook her head, looking away from him.

“Wouldn’t what, m’love?” He murmured looking at her with a frown on his lips. Worry etched between his eyes.

“We wouldn’t...be in love...if it weren’t for the fact I can’t see,” she reminded him and turned to look back at his expectant face waiting for her to complete her thought. “I wouldn’t have spilled food on you. You wouldn’t have sat up front and asked if I couldn’t see. There wouldn’t have been writing notes for me or making sure I was okay at that party or at the pub...”

“Kitten, I learned t’read Braille for you. I don’t care if y’can see or not. I would do anything for you. I may have fallen for you because you couldn’t see but I don’t stay because of it. I stay because I adore you.”

“What?” She whispered breathlessly. She sat up fully while Harry stayed lying flat against the windshield. “You learned...you did what?”

He shrugged. “M’probably not very good at it. But I don’t know...thought if it came down to it, if it got worse and you were sad...I’d want t’help.”

Harry saw the tear slip down her cheek past her sunglasses. “Harry Styles,” she practically sighed. “You are...I don’t know...”

“The love of your life, maybe?” He smiled cutely and reached up to rub the tear from her cheek.

For the second time in her life, she had so much hope swelling in her heart. Harry, the cause of it once more. “And hopefully every life I’ve ever have and ever will live.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @tiredinwinter

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #screens

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atsoomi · 1 year

Text

Fall is pleasantly chilly in October.

It slots between summer and winter to bring out the best of both seasons. The leaves change because they have to— because everyone has to— and the weather becomes a pleasant concoction that urges you to take walks and appreciate the whimsical scene. It’s also the season when seasonal depression hits you harder than the leaves hit the sidewalk.

This year, however, is different to you. The chill of the fall isn’t as biting as it usually is.

This year’s fall comes to you in the form of a dark haired lover with a spark in his eyes, in the form of whispered jokes in the dead of the night and romantic notes left next to warm breakfasts, in the form of a winning lottery ticket.

It comes to you in the form of your boyfriend of a few months— kuroo tetsurō.

You find that you complement each other well: he teaches you to be more spontaneous and you teach him to slow down, he teaches you how to cook his favorite meals and you teach him how to make your favorite drinks, you watch his favorite movies and he reads your favorite books.

Most nights, you can’t agree on how to spend time together. Your boyfriend is active in a way you could never see yourself be, and the idea of going out always rivals staying home— it’s like asking where to eat from. But in some rare instances, the stars and planets align and you find something to agree on.

That’s how you find yourself sitting on a park bench, mid-October, enjoying the chill of the weather and your ice cream cones. Your hand affectionately rests on his knee as he prattles on about people and how they feel towards vanilla ice cream.

“People don’t actually hate vanilla ice cream, everyone just says that because they’re affected by the public opinion.” He mumbles as he bites into his biscuit— coincidentally a vanilla cone.

You hum thoughtfully, hand sliding up to his thigh. “I don’t think I like vanilla ice cream.”

He turns to you with furrowed brows and a look of betrayal, “traitor.”

You laugh at his upset face and he grows more offended. The hand you had on his thigh is lifted to mess up his hair (more than it already is) as you relish in being the one to tease him for once.

“Sorry pumpkin, I must always tell the truth. I’m not a liar.”

He seems to inflate to full size at your comment, reminding you of the way he towers over you even when you’re sitting down. “Oh yeah? How come you always lie about the leftovers then?”

“Tetsu, those are my leftovers, in my house. I have the right to do whatever I want with them.”

“Not when you promise to save them for your loving amazing gorgeous boyfriend.”

“I have a loving amazing gorgeous boyfriend?”

He snorts at your reply and you cheer internally at your win. You look at each other with matching smiles and the atmosphere around you changes subtly. You block out the sound of the trees and the wind as your mind fills with thoughts of the man sitting next to you. Street lights cast a soft glow on his face, and you think he’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

He seems to be thinking the same as the smile you shared fades away and his face relaxes. A certain look flashes across his eyes and you feel a jolt of electricity course through you at the silent communication you’re having. You wonder what he’s thinking about and silently pray that it’s something good, that he’s not realizing that your right side isn’t your good side.

You tilt your head to the side as you continue observing him and he smiles lightly at your glassy eyes and pursed lips. The shadow cast over his face doesn’t dim down the light in his eyes; your hand itches to reach over and trace his eyebrows and wander across his face to drink him in fully.

“I think I love you.”

Your breath hitches and all the thoughts about touching him disperse at the simple words that he mutters quietly— breathlessly and delicately.

It’s not what you were expecting him to confess tonight, but you can’t say you’re surprised. You’ve been walking along the edge of love with him for a few weeks now, playfully teasing each other about the idea of forever, the idea of more serious promises. It’s no surprise that, out of the two of you, he let himself be taken by love first.

Now, you’re left standing on the edge, looking down at the depths of love and wondering if you’re ready to take the risk. Past mistakes pull you back and the fear you’ve held with you for a while warns you against it, whispering in your being that regret leaves a poisonous taste.

But the sight of kuroo in front of you, with rosy cheeks and hopeful eyes and lips you’re all too familiar with, gives you the push of courage you need to jump in, headfirst.

The smile on his face doesn’t falter while you’re readying yourself to say the words, as if he can read it on your face— as if he always knew it would play out like this. He waits for you to take the chance.

“I think I love you, too”

His face breaks out in a grin that’s so wide it makes your cheeks hurt and it takes you a second to realize that it's your own grin that’s hurting your cheeks. Inching closer to kill the space between you, he puts his arm around your shoulder. You turn your body to face him and you fit together effortlessly, like puzzle pieces.

You don’t think twice about kissing him, dropping the cone in your hand to place both hands on him. The sound of his cone hitting the ground makes you smile at the eagerness coming from both of you.

His eyes flutter shut as you angle your face to unite your lips and the taste of vanilla overtakes your senses. The softness of the moment, combined with your hunger for him, makes the fire in your stomach burn vigorously. The hand that wanders away from your collusion and caresses your knee makes you want to bounce on him and disregard public decency.

You’re one second away from clawing at his sweater when he pulls away breathlessly. Flushed cheeks and a crooked grin greet you when you open your eyes, and the butterflies in your stomach turn violent. You have no idea how he hasn’t lost control yet.

He brings your head closer to rest his forehead against yours, your smiles mirroring each other’s. His warm breath fans over your lips and you have to control the urge to go back to your ritual because he’s clearly enjoying the soft gesture.

You eventually pull back to change positions and rest your head on his shoulder; he welcomes the change in position with an arm back on your shoulder.

The park looks so different to you now, even if it hasn’t changed in the slightest. You’re looking at things through a different lens now that everything has changed. You know what it means for both of you to say those words; you know the plans you’re going to draw up together now, and you know that he wants this to work out as much as you do.

Your face grows warm as all the possibilities cloud your mind. The arm around your shoulder intensifies the tickling sensation across your skin. You look at him and he’s already looking at you. Words escape you at the sight of the warm unbridled love you see in his eyes, and you can’t believe you’ve gotten this lucky.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He whispers, leaning over to close the space again.

“Me too.” You breathe out before he seals your promise with a kiss.

#word count : 1.3k #ive had this idea since november last year and saying the L word for the first time has become a relevant topic in my life recently #and man am i glad its finally written out #winter and fall are such kuroo seasons to me #hes the perfect boy for late night walks and cuddling by the fireplace like cmon now guys #if you saw this when i accidently posted it for a second no you didn't #now my baby goes out into the world... bye bye baby #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo scenarios

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quitealotofsodapop · 5 months

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It just occurred to me that Wukong's first true winter probably happened with the Pilgrims. Like, his first TRUE deep in the cold with no shelter type of winter. And he'd spent most of his childhood in a dense, tropical rainforest type environment with on a mountain that, canonically, exists in eternal spring and summer conditions. I gotta know how that went

At first I thought Wukong's first winter was likely when he was a student at Subodhi's, but as I've been reading the actual book I noticed that since Jttw makes use of a mix of irl and Buddhist cosmic geography; Subodhi's mountain is described as being in the "Western Godaniya" aka India. And even in the mountains, Wukong likely never saw anything colder than a chilly wind.

Wukong likely did encounter Winter when he was buddies with the Brotherhood, but the majority of the time they were all chilling on FFM so no snow. Macaque has def seen snow in his travels, but only when him and Wukong were apart.

Theres a scene later in the Jttw book (during the Goldfish demon chapter) where the gang experiences snowfall and Wukong is just;

( ﾟoﾟ)

Cus he's never seen xmas-card level snow before!! He a happy monkey!

Probably gets super enriched just running around messing with the powder, rolling snowmen with the village children, discovering the joys of snowfights etc... Just letting his curious monkey side out.

In the modern day he def ranks it up there as one of The Best weather events.

#jttw #journey the west #sun wukong #jttw hcs #journey to the west #lmk hcs #lego monkie kid hcs

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joanie-writes · 2 years

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Hi there! I have to tell you that I love your style of writing. I saw your post about requests. I had an idea that I’d love to see what you’d do with it. I thought that Arthur has a dream about a lovely little life, all beautiful and perfect. And he sees someone in the dream, but can’t make out who it is with him (maybe he sees a hand or something vaguely familiar but can’t place it) and then suddenly wakes up. And then he realizes it’s the reader in his dream. So when he see them later, he acts all weird and awkward.

Thank you so much for the request, I think this ended up so cute. And I have to say I love your writing as well!

Silver Band

A cold winter makes for warm hearts.

Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3k

A small cabin hidden away in the woodland with an open field in the back, it was the perfect spot. Arthur was chopping some more firewood near the stable, he could feel the tip of his nose stinging from the cold as the winter wind wiped past him. Bundled up in his thickest coat and tallest boots, he trudged back to the cabin with as much wood as he could carry.

With the grace of an elephant on stilts he tumbled though the door, letting out a relieved sigh at the warmth that greeted him. One piece at a time Arthur took off the snow covered ensemble that he had only just put on to bear the elements outside. From his spot by the door he admired the quaint little home. The log walls were decorated with photos and drawings, some being his own creation and as he walked to the living room, plush rugs cushioned his steps with cozy furniture filling the space.

He fed the weakening fire in the hearth, poking it back to life and returning the hot orange glow of light in the room. A big, old, snoring dog was strewn about on the sofa, making him chuckle. Arthur took a seat next to the dog (trying very hard not to disturb the beast's slumber) and pulled out the trusty leather bound journal. His last entry read,

The snow has trapped the three of us inside, but I would be some kind of fool to ever complain about that. How could I ever be upset about being stuck with the person who has shown me more love than I have ever known? We keep the fire lit in the main room and everything is okay. We cook, clean, and spend time together all while being warm and in love, I couldn't ask for anything more.

Once he had written a few notes for the next day and scribbled out a quick picture of the dog, Arthur got up with a stretch before making his way to the bedroom. A smile appeared on his face when he was met with the view of his love hidden completely under the covers apart from a hand poking out of the side of the quilt. The beautiful hand he kissed the top of daily, the hand he held tightly in his often, and the same hand he had slid a simple silver band onto so many years ago.

A loud crash of metal pots caused Arthur to stir, he rubbed his face with an annoyed huff at the rude awakening. He found himself thinking about that wonderful dream. His sleep was often plagued with dreadful scenes, but that had to be something close to heaven. Arthur could hardly imagine a life outside of the gang but one where he was at peace and in love? And who was the person who had tamed him, the person who ultimately made him a reposed man in that seemingly unobtainable fantasy land? Growing sick of the wandering thoughts, Arthur finally gathered enough energy to sat up and prepare himself for another cold day.

Arthur's gaze shifted over the camp as he emerged from his lodgings, Pearson was sneaking sips of rum while he cooked, Hosea was reading the paper from the nearby town, and you were talking with Tilly. He couldn't help but admire how cute you looked all bundled up in a big coat and the knitted gloves you were sporting. Arthur sure did try his damndest to hide a blush before heading to discuss the day's plans with Dutch.

Deemed too chilly to rob, Arthur was rewarded a day off and even though it was a terrible temperature, he'd enjoy it all the same. Before he could properly relax, a hot cup of coffee was certainly needed. You were at the percolator, filling your own tin mug with the steaming brew, Arthur considered backpedaling once he noticed you but as you greeted him with a warm smile and a soft, "Morning, Arthur," he couldn't turn back.

"Mornin', how you fairing with the cold?" Arthur began the usual small talk, the script in his head well versed.

"I don't mind it, but it is much nicer when you're inside I'll admit that," You laughed, the sound causing Arthur to nearly short circuit, "you want some coffee? It'll warm you right up." You offered, though Arthur's face already felt like it was on fire at only the sight of you.

"Yes, please." Arthur accepted your offer of doing the task he intended doing originally, flattered that you had asked. You filled his mug and set the percolator down afterwards. The steam felt great on his lips that felt blue.

In comfortable silence, you both stood around the crackling campfire, taking slow sips of your drinks. But as you slipped off those damn adorable knit gloves and wrapped your still shivering hands around the hot mug to warm them, Arthur nearly did a spit take. There upon your right ring finger instead of your left was that same silver ring he had seen in his dream.

The practiced lines in his head burned up; you had obviously noticed the subtle look of surprise on Arthur's face when you removed your gloves. "Where'd you get that ring? It's er- pretty." Arthur asked, praying that the almost smooth delivery of his question would distract from what had just happened.

You smiled once more while you held your hand outwards to admire the jewelry, "Y'know, I've had it so long that I can hardly remember. It's my favourite though." Arthur smiled, noting how happy you sounded while you reflected on the silver band.

"I actually bought a ring once, I worked real hard for it too. Now it's just sittin' in a drawer somewhere." Arthur admitted, the honest words spilling out without any control or restraint. You frowned slightly, a sight that Arthur never wanted to see again.

"Well, whoever received that ring didn't realize what they had huh, Arthur?" You moved closer to rub his arm comfortingly, the brush of the silver making him shiver.

Years later and a new ring similar to the one you had owned previously now sat on your left right finger. That whole day was spent talking with numerous cups of coffee, exchanging stories and nervously complimenting each other. As time progressed you and Arthur grew closer, no script, only genuine appreciation and eventual love.

The small cabin wasn't a dream any longer, built with the blood, sweat, and tears of the both of you. It was the perfect home. Warmth radiated from the humble abode, warmth radiated from you and Arthur too. There was never really a cold winter's night when he was with you, especially not when you were wrapped up tightly in his hold or vice versa.

The slow life turned out to be a great fit for the both of you; though Arthur often found himself reflecting on the many years he spent in the gang, he never found himself craving that life again. He would much rather spend the evening with you curled up on the sofa than awaiting a stagecoach in the dead of night.

It was what had to be the coldest day of the year the two of you were huddled together on the floor in front of the fire, all snuggled up under a shared blanket. A soft kiss to your temple brought you out of the comfort induced daydream, you looked up at Arthur and smiled before pushing your head into his neck once more. Arthur took your hand in his, running his thumb over the silver band that symbolized his devotion and love for you, thank God for that ring, he thought.

There was nothing more that Arthur could ever ask for when he was warm and in love with you.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x gn reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #reader insert #x reader #tooth rotting fluff #fluff

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