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thegloweringcastle · 1 year

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Part Two - 365 Days Later

@the-lonelybarricade, remember how HOURS AGO I said it would be posted soon? Lol well it’s finally here. Sorry it took so long 🫣

Also, when you told me that your favorite romcom was About Time it took all of my willpower to not start over and write it as a feysand au because ITS MY FAVORITE TOO!! Gets me in my feels every time and I love it. Suffice to say, I will continue to work on it for my own enjoyment because it is a need, not a want.

I hope that you enjoy this next chapter as much as the last!

@acotargiftexchange

warnings: none(?)

word count: ~3.3k

Feyre’s second arrival in Velaris sparked the same giddiness and awe as her first trip. And this time, she was looking forward to more than just the winding river and picturesque mountains. This time, she was anxious to see the man who had consumed her every thought for the past three hundred and sixty five days.

The air was crisp with seasalt and snow, and the setting sun poured over the city like chilled honey. Holiday decorations of all kinds lined the streets, and people smiled at each other as they passed. As Feyre made her way to the fabric shop on the corner, she decided she would gladly live in a place like this.

Someday, she promised herself.

She lugged the canvas - wrapped in layers upon layers of protective foam and paper - all the way from the train station to the shop on the corner, and when she opened the door, the scent of jasmine washed over her like a wave of nostalgia; a dream from so long ago it was nearly fantastical, nearly too good to be true.

But there he was, sitting on a stool behind the front counter, his violet eyes flashing over the pages of an old cracked paperback dwarfed by one single hand.

He only looked up when the door shut.

Feyre smirked. “Hello, prick.”

His grin was even brighter than she remembered.

***

Rhysand would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about Feyre over the past year. There and then gone, that short time they spent together had been like a spell cast on him. He couldn’t think about any woman - anyone - but her. And then, when it had gotten later and later into the day with still no sign of her, Rhys had been worried. Until she appeared in the wink of an eye, standing in the doorway of his mother’s shop; that was when Rhys’ best dreams had come true.

“What?” She said, after he had been silent for one heartbeat too long. “Did you think I would go back on our deal?”

“Not at all, darling.” He stood and stepped from behind the counter to greet her. “I just lost track of the days.” Liar. He had multiple countdowns going on his calendar and cellphone.

“I present to you a Feyre Archeron original.” Archeron. Rhys liked the sound of it. He even believed it would sound rather nice with his own name. Archeron - Moreno. Yes, he could get used to it.

She hefted a large, flat cardboard box onto the counter and slid it across to him like in a drug deal.

“Can I open it -”

“Rhysand!”

Feyre raised a single, thin brow at him.

“One second Fey-”

“Rhysand, sweetie, have you seen my chalk?”

Rhys turned just in time to see his mom slip around the corner from the back of the shop where her work room was located.

“I thought I set it on the…” Her gaze landed on Feyre, then the box, then back on Feyre. “Hello dear! Is Rhysie here treating you well? I’m happy to help you if there’s something in particular you’re looking for.”

Rhys appreciated the effort Feyre put towards not laughing. Still, her mouth hitched up in a smile as she spoke. “Oh that’s okay ma’am. I was just delivering a gift to Rhysie here.”

“Oh, well go ahead and open it! Don’t let me interrupt.”

“Sorry, mom. Top secret.” He ignored the flush creeping up his neck and instead moved around the counter to stand beside Feyre. “Ma, I don’t believe you’ve met Feyre. Feyre, this is my mother and the owner of this shop. Mom, this is Feyre Archeron, world renowned artist with a surprisingly accurate aim.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, miss...” Feyre stuck her hand out but was instead pulled into a hug.

“Please, call me Zyra. You must be the lovely girl Rhys won’t stop talking about! I have to know, did you really-”

“Okay!” Rhys clapped his hands once and grabbed his coat from the rack. “Feyre needs help with a project, so we’ll be very busy the rest of the evening. Will you be okay on your own in the shop for a while?”

“Bah,” She waved a hand in the air. “I’m just doing finishing touches on Emerie and Mor’s gowns for their engagement party. You kids go have fun - and stay warm!”

After another round of hugs and, much to Rhys’ embarrassment, cheek kisses, they were out of the shop and strolling down the sidewalk. For a few long minutes, Rhys was too mortified to look at Feyre. When he did, her eyes seemed to hold more moisture than before.

“You’re mom is…” Her voice seemed more strained than usual. “She is very kind.”

Rhys didn’t know what to say to that. The plain, honest truth? Yes, and she’s saved my life by saving the lives of those I love. She’s saved my life by loving me. Acknowledge it without seeming clingy? Yes, she is. She’s a spitfire; it’s where my cousin and sister get it from.

But while Rhys was caught up in his head, Feyre had already moved on.

“I know what I would like you to do for me as part of our deal.”

This was something he could handle. “Oh? I’m intrigued.”

“I have one last portfolio to submit to get my degree in the spring. The theme is ‘dark’, and I was hoping you could give me a tour of the ‘Star Light City’.” She gestured to one of the banners, embroidered with the city’s nickname, hanging below a garland-clad lamppost.

“Feyre darling, it would be my honor.” Rhys offered his elbow, and his heart sped up when she took it. “I know just the place to begin.”

***

For what felt like the millionth time, Feyre stopped them to take photos. She seemed enamored with the river, entranced by the colorful streets and smiling people, and even more taken with the stars beginning to peek through in the quickly darkening sky. Every single thing Rhysand saw as a normal part of life, Feyre saw as a work of art. And he loved it. Indeed, he too liked to take a moment and appreciate the beauty of the world around him; he certainly wouldn’t take it for granted. But watching her fall in love with the sight of ice formations along the riverbank or the individuals walking through the city at night brought more joy to Rhys than anything in the world.

He heard the shutter click once, twice, three times more. Rhys wondered what that was like, to experience the whole world through paint and charcoal and camera lenses. Was it as lonely as it looked?

He turned and leaned against the rail they stood at, angling his head to look at Feyre. “Is it difficult to love art?”

Feyre let the camera down to hang from the strap around her neck and looked at Rhys. “What do you mean? Art’s probably my favorite thing in the world.” She glanced downwards, shy. “Or at least, one of my favorite things.”

Rhys shrugged. “I don’t know. Does it ever make you feel… disconnected?”

Feyre shook her head, her cheeks - rosy from the cold - tightening in a smile. “Not really,” She turned and mimicked his position. “Art, for me, is a way to connect with everyone. All these people around us have lives of their own, stories that nobody knows. Art is like skimming the surface of those stories; making new friends everywhere, if only for a brief time.” She shrugged. “Besides, even when it does make me feel lonely, it’s never as lonely as life without art.”

“How often does it make you feel lonely?”

She paused, held her breath, scanned the building in front of them. Rhys imagined she was searching for words, filing through her thoughts like one would a catalog. “If I am feeling lonely, it is not usually because of art.”

As Rhys tried to think of a response to that, Feyre lifted the camera back up to her face and snapped a picture of him.

She hit a button and looked at the digital screen, her face creasing into a frown. “Oh darn,” She drawled. “Your face got in the way. That’s too bad, it would have been really good otherwise.”

Rhys let out a deep, rumbling laugh, and Feyre’s returning smile was better than any photograph, disrupted or not. “I think you would get along with my sister and cousin quite well.”

***

Ice skating was one of the many childhood experiences that Feyre had never had. Rhysand made it look easy enough, gliding around on shiny blades and slick ice, but after she had tightened her shoes and stood from the bench, she realized she was not as physically fit as she originally thought.

The outdoor rink was small and empty, save for the two of them and a group of teenagers messing around at one end, which made Feyre far less self conscious and a far lower risk to her surroundings.

“Have you got it alright?” Rhys swooped in front of her, ice shavings flying through the air as he slid to a stop.

“Yes, but-” She was breathless. “How do you expect me to take pictures? I really shouldn’t be doing this with a camera.” She reached her arms out, grabbing for Rhys as she began to move without actually moving. She flailed a bit more, but he settled her by resting her hands on his shoulders and mirroring her.

“Alright, you hang on tight, and after we get going maybe you can start getting some shots. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” She gasped. “But I swear by the cauldron, if you let me fall and my camera breaks-”

“I’ll buy you a new one and carry you to the hospital. I promise.” His grin was sly, but his eyes were soft. Far more lively than the replicas she had tried so hard to paint in the months since she’d seen him.

She moved to take a picture of them, but realized too many photos of him might seem… odd. He didn’t need to know she had been thinking about him, and only him, for the past year. His head already had trouble fitting through the door. So, Feyre ended up getting a photo of their shadows intertwining on the surface of the ice. And she didn’t think it turned out too bad.

“Keep your eyes on something that’s not moving to help your balance.” His words were practically a direct order for Feyre to get lost in his gaze. She felt better that he was staring at her too. “Have you ever been ice skating before?”

“Nope,” Her ankles wobbled. It took more strength than she thought. “My parents… I never got the chance.” They hit a rough patch of ice, and their momentum nearly took them out.

“Easy,” His deep voice slid down her spine, chilling her with white hot sparks. He leaned in closer, and she found she didn’t mind the invasion of space. Feyre had fallen against Rhysand’s chest where the scent of jasmine engulfed her senses; a knot of anxiety unwound in her stomach, the pressure in her neck eased. “You okay? Your parents clearly did you a disservice by never taking you skating. A wipeout like that could have ended very badly for both of us, and then who would have carried you so valiantly through the snow and to the hospital?”

“Ah, well,” She shifted her weight. “I’m sure you would have found a way to manage.” She pushed one foot back, copying Rhys’ movements, and then the other. She started moving, wobbling like a newborn foal the whole way.

Rhys whooped, the sound echoing through the park. “You’re doing it!” He began to slip one hand from hers. “Think we could go side by side? Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Feyre clung to him like he was a lifeline. “Rhys, I don't think that’s a good idea! Rhysand!”

“Don’t worry darling, I’ve got you.” He swept around to stand behind her, and it almost would have been romantic if he weren’t holding her hands like an adult helping a baby learn to walk. Feyre, however, couldn’t find it in herself to care, and was far more concerned about not falling while carrying an expensive piece of art equipment.

Before she knew it, she was no longer shuffling along the ice like a penguin, but rather gliding in short bursts, clinging to only one of Rhys’ hands as they went.

“There you go, you’ve got it!” The sentence was a jinx. Feyre looked away from the ground to meet his eyes, pushed off with the wrong foot, and promptly fell down, pulling Rhys with her.

Her breath left her with an oof as he landed half-atop her, before turning into a laugh.

His laugh froze in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“The real question: is the camera okay? If the camera is okay, then I am okay.” She sat up, inspecting the lens, different buttons and dials, and screen. “Yes,” she said with a relieved sigh. “Everything's good. Honestly I’m surprised it took me that long to go down.” She readjusted her hat but made no move to stand, her unsteady legs appreciating the break.

“I’m not. You’re a natural! I hope you’re ready to go to the Olympics with me.”

When he angled his head down to meet her gaze, the world gave Feyre the perfect birthday gift; it handed her the highlight of her portfolio on a silver platter. The loose ice shavings suspended in his hair looked like stars, his black hair as dark as midnight, and it all blended perfectly into the backdrop of the night sky.

“Don’t move,” She raised her camera up, lining everything up just so, so that it looked as if Rhys and the night were one. Really, after getting to know him, she wouldn’t have found it hard to believe if they were. “Perfect.”

“Yep,” He leaned back on the cold, snow coated ice. “I know I am.”

She rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw the spirit realm. “Har-har. You’re hilarious.” But still, she laid down beside him, staring up at the endless sea of stars.

It was a while until Rhys broke the silence, his words an ax to ice. “Can I ask you why you’re here alone on your birthday?”

He remembered? She didn’t think he would remember the small mention she made last year of her birthday trip. “I don’t…” He waited patiently while she searched for the words. “My sisters - Elain and Nesta - and I, do not always get along. And because my birthday is so close to the holidays, it requires either a lot of traveling or one long stay away from their homes, neither of which are options they’re fond of. They were both able to escape our hometown - I wasn’t - and they have their lives set up nicely elsewhere. I can’t really blame them.” She never really acknowledged how wrong it was until she said the words out loud, and even then, she could see the logic of it all.

“‘Escape’? I’m going to go out on a limb and bet none of you like your hometown. If you hate it so much, why do you stay?”

She shrugged. “A few reasons. Partially because of school, partially because I can’t afford anywhere else.”

“What about your parents? Extended family? Couldn’t they help?”

“Um, no, and… “ She didn’t know how to say it. She didn’t know if she should say it. So she deflected. “Not to sound snotty or anything but why do you care so much?” She tried to soften the sentence with an easy laugh.

“Everyone deserves to be happy with their lives.” He shrugged. “Didn’t mean to pry though. Sorry.”

She changed the subject. “What about you?” She rolled her head to the side so she could see him. “What are you doing now? You said last time you graduated in the spring.”

He actually blushed. Almost as brightly as when Feyre met his mom. “I was actually planning to run in the next election. About two years from now.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “That’s amazing, Rhys.”

Again, he shrugged. “Calm down now, I haven’t won yet.”

“Emphasis on the ‘yet’. You’ll do great.”

He chuckled. “I appreciate your confidence in me,” He chuckled. “But I highly doubt that the citizens will vote for a young adult fresh out of university.”

“Rhysand Moreno,” Feyre sat up, tugging Rhys with her. “You are simultaneously the most arrogant prick I have ever met in my entire life, but you also have a heart bigger than the moon. You have everything it takes to be an elected government official, more specifically a good, kind government official.” She glared at his impish grin. “What are you smiling at?”

“Feyre darling, your lips are blue.” He brought his hand up and brushed one, bare thumb across her mouth. Feyre didn’t know how his hands weren’t freezing, all she knew was that the bitter cold was suddenly not so bitter. “Come on,” He helped her stand. “Let’s get some hot tea.”

***

Flames danced around the fireplace in the hotel lobby, licking and jumping at the garland strung from the mantelpiece and casting wild shadows across the hardwood floors.

Rhys stared into his cup, swirling the last dregs of his tea around the bottom. “You know, it’s too bad you’re not staying for New Year’s.

“What, you don’t have anyone else to kiss at midnight?” He had to admit, she was getting good at replicating his smirk.

“No, it’s not that.” It was just that there was no one else he wanted to kiss. “You see, here in Velaris, we have something better than fireworks. I think you would enjoy it. Especially as an artist.”

Feyre raised a skeptical brow. “I have trouble believing there is such a thing as something better than New Year’s fireworks.”

“Hmm,” He looked at her through lazy, half-lidded eyes. “Perhaps you’ll just have to visit on New Year’s Eve and find out.”

“I suppose so.” She set her teacup down on a coaster, and Rhys didn’t miss the questioning look she sent its way. “Tell you what, Rhys. I will arrive on New Year’s Eve and stay the night so you can show me this proclaimed ‘better than fireworks’ display,” she cleared her throat. “evenifitsjustsoicansayyourewrong.” She fanned herself. “Sorry, frog in my throat. Anyways, I will come for New Year’s, and in exchange you will let me spend some more time with you and your mother.”

That was… not at all what he expected her to ask for. It definitely wasn’t what he wanted her to ask for. When he brought his focus back to her, he realized she was shy, maybe even a little sad. And for the first time since their conversation at the ice-rink, he wondered how lonely her life away from Velaris was like.

“Feyre darling, are you trying to make another deal with me?” Her cheeks flushed; there was his answer. “If so, I am more than happy to agree to it.”

Their handshake was firm, and Feyre’s touch warmed Rhys to his very bones. “I just hope I can make it the extra ten days without you, darling.”

It wasn’t until Feyre was on the train early the next morning that she found the gift and card inside her purse. The letter, a greeting card with Van Gogh’s Sunflowers covering the front, was a simple birthday wish. What made it special was the person it was from and the number they left. Despite the struggles her following year brought, Feyre could safely say that it was one of the better years she had had in a long, long time. If you were to ask her, she would say there was no correlation between that fact and the messages she often received. You wouldn’t have to be a genius to know she was lying.

#feysand #rhysand #feyre archeron #home for the cold spell #acotar holiday gift swap

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor.

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you.

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall.

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud.

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though.

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself.

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for.

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts.

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch.

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours.

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast.

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing.

So, yeah.

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin.

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting.

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week.

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role.

You almost burst out laughing.

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure.

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking.

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop.

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table.

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?"

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud.

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table.

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t.

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression.

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back.

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh.

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty.

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness.

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises.

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never.

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response.

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually.

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it.

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it.

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck.

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you.

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going.

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue.

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's.

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss.

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away.

It started out with a kiss.

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss.

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it.

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face."

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over.

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace.

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his.

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name."

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip.

"I doubt it," he purred.

Yeah.

Jungkook was right.

Ah, well.

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms.

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips.

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm.

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand.

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm.

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name.

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed.

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him.

Oh, fuck.

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his.

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered.

Yours.

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk.

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin.

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd.

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick.

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far.

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl.

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin.

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat.

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do.

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled.

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Vicious

Part IV

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, all characters are adults.

Words: 1880.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

_________

After you came back to your room, you got a message from Steve about changing the locks on both you door and your locker. You were so taken aback by today's conversation in the student council room that you had completely forgotten about it. Apparently, Steve had already requested the change of locks on your behalf through email, and you were really grateful to him for that: you dreaded coming back to the room that had been forced open. Of course, tonight you would have to move your dresser to the door so that nobody could enter when you'd be sleeping.

Shit. It was absolutely crazy.

"I'm not sure about all this, Steve." You texted him while laying on your bed and staring at your phone in the darkness of the room. "It doesn't seem right."

Naturally, you meant the fake dating thing. It felt horrible thinking of what others would think after seeing you with five different guys. Would they be calling you a whore in the open? Make some nasty jokes behind your back? Report you to the school administration for immoral behavior? Remembering those bigots from the student office, you cringed at the thought.

Besides, it still didn't make sense to you why you had to date all five. Sure, if they were around you at all times like your friends, these unhinged bastards who stole your things wouldn't do anything funny again, but it wasn't like that. What could one guy do against a group of other students?

"Listen, I didn't want to talk about it in class, but I'm worried it won't end with a stolen lingerie."

You didn't like his message.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. They might attempt something much worse than a theft."

Oh no. Was he talking about rape? Seriously? Did he anticipate others were so crazy they would do something like that?

But then again, girls were being raped in colleges even if it weren't the all-boys schools. A shiver ran down your spine.

"But if several people attack me, just one of you won't be enough." You typed with your shaky fingers, trembling beneath your blanket.

"It's not about the pure force. Each of us has a certain reputation, and others wouldn't want to cross us over because of it."

Wait, this was interesting. What on Earth did he mean? What kind of reputation was that to prevent people from messing with them?

"Thor is a good athlete and a great leader, his basketball team is ready to beat people to death for him."

"Loki's father is one of academy’s main sponsors, and he can have this school turned upside down if he wants to."

"Bucky is a threat by himself, but he also have a company of loyal friends."

"I don't think Peter is serious enough to scare anyone, but with his computer skills he could easily blackmail others, I’ve already seen him doing it. Students would be wary to cross him over just like any of us."

Steve was writing you a bunch of messages with a terrifying speed, and you could barely read the first when he was already sending you the second. It felt absolutely insane. Did he choose every guy because the more powerful admirers you have, the less others would intervene? Well, at least in case of Bucky and Thor who could beat people to near death, it was wise. You preferred not to think of Peter - you had no idea someone as sweet and caring as him did something as disgusting as a blackmail.

“But what others will think? 5 boyfriends? Others will think you are dating-” you paused, chewing your lips to bit, “- a whore. Nobody gonna stood up for me.”

"Imagine if each of us tells our friends that other four guys were just asked to watch over you, but you date only one.”

Oh. Yes, this was slightly better. Then you wouldn’t have to do something as bold as kissing every guy in public, instead maintaining the mystery who you were really dating.

Damn, how Steve even came up with this plan? Why was everything so complicated?

“It’s getting late. Good night.” Your phone vibrated again, and you huffed with irritation. You hoped you could ask him a bit more - about what you were going to do with the thieves Steve found, for example - but he was probably getting tired with all your questions. It was better to ask him tomorrow.

___________________

The next morning you were restless: since you were starting to going out with guys, you felt like you needed to look better than you usually were, so you spent your morning working on your hair and makeup. It was like fake dating, right? You had to pretend you wanted to look pretty for them.

What else did you have to do? Cook something sweet for them? Yeah, probably, but not at the start of your relationship. Going to cafe together? Helping each other study? Loki also mentioned the cinema...

You felt dumb. Of course, you dated guys before, but now you realized you had no idea how to act not to cause any suspicion. Oh boy, it was going to be a tough day.

Thor nocked at you door thirty minutes before your first session, but you woke up so early you were more than ready to go. As you opened the door, first moving the dresser back to its place, the guy looked at you with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Hey, what was that?"

"The dresser. I can't leave the door just like that until the lock is changed."

He blinked at you, watching the door and then probably remembering somebody forced the lock open to steal your underwear.

"These guys are batshit crazy." He mumbled and nodded you to go with him, putting his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, they won't do it again."

You wanted to argue they definitely would, but, seeing his warm smile, you thought Thor simply wanted to cheer you up and smiled at him in return. In the end, he was here only to make you feel safer: you didn't doubt he was very popular with the girls every time he went out to the city.

"You look great today!" He said sheepishly, walking in the dorm's corridor while other students were staring at him silently, obviously surprised to see you two together. "I mean, not that you looked bad yesterday, I just..."

Watching his face suddenly getting crimson red, you couldn't help but giggle at his expression. You could never think Thor was actually bashful around girls. Yeah, at your old place he'd definitely be one of the most popular guys around.

It was lunch time when you two could actually talk, sitting together at the same table and being watched by everyone around. Strangely, with Thor constantly talking and often rubbing your hand with his, it didn't feel suffocating, and you held your head high: regardless whether those pricks were looking at you, you weren't going to run away to your room and cry there like a little girl. Loki was right: you weren't a silly little sheep, scared of your own shadow. You wouldn't let anyone spoil your time in the academy you dreamt studying in.

Funny enough, Thor turned out to be a talkative type when he was speaking about basketball and his team in particular. He loved sports: while you were more into hockey, the way he talked was so enthusiastic it made you listen to him with a genuine interest. Thor's love for basketball was infectious.

He seemed a simple man, this giant bag of muscles who was laughing so loud people around him flinched; Thor wasn't the exact type of a guy you would encounter on your own, but he seemed nice, sincere, and surprisingly softhearted. You felt at ease talking to him, and soon you too acted like you'd known each other for long.

It was a pity you'd only met under this circumstances. It felt like you two could became friends.

But then when Thor absent-mindedly put his arm around your shoulders, you remembered Loki's warning: they would try to gain your favors. Was it the reason Thor was so nice to someone he just met? Wasn't it suspicious of him? You couldn't let your guard down after just one lunch together. In fact, you knew nothing of the man sitting in front of you.

"I knew something like would happen." Some guy to your left sighed loudly, catching your attention. "They were fucking crazy."

"I'm not surprised either. I just wanna know who they got in a fight with to be beaten like that. Have you heard they broke Gray's both legs?"

"Woah, both? That's brutal, man."

You shivered, trying not to listen to them.

"It'd happen sooner or later anyway. They were completely wild."

A word caught your attention right away: that was what Steve called those students who were stealing your things. Could it be a coincidence? Surely, in an all-boys school the students were fighting each other constantly.

But to the point of breaking both legs of someone? Really?

As you sent Thor a nervous look, he gently patted your shoulder, lowering his voice so no one would hear him, "I'm sure it's nothing to do with you. These things happen here from time to time because the guys have no idea what to do with all that testosterone."

You hoped he was right.

The rest of the day went as usual aside from Thor walking the corridors with you and chatting about sports: he managed to convince you to come see the game next month when they would be having a tournament. You were grateful to him for helping to ease your mind because the news of guys being sent to the ambulance made you shook. Steve also mentioned something about his and other's friends ready to beat anyone to death, right?

By the middle of your last class you couldn't think of it any longer and quickly typed a message to Loki. Of all people, right now he seemed the most sincere to you.

"Hi. Are the guys who were beaten last night are the ones who stole my things?"

Waiting was a special torture when you held the phone in your arms beneath your desk, hoping to see your screen lighting up with a message. In five minutes you got your reply.

"Yes." The message said simply, but it was enough for you to stare at your phone with horror, wishing you didn't ask Loki anything.

Oh shit. It wasn't a coincidence, right? It's impossible. Somebody did it on purpose. But who of the five?

"Do you know who did it?"

Next time he answered pretty fast, "No."

A part of you felt relieved. Maybe it wasn't related, finally. Maybe they got beaten by somebody who was fed up with their attitude because they were crazy as the guys in the cafeteria said.

But what if it weren't true?

"Who's the most brutal among you five?"

Biting your lips, you started rocking in your chair a little, making the guy on your left to roll his eyes in irritation.

The phone's screen flashed again.

"Barnes."

Part V

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @stupendouslovegardener @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #peter parker x reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark thor #dark loki #dark peter parker #yandere

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raziroo · 3 years

Text

Cotton Candy

Pairing: Lotor x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Saying "Shit" twice

Word count: 2,076 (yay) (also, I edited this, I still need to update the word count)

Author’s Note: I'm crap at writing dialogues, and this is my first time writing for a gay couple. I'm so sorry if it seems forced or unnatural or shitty. Don't be afraid to call me out.

Story Moodboard!

It’s with a grunt of effort that I manage to lift the carton containing the cotton-candy-maker.

‘Here, dad,’ I say as my dad takes the box from my hands. ‘That’s all?’

‘Yep, that’s all of it. We’ll conquer this carnival with our delicious cotton candy,’ I nod, doing jazz hands while saying the last part. Dad chuckles. I grin.

‘Hey, Honey!’ I turn back, squinting to spot where my other dad is in the crowd of bustling people. Where, where…? Yep, there he is – in his embarrassingly brilliant sunshine yellow and bottle green striped shirt and hot pink trousers, a sharp contrast to his natural bright red hair. Don’t say that it can’t look that bright; you’ll never know just how blindingly bright bottle green can really be until you see the shirt my dad’s wearing. And trust me, he usually dresses in simpler tones; such bland tones that you’d be surprised to know he was capable of wearing colourful hues as well. It’s only that he’s very passionate about his job, and so whenever we set up a booth in fetes such as the current one, he never misses to match the shop logo.

‘Hul-lo, father dearest, how seems to go your day?’

‘Oh, quite lovely, if I do say so.’

‘Well, that’s simply charming –’

‘Alright, enough,’ my other, not redhead dad snaps with an exasperated sort of smile on his visage. You see, my not redhead, a.k.a. brown-haired dad happens to be British. And that means that me and dad would rather paint our teeth blue than to not tease him. ‘You both need to shut it and start helping me with the decorations, now. You know I’m trash at all that.’

‘Aw, now don’t get discouraged,’ I say, patting dad on the back. ‘After all, not everyone can be as blessed as me, can they?’

‘Hey, why don’t you go look around for a bit? You’ve been helping out since before I have.’

‘Yeah, he’s right, pet. You should.’

I huff, rubbing my palms on the fabric of my jeans. ‘You guys sure? I’m not tired, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘We’re not worried, we’re just saying you should also get a look, you know? There’s a lot of surprising booths this time around. I mean, there are aliens participating too, so…’

‘Hmm,’ I play with my bottom lip a little, then, ‘yeah, okay. I’ll be back in like, an hour? Forty five minutes? Sound okay?’

‘Sounds great.’

‘Bye, then.’ And with that, I turn on the heels of my Converse, wandering about the pretty stalls and eager children and kissy couples and aliens with curious features.

It really feels bizarre, just how astonishingly fast mankind has accepted the existence of aliens. It seems simultaneously ages and just a day before when conspiracy theorists raged all around the world, presenting baseless theories and concepts as to why and how the three-man squad on the Kerberos mission disappeared. Then came the Galra, bringing along with them global terror – because alien life, intelligent alien life existed and humanity remained oblivious all these millennia, and now they were actually attacking us. It could’ve been, perhaps even was, in some other dimension, the end of Earth. But then a defender appeared; Voltron appeared in all its glory, bringing along with it proof that however much these purple aliens claim that humans are scum of the universe, humans were, in the grand scheme of things, the ones that saved the universe too.

It feels even more puzzling to actually be on a first-name basis with the leader of Voltron; that’s right, I’m personally acquainted with Keith Kogane. It was around six months after him leaving the Garrison did I come across him. He’d been loitering around the neighbourhood, had ended up in a fistfight with some other kids, and along with that a split lip and bruised cheek. I’d been watching. When the fight ended, I (somehow) persuaded him to come along so that I could at the very least provide him with a band-aid.

Long story short, we’d bonded over how our moms were no-shows and how dads were the best and we became surprisingly close friends; the only difference was that after the death of his old man, he lived alone. I’d been adopted by my two current fathers. I told him about how when they’d initially adopted me, I was excruciatingly shy. I wouldn’t even come out of my room except meals. It was only when I came to know that they knew how to make candy floss had I timidly approached them if I could have some, because previously I’d always been grossed out at the thought of having to eat that. I’d overheard this group of kids saying that cotton candy was actually just dyed granny hair, so that’s where that came from.

I love cotton candy now. So much so, that even at the age of twenty-six, I will pout if someone takes some of mine without my permission. As if I’d ever allow them to.

Speaking of Keith, I haven’t seen him in years. We lost all contact when he turned eighteen, and then he went off into space, and even when he came back, I didn’t get a chance to meet him. I bear no ill will, though. He must have formed some close relationships. Our past friendship is comparatively much more trivial.

I spot a booth selling grilled corn. I instantly head there.

As I’m about join the crowd of humans and aliens who also want corn, a familiar call of my name leads me to pull a three sixty.

Lo and behold. Keith Kogane.

Despite him having obviously grown a lot, the face was still the same. I’m sure that, if he gets a split lip and bruise on his cheek right now, he won’t look all that different.

There’s a questioning hesitance on his features; he’s probably wondering if he’s got the right person. My pleasantly surprised smile and raised eyebrows assure him. As I step away from the grilled corn stall, I notice a motley crowd behind him; some are purple, some are holding Voltron plushies, and some look way too curious to be in a carnival. The introduction is going to be fun.

‘Keith! You're gonna live a hundred years - I was just thinking about you. But anyways, it’s – it’s great to see you,’ I say with a little giggle. ‘Though I am kind of surprised you actually approached me. The sixteen-year-old you would never.’

He smiles awkwardly in return. ‘Y – yeah… I, just… oh God, this is – I’m sorry,’ he says, his inner turmoil evident.

‘It’s all good. I know you’re shit at small talk, so… like, introduce me? Maybe?’

He nods rapidly, brows furrowed. ‘Yeah, um,’ he turns to the people behind him, telling them my name, how we met, the whole affair. I give them a wave. Most of them greet me back.

‘And, this is Shiro and Curtis,’ he points to the tall, white-haired yet young man, holding hands with a tanner guy, ‘Lance, Pidge and Hunk,’ he points to a lanky, bright-smiled guy, a buffer, kind-seeming person, and a short chestnut-haired woman who, despite wearing baggy jeans and a baggier tee, looks somehow better dressed than me. ‘Then that’s Allura, Coran, and Romelle, they’re Alteans,’ a woman with enchanting beauty and a regal aura surrounding her, a redhead who’s significantly older than the rest with an impressive moustache, and a youthful appearing girl with a big grin, ‘and Lotor, he’s Galran. The Galran Emperor, in fact.’ Lotor is a tall, lilac-skinned man with aristocratic features who shares the same cheek markings as the Alteans. Oh, and he’s unfairly gorgeous, his hair a luscious mane of white which I just know will be soft. It’s hard not to stare. You remember how I said Allura looked like royalty? Yeah, the way this man carries himself, he has the aura and visage of a God. Even in a white tee-shirt and jeans he looks way better than should be legal.

I rip my eyes away.

‘So…are Noah and Oliver here too? I’d love to see them. I mean, I never did get to thank them to permit a possible criminal to sleep in their house.’

I laugh. ‘Never mind that, but we actually sit up a stall here. I could, you know, maybe even get you guys something to eat.’

‘Free? Please don’t.’

‘It’s nothing, really, just… I don’t know, accept it as a small thank you present for not letting the planet go to shit.’

A bit of thinking. Even after a nod from Shiro, it was Lance who said yes. Good ol’ Keith.

When we reach the stall, my British dad is the only one we find there. He looks up, about to say something to me, when he notices Keith.

‘Dad. You remember Keith?’

‘Your possible criminal friend who turned out to be the saviour of the universe Keith?’

‘That Keith. He wanted to see you.’

‘Oh? Well then,’ he dusts his hands, stands up, and greets Keith. Both of them engage in a conversation.

‘You guys wanna try something?’

‘What do you got?’ asks Pidge.

‘What do we got? Um, we got chocolates, candy, marshmallows, jellybeans, tortilla chips, ice cream, popcorn – butter, cheese, caramel, peri peri – Lays, like, a lot of Lays, and the good old cotton candy. What d’you want?’

So, after providing the humans with two Cream n’ Onion Lays, a pack of tortilla chips, a double scoop of butterscotch and chocolate, a small tub of popcorn, and three cotton candy sticks, I turned to the aliens.

‘I’m assuming you guys aren’t familiar with a lot of this stuff, so you could either pick whatever looks to be good, ask your friends, or I could recommend something. What’ll it be?’

Romelle was the one who asked, ‘What’s ice cream like?’

‘It’s sweet. It’s cold. And it’s like… heaven in mouth.’

‘Ooh. I want an ice cream. The… pink one?’

‘That’s strawberry. You can eat it in a cone, or in a cup.

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Well, the cup you can’t eat. The cone is like a crispy biscuit,’ judging by her face, she didn’t know what biscuit was. ‘I’ll just give you a cone. It’s all on the house, so no worries if you don’t like it.’

I watched eagerly as she licked the ice cream. An unreadable look crossed her face. Then – ‘This is almost as good as Hunk’s cookies!’

‘Really?’ Coran asked, twirling his moustache. ‘Well, then…’ he squinted to read the names of the various flavours. ‘I would like “cookies and cream”. Yes.’ A cone of cookies n’ cream was served.

‘Allura?’

‘Do you have something that isn’t sweet?’ That was a plot twist. I’d have taken her as someone who appreciated sweeter foods.

‘We do. You want spicy?’

‘…Sure.’ Peri Peri popcorn was given and enjoyed.

And last… ‘Lotor. What would you like to have?’

It takes me a lot of will to not laugh at Lotor’s way too analytical expression. ‘What would you recommend?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Out of all this stuff, candy floss is my favourite.’

‘Candy floss… the item that looks simultaneously like a cloud and an old woman’s hair?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I would like a helping of candy floss, then.’

As I hand Lotor a stick of cotton candy, I wait with anticipation for his reaction.

‘How am I supposed to eat this?’

It takes me a moment to process that. ‘Uh, you just… pinch a little of the stuff in between your fingers, then eat it. Or you could just, um, go in directly, which I’m thinking isn’t really your style.’

He narrows his eyes, but follows my instructions nonetheless. Only a second after putting the stuff in his mouth, Lotor purrs.

Everyone around him, being me, Coran and Romelle (Allura’s off telling Lance how great Earth food is), looks with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Lotor appears as if he’s just died inside. The berry-shaded blush on his face is adorable, though.

'I didn't, like, poison you or something, right?'

'No. It's that... I would never in my lifetimes have expected something so tooth-rottingly sweet to be this delicious.'

'So you're okay?'

‘Yes. In fact, I quite like… this cotton candy.’

I grin.

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

Text

Small Actions (Create Big Ripples) CC!Plat!Ranboo x GN!Reader

I've been thinking lately about this little drabble and it makes me a bit upset? Like.. I'm in this position high key but theres nothing I can do about it...

(R/R/n) stands for Ranboo's real name. Also if you're really tall.... No you're not. Shhhh. For plot purposes

You stayed away from social media as much as possible. Now, don't get me wrong, you used to love watching Youtubers play their games and happily interact with their fans.. But growing up, you never seemed to have enough money to donate when they streamed, or go to events where they were.

You had always wanted to tell them how much they've helped you through life, or shaped your personality.. Or saved you. But... They get told that every day by over hundreds of people.. So there would be no real sentiment behind it..

You'd probably just get a simple, "Aw. Happy I could help." Before turning back to their game without blinking twice.

So, you just watched silently. It hurt, you know? Wanting to thank them, or send them something to show your appreciation.. But you never seemed to be able to send it, with the thought that 'it won't really matter to them after five minutes.. You'll just be brushed over. It's pointless.'

Eventually it hurt too much to keep watching the content creators that raised you, so you just stopped and went on with your life.

It was hard, but at least you didn't have to deal with the fact that you would never be able to thank the people you watched for making your life that much better.

As time went on, while you still heard about the creators, it was just... less. Now people were non stop blabbering about these people from something called the DreamSMP?

Your sister was obsessed with it to say the least, and you always heard her mumbling about strange people like Technoblade? Or Sapnap? And apparently some people had children with inanimate objects?! Like a Samsung Fridge and a salmon?! Yeah you didn't even bother trying to understand what she was rambling about most of the times. It just spun your head in circles.

"Okay, I gotta take my mutt to the vet," Your sister and closest friend, (S/n), tilted her head towards the backseat to her dog as you sat in the passenger seat. "You think you'll be good to do the shopping for two or so hours? I'll call when I'm finished, and plus I know how you can get distracted with looking at some things."

"Yeah, I think I'll be good." You nodded slightly, going over the list in your hand of things to get for your classes, food and just some clothing for the changing seasons.

(S/n) pulled into the parking lot and looked you over briefly, "You forgot your mask didn't you?" She watched as your hands flew up to your face to feel for the fabric, but you didn't find it so you fished through the pockets of your sweater before smiling nervously at the driver. "Uuugggggggghhhh. Of course. Okay, I got a new one from the merch store that you can use, but do not damage it! I spent a whole $30 on it!"

Scoffing as you rolled your eyes, you snagged the half white and half black mask away from her, "You and your merch. Honestly, (S/n), your obsession scares me. But anyway, thanks. I won't get it damaged, I swear." You pulled the mask onto your face after giving her a smile and walked into the store as she drove off.

Sighing slightly, you walked in, sanitized your hands, and set off on your journey to find the things you needed. Surprisingly, today seemed to be a good day as you miraculously pulled the card that didn't have the busted wheel!

Humming a soft tune to yourself, you paced up and down aisles in search of (S/n)'s favourite coffee. Pausing for a moment as you scanned the shelves, you finally spotted it and made a noise of anger as you realized it was on the very top shelf. "Oh, I hate it here..." You mumbled, a phrase you had picked up from your sister who was really big on trends like that.

Grumbling to yourself, you stood on the tips of your toes, jumped up and down, even climbed the shelves a small bit, but it just seemed to brush by your fingertips every time. Apparently it had been long enough to the point where someone had wandered into the aisle as well.

"Hey... Uh.. Nice mask? You need help?" A male voice asked very hesitantly making your head turn towards him. He was t a l l and literally could tower over you if you got close enough. He had fluffy dirty blonde hair possibly? It looked a little damp so you couldn't really tell. Rain had been in the weather report, but guess it couldn't hold off long enough. Oddly enough, he was wearing dark sunglasses and the exact same mask as you?

'Maybe he's a fan of one of (S/n)'s fandoms?' You stepped back with a sheepish smile and a blush. "Oh! Yes please! Uhm.. Also, could you tell me about what these masks represent? This is my sister's... And I kinda want to make sure I'm not looking like I'm part of some gang or something."

The tall boy reached up for the coffee before pausing midway through and looking at you in surprise. "You don't know who... Oh, it's just from a Twitch Streamer.." He murmured rather softly as he got the coffee down for you.

With a cheerful "Thank you!" You placed the container in the cart. "Oh? Yeah that makes sense. My sister loves that kind of stuff. Are they... A good person?"

"I-I'd like to think so." He nodded quickly. "Are you not.. Like, a fan of content creators? Like.. Uh.. Dream or (P/F/C)?" (Past favourite creator)

"Well... I mean I used to really like (p/f/c) when I was younger. But it kind of... Saddened me, you know?"

He looked at you again and tilted his head a bit, "Saddened you? Did they do something bad?"

"No no! It's just... I try to avoid joining fandoms, even if they make me really happy while in them despite the toxicity. I really enjoy the people who create content, and I like watching them have fun... It's just.." Were you really gonna spill some personal stuff to some stranger who showed you the slightest bit of kindness? Not originally. But he kept watching you, patiently waiting for you to continue the sentence. "They'll... Never know.. How much they saved me."

"Oh.. I see. Yeah.. I've had that happen a lot. When, I watch this guy's streams," He pulled at his mask for a moment, "People always donate money and tell him how much they appreciate him for getting them through rocky times.. It's heartwarming to say the least but he does sound genuinely thankful."

"Oh that's sweet.. What does he do? Or what's he like?" You asked with a smile, although he couldn't see it, as you crouched down to get something from the sheleves. "Unless you have places to be of course!"

He looked a little surprised at first, "Ah... I got time. It's just.. Kinda nice being able to talk to people again after quarantine..." He trailed off briefly before taking something off the shelf as well and putting it in his basket, "Uh.. The streamer is a popular minecraft player. He recently hit a record during a stream and everyone lost their minds. He's a little painfully awkward at some points but he enjoys playing the games and interacting with his chat."

"Oh he sounds nice! I would definitely want to friends with someone like him!" You chuckled softly before frowning and glancing away. "Oh.. Popular.. So I'd be another comment in the flood of a chat.. Damn. I got a little excited. Oh! My bad, I'm (Y/n). Nice to meet you!" You laughed softly in an attempt to brush off the sad atmosphere you made.

"(R/r/n). But everyone just calls me Ranboo. Nice to meet you too." He sounded as if he was smiling but there was a soft sadness in his tone. "Do you not like popular streamers then?"

"No, it's just... that I had always wanted to tell them how much they've helped me through life, or shaped my personality.. Or saved me.. But... They get told that every day by over hundreds of people.. So there would be no real sentiment behind it.. I suppose it just left me feeling a bit hopeless and like a broken record of every other fan of theirs. So, I just watched silently. It hurt, you know? Wanting to thank them, or send them something to show appreciation.. But I never seemed to be able to send it, with the thought that 'it won't really matter to them after five minutes.. You'll just be brushed over. It's pointless.'.."

Ranboo seemed slightly more upset and he shifted his basket into his other hand, "I don't think it's like that at all.. I believe that streamers and creators truly cherish anyone who even interacts with their videos, and even though they know there's some people in the world who can't say anything or buy their merchandise, the creators still know that they're there. They appreciate everyone who comes along their path, whether they support them by giving them money, criticism or their attention!"

You blinked at how... Passionate your new friend was about this topic before smiling softly. "I guess... It never passed my mind.. Thank you Ranboo.. Hey, you wanna be friends and get to know each other more?"

His expression was unreadable due to the fabric covering his mouth and nose, and the glasses covering his eyes. "Oh! Sure!" He sounded quite happy, so you were guessing that you weren't being too awkward. "Here's my number, as long as you promise to never give it to anyone. Even if someone wants to get to know me, okay?"

You took out your phone and looked at him with a strange expression, but quickly nodded. 'Maybe he is just really strict about his privacy.' Once he gave you the number, you sent a quick text to him to give him your contact in return. "Great! It was wonderful meeting you, I hope we can hang out more often! After.. covid of course."

Eagerly nodding, Ranboo finished writing your contact into his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. "Oh yeah definitely! I'll see you soon, (Y/n)!"

Parting your separate ways, you looked down at the newly added contact, 🤍Ranboo🖤 (Platonic hearts), with a smile.

Maybe small actions weren't as useless as you thought...

#ranboolive #ranboo #ranboo x reader #ranboo x you #ranboo dreamsmp #ranboo dsmp #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #reader insert #x reader

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sunooasis · 3 years

Text

ミ. let's fall in love? + yang jungwon

☽. pairing: jungwon x gn!reader

☽. genre: fluff, first love!au

☽. word count: 1.3k

☽. warnings: mentions of broken family(?) , a single curse

☽. song rec: the only exception - paramore

⿻. note: !reuploaded as i did changes! i apologize in advance if it turned out pretty bad (did major skips). this is also my first time writing with 1k+ words so.. : ]

the bliss flooding through every veins of yours drove your senses disturbed. it was preposterous, you think. the unwelcomed feeling suddenly engrossing you as if it never appeared to you as a hindrance which you thought otherwise makes you queasy. you've grown up in despise of risking your heart with no affirmation, with you presuming that it's uncertain.

as almost as instantly, the fear rushed in attempt to consume you once more with the memories of your broken family...years of endless fights while your silent whimpers echoed in your room, their promises slowly falling apart right in front of your home, a damaged bond trying to be fixed, and an empty heart as you grew up promising of avoiding loving someone, because you believed on how only pain will benefit you from it.

so now you're confused why, why does it got to be you stucked in this stupid game of fate? even all the advices you have tried to gather naively in the internet since you got no one to help you, didn't helped one bit and you're scared to all of this. you're scared of falling in love only to be shattered mercilessly and helplessly by it once again.

you hated the tingling sensation you're feeling right now as he embraces you tight, suffocating yet it consoles you. you hated how he noticed that you're having a hard time and so he gave you a comforting hug despite him barely knowing you. you hated that it feels warm and tender like your old favorite hibiscus tea. so why does all of it feels so right?

"i love your hug y/n, so expect me to ask you a lot of this starting tomorrow, hm?" the boy said, breaking the silence created five minutes ago as both of you are currently the only ones left inside the classroom. his voice rung to your back and it sent more confusing tingles to your body. it's been months since the bewilderment of you by this feeling started yet it's the first time making the butterflies errupt this wild. fortunately luck's with you this time as your tinted face safely hid in his shoulder.

"a-are you being serious right now jungwon?"

he pulls away from your hug. and now you feel uncomfortably cold that you wanted to immediately retreat yourself in his arms but stopped from doing so. you tried to convince yourself that you're used to winters and if not, you can always be warm without him, but why does it feels wrong?

"actually dead serious y/n" he furrowed his eyebrows jokingly with his head going up and down but still focused on you. it made you hesitantly give a thumbs up as you nod in agreement and stifle a laugh. you can't say no to him, not when your heart tells you thousands of yes.

a week swiftly flew by yet you're still unable to gather your own thoughts and feelings. all of it seems to be happening so fast and you can't still even comprehend how in just one day, your heart decided to skip a beat to your seatmate.

despite all the ways you tried to get rid of his solicitude towards yours off your mind, you just inevitably think about him all over again at the end of the day.

part of you can't deny that one whole week, where you spent all the free times you have thinking about something that you fear, and that is what if you maybe just confess what you truly feel towards him? that maybe it's better that way than be isolated by your hidden fondness for the past few suffocating months to the certain boy.

but surprisingly after days more, finally the thought pushed your what ifs flooding your mind that you got tired of overthinking it. you got tired of being ludicrous for trying to suppress it yourself.

you wouldn't want to wait anymore for it to fade since it's only getting steadfast.

4:50 pm, at the school garden. the unoccupied bench was strangely settled by you with jungwon beside yours.

the area felt far away to any chaos; it feels healing with all the blossoming wildflowers surrounding you. it made the possible outcome of your disclosure to him less unnerving. the two of you were kissed by the sun that's sinking little by little, and the breeze caressed in solace after a long day.

"i have something to tell you.." you muttered. "what is it?" asked him, turning his face to look at your side. you hated the way he's looking at you right now with his eyes glinting in curiosity like what you'll be saying could possibly be special to him. suddenly a bird landed near and chirped, watching your spot steadily as if it already witnessed hundreds of confessions made at this place.

"this will be long since i will talk about all of my gathered feelings, so i ask for your time. second, i'm sorry in advance for my fucked up emotion," a faltering chuckle escaped your lips first before you proceed and he nodded in understandment. the warmth suddenly felt too suffocating for your likings, and your throat suddenly felt irritated, yet you snubbed it and eventually let on your words.

"three months ago, my heart suddenly started beating unusually when you smiled at me....i don't know why and how. at first i didn't mind but the unusual beats only got faster day by day as i got to know you more, then the tingle in my stomach followed that i can't just ignore it anymore. i can assure you that i tried my best to stop it and i'm beyond disappointed with myself, i promised not to love anyone. i hated that idea so so much jungwon, but my heart keeps telling me to risk it for you...every night it keeps telling me that there's nothing to be afraid of loving someone, of loving you. and now i'm unimaginably pouring all my thoughts to someone i've perhaps fallen with, hoping that after this i can move on at last,"

the whole time you spoke, your gaze only could focus on the green grass tickling beneath your feet. you felt dizzy after your confession, but thankfully the air- or relief finally entered your lungs.

silence surrounded the place. you don't know what's his current state right now and you have no plans on looking at him. is he surprised? is he mad at you? is he-

"i'm thankful y/n,"

but that's when you finally face him. he's smiling at you as the dip on the side of his cheek peaked. then the tears you're holding for the past months started to run down your face and you felt suddenly weak, now entirely confused on what's happening when your own vision started to appear so hazy to even discern the moment.

he then placed both of his hand on yours. "thank you for trusting me, thank you for being brave...and thank you for loving me." he wiped your tears away before coming back to your hands, intertwining it with his and it magically fitted in perfection. "as much as i know how much you are scared right now, can i prove you first on how beautiful love is?" , "and if you're still wondering....i also felt all the tingles creeping inside me beside my heart involuntarily pounding when i'm with you."

the uneasiness you felt before was long gone and now replaced by contentment as you could only smile at the clouded memory. few years ago, you believed that love is nonexistent, a thorn behind a delicate rose, but he came and played the role as your only exception. he made you realize that the idea of love shines through the lack of vividness when it's someone made for you.

with his arms wrapped your waist and yours layed on top of his shoulders, he sways you both slowly, following the beat of the soft melody from the speaker that is filling your dimly lit apartment. your head cuddled against his chest as you find the slow beats of his heart in comfort while the faint smile of his lips pressed against your hair.

"thank you for showing me how truly beautiful love is, my jungwon."

#enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon oneshots #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon #enhypen jungwon #enhypen

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goddessofmischief · 3 years

Text

Noah, Part Six - Peter Maximoff x Reader

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

...

When you were kids, you and Peter had lived under the same roof for almost five years.

And this was the longest he had ever gone without talking to you.

It was absolutely...

Unnatural.

You knew he’d interrogated Noah - something you wanted to be mad about, but just couldn’t be.

Peter deserved answers, and you felt guilty for not giving them to him. Especially after you'd seen the way he looked at you, the night you went out to dinner with Alex.

The night you explained everything.

But if Peter was allowed to grill your son...

Well, couldn't you?

“Hey, Noah,” you said, crouching down beside your son. “I know you’ve kinda... noticed, that things have been a little different.”

“What,” said Noah, in his soft, lispy voice. “What, that you and Daddy aren’t together anymore?”

Your eyes widened, and you released him, feeling as if you’d been burned.

“Daddy? Why’d you.. why would you call him that?”

He shrugged. It was the saddest thing you’d ever seen.

“I don’t know. He's around all the time and he teaches me things...”

“Well, so do I!”

“You protect me, Mommy. You protect me, an’... an’ you fight the bad people. It’s different.”

Noah sounded so sure. You wished you could be as certain as he was.

“What about Alex, huh?” you asked, smoothing his hair down. “Did you like him? He was cool, right?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

You huffed.

“Can I see Da-”

“Peter,” you corrected, forcefully.

“Can I go see Peter now? He’s s’posed to teach me today -- how to play tennis by myself.” “Don’t you want to spend the afternoon together, love? We could... we could read. You like that... don't you?”

Noah shrugged again.

“I guess so. I don’t really have to learn it, anyway. Peter says as long as he’s around, I’ll never have to play by myself.”

Your eyes welled up with tears.

“Well,” you managed, “I guess... I guess you’d better go.”

“Will you be okay?”

“Yeah, ‘Oah. I’ll be fine. I’ll just... stay in.”

“Sure you don’t want to come?” asked Noah.

You shook your head. He leaned in, whispering in your ear, as if he was going to tell you a secret.

“B’cause... Peter said he misses you.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t smile.

...

Okay...

So Peter Maximoff was kind of an incredible tennis instructor.

And surprisingly patient, in a way he never had been with you.

“Okay, buddy - that was great, but just a little to the left - oh,” he muttered, noticing you. “Hey, Y/N.”

You gave him a half-hearted wave.

“Peter,” said Noah, seriously, “You promised we could do some racing.”

“I know, buddy, but... it’s kinda windy today. It’s not the best conditions.”

Noah crossed his arms, pouting.

“Okay,” said Peter, giving in. “Alright... meet you back here?”

“Meet you,” agreed Noah, taking off.

Several moments passed. You couldn’t see either of them, but... suddenly, you felt a sharp burst of pain in Noah’s mind.

Within moments, Peter reappeared speeding out of the woods, carrying your son.

“The dummy broke his arm,” said Peter.

...

“He��ll be okay,” said Peter, attempting to comfort you. “S’ not so bad. One of the disadvantages of our powers are... you break a lot of stuff. Often limbs.”

You smiled, slightly.

“I know. He’s a tough kid. But I’m gonna wait up with him, anyway. As a kid, when I was sick, or hurt... I needed a lot of attention.”

“Oh, I remember,” Peter chuckled. “We thought you were dying.”

“Wow.”

“Well, you were kinda dramatic.”

“Oh, like you weren’t, at that age.”

He shrugged.

“That’s, uh... that’s fair. Listen... if you’re staying with Noah tonight... you want me to stay?”

“Why?” you asked, bluntly.

Peter shrugged, again.

“I don’t want you to be alone.”

Hesitantly, you allowed Peter to sit down on the couch, beside you, tucking your head into his shoulder.

When you woke in the morning, he was gone.

...

You knew it was time to go.

Xavier had taught Noah enough to control his powers, you reasoned. Sure, it wasn’t exactly what you'd hoped for - but he wasn't a full fledged X-Man yet, after all. He had time.

And, most importantly, you had fulfilled your duty as a mother.

You had ensured that Noah was safe.

Sure, you wouldn’t be able to pursue learning your own skills - but did that really matter?

A nagging voice in your head (probably Jean) told you that it did.

It also told you that you were running away from your problems, like you always had.

And also that you should brush your teeth.

“I don’t understand, Mom,” said Noah, reluctantly taking your hand. “Why do we have to go?”

“Because we’re done, love. We accomplished... what we came here to do. It’s time to go back to the real world. We can’t hide here forever.”

He nodded, slowly, and you hoped he understood.

“...Is Peter coming?”

You threw Noah’s suitcase in the trunk of your car with a thunk.

"No,” you said, quietly. “No, he’s... he’s not.”

Noah’s face went blank.

“What? Mom, we can’t-”

“That’s all, Noah. I’ve made up my mind.”

You helped him into his car-seat and climbed into the front, taking one last look at the Mansion before driving away.

Quietly, Noah began to hum something.

“That’s pretty,” you mused, softly. “What is it?”

“A song Peter taught me. He said it was your song.”

You swallowed.

Noah began to sing.

“If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to do... is to save every day, till eternity passes away... just to spend ‘em with you...”

Oh, no fair.

Peter was playing dirty.

“But there never seems to be enough time... to do the things you wanna do, once you find ‘em... I’ve looked around enough to know, that you’re the one I want to go through time with...”

Turn back, your brain was screaming. Turn back, turn back, turn back-

A car pulled up alongside you.

And it was Peter’s head that hung from the window, a megaphone pressed to his lips.

“Pull over!”

“What?!”

He almost ran you off the road.

“Pull over!”

"Mom?” asked Noah, in an eerily calm voice. “Are we gonna die?”

“No, love,” you said, decisively, pulling the car over. “No, I’m just gonna kill Peter, that’s all.”

“Y/N, I have to talk to you-”

“Are you crazy!” you yelled, slamming the door behind you. “Who drives like that? Are you-”

“Listen to me!” Peter shouted, jumping out of his car.

“I love you! And I don’t care that Noah’s not my son, okay? I’ll raise a hundred children, Y/N. With a hundred of your boyfriends, if it means I can be with you.”

Your eyes welled up with tears.

“...Can you put that down?”

“THIS EXPRESSES HOW LOUDLY I LOVE YOU!”

“It’s too loud,” you whispered, trying not to smile.

He knelt down, opening up a small, metal box.

“This is the Hope diamond,” Peter said, seriously, “And I stole it. But Xavier told me that it’s worth kind of a lot, and I don’t know if that means anything... but I thought it looked kinda cool, and I wanted you to have it-”

“Okay,” you agreed, quickly. “Okay, yes, yes, I will!”

You threw your arms around Peter’s neck and kissed him, deeply.

“I love you!” you shouted, feeling every emotion cross over you at once.

“I love you!” he shouted back, so happy he could barely breathe.

“And... I lied to you.”

“What?”

“Noah’s your son.”

Peter's express went blank.

“What? Why would you say-”

“I just needed you to want to marry me... because you wanted to marry me.”

He stumbled back, looking dazed - and for a moment, you were afraid you’d lost him.

“Get out!” Peter shouted, suddenly, absolutely screaming with happiness. “I’m a dad!”

“You’re a dad!”

This time, it was Peter that threw his arms around you, and you reciprocated.

...

Hey guys! Just a reminder, the story doesn’t end here.

I’m gonna continue to write in the ‘Noah’ timeline, but you can find the whole series under the title ‘All and Then Most Of You’ in my masterlist.

I plan to cover Peter and reader’s time at Xavier’s, and of course, their life as a family!

Many of these fics will be standalones that fit with the overall series

If you have any ideas for the series, or adventures that Peter, Noah and Reader should go on, please send ‘em in!

Also, credit to the Office. As I mentioned in the first chapter, I borrowed some of the dialogue for this chapter from one of the last episodes.

...

Taglist:

@fangirl593-at-221b @amourtentiaa @that-random-nerdy-person @no-mercy-bby

#stay tuned #noah maximoff #it feels PHENOMENAL to finally write that tag #I'm gonna retag all my other chapters #peter maximoff #evan peters x reader #evan peters #noah #peter maximoff masterlist #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximof x reader #peter maximoff x reader #noah ?#peter maximov #peter maximov x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel studios #marvel comics

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crispychrissy · 3 years

Text

Connected - Part 4

Summary: Dr. Austin's theory is put to the test, and she shows Tony, Bucky, and Steve the woman behind the mystery. Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 2976 Warnings: Angst, medical stuff, stretching the medical science behind the super soldier serum, discussion of Bucky's previous trauma & a mention of the horrible things the Nazi's did A/N: I apologize for the late posting, I fell asleep so hard last night I didn't have a chance to queue this, and then I was out all day (good 14 hours out and about) so I am just now able to post the new chapter since I'm home now. As I mentioned in a prior post, I no longer have a forever taglist, but I will still tag series specific people if they request. You can also follow this story & others on my Ao3 as well. The series was beta’d by the lovely @idjitmonkey and I hope you enjoy! Please send me an ask if you would like to be tagged in the series. :)

Series Masterlist – Marvel Masterlist

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Bucky made a quick call to Shuri who, after a thorough interrogation as to why he was asking, assured him his arm would not be affected by the magnets of an MRI machine. So now, Bucky was laying down on his back inside the machine and staring at the small glass covered camera embedded in the inside curve of the plastic above him.

“Stop staring at the camera, Barnes, you’re giving off some crazy resting murder face right now,” Tony’s staticky voice came through the pair of disposable earbuds he was wearing to protect his hearing from the noise of the scan. “Might sell these scans to Ripley’s Believe It or Not. You actually do have something going on in that head of yours.”

“As much as I know you want to answer, Sergeant Barnes, please do not speak or move,” Dr. Austin’s voice came through after what sounded like a small scuffle for the microphone.

Bucky blinked several times in an unnatural yet controlled fashion, and when he heard Steve’s laughter coming through the earbuds, he had to fight the urge to smile, knowing Steve got the message he blinked out in Morse code.

F-U-C-K Y-O-U T-O-N-Y

The scan was over almost a half an hour later, and Bucky couldn’t hide his exhale of relief once the table began to slide out of the massive scanner. Confined spaces still made his skin crawl and flash back to the cryo tube he was kept in, but the MRI was surprisingly open in design and not like the ones he usually remembered seeing in hospitals. When he brought it up to Dr. Austin on their way back to her office, she smiled at him and explained most of the soldiers they treat have PTSD and claustrophobia, so an open MRI design was necessary for the comfort of the patients she treats.

It made sense, and when they entered her office and Bucky’s stomach growled for the fourth time in the last fifteen minutes, she tossed him the orange he’d been eyeing earlier before taking a seat at her desk and flipping open her laptop.

“Normally we have to wait for the images to be reviewed by a radiologist, but I’m well versed in how to read brain scans,” Dr. Austin explained, clicking a few times before leaning forward to study the screen. “Oh, wow.”

“What?” Bucky asked, using his teeth to bite a chunk of the orange’s peel off since his right hand didn't have nails long enough, and his left didn’t have nails at all. Once he could see the flesh of the orange underneath, he slid his flesh finger under the remaining peel and began to remove it in large pieces, trying to avoid getting sticky juice on his metal hand.

Dr. Austin spun her laptop around to show Bucky the image on her screen. It was a scan of his head, he could tell that, but the mess of swirling bright colors on the inside where his brain was made his eyes hurt. There were bright greens and blues swirled with more vibrant reds and pinks dancing around inside the image. “This is your brain.”

“Looks more like those posters… the ‘this is your brain on drugs’ pictures if they were made in the sixties, Doc,” Tony said. “I’m guessing it’s not supposed to look like that?”

“No. There’s so much brain activity that it’s likely what’s been burning through your energy and why you’ve been hungry all the time,” Dr. Austin explained. “Any type of brain activity, including emotions and problem solving, requires energy, whether it’s planning a complex strategy of attack for a mission or a simple math problem or crying at a sad part in a movie. Overworking the mind usually leads to tiredness, which leads to sleep, naturally refreshing those energy reserves. Most humans don’t expend enough energy, even when the brain is very active, to require major replenishment. Take Mr. Stark for example.”

Tony looked up and raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes, you’re a very intelligent man, and I’m guessing that when you’re elbow deep in your inventions or developing something, you don’t sleep and will go days without rest… so you find you get somewhat hungry at random times, right?” Dr. Austin asked.

“Well, yeah, I usually keep snacks around the lab that I nibble on so I don’t have to leave to make an actual meal. It ruins the momentum,” Tony said, confusion in his voice. “Pep’s found me passed out over the kitchen counter halfway through making a sandwich.

“Your body shut down and went to sleep before you were even able to replenish that energy via food since sleep is more efficient. So, that is a normal human mind.” Tony opened his mouth to protest, when Dr. Austin rolled her eyes and switched analogies. “Fine, that’s a standard engine, if you will, that can easily be refueled by a small energy source for a limited amount of time before it needs to be shut down and rebooted,” Dr. Austin said, slowly twirling her right pointer finger in a circle.

“Alright, I’m following you so far.” Tony’s head was slightly moving along with the circular rotation of her finger.

“Now, in the case of our super soldiers here, imagine that engine, but amplified almost five hundred percent,” Dr. Austin began to rotate her finger faster and faster until it was a blur of movement. “The need for sleep is suppressed by the serum, since alertness is crucial in combat, so that reboot requirement is easier to put off. In order to keep this kind of engine going at the same speed and level of activity for prolonged periods, it would burn through a small snack, or a small source of energy, too quickly and would signal the driver of the car, if you will, that it needed more.”

“So you’re saying that something is making Bucky’s brain so active, and he’s burning through so much energy, that it’s manifesting as hunger to make sure he keeps up with what’s being expended?” Steve asked, his mouth slightly open in shock. “I mean, I always remember being hungry after mission strategy and planning meetings, but I just assumed it was because I was bored or had skipped a meal.”

Dr. Austin shook her head. “Nope. You were using your brain in overdrive, doing quick calculations and mission scenarios in your head to find the best possible plan of action, much faster than any normal human brain would be able to calculate. It makes you an excellent strategist, but that kind of brain power burns a lot of energy.”

Bucky snorted in disbelief and leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “It makes sense. I was a good sniper when I was first in the Army during the war, but after Zola… after he injected me with that bastardized version of the serum… I could calculate trajectory angles and wind velocities and distances in my head in seconds, didn’t have to write them out to do the calculations. Didn’t even need a spotter anymore.”

Dr. Austin nodded. “Exactly. The serum allowed you extra mental acuity at the expense of more energy consumption.”

“But that doesn’t explain why Bucky’s brain is lit up like a psychedelic Christmas tree,” Tony said, gesturing to the laptop image. “Barnes obviously isn’t doing any kind of advanced calculus in his head right now.” Tony looked at Bucky. “You’re not right?” Bucky shook his head and Tony continued, “so why is his brain so active?”

“And that leads me to my theory about Y/N,” Dr. Austin said, standing up from her chair. “Follow me, gentlemen. And Sergeant Barnes,” he looked over and raised a brow as he trailed after her into the hallway, “please let me know if you feel any increased feelings of hunger or exhaustion. The effects might come on quickly, so please let me know if, or when, you feel anything.”

Bucky nodded, and looked over to where Steve was walking to his right. Thanks to their childhood friendship, Steve could always see anxiety and nervousness in Bucky even when he tried to hide it, like when he saw Bucky off the morning he shipped off to Europe. Bucky kept his face stoic, but when Steve hugged him goodbye, Bucky was practically trembling under the Army-hardened mask he had worn then.

Steve reached over and clasped a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze of reassurance.

The doctor led them down several hallways, until they reached another wing of the military hospital which held secure patient rooms that could be locked down if necessary, whether due to outbursts of violence due to psychological issues from recovering soldiers or to hold prisoners who had been injured and needed medical intervention. Dr. Austin stopped in front of a room at the end of the hallway and gestured to the one-way mirror in front of her.

“Gentlemen, meet Y/N Y/L/N.”

The three men stepped closer and looked into the room, all eyes frozen on the figure sitting upright in the hospital bed. Y/N had shoved herself in the farthest possible corner of the bed, her knees tucked under her chin and arms wrapped around her legs. The photo in her file, and even the video of her they’d seen looked nothing like the woman before them. She looked almost emaciated, her skin a sickly pale that was almost translucent, and her stringy grease matted hair twitched slightly as her body trembled.

“Jesus,” Steve breathed. “She… she looks like those prisoners… the ones—”

Bucky swallowed and nodded. “From Natzweiler, yeah, I remember.” Bucky took a deep breath, fighting against the telltale tingle in his mind of a long since forgotten memory beginning to rise up like a wave. “Doc… is she eating?”

“She was when she first got here, but only if the food was left for her after she passed out from exhaustion,” Dr. Austin explained. “Now, ever since things have escalated, she rips out her IV’s, pulls out NG tubes, and refuses any food we bring her. I’m not going to sedate her just because it’ll make it easier to feed her, we haven’t reached that level of intervention yet, but we’re getting close. She told one of our staff yesterday, in Russian, that she was not going to eat any of our poisoned food, that she wasn’t some kind of lab experiment and that we were animals for not just shooting her in the head to get it over with.”

All of the air in Bucky’s lungs came out in one hard breath like he’d been punched in the chest, and he had to brace himself against the windowsill to keep his knees from buckling. “Fuck.”

“Bucky?” Steve gasped at Bucky’s sudden weakness, grabbing onto his friend’s arm and placing a gentle hand on his back. ”What? Are you feeling the stuff Dr. Austin mentioned?”

Bucky grit his teeth and closed his eyes at the onslaught of memory fragments bombarding him. “No, I’m… I don’t know, maybe? I just… she’s…” Bucky’s thoughts were so jumbled he could barely form a coherent sentence, even in his head. He made a choked off noise that sounded more like a sob before he lifted his head to look at Y/N. “She’s reliving my captivity with Hydra. This… this was after I was transferred from the facility the Russians held me in after they found me to the one where Zola did his experiments. They were, umm, they were testing the limits of the serum, trying to figure out what I could survive.”

Steve’s face dropped and he took a sharp breath in. Bucky’s captivity and torture was not something he talked about often outside his therapy sessions. Steve only knew a handful of stories, ones that had come directly from Bucky’s mouth, and even then they were very hard stories for him to tell—lots of starting and stopping, frequent breaks, and plenty of tears. But here, with two extra people with him, and one being a stranger?

“Buck, you don’t have to talk about it,” Steve whispered.

“No, I need… she said exactly what I said to the guards who brought me food one day.” Bucky swallowed hard, flexing his fingers against the painted metal of the windowsill, the cold against his flesh hand grounding him. “They were testing different poisons and how the serum would fight it off… arsenic, ricin, even different kinds of snake and spider venom. I had seizures, strokes, and my heart stopped so many times I lost count.”

“Fucking hell,” Tony murmured, leaning against the wall behind them, his face a few shades paler than it was ten minutes ago. “Y/N is reliving your memories, reliving your life.”

“We need to find a way to pull her out of this,” Bucky said, straightening up with determination even though his bones felt like liquid and his mind was full of numbing static. If Y/N was reliving his life, even if it didn’t seem like the moments were in order, he knew it was only a matter of time until she would experience how the Winter Soldier was born, how he was forged, and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Dr. Austin nodded and looked back at her patient through the glass. “If my theory is correct, which I believe it is based on your shared memories and brain scans, Y/N’s mind has somehow melded with yours. And your memories, powered by your mind’s energy, have somehow taken over hers, suppressing her personality completely. I don’t know if it was some kind of dormant mutant ability that was activated by the trauma of her captivity and torture, or something else… but there is obviously some kind of link between the two of you that we don’t have the technology to test for and verify. You’re essentially feeding her your memories, which is why your brain is lit up like that and why you’re expending so much energy.”

“It’s like she’s stuck inside one of Stark’s virtual reality headsets and can’t take it off, experiencing everything I went through while my brain keeps playing her different…” Bucky trailed off and his eyes widened before his head snapped to look at Y/N through the glass.

In a flash of movement, Bucky grabbed Dr. Austin’s ID badge from where it was clipped onto her white coat and darted for the door to Y/N’s room, scanning the badge so the door opened with a green light and soft click. Bucky, ignoring the shouts of his name and hands trying to grab at him to pull him back, opened the door and shut it firmly behind him, engaging the door’s auto-lock safety feature that he knows secure wings of hospitals have. The group outside would need to find another ID badge to get in, which would buy him some time.

Y/N’s wide and terrified eyes settled on him, and she tilted her head in an almost confused dog-like fashion, her eyes softening with an air of familiarity. Bucky could feel the hunger gnawing at his stomach turn into sharp cramps that almost made him double over, and there was a soft circle of darkness starting to creep in around his vision.

Bucky took three large steps forward, and even though she flinched away at his sudden movement, Y/N didn’t scramble away to try and avoid his hands as he lifted them. Her weary bloodshot eyes were full of unshed tears, and the closer Bucky’s hands got to her face, the more she began to tremble.

“You’re safe,” he whispered to her in Russian, before repeating the same sentiment in English.

The moment his fingers, both flesh and metal, touched the skin on either side of her face, it felt like he was on the wrong side of an attack from Thor’s hammer. Whatever weakness and hunger he’d been feeling was burned out of his body at the sheer shock cascading through his entire being. It didn’t hurt, but it was bordering on wildly uncomfortable, and Bucky was afraid he’d never be able to let go, his hands stuck to Y/N like a magnet.

There was something different passing between them, more than what touch alone could provide. Trying to understand everything that was happening was overwhelming, but when Bucky focused, he could almost feel Y/N inside his mind, like another whisper of a presence, a ghost in his consciousness. When he reached out in his head for her where he’d felt the ghost of her presence, he was assaulted with bursts of memories he knew were not his own, images of unfamiliar people, places, and things flashing in his mind like photographs. Bucky's curiosity was almost childlike, awestruck and trying to understand what his brain was comprehending, sorting through what Y/N was showing him.

The more information Bucky absorbed, the darker each memory became until it felt like he was wading through molasses, each image being harder and harder to move past. A hoarse whisper of “No” echoed in his mind, and Bucky couldn’t tell if it was his own voice or Y/N’s.

A solid arm wrapped around Bucky’s middle, one much more firm than human flesh would be, and pulled him backward until his hands dropped from Y/N’s face, breaking whatever connection had refused to release him when he’d touched her. Reality came rushing back, and the room and people around him flashed into existence, the change in environment and sound disorienting him and leaving him panting for breath, his knees wobbling.

“She…” Bucky looked over at Y/N, who was just as distressed, and watched her collapse onto the bed, unconscious, before his vision blacked out and darkness took him as well.

***

Connected Tags: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @that-one-gay-girl @fanofalltheficsx @joseyrw @lana-writes-04 @gia-25 @klanceiscannon14 @ahahafudge

#connected #part 4 #marvel series #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #reader insert #bucky barnes x y/n #angst #medical stuff

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

Note

If you are taking requests… I just went mini golfing today with my 4.5 year old. It was low key torture in a way since the concept of rules were out the window. Made me wonder how the Triple Frontier boys would be like mini golfing with Frankie and his daughter. Please and thank you. ⛳️

Ooooh this is such a fun concept! Also mini golfing with kids is the worst, I have to take my nephews individually otherwise they start hitting each other with the putters 🙄 (also now I can’t get the imagine of the boys in their princess dress out of my head)

Word count: Good question, I have no clue I did this on my phone

Warnings: none

It was Everly’s idea to spend the day mini golfing. It was her birthday, and she decided she wanted to do nothing more than spend it with her favourite uncles. Of course, when she approached them about it, they had readily agreed that princess themed mini golf sounded like a fantastic idea. After all, you only turned five once.

Each had gotten their own princess colour, chosen specifically by Everly, though she wouldn’t reveal her process no matter how Santi tried to bribe her. Benny was quite happy with this, claiming that he had always looked ravishing in purple and glitter. Will was stuck with green, his least favourite colour. Santi and Frankie were a bit lucky, in blue and red respectively. Everly, of course, claimed pink for herself.

So that was how they arrived to the mini golf course: colour coordinated tutus, craft glitter sparkling on their skin in the sun, each with a tiara that was too small for their heads. Each wore make up carefully applied by Everly that morning.

“Morales party?” The young teenager at the front desk gaped at them. Frankie couldn’t blame him, he probably would have done the same. Everly jumped up, trying to see over the counter.

“I’m five today!” She declared proudly, holding up five fingers. The teenager grinned at Everly and told her happy birthday as he handed them each a putter and ball that matched their outfits.

“It’s all yours for the next two hours,” the kid handed them paper to write their scores on, but Frankie knew that within a few holes the paper would be all but worthless.

The putters were comically small in the hands of the burly men who carried them, especially Will who had bulked up over the summer. They walked to the first hole, a simple one to warm up.

“I’m first!” Everly said, as if there had been any question about it.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Frankie crouched down beside her, placing her bright pink ball on the start mark.

“Yes!” Everly rolled her eyes at her father and raised the putter above her head. Frankie ducked out of the way just in time for her to swing wildly, missing the ball completely.

“That’s half a point for E-Bee,” Santi said, making a show of writing it down on the paper.

“Half?” Everly swung at the ball again, this time sending it sailing through the air, along with the putter, surprisingly close to the hole.

Benny clapped and stepped up to take his turn. He adjusted his purple feather boa, throwing it over his shoulder with a dramatic flair.

“Step back gentlemen, the pros are at work,” Benny grabbed Everly and whispered something in her ear, making her cackle and face her father and uncles with wild brown eyes.

“Demon,” Santi whispered, making Frankie snort. He’d seen this child at her worst. He was prepared for anything.

Benny landed a hole in one and smirked triumphantly as Will went to take his turn.

“Add ten to E-Bee’s score, we’re combining ours,” Benny told Santi with an air of smugness.

“You can’t do that,” Will said.

“Try and stop us,” Benny said, placing his hands on his hips. Everly copied.

“Yeah, try,” Everly pursed her lips, a frightening copy of her mother in a less than agreeable mood. Frankie already didn’t like where this was going.

Will took his shot and tried not to look too mad that it wasn’t a hole in one. Frankie had warned him before they arrived about not getting too competitive. They were all competitive, but Will was the worst for it.

Frankie stood to take his shot, using his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The tiara was a poor replacement for his usual ball cap, but he loved his daughter, so the tiara was it for the day. He carefully lined himself up, went to take his shot and-

“Daddy!” Everly yelled as he hit, striking wide and missing the hole completely. Frankie turned and raised a brow at his daughter.

“Yes, sweets?”

“I just wanted to say I love you,” she smiled sweetly, the picture of innocence.

“Don’t fall for it!” Santi urged, handing the scorecard to Frankie as we went to take his turn. “She’s using your paternal emotions against you.”

“She’s too smart for her own good,” Will agreed, lifting the birthday girl in question up so she was dangling upside down. Everly shrieked with laughter as Santi scored a hole in one, and tried not to let the pride show too much on his face.

“Ten for me,” he said but Everly shook her head.

“Five,” she said, still upside down. Will put her right side up and handed her back the pink putter.

“Five?” Santi spluttered, unable to believe that he was truly being swindled by a freshly five year old. Everly nodded but offered no explanation as to why, not that anyone should have expected one.

The rest of the game passed with the rules somehow becoming even more blurred and the sabotage tactics becoming more and more thought out and almost vicious.

By the final hole, the Everly and Benny Perfect Princess Posse was ahead by six hundred points, but how that happened was anyone’s guess. Everly stepped up to hit her final ball, her tiny face serious with determination.

“Remember what I told you,” Benny called out, “Five Guys for a year!”

Frankie glared at his friend. “I didn’t agree to that.” Benny shrugged innocently.

“Too late,” he said. Frankie made a mental note to never leave Everly and Benny alone again, if this was the kind of schemes they got up to.

Everly hit her final ball with all the flair and pazazz of a true princess.

“A hundred!” She cried out as the ball landed several feet away from the hole. She sprinted forward before anyone could stop her, and kicked the ball with her sandaled foot, kicking until the ball landed neatly in the hole.

“I win!” She jumped up and down, pumping her arms in victory. Benny whooped and ran to scoop her up, placing her on his shoulders, running a victory lap around the final turf.

“Remind me how many five year olds are here today,” Will muttered. Frankie grinned, happy to see his daughter so damn elated.

“Cake and Five Guys! Cake and Five Guys!” Benny and Everly were chanting. Frankie found himself agreeing to the plan, scooping Everly into his arms.

After all, it wasn’t every day your daughter turned five.

#triple frontier #triple frontier boys #frankie morales #will Miller #Benny Miller #Santiago Garcia

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wingblade1357 · 4 years

Text

Here is that drama of Lilia and Hikari lol

originally I just plan to write a script like story, but... but... it turn to a full chapter, standing in 1000 words. Enjoy~~

this chapter was inspired by a song I’ve been listening to for a while. It is by an Indonesia singer, Raisa. The song is titled “Kali Kedua” or “The Second Time”. I’ll link the English lyrics so you guys can understand the lyrics.

Raisa, Kali Kedua English Lyrics

“I wish I had a camera with me now.”

“Lilia, you know you can just poof up a camera right here right now.”

The fae chuckled and with a wave of his hand, a camera appeared out of thin air. “Smile, my dear~~” he said and the girl posed a peace sign with both of her hands. “The three of you are so adorable~” he sighed fondly, cooing at the image.

“Surprisingly, they’re both heavy sleepers.” The brunette gently placed her hand on the little boy’s head, brushing his bangs away. “Silver, I expected, but Sebek? I didn’t know he could fall asleep five seconds after laying down.”

Lilia magically made the camera disappeared. He kneeled down. “Well, I guess you’ve worn them both out. They were so energetic during the whole day when you agreed to play with them.” he observed Silver’s sleeping face, smiling at the boy’s peaceful expression. “But bedtime is bedtime.” he took the little boy into his arms.

The brunette grinned as she gently lifted Sebek into her arms. The boy stirred in his sleep, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck as he wrapped his arm around her. The two caretakers made their way back to the castle, ready to tuck the two little boys into their beds. The two boys and the babysitter had snuck out to go on a night stroll and stargaze by the castle’s garden.

Lilia looked down. “I think they just want to spend more time with you.” he said with his eyes closed. Hikari looked at the shorter man before turning her gaze to the boy in her arms. She patted his back gently, a small smile across her lips. “They knew you were leaving tomorrow. The both of them managed to convince me to skip today’s lesson, so they can play with you.”

“How sweet.” Hikari cooed. “I didn’t think they'd like me at first since they thought I was a scary thief coming to harm the Young Lord.” she laughed at the memory while also keeping her voice down.

Oh how could Lilia forget?

The fae chuckled. “It was amusing.”

“Partly my fault for always coming here with a dark cape and all that…” the brunette sighed.

“How time flies.”

“That was only two weeks ago, but yes. Time flies when you’re having fun.”

The two finally reached the boys’ room and tucked them to bed.

Hikari gently closed the door and she raised an eyebrow when she caught Lilia staring at her. She raised her eyebrows, a slanted smile appearing on her lips when the fae didn’t look away. “What? Did Sebek and Silver draw something on my face?”

Lilia chuckled into his fist. “You look fine, my dear.” he reassured and the girl childishly wiped invincible sweat off of her forehead. He couldn’t help but smile whenever she was around. Whatever silly gesture or whatever jokes, he couldn’t help himself. “Are you sure you can’t stay for a few more days? For the boys?” he asked, tilting his head a little.

“You know I can’t…” Hikari answered with a soft sigh. She glanced to look at the boys’ room. “But I’m considering it… just to you know… see their adorable reactions.” she hummed, rubbing her chin as she began to reconsider.

Lilia smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He knew she was just joking. “May I take you out for a stroll in the garden, my dear?” he bowed like a gentleman, holding his arm for her to hook her own arm with him.

“Why, of course.” The wielder did a curtsy before linking her arms with his.

The night was chilly. The early Autumn breeze gently blows from the north. The moon was bright, shining above them like a spotlight and illuminating their way as they took a peaceful stroll around the garden.

“So... “ Hikari began, stretching the o. “Whatcha wanna talk about?”

“You know me too well.” Lilia chuckled. They’ve known each other for quite awhile and while Hikari often leaves after two weeks of staying with him and Malleus in the Valley of Thorns, they manage to build up a bond like no other. The strongest knights, brave and powerful. “A question for a fair lady.”

“Alright, hit me with your quiz!”

“What does being a wielder mean to you?” Lilia questioned, stopping in his tracks, making the brunette walking beside him stop as well.

Hikari blinked. “Huh…” it was a heavy question and judging from Lilia’s expression he was serious about it. She wasn’t sure why Lilia brought it up again. They had this conversation before, where he asked if she always wanted to be a wielder. “It means everything. I wouldn’t be able to protect anyone or meet all of you if I hadn’t accepted the keyblade.” she answered honestly.

Lilia sighed softly, a wistful smile. “I knew you would say that.” they were by the fountain area. The sound of the water from the fountain and the crickets chirping were the only one that could be heard as the two were basked in silence. “Each visit leaves a wider gap. Hundreds of years have passed since we’ve known each other. We don’t truly know when you will return to your own time and your own world.”

Hikari followed him closer to the fountain and waited for him to continue.

“Which is why, my dear, tonight… I’m confessing my feelings to you.”

The brunette turned to look at him, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

“Lilia…” Hikari bit her bottom lip. There were mixed feelings. He could see it all. “May I ask since when did you start having these feelings?”

“354 years ago.” Lilia answered honestly. “The battle with the Heartless was what made my feeling clear that you are more than just a fellow knight.”

“I’m so sorry.” The first thing that came out of her mouth was an apology. She was frustrated at herself. “I didn’t know. Lilia, I’m so sorry.”

The fae gave her a smile, shaking his head.

He chuckled, tilting his chin up to gaze at the moon. “I wanted to let you know before I regret not saying anything.” He turned his gaze to look at her again, gently taking her hands into his. “I respect your position as a wielder, but there’s a selfish part of me that wishes for you to stay by my side.”

“Lilia… You know I can’t… This is not my timeline.” The wielder didn’t know she could feel so many emotions at the same time. Her position as a wielder made it mandatory for her not to stay, but her friendship and feelings for the fae made her think twice. She had never thought about him that way, but as soon as he confessed, she began to think of all the times they spent together. “I might cause something bad to happen if I stay too long.”

“I know…” Lilia gave a bittersweet smile. “But I was hoping you would reconsider. I’m not just a regular fae with a few years worth of knowledge.”

Hikari cupped his cheeks, staring down at him. “Lilia… You deserve someone better. I made you wait for 354 years.” she looked at him straight in the eyes. “I would just hurt you more.”

Lilia brought Hikari’s hand up to his lips. He kissed her knuckles gently, his bright eyes staring at her.

“And I wouldn’t mind waiting for another thousand.”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #hikari #oc #lilia vanrouge #silver #sebek zigvolt #writings #draft fic

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

Text

Nyx x Tamlin’s daughter part 3

Y’all cannot stop me from writing this series 😭😭I want to write more gwynriel, but the thought of a love triangle has angered me once again, so my hyper fixation has transferred elsewhere.

If you have any suggestion for future fics leave a comment below.

"Do you think mates are as rare as the Fae say? Everyone in my life seems to have a mate, yet lore claims it to be rare." Nyx turned his head from his spot next to Isa in the meadow. They laid right next to each other as they stared up at the sky. Close enough to touch, yet not feeling it necessary in the moment.

"That iz odd that your entire family iz mated." She laughed. "Your family are the only mates I have ever met, so I would say it iz rare for everyone except them." He sighed deeply.

"What troubles you?" Isa turned her head away from the sky to look at Nyx.

"What if I never get a mate?"

"Then you never get a mate."

"Isa, I am being serious right now." He groaned as he lifted himself up onto his elbows, so that he could look at her without the grass getting in the way.

"I am too. It will happen or it will not happen. No point in fretting over it." She shrugged as if it truly did not bother her. Nyx did not understand her.

"You really do not care if you ever find a mate?"

"I do not need a mate to find love or pleasure."

"But what if you find your mate while with someone else?" He felt the need to point out. He could not love someone while his mate was still out there. Nyx thought it selfish to love someone with the knowledge they were not his mate. What would they do once he did find his mate? What would he do?

"Like my father and your mother?" Isa raised an eyebrow at this.

"Well not exactly like that, but yes I suppose." Nyx laid himself back on the grass and looked back up at the sky. Isa turned her head away after a minute as well.

"Well if they were truly my mate, then they would wait for me. And if the person I was with is not my mate, then fate has us ending at some point, no? I would let everything occur naturally I suppose."

"If you were my mom, would you have left Tamlin for my father if he had not been awful?" Nyx had always been curious about Isa's opinion on the matter. She always seemed so spiteful of Feyre that perhaps she had heard a different story than what Nyx knew to be true.

"Yes. I would have found myself unhappy with life as a wife. I was made for so much more than that." She let out a deep sigh. Nyx contemplated her answer. He supposed that to be true. He could not imagine Isa playing house wife to anyone, but especially one that expected her to pop out babies and display herself only when beneficial to them.

"Would you ever marry?" He asked. She seemed quick to offer a marriage proposal to Nyx when they first met, but that had obviously been a joke.

"For love?" She shrugged. "I am far more likely to marry for political power than I am for love. I am strides behind with alliances among the seven high lords. When I take power the Spring Court will be weak simply because I am unknown of. Other courts will test my strength and intelligence."

"That is strategic." He also felt it was sad. She clearly was not a romantic at heart like he was. "I want more from life than power. I want what my parents have. Is that too much to ask for?" Nyx found himself frustrated with the fact that he had not found his mate yet. He had to keep reminding himself that it took his father five hundred years and his grandfather nine hundred years. It might make him mad if he had to wait that long though.

"I shall pray to the spirits about it."

"About what?"

A noise interrupted them before she could respond. Both of them stood quickly to surveil their surroundings. They saw nothing, but moved to put their backs to each other so that they could not be blindsided. Isa pulled her two short swords from their sheaths as Nyx prepared his ax and shield.

"What was that?" He whispered to her. She shushed him as they turned simultaneously with their backs still firmly placed together.

"Let's get out of here." She finally responded back but before he could respond a figured winnowed right in front of each of them and blew a powdery substance onto them. They winnowed away again just as Isa lifted one sword.

"Shit." She muttered. Nyx tried to winnow only to discover that he could not. Fucking faebane he thought. Nyx's hand went slack around his ax, and then a group of six males approached them. They came at them from Isa's side so Nyx turned to face the males. He stumbled a bit. The line of Fae males stopped about twenty paces away. Nyx did not recognize them. It was possible that Isa did, but she did not say otherwise as they stood across from them. Each male was armed with a weapon and a shield.

"I will take the three on the left. You got the other three?" She asked. He did not respond as she ran towards them. He wanted to wait to let them make the first move, but after she started running, the assailants came forward as well.

He seemed caught in a trance, watching Isa fight. One of her swords clashed with the tallest male while she simultaneously swiped at another one of the fighters. The tallest one swung his arm out, almost decapitating Isa, but she bent backward at the last second. She sliced an artery in one of their legs before checking her surroundings. Nyx assumed she was looking for him, but he had not yet moved for some reason. The second of distraction allowed for the tall one to cut her arm. It was so deep that Nyx swore he could see the bone all the way from here. The only acknowledgment of pain from Isa was a grunt, and then she ran her sword right through him. Nyx was jostled from his trance by an approaching fighter. Surprisingly, he walked up to him at a leisurely pace. Isa, once again, glanced back.

"Nyx!" She shouted as the male lifted his weapon. Isa tried to run back towards Nyx, but was tackled to the ground as she started to flee. Right before the male delivered the killing blow, his face started to droop. Nyx stared in horror as his face appeared to be melting off. The assailant went to grab at his face as he stumbled away from Nyx. His screams would haunt Nyx's nightmares for a very long time after this. He looked for Isa again. She was slicing the neck of one of the males on his knees. To his surprise though, her tattoos were glowing. She used witch magic, he realized.

"Move your ass, Nyx." She shouted from where she engaged all three males.

He continued to find himself surprised that they focused all their attention on her. He was not proving to be much of a threat, he supposed. He willed himself to move towards Isa, but something stopped him. He wanted to help his friend, he truly did. Her use of blood magic made things complicated. He did not want to be associated with the mayhem that was bound to be the consequences of it. As she took out her fourth male, the last two winnowed away. He watched her take a deep breathe of relief. Their eyes made contact, but before she could start berating him, the males reappeared right in front of Nyx.

"Fight!" Isa shouted. Nyx assumed his reflexes were worse than he originally thought because he did not move a muscle. The males smiled at each other and then they burst in flames. It horrified Nyx to watch them burn, to hear their pleas and screams. He could do nothing to stop it. He flicked his eyes to Isa as she intently watched the burning men. Her tattoos were glowing still, and she was reciting something. He could not hear her, but watched as her lips moved. After what felt like an eternity, the males were nothing but ash. He could hear their screams echoing in his ears though.

"Vat da fook vaz dat?"

It was the thickest he had ever heard her accent which meant she was spitting mad. He could not necessarily fault her for her anger, but he was in shock. Even in war, he had not quite seen brutality to that extent in a fight. Nyx continued to stare at the body with the face that Isa melted off. His eyes flickered back to her. She was breathing heavily and had a deep cut on her arm that she was now trying to twist around with a ripped piece of cloth from her dress. Her tattoos were no longer glowing, but several new ones appeared on her hands and fingers. They looked similar to her others, but now they were bright red and irritated as if someone had scratched them into her skin instead of tattooing ink. She wiped sweat and dirt away from her forehead and roughly pulled her hair away from her bruised face in a messy updo.

"Are you actually insane?" Isa asked.

She was more composed now as she slipped into strategic mode. She was planning on what to do now since Nyx was obviously going to be of no assistance and they could not winnow for probably a few more hours. He continued to stare at the bodies, thinking of how easy it seemed for her to do this. Even now, she seemed unbothered.

"I mean when Lucien said you were a mediocre fighter, I assumed that meant you vould at least fight. Not just stand there as I did all the work."

She was digging through all their pockets rather roughly. She was looking for any identifying information from their attackers, but it only managed to annoy Nyx. She did not have any respect for the dead if this was how she handled their bodies.

"You melted his face off." Was all he could say. Her head snapped up to glare at him harder than she ever had anyone else. She was upon him in an instant, shoving him by his shoulders.

"To save your unhelpful ass!" She screeched.

"You set these two on fire!"

"Well I apologize that in the heat of battle I did not consider more humane methods of death." She turned to walk away.

"My father was right." He muttered to himself. Isa stopped cold in her tracks, slowly turning around. Her face was void of emotion.

"Say that again." Her voice was deathly calm. It unnerved Nyx after what he had just witnessed.

"You have claimed that witch magic is not malevolent. Clearly, your definition is a bit skewed."

"I make no apologies for how I save the people I love. And you have no right to pass judgement when you just stood there and watched! You vould have let them butcher me, yet I am the immoral one?"

They both recognized what she accidentally admitted but neither of them was willing to call attention to it or address it.

"Why did it have to be like that though? You could have used any method."

"That iz not how it works." She grabbed at her hair, clearly frustrated. "I request the help from the spirits and they oblige. I do not get a choice in the manner of their help. But trust me, it iz not without a price."

"What is the price for this?"

She pursed her lips. She would not tell him what she must give for saving both of their lives.

"You have been waiting to throw this back in my face, no? Waiting for one moment where you could prove your parents were not in the wrong?" Isa was pacing back and forth at this point, but her tattoos had finally stopped glowing.

"Trust me, I never expected something like this from you." Nyx spat at her. He wanted to reel in his anger. However, he found it almost impossible.

"Do not zit on your high horse and pretend your father would not have done the exact same thing for your mother."

"We are not my parents." He reminded her. She tried to compose herself before Nyx could see her reaction. Unfortunately for her, she was not fast enough. Nyx watched her flinch at his vehement response.

"Vell you are certainly right about that. Neither of your parents would have stood and vatched as the other risked their life."

He had no excuse for why he stood there. Normally, he would have fought side by side with her. He had fought in battles before and he thought he had seen all the evils war had to offer. This was a completely different level. While they had been outnumbered, the males were unskilled and untrained. Isa could have held them off alone with no magic. It may have required more effort, but Nyx believed any magic was unnecessary. As much as he wanted to help, for some reason his body refused to move. The faebane the attackers used did not allow for them to winnow away, but Nyx had never heard of it impacting the body physically.

"You could have shape shifted." She laughed almost hysterically at that.

"If you knew what my other form vaz, you vould realize that death by it vould not be lezz brutal."

He shook his head and finally moved from his position. He started scouting the area to make sure there were no more assailants hiding anywhere.

"Oh, zo now you are helpful?" It was full of sarcasm as she rolled her eyes. She plopped herself down on the ground and closed her eyes.

Nyx was not exactly sure why he was so angry. Perhaps it was because he felt embarrassed that she saved both of them while he stood there like a statue. Perhaps he felt lied to like everything she had ever defended was really just a scheme to win over the Night Court. But truly? It had more to do with the fact that if he had aided Isa, she would not have felt the need to use her witch magic.

"Damn-ti your parents to come retrieve us." She demanded after laying down on the grass and covering her eyes with the crook of her arm to block out the sun.

Now why could he not think of that before? Just another thought to make him feel guilty. He almost corrected her enunciation like he normally did, but he stopped himself in the last second.

"Oh and next time, a zimple thank you vould suvice."

***

"What the hell happened?" Tamlin shouted as Feyre and Rhysand winnowed in Isa and Nyx. Isa was looking worse for wear, but since neither of the children were talking, the high lord and lady did not have an answer. Tamlin zeroed in on Isa's hands and the new tattoos that were present.

"Oh Isa," his voice changed and was suddenly much graver than it had been. "What have you done?"

"Vat I had to." She snapped as she dropped herself down on the couch in Tamlin's study. She was exhausted after the fight and just wanted to sleep.

"Well you look fucking fine." Tamlin turned his glare to Nyx from where he stood in front of his desk. "Care to explain why you leave with my daughter in perfect condition, and return her home on the brink of collapse?"

Nyx clenched his jaw. He did not want to say anything in front of Tamlin or his daughter. He wanted to go home and talk to his parents. Though, his parents kept giving him nervous glances, so he was unsure if they would be willing to do that right about now.

"Just leave it." Isa muttered. Her eyes were closed with her good arm thrown over her face. Rhysand scanned Isa's entire body. His eyes rested on her hands like Tamlin's had.

"What did you give? To protect our son?" His voice was soft and his eyes were sad. He must have known more than Nyx about potential consequences of witch magic. Feyre sat next to Isa on the couch to grab her hand. Nyx was confused by his parents change of heart where Isa was concerned. Previously, they had always been antagonistic towards her, but now they were being...soft.

"My first born." She muttered. Feyre sucked in a harsh breath as Tamlin closed his eyes in frustration. Nyx did not know how to feel. She was willing to give up her first child for him? He felt that only proved his point further. What kind of female was willing to give up a future child for a male she barely knew just three months ago? And one that was not even her mate? Nyx furrowed his brow.

"I never asked you to do that." He defended, but he was only met with three pairs of glaring eyes that told him to remain quiet. Isa must have been exhausted though because her response was understanding.

"I know."

Tamlin did not understand, however. He pounded his fist on the desk.

"Isabelle, you are my only offspring. It is your responsibility to continue the family line. There will be no one to succeed after you die, if you do not conceive multiple children. You know how difficult this is for the fae." Something he said ignited a fire in Isa. She immediately sat up from the couch to glare at her father.

"That iz not a fair responsibility to put on me! You could have more children! All you would have to do iz stick it in a different woman everyday until one stuck."

"Isabelle, watch your mouth." He scolded her as though she were a child. Tamlin walked back around the desk and took a seat. Isa took a long, deep breath before speaking again.

"I do not," she paused nervously, looking around. "Think I vant children." She finished. Isa rubbed her hands together in a way that she normally did when she felt anxious. Suddenly, Nyx felt his parents and him should not be here for this conversation. It felt private. Nyx never knew Isa may not want children. They had never really discussed it, but had assumed- as much as Tamlin did, apparently- that she would have at least one to continue the line.

"Oh." Tamlin awkwardly shifted in his chair. He made eye contact with Feyre and tried to motion to her to say some words of comfort. Feyre patted Isa's arm gently.

"You might change your mind once you find your mate?" Feyre offered unhelpfully. Tamlin put her on the spot and she was unsure what words of comfort Isa may be seeking. Those were not it if her reaction was anything to go by. She huffed loudly.

"Does not matter now, no? I cannot have children without sacrificing the first one which I vill not do. Besides, I am no mare meant for breeding. I vas meant for something more than being stuck at home caring for and nurturing a child."

"That is hardly a fair assessment of motherhood Isa." Feyre shook her head as she said this. "You can still do great things and be a mother."

"Are you to tell me that you took trips to the Court of nightmares to handle izzues while Rhysand stayed home and breastfed Nyx?" Isa raised her eyebrows at his mother. "That you vere able train amongst Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel while pregnant? Vould you have ever earned the title 'cursebreaker' if you had been a mother at the time?"

"Motherhood is not without challenge." Feyre once again defended.

"And that is what I speak of. I do not want challenge. I have too many obstacles to overcome as it is. I do not want to add the obligation of a child to that." Isa pulled at her hair. Nyx felt it best that he stay quiet. There were too many emotions flying as it was, no need to add fuel to the fire.

"Enough." Tamlin declared. "Isa, you are right. I should never have put that responsibility on you. I could just as easily have another child."

Isa let out a breathe in relief. Nyx could see that she feared disappointing her father. He wondered if she would have had multiple children if Tamlin had insisted on it. Luckily for Isa, Tamlin seemed to have changed his ways from when his mother and him were together.

"I think it is best if you were to leave." Tamlin suggested as he stared at Nyx's parents. "I need to check on Isa's wounds and continue this conversation...privately." Feyre nodded before walking over to where Rhysand stood.

"Thank you again, Isa." Rhys murmured before grabbing both wife and son and winnowing away.

"Thank fuck." Is all Isa managed to say.

#nyx acotar #tamlins daughter #tamlin #rhysand #feyre archeron #acotar

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salty-ironstrange-shipper · 3 years

Note

Could you maybe post a long-ass list of good ironstrange fics because at this point, there's nothing else to do and you seem like you have great taste

puppets on a string

Summary: Stephen Strange is a villain. But a hot one.

Words: 103,206 (incomplete)

This fic is courtesy of our very own @funkylittlebidiot, so definitely give it a read!

Find a Way (to break the fall)

Summary: Stephen didn't think about it anymore. It had been buried deep beneath all the other shit he'd had to live through in the last couple of years and it didn't impact his day to day life in any way whatsoever. Until the day it does.

Words: 2,170

This one is short, but emotional and impactful. Warning for discussions of past rape/non-con.

The Brands We Carry

Summary: Tony Stark is almost thirteen years old when he gets ready to settle down to bed one early-early-morning and happens to look in the mirror on his childhood wall and catches sight of a circular brand on the skin above his heart.

“About fucking time,” Tony mutters, and goes to sleep without bothering to tell anybody he just cussed out a baby that’s only just crying its way into its new life somewhere on the planet.

The date is February 17, 1983. Happy birthday, whoever you are. Took you long enough.

Or: Tony Stark and Stephen Strange are soulmates. You'd think that would mean they would be perfect for each other right from the start, but it turns out that their soulbond is a long path of mutual distrust, dislike, and miscommunication. Just their luck.

Words: 10,497

I love a good soulmate au, and this is a good soulmate au. Very interesting look at both characters and also what happens if someone’s soulmate has a not insignificant age gap (though they only meet in person for the first time as adults)

A Crown of Thorn and Shadows

Summary: Anthony Stark, King of Blood and Darkness, ruler of the Unseelie court, did not expect to find Prince Stephen Strange of the Seelie chained up in his torture chamber, cold iron being driven into his hands. Stephen Strange, a Seelie healer, never dreamed of finding himself in the court of nightmares, being cared for by the king that the Seelie called a monster. They must work together to find the traitors in two Faerie courts that have not spoken in over six hundred years and reclaim Stephen's memories before the courts descend into war once more.

Words: 58,465

Wonderful fantasy au, great worldbuilding and relationship buildup. Lots of fun.

Villain Stephen Strange and His Obsession with Tony Stark

Summary: Just a bunch of prompty oneshots that are partially based but 100% inspired by Tumblr IronStrange Posts. Rated T-M

Words: 1,029

Do I even have to explain it? This is just fun.

Ten times outta nine, I’m a hand grenade

Summary: Though neither remembered that night, it turns out that Tony Stark and Stephen Strange had first encountered each other years earlier. Unfortunately, that might end up destroying the universe.

Words: 419,141

This is a loooooooooong boi. But oh, it’s a good one. Stephen and Tony basically go back in time, change the universe, and fall in love. It’s everything you could want from them. Complete with romance, angst, drama, and humor.

Where Severus Snape is hot, not a stalker, and somehow gets the girl

Summary: And then, as if he wasn’t already the most embarrassing estranged biological dad ever, Tony stopped in his tracks, raised his sunglasses (because of course he would wear sunglasses inside a lecture hall in April), and gave Professor Strange the most blatant, sustained once-over in the history of fuckboyness.

Then he put down his glasses, shot a winning smile at the teacher, and said, “Well, I’m Tony Stark, of course.”Or: Peter Parker is sick and wants to cut his Neuroscience class. Tony just wants to help (and maybe date his son's hot teacher). Stephen Strange just wants to give his lecture in peace.

Words: 2,387

Stephen is a college professor. Peter is his student. Tony is having too much fun with this.

You Remind Me of a Man

Summary: Tony Stark cannot stand the overly opinionated and egotistical Dr. Strange and the feeling is extremely mutual.

Words: 44,788

Perfect no-powers au for them. They’re assholes who fall in love and see another side to each other. It’s amazing, 10/10 would recommend.

I am here

Summary: There’s a technical reason Stephen must surrender the Time Stone to save Tony’s life. It has to be done, and that’s enough for him to do it. But just in case, the universe decides to give him a personal reason as well.

Words: 11,708

This one is so soft. Basically, while looking through time, Stephen keeps showing up in the past at various points throughout Tony’s life. And then they fall in love! Good for them.

T For Tony

Summary: Your soul mark is the first letter of your soulmate's name. Stephen has an 'A'. But he's in love with Tony. Cue anxiety, jealousy, angst.

Words: 2,794

They’re so stupid in this fic. It’s great. It took them so much effort to remember Anthony starts with an A. (I still think this fic should’ve been titled A For Tony, but I didn’t write it, so)

something taken, something new

Summary: The ChronicConnection implement and app allows a person that lives with chronic or illness-induced pain to transfer their burden temporarily to a willing loved one. Tony and Stephen sign up as beta testers.

Words: 14,541.

I must’ve recced this a thousand times ..... AND I’LL DO IT AGAIN. THIS FIC IS THE PERFECT MIXTURE OF SOFT AND ANGST AND IF YOU DON’T READ IT, YOU’RE WRONG.

15 Million

Summary: For every alternate reality there were ten thousand alternate realities from that. And from those ten thousand more. And then ten thousand more off each of those. And so it goes.

The Avengers win once. There’s ten thousand versions of it.

Stephen Strange doesn’t know what to make of the fact that Tony Stark seems to be *his* victory.

Words: 2,755

Obligatory “Stephen looks through 15 million possible futures and falls in love with Tony in the process fic”. Can’t have a fic rec list without it.

Hero Swap AU

Summary: It's a boring day for the Avengers until Tony Stark attacks.

Words: 17,391.

Just pure, fun crack.

Only a Matter of Time

Summary: Captured by aliens, mistaken for a mating pair, Tony and Stephen find themselves having the universe’s most awkward honeymoon.

Words: 6,056.

Smut. Good smut, though.

Sunrise in Exile

Summary: Tony does the math and realizes their best chance to save the universe is by... not confronting Thanos on his own turf.

So he steals a wizard and a spider and a space ship. And he runs.

(Three humans and an A.I in space, the alien friendships they make along the way, and discovering how science and magic might coexist in a universe where they can be one and the same.)

Words: 352,079 (incomplete, has not been updated in a while)

A long fic set during Infinity War where they just ... run away to space. And it’s great.

Rewriting Icarus

Summary: Stephen and Tony, from the beginning to the end and beyond.

Words: 23,504

Pre-powers AU, except they fall in love then get powers. Sad, angsty, beautiful.

variations on a theme

Summary: Stephen sees into millions of possibilities and finds only one where they win, but he never expected to end up falling in love with Tony Stark in almost every single one of them.

Words: 5,134

Another Stephen looks through the possible futures and falls in love with Tony? ... Guess you can’t have just one.

Five’s A Party

Summary: It's an orgy fic, I'm not sure what else to say

Words: 2,639

... Not much I can add to that. Magic smut.

A Lapse in Judgement

Summary: Stephen, the newly minted Sorcerer Supreme, is strong, powerful, and in control of his life in every micromanaged detail, because failure to do so could result in (another) cataclysmic event within the universe. He is. But then Stephen accepts an off-handed offer to spar from Tony Stark – a man who is Stephen’s non-magical equal, a man who Stephen barely sees outside of bi-weekly meetings and the few and far between fight against a villain – and Stark discovers Stephen’s biggest weakness, his most hateful secret that is a deeply fundamental part of Stephen’s psyche.

Except instead of judgement, and horror, and disgust, Stark meets him halfway, and a lapse in judgement turns into a possibility that could change their lives forever.

Words: 22,694

This is the first of a series which was just updated (haven’t finished reading the new part yet, looking forward to it) and is just a really good, surprisingly soft and emotional BDSM series/fic.

Ironstrange Fics and Ironstrange Cinematic Universe

Oh, how did these get here?

Yes, I’m reccing my own work. I’ve written 29 fics and 377,132 words for this ship, I think I’m entitled.

Ironstrange Fics is a collection of every ironstrange fic I’ve written, short, long, sweet, angst, and everything in between. Ironstrange Cinematic Universe (itself responsible for 49% of those 377k words) is my ironstrange rewrite of the MCU specifically. Please read, enjoy, and leave comments, I’m not updating any fics for a couple of weeks and I need the validation.

#long post #very long post #asks #incorrect-ironstrange #ironstrange #fic recs #fanfiction #ironstrange fanfiction #my fanfiction #Anonymous

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emsylcatac · 4 years

Text

Compatible

Summary:

When Ladybug brings some of the old magazines she used to read as a teenager to a sleepover with Chat Noir, they end up doing an 'Adrien Agreste compatibility test', something that she has done more than once as a teenager.

There's no way her partner could beat her at it and get a higher score than her. No way.

Read it on AO3

Ladynoir identity reveal commission for @multibug ♥ | Donation drive @mlbforblm

Thank you so much again for beta-reading this, @rosekasa ♥

The proceeds of this commission go to Color of Change, a racial justice organisation centered on the Black Lives Matter movement!

You can learn more about MLB for BLM & the different contributors on the blog, and you can view info for commissioning me for art or fics here!

You’re of course very welcome to commission any of our talented contributors and donate if you can! Otherwise you can help us to spread the word by reblogging the different posts from the blog! Thanks for your help ♥🤜🤛

* * * * *

Ladybug looked around the room at the mess she and Chat Noir had left from the evening before. Scattered UNO cards on the table, empty glasses and half empty bottles of wine and cider, a plate with only three or four cookies left, and abandoned game controllers on ottomans in front of the small TV.

They always left a mess when they had a sleepover together; always because they went to bed way too late and were too tired to clean it all.

She loved that.

She turned her head to look at her partner half-sitting beside her on the sofa bed. The sheets were pulled up his waist, and he was wearing a dark grey t-shirt v-neck as a pajama that suited him particularly well. She herself was wearing a red with tiny black polka-dots tank top, and a pair of small black pajama shorts.

Chat Noir was smiling at whatever he was reading on his phone. Ladybug propped her head on his shoulder, but kept her gaze away from the device.

“What are you looking at?”

He kept silent a few seconds, still grinning, before answering. “I told my best friend about what my supervisor said to me yesterday. He’s telling me he’s gonna buy an electric racket for mosquitoes and slap him with it.”

Ladybug chuckled. “I like your friend.”

Chat Noir was doing an internship somewhere in the city, and while it seemed like he enjoyed it, his supervisor sounded everything but kind to him. Something Ladybug couldn’t understand, knowing how nice her partner was.

“I thought you would,” he replied, turning his phone off and putting it on the nightstand.

After defeating Hawkmoth four years ago, Ladybug and Chat Noir had both taken a break to focus on their studies. He had been somewhere abroad from what she gathered; she had studied in another city. Now they were both back in Paris and had been for a year; a new threat needing the heroes had arisen.

It had been good to see her partner and best friend again after all this time, a deliverance of sorts. Being older opened up to a lot more freedom than they had as young teenagers: they were more lenient regarding their identities, for one. Ladybug even offered more than once to reveal each other, but Chat Noir told her he was not quite ready yet. It had surprised her a lot, but if he needed time, she would let him take it.

Still, it hadn’t kept them from getting even closer than they used to be.

Ladybug wished they could be even closer. She suspected that Chat Noir probably did, too, yet neither of them pushed for it. The very comfortable friendship they had now established was both a blessing and a curse in that regard.

While it was easier for her to stay at her parent’s house for now, Chat Noir had had a new personal studio. It wasn’t big; just the kind of place you’d expect from any average student having to rent a far too expensive place for what it was, courtesy of living in Paris—but it was enough. It was great to plot against their enemy… or for sleepovers, a habit they had taken soon after he got it.

Chat Noir looked at the pile of old magazines she had brought—they were the ones she read as a teenager, the ones she gossiped about with Alya during their sleepovers. She had thought it could be fun to try that with him, even if they were definitely not up to date.

“We forgot to read those!” he exclaimed, getting up.

She watched as he closed his eyes to pick one at random, and brought it back to the bed.

“Which one did you get?”

“Let’s see… oooh, ‘Clara Rossignole is looking for a Ladybug and a Chat Noir for her next music video’”, he read aloud. “Wow. How old is that stuff?”

“Er, I think I must have been fifteen or something so… Seven years old?”

“Amazing! Exactly what I need to keep up with the latest juicy gossip!” He grinned.

Ladybug laughed and leaned on his shoulder to have a better look at the magazine. She remembered that one with this cover very well, it was the one where there was a personality test about—

“‘How compatible are you with teen model Adrien Agreste’, page 21.” Chat Noir fake-gasped. “Spiiicy! Let’s do it!”

As he opened the magazine, Ladybug hoped that it wouldn’t be too obvious to see how easy it was to find the page right away. Despite the years that had passed, the page was still bearing the marks of having been opened and opened again and stared at for far too long, more than any other.

If he noticed, Chat Noir chose not to comment.

He grabbed a four-coloured pen on his nightstand. “Wow, my Lady, that’s a lot of ink on there! We can barely see the little symbols in front of the answers.”

Well. She had had to take the test more than once to get a better score. She’d been aiming for a hundred percent compatibility, a hundred-and-one if she was lucky, or over-compatible—as she should have been back then according to herself.

Not that she would admit that to him.

“I had done it with friends. That’s why it’s so… inky.”

Chat Noir hummed, suspicious, but didn’t push further.

“And it doesn’t work with symbols, it’s a points system. So we can’t cheat,” she added.

She would know. She had tried.

He snorted. “You remember this surprisingly well, Buguinette.”

She didn’t comment on that very accurate observation. Instead, she dropped a kiss on his cheek.

“Why do you want to do that test anyway?”

“Because it’s fun! And to see if I can get a better score than you,” he said.

She scoffed. “As if you would win! I’m unbeatable at this.”

That made him snicker. “Unlike with UNO?”

She glared at him at that and pulled her head away from his shoulder. He brought her back with an arm around her, and kissed her temple apologetically.

She begrudgingly accepted the kiss. Very begrudgingly. (She couldn’t help but smile at the contact of his lips).

(She also couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him).

“So,” Chat Noir went on, “what do we have for the first question… Oooh, ‘which colour is your favourite? Green, Blue, Pink or Red?’,” he raised a brow. “That’s not a lot of choices in my opinion.”

“Blue,” Ladybug automatically answered.

Chat Noir snorted. “No, yours is pink Bugacheat, I know that well enough,” and he circled the answer in red. “However, mine is blue.”

“Maybe I changed favourite colour.”

“No, you didn’t,” he replied flatly. She pouted. “Next question. ‘What is your favourite season?’”

Ladybug pondered. She liked all seasons, after all; they each had their charm.

“Can’t we pick all of them?”

“Well, apparently you can’t because, according to this very accurate magazine, Adrien Agreste has only one favourite season.”

“Write ‘autumn’, then,” she decided.

He circled it in red for her, and circled spring in green for him.

“Okay, ‘how many times do you blink in the span of a minute? Fifteen, eighteen, twenty or twenty-two”, he frowned. “Where did they even get these information?”

“They have very good sources.”

“Sure,” he snorted. “Does Adrien Agreste himself even know the answer to that?”

“Well, of course, it’s in the magazine,” she laughed.

She knew it couldn’t really be trusted, but she liked to take these facts as straight science when she was younger.

“God, these tests are so bad,” Chat Noir shook his head. “How is that suppose to tell you if you’re compatible with him or not?”

“Hey! Don’t criticise my magazine or you’ll offend mini-me!”

“Well, Babybug, I think the questions from your magazine are dumb. And I’m answering… I don’t know... eighteen maybe?”

“Put twenty-two for me,” she said proudly.

She remembered the answer corresponding to Adrien’s to that question, but he didn’t need to know that.

They went on like that through the rest of the test, from morning routine to favourite scent—“Ew, why are one of the answers camembert?”— and gut reaction when faced with an akuma—“you would jump off of a building, Kitty”. Ladybug tried to answer what ‘Adrien’ would do instead of herself, and Chat Noir corrected her each time—“I choose passion fruits!” - “there’s a reason you always take strawberry ice-creams, my Lady. You can’t fool me!” — until they arrived at the end of the test.

“Aaaaand I’ve got a score of…” Chat Noir paused, looking and calculating the results, “eighty-six percent! While you, on the other hand, despite trying to cheat on at least five questions—”

“Hey!”

“—have a score of… Aw, only forty-one!”

“What?!” Ladybug all but screamed.

“Ah, yes, it looks like I beat you Buguinette!” The little shit sounded so proud with himself.

“There’s no way your score is higher than mine,” she said, snatching the magazine from his hands and scrupulously recounting the points herself.

There was no way, indeed.

And yet.

Chat Noir knew how to count, alright. Ladybug was silently fuming.

No, it didn’t matter anymore whether she was compatible with her old crush or not. And yes, the magazine was probably incorrect anyway.

And sure, Adrien was twenty-two now, not fifteen, so his answers would probably not be the same anymore, but still.

She had to defend young-Marinette’s honour.

And in honour of young-Marinette’s past struggles and unconditional love, there was no way Chat Noir of all people could be more compatible with Adrien than herself.

Chat Noir’s laughters brought her out of her shocked horror.

“Aw, don’t pull that face, Bugachups, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose! Maybe you’ll beat me to the next! Say, they don’t have a compatibility test with Chat Noir by any chan—”

“You cheated.” She stated it calmly but coldly. She had to be calm about it. “You must have.”

Chat Noir guffawed. “I’m not you! Also why so upset? Afraid I ruined your chances with…” he took the magazine back from her hands to read the caption under the test’s title, “...Paris’ favourite teenage boy?” He frowned. “Hey, shouldn’t that have been me at the tim—”

“No, I’m not afraid of anything like that,” she grumbled. “It’s just that… I used to know everything there was to know about Adrien Agreste back in the day.”

He blinked. “Everything?!”

“Everything,” she repeated. “Also, I don’t need to do a Chat Noir compatibility test to know that I’d get a hundred percent at it.”

He snickered. “I sure do hope that you’d get a higher score with me than that poor forty-one percent.”

She hit him with her pillow. For making fun of her, and for not having taken the bait.

“Yes,” she insisted, “I’d have a better score and I’d get the highest, thank you very much.”

He gently pinched and squished her cheeks while nuzzling his nose against hers teasingly. “Aaaww, of course we would be the most compatible Buguichou, we’re made for each other!”

Better.

Still, they had become so comfortable with each other now that it could mean everything and nothing.

“Chat Noooiiiiir,” she whined in lieu of pushing further, “stop annoying me!”

He released her and laughed. “You love it when I annoy you!”

Yes.

“No.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Anyway.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “What was it about you knowing everything there was to know about teen model, Paris' darling extraordinaire Adrien Agreste?”

She groaned. “Please can we not?”

“No. I want to know more about the boy I’m eighty-six percent compatible with, Bugaboo! And who better to teach me all I need to know other than the finest expert you aaaaar—”

She snatched the magazine back from his hands and swatted him with it.

“You’re” —swat— “not” —swat— “more compatible than me” —hit— “with Adrien” she had him pinned on the bed and he was giggling, trying and failing to push her away, “because I had the biggest crush” —swat— “on him and I was” —swat— “in love with him, do you understand?”

She stopped hitting him to throw him her deadliest look.

“Wait, what?” he said, still grinning from the fight. “You were in love with him like… in love love?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes, I was in love love with him.”

He snorted. And then, slowly, his body shook more and more, the laughters coming from him getting louder and louder.

“You—,” he choked, raising a finger in her direction, “you were in love with Adrien Agreste when we were fifteen.”

She sighed. “Yes, I was in love with Adrien Agreste. Go on, laugh all you want, ‘ha-ha-ha, Ladybug was in love with Hawkmoth’s son, ha-ha,’ so funny.”

“Oh my god, yes, Ladybug in love with our enemy’s son,” he kept laughing. “Waaait, wait wait, hold on, that’s excellent but… when you told me you were in love with someone else, back then…”

Her stomach fluttered at the memory that yes, Chat Noir used to be in love with her.

“...Does that mean that he was the boy you were referring to?” he looked at her expectantly.

She didn’t reply.

“He was?!" he exclaimed. “Ladybug, that’s… that’s… that’s hilarious!” and he was back laughing, even louder than before.

She glared at him, before grabbing her pillow once again and hitting him with it.

“No, no—I’ll stop, I’ll stop! But you don’t understand, this is so funny!”

“I really don’t see why.” And with that she lay down on the bed and turned around, her back to him. “Adrien is a very sweet person, I had great taste.”

Today, however, by loving Chat Noir? Maybe not so much, she decided.

A warm hand settled on her arm.

(She still had great tastes).

“Say, my Lady… if you were to meet that Adrien boy today and he were to ask you on a date… would you say yes?” She could still hear the remainder of his amusement in his voice, but he seemed to have calmed down, now.

She turned around to face him. He was lying on the side, propped on one elbow with his head resting on his hand. She pondered his question a few seconds. She hadn’t seen Adrien in a while, after all.

And… there was someone else now. She wasn’t fifteen anymore.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

He was rubbing small circles on her arm.

“Oh?” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “What would fifteen-year-old-Bugbooboo think about that?”

She snorted. “She wouldn’t believe I’d ever say that. She’d think I lost my mind.”

He chuckled with her.

She frowned. “But… well, we all change when we grow up and… Adrien is probably still a great person. And I mean, with what he had to go through, I admire him a lot. But also, there’s some—… there’s… there’s...”

“There’s what?”

You.

“Chat Nooiiir,” she tugged at the kwagatama around his neck instead, and raised her eyes to his. She bit her lip. “You know.”

She couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. Even after all these years, confessing was still something she found herself struggling with. But she kept his gaze as he silently searched hers; she wouldn’t back away or hide from it.

She kept it as he slowly took the hand that was fiddling with his necklace and lifted it to his lips. Kept it as he gently kissed the tips of her fingers. As she felt a shiver and the heat rising to her cheeks and was sure he could see it, too.

And she still kept his gaze as he lowered their hands on the mattress, and caressed hers with his thumb.

He knew.

And he reciprocated. She put a hand on his cheek, and slowly brought her face closer to his. She was about to close her eyes and the gap between them when a finger on her lips interrupted her.

Chat Noir closed his eyes, letting a small smile tug at his lips. Took a deep breath. Exhaled.

Opened his eyes again and looked right into hers.

“What if…” he said nervously, almost as a murmur, a deep contrast to his amusement from earlier. “What if I told you that… that you could have both? In one person.”

Her eyes widened. She sat up suddenly and grabbed his face. Did he mean that—

“Chaton?!” she said surprised —questioning. Her eyes frantically searched his.

He took one of her hands and brought it to his mask. And slowly nodded.

Carefully, shaking, she removed the home-sewed mask from his face.

His eyes were closed, but it was the unmistakable face of Adrien that met her. And older Adrien, an Adrien who was still the same but also so different.

An Adrien who was Chat Noir, and had always been—an Adrien that she knew more than she could have possibly thought.

As he opened his eyes to look at her, she took both his hands and kissed them. She noticed that she was crying when she saw tears dropping on his ring. She didn’t care.

It suddenly hit her that this boy had had to fight against his own father—and that it was certainly why he hadn’t been ready to show himself before. What he just did now, finally revealing himself to her—this was huge.

But looking at his gaze, soft from her actions, and feeling his hand wiping her tears away, she decided that it was probably not something he wanted to discuss now. And she didn’t want to ruin their moment, their reveal, with pity and talks about his father: the very thing he had probably tried to avoid when he was still insecure about who he was under the mask.

She giggled through her tears. “You’re beautiful,” is what first made its way out of her mouth.

That made him laugh and oh god, she was making him cry too now.

“Take off my mask. Please,” she whispered, kissing his fingers once more.

He sat up next to her, are gently put a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Then, he did as she told—and gasped.

“You—you’re Marinette!”

She giggled again. “And you’re Adrien!”

“I was thinking about you the other day. I was wondering how you were doing and…” he trailed off.

“And now you know!”

“And now I know!” he grinned. “You’re wonderful… I missed you so much but… it also sounds weird to say that now, doesn’t it?”

“Well… we could still catch up, around a coffee and uh… is this date with both Chat Noir and Adrien still on the table?” she asked.

Was she being a bit too straight forward? Probably. But she had troubles to control her mouth right now.

“When will it not?” he breathed.

She squealed and wiggled on her spot, grabbing his face. But before she could come closer to him, she faltered and stopped, remembering his finger on her lips a few minutes before.

“Uh, can I kiss you this time?”

He chuckled, a soft blush gracing his cheeks—and kissed her in answer.

She immediately closed her eyes at the contact of his lips and kissed him back—slowly, deeply, tasting him as much as she could. He tilted his head to give her a better access, and she climbed on his laps to be more comfortable—and closer to him.

Marinette lost count of how many times they came back for each other, of how many times their lips met, or their tongues. She felt so happy and so good—so in love.

When they separated and looked at each other, shy and giddy smiles on their faces, she couldn’t help but drop another tender kiss on his cheek, and caressed it afterwards.

“Now I know what you found so funny earlier,” she told him.

“It’s hilarious, right? We were so dumb!”

“We still are,” she added.

“We definitely still are. I can’t believe I didn’t know that Marinette was in love with me in collège, wow.”

“Is in love with you,” she corrected, still caressing his cheeks. “Present tense.”

She would always remember the look on his face when she said it. He was in love with her too, there was no doubt about it.

Suddenly, she was hit with a realisation and looked at him in horror. “Wait a minute. That means… That I have only forty-one percent compatibility with Chat Noir?!”

Adrien burst out laughing. “My Laaaady, you can’t seriously believe these tests, right?”

“Well, no, but we still should have way more compatibility than forty-one percent. Who even has that with their super-hero partner?”

“Marinette,” he said, amused, “my Bugabisous…I don’t even have a hundred percent with myself. It would be hard to live in my own head.”

She blinked. “You’re right. That test is dumb. But how do we know if we’re the most compatible then?”

Adrien chuckled, and put his hands around her waist, bringing her closer to him. “Well, you’re the Guardian, I think you can make up the rules for that.”

She put her arms around his neck. “That’s true. Then I decide that we’re a hundred percent compatible.”

“A hundred percent, uh?”

Their foreheads were touching now.

“A hundred-and-one,” she whispered against his lips, and she kissed him.

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